A Farrago Of several PIECES.

Newly written by RICHARD FLECKNOE.

Being a SUPPLEMENT TO HIS Poems, Characters, Heroick Pourtraits, Letters, and other DISCOURSES formerly Published by him.

Quicquid Agunt homines—
—Nostri est Farrago Libelli.

LONDON, Printed for the Author, 1666.

To Her Grace MARGARET Duchess of Newcastle.


THE Stork (they say) in sign of Gratitude, leaves alwayes some of its young to the house where it builds its Nest. This Gratitude I strive to imitate in these Pieces of mine, made (most of them) under your Graces Roof at Welbeck: And if I appear too presumptuous to De­dicate so little and worthless a Work as this, to your Grace, who [Page] writes so Great and Worthy Ones, I hope in your Good­ness, Madam, you will pardon me; for to whom should the Little flye for Protection, but to the Great? And the worthless, but to the Worthy, to dignifie and ho­nor them? Accept then, Madam, I beseech you, this small Acknow­ledgement of his Infinite Obliga­tion unto your Grace, who shall rather dye; than not live

Your Graces most humbly devoted Servant, Richard Flecknoe.

To his Noble Friends.

THE Mortality of the last Year, has given Life to most of these Pieces, which I made in the Countrey, whilst I fled thât in Town; nor is it strange that the Corruption of one, shu'd be the Generation of another.

I make them short, because I would have them read; and easie, because I'd have them understood; and writ them onely for mine own, and my Friends Recreation; not for the Criticks nor Vulgar; for those who are too wise, or who are not wise enough: And as I writ them, so I publish them onely for my Friends, and shu'd be sorry [Page] they shud come into the hands of any other.

I pretend no place for them in Bod­le [...]s Library, (that is for greater Vo­l [...]mes) for mine, all I can hope for, is to [...]ave them have some place in a Friends Closet, or Ladies Cabinet; and as others writ to live when they are dead, I writ only that they may not think me dead, whilst I am alive. When I am dead, let Posterity dispose of my memory as it pleases. Alive, I desire to live with this Reputation, of conserving an inviola­ble Faith unto my Friends, a Loyal heart to my Prince, and a Good Conscience to Almighty God.

ON THE QVEENS Being with Child.

OVR vows are heard O Heaven! our vow [...] are heard,
Though for our greater faith a while differ'd.
The Queen's with Child; and in her fruitful womb
Are all our wishes past, and hopes to come.
It was the greatness of the benefit
Made Heaven, it seems, so slow in granting it:
Who's l [...]ng in making of great Princes, though
In making lesser people 'tis not so;
And does consult no less about it, than
When th' world begun, 'bout making the first man▪
So though with us, our Potters every day
Make Vrns and Pitchers of more common clay:
[...]et vesse [...]s of more precious mold we see
[...]n China must whole age [...] making be;
[...]nd by the cur [...]ous Art [...]st must be had
[...] thousand cautions too before th' ar' made.
[...]ut now 'tis done, and Carolus has an Heyr,
[...]hiefly obtain'd by Catharinas pray'r.
[Page 2] So pious Hanna once for Children pray'd,
Vntil at last a child from Heaven she had:
When she [...]nverted all her pray'rs to praise,
As now our no-less-pious Hanna has.
What may we imagine, must this Infant be,
Who is the Child of so much piety?
As the Conception did, so may the Birth.
Hold more immediately of Heaven then Earth.
So Princes shu'd b [...] born, whose lives shu'd be
Nighest aproaching to div [...]nity:
As those to whom (being Gods on earth) is given
To be most like unto the Gods in heaven.
They say Heaven suffers violence, and from whence
But force of pray'r proceeds this violence?
O mighty Pray'r! that can such wonders do,
To force both Heaven and the Almighty too.
Fools were those Gyants then since if instead
Of heaping Hills on Hills, as once they did,
They had but heapt up pray'rs on pray'rs as fast,
They might have easily conquer'd Heav'n at last.
Ther's nothing now that England may despair
T' obtain of Heaven by Catharinas pray'r:
Let us have faith in her, but to confide,
And she has faith enough for all beside.

On Her Miscarrying.

NOT yet! but must she iterate her pray'r
Before heaven grants, & Carolus has an Heyr?
And has it only impregnated her womb,
To give assurance that an Heyr will come?
If so, we are satisfied, O Gracious Heaven!
And thank thee, for th' assurance thou hast given.
This was a pattern only (it seems) to shew
What men were to expect, and God could do.
As Statuaries little models make,
From which for greater works they patterns take.
Let all who grieve, that shee's miscaried, then
Take comfort, that she'll soon conceive agen:
Which since 'tis caused by her fruitfulness,
Does make our Hopes the more, though Joyes the less:
So when trees once have born, it is a sign
That they will bear agen another time.
What, though their first fruit by untimely frost
Or Hayl, or wind, or some mischance be lost;
Why shu'd we grieve? since w'are assur'd they'l bear
Vs other fruit agen, another year.

TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE Duke of YORK, Returning from our Naval Victory, over the Hollanders, June 3. Ann. 1665. Under His Royal Highnesses hap­py conduct.

GReater and famouser then ere
Cesar or Alexander were,
Renown'd by land as well as they,
And now far more Renown'd by sea.
What those great Hero's could not do,
He has both done, and out-done too;
Far more belov'd of Heaven then they
To whome both Waves and Winds obey,
Till Empire of the Seas we get,
No victory can be compleat:
For Land and Sea make but one Ball,
They had but half, he has it all.
No more let vain Batavians boast,
The Watry Empire they have lost,
[Page 5] Rebbels by Sea, as once by Land,
If now they obey not his command:
Nor think themselves and State undone,
Because by him they'r overcome,
It is a kind of Victory
To be o'rcome by such as he.
Increast in stile, we well may call
Him (now) the whole worlds Admirall,
Whilst mighty Charles with Trident stands,
And like some God the Sea commands.
Great Prince! the honour of our days
And utmost bound of humane praise,
Having by Land and Seas o'rcome;
What now remains but to come home:
And fixed in our Brittish Sphere,
Shine a bright Constellation there,
Greater and famouser then e're
Caesar or Alexander were,

On the same.

GReat and Magnanimous Prince, surpassing far
Him who was stil'd the Thunder-bolt of war.
The Belgick-Lyon trembles for to see,
A mighti [...]r Lyon then it self in thee.
And quite abandoning the Seas command,
Roaring for fear, does hide it self on land,
And Zeland one no more dares to appear
But sinks into the waves, and hides it there:
Lyons no more but rather Wolves of pray,
[...] all men hate, and all men chase away.
[...] Navy shatter'd, and their courage lost,
What's now become of all their glorious boast
Of [...] us? themselves n [...]w conquered,
[...] more for shame to shew their head:
[...] be to add,
A [...] to the first we had.
M [...]an tim [...] th [...] [...]ritons hissing them to scorn,
[Page 7] And Sea-Nymphs ri [...]ng from their watry bed,
Make wreaths for crowning thy victorious head.
So shud the Conquerors be [...]rown'd, and so
The Conquer'd hist, and scorn'd, where e'r they go.
Greatest Example of Heroick worth,
As ever yet our latter age brought forth.
As formerly the Land of Brittain was,
So now the Sea's too narrow for thy praise.
Which will in time so immense become, as we
Must seek new Worlds and tongues for praising thee,
And 'twill at last become the work alone
Of Extasie, and Admiration.
Great and Magnanimous Prince surpassing far,
Him who was styl'd the Thunder-bolt of War.

Recomending Welbeck to him, &c. On Newyears-day, An. 1666.

THOU that art alwaies old and new,
That yearly dost thy youth renew,
And yearly too, more aged grow,
Ianus, if ever thou'lt bestow
A well deserved gift, and grace,
On any persons, any place:
Bestow it now, this present year
Upon this place, and persons here;
Preserve them long in safety, and
With them, preserve the King and Land:
For they would not be safe, I know,
Unless the King and Land were so.
First, drive this year from England far,
All other wars, but forraign war;
And let our Enemies only prove
The harm of Mars, who harm do love.
Next, let no storms our Seas molest
Where th' peaceful Halcyon builds her nest.
But to those Coasts and Climates go,
That Halcyon-daies did never know▪
[Page 9] Lastly, that plague which where it comes,
Unpeoples Towns, and peoples Tombs;
Drive hence; and what is worse then that,
All Traytors to the King and State.
That so delivering of our Ile
From all its fears, we may the while
Abroad, Sea-monsters overcome,
And its Land-monsters too, at home.
Another gift thou hast in store,
Which if thou grant, we ask no more;
That this year, to our Royal King
And Queen, may happy Issue bring.
This Ianus grant and thou shalt see
Each year, on this solemnitie:
More vows unto thee, we shall pay,
And off'rings, on thy Altars lay,
Then ever was, or shall be paid,
Or ever on thy Altars laid:
Since out of Chaos, all was born,
Till unto Chaos, all return.

On Welbeck.

WElbeck a place of much Renown, betwixt
Your best of ancient, and of modern mixt.
As if one age alone could not suffice,
For building such a noble Edifice.
No petty Garnishments that look so spruce,
As they were more for ornament then use;
Nor Towers nor Turrets in the air agen,
As they were rather built for birds then men:
But all large, and capicious you find
Justly proportion'd to the Owners mind;
All great and solid, as in ancient times
Before our modern buildings were our crimes.
Enter'd, at first, you'd think you entered some
Huge Piazza made for all the world to come.
So great mens Houses shu'd be builded great,
And not so much for prospect, as receipt.
Amongst the rest the Stables all appear,
As if each one, some Princely Palace were:
And 'twas but fit they shu'd be so, where all
The Horses, you of princely race might call.
For the Riding-House 'tis of so vast extent,
It does some m [...]ghty Temple represent.
[Page 11] Where seeing them ride, Admiring Indians wo'd
Adore each Horse there as a Semi-God:
And if this to the Horse, what wo'd they do
To him who rides, and animates them too?
From hence beholding of the Park, you'd say
For pleasantness 'twere some Arcadia,
And think you saw the jolly Nymphs and Swains
Feeding their flocks upon the lawns and plains,
And heard them in the pleasant woods and groves,
Inchant your eares, with chanting of their loves.
'Mong trees so thick and fair they seem th' aboads
Not only of Rural birds, but rural gods:
But least we loose our selves and stray too far,
'Tis time to th' house it self, for to repair:
Where though the Rooms be vast, and every thing
Seems made for entertainment of a King:
Yet that's the least you look on, but the Lord,
Himself the noblest prospect does afford.
In whom your late Nobilitie may see
What th' ancient were, and modern ought to be.
And 'mongst the * other Arts, he does profess,
May learn of him the Art of Nobleness.
[Page 12]He looks not (as some do) that you shud d' off
Your Hat, and make a reverence twelve-score off:
Nor takes Exceptions if at every word
You don't repeat your Grace, or else my Lord;
But as they'd seem great men by Pride, so he,
Is one indeed by noble curtesie:
And dos appear a hundred times more great,
By leaving it, then they by keeping state:
Whence h'as so high a reputation got,
'Mongst all that know, & all that know him not;
Through all degrees of honour he has past,
Of Viscount, Earl, Marquess, and Duke at last.
H'as ever had the general esteem,
Of honouring them, more then they honour'd him.

ON THE Dutchess of Newcastles Closet.

WHat place is this! looks like some sacred Cell▪
Where Holy Hermits antiently did dwell,
And never ceast importunating Heaven,
Till some great Blessing unto Earth was given!
Is this a Lady-Closet! 't cannot be,
For nothing here of vanity you see;
Nothing of curiosity, nor pride,
As all your Ladys Closets have beside.
Scarcely a Glass, or Mirrour in't you find,
Excepting Books, the Mirrours of the mind.
Nor is't a Library, but only as she,
Makes each place where she comes a Library,
Carrying a living Library in her brain
More worth then Bodleys or the Vatican.
Here she's in Rapture, here in Extasy,
With studying high and deep Philosophy.
Here those clear Lights descend into her Mind,
Which by Reflection in her Books you find;
And those high Notions and Ideas too,
Which none before, but she, did ever know:
Whence shee's her Sexes Ornament and Grace
And Glory of the Times, hail sacred Place!
[Page 14] To which the world in after-times shall come,
As unto Homers shrine, or Virgils Tomb,
Honouring the walls wherein she made aboad,
The Air she breath'd, & ground on which she tro'd▪
So Fame rewards the Arts, and so agen,
The Arts shall honour her who honour'd them,
Whilst others, who in other hopes did trust,
Shall after death, lie in forgotten dust.

TO LILLY, Drawing the Countess of Castlemains PICTVRE.

STay daring man! and ne'r presume to draw
Her Picture, till thou may'st such colours get,
As Zeuxes and Apelles never saw,
Nor e,re were known by any Painter yet.
Till from all Beauties thou extracts the Grace,
And from the Sun, the beams that gild the Skyes;
Never presume to draw her Beautious face,
Nor the bright Beams, and Sun-shine of her Eyes▪
In vain the whil'st thou dost the labour take,
Since none can set her forth to her desert;
She who's above all Nature e're did make,
Much more's above all can be made by Art.
Yet been't discourag'd, since who e're does se't,
At least with admiration must confess,
It has an air for charming, and for sweet,
Much more then others, though, then Hers much less.
So the bold Gyants who would scale the skye,
Although they in their high attempt did fall;
This comfort had, they mounted yet more high
Then those who never strove to climb at all.
Comfort thee then, and think it no disgrace,
From that great heighth a little to decline,
Since all must grant, the reason of it was
Her too great Excellence, and no want of thine.

Formerly printed, but after an imperfect Copy.

STUART a Royal Name that springs
From th' Race of Caledonian Kings▪
Whose vertuous parts and beautious frame
Adds honour to that Royal Name.
What praises can I worthy find
To celebrate thy form and mind?
The greatest power that is on earth
Is given to Princes by their Birth;
But ther's no pow'r in earth, nor heaven,
More great then whats to Beautie given:
That makes not only men relent
When unto Rage and Fury bent,
But Lyons tame, and Tygers mild,
All fierceness from their breasts exil'd:
Such wonders yet could ne'r be done
By Beauties force and pow'r alone,
Without the pow'r and force to boot,
Of excellent Goodness added to't;
For just as Diamonds we behold
More brightly shine when set in Gold:
So Beautie shines far brighter yet,
In vertue and noble goodness set.
[Page 18] Continue then but what you are
So excellently good and fair.
Let Princes by their Birthrights sway,
You'l have a pow'r as great as They▪

ON A Lady's Embracing a Religious life.

A Gentle shepherdess as e're did tread
Upon the plains, whereon her flocks were fed;
Inspir'd by him, who all good thoughts inspires,
Felt in her breast, till then unfelt desires:
To tast Heavens pleasures, seeing earth had none,
A soul in longing, long could feed upon:
But changing one, a weary of the first,
She found the latter pleasure still the worst;
And so went still deluded in her mind,
Seeking for that which she could never find.
This Infant thought, with pious care she fed,
And with Religious education bred;
Giving it now an Aspiration,
Or wish for that blest life to feed upon,
And now a sigh, and now a tear agen,
Never to have known true happiness till then.
Avoiding carefully those rocks and shelves,
On which so many fouls had wrackt themselves.
Those two extreams on which so many fall,
To undertake too much, or nought at all:
[Page 20] For 'tis with new born children of desire,
As 'tis with sparks you kindle unto fire.
Starv'd with too little fewel, 'twill not light,
Opprest with too much, 'tis extinguisht quite.
And now she's all afire! happiness be
Fair Virgin to thy best desires, and [...]
So full, so high, so great a happiness,
As nothing can be more, that is not less;
Nothing beyond, but down the hill again,
And all adition rather loss then gain.
By glad experience, may'st thou find all store
Of hearts contentmert, thou expects, and more:
And learn that magick of Religion there,
Make every thing quite contrary appear;
To you, then unto us, rich poverty
Triumphant sufferance, brave humility;
Soft hardness, hardest difficulties slight,
Sweet bitterness, and heaviest burthens light;
Ease in your labour, pleasure in your pain,
A heaven on earth, and all things else but vain.

To the Lady Rockingham. On her nursing her Children.

HOW like to Charity this Lady stands
With one child sucking, t'other in her ha [...]d [...],
Whil'st bounteous Nature parent of us all,
Of her fair breasts is not more liberal.
Mirour of Mothers! in whom all may see
Both what you are, and what they ought to be:
Ready like Pelicians for your childrens good,
To give your very life, and vital blood.
Those mothers, but half mothers, or, at best
Who whil'st they give their wombs, deny-their breast.
And bringing children forth, they nothing do,
Unless when they are born, they nurse them too.
How far much better then the mothers blood
Is mothers milk, may hence be understood;
By milk original piety's taken in,
But by the blood only original sin.
Happy thrice, happy then those children are
Of whome their Parents take such p [...]ous care!
Whil'st those as oft unhappy are agen,
Whose Parents take so little care of them.
Such mothers little different are from those
who anciently their children did expose:
[Page 22] Who soon as they are born do leave them to
The care and nursing of they know not who.
How many harms the whil'st to children come
By other nurses, endless were to sum:
Besides diseases which they suck from them
And more malignant qualities agen.
Whence 'tis to change their kind, and nature mock
To graft their off-springs on another stock,
And hence it is, that often times we find
So many children of a mungril kind.
Nurse still your children then, as now you do,
By which your self, you a true mother shew;
And if't be true that milk's but blood turn'd white,
You'll shew your self great Straffords daughter right.
Both alike, ready for the publick good,
You for to give you milk, and he his blood.

The ANT.

LIttle thinks thou poor Ant who there
With so great pains, in so long time
A grain or two to th' Cell dost bear,
Ther's greater work ith' world then thine.
Ith' small Republick too at home,
Where thou'st perhaps some Magistrate,
Little thinks thou when thou dost come,
Ther's greater in the world then that.
Nor is't such wonder now in thee
No more ith' world, nor things dost know,
That all thy thoughts oth' ground should be,
And mind on things so poor, and low.
But that man so base mind should bear
To fix it on a clot of ground,
As if no greater world there were;
Nor greater business to be found.
He so much of the man does want
As metamorphosd quite agen,
While thou'rt but man turn'd grouling Ant,
Such groulers seem but Ants turn'd men.

The Birth-Day.

A General silence was in Heaven, and expectation on Earth, with a busie whispering in either, as if some great and extrordinary business was to be done. When Mercury in the name of Iupiter, summond a council of all the Gods: which being assembled, Iupiter commanded the destinies to spin out one of their finest and most lasting Threds of life, to which Mars was to give a warlike spirit, Pallas wisdom, Mercury eloquence, and finally the Gra­ces whatsoever was wanting else, to render it every waies accomplisht, when Lucina presently was dispatcht to earth, to assist at the nativitie of this illustrious Child, whom Iupiter was pleas'd parti­cularly to honour, by breathing into it a spirit of his divinest air, (For though all, he inspires be celestial and divine, yet there is some grosser then o­thers, as there is here on earth, he reser­ving still the most rarified and refined, [Page 26] for your most noblest Bodys,) and those whom he favours most, mean time on earth (as at lanching of some great Ship-Royal.) There was a great and joyful Assembly, in longing expecta­tion of the Infants coming into the world; when behold the mother having invocated Iuno thrice, and Lucina as oft, was at last happily delivered of a Son, who had all the aforesaid endow­ments of Heaven, and all the applaudis­ments that possibly could be on Earth; for celebration of his Nativitie: And as there are never wanting some on Earth, who undertake to know all that is done in Heaven. Your Astrologers undertook by inspection of his stars, and calculating his nativity, to foretel that in the ma­nagement of Arms and perfect know­ledge of the Equestrian Art, he should be the compleatest Cavalier of his time, and every waies the most accomplished. But it was not their predictions that made him so, but his being so, that verified their predictions.

How he past his youth, is not necessary to declare, (for youth most commonly [Page 27] are but the same in little, as afterwards they are in great when they are men,) And how great he was, would require a Chronicle to tell, as how he surpassed Lucullus rate in peace, (who held that none who could not spend a private pa­trimony at an entertainment, should be accounted splendid and magnificent) and Crassus rate in war, (that none should be counted rich, that could not maintain an Army at their own proper cost.) To tell his name only is Chroni­cle enough;) 'Tis William Duke of Newcastle▪ who as if his fate and the Crowns were inseparably conjoynd, supported the Crown whilst he stood; and when (by the iniquity of the times) he fell, the Crown fell too; till they were both at last restored again, and raised to greater heighth then ever they were before. The Crown by Heavens favour, and He, by favour of the Crown.

The Pourtrait Of MARGARET Dutches of NEWCASTLE.

IT will be most hard and difficult for me to make this Pourtrait well, since other Ladies (for the most part) are all outside, and nothing else, and when you have seen but that you have seen them all, but that which you see in her, is the least part of her, she being all soul and mind, nor could an Angel in a mortal body, be more spiritual then she, nor have more interior graces and perfections.

For her exterior then I will only say that Heaven and Nature, never agre­ed better, 'ith composition of any one, giving her a beautious mind in a beauti­ous body, and you would easily imagine her as good, as fair, to see (when she sees any one in misery,) how tender and compassionate she is, even like that no­ble [Page 29] Tree ready to wound her self to af­ford balm and cure for others wounds.

Nor has Fortune been wanting to make her as great, as fair, and good; none ever better deserving it, by the great­ness of her mind, nor comporting better with all states and conditions, whilst none ever carryed it higher in adversity nor lower, and more humbly in prospe­rity, so counterpoising either, within her self, when others are all without themselves, or too much deprest with the one, or elated with the other. To which supream heighth of wisdom, since she could not attain, without as su­pream and high Philosophy; It ocurs in the next place, to speak of that.

For which, I need only remit you to her works, in which she of all o­thers has most reason to glory; they be­ing only Nurses and Fosterers of others opinions: but she the true parent of hers, using that liberty which heaven has be­stowed on every one, and humane cust­tom allows, to have their opinions free, which though in point of Faith and Manners of good Raeson it be restraind, [Page 30] to avoid error and confusion in Church and Comonwealth, yet in Philosophy it has been alwaies free; Every one having liberty to hunt in common, nor was it ever inclosed by any unless by some few Schools of so inconsiderable Authority, as when you are once out of their walls, you are out of their jurisdiction, to whom she has been so little beholding, as never any with less help of them, ad­drest themselves to writing, nor ever performed it more happily then she; of whom one may well say, that whilst o­others only traslate many Books to make one; she without help of translati­on, has writ so many: As it is the Admi­ration of every one, which being so rare and extrordinary in her sex, does as little derogate from others, as mira­cles do from the ordinary works of God.

Let all then cease to envie what she has writ, or think that flattery which we write of her, whose vertues and perfections are so great, and many, as they ought rather to think those envi­ous, who praise her not, then flatterrs who do.

To the Lady GERRARD Baroness of BROMLEY.
Of Education.


ALmighty God, having blest you with such a son, as a more hope­ful in Nature can hardly be: you do wisesly, and like a pious mother indeed, to take care betimes of his Education, without which Parents do but half their duty, and leave with all the better half undone; for Education is not only a se­cond Nature, but also a perfectioning of the first, and that which whilst their birth makes them only children, does make them men. You are to consider then how that mother does nothing, who only brings children into the world, unless she takes care they should [Page 32] live well, whilst they are there, by which she makes both her self and chil­dren happy, for a good child is the hap­piness of the mother, and a good life the happiness of the child.

This being so, if you but examine well, what 'tis that makes that almost all our youth now adaies, have so little sence of Vertue and Religion; you will find that 'tis only because they are not traind up enough in the principles of either, whilst they are young.

For the Age proper for their Educa­cation, being chiefly their first fifteen years, or their Infancy, Childhood, and Adolescence, or Youth; in which the main business ought to be, the removing of Vice, Error and Ignorance, from their souls and minds. You shall find that whilst their Parents take care only of the two last; the first which ought to be the principle is wholly neglected by them & left undone: They never considering that man is like a Garden, where it is not enough, to [...]ow good seeds, but you must be daily plucking up ill weeds too, or else they will soon be over grown with them.

[Page 33] During their Infancy then, leaving the care of the first year unto their N [...]r­ses who give them suck, As soon as they arive unto the second year, their Pa­rents should provide them of some dis­creet Governant, who may carefully ob­serve their natural inclinations, either to good or evil, and cherish the one, and correct the other, as they shall see occa­sion.

Some may say now; this is too soon to begin with them, and that children can apprehend nothing yet: But they who say so, rather want apprehension; For when is the time (I pray) to bow and bend a Tree, to rectifie it and make it st [...]ait? Or make a Garment take a good fold or pleyt, but when it is first put on? And for their apprehensions of things we see, they can be affraid of Bug-bears; rejoyce when you tell them they shall have somewhat they are delighted with, and love those who give it them: Which being so, why may they not at those years be taught to fear vice, to delight in vertue, and to love God? if they were but prudently represented to their imaginations.

[Page 34] Let them be taught then to fear no o­ther Bug-bear but vice, (especially that which they shall see them most inclin'd unto▪) and when they see them delight­ed with any thing, either of fair or sweet &c. Let them tell them 'tis God who gives and sends it them, and pre­sently cry out, Oh how Good! How fair, how sweet is God! &c. By which means they shall imprint in their ten­der minds, a dear and affectionate love of him; after which it would be easy to to make them do whatsoever they shall understand to be most pleasing to him, and abstain from doing whatsoever may be displeasing to him on the contrary, under which notions they may represent both vertues and vices to them as they shall see occasion. This if their first Tutors or Governants would but do; Their second Tutors or preceptors would more easily do the rest: of whom I will only say that you are to chuse him more for prudence then for learning; more a Gentleman then a Pe­dant, and one that has more studyed men then Books. Mean time let him so season [Page 35] what he teaches him with sweetness, (the common bait of children) as so he may be delighted with learning it.

Above all, let him be a Religious ho­nest man for he is to inform his manners as well as his understanding; and more souls for want of good Tutors, then Bo­dies for want of good Midwives, in these latter Times have perished and been cast away.

For the ordering his studies in parti­cular, I say nothing more, But let his Rule be ne quid nimis to study nothing too much, for learning consisting either in words or matter, of which the first has no depth, and the last no bottom▪ to study t'one too much, were trifling, and t'o­ther labour lost, besides too much stu­dy, but condenses the thought which is only for your melancholy School­men; a Gentlemans thoughts should be more rarifyed and refin'd.

As for Travail none can give him bet­ter directions then my noble Lord his Father, who has made right use of them, by bringing home all that was good mother Nations; and leaving all the bad behind.

[Page 36] And thus much con [...]erning Educati­on may suffice, and I have insisted more upon the pious then learned part, be­cause as 'tis the most neglected, so 'tis the most necessary, for none can be either a good child to his Parents, or subject to his Prince, who is not first a good servant to Almighty God: And the reason is clear, for how can it be expected, that they should be grateful or obedient unto ei­ther, for their being and conversation; if they be not so to God, in whom (as the Scripture saies) They both live, and move, and have their being.

Neither let any imagine that this sort of Education should make children sad and melancholly, on the contrary I see not how any can be truly merry and cheerful, who cannot think on God or Death without fear and horor, whilst e­very thing puts them in mind thereof, and this is the case of all those who in their youth are not Educated in Vertue and Piety.

Which Education MADAM, if you give your Son, it may well be said of you, as it was of another most resem­bling [Page 37] you, that she not only brought forth children, but vertuous ones, her Vertue being as fruitful as her Self.

TO Sir C. B.
Of the choice of a VVife.

OF all worldly things, the choice of a wife is that which requires the longest deliberation: for diu deli­berandum est quod statuendum est semel. We are long to deliberate of that which we can onely choose but once: and and when all's done, Fortune will have a main hand in it: or to speak more Religiously, Almighty-God. Whence 'tis said, that Marriages are made in Heaven. 'Tis the part of a Wise man then, to leave as little in it to Fortune as he can; and of a Religious, as much as he can unto Almighty God.

Amongst all the requisits of Marriage, Beauty is the most fragile, and deceives the expectation most, both because the one expects to find the same Adoration when a Wife, as when she was a Mrs and t'other finds not their Wives such [Page 39] Goddesses when marryed, as they im­magined before they marryed them.

To marry for Beauty onely, is to buy a House onely for the outside, with­out considering the Conveniences with­in; and Age or a little sickness takes that away and them, and there's an end of all the delight you had. Whence 'tis no ill distinction, that a woman exceeding fair, is better for a Mrs. then a Wife, If she be but moderately handsome it is enough, so the rest be supplyed by the Beauty of the mind; the one being on­ly the pleasure of the first day, tother of all your life.

Of all things, Complacency is the best Cyment of affection, and similitude of humour and disposition; for similis si­mili gaudet, All Likes do love their Like, and hate the contrary; unless perhaps some humours in them, may be too predominant; and then a little of the contrary would be a good Allay, as Mirth to Melancholly, or a placid or Patient humour, to a Harsh or Chol­lerick disposition.

With handsomness of Body, and [Page 40] good disposition of mind, the Goods of Fortune make no ill composition, so they be not the principal ingredient, for so Love, would wholly degenerate into interest, and men would look on their wives no otherwise then Farmers, on their Cattel, only considering how much they are worth in the Market and no­thing else.

I need not give you a Caveat not to marry with any of condition much be­low your self, for you are too wise I know to be fool'd by any such fond af­fection, nor is there any danger of your marrying much above your self, since we have few nobility so high, into which a Gentleman of your birth and fortune may not aspire to match without ambiti­on.

This is all Sir that ocurs to write un­to you for this present upon this subject, who wish you all happiness in a wife, and know you so well, as I am sure your wife will have all happiness in you.

Of Benefits.

GOod will is that well ordered cha­rity, which the Holy Scripture com­mends unto us so much, and which it obliges us to have, even for our Ene­mies; 'tis that, which humanity binds us to, and which makes one man a man unto another, who otherwise would be a God, or else a Beast, according as he benefited or injurr'd them. But in friendship Good Will, is like the power that never proceeds to Act, pro­mises to performance, or flowers unto fruit, unless it proceeds to benefits withall, for a benefit is the Aliment of Friendship, as Oyle is of the flame, but as too much poured into the Lamp at once, rather extinguishes it, than nourishes it, so 'tis with bene­fits. Wherefore Madam I only de­sire of you small benefits at once [Page 42] and humbly thank you for satisfying my desire.

Else 'twere to smother me with Roses, and to Oppress me, rather then Relieve me; for 'tis with pain, when we are obliged too much, and great bene­fits, are but great debts and heavy burthens to a Grateful man: Whil'st little ones are light burthens, which every one can bear; and small debts, which every one can pay. Nor did they ever make Banquerout yet, or Mode­sty blush, or Generosity asham'd. Besides Madam, loving my Liberty as I do, and to be too much oblig'd being a kind of servitude; I thank you for leaving me in possession of that I love so well, and in possibility of that which you love so well, Gratitude; In which no­ble vertue you so excell, as none yet could ever oblige you so much, but you would find some way or other to disoblige your self again and turn those Bonds on them which they had bound you withall: But Madam, you have obliged me so far already, as now there is no farther danger of my [Page 43] Liberty, nor should I more willing­ly give it to any one, then to her to whom already I have given my heart, and for whom I am ready for to give my life.


Of One VVho changes Day into Night.

HE is the Antipodes to the Country where he lives, and it is Day with him when it is Night; and Night with him when it is Day with them, and he is worse then those who call light dark­ness, and darkness light; for he makes it so: he contradicts that ould proverb, that the day was made for man to labour in, and the night to rest, and says 'twas ment onely by Day Labourers; and he thinks that saying of Solomon, nothing concerning him, that all is vanity un­derneath the Sun, for all his is under­neath the Moon; for the Rising-Sun, it serves him onely to go to bed by, and as formerly they measured the Time by Water, so now he does by Fire, and the burning of so much Light. He says his Pater-Noster by contrarys, and as o­thers pray for their Dayly, so he prays [Page 45] for his Nightly Bread. He fears neither Death nor Iudgment, for Death is said to come like a Thief in the Night, and then he sits up and watches; and Iudg­ment by Day, and then he is a Bed and sleeps, and if the Angels awake him with their lowd trumpeting, he hopes they can charge him with nothing concern­ing Time, for he onely changes it, and change is no Robbery, and h'as this comfort that amongst all his other sins, though they may say the Sun did rise sometimes, they can never say that it Set upon his wrath.


HE is the King of Fashions, and Em­perour of the Mode, and com­mands more absolutely then the King of France himself: for his Edicts pass, where the others will not go; and in England and other Nations, they obey his Authority; where they care not a rush for that of the King of France. Nay they not onely submit their bo­dys to him, but their minds, obeying him with such Implicit faith, as though their Fashions be never so unbecoming, yet they believe them becoming, only because they come from him. Such a Charm there is in this word Alamode de France, As 'tis able to transform men Circes-like, into Apes, Babboons, or what Antick shapes they please. But to make up the Dance or Masquerad compleat, you must have a French Violin and Dancing-Master too, and then you shall see how the English-man will lead [Page 47] the Dance and other Nations follow him, amongst the rest, the Hollander in the French Fashion, is the veriest Antick of them all, looking in it just like a dog in a doublet, mean time, the Spanish and Italian, are the onely wise Nations; who whil'st all others in Europe make themselves ridiculous, with following the French Fashion, laugh at them, and keep their own.

OF AN Old Batchellor

WHen he was young, he lov'd his Liberty too well to marry; and now he's old, his ease and quietness; nor does he love every night to be put in mind how old he is. He was as long in chusing a Wife, as Scoggen was in chusing a Tree to be hanged on; and at last re­solv'd to chuse none at all, for the same Reason as the Fox refu'd to go to the Lyons Den, because he saw the footsteps of many going thither, but of none re­turning back. Above all, that which chiefly deter'd him, was the very name of Wedlock the yoak of Marriage and and bonds of M [...]trimouy &c. All sound­ing nothing but locks yoaks and bonds; or imprisonment, slavery and captivity. For the rest, they can say nothing for the profit or pleasure of Marriage, but he can say as much or more against it, and they have long since given him over for a Heretick, too obstinate in his o­pinions [Page 49] to be disputed with. In fine, he imagines all who are marryed, to be sick of it, though they complain not; because they hold their disease incura­ble: but if there were a Physitian who could cure it, he thinks he would soon be Richer then Mayern.

For your Maids now, he hopes they will not be offended at this Character, but be of his opinion: since in point of Marriage they have always the worst bargain of the two, (as we shall pre­sently declare) and if the name of Old Maid sounds ill, that of Nun sounds well, at least. and for Married Wives, we shall make them honourable amends, in the Character of an Excellent Wife.

OF A Wife in General.

THough in it self, and the institution of the Church, Marriage be holy and honourable; yet, there is no more mise­rable Creature in the world, then a Marryed Wife: when Maids, sold by their Parents to slavery; and when Widows, selling themselves, (so inur'd to servi­tude) as 'tis become natural to them as their beings, and necessary as their food.

Some aptly compare their Marriages, to Aviaries or Bird-cages in Gardens, where the Birds which are without, long to get in; and the Birds which are with­in, long to get out. Others to the Horn of surtiship, where they desperately throw themselves without any conside­ration at all, into the larger end, and come squeez'd out of the B [...]tall.

It were a blessed life, f the wheels of desire could continue still wound up, and not run down with enjoying; but [Page 51] as it is, they are onely happy for a day, and miserable all their lives after; and their Gallants come fawning and fiat­tering to them at first, as the Hedghogg did to the Hare in a frosty night, desire­ing to shelter himself in her Muset against the cold; pretending his pric­kles should never do her harm; but being entered once, and a little warm, he began to bristle them up; at which the poor Hare cryed out, but had onely this answer for all her courtesie, that those who found themselves not well, might go out.

Yet this I will say, for the com­fort of the English Wives, that the English Men make the best Husbands in the World, if their Natures have not been too much corrupted and deprav'd with the licentiousness and Vices of the Time. Notwithstanding they shu'd answer them if they be wise, when they come a wooing to them, as the Athenians did Demetri­us, who pretending Dominion over them; told them, that he would be [Page 52] a good Lord unto them; to whom they wisely answered, that they no wayes doubted it; but for their parts, they desired to have no Lord at all.

OF AN Excellent Wife.

SHe is like an Excellent Watch, Rich and Fair, but above all, True; onely in this they differ, in that her Goodness depends on nothing but her self, (for those who are only good be­cause they are lookt unto, it follows, if they were not lookt unto, they would be bad.) She is never in ill hu­mour; and never in better, then in her Husbands company, with whom alone she is familiar, but civil and courteous unto all; she has all the handsomness of a Mrs. the Goodness of a Wife, and delightsomness of pleasant Com­pany; united in her alone; and what­soever she does is becoming her, not so much because 'tis so, as because she makes it so. She is sparing in super­fluous things, that she may be more bountiful in those more necessary; and spends with such discretion in her House, as her expences are more pro­fitable [Page 54] then others savings are. Her Vertue and Beauty makes it alwayes a Temperate Zone with her, where her Husband lives as in a PARA­DICE; Her HONOVR like a flaming Cherubin, conserving and rendring her inaccessible to all beside: Whence in this Critical Age, where they find out blemishes in the Moon, and spots even in the Sun it self, they could ne­ver find out any spot or blemish in her, she onely having found out the way to stop Rumours Mouth, and silence Ca­lumny, whilst they bark and bite at e­very one besides. In fine, she has all the perfections of a Wife; and all that can make a Husband happy.

This, if her husband knows not, 'tis an unpardonable fault, and igno­rance in him; if he does, 'twere no compliment, nor fondness in him, but a Just esteem of his own Happiness, to say as often as he sees her, O my dearest! you are all mine, and I am all yours; and when I cease for to be so, may I be the miserablest man alive, as now I am the most happy.

OF Your New Irreligious ORDER.

THey are, amongst you Irreligious, as your reformed Orders, (or Capu­cins and Carthusians) are amongst your Religious, professing a more perfect state of life, and higher degree of perfection then the rest. They keep quire, and for Psalmody, have a sort of Bawdy songs, composed by certain Authors of their own, far surpassing your Antient Hea­thens; for their Legend of Saints, they have Apitious's and Heliogabulu's Lives, and Aretins pictures for heightning their devotion. They meditate most devoutly on a Peticoat, and are rapt into extasy with contemplation of the Mystery therein; they observe their Rules of Modesty in Ladies company most exactly, standing with their hands [Page 56] in their Codpieces, and minding Baw­dry whatsoever they say unto them. As others have done by Philosophy, they have wholly subverted all Morality, neither deal they more favourably with Divinity, doubting whether there be any God or no; and holding all Scripture Apochrypha, Excepting onely the Can­ticles of Solomon, which with their gloss passes for Canonical Bawdry; they count Heaven but a Melancholly place, and care not for coming there; so as those who would have them sav'd, must make a new Heaven a purpose for them. Marry the old Hell (with a little Addi­tion) will serve them well enough. In fine, they are incapable to conceive how any Man can be honest, or Woman chaste, and make a fool of Macchiavel, who held that Men could not be extreamly vi­tious, so as by help of their Example, your after Ages will learn of the present; that too many Religions incline men to Atheisme, as well as none at all. And such as these, whilst they call themselves Wits, have brought the name of Wit into such obloquy, as you will [Page 57] shortly see the Church sensure it; the Lawes condemn it, Casuists invent new Cases for it; And finally, all Good Christians put it in their Litanies, to be delivered from such wits as these.


VVIT, like Beauty, has somewhat in it of Divine, and they profane either, who use them to vitious ends; it is rather a slight then force of the spirit, and is chiefly exprest in quick expedients and reparties. The French call it le point de l'esprit, be [...]ause it is sharp, and easily pe­netrates things; whence clenches and quibbles are not wit, because they go no farther then the outward word: It is that, in pleasant and factious discourse, as eloquence is, in grave and serious; and well comports with jest & raillerie, but no wayes with profaneness and scurrilitie; it is the spirit and quintessence of speech, extracted out of the substance of things; and a spiritual fire that rarefies and renders every thing spiritual like it s [...]lf; it is a soaring quality, that just as Dedalus wings, elevates those who have it above other men; and is the same in [Page 59] the brain, as Nobility is in the blood. In fine, it is somewhat above expression; and easier to admire, then tell you what it is: not acquir'd by Art and Stu­dy, but Nature and Conversation; and is so volatile a thing, as it is altogether as vo­latile to describe: Rendring those who have it, good and vertuous, as well as witty men; and whosoever is otherwise, we may well conclude, wants as much of wit, as they do of being such.

ESSAYES OF HISTORY, And how it is to be written.

HISTORY may well be called the Book of Princes, since it chiefly becomes Princes to read and study it. It is a Mirrour, representing passed Times or Persons, and is twofold; either of affairs in General, or Heroick Persons in particular; in either, It is to represent nothing that is false, nor conceal any thing that is true; but since all truths are not indifferently to be uttered; it is e­nough to pass over lightly, and touch gently, what is dangerous to handle, or insist upon. 'Tis long since that (not without some reason,) the wiser sort, have suspected the Faith of all Hi­storians, whilst they writ all in extr [...]ams, either through hate or favour; and lea­ving the Truth in the midst, think they [Page 61] do nothing, unless they [...]ther depress to Hell, or exalt to Heaven, those which they treat of, with their Invectives or E [...] ­comiums.

To write a History well, of all your four dimensions, 'tis rather to have heighth and depth, then longitude and la­titude; that is, 'tis rather to have heighth and depth of expression, then too dif­fuse circumstances, or long narrations; and for heighthning your stile, simili­tudes much confer; as for depth of the matter, grave sentences, and politick notes and observations.

It is not like Philosophy, to be deliver­ed too plainly and briefly, (for so it nothing differs from an Epitome;) nor like Poetry, nor Rhetorick, all garnished with Flowers and Figures, like their Po­ems and Orations; (the one being a cloathing too plain and simple, the other too light and flaunting, for the dignity and gravity of History:) But it is rather to be represented like a Grave Matron, rich, not gawdy; fashionable, not fanta­stical; & more set out for reverence, then ostentation; beside, as in contriving a [Page 62] Building, so in writing a History, a main regard is to be had to the apt cohe­rence of the whole; and passing hand­somly from one part unto another, con­sisting either in Time, Place or Persons; in all which they may easily introduce on any other, by way of comparison, either for similitude or dissimilitude.

To write of Actions only, differs no­thing from a Gazette; unless you declare the reason why they were done; and it is but looking ignorantly upon the out­side of a Dyal, without considering the wheels that give it motion within. And in declaring these Reasons, you are not to be wiser then the truth, by imagining those which are not; nor less wise by ig­noring those which are; but you are to collect them out of the private Cabinets of Princes or publick Registers of affairs and negotiations; neither are they to be crudly delivered, [...]ut digested into the corps of History; unless [...] you may judge it more covenient, to insert the Originals Entire, for the greater Autho­rity of what you write.

By which we may clearly perceive, [Page 63] that there is no sort of writing that re­quires greater sufficiency, nor more judgment then that of History; nor of which we may more truly say, that when well done, none better; when ill, none worse then it; and conclude for the me­thod, that when your Historian enters in­to matter with promise of what he is to write, and clearly deduces it all along (to avoid confusion) till he end at last with performance of what he has pro­mised; both He and his History will be e­very wayes compleat.


ALL Poets anciently were Musici­ans, and Musick and Poetry were conjoyned together; when their chief­est employment was to sing the prai­ses of the Gods; which begat them so much reverence with men, as they ima­gined a certain Divinty in them. Poets were counted Prophets; and as Poetry was the Language of the Gods, so Musick was the Accent in which they spoke.

Musick was then but simple, and had no more variety in Singing, then had the Voice in speaking; it being only an Harmonious speaking, as Poetry was but a speaking Harmony.

Whilst they remain'd thus united, all those miracles were effected by them, as [Page 63] are recorded of Orpheus, Amphion and Arion, &c. Neither did they ever such miracles and wonders since they were separated, as when they were con­joyn'd.

That which first separated them, was, (I imagine) the Extravagancy and Fan­tasticalness of some instrumental Musiti­ans, introducing into the Art, so much di­vision, with their crocheting and quave­ring, as Musick could afterwards no more express a word intire, then a River divi­ded into too many branches, support that weighty Burthen it did before: Besides, whereas formerly when they sung in Chorus, they sang altogether the same words; now their counterpoint has ren­dred our vocal Musick so disjointed and confus'd, as we can no longer under­stand the words they sing. To reduce them to their former unity and simplici­ty, divers have labour'd in the Psalmody of the Church (in our fore-Fathers daies) as in these of ours, in their R [...] ­ [...]i [...]ative Musick for the Stage; but they could never do such wonders with it, as formerly they did; nor ever will, till [Page 61] People and the world return again to their former simplicity: Besides, 'tis No­velty that chief [...]y begets Admiration; and for that, in point of Musick and Poetry, Ancient Times will alwayes have the advantage and start of ours.

Yet certainly our Musick is much more Artificial than theirs, with whom a discord was an unheard-of thing, and going out of the Air, an unpardonable fault. Besides, our Musical Instruments are much more improv'd. But the more [...] Advance in Art (perhaps) the far­ther we recede from Nature; and 'tis that which chiefly moves the passions and af­fections of men.

What their Ancient Musick was, there are [...]areely left any footsteps or memo­rials to inform us, excepting only the Nam [...]s of Dorick, Phrygian, Ionick, Ly­dian or AE [...]lick; to which if we onely compare our Pipes, or Wind Instru­ments, as our Organs, Flutes, or Record­ers, to their grave and solemn Dorick; our Cornets or Trumpets, to their War­like Phrygian; our W [...]i [...]s [...] Hautboies, to their Enthusiatick Ionick or Eolian; and [Page 62] our Scotch or Bag-pipes, to their Bacchick Lydian: The magnificent opinion we may have conceived of them, would as soon vanish (perhaps), as Mountains did of Architecture, when he found all their Tearms of Art, which he Admir'd so much before, of Freez, Coronish, Plinthe & Archetrave, &c. in an old Chimney of his, which no body took notice of. Or, I could liken the Italian to their Pathe­tick or Enthusiack Musick; the French to their sweet and melting Ayres; the Spanish to their loud and hawty Tones; and the English Iiggs, or Scotish Lyds, to their light and Frantick Bacchick Tunes, but that I study Brevity, as much as Mu­sick, or Poetry.

I will conclude then, That there is no­thing found in the one, that is not in the other, of Elegance, Grace and Ornament, both so little comporting with Mediocri­ty, as unless either arrive to Excellence, they are counted no better then Minstrel­ry, or Ballating.

A Discourse of LANGUAGE: And particularly, of the ENGLISH TONGUE.

TIS Fabled, that Mercury god of Elo­quence, distributing to every Nation their several Lan [...]uages; out of certain Va­ses or Phiols, (in which, by Reason of their f [...]uidness they were contain'd) fly­ing over England, and having exhausted all his store, was forc'd to compose them a Language out of the Remains of all the rest; of which (say they) the English Tongue is onely the Dregs and Lees; but a­busively; for certainly, we having our choice of all, and being our own Mer­curys, were Fools s [...]u'd we not chuse the best of every one.

'Tis certain, that our Language is but a mixture of other Languages: and as cer­tain that all our Neighbour- [...]n [...]s are the [...]ike; your French, Spanish a [...]d Italian [Page 67] having a deep mixture of the Latin [...] most of your Northern Nations of the Dutch, as the Oriental of the Arabick, or Sclavonian, there being but few Origi­nal Languages in the world.

For ours, the best notion I can give you of it, is, That it is French Embrothered upon Dutch, with some few Additions of other Languages, (all our monosillables being Dutch, and our compounds, French and Latine,) the Dutch, or Saxon, first expelling the British-Tongue, then the French or Norman, usurping upon that; till at last, it became neither Dutch nor French, but somewhat of both, or a [...]ungril of either.

Certainly for wit and facetiousness, we yield unto no other Nation, n [...]i [...]her for figurative speaking by Allusions and me­taphor; they speaking but simply, whose words infold not some do [...]ble meaning, or somewhat beyond the bare words which they pronounce

Neither is it a dull sluggish Language, like the Dutch or Turkish, in which you shall never hear a witty j [...]st, or good con­ceit, but is capable of as much quickness, wit, fancy, and conceit, as any other [Page 68] Language, and the Nation is as well fitted for it too; only it is defective in superla­tives and diminitives, and has not so ma­ny complements as the French, nor so vast Hyperbolies, as the Italian, to say, scha­vo di vestre seignorie; nor wish them die­ci milli anni, whom they wish health unto; which is rather a commendation of the Nation, and a mark of their well-meaning and sincerity, that they can't dis­semble, nor enlarge themselves so far be­yond the Truth.

In fine, for copiousness and variety of expressions, it yields to none No Come­dy being too light▪ nor Tragedy too grave for it; though by Reason of our scituati­on, it has not that esteem nor vouge as the French, (for Example) who being scituated in the midst of Europe, and the concourse of all Nations, your Travellers are necessitated to learn their Language, under pain of being Tongue-tyed whilst they pass along.

Another Reason that makes our Lan­guage the less esteem'd, is it's many mono­sillables (derived from the Dutch) which makes it nothing so re­sounding [Page 69] as other Languages; (And strangers judge of the goodness of a Language, as they do of Bells▪ or Mu [...]cal-Instruments only by the so [...]nd) [...] the principal grace of words, b [...]ing [...] the Cadence or Ending, where [...] word for strength is able to sustain [...] ours comes so faintly and weakly [...] t'one is forc't to fall on t'other [...] support.

Notwithstanding, if we [...] take a little pains to smooth and [...] our Language, as the Fren [...]h [...] an does, by liquifying all [...] pronounciation [...], (as we [...] pronouncing our harsh Dutch [...]) and would not stick so close to [...] [...] ­thography, but write as we sp [...]ak, and speak more clearly and distin [...]y [...] we do; we need not envie oth [...]rs L [...] ­guages, nor speak (as some do) [...] co [...] ­temptibly of our own.


FOR the Stile or Phrase, which is only the habit a Language is cloathed in; Ours follows much the Italian fashion; (Those learned men that had the ordering of our Language in former times, being most conversant with that Nation it seems) where note, that as there are two s [...]rts of Languages, your dead ones, or those which are past farther growth, (as the Hebrew, Greek, and Latine) and your living ones, or such who grow every day, as all our European ones so in every grow­ing Language, there are two sorts of stiles, the Eru [...]ite, and the stile of the Time, or [...]f the Mode; of which the first never chan­ges, [Page 71] because (e. g.) 'tis cast in the La­tine mould, which alwayes remains the same; whilst that of the Time changes per­petually, as the fashion of our Habit does; whence, whosoever would write for Last­ingness, should write in the Erudite stiles; as Pictures we see drawn in Ancient At­tire, remain alwayes fashionable and be­coming; whilst those drawn in modern-habit (which changes every day) soon become obsolete and ridiculous. Besides, the Phrase or Stile (being as we have said) the habit of a Language, as the Apparel is of the Body, there is a certain becoming­ness, and natural propriety in either; which in the Excess or Defect, is equally vitious; a certain mean betwixt the Switzers Puffs, or Bumbast, and Irish Trouse, neither too strait, nor too wide for the expression of our minds which who­soever has, is abundantly Eloquent.


I Know not under what Constellati­on I was born, that it has alwayes been my Fortune to live amongst the best and noblest of woman-kind; but I am sure, she'as been a happy and fortunate one for me; for there I have seen nothing but honourable and vertu­ous; there as in a Sanctuary I have liv'd, protected from the Vices of the Time; and there (if any where) I have found that saying true, That if vertue could be seen with mortal eyes 'twould ravish all with Admiration and Reverence.

I deny not, but vertue may likewise be found 'mongst men, but 'tis an Austere and Rigid one, not much different from that which you shall find in Cells, and Cloy­sters, rather deterring with its rigour and austerity, then any ways attracting with sweetness and gentleness; besides, 'tis a quarrellous and contentious one, that would force every one to its opinion, [Page 73] and for my part, like him in the Fable, if the Sun by its sweetness and Gentleness cannot do it, the wind certainly by Rufling and blustering, never shall.

Now amongst them, (on the contra­ry) you find nothing but sweetness and gentleness, accompanied with such aw­ful Majesty and Gravity, as whilst they attract to a certain distance, they there suspend you with Reverence and Admiration; nor needs there any frown­ing looks to do it, since as one said well, Beauty is Regnum sine satellitio, a King­dom that needs no force to guard it: if it guard not it self, all other force is vain; and frowning and ill looks will never do it. With good Reason then, they make all vertus of the Feminine Sex, since vertue in a fair Body, as Virgil says, is alwayes most grateful and becoming; and it implies a certain Congruity, that the richest Iewels shu'd be conserv'd in the fairest Cabinets; besides, there is a kind of necessity, as well for nobility of Form, as bloud; To be Good and Vertuous, not to degenerate from the stock and origine from whence they came.

[Page 74] This Testimony then, I will give of the Truth and Them, That I never saw greater Innocence, higher Honour, more Vertue, nor truer Chearfulness then a­mongst them: and above all, none bet­ter dispos'd for piety and devotion; with­out which, all the rest would easily fall to ruine, and decay, like buildings, want­ing their foundation. Mean time, I deny not, but there are many to be found who are not so; but then they are no longer to be counted noble nor beautiful; there being a certain baseness and de­formity in vice, that deprives them both of Beauty and Nobleness, and like Traytors to their Soveraign Prince, degrades them of all the honour and dignity they had before.

OF THOSE Who Glory in their VICES.

WHen any hide their Vices, I shall never seek to discover them; and a well-palliated Vice, shall pass for ver­tue with me at any time: but when they glory in them, and discover them them­selves, they must pardon me, if I take notice of them, and tell them they glo­ry in that, which they ought rather to be ashamed of; and seek Fame from that, which would be anothers Infamy.

There are few so mad, to Glory in their Corporal infirmities; and if they do, their Cures may well be dispaired of; yet thât these do in their spiritual ones, and never perceive how miserable they are, nor know they the whilst, what harm they do to others: for to do ill (most commonl [...]y) goes no farther then ones self; but to speak of it, is a spread­ing sin, and one knows not how far it goes: 'tis like oyle, which easily insinuates self into others minds, and after­wards [Page 76] so spreads and dilates it self, as the stain of it can ne're be wholly taken out again.

As the Weapon-salve cures at distance, so do those discourses wound, and they raise up more Spirits with them, like ignorant Conjurers, then they can lay again.

Amongst the rest, lascivious speeches are the most dangerous of all, for such is mans proneness to lust and the Lubrie­ty of his mind; as 'tis well compared to Ice about the brink of some precipice, which of it self is so slippery, as they can hardly abstain from falling in; but when you add the Impulse of others, 'tis in a manner impossible.

Such then I shall avoid, as publick Impoysoners, or as those infected with the Plague, who long to communicate their contagion to others; and there is nothing more infectious, then such mens company.

Above all, I can least suffer them, when they talk profanely of God and of Re­ligion; and 'tis but the duty of every Christian to reprehend them for it; for [Page 77] as he shu'd be counted no good subject, who could hear the King and State ill spoken of; so shu'd he be no good chri­stian, who could hear the like of God and of Religion; and this is that which renders the state of such as these more desperate and deplorable, and wholly exempts them from the General pardon of other sinners; for if he who excuses his fault, redoubles it, he certainly who Glories in it, renders it a hundred times more inexcusable then before; for by the first, he only offends God; but by this he Braves him too; and the first may be repented of, and so forgiven; but in this they are so far from repenting it, and consequently of being forgiven, as they declare a will of committing it a­gain.

To Theotima.

I Knew a Noble man, who was wont to say, when he saw any one bravely vi­tious indeed, That they were valianter then he, who durst be damn'd: And though we are not lightly to judge so of any one; yet when we see any professedly wicked and Irreligious, 'tis much to be feared, that they are in a damnable state; for there are two things conducing to [...]alvation, a Good Life, and Good Religion; and the one without the other, nothing avails us, (as the Apostle sayes) to­wards the attaining of Eternal Life.

[Page 79] For the first, our Rule is the Com­mandments of Almighty God, which whosoever transgresses, is in danger of damnation. For the second, the Evangil of our Saviour Christ, tells us, that out of his Church, there is no Salvation.

Of the first there is no doubt; since e­ven the very Heathens themselves by the only light of Nature, held absolutely necessary for a Good Life, the obser­vance of all that God has command­ed us: for the second, there is much doubt even amongst Christians them­selves: Some holding they may be sav'd in all Religions, as well Christian, as Iew­ish or Pagan, &c. And if so, what need­ed our Saviour to have come into the world to teach us a new Religion, since there were old Religions enow in the world before?

Others again are of opinion, That in all Christian Religions they may be sav'd, at least; and if so, what needed the Holy Scripture so nicely to distinguish betwixt the True Church of Christ, and Herisies, pronouncing all Hereticks infallibly damned, or such as adher'd to their pri­vate [Page 80] opinions, against the Generally re­ceived ones of the Church? which being so, Theotima, all who have any care of their salvation, besides living well, are to endeavour to follow the Religion an­ciently instituted by our Saviour Christ, and to insist on the foot-steps of the ancient Christians to find it out; which however obscur'd by length of time, may yet by those who diligently seek, be easily discovered.

Since then our Saviour has said, that Seducers should come, but that his Church should never fail; Let us not hearken to these new start-up Teachers, crying out, here is Christ, and there is Christ, so long, till they make many doubt whether there be any Christ or no; which is all the fruit of their new Doct­rines, to make people doubt of the old, and be certain of nothing; nor will there ever be an end of them, till they return into the old again: For if it be lawful for any man to begin a new Religion, ano­ther will presently start up, and cry, Why not I, as well as he? and so they will at last increase to Infinite. As we tender [Page 81] then our salvation, Theotima, let us hold firm unto the old, which our Saviour himself has instituted and taught us, who sayes of himself, That he is the Way, the Truth, and the Life; the Way, in which we cannot err; the Truth, by which we cannot be deceived; and the Life, in which, and by which, we are to live Eternally.

To the same: Counselling him to write OF SPIRITUAL MATTERS.

YOu are the first, Theotima, who encouraged me to write of spiritual matters; from which, I confess, I was but too much discouraged before, by the Libertines of the Time, who make no more of God, [...]or Godly things, then they did of the King and his Regalities, in the dayes of Rebellion. But where should I find Readers when I have done? when besides your self, and some few others re­sembling you, it is a Language none now adayes understand more then old [...]sk, or the Punick and Carthagenian Tongue? when I shall find opportunity, I shall not be wanting to it; but for impor­tunity, this is not a Time nor Place. There are spiritual Books enow already, unless [Page 83] they were better followed; and enow of Religion, unless they were better under­stood. Mean time, I thank you for the good opinion you have of me, to think me capable of so good a work; whilst some are so scrupulous, as they should think themselves damned, if they should but laugh; and have so little scruple on t'other side, as to think me little better, because I am not as melancholly as them­selves.

I thank God, I have always been a pro­fest Enemy to Vice; and although this be but a negative kind of Vertue, yet 'tis somwhat, as the world goes now, where those may be counted Saints, who are not altogether Sinners; as those who are not altogether knaves, may be counted honest men; and I thank God, I am still constant to my first principles, as you will see by these pieces which I send you here; which though they are not so spiritual as you desire, tend towards it, yet at least, in a moral way; and credit me, Theo­tima, We have as much need now of Morality as Divinity; and 'tis but a pre­posterous [Page 84] way, to perswade the t'one without the other, or seek to plant ver­tue and piety in their hearts, without clearing them first of vice and impiety. This then is the way, Theotima, which I have ta'n, which if I find but appro­ved by you, I shall with the more chearfulness pursue it, and glory in the Title of being

Your devoted Servant and Convertit.

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