To the Kings Most Excellent Majesty the humble petitionary poem of Edmond Dillon, esq.

To the Kings Most Excellent Majesty the humble petitionary poem of Edmond Dillon, esq.

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TO THE KINGS MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY. The humble Petitionary Poem of EDMOND DILLON, Esq;

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TO THE KINGS MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY.
The humble Petitionary Poem of EDMOND DILLON, Esq;

PArdon (Dread Sir) your Suppliants bold Essay,

That he Petitions not the formal way

Of Prose; or that his pressing greivance he

Dress'd in the Rags of simple Poetry:

Numbers, though never of so faint a streame,

Are thought the best ingredients to a Threne:

The grovelling Muse that durst not towre so high,

(Lest singed by the Sun of Majesty)

As strive to prove the Trumpet of your praise,

(Such levets sound best from Maeonian layes:)

[Page]Presumes, in a low Eleglack stile,

That sits the Genius of her native Isle,

To give those plaints, some kind of Mourning cloase,

Her prostrate Master, thus most humbly shewes:

Great Sir, whilst you fair Halcyon dayes restore,

Transmuting the late Age of Churlish Ore,

By a blest Chymistry to golden times,

Such, as that suckling world, the Poet chimes;

When undeflowr'd Astraea at the Helm

Of every peaceful Common-wealth and Realm

Presided; and the streams of Justice ran

Clear and unthwarted, when frail mortal man,

With heavenly Nectar had sublim'd his blood;

For then the Womb of every common flood

Went pregnant with that sacred drink; no pride

Or lux gave sources to that Scarlet tide

Of blood, and strife, which since the Earth hath stain'd;

A native innocence as Empress raign'd,

And wise simplicity made States secure;

No Politicks or mischeif were in Ure.

Much of these blessings now (like Manna) show'rs

On Albion, from Jehovah's azure Tow'rs

Dispens'd by You; since that auspicious time,

God made his Type, and lawful Steward climbe

The Widowed Throne; and in this Orphan-land,

Restor'd the Fathers Soveraign Command:

[Page]A land that panted underneath the weight

Of Tyranny, swoln to a lasting height:

No Joys, nor lucid intervals, were seen,

No truce to ills, nor holy dayes between.

O were the teeming Fates ev'r brought to bed

Of happier wonders, in no story read!

Then met in you; Who couldst at once set free

Your peoples Necks, without Phlebotomie,

From slavish yoaks; and so resume in peace

Your Scepter, on which Traytors Swords did seize:

Christ came in peace; You in that Juncture come

When Janus's Fane was shut; and Christendom

Charm'd down her feudes, to Usher in our King

With a calm Sunshine: This mysterious thing,

Or rather Miracle of Providence,

None fathom'd with the line of humane sence.

But stay;

Veni, vidi, vici.

You came, and saw, and overcame

All hearts on sight, outstripping Caesars fame,

And wing'd exploits; his Triumphs sanguin'd were,

Your Trophies richer; love and filial feare:

On this Foundation a kind Conquest lay'd,

You in short time stupendious Works display'd;

Struck out of Chaos that o'er spread this place,

A light, that gave all things a smiling face;

As Titan doth, emergent from the Sea,

Shoulder the night, and guild the sacred day;

[Page]That Babel raz'd, proud [...]rous would have rear'd

Here, Gods anointed, and the Heav'ns to beard;

And out of dark confusion did'st create,

New luminaries in the sphears of State:

Witness your Council; Men so sage, so grave

And Argus-ey'd, [...]s dangers well may stave

Off, from your Crown: And old Romes Senate might,

Have hugg'd their Maxims, for a Ruling light;

Intrigues of State, to your chief

The Lord Chancellor of England.

Praetor are,

As obvious and familiar as the Aire.

That he can solve the most abstruse with ease,

Not Cato himself could Rival him in these.

Your Parliaments so well affected stand,

(Ah that your Sire had that high Court so man'd)

As, to your Service, brisk, to consecrate

More, then your Moderation may sate.

The wholsome Law now vigorously returns

Unto the pristine Channel; and their turns

Justice and Mercy, in your God-like Soul

Have, but your Meroies the ascendant hold;

Those bright endowments radicate and plant

The Throne, upon a Base of Adamant.

Your Naval, and Land-forces, may give work,

Nay, Plough up the invading numerous Turk,

With all those Barbarous Troops; should they but lie

Contiguous, for our Heroes Chivalrie.

[Page] Yorks Royal Duke, Your Neptune of the Seas,

May give our little world a Writ of ease

From Forrein Wars; Who, as with Brazen walls,

With Canon, Men and Oak our Isles impales.

Nor may Your Kingdoms dread, henceforth, those scars

Of civil, yet the most

Bella—plus quam civilia—Lucan.

uncivil, Jars;

Whilst the RESTORING Albermarle, doth stand,

Your tutelar

Plutarch. in the life of Camillus.

Camillus of the Land.

That Hydra'of Plots, too often hatch'd in Hell

'Gainst You, (I hope) is now crusht in the shell.

No corner of the Earth, but spues forth those

To Tyburn, or the like, Your Trayterous foes.

Great Princes in their spousals, less consult

Their private fancies, then what may result

To publick good; both interests of weight,

You in your Royal Bride did complicate;

Whose All-divine accomplishments do lye,

Almost transparent to each vulgar eye;

As they create all Reverence and Love,

Which that diffusive grief, last year, might prove,

In her great sickness, whose sad bruit exprest

Ev'n real sobs, from the Fanatique brest.

Clotilde, Eudoxia, and Pulcheria,

Queens, only Angels quils, may well pourtray,

Are copied out in her; their vertues there

Meet, and constellate all, on that bright spheare;

[Page]And what doth solace much a pious Son,

Your Mother Queens rich benediction

And heavenly converse, add to your delight;

Her venerable Glories feast Your sight.

Not Cybele the Goddess-dame of all

The spangled dwellers, of high heav'ns White-hall,

More lustre gave t'Her deathless progeny,

Or they to Her (fam'd in old Poesie)

Then you do both, by mutual reflex,

The best of Men, best of the female Sex.

What would the Caledonian Nation crave,

Or England wish? They by your influence have

Peace, Liberty, and Amaltheas horn;

Their collaps'd Honours raised from the Urn.

Nihil deinde optare a Diis homines, nihil Dii hominibus prastare possent, Nihil voto concipi, nihil felicitate con [...]mma [...]i, quod non Augustus post reditum in urbem, Beib. populoque Romano, terrarum (que) orbi representavit. Vel. Pa [...]ere. in Hist. Rem. lib. 2

The peoples full content, in Roman story,

Makes the Corolary of Augustus's Glory;

Which he indulg'd, at his return to Rome,

As You have done, since You arriv'd at home.

Whil'st these things speak you happy, good, and great;

All in Superlatives, and to compleat

Her Joys, great Brittain nought can want,

If with due sence, She on her bliss descant:

Shall your poor Irish vassals solely be,

Excluded still from the grand Jubile?

And we are Excommunicated all,

From mixing in the publick Festival?

[Page]By what Caprich of fortune doth our clime

Wear blacks, whilst rayes of Grace so near us shine?

How comes our Nation to sing Lachrimae,

On Jovial Christmas and the Paschal day?

Our Seniours, who long'd (Simeon-like) to hear

Or see their King, Christs figure, in his sphear

Of Regal pow'r to move; though they retriv'd

Their drooping spirits, soon as you arriv'd;

And seem'd (like Eagles) to resume their youth,

Thinking, that day should terminate their Ruth;

Yet, now court deaths Post-haste, because they see,

Nought else alleviates their Miserie.

Our youth seem

Et doloraetatem jussit in esse suam. Boet. de Consol. Phi.

superannuated, with grief;

There's such cunctation us'd in their releif;

And maids wear squallid looks; their sprightly airs

Chang'd, to the pallid symptoms of despairs.

Our Matrons spent their tears, that liquid stock

In them, is drayn'd by sorrows constant shock;

Their ills, that crusted Niobies, outvi'd,

And so

Curae leves loquntur, ingentes stupent Sen. Trag.

t'amazement they are petrifi'd.

Who, but a Jeremy, with Enthean quil,

Our Woes in Tragick lines could well distil?

No Age or Sex but is disconsolate,

Such is our Countries lamentable State:

As if Nolls ghost should from the Stygian Strand,

Raise Magick Vapours still t'enchant our Land

[Page]Under old bondage, which his Laws impos'd;

For our Estates lie (a great part) transpos'd,

As he assign'd them, 'twixt his Creatures shar'd

And Independent hoast, whose fat doth lard

Numbers of them: And thus did he divide

Our spoyls and Fortunes; and so gratifi'd

His Armies active Zeal t'exterminate

This Monarchy, and buoy him up in State.

Rich

Et pro crimine omni aut opes, aut opimi agri. Lip. de const.

Fields and Loyalty were our chief Crimes,

The last was Vertue, in serener times;

For which shall we make constant Pennance thus,

The only Plea that should ingratiate us?

Who of three shatter'd Nations, were the last,

Fought out your Cause, and in your Quarrel cast,

The final Ruins of your Party; You

May with your Fiat, build us up a new;

Who suffer'd crushing, e're we'd violate,

By yielding soon, that Peace of Forty Eight:

Solemn Peice; I hope 'tis not forgot,

Your Ermines will not sully with that blot.

He's scarce your Friend, would seek to conjure down

Those publick condescentions, You did own;

Would Sacrifice, to private ends, or spleen,

A Glorious Monarchs hallowed esteem:

What need I hint the confluence of our men

From all those Forraign parts, they served in,

[Page]About your Sacred Person, then abroade;

Those timely duties You do not explode,

But mind; so to their Soveraign, the Sea,

Rivers flow far, and Crystal tributes pay:

Nor was't by land alone, in that Exile,

The Touchstone of true Faith; as we may stile

All such disasters, They espous'd Your Cause;

But on the Ocean too, steer'd by your Laws;

Their loyal Palinures sought to support

Your Admiralty-Court, from Port to Port:

Then (as we should) our hopes we anchor'd, sure,

On Your glad Restauration, for our cure;

Yet still our Country-business, panting lyes,

And with slow Hectiques languishing, it dyes.

The Irish Ordeil, was the Court of Claims,

Few through that fire, with slender venial stains

Could pass unsing'd; Yet were the Judges free

From the least byaz of Partiality:

But by their Rules, such as were strictly chaulk't

Out, for our Tryals, they exactly walk't;

Whilst heinous Crimes are blauncht, forgot, or drown'd

In that vast Sea of Mercy, most have found,

Flowing in Your Amnestia; only we

Are left obnoxious to all scrutinie:

Our lives are sifted, and set on the Rack,

False evidence suborn'd to make us black.

[Page]Of Heav'ns strait ingress, what the Gospel says,

On Earth is typified in our days:

Our Innocence (which to the test was put)

Must shine like that of Infants, ere they shoot

Up, to their dangerous years; or else no man

Of our poor Israel enters Canaan;

None are restored; Yet through those narrow straights

Some have got in, unto their old Estates;

And hundreds more, on this preciser score

To Innocence have title; but the door

(They say) is shut, the time efflux'd for those,

As though men would your long-liv'd justice close;

Or bounty stint t'a few months space; who can

So circumscribe it, shackels th'Ocean,

The Law defines; An droit ne poit mourir,

An ancient Right, is like the Vestal fire,

Never extinct, though darkn'd 'tis, sometime,

When gold or favour will not make it shine;

Nay some restorable by Acts of Grace

And Parliament, a shadow yet imbrace;

Whilst the effects of your intendments are

Wanting; they're only Landlords titular.

Bill after Bill, we see transmitted o're

One clashing with the other, though before

An Act; like that

Penelope.

chaste Princess's endless web

Wrought with great pains, yet soon unravelled;

[Page]Our Souls were night-mar'd by these Ambages,

These Circuits did our vital bloods oppress;

And after all, a rueful murmur was

Of late, there should a fatal sentence pass

On Irish Interests; oh! a publick grief,

Nothing can cozen me to the belief;

We should be in a righteous Princes sence,

Made victimes to alleadg'd convenience:

Angels defend, That, that anoynted hand,

Should sign the desolation of a Land,

Or people, whose hands, hearts, and all they have,

(As bound) are Yours devoted, to the grave:

Ex ungue leonem.

And if we know the Lyon by his paws,

Those three late Noble Irish Scaevolaes,

Who in Losanna did such miracles

For You, do by that recent feat express

The loyal Genius of our Nation still,

To live or dye at their great Soveraigns will.

But with this Subject I no more shall grate

Upon Your Royal patience; They could state

With greater Emphasis our sad distress,

Who long in steddy Prose made our address;

We have this comfort, that Your Wisdoms choice

Was such a Vice-Roy, as by general voice,

Of us and all true Subjects; none could be

More fit to play that Arduous game, than he;

[Page]Brave Ormond your

Cui fidus Achates it comes, & paribus curis vestigia figit. Vir. lib. 6. Aeneid

Achates, went a share

In all your Forraign strayings, all your cares,

None

Plutarch, in the life of Alex.

lov'd the KING, with more entireness, since

Craterus did the Macedonian Prince;

The Spirit of his Government we found

E're now, so sagely temper'd, and so sound,

As we may hope a future Plenilune

Of blessings by't; and that his Grace will tune

For you the Irish Harp, long speechless growne,

In the sad solstice of Her Soveraigns Throne;

And with the Musick of his Ruling hand,

Compose the jarring Interests of that Land;

As once Amphion by the rise and fall

Of his sweet noats, had built the Theban wall;

Charm'd the materials thither; stones, that be

Of different forms, danc'd to a Symmetry.

But publick matters, and affairs of State,

Th'officious Muse doth Supererogate

To touch upon; for those are things beyond

Her flagging fancies humble Horizon:

It were presumption in a puny wit,

A kind of Sacriledge it may commit,

Handling of those absconded Misteries,

Not penetrable by thick-sighted eyes:

An honest Subject must revere, not fret

At the Results of's Princes Cabinet.

[Page]Now give me leave, most Gracious Liege, to say

Somewhat expressed in a doleful key

Concerning my own case; tis singular;

As, I, with all submission, will declare:

When Cromwel, that prodigious Tyrant was

Rais'd to the height, on Collosses of brass

His greatness built, above the shock of fate,

As many thought, who did not meditate

That so excentrique and unjust a Rise,

Preluded to a signal precipice:

When he had trampled on the necks of all,

His terrour became Oecumenical;

That Bird of prey, whose sanguinary beak

Quarri'd on us, and did his fury wreak;

Who made each Fault, a Capital offence,

And moulded Laws of bloody Elements,

Tacitus de domit.

Domitian-like; when thinking of our King,

Were no less than a Treasonable thing;

If thoughts had a material substance been,

Or could be felt, heard, understood, or seen:

Much more to Speak, or Write against the State,

Nought but th'Offendors death could expiate:

Ev'n in those slavish, touchy times, have I

(It is a Truth, and no thrasonick lye)

Declar'd in Ireland, for the Royal Cause,

And the Usurpers Paricide did blaze,

Th'Injustice of that Regicidal Court,

Vail'd under Justice's pageantry and port

Decry'd; 'gainst those, that would all Law subvert,

Did to my power Just Monarchy assert:

This, after the reduction of that Isle,

When an iniquous Peace did seem to smile

[Page]In servitude; and none could roll one stone

In your behalf, all Armless, overthrown;

I made my best, though impotent Essay,

Some Lectures of Allegiance to display;

And so revive the thoughts of Majesty

In some, which by long dissuetude might die:

Timists were pos'd, each (O imprudence) cry'd,

To duel thus a violent stream or tyde.

But old experience, as a truth, defines,

That

Difficile est sapere, & amare.

Love and Wisdom are not alwayes Twins;

A loyal passion, and my bleeding sence

Of Injur'd Soveraignty and Innocence,

Transported then my Soul, so to discharge

Her just resentments; and foretell at large

A Change; the hanging of some Demagogues,

Bradshaw and Cook.

Giving them genuine Characters of Rogues;

Which, since fulfill'd, Your Majesty, I see,

Dubb'd that gross speech, a kind of Prophecie.

My charge, and censure may in part appear

By the annex'd, which thousands can averr:

The Crime (forsooth) was publick, and look'd on

Unpresidented there, a monstrous one,

Which, Jealous Rebels, whom their Conscience rack't,

Thought, sure, was, with a Belgick Army back't,

Or rather Irish wayting on their King;

From Flanders streight all dangers hovering:

My person was secur'd, a perilous wight,

In labour with deep Kingish plots, to light

Now brought; so did they word it, then, of me;

Would I could merit that proud Elogy.

I wanted pow'r, but evidenc'd my will

Th'effects of their ombrages to fulfil.

[Page]And, as I fought by female dint of Tongue

Or Pen, to vindicate that horrid wrong:

The unexampled Murther of my Prince;

When other Arms, we had not for offence;

Had I Brydreus's hundred hands to boot,

A Gyant-stature of a hundred foot

In each dimension, and Alcides Club,

And strength; I would, in short, those Monsters grub,

Those poysons quell, whose Luciferean pride

Murther'd one King, the other did proscribe.

But all I could, I did, not what I would;

God takes the hearts pure Incense, more than Gold,

Or Hecatombes; a richer Sacrifice

Than that, or what most precious, men do prize;

Life, fortune, goods, I could not offer you;

All which I stak'd, and fairly ventur'd too;

Nay Shipwrackt all almost upon one shelf,

By loyal gustes, I scarce survive my self:

From Prison, unto Prison, guardes did hale

Me, as a holocauste, prejudg'd by all

To their Protectors Shambles (such have been,

Where Cavallier-flesh did feast their spleen.)

Now the dire Pageants, all the

Plus terret pompa mortis, quam mors ipsa.

pomp of death,

More dreadful than Death'self (our vital breath

Is oft exhal'd with ease) before me dwell,

And every Tongue became my Passing-bell:

At length they hurried me unto the Bar,

And strange Tribunal mixt of Peace and War;

I was Arraign'd, Convicted, and with sound

Of a Fanatick Verdict, guilty found;

Yet with vast charges, and what Friends could do,

In those extreams, my tender'd life, to wooe

[Page]With all the Charms, that to some mercy'encline

Obdured hearts; I, with a pondrous fine

And heavier mulcts, was form [...]lly repriv'd

Beyond all hopes; yet malice so contriv'd

The sentence past; as men might call that doom

A dying life, or living Martyrdom:

For I have languisht, sans main-prize or bayl,

Whole years, a constant tennant to the Jayl;

(Such was my censure) to the huge decay

Of health and wealth, which melted all away;

Exhausted what I had, and what had not,

Sign'd bonds for sums, which yet I could not blot,

And pawn'd the Rubbish of my fortunes; down

Tumbled, before, in th' Ruins of the Crown.

My solace was the Justice of my Cause,

For King, and Kings Prerogatives and Laws;

When some that well remark't; and took the height

Of my great Persecutions, cause, and weight

Of circumstances, that attended these,

So signaliz'd in those Neronian dayes,

Made sure account, some guerdon lay in store

For this; when God should our great Charl's restore.

But I digress, such was my passive state,

Till Oliver dropt hence b' a slugish fate;

And Richard from Usurping, like his fire,

A Meteor faln, scarce dwindled to a squire;

Since have I chang'd the Scene, but not my woes;

London, a kind of splendid durance growes

To me; where more then thousand days did pass,

Whilst I these banks of Silver Thames do trace;

Wore out almost the pavements of White-Hall,

Dancing attendance, gazing on the Wall;

[Page]My waiting, oft was paid with empty aire,

Though my pretensions, I thought, just and faire.

Papers on Papers, long since I have pil'd,

Petitions of my Tragick stories fil'd;

Yet, most times, that elaborat Address,

Was soon blown over, and but cold success;

Arachnes subtile textures in a Room,

Are thus confounded by the careless broom.

Due Reverence, long from your Princely ears

Stav'd off my plaints, the subject of my tears;

Whilst here a Rumper, there, Fanatick Elves

Did all the while, par tort, possess themselves

Of my true Birth right; cultivate that clay,

My loyal Syres acquir'd a fairer way,

And whose fruition they design'd for me:

The Posthume shadow of their Familie.

Twelve tedious years with leaden wings are flown,

Since I, (

En queis conscevimus agros. Virg. Ec.

That house, This soyl was once my own)

Could make the burthen of my Song, tis time

I change that note, and say, These now are mine;

If your poor Sufferers narrative, you rate,

As, to indulge that happiness,

Libertas, quae sera tamen, respexit inertem. ibid.

though late;

Its true, long since, I got an Antipast

Of Grace; my name put on the Act that's past

For Irelands Settlement; but tantaliz'd

My hopes were still, by those words; till Repriz'd;

Remove from me (dread Soveraign) this spell,

Which your few Gratious lines can soon unspel;

For though my Fortunes deeply wounded lie,

Your hand hath balm, and healing faculty;

Which in some measure will effect their cure

If you vouchsafe subscribing, to secure

[Page]My Title; and what should result of that,

Possession, in the now bill; (which like fate

To me's uncertain) if you please to say

The word, Your Sage Committee will obey.

O sacred breath, that with one sound can heave

My Fortunes Resurrection from the Grave!

My suit's not great; the Giver dignifies,

What, otherwise, men slenderly might prize.

Stories relate, how, in that ancient time,

When Mantuan Virgil in a Matachine

Of fate, was hurried from Estate, and Land;

(Like ours, that Transplantation, Authors brand)

Octavius gave his orders to restore

This Titirus, with many favours more;

Sir, Y'are Augustus like; but (ah) where's now

The Magick of great Maro [...]'s lines to move;

Caesar! look on the samness of our case,

Not on the different cloase, my home-spun phrase,

Which through the limbeck's not distill'd, or terse,

Like that refin'd, late modish flux of verse;

My Muse hath peccant humours; wants a leech,

Whose Mother-tongue's the quainter English speech,

As tis not hers, who with cross fortune still

Wrastling; nev'r clammer'd up Parnassus hill.

Titus, the darling of mankind, their grace;

Neminem oportet a Principis vultu tristem discedere. Sueton.

Thought, none should from before the Princes face

In sadness turn; O Titus of our world,

Now that the Irish Seas are to be curl'd

By my slow Oars; I hope, I shall not part

This awful presence with a down-cast heart;

My debts contracted here, are great; those things

That most oppress, next to the weight of sins;

[Page]Debts by three years attendance, were incurr'd,

Since I, for right, to this Fount-head recurr'd;

Which, if your bounty daigns, are soon defray'd;

To beg of Kings, is no ignoble trade,

Yet when tis practis'd least; a modest man,

Before he craves, his wants will strictly scan;

All I implore, tautologizing thus,

Is, but my old Estate, to pay those dues.

My sufferings signal were, so may they be

The objects of your Princely clemency;

And if with some compassion they affect

Your Royal breast; be pleas'd, of your elect

Restorable, among the Nominees

I may be one; (so Jove, I hope, decrees;)

And your Petitioner will acquiesce

In Praying God, Your Majesty to bless.

FINIS.

§

§

[Page]

[Page]

TO THE KINGS MOST Excellent Majesty.

The Humble Petitionary Poem of EDMOND DILLON, Esq;

Temporibus laetis tristamur Maxime Caesar.

Corn. Gallus ad Aug. Caesar.

LONDON, Printed in the Year, 1664.

Information about this book

Title statement

To the Kings Most Excellent Majesty the humble petitionary poem of Edmond Dillon, esq.

Dillon, Edmond.

Edition statement

1664

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2007-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A36022

ID [STC]

Wing D1489

ID [STC]

ESTC R19217

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

11759665

ID [OCLC]

ocm 11759665

ID [VID]

48645

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(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A36022)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 48645)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 488:24)

Source

— To the Kings Most Excellent Majesty the humble petitionary poem of Edmond Dillon, esq., Dillon, Edmond..

Extent

[2], 19 p.

[s.n.],. London :: 1664.. (Reproduction of original in Huntington Library.)

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The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source.

Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data.

Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so.

Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor.

The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines.

Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements).

Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site.