First Part.

Non Aliena meo pressi pede.

London Printed by Richard Cotes, 1645.

MY Friend; for so you are, or at least I in­tend you; bee favourable to these my inno­cent Lines which meane nothing but your good: they meet with an unfriendly time, and though my selfe have kept them these late yeares of our troubles, like a candle un­der a bushel, without so much as casting my owne eye upon them; I feare you will admit others, perhaps, neither friends to you nor me; which if against my will you do, I have yet taught them to say something for themselves, and here and there they will return a tooth; they were designed, as they tell you, to a domestique confinement, impatient of publique view, and still of Shop mart and residence; whosoever cen­sures, shall not be entituled to it as at publique Stage-playes, for his money, whereupon I hope he will bee the more modest and indulgent: But now meeting with this plundering age, if they venture not to undergoe the Presse, they are obnoxi­ous to a sodain destruction; nor are their Master and them­selves so free from the connaturall Epidemicall disease of vanity, as easily to consent the annihilation of so many houres productions, especially seeing diverse of the graver sort of Spirits have long since advised the publication even of their most light and airy parts: nor doe I remember that e­ver I knew a Parent of a deformed Child lesse carefull of its preservation then of the most beautifull: St. Paul made him­selfe every thing to every body to win some; the very prae­ludes and antipast of these may happily lead to good and wholesome nourishment, such is my wish.

Since the birth of these pieces, the world I suppose hath never experienced so great a liberty and prostitution of the Presse, to me, there never was lesse of writing, I have labour­ed with strong griefs and cares, and yet they found at last a tongue; the direfull extremities and convulsions which my unhappy Country, and my self in it have suffered these last yeeres make good with me the saying of Ingentes curae stu­pent: Partiality found much, ingenuity little freedom: the first surprize was such as caryed me to an affectation of dissolution rather then to endure the spectatorship of the growing miseries & approaching tragedies; nay, spectatorship was not allowed, [Page] Embarque you must, and in a manner embarqued already was I by my naturall condition; totall retirednes had been my former course and resolution, now forced from it, what had I to do, but according to my acquired habit of mind, s [...]ere my course as I conceived my relations in fairest duty, affection, honesty and reason to require, this, casting off my self, & all private interest and consideration I did: the learned sophistical spirits of ano­ther not of so fair a mind cast out such mists from the Or mud their owne breeding. Moras­ses, wherein they had formerly engaged us, as troubled both mine, and the generall digestion of otherwise no weakly dispo­sed constitutions; this lay long heavy upon me, til at length that good God who hath ever miraculously assisted me in my greatest distresses dispersed my clouds, commanded & necessitated me to perish rather in doing my duty to hims [...]lf, my King, & Coun­try, then so poorly as I had abandoned my selfe in contracting and yeelding to a growing and inevitable infirmity and ruine: His inspiration I obeyed, and hee hath so blessed me, that in de­spight of unexpressible disorders of body and mind, as I have conquered all feares and apprehension of whatever consequen­ces; so doe I in my station and daily duty surmount my not on­ly late but ancient infirmity; I wrap my selfe in my honest re­solves, steering for the best, untroubledly prepared for the worst. But I am faln amongst the Noli me tangere's. And now again for a spirt to my Book: Poore Book of a most unhap­py Author, what fate, what genius canst thou expect to make thee happier then thy Master? Yet thus far I will encourage thee, that from the fairest, from the best constituted, he hath ge­nerally reaped favorable opinion; for others, respect them as little as he, seek thy happines within thy self, and not abroad, they will have their sayings, but thy good constitution will beare thee out against malignant blasts, wander the least thou canst, keep close to thy friends, & tell them that the many ab­ruptions and et caeteraes of thy most serious, sad, and devout pieces of Prose were occasioned by diverse expungings of mat­ter intended only for a Son, or a descendant.

We are now in an extraordinary early, faire promising, and comfortable spring, and by Gods grace upon a treaty for Peace: May the King be happy in good Counsel, and beleeving wel of such as seek nothing more then his, and his peoples happinesse, This is our Crisis of emerging, or utter ruine: Pais gastè vault mieux que pais perdu. Benedicat Deus.

A Forest of VARIETIES: Concerning petty Poetry, made more generall in addresse then at first.

Preludium to the first Verses.


IN ancient offerings to Deity, Turtles, In­cense, and Flowers have beene acceptable for the zeale of obedience, though of little worth, or advantage; let my respect to your command make the more excusable the worthlesse following lines, which other­wise in my knowledge of the sleightnesse of their stuffe and making should never have presumed to undergoe the weight of your censure: True Turtles you shall find them, full of simple love, and unfurnisht of all Serpentine climbing art of subtilty and know­ledge: Incense and Smoake, they are but of the gentlest nature, not far fetcht Aromatiques, troublesome and intoxicating to the brain, but mild as flowers unmedicinall for morality, meere Poseys or Nosegays, gay to the first sense; which if happily you prove them, fa­vour them so far as to give them their passe without further exami­nation, I promise not my self that they shal please, for they please not my selfe; (especially in a serious humour) I know them full of faults, but thinke them not worth the mending. And if to bee an Author of such toyes bee a fault, it is surely doubled to make them too great a businesse. Idlenesse was their mother, which though I pleased my selfe to avoyd by their destroying her in their birth, yet to good judgements they may well bee as ill pleasing, as ill natur'd: If time were mis-spent in them, yet there was not much cast away; for the idle howers of three moneths brought them forth, except some few, the children of little more then my childhood. As they are [Page 2] farre from deserving good opinion, so am I farre from the humour of some so well conceited of such their workes (like Peacocks proud of their feathers) that they are never at an end of their la­bour, but still with child to utter them: my travell ended with their first birth, and so I hope or with the readers may at the first reading; for if they bee not plaine and easie, it is against my will, which as it wants strength to imitate, so cannot approve the ridling humour lately affected by many, who thinke nothing good that is easie, nor any thing becomming passion that is not exprest with an hyperbole above reason. These tormentors of their owne and their Readers braines I leave to bee admired in their high obscure flight, (while my selfe will bee happy, if I can procure but a fa­miliar delight to a superficiall reading) they affect to shew more wit then love, and in truth so much, that whilst they commend beyond reason, they shew that either they want reason to com­mend, or their subject to bee commended; like ill ranging Spaniells they spring figures, and ravished with their extravagant fancies, pursue them in long excursions, neglecting their true game and pre­tended affection: Bee the matter, or the discoursers capacitie never so poore and meane, I ever affect a man that maketh right conclu­sions. And for my selfe, I would rather bee thought to want in­vention and knowledge, then judgement and good consequence in what I utter. The Poetry of these times abounds in wit, high con­ceit, figure, and proportions; thinne, light, and emptie in matter and substance; like fine colored ayery bubbles or Quelque-choses, much o [...]entation and little food; conceits, similes, and allegories are good, so the matter bee carried along in them, and not inter­rupted by them. Venus is here drawne by her Doves, not Serpents; and as I professe my selfe to want art in all things, so in matters or love I thinke it may bee best spared, as being an affection meerely naturall, and where Art is seldome comely, but authorised with a native disposition; besides, Verses of love are commonly made for women, whose chiefest beautie consists in being unsophistica­ted by Art, and are the more pleasing in conversation by possessing a free puritie of unadulterated wit. And as wee often see that those women that have bestowed on themselves the most Art and costly dressing, nay many times that have the best proportion, are not yet the most winning: So in Verses there is to bee exprest a naturall spirit and moving ayre (or accent) more alluring and charming the affection, then others of a farre more rich, faire and curious com­position. The world in all things is full of Critiques, that are sharpe sighted to reprehend, and will approve nothing but accor­ding to their owne rule; (many times out of square) But for my part I hold the same opinion of Verses as of Ayres in Musick, or Houses, that let them bee delightfull and pleasant to the first appea­rance with conveniency to the designe, and for the fantasticated rules of Art, Architecture, and proportion, let them observe them that list: and commonly who most affects them, most failes in the generall delightfulnesse and use. Poetry is in truth a kind of Mu­sick, [Page 3] the fable of Orpheus expressed as much; Musick hath its An­thems, Pavens, Fantesies, Galliards, Courantoes, Ayres, Sara­bands, Toyes, Cromatiques, &c. And Verses have their Hymmes, Tragedies, Satyres, Heroiques, Sonets, Odes, Songs, Epigrams, Distiques, and Strong lines, which are their Cromatiques, and of themselves may bee excellent in their Art; but long dwelt upon grow harsh and distastefull. The commandements and preceptives are none of the poeticall parts of Scripture. Though I am no part of a Scholar, yet thus much by casuall opening of books I know, that Horace in matter of love hates difficulty: and though I beleeve it an imitation of his abrupt and harsh veine in his more serious peeces, that upon the worthinesse of his name and matter, hath de­baucht many from the formerly used, more open, familiar and plea­sing manner of versifying; yet I finde that even himselfe (howso­ever either naturally or affectedly rugged, except his Lyrick veine) when hee uttereth his judgement, or prescribeth to others con­cerning measured compositions, no man is more frequent in recommendation of a round, current, cleare and gracefull delivery: but what his morall, solid and satyrick matter dispenst with, is in slighter stuffe intolerable: there shall you find the rough hands, but not the voyce and substance; let them rather imitate his best, then his worst. It cannot bee good in limited lines, which are a purposed pause to the voyce, to carry with a counter-time the period of the sense to the body of the next line, much lesse to dismember an innocent word, that eve­ry child according to nature, and use, in spelling would put toge­ther; and words have a naturall ayre, accent, and quantitie, whence to strayne them is to rack both them and the reader: Who will set himselfe to daunce, or his horse to manage, let him seeke to ob­serve good time, ayre, and fashion: no man is fit for all things; whose Genius was borne for prose, let him write prose, rather then affecting Verse to make such unnaturall stuffe, as shall bee good neither. I pity both in my selfe and others to see the best of our matter in one place so extreamly prest, that it is a labour to dis­cover it, and yet in another part of the same peece slight and super­fluous stuffe dilated at large. A Poet should raise light from smoak, not blow that which is light with him to carry but smoak to ano­ther.King Iames. I am of his Majesties mind, that the best eloquence is to make our selves clearely understood, and that to him who hath leasure, there need no abbreviations: I had rather pay for a little more paper then to bee put to the cost of my braine.Sir Philip Sidney. The admira­ble inventions and matter of your unimitable Uncles extant works flourish in applause of all, by a happy and familiar display of their beauties to the meanest, including withall such generositie of true­ly and profoundly extracted conceit to the most inward life of whatsoever hee expresseth, that the strongest and clearest seeing judgements may rest satisfied, yea transported in contemplation of the most lively and pleasing touches that a soule can apprehend, or a pen distill. Yet somewhat more to authorise my selfe, Lipsius [Page 4] upon perspicuity holds it the greatest misery in writing, not onely not to be understood, but to be understood with difficulty: and the sharp-witted Hunc vol [...] qui fiat non sine pane s [...] ­tur. Martial in contempt of the more formall and severe censurers and Writers, professeth that hee would have his verses need neither an Apollo, nor Grammarian; and howsoever some may deny him to be exact, himself in his entertainments affects rather to please his Guests then Cooks. Verses of love should be verses of pleasure, & to please in love, the smoother fac'd the better.

I may be crabbed and rugged, but will never affect to bee so, especially in verses, whose true nature and use is to worke a kind of a Charme upon the mind, even with slightnesse of matter, by the well wrought and exquisite harmony of their Cadence, and sound: There being to be transfused into verse sometimes such a naturall spirit of magnanimity, sometimes such a soft, wanton, and melting aire of passion, that the one shall never faile to affect a generous and heroick mind, nor the other to work a kind of tender and relen­ting disposition in a sensible and well-natur'd constitution; neither of which shall easily be seene effected from a harsh and rude (though never so witty) an expression: for as in persons, so in Verses; some, let them meane never so lovingly, shall yet by their naturall verjuyce be ever out of the way of Bacchus and Venus. But in point of obscurity, in some sort to excuse my selfe with others, I feare wee all often unwillingly incurre the errour of it by thinking our meaning as open to others, as to our selves, when indeed the Cha­racters of our expression are fully supplyed by our owne understan­ding to our selves, whilst to others they are lamely contracted and imperfect. Thus much I have been bold to write, not onely to ex­cuse a poore Mother wit, but somewhat to give a passe upon their strange and uneasie habit, who I doubt not but they will have many a gird at my easie and naturall nakednesse; I meane those lofty dimme shooting Archers, whom I wish to remember, that hee who shootes highest, shootes not ever nearest the marke; and hee that may walke in the light, is to bee suspected for choosing the darke. Now (Madam) I grant that all I can write (especially what these lines containe) is but vanity and a most idle vanity; yet thus farre I will excuse both the writing and the reading, that all the world is little better: wee often condemn vaine pleasures, and remember not that the most things the best of us most seriously doe, have in­deed no other end. For God being served and nature sustained, what fruit proceeds from our authority, learning, wealth, policy, and earnest intent to profit, but to satisfie our impulsive affections, which either propound to themselves a felicity whereof they faile in the possession, or seeke to divert by such imployments the dul­nesse and otherwise obtruding miseries of their condition? which if you please to consider, you will the more excuse many pursuers of lawful and naturall delights, and value those pleasures at the better rate which are most perdurable and communicable. May the following wanton (but as modest Babes as their Mother Venus could produce) though they cannot profit, yet afford some de­light [Page 5] light to that your Worthy well furnish't mind, to which I wish all happinesse that ever Noble nature possest, or can possesse. I must yet bee so much longer, as to crave pardon for my unintended and I feare unpleasant length, it is the vice of writing to bee endlesse; thus hath my enmity to obscurity brought forth tediousnesse, yet not so much, but that all this may bee sooner read, then some one passage of our Night pieces understood: they had need afford pro­fitable stuffe, who utter it at so hard a rate. I wish your Ladiships authority would so abate the price that our poorer abilities might hold trade without straining. And seeing I am upon the Theame of verses, whither I meane not shortly to returne, I humbly crave your favour after my fashion, disorderly to say thus much more, that howsoever some of the stricter sort approve onely of verses so close, usefull, and substantially woven, that there must bee neither list, loosenesse, nor the least superfluity of words: for my part, I am not of that strict order, nor ever yet saw it observed in any Author. Nature hath mingled stalkes with flowers, and Huskes with Corne, and hath raised ornament from our excrementiciall haires: conceits and matter over-crusht, afford commonly as little grace as pleasure; and to write all in abbreviations, would take in­deed les [...]e room, but much more time and trouble. A Geneva print weakens the sight, nor is it good to hold your bow ever bent, or your horse streight rained. Sometimes amongst pithy and tough lines I thinke it not amisse to interpose one of an easie [...]traine, like rest­ing places in lofty staires, to ease the Reader. Some fluency of weak water helpes the better in nourishment to convey what is more so­lid. Lamp-oile yeelds no good savour nor in sallet nor verse. Dif­ficilia quae pulchra, is to bee understood of the attaining, and not the exercising of faculties. You know how it is said of Poems, that they should bee such, ut sibi quivis speret, idem sudet frustraque laboret ausus ide [...]. Strong lines may bee drawne on with Cartropes, but the fairest have generally an easie birth. It is rare for anything to be well and hardly performed. The French expression, A Deliure, implyes as well perfectnesse, as facility and dexterity. There may bee imployed such an extraordinary (yet gentle) finenesse of con­ceit, and Conclusions so designed, wrought, limned and coloured, touches so bold, covert allegories and subtilties so neat, Epithets so materiall, Metaphors and ambiguities so doubly fine, as shall bee more masterlike then more sententious, sublime, abstruse, and strong appearing lines. Worth of matter and conception supposed, nothing more commends a piece then termes well chosen, proper, lively, and significant, with a free comming on, and as free a close and con­clusion. Also a faire, cleare and even thorough carriage with well wrought joints and connexions gives credit to the workman. I love as much a great deale of force and depth couched in one word, as I hate little in many. VVe ordinarily write and speake the same things and notions, and to the same purpose, but infinitely differ in the delivery and expression; some proceed in a stuttering confused obliquity, groping as in a mist or darknesse; some goe more direct­ly [Page 6] and exhibit their Idea's and conceptions with so cleare and di­stinct a light, illustrations, instances, demonstrations, enforcements, and arguments so pertinent, perspicuous and concluding, that the understanding and assent are captivate beyond evasion or subter­fuge. Sophistry and figures may appeare fine and witty, but pre­vaile little upon the best judgements: Reason must convince the intellectuall soule. May I write clearly and strongly, rather then finely and artificially; hence is the difference of elocution, hence of perswasion, the one is light and aery, the other weighty and so­lid; most lovely and commanding is the beauty of a faire ingenu­ous and rich soule fairely mounted, and armed upon well shaped and unanimously received vertue, goodnesse and reason. Verses are then good, when turned to prose they hold a faire and currant sense, and when translated into another language, there is such mastery found in their conception by the advantage of what is ge­nuine unto them, that there will bee either more words or lesse conceit and matter. The priviledge they have over common phrase, consists in the warranted becomming ornament of a lofty well ordered spirit, and wantonnesse, such as shall make toyes passe for Jewels, and give to what of it selfe is precious, an acquisite lu­stre of workmanship beyond what prose can beare, and that in lit­tle room; Their voice is more constrained, and consequently more shrill and piercing. Nor is it in writing the least perfection (howsoever it hath found little observation) so to order and con­tract our expressions, that one well adopted word may run into, and govern many of diverse and strong sense) for nothing gives more pleasure and satisfaction to a diligent inquisitive and judicious Rea­der, then much matter and conceit compendiously digested with sufficiency of perspicuity. To conclude, lines of a farre fetcht and labour'd fancy with allusions and curiosity, and in similes of little more fruit or consequence, then to ravish the Reader into the wri­ters fine Chamaeleon colours, and feed him with aire, I approve not so much, as heighth and force of spirit sententiously and weightily exhibited; wit needs not rack it self where matter flowes; embro­deries become not a rich stuffe; and art is best exprest where it least appeares.

A strong wing is to be preferred before a painted, and good [...]ense and matter elegantly delivered before extravagancy of fancy and conceit; such unnaturall impertinency serves rather to shadow then illustrate, to overwhelme then set forth the subject: as well appo­site as accurate writing is the Authorsglory.

Postscript upon occasion of the then young Princes pretended desire to have sight of the following Poems.

ANd here under pardon to conclude with this further de­fence of Love the subject of this little work, but taking it more large and high I find love to be the most worthy object of the best and most generous dispositions, and none but maligne natures that addresse not their thoughts towards it: for what good and worthy mind hath its being, that is not bent as upon its felicity either to the love of women the most naturall, of men the most noble, or above all of God the most happy and re­wardfull? Whither else tend all our studies of comlinesse, of glory, and noble actions of charity and good deeds? Wherein can man so well resemble his great Creator as by worth and goodnesse to win love? what more noble end can any man have to study vertue and perfection, then thereby to win affection and praise, the reward and food of vertue, and tribute of God? Nay, love the essence of God, the good spirit and wings of the soule, the Mother, Child, and finall cause of Beauty, the begetter and maintainer of the world, the life of life: by love the Sunne shines, and the earth brings forth, by love is society and commerce maintained, by love the soule dwels with the body, and God with the soule; by love nature ever works for our preservation, when the body and almost the soule are laid in sleep. Admirable love! without thee life is hatefull, man but a wolfe to man, the world a second Chaos; For thy sake alone, who affectest not a decaying Mansion, I apprehend losse by growing old, yet thus againe am I comforted by thy most divine power, that thou never abandonest the dwelling of goodnesse, and art successively fruitfull over all the good works of nature to the worlds period: so that to the vertuous, where the love of women failes, the love of men begins, and where that by the withering imperfections of age grows cold, (as the aire to a setting Sunne) there, for our supreame and infinite comfort, begin to shine most clearly the beames of that divinest love, (which before were too much intercepted by the sen­sualities and passions of our younger yeares) to make us therein eter­nally happy by that operation of love, and contemplation of beau­ty, which at the last must be our soules immortall food and joy.

Advertisement upon the first Verses.

I am not ignorant that who keepes the common road, falls not into the incumbrances incurred by them who search or by or nearer wayes: Writing is a by-path of life, I am yet ingaged to it, but hope shortly to get out, and by the way I give you this Antidote and Rapsody of praecaution and true information concerning the following pieces. The reason why I retaine and expose them with others, is not so much that I esteem them worthy of view or life, as that they were many yeares since Copyed and spread abroad beyond my knowledge then, and are now beyond my power to recall: they are more Chaffe then Corn, fitter to bee ventilated, blown away, and play in the aire, then ven­ted in any Market and commerce of wit and censure: they are in­correct, if not incorrigible; yet I consent to leave them, and many other my pieces, such as they are, to represent unto me the difference 'twixt then and now. To attempt to perfect them were to disper­sonate their youth and hasty nature, and fall into the much frequen­ted stage [Error] of putting stronger lines, and more conceited and elaborate elegancy into weake mouths and strong passions; then well comporteth with them; let their youth and genuine concep­tion plead their pardon. You shall mistake them if you often con­ceive them not rather the off-spring of fancy then passion. But take them at the worst, they have something of reason and serious in them: and the errours of love are not so foule, as the love of errour; nor is it impertinent to perswade love in them who have constrained it in you; and love may bee such, as to become no lesse justifiable then naturall. Love is in truth of divers kinds, ever an Ebullition of the liver: sometimes it is made and forced upon us, sometimes wee weave and foole our selves into it, sometimes it proceeds from gra­titude and good nature of gratification. It is generally the child of weaknesse, as well as of idlenesse: witnesse my selfe in my childish youth and Melancholy humour. A vigorous gayety of the heart and mind taken up and busie in other affections and entertainments hardly admits it. It is a sad confinement, a disease like womens longing, where the violent appetite of one object, no better then the rest, gives relish to that alone, whilst a right and undistasted ap­prehension of every thing in the true kind is the much better and sounder constitution: and as in longing after such or such a morsell, the consideration is carried by the fancy and tast, which have no rule but themselves: or as at Table, the hearty approbation of some one dish is a provocation to others appetites: so in love. And as most Dogs will often strive to get away anothers bone, though otherwise little desired, or when a morsell is offered to bee snatched [Page 9] from them, grow greedy of that which before they neglected; so in affections; I leave the application. Sometimes as love hath been tearmed a warfare, so is brave Conquest made ambition; too many make it their felicity, and effeminately bend all their affecti­ons towards it; Sometimes it is taken up for a fashion, and to be in fashion is in idle times of no small importance to idle and gallant persons: Sometimes like Coqualuchios and Epidemicall diseases, it may much proceed from the disposition of the Ayre; as in other kind wee may observe of quarrells that they seldome go alone; Our poore volatile ayery affections are strongly wrought upon as well from outward as inward incentives, winds, and Aspects.

The first accesse of love is not ever by the eyes, it hath often a strong foundation and preocupation begotten at the eare; when a noble heart takes impression of a well lodged reputa­tion, eminent in fame, vertue, generalitie of love and applause attending it, there is it already halfe as much subdued as it is ambitious to possesse and subdue: to complete, I acknowledge the approbation of the eye for a requisite concomitant. To draw and quicken, sometimes the saying of the shadow is usefully true, it flies what followes, and pursues what seemes to retire and flie.

Whether love bee most naturall betweene differing or sutable complections may as well bee a question, as the old rule of friend­ship to consist amongst equalls hath been lately controlled. But as friendships are conceived most firme in such relation and tye, as there may bee a dependency wrought either by a reciprocation of mutuall benefits and advantages, or where at least the good and fortune of the one relies and fastens it selfe upon the other: So if the fantasticall existence of love receive not a fixation from some more solid root and consideration, such as growes either from a rationall and deliberate election, or from such like sympatheticall proportion of mind, vertue and affections; it will bee easily subject to scatter and blow away in the lightnesse of the soyle that produ­ced it. It is a fantastique and hardly to bee concluded on by rea­son; but wee generally see it is specificall, as betweene vipers and other creatures in their kind. And certainly there is a self-love raigning in us, which will not well permit a quick viperine highgu­sted spirit to fancy one of a dull and flegmatique temper. Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight, is as false as fine; circum­stance and opportunities more often beget it: and love, to shew its extravagant power, ordinarily graffs it selfe upon the stock of an unfavourable, prejudiciall and crabbed opinion. As there is great difference betwixt What will you give, and What will you take: so is there in seeking and making love, or being found and made to it. Wise men are said to make more opportunities then they find, but in love it holds the other way. True love is as passive as active, and it is the height of its true art, to moderate it selfe, as to love and bee wise. How blind and unreasonable soever it is supposed (as I have otherwhere said) a fair, kind and sutable object hath much [Page 10] to alledge why it ought to bee loved, and it is a peculiar preroga­tive of faith to transcend our reason; you see I affect to write ra­ther obscurely then full and largely (what you stick upon to con­ceive, may stick the better with you.) I have often pitied to see not onely the most beautifull of creatures, but the fairest and kindest natures most subject to the excesse, and vitious fruite of their love and kindnesse; there is belonging to them a kind of goodnesse, be­ing as well affected in a gratification of others, as the naturall plea­sure respecting onely themselves. It is as happy that divine and humane Lawes have circumscribed us herein, as it is miserable to see how nature by a gallantry of custome hath shaken off her fai­rer, richer girdles and bracelets so farre as to become relapsed into her naked native current common with other creatures, almost drowned in her owne whirlpoole; and neglecting all other lessons of vertue, honour and Religion; men may ordinarily learne from women a strength beyond their ordinary in maintaining them­selves above the vanitie and levitie of resenting impression from admiring and affecting eyes; you may attribute it to their honour lying at stake one way, as ours another: but well considered, men as well in honour as fortune prove the greater losers by such in­tanglings; perfection of one may bee imperfection in another. But here let the most unlovely natures and contemners of love find this Take this o­ther Paradox, that the faire [...]t are often the chastest: for loving beauty in the abstract, how ever they may please their nature and humour in giving way to a parc [...]l enter­tainm [...]nt of many affecti­ons, yet r [...]st they often sa­tisfied in a pen­dulous suspen­sive power and glory, by an e­quilibrious di­straction, which others missing more abandon themselves to the concrete. Paradox, that there is none of them all so clay or kay cold, but de­spit [...] of their rigid perverse discourse and disposition (I except im­potent, maleficiat, aged, and sickly frigidity) if they meet with a right, a kind, and courting subject, and bee plyed with warme cloathes, it shall put them into such a heate as birds feele in the Spring, or Deere in the Autumne; yet this I grant, that very many not incapable of love wander all their lives without meeting a true steele to their flint, or a fatall constellation of the heavenly and earthly stars to their inflammation. You know the proverbe of marriage and hanging, and old sayings are somewhat authentique; Fate may bee easilier slighted then avoyded. Gamesters may think to counter-shuffle Fortune out of her course, when the poore fooles become in truth her Instruments to shuffle themselves into her noose. Reason and discourse were not given to us (I confesse) in vaine, and they are to bee imployed according to good discretion, yet such as will leave nothing to fortune are not ever the most suc­cessefull: As men in ships conceit the earth to move when it is them­selves, so wee may wittily thinke wee leade and fetter fortune, which in spight of our wisedome will prove our guide and steerer. There are to us in our courses (as to Pilots at Sea) certaine insensi­ble currents that force us out of our propounded way and scope.

Si fortuna volet, fies de Rhetore Consul,
Si volet haec eadem, fies de Consule Rhetor.

The universall agent is the great and prime wheele, by whose mo­tion all thoughts, actions, and events are commanded. It is hee [Page 11] who turnes (Ille ego qui quondam) from Mantua to Troy or Rome, and so it gratiously pleased him to convert my Muse by a better to a bet­ter nature. St. Paul made us witnesses of his, and I am contented by an equall Communication of both kinds to make you witnesses of my better conversion. That Eternall and Melior natura I implore to instruct mee to distinguish betwixt him and man, true or false, Piety and Charitie, to preside mee in all my courses, and leade mee in his trust to him, in whom alone is all true f [...]licitie. Amen, Amen.

[Page 12]
Many of these Verses I owne not, for I
In them was scarce my owne; Nor am I hee
Who made them: but since from such vanitie
May grow such change, reade through, and change with mee.


AWake my silent long reserved Muse:
Th'allarme of love tumultuous in my heart
Summons out all my soules best strength, & art;
And doth my weaker faculties confuse.
What serve you now you precept Sentinells,
You Rampars fram'd of reason and discourse
Against all passions power and intercourse?
One puts you now to flight, who all compells
To yeeld unto her all-subduing might.
'Tis shee may truely say, I come, I see,
And captivate the proudest hearts to mee.
Her power commands mee love, admire and write
Her glory, and my love, above compare:
Wherein great Queene of love accept good will:
For it exceeds the power of earthly quill
Either t'expresse, they so transcendent are.
On then my pen my burd'ned soule to ease,
Shee absent, thou alone my mind must please.
Not for their worth, but for thy worthinesse
Accept of these presumptuous ruder lines,
Where through my weaknesse thy bright beauty shines,
And Sun-like doth in spite of mists expresse
Its owne true glory: Wisely happy hee,
Who in this glasse of water viewes this Sun
Excelling object, which to looke upon
Our humane Organs too unable bee.
What though the Sisters nine my Muse disclaime,
As an untutor'd Novice new start up,
That never tasted the Castalian cup?
Let others invocate their idle name,
Whilst I by thy divine pow'r set on fire
Thy worth on higher Trophees elevate
Then e're the greatest Poet Laureate
Could her renowne that did his Muse inspire.
Assist great goddesse then my passions story,
Thy beauties record, thine shall bee the glory.
To make an Inventory of thy parts
By faire resemblance of their forme and hew
To Ivory, Corall, Crystall, heavenly blew
Hills, Pillars, Bowes, Valleyes, and piercing darts,
[Page 14]Were to detract from that perfection
Of teeth, of lips, of eyes, of azure veines,
Breast, neck, browes, lookes, and those delicious plaines,
Which thou hold'st in most faire connexion,
Excelling all resemblance, all compare;
And were indeed by cunning to aspire
To colour forth the burning heat of fire,
Or glorious light, and dazling beames which are
In Phoebus face, and fiery Chariot dwelling.
Thou like the joyes of the Elysian place,
(Which who strives to describe shall but debase)
Art onely knowne, by others all excelling.
Let then all Pens, and Species confesse
Their weaknesse thy perfections to expresse.
Since Cupid to Loves Seas my Barke hath prest,
My fate once led mee by the Cape of Hope;
But since alas! my agitated Boate
Hath past Despaires sad gulfe, and its arrest,
I Anchor cast dysaster to prevent,
But Anchor hopelesse did, and helplesse prove;
That marble white and red it could not move
Whereon I ventur'd it, but home was sent.
Like as do those, whom fearefull shipwrack threats,
Labour for life some harbour good to win,
Yet crost by wind, and tide, cannot put in:
So up and downe my tossed Bottome beates,
Expecting better fortune, and some grace
That welcom'st haven that I may recover,
Which under that Cape once more I discover,
Center of happinesse, most wished place:
But cruell night, why dost thou mee such wrong,
With thy black cloake to barre mee of that fight,
My onely marke, my soules supreme delight,
Supplanting my enflamed hope so long,
That for a fortnight thou dost that remove,
(Fortnight, which will as long to mee appeare
As if each night contain'd a tedious yeare)
The onely object of my joy and love?
For joy without her presence have I none,
Nor can I love but onely her alone.
If Art by wishing could obtained bee,
I would I had the power of Circe's skill,
Not like to her by poys'ning meanes to kill;
But by some secret Philters mystery
Loves mutuall flames to her I would impart,
Whose piercing eyes have set my breast on fire,
[Page 15]Whilst shee I feare remaines without desire,
Impenetrable to loves powerfull Dart.
Bee not unjust, great-little God of love,
Turne not a Tyrant in thy latter raigne,
Make us not thinke that thou didst love ordaine
Our torture, but felicitie to prove:
Justices ballance ever even stands:
Shoote equall then her heart as well as mine,
That wee may both adore thy power divine
With equall, happy love, faith, joy, and bands.
So shall I ever celebrate thy fame,
But else have cause to curse thy power, and name.
I wonder much that all this Parliament
Your Sex 'gainst you a bill hath never fram'd,
Wherein (me thinkes) you justly might be blam'd
That contrary to common Lawes intent,
And common good by your meanes dearth is bred
With scarcitie, which men incenseth so
That some contentlesse, some to fury goe;
And all because you hold monopoled,
And have ingross'd into your sole possession
The masse, and stock, and beautie of our age:
A grievance just, except you can asswage
Their cause of plaint by satisfying impression;
Whereat me thinkes I see you forth produce
Your selfe for Patent, beautifully fram'd
By God and Natures perfect working hand,
Whose power to question were prophane abuse;
And thus your right authoriz'd, they confuted
Subscribe your Patent n'ere to bee disputed.
Come on you searching quintessence of wit,
Limbeck no more your all-exhausted braine
To find that delectable place againe,
Where all things did in first perfection meet;
Contemplate here this little peece of mould,
And you will soone acknowledge it at least
A perfect modell happily congest
Of all delights, which that place did enfold!
Perpetuall Sommer faire doth here reside,
Harmonious concord is in all things found,
Flowers, fruites, perfumes, delights do here abound;
Nor growes there here or nettle, thorne, or weede;
Here all in native true perfection growes,
Nor shall the Gard'ner need to toyle, but take:
Who would not then all earth besides forsake
Here to inhabit, where all solace flowes?
[Page 16]Most happy garden, earths true Paradise;
But happier gard'ner, whom my soule envies.
Be not unwilling my request to grant,
That I your shadow, and resemblance have;
The reason why this favour I do crave
Is not for that your pourtraiture I want:
For were my breast transparent like mine eye,
You there your selfe enthronized should see
Sole Empresse of my heart, my thoughts, and mee,
Consecrate trophees of your victory.
This your Idea feasteth mee within,
Whilst my poore eyes, who first did entertaine
You for their welcom'st guest, doe now complaine
They st [...]rved are, distasted of each thing,
Except your selfe alone: deny not then
A charitie so superficiall,
Which when times ruines you can not recall,
Shall yet your glory shew, and shown to men
(Who nothing will beleeve but what they view)
Shall force them wonder, and accuse their fate
That made them lose by sending them too late
The happy servitude of seeing you,
And make them honour verse, and pencills skill,
Which onely can preserve what time would kill.
Since that my vowes, my fortune, and my love,
My course, and resolution did ingage
To undertake a sacred Pilgrimage
To that Saints shrine, which sole my soule doth move,
So haplesse, and malignant is my chance,
That guide and Pilot other have I none,
Then onely that blind cruell Boy alone,
Who suffers mee nor rest, nor yet advance;
Thus leads the blind the blind, whilst both astray
Wander 'mongst thorny thicks, looking each hour
When fierce untamed passions should devour
Like savage beasts my poore soule for their prey.
Oh pitie now (my fairest Saint and Starre)
The restlesse wildred state, wherein I stand,
And, since I seeke but you, lend your faire hand
To guide my course; such morall lessons are,
That none deny to kindle others light,
Nor to direct the wandring Pilgrim right.
That light to light, way to the stray we give,
The reason easie is, it nothing costs,
Nor breeds our diminution, or losse:
And truth to say (faire Sun) I onely live
[Page 17]By that pure light and heat drawne from your eyes,
VVhose sparkes have so my subject heart inflam'd
VVith heav'nly fire so wonderfully fram'd,
That it to quench in you it onely lies.
You, like Achilles speare, which sole imparted
Helpe to the hurt it made, can sole apply
A soveraigne balme, such as no gold can buy,
To ease those hearts that for your love have smarted;
Grant then my lives faire Sun, Apollo-like
VVhose light's our light, our life, direction, cure,
These vertues Phoebus yeelds, thy essence pure,
That I may offer at the shrine I seeke
The pleasing sacrifice, and fruits of love,
Which tasted may your equall pleasure prove.
You Elegie wayling writers elegant,
VVhose sad despised Muse of little sings
But rigour, scorne, and her tyrannick stings,
VVho all compos'd of Ice, and Adamant,
As Nero joy'd those tragick flames to see
VVhich Romes proud flames had reason just to rew,
So triumphs and insulteth over you
The cruell Mistris of your misery;
I wonder at your braines productions,
VVhich 'stead of comforting benigne aspect,
Are fed with nipping blasts, frosts, and neglect
From those Parelii proud in your destructions:
I like the flame-fed Salamanders kind,
And as the tender Sommer-lab'ring Bee,
Except a warmthfull Zephyr breath on mee
Am stupifi'd with cold, fruitlesse in mind.
Love, child of heate and hope, doth barren perish,
Except (faire Sun) his tender plant you cherish.
QUeene of Beautie most divine,
From whose sacred charming shrine
Humane power cannot part
Without sacrifice of heart:
Thetis Nymphs had little grace,
Whilst your beautie was in place,
And their influence was cold,
As sent from a watry mould:
Shall I happy call that night,
VVhen to gaine a pleasing sight,
Pretious libertie I lost,
And am now on loves Sea tost
[Page 18]By a tempest of desire
Mixed full of heav'nly fire,
Rais'd by that inchanting face
Of her Sex the onely grace?
Yes most happy I it call,
Though it doe my freedome thrall,
Freedome none may neere compare
VVith that happy state, where are
Those in your faire service plac'd,
And that please to make them grac'd.
Happy martyr of constraint
VVhose paine is for such a Saint,
And who hath for object giv'n
The sweet hope of such a heav'n!
Faire, a stranger terme mee not,
That your Sanctitie would blot,
Saint did never yet object
Former knowledges defect
Against those whose zealous vowes
True devotion avowes.
If my merit yet bee small
To procure your love withall,
Time alone to you must prove
How well I will deserve your love.
Grace in Saints ought to abound,
Grace ne're growes on merits ground,
Be then gracious, as I true,
Constant, and faithfull unto you:
And my fortunes, that have crown'd
Mee happy on that Relicks ground,
Shall bee all ascrib'd to serve
You, that all respect deserve.

To winne her from resolving upon a Cloyster'd life, in whom love is conceived to bee yet predominant.

PRetty wanton Beauties treasure,
Made for sweet delight and pleasure,
Pretious Jewell of thy kind,
VVhose equall 'tis as hard to find,
As the matchlesse Phoenix mate:
VVhat though nature did create
You Phoenix-like to bee admir'd,
And your essence so inspir'd,
That your beauteous winning parts
Should sole triumph over hearts;
[Page 19]Yet in this you farre o're goe
Such solitary state of woe,
That shee exempt from like and love
Those delights doth never prove
That have made the Gods so oft
Quit their heav'nly azure Loft,
The sweet food of love to tast,
More delicious then repast
Of Ambrosia, or the wine
Appropriate to the Divine.
Nature you so happy frames
That the sweetest game of games
You (to whom all cards are free
To choose till you pleased bee)
May command in such perfection
That th' Ambrosian refection
Tastlesse, and insipid were,
Ballanced in that compare.
Oh! but how I doe envie
Except I knew it should bee I
That happy he whom you will daigne
Such Soule-filling joyes to gaine!
Let not now a fond Discourse
Contrary to Natures course
Make you abstaine from those delights,
Whereto shee kindly you invites:
Shee each thing instructs you know
What is its friend, and what's its foe;
Her you boldly may believe,
Shee did never none deceive.
Be not sway'd by wit of Schools,
Precepts were made to governe fools,
And to subject those to aw,
That want selfe-strength of reasons law;
Reason and Nature are all one,
Reason moves from her alone.
But why doe wee thus dispute?
With a kisse I you confute.
Send those to Cels, upon whose thought
The world and Love have never wrought:
Birds that long have lived free,
Caught and Cag'd but pine and die.
I marvaile not, Earths fairest ornament,
Abstract of beauty, Natures onely pride,
That your delight is onely to abide
In Londons sweet commerce, sole Element
[Page 20]Where the refined Spirits of our Ile
Ingenious discourse communicate,
And hourely fresh delights participate,
Dull tedious time with pleasure to beguile.
We all best love our like, London in much
Doth you resemble: London is the best,
The fairest, richest Town of all the rest,
In all this Continent there is none such.
London our treasure, Instruments of warre,
Majestick residence, and Gems containes:
London farre more then all the other gaines:
London the firmament, where every Starre
Of magnitude, of power and vertue moves:
London the Schoole, and forum of all Arts:
London the Empory that all imparts,
That use requires, or our affection loves:
London the envy of all other Townes,
As chiefe in beauty, so supreame in power,
Our Kingdomes brightest object, fairest flower;
Inchanting Syren, that mee happy crownes
In honouring of my Nativity.
I to your better judgements now referre
Those none-such excellencies to conferre
With hers, that forceth my Captivity.
But faire, beware you bee not like in this,
Though in your prison many a soule remaines
(As London holdeth infinite in chaines)
You be no Tyrant cruell, mercilesse,
Insulting over, and in galling those,
VVho or for suite, for life, or for affection
Serv'd by your habeo cor, above protection,
Unto your mercy doe themselves expose.
In this Metropolis I must compare
Thee to the fairest flowers, whence Bees may pluck
Their honey, and yet Spiders poison suck;
You (faire) the Bee, and not the Spider are,
You, like Earths Jewels, or the Heavens lights,
VVere made in glorious places to appeare;
Nor ought that beauteous garment out to weare
Amongst the rustick herd, and rude delights:
You, like to Cynthia, the heavens Queen,
VVere made to govern, bee admir'd, and seen.
WHen in your lap that creame you set,
VVhich you invited mee to eate,
Sugar it needed none,
Your sweete [...]t touch alone
Made it a matchlesse pleasant meate.
The milke that did from these breasts move
That nursed up the God of Love,
No, not the Manna dew,
Nor j [...]yce that ever grew,
In tast did so delightfull prove.
Neither Nectar, nor Nepenthe
Can in like degree content me:
Fond Esau, hadst thou sold
For this (though not for gold)
Thy birth-right, we had never shent thee.
Not Flora's lap most fairely drest,
Nor the sweet milk of Fortunes breast
So gracefull pleasing are,
As it, and you both were,
More sweet then ever tongue exprest.
But now if this such sweetnesse drew
Onely by being plac'd in you;
Sweet then above all wonder
Is that your sweetnesse under,
Most happy hee that proves it true.
FAire, spotlesse Scarfe, once by my Goddesse borne,
VVhen from her arme I you presum'd to take,
And with your knot mine owne arme did adorne;
'Twas then, I did my selfe your Pris'ner make,
And Captive still doe in your bands remaine,
To bee by her my Saint, or sav'd, or slaine.
It's true I err'd, and fondly you restor'd,
By arguments most happ'ly false abus'd;
For still the more that I her love implor'd,
Her strangenesse made it selfe still more accus'd;
And when acquaintance, which should freenesse adde,
Made her appeare more strange, my soule was madde.
I then consider'd (though shee let you goe)
That shee my keeping you had neere consented,
And judg'd it sacriledge to take you so
From her a Goddesse thereat discontented,
Hoping my inward peace to re-obtain
By rendring backe my Heav'n-stoln fire againe.
But let us now faire love ex [...]ostulate,
VVhence that your unkind, killing strangenesse grew:
VVas it because by chance I neare you sat
In that licentious place of publike view:
[Page 22]Faire, doe not wrong so much your selfe and me
To thinke my Company an injury.
Your vertue from suspition doth you free,
And many's persons make their acts suspected
Whilst they, that in opinion guiltlesse bee,
May doe much more, fearelesse to bee detected:
Nor jealousie, nor malice feare you then;
VVomen were made to company with men.
Put on the resolutions of your sexe,
That all backbiting spightfull blasts contemn,
And like worlds venome, nought at all respects
Calumnious tongues, that good and all condemn:
For well they know, if faire they bee esteem'd,
'Twas ne're yet seene but faulty some them deem'd.
To them for free enjoying of their loves
The golden age is now return'd againe,
And who in true confession had those Doves
VVhich doe in Court, in Towne, or fields remain,
Shall find few Turtles vow'd to one alone,
But matelesse in loves sweetest pleasures none.
The world is now out of minority,
And all inclin'd to doctrine of freewill,
My selfe alone to superiority,
And to your pow'rfull law am vowed still;
Nor wish I to bee free from that command,
VVherein my sole felicity doth stand.
Onely extend to mee a kind Aspect,
And free accesse to gaze upon those eyes,
VVhich Planet-like my faculties direct,
VVhose influence my firme obedience ties:
So shall I happy live, and you may prove
Contented in the office of my love.
PRetty precious Curle of haire,
Late fairly dangling by that eare,
VVhich Jewell yet did never weare
To your worth or beauty neare;
Captivated now you are
To him whose heart you did insnare,
Pledges unequall in compare.
Shee hath my heart, I but her haire:
Yet would the hardy youth of Greece
Have giv'n his hard-won golden fleece
[Page 23]VVith joy and triumph of the prize
To clip but such another piece.
How often hath the wanton wind
To gentlest blasts himselfe confin'd,
VVhilst playing with you too unkind
You shooke him off and still untwin'd,
And coyly turn'd another way,
Disdaining his unlicenc'd play▪
The God of love dispos'd to stray
Oft wrapt in you hides him all day,
VVhere when his mother him espies
The little wanton nimbly hies
From thence to cheeks, from cheeks to eyes,
And often there so long hee lies,
That many a guiltlesse haplesse wight,
That on her eyes chance cast their sight,
Are sudden strooke, and lose their light,
Punisht by his discover'd might:
Thus up and downe the darling skips,
And after still the Cyprian trips,
And chaseth him from eyes to lips,
VVhere Pitho her rich adorn'd Court keeps;
The next retrait that Cupid winnes
It 'twixt her snowy mountaine twinnes,
VVhere when the goddesse him imprims,
Hee straight descends and happ'ly inns
VVithin the vale of true delight,
VVhence to her Curles hee aym'd a flight,
But being overweake in plight
His mother caught him, and all night
They both resolved there to rest,
VVhere such divine contents them blest,
That when they solemnize a feast,
All their delights are there addrest:
Yet Venus oftner it would use,
But feares her sonne would her refuse,
And for his Patron goddesse chuse
Her mistrisse of my Curle and muse.
FOr wondrous rare I late heard told,
Two Suns at once I might behold,
That equall glorious, equall cleare
In one Meridian did appeare:
VVhich when together I did view,
I wondred what illusion drew
So many judgements so awry.
But as it fareth with an eye,
[Page 24]VVhose accidentall weakned sight
The masters judgement doth invite
A single object to mistake,
And double seeming doth it make:
So doe these Aiglets false abus'd,
And in their seeing pow'r confus'd,
Reflections into bodies frame,
And thus they raise injurious fame
Against that beautie, which divine
All others doth as much outshine,
As Phoebe doth a Starre surpasse;
As burnisht gold unpured brasse;
As fairest gardens fallow plaines;
Or Diamond coursest glasse distaines.
Inferiour beauties of our skies
Shun her faire Spheare, if you bee wise,
So may you shine, and wonder move,
Winne much affection, and love
From those, who to Starre-light confin'd
Ne're came where the true glory shin'd:
But if with them you come in sight
VVhere shee extends her dazeling light,
Like Starres obscur'd by Phoebus rayes
Your selves remaine, but light decayes;
And all your lovers at a gaze,
(Like silly birds strooke with a maze
To see a great bright shining light
Surprize them in their dead of night)
VVill all about her flie and hover,
Themselves unable to recover
From that attractive forcing charme,
Alluring them to pleasing harme:
Some guilty by their owne desire
Shall haplesse perish in her fire;
Others her nets shall captive take,
And them perpetuall pris'ners make;
Some sad despaire shall strike to ground,
Nor shall there any one bee found
Of will or power her to leave,
Till death his pow'r and will bereave.
Live ever my victorious Sunne,
And mayst thou those thy triumphs runne,
Whilst skies the Globe of earth shall cover,
Or in the world remaine a Lover;
Sole rule the Spheare of love, and mee
Poore Orbe, that moves alone by thee,
Whose thoughts doe nothing else aspire,
But thee to please, thee to admire.
FAirest haire that ever grew,
Farre beyond my worth or due,
Yet for zeale and love I dare
With the truest heart compare
That our mistris powerfull eyes
Ever made Idolatrize:
You are that pretious silken grasse,
Whence my soules food and comfort passe;
And you such jewell are to mee,
As none can give the like but shee
Who gave you mee: O doe not scorne
To bee by mee your captive borne;
Pris'ners their Fetters weare, and I
My soule in your enlacing tie.
You thinke you lose rich beame divine
Too much by change of being mine,
But what you lose by your depart,
You gaine by thaldome of my heart:
Prove kindly true to mee, and know,
Shee, who did you on mee bestow,
May finde greater, fairer many;
But more constant, true not any.


NOw tell mee Artist, can shee love,
Or loving can shee constant prove?
Constant shee is, and love shee can,
But hard it is to finde the man.
What one to please her must hee bee?
Worthy, and perfect such as shee.
Then must I of her love despaire;
For shee so perfect is, and faire,
As the best worthinesse in mee
Cannot come neere in least degree:
Shall I then strive to quench my fire?
No; rather love, and still admire.
For shee love's proper subject is,
Who loves not her doth love amisse,
I'le love her then, and by her love
So perfect I will hope to prove,
That shee may love what shee hath taught,
And once bee catcht by what shee caught.


IF you will love, know such to be
The Lawes of Cupids Monarchy,
That to refuse
Is to abuse
Loves government, and I declare
That such loves Rebells, not his subjects are.
To love is not to bee your owne,
Love studies to please them alone
Whom it affects
Without respects
Of ought besides, and love confin'd
Is but by usurpation love defin'd.
If you did love as well as I,
You nothing could or would deny,
But would conceive
That you receive
What you bestow, if this were true
Your heart to live in mee and mine in you.
IF my divining soule, and all the Art
Loves Schoole hath yeelded me, foretell me true,
I may possesse a parcell of your heart,
And as I love be lov'd againe by you.
If fondly I presume, and overween,
And all my arguments fallacious prove,
Pardon the errour that so oft is seen
Of a selfe flattery in desire, and love.
But if my wit my true Informer bee,
And yours with Sophistry doth not abuse,
You may be lov'd and honored so by mee,
As truest and most zealous lovers use.
If now you show disdaine, my hopes are drown'd;
If smile, with highest fortunes they are crown'd.

To her who shut him in her Closet to breake his hearing of her singing in her upper Chamber, with her Teacher, made upon the instant to perswade her to bee more free.

YOu like heav'ns influence, beauty, constancy,
And order, would bee like in this,
[Page 27]To hide like themly our heavenly harmonie,
VVhilst all besides imparted is;
Yet Heav'ns themselves deny not that to those
Whom in their high Spheare they inclose.
Bee then like heav'ns in all, I aske no more;
They are no niggards of their store.

Vpon a Brayd of haire.

FAire thou art, nor canst be other
That proceed'st from such a Mother,
Soft and gentle, youthfull, white,
Suting her skin, and th' eyes delight
Such woare Venus, and such haire
VVeare all that buy to make them faire:
Silke and silver wrought togeth [...]r
Show'd so faire nor richly never,
Loves leading laisse I hope thou art,
And with thee bring'st to me her heart,
VVhich to owne imparts more pleasure,
Then honor, beautie, knowledge, treasure,
Or all possessions, which to gaine
Caesar had left Rome, Philip Spaine,
Alexander had forsaken
To master earth, and undertaken
To conquer her whose love alone,
Had fill'd his vast ambition.
Triumph my soule in this thy prize,
Bas [...] thee in her lovely eyes,
And in her joy more height of blisse
Then ever fancie knew to wish.
Let spight and envie swell and burst,
And jealous frenzie doe its worst,
VVhilst wee by loves pure fire refin'd
Their wits out-shine, their malice blind,
And most securely live above
All reach of passion, but our love.
I cannot say I in your service starve,
Since you affo [...]d me hope to feed upon,
But if you long confine my food thereon,
My poore life cannot long it selfe preserve;
A meate it is so languishing and dry,
That hourely I diminish, pine, and faint,
Unwilling to importune with complaint,
But that hope bids me rather beg, then die:
[Page 28]Faire flattering hope, but oft deceiving guest,
Unhappy happy Anchor of our soule,
Which with distractions dost our peace controule,
VVhere evils known our minds would lesse molest
Pity faire Mistris, crowne my hopes at last,
Let me not still roule fruits passions stone,
And make hel-tortured Tantalus his moane,
VVho hopes and sees faire fruit, but must not tast.
Best wits indeed at first their favours spare,
But or discard or ne're long niggards are▪
If my Coelestia bee content to love,
Faire. love mee then to my compleat content
Soone will the summer of our yeeres bee spent
VVhen life shall but a griefe and penance prove.
Since you the seeds of love in me have sown,
VVhich now are ripened by your faire aspect;
Oh doe not now your harvest due neglect,
But please your tast in gathering your own:
Let mee not Torch-like set on fire by you
Consume my being in my selfe-fed flame,
VVhilst you (too cruell) make my death a game,
And triumph in my dying fondly true
Love vertue like in action doth appeare,
VVhere words the cheapest Agents of our ends
Oft counterfeit, yet passe for perfect friends,
And proof-lesse none or little credit beare.
That I may thinke you are not one of those,
VVho for selfe glory are content to faine
A glosse of kindnesse, and to entertaine
Admirers of their worth in verse and prose,
Give me an actuall argument that firme
May you to me, my love to you confirm.
FOrbeare my headstrong Heliotropian thoughts,
Forbeare your ever gazing on that Sunne.
Such sense-confounding object learne to shunne
As you with naught but sighs and passions fraughts.
And you my greedy never satiate eyes,
VVho more you view the more you still desire,
Your over daring fixed lookes retire,
For sight subsisteth by varieties.
Abstaine my feet, your hasty steps withhold
From her, to whom all lovers flock amaine,
But none are seen back to return againe:
Better is freedome poore then bands of gold.
But Traytors all, I fondly you reprove;
Too late your alien'd service I recall,
Thoughts, eyes, and feet, tongue, hands and heart, and all
Are sole resign'd to her command and love:
And so inforc'd to love wee all conjoine
Suters for grace to her the most divine.
IT was that gracio [...]s season of the yeare
VVhen Husbandmen their welcome harvest inne,
VVhen fairest fruits are in perfection seene,
And Courtiers thorough woods chase flying Deere,
VVhen every swaine requitall due receives
For all the care and paines hee had sustain'd,
VVhen I alone unfortunate remain'd,
VVhose care and paines no recompence perceives,
That I imbarqued in the Courtly crew
Seem'd all intent on nought but forest sport,
VVhen oft, alasse, my heart was farre from Court,
Conversing most, my fairest love, with you:
Mee thought the hunted Deere the Dogges did chase
Resembled mee whom my owne thoughts pursue,
And if a wounded Stagge I chanc'd to view,
My pierced restlesse heart pity'd his case:
Sometimes I checkt my thoughts as at a bay,
VVhich broke by your faire conquering aspect
They freshly follow, carelesse to be checkt,
Permitting my repose nor night nor day:
Sometimes I fly to solitaty shade,
Hoping to scape 'mongst thicke of letter'd leaves,
Sometimes in company which grief deceives
I thrust my selfe, but still my thoughts invade;
Thus toild by day, when night sweet time of rest
(Cordiall restorative of all that lives)
Truce to our toile, and fainting sorrow gives,
I tapiss in my bed, all care possest,
VVhere restlesse still exil'd from ease I tosse
By those my selfe-bred, swift-foote hounds pursu'd,
VVhose long enjoyed chase hath so indu'd
Them with advantage, that no hope of losse
Nor hope of life remains, except your grace
Relieve, faire Huntresse, my afflicted case.
INdustrious vertue (Mistris of the wise)
Faire child of nature, and of precept born,
Finding her selfe misprised and forlorn,
Since shee and beauty have beene enemies,
[Page 30]Whose quarrell and divorce at first did grow
For that her counsell Beauty nought respected,
And idly nothing but her selfe affected;
Vertue now pitying eithers overthrow;
The more esteeme with all, and grace to gain
A league of late with Beauty hath compact,
And made it as a part of her contract
Both in one mutuall mansion to remain,
And none so worthy, none so faire approving,
They both united in Coelestia dwell:
No wonder then that shee doth all excell
Love by their vertue, or their beauty moving:
Vertue as her attendants brings along
Modesty, wisedome, courtesie, and truth;
Beauty brings smoothnesse, white and red, and youth
Grace, plumpnesse, stature, feature, and that tongue
Which (like all her perfections void of Art)
Charmes, and subdues even the austerest heart.
SInce I the fortresse of my heart resign'd
That Conqu'resse faire unable to withstand,
Who here on earth loves forces doth command,
Cupid hath oft solicited my mind
Her glory and his pow'r divine to write:
VVherein I humbly did his pardon ask,
Alleadging for excuse it was a task
Too great and high for my unlearned might,
That I (a stranger to those lofty straines
And smoothly wrought ingenious conceits
VVhich Poesie sententiously treats)
Should more imbase then honor with my paines,
Whereat my selfe hee will'd mee animate,
And bade me boldly undertake his will,
For hee with moving Rhetorick and skill
My hearts invention would illuminate,
And told mee I should need no other book
Then those faire Hieroglyphick Characters,
VVhich shee of worthinesse and glory beares
To all eyes visible that on her look:
VVherewith embold'ned, lowly thus I write
VVhat Cupid and her eyes to me indite.
INjurious Time, father of ugly vice,
Mercilesse enemy 'gainst beauty sworn,
Why mad'st thou not Coelestia to bee born
VVhen beauties prize was put to compromise?
Had shee but then in competition been,
Ioves golden apple of contention,
Which caus'd the Goddesses dissention,
Had nevr glorifi'd the froth-born Queen.
For shee (poore Dame!) had nothing to procure
Their amorous Judge his favour to encline
To judge to her that glorious prize divine,
But beauties bare and casuall fading lure:
Which, with those gifts the other couple vaunted,
Hearts Idol, joyfull wealth, by Iuno proffer'd,
And gracefull wisdome by Minerva offer'd,
Coelestia all united could have granted:
She like Pandora doth all grace possesse,
Wherewith the Gods humanity doe blesse.
My fortune was the other day
My Mistris to surprize
Sleeping alone:
The fairest one
That ever closed eyes,
Or ever Morpheus seis'd for prey.
Each part so pleasing faire remain'd
You easily might discover,
Their beauty scorn'd
To bee adorn'd
By borrowing of another,
Nor wanted what her eyes contain'd.
Such sleeping conqu'ring grace to see
Will certaine credit win,
That fire of love
Doth only move
From sightlesse power divine
Of Cupid and her Deitie.
It by this slumbring beauty seem'd
Sleep was with her agreed,
So much to grace
Her sleeping face
That shee should all exceed,
Who fairest waking were esteem'd.
Shee seemed like an Evening cleare
VVhen absent is the Sunne;
[Page 32]Though not so gay,
More sweet then day,
Whose scorching heat men shun.
When th'eye of heaven doth appeare.
There might I gaze and view at leisure
Each parts peculiar grace,
Brow white and even
As snow smooth driven,
The heaven of her face,
Faire cover of the under treasure.
Her cheeks were fresh as blushing morn;
Nor tincture fetcht from Spain,
Nor ever art
Could like impart
True unite Roses stain
By those our fatall Houses born.
Her silken breasts I next espy
Faire wrought with heav'nly blew,
Time truly keeping
Amidst her sleeping,
Blest who may rest on you,
Where Venus and the Graces lie.
Thus whilst in ravishment I stand
Tempted by her faire lips
To steale a kisse
VVorlds second blisse,
In watchfull Argus skips
My pleasures progresse to withstand.
Well Argus, wel, though then you crost
Those my delightfull hopes,
I nothing doubt
To fit you out
True tun'd Mercurian notes;
Pleasures defer'd, yet are not lost.
So happy is the pow'r of Love,
That wit could ne're prevent,
Nor care dissolve
VVhat two resolve
VVith musicall consent,
Affections mutuall joyes to prove.
Fond husbands cease your selves to vex,
True Cornut's onely hee
VVhose feare adornes
His brow with hornes,
And thinkes himselfe to bee,
Giving due right by wrong suspects.
Iealousie often makes unjust,
Deceit is taught by feare,
Who hornes doth watch
Hornes may hee catch,
And faire ones may hee weare;
Resolv'd to wed, resolve to trust.
MY cruell friend, too inconsiderate of my state,
Why did you not conceale my too injurious fate;
To tell mee my Coelestia loves, and loves not me?
Unfortunate subsisting eyes that day to see!
Why am I not like Ni [...]be to stone convert
Since love and shee prove so unjust to my desert?
Tell mee (my dearest friend) what reason, what respect,
What beautious parts in him, in mee what lame defect,
Makes her (that frame of vertue) so ungratefull prove,
So ill discerning zeale, so to misplace her love?
If to bee full of feare, of passion, of desire,
My blood now over-runne with cold, now all on fire;
If to possesse a passion-sp [...]aking heavy eye
Which if unfixt on her, dejected still doth lie;
If stead o [...] periods with sighes to interlace
All my discourse, answers impertinently place;
If t'have a heart o'rewhelm'd with thoughts ready to breake,
And yet a [...]ongue benumm'd that would and cannot speake;
If these affects I onely in her presence finde,
And stupid else with her alone am rapt in minde;
If in her absence 'stead of pastime, mirth, and joy,
I nothing can possesse but thoughts, care, and annoy,
A restlesse pensive heart 'twixt hope and feare distraught,
VVhich full with passions, sighes, and troubled anguish fraught,
VVhat late it best approv'd, for tastlesse now rejects,
Nor any company but onely hers affects;
If sadly shadow'd brow, and eyes, armes intertwin'd
A spirit to retire and solitude confin'd,
That never rest enjoyes, nor joy, but in her sight,
Banisht from all but this heart-easing pen-delight;
If whilst heavens torch his light doth unto us extend,
My thoughts to her alone, and to her glory bend,
[Page 34]And when the night invades, that gives all creatures rest,
I restlesse sole remaine my thoughts on her addrest;
If my enamour'd breast sollicit still my tongue
To sound forth chosen stanza's passionately sung,
And some smooth-sliding well-tun'd eare-inchanting verse,
That may my love, her prizelesse worth, and name rehearse;
If this (alas! my friend) her love cannot deserve,
Unfortunate I live, unfortunate I serve!
No, no you may forbeare an answer to returne
Why I for her, yet shee doth for another burne.
I know you will reply, the God of love is blinde,
His arrowes poyson'd, such as doe corrupt the minde
With headstrong passion and with reasonlesse desire,
Which set our weake subdu'd distempered minds on fire:
Reason is put to flight, and appetite beares sway,
Which blindly leads, and blindly forceth us obey,
And that hee much mistakes who from a womans minde
Or reason doth expect, or just effects to finde,
Since passions, indigest conceipt, meere chance and will
Their resolutions and their actions governe still.
But soft my gall-distilling pen, your griefe contain,
Which howsoever just, yet blaphemy refrain:
Admit her heart of fleshly temper fram'd as mine,
Bee pierc'd and captivate by Cupids pow'r divine,
Alas! shee rather should bee pitied then accus'd,
Since what from force proceeds may justly bee excus'd:
And if indeed, my faire Coelestia, it bee true,
That your heart for another burnes as mine for you,
If you desire to bee so happy in your love
That his affections unto you may mutuall prove,
If you expect your sighs, which numberlesse abound
Shall e [...]re receive reward or e're with joy bee crown'd;
Oh! let your your kindnesse then extended unto mee
Make you deserve your happy hopes effects to see;
And (faire) beware, lest if you shew unkind disdaine,
Loves justice justly yeeld you Talions law againe:
And if't bee true that griefe delights in company,
Then will you love my presence and my sympathy:
Together wee will sit, and comfort one another,
(For griefe is most extreame when we our passions smother)
Where breathing out at large our due complaints of love,
Wee'l both our hearts discharge, and pitie learne to move;
And this lame happinesse of love shall please my mind
That though you cannot love, you are not yet unkind,
[...]t pardon mee, deare friend, 'tis not report alone
Can prooflesse my aspiring fixed hope dis-throne,
But stedfast still in zeale and confidence I dwell,
As faithfull I love her, shee may love mee as well.
IN fruitlesse expectation to remaine,
To bee in bed and yet debarr'd of rest,
To serve where you no favour can obtaine,
Is (saith th' Italian) to bee most distrest:
And these unfortunate effects I prove
(My faire Coelestia) in my fervent love.
'Tis you detaine my long expected blisse,
'Tis you that make mee restlesse passe the night,
'Tis you I faithfull serve, yet you it is,
Mercilesse you with-hold my chiefe delight;
And know (faire creature) hee that faithfull serves,
A costlesse favour ever well deserves.
Thinke that you have a friend that doth possesse
A curious garden plentifully fraught
VVith all the pleasures nature can expresse,
And all delights that ever cunning wrought,
And all these beauties singularly grac'd
By a faire fountaine in the Center plac'd.
Hee lets you in, with welcome entertaine,
And grants that many wayes your selfe you please,
Yet midst this ravishment you doe complaine
Of thirst extreame, which seeking to appease
At that faire fountaine, which you chance t'espie,
Your unkind friend his water doth deny,
And most uncharitable doth permit
That part of it should idly slide away,
And part corrupt by over-keeping it,
Rather then yeeld a drop your thirst to stay,
VVhich nothing else can quench, and's onely bred
By those dry sweets, wherewith hee had you fed.
Would you now take this party for your friend?
O, no; I know you rather would conceive
That all his kindnesses did only tend
VVith quenchlesse thirst your pleasures to bereave,
And justly might you wish you ne're had knowne
Those joyes, whereby your joy is overthrowne.
That cruell friend (faire love) are you to me,
And your perfections that faire garden are,
VVhither a welcome guest I seeme to bee;
My senses ravisht all with pleasures rare
Of beautie, enterchange of words and kisses,
VVhich yet all breed but thirst and further wishes.
And those as cheapely you may satisfie,
As you a water drop may easily give:
Why (cruell faire) is't then that you deny
That kindnesse, without which I cannot live?
Deale plainly, may not this the true cause bee,
You love my verses better farre then mee;
And apprehend that if I once obtain
The full of my ambitions high desire,
My love will Moone-like enter on the wain,
And having won the day straight sound retire?
O do not so abuse your selfe and mee,
My love like Phoebus never change shall see.
My love like Phoebus never change shall see,
In constant course and heate ever the same,
And like the Northerne Pole shall fixed bee,
More firme then can be mov'd by heavens frame;
Constant to you till death I will remaine,
For never shall I see so faire againe.
No (faire Coelestia) love is Venus sonne,
Feare not the mother for the child's destroying,
Nor is that saying unto you unknowne,
That th'essence true of love is in enjoying:
Hee playes the best who holdeth what hee wins,
The wiser sort still at their end begins.
If you approve my muses loftie flight,
And to be fed with change of praises still,
You must not oft delude her, and invite
Her to an empty lure, that yeelds no fill:
A Hawke that loftily hath flowne and hard,
Well merits the best food and best reward.
Those exhalations that the heavens feed
Did they not downe againe distill their rain,
Coelestiall bodies soone should want, and need
Those vapours which the earth sends up againe,
And Iove himselfe should lose his sacrifice
But that hee mortals feeds and gratifies.
No fire can long subsist by smoak alone,
Flame's by an oily solid substance fed:
Who divers times a field hath till'd and sowne
Yet findes no profit by his labour bred,
His folly well deserves to reape but wind,
Having oft prov'd it barren and unkind.
Who shoots his arrows up and nothing hits,
Fooles bolts they prove, which their own heads do break;
One may be ventur'd, but he wants his wits
That all his Quiver spends one shaft to seek:
Though vertue ought not foule repulse receive,
Yet wisdome wils us fruitlesse labours leave.
Full ill hee sings, whose song cannot obtain
A draught of drink impatient thirst to swage;
Though silly Bird, I warble many a straine
To please your eares, imprison'd in your cage:
Birds long unfed their singing soon neglect,
No Almes, no thankfull language must expect.
As happy in love are they that give as take,
Faire, pity me and make me happy then,
Since you your self shall equall happy make,
VVomen receive farre more delight then men;
And if you find that I unfaithfull prove,
Let me be made a reprobate of Love.
And if you like these off-springs of my brain
Whereto your self the Heroine mother are,
Suffer them not to die with drought, but daign
To water them from that your fountain faire,
VVhich true Parnassus spring doth Poets breed,
And tasted makes their Muse her self exceed.
It's true that my affections lately bent,
And shap't their course that Mid-land straight to win,
Where Love hath plac'd his uttermost extent,
His else insatiate conquest to confine:
And as in nature it is proper known,
That fire should mount untill it hath attain'd
His proper place, the concave of the Moon;
So love untill it hath that center gain'd,
(Whether by natures stimulating force
It is sollicited her work to doe)
Restlesse remaines, still labouring in its course
Till it may rest, where it aspir'd unto:
'Tis likewise true, my love hath mist its end
And yet I cannot think my labour lost,
Though the main faile, the By hath been my friend
So farre as with content may quit my cost.
Like to the Alchymist whose golden aime
Shoots chiefly at the Philosophick stone,
[Page 38]Whereof though hee fall short, yet doth hee gain
Many a pretious found extraction,
Many a quintessence, and Limbeckt oyle
To others and himselfe of use and pleasure,
Nor thinks it an ill guerdon of his toile
T'impart unto the world such hidden treasure;
So I in these conceipts elaborate,
The wanton babes sprung from an am'rous brain,
My passions fire and heat evaporate,
And mine own ease with others pleasure gain;
And if I please the kind lascivious eare
VVith these light ayres, for pleasure only tun'd,
I seek no more, nor care how the austere
Censure these idle houres in rhyme consum'd:
They as superfluous banquet stuffe are meant,
Made but to please the outward sense and tast,
VVhich though they yeeld no solid nourishment,
They are not yet a profitlesse repast.
And if the strictest Stoick on Earths face
VVaste not some houres, as idly spent as these,
VVhereof remaineth no account or trace,
(So necessary pleasures are, and ease
VVithout the which our soules themselves oppresse)
Then let me be condemn'd, but if you find
Your selves in pleasure, wasting time no lesse,
Nor shew remaines thereof more then of wind,
Judge then my time at least as happ'ly spent
As theirs that hunting love, who little care
So they injoy good pastime, chase, and sent,
To make the silly purchase of a Hare.
I Helen sought where Lucrece I did find,
At least a Lucrece she appeares to mee,
But were I Paris she perchance as kind
VVould prove as Helen, Troian youth, to thee;
Oh no, I do recant, and firmly credit
She is as spotlesse chast as perfect faire,
And thus will flatter hers and mine own merit,
If she were other, I should not despaire:
And here my Love shall change its former hew,
And yet Chamaeleon-like remain the same,
As she is chast, my love as chast and true,
And to like vertuous die it self shall frame,
Living still hers, though only fed with aire:
And as her beauty won my heart before,
Finding her now as vertuous as then faire,
Her inward graces make me love her more;
Nor was my breast possest with such wild fire
Th [...]t nought but Venus milk could quench my flame,
[Page 39]Hope's the sole nutriment of my desire,
VVhere that once failes, my flames alone grow tame;
Nor am I of so strong a faith in love
To think where free occasion hath not wanted,
And free acquaintance hath giv'n means to move,
VVhat three months have deny'd will e're be granted,
VVho seeks a woman to his will to move,
Yet gaines no ground in furthering his desire,
Not to advance is to go back in love,
Let him good Souldier like his Siege retire.
But faire Coelestia, since I have concluded
Your vertue like your beauty most divine,
Oh let no sequel prove me now deluded,
Such subtilty would double that your crime:
Or be indeed what you appeare to be,
Or may you still at least seem so to me.


MY hearts faire Conqu'resse, author of my griefe,
Deny me not to plead for my reliefe;
If you too cruell will no help impart,
Yet lend my plaints your eare to ease my heart;
Offenders capitall that plead for grace
Are heard, though not relieved in their case;
'Tis you the winner are, cause of my pain,
Sick men and losers are allow'd to plain:
You that have made mee love, can make mee live,
And none but you can my disease relieve;
Should I not then my cure from you demand,
I accessary to my death should stand:
Accuse not him who for deare life doth move,
But blame your selfe who so inforceth love;
You that have made my heart in love abound,
Ought not to bee offended with loves sound.
He that is almost dead for want of meat,
You must not blame him if hee ask to eat:
Nor ought you such an echo to condemn
As love receiv'd from you resounds agen;
Nor blame that instrument whose sound is such
As your faire hand is pleas'd to give the touch.
And if your heart to flint-like bee compos'd
That to no pity it can bee dispos'd;
If't be decreed by my malignant fate,
That here on earth that curst infernall state
Must bee inflicted on me for my pain,
That I must love and not be lov'd again,
[Page 40]Yet be not angry, Faire; or if you'l chide,
Chide Cupid that my subject tongue doth guide,
'Tis that blind little winged childish God
That doth so often times deserve the rod,
For his mis-matching our affections fire
With an unsuited different desire.
But to obey your will (which unto me
A venerable law shall ever be)
I'le rather all on fire within consume,
Then once to ask a water drop presume,
And rather over-swoln with love will break,
Then once to dare of love to you to speak.
Thus will I inward bleed, untill I find,
Or death, or you my Love to me more kind.

Made in imitation of a Sonnet in Ronsard.

THough he that loves with unrequited love,
And finds his heat ingender no reflection,
Nor that his plaints can her compassion move,
That is the object of his true affection,
May uncondemn'd resume his love again,
And to a more kind subject it apply
Himself exempting from unpityed pain:
Nor doth he wrong whom no desert doth tie,
Nor doth he faith or constance violate,
For vertue and folly incompatible be,
And constant Lovers uncompassionate
Are foolish guilty of their miserie;
Nor breaks that Prince his faith who league hath sworn
Of amity with some great Potentate,
Who will not after the like oath return
Of love and faithfull aide unto his State:
For perfect love in sympathie consists,
And single Love is but a fatuous fire;
Yet little merits he, who not persists,
No victory is gotten by retire.
I'le love her still, though shee unjust doe prove;
And happier contentment will I find
In loving her with unrequited love,
Then to love one lesse faire, though farre more kind.
IS't possible you can deny
With such unyeilding sleighting heart
[Page 41]So small a suite, so earnestly
Pursu'd by my so true desert,
That not the cheapest toy you weare
As ribban, pin, or thread of fringe
I may with your kind favour beare?
Love feeds ev'n on the sleightest things.
Unhappily my heart is plac'd
Since for my heart I cannot gaine
To be in this slight measure grac'd
That I importune to obtaine;
You feare be like that I will make it
An earnest of what I desire;
No, I'le but as a Relique take it
Of you the Saint that I admire:
And though my true loves due reliefe
I hopelesse am e're to attaine,
Such proofe will comfort yet my griefe
In that I reape not your disdaine.
Welcome at last yet pretty thred,
Ne're yet since Love his raigne begun
Was such small thing more merited,
More prized, or more hardly won.
DO not reject those titles of your due
VVhich natures art hath stiled in your face,
The name of Faire onely belongs to you,
None else that title justly can imbrace,
You Beauties heire, her coate sole spotlesse weare,
VVhere others all some markes abatement beare.
Tis not their cheeks touch'd with Vermillion red,
S [...]ain'd with the tincture of enchanting skill,
Nor yet the curl'd devises of their head,
Their breasts display'd, their looks fram'd to their will,
Their quick turn'd eye, nor all their proud attire
Can make me their perfections to admire.
All this is done without Natures consent,
Thy beautie needs no arts inticing ayd,
Thine nature gave, theirs art hath onely lent,
Thine shall endure when theirs are quite decay'd:
Thy beautie others doth as much excell,
As heav'n base earth, or earth accursed hell.
Others are faire, if not compar'd to thee,
Compar'd to them thy beautie doth exceed:
So lesser Starres give light and shine wee see,
Till glorious Phoebus lifteth up his head,
[Page 42]And then as things ashamed of their might
They hide themselves and with themselves their light
Since Natures skill hath given you your right,
Do not kind nature and your selfe such wrong,
You are as faire as any earthly wight,
You wrong your selfe if you correct my tongue;
Though you deny her, and your selfe your due,
Yet dutie bids me Faire intitle you.
VVHen God gave man the high Lieutenancy
Of all commanding that on earth should bee,
Hee yet foresaw no true felicitie
Could grow to man without societie:
Wherefore he made of a refined mould
Woman to all his workes as crowne of gold:
The richest presents are the last bestow'd,
And arts perfections in the last works show'd:
Her solely hee intended mans companion
Most pleasing object of his conversation,
Whereby who womans company condemne,
Highly Gods sacred will and Law contemne;
And few or none neglect their company
But such as want worth or abilitie.
The worthiest men that most prize reputation
Would rather lose mens then their estimation,
Which made th'al-knowing Solomon compare
Their love to things most pretious and most rare.
'Tis not the vulgar breath as hath been said,
But womens good opinion that ne're stray'd;
They wits and vertues whetstones are, that give
The edge and appetite, that makes us strive
Each other to excell in show and deed,
To gaine the love of them that most exceed
In feminine prehemenence, whose love
All noble courages of men doth move.
Honour from men but fruitlesse pleasure brings,
But womens love gives happinesse of Kings,
And onely followes those that do possesse
The beauties art and nature doe expresse;
Other delights that hang but on conceit
Are sawce, and margent, this the Text, and meat:
Our sev'rall senses find their sev'rall pleasure,
But woman is to every sense a treasure.
To see, to heare, to touch, and if not tast
Tisby a sweeter pleasure farre surpast.
[Page 43]For taste in deed, and every other sweet
That wee enjoy by natures benefit,
Onely conduce unto the worke of love,
Wherein alone wee serviceable prove
To God, and nature, who each worke beside
Of our fantastick pleasure do deride;
And they that give all pleasure to the mind,
Are naturelesse, distasted, and unkind:
Nature to mee hath beene so much a friend,
I'le ever honour her and serve her end.
But you'l object that womens company
Ought serve alone for mans necessitie,
And that their idle conversation
Is uselesse, but for procreation,
As servile, ignorant, nor ought of worth
Is by their triviall fellowship brought forth.
But womens worth writers enough affirme,
Which so well prov'd I need not now confirme:
As for the fault of ignorance you finde,
'Tis but your education keeps them blinde;
Yet mid'st that blindnesse of such art they show,
As cunning'st wits of men doe overgoe;
And if their disobedience you mislike
Beasts by our fall gain'd freedome, they the like
Perchance expect, and as the Privernate
Answer'd the question of the Roman State,
That rebells did such punishment deserve,
As they that judge themselves too good to serve:
VVhich made the gen'rous Roman set them free
Communicating Roman libertie,
Knowing that nature n'ere that State would bear
VVhich is commixt with servitude and fear:
So had I power to alter marriage law,
Both should be free, and both exempt from aw,
And then this verse you happy true should find,
No comfort's lik [...] to women that are kind.
But you my doting ravisht soules delight,
Soule of your Sex, subject of what I write,
VVhose company affords a second joy
To that which heav'nly soules in Gods enjoy,
And whose privation breeds another hell
To those that e're did in your presence dwell,
VVhere onely to have power to come and see
Is happinesse above capacitie;
VVhose presence charmes our cares like heav'nly wine,
Infusing height of joy and heate divine,
To whom all other beauties, that give light,
Are cold and dead as Glow-wormes in the night,
[Page 44]You a quick sparkling-bright-enflaming fire
That kindles all comes neare, makes all admire,
As much more lively pleasing in compare
As gliding streames then standing waters are:
Sole Planet of our Spheare, raising our blood
As mightily as Cynthia th' Ocean [...]lood.
I need not name you, you are like the Sun
Knowne by the most obscure description,
Oh! if you could in course as constant prove,
Too happy should hee bee that joyes your love.
But you like an unguided Phaeton
Take glory onely to bee gaz'd upon,
And to inflame this lower world with fire
Of an unbridled and untam'd desire,
VVhilst your owne heart, as hard, and cold as stone,
Is plac'd above all conflagration,
Reserv'd I thinke to bee enjoy'd by Iove,
Disdaining all inferiour earthly love.
For Leda, Europa, Danae, all in one
Come nothing neare you, (Beauties paragon)
You surely are a Goddesse, nor can bee
Injoy'd but by a perfect deitie;
For men may thinke you love, and finde you faire,
But thinking to imbrace you finde but aire:
Nature hath beene but niggardly to all
That unto you shee might bee prodigall,
To you true beauties faire originall
VVhence others have but counterfeit derivall;
Men may o're other creatures pow'r pretend,
But full obedience they to you extend,
And glory more your sacred power t'obey,
Then over all things else to carry sway.
BUt that, great President of this faire Round,
VVee may not 'gainst thy will expostulate,
Nor dare upon lame humane reasons ground
Oppose what thou hast pleas'd to ordinate,
Our reasons false light else would make us stray,
And with strong arguments our minds induce
Against the marriage sanction to invey,
VVhence flowes such ruine, trouble, and abuse:
Nor can thy institution bee accus'd,
For that observ'd what now our torture brings
Had such felicitie to us infus'd,
As equalls poorest soules with joy of Kings.
Matches were first made by consent of love,
VVhich constant mindes in puritie excelling
[Page 45]Did so perpetuate, that nought could remove
Them from their first affections fixed dwelling:
Now [...]ordid avarice, and swell'd ambition
Without respect of love make marriage knot,
And are the vitious ends which that condition
With want of harmony and discord blot.
In former ages love did marriage draw,
Where mar [...]iage band is now loves motive made;
Grossely hee erres, who thinkes that words or law
Can sympathy of heart and love perswade.
Love rather alien'd is then bred by force,
An essence tender, all divine and free,
Abhorring bands, and compulsory course,
Fainting at thought of forc'd necessitie:
Happy those times, happy that age of gold,
And free communitie of Plato's state,
VVhen love was unconfined, uncontroul'd,
Nor any liv'd with those their heart did hate;
Then love the Cement of societie,
Sweet band of peace, and musicall consent,
Failing and turn'd to contrarietie,
Each free from other to first freedome went,
And then the faultlesse, quiet, vertuous wight
Did not the undeserved penance beare
With an unreason'd snarling jealous sprite,
The pretious portion of its age t'outweare;
Nor did they in the sweet of home retrait
The matchlesse cordiall of a travail'd minde,
Where happy love makes happy our receipt
A purgatory 'stead of comfort finde;
Nor did that Phantome honour them restraine,
Or feare desertlesse husbands to offend
Make women their true loves desire refraine,
Not daring lend their owne to please a friend;
Nor knew they false-bred squint-ey'd bastardy,
Nor yet the horror of a loathed bed,
No the heart-gnawing cares by jealousie
Of loosely kept, and lockt up honour bred;
Nor did that poys'ning damn'd Italian art,
The desperate refuge of th'impatient soule,
So oft prevaile with the malicious heart
That no restraint of vertue can controule.
And since that many are of such complections,
That change they must, nor ought can l [...]ng affect,
What misery it is to such affections
To plague each other with their loves effect?
The Romans, Iewes, and many other Nations
Had the advantage to repudiate,
[Page 46]Unty'd to alledge their accusations,
VVhich would but scandall breed to eithers state;
But since our law such licence doth not use,
Each take their fortune, and bee well content
A common destiny none ought refuse,
Stolne flesh o [...]t yeeldeth sweetest nourishment:
Since faultlesse none, let's beare with one another,
Brag of the better, and the worser smother.
OH doe not taxe me with a brutish love,
Impute not lust alone to my desire,
No such prophane aspersion ought to move
From you the sacred author of my fire;
I seeke your love, and if you that deny,
All joyes that you and all the world can give
My love-sick soule would little satisfie,
VVhich no food but your favour can relieve.
It is your better p [...]rt I would enjoy,
Your faire affections I would call mine owne,
'Tis but a prostitute and bestiall joy,
VVhich seekes the grosse materiall use alone;
The Town's not ours the market place unwon,
Nor doe I her enjoy whose heart's not mine;
Hearts conquest is the worthy ambition,
Seale of our worth, a ravishment divine,
Invincible to strength of humane hand,
Union divine of mutuall burning hearts,
Which both subdu'd t [...]iumphing both command,
Soveraigne delight that God to man imparts:
Oh let me in this true joy happy bee,
Or never may you bee enjoy'd by mee.
MY love to shew her cold desire
Hath clad her selfe in freeze attire,
VVhilst my loves passion all on fire
Melts with her beames that I admire;
Shee by this habit proves shee needs
No helpe externall from her weeds,
And that shee Phoebus glory exceeds
Dimm'd by the covering clouds hee breeds.
THese things must meete to make my mistris faire,
A gracefull count'nance of a changing ayre,
A faire eye that a fairer soule discovers,
Good lippes, full breasts, sit play fellowes for lovers,
Plumpe wrests, with hands well fashion'd, soft, and white,
Faire statur'd body to give full delight;
[Page 47]Yet I confesse I oft have pleas'd my mind,
Where what I mention was not all conjoyn'd.
TO bee assur'd men love as they professe
(Lydia) it is a mystery I confesse,
And to discerne the right from counterfeit
Is a high knowledge Artists hardly get;
For art on false things sets the fairest hew
To make them bee preferr'd before the true,
The art of art consists in hiding art,
Well may you judge parts outward, not the heart,
It is a hidden booke, which the most High
Can onely read with his all-seeing eye:
It is the private Closet of the minde,
Where what wee lay our selves oft hardly finde,
No [...] to be robb'd or pickt by cunning'st wit,
But where weake spirits have the keeping it:
It is a Sea whose depth was never plumm'd,
Nor e're the creatures and the treasures summ'd;
It is a skie, where wandring Starres doe move,
But the Astrologie is hard to prove,
Best knowledge of it is conjecturall,
Nor doth it under demonstration fall:
If outward things deceive expos'd to shew,
Lesse must wee thinke th'inward remote to know.
The best Physitian oft failes of his skill,
And thinking by his art to cure doth kill:
Nor can the cunning'st Lapidarie tell
A true stone from a counterfeit set well:
Nor can the Goldsmith but by highest test
Know an adulterate metall from the best:
A little truth makes falshood currant passe,
As little gold by Alchymy doth brasse:
Man's growne so basely artificiall,
That wee have lost our golden naturall.
Emulous art hath nature overcome,
And inward peace and truth hath overthrowne;
Proud man that glories most in reasons use
By reason's growne most subject to abuse,
And not content with what God him assign'd,
With pleasures false, and false griefe plagues his mind,
Whilst seeking the felicitie of opinion
Still toyles but ne're findes firme foundation;
For what we build though n'outward force o'rethrowes,
Yet change of passion quickly overblowes.
Thus are wee still to seeke, whilst other creatures
Injoy the sweet content of natures treasures,
[Page 48]Nor doth th' one servile to the other stand,
Whilst hee's indeed most slave that doth command,
Enough's a feast to them, whilst what wee have
Begets in us but appetite to crave.
Nature assign'd equalitie to all,
Nor meant her free gifts under sale should fall,
Nor e're intended wee should bee so mad,
Having the face of earth so richly clad,
And so sufficiently for mans full use,
That wee should labour after things abstruse,
Subterran metalls wrought by fire of hell
Mans happinesse and quiet to expell,
Making them Idols, and the needlesse meanes
To purchase all which shee so costlesse sends;
Whilst beasts enjoy a quiet uncontroul'd,
Free from the plagues and mischiefes bred by gold,
Free from warre, murther, theft, and penury,
False calumnies, and damned perjury,
Which wee old Rebells against natures law
Foolish commit without or wit, or aw,
And fettered live by our owne enthralling hands
Most witlesse servile to fantastick bands,
Fooles to the wiser fooles, mad in desire,
Preferring ayry smoake before true fire,
Subjects of fool-bred scorne, passion, and envy,
Malice, and boundlesse curiositie,
Insatiate humor, ne're content with well,
That vainely still importunes to excell
Reasons and natures bounds, which overpast
No period of contentmentment can bee plac'd;
Faire-promising, little-performing joy,
That in th'obtaining doth it selfe destroy;
Our fleshes torture, cancker of state and minde,
Fancies faire weed, toy-doting childish kinde
That feeds, and mads with faire imagin'd showes
Rewarded to know least where most it knowes;
Ape of infinitie that proud aspires
Though nature bound to b'endlesse in desires,
Vext by that woolfe Ambition, pride, and honour
That glitt'ring glasse that snares who dotes upon her,
That ignis fatuus, that who e're pursues
Oft meets with inconvenience that hee rues,
That tickling breath bought at the highest rate,
Guilt pill that costs so many a broken pate,
Monster that preyes upon our blood, and ease,
And makes us toyle, whom wee contemne to please,
That britly base strung gem most hardly won,
Rich lasting stuffe in show, but quickly done,
[Page 49]That pleasant bait that feeds but never fils,
That Syren, that then flatters when it kils,
That curbe of pleasure, sweet of our fond pain,
Faire instrument ambitions end to gain.
But Lydia to return again to you,
I grant 'tis hard to know false love from true,
Your proper art must bee your guiding thred
That in loves Lab'rinth you bee not misled;
In many things we right conclusion take,
Though wee no certainty of proof can make;
I proof-lesse think her painted, others faire,
And find faire weather in a threatning aire,
But venter Lydia, she is ne're much wrong'd
Who joyes the fruit of love, for which shee long'd.
VVEll women, w'are content for modesty
You shall dissemble, so you'l be content,
VVee shall esteem it as a vertuous lie,
Nor force us to beleeve more then is meant;
To say you like, and love, yet have no end
Nor any further pleasure doe affect,
Then such as friend communicates to friend
In sight, and speech, and outward good respect,
Such may bee friendship, but 'twas never love:
Say truly when you doe your Lover kisse
Find you no inward kindling sparkles move,
That you enjoy a more contenting blisse▪
But may it not I feare bee over true
That women have forgot to love indeed,
Nor any such true love is found in you,
As doth from undissembling hearts proceed▪
And that you may not ignorance pretend
VVhat true love is, I will to you define,
That lovers true may reap their loves true end,
And magnifie a power so divine.
LOve's an exhaled Meteor set on fire
By beauties Sun in Region of desire;
A pleasing print nature sets on our heart
Of fairest feature, which to re-impart
Unto the world shee agitates our mind,
That thereby we perpetuate our kind:
A longing after inward free commerce
VVhere spirits seek with spirits to converse,
A mutuall blisse, most joyfull occupation,
Where two that like would make one corporation:
[Page 50]Love is a liking taken to a piece,
VVhich to make ours we stick not at the price,
An absent presence, businesse full of doubt,
A guest let in that keeps all others out,
A peacefull warre, a friendly enemy
A free State turn'd into a Monarchy:
Love is an essence all divine and pure,
A pleasant wound, that only one can cure;
A weeping joy, a hopefull sweet despaire,
An Aprill day, Chamaeleon fed with aire,
A large imprisonment, a bold fac'd shame,
A play where holding out makes lose the game,
An importuning fancy entertain'd,
That mutins reason, if not well restrain'd:
An Incubus, that sits heavy on the mind,
Or mewing Cat, that hunteth after kind,
A [...]igging to discover hidden treasure,
S [...] union of the minds and bodies pleasure,
The plesant'st game, that ever was invented,
That sweetest sinne so hard to be repented,
The happiest gift rich nature doth bestow
On them, that doe her service undergoe;
VVorker of wonders, father of all things,
That makes Kings-beggers, and makes Beggers kings,
That makes the Lawyer plead without a fee,
And the Divine commit Idolatry;
That makes the daring Souldier to preferre
A single combate farre above the warre:
VVitnesse that Dame, who did the Lab'rer win
To quit his club, and settle him to spin:
Love makes the Merchant think his home-spun piece
Richer then the stuffe of India, France, or Greece;
Love turns the Courtiers reason into rime,
And his sleep houres to curious dressing time,
Makes him leave Master, Horse, and Hound, and Hare,
To hunt his Mistris (sure above compare)
And value each kind look, kisse of her hand,
At higher rate then his best field of land:
Love makes the Sloven turn most neat affected,
Yet oft the curious carelesse, and neglected:
Love makes the silent speechlesse man to speak,
Yet oft sets the best Oratour to seek;
Converts a Papist to a Protestant,
Whilst he in recompence prayes to a Saint;
Makes Atheists to acknowledge Deitie,
Yet holyest Writers profane Piety;
Makes honest unto one a common whore,
Yet makes lascivious, who was chast before,
[Page 51]Transformeth women into manly shape,
Yet maketh men become effeminate;
Turns age to youth, that once again they may
In August tast the pleasant fruits of May;
'Tis Fancies nat'rall child, ne're lawfull bred
But where by Reason Fancy's seconded;
Fancy but liking, reason love doth make,
Reasonlesse love of madnesse doth partake,
But both affections, thus concurre in one
Fully t'enjoy their object as their owne;
Nor is it love, that seeketh not to prove
That sweet which nature makes the end of love.
Were't not a silly Bee, nay a true Drone,
That having seis'd a faire flower as her owne,
Would simply on exteriour pleasure feed,
Nor seek to gain the inward honey sweet?
Such withering flowers are we, and silly they
That gather not their honey whilst they may,
'Tis natures work, who the cold barren mould
Makes fruitfull by loves fire species to hould,
Her mind and pleasures we ought not contemn,
Fantastick pleasures are not like to them,
One loves this pleasure, th'other loves another,
But every Son delights to make a Mother.
FAire give me leave to call you cruell
Since cruell I have prov'd you,
You kind appear'd but to adde fuell
To torture him that lov'd you,
And well you knew your beauty never
Could have bewitch'd my mind,
Nor had you me intangled ever
Had you not seemed kind:
So to seem kind, so to dissemble
Are but false Syren notes,
And doe those trait'rous lights resemble,
That Ships intice to rocks:
Cruelty often favour proves,
And favour mischief breeds;
Hard heart which pity nothing moves,
More hard which torture breeds:
Had you at first made firm denyall,
Nor seem'd to have affected,
I had not lost with tedious tryall
The joy that I expected:
Loves Card was wont to tell us this
That we were neere our Port;
[Page 52]VVhen women did but heare or kisse,
But now all rules fall short:
Like Helens welcome Ile they are
Refreshing pleasant ground,
Where to put in wee ill can spare
But are most hardly found;
Like Proteus daily form they change,
Never the same rema [...]ning,
To day most kind, to morrow strange,
Now loving, now disdaining:
The witty yet that can contrive
Honour to joine with pleasure,
Go thorough where they earnest give,
And keep their credits treasure,
Where silly things that love vain glory,
Little respecting fame,
Make of themselves a blasted story
Whilst others get the gain:
As mercilesse as is the Ocean
Is wavering womans mind,
And to give reason of their motion
Is full as hard to find:
VVho will their properties discern
Like heav'ns joyes must know them,
VVhat they are never none could learn,
What they are not must shew them.
And as in heav'n no sin remaines,
Nor torment, want nor passion:
So womans heart no good containes,
No firmnesse, no compassion.
Nor doe I yet hereby condemn
All women, 'twere too much,
But 'tis too true that most of them
Are over truly such:
I know they will themselves excuse▪
And tax corrupting men;
But well they know a chast refuse
Is seldome mov'd agen:
'Tis when we find they entertain,
And lend a gracious eare,
That wee pursue, though they complain,
We hope whilst they will heare;
Sometime perchance to try their strength
They'l suffer siege and battery,
And sometimes too, they'l yeeld at length,
Such power have time and flattery:
Who Loves approaches once hath past
As little need shee care
[Page 53]In loves play to sit out the last
Th'act where most hid they are;
But silly men why doe we show
The paths of love to those,
That greatest Clerks doe overgoe,
And blind as they dispose?
Most expert Souldiers are they all,
With art to fight Loves field,
Nor better knows no Generall,
When to stand out, or yeeld:
If they be strong, they open march
And brave the husband foe,
If weak, they night and covert search,
All vantages they know:
Or by the confidence they claim
In their good mans affection;
Or by example still they gain
And colour their election:
And think not ever they are silly,
That many entertaine,
They are not ever the least wily,
Though often the most vaine.
They generally kind appeare,
And free [...]ome use to all;
That those who they indeed hold deare
In lesse suspect may fall.
As Keepers by familiar use
Of feeding Deere at hand,
The simple herd doe oft induce
To come unto a stand,
Where freely any one they strike:
So VVomen freedome use
That unexpected when they like
They their own game may chuse:
Such licence hath not ever been,
And foolish are we men,
Having had pow'r to keep them in,
To let them loose agen.
Faire VVomens love I doe confesse,
Is a supreame delight,
But whatsoever they professe
'Tis hard to know them right;
Shee that pretends to love you best,
VVill now as well expect
To see your love in gifts exprest,
As they that least affect:
They by the fruit will judge the tree,
Nor will beleeve you love,
[Page 54]Except they ample gifts may see,
Your love their worth to prove.
As men their wives love ne're the lesse,
VVhere mony's the match-making:
So women will not have you guesse
They love the lesse for taking.
But love farewell, since I perceive
Such paines and cost you ask,
And are so giv'n to deceive,
I'l seek some other task.
Nought but assured love alone
Can my affection move,
And since assurance there is none
To know when women love,
My fortunes, faith and free estate
Shall ne're themselves expose
To plead for love, and think we hate
When w'are but gull'd with shows.
As they oft meet with the best fortune
That carelesse are in play,
So they that least plain and importune,
And most neglect, are they
Who women oftner doe subdue,
Then pitifull complainers;
They ever fly from those that sue,
And make the carelesse gainers.
Poore wailing lovers cease your hope,
That teares, though void of strength,
Will by persistance pierce that rock
Your Mistris heart at length;
Your sighs, tears, vows, and rhyming plaints
VVith all fond shew of duty:
Your making of them Idols, Saints,
Sole Empresses of beauty,
All doth but glory work, and pride
In their insulting hearts,
Their own affections women guide,
Not plaints, nor yet deserts.
LEt worthlesse spirits feare unstedfast love,
Guilty of defects that cannot love deserve,
Such apprehension never me shall move,
My faith and merit shall your love preserve;
But if change-loving your complection be,
By nature subject to saciety,
My love shall slack as well as yours to me,
Answering natures lov'd variety:
And though your love most precious to me is,
Yet have I learn'd to tame affections so
[Page 55]That none more constantly shall joy his blisse,
Nor none lose easier what he must forgo:
'Twere idlenesse to urge your constancy
For future time above our powers extent,
The wisest knows not what next houre hee'l be,
Love's nor by force, nor resolution bent:
But to prevent malignity of time,
And permanency to our love to gain,
Give me your heart to keep, as you have mine,
VVhich no pow'r can remove whilst you retain,
And yours in me such merit shall approve,
VVe both will fearelesse be of change in love.
You'l say they are toyes, the fitter are they then
For such vain bubbles Fantomes as are men,
They profit not, and wisemen you will say
Pleasures foundation on profit lay,
To them that want not (to give nature right)
Profit it self in truth is but delight.


Alasse! I cannot love, nor will I wrong
So much your kind heart, or mine own true tongue,
To play the cheater where no need compels
By vowing that I love you, and none els,
'Tis for base foolish minds to undergo
To please themselves or others with a show:
Free spirits in reality delight,
Loving to give true nature its true right;
And yet I cannot say, I cannot love,
But she who now can my affection move,
VVon to affect nothing but for perfection,
Must be a perfect object of affection;
She must be unaffected faire ev'n at first sight
T'arrest beholders eyes with sweet delight,
Yet such again, where looking you may finde
A silent check to a presumptuous minde;
She must be such as can give due respect
To every man without a rude neglect,
Yet not of such a light and easie strain,
That her own due respect she not retain;
She must possesse a wanton modesty,
Free affability with Majesty,
VVit without pride, a freedome well confin'd,
Discreet discourse, but most a worthy mind,
[Page 56]VVhereby her actions she must ever frame,
To paint her beau [...]y with a beauteous name;
For noblest natures, generous and free,
VVill never build upon a blasted tree:
She must to this such ayre of face possesse,
As gives a life to what her words expresse,
Now calm and carelesse, then with spirit bent,
In silent Rhetorick speaking her intent;
Shee must be neither fulsome, sweet nor sow'r,
Of ordered, yet of free behaviour,
Accomplished with all most courtly parts,
Yet not transported with her own desarts,
Using them only for her own defence,
Not greedy to bring them in evidence:
Such a fair Orange tree my love must be
Compos'd of such a contrariety,
So she in private be as Venus free,
Minerva let her be in company,
Desir'd of all, possest by me alone,
Guiding her love with such discretion
As gives accesse to no suspition,
Nor just grounds of dislike in going on.
A course uneven tyres a love discreet;
'Tis perfect love, when love and reason meet;
Love checkt by reason doubtfull is, and lame:
Finde me a Love so faire, so free from blame,
Shee shall command my liberty, and me
To love and serve her as her votarie:
And mean while to prevent saciety,
I'le live in joviall free variety:
Love's but impression of Saturnian blood,
VVhereby we overvalue things though good.
Nec lusisse pudet, sed non incidere ludum.

My farewell to Catlidge. By M. G.

SOurce of my sorrows, whose unequall frame
Presents the course and fortune of my life:
Here thine exalted height deserves the name
Of uniform and stately faire: No strife
Of disagreeing parts; yet th'other side
VVith low and crooked lines abates thy pride.
Thy noble prospect, and that large Empire,
By which thou seek'st to please and bribe mine eyes,
Can ne're deceive my grief: Nor make retire
Those streams which from thee sprang: VVhose force denyes
[Page 57]To be exhaust or stopt; through troubled teares
All thy delight dull, darke, confus'd appeares.
Me thinkes I see the Gulfe, the Rock, the Grave,
Where beautie, strength and life, and all that's sweet,
At once their ruin, wrack, and buriall have,
Which all in one divine soule here did meet:
Thou fatall seate of that intestine war,
Which all that's good and lovely quite did mar.
Thus to my griefe and passion thou dost seem,
Though crown'd with health and pleasure; tho the place
Where peace and plentie both strive to redeem
With kind and noble usage that disgrace,
Deaths cruell hand hath lately cast on thee,
And to relieve the pressure lies on mee.
[...]ut calmer reason doth thee represent
In truer species to mee; this doth plead
Thy innocence; this sees thy faire ascent,
And Noble rise which heavenward doth lead,
Chose by that matchlesse soule, which might her bring
To th' Throne and presence of her God and King.
Farewell and flourish then thou happy place,
Ennobled with the last and sweetest breath
Of earths and heavens ornament, whose race
Here gat the end and crowne of life by death.
Long mayst thou stand and safely keepe all those
Her vertues heires, whom thy faire walls inclose.

Condolement upon occasion of the preceding Verses received from another Author.

MY other selfe in my affections and sufferings, with whom more then all the world I delight to converse present and absent, such satisfaction in the way of knowledge, confe­rence, ingenuity, and Religious vertue I no where else expect; com­mon conversations, especially such as these times produce, are to me as full of Soloecisme as the time it selfe, they invite mee not abroad; they have no influence upon mee, either to quicken, ex­tract, or fructifie. Some are knowing, but not trusty; others simply, but inconversably good: there is scarce any thing left perfect, com­plete, [Page 58] or in any tolerable order now shee is gone whom we lament. Pardon my present manner of writing: for as it is to you, so is it onely for you: and my great confidence in you makes mee as incu­rious, as free and open. Though I am at this time unfit to write, though my sonne lies under the disease and danger which hath bred our passion: Though I am none of the best conceited of writing, for the little good effect I finde from it (wee live by chance more then by the booke, and the best praises are every day poetically applyed to vulgar merit and the writers glory) though I have resolved to leave it more then needs must; yet to supply what I was yesterday saying to you in acknowledgement of the happinesse I found in you in the middest of my losse and griefe, such as I reckon another Phoenix unto mee, for wee will in the flames and spices of our Re­cordations still raise her up, and keepe her alive to our soules eyes, such as whilst wee live I beg leave of you to love, seeke to enjoy, and make my selfe yours with a consecration of mee and mine un­to you. Excuse mee if I am or have beene defective in entertaining you according to your worth, and that I am of no more worth to bee entertained into such place in your affections as I affect: And let my valuation and affection to her that hath left us, and whom you best (if not alone) know how to value, intercede and make sup­ply with you in my behalfe. But whither goe I? I seeme to put on an affectednesse and complementalnesse farre beyond what I in­tended: for my meaning (next the giving you some account and thanks for the verses you put into my hand at my parting) is, onely in a tumultuary precipitate fashion to let you see how my imagi­nation was apt to worke, and what (with infinite more) I could have laid hold on, if I had not deserted both the formall follow­ing of my fancy and writing. Time is a dryer up of Radicall and other moysture, and I reckoned my selfe as unapt to weepe as a sta­tue. Nature hath provided teares and showers for a mitigation and dissolution to heate and violence of passion and stormes, and as vi­olence is incapable of duration, and reason and judgement with time recollect themselves, teares thinking they have plaid their part give way to full and cleare discourse, and cease in the stronger spi­rits. Yet such power and so moving were your lines upon mee; that entertaining my self the most part of the way upon them, not onely every reading but severall clauses raised severall stormes and showers on my heart and cheeks. So see we marble statues weep ei­ther in present sympathy with the weather, or in future presage. And I pray God the future sufferance of that family (whereof by interest of blood I have the honour to make a part) exceed not the pre­sent sense in this inestimable losse. I was by the way like an Aprill day, according as the Sun-shine and clouds of your spirit dispo­sed mee. Sometimes I suffered in an apprehension, that according to your title of a farewell to the place, you might bee become like others disaffected, and abhorring all relations and circumstan­ces to your griefe, and so to my self: but therein againe you hap­pily [Page 95] and favourably cleared mee. Sometimes I became transpor­ted in your lively representations of her worth, and transcendent happinesse of excellencie both in this and the better world: But presently as much dejected and overwhelmed in your patheticall expressions and sense of her losse. But in conclusion I found you like your selfe, as full of obligation as payment, to mee as infinite­ly beyond my merit, as in your owne conceipt short towards her, in what you owe, and her vertue may challenge. My fancy wrought upon returning a farewell to Lees: I had cause and matter more then enough, as the breeder and true cause of that which hath been most unhappily translated to this unhappy place: but considerati­ons as due restraine mee. As I said, I resolve to deny my fancies their full birth or Trym; I can no sooner entertaine halfe a thought of writing upon her for a subject, but I become opprest with a croud of matter, conceptions, and materiall Ingeniosities, that offer their service, and presse upon mee so importunate, that if I presently give them not a birth they threaten they will neither ever bee found of mee againe, nor that I shall ever finde so good: I seeme care­lesse as never despairing of my fancy where shee is the subject; Nay such is the plentie and treasure of her materialls as scorne the helpe of fancy, and require no more but a reasonable Recorder and Register. What an unmatchable fortune hath Lees been blest with in two wives! the one the first to the father, the other to the sonne: The one like a Romulu [...], the other like a Num [...] to Rome; What a foundation of estate, vertue, and beautie brought the one? What an Oeconomy besides portion, Alliance, vertue, beautie, and Religion, the other? Candish was her name, but most Candid her soule and condition. The enfolded Serpent is her Crest, most pro­per to her excellent discretion and judgement, which was as natu­rall, as her Dove-like innocency acquisite unto her. Whatsoever in her condition was to bee wished other, was fatally accidentall. Her perfections were all her owne, nor was there any perfection wanting in her, if not of not being her owne enough. It is too unhappy, and frequent an incident to goodnesse to bee too indul­gent to others, and not to give themselves their due. Time had not hardned her to endure a hardnesse of time and fortune; if there can be an excesse in goodnesse and charitie it was in her, naturall, mo­rall, and divine vertues contended in her for precedencie. But as well her death as life witnest her charitie in its true prerogative to outgoe them all. Shee was matched to a field of crosses, shee converted them all to a blessing upon her soule, and would have done upon the family, had not unlucky disease and death preven­ted; Shee was an Echo of her mothers name and vertues, and that as full as numerous. I may crave pardon of her soule, and you for writing thus rashly and hastily upon so pretious, so dain­tie, and sacred a subject; my study must be to stop and containe my selfe, as others use to worke and labour their braine and fan­cie for invention. Shee neither was nor is as other women, death [Page 60] that was ever gastly and hideous to me in others is to behold in her a piece of sweetnesse and excellence: Her memory and what­soever represents it (except her sad misfortune and Catastrophe) is all perfume, all rapture unto me; Were I not strongly instru­cted in Religion, I could not forbeare a continued veneration, and addresse unto her as the Saint of my soule. Great griefes indeed are not allowed a tongue, nor can they at first finde one, nor ever a due adaequate and full one: But it were a kind of Sacriledge to rob the world in the due testimony of so divine a worthinesse, and our sorrowes tribute at least in some proportion. This is the mi­serable constitution of mortalitie, who will be indolent must be stupid and without affections; if we will love much (vertue or whatsoever) we must be contented to subject our serles to over-flowing sorrow, it never had a fairer, truer or juster occasion. But I will abruptly breake off at this time that sense and prosecution, which shall otherwise neither fade nor expire in me. And to con­clude with you to whom I began; The first passage of your Ver­ses, though I answer it not in kind, where you mention the croo­kednesse and unproportionable lownesse of one part of my house, that where that noblest of soules left this unsutable and unworthy world, I meane in monument and memory of her to raise, and grace the lower side thereof to such a decoration, as (though no­thing can become the occasion) shall not be unworthy of the neigh­bouring Piles; And that (for all your farewell) I hope you will often become an eye-witnesse unto. The lines I gave you yester­day, you finde by their disguise, were intended as a concealement, and so to bee kept (and therefore covered) Let this letter also re­maine with you as under seale of

Your most sincerely affectioned friend and servant.

I Have formerly wondred at Montagne (whom you lately instan­ced unto mee) that in his Essayes hee often takes a title and writes little upon it: I finde it now in my selfe, I propose to my selfe one thing, and other occurring matter and fancy possesse and carry mee away, my writings become Oleos, which, if like others you affect varietie, I hope you will the rather pardon: Even now the entrance to my letter hath been as well diversion as matter unto mee; It is received that wee should write as wee would speake, my speech to you would bee without formalitie, why should I debate with my selfe how to entitle you at the be­ginning of my letter? to superiours and personages of great re­spect and little familiaritie I grant it decent and necessary, to [Page 61] others there is a kind of odnesse in it, which showes not well, you were ne're the lesse welcome unto mee as were my other friends in your company at our meales, though I saluted you not with my cup; It is to many especially inferiours more trou­ble and interruption then gratification, there is meanes sufficient otherwise to expresse our good affections, and I see not but why as well our kissing salutes as that might bee antiquated and left: kissing is a kind and degree of copulation, which should bee and is so observed by the greatest and wisest nations more elective and private. A Lady of wit and qualitie whom you well knew, would never put her selfe to the chance of a Valentine, saying, that shee would never couple her selfe, but by choyce. The cu­stome and charge of Valentines is not ill left, with many other such costly and idle customes, which by a tacit generall consent wee lay downe as obsolete, onely with God wee grow more cere­monious, except in the Lords Prayer, where I know not why wee are growing to leave out the doxology, though St. Matthew the leading Evangelist hath it at large, and so have wee been brought up to it: What may the people conceive of our former stile in Prayers and Religion, if they shall bee occasioned to thinke they have not till now enjoyed so much as the right use of our Pater noster? Wee are also in our Creed growne more familiar with Pontius Pilate, hee must now be Ponce, and why not as well Iu­lius Caesar Iuly? Quantulacunque estis, vos ego magna voco. As I said to some, none of the most obscure of our Ecclesiastiques, who blamed the Puritans for troubling the people with abstruse points and novelties, that there was order enough to bee taken with them, so that themselves upon whom wee have no coertion would let us bee quiet, and that my selfe who had been long learning the hard lesson of Religion and conscience would bee loath to bee set to seek in my older dayes. So can I not but still continue it my prayer, as it is said to have been once used at Pauls Crosse, that it will please God to make our temporaltie more spirituall, and spiritualty lesse temporall. God is a Spirit, and decency of worship is all that is required in Christianitie. Abundance of ceremonies were a loade to the Jewes, and the exercise of Religion more by the outward senses then the inward, is too much the way of Rome and a visible object of adoration. The time was when my charitie led mee, to wish Churchmen might agree amongst themselves, and shine to us in their good Ill living Preachers like evill Cowes, kick downe the milk they give. ex­ample, which would (sans Ceremonie) best supply all wants that they finde in our devotion. But now they put me to pray and thinke it no small happinesse that my self may be quiet in the wayes of God; There is a disturbance in all changes though to the better, and often might better bee forborne. You see how prone I am to fall upon the Church, wee cannot travell but a Church will come in our way; are you not affraid it will prove to mee as is written of Christ, that hee is such a stone, that who [Page 62] falls upon him shall be broken, and whom hee falls upon, it will grinde him to pouder? I have, you know, of late been at some cost with Churches within and without, I had ill fortune be­twixt St. Paul and St. Gregory, I am yet as conformable as any, how long I shall continue so upon further alterations I know not, I love not to bee put to my bearing, I hope I shall not; The abundance of my heart will say something, and I have often fal­len upon some touches of this discourse in the confused peeces which you obliged me to take into your view and consideration. If Church-men will doe things scandalous and unwelcome to us, they must expect to heare something unwelcome to them­selves; I professe to honour nothing more then a good, and abhorre nothing more then a bad Christian amongst them. I have met with some friends who have prest mee to the presse; over-flattering me that it were pitie my conceptions should ex­tinguish in a private Copy or two, and that I may otherwise be wronged either alive or dead by some false publication: I cannot become perswaded therein, I suspect fame and abhorre vulgar cen­sure, I am conscious of my precipitation and Crudities, and will not give the silly and malitious world a priviledge to arraigne me; Besides, our Clergy preside and over-rule Printing, and will disal­low all that conduceth not to their owne advantage; Be my inten­tions never so good, the Arke must Yet divers passages of the New Testa­ment give such high priviled­ges to the child of faith as come little short of the Priesthood, whether for illumination or powers. not bee touched with pro­phane hands, they will bee p [...]rty and judge, Unicuique in sua Arte, Religion and all that belongs to it is a Noli me tangere to the laity, more then to obey: The Tables of policy and government are bound up against such stragling writers as I; let truth be what it will, I shall be contemned and condemned. They are our Pastors, we the Pecus, yet is our conscience too much accompanied with science to go as every Clarke will drive. They have the keyes of the Church, they will in some sense bee alone privatively and exclusively, the Church, Saint Paul gives the title of Church to a particular family, Saint Peter also, &c. though it was not so in Noahs Arke, where the eight persons cumulatively made it; they will now bee Church and Chancell, whatsoever our Saviour said of Sabbath, wee must ra­ther bee instituted for them, then they for us; yet in the time of the Patriarchs we reade of no such Hierarchy: all we can say or write is Apocryphall, their sayings are onely Canonicall; Let my zeale and charitie be what it will it is blind, it is indiscreet far­ther then conformable to them, and their charitie begins at home, they cannot, they must not erre or bee in the wrong: Yet if you will rightly consider, they shall finde that naturally the more they assume, the more wee shall examine and yeeld the lesse unto them. I wish them all their due, and more then a competencie, but I finde nothing more frequent in the old and new Testament then invectives against their preachings more for themselves and their owne bellies then God and his truth. I make too bold with them, I must either not come in print or passe their spunge, their Castrations, expungings and expurgatories. If I print not, I shall [Page 63] bee rob'd; Plagiaries will make me after a while come too late to call my owne, my owne, ye [...] will I as willingly consent to my robbing, as guelding; Transcribings are most troublesome and injurious, but I will bee content with a few witnesses like your self to doe me right upon occasion, and keep me alive in your me­mory and affection. To you I submit my self, I give your pen as great power over me, as to my owne. I have been told since you left mee, that you found the concluding verse of my Lady Riches Epitaph (which like this letter was of a most sudden composition) somewhat flatter then the rest, my self judged no lesse, it first con­cluded thus,

Had Death had eyes hee had not been so Cruell.

But I thought it too light and licenciously Poeticall for such a subject; I love not excessive Hyberboles, much lesse over bold and prophane expressions. I deceive my self if I give not a tem­perament therein beyond the ordinary; though neatnesse, form, beauty and fancy work as sensibly upon me, as upon others; yet have I never willingly complyed farther with them, then as I finde them to comport with conveniency and other good re­spects. I affect to write more reason then conceit. I hope short­ly to enjoy you farther, and refresh my self in your company this winter at London, indeavouring to avoid the sadnesse of this place, and the approaching season. What with the sight of my Sons extreamity, lying as I thought (and little lesse it was then) strug­ling with death; and what with the immediate preceding heavy losse of that incomparable Lady in the same my unhappy house, I am confident that since I was a child, so many teares have not been drawn from me. I want comfort and diversion; but I almost despaire to finde them. I have long since lost the best and dearest of my conversations, my fate hath been such, that I have seldome failed to finde distaste and discomfort from whatso­ever I have most pretiously affected: such conversation as can give me contentment, is so rare, and out of my way to enjoy, that I can little flatter my self therein. You were a witnesse at your last being with mee of a most extravagant and undue distaste cast upon me; God in all my course hath blessed me with a great portion of charity to passe over offences, to construe and hope the best; my discretion may be something questioned in my patience, but I chose the better and more Christian part. If I once become lost, I am hardly recovered; who well considers humane frail­ty, will the better beare it: wee are little better then halfe witted; it is good to be circumspect, but we are not thorough sighted. I would the very texts of Scripture and Aphorisms of State were not too frequently taken by halfs, my writings are but parings and scrapings, (I mean in respect of matter, for I neither skim nor copy others) I dive not to the bottome of my selfe. I had need gather something, as I doe, whilest I write and scatter, for I lose much of my own fancy by the way. I take not time to consider [Page 64] and digest, I hope you will as hastily read me. Time and the pillow are excellent Counsellors. Sudden resolutions are subject to im­perfection and repentance. Serious, deep and iterated ruminations are troublesome chiefly to impatient spirits, and the lighter sort are incompetent and incapable to undergoe them; even the most intent and solid minds shall be often occasioned to say, Had I thought or knowne. Men addicted either to delights or much employment, have neither leisure nor patience to give weighty and implicate deliberations their full and due examinations: how of­ten have I tost a consideration, as I thought, on every side, and in all its aspects, and yet found new and important discovery upon return! Though the Spaniard be often a loser in not taking the advantage of present opportunities, yet his constancy and patience in timing, maturing, and pursuing his deliberations and designes makes much for them and their ends; their seve­rall bodies of Counsels, for severall Kingdomes and affaires, are of great effect: Our late practised peculiarity of delegations and Com­mittees, with a choice respect to the wits, capacities and experience of selected persons and junto's, are greatly to be approved. Trades and professions must of necessity be more exact in such Countries, where as we find it written they are lineally continued. If the Art of Physick were distributed, as to Oculists one part, so other parts and diseases had severall professors, particularly to attend them, their Anatomy and cure, though it savour of the Emperick, it might be much more happy unto us. But what make I then so bu­sie out of my Province? a Justice of Peace, as some will think, is the utmost of my calling: Yes, a Gentleman is a little of every thing, and peaceablenesse in Gods service concernes every man; Mountaines are as well surveyed and judged from below, as vallies from above, and an impartiall by-stander may often see more then the Gamesters. It is more then time that I untie your attention from my importunity and trash: it is to me lesse trouble to write as it were without thinking, then to think without writing; possi­bly an active life like yours would prove more easie and health­full to mee, then either of both; but I must take my self as I am, and as wee see little Birds in their Cages, and Apes and other Creatures force an exercise in their restraint, so, Si fortuna negat facit indignatio. I have both envied and emulated a Cat or Dog, in the tranquillity of their spirit: it shall still bee my aime, and I hope to become no more troublesome to you, my self, or any o­ther in this way of writing: But I must stay my time in all things. Farre better then my self, have profest themselves subject to doe the evill which they would not, and not the good they affect­ed. As I am informed, you have wished I would bestow some further labour in polishing and better digesting what I have written; but by that time you shall have read mee thorough, I hope you will bee otherwise satisfied: and I have, as you may find, bestow­ed too much wit in excusing the naturall deformity of my writings, [Page 65] now to consent to lose, and cast it away. Though I know my Children as black as the Crow, yet they are mine, and I must like them never the worse for resembling me; they were not made for the market, and they are too frequent in devout conclusions for the vulgar. I presume better of you, and will conclude with you like the Letters of former and better times: Committing you to the protection of that Omnipotent God, whom I never cease to implore; and who hath from time to time, and even to this pre­sent miraculously supported me by his grace and favour, to him be all glory, to you all happinesse from

Your most unfeigned, though most unfortunate affectionate Brother.

STill to omit formality and compellations unnecessary and superfluous, Since my last of the 22. it hath been intimated unto mee, that you are not so well satisfied as I would, in that I vary from my first taken measure and order of verse in some of my no long pieces. I doubt not but it will be disapproved by some of the most strict and formall Criticks; yet take I the boldnesse to like my self ne're the worse; it is for Novices to write by line and rule, words and lines are but the barke and cloathing of our minds: so decency be observed, my yeares and disposition have long dispensed with exactnesse of following the fashion, challenging some gratefull priviledge therein. Our modern fantasies in musick, & your Court masking tunes have taken up a change of aire and spirit, & are the better accepted: you condemn not, nor prove not offended with a beauty for want of precise symmetry, affected forms of speech and complement are dis-affected; and matter regarded; Scribendi recte sapere est & principium & f [...]ns; it is neither this, nor that man­ner, that makes it good in writing, or other things; good Judge­ment is the thing, and never failes of order: it hath an influence in­to all our thoughts, lockes, gesture, language and actions, and without it all will bee wilde and incomposed. In my late dysastred entertainment, ostentation, and curiositie were so much avoided, that I for bad all extraordinary festivall Pageants, Aromatiques, and Quelquechoses. If you are grown to choose a Horse for true strength and usefulnesse, accept of me in my mis-shapennesse, my [Page 66] writings respect ease, duty, affection and profit, not aff [...]ct [...]tion, fame, perfection, or delight; I hate fetters and circumscriptions, more then Religion, government, and reason cast them upon mee; Magnas nugas as magno conatu, is a double fault. I am no wayes a Precisian, yet in the Adiaphora according to the indulgence of our Church, I can and doe dispence, so it bee not with contempt. Sometimes change of matter agrees to it; sometimes, as we have a Christian liberty, I will as well as my leaders make use of a Poe­ticall licence: VVhere is the law that restrains me? VVhy not con­clude with a longer proportion of lines, as well as to intermingle a long and short? I have sometimes pityed a serious and pious Author needlesly and wantonly fall upon a Quadruplicity of rhyme or affe­cted variety of measure and number in verses. If there bee a­ny harmony in rhymes, it is satisfied in two, and not without danger of fulsomnesse, as well as certainty of trouble in exceed­ing. I have often wished our Poetry like the Latine and Greeke might be e [...]ercised without such subjection, if not barbarism. There may bee a Rhetoricall sweetnesse in numbers, spirit, and proporti­on, charming enough without it. I little respect old rules further then reason. Reason is the rule of rules, they often a buse us, and domineere in an usurped authority, as if wee were, lesse men, and had inferiour or lesse faculties of soule, then those from whom wee received them. I could never find the found reason of subjecting Comicall representations to the Compasse of a day: to tell mee that otherwise our concepti­on becomes overstrained, is nothing: I can as easily stretch my fan­cy to a yeare as a day; and to think my selfe at Rome in an instant from London, or Paris, as to imagine my selfe at White-Hall, being in Black-Fryers. I unwillingly lose a good story, or any thing that is good upon nicenesse of form: Non oportet destru [...]e substantiam prop­ter accidens, was a good rule, I long since learnt of an honest Physitian, in case of bestowing more time and paines in study then stood with health. Fame is the farthest from my thoughts, and yet you see how famous they prove in their production, Crescunt eundo, like Elias his cloud they unmeasurably spread. I intended but a word or two, I wonder I should bee so tedious and talkative in Penne and Inke, who am nothing lesse in ordinary businesse and conversation. I hate a long Tale, especially dramaticall in the way of Dialogue and Scene; yet if you take but a piece of m [...]e, at once, I hope you may at least, as well indure the reading, as I the writing; this and all my longest peeces are of one Boutade performed at a breath, part of a mornings exercise. My sonnets of devotion, howsoever versification bee of a more elaborate na­ture, insomuch, that most miserably it will sometimes fall out (I be­leeve with the best and most fluent) that the subjection of a rhyme or measure, shall cost more time and toyle then writing a Page in Prose, and in conclusion matter it selfe must yeeld, yet were they [Page 67] generally of a suddain birth, they needed no Midwifery, but what they found from above. You finde also in them an irregularity of here and there a superumetary couplet at the end, the peece is compleat without them; It also requires your indulgence to mat­ter beyond forme. I naturally hate to bee clogd, yet hath for­tune manacled mee from my youth, want of libertie in the free use, disposing and ordering of my selfe and mine have infinitely pre­judiced my contentment and fortune; I take the boldnesse to say it in presumption of such a moderation to have ever accompanied mee, and so much discretion, as it may bee you will beare mee witnesse that had I not beene check't in the mastery of my selfe and mine I should have done much better in the world. But I grow as well diffluent as tedious, and therefore with desire of your par­don and constant profession of most sincere affection towards you I rest

Your most faithfull Brother and servant.

MY really worthy friend, It is my unhappinesse to misse your company at my returne to London, and that which aggra­vates is the heavinesse of your occasion, wherein I participate in the great losse of your most valuable brother; such a gravitie, such a soliditie, such vertue and Pietie are too much wanting in men of your and his profession; Pride, covetousnesse, licentious­nesse, ingratitude, hypocrisie, usurpe the place of that sweetnesse, meeknesse, hospitalitie and good affections to God and goodnesse, which were wont to bee more frequent in your calling as most in­cident and proper unto it, and held before in coparcenere betwixt you, he hath now resigned to your Primogeniture. Gods judg­ments are to be feared when the world is not found worthy of such Inhabitants: So young, so suddainly dead under the practise of Phy­sick, ministers fresh occasion to continue my Invectives against that Caball of collusion, calamitous to mankind and nature. All the good wee usually get by relying on Physick is the neglect of other better meanes to subsist, and presumption in evill diet and disor­der. I feare I shall hardly see you before I leave the towne, and when I shall see it again I know not, wee are not fit for one ano­ther, Mihi jam non Regia Roma, Sed vacuum Tibur placet atque imbelle Tarentum, The civill pretiosa fames, the maligne fires, fitter for a Chasing-dish then a Chimney, and yet as costly as a Bustum for a great Roman carcasse or Phoenix, the Parrat heartlesse comple­ments, Gossipping discourse, Petty censures of this mans seate, house, habit, esta [...]e, and the others last action, Lawsuite, child, marriage, entertainment, purchase, sale and bargaine, which the [Page 68] walking spirits of Stowes Chronicle ▪ Journalists and Commentators of the time carry from house to house, were I never so rich I could not now indure with patience; It is enough, if not too much, to bee by vaine experience made to bee no Gull of ignorance; The towne is for Professors, Trades-men, Officers, Courtiers, and such as feed on others tables to live in for pleasure and profit; Others if they bee wise will not make themselves a silly prey to the proud Shopkeeper, who playes the Spider in the Cobweb, and is now be­come come as familiar as hee was wont to be humble and crouching. Non tanti emo poenitere, non tanti esurio, I will not buy ill ayre, strait lodg­ing, ill drinke, and little good company so deare. I could possibly finde as much pleasure and esteeme in the Towne as another if my mind were sutable, but Quid decet ac verum est have long been my affectation; the vanities, idle visits, Playes and pastimes of young men become mee not, other mens tables appeare a kind of intrusi­on and importunitie, nor is a solitary retirednesse pleasing unto mee; Serious men are too busie, and I am too serious for the lighter sort. I will wish plentie and goodnesse of time, and howsoever it p [...]ove will helpe it by feeding on my owne pasture, and rather in­rich then impoverish by dearth and high prices; f [...]r the more they grow, the more I will spare and contract, nor will I dwell at the me [...]cy of exaction; with choice of place. Tenues luxuriantur opes. I, cole nunc urbes, quicquid non praestat amicus, Cum praestare tibi possit Avite locus. When the Citie had most of my affection, I conceived reason sufficient why a Countrey Gentleman might, as I often found, grow soone weary, and distasted; costly and ill lodging and dyet, enforced neatnesse, importunate visits, perpetuall cap, cur­tesie, and complements, ceremonious acquaintance, tedious and chargeable businesse, pastime to seeke, his wonted healthfull ex­ercise, Ayre and command turn'd to a sedentary and servile obser­vance, and a sootie Ayre, such as the thickest rined vegetables ra­ther pine then live in; this and much more may well occasion him to thinke himselfe out of his element, when hee is drawne to towne, where hee finds honesty and goodnesse accounted [...]implici­tie, and that, Rusticitie; where not to weare his Beard, Cap, Cloathes, and make his reverence in the modern Garb condemns him as much as to speake false Latine in the Universitie, or goe naked in the Country; where to become every mans acquain­tance is to bee none of his owne, civill and charitable to every stranger, every impudent unchristian Begger, incivill uncharitable to himselfe, his fortune, plentie, health, ease, authoritie, pietie and naturall neighbours; where thoughts and actions are neither con­sonant to religion or Philosophy, nor language to the thoughts, in­nocency and vanitie are the prey of rapine and deceipt, the purse falls into a dysentery, good order and conscience to a luxation, and the outside of the Platter is all the businesse. When I formerly lived in Towne I was at home in my place of birth and education with my Land close by, my fortune hath now made it other with [Page 69] mee, and fo [...] my comfort, (if time which should improve my judgement, abuse me not, as it commonly doth the distastednesse of old men) the condition of the Towne is altered from what I have known it. Prizes continue double upon a sudden, and that which is most strange; without either scarcity of yeares, or plenty of mony; penury of wit & good oeconomy with abundance of luxu­ry work the effect. No ancient brave Romane was ever more free and prodigall of his blood in the way of honour and his Countreys defence, then our English gluttonous Gallant and Epicure is easily and insensibly parted with his money (another blood to the wise) for fashion and sensuality. He affects bravery, and yet contemns what feeds it. Hee seemes indulgent to his Genius and soule, yet thinks it base and superstitious to befriend them by looking into his reckonings with God and Man. The conscience of the seller pre­scribes no limits but what he can get, nor is the buyer restrained by any rule of discretion or price, broad Tables, large Diet, many courses and dainties, make slender fortunes, and narrow soules; gay houses and outsides, ill furnish't mindes: wee are I know not how become possest of late with a malus pudor, a slacknesse, a wretchles­nesse and shamefacednesse to doe what wee ought for our pro­fit and good, with a confident glory in our ruine, and what we should avoid; till God, authorized example, and wholsome sumptuary laws reform us, we shall never mend: Sed quis custodiet ipsos custodes? viti­ous custome hath prevailed by the discountenance of wisdome and vertue, falsification and corruption have so invaded us, that we have forgotten and lost the very Arts and Idea's, as well as the habit of true working and living: To strength of my minde and authori­ty all is easie, grosse impunity animates and confirmes offenders, and the great feare is we shall never grow wise but with a mischief; for my part, as I am without power, so am I worne out of fashion and acquaintance, and I find little new worth the seeking and im­bracing; friendships are grown rare, dissimulation, cost and cere­mony have extirpated them; Generosity is hardly to bee found; All distrust, cunning, pride, self-conceited, self-affected, and ne­ver lesse wit, judgement, courage or vertue to boast of: As the World is, I cannot blame such as frequent the society and conver­sation of women, they pretend not so much wit and knowledge, but have commonly more then men, Plus sapiunt, quia quantum o­pus est sapiunt; Their study and concernings lying in lesse room, they more strongly, certainly, and perfectly attain and compre­hend; they exercise not such a falshood of Art, trade, and conver­sation as men, their Discourse is more free, friendly, and ingenu­ous, their intelligence none of the worst, for they command gene­rally our secrets, and what from the pulpit, what from our open hearted conference communicate without booke the quintessence of our thoughts and studies; they study us as wee our bookes. They are the winning common-wealth and society of this our world, and like the Jesuites strongly combine and make it good by [Page 70] wit. They are greater lovers of worth and valour. They are more innocent and lesse dangerous to good men. Observe their waies and bargaines, and judge if they be not ordinarily more cautious and frugall then our selves, they grudge not to take paines and bee at some cost with themselves to please your eye: No Confectio Al­kermes is so good against melancholy (so you surfeit noton their dain­ties) as the diversion and pretty trivial lighter part of their entertain­ment, gratification is the very worst of them; and you shall wrong your selfe and them, if you condemn them all for the worst amongst them; What was ever totally perfect? If some bee bad, the best are to bee the more esteemed. There is I confesse a difference a­mongst them, so also of us, therein is our choice and judgement to bee exercised: The company of the best men best at leisure is to be enjoyed and found amongst them; the very best things are often subject to abuse, contain and make a Covenant with your eyes, and take but a preservative of ne quid nimis along with you, and you are safe and happy: They are generally better affected to the times, and lesse possest with base and prolling designes then we; Their pow­er with us and over us, proves their wit to bee above ours, finer, clearer, stronger: They are not destitute of Art, but are more friends and instruments of nature, and shee theirs. Thus as I use, have I mingled lesse with more serious matter; this latter part belongs rather to others then to you. I presume of your friendship, whom I know indulgent to ingenuity, an honest free career, and

Your most faithfull Friend to serve you.

Pathetically, if not too Prophetically Inspired, upon the death of the late Noble and Brave Prince HENRY. An imperfect, but true Inventory and Dissection.

OH, how much happier had my fortune been,
To doe thee service with my Sword then Pen!
And to have shed my bloud for thee then teares!
(Faire Prince) whose life, our hope; death, bred our feares;
Though thine own vertues have embalm'd thy Fame,
As farre as planted is the Christian Name,
And are too beauteous well proportioned,
To bee by me unskilfull crayoned,
Yet duty bids me offer at thy hearse,
The faithfull incense of this mournfull verse,
Which contrary to common Monuments,
Is not made faire without, for foule contents;
But poore without such riches doth possesse,
As budding youth did ne'r so faire expresse;
Nor feare I now suspect of flattery,
For to the living such their praise apply;
Greedy to turne sweet poison to reward,
Care lesse of duties, and of truths regard.
Thy fresh and well known worth that tax doth free,
Which livelyer wee shall know by losse of thee:
Irreparable losse, where overthrown,
Lies our Great British worthy Champion,
Strong Bulwark of our Peace, steel point of warre,
Loadstone of vertue, glorious Northern Starre,
The Muses love, favourer of all good Arts,
Friend to all good designes and worthy parts,
Judicious, just, hardy, and temperate,
Splendide in well ruled managing thy State,
Too curious frame to last, Modell compact,
For future times a pattern most exact,
Faire Ship, most fairly fraught for VVar and Peace,
Untimely sunk, scarce launcht into the seas,
Too glorious rising Sunne soon overcast,
That shin'st in Heaven, for here thy beames were plac't
On mould too dull, cold, worthlesse, to beget
An active fruitfulnesse answering thy heat,
Thy flames of vertue were more pure and high,
Then our weake state could foment with supply;
No vertue didst thou want, or vice possesse
That could make great thy worth, or glory lesse
[Page 72]Furnish't with all materials fit to raise
A high superlative of Princely praise,
A true Minervian issue sprung from Iove,
Visible vertue forcing us to love:
As true a vertuous Cyrus naturall,
As Xenophons fain'd artificiall,
Faire fire receiv'd as from our Persian King,
Dead vertue once againe to life to bring:
Heroick off-spring of that English blood,
VVhich anciently hath so celebrous stood,
As faire a splendor to thy Fathers stem,
As, or his Scepter, Throne or Diadem.
If Troy lamented Hector, Grecians scourge,
[...]arre greater grief thy death to us doth urge:
Troy miss'd no Captaines, though their Hector dead,
But whom hath now our Priam fit to lead
VVith union and alacrity the Bands,
Of English, Scottish, Welsh, and Irish Lands?
VVhose active well born spirits thirsted all
To follow such a hopefull Generall;
VVhose pattern set the coldest mindes on fire
VVith glorious thoughts and generous desire,
Sole able Engine t' have repair'd the fame
Of th' once illustrious wither'd English name;
Such vertue could not actionlesse remaine,
VVhich made him fly our dulnesse with disdain:
VVherefore brave Spirits that do inward burn,
Loving true glory, joine with me and mourn,
And with your slames make him a funerall fire,
And with him end each thought that did aspire;
Smother in his Ashes what began to flame,
And teach your thoughts to study peacefull fame,
Temper your most untimely ill faln hear,
VVhich may your ruine, not your glory get,
Except that idle glory you esteem,
Vying who most effeminate shall seem,
Most proud, affected, and like weeds of worth,
VVhich our best soyles uncultivate bring forth:
Mourn and lament him Patron of all truth;
Nay, him the soule, and glory of your youth,
Nor never hope an active time to see,
Except enforc't to act our miserie.
Happy our Fathers warlike spirits; we
Haplesse; though fortunate our Sons may be,
To whom this seven yeare retrograde hath brought
A Prince with like faire promis'd vertues fraught,
To top his story with victorious bayes,
As Iames with sweet of Peace hath blest our dayes;
[Page 73]Adding as many Crownes as Iames hath done,
To Crowne his titles with possession.
Thus glorious Comet with more zeale then art,
In thy fames dirige I beare a part,
Which may it pardon finde, though hoarsly sung,
And passe with favour 'mongst th' Elegiack throng,
As writ by him, who having vow'd sword-service
Can ill performe a Poets sacrifice.

Upon the death of Anne of Denmarke Queen of great Britaine, and the blazing Starre appearing neere her death, taken for the stellifyed spirit of Prince Henry dead not long before.

BRave soul! thou hast prevail'd, God hath his owne,
And wee ill debters were, nor paid the loane
Of such a Jewell, bee thou Henries Star
Pointing thy mothers way and not our war;
Heaven bee appeas'd, and grant our prayers, and teares
Prevent thy further anger and our feares.
Say that our false hearts to our selves, and thee,
Deriding goodnesse and true pietie,
Led by our vaine affections as our God
Not charitie, say this deserves thy rod,
Let not the Roman petty Gods surpasse
Thy rulers mercies; Marcus Curtius was
To them a sacrifice their wrath to swage;
Our losse hath doubled his, then slack thy rage,
And grant againe, we feele no further paines,
But blesse our dayes with joy, in what remaines.


HEre lies Iames his rich gem, the eyes delight,
The graces mansion, our faire dayes good night,
Glory of the Court, object no sooner seene
But knowne the gracefull presence of a Queene:
Rich Jewels shee is said to leave, farre more
Rich was shee in her pretious vertues store,
Heaven grant her royall vertues transportation
Breed not a dearth unto her sex, our nation.

Vpon the death of my faire Cousin Drury.

SSay passenger, and for her sake
Who while shee liv'd had power to make
All eyes that on her cast their sight
To fix with wonder and delight,
Daine that these lines one sigh may borrow
Breathed from thy heart with generous sorrow,
To see in this sad Tombe now dwelling
The fairest Drury, late excelling
In vertue, beautie, and all grace
That heaven in earthly mould can place:
And that which may your griefe increase
Is that shee did a maid decease,
And all that wee in her admir'd
With her is perisht and expir'd.
Matchlesse shee lived, unmatcht shee dide,
Druries sole heire, and Suffolks pride.

Vpon the death of the supereminent Lady Haddington, Delineated to the life.

IMperious soule, proud Quintessence of wit,
Union of natures beautie forcing love,
Faire Haddington farewell, here dead with thee
Lie Loves awe, sweetnesse, life, and majestie.
Manly ambitious spirits, hope possest,
By conquest of fierce beautie to be blest,
Change your desires, for sweare ambition,
The glorious subject of your hopes is gone.
Alas! nor verse, nor picture can expresse,
The least of her heart-winning lovelinesse:
Happy who knew her, for he knew perfection,
Such as henceforth hath freed him from subjection.


MOunt up to heaven, free soul, with Larke-like joy
Scorning our earthly base condition,
Where no malitious envie can annoy
Thy faire ingenious disposition.
There shew thy selfe in thy pure nakednesse,
Where all thoughts in their simple truth appeare
[Page 75]To speake thy selfe with true borne simplenesse
Is vertues habit out of fashion here.
To covet, flatter, lie, bee politique,
Hunt gaine with greedy falshood and deceipt,
To bee a devill, so an hypocrite,
Are vertues to gaine this worlds good conceipt.
Thou wert not such, and therefore happy now,
If faith and truth may happinesse procure.
Thy life thy truth, death doth thy faith avow,
These are the golden wings that mount thee sure
To lasting glory; glory bee thy due
For being faithfull, noble, faire and true.

An Incentive to our Poets upon the death of the victorious King of Swedeland.

FIe slow Boötes brood! what, not a line,
To celebrate a vertue so divine?
See you not Perseus mounted in the skie,
Outdoing all the antient Chivalry?
Expect you till his Steed dash on your braines,
To make you flow into heroick straines?
Can your Electrian facultie in wit,
Raise nothing but meere trash and strawes to it?
Is brave Gustavus of too solid stuffe,
His great exploits, for your sleight veine too tusse?
That like poore falsifyers you despaire,
To profit from a peece so rich and faire:
Whilst from more triviall subjects you will drive
A trade, shall make your reputation thrive,
By ransacking the mysteries of Art
To set a luster on some low desert.
Rouze up at length your over stupid muse,
Unite all in one quire, and bravely chuse
No other rapture whereupon to sing
Then the high Trophees of the Swedish King.

The reason of a Gentlewomans wearing small blacke patches. Of another Author.

I Know your heart cannot so guilty bee
That you should weare those [...]pots for vanitie,
[Page 76]Or as your beauties Trophies put one on
For every murther which your eyes have done:
No, they are your mourning weeds for hearts forlorne,
Which though you must not love you could not scorne,
To whom since cruell honour doth deny
Those joyes could onely their misery,
Yet you this noble way to grace them found,
When thus your griefe their martyrdome hath crown'd;
Of which take heed you prove not prodigall,
For if to every common funerall
Of your eyes Martyrs such grace bee allow'd,
Your face will weare no patches, but a clowd.

The incompa­rable Lady Carlile.Occasioned partly by the Verses above, partly by a faire La­dies keeping on her Mask in the house on a hot day.

I Ne're till now thought patches ornaments,
Gentile and happy was your Authors muse,
As gently cruell are her faire intents
Who kills and mournes: but why doe you refuse
Their names, who so much wit and fairenesse owne?
I met that very day you shew'd those lines
A beautie such as if it would have shone
Would have out pierc'd the parching'st Sun that shines▪
But chamber maskt shee was, close mourner to
The funerall solemnitie shee wore,
Innocent guilty, sweetly sad, as who
Resolv'd to intombe her selfe to kill no more.
It may be also, shee did apprehend
Another scorching Summer would undoe us,
And so her selfe o'reclouded to befriend
Mortalitie; 'twas double favour to us.
But Sun-like beautie, know great mischiefes flow
From great Eclipses, well as blazing Stars,
Wee die as well, except your selfe you show
As by your beames, or our intestine wars:
Shine then and triumph still; better some die
Then this Sphere want its second quickning eye.


VVEE cannot scape by masking of your face,
Wee finde our selves still taken by your grace,
By your I know not what, meere carelesnesse
Charmes more in you then others curious dresse;
Each step and motion of your frame or mind
Consists of a composure most refin'd,
[Page 77]Cheape vertue is confin'd to face, yours lies
As well in your high spirit, as your eyes.
A Dunghill Cock untry'd will looke as brave,
So will a Curre, a Buzzard, Jade, or knave,
As the most vertuous in their severall kind:
Value consists in temper of the mind,
In judgement right, and resolution strong,
Ends brave and good, thinking nor doing wrong,
Consulting truth and goodnesse more then will,
Knowing, and daring all but base and ill:
Diamonds in show are little more then glasse,
Triviall appearances make men to passe,
But thorough tryall proves an Asse an Asse:
Difference in women is no lesse,
Their goodnesse makes their pretiousnesse.

True Love and Honour.

THough you are gracefull, brave, and faire,
Beyond your Sexes rate, though wit
Enoble you as well as blood,
This, nor your fine exalted ayre,
And prospect knowing all that's fit,
Nor that you are rich, great, but good
Subdues mee: these to cement well
Is that wherein you all excell;
And if to these you take in love,
The India's cannot equall prove:
For me, I must not so aspire,
My part is onely to admire,
Your vertue, vertue to the world supplyes;
The Sun none ought thinke to monopolize:
Onely I'le strive to bee as good as you,
And so part of your love will prove my due,
And mine, you being good, and good to mee
Must or be yours, or vertuous cease to bee.

An Elegie upon the Death of the most faire and vertuous Lady Rich, which most unhappily happened upon the 24. of August, 1638.

HAd I least hope complaints could reach our losse,
Could I the Stars or Sea sand number,
[Page 78]I would embarque her vertues sea to crosse,
And to my griefes heighth raise your wonder.
Could or the world, or words such truth receive,
As to her story doth belong,
Could any but her self, her vertues weave,
Or sorrow find an equall Tongue;
Such Ship, so fraught, such wrack I'de represent,
As would the Soveraigne neere surpasse,
And make you in a Sea of teares lament;
Shee is not now that Nymph shee was.
Within, without, so glorious was her trym,
Such awe of Odinance shee carried,
Had shee not by dysaster taken been,
Neptune alone shee must have married.
But though her vertues circles just content,
And her squares just diagonall,
Numbers can ne're exactly represent:
Yet by our course Mechanicall,
Somewhat wee'l say in lame and short account,
Our due oblations to discharge,
Which shall alone all other worth surmount;
Faithfully drawne, though not at large.
Free from all pride, though none but shee had cause,
Neglecting beautie, huswi [...]'ry to minde,
Wholly resign'd to Gods and marriage Lawes,
Judicious farre beyond her yeares and kinde.
Outside and vanitie, though most in fashion,
Wrought not on her strong fram'd and solid soul,
Shee liv'd by reason, as others by their passion,
And by her goodnesse did all wrongs controul.
Her presence was a chastisement to sinne,
Ill time could not corrupt her spotlesse mind;
Had her pure body of like resistance beene
Against the Ayre and season too unkind,
Wee her sad losse had not so deadly griev'd,
And shee to our soules joy might still have liv'd.


IN title Rich, in vertue all excelling,
Rare Daughter, Mother, Sister, Friend and Wife,
Piety seldome had so faire a dwelling,
Unparallel'd as well in death as life:
Here now she lies, glory of woman kinde,
Physitians shame, the wonder of her time,
In body faire, but fairer in her minde,
Fitted for heaven, and taken in her prime:
Few rightly knew to value such a Jewell,
Had death had eyes he had not been so cruell.

On the same.

FOule Grief and Death this yeere have play'd their parts,
Such time as a most pestilent mortall small Poxseised and carryed many of eminent rank and ver­tue.
And Syrian-like conspire against the best,
Ayming at one stroke to break all our hearts,
Their cruell spite ne're met with such a feast.
They threw and bore the fairest Phoenix born,
As singular, as unique to her friends,
They never twin'd so strong a Cord to mourn,
Nor strook so home, at ours and their own ends.
My wound smarts double on the by; what, where
She suff'red, how exceeding all repaire;
How heavy to her friends and mine to beare,
This multiplies my grief with much despaire.
My treasure, rest, well-being, all my joy,
Except what duty and piety require
Perisht in her; fate can no more destroy
Henceforth but love of good, and good desire.
The good is gone, which if I cease to grieve,
Beyond my own death, let me cease to live.
Such life, such death, so constant, Christian brave
Never became the triumph of the Grave.
I erre: Triumph was only hers; may I
Contemplate her both whilst I live and die.
[Page 80]Her birth-day was her death-day, and her death
The birth to my discomfort, and sad breath.

A Requiem at the Enterment.

WHo e're you are, Patron subordinate,
Unto this house of prayer, and doe extend
Your eare and care to what we pray and lend;
May this place stand for ever consecrate:
And may this ground and you propitious be
To this once powerfull, now potentiall dust,
Concredited to your fraternall trust,
Till friends, soules, bodies meet eternallie.
And thou her tutelary Angel, who
Wer't happy Guardian to so faire a charge,
O leave not now part of thy care at large,
But tender it as thou wer't wont to doe.
Time common Father, join with Mother Earth,
And though you all confound, and she convert,
Favour this Relique of divine desert
Deposited for a ne're dying birth.
Saint, Church, Earth, Angel, Time, prove truly kind
As she to you, to this bequest consign'd.


AS often as we speake we are censured, but much more severely in our writings; against them men take not onely a priviledge of boldnesse, but make a kind of necessity of exercising their wit and judgement, for feare of being concluded to want understanding if they discover it not in their exceptions; they are the evidence that wisemen give in against themselves for a common Jury of fooles to passe upon them, it must bee an extraordinary Coat of Mayle that hath no false and weake links, searching spirits howe­ever [Page 81] weake in themselves will finde them out. I have often obser­ved that the weakest Sex and abilities will as soone discover a flaw and infirmity as the strongest, they bend their wits to finde faults, as doe the better sort vertues. Noble and great Creatures seek not chinks and cranies; a blemish in a garment is easily seen, when the true web requires a judgement often as fine as it selfe. I am no Doctor, nor am I paid for cure of Soules, and I have ever affected privacy and retirednesse of my poore wit so farre as to have avoi­ded all publike exhibitions more then necessary duty hath imposed upon mee, yet that I wrap not my talent wholly in a Napkin, I am I know not how, fallen upon this sally, rather in truth to Register my self to my self then to the world; many good wits use to write down their occurring conceits, which chance useth to present better then any industry could extract. I have bin a great loser for want of such practice. I know the better sort, such as I would admit and converse with, want none of my sleight and pedling furniture; yet may I serve to figure and awake unto them some such of their own stuffe as would possibly otherwise never have become elicit, but have slept in their Magazine and Chaos. My writing is rather to mend my self then others: the world had long since been much better then it is, if writing would have effected it; finde fault with me who list, they shall hardly finde or more, or grosser then I know by my self. Spectators and Censurers of lives and action, exercise a Trade as easie as lazy, Scepticisme, Criticisme, and Satyrism seldome miscarry. It is as familiar to carpe as hard to write of the times and not to become Satyricall. Errors in pre­tended Science, errors in wit, fashions, and manners, are so grosse, that they seldome faile to meet with as just an invective and derision, as refutation. VVhat a businesse we have made to our selves by im­patience of our naturall condition, by our affectation of that flashy forbidden fruit of knowledge▪ what a deale of Art, building, fur­nishing, dressing, policy and pastime are grown upon it▪ nay, what a businesse are our very pastimes become unto us? how seriously wee cultivate our trifles, our frothy aery ambitions? nature made the supply of our mouth (provision) as well pleasure and pastime as necessity unto us; other creatures finde it so, and suffer as little hunger as men. Examine our own rules and definitions of As right ends and wayes, or right reason of doing, chusing, and refusing, &c. wis­dome, and judge whether they belong not more properly to o­ther Animals then to our selves. Our fore-fathers were not un­sophisticated; but what a super-sophistication have wee brought upon our selves more then formerly, in plucking down our old often more convenient houses for the fancy of newfabricks? then comes the endlesse variation of proud and costly furniture: what a coaching, what a tyring of truly tyring Women and Taylors? what a curiosity of cookery, wines and sawces, which young men were wont as much to scorne, as now they are curious to judge? Nature is lost in us, our life is become an affected Pageant of show, and we are nothing lesse then our selves, we are drown'd in our own [Page 82] Arts and follies. True honour and vertue are not so much as Themes to discourse of, we care not so much as to seeme vertuous, honesty is a shamefull simplicity, and vertue a net to catch Woodcocks; but marke the end, and you shall seldome see shame faile to overtake folly, pride, and vice. For my part I abhorre basenesse and degenerosity so much, tha [...] natural­ly I cannot well endure that an unworthy conceit of mee should lodge safely in any breast; though fashion be become a kind of superstitious Religion; and Religion taken up but for fashion, and made superstition: God hath cast mee in a better mould, and this advantage I finde in goodnesse, that as vice hath two contraries, one of vertue, another of its op­posite vice: so have vitious men as well the malignity of o­thers, as the goodnesse of the vertuous against them, where vertue hath only vice for enemy: And this benefit it hath, that as in a good constitution of body, it selfe and exercise will beare out some mis-dyet and mis-accident; so will a pre­dominancy of vertue and good reputation maintaine its pro­prietary against much unhappinesse and misfortune; whereas an evill name, you know of old, is halfe hanged, and serves for a milstone to sink an otherwise strong swimmer. The strength of a predominant vertuous ingredience appeared in Manlius against his otherwise distastefull austerity, as in other Roman Captaines against their remissenesse; Gonsalvaes reputation not being made of Cobwebbe-Lawne bore him out against small exceptions. There are infinite degrees of soules; wit­nesse Oysters and Plant-animals, insomuch as it is to bee doub­ted whether there bee any such substance as to be termed in­animate; every one hath more or lesse its discourse, or at least affectations: But onely God is absolutely perfect. A­mongst us, he is best who participates least imperfection, and in whom vertue carries the greatest sway; such deserve an in­dulgencie, and shall finde it as well from God as man. I am all infirme and imperfect in minde, body, and fortune: yet this commodity grows even from such discommodity, that as valetudinary bodies by a due care and temperance subsist of­ten better, and outlive more strong and presumptuous Com­plexions; so doth a skanty yet competent fortune well ordered prove often more happy and lesse wanting then a luxuriant plenty. The like may bee affirmed of a tendernesse of mind; as Parsimony is a great Revenue, so experience when it can, Inane abscindere sol'do, makes much of little: High minds, blouds and fortunes hardly moderate themselves, and are most subject to inconvenience and ruine; such seek to conquer all but themselves, the want of which conquest exposeth them to all assaults and spoiles: It is a task that few undertake, and fewer prevaile in, without it we are unfortified against our selves and others; it is often attained as well by flying as op­position [Page 83] it is a master-peece to passe over anothers infirmitie, as it is to put by the assaults of our owne suggesting fancy and concupisence, which is yet many times so easie that who once hath learnt to repell first importunate motions shall finde them so farre from that importance and force which they pretend, that sent away for the present, and another motion of the mind entertained, they will shew themselves such nullities and become so lost, that if you would you can neither finde nor recall them; This till wee can doe wee shall not bee friends to our selves; Aversion and diversion are necessary in fencing, cure, and life; Who cannot as well put by as make a thrust hath little art; Hee steeres not well that cannot well decline and avoyd; It must bee an exorbitant force to carry all downe before it; Nothing is strong or weake, A Mathema­ticall Radius moving as up­on a Center makes the mo­tion of the Snu (if it move) no more then that of a watch in 24. houres, and what is slow in an Ele­phant is swift in an [...]mme [...]. swift or slow, good or bad, but by comparison and respectively to the Species and greatnesse of the body and subject; To know our strength, to know our selves, and God, is a height of knowledge to bee labou­red for; without some measure of it there can bee no happinesse, God is the Author, God is the circumference, God the Center of all existence, to him bee all glory. Amen, Amen. Iuly the 16. 1638.

THree things have presented themselves this morning to my consideration, of themselves excellent, though in divers de­grees; Religion, Policie, Arts: when Religion is not exercised in sinceritie, policie to publick good, quiet and Justice, and Arts are employed in folly and errour, I cannot but deplore our humane corruption; they should bee the perfecters of nature, but distor­ted and abused, prove to truth of judgement her mischiefe, her de­formitie; They leave her not to her selfe, and our super and pre­ter-naturall life ought to bee instituted and advantaged by them; if yet seeing they have undertaken to leade and helpe her, they would at least be constantly true to themselves and their owne pretences, it were well, better possibly were shee otherwise if in her own hands lesse should shee have of trouble and lesse to answer for: But per­versenesse of disposition which is too generally predominant will ever wrest the best institutions to its owne vanitie, pleasure, fantasie and commoditie, other is not to bee expected, so it hath beene, so it will bee, whilst wee live in this world, the best of us abuse our selves if wee finde it strange; wee must doe herein as by the weather, pray for good and take it as it comes, use our endeavours, cultivate our selves to the best, and committing all to God, if wee finde our selves better affected then the common course, account at his blessing with a submisse and thankfull heart.

VVIth whom shall I converse? Where is the dwelling of wisedome, or innocent simplicitie of heart? Happy Shepheards, whose conversation is with the heavens and the most innocent of creatures; Man generally is become a mongrell, nei­ther good man nor beast: A Christian in name, a Woolfe in nature, an Apostat to God and nature, and they have no lesse forsa­ken him: Justice long since tooke her flight to heaven, Peace, wise­dome and integritie have followed, their shadowes onely re­maine upon us; Who should maintaine Christian Religion, endan­ger and destroy it, who should draw a blessing by studying peace, draw a curse of dissention upon themselves and us. It were brave if men durst professe what they are, or bee what they pro­fesse: But from halfe-witted men there is nothing to bee expected but wholly folly and mischiefe. Stormes ought to fall on their heads that breed them, and so commonly they doe; I will shelter my selfe as well as I may: naturally I love stirring, but the wea­ther must bee fairer; wrong courses may succeed for a time, but right wisedome and justice will at length prevaile; That shall bee my hope, that my Prayer. Sublunary dispositions are subject to various influence and vicissitude; vertue as well as ignorance often labours fastidio sui, Religion it selfe hath its Currents, its ebbes and floods, in entertaining things wee are taken with a con­templation of their perfections, in progresse wee grow weary, wee carp, wee cavill. Nature affects change and libertie, ordina­rily to the worse; This the Roman Clergy knowes, this they worke upon, our vitiousnesse affects an indulgent hand, that they present, like greedy Chirurgians they love sores to feed upon their cure, ignorance and libertie are the way to, and in their Religion, wee are too much disposed except God avert.

Suddaine Touches in the nature of Characters, Written about the yeare, 1625.

A King

TO bee perfect must at the least bee of the second forme of wit, if not able to advise himselfe to the best, yet to judge of and chuse the best upon debate, as also to make election of Counsellors untainted in their wisedome and integritie. Hee must bee seasoned with the knowledge of that great God, from whom himselfe and all things have their power and being: from thence will flow an affection ascending to him, and descending upon his people, with a holy ambition to imitate him as well in his justice and goodnesse, as power and greatnesse. Hee is a publike person intended for common utilitie, and his af­fections must all concentrate to the publick good. Hee must e­steeme his happinesse and safetie to depend on the love of his peo­ple, and therefore like a good Shepheard hee will chiefely be plea­sed in procuring their contentment and welfare. And if (as eve­ry Shepheard hath his Dog) hee will assist himselfe with some per­son of especiall confidence, hee must bee exceeding carefull that such his favorite bee not chosen of a condition rather inclining to the falshood and voracitie of the Woolfe, then that fidelitie and good industry which were requisite to his and his peoples good. Hee ought to thinke it a part of his dutie to seeke the understanding of his office from the best writers, for them hee will finde the most faithfull and least flattering Counsellors. Thence hee shall learne that the onely securitie and honour of a government both for the present and to perpetuitie consist in being zealous of Religion and reputation, in maintaining justice and the Lawes of the Country, which are the sinews of his government, and the evidence of his Regalitie. The zeale and observation of these cannot faile to pro­duce the love of his Subjects, without which hee would finde him­selfe being assaulted like a man without hands, which move but according to the heart. And howsoever craft, dissimulation, and flexibilitie of conscience are in the tenet of many men, qualificati­ons necessary to Empire; yet true wisedome of government will so order it selfe, as to bee seldome or never beholding unto them: for strength needs no engine, and a good judgement will so recon­cile the wisedome of the Serpent to the innocency of the Dove, as to force the currents of vertue and state both into one Channell. His gifts, preferments, and undertakings must bee governed more [Page 86] by discretion then passion, else hee shall want, bee ill served, and faile without pitie. Reward and punishment are the weapons wherein hee must bee cunning, for they are the Instruments of his honour and well being. It hath beene an ancient and constant policy to make all benefits to proceed from himselfe, and mat­ters of distast from his Officers, else doth hee hunt Counter, but so shall all the thankes bee his, and the blame theirs. A good a [...]d cheerefull countenance to well deservers and such as observe respect to him, will often spare his purse, and make him a gainefull re­turne. To take notice of the worth and capacitie of his servants and most eminent Subjects, and to remember them in the di­stribution of his bountie and imployments, will much con­duce to his honour and good service. To cherish the good, and bee constant to his word, is not the least reputation. As also to enter slowly and with full provision into a warre, and not to come off but with advantage. To give a free eare to discreet persons about him that love him and his good, and to shew an affection to dispence with his particular for the publike, is the way to know all and want nothing. Hee ought to bee compassionate to the poore, and affect the relieving of his people, else shall hee bee so far from goodnesse as to bee voyd of common humanitie; To bee better content in a small revenue with love, then in a great one with hate and groanes, for where the [...]eople loves, the King cannot want. Hee will by all meanes avoyd to supply a present want, by giving way to a perpetuall mischiefe, especially if not urged by the freeing himselfe from some imminent ruine. Hee will de­light in his people and the expression of their good affections, and e [...]teeming the money raised from them, as their blood, make con­science in the dispending of it. Hee will consider what is necessary in a way of constant expence for the good, safetie, and honour of a State, and before all things assigne an infallible certaintie of allowance thereunto. In gifts and payments hee will preferre the needy and well-deserving, and crying debts before others, or mat­ter of bountie. In case of defect of ordinary power for govern­ment hee will affect to supply it rather by assent of the State then by acts of Councell, for they will never deny what shall tend to good government, and it will stand more firme, and beget better obedience. To preserve his just power and Prerogative as well over himself as his Subjects, and to use motu proprio as well in effect as in word, will maintaine his Majestie in due respect, not suffering it and himselfe to bee m [...]de covers of private ends and passions, nor in­teressing it but upon necessary preservation of his Soveraigntie ac­cording to the constitution of the State where hee go­vernes. Hee will esteeme it as himselfe ordained for Com­mon good, and thinke no small Prerogative to be a King, though governing according to the rules of those Lawes which make and keepe him so. To appoint and observe set times as well for his affaires, as recreation, will keepe him from becomming a stran­ger [Page 87] to his office and interest, maintaine his servants in their care and duties, his Allies and Subjects in due respect, and will pre­vent infinite abuses which might grow upon him, nor will it abridge but rather give a relish to his pleasures. To conclude, hee will thinke that a choyce and great assembly, like a great streame, can hardly be corrupt, and that their happinesse being in­volved with their King they are likely to give him as good, honest, safe, and wise counsell as any three or foure heads in his Cab­binet.

Nec minus alienae libertatis, quam sua dignitatis memor.

A good Counsellor.

A Good Counsellor is one, whom nature, studie, and expe­rience, have fitted with abilitie duely to deliberate and re­solve upon occurrents of the greatest importance, and needs no oath, for his conscience, wisedome, and sinceritie will teach him secrecy and fidelitie. Hee will study his Masters honour and benefit, and will bee more forward to give advise therein without asking, then to move for his owne advantage. Hee is a demi-god placed betweene King and People, and must steare a course of justice indifferently betwixt both. When feare, a tem­porizing humour, or private ends make him swerve from truth, hee betrayes his owne honour, his conscience, and his Master. Hee must ever affect to bee a good instrument betweene the King, his Allies and Subjects, for their good affections are the Kings honour and safetie. Hee must direct his opinion by the exami­nation of reason and truth, and neither by his owne nor other mens affections. His Master and the publike good must bee his object, farre beyond his private, wherewith hee must up­on occasion so farre dispence, that rather then not to adhere to Justice, truth, and a good conscience, hee must not feare any displeasure or losse of office. The more hee hath beene raised by his Masters favour and fortune, the more hee will cloath himselfe with courtesie and modesty; for that honour is onely true which is given to a man, not that which hee arrogates to himselfe. Or if hee will exercise a haughtinesse of courage, it shall bee onely that brave pride of neither doing nor suffering injury: for the other foolish one of selfe conceitednesse and dis­daine is ever the issue of folly, and parent of reflected con­tempt and scorne. Hee will bee apt to doe good offices, and af­fect dispatch, for that will b [...] his honour; as to undertake more then hee can performe, and delude those that re [...]ie upon him, will prove an abuse upon himselfe and his owne reputation. Nothing [Page 87] shall bee more prevalent with him, then to maintaine his Master in the love of his people: for that King that is beloved at home is feared abroad, possesseth a secure estate, a joyfull heart, and quiet sleep with present and immortall fame: In which happy effects a good Counsellor reapes no small applause and felicity.

A good Parliament Man

MUst esteem himself an Epitome of the three Estates, with a principall relation of duty to the King, the head; for in respect of Common duty all the members of a Parliament are Homogeneall. He is a Physitian of the State, and so must indea­vour to rectifie all distempers and disorders therein. And if like an evill Physitian, his ends bee either his own advantage, or that he comply with the disease or inordinate humour of his Patien [...], he betrayeth his Prince and Country; and is that murtherer, thief, or whatsoever of evill which is reproached to a Mountebanck Impostor. The writs of Summons teach him his calling; the King, the Church, and the Common-wealth, are his object; his own interest and allegiance will instruct him to affect to please the King, but his conscience will lead him to assent only to what is wholsome; his sincere judgement, and not implicit faith is to be his guide. He leaves all favour, ill will, and partiality at the entrance, and considers the good of the King combined with that of his people. He feareth nothing so much as to wound his con­science, or to betray the truth, which above all things he ought to reverence. Fame is too aery an object for a solid soul. Popular and Courtly applause are the least of his aime. He is not so well pleased with any thing, as to see right ends proposed, and right wayes observed towards them, which so they prevaile, he will gladly sit in perpetuall silence, but rather then matters be carried against his conscience, he will discharge it with whatsoever consequence. His affections are to maintaine all things faire and even in the Church and State as hee findes them duly constituted, knowing that all innovations are dange­rous; yet so, as gladly to imbrace such propositions as apparent­ly conduce to a bettering and reformation. And to that end hee will never doubt that things tending to the publike good can be unwelcome to the King and his knowledge, it being a chiefe use of Parliaments to foresee, inform, and prevent. He will be no lesse affected to a due relief of the Kings, then of the Coun­tries griefes: for a necessitous Prince can hardly observe the laws of goodnesse; and a good and loving people will never endure a good and loving King to be in want, or suffer the least dishonour. Hee will study to m [...]intaine concord, and will not follow a multitude to doe evill. He will observe a becomming [Page 88] attention. He will make the best construction, ever study mo­deration, and so, that right and Justice be observed. Hee will not feare any dissolution; no not of the world it self.

A good Courtier

MAintaines his Masters supremacy in his heart above all earth­ly affections, and furnishing himself with parts and discourse most acceptable unto him, courts him more zealously and dili­gently then his Mistris, knowing that as well his fortune as his duty requires it. His tenure is by curtesie, and he deserves to for­f [...]it his estate for non-performance. The least incivility in him exceeds the greatest in another man; for hee must reckon his example, next unto the Kings, of a diffusive nature. His lan­guage, cloaths and fashion will all be well ordered; but he will affect to win love, and esteem, rather by his inward then his out­ward parts, and will value the good opinion of one well famed, more then of an hundred others. Goodnesse will be his chief ob­ject, and reputation but a second. He will expresse love to those that are vertuous and ingenuous; for there cannot be a greater or more sudden evidence of vertue & ingenuity in himself. He will study the favour of the powerfull, and bee voluntary with discretion, as good a Counsellor to them, as they ought to be unto the King. He will love his Masters honour, as much as his own profit, & seek it as industriously. He wil not esteem that the Kings service is a dispensa­tion with him from Gods, but will so court it on earth, that he may hereafter be a Courtier in heaven. Though complement and neat at­tire be a badge of his profession, yet will he avoid excesse in either, and his purse and reputation will thrive never the worse. He will judge nothing to become him so ill as ignorance, debauch and ill company, and therefore will study to avoid them. He will beare an open countenance, and a close heart. Hee will bee just of his word, and slow, but sure in contracting his friendship. Honest dissimulation, and a dissembling chearefull patience are a kinde of vertues necessary to his fortune and course. It will bee a misbe­comming discountenance unto him to bee excluded by his defects from the faire performances of his companions, which often ad­vance them to no small grace and savour in their Masters atten­dance. Wherefore if he come not to Court (as hee ought) furni­shed with perfections of Dancing, Horsemanship, Languages, and the like, he will industriously bestow his idle and early houres, which will not be wanting unto him therein. Good parts may assure him of favour, and favour of fortune. To conclude, hee, or no man, is bound to be a compleat Gentleman.

A Gentleman

BOth by descent and quality stands ever bound to his good be­haviour, outwardly in a faire, civill, courteous, well ordered fa­shion, and inwardly in Piety, Charity, Justice, Courage, Truth, Temperance and those other vertues which the Schooles teach; for if outwardly he be incomposed in his carriage and civill respect, he will appeare to men that understand good fashion as full of sole­cism, and more absurd then the arrentest Clown before a petty Ju­stice of peace; and therefore he will make it a businesse, so much to frequent companies of the best respect, and to season himselfe with their fashions, as that thereby he may avoid in the least sort to become ridiculous, especially prima facie. As for those inward sea­sonings which are to this, as the substance to the colour, hee will omit no occasion to give proofe thereof; as fearing to belie his Pa­rentage and title, and to prove himselfe a wolfe and vermin in the eyes of good men, who ought to have doubled his lustre by worth and goodnesse. Hee will therefore be a strict examiner of himself, and least indulgent to his owne errors. Hee will make truth his guide, for lies are but the bolts of fooles that fall on their owne heads, and moderation his Governour, for it is the basis of all ver­tues. Hee will avoid occasions of expence and quarrell; but be­ing ingaged to them, he will carry himselfe nobly, and come off with honour; for to be cast behinde hand in fame or fortune, is much more difficult to recover then to prevent. His gifts shall be ac­cording to reason, not in excesse, yet inclining rather to the most, for else they lose their good acceptance; but being excessive he loseth his thanks, as seeming to give what he esteemeth not, and tainteth his judgement in not understanding proportion. VVhen he falleth to game, let him not think it only an idle pastime; for to a good ob­server it is one of the most perspicuous discoverers of our inward dis­position and affection. Hee will mingle pleasure with profit, but will make recreation his servant, not his master. Honour and vertue shall bee his chief aime, nor will he draw a note upon him­selfe for any thing but tending thereunto. He will by his curtesie make continuall purchase of affection, but especially in his owne house where he can hardly over-act it. Yet towards men of inso­lent demand and carriage it were but unmannerly to imploy it. Civility is an important piece of Society, especially amongst the better sort, and like other qualities, it is to be exercised with great discretion, and good temper. High and braving spirits unseasoned therewith, would like Cocks and Mastiffes, impatient of the fierce­nesse of one anothers eyes, uncollected and unrecalled, assault each other with blowes instead of Salutes. There have been divers books written of the institution of a Prince, of a Courtier, of se­verall ridiculous and tedious kinde of complements, which some [Page 91] use as Saddles to all horses, tyrannous oppressions to solid dis­positions, and such as abound therein get nothing but the pur­chase of lyers, which is not to bee credited when they speake truth; whereas an old fashioned free-hearted word or two to the purpose are ever more significant and effectuall. There hath also been some treatises framed to frame a good Ambassadour; but none that I know have descended to t [...]e formall and now mo­rall part of civill and respective demeanor in giving and returning visits, receptions, and convoyes, giving place at home, and at the Table, and such like, some retired Ambassadour or Secretary might well performe such a taske. Hee will affect more to heare then to speake, but when hee unfoldeth himselfe, hee will consi­der what, and to whom, and ever containe himselfe within the bounds of his knowledge and truth; otherwise hee shall bee a loser by one of his best blessings, his language. Hee will not shew that brutish sensualitie to carry his mind in his belly, nor his soule upon his backe, much lesse let it transmigrate into a horse or dogge. Bookes and women hee will use with discre­tion and moderation, left they devoure and confound him, nor shall hee make right use of either who beareth not himselfe a­bove them; All these are to bee used for life, and not as if wee lived onely for them. Hee will educate his sonne to be like himselfe, and not infuse Grammar and Philosophie into him in such sort as if nothing else concerned him and his well-being. And therefore hee will bring him up to the true understanding of honour and true reputation, and make him no stranger to the managing of a house and fortune which as much importeth him; and the strangenesse whereof to young mindes wholly ingaged to other studies and delights, is one of the greatest causes of so ma­ny ruins to private fortunes. What is most comely and right shall bee his study, and to discerne of truth and right requires a fulnesse as well of acquisite as naturall furniture. Judgement of comelinesse comes the more easily upon common observation. That becomes us best which is most our owne, most proper and proportionable to the circumstances of our fortune and condi­tion. It is over incident to many to trouble themselves, incurre contempt, and ruine their estates by an erroneous affectation of greater expense, curiositie, and bravery, then would bee expected from them: such breed and feed the Canker that consumes them. What is observed and approved by the best, most sober, and ju­dicious, and neither to leade nor contemne to follow the fashion is the best rule: to be outwardly too different is monstrous, to be affected and curious, light and ridiculous. But I have past my hower and will not exceede, nor intend I either to write all or any thing formally or fully in this Subject; or if I did I know it were but lost labour, for nature and preoccupate affection so pos­sesse us that impressions may be renewed and confirmed, but hard­ly first wrought upon the mind by the pen, especially with­out [Page 92] out predisposition of naturall parts, assiduity of meditation, and iteration, if not also the addition of frequent and authorized ex­ample. In effect much pen-labour might bee spared, at least in matters of moralitie, for the best natures and judgements with experience need it not, and the worst are incorrigible.

OBserve and practise this confused heap,
And you may chance no small advantage reap:
Nothing more fairely then discretion growes,
Yet with not ever clad in beautie goes:
Some say that nature doth the mind neglect,
Whilst shee the body doth too much affect;
'Tis best I grant, when both are richly joyn'd;
But if you love your selfe, love best the mind.
If you this Inventory rude despise,
You may, I doubt, more curious prove then wise.

A Supplement to the Gentleman at such time as hee was out of my hands.

HEe will practise frugalitie not so much out of a base affecti­on to the love of money, as out of a generall election which hee hath made in all things to order himselfe by that which is the best, most comely and reasonable; whereunto hee will subject all his affections, and thereby avoyd the ingage­ing himselfe upon a present heate and humour to infinite incon­veniences and repentance, which hee might incurre (as men daily doe) by rejecting a due regard to the distant future, and the true use of that discourse and reason which God hath given him, where with to governe his actions and resolutions, and which differenceth him from the beasts of the fields. Nay, it is ordinarily seene, that even the brute beasts themselves in their courses doe lesse digresse from such reason as concerneth them, then many an inordinate and wilfull man. His course and de­meanour shall bee ever constant, equable, and correspondent to his fairest ends and pretences, as flowing from the same foun­taine, all of a tenure, all of a peece, avoyding that just re­prehension which falls often upon none of the least eminent, of be­ing one in publick, other in private; now brave and generous, and presently unworthy and sordid; unweaving their owne web, and unadvisedly clothing themselves in such motley as they would otherwise disdaine to put on. Hee will not bee a Liber­tine in his jests towards men, much lesse towards God, and therefore will kill such itch in his tongue as most odious in Re­ligion [Page 93] and most pernicious to himselfe and others. All disco­veries of an affected humour detract from him in the censure of the most judicious. Wherefore hee will decline them, especi­ally in his cloathing, for it argues too great levitie to bee im­ployed therein, and too poore a diffidence of his proper worth to seeke esteeme and valuation from it. I will little esteeme the respect of man or woman who shall respect outward more then inward bravery, or rich apparell more then a rich mind, though both doe well with women, the best of them are not car­ried with showes. He will not easily upon argument enter into passion, which but argues his owne doubt and weakenesse, for a cleare understanding will pitie or endeavour to rectifie, but not bee troubled at others ignorance; and calmenesse maintained with a friend is better then to prevaile in the cavills of dispute. He will examine his owne sufficiencie and goodnesse by the best Authors, and the wisest and best men, and approve of himselfe onely so farre as hee proveth conformable unto them, and finding him­selfe fit to doe service to God, his King or Country, hee will put off all restinesse and floath, and set himselfe forward to the imployment of his best industrie and abilities for the common good, yet ever so that hee regard due opportunitie, and modesty, and make use of meanes just and honorable towards his advance­ment and imployment: for though audacitie prevaile often upon others weakenesse, yet it is more secure from disgrace to bee over­modest and considerate, then overbold and presumptuous; nor will preferment unduely attained bee valued and respected by mindes truely worthy and noble. There are amongst us a bar­barous kind of gallants who conceive it great bravery to looke big and contemptuously especially upon strangers, towards whom in truth a formalitie and curtesie of fashion is most re­quisite; and many women are not free from taxe, who common­ly have neither freedome nor civilitie in store but for their ser­vants, they thinke to endeare and set themselves off by such car­riage, though often voyd of other worth; wee become accessary to their rudenesse by terming it rather pride then rusticitie, which it truely is: They are proud to be thought proud, but should be taught better manners by a just and out doing scorne and cen­sure; we nourish it in them by sinking under it, and blame what wee breed, as wee doe Children whom we first teach to be li­quorish by giving them what they otherwise had not affected. It is also no small fault in great ones not to be courteous to their inferiours, or not to countenance worth in place of their advan­tage, they expose themselves often rather to suffer (a presump­tuous obtruding) familiaritie then fairely to invite it, whereby they open the doore to sawcy boldnesse, and shut it upon the bet­ter and more modest dispositions. Though it bee true that there is nothing whereon worthily to fix our affections in this world, nor valuable to the fleeting and uncertaine life of man, yet hee will a­bove [Page 94] all earthly things esteeme of true honour and goodnesse, as of that which will make him the most respected by the wisest and best of men, most advantagious to perpetuate unto him a faire and happy reputation (which the most worthy and magnanimous spi­rits have ever laboured for) and most acceptable to God who cannot be pleased in anything incompatible and unlike to him­selfe. If therefore hee either value to bee well regarded by ver­tuous men, to leave a good reputation and name to descend up­on his posteritie, to bee secure from the ruines, scornes, and pu­nishments that evill men daily undergoe, or to bee well accepted with God, whereby to provide to himselfe a welbeing as well after as in this present life, let him labour for the true understan­ding of vertue, as the onely rich habit of a faire soule; the know­ledge whereof cannot faile to render him like unto it selfe: nor is it any thing but a wilfull and stupid blindnesse to the discerning thereof that causeth the defect and contempt of it in those many weake and uncultivated spirits that these and all times pro­duce.

A Favorite.

NAming a Favorite, I intend not a Minion, the creature of Fan­cy that holds by the face, suddenly exhaled to such an height as is against nature for an unprepared braine to containe it selfe from giddinesse, whose proper Spheare is that of pleasure and not of businesse, (especially of State) him I leave to his Prince like his garden to please his eye, and terme him a Favorite whose tenure is in Capite, and whose good fortune hath made his worth and abilities knowne to his Master, fit to have the se­crets of his bosome and his most important affaires communica­ted unto him for his Counsell and guidance therein. This is the man whom neither birth nor industry (wherein he hath many e­qualls) hath called to the relish of a Kingly power, yet fortu­nately finding himselfe in that most happy height and condition of meanes to doe-good, and glad the hearts of good men, is as well in gratitude to his Master as thankfulnesse to God bound to exercise the uttermost of his endeavours by making himselfe a blessed instrument of all welfare to the State wherein he is potent, which will ever be most easie to him who is armed with place and authority; and if he accompany them with vertue, mode­sty, and goodnesse, he shall be an Armour of proofe against such spight and envy as is incident to his greatnesse from the tongues of malignant persons. Circumstance of place, favour, and fortune, shall not transport his constant and well prepared [Page 95] heart, nor will hee discover in himselfe, any such uncomely va­nitie and lightnesse, as to seeme to set his mind upon magnificence of buildings, furniture, apparell, feasts, and titles, but will rather affect the high glory which growes to good minds out of their disposition to moderation and solid goodnesse from the tongue and pens of good and vertuous men. And howsoever wealth, great­nesse of title, and the chiefe honours of the Kingdome where hee moves, are not more due to any then to himselfe, yet hee will ob­serve such a slow and graduall accesse unto them, that his investing himselfe therewith shall rather appeare an unaffected or unlooked for favour of his Master, or a seisin and livery after a due purchase made by his vertue and merit, then a sudden, affected, and unpro­portionable elevation; which will so bee his advantage as it is seene in nature, that high objects, bee they never so loftie, doe not yet appeare so much to the eye, as such as are much inferiour and of a suddain ascent. Hee will recommend to the favour of his Master, and cherish such as are vertuous or excell in any commen­dable perfections, and such onely himselfe will bee noted to have about him. For wee ordinarily conster great men by such as en­joy their company and good affection, and according as they shall entertaine the good advise, at least the persons of such neere un­to them, their ends may be calculated. Evill men and flatterers like Sirens will presse upon them, and it hath ever beene hard for men in great place to discover them, nay such will obtrude up­on them, as will gladly worke advantage to themselves or their cause through their destruction. No small caution will bee requi­red therein, but hee is an able man, and my abilities may bee re­membrancers, but not Informers unto him. Wherefore I will leave with this Character upon him, that he is either the happiest, or most unfortunate man in the Kingdome: If hee order him­selfe well, and put not on pride, presumption, precipitation, and passion with his greatnesse, but runne a course of meeknesse, mo­deration and goodnesse, his reputation and memory are like to bee blessed and applauded; but if otherwise hee misguide himselfe, and contemne the good opinion and affection of the better part of the world, it is to bee feared lest himselfe in his end prove odious and contemptible, and bee condemned as unwor­thy of that faire fortune, and favour which have shined upon him.

A Divine.

A Divine is Gods ordinary Ambassadour residing with us, not to exercise the pompe and state of one, nor to represent Gods Majesty and glory, but to use the order, care, vigilance and dili­gence of an Ambassador, by being a faithfull Minister in his functi­on and charge. Though he be termed Theologus, he will be The­ophilus, a zealous lover, as well as a verball Preacher of God; and he may be defined with a good Oratour, Vir bonus dicendi peritus: for if he preach not first to himself, and that his life be not an­swerable to his exhortations, his one day Sermon in a week wanting true life and spirit will not so much animate his Audi­tory to holinesse, as will his six dayes example (the Book that the people better understand) lead them to dissolution and wicked­nesse. God hath required that he be not outwardly, much lesse in­wardly imperfect and deformed, and it is he who must make ver­tue visible, and the visibility that will inflame our affection. Scan­dall in others is error, in him a monster, no corruption being so bad as what proceeds from the best. He cannot be fit for the charge of others Soules who is carelesse of his own; and who will beget affection in others, must first put it on himselfe. Wee would hisse him from the Stage, whose action were grossely dissonant from his words and part; nor is he better then a cheater of God and the World, who accepts of a spirituall living, without performing the duties of the Spirit. It is questionable whether an evill Mi­nister be not inferiour to the holinesse of his Bels, and much more miserable, for he is like them in calling men to Religious perfor­mances, in sounding to please their eares, and in flattering, and solemnizing the times; but questioned upon a due accompt, in this world, or the next, hee will finde himselfe much more unhappy. But a truly Religious professor will abhorre the indecorum of being unsuitable to his Doctrine, fearing lest thereby as much as in him lyeth, he render both it and himself so seeming unprofitable, that men if it were possible would become distasted of his calling, and Religion it self. He will rather shew himself Gods Minister in godlinesse and humility, then the De­vils Chaplaine in his first sin and impiety; and therefore casting off all pride, vanity, ambition, covetousnesse, and the corrupt in­ventions of men; he will conform himself to the purity and sim­plicity of the Primitive Church, and become as awfull to wicked men in his presence, as a Magistrate or Commissioner of God, sent to take vengeance on their obliquities. Hee will Preach God in sincere Devotion, and not himself in vain affection, and will seek the advancement of Religion, more then of his own order and Hierarchy; for it is the splendor of the good and [Page 97] sincere lives of the Clergy, and not their pompe and state that must work upon our consciences. He will be an obedient Child unto his Mother Church, for she cannot think him worthy to live upon and serve at the Altar, if he shall think unworthi­ly of it to be observed by him. He will feed his flock more with plain and sound Doctrine, then with abstruse points of Divinity, and janglings of controversies, or the empty sound of language and conceipts, (which become not the gravity of the Pulpit) and will value the peace of the Church, before any particular conceited fancy of his own or others. Subtil­ties and niceties, he will confine to the Schooles and Assem­blies of his own profession: The mysteries of Religion once received, being rather matter for faith, then to be controver­ted and disputed, especially among the vulgar, who in no sort ought to be taught or acquainted to subject the transcendency of their Religion to the grossenesse of their reason. He will not, if he preach before the King, ingratiate himself by an invective incensing him against his People, much lesse in a popular As­sembly be Satyricall against Magistrates, but will better dis­charge his duty by instructing such as are present in theirs, and forbeare his Castigation upon the absent. He will be cautious of alledging in the Pulpit out of whatsoever Author, their o­ver bold and profane conceits of Religion, as also of using (especially insisting upon) the plain and naked expressions which are found in the Scriptures concerning women: for all that be­commeth the Bible becommeth not the Pulpit, and there is dan­ger of leaving ill impressions in corrupt minds. He will use his best judgement in tempering his Sermons to the best profit and health of our soules: And considering it is naturall for the swee­test and pleasantest things to be the most nourishing, he will dis­creetly season and order them, as well to the good relish of at­tention, as helpe of memory: and remembring that the yoake of the Gospel is easie, consisting of comfort and glad ty­dings, and that a tender and wounded soule hath ne­ver leisure to heale with the continuall application of Cauteries and Corrosives; he will feare to bruise the broken reed, and beget more discomfort and despaire then faith and true consolati­on in the best and most attentive soules. Briefly it is only such a good man that deserves preferment, but he will rather goe with­out it, then to buy it corruptly, with the price of his Soule. We ex­pect no miracles from him, nor can he expect good life, and godli­nes from us, except according to his profession, he shew us the way. Religion was planted, and must be maintained by the Teachers ho­linesse and humility.

Si vis me [...]re, dolendum est prius ipsi tibi.

[Page 98]They have, I thank them, done much good upon me; I would gladly make some requitall.

A Physitian.

A Good Physitian, (if any such there be) forbad enough is the best, in respect of the Arts uncertainty, will more affect the life and health of his Patient, then his own gain and living, and will not minister Physick to him to do good to himselfe. He will be sorry, that by a surprize of his over-deeming election, he findes himself imbarqued in a profession, where it is hard to thrive and be honest, in giving Physick only where there is reall need, and a good confidence in himself, that it shall doe good to his Patient; for he will have discovered that his title is but as of a Mountaine from not moving, and that nature is the true Physitian placed by God in every man for his preservation, and himself but a Professor of a most conjecturall Art: so that who commits him­self from nature to him, takes himself from a seeing to a blind guide. Though it be incident to his Colledge to be over peremp­tory, as being used to the authority of prescriptions, and prostrate sick Patients, yet he will avoid it; for a discreet, plausible, and winning carriage upon the Patients good opinion and affection is the one halfe of the Cure. He will not contemn an honest Emperick, knowing that his own Art grew but from experience often casuall, and that Gods blessings are not restrained to their Colledge and old Books. He will not bee sparing of his interro­gatories, nor of his attention to his Patients relation, who being sick, and paying, ought to bee born with and humoured; But an humorous Physitian is a most intolerable disease, for all is but too little to effect a true information, and to doe well, he will of­ten suspect, that the disease may grow from the minde. In case of which discovery he will no lesse industriously indeavour the Cure of the body by it, and his good precepts and instructi­ons thoroughly urged to that purpose, then by any other means, it being often the onely way of Cure, but nothing more ordi­narily neglected by such as only affect to say something to draw a Fee, but wil be sure not to trouble their own mindes to cure their Patients: But from such God deliver me, who will as lit­tle admit them to the tryall of my disease and constitution, as the Law doth a Butcher to be a Juror. Purging Medicines shall bee his last refuge, after prescription of convenient exercise, order, and dyet, which by some of the best are affirmed to bee sufficient to cure any disease curable. Hee will affect chearefulnesse of counte­nance [Page 99] and fashion, for it is a Cordiall to the sick, but he will take heed of an unseasonable merriment, which is often as absurd as unwelcome to the seriousnesse of a sick man. A thousand things have been, and might be said to his instruction, for no art more requires it, but this in summe shall serve my turn, who mean only to say something of a good, but not to work a cure upou a bad Phy­sitian. I conclude that Physick had need have a God as well to the practice, as to the invention of it, for errors are so grosse, and ordinary diseases and symptomes so complicate, Indications so crosse, nature and constitutions so diversly affected in Crisis and evacuation, nor doth she ever powerfully shew her self, till she be put to it for life; Purging and blood-letting, prove so ordi­narily diverters, impediments and weakners, in stead of helpers to nature, and seeing by a mistaking we call those our diseases, which are in truth the working of nature towards our cure, and the discharge of her self, as in fits of Agues, Collicks, the Stone, and the like; for my part, I chuse rather with David, to put my self into the hands of God then man, whose endeavours of cure and errors make us ordinarily more misreable then our disease it self. I end to my good Doctor, with that Counsell of the Scripture, whereupon it is to bee hoped that hee will guide his practice, namely, that hee and his Art are to bee employed up­on necessity, which I think to be (for the sense is ambiguous) in such Cases where nature and dyet have ever appeared defective to work a Cure, and that his art upon infallibl [...] and cleare grounds hath ever been found successefull.

A Lawyer.

A Good Lawyer is so fallen in love with my Lady Justice, that there is no greater Antipathy in the world, then betwixt him and injury, nor hateth he any thing more then an undue course of proceeding. He will make his Science compatible with con­science, and so runne her course, that at the length he may bee thought a fit Judge to preside her high Court of Chancery. Hee will have a greater feeling of the cause and interest of his Client then of his Fee, and entertaining the defence of it for just, will affect more the gaining of it to him, then to himself reputation. His carriage shall not bee onely perfunctory, neither in the taking notice, nor in the pleading of the Cause, but hee will both search and pleade it home without tendernesse either of his paines, or of the Judge his displeasure. Hee [Page 100] will not so much frame his practise to corru t custome as to honesty, nor beare his eyes on the papers of his present Cli­ent, and his mind on the Fee that presseth at his Closet doore. Hee will esteeme his taking no better then theft, without the indu­stry of deserving, and of himself worse then of a theese if his Cli­ent relying upon him hee appeare not in his defence, yet goe away with his money. Wherefore hee will entertaine no other causes then hee can honestly goe through, nor take Fees without a re­solution to discharge his dutie for them. Though the Law bee an imperious Lady and unsociable, yet hee will endeavour to accom­pany her with the study of other literature, whereby to breed her better respect and his owne prevalence: and indeed the study being somewhat dry and dull requires other learning, wherewith to lard and grace it. Hee will rather fast from Imployment then become patron of an unjust cause, especially without having first delive­red to his Client his opinion of the nature thereof, and the pro­bability of the successe. Hee will not make a jest of his professi­on (as some of them doe) affirming their practise a pretty tricke to get money, a contention of wits and purses, a politick pa­stime to entertaine busie braines, an a duell where the greatest stroakes are given underhand; but will so defend right and Justice, as hee would wish to be defended by them in his best titles and in­nocencie.

A Souldier.

TO bee a good Souldier and Commander hee must know well how to obey: and command himselfe. Hee must temper his judgement with courage, and valour with discretion, he will not bee greedy of other imployment then such whose issue is likely to breed his honour: and though he owe obedience to his King or superiour, yet if any such execution shall be imposed upon him as appeares not feazable unto him, he will first discharge his duty in discovering the improbability, but being pressed by their authority will undergo the charge with all alacritie and forwardnesse. Hee is constituted a Cor­rector of vice and disorder in others, and therefore must in no sort admit them in himselfe, especially that of drinking which is too or­dinarily incident to his profession; for if it were possible, hee should bee more then a man, but that makes him lesse, and it is to bee admired how such as professe and are generally in love with honour and reputation so farre as they will venture their lives upon small puntilio's to the maintayning thereof can consent to overwhelme themselves with such a vice as drawes an underva­luing contempt and scorne upon them, even from the meanest [Page 101] sort of people. Though it bee most unfit for a good Commander to bee prodigall of his owne life or his Souldiers upon an undue hazard, yet their condition being such as to have sold themselves to mortall adventure, hee will bee ambitious of nothing more then to meet with a faire occasion of dying in the bed of ho­nour; and who feareth death will never bee fitting for that pro­fession, and therefore will maintaine himselfe prepared for it. Hee must in the exercise of his calling bee an enemy to sloth and idlenesse, and keepe them from creeping upon him as hee would doe his blade from rust. A continuall vigilance must bee the Sen­tinell of safetie to himselfe and the Troopes under him: his taking notice of well deservers, his good example, and faire promises will animate his Souldiers, and he will ever prove himselfe just of his word, both to them and the enemy: for if he often deceive and forfeit the trust and confidence that ought to be reposed therein, he must impute others diffidence to his owne fault, and will finde it a perpetuall prejudice unto him. He will make it a principall care to well discipline his men before hee bring them into service; for that makes the difference between a rable of Clownes and Souldiers, and what can be expected from such as are strangers to good order, and the use of their Armes? He will assist himselfe with good Commanders and officers, for what is it else if their men bee Bisonians then for the blind to lead the blind? It concernes him to know all things necessary to his ex­pedition, and to make sure that they bee fully supplyed; for as the greatest honour in good successe, so the greatest blame on the contrary will fall upon him that commands in chiefe. As want of courage will bee one of the greatest imputations unto him, so a sordid avarice and parsimony would bee none of the least; for there is nothing more unanswerable to a publike exercise of an Honorable profession, nor nothing more deprives a Com­mander of that affection and esteeme which are most condu­cible unto him in all his actions and exploits. But the warre is an Art by it selfe, Commands in warre are of severall natures, occasions infinitely vary, and they require a well experienced pen; wherefore, though I have said something to answer a request, yet I forbeare to proceed further, for I know it misbecomes mee: and in truth were my abilities the greatest that ever any man pos­sessed, yet I finde the world so full of writing, and so little effect from it, every man flattering himselfe upon his owne braine, and partially carried away with the undivertible torrent of nature, which suffers nothing to appeare good unto him but what is su­table to it selfe, that they must either bee more in love then I am with the exhibiting the unsatisfactory fruite of their conceits, and better natur'd in bestowing much labour to little purpose, or else they will (as my selfe intend) finde out a more healthfull pastime for idle houres.

An houres Meditation upon goodnesse and improbitie.

GOOD God! what, and where is the good use of Religion▪ just men have the Character of thee and thy goodnesse, inge­nerate in their hearts, whose vertue alone produceth reverence to­wards thee, and charitie to their neighbour, the Sum of Religion: but they are few, the wicked abound and prevaile, such as make a Stalking horse of thy word, and a scorne of such as make vertue and pietie their direction. Good men are a prey unto them, and they sacrifice to their owne nets, falshood is their levell, private advantage their marke, and like the Fowler they applaud them­selves in their deceitfulnesse. They prosper in their evill and croo­ked Arts whilst uprightnesse is an unthrift. How little wit there goes to the wayes and language of infidelitie? and how little com­moditie to the exercise of truth? Shall I therefore abandon the good lessons of my soule and habit of vertue? smother that fire of grace and charitie which hath enlightned and warmed my spi­rit? Shall I in a base applause of the prosperitie of such perverse spirits, like unto them sell my selfe to worke iniquitie, and esteeme the practise of Religion a Melancholy superstition, Hell but a scare­crow, and vertue a politique fancy? No, I humbly thanke God I consist of a metall and stampe more refined and divine. The dou­ble-hearted man cannot more delight in his craft and cunning gaine, then I joy in my simplicitie and truth; nor can hee more deride my integritie, then I scorne and detest his false turpitude and impietie. Let him esteeme of wit and discourse as an engine bestowed upon him to advantage himselfe as well over the more innocent sort of men, as over other creatures; concentrate his goodnesse within himselfe; become his owne idoll, a voluptuous and barbarous beast of rapine and prey; emancipate himselfe from all Lawes, civill, morall, and divine; shake off the bridles of fame and Reli­gion, or elude them by Hypocrisie; whilst I acknowledge my great Creator the author of all benefits and goodnesse (as I doe the devill of all falshood and uncharitablenesse) whilst I rest infla­med with the heavenly love of that blessed fountaine of joy and beneficence, and for his sake love the affections of charitie and goodnesse, and extend their value where I find them, as I prove them more or lesse extensive and communicable in their Subject & activitie. Let the ignoble minded man conclude knavery for wise­dome, sordid gaine a discreet policie, and if he will, let him account cowardise a warinesse for self-preservation, and valour a foolish prodigality of life: I am no such wittall. I have been trained to take [Page 103] my measure a nobler way, Rectum judex sui & obliqui, So recti [...]ude of affections. and will censure as vilely of him, as his basenesse demerits howsoever disguised. I will possesse my soule as the soule of a man educated and instituted to conscience, honour, civilitie and faire societie; and rather chuse to perish a noble honest way, then to advance my selfe by unworthinesse and fraud, be­comming vile and abominable to such as are truely generous and religious. I will reverence God and righteous men, bee true and zealous in seeking the honour and peace of my King and Country, bee ashamed of nothing honest, nor pleased in any thing disho­nest, bee more indulgent to the errors of a good, then seeming ver­tues of a maligne nature, nor will affect longer to breath, then I shall endeavour to deserve the good opinion of such as are most justly worthy and communicatively good.

Iustitiae cultor, rigidi servator honesti,
In commune bonus.

VVHat pitie it is that it may bee said of many as it was of Naaman the Syrian, they are great, they are honorable, they are mightie and such like, but they are Lepers in a spirituall sense? which is the worst, for Naaman was cured by washing, so will not, nor desire not they, no more then Moores or Leo­pards.

SOme scorne to bee term'd honest, but let mee
Be honest deem'd as I would honest bee:
For such to be, and firmely to remaine,
Require no little strength of heart and braine.

Of Death.

TO fill up this empty vacant space it is high time that I con­clude my Characters with a word of the Philosophers common Theame, I meane our generall long Vacation, Death, the conclu­der and destroyer of all worldly Characters, and filler up of all eter­nity, the period of consistence. To speake much of it as others have done were to say much of nothing, and to aggravate that by discourse which but by apprehension is indolent: beasts feele it [Page 104] not, Boyes make it no businesse, resolute and stupid men regard it not, and to a good Christian it is rather an object of hope then feare: onely such as abhorre to bee alone and in the darke, and the overbusy Philosopher confound themselves in conceiving and digesting it. Things necessary and irremediable are rather to bee borne then expostulated, swallowed then chawed; necessity is the Unum magnum, and faith the Unum necessarium in passing it over: Whilst wee live it hath no being in us, when wee die it is in an in­stant, and no sooner come then wee are gone: Nothing seemes more against nature, nor is any thing more naturall; but as I said I will not enter into the common paraphrase of that nothing, or if any thing, rather a returne to, then a forsaking our home: Nor will I Pathetically end with the exaltation and flattery of that great uni­versall Imaginary Monarch; let wit and Philosophy flesh him, cloath and paint him as they can, his Sceleton Posture and dart will still appeare terrible to weake Spirits; To mee, by the grace of God and my Saviour, hee shall bee an indifferent guest, hee shall not find mee unprovided, the continuall feast of a good con­science shall not, I hope, bee wanting unto mee; it shall in despight of his all devouring bee my viaticum, and goe along with mee. A­men.

An Essay concerning Musick.

LEt him that tafts not Musick beware of the Tarantula's sting, which is cured by an affectation of some Geniall point therein. And surely hee is so farre from a perfect quintessentiall constitu­tion of the mind, that I doubt whether in such minds some undi­gested lump of the Chaos bee not yet predominant. It is to me an Argument of a soule well in tune, to bee understandingly affected therewith, nor is any one affectation more likely to be accompani­ed with a detestation of such vices as discord with the Law of na­ture and received vertue. For a disposition once habituated in a delight of harmonious proportion, must consequently distast such uncomely dissonance. If earth afford any resemblance of the in­comparable joyes of heaven, it is not improbable to be in mu­sick. For I cannot name an earthly delight, where the mind is so disjoyned from grosse and terrene objects, nor so sublimed (as it were) to an upward center, which surely is God, the Center of the heavens and heavenly-spirits. No small testimony thereof is [Page 105] exhibited in divine service, where Musick hath been ever thought fit to elate and prepare the mind to celestiall contemplations. But whatsoever it is to divinitie it hath ever beene a child of the most civill nations and times, and they that like it not, are in that point Brothers to the Savages. It hath beene blamed to effe­minate and over-soften mens minds, which whence it is gathered, my selfe could never conceive, except in that substraction which it makes from inhumane, barbarous, and uncivill inclinations. For it certainly heates, cleareth, sharpneth and erecteth the spirits, ma­king them dance in the veines, with such disposition of activitie, as when the Musick ceaseth the heat thereof yet remaines, not much unlike that of wine, in a Dutchman, which Alarums him to be do­ing and fight, though hee know not with what. Allow it to heate, and you can hardly make it seeme to quench courage, whereunto heate is even the forme. Alexander might bee a proofe, or the se­verall sorts of Musick, whereof some definitively exempt it from that Tax. But Musitians are knowne generally fantasticall and light. This indeed is a fault, but in the Musitians, not in the sci­ence, which doubtlesse is often lodged in most judicious and grave spirits: Of David you will not deny it. Nor is it verely more to bee accused, then the best wine, for infatuating weake braines. Divine Inspirations have beene generally seene accompanied with a tran­sportation of the weaker spirit that received them. They who least love it must at least allow it to bee a pleasing dreame, and an inno­cent pastime, wherein if the body and spirits receive no nourish­ment, they may be yet after other defatigations be delightfully en­tertained without wast or expence, in freshnesse and alacritie, for the embracing imployment in either. It is commonly as of women, the worst are to bee had for money, and often the pleasure scarce worth the tuning. The haters of it thinke it but a noise, who are the more brutish, being uncapable of beautie, whereto the intel­lectuall with the instrumentall part is requisite. The Scripture hath assigned a great property and delight hereof to the time of banque­ting, for it is indeed a kind of banquet, and like wine, a moderati­on whereof pleaseth, recreates, and is allowed to the most austere; but long set at, and made too frequent, destroyes both the recei­vers relish and good esteeme. Nor are all banquets (no more then Musick) ordained for merry humors, some being used even at Funeralls.


So full of Courtly reverence,
So full of formall faire respect,
Carries a pretty double sence,
Little more pleasing then neglect
[Page 106]It is not friendly, 'tis not free,
It bolds a distance halfe unkind:
Such distance between you and mee
May suite with yours, not with my mind.
Oblige mee in a more obliging way,
Or know, such over-acting spoyles the play.


I Thought it much to be so fine,
So curious fitted every way,
Little suspecting the designe
Of competition for the day:
Most amiable faire contest,
Song of three parts it should have been,
When you resolved of the best,
Spar'd your reserve and kept it in;
It was a confident deny
To huswife your perfections so,
As not to win by [...]vervy
When all seem'd on your side to goe;
Yet not so cleare but each made good
A faire retrait of Forces brought,
Though they had something hovering stood
By yours in danger to be caught:
Each had her willing captive, I
Unto your triumph whole resign'd
Will to no other Law comply
But what shall flow from your faire mind;
No flattering beautie hath the powre
To alience me a day or houre.
AMbitious Love, farewell,
You are too troublesome a guest,
T'affect what doth excell
And to be ever at a feast
Is not the cheapest freest diet,
Lesse in joy and lesse in quiet.
Ile take such as I find,
So it bee good and handsome drest;
Pretty looking, freely kind,
To a good appetite is best.
If your usage doth not please you,
Change is neare you, change will ease you.
Seeke not the highest place,
The lowest commonly is more free,
[Page 107]Lesse subject to disgrace,
Others eyes or your jealousie:
Bold freedome will improve your tast
Where awe embitters a repast.
A doting fancy is a foolish guest,
The freest welcome makes the sweetest feast.
It is not natures way,
Shee made love no such busy thing,
Shee meant it a short play,
A Common-weal without a King,
Her love on every hedge doth grow,
Her fruits are best in taste and show;
Her sweets extend unto the meanest clown,
Often most faire, though in a russet gown.

Aut virtus uomen inane est, Aut decus & pretium recte petit experiens vir.

Doth vertue then depend on time and Per varios casus artem experientia fecit. chance? it seemes it doth, but God is the author of time and experience, chance is not chance to him, goodnesse growes not but where hee plants and wa­ters it: Pretious experience, how much I have wanted thee? how deerely art thou bought? how slow thou growest? with thee wee have enough to doe to finde and keepe our way, but without thee wee are giddy, wee are blind, wee walke, wee stumble, wee fall as in the darke, thou art called the mother of fooles; they should have said of wisedome, for wee are silly fooles without thee, thence is said that every one is either a foole or Physitian: without thee wee are strangers to the world, wee are strangers to our selves; the best husbandman understands not to manage his ground, nor wee our selves but from thee. Thou under God art the giver and preserver of health and riches, rules of health and thrift are little acknowledged but upon infirmitie and sufferance; Nature makes us passionate, but thou compassionate. A man that knowes the bearing of his beast will not overload him; had I enjoyed thee I had enjoyed my selfe, I had made thee and nature my Physiti­ans; they pretend to be her props and helpers, but they rather con­found and ruine her; they are her Apes, her Zanyes, deformed and mischievous; inexperience, impatience, lazinesse, opinion, and cu­stome maintaine their credit, and make us their Patients; the Spa­nish proverbe is a good one, that God cures the disease and the Physitian takes the money. If men will use them, let it bee yet as it was that no man should draw water at the common well till hee [Page 108] had made thorough triall at home; the Art is uncertaine, but their ordinary ignorance and carelesnesse makes it worse; if they did not love our money better then our health, they would not neglect their ancient breakfast. By exercise and agitation to stirre up na­turall heat to worke digestion and expulsion is Physick farre beyond them. As Archimedes said, that if hee had other ground to place an Instrument hee could remove the earth: so could I as well and safely worke upon the parts within the Ribs as below, I would not doubt to doe wonders in cure, and without it there may be so m [...]ch wrought as shall hardly faile to maintaine a body right built, in cleerenesse, breath, strength, and health, and so to cure, where other drugs weaken and shorten youth and life. The very thought and consideration what Physick and Phyfitians to use, is alone a disease, à nocentibus & juvantibus: observation of what helpes and hurts, with the ordinary benefit and communication of others expe­perience upon free cost, is Physick often more then enough: for as truth is said to bee often lost by much altercation, so health by be­ing too superstitiously sollicitous. A medicinall life is a miserable life, I desire as much not to live as to live by Physick, and when nature is so weake that it cannot beare or worke out a little disor­der, let her take her course, it is at the worst but giving over a game that must be lost, and going to bed a little before the houre. There may be meanes to temper the blood without drawing it, and many make fasting their cure against repletion: diseases of Inani­tion are more difficult, yet they may have and find their restora­tives without a Doctor. As exercise is the best Physitian, so is rest the best restorer; my complexion is active, and I have suffered much in want of sutable employment: waters corrupt, and Iron gathers rust, and the Moth is bred by want of use and stirring: yet motion without moderation and a proper subject is often pernicious, as to milstones, which grind out themselves for want of Grist, and the best metall weares out with much whetting. A discreet ordering and alternation of motion and rest is a great preservative; Nature hath instructed other creatures in their strength, and the use there­of beyond what we finde for ours, in our Arts and practise. Their undefaced instinct outgoes our outfacing inventions and conceits; Beasts have much of man in them, and man too much of (nay of­ten worse then) the Beasts. It hath beene observed that most men have in their aspect a resemblance of some Beast or Bird; confor­mitie of soule depends much upon the conformation of the bodily parts, complexions are not so various as soules; crueltie and false­hood are invincible in some, ignorance in others, choler in some, flegme and melancholy in others: I may bee incorrigibly melan­choly, but it is not of the Asinine kind. Strange is the difference of the temperament of severall mens bodies and mindes, but more strange the difference of the same man from himselfe at one and another time, now all dull and heavy, then all rapid, active, and aery; now quick and sharpe, then slow and blunt of understanding; [Page 109] now apprehensive and timorous, then all daring and fearelesse: I v [...]ly beleeve there may bee or are Spirits and tempers so fiery and bold as to bee incapable of feare, howsoever it may bee con­c [...]ived a passion as necessary as naturall to selfe-preservation, the unconsidering and undaunted fiercenesse of some creatures witnesse as much: Thus for want of other entertainment I am put to ransack nature, Art and my selfe, and like D [...]ogenes busie my selfe in my particular and with my tub, I write wildly, I write the wild-goose chase, if you like it not let it alone, yet doe you not contemne the Stars of heaven or plants and face of the earth for their seeming [...]methodicall confusion. To say something of experience which hath thrust mee on this peece; Here you have that at an easie rate, which growes not on every ground, varietie useth to please, let it not displease you, if it profit not, and the mischiefe is that I feare it will little profit you if you much need it if you bee not already in some measure proportionable to what I write, it will but passe by you like clouds, shadowes, and dreames, of little impression and lesse improvement: What a number of notions there are in the world of realitie to some, nullities to others? such as Witches, Apparitions, prodigious advertisements, divine admonitions, in­stant and sodaine relievings and assistances, &c. Many carry their faith no farther then their sense and experience Some are so irreligi­ously preresolved to decline superstition, that God shall bee the last to whom they will attribute any supereminent production, they will rather stand confounded and lost, then abandon second causes, or acknowledge any supernaturall effect. Yet extraordinary truths howsoever sleighted want not extraordinary testimony, and God in all times leaves not himselfe without witnesse, there would else bee, if manifestation should bee equall to every mans sense, no place to exercise faith, and little extent to knowledge if wee were restrained to our particular experiments, though upon the diffe­rence of materialls the Print take not in all alike; wee are cast as it were in one mould, what concernes you not to day may to mor­row, whatsoever is written of man, de te narratur fabula, endea­vour and be favourable.

Vnhappinesse of Physicke.

SInce I writ the preceding piece, it hath fallen out to my extreme sorrow and affliction, that one of the fairest, most noble and vertuous of Ladies, is dead in my unhappy house under the hands of the Physitians. Shee was such, that as it was said of one (none of the best) of our Princes, that if vices had been lost in the world [Page 110] they might have been recovered and found in him; much more truely may it bee affirmed of her for all such vertues as either ever were or can bee Ornaments and bring a valuation to her Sex. As shee neither loved nor needed flattery, so was her worth so farre beyond it, that what had beene such to the best of others, applyed to her was but lame abatement and defalcation; not onely they who knew her with any happy interest and relation, but the very frame of vertue and the world that wants it suffer in her losse; it hath been long sicke of a consumption of vertue. Shee was of so sweet, so winning, so powerfull example, so serene and tempe­rate an Ayre, that vice and venome were never so maligne, and contagious, as her admirable vertue and goodnesse would have pro­ved cordiall and restorative to the worlds recovery; But shee who was in a way of being the worlds. Physitian, is lost under the hand of Physick; her memory is not more happy in her deservings, then her losse sad and indigestible; yet let us, as there is just cause, feele it to the quick, to the heighth, there is a kind of sweetnesse to sor­row to the death, but more in the memory of her sweetnesse, let that ever flourish, never die in those that had the happinesse to know her, let us continue our selves a kind of sacrifice unto her, as well dead as alive; As wee water her memory with our teares, let us keepe it alive with our breath, and still serve her in loving and serving whatsoever and whosoever hath relation unto her; her worth and contemplation are infinite, I should never finde a way to leave so full, so pathetique a subject, but by breaking off to fall upon her Physitians; Shee is an object so excelling as confounds and oppresseth mee, I would you could like mee as much as I love my selfe better for such confusion, I hope I shall be clearer sight­ed upon my doctors, I would for the sakes of the credulous that they could see as well into diseases and constitutions as I see into them and their common course and practise; I would there were not as much mischiefe and murder as vanitie and blindnesse in their sci­ence and profession; the Aruspices were not more fraught with im­posture and delusion: they applaud themselves and may justly de­ride us, they must get and live though we lose and die for it, they must bee still the same or nothing; but shall the world and we grow still older, never wiser? The better sort should be the wisest, shall wee still turne our wealth to our bane in feeding and feeing them to starve, destroy and make us miserable? shall wee never resent what hath beene long time said, how there is more danger of the Physitian then of the disease? doe we not daily see the poorer people fall sick and recover, whilst the richer make themselves a sacrifice to the Physitians Art and tyranny?

Heu quam perfa [...]uae sunt tibi Romatogae?

Need we any other evidence then what they daily give in against themselves, in their grosse detected mistakings, and contradictions [Page 111] the one to the other; Is any man who hath experience of their proceedings ignorant of the almost infallible fallibilitie of their Art and conjectures? I have found it so frequent, that excepting some few symptomes of death, which they get by being about those whom they kill, I might almost (as in Kalender predictions and Prognosticks) take more truely the contrary of whatsoever they affirme. I have often paid for their counsell and assistance, when my owne judgement and confidence hath proved farre truer then their threatnings, and my feares, then their hopes and com­forts. They may bee ashamed to bee so insolent and peremptory, finding their errors and acknowledging their Art to bee so conje­cturall as they doe. What is more ordinary then for nature in such a disease and such a body to affect her discharge downeward when their operation is upward, and so contrary, shee to incline to a cri­ticall sweat when they in stead of our disease draw out our best Spi­rits with our our blood, and so forth; what a distraction, what an oppression, what a disturbance and disease doth poore nature our sure and seeing Physitian suffer from them? False friends, true ene­mies they are unto us; It hath been no ill Dilemma framed in na­tures behalfe, that either shee is too strong for the disease, or it for her: in the first shee ever prevailes, if the Doctor doe not hinder; in the last, have wee not howerly experience of the Physitian cal'd in time, the Patient young and strong, the disease common and knowne, and yet death ensues? where is the saving, where the benefit, where the advantage that their Art and they pretend? even in their owne purses impassible incompassionate as they are. How many have they antiently destroyed by cruell denying coole drinke in burning fits, conspiring with the fire and malignitie of the sicknesse, to possesse the spirits and vitall parts which might thereby have beene prevented, intercepted, allayed, and temper'd? They pretend to starve the disease when they starve the Patient; How is it possible for nature to worke for her owne sustentation ei­ther by medicine or otherwise, when you allow her not the least supply? It were a miracle for her to subsist, weakned by malady, by blood-letting, by purges, and by substraction of nourishment, shee is wiser then our Art and discourse, and will refuse meate and drinke when shee cannot beare them, and hold in, her treasure of bloud many times in spite of the Chirurgion, and give convenient effusion of blood without the Physitian. If sometimes shee erre in her demands it is by accident, and that lesse dangerous to satisfie then the Horseleech Doctor. Experience hath taught them a­gainst their owne method, that to give way to the violent appe­tite of Patients is ordinarily successefull contrary to rules; nature never requires any thing but is respectively and in some sort good and fit for her, howsoever otherwise bad, where the Doctor runnes a course simply and absolutely destructive. We are all borne with a Physitian in our belly, Adam had no other, if God [Page 112] had judged them as necessary helpes as a woman, he would also have created one for him. I have otherwhere with much lesse cause discoursed of this subject; their Impatient I justly am, their Pa­tient I will never be, I hold my life by Gods mercy, and desire no longer to enjoy it then he shall please to give it, and maintaine it in mee, without becomming their Tenant. They who will give themselves up to their conceited usurped authoritie, Stultos jubeo esse libenter, let them live as miserably, according to the saying, as medicinally. It hath been observed of some Countries that sicknesse and complaint in that kind were never frequent amongst them till the profession of Physick brought it: wee are gulled with their golden promises of health, as Alchymists abuse many with the hopes of the Philosophers stone, whereby like Aesops Dog they lose the substance for the shadow, true gold for false hope, and health and life by revolting from nature and relying upon false imposterous pretences.

Tuta frequensque via est sub amici fallere nomen;
Tuta frequensque licet sit via, crimen habet:

is too true betweene nature and the Doctor; he kills cum privile­gio. Yet some there are whose Art hath not extinguished in them Religion and humanitie, who will disswade the selfe-abusing com­plainer from the custome of Physick, as conscionable concer­ning their unhappy profession, nor will they without extraordina­ry caution give the least disturbance or abatement to nature, but will move with care and feare as in the darke; others there are of an inferior sort to the former, none of the worst, who if they meet a Patient whom common course hath brought to have recourse in consultation unto them, yet scrupulous and declaring a disaffe­ction to their nauseous drugs, filthy and cruell violation, and tortures to nature, they will as ingenuously comply as preferre the forbearance of their Arts employment, confessing with Bel­larmine a Tutissimum differing from their ordinary wayes: and even the most feculent and virulent amongst them, prest by a know­ing and experienced opposer, will sufficiently acknowledge the dan­ger and uncertaintie of their Art, not to be maintained but upon postulata and an implicit faith in their Rabbins; whereupon, as also in humoring their Patient, and preventing his recourse to their ene­my Emperick, they thinke to stand excused in all events, concei­ving him to be brought to a faire end who dies according to their sentence and method. Presse and observe them neerely, and you shall not faile of matter enough from them to aliene as well your affections as good opinion of their science: I too lately had occasion to heare one of them discoursing of giving his Patient a sweat, disallow of forced and unnaturall sweats as ineffectuall, [Page 113] from which assertion may wee not naturally and strongly deduce a generall consequence as well against their unnaturall and forced proceedings?

My selfe long since following the fashion and common rode did to my small reliefe and comfort, and no little exhaustion to my purse and body enthrall my selfe unto them, who Viper-like where once they fasten their heads are not easily shaken off, custome their fellow Tyrant engageth us unto them.

Nec missura cutem nisi plena cruoris Hirudo.

But the little helpe and great hurt I found from them, their as grosse as peremptory mistakings, their as false as dire Progno­stiques, and nothing more new from them then from my disease, besides what I met by puddering in their writings, how the Me­lancholy cure commonly begins where the Physitian is forsaken and makes an end, made mee withdraw my selfe from relying on them and their Art, since which time by Gods grace and other familiar meanes I finde my selfe renewed in vigor and health of body and mind. Oppressed, debilitated, exanimated, fettered, ca­ged, and enlazied nature, where they have left her any reliques of her selfe, proud of her libertie, free from oppression mounts and playes upon her owne wings, disdaining their poore and imped fea­thers. To conclude with them who will never conclude with us till they have brought us to our finall conclusion. Tinkers they are that make more holes then they mend; and wonder not that they doe not ever affect nor speed our cure, for as common Chirurgi­ans professe our paine to be their best friend, the like doe they find in your complaint and disease, they protract, and draw your bo­dy that they may draine your purse, they confine you from com­pany, ayre, common exercise, and dyet, which would all prove your better Physick; they forbid you all that pleaseth, and feed you with distast, Take heed of fruits, for many times if you eate the other bunch of Grapes or couple of Peaches it would prove your better purge; they worke by natures expulsion of their poy­sons, who would better have wrought for her selfe, had you used the patience of putting her to her strength upon a fuller charge in the malignitie and excesse of your peccant humors. Like the Ivie to the wall, or play to a consumed Gameste [...], they miserably uphold what they had undermined: like the Imprese of enjewel­ling the Diamant, they at the best consume whilst they fashion you, nor are you so sure of any thing as to come weaker out of their hands. They seduce and controll nature, they silence and insult over all assistants who are not allowed to kill; and be their advise, Cordialls, Receits, never so safe, never so good, they must bee scornefully and insolently rejected and become tolerating mi­serable spectators of the tragedy, torture, execution, and death [Page 114] of their dearest friends. They are often as busie and cruell over their poore Patient as Hawkes upon their prey, or Ravens over a carcasse, and as little troubled (nay possibly as proud) as hunters over a great Quarry. If they like not this, let the Galenists reade Paracelsus, and the generalitie of them Cornelius Agrippa, and they will thinke themselves favourably dealt with. Onely thus much to you my honoured Lady Sav. who were a suffering wit­nesse of that matchlesse Ladies losse; It is singular and irrepara­ble to her Noble neerest friends, and your selfe who knew and en­joyed the sweetnesse of her conversation and vertue can find it no lesse. You make often use of Physick, my prayer is that you may seldome or never need it; I confesse you are thus happy therein that God hath blest you to rely upon one of the best and safest in that profession; Hee was the last that I used, and would I have recourse to them hee should bee one of the first; It is their com­mon practise, and neither their persons nor Art that I abhorre: I thought not amisse to communicate to your view my conceptions herein; If I have used more passion then reason, or any evill and un­proper Ingredient, your better judgement can as well correct as use. I humbly take my leave, but will never leave to grieve, and rest

Your Laps. most faithfully humble servant.


Second Part.

Printed at London by Richard Cotes, 1645.

EXONERATIONS OR An Inquisition taken upon my par­ticular, and humane Frailty, Blindnesse, Presumption, Unquietnesse, and Vanity.

THUS much for precaution: if you desire to loyter by looking into my unpleasant story and late expence of time, cloath your minde in its Holyday and Church apparell, expect not an oftentation of wit and Language, but rather a perplexed narrative, a solemne, sad and serious exercise of Devotion, such indeed as becomes the next holy weeke, penitentiall and mourn­ing. Otherwise I advise you to forbeare, for you will finde all too unpleasant and unsutable to your disposition: Nothing is here pretended but private discharge and satisfaction. All hasty, dys­astrous, cloudy, tumultuous, incorrect, incomposed, precipitate, o­ver-subject to repetitions, for want of looking back and re-exami­nation in the Course. Especially I perswade the passing over ma­ny of the first following peeces as too much concerning my parti­cular, after which the streames begin to run more deer and free.

HEre see securely what a troubled soule
May suffer in a lasting storme, here see
Thoughts stagg'ring reel (whilst the poore bark doth rowle)
Cling to the Mast, Pray, Labor
Or from.
to the Lee,
Throw out their lading, wrastle with the waves
Sink down their sayles, now lifted up on high,
[Page 118]Now almost swallow'd in th' Abysse of graves;
Now a cleer heaven, and straight a dismall sky:
Here learn how fairest daies may overcast,
Confounding all your quiet with a blast:
What masters me to day, may you to morrow,
But for our comfort, God can master sorrow.

HEre see, how in a sanguine complection, when Gods grace be­gins powerfully to shine and work, as in the month of March, and turning of the year, storms upon storms: and

Frigida pugnabant calidis, humentia siccis,
Mollia cum duris, sine pondere habentia pondus,
Till— Deus hane litem (& melior natura) diremit.

MY perverse fortune from my youth, with my melancholy dis­ease, (fruitfull in nothing but thoughts, and those not ever the most necessary or naturall:) have often occasioned me with re­flection upon my self, to write something, not so much to apolo­gize (for alas, it is vaine where there might have bin prevention) as to give some ease to my self, and extenuation in what I may mis­appeare to the world; but I have often bin diverted from such dis­course, by the overgrown wildernesse, which long time and con­fusion have brought upon me. Yet thus much let me say for my self, (and wonder at my selfe in that I may truely say so,) that neither carelesnes, prodigality, nor an humor disposed to riot or luxury, have bred my harme. Nay, (if there be any truth in me) nothing hath more procured it, then a misguided sobriety of diet, with such an inordinate care for the ordering of my fortune in my begin­nings, finding my self pent and ingaged to wife and children, as (whatsoever may bee conceived I dare affirme) no man of riper yeares and judgement, but might have falne into, and will, when­soever it shall please God to entangle him in divers and strong in­cumbrances, inward and outward, which in the circumstances of my condition so malignly concurred, that being something by na­ture, and more by accident, mis-diet, over apprehension and stu­diousnesse, disposed to a strong melancholy, it was impossible to extricate my self, without such an aggravation as rendred it incu­rable, and me most miserable, in the Shipwrack of all joy and con­tentment. Wherein finding my self thus plunged, one while my re­fuge was to the helplesse Physitian, and another at last to strong di­versions; such as I chose to entertaine my mind to build in dividing my London house where (in al e­vents) there would be least losse, and then lived many years in the lesser part. building, Court, company, travaile, and the like, which all proved but such miserable helpers as melancholy men use to finde, full of expence, which till then, (about my age of 25. from 18. when I was married) I had avoided. Building, (as troublesome both to my fancy and purse) I soon left, and the losse of the brave Prince Henry, on whom I had laid my grounds, with [Page 119] much sicknesse soon after casting me down, and increasing my dis­ease, I became unable to make use either of my naturall parts, or time and expence bestowed in Court: thoughts beget melancholy, and that, As, Mater me genu [...], eadem [...]nox gignitur ex me. thoughts, alternatively. It is questionable whether I did more hurt my self with my thoughts, (which many years to­gether long since, brought me often, even to an utter exhaustion) or whether with Gods assistance, in a strong constitution of body and minde, (for had not God furnished me with as strong and pre­sent supply of extrications as intrications, I must often have perish­ed) I more extraordinarily relieved and supported my self to sub­sist against the impetuous I meane not a curiosity of ostentation or daintinesse, for such never possessed mee: but only of se­dulous consi­deration and rectitude. curiosity of my disease and nature; but my unhappinesse hath also bin such, as in criticall times of my life, to have met with such unluckie crosses and connexions of fate, to put me out of my course, that the consideration thereof would make any man (not otherwise superstitious) take knowledge of an over­ruling hand therein; whereunto (I humbly thank God) I so submit my self, as that for my spirituall good, I acknowledge there ought to have gone no lesse, to work a total conversion in me, so hard is sanctification to be wrought even in men of religious in­clinations. For my posterity, I must crave their pardon: hoping they will with me submit to the Almighty hand, which can at its good pleasure as well raise as ruine. Worldly confidence illudes, nor can any thing confirm prosperity in this and the better world, but a firm faith, and resolved obedience to God and his Son, in whom alone is salvation. That, that alone can reconcile and calme the contrarieties of our complections in the distractions of pleasure, profit, conscience, honor, decency, authority over others, or a self-injoying: making true Religion the only starre of our course, whilst others for want of it, sometimes wildly flote, and some­times sink in the confusion of their passions. Good intentions without firm resolutions are insufficient. No man hath meant more thriftily then my self; but alasse! in what a mist of contrary indica­tions and contingencies doe we live? when I concluded against hous-keeping, I have bin indulgently over-ruled by others to the contrary. And this I have found a great error in my nature, to have bin more apt to gratifie others then my self, and to beleeve them often more wise and trusty, To judge o­thers by our selves may be a rule of charity, but not of wis­dome. then there was due cause; a miserable condition of the better natures: Engagement to wife, and servants made over-necessary take away the liberty of our re­solutions; to intend thrift is commonly enough to enrich, but wo­ful experience teacheth me that diseases and crosses such may come, as shall turne the strongest out of his way. No man more abhor­red debt, felling, and felling, then my selfe: yet few have more incurred them. No man almost hath allowed himselfe lesse cost or sensuality then I: yet the diversions my disease hath urged me unto, have set another face upon mee, towards such as were not acquainted with my inside and native affections. Few have more affected the service of King, Country, and Freinds: not have by ac­cident [Page 120] bin more unserviceable. I ever extreamely fancyed my chief feat; yet fear of cost in fitting the house, and heighth of charge in living there by occasion of such an eminent fear, with other ac­cidentall considerations, kept me thence, till such time as my for­tune was most unfit for that, and it for me: and yet against much reason and interest of my own, I was drawn with relation to my predecessors and posterity to settle my self there, with so much cost and In truth, half-hood of materials and workmen, their mista­kings, and loytering, make building much more vexati­ous then for­merly. trouble, as (but by the grace of God) it is a wonder how in such indisposition and lownesse, I have undergone. This the good God can doe, and howsoever it shall please him to dispose of me, (whose preserving hand I confesse I have wonderfully found) may it please him to make my life and death to his glory, it is all my ambition, Many unluckie circumstances, like that of a free minde entered into Court with a pent fortune, I omit, partly in respect of others, and partly as fit to be confined to my self, who have suffered their perplexities and contrarieties. Gods grace is all in all, for the best of us is subject to be carryed away, both a­gainst what we know, and what we would. Such a blindnesse steales us from our selves.

This Discourse which I have these many yeares at times bin in­clined unto, and have forborn, in respect of the little credit or use which it might beare, and the confused nature of it, ill befitting my health and condition, wrapping my self in an honest conscience to my self, and having long since put off the world and worldly cen­sure: yet have I at last thus tumultuarily adventured upon it; ha­ving not cost me much above two houres in one afternoon: where­in though I cannot vindicate my self (for alas! who can against er­rors so seeming easy to have bin avoided?) yet I can be content that such of mine as love me and truth, should find me here such as I have bin, and not such as I may be traduced.

I Must not forget to thank God that my fortune is not utterly ru­in'd, considering how all helpes and hopes have failed me, in my cure and otherwise, how costly diversions have bin unto me, wher­by to support my self, and how unfit I have bin in the mean time to look to my estate: Debauch and gluttony have spoyled many a body and fortune; scrupulous abstinence and care mine.

Though I acknowledge my fortune and estate left me was such, as by this time I could in likelihood have so improved, as that my quality should not require a better, yet this give me leave to make appear, that being engaged to mariage before eighteen yeares of age, I had my quality left unto me with an estate of revenew not [Page 121] above six hundred pounds per Annum de claro, little improvement to be made of a long time, by reason of long leases and Joyntures: Parkes and Houses I had to betray me, and I was left so barely as my Predecessor dying at Michaelmas, I had nothing to sustain me till the next rent dayes.

This would trouble a tender spirit to know which way to turn, especially with other crosse circumstances in fortune.

I must insert one vow made by me which cost me a great part of my estate, having against my intentions intangled my conscience thereby, upon an unhappy accident of the greater house at turned into my hands, at such time when I was throughly resol­ved for thrift in a most private course, a quite other way.

Though I have made alienations for great summes, yet know, that many thousands I laid out in building at London, and buying in Lease, and the wood, which did but return to me in the sale, and many thousands of the sale remained beyond the debts, where with my sonne hath been enabled to make some purchases, and by Gods grace will make more reparation with the monies remaining. I thank God, with all my necessities, I have left my Sonne both his freedom of choice, and Wives por­tion. Whosoever shall take notice of great possessions passed through, and away from our Family, let them know, that the most of them were but in Transitu, by the way of Mart, never intended to be kept; I must be content to appeare the only unthrift, how­soever my unthriftinesse had not its root from my self, but rather from fatall mis-accident, and Predecessors undue consideration.

The good God be pleased to blesse my Sonne, and make him as happy, as I have been unhappy. For my whole life (since I have been a man) hath been but a conflict with the worst of diseases, and a wearisom seeking for contentment, plunged in an inextrica­ble gulf of all misery; another man possibly would not have come off so well in fortune, body, or minde.

Good God, how vaine and miserable a thing is man without thy good Spirit to direct him? by nature corrupt, by Art Sophisticate and confounded: how lost in the ignorance, and inexperience of youth? how short of the tranquillitie of other creatures? how of­ten ruin'd by accident, by mistaken courses; I, by that which men call good nature? yet happy (in worldly account) are they whose natures lead them, not only to affect thrift, (which many by reason of other, not bad affections, imperfectly doe) but to make it their pleasure, their felicity, which humor throughly possessing them, plea­seth, profiteth, and advanceth them in fortune and reputation: whilst others bred to more ingenuous and faire appearing waies and studies unthriftily miscarry. How ill, & unadvisedly do Parents provide for their young Heires, giving them Tutors for Learning, and Arts, neg­lecting [Page 122] their instruction in true Vertue, and use of the world and their fortunes? How lamentable it is to see many (who if left to them­selves would doe well enough in the world) over-swaied by others, and so turned out of their way, as that they cannot recover them­selves. But alas! why suppose I it would goe well with us, if left to our selves? who know nothing more assuredly then this, that all humane wit and resolution are vaine, without the powerfull Grace of God to assist us. That I implore, that alone is my com­fort and support, that sweetens all the bitternesse of fortune unto me, and but for that I would a thousand times as resolutely and constantly have left this life, as others fondly and dotingly imbrace it; Christian Religion had need be maintained in our hearts by a strong hand from above, seeing it abridgeth us not only of our ge­nerall liberty of this worlds delights, but even of the freedome of leaving the world, when it affordeth no delight unto us.

MAny things concurred to make me melancholy, as a Com­plection Sanguine, inclined to delight and pleasure. Yet with­all a naturall scrupulosity of election, sensible of faire reputation and thrift, affected with knowledge, and at length a consciencious tendernes of Faith and Religion, working me the greatest happi­nesse, but not without great perplexity. I was young entred at Court, and by accident quickly dis-heartned for that course. The use of my fortune in the Country was by want of meanes to keepe a comely house, and other many crosse respects, not free unto me; and though afterwards I was drawn to house-keeping against my will and Discourse, yet both in my estate and disease (by the care & retirednesse incident thereunto, especially in a short fortune) it pro­ved most pernicious unto me. My disease likewise was much, if not originally occasioned in my body by an over-using of new Trea­kle against a danger of the Plague, which I fell into by Mr. San­ders his death thereof neere to me in his travell with me, at his re­turn from London, the first of King Iames. As also by an over­spare and evill diet, who for long together fed on little meate of good nourishment but only fat, dredgings, Skinnes, and such like, and in truth, scarce ever man of my strong constitution and health gave lesse way to himself in pleasing his appetite. This, and much more wrought an alteration upon my minde, and made me seek a supply of former pleasures, by entertaining my self with studies, and my importunate thoughts, which (by my ignorance how the minde might over-presse and wrong the body) I made most mis­chievous unto me. These oppressions cast me upon costly diversi­ons, and with disease and expence of spirits brought me so low, as I could never recover. So that all the effects of melancholy, as [Page 123] weaknesse of memory, countenance, and faculties, with oppressi­on of minde, which long and miserably afflicted me, proceeded from nothing more then the waste of my spirits, losse of blood, and over-thinking, with extraordinary obstructions of all my inward parts. I contesse I have been a most intemperate man, but it hath been only in the excesse of my thoughts, else I think no man can charge me that any vain inordinate humour hath transported mee. And so my minde (as I have often been charged) and that dange­rous Master, fancy, and a naturall doubtfulnesse (especially upon hard and questionable termes) have afflicted me. Thus may con­traries breed the same effects, ruine as well from undue care as care­lesnesse. I could (in probability) have preserved my self from much harme of any other disorder.

OH God, how great and just are thy judgements, how wonder­full thy mercies, how extraordinarily canst thou humble us by the one, and relieve us by spirituall graces in the other? how great a work it is, and how many degrees are required to effect a firm conversion upon us? I most humbly thank thee for the gracious effects I have found thereby; such, as hadst thou not sent mee temporall afflictions, I must have been eternally miserable. Let no man rely upon his own strength, resolutions, and precautions; for when God hath a work in hand, and leaveth us to our selves, we shall finde our selves so dementated, as that we shall bee able to make no use thereof to our good. Wee shall finde our selves so imprisoned, so way-laid, against what we would or should do for our help, that it will become impossible for us to make use of our selves and ordinary meanes, &c.

It proveth (as I apprehended) that once entered in, I should hardly finde the way out of this deep, thorny thicket. My health and life have been lately so desperate, as it is little adventure to undergoe any thing; and indeed my nature hath been too prone to put many things to the hazard. The rule of quod dubitas ne feceris, had been much better observed; but alas! what rules can be strong enough, not to be overborn by our blinded precipitate passions and fate, &c.

I neither must, nor will specifie the numerous particularities of my mis-fortunes. Only thus much I will say, that from my com­ming from under the rod to this present, I have successively met, first with dangerous diseases in the University, then with ingage­ments and accidents of consequence to my whole fortune and [Page 124] course: then with such a melancholy as dasht all my spirits and countenance, otherwise strong and bold: then with extremity of divers sicknesses, which more dejected me: then with a ruinous vow: then with losse of children, and other heavy disgraces, the effect of my disease: then with desperate effects of mistaken powder Which over­kept in a small Dose and ha­ving lost its due operation, lay in my body till the next spring & with a bur­ning & corro­sion then for three moneths spa [...]e deprived me almost wholly of sleep which to an inveterate me­lancholy, was no little suffe­rance. and course of Physick: and after all this and much more, &c. Though generally I so despaired of life, as not to dare to venture any thing upon it, to buy some place to support me in my fortune and against my disease by diversion, yet I once attem­pted that course, and was most strangely and causlessely put by. Sometimes I have resolved for a course in the Warres (as against the Turk) and then came Peace and Truce. In truth, imployment (in likely-hood) would have prevented the weight of my dis­ease.

Many things which appeared in mee affected courses of plea­sure and vanity, were in truth laid hold on by mee for diversi­ons and supports of my oppressed spirits, against the violence of my disease.

WHen I think what my fortune hath been, and how long and continuall the afflictions which I have indured, as well in minde and body, as in my estate, I make question whether many yeares (if not ages) doe not passe in the whole world, without paralleling my sufferings. None but an extream melancholy man can conceive them, which yet have been aggravated in me by a contrary and most sensible complection; no body, but of an ex­traordinary strong constitution, could have undergone them. How often have I thought my self at my end? How often wished it? and yet hath it pleased God miraculously to preserve me. Oh that it might please him thereby to worke his glory and service! O­therwise how long have I been, and now am, from desiring it? I confesse my self infinitely faulty, both towards God, Man, and my self, but withall strangely unhappy in the occasionall circumstances and concurrencies of my mischiefes; I have evi­dently discerned an extraordinary and high hand therein, and I most humbly thank God, who hath by degrees brought mee home unto him. I have long subsisted only under the shelter of his wings, and desire nothing but his favour to my end. No­thing else hath supported me, nor could, nor can; my minde and fancy were naturally active, and for want of outward imploy­ment besitting them and mee, turned and wrought upon my spirits. If I had, notwithstanding all objections, settled at at the first, I had found that center [Page 125] and quiet, the want whereof infinitely hurt me by giving way to my fancy to be over-much working upon it, before I put such course in execution. I at last gave way to prevent the like incon­venience of trouble of minde and cost, which might befall my Son in a just affection of setling there. I confesse that in projecting what concerneth us, it is not unnecessary to be possessed of a summary disposition therein, but to descend to an exact punctuality of per­ticulars (in a precautious speculation) before time and opportu­nity of acting and execution, is commonly as vain as troublesome. Fancy may please and infatuate it self therein, but the present view and circumstance of things to be presently acted, is that which gives the finall order and determination, with a contradicting and retract­ing nullity, to our prepensed conceits and resolutions.

SApiens dominabitur Astris, is a pretty saying, but if not apply­ed and restrained to godly and divine wisdome, as farre from truth, as the Starres are short of God. It is extraordinary, that in all my course of a long life, I should ever meet with hinderances and crosses, even when I have most strived to avoid them, and ne­ver with any thing of help and ease; yet this for my comfort, and to exempt me from envying others, if I would but in an ordinary measure have digressed from my austerer wayes, to my Sonne and mee, there might have been a larger proportion of honor, autho­rity, and fortune. God knows what is best for us, and I affect no­thing, but according to the fairest meanes, and his good pleasure. That noble friend of mine, who upon consideration of the naturall strength of my body and minde, wondering at my infirmity and disabling in my fortune, in conclusion imputed it to my having been put out of my way, upon what ground, I know not, but I am sure he was not mistaken. For first, my early mariage in a short fortune abated the edge and alacrity of my spirits; next the course and conversation of the Court by accident made unfit and unfa­vourable to me, having entered upon it, was no small dejection; my self also by the examination and test of discourse, contradict­ing They who wrestle not a­gainst their ap­petites, nor are over solicitous of avoiding all inconvenien­ces, are they who often suc­ceed best, and sayling in the common cha­nell, enjoy the commodities, & delights of this world. Many inconveniences are easier born then avoided, easier admitted to bee subse­quently rectifi­ed, then indu­striously and curiously [...] ­chewed▪ and restraining my naturall and youthfull inclinations (which other young men use with a full saile to give way to and uncon­trolledly please themselves) amated and contristated my minde. But above all the good Spirit of God, (whose wayes and religion are opposit to flesh and blood and consequently to me and mine in nature) brought such a conflict upon me as proves at first to cor­rupt nature ever harsh and perplexed, with many reluctations, win­nings and losings of ground, but by degrees and successions of grace, sweetly recompenseth all our conflicts, all our sufferings.

[Page 126] Good God, how sweet and admirable are thy mercies, which never faile to relieve and deliver them who persevere to call and rely upon thee! Oh the tumultuous condition of a melancholy tainted minde! Oh the Herculean labour to oppose and represse it! How thoughts impetuously like Hydra's heads grow upon us as fast as we allay and cut them off? Iun [...] should have set Her­cules to that task, to have plagued him more then all his Monsters, all his labors. It was truly said of it, that it is Hospitium calamita­tis, & quamcunque rem malam quares, illic invenies. It insinuates it self at first as a flattering friend, but in the trecherous sweetnesse of it we drown and lose our selves like unluckie flies, &c.

Proh Iupiter, quantum mortalia pectora caecae noctis habent! how many wayes there are for us to lose our selves in this worlds La­byrinth? and how many miscarry before they understand where they are, why they came, & what they have to doe▪ some lose them­selves in their pleasures, others in their troubles, some finde unfortu­nate and so dain, some a lingring ruine, some are born to [...]re, some to stormie daies, some to journey with the wind [...] in their backs, some in their faces. If fate be but a dreame, the world hath been much deceived, the constancy of it in some mens fortunes speak­eth it more, to the Christian all is the providence of God: And there is no true plaister for the cure of a broken heart, a broken for­tune, but the contemplation and application of his goodnesse and mercies by a lively Faith, that must be his gift, and will dispell all clouds, stormes, and discomforts. It little imports what weather we finde in a short journey, so we attain at our journeys end, a place of perdurable joy and comfort.

How full of darknesse is the minde of man? how little doe we understand? and how little are we able to make use (without Gods grace) of what we know? how often and violently are we trans­ported as it were against our wills, against our knowledge? how obvious and neere unto us are things ordinarily most usefull and af­fected, which yet we are most blind to discern at our need? such is our frailty, such our blindnesse; so that neither eares, eyes, knowledge, will, or understanding, are farther availeable, then it shall please God to blesse them: Hee alone it is, that gives the will and the deed, and without him the will is uneffectuall. Hee hath small experience of the world, or hath little observed him­self, who hath not this experience. It hath pleased God to have blessed mee with some understanding, some industry, and some holy affections towards him. All have failed mee, and in all I have been failing to my self, yet through many falls and frail­ties, I am confident at last, by his great mercy to have attained such Grace, as will abide with mee to my eternall comfort. [Page 127] God grant mee to my end, the antidote of Faith, and confi­dence of his mercies in Christ, &c.

IT is good to referre our selves to God, who best knows what is good for us. In the discourse of death, I fell in my first man­hood to affect that As did the first Caesa [...]. kinde which was least long and languishing, (supposing ever a constant preparation) but it hath pleased God contrariwise, that I have spent a great part of my time, facing and struggling with seeming imminent death, so farre have I been from injoying the pleasures and contentments that this world affordeth to others. I humbly thank God, who hath given me patience, and without his grace and respect to him, my resolution could never have undergone it. Melancholy, the taint and canker of our mindes, bodies, and fortunes, how many wayes, and easily art thou contracted? how almost impossible to be cured? how in­evitably incident to many; yea, the strongest mindes, especially when many perplexities, and crosse accidents doe at once assault them?

For my part, besides my mischievous disease bred in my body, which naturally working upon the mind, made all more sowre and difficult. I met with crosse ambiguities, and judications in almost all that concerned me, or that I affected: I confesse (that which now more tormenteth me) a resolution and course might have been taken to have prevented (in reason) the unhappinesse which I have found and bred, but alasse, I was nipt in my bud, destitute of experience and good advise, met with times opposite, and such a disposition of my own, as could neither abandon it self to pleasure, nor rigid enough to In truth my estate w [...]s so scantie that my endeavou [...] could intertain no further aim then to be able to subsist. profit, though ever so sensible therein, as never to allow my self a ruinous delight. My ex­pences had never the ground of pleasing my self; though our ar­tificiall humane condition be full of ambiguity, and some mindes more then others, of various complection. Yet had I mist my dis­ease, I might (with Gods grace) as well as another, have extri­cated my self; a soule hard to please, and a pregnant fancy, are of the most troublesome guests a man can lodge. I have at length learnt so to disaffect this world and worldly pleasure, that by Gods grace, I am onely pleased in him. It was a hard con­quest, &c.

MAn, certainely in his naturals, as more abounding in fancy, is more variable then other creatures, yet more Sophisti­cated, by Religion or artificial reason taken to heart, check out Ple­ [...]r phoria, in na­tural pleasures. Art, and policy, by Religion crossing his nature, cast into further ambiguities and perplexities, difficulties, and dispro­portions in his condition and fortune, with respect to his quality and ingagements, aggravate and intricate him often more, but when a rooted Melancholy once seizeth him (as by many accidents as well as naturally it often doth) then to dis-intangle from the crosse considerations incident to a perverse fortune, will trouble a strong minde. Nay, so hard is it to reconcile the inconveni­encies, to finde and take the best in the courses of the world, that the stronger and larger the minde is which is to choose, the harder it findes it to please it selfe, and the more it plungeth it self to in­combrance and disease.

How easie are conveniencies to be found? how hard it is to find them? how easie it seems to please our selves? how hard to please God and our selves? how often have I opposed my fancy and affection by a way of abstinence and frugality, which yet hath proved most improsperous unto me? how often have I by Gods grace preferred him before all worldly delights, and yet wanted the grace of constancy? What shall I say? if ever man plaid a long heavy unhappy part upon the stage of this world, it is my self, &c.

NO care is more naturall or necessary, then for Parents to en­ter their young ones into a proportionable fortune, and faire course, to be able to live in the world; the direction of a Father to his Childe therein is of main importance. I was left young and greatly wanted it, had I been left single, young as I was, I was resolved never to have marryed, but so as to have set my self at ease for house-keeping, and other charges which attend it, accor­ding to my quality.

My minde was not so loose, but that I could have contained my self in expence, for till I was lost in my disease, I gave many yeares proofe thereof. That error hath been verifyed upon me, which is said of fooles, that they ever begin to live.

Time and necessity, the great rectifiers of our courses, have made me see my faults, and accommodate that which I thought impossible.

MIserable condition of my fortune and the melancholy humor: how one while for an evasion, it diverts it self by a working imagination, how there may be a bettering? other-while it ag­gravates it self upon consideration how incurred mis-fortune might have been avoided? both fruitlesse and perplexing.

THere is little commiseration due to such as entering upon a faire and full accommodation of house and fortune, wastfully consume and abuse it: With me it was farre otherwise, yet young as I was, had I been left with money in my hands, or had raised moneys to my self by what I had, I was not so loose fingred, as not to have kept or imploy'd it to my advantage. I am confident that many an Heire ruineth his fortune; who, did he enter upon Monies, as well as Lands, would thrive and do well.

To a nature not foolishly dissolute and prodigall, money sets ra­ther an edge of increase then dissipation: Ignoti nulla cupido. It was a rationall way to reclaim that prodigall which is recorded, by shewing him those massie heaps that were to goe to discharge his wastefull debts; the eye makes the most effectuall impression. I have known a Prince, who was insensible of giving great summes by word, yet was tenacious of what once came into his hands: as the hand naturally, so money politically, is the instrument of instruments; without it, like Ships without water, the wisest and most active can make little use of themselves. Gods blessing I ever imply, for without that the builder buildes, and watchman watches but in vaine.

How unhappy is the condition of an unquiet minde? and how hard it is for a spirit sharpe sighted, and sensible to inconveniencies and advantages, to maintain a tranquillity amidst the unsound and humorous incidents of this life? so little is the reality, and so va­rious the apparitions of humane contentment. Fortune is to some a mother, to others a stepdame, some she humours, some she cros­ses from their infancy; and whatsoever is said of every mans forge­ing his own fortune, he knows little who findes not greater abili­ties miscarry, when inferiour succeed. We made not our selves, nor the times, and other circumstances we live in, whose corre­spondencies (shall in despight of us) import us; Good Mariners are often sunk at Sea, when ill ones arrive at good Harbour: for me, I acknowledge in my self (through my whole course) many errors, yet have I found such an unhappy constellation of fatali­ty over-rule me, that what course soever I had taken, I can hardly [Page 130] perswade my self, I could have had any better issue: moderation, sobriety, care, Religion it self, (preservatives to others) have been to my fortune, body, and minde, flayles and rocks, yet all con­ducible and necessary to a better life, &c. I thank God for all, and desire no more but his Grace, in granting me either patience, or a faire deliverance from this worlds miseries and corruption; I have long hated and despised the world, and all the fraile vanities that others dote upon; I finde every day more and more the nulli­ties, the wickednesse of its pleasures, &c.

HAd I my full strength, and clearenesse of spirits, had I much more knowledge, and would and could conveniently bestow much more time in working, these over-flowings of my heart and brain, yet such is the obscure confusion of this sophisticated world and my naturall curiosity (by melancholy, much more hard to please) that I should never satisfie my self, in writing what be­longs to this or any other Subject: I would willingly by these e­vaporations impart, with ease to my self, some impressions to my friends, how there hath gone as much fate as fault to effect my misery, and to occasion them to resent and compassionate the wretchednesse of humane condition, by representing my self none of the worst-endowed with parts of body, minde, and estate, thriftily and temperately affected, become neverthelesse most te­diously miserable in them all; such hath been Gods will, and such in despight of nature and reason shal be his condition, whom accident and circumstance conspire to afflict. A Doctor of Phy­sick told me long since, that I had too much minde for my body, but never advised me the moderation of the one, and naturall im­provement of the other. I thank God, towards him who is the chiefe good, it is the better for me, and good for me that I have been troubled; I confesse I had naturally a strong, active, and sensible minde, yet not such, but if I had escaped accidentall me­lancholy, I might well have tempered it, but when that seizeth upon us, things otherwise easily to be passed over, become full of scruple and perplexity. My The smallest seeming incon­siderable causes are often in­duction [...] to the gr [...]st con­cl [...]on of this world. over using of Treakle, hot and dry, in my youth, first bred the alteration in my body and minde. I knew not what I ayled, nor whence it proceeded, but enforcedly yeelded to melancholy effects, such as retirednesse, over-reading, and over-thinking, little as then conceiving how the body should become oppressed by so abstracted a thing as the mind.

My first studies in the way of morality and Scepticisme, took off my edge from worldly delights. Gods good Spirit afterwards was a check to me against them, by whose mercy I was never free [Page 131] from perplexity till of late, I will by his grace fix my self upon him, and leave off to ruminate upon, much more to enumerate my infinite past misgovernments and misfortunes. God be praised, my Sonnes beginnings are as well, if not better, then ever yet were any of our Family.

Crosse tydes, they say, make the Irish Seas so troublesome and dangerous; there is a proportion of bearing beyond which wee sink. I was in my prime youth encountered with many unfavoura­ble dysasters, &c.

The great change of the Court, and long greatnesse of them whom accident, &c. My Great evils are truely ob­served to take advantange by seconding one the other. absence in travaile hindering my falling in with those times, my retirednesse by that course and over-exact study of language, which certainly is proper only to children, to whom it comes insensibly, and is most troublesome to curious spirits, these and much more conspired against me.

I would when my fortune was whole, have matched my Sonne then very young, and have assured my Lands upon him for a reason­able portion; it could not bee. My Predecessor after a long and desperate sicknesse lived just enough to marry me, and many stran­ger things then these have befaln me in the Article of a Catastrophe to my fortune.

TO say something still of diverse ambiguities and perplexities incident to my condition and fortune, which besides the acci­dentall melancholy bred in my body, could hardly saile to work an alteration, and disease, upon a minde curious of avoiding inconve­niencies and choosing the best, my nature was bent to ordinary plea­sures, yet morally withdrawn to an observation of decency, ver­tue, moderation, and improvement of knowledge, with an acqui­site affectation of Philosophicall, Morall, Civill, and Christian per­fection, wherein as well for vogue, fashion, and reputation, as truth, I could not willingly consent to come short of the best. When I grew towards manhood, being of myself disposed to forbeare marriage, untill I should be thirty yeares old, and then not to mar­ry without great choyce, in fitting my self, and obtaining a ful­nesse of fortune, to set my self at ease in my quality and that e­state, [...]&c.

I saw the inconvenience, but Wife, Children, and my disease, made me unfit for another mans house; and though I wished, yet I could not resolve a change, which to me, who could never easi­ly admit a resolution with inconveniencies attending it, was ever [Page 132] abhorrent, my naturall curiosity (whose minde was never quiet till all circumstances and conveniencies were run over and over, and accommodated by me) made all things, (especially in a seat of my own) most troublesome.

To the melancholy tainted spirit nothing is more unfit then idle­nesse, nothing more troublesome then its curious discoursing upon resolutions, nothing more unfit then confinement to one place, yet nothing more hard, then to resolve and digest change and al­teration.

Once marryed, I was set to seek how to live, where to live; my birth and breeding was in the City, my affection and chiefe seat in Cambridgeshire, but many strong considerations diverting mee from it. The Court where I was young entred, followed, might have kept me from that depth of melancholy; whereunto travaile, study, and retirednesse in care and fancy of what belonged to a house drowned mee; but that also by accident was unfit for me, yet at length for a strong diversion, and under so brave a patronage as that of Prince Henry, I readventured upon it, but his immature death, and much sicknesse of my own, following upon it, with o­ther disproportions finally aliened me from that course.

Thus and much more hath my life been a conflict with disease and fortune, I have formerly touched many more particulars, yet not all, nor the worst. It is one of the greatest in satisfactions of writing to an ingenuous spirit, in most important matters to have least freedome, there are many Noli me tangere's. The contrast of Gods grace and Religion against the impetuosity of naturall affections, hath been many yeares my greatest combat, I have fought resolutely, but received many foiles, yet by the infinite goodnesse of my Saviour, I have received such most unexpected succour, that to my unvaluable comfort I triumph, &c. I have dedicated my self (next to God) wholly to my Son, and have ma­ny years endevoured his good beyond my own. I have now made my self his Pensioner, and I wish no worldly happinesse more then his prosperity: thus with a running pen I ease my minde, which though with no serious exactnesse, yet with little prejudice to my health, for otherwise the strength of my disease would not suffer me to beare the strength and curiosity of my own discourse.

He who is subject to melancholy, let him shun as a Rock at Sea, over-studying, or tyring of his thoughts, and when he finds con­clusions come not off cleerly, and that a restinesse of discourse grows upon him, let him give over for the present (not admitting the least tumultuation) till such a good and fit time after, as he may return new and fresh to work: by this meanes shall hee avoid much hurt of his spirits, and attain better to his ends.

[Page 133]In reading also, little and little at once shall dispatch more, and that without inconvenience of health, then much together to the oppression of the soule; Ne quid nimis, in all things is an excel­lent instruction: How many a man hath tyred his horse by riding a little too fast, who might otherwise have come well to his jour­nies end? The like is seen in expence, a very little contracting would often have given ease and thrist, where a very small over­spending hath bred continuall want and ruine.

By my miserable experience, I could give many rules upon this worlds course and melancholy. Moderation is good, but Gods grace is above all, and without it nothing can prosper.

How lustily doth the root feed a tree, whose branches are few and small in respect?

To the all-seeing God be glory, for with us (but through him) dwels nothing, but darknesse, errour, frailty, and ignorance.

MY gracious God, the support and guide of us and all our actions, since thou hast vouch safed to grant mee a firme and happy faith in Christ, and love of thee, with a contempt of all earthly and carnall joyes; confirm unto me, I most humbly be­seech thee, thy heavenly graces, and the comfort of thy good Spi­rit, for I abhorre my self whensoever that joy faileth me, or any worldly affections assault me: none more then I, knows their va­nity, their unsoundnesse, their emptinesse of all true and perfect satisfaction, such as left mee ever to seek, ever unquiet, till such time as I wholly resigned my self unto thee. The world is a wil­dernesse of ravenous beasts, there is no path, no safety, no con­tentment or protection, but through thy favour: Sweet Lord, im­part it unto me, and I shall finde that quiet and joy of heart which I have ever wanted. Helpe me, for I shall hate my self, if through the infirmity of my flesh and blood, I reap not more joy and com­placence in my surrender to thee, and in thy grace, then ever I did or could finde in the most full and flattering pleasures, which this instable world affords. I have often found thy most mercifull and miraculous reliefe and support, beyond expectation, beyond naturall conceit.

Let thy mercy and grace continue with mee to my end, and at thy good pleasure set a period to that life, which I only hold in expectation of a happy discharge and dissolution by thee, Amen, Amen.

A Physitian once told me upon repaire to him for my disease, that I was to resort to God, call upon him for his grace, and guide my self by him, or to like effect: I thought it then strange and improper in his profession, but I have found it spoken like my good Angell, for there is no such anchor, nor such receipt to a troubled, to an agitated soule. The melancholy humour once pre­dominant, in despite of judgement and resolution, will obtrude im­portunate thoughts and fancies, take occasion from almost every object, to make a troublesome and discoursing impression, make things otherwise of easie resolution anxious, and vexing, represen­ting difficulties as fast as designes; whereunto free spirits are not in the least sort obnoxious, they are in a cleare light and alacrity, delighted in themselves, entertained and diverted with ordinary conversation, businesse, and pastime, whilest the other droope, and howsoever often naturally quick, would play upon the wing, the melancholy clog checks and pulls them to the ground. God alone is the Hercules, that can purge that Augean stable, the Aescu­lapius who can give reliefe, ordinary Physick is but a palliation, nay often an aggravation of the disease. The powder called Kello­wayes powder, with Gods blessing is to bee prized, for it goes to the root, it workes at length, and so as the patient may sleep, play, goe on in an ordinary diet and course, a common and long course, which urgeth keeping in, weakens, and makes tender, is mischie­vous, and incompatible: if such powder breed inconvenience, Ep­sam The use of Tunbridge and Epsam waters, for health and cure, I first made known to London, and the Kings peo­ple; the Spaw is a chargeable & inconvenient journey to sick bodies, besides the money it [...] out of the Kingdome, & inconveni­ence to Religi­on. waters, though but a draught in a day at morning, wonderful­ly allay and rectifie, as also the use of new and good Sider; these with Gods grace, constant exercise, and a moderation of the minde are incomparable. Probatum.

God hath given mee so strong a body and minde to beare the in­juries I have received from my self, accident, and course of Phy­sicke, that I admire. May it please him to make my life and death to his glory.

GOod God, of thy great goodnesse continue thy mercy upon me, and as I have hitherto proved the truth of all worldly things to bee nothing but vanity and vexation of spirit, so be thou to me joy and comfort. It is true that my nature, education, course of life, and disease require society and diversion, the consideration of my past and present fortune is full of sadnesse, but thou canst raise light out of darknesse, and joy from sorrow, thy good spirit is the spirit of comfort, and without thee there is truely none, thou hast blessed me so farre, as to have allayed, satisfyed, and expelled [Page 135] all my worldly fancies. I have fitted my house and fortune to my Son, in as much as I affected and was capable: blesse it unto him, and by thy grace exempt him from these unquietnesses which I have found; there is no perfect, no solid happinesse in this world; teach him to beare such inconveniencies as may be better born then sought (with an unquiet unsetling) to be avoided; it hath bin to me a great disease to over-humour my self therein, there will in all conditions be something amisse, a minde curious and impatient is a great mischief.

Thus appeareth that which hath been observed, that men seldom or never betake themselves to good and right courses till such time as a pressing necessity (I might rather say God) compelleth and enforceth them. Necessity (I have ever said) is the sure reformer, then and not till then, and, often after smart, we contract our selves, and contain and refrain our extravagancies, presumption, dissolu­tion, and luxuriant fancies.

A Searching spirit falne amongst the crudities and cavills of this worlds Sophistry and imperfections, is a great oppressor; it were well if contentions lay only, as some affirme, in the brink, and not in the depth of Sciences, search shews it farre otherwise. It is a happy spirit that can passe lightly over the things of this world, and even in matters and mysteries of Faith Curiosity is neither safe, nor allowable. I am something of the nature of those dogges, which comming into a strange place, rest not till they have ferited every corner.

It is likewise a naturall importunity with me, in any thing that concernes me in minde, body, or fortune, not to take full rest, till such time as to my capacity, I have run over all that seemeth to be­long to such resolution, willingly I sit not down short of other men, (I mean in honesty, decency and knowledge) much lesse short of my self.Ingenuous mindes affect to give a due & just accommo­dation to all things and per­sons, and to themselves no more, which is hard to doe in this various fantasticall world. Yet if we seriously and curiously minde these earthly things, they are full of scruple and vexation, if we slight them, a delibera­ting nature wants much of satisfaction and contentment, and doth as it were, brutifie (and sin against) it self, yet so shall it as well Minus dolere, as gaudere.

It is that which I have long since found and affirmed, that if we set our hearts on these worldly matters, they prove foolishnesse and perturbation, if we be cold and dull in them, all things are a­like, but it is the misery of a hot complection, that it requires en­tertainment, hot, full, and stirring, &c.

[Page 136]Where grace once infuseth it self, all earthly troubles are eva­cuated, that alone is friends, pleasure, and advantage enough, it is all-sufficient, all consolation: perfect then, good God, the in­estimable gift of Faith, which thou hast given me, it is truely thy gift, flesh and blood cannot afford, nor relish it, thy wayes to it are wonderfull, often sharp, but most sweet in the conclusion; I kisse thy rod, I rejoyce in my afflictions, and feele that I had perished, if I had not perished.

Thou who hast rebuked the winds, and they have obeyed thee, rectifie my spirit, and calm all suggestions, all stormes within me. Then may melancholy be infectious, but not mortall: then shall I live and die to thee and thy glory, which is all my ambition, all my prayer.

I Have not found any thing more strange, nor been more abu­sed in any thing, then that constitution of soule which is frequent, and more or lesse incident to us all, so mixt, so Heterogene, so preg­nant, and right of understanding in some things, and so dull and wrong in others (such commonly are they which most disturb the world, as dissonant from weaknesse as true strength of judgement, exhibiting according to the saying such productions as a fool could not, and perfection would not) so appearing docile and capable of reason and improvement, and yet in effect so insensate, incorri­gible, and unalterable, as it is hard to conceive how such incongru­ities and inconsequences should consist in the same subject, or in truth how they can quadrate with a soule rationall and instructible, but there is assigned to us all a naturall stature in all things, which no Art, food, or industry can inable us to exceed.

The ordering of my fortune and course, where to dwell, what to sell, or keep, what to disparke, what and how to build at or to forbeare, which to a neere consideration made no little anxiety, whether to keep house or not, finding my wife and self unfit for it, and yet as unfit to sojourn, what Physitian to use, and course to take to recover health; whether I should adven­ture to buy imployment, which seemed necessary to my active spirits, though my life in my conceit was desperate; whether to ad­venture upon a strong diversion by a course in Court, and how farre to comply with the times, which little complyed with my dis­course; whether to keep or break a rash vow of importance, that cost me deare.

[Page 137]This and much more might well oppresse a melancholy minde; my diversions appeared as fruites of a vaine and prodigall dispositi­on, but alasse they were nothing lesse: I hoped still to have reco­vered my self, and then I could have thriven well enough, I was not unknown, nor wanted an easie way to preferment, but it pleased God by weakning me, by confounding me, to bring me to him, bles­sed be his name. I reckon it a supreame happinesse, &c.

TRuth, exactnesse, and perfection, are Oare of a rich Mine; but lye so deep, that they often hardly recompence the labour of their extraction: my end is not so much to vindicate, as to give some true knowledge of my self, and shake off the burthen of my minde to my pen and paper; it is unfit for me, and I for it, and yet I cannot avoid it: and this is one of the unreconcileable properties of my condition, I write not to please, I write not for oftentation, and if I did,

Praetulerim scriptor delirus inersque videri,
Quam sapere & ringi.

It is too true that the fine curious affected shooe often wrings the foot, High seats So of minds. are brave and Aiery, but low ones quiet. Romae Tibur amo ventosus, Tibure Romam, was a production of a fine, but windy melancholy spirit. Would I be an idolater, I would sa­crifice to quiet and dulnesse. I will affect wit and curiosity in no­thing, but to repent my sinnes and please my God. Gracious God it is thy infinite power and spirit, that worketh in all things vege­table, and sensible creatures, in, and at their first production, with­out any discourse of theirs, teaching them their nourishment, their sustentation: thou art omni-present, omniscient omnipotent, as­sist me good God, in my discourse, in my resolution of dedicating my self wholly unto thee, &c.

GOe now presumptuous and over-weening man, boast in thy prerogative of reason and nature, confound thy self in thy own wayes and inventions; nature may lead thee to pleasure, and profit, and so commonly it doth the most base and vulgar spirits, but it must bee an extraordinary supernaturall spirit, that can make thee thrive to this and a better world.

This the naturall man discerneth not, and the foole cannot un­derstand, [Page 138] but this the Schoole of experience, as well as of Faith, teacheth us.

Thou, Oh God, art the God of nature, but the wayes of na­ture, and Religion are so diverse, that it is a kinde of irreligion to seek or measure thee in natures course, the course of thy Spirit and judgement run another way, they, thy decrees, thy graces, are all supernaturall and wonderfull, to thee be ascribed all wisedome, ju­stice, power, and Majesty.

And here my most gracious God, I humbly thank thee for thy mercifull and wonderfull support through my whole course, to my body, to my minde, to my fortune; for it equals any thing that I can call strange, that I have subsisted through all my stormes and sufferings, without having incurred utter scorn and ruine: shipwrack is not ill escaped with losse, and a good haven at last is not a little joy, though thy storms have all past over me: and seeing I have used this term of the Psalmes, I cannot let passe how most ap­posit and accommodate, I have found many of them to my con­dition, as the 88. and divers others, in my friends being remo­ved farre from mee, and sundry other passages. Lord I humbly thank thee, that thou hast so made my face ashamed, as that I have got and found thee, and found that of thy very mercy and faith­fulnesse I have been troubled; I can now call thee the God of my Salvation, my countenance, and confidence, for I have found the beames of thy mercy, so to comfort me in darknesse and mise­ry, as that I doubt not to apply to my self, as well the Psalmes of consolation, as I have done those of complaint and distresse.

I can now look upon all this worlds glories, pleasures, and va­nities, with contempt and pity: continue thy mercies, and I have heaven upon earth, thou art perfection of Philosophy, thou art the true Summum bonum, in thee is all fulnesse, all joy.

Humane discourse and resolution can doe much, but first moti­ons and surprises upon the minde, disturb nature, concoction, and the spirits, even in meere nullities of conceit, in despight of a firm faith and reason, it is from God alone to prevent them, to allay them.

Tentations are often above the power of flesh and blood to resist: the melancholy humour is most violent in hot and active spirits and constitutions. There it estuates, there it ferments and boyles, how it suggests, confounds, resolves, and then again forgets the cir­cumstances of a former resolution, and by forgetfulnesse, or a new predominancy of humour, relapses to a fresh rumination, and confusion upon the same subject. Melancholy at the first is a que­rulous humor, but in extremity it wraps it self in silence, and ex­ceeds [Page 139] expression, it dwels in inward conflicts, hopes by Gods grace the best, prepares for the worst.

HOw gracious and good (O God) art thou, that wilt be found in trouble, and become the relief of that calamitous Soule, which had neglected thee in the times of seeming prosperity! Thy wonders appeare in the deep, and out of the deep thou art called upon; the deep of distresse, the deep of Melancholy discover the wonders of thy Judgements, of thy power and mercy, even as the Starres and glory of the heavens is discerned out of a deep well, not otherwise appearing.

Lord, with what a fulnesse doe I labour to expresse thy glory and my comfort! even in that, temper me, or I shall be confoun­ded. Ipsa faelicitas se nisi temperat premit. Vouchsafe to demon­strate in mee by my life and actions, what my pen cannot ex­presse.

What was said of Fortune is true of God, Occaecat hominum ani­mos cum vim suam ingruentem refringi non vult. According to Gods determinate counsell, wee discern, or are blind, we judge, resolve and execute aright, or lose and confound our selves in errour and folly. Thy decrees, O Lord, are irresistible.

HAd I been left a freedom in my self, or been constant to my own Discourse and inclination in the ordering of my wayes, it might have been wordly fortune enough unto me, but I found my self pent, fettered, and intricated in all my course, many changes, inconveniences and incongruities brought upon me, little fair way to a fair minde, betrayed to worse, though older counsell then my own, which in some things to my prejudice, I followed, though not in all.

Aestuat, & rerum disconvenit ordine toto,

Is truely mine; happy for this world are they, who fall upon an equability of minde and fortune, fitted and sutable to the times, and their condition: now to me, Ut placeas, debes immemor esse tui, is not sufficient, I have contracted infirmity, decay, and age: know­ledge, resolution, Rules are so variable in their applica­tion, that with­out strength of experience & discretion to o­ver-rule them, they as much mislead as direct: they serve to good noti­ons & discourse but little to practise: I mean not such as are Mechanicall. precepts, Philosophy, all earthly advan­tages without God, are of little effect, and as little comfort, they [Page 140] all stand aloose, like false friends at a time of need, when the sur­prises, and precipitations of nature and fortune carry us away in despight of them, in despight of our selves.

Thou my God, canst reconcile all strifes and discordances, and wilt at last (though not till the last) refine us from all our drosse, all our corruptions, wholly perfect, wholly sanctifie, wholly fit us for the serene peace and joy of thy Kingdome, &c.

MAny have been the evill consequences of my disease, yet such qua cadere possunt in virum probum, if not fortem, and such as (God be thanked) have not made me in worldly wayes, do things false, fordid, base, or dishonorable, by his grace as rigid and in­superable to the world, as humble and submisse to him, contrite and broken to him, in morall vertue inflexible and entire.

Sir Edward Coke was wont to say, that let his Son order mat­ters as he would, he should never take more pleasure in spending, then hee had done in getting: and I may say, that never man suf­fered more in getting, then I have done in my consumption. Gods will must have effect, Caesar alone in sobriety was the overthrow of his mother Common-wealth. I was ever farre from being Epicure, or Riotous; God at his good pleasure can permit some men to pro­sper by their prodigality and Luxury, whilest others ruine them­selves with their thrifty intentions.

A constant course is the way of thrift, as not to be diverted by ambition, nor over-studying for the improvement of the minde, Alias res agendo, with a neglect of domestique fortune, in an oeco­nomicall way, but without Gods good influence, even that often does and shall miscarry. I and many others by an over-affecting of melioration, have spoiled all, like him that darkned his roomes by much inscribing [Fiat Lux] in his windowes.

These papers I know may appeare imperfect, I would the best of us in Christianity were not such: It was a right observation, that it is hard to be throughly good or bad; we are constituted of contrary Elements in our bodies, in our mindes. It were hap­py if Religion it self were maintained in its purity, it runs through the conduits of humane discourse, and it is to be feared, that it often carries with it too much tincture of humane conceit, and po­licy, yea often to our own abuse and mischiefe. Marriage is a ho­ly thing.

[Page 141]I wish Gods institution were rightly understood, and observed therein, in the undertaking, in the pressing, in. the course, in the dissolution: certainly there can bee nothing more unchristian, then for man and woman to come together, and live together, as or­dinarily they doe; and possibly a great part of the world might at this day have been Christian, more then is, if man had not cast more constraint and restraint upon it then God.

I am perswaded, no Treatise could prove more Christian and usefull, then if some able man would exhort people in generall, not to ru [...]h into mariage so rashly and corruptly, Parents to leave their Children full freedome with their consent in so important a case, and Princes to take into further consideration that Norman Gottish Law, which occasions precipitate, unsutable, and imma­ture Mariages, and proves the ruine of infinite good Families.

The Romish Priesthood saw something, when it exempted it self; I hate a false, politique, and hypocriticall Christian, better bee without all knowledge, then due observance in Religion. Igno­rance is a better plea with God, then halting.

As I have formerly said upon perusing of these my writings, I finde many confused repetitions, which could not otherwise hap­pen, considering how cursorily they passed my pen, without exa­mination, without deliberation, without method, they are raptures, they are ruptures of a loaded spirit, I have affected thereby to dis­burthen my self, but my perturbations and notions lye so deep, and pestered, that I have still rested unsatisfied in giving them their full and due light and birth. I doe like the dogge at the River of Nile, a lap and away for feare of the Crocodile.

The Melancholy humour is indeed like the Nile, the originall hardly known, the overflowing breeds infinite venemous strange creatures, and monsters, yet by Gods grace a A predomi­nancy of any of the four hu­mours is perni­cions, and so of Melancholy in excesse. Am­bition is con­demned of ma­ny who would be glad to re­semble it in its concomitan­cies of vertues [...] that and Me­lancholy with their right cor­rectives [...] prove as hap­py as witty. They are often mishapen and bad in the roote, but faire and good in the fruit; like Wardens, choaky and harsh in their cruditie, but of generous and excellent j [...]yce and relish, seasoned and concocted with the soft and gentle [...] of Gods good grace and spirit. happy fertility may be raised from it: Melancholy, and retirednesse, one of its children, work us either too much good or evill, it affects exactnesse, and sits not down in a mean; Gods saving grace ordinarily draws good out of evill, and where it works leaves not, till it habituates us in as much perfection as humane frailty can beare. Religion and pie­ty are of those meats, that are better wholly refrained, then to eat but a little; but the Melancholy humour, as it is the sauce of the body to stirre an appetite, so moderately used, it is like a sauce or salt to season all things, but in abundance it is both most un­pleasant and hurtfull.

Few men have more tempered, and resisted the importunities [Page 142] and strong impressions which it breeds, then my self, which though I have not performed without much frailty, yet but by Gods most gracious assistance, I could never have done so well.

The Melancholy soule dwels in so tainted a cask upon such a dunghill, the body is full of such mud and dregges, that it must not be over-much stirred, and prest upon by any course, or discourse; for like the sea, it works and swels a long time after.

THis artificiall world, or rather second Chaos of mans making, hath been to me, and is to many, an instrument whose Mu­sick is not worth the tuning, nor the tuning worth the strings that are stretched and broken about it. Many a good man makes here such a voyage, as many have done in the discovery of the North­west passage. Much industry and patience, wrestling with moun­taines of seas, ice, and rigour of weather, and in the end glad to recover their Country, with their victuals spent, and their Vessell weather-beaten, having found little but the vanity of their voy­age, and that what they sought, is not at all, or hardly to bee found.

Here the ingenuous and ingenious nature findes it self intricated, here it toyles and spends it self, and by that time it hath made dis­covery of this worlds vanities, and in any good sort surmounted them, by that time it understands what nature Politique engagements, humane in­ventions, and unnaturall so­phistications raise such a mist and con­fusion, espe­cially upon the most ingenu­ous well affect­ed spirits, that the best of our short day is past, by that time wee can cleare and free our selves. and what grace will beare and comport with, it becomes so infeebled in health and fortune, that there remaines nothing but to wish a happy return to our heavenly Country: And as those Northern climates are found onely inhabited by wilde, crafty, and ravenous beasts, so is the world incompatible to an honest sincere Religious disposition, hea­ven is the proper spheare of goodnesse and perfect sanctification.

I am contented not to destroy these papers, because they carry in them many great graces and good motions of Gods Spirit up­on me, and will or may, like so many pictures, hereafter serve to shew and witnesse me, as well to my self, as to others, what then I was, even through their crude, unpremeditate, unreviewed con­fusion, which with the imployment of some more accurate labour and diligence, I confesse I might correct, but having satisfyed my self in their private production, I am contented to let them passe lame and disordered as they are: some also may make happy use of my unhappy observations and errors.

AS he that travelleth towards a mountainous Country, climing one hill discovers still more and farther, both in prospect, and to be ascended, or like Sisyphus his stone, still begetting new la­bour; so is there no end of writing. Infinite have been the writings, and might be, upon the melancholy Subject, and innumerable have been my sufferings, and conflicts in it, more then are fit to be revolved, or related, wherefore I must desist; no humour is more eagerly set upon entertainment, diversions, and delight, none more necessarily require and urgeth it, but thus incident is it unto it, to trouble and infest it self in its entertainments, hardly moderated, hardly contained, and satisfyed; they had need to be such, as are of a nature to entertain the minde without over-busying the fancie, idlenesse is pernicious, and businesse cumbersome. Gods good assistance and spirit must be the best and only support and guide.

How subtle and witty in farre fetcht and strained apprehensions and impressions, is the melancholy tainted spirit to its own hurt and disturbance? without Gods help, and a firm faith and resolu­tion to oppose it, it were incapable to maintain it self.

There were no end in setting down incidences and conceits, as they obtrude themselves. It is best in this case to be abrupt, crush­ing of this root affords inexhaustible juice, but of importune, malign and venemous effect; Mans spirit is infinite, and so our discourses.

ANd now most gracious God, I render unto thy divine Maje­sty most humble thanks for thy wonderfull preservation to this day, for as I have discerned thy extraordinary, supereminent hand in humbling me, I have no lesse participated of thy mercies in my relief, even then when I have been brought so low, that both in body and minde I have conceived my self incapable of all hu­mane help, or evasion; this hath often transported me to an exta­sie, and admiration of thy infinite goodnesse. It hath taught me to be other, then such as resent not thy wayes and judgements, how thou art all in all the Author of all, but especially good motion; many who feel not the motion of their heart in ordinary, doe yet in an extraordinary trouble and distemper of the spirits, take no­tice how then it beateth within them, and how by the motion of it they move, and are glad to comfort and strengthen it; so fareth it with men neglecting the motions of thy Spirit within them, by which in their best prosperities they ought to move, in tribulation they resent it, they are glad to comfort it, and seek their supream comfort from it. Thy providence is the current, in which wee all [Page 144] insensibly move, all our sailes and oares cannot carry us out of it, he is an ignorant Navigator who knows not this.

Thou, Oh God, art the Starre, the Loadstone, the Neptune of our voyage in this world, be thou my current, my guide, and to thee be all my Sacrifice. Flexanimity is thine alone, and but for the favour of thy good spirit, I had been shipwrackt upon a thou­sand Rocks. I have been put to encounter crosse winds, and waves, the Leviathan of diseases, and that like a Vessell without Mast, Sailes, Oares, or Stern, or at least tottered and disabled in all my naturall furniture, my spirits wasted, my blood consumed, &c. Yet through all these defects, all these stormes, thou hast appea­red my mighty deliverer, redeemed mee from the swallow of infi­nite threatning gulfes, &c.

The Plant may attribute growth to its own vertue, but what were it without the Sun? or what motion hath the heart of man but by Gods grace? &c.

THe Melancholy humour is of the nature of what is written of the Hectique Feaver, in the beginning hardly discerned, and easie of cure, but in processe of time too manifestly discovering it self, and hard to bee remedied: From the upper regions of the Aire, proceed the inundations and corruptions of the lowest: It fa­reth so in the body of man; the Head, Heart, and Stomach (I might say principally the Minde) breed the crudities, impurities, and obstructions of Liver, Spleen, Miseraiques, and the lower bel­ly, which by their evill noxious vapours and effects, revenge them­selves upon their superiors, offending and infesting them with great trouble and mischiefe, insomuch as some have made a superstition in the bowelling of dead bodies for a perpetuall purity.

I have had experience of the truth of such discourse, and have by Gods grace, and great agitation of my inward parts, wonder­fully preserved my selfe; it may be all in vain, but whilest wee live we are to doe the uttermost and best we can for our selves.

OH the lamenesse, oh the misery of mankinde! having attain­ed some principles and elements, we presently presume we know all things; then we doubt, then we question, and in conclu­sion our humane knowledge proves ignorance and cavill: To know God is the onely true knowledge, all else is vanity and con­fusion.

[Page 145]Good God, teach me to subsist as well in thee as by thee, and I am happy, do thou support me, and it is alacrity sufficient; mo­derate my working spirit in my petty imployments, and I will e­steem it no small matter to spend my time well in Piety, Charity, and some worldly trifles; I never affected any thing more, then to doe good, and be usefull in good wayes, but to be imployed without power and freedome, or in matters unsutable and unplea­sing to my affections and discourse, I have ever preferred a private quiet, and exemption, affecting rather to exercise a power of com­posing homebred inconveniencies within my self, then to under­goe their imposition from others, I could as well as another, have been a busie man, &c.

HAppy are they who according to this world desire little, or moderate their desires, even in the way of perfection, know­ledge, and happinesse it self: for our portion here is ignorance, imperfection, and losse of happinesse by over-seeking it; in the true knowledge of God, and his favour, consists the onely true tranquillity and felicity, and nothing but the perfect joyes of Hea­ven can satisfie the perfection and Summum bonum affecting soule.

When wee have said and done what we can, we are in such a mist and confusion of things, so short sighted through our false Perspective, that there is much chance in discerning the truth and right way, even of things within our reach and capacity, in de­spight of all our search and circumspection, God is all in all with­out him, seeing we shall not see, and understanding wee shall not understand, who referres to nature and our naturall universality of faculties, and not to his extraordinary influence, is blinde to his grace and operation. By him we live, move, and have our being, and no thing or faculty workes, but through his grace and pro­vidence.

FAntasie in us is like the saile of a Ship, without it we want much of ornament and motion, with a predominancy of it, we are in danger of over-setting; without it many things otherwise delight­full, are dull and insipid, and if it be over pregnant, it ordinarily ruins and befooles us. It is our Soules Perspective, multiplying ob­jects at one end, and lessening them at the other; it is a better ser­vant then Master. Happy they whose Steer and Balast can rule and command it. It is a Horse that must be born with a hard hand, [Page 146] if it get head, it transports us to much inconvenience, and hardly containes it self within any limits of judgement and reason. All things take their tincture from it; It is to be lesse then man, to want it, and more to bridle and over-rule it; God alone can temper and moderate our inordinate fancies In our natu­rals they had bin easily con­tained, & with­in a small com­passe, when no­thing but faith can now cir­cumscribe and quiet them. and affections, he alone is commensurable to our vast desires.

Moderation hath ever been a hard vertue, the most conscienti­ous spirits have ever been subject to superstition and Idolatry, strength of fantasie is apt to multiply it self beyond measure, irre­ligious hearts cut the Gordian knot which they cannot unty: to di­stinguish betwixt God and man, must be from God and not from man; Man may endevour and concurre, but God alone can cleare and confirme. My good God, I will (with thy good grace) let my heart loose to no other object, then thy self, and what is plea­sing unto thee, so shall I have fulnesse of joy, nor shall I regret or envy the most splendid employments, or fantasticall delights, where with this world Syren-like enchants the mindes of such as dote upon it; smile thou upon me, and let the world frown or scorn, the worlds kisses are poyson, the embraces confusion, they carry their sting with them, but thy favour is present and eternall fe­licity.

If the very enjoying of our fancies, and feeding them, be a kind of surfeit and oppression, what is it to faile, be crossed and miscar­ry in them? Little saile and little fancy make the best and safest voy­age.

To conclude these shreds and ejaculations, which may weary, but never satisfie either my self or any other: (for there is ever­more and better to be said) our artificiall, infirme, and perplex­ed condition, is to a curious strong minde, a naturall and strong distraction, a large and various prospect works upon, and divides the fancy, and with a divulsion breeds a kinde of convulsion in the spirits, and a solution of that sweet continuity and harmony which God hath ordained naturall unto us. Originall and actuall sin inhabiting in us, deserve that and much other punishment. If God of his great grace and indulgence give us not a clew of his thred to guide us, we are confounded and lost in this worlds La­byrinth, he is ours and the worlds prop, and if it had not pleased him wonderfully to assist and support me with extraordinary strength of resolution, and his good Spirit, I had a thousand times perished in my errors, and confusion. Wilde affections, which lead grave reason by the nose, had undone me; a vertiginous spirit, and my own weight and strength had oppressed me: and well might I miscarry, seeing the strongest spirits are in the multiformity of their discourse most obnoxious to finde reason to fortifie themselves in the grossest obliquities, to us in propriety is all sensuality, vanity, [Page 147] foolish presumption, Sophistication, and corruption of truth, with innumerable exorbitancies and follies.

But to God, only good, onely wise, just, mercifull, and omnipo­tent, be ascribed all honour, and glory for evermore, Amen, A­men.

Good God, I am the work of thy hands, and now happily of thy good Spirit, let thy mercy work with me, and upon me to the end and Eternity.

Tot contra unum caput conspirantibus, quis potuissetresistere, nisi Dei optimi maximi speciali gratia aspirante?

There had need in truth be an extraordinary supply and support of reason and grace, against the strange and strong fond impressions of the Melancholy humour.

IT is said, that if a horse could be equally placed to provender on each side of him, he would sooner starve, then resolve.

I was ambiguously constituted, balanced in disposition, betwixt contemplation and action, thrift and comlinesse, pleasures of the body, and minde; vice, and vertue; Country, Town, and Court; private, or publique course of life; and no wonder, if Dubia tor­quent, the world is a Riddle, an entangled skaine, vexatious to extricate; to intend our mindes and affections much upon it, is as well misery as vanity, it payes us with a Cloud in stead of Iuno; torment, in stead of contentment; we often lose substances for sha­dows, and felicity by over-searching it. There is a proportion of wit, most conducible to this worlds resolutions and happinesse, if we exceed or come short of that element, either the heighth and finenesse of the Aire agrees not with our Lungs and subsistence, or we are dampt and suffocated in an over earthly and flegmatique dulnesse. As in squared paving stone, such onely endure the earth and open weather as are neither over-hard nor soft: so is it in the temper of mens spirits, for the undergoing of this worlds incidents. Happy such as most slightingly passe through it; yea God him­self requires, that we esteem it as but a passage to Eternity; a point, a nothing in respect.

He only can fill and satisfie the curious soule, I cannot be sorry that the pleasures of this life concern me, neither in use, nor affe­ction, when I consider their sting, their molestations, and empti­nesse, [Page 148] compared with the sweet comforts of Gods favour, and the blessednesse of everlasting life.

There like the upper Region, dwels all peace, purity, and glory.

Here all corruption, Meteors of imperfect mixtion, stormes, and calamities.

There is our true Country and Region, where, when God shall have refined us, wee shall live, and shine more glorious then the Starres.

I Have promiscuously specifyed the causes and originalls of my Melancholy disease, I was deeply ingaged in it, before I suspect­ed it, and had given so much way to it to take root in me, as made the Cure most difficult. It is a Goliah, but we must not (like Da­vid) fight against it with our own Armes.

The grace of God is All-sufficient, but humane strength most incompetent; once discovered, I manfully resisted it, else I had never neere so long subsisted; I used diversion, which is the humane, first, second, and best remedy. I opposed Labore & Constantia, ferendo & feriendo. Like a Parthian I fled, and fought, but prayer hath been my most effectuall remedy: It is a Devill that is not o­therwise cast out; Physick is a feeble exorcisme: but when by hearty Prayer I humbled my self to God, and implored his ayde, I ever rose from the ground like an other Antaeus, with renewed and revived spirits. God make me thankfull, for his mercy hath surpassed the transcendency of my follies. Happy the wounds that meet with that good Samaritane. Happy the disease that brings us to the cure of such a Physitian.

I Have read how Plutarch complaines of mans infirmity, who can in nothing keepe or measure, or constancy. In truth affecti­ons in our mindes, resemble over-much the motions of the wind in the Aire: They rise and take their course, sometimes in modera­tion, sometimes in storm, they discontinue, they change, they whirle, and all so strangely and irregular, as we neither can well conceive, or controule; we neither know whence they proceed, nor where they will end; the objects of our pleasure and discourse possesse us with a drunkenesse, with a giddinesse, the strongest and hottest mindes are most intent, most Mercuriall, most unsettled and Volatile. Thence hath growne an observation of the frequent changes and troubles in the Florentine, more then the Venetian State. Now what meanes have wee to fix this Mercury? the naturall temper is hard to alter, the inconstant body acts too much upon the Soule.

[Page 149]Thou, O God, canst onely effect so great and supernaturall a work; faith alone and a Christian hope, can become the anchor of our soules, to maintain them firm and secure, against our own and the worlds winds, waves and rocks.

No other then thy divine Armour can resist, no other then thy divine water can quench the fiery darts, which Satan and the world throw against us, and our selves shoot to fall on our own heads: thou who madest us, canst only mend us, thou art the sole Physi­tian of the soule; our knowledge is imperfect in the flowings of our blood, our elementary humours, and the anatomy of the body, much more in the motions of the minde.

Thou, Oh God, who madest it, and inspiredst it, understandest it better then our selves, it is of thy privative jurisdiction, and thou alone canst steere, canst rectify, and fix it. We mis-know our selves and thee, when we attribute to our selves a presumptious selfe-ru­ling power, we have not motion but from thee, by thee, and through thy dayly providence, support, and assistance: it is so in all crea­tures; in many of them their motion is without discourse, and in­voluntary, but in us thou givest the will and the deed.

HOw sacred and serious ought to be, and is our Religion? how in this Galley, most looke one way and row another? how yet some people entertain sinnes with a nationall Denization? some ironically sport and play with them as Natures game, some make them veniall, which in Gods Audit will finde another account: To what crosse batteries of Honour, Nature, Laws, Custome, and Religion, is our frailty exposed? Poore humane soule, curious of rectitude, curious of knowledge, no wonder that thou sufferest such distractions, such convulsions: Example, which should recti­fie thee, betrayes thee: Thy leaders who should guide thee in a cleere and constant way, wander, and confound thee, and in their partiall and self-interessed subtilties lose themselves and thee. Na­turally I affect Truth, and am impatient of imperfection, especial­ly such as I appeare capable to remedy, and till I seem to discover what may be commodious and rationall, I cannot resolve, but right and truth have so various an aspect, and dwell in such a cloud and crossenesse of apprehension, that if God of his great grace, make not himself the guide of the good well-affected Soule, it strayes, it loseth it self, and becomes overwhelmed with this worlds con­fusion and obliquity: Thus workes my fancy, thus accidentally enfeebled, am I put (according to my nature) to walk strongly in [Page 150] weaknesse. Moderation is the hardest of vertues; my daily prayers to the Almighty shall be, that he will please to bestow it upon me. I greatly need it against my nature, against my self. I am at at an evill exigent, employment I want, and am weak to undergo it, yet idlenesse and vacuity of thoughts (as unnaturall unto me) I can­not beare; I have done, and will endevour my uttermost, to com­pose my self, to subsist and entertain my self towards God, my Neighbour, and my self, in the most Religious, discreet, and cha­ritable temper that I can, &c.

IT is hard for a man to dissect and paint out himself, yet have I thus adventured upon it according to the life and truth, and with­out flattery. In a Looking glasse, they say, wee see our selves by reflection of the beames of our sight upon our selves: in the mir­rour of my misfortunes, I have thus reflected upon my self, but I confesse true discerning is towards outward objects, we are natu­rally blinde to our selves, besides the mists that selfe-love and in­terest raise upon us.

I have touched in one passage, that the Melancholy humour, and Choler adust, must not be violently stirred, in respect of the rage and distemper it often so procures in full and soule, especially long unstirred bodies; but I professe my course hath been by all meanes, inward and outward, to search it to the root. I went much upon the Rule of Quod movet removet, Medicines in truth work their effect by encountring & stirring the peccant humor strength of na­ture expelling both the Phy­sick & humour in which con­sideration a right and stir­ring exercise is the surest and best digestion & expurgation And what I heard once from a good Doctor, that obstinate insistings often work great and strange effect. I have long for born Physick, even when I most nee­ded it, so still incorrespondent hath my condition been unto it self; some reason I had, that neither I could nor would admit it, but had I not by Gods instruction and long degrees, brought my selfe to be able to work upon my self in an extraordinary way, ex­ercising my self by his support, and supporting my self in a great strength of body and minde, I could not neere have subsisted; I had by many yeares and degrees brought my self to it. It is for me alone, and therefore I cannot prescribe anything therein to others; there is a mean and discretion, belongs to all things, but certainly Melancholy obstructions are so tough and lead-like, that they are immoveable to ordinary courses and medicines, and extraordina­ry must be cautiously and gradually imployed, Inveterate, they con­sist of a fat, waxen, viscous, impacted, and tartarous substance, such as Vegetables slip by without penetration, Minerals are more effectuall, in such a difference as betwixt the stroak of a cudgell or sword, a naturall Crisis and evacuation is above all. But we have so clogged and entangled our selves beyond the quiet of nature [Page 151] and of other creatures, that art and Physick are thereupon become more necessary.

In truth though the Melancholique patient hath a Wolfe by the eares of his disease, trouble in holding and stirring, and unsafe to let goe, yet I esteem it a poore resolution to suffer a rooted mischiefe (which is presently noxious, and will more and more grow dangerous) upon feare of adventure, where there is any the least hope of delivering our selves: in supportable evils, admit and excite rather to any hazard, then a miserable toleration, a hopelesse condition is most calamitous, a well-built body will indure, and work out very much, like a good Ship against soule weather at Sea; mine, I thank God, is such, that had not my minde like an evill Steers-man, infinitely (even of late) been injurious unto it, I had by Gods grace infallibly prevailed, both against my Giant disease, and infinite intervening unfriendly accidents, but by Gods help, I daily mend and hope to leap over the wall.

Nil desperandum in Christo, nil a [...]spice Christo.
L'industrie est de nous, L'he [...]rex suceez de dieu.

TO give us courage in misfortunes, it was well said of Fortune, that her course is irregular, and that we ought not to despaire of her, for often when she appeares to threaten us with imminent ruine, she is truely in the article and Catastrophe of our good and advantage.

It is more verifyed in the wayes of God, nothing more ordina­ry with him, then by humbling us to exalt us, and to strew the path to Heaven with afflictions. Caesar animated his Pilot by car­rying him and his Fortunes; it was a vain presumption, but he who the Almighty is Pilot to, cannot sink nor miscarry: to demonstrate his power and awake the faith of his Favourites, he permits (as to his Disciples) the stormes to rise, and waves to threaten destru­ction, and in his mighty and supernaturall rescues, appeare his swee­test comforts, his greatest glory.

Nec Deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus; as the Divines af­firm, that tentations proceeding from the Devill, may bee distin­guished by their violent and suddain surprise.

So may Divine deliverances be infallibly known by the suddain and extraordinary help that we receive from them, at such time as [Page 152] our condition appeares unto us most irremediable and desperate. I have infinite matter and thanks to render to my Maker, to my Sa­viour, but in nothing more then that of his abundant mercy; hee hath been pleased to lead me through Seas, through Wildernesses of troubles and errour, by a cloud, by fire, by the thunder of his voice, by infinite wonders for neere forty yeares together, to bring meat last to his happy Land of promise; that is, to peace, joy, and repose in him, where alone flows all true happinesse and fixed con­tentment.

There can in truth be no constant courage, without a firm Faith, and assurance of Gods favour towards us; that alone fortifies us a­gainst danger, darknesse, and death.

IT is truely said, that wee know so much as we put in practice, nor are the notions and floting impressions of the brain, without a through tincture of the heart and soule, any effectuall Science, and so it is that vertue is constituted a habit, and not only a babling scientificall discourse of the minde; untill I considered this, I of­ten wondered to see the best Clerks often the worst men, as well as none of wisest: Men read and study commonly rather for curio­sity, to censure, to learne language and the course and manner of the world, to maintain a side, to gain bread, and knowledge like o­ther men, rather then truth, vertue, and piety, to gather opinions, and to appeare good, rather then to be: Propounding to our selves wrong objects, no wonder if wee misse the right, which makes so many Scholars, who study to get the best Livings, lesse vertuous in their lives then others, who more vertuously and spiritually then worldly affected, study rather to nourish then cloath, to Dye then paint their mindes. Corrupt nature like a depraved stomach turns and assimilates all nourishment, it makes an alien of forain instructi­on, and governs it selfe by its own Laws. Nay, ordinarily against our wills and resolutions, nature relapses, and ravisheth us from our Moralls, from our Metaphysicals, Sensuality prevailes, and we prevaricate with our Consciences: when I approached Gods Sanctuary, this was yet lesse strange unto me, there (as Copernicus hath placed the Sun in the Center of this Universe, whose influ­ence and Magnetique vertue gives life and motion to all materiall creatures) so is it cleare that the immateriall minde of man hath its life and motion only from the good Spirit of God, and unlesse by his influence and inspiration he carry our instructions and in­formations to the root, except he alter, reform, and season our hearts, like hasty showers, all passeth away, whereas a sound hea­venly [Page 153] dew worketh a better watering and fruitfulnesse; want of that Divine irradiation makes us such Mungrills, such half Chri­stians, as we ordinarily are, acknowledging our Faith and Savi­our in our tongues, and denying him in our lives. God of his great grace grant us his saving Spirit, and we shall as well practice as seem to know and professe, Amen, Amen.

NO wonder that I search into the abstruse causes and proceed­ings of my disease, for I am a wonder to my self, that a San­guine complection, with a naturall strength of body and minde, and none of the most impertinent in wit, and discourse, should fall into so great a confusion and consumption of minde, body and for­tune, without some outward most apparent violence: But (be­sides what I have formerly expressed) I consider that steeping my self in my beginnings, in the study of Mountaynes Essayes, which are full of Scepticisme, and a kinde of Morall mortification, in crying down the delights and presumptions of this world, proved to a tainted and tender minde, a great amatement and blunting, with an anxious disposition of doubt, in the ordinary course and pleasures of this life, that, and much adverse accident, nipt me in my first Spring; otherwise in all probability I, who in that low­nesse and oppression of spirits, which hath possessed me, could yet so beare up, as in some measure to become sought, and re­spected by the better sort, might have been somewhat more then I have been in the eminency of this world; but the great and good God hath otherwise ordained, nor am I without hope, that hee, who hath to this day so wonderfully supported and converted me, will thereby work his glory and my good.

It is true that my course hath been most improsperous, yet never of a grossely irrationall or unthrifty election.

I have in truth been so farre from humouring my self in the im­pulsions of Nature, or most delightfull objects of my fancy, that I have mainly resisted my self therein. It hath pleased God to make me an instrument of crossing and punishing my self in whatsoever I most placed my minde. The obstinate continuance of my disease, and the failings of those whom I have trusted and relyed upon, have abused me: I have lost much pleasure and profit, whereof I might have been capable; but for my self I regret it not, for alasse how vain, how transitory, how full of vexation are the best of earthly commodities, &c.

[Page 154]Truth hath been said to be the object of the understanding, and good of the will: Totus teres atque rotundus, expresseth an honest man, yet a bowle perfectly round, except upon a ground exactly plain, holds not well its straight line and way, a strong byas better maintaines it self against whampes and unevennesse.

So doth a man byassed with some sinister affection, often run a more constant and thriving course, then he who hath constituted truth, and true good his Mistresse; but himself being round, and his way uncertain and uneven, he varies and fluctuates according­ly, as I have often said, Truthes to us are such obscure, high, twink­ling Starres, that we hardly fasten upon them; what pleaseth us, is only certain unto us; I speak in a naturall way, for supernatural­ly in Faith alone is all truth, all good, certainty, and pleasure. Till God gave me that happy gift, I was a bowle without byasse, a ship without steer, or Starre.

I Were more then most miserable, if my resentment, my heart, and affections, were set upon this world, but I humbly thank God, it is farre otherwise with me, and now as there ever hath been a difference made, between such as cast themselves into open and eminent mischief, and such as fall into unhappy consequen­ces of evills unforeseen: so hope I to finde favour A [...] was said, Non ego pau [...] is offendor maculis [...] non incuria sudit, aut huma­na parum cavit natura, such in grea [...] par [...] have befalne mee. and pardon from the better sort, and the worst I respect not: And as that Prince who plain in personage and habit, was by mistaking set to drudge for his own entertainment, and being discovered and de­manded what he meant? Answered, that he did penance for his evil-favourednesse: So am I contented to undergoe, and submit my self to the not undeserved penance of my fate, with an acquiescence of, Fiat voluntas tua; sed liber a nos a malo.

NEmo laeditur nisi a seipso, never proved it self more true then in me, I have been both agent and authour of my misery, and sufferings, I have been both Criminall and tormenter: God made me strong, I have made my self weak; God intrusted me with ma­ny Talents of advantage above others, I have mis-imployed and abused them, and my self; from my youth I have suffered his scour­ges and terrours, with a troubled soule, yet such is his mercy unto me, that it is good and happy for me that I have been troubled; As I have turned unto him, he hath been graciously pleased to turn his countenance of favour towards me, healing my wounds [Page 155] with the soverain balme of his grace, and refreshing my Soule with his waters of life; humbling me to exalt me, and chastising mee in a Fatherly correction, to prevent my eternall punish­ment.

How sweet (Oh Lord) are thy mercies, beyond comparison, beyond my expression? the false and flattering joyes of sensuality are meer sowrenesse, bitternesse, and vexation in respect; conti­nue thy grace unto me, perfect thine own work, and make me an instrument of thy glory, confirm me in the contempt of this worlds vanities: and as on me, so work upon the world, by thy Almighty Spirit, thy saving health, that thy will may be done in earth, as in Heaven; nothing but thy all-powerfull Spirit can effect it, draw us and we shall come, and let it be through tribulations, sorrows, fire, and whatsoever long or short, a faire or rugged way, so it lead to thee we shall be happy above measure, Amen, Amen.

Sweet Saviour, let thy pretious wounds cure mine,
And save my Soule, which is by purchase thine.

BEauty and the delight of the eye consist in well-ordered lustre of Colours, proportion, and motion: yet forbeares it not to be extraordinarily affected in the enjoying of such objects, as the appetite and fantasie have prescribed to themselves for a necessary or voluptuous satisfaction, whereby appeares that we become most ravished and transported by the operation and co-operation of the minde, whose truest and noblest objects are vertue and goodnesse. Hence sprung the conceit, that if vertue were visible, it would be­get in us most transcendent affections, so beautifull, so amiable it would be to a generous Soule.

God is the Author and Prototype of all beauty and goodnesse. How infinitely then beyond comparison sweet, faire, and lovely must he be to such as apprehend and contemplate his glory, and to whom he imparteth himself and his mercies? As the sight of the body of the Sun so filleth the sense, that for the present it can ad­mit no other conceit; so doth the glorious speculation of Gods essence and Majesty, annihilate and expell all earthly affections. How vain, how mostly, poore, and beastiall are vulgar delights, in respect of that tincture, that rapture, and eternity of blisse, which flow from his Divine grace and knowledge? how is it possible, after such influence, to relish the drossie pleasures of the world, for the most part common with beasts, fleeting, molesting, lame? [Page 156] Miserable is the heart which he doth not season, disconsolate the comforts which proceed not from his Grace: who without that could live contented; could be content to be one of Circe's beasts, and live and die in a drunken fit? I most humbly thank thee (my gracious God and Saviour) that thou hast vouchsafed to open my eyes to thy glory, and the worlds vanity; till then I never found solid or permanent comfort. I have, like others, been apt to con­ceive, that this worlds delights were our proper portion of thy as­signment, but thy great Grace hath enlightned me, and with a strong hand taught me to chuse the better part. I have since thy il­lumination affected above all things, to set forth thy Grace, Mer­cy, and Glory, but pardon me (Oh Lord) they surpasse my poore abilities. I am an earthen vessell, weak, and crased, as unable as unworthy to be a fit instrument, to sound forth thy praise, I was ambitious to have wrought thy Divine love upon others, that they with me might constitute thee the sole scope and Lord of their Counsels, their projects, their actions, but a fuller and richer Ma­gazin then mine, and a stronger health are required. Pardon (Oh Lord) that I withdraw my self, conscious of my weaknesse and inabilities, but what my pen cannot attaine, my tongue and actions shall (by thy Grace) indeavour to supply.

CHarity implies the love of God and man, without it, whatso­ever we pretend, we are Infidels, objects of hatred, to our Maker, to our inferiours; what condition can be more contempti­ble? No delight is comparable to that, which reflects upon a good minde from its own goodnesse extended upon others, especially when our Consciences beare us witnesse, that we doe it out of a true love and obedience to our most mercifull and Omnipotent God. To pretend Faith, and be without Charity, is to mock God, and our selves; better were it for us to be like beasts, without all knowledge of God, then to play the Hypocrites, and draw a thou­sand woes upon our selves. Above all thy gifts, Oh Lord, thy gift of a lively and true Faith is pretious and sweet unto me, to be conscious of that, is to be happy; Conscience without it is a sting, a torment unto us, and such shall they finde it, who in the lustinesse of their fleshly pleasures and discourse, most smother and affect to extinguish it; it hath a root in them from their youth, which may lye long hidden, but will, despight of their nipping and obsti­nate courage, finde a season to send forth thorny branches and bitter fruites. May I (Oh God) no longer live, then I shall endevour to please thee, more then my selfe, and others who beare thy [Page 157] Image as much, confining our indulgencies to our selves, we are worse then beasts, extending them to others, we resemble thee, whom we are commanded to imitate, nor are we otherwise fit for a sociable life in this, much lesse for the society of Saints and Angels in thy eternall world. Make other vertues as easie unto me as that of Charity, and I am happy.

For my Sonne.

TOwards a departure, or a long journey, men use to settle an order, to declare their will, and expresse their affection: I have resolved (if it please God to ina­ble me in performance) as necessary to my self, and fit for you, to absent my self some little time from home, that having entered you into an oeconomi­call way, recollecting your selfe, you may in my little Fortune (which I have wholly committed unto your disposing) have a full and free faculty of managing and ordering all according to your good pleasure and discretion: You know what is said in your The­atre d' Agriculture, that Eslever trop de Palais & nourrir trop de va­letz, is a way to ruine. As for the first, concerning building, I hope so to have furnisht you, and provided such accommodation, as it shall not need to trouble either your minde, or purse. For the second, it is the mischiefe of the English manner of living, (espe­cially in the Country) to labour and be charged with multitude of servants: great fortunes may beare profusion, but in yours, you had need (as much as may be) study a restraint: A small estate and few servants, well ordered, often make a Master live most happily and handsomely. I never was so carelesse or prodigall, as to propound to my self a course of expence above my meanes, but my mishap hath been, that such on whom I have relyed, have never contained within the limits prescribed, which hath bred my consumption. For though the malignity of my disease hath thrust me beyond my inclination, in some extraordinaries: yet against that alone I could have found remedy without a breach upon the maine of my Fortune, and such expence I never pursued: Since your self hath been a witnesse and an Overseer of my ordinary ex­penses, it hath not been without exceeding; God be thanked, I have born and supplyed it, you are not now without experience, you have not been without advice, God blesse them unto you; and for me I have long since composed my self to undergo as well [Page 158] the censure as the losse: good mens opinion I will ever value; but same, (as a thing without me) I never much regarded. Comfort your self with what Horace sayes of parvoque potentem Fabritium, and the well-being that goes with them, to whom Dii dederunt parca quod sat is est manu. I know a Philosophicall forced contentment, is no vulgar felicity, but so it conduce to a bene esse, it may suffice. You have a streight and faire way before you, and God hath blest you a with good and constant temper and affections, be constant to your self, and you are well.

If any thing prejudice you, it may prove your tender and infirme constitution, with a minde bent to the more noble speculative and generous thoughts, but you must something force and stiffen your self, to carry an eye, and take a pleasure, in super-intending what concernes you: It is possible for a soule not sick, though otherwise affected, to conquer and acquit it selfe herein with ease and cheer­fulnesse, if not delight.

You want no good will, you want no precaution; Now as it is my prayer, so it is my confidence, that God will not be wanting unto you; Paul you know may plant, and Apollos water, but it is he alone that must give the increase; without his good grace, all is but Invita Minerva. As I have been indulgent to you in your Ma­riage, so as you know, have I been otherwise so farre, as to put my self out of my own wayes to accommodate yours; and as well before as since your Marriage, to give away the absolute power over my fortunes to fix them upon you and yours, all which I have done both out of affection to you, and experience of my own fate to be such as I durst not trust more then needs must.

You have as well my errors as precepts to admonish and instruct you, and I hope you will make use of the rule of Foelix quem faciunt aliena pericula cautum. You see how troublesome I am to my self in any thing I am to undertake, or that concernes me; I turn it eve­ry way I can, I winde my self round about it, and though I can­not take a resolution, but upon a through search and disposition▪

Yet it is even then not without some distrust and insatisfaction, so infinite is the fancy, and perfection so transcendent: wherefore it is best for curious mindes to put on a rigid consining of them­selves, and obstinately to entertain no more matter of fancy then needs must; to slight this world as it deserveth, and to fix our soules upon God, is the only sincere satisfaction, an infinite subject to an unbounded fancy.

I remember what a Lady once said unto me, that in government of houshold expence which her husband committed unto her, how­soever she handled the matter, she ever made sure not to exceed [Page 159] the allowed proportion; indeed there are many wayes incident to this worlds course, and we have a latitude of disposings, and plea­sing our selves; but the unnm magnum, the unum necessarium for this life, is not to over-spend.

This was in my discourse, this was in my affections, but my want and infirmity in health, wildered and overthrew me: God be prais­ed, you yet injoy Mentem sanam in corpore sano, moderate your self, and hold so, and make no question of well-being and fortune; maintain your self ready and capable, and Fortune seldome failes to present her self. God multiply his blessings upon you; and receive the blessing of your wholly devoted Father, Amen, A­men.

I have set you even, I have set you before hand, contain and run not behinde; never make your self such a stranger to your fortune and course, as to make anyone servant necessary unto you, you shall in truth become enthralled unto him, and it is both preposte­rous and ruinous. Whether you take a Country or other life, it im­ports not, so you hold your self within your bounds. Place forceth no man.

They have their severall advantages and disadvantages like other things, and are to be embraced as discretion and affection shall lead. Certainly the travailing course used of late (especially in the most spirituall and Academicall mindes) breeds a great partiality to the equall conversation of Townes, but not without danger of being aliened from the knowledge of your own, and as much abu­sed therein by others, as of abusing your self in being carryed away with the City vanities, and unfruitfull idlenesse. The Country life is assuredly most naturall, pleasant, setled, and profitable to the English breed and course. Doe but you care for your self, as I have cared for you, and all shall (with Gods blessing) goe well with your minde, and well with your fortune; seek your happinesse from Gods grace and bounty, he will not faile to give it you, make Christ your Rock, and you have a sure foundation.

QUos perdere vult Iupiter, hos dementat, was a true saying ap­plyed to a false God, but my God hath often deprived me (in some particulars) of the use of my ordinary reason and discourse, to act things against my knowledge, my ends, my resolution and my self: he hath raised oftentimes strange and independent, com­bining constellations against me, I have evidently discovered his [Page 160] footsteps therein, and he hath thereby led me to my salvation; there was no redemption to mankind, but in Christ, nor can the wounded and troubled soule finde any other sanctuary, he alone is the horn of our salvation, the Cornueopia of a perfect plenty and felicity unto us in this and the eternall life. I have been Master of a dogge, whom when I have threatned, in stead of flying, he hath appeased me by a submisse fawning upon me.

Thou my God, art in like manner mercifull, to such as seek thee and humble themselves unto thee. Praise to thy blessed name for e­vermore, Amen, Amen.

OUr Faith is well alluded to a Rock; and our Saviour to the Corner-stone of a building: for without them we are all totte­ring and infirme, nor doth the sweetnesse of any earthly pleasure make amends for an unstable wandring minde.

Good God, why didst thou not to frailty give
One life to learn, another life to live?
Why, so it is, who here doth thee regard,
Eternall life and joyes are his reward.
Suave mari magno turbantibus aequora ventis,
Eterra alterius magnum spectare laborem.

Unexpressible is that tranquillity, ease, joy, and peace which I finde, by having freed my self from this worlds common interests and incumbrances; my Soule is like a bird escaped from the Fowlers net; and I am as a free spectatour beholding the busie burthened Actors of this worlds Tragedies, Comedies, Farcies, and follies. Good Lord confirm me more and more, and make me thankfull in such my joy.

Once belonging to the Alphabet Sonnet of the Letter E.

BUt we, like false-bred Eagles, fly the sight
Of thy (to humane sense) confounding light:
Bartas and Herbert led, but flew so high,
Our flowry waxen wings dare not come nigh:
Tis hard to see them; harder to come nigh.

[Page 161]Verses, I confesse, though such are best, which most resemble Prose, yet (as I am now affected, especially in that measure which I had lately chosen) are not so fitting to my present subject. There are divers kindes and degrees of Faith, the generality of such as call and think themselves Christians, go on in a course childish kinde of Faith, which gives little tincture to their affections, and lesse to their actions, yet according to their nature, in some things they make more, in others, lesse conscience: in a farther proceeding and consideration of Religion, they lay hold on Christ, and use him as a salve for their sins, and sinfull propensions; but when the good Spirit of God, by meanes of affliction, or otherwise, throughly awakeneth them, and workes upon their Soule, then, and not till then, are we truely converted: then are our eyes opened to see and feel the uglinesse of sin, with the sweetnesse of his saving grace and favour: And thus (Oh Lord) hath it pleased thee (in thy infinite mercy) to work upon me. Now I see, and pity the worlds vanity and corruptions. Now, as thou hast dyed for me, I will ra­ther dye a thousand deaths, then to grieve thy good Spirit by my least consent to sin.

As thou hast done to me, so vouchsafe to extend thy extraordi­nary hand of mercy upon others, with-hold them from sophisti­cating thy sincere Religion, with their poore and rotten policies: we may say of it (as some use it) as is said of Tilt and Tourney, that it is too much for jest, too little for earnest; it cannot be expected that the people will follow, except their Teachers lead, and in the sincerity of their lives shew the way; their Tithes are substance, their shows, and ceremonies alone in thy service deserve them not. Magistrates when they obey thee, may more justly and exactly ex­pect our obedience. A grosse affectation of policy in Religion, mi­nisters too much occasion to weak Christians to judge and conclude of Religion, rather as a humane Policy, then Divine Truth.

If any sins were veniall, such appeare most pardonable as carry with them a kinde of warrant from Nature, and a gratification to others; and thou, O God, art least indulgent to such as offend of malitious wickednesse.

They are like the Planets and Starres, in the Heavens, to guide and comfort us by their sweet influence; when they prove maligne (which the Starres seldome doe) they are our mischiefes and our Plagues: and as the Starres have their shining and influence more for our, then their own good, so ought they to exercise their power.

It is a soule, unhappy fancy, that pleaseth it self in displeasing o­thers.

[Page 162]I Have of late been urged to work, and am at this time working upon a peece of ground, which hath long been designed for Gardening, and so imployed, it hath had much cost and industry bestowed upon it, but the nature of the soyle consists of so stiffe a Clay, that it hath ever rendred an ill account and return of such feeds and Plants, as have been intrusted unto it, lusty and fruitfull it hath shewed it selfe in grasse, and rank in weeds: There is an evill Herb they call Twitch, which hath over-run it, of such na­ture, that having once possessed a ground, the soyle must be whol­ly altered and over-come, or no good thing will thrive committed unto it: My Gardener to work a cure, hath not only digged and manured, but hath brought a new and better earth upon it, so that now, with a due industry and watering observed, it can hardly faile to yeeld a gratefull and faithfull fertility: Some soyles are cured by much breaking, some by fire, some by inundation; frosts, and hard weather, make a good preparation; All is happy that confers a bettering, and improvement. In the diseases of our bodies, where an evill habit prevailes, and ill humours abound, some are rectify­ed by purgation, some &c. and some by the very distempers which they breed; A burning Feaver remedies a Palsie; and Agues or­dinarily cleare the body. We see also, that a disordered, and ill ha­bituated Common-wealth and State, but upon extream necessity and violence, seldome grows to reformation. A vicious and de­praved minde corresponds to these premisses, as well in disposition as cure, till extremity, distemper, and affliction work upon us, till God the good Gardener of our soules cultivate, weed, alter, and subdue us, we insist in our corrupt naturals, we remain obstinate in our errours, impatient of good and healthfull counsell, perverse in all our courses; Happy that Soyle, Body, State and Soule which finde him their Gardener, Physitian, Reformer, and gracious Re­deemer. Paradise was our first plentifull Garden; Health, Origi­nall Justice and integrity, our condition; till he renew, heale, re­forme, sanctifie and reduce us to our principles and perfection, we are barren to goodnesse, unsound, corrupted, tainted peeces. Per­sist, Oh Lord, in such thy grace, as I have haply found towards me, be it by breaking, sicknesse, confusion, or humiliation, so thou make me good, and make me thine, I shall be faithfully fruit­full, Athletically vigorous, prudent, temperate, just, religiously vertuous, and already in Paradise and in the Confines of Hea­ven.

What shall I render unto thee, Oh Lord, for the incomparable influence, assistance, and sweetnesse of thy grace and favour to­wards me? I possesse nothing, but what I have received from thee, nor can I pay thee, but with thine own; The graces of my body, minde, and fortune, are thy Almes unto me, I will sacrifice unto thee all my vain and worldly affections; and even that is my great [Page 163] game, the unspeakable sweetnesse and comfort of thy favour is an overflowing and superabounding recompence unto me; that where­in thou hast invested me with the most propriety, is my humble thanksgiving and imperfect obedience; Nor that can I offer up and tender unto thee without thy gracious hand raise and assist me: But help me (Oh Lord) and I will never cease to praise and ende­vour to obey thee, Amen, Amen.

I most humbly thank thee (my most gracious God) that my trou­ble of late hath not been so much in any thing,Some of these pieces were in­tended but as Paraphrases to verses, after di­gested to Al­phabeticall Sonnets. as in a labouring affection to set forth the greatnesse and sweetnesse of thy mercy to­wards me; Thou hast been my sole Physick and Physitian, my pre­servative, cordiall, restorative, and support, even then when in taking measure of my naturall strength, I might have conceived it impossible to undergo what by thy grace I have performed; thou hast many times found and inspired wayes and meanes beyond me, as well to assist and support me, as thou hast formerly done to hum­ble me. Thou never wantest means; Melancholy, confusion of face, defection of the eyes, crosses have been thy instruments to make me thine: I was a house built for pleasure, but thou hast made me a re­ceptacle of all calamities. I was not that crooked peece of knee tim­ber, fitted for distresse, I was framed for the Pacifique Sea, but thy stormes have all past over me, and yet by thy favour I am a greater wonder to my self in what I have born, then was that Cock-boat which safely transported from the Bermudaes, such as committed themselves unto it. Free spirited Horses doe often brook worst the bit and curb, and soonest tire themselves engaged to a Moorish pas­sage, when a Fen Mare, and an Asinine patience, better complies and extricates it self: no sweetnes is comparable to thy grace, nor strength to that which thy good Spirit gives. Naturally I am impatient to tread my shooe awry, I have abounded in errors and exorbitancies, but thy mercy hath ever opened my eyes, and recalled me to disal­low them, and at last to detest and abjure them.

It had been else too hard for flesh and blood, they can never cast out, nor cast off themselves; as thou hast said, A Kingdome divided in it self cannot subsist: but be thou with us, and nothing can prevaile against us; invincible is that body, that minde and estate, which thou assistest.

Consilia quibus impares sumus, fatis permittamus: understanding fate for God, is the counsell I take. A Ship that cannot saile, must drive, &c.

My gracious God, accept I most humbly beseech thee, my hum­ble thanksgiving for thy wonderful preservation and favors towards me, and particularly for blessing me in Charitable affections to­wards others, as well as reverence towards thee; daily I have too [Page 164] much experience of the little good, that the best preaching workes upon depraved mindes; grant that I may not offend thee, in hur­ting my self by an immoderate and indiscreet affecting of others good; Give me a chearefulnesse without oppression of my spirits in thine, and my wayes.

Blesse the sincere profession and Professors of thy sacred Word, teach them that they may truely teach thee, with-hold them from mingling policy, and self-interest with thy Religion, with-hold them from shaking the foundation of our Faith, and peace of thy Church. It hath formerly been too great a tax upon our Nation, to have been too inconstant and troublesome therein. Maintain the true Light and pure exercise of thy Gospel amongst us, our iniqui­ties deserve the punishment, of a most grosse relaps to discovered and escaped superstition and Idolatry, but of thy great mercy give us true wisdome and repentance, and avert thy Judgements. One pious Church-man is sooner to be beleeved against their own af­fected authority, then twenty for their usurped power and advan­tage. Luxations in Religion breed a long subsequent weaknesse, and the adversaries of our Religion, as well as Atheists, take too great advantage from such occasion. Contain us, Oh Lord, from over-pry­ing into, and censuring thy secret Counsels, Predestination, and Free­will, strike the same stroak upon our lives. Our comfort must rise from our endevour, in either opinion; The most subtile Writers lose and confound themselves on either side, and make too bold in concluding of thee by our blinde fantastique rules of Justice.

Thou dwellest in the Clouds, and hast cast a mist about thy self, which our fraile fight cannot penetrate: how can man hope to un­derstand thee, whose poore finite capacity cannot so much as in his imagination conceive either way of that, which he sees and knows of necessity must be either so or so? As for instance, we know that this sublime Candens must necessarily either have bounds, beyond which there is nothing, or else go infinitely on fi­nally unbounded, and one limit still succeeding another; but I am much deceived, if the strongest imagination can conceive either way, though one be most necessary: much lesse can we compre­hend and compasse the essence and infinity of God, obedience and reverence to his revealed will, and not an over-bold and curious search, belong to his incomprehensible Majesty: But I have end­ed my paper, and almost my self, vouchsafe (Oh Lord) to give me modesty, moderation, Faith, Charity, and Conscience to guide my wayes, and guide that guide, that I may live and dye in thy truth, and to thy glory, Amen, Amen.

THis house and staire resemble me, no line
Runs parallell, nor due proportion held,
No Landing even, by pre-engagement spil'd,
High, low, faire, mean, imperfect, and what's worst,
Anxious to fit succeeding, to the first,
Full of crosse reason, 'twas our equall lot,
Casting our birth, th'Ascendent was forgot;
Yet all in this are well and haply cast,
Leading to God, and Heaven at the last.

The Verses above in their relations, are not to bee understood, but by him, which knows and considers the house, staire case, and my fortune and condition.

The staire at last leads to a standing, mounted for prospect, which leads only to it self and Sky.

My Ash-wednesday Ashes.

No term or Metaphor can carry a more true, full, and lively ex­pression, then doth that of our regeneration, we are in the womb of this world before our second spirituall birth, such Embryons and imperfect Infants as can scarce admit to be affirmed of us, that we are indued with life and sense. It is more potentially then actually that we enjoy them. We acquiesce in a stupid and corrupt condi­tion, we are fed and pleased in the impure nutriment of earthly and false delights, we draw our nourishment, by the Navill of our sensuality, we are wrapped in our uncleannesse, and of our selves we neither know nor affect any other being. But when God of his great grace calls and urgeth us to our true and second birth in his Spirit, he changeth our affections, cloatheth us anew, brings us to another light, another Aire, another condition. He worketh in us a sight and feeling of our former infirmities, and corruption, he purifies, refines, and fits us for a more excellent life and know­ledge: He displayes unto us his farre more excellent beauties and glory, we draw our nourishment by another roote, more coelestiall, more defecate, we loathe and scorn our former being, and become ravished in the joy of our change, which is not without difficulty and cryes, happy cryes, happy distresse, most gainfull change. There we could not have lived ever, nor ever been but blinde and mise­rable. [Page 166] Our first life is vegetable, sensuall, common with beasts, dark, base, cumbersome, our regeneration is the only true and e­ternall life of the Soule. There is no sincere pleasure, content, wis­dome, courage, or peace without it, Christ alone is the Man-midwife to bring us to such happinesse.

By thy grace (Oh Lord) am I born, and without it better had I been unborn. I was wildred in a Wood, entangled in a dimme light amongst Bryers, Thornes, and wilde beasts; but thou hast freed me, and brought me into the faire, open, delightfull fields of thy grace; I was engaged to a Sea of raging waves and stormes, but thou hast instructed me to strike my greedy sailes, to cast out my vaine lading, and brought me to a most happy Port, in thy most happy Climate. I was an executor of the worlds trust, but found the estate so entangled, so subject to debts, that thou hast taught me to renounce and free my self: I will by thy Divine assistance avoid the Wood, and be free from the Bryers, the Sea, and be free from Sea-sicknesse and stormes, the worlds common courses and con­versations, and enjoy thee and my self, exempt from troubles, cry­ing debts and importunate vanities; The world does in Truth (for the most part) but magnas nugas magno conatu agere, &c.

I have (I thank God) in honest sort paid every man his own, and provided for my children; It is not every mans case to be so disengaged. I am free (O God) to live to thee and thee alone. My Country needs me not, nor doth it finde me fit for its service, &c. I am (by Gods grace) too rigid, too straight a peece for such Ship­timber. I grieve to see the world as it is, nor can contribute ought but prayers to help it; how can it be other then Cachecticall, tain­ted with the licencious luxury of strangers, intoxicate wantonnesse of Favorites, dissolution of our Seminaries, the Universities and Innes of Court; Prevarication, and corrupt example of Ecclesi­astiques, and sinister affections, and illusions of Magistrates? as one said, Signa nostra sequentes prodimur, & nisi Christus se ipsum vindicet, actum est. The Church is compared to the Ark; and I would it did not in some things too much resemble it. It is full of various, many unclean beasts, and too floating and unsetled; I would rather prove it a City built upon the Rock Christ Jesus, firme and unchangeable; he is the sole and all-sufficient fundamentall of our Salvation, and whilest we confound our selves and seek for other, let us take heed we lose not him, and betray our selves, not only to infinite uncharitable, indiscreet, fanaticall opinions and Schisms, but even to Turcisme, and Atheisme; our wilde unsettled dissen­tions expose us too much to both. Lord of thy great mercy teach thy Church and me, to fix in a firmitude of thy saving Faith and Religion. Banish undue policy, banish will-worship, and teach us to serve and honour thee in unity and truth of Spirit, instruct and guide me in thy wayes, and seeing thou hast made me a sociable [Page 167] creature, and given me a working, active spirit, addresse me to the comfort of a sutable conversation, to discourse and walk thy waies aright. Thou must reveale such unto me; for I finde it too hard to finde them. Shall the Roman Religion afford so many, and thy Truth so few who can perswade themselves to leave the world for thee? If all other Company faile my desires, be thou my guide, be thou my comfort, and I shall still happily subsist in thee, and want nothing. The world is a writing so full of fauks, many cor­rections cannot mend it: Una litura potest, and that I have cho­sen.

Thus writing is troublesome, and well, nee possum vivere cumte, nec sine te. It is endlesse, nor is it fit for me to write what I would or could. May it please thee, Oh God, to turn to thy glory and my comfort, these my weak endevours, Amen, Amen.

LIke to his joy who meets a sure guide to direct and conduct him in a faire way, after he hath been long wildred and benight­ed in false, soule, and intricate wandrings, such, Oh Lord, is my comfort in thy sweet exhibiting thy self and thy favour unto me, I am now at ease, I see and hate the solecismes of the times, I am disentangled from a wildernesse of the worlds confused wayes and errors, nor could any other guide have freed me; Thy grace hath supported me in my writings, in my health, in my deliverance, be­yond expression: Let vanity and sensuality delight themselves in trewand wantonnesse and wandrings, but keep me, Oh Lord, in thy wayes and schoole, and let me rather smart under the rod of thy Fatherly correction, then become abandoned to an undue and licentious Liberty. Perfection belongs to the one, perdition to the other. Accept my most humble thanks for thy infinite favours, and bring me to the heavenly Ierusalem, Amen.

TO give in some sort, a taste and glimps what kind of Spirit possessed me in my first youth and melancholy, take these few fragments, which with many other then I coyned (but have now lost and forgot) for inscriptions never imployed.

Fond passion is, Opinion but a foole:
God, Nature, Reason, are the Wisemans Schoole.
Delights, good servants, but bad Masters are,
Minds cordiall medicines, us'd without fond passion,
Fitting age, calling, means, degree, and fashion,
Uselesse, but for our recreation,
Doted on, turn diseases, our soules snare.
You'l say they are toyes, the fitter are they then
For such vain bubbles, Fantomes as are men.
They profit nought, and wisemen you will say,
Pleasures foundation on profit lay.
To them that want not, to give Nature right,
Profit it self in truth is but delight.
It is not affectation makes me write,
But honest hearts ever affect the light.

Thus did Melancholy and retirednesse work upon me, my Me­lancholy wrought my retirednesse, and that by removing me from the common delights and course of young men, my farther Me­lancholy, removens prohibens, goes for a cause. I affected the Tree of knowledge, tasted of the unnaturall fruit, and lost my earthly paradise: though labour, toyle, and affliction have been my por­tion in such losse, yet Christ hath proved unto me infinite ad­vantage. He is the Christians eternall Paradise, in him we finde a new Earth, new Heavens, Peace, and joy incomparably more com­pleat, without him all is vanity and vexation of spirit; Happy the fall which meetes with him to raise us, happy the losse which finds him to guide us. Since the first fall man discerning his nakednesse, of himself hath sought Figge-leaves for cover and advantage, a partiall cloathing in humane policies, Arts, and inventions, which all but make us feel the more the weather, and our wants. Nature is lost in artificiall affectations, and our false-acquired knowledge proves our true and reall misery. Thus plunged in vain deceiving de­lights and wretched perplexity, no exemption, no redemption remaines but in and through Christ, and the true knowledge of him: By him we turn our first nakednesse and ragges into a full and glo­rious garment, by him our darknesse and confusion becomes a per­fect illumination, and in him our vain pleasures and fraile troubles become a solid continuall feast of joy, peace, and contentment. That Sun of Righteousnesse is the only true Sunne, that lighteth every man to true happinesse: the Sunne is the life of flowers, and ma­ny of them open themselves and turne towards it; let us learn from them to open our hearts, and turn to God. He alone can disperse in us the clouds of ignorance and light vanities, in him alone is that tranquillity and true joy to be found, which by our disobedience, [Page 169] and foolish affectation we have lost, all our other curiosities, all our sensualities do but more wilder us and set us further to seek. The wiser sort of men in a humane way have sought for immor­tality to peece out their frailty, but in Christ alone it is to be found; and without him, it were better to want it. Poore creatures that we are, poore happinesse that we seek, without him who said, Seek and ye shall finde. But do not such appeare to doubt too much of the soules immortality, who will rather deny it to become infect­ed with originall sin, by way of propagation in a probable analogie to Faith and Gods Justice, then acknowledge a naturall way of one eternall Soule to beget another, eternity being the only gift of God, and as easily and more reasonably flowing from him the one way then the other? Is not this, leaving a faire, naturall, rationall, and religious way, a kinde of teaching to doubt and mis-beliefe? Why stick they at that which is most reasonable, teaching neverthelesse Faith beyond reason; such as deny the earth to move and turn to­wards the Sun for its own advantage, upon pretence of Text of Scripture for the earths stability, which as a thousand others, they might as well and with farre lesse straining interpret in a way of common Besides other Texts which make & consist with a different opinion. The ancient Church errour against the Antipodes may also be a cavear▪ appearing, if now upon reall demonstration and reason the earth be proved to move, doe they not wrong both the Scrip­ture and our Religion? Miserable lamenesse, miserable blindnesse, of humane Divinity! Help, Oh God, or we are confounded, we are lost; true knowledge, thrift or joy, are annexed to no person, place, or condition; but thy grace and blessing gives them. Assist us all, assist me therein, and I have found more then ever I lost.

HOwsoever these writings may, in some respect, be as unfit as troublesome in my condition, yet herein they have proved my great advantage and satisfaction, that they have taken me off from other importunate discontents and impressions, and have tyed me faster and faster to God, they have turned the sight and sense of my misery into joy and comfort, upon the discerning and parti­cipation of his mercies unto me: They have entered and entertain­ed me in to sweet a contemplation of his glory and goodnesse, as I hope shall never languish and dye in me, and I have, I thank God, gathered such strength upon them, that I conceive much better of my self, and the vigour of my Spirit to the discharge of any ordi­nary performance. This my good God hath done for me, and it is wonderfull even in my own eyes, may it please him to indue me with all humble thankfulnesse, Amen, Amen.

MY good Friend, you have obliged me, in the reading and per­using of these my confused crudities, and you have in your in­dulgence to them and me, and their innocent spirit of ingenuity, commended some things in them farre beyond their worth: and wished some more labour of mine to be imployed in their more or­derly and perfect digestion, and a farther communication, but I am over-weak and lazy, and they too incorrigible, they are misha­pen lumps of an imperfect conception, which howsoever it might be fit for me to be delivered of, yet are they most unfit for other, then a friendly view and judgement; I put them into your hands, but am farre from wishing any your farther patience or labour upon them; They are such Beares whelpes, that if they were capable of any good shape, yet were it most unfit, that any but their natu­rall Parent should lick them into it; notwithstanding if out of your good affection to any part of them, and the propagation of good­nesse, you conceive a tolerable Mercury may be framed of them, for the view of a more remote well-affected friend, I submit them to you. Hew off, and fashion them at your pleasure, if you should prove so idle, as to make such an undertaking, I feare you will finde so shaken a piece of Timber, as is nothing but chips before-hand. I thank God, I have ever superlatively loved goodnesse, and no­thing better, then to be an instrument of doing good: but my for­tune and opportunity have not answered my affection: Nor can I now, either so flatter my self, or the world, to hope the least good effect from any production of mine; you have often in your course and profession, given, and daily give better and happyer proofe of your self that way. The stuffe Imperfect in the first con­coction, not to be perfected in the second. which you finde in my peeces, is in truth (and so ever I conceived it) most unfit for the sight of any other, then a cordiall and familiar Friend. The presence of sores, infirmities, and criple diseases, are fitter for an Hospital, or Almeshouse, then the stage, they excite pleasure in none, and compassion but in few, and well-disposed persons: I affect priva­cy, and love not to expose my self and my errors to censure (guil­ty of my imperfections) especially of fooles and depraved disposi­tions. In truth, Melancholy and humaine frailty and dysaster, will hardly meet with anyother idoneous and compassionate Judges, then such as have felt and smarted in their sad unhappy effects; e­very peece was intended the last, and they are too wilde and in­coherent, to make a Teame: But (as I have formerly said, use your pleasure, reduce (if you will and can) my Chaos into method, cut off repetitions, there is matter enough to prune and burn, little for fruit; correct, destroy part, or all; if you retain anything, the labour will be the lesse, to let it be meerely mine; And thus I com­mit my self and it to God, and you, his will, and yours be wrought on me and mine.

TRue, and exact definitions are acknowledged to be most dif­ficult, and knowledge of causes to be most abstruse; false di­visions and strained proportions abuse us, faculties and notions stand not so cleere and distinct in their nature, as they are represented un­to us, and conceived of; nor can we temper words to the mixed nature of things, erroneous affected Idea's mislead and deceive us, the wisest of humane knowing men profest the heighth of his knowledge to consist in knowing nothing, and might it not be a great part of his wisedome to write nothing? In truth not to know God aright, is to know nothing: and to know him, love him, o­bey him, and enjoy his grace and favour, is to know all things, and enjoy that perfect happinesse, which the Philosophers have so industriously sought, but without this illumination could not pos­sibly attain. The world is Hydropically swolne in the abundance of bookes and writings of imperfect digestion, it thirsteth more and more after them, and encreaseth more and more in tumor and crudities; men for the most part imploy their wits and pens in va­nities, and for vain ostentation, they cavill and carp one at ano­thers errours, and flatter themselves to know much, when they are able to affirm, what were the customes, and what the tenets of such and such Authours, and Nations, howsoever both such and their own assertions, in severall notions and acceptations of things and words, and as they are diversly affected, doe but thicken the mist of our ignorance, and prove so many ignes fatui, to lead us out of the way.

Nature is lost and drown'd in Artifice and mistakings, our igno­rance is become invincible. We build one upon anothers unsound foundations, and are so dim (short) sighted and entangled, that nothing but a supernaturall light can cleare our Aegyptian darknesse, and disabuse us. Our presumption would exalt it self to make us a kinde of Gods in knowledge; but (non si te ruperis, par eris:) It will not, it cannot be; all we can really attain unto, without Gods good Spirit to guide us, is to take notice of our lame igno­rance and misery (and that, if we can make good use of it, is some happinesse in that it openeth unto us a way to a more full and happy knowledge) we must in despight of our prying and affecta­tion still be men, and dye like men. Thy goodnesse, Oh Lord, thy love, thy glory are the only subject, wherein I would be am­bitious to write and spend my self, but thy glory is too bright for my feeble eyes, I must again sound my retreat. In thy own holy Scriptures thou hast revealed thy self sufficiently for our know­ledge, for our eternall happinesse and salvation. There alone is the habitation of light and truth, and there alone, and in thy Christ shall I finde thee. I will affect no other knowledge, no other writing. Be propitious unto me.

To my above mentioned Friend. The Conclusion.

YOu have formerly seen, how I engaged my self to Verse, and broke loose from it; there is indeed a kinde of wantonnesse and constraint incident to it, which agrees not with my austerity and affected liberty. I am even in prose too much a Libertine, impa­tient of method, abandoned to confusion; I have partly, though imperfectly, made to appeare the calamitous progresse of my dis­ease, with the happy and admirable deliverance and issue, to the good of my Soule, and no incompetency in fortune, wherein I doubt not but I shall move as well joy as compassion in such as are good and well affected towards me.

I have not been formerly void of good inclinations, (my best was ever an affection to God, good men, and goodnesse) but my disposition therein was so imperfectly sanctifyed and fortifyed, that it pleased the Divine power to cast down all my fences, to turn my best wisedome and intentions to solly, and to expose mee to the scorn of such as in my naturalls I might have scorned: such ordi­narily is the world, and the corrupt disposition of man (especially the worst and most degenerous) that we over-measure our selves by our own foot, like lewd filthy boyes we sport our selves in cast­ing dirt one in anothers face; He thinks me foolish, I doe as much for him, we gratifie ourselves in taking advantage at others infir­mities and mis-fortunes, we think to inhaunse our selves thereby; In truth scorn grows commonly from such to whom it most be­longs from others, and they exercise it without self-reflection, cha­rity, compassion, or discretion.

Care undermined me, improsperous courses blew me up, Phy­sick was my bane, and diversions my confusion; How miserable, Oh God, is humane frailty? How wonderfull are thy wayes? It is said, that if in case of Physick, of these three, Physitian, Patient, and sicknesse, any two conspire, they prevaile. In me the con­spiracy hath been in all against me, with Body, Minde, and For­tune, and yet Gods extraordinary grace and mercy have suppor­ted and delivered me. There is no despaire till we become incapa­ble of all manner of cure and subsisting.

I Have often deceived my self in thinking my self at my end, the like hapneth in my writing, and before I shut up these ill-favou­red, imperfect representations, though what I have already said, may partly satisfie my intentions, in expressing that it hath been more my disease then my self, which hath been the chief Actor in my misfortunes, yet know that the worst, the strangest, and most of my story is not brought upon this paper stage; it is too tedious and unfit for view; not only in the story of particular men, but even of State-resolutions, and publicke actions, and especially of natures course and proceedings, their true and reall motives, springs, and wayes are in most important effects, secret, concealed and dis­guised, ordinarily hidden in their originall, even from our selves that act; we may take copies of others faces, but not of their hearts with any assurance. It hath been an honest advise to keep a corner of our heart to our selves; and if an honest heart ought not in point of discretion to expose it self, what truth is to be expected from hypocrisie and dissimulation? One absurdity admitted, a thou­sand follow, and to the foundation of my disease laid in the excesse of Treacle, infinite have been the effects, and my sufferings, which have flowne from that and other concurring circumstances. I have at the entrance of my alteration, been ready to sink at the Table, I have many yeares since travail'd and slept with cor­dialls at hand to keep me alive; nor left I them, till a hearty friend told me the heart must comfort the heart, which yet was lame and ineffectuall in my strongest resolutions, till I had recourse to God the onely true spirit of courage and resolution; to a curious and well-affected minde, and a weather-beaten Soule, there is no other re­fuge or harbor of safety, satisfaction, and tranquillity. There are Climates, where it seldome or never Raines, others which clouds malusque Iupiter urgent. In one and the same Country, where the earth and heavens in their constant seasons should bee as con­stantly disposed, yet doth the same time of the yeare prove some­times cold and wet, sometimes hot and dry, the materials and cir­cumstances appearing the same; this must rise from secret Springs, and combinations above the reach of our discourse. The same di­versity and contrariety of effects befals men in their fortunes, how­soever in appearance equally constituted. God is the cause of cau­ses; He hath in all times and Countries provided wonders above the ordinary course of Nature, to humble and convince our hu­mane presumption. I had a body and a minde so strongly built, that had not my spirituall and intellectuall parts predominated in me, to withdraw me from a base vulgar abandoning my self to sen­suality, no man in probability could better have subsisted and main­tained himself against ordinary course of dissolution and debauch. I had a Spirit naturally tempered to contain and contract it self a­bove all excesse, but its own; And even that as well as another, it might have bridled, had not Melancholy and other adverse condi­tions [Page 174] surprised and mastered it, betrayed unto them under colour of friendship: The blood is said to be the bridle of all humours, that I lost, and much of my good spi [...]its with it in the conflict, but God hath proved a better bridle, a better spirit unto me. Innocent and groundlesse blushings proceeding from the tenuity and waste of my blood and spirits have been none of my least importune and pre­judiciall symptomes. Such weaknesse joyned with a strong fancy hath made me subject to blush not onely to my self alone, but upon any surprise of mention and conceit; not only upon any reall occa­sion, but upon what there might be so much as a possibility of in the apprehension of another. I have taken my self blushing at the ap­pearing or name of a woman, who had shee been Eve and I Adam, the humane race would have been in great danger of failing, at length custome and complying with a conceited expectation of o­thers, produced it, &c. God hath by his extraordinary grace up­on my humiliation furnished me with as strange meanes to subsist, as I at the first found extravagant means to keep low and oppresse my self. In the depth of Melancholy, I have not found so much as a melancholy dream, my spirits have taken root from above and have grown upon it. Long since, after a great disease, I had such a ten­dernesse of spirits and humours, that a thick cloud could not passe over me, but I felt an alteration upon it. It is strange how a tran­sient thought will work, and give a suddain stroak to a remote and ill-affected weakned part of the body: the minde workes not alone by the heart and brain, as is vulgarly conceived, but the praecordia, and all parts more or lesse contribute, and are affected therein, and God hath blessed me with a minde so strong that it ever discharged it self in its passions and errors, more in my body then its own suf­ferings; but they are still Hippocrates his Twins, and must weep or laugh together. I have now disburthened my self of all trouble, but this of writing, I am too inexhaustible therein, weary me it doth, satisfie me it cannot, I will change the Scene, and seeing I finde my self so ill a Companion, I will seek better company. I have e­ver been over-hard to please in conversation, my present affections and habit make me now more dainty, what shall I doe? I have by Gods great grace recovered in great part, those Jewels of peace and health which I had long lost. Therefore I will no longer rake in this puddle, nor abuse his grace in over-bold and indiscreet pre­sumption; Like the stranger belonging to another Country, I will transitorily please my self, and converse with the common passions and Interests of this world, I will spend my time in search of good­nesse, and will make much of it where I finde it, I will wash my hands in Innocency, my Soule in my Saviours blood, and wrap my self in my own vertue, and his merits, relying on his neverfail­ing mercy. Amen, Amen.

THough friends be absent, conversation lost,
My bating Soule oft labouring in it self,
By winds and fortune on the black Sea tost,
Thou present, Lord, I feare nor wave nor shelf.
Thou Father, Brother art, and Friends to me;
Be the world whose it list, so thou be mine,
They ne're miscarry, who rely on thee;
Grace stormes dispells more strong then they combine.
All thrives, where thou the pruning Gardener art;
To thy Plants, blastings frugall blessings prove;
Though Summer heighth and flourishing impart,
Winter gives strength and Timber to the Grove.
To thine, all sufferings end in joy and rest,
And th'absence of a wicked world is best.

Forced delights and contentment, are no delight or contentment; dispose, Oh Lord, my affections and I am happy; untill I had digest­ed the tough morsels, and crudities of this world, I could never have had peace and quiet.

IOckey and his Horse, were by their Master sent
To honour him in hunting, run, and race;
To put in for the Bell, and take content
In honest sort, fitting faire time and place.
In pride of nature, fit for any sport,
Jolly and lusty both, at first they were,
But shortly after both of them fell short,
What by mischance, by ill-advise and care.
Soon he became engaged to a match,
Which cost him dear, both on the By and Main;
He thought himself no easie peece to catch,
But knew not to resist so strong a train.
He now conceits he could not hope to win,
Except his horse were straightly dieted.
Such course he takes, but thrives so ill therein,
His beast grows joylesse, faint, and famished.
He who depended much upon his beast,
Grew much dejected; study, care, and thought,
To set all right, and doe all for the best,
Brought him as low, as first his Steed was brought.
After much time, Art, Cost, the Beast became
As vigorous and lusty as before:
Ill now they sorted, th'one wilde, th'other tame,
Zeale to his Master helpt to make him poore.
Jockey must ride, the Beast would run away,
He strove and pul'd, and us'd his best of Art,
To check his pride, and force him to obey,
So long till both were sinking out of heart.
The Master now came in, to this disorder,
And finding Jockeyes want of strength and skill,
By his all-taming art, brought all in order,
And fashioned horse and man unto his will.
Thus right, and each to other fitted well,
They are to run, and cannot misse the bell.

You may call this to the world a fit of Melancholy, but my hope and resolution is by Gods grace, never to be other, then my con­clusions make me to appeare in the former peeces: I shall be sorry for your patience, if out of your good will to me, you have troubled your self in running over any part hereof, but happy, if I may finde you recompensed by being taken, with any one of them; they dis­affect publication and fame, yet beleeve me, I mean to live by my Book. For though I avoid exemplification and enrolment, yet I am contented to admit of some few honest witnesses, whereby the more to oblige my self. I know it is a wildernesse, but even such are artificially and affectedly of use in none of the meanest Gardens, and good Herbs and Simples are not rejected or contemned for growing wilde. Though the fruit be harsh and grow upon a shrub, you may finde it wholesome, you may finde it usefull.

HAving by Gods great grace, this present morning, falne upon a design and rumination, which I esteem the most perfect and happy of any that ever I entertained, the notions and affections of the minde being ordinarily fleeting, the memory infirme, and un­faithfull, and resolutions without a constant firmitude, fruitlesse, and ineffectuall: I have thought good to Register such my discourse, whereby the better to fix my self for the future, in what I now ap­prove and intend.

I have taken notice of many in all Religions possessed with an af­fectation and industry of converting others to their own Faith and tenets. Generare sibi simile, is a naturall propension; and assimila­tion, a common delightfull operation. In-animate species natural­ly multiply themselves in the Aire, and propagation of impressions [Page 177] effect a pleasing reflection. Many Preach in the Pulpit, few in their lives, and fewer make it a businesse particularly to labor particular Reformations in their common conversation: Christianity is taken up rather for outward fashion and profession, then for any inward essentiall form and habit; if we were really what we pretend to be, we would not rest satisfyed in our perfunctory proceedings. We would actuate and propagate our Faith and Charity upon others, and improve our felicity in a spirituall way, according to that rule, which affirmes him to be born in vain and unprofitably, per quem non nascitur alter. We are all ordinarily charitable to such as we see out of the way by our directions and conductings, we are apt to rectifie errors in any thing rather then piety and Religion. It is a preposterous affection and modesty, seeing there can be nothing so important both to Gods glory and our own good, as a due obser­vation of his will and our profession. We love the children of our beds, and of our braines, and they are often happy unto us: But certainly it must be an incomparable and superlative contentment, if it hath pleased God to make us the children of his good Spirit, to become happy instruments of raising up and begetting spirituall Children to him; nothing conduceth more unto it, then that our light so shine before men, that they may see our good workes, and glorifie our Father which is in Heaven. Light is most diffusive, and flame incentive, if we be truely enflamed our selves, we shall hardly faile (at least we ought not) to communicate and extend it to others, who often consist of matter well disposed and combusti­ble, but want good kindled Coales of Devotion and blowing to be applyed and work upon them. I have formerly lived in London with hurt to my self, and no good to others, I feare not now my own prejudice, and am ambitious of others good, could I meet as well with opportunity and conveniency of living in it with a so­ciety and seconding in my affected course, as there is too much oc­casion and subject of corrupted times, and matter to work upon, I should be much the more happy. But howsoever, I intend the pro­secution of what I propound to my selfe, and that confidently: we too frequently glory in our shame, and are shame-faced in the ex­hibition of a true and glorious piety and devotion. Blesse mee, Oh God, in this, and all other thy good motions, perpetuate them unto mee, teach me to scorn the contempt and glory of the world, to preferre and exalt the sincerity of thy truth and Religion, above all earthly considerations, let me be none of those, who beleeve thee no farther then they see thee, and their own imaginations be­fore thee, confirme and strengthen me in all good endevours, and accept my most humble thanksgiving for thy wonderfull grace and mercy upon me, and that for thy deare Son our Saviours sake, to whom with thee and thy holy Spirit be all glory for ever, Amen, Amen.

THis is the misery of writing, and condition of matter, if we passe things slightly over, our short touches make little or no impression, and if we inculcate them with long insistings, and re­petition, we prove nauseous and tedious. I am guilty of both.

My Sunne rose faire, but soon was overcast,
Strong, wanton, Joviall, active, free, and bold,
Morally good by nature I was cast,
Saturne, and inexperience all control'd:
God I should say, good only, I remain'd,
And by his goodnesse better goodnesse gain'd;
The clouds are gone, and I am over-blest,
A Fagots second fire is sometimes best.
POore busie fooles! walk fairely to your Graves,
Live long you cannot, you may dye to morrow;
Short stay a sutable decorum craves,
Temper your seriousnesse as well as sorrow.
THIRD PART.Printed a …


Printed at London by Richard Cotes, 1645.

This still let me Preface to the faire Philosophicall Inclination.

PArdon the rather my inobservance to Me­thod, for farre more sublime and better Authours have discovered as little order, and as much repetition; witnesse the Col­lections of Marcus Aurelius, St. Augu­stines Confessions, and some of a higher Classe: If my ayme and scope bee good, and that I have with any force and energie pursu'd it, out of the way of common and vulgar footsteps, accept; if I have fail'd, excuse mee, spare your labour, read and consider the lesse, it is easie to forbeare; you may otherwise become as little fa­vourable to your self and good intentions as unto me: If you catch mee not at a word, at an Epithet, you will of­ten lose mee and the best of my sense and matter: Where­fore weigh, and either proceed or reject: Yet thus much know, that either Religion, health, right reason, thrist, decency, true honour, moderation and morality are nothing, or something I conceive I have written not unworthy your attention. If you affect goodnesse in your self and others as good men doe, you will not scorn the very Essayes and offers at it, in the way of prudentiall rules, knowledge, and observations, howsoever imperfect: You may find, if I over­ween not in the through course of these my preceding, and ensuing Sections, short assertions, the fruit and quintessence of a long concocted experience, as easie, usefull, and ad­vantageous to you, if you ruminate upon and digest them, as they have been costly to mee to attain, extract, and gather; especially if you are young, and to seeke, for to such is this addresse.


MAN is to himself either the best or worst compa­ny, in the even ground of solitarinesse the bowle works it self to a by as of good or bad resolutions, if in this bi­vious world we take the right hand way, it is good for our selves and others; but as children are apt to bee left handed, so we: Nature is a cold combatant against it self, you bid in vain a stone to mount, or fire to descend, naturall propen­sions must be supernaturally predominated: It is found that most Soyles (and I beleeve it of all) how perverse or barren soever, have within them at some reasonable distance a marne and manure to correct and fertilize their mold, but industry and Art must extract and employ it. The blessing of God must goe to the finding and improving of his blessings upon us; I intend not to discourse of our pronenesse to evill, and the difficulty of vertue and piety, o­thers have handled it at large, onely I will say of my self, that if I be not of a vitious inclination, it is Gods good grace and chara­cter upon me. I know as well as another the advantages and ea­sie wayes of dishonesty; I could hide my claws like a Cat, till I met with an opportunity for mischief, I could transforme my selfe into an Angell of light, and play the Devill in my heart, but my ends, end not in my self. I confesse every man loves to walk on the ground of pleasure and delight, nor ought or can a self-consi­deration and interest be excluded, Fancy must and will be humo­red; some have imagined pleasure to consist in indolency and put­ting our selves out of pain, by the satisfaction of our longings, but some delights are even naturally and indiscoursively such, by the impression wherewith they surprise and affect the senses inward and outward, they are indeed intended and exalted, or remitted and extenuated according to the fancy and other circumstance, that gives them entertainment: not only delights, but variety is necessa­ry to humane nature, many are so tempered and elemented, that not only seeming pleasures, but such as are hot, full and hazar­dous are required by them, they must have their load, and be put to their strength, or they finde no relish. What is now to be re­solved▪ we exclusively usurpe the reasonable form, if we use it not in elections and moderation; I consider not my self in my naturals, as a savage, which I might have been, but as I finde my self, a civi­lized, [Page 183] a moralized Christian, moderatour to my own disputations and actions. Drunkennesse may be pleasing, but is ugly, and ex­poseth us to inconvenience and scorn: I will endevour to avoid that and the like, I will make a Harmony of discord, reconcile Nature, Art, Religion, my owne and others interest: This you will say is a work, but it lyes upon me, I drew it not upon my self, and I must comply with my condition, I will bridle my ap­petites, and willingly give way only to such contentments as are most cheape, cleare, safe, and lasting, such as allow me most ma­stery over my self, my ambition is to possesse all, by desiring no­thing; if I can finde contentment at home, I will not seek it a­broad; I love not to part with my freedome and power over my self, to exercise a conceited power over others, such kinde of spi­rit and power may be sweet, it may be brave, the other I preferre as more firm, more sound; I can willingly forbeare the giving of ten blows, to avoid the taking of one, which consideration is said to have established Justice, and by the same I will endevour my quiet. A private course is neither void of pleasure or variety; Place forceth no man to expence, but well chosen, gives as well change as cheapenesse of food and pleasures, the same affections move in little as in greater creatures, and may bee entertained as well in a Country, as Court course of life, they who use to play small game, can do it as seriously as others the greatest. Businesse is many times rather a diversion then exercise of life, let us be ne­ver so impatient, wee cannot shake off our naturall condition, if wee could be contented to bee but our selves and soberly enjoy our selves, wee should prove better and easilier contented then we are. I will first improve my self and my own to the best, before I make an alienation, I will be weary of my self, before I passe my self away, I will not willingly subject my reason to my own, much lesse to the fancy of others; there is motion enough to be exercised within our proper locality without those excentriques and trepida­tions, wherein many violate their own and natures Laws: it must be an exorbitant fantasie that cannot entertain it self in its owne Apogeums, and Perigeums, contemplation of Heaven and Earth, and a conformity of action. If ever I affect farther, it must bee by a faire calling, and shall be with an affectation of others good more then my own, or good, or fancy; I finde few such Com­missions granted, Cum libera potestate, as would suit with my af­fections, wee shall finde enough to doe to make good our account in a private, much more in a publique course; power and gain, which are strong motives to other men, are too vain and sordid to become my objects, quiet and good are my ends, as motion and gain theirs, my disposition was never lazy or timorous; But I can­not deny a kinde of restinesse and Epicurisme in honest, sober self-pleasing and Idolatry; it must come faire and walk fairely with me that will be mine and hold me. My wit and discourse are no farther at my command then I approve my object and sub­ject. [Page 184] Though I bee not Mercuriall, I resemble the Planet Mercu­ry in this, that my conversation is much according to the com­pany. Every man hath much of the Ape, much of the Chameleon, much of the Parasite, too much of the Serpent and envy in him, opportunity and necessity are strong Agents. I cannot speak half so well French with an English as with a French man, nor exercise half so much freedome or ingeniosity with a dull, common, or pre­varicating, as a lively, generous, and sincerely expressing spirit: I well endure not to sow my seed, but on good ground, and expecta­tion of a good return, nor to converse with such as are so wedded to their own opinions, and full of themselves that there is no room or indulgence for any other. I am as tender of giving the least distaste or offence to another, as to my self; Though I love conformity, yet no more then needs must to an absurd fashion, and not at all to a vitious temporizing. Here you may finde no small perplexi­ty; Art is long, multiform, infinite, Nature short-sighted, bound­ed, we are obnoxious to a world of crosse indications and reluctan­ces; Art, and Inventions owe us a faire amends, for we suffer and are confounded more then a little by them; were it in my power I would recompence, restore, help, and piece out Nature by my Writings, but I feare, the best Authors often more disguise and confound, then better and improve her: Shee hath, I confesse, found some advantage from Invention, as appeares in the extent and multiplication of Perspective Glasses, Catacousticons, digest­ing our Language to bee conserved by writing, regulate and sub­lime observation in Astronomy, and the course of the Heavens, as the Ephemerides, and exact prediction of Eclipses doe witnesse, but how well shee might have subsisted and walkt without a Iacobs staffe, and these helps let others discourse, I acknowledge them much better then the invention of high heeles, head dresses, and training Gownes, &c. But may it not be a shame to Art, that all this while it hath not taught us to flye (and for swimming, we are rather dis-taught by our Discourse) and that cutting down and destroying great Trees upon otherwise barren soyles, it is not a­ble to teach them to bring forth Corne and inferiour Plants: Fan­cy, and the Melancholy humour, are great Inventors, but as the Melancholique humour breeds an Appetite, so doth it ordinarily hinder digestion; a stomach that surchargeth it self with variety, digesteth ill, and breeds crudities; It is hard to make a just con­coction and distribution of our unnaturall superinductions. The craftier sort of people strip themselves of such clogs and incum­brances, and insist too often in a corrupt and unreformed nature. They look upon God (if at all) no farther then they finde him in Nature, and in his Workes, they passe over his supernaturall revealed Word and will, as wanting the eye of Faith to discern it, and either question the recommended interpretation, or wrest it to their own sense and interest, they admit no Law but their own Nature, and worldly and sensuall advantage; No man can [Page 185] know God and his will, and contemn or slight it; But Religion, like Nature and the Senses, is indemonstrable, because nothing proportions unto it. Every man frames God unto himselfe, such as either his grace or our owne interpretation and sense deliver him unto us. If our Divines were either so consonant in their interpre­tations or lives, as were requisite, wee should become better Chri­stians then we are. His will would not be so indifferent to us, nor would we conceive him so indifferent as many do to our wills and actions; Excepting Religion all other knowledge is so painefull to attaine, and so troubled and muddy when wee come to stirre the bottome, that the game is hardly worth the Candle; God of his great mercy enlighten us and mend us. Amen.

To my best Clergy friend in relation to the best among us.

IT proveth according to your conceit for this my farther writing, I affirmed to you as I then thought that nothing lay upon mee requiring farther vent. In truth for the particular which I now fall upon, it hath beene long since in my affections to write something therein, but the tendernesse and daintinesse of the matter, and censuring ticklishnesse of the time with-held mee; possibly I have been too pusillanimously injurious to truth and ingenuitie, too much misdoubting my owne strength, and over prejudicate upon supe­riours in such restraint. Religion, as it now stands betwixt us and the Papists, is the subject. There have not beene wanting on the one side some who out of a Romish presumptuous and overflatte­ring disposition, and on the other, some, who out of a Scot­tish jealousie and distrust, have over-boldly apprehended (if not concluded) that both our King and many of our Bishops are a­gainst their owne and our good and quiet too much affected that way. I have formerly understood from you your opinion to the contrary, and that grounded upon sound reason, and mine hath runne with yours; None should prove so great losers by such a change as our King and Archbishop of Canterbury, and they are both of them too wise and sensible of their owne power, free­dome and splendor ever to consent to reenthrall themselves to those great usurpations and abuses which the Monarch of Rome exerci­seth over such Princes and States as acknowledge him. It is little that we of inferiour calling should suffer under him, in respect of the continuall reluctancy wherein they would find themselves plunged. Our King and State enjoy now that happy freedome which hath cost others full deare to have attained and have failed in their endeavours. Yet a King of France is mighty even in the [Page 186] Court of Rome, so farre as to bandy against the Spanish faction, which is commonly great enough to be troublesome to the Pope himselfe. The power of all other Princes and States are petty Planets in comparison of these, of so little sway and eminency that their influence and operation is very little more, then as they side, adhere, and involve themselves to the others interest. Our King is now one of the most free and eminent of Christendome, nor can there bee the least just feare that his wisedome and spirit upon whatsoever Antipuritan suggestion can consent to bring over him­selfe an unbridled and unlimited jurisdiction and controller. The usurped vicegerency of the Pope as God on earth is too imcompati­ble with the just temporall power of Kings, to be willingly ad­mitted. The strained grosse and injurious pretences of the Roman Church have been too clearely detected, and Christian rights and truths too strongly vindicated to relapse to former delusions; whatsoever future remisnesse and indulgency the Pope may pretend, nunquam ligat sibi manus, there can bee no securitie against him, and naturally (as well as for their pretended truth and uniformity) they will ever tend to recover their losses and pristine authoritie. Many carry a reverend respect to that Church more out of a con­templation of what primitively they were and now should bee, then what they long have been, now are, and are likely to conti­nue. Unitie in truth and sincere Religion were indeed above all things to bee wished, as nothing is more to bee avoyded and ab­horred then falsehood, prevarication and imposture. Whatsoever pretext of policy and devotion there may seeme to bee in part of their discipline and Tenents; certainly there is little Christian wisedome and lesse devotion, to admit corruption and falshood up­on any policie; Gods truth stands not in need of our simulation and lies: a discovered Woolfe and Impostor, let his cloathing be what it list, shall never deceive mee, and in a sincere way I can al­most as easily consent to be of no formall Religion, as of a false one. But they will tell some of the wittiest amongst us that there is no assurance, no alacritie in a Calvinist spirit. Indeed their Cler­gy is very kind in charging their owne soules to seeme to ease ours by an implicite faith and absolution; If I were to chuse a religion for my ease and libertie it should bee theirs, but I know too much of Religion and them to be of that mind, I cannot but make use of my owne eyes in a way that so much importeth mee, nor can I yeeld to resigne them God requires the reading of the Scriptures, for they t [...]stifie of him, and by the same reason ill Clergy men forbid them. at their request. Now as it is my prayer, so will I endeavour to retaine a confidence against such apprehen­sion, and will persevere with you as well to judge as hope the best. This discourse though I am more unfit for it then it for mee, I have adventured upon in full discharge of my heart and soule, nor will I forget to put you clergy men into my prayers; for next to Christ and the King, from your sinceritie of doctrine, spirit and life, must flow our peace, happinesse and salvation. If you preach Christ more then your selves and teach inward more then outward holinesse, [Page 187] wee shall learne from you to become more truely Christian then hypocritically pharisaicall, you may otherwise confound and ru­ine your selves and us, from which mischiefe and misery may it please our mercifull God and Saviour to deliver us. Amen, Amen

Habituall vertue insuperable.

THere is an admirable communication and intelligence as well as league and Colligence betweene the body and soule. They Act the one upon the other, they suffer the one from the other, sometimes the one, sometimes the other leads the dance; If the mind be sad, the body is heavy, if rejoyced, active; and so con­trarywise the sicknesse of the body dejects the minde, and health gives it alacrity. The Oeconomy of the bodies concoction and fa­culties is disturbed and hindred by the trouble of the mind. So is the working of Physick. Onely the vertuous temper of the soule maintaines it selfe incorruptible and firme, in despite of all bodily infirmitie and distemper. A mind habituated to valour and vertue will never degenerate to cowardise and basenesse from its ingenit and naturall Character. The body may incline, it cannot compell: it offers to lead, it forceth not to follow; in our dreames a well­confirmed mind maintaines it selfe against vitious transportations; Yet may the state and temper of the body be much conjectured from our roving and raving fantasies in our sleepe or sicknesse. Rheume, Choler, and Melancholy may be concluded from wa­terish, fierie, or dismall representations, or the intention and abate­ment of a paroxysme and disease from the suitable pleasing or un­pleasing impressions and objects whereby they will finde meanes to impart themselves unto us. (I speake upon experience) in the malignitie of a fit or humour, wee are full of perturbation, diffi­cultie, and unluckinesse, in the decrease all goes faire and prospe­rous. More wonderfull are the influences and impulsions of God upon the soule, such as are rather to bee felt then related, they are unexpressible and indemonstrable. The leadings, the with­holdings, the comforts, the relievings, the deliverances, how sweet? how incomparable? Our spirits are nothing but as inspi­red from him. Hee is the incomprehensible Spirit of spirits and the world, the giver and ruler of our thoughts. True joy hath no other Spring or Center. Hee is the uniter, consolidator and com­mune viuculum of soule and body, the heavens and the earth, the elements and universe. No creature is more indebted to his favour [Page 188] then my selfe. I shall bee happy if he please to continue me thank­full, and exempt from abusing it. Which that I may not doe in further prosecuting this insatiable humour of writing, I resolve by his good grace and assistance to make this my peece of farewell. I know how short I come in matter, how short of what my selfe could write, I will not too much presume of his mercy and my owne strength and ordinary preservatives. Subjects of writings are as various and endlesse as obscure. If you will reade the Schoole­men, or more full and Divine writings of our present Bishop of Salisbury upon originall and actuall justice, it will abate our pre­sumption, and discover so the vast perplexed intricacy and nature of things and questions unto us, as will beget a modestie and restraint as well to our contentious discourse as scribling. God hath put me as well into a way of health for my body as my soule, if I wrong not the one by the other. Hee hath cleared my mists and confusi­on by the Sunshine of his grace. God make me constant to my self and him. Amen, Amen.

Postcript.To make mee also the rather consent to withdraw my selfe, I finde that already in my wild diversitie, I have falne upon so ma­ny notions, that for the most part, that I now take up is apt to en­terfere with what I have formerly touched, and the very avoyding would become neare as troublesome as the delivering of my selfe.

If to be temperate and good 'tis hard,
Will easie is, and seldome failes reward.
But who nor is, nor goes about to bee,
Shame may he reape, his vices proper Fee.

Sweetnesse of Goodnesse.

VVEre the world as fit to heare as I durst bee free to commu­nicate my most secret thoughts, I could and possibly would use another manner of opennesse then I doe; I often appeare profuse in respect of others, when I am reserved in respect of my selfe; I am full of vanitie and errour, yet such as a good man and Christian may, and for the most part must undergoe, though not ap­prove; Absolution must proceed from God, and he alone is idoneous for an entire and unreserved confession: I have abounded in an ex­orbitant fancy, passion, and infirmitie. Some men account tender­nesse of conscience, a silly weaknesse of mind, I make it my glory as they their shame. It was impossible for me to come off from so [Page 189] long a wrastle with God, and not to beare his markes: I am none of the miraculous three Children to come out of the Furnace and not have my body and garments savour of the fire. Such a con­quest and obduration had been my soules losse, and would mani­fest it selfe in such a profligate wickednesse as I hope shall never be mine; If I be not totally reformed and refined, yet as farre as the condition of a fraile passenger admits, I will as well endea­vor as hope to give proofe of a bettering in my affections. Hee is an evill Scholler to God and the world, who learns not to improve his talent, they both expect from us according to what we pretend and have, not according to what wee make no show of nor possesse: hee carries a great loade who hath charged himselfe with a great expectation, whether in vertue, curiositie, expense, or oftentati­on of knowledge; a little wit, money, or goodnesse, with hu­militie, sobrietie, and well managing will goe farre, and often finde better ease, plentie and acceptance, then a greater abounding. I would be sorry not to have improved my experience to such a Re­gulation of expence and affections as to bee able and as well plea­sed in shortning the one, as stretching out the other beyond a No­vice or common course. Time is an excellent Shoolemaster of Lezany, and ought to be of pietie, good improvement in any kind is one of the sweetest pleasures to a good mind, and it is one of the most happy conditions and nearest to God, to actuate a power of beneficence. The greatest felicitie of Princes, is their power to doe good; there is nothing more easie with Gods blessing then for a King and people to flourish in honour and welfare; the more mise­rable is the consideration that such power should so often miscarry by falling into either unskilfull or ill affected hands; Immense and infinite are the good effects of a power judiciously and constantly well imployed; If the fortune of private men in a constant way of thrift and course succeeds as wee often see, what will good or­der and industry produce in a State and Kingdome? If wee were as intent to provide remedies for publique as private defaults and inconveniences, Plenty, Justice, Honour, safety, strength, and the contentment of good men would flourish in the world more then they do it shall recompense all improsperitie in my selfe if I may see prosperitie in the service of God, my King, and Country; As he is good, may his Counsell be such and we are happy. Age is a disease and breeds a morositie, yeeres and experience of good and bad, right and wrong, have made me nice and hard to please, whether in diet, conversation, or good order, wee have much adoe to become pleased in our selves, as much in others. It is a discourse that hath been taken up against marriage, I have felt and could say much therein, but it is a jarring string; the best of us are clogs and remora's to our selves, much more to others; we can­not the best of us be so good as we would and should, I will yet wish well to others and bee as good as I can. Curantem quicquid dig­num sapiente bonoque est, is that I affect to finde in my selfe and [Page 190] others. Moralitie leads us to faire grounds, Christianitie to the best and soundest; It were well if wee could be constant to either without being at every turne of feare, hope, fancy, and our owne false appearing and flattering advantage, shaken in our resolutions, and abandoning God, Religion and goodnesse. But alas, wee call upon many men to be good, and to be wise, who have it not in their power; they want a conformation and temper of parts, they have Laesaprincipia, vitiosa praecordia; It is proper to God alone to bee exempt from error and frailtie. Many men erre by inconsiderati­on and want of Judgement, many by following their inclination and judgement, in nature right, but wanting experience or super­naturall illumination and grace; the first are wholly in the darke, the second want the true light, the first want judgement as well to Many of us must seele our errors before we see them, not ever then; we will blame fortune or somewhat else rather than our selves. correct and recollect as at first to discerne and design, the second want not discourse and understanding, but first suffer it to bee over­cast by their carelesnesse, sensualitie and affections; the first suffer in their frame, the second in disease, and distemper: no wonder if the first bee incorrigible, they are blind and have it not in them, the other have, but sometimes cannot go about to find it, and some­times will not use it. Though to me errour hath ever been essenti­all, yet at the worst have I never been so dissolute as to enthrall my selfe to the tyranny of any delight, vitious, or other, I have in truth been such a Sceptique as not to have been sure in so much as what was my pleasure, I have brought it to the rest of reason, and judged common delights too base and bestiall for a cultivated soule. But why was not I more scepticall against course of reason, then pleasure, which seemeth to admit of least doubt and dispute? reason is indeed too multiforme, fancy, interest, preoc­cupation, misunderstanding sway it too much, yet not so farre, but this conclusion may be raised. Experimentall and naturall conse­quences must bee acknowledged, and they who order their cour­ses and actions with least prejudice to themselves in either present or future respect may bee tearmed the wisest. But to distinguish, to re­straine according to truth and realitie, Hic labor hoc opus. God and nature must and will bee our leaders; God originally, Nature instrumentally; fantasie and discourse are peeces of Nature, and well instructed, well habituated may over-rule her. Perfection of soule consists in found understanding and affections, in conceiving and affecting our selves and other things in due measure and as wee ought; Regulation and moderation are the great businesse, right understanding begets them, and powre in them our practise, God, Justice, Honour rooted in and seasoning our soules will have an influence into, and steere our course and actions; Beautie is not faire, nor received pleasures sweet, but as they insinuate themselves and comply with our predisposed Fancy, which gives them their re­lish and tincture. Great and eminent beauties and Physitians are idly supercilious towards such as regard them not; their operation exists much in our conceipt; they are much beholding to Princes [Page 191] and others who subject themselves to their power of life, death, and torture over them, our weakenesse is their strength and credit. But here by Gods grace I leave this fruitlesse Labyrinth of writing, humbly begging his helping hand which onely can assist and di [...] ­rect mee, and hath never failed to support me. Amen, Amen.

THough I misse of your company in the vast cloud and presse of this Towne, yet I cannot forget you, nay such is the diffe­rence that I find betwixt yours and common conversations, that I want you the more by enjoying of them, and like a true peece of goodnesse discerne you the more by wanting you: Gratitude must never grow old, and some bruises and hurts are of a nature to renew and refresh their sense, by inward or outward accident, even till our deaths; that qualitie hath, since I saw and writ unto you, produced these little resentments which now I send you. It is a yeare of mourning, and mine is long since double-dyed, death and sicknesse are grown a common conversation, and have alone of late been mine, excepting the diversion which I have received by a continuall load of most importunate and vexatious trouble; my is also dangerously relapsed into the disease of the time, carelesnesse, presumption, impatience, and a treacherous indulgence to his own humours (our common reigning maladies) have been the cause: Wee are of late so out of our wits that our very mother wit of keeping our selves warme failes both in our mothers and us: By naturall heate wee live, want of clothes, want of cherishing it makes us all suffer: Though you know my mind concerning Physitians, yet such is their Ius acquisitum that my sonne is under their jurisdiction, God send it to his good, cold ta­ken upon Physick hath cast him downe. I have been present at their Anatomicall discourse of his distemper, danger and cure, excel­lent termes to amuse and amase the credulous ignorant, enough to worke a cure by the enchantment and charme of their words and language. Yet I cannot but compare it to a Rope-dancer whom I have seene doe his tricks, and show his Art in a Sack, if his footing were right, good, if other, hazard for a neck or limbe: But here if their learned blindnesse mistake, the poore paying Patient must suffer. It is just that they who cannot governe themselves should be ruled by others often worse. These and more evills must we suffer, as it is in the 14. Chap. of the booke of Wisedome, Verse the 22. from the warres of theirs and our ignorance. A word or two lesse would have ended with the bottome of the page, but howsoe­ver I end well if you continue and accept me.

Your faithfull Friend and Servant.

The Shepherd, Sheep, and Wolfe.

MY true fair-minded Friend; I beleeve you now in labour to Preach and mend the vitious world, I also wish, but little hope to doe it by writing; you sow, and I write in the Sand, wee both dwell at the sign of the Labour in vaine, the More will not change his hew, nor the Leopards their spots, they cannot, nay they would not, you shall not perswade them they are blemishes no more then the Lady her affected patches on her face, they are in fashion and appeare faire in their own eyes, as every mans way and pleasure to himselfe: we may lament one anothers endevours, others will deride us, or possibly, some will be so good as say, Well said, well writ, and as they use their feasts, eate, and forget; the sober diet breeds the better nourishment, example is the better Teacher, but it must bee numerous to prevaile; Vertue is grown but a name, and that neither well understood nor agreed on; Some honest men there are, Rari nantes in gurgite vasto, they may make much of themselves, and wrap themselves in their own vertue, a habit God knows out of fashion, they are fitter for Cloysters then the worlds traffique, and like square playing Gamesters shall be sure to bee made a prey and sit down by the losse; their strong constitu­tion may resist the corruption of the times, they shall not alter them, their innocence shall have as little power (howsoever commend­ed) as fresh waters upon the Seas saltnesse, the worlds antiperista­sis may better them, not they the world. But how comes it that so few are honest? is it that perfection must bee as rare and hard in Na­ture as in Art? is it that our artificiall confused meat and drink in­fect our bodies, and they our soules? is it the perniciousnesse of example in great and powerfull persons, who sway the times and seldome originally attain to riches, honours, and greatnesse by just and honest wayes? Or is it that as some species of creatures are of a perverse and evill nature, such as live by rapine and de­struction; such as Apes, Wolves, &c. so man is naturally of a mischievous kind? if so, them may a good natured man be esteem­ed a Monster, and rather an error then perfection of Nature: Is it these, or is it not rather the corruption of our mindes and affections by having changed and perverted Nature from her first purity, in­to Artificiall fancy and affectation of enthralling others and inrich­ing our selves? So that as women are in respect of their attire, of­ten the least part of themselves, the like may bee said of man in the disguise of the minde: So it is, and such punishment is deser­ved in our desertion and rebellion against God and Nature. We are one anothers scourges, wee are scourges to our selves. If you and I and others are rather Sheep then Wolves, let us thank God whose grace it is; let us cloathe our selves in our own wooll, short Pasture will content us for food, little drink more then the dew [Page 193] of Heaven; Thither let us tend towards him whose mark we bear, the great Shepherd of our Soules: Let Wolves be wolves, whilest hee is our Shepherd, and his good Angels our guard, we are safe and happy now and forever; let the wolves of this world, the Loup-garrons, the mankinde wolves devoure what they can, they shall devoure but what they can, most commonly one another: There are so few of us, they would else want meat, though their rage be great, their time is short, our comforts are sweeter, more permanent: as much as they contemn us, they are content to make use of our cloathing; they reckon us foolish Martyrs, of a foolish Philosophy, and wee them beasts of a foule deformity. They are ugly to God, ugly to goodnesse, often ugly to one another, and ugly to themselves, especially when affliction, sicknesse, and infir­mity lets loose that Band-dog, Conscience, upon them, which they had formerly in their prosperity tyed up and kept in darknesse and sleep; hating and hated, flattering themselves with strong delu­sions, to one anothers torture for the present, and eternall torment hereafter I leave them, committing you and all good men, the Sheep of God, to his inviolable, infallible protection. Amen, A­men.

NO wonder if a perverse nature use perverse and crooked wayes, a Serpent cannot goe right, craft is the evill mans instrument to evill ends, as cunning is sometimes necessary to good men for good purposes; evill men are in the dark, they are blinde to true vertue and charity, their workes are workes of darknesse, and their wayes accordingly: it is the glory of discreet power, in goodnesse to walk fairly, and choose the open safe and faire way, where o­thers how ever powerfull, needlesly encumber and bemire them­selves in bryers and bogges. As I have often said, it is a sweet thing to see knaves miscarry, and play the fooles, as commonly they doe: they, like the Woodcock, think themselves more con­cealed then they are, as much unduly overweening themselves, as undervaluing others. I never knew a foole without some kinde of craft, nor a wise man affect it.

MY second Father, Brother, and spirit of comfort, thus yet I am so happy as to converse with you in absence; it is a piece of my misfortune to bee at so great a distance from you in the same Town; my late, long, and hasty walke unto you, endangered a di­stemper and sicknesse upon me, but as burning with burning, so [Page 194] evill of exercise with exercise is cured. Naturall contemperament, and heat, strength, goodnesse and sweetnesse of nature and super­naturall grace, excited and maintained, I finde the best compani­ons and Physitians of body and soule; you are witnesse how ne­cessary they have been of late unto me in the sorrows and troubles I have undergone. I thank you for your visit and spirituall comfort you imparted to my relapsed Son, hee still needeth it, hee hath not wanted naturall heat and courage; temper, moderation, and a well concocted discourse, as well as a thorow digestion to some peccant humours of his body, I feare he doth: Time, and conflict with evills have not confirmed and wrought upon him, exchange of liberty, health, and pleasures, for disease, restraint, and paine, with an apprehensive contemplation of imminent death this mortall yeare, work a melancholick dejection upon his minde, and meet­ing with his infirmity, appeare at this time his greatest danger. A little ease, strength, and alacrity of spirits, animate his naturall presumption to his harm, and a little cloud overcasting him, as much exanimates. If God had not furnished me with as strong a re­solution to flight, as I have ever been apt to apprehend the worst events, I had a thousand times miscarryed; there is no slavery like the feare of death, no bravery like the contempt of the world and fortune; I have lost possessions, friends, brothers, children, but I have found God and have not lost my selfe; I have sowed kindnesse, and reaped dis-respect, my good intentions, charity, resolution and the grace of God are my reward and ever-relieving cordials. I seek not my self abroad, nor judge my self or others by the successe, others weaknesse and distempers shall not be mine, it shall rather fortifie and recollect mee; if my exuberance of na­turall heate and fancy breed my inconvenience, I can make an oyle of the same Scorpion to help me; not to have too much, is not to have enough; Aliquid amputandum, is the best constitution, luxuri­ance of Nature is the longest laster, at least if violence accident, and over-bold, indiscreet Whereunto it is too fre­quently pro­pense. adventure intercept it not; heat is the vehicul [...]m of vertue, hot natured plants have the strongest facul­ties, and braveliest resist the vigour and extremity of weather and Winter. Thus I play the Pedler with you, to you I open my pack of small wares; to the world I durst, but will not, they would but pry and smile and scorn; not buy to use, to weare and make their own: You finde here a great deale of trash, but no trumpery, many bables and toyes, yet some Gloves to weare, Knives to cut, Linnen to adorn, cover, and keep warme, Look­ing-glasses to see and order your self; Pedlers are not ever unwel­come, sometimes they are required, at least let my good will make not unwelcome unto you this my good morrow. Yet to goe a lit­tle further, and end where I begun: There is a happy and just use to be made of naturall heate, of our selves, and of Gods creatures, instituted, as Oyle, for cheerefulnesse of countenance; and Wine, to rejoyce the heart of man; that use to finde, that to practise [Page 195] without declining either to excesse, or fantasticall superstition and rigidity of humane Sophistry, prevarication and errour, is that wee ought to endevour and pray for in the discreet exercise of a good conscience, which God grant us, Amen.

THus you see, Animal vigilans semper laborat, some more re­misse, some more intense, according to the activity of their spirits and occasions, but my voyage is well past over, and I will not spread my sayles to every winde, I will be a stone to my self, against the wings of my thoughts, sedation shall be my affecta­tion, I will spare my fuell and rake up my fire, let them make pub­lique bonfires, and ring their Bells to warme and sport the world, who finde matter and joy to publish, mine is inward and shall serve my self till opportunity concurre; accept in good part with your wonted favour, this my pastime account and register, never inten­ded for a work, or piece of worth. Farewell.

SOules must have objects; strong, high-relished;
The strongest, filling, fair, and permanent;
Such is Gods love, wherewith not nourished
Earthly and base must be their nutriment.
No other love can defecate a soule,
From wallowing in delights base, empty, foule.
THou Lord, who first didst nip me in the bud,
From time to time dost humble mee,
Lest I should sin by heighth of blood,
And love the world more then the love of thee.
I gratulate thy favour, confident,
That so thou doest my soule preserve,
To bee a well-tun'd instrument,
To sound thy praise, and thy decrees to serve▪
Nor will I envy this mans wantonnesse,
His honor, or the others wealth:
Esteeming nothing happinesse,
But to possesse a soule in heavenly health.
All other joyes infatuate the minde,
Feeding it with a false content:
Oh let me still thy favour finde,
To keep me thine, I grudge no chastisement.
Moderate health and fortune are the best,
A little fire close set unto,
And heat sufficient to digest
Doe the same things that more abounding doe.
The more wee have the more we still presume,
Disordred mindes good states abuse,
The highest spirits most consume,
May I have nothing more then grace to use.
Great Farmes are seldome duely husbanded,
Ranke grounds abound in noysome weeds:
Wolves, Foxes, Goates, in wastes are bred,
He feeds more foes then Friends who many feeds.
THough Friends be absent, conversation lost,
My bating Soule oft labouring in it self,
By winds and fortune on the black Sea tost,
Thou present, Lord, I feare nor wave nor shelf.
Thou Father, Brother art, and Friends to me;
Be the world whose it list, so thou be mine,
They ne're miscarry who rely on thee;
Grace storms dispels more strong then they combine.
All thrives, where thou the pruning Gardner art;
To thy Plants, blastings frugall blessings prove;
Though Summer heighth and flourishing impart,
Winter gives strength and Timber to the Grove.
To thine, all sufferings end in joy and rest,
And th'absence of a wicked world is best.
EAse, handsomnesse, nor profit 'tis to tread
Your shooe awry: like may of vice be said;
Tis ever best to live and walk upright,
Things crooked grown, hardly return to right:
May I enjoy a faire and quiet minde,
Soules work like troubled Seas, long after winde.
GOdly content and quiet of the minde,
Constitute happinesse resembling Heaven,
Where soules nor strife, nor thirst of action finde,
Reluctancy is conquer'd, all goes even:
Vertue it self untroubled must proceed,
Howe're its Acts miscarry, or succeed.


Et quoniam Deus ora movet,
Sequar ora moventem.


DIvinest Herberts Soule,
Upon Mr. Herberts true Hymn. p. 162.
daign that I joyn
In Hymns accorded to the heart by thine,
Unto our Masters glory, and admit
Mee for a Rivall in thy heighth of love:
For though thy lofty flight bee farre above
My creeping Muse in spirit, verse, and wit;
My love both may, and ought, thy love exceed,
Since greatest pardons, greatest love doe breed.
Thus living, sing we, (Swan-like singing dye)
His Panegyrick, our own Elegie:
Others, I hope, will come and beare a part,
To hide my want of voyce, my want of Art.


Alphabeticall, in imitation of the 119 Psalme.
AWay unhallowed spirits, fleshly borne,
Unto the second birth these lines belong,
Your eyes are full of lust, your hearts of scorn,
You cannot taste a supernatur'd song.
When in Gods furnace you shall prove refin'd,
Divinely transubstantiate from above:
Your Soules contrite, your stony hearts calcin'd,
And him propound sole object of your love;
Then shall my inspirations finde applause,
And penetrate your soules as well as mine:
Then will you finde them both your meat and sauce,
And warm your spirits at such beams Divine.
God knows what preparations I have past,
Oft broken with this Plough to kill my weeds,
Down melted, in a new mould to be cast,
Macerate, fetter'd, fitted for new seeds.
When his magnetique vertue draws, you come;
Till then, to what I write, be blinde, deaf, dumb.
BLest Founder of this earthly Hospitall,
Sole, daily Benefactor to mankinde:
Lord Paramount of Lords, of Kings and all,
Soule of our Soules, controller of the minde,
Transcendent Essence, dazling more our sight,
Then Sun-beams Owles, harder to comprehend,
Then 'tis for Ants to judge, and reason right
Of men, and know whereto their counsels tend.
Thou who giv'st Faith, and Grace spirituall,
Hearts happiest Center, food, and notion;
Who truely art what falsely we doe call,
Instinct, or Nature, Father of motion;
Inspire my soule, my spirit animate,
Thy working power and glory to expresse,
That these my lines may partly expiate
My lives and pens past errors, and impresse
Thy stampe divine upon my readers heart
Assisted by thy holy Spirits Art.
COntemne not Lord this humble sacrifice,
This Incense from the censor of my heart;
Heart, which thy quickning Spirit mortifies
To live and die to thee a true convert.
As in my heart, so flow into my stile,
Untie, tune, cleare my soule, that I may sing
Thy saving grace and prove most happy while
I may one sparkle to thy glory bring.
None but a power Almighty could create,
Yet greater wonder our redemption was,
Nor goes lesse mercy to regenerate,
That worke nor consummate nor Sabbath has.
To live fresh fishes in this briny Sea,
To swim by faith against strong natures streame,
Beyond our reason and our eyes to see,
And make thy soule transporting love our theame;
This Antedates the sweet fruition
Of thy most beatifique vision.
DIspence O Lord that I polluted, lame,
Presume thy power and mercies to display;
Thy Priest should perfect be and free from blame,
But thy projection workes on base allay
The greatest graces, thou hast summon'd all
Thy creatures to thy praise, their rent to pay:
Nor can I chuse but answer to thy call,
Accountable for mercies more then they.
But yet (alas!) what fruite can I expect
From these farre short of lines Apocryphall,
Since thine owne dictates finde so small effect,
And Isralites prov'd hypocriticall?
Yes, thou hast wonders wrought on me and canst
By thy assistance so my labours blesse,
Some one at least by me may be advanc'd
To feele thy Spirits motion, and redresse
The course of sinne, which flesh cannot withstand,
Without the succour of thy sacred hand.
ERect (O Lord) thy Trophees in my Verse,
Confound with shame th' Idolatrizing Muse,
Teach such with me thy praises to rehearse,
Tis better write to save then to seduce.
Teach them thy beautie, riches, thou who art
Riches and beauties donor, cleare their eyes
To admire the vertues which thou doest impart
To the rich furnish'd earth and guilded skies.
Thou needst no strain'd conceits nor figures, such,
As they imploy to shew wit and give grace,
Thou their Hyperbole's exceed'st so much,
They faint to see invention wants a place.
Oh that my Verse like Aarons rod had pow'r
To overcharme, what those inchanters sing,
And all their strong illusions to devour,
Or like the Brasen Serpent cure their sting:
Then might my Muse triumphant Lawrell weare,
Endu'd with grace no thunder blasts to feare.
FAther of beautie, goodnesse, power and love,
Vertue of vertues, spring of eloquence,
By whom alone we are, we live and move
And exercise a happy confidence.
Whose love to us made thee evacuate
Thy selfe and glory frailtie to put on,
Frailtie to hunger, die, degenerate
To man in all but his corruption.
Oh let thy love like love in us procure,
And teach us to deny our selves for thee;
Change, which to thee was losse, will be our cure,
Thy hunger food, thy death our life will bee.
Teach us to love and we shall learne to write,
In Characters of love our hearts will flow,
Love chafes benummed spirits to endite,
And ever carries light 'its flames to show.
Make mee, Oh Lord to thee a perfect lover,
And love will both it selfe and thee discover:
No wonder else if we prove dull to write,
For 'tis a wonder Lord, to love thee right.
GRieve Oh my heart, grieve that thou canst not grieve,
Grieve that thy streames flow counter to thy will,
Grieve that thy fraile propensions still survive,
And thy intemperate nature swayes thee still.
Shame oh my soule, oh shame to see thy shame,
Shame that nor faith nor reason can prevaile,
Shame that thou knowest most savage things to came,
And that thy Art upon thy selfe doth faile.
Suffer thou doest and justly suffer too,
In selfe offending, wilt thou still befoole
Thy selfe in doing what thou should'st not doe,
And non-proficient prove in thy owne schoole?
Yes Lord, it will be so, except thy grace
Continually prevent, preside, restraine;
In thy least absence nature will take place,
Nor can against it selfe it selfe containe.
Children from Nurses are nor safe nor quiet,
Without thee, soule nor body, can keepe diet;
Destroy Oh Lord what foments our annoy,
Or wild presumption will our health destroy.
HEaven wert thou no reward, Hell but a tale,
Religion but a waking dreame begot,
Twixt policie and fancy to prevaile
Over fraile flesh and hopes and feares besot;
Were conscience but a brat of Arts begetting,
As reall in 'its falshood as in truth,
A home-spun stuffe as false wrought as selfe fretting,
A brand impos'd upon our tender youth;
Yet hath it pleas'd my Lord to manifest
So palpably his selfe and love to mee;
Were nature richer, sweeter, Ile divest
And strip my selfe of all for love of thee.
None more then I th'erroneous print can read,
Of melancholy and superstition,
Nor better all their subtile steps untread,
Distinguishing between Text and Tradition:
Beleeve me, more hath gone me to convert,
Then either wit or nature can pervert.
HAbituate maladies are hardly cur'd,
Relaps proves often mortall, worst in sinne,
To me relaps'd oft and to sinne inur'd,
Strange hath thy mercy, Lord, and patience been.
Insolvable I am for such great grace,
Yet I ambitious am to make returne,
What most is mine and others most embrace,
In gratefull sacrifice to thee I burne.
Obedience, Temperance I here professe,
Worldly delights and wealth I abdicate,
No fetter'd votary yet ne're the lesse
My selfe to thee I freely consecrate.
Power, honour, riches, pleasures sensuall,
The Idols which the world doth most adore,
I flight as much, and so I master all,
That others creepe to: Nothing I implore
Lord, but thy grace; in that more pleasure rests,
Then all the base delights that flesh suggests.
IMagination, what thou canst produce
By thy prolisique pregnant facultie,
Is a discourse as subtile as abstruse,
How thy owne species thou dost multiply.
In what great distance, secret sympathy,
Through ayre or spirits thou act'st on things remote,
I cannot say with perspicuitie,
Nor how thy impertitions are begot.
Distempers and conceits doe verifie,
Strong fancied objects outwardly appeare,
[Page 203]Paying in opticall realitie,
The intromissions of the impregnat Ayre.
Wo [...]ke then my faith by thy great energy,
Faith upon others warme with charitie,
The coldnesse of the times to fructifie,
By its diffusive vertuous qualitie;
Rise Lord and sympathetically encline
To turne to thee, thy enemies and mine.
KNowledge is sweet and bitter, faire and lame,
A great impotor, body fram'd of Ayre,
A chatting, flattering and self-painted Dame,
More in conceite then reall beautie faire.
How justly could I raise a mutiny,
Against our self-deceivings, till I finde
Our errors are not worth the scrutiny,
Nor truths true subjects of a sensuall mind.
God found us in our losse and selfe-bred stormes,
And with his light his Port exhibited,
Us to disbryer crown'd himselfe with thornes,
And made us rich in wares prohibited.
Forbeare: beleeve and love is all hee craves,
All other knowledge is as false, as vaine,
Wee foole our selves, and make our selves true slaves
To our false dotage, faith alone is gaine.
Thy constant love oh Lord is all my ayme,
All other affectations I disclaime.
LOrd, I desire my contract to make good,
What e're befalls should I a loser prove,
How e're things passe as they are understood,
Wee cannot lose, if wee can say wee love.
Though as wee feare,
Psal. 90. v. 11.
so thou shouldest prove offended,
Though vitious longings satisfied would cure,
Though I could seise what fancy e're pretended,
Yet would I stoope to nothing but thy lure.
Charme what thou canst false world, deafe is my eare,
Thou Lord alone canst fill my greedy heart,
No other object have my hopes or feare,
Nature adieu, for I will live by Art.
Lord make me Master in thy Arts divine,
That this worlds Sophistry I may elude,
Could I as well demonstrate as define
Solve as distinguish, vice should not obtrude
It selfe for vertue; I would make appeare,
The height of pleasure is thy love and feare.
MY selfe converted (Lord) as thou hast will'd,
Others I would confirme and draw to thee,
That here more perfect, though not yet fulfill'd,
Thy Lawes obedience and our joyes might bee.
My sinnes and sufferings my compassion breed,
To see soules not maligne bewitcht by sinne,
Let thy wounds Sympathy make their hearts bleed,
Knock hard O Lord, and they will let thee in.
Their soules have cost thee all as deare as mine,
Vouchsafe that they may equall favour find,
Hadst thou not forc'd mee I had ne're been thine,
Open their eyes or they must still be blind.
But Lord thy will be done, best time thou knowest,
Thy justice or thy mercies to impart,
Thou ever in thy favours overflowest,
Thy justice keepe for the malicious heart:
Charitie binds us to seeke others good,
How e're thy will and grace have firmely stood.
NOr Cynthia Starres, nor Roses Violets,
Nightingales Wrens, nor our heart-charming Queene
Can so surpasse the vulgar delicates,
That shine and are in triviall beauties seene;
As doe thy pleasures, Lord, the worlds delights,
Which seeme to feed, but leave us hungry still,
[Page 205]Suggesting false distracted appetites,
Which satisfied with gall and wind do fill.
Poore flattering fading pleasures sweet to none,
But groveling Palats, Bubles of the minde,
Compar'd with them you shew how short you come
By the discountenanc'd guilty shame you find.
As is the Galaxia in the skies,
A light from many hidden lights proceeding,
Such constant confluence of joy doth rise,
From Gods sweet influence of grace succeeding:
Lord guide me in a refluence to thee,
And worldly affluence my scorne shall bee.
OH Lord I know I may be thought to sing
Triumph before full victory obtain'd,
But since thy pardon hath vouchsaf'd to bring
Mee to thy feast of conscience unstain'd,
I nothing doubt mercy compleat to finde:
Why then my soule art thou perplexed still?
Stere cleare (O Lord) and pacifie my minde,
Since thee to celebrate is all my will.
But my extent it doth too farre exceed,
To tell the wonders thou hast wrought for mee:
Accept oh Lord endeavour for the deed,
My best expressions must come short of thee.
Then rest my soule, repose in God alone,
Hee is thy countenance helper, and thy Lord,
His mercy never faileth to his owne,
Such as beleeve and trust unto his word.
Yet Lord I care not, so thy favour last,
Though Taper-like I spread my light and wast,
Or though I like the poore flame-courting flie
Seeking thy glory, singe my wings, and die.
PRevail'd thou hast my God and made me thine,
A stubborne knotty peece thou hast mee prov'd,
[Page 206]Seaventy times seven at least thou didst refine,
And pardon mee by thy example mov'd
To labour others good, forgive their ill,
With courage and with love invincible,
Wee perish Lord except thou vanquish still,
And worke us to thy will reducible.
Great to thy Rebells (Lord) is thy compassion,
Which doth to us part in thy conquest yeeld,
In thee wee triumph over sinnes and passion,
And chase the strongest lusts out of the field.
Some live in sinne, yet find thy grace at last,
To thee repentance never comes too late;
I in thy conflicts all my life have past,
A moment could not well mee subjugate.
The hardest conquest is the greatest glory;
'Tis not the course but end that crownes the story:
Advance O Lord thy conquest still in mee,
That I may find sweet triumph still in thee.
QUarrell no more my ca [...]ping soule, but yeeld,
Yeeld to thy mighty conquerer, and know,
'Tis for thy good, nature hath lost the field,
And that thy selfe thou to his grace dost owe.
Thou hast thy selfe enrol'd into his pay,
Nature was false and paid thee in base coyne,
Oh doe not now thy selfe and him betray,
But fight against his enemies and thine.
Undisciplin'd, licentious was thy course,
In thy first warfare, natures stinging want,
And emptie pay led thee from bad to worse,
Sharking thy pleasure was, thy food was scant.
In shiftings and in change thou didst subsist,
Thy purchases dissolv'd in wast and griefe,
Oh joy no more in doing what thou list,
But joy in thy well disciplining Chiefe:
Happy who are to his command resign'd,
All else is as the blind to lead the blind.
REckon we doe without our Host, if wee
Dispose, Oh Lord, our wayes irregulate,
In carnall appetites neglecting thee,
Sole Founder, and upholder of our State.
As little reckon I, as care to live,
Thou hast cross-byast me to this worlds pleasure,
Nature hath been as frank to me to give,
As unto others, but another measure
Hath levell'd me, where God makes strong impression,
Like silly impatient birds, we struggle may,
But not evade, the humour of adustion
Possest, dispenseth not to disobey.
Most happy humour, how art thou deprav'd,
And made the bath of spirits most maligne?
Thou art Faiths sealing-wax, and we are sav'd,
Holding by Faith, and mounting by thy wing.
Take brutish vain delights who will for mee,
More solid pleasure Lord, I finde in thee.
SWeet, Lord, above compare thy mercies are,
More sweet then pleasure, I thy grace doe finde;
Quiet and safety harbour in thy care,
Thy love alone cures all disease of minde.
Nor mighty frownes, nor flattering applause,
Nor threats of death, nor worldly misery,
Can least amazement or distemper cause,
To such as make thee their felicity.
That is the only necessary thing,
Which where it dwels, all troubles drives away,
Whilst cares distracting, other soules doe wring;
They in thy peacefull Regions soare and play.
Arts Sophistry, which Natures peace hath kil'd,
With intricate intanglings (which to solve,
Reason stands lost, and our best spirits spil'd)
Can never now to happinesse resolve,
But Lord in thee, there doe I finde with gain,
More then I lost, ne're to be lost again.
TIs probable, that who discovered first,
America's rich Coast, made losse his gain,
Nor ere had found it had he not been lost,
T'enrich himself, and feed ambitious Spain.
Nor had I ever found the promis'd Land,
Had I not first been wildred, sav'd, and lost,
Above my reason by Gods mighty hand,
Happily ship-wrack'd on that fragrant Coast:
Coast subject to crosse tydes, rocks, storms, and shelves,
Its channell narrow, turning off and on,
Where we can ne're arrive (left to our selves)
But only by that Pilot God and m [...]n.
Wonder works Faith, Faith wonders: sin is bold,
Yet fearfull; rich, yet poore; but Lord, thy grace
Gives full wealth, peace, joy, courage uncontrol'd,
And makes sin beare, what doth it self efface.
Strangely, but ne're was man so hap'ly crost,
I had been lost (Lord) had I not been lost.
VNtill, (Oh Lord) I fonud and turn'd to thee,
How I was still to seek, uuquiet still,
I shifted place, delights and company,
But till my self was chang'd, retain'd my ill.
Thy shafts stuck in my sides and hunted me,
Twas not a Court, a Mistresse, game or play,
Princes sweet presence, and society,
Could chase disease and clouds of cares away.
I thought the bounty of a bounteous Prince
Would never faile to recompence desert;
But sad experience hath taught me since,
Saints must be prayed, and Courting is an Art.
Masters and Mistresses too oft are won,
By flattery more then duty, and true love;
To speed with thee requires but well to run,
In thy Court, merit needs no Saint to move:
Thy self our Advocate and merit art,
None happy are, but whom thou dost convert.
WRiting of holy love, infused grace,
And births stupendious of conspiring fate,
Which make me a self-wonder and disgrace-
Ses Monument, subsisting to relate
The matchlesse story of a stormy life,
And weather-beaten Soule, built faire and strong,
For gazers Comets, and to suffer strife;
Such ground-works oft to Christian Faith belong.
Gorgons, and Harpies, Porpoises, might here
Challenge appearing, with mysterious spell
Of Chymistry, of Caball and such geare,
More then my story I my Scene might swell.
My Starres in native posture I present,
Affecting truth more then fond skill to show,
Nor fill I with strange shapes my firmament,
But rather wish my Verse may gently flow
In sweet returnes of gratitude for grace,
Lord, till I sing thy praises face to face.
X Why the letter thou should'st be to spell
Christs Character, except by mystery
Of thy Crosse-figure, well I cannot tell;
But crosses Lord, doe best resemble thee:
Thou wert a man of sorrows, and who will
Thy souldier be, must thy Crusado take,
And beare thy Crosse, fighting thy battailes still,
Against the world and nature for thy sake.
Tis a hard task, but such is Vertues food,
Fight, Victory, and Conquest gives a Crown;
Warfare is none of pleasures Carpet brood,
Nor sleeps brave honour on a bed of Down.
They who can raise their thoughts no higher then
Soft sensuality, beasts let them bee,
Grazing on short delights, unlike to men,
That either glory doe affect or thee.
Thy Starres, Oh Lord, my glory are, base pleasures
I leave to such as dote on this worlds treasures.
YOuth, thou debauched boyler in thy blood,
Thou unconsidering domicile of Lust,
Thou self Idolater, senselesse to good,
Ape of the times, proud of thy glasse of dust,
Unbridled colt, subject to all impression,
But that of grace, thy state I doe lament.
To bring thee on thy knees for sins confession,
Thou who art stranger to the word, repent.
I grant, that if Gods truth such course did urge,
And policy could Homogeneall prove,
With true Religion, thou needst such a purge,
Thy Plethorique Luxuriance to reprove.
Miracles are not ceas'd, if we can quit
Ourselves for God, such change his work must be;
I have had good affections for a fit,
But to persist, Oh Lord, must come from thee.
I have been young, some good I would have done,
Which now is all to prayer and paper come.
ZEale of thy Faith, my God, hath wasted me,
My errors and thy truth have kept me low;
Were thy truths errors, I would erre to thee,
Rather then in all earthly pleasures flow.
Thou gavest me strength of body and of minde,
But inexperience led me to abuse them;
The last, I over-fed, the other pin'd.
Lord, what are gifts, except thou teach to use them?
The strongest mindes their strengths to ruine turn,
Goodnesse of Nature oft it self o're-throws,
Feavers, to ashes best complexions burn,
Nature is blinde, and knows not where it goes.
Lord help and pardon our infirmity,
And let thy Justice upon malice seize.
Malice is surely thy Antipathy.
Be reconcil'd to them that seek to please.
And rather set a period to my fate,
Then that I ere become thy reprobate.


IN dentures are term'd Deeds, I seale and signe
My part, Oh Lord, to thee, poore fruitlesse part,
The leading deed originall is thine,
Deedlesse without thee is my Counterpart.
Thy seale and hand must give validity,
Or all our acts will vaine and counter prove:
Thou only canst give perpetuity
To our intentions, to our faith and love.
Thou that hast hardned me to break, or dye,
Rather then bend to basenesse, (in self-love,
And honour, maugre all other love) shall I
Lesse constant in thy zeale and service prove?
No, thou Omega as well as Alpha art,
And all thy works wilt to perfection bring,
As well as thou hast taught my simple heart,
In this my Alphabet, thy Praise to sing:
Hosanna, and Hallelujahs unto thee,
Shall fill my Soule, and my conclusion bee.

THE Verses which I read to your Ladiship the other day, at your then open Casement, were occasion­ed by some disorder of the preceding week, and some distemper I had at that instant upon me, which made me unfit for such a placing, and caused a farther cold, which I have since suffered, but by a happy constitution, and cleer­nesse of body, maintained by daily exercise, I thank God, I fear not any violent or long continuance; Nay, I rather reckon it as an excellent medicinall Physick unto me, cold ferments into a heat, and heat digests and purifies, stormes clear the aire, agitation re­fines and subtilizeth the water and fire, and stirring advantageth the earth. Evills are said not to goe alone, and distempers purge a­way more then their causes; But it is good, as well in state, as soule and bodies, to maintain themselves in such a freedome from over­abounding in evill humors, that misaccidents when they come, and there can be no security against them, may not endanger the whole [Page 212] frame; Thus much of cold: but what shall we say in surprises of heat and fire? wee have lately seen many misfortunes thereby, shall we therefore not build, or not make fire to warm our selves? such resolution were to defraud our selves of the naturall commodities of our reason, and discourse, which teacheth us rather to confine and moderate the use of things, then utterly to decline them. It is the property of wilde beasts to feare and fly from fire, and of men to use it. And now to revert something to our other nights discourse of Love, (which certainly hath some Divinity in it, or otherwise it could never, as it doth become a fresh and infinite Theam of our best spirits) Love and anger are the fires of the Soule, if inordi­nate, as well dangerous, as vitious, shall we therefore shun them as a Plague, whose best antidote is to fly quickly, farre, and return slowly? is love as incompatible with reason as is pretended? and may not Religion, though supernaturall, admit of a naturall and free vertuous affection betwixt the two Sexes? Religion saith, Be angry, but sin not; and is rather a rule to rectifie then extinguish af­fections, they are the wings of the Soule, without an object they are nothing, and without the use of them we fall flat to the ground, like disfeathered birds. The Lady and Nation of Ladies, which your Ladiship mentioned, are not reasonlesse not to bee without a servant, especially such as are or have been beautifull, for it is a commanding Character, certainely instituted for a de­lightfull entertainment and admiration. It is an unnaturall stu­pidity not to be affected therewith, and a kinde of injury to its Au­thour, not to exercise such affection. I ever mean without abuse; but this concludes for women, not for men, our affections have more fire in them, matter more combustible, and women are com­monly as well in effect as in title too much our Mistresses; Chil­dren and fooles are not allowed to play with fire, it had need be a strong, well-prepared, and well-habituated Soule that entertaines it; we are no Salamanders, to thrive and be safe in the flames. What now ought a man that would be wise, to doe, affecting to give as well his nature as Religion their right? Platonique Love is explo­ded, Love is corporeall, and entreth at the eyes. Lust cannot be excluded for an ingredient, which yet admitted, it follows not that it must be predominant, as I discoursed unto you, some other over-ruling affection may contain and represse it, either in a Reli­gious, civill, or other self-interessed consideration, nay, even in a divers prevailing respect towards the very subject of our love. I can be affected with the objects of my palat and eye, and yet for­beare them, burn with a surprizing desire of mortall revenge, and yet refrain: Fear and awe will prevaile even with dogs and beasts, and why not in Love? but how farre this is to be allowed in dis­cretion, I submit, with a good morrow to your Ladiships more re­fined discourse, and judgement. I send you the Verses, humbly kis­sing your hands, and end with my Paper.

Your Ladiships, &c.

A promiscuous peece of three houres work in a morning, to cleare from further writing.


IF I deceive not my self, there is somewhat of power from a­bove, urging my addresse unto you; I have now, by Gods grace, finished that my designe of Verses which I had propounded to my self; they are upon presumption of your Ladiships favour to goodnesse, and your humble servant their Author, at your com­mand: expect not the strong Master-pieces and quintessentiall lines, which these curious times, and the refined ambitious Spirits of our age produce, in defiance of Critiques, my births are naturall, easie, and hasty, sometimes foure peeces to my breakfast in the begin­ning of a morning; I am as impatient as any woman of a long and painfull labour; I haste to my journeys end, and can as little hope or goe about to remould any of my first births, as your Ladiships your children once brought to light. I love not Verses of the rag­ged staffe, but wish them fluent and gentle, which was wont to be a commendation. If my walls want strength to support themselves in their naturall stuffe and scope, they shall rather miscarry then borrow the supports of inwrought strange conceits and butteresses of Art: if I would undergoe any affectation, it should be to deli­ver over ingenious notions, and materiall, instructive, rationall con­ceptions, with an ingenuous and genuine elegance, and some depth of prospective in my termes and expressions, according to the ca­pacity and perspicacity of my Reader. But I am now too old and serious for Verses, and have wholly given them over, only these my late peeces I conceived my self to owe to my Maker, and I am sorry they were not my first fruite, which are more properly his due; Autumnall fruits are neither the most pleasant, nor whole­some; I have in great retirednesse and confusion employed my time of late, in the dissection of my self and fortune, our observations in the Anatomy of the body grow from the opening of others, but of the minde from our selves, as the Starres of heaven and Globe of earth, they are as yet in great uncertainty and undisco­vered; some rules we have attained, and Eclipses we can foretell, but for sound and infallible knowledge and judgement, we daily finde our selves as erroneous as our common Almanack-makers, whose prognostiques are as ridiculous as false. And now finding my selfe in motion betwixt heaven and earth, give me leave to impart a contemplation of Characterizing such a perfection as yours, in relation to them; in Rel. to the La. R. comelinesse and beauty like the Heavens, in motion regulate, in order faire, powerfull in influence. A well ordered minde resembles the clearenesse, serenity, peaceable­nesse [Page 214] and harmony of the upper Spheres, and Crystalline Heaven; a faire built body, the beautifull variety of the earth, delightfull, fruitfull, well drest, and correspondent to the Heavenly motions, in season, order, and constancy; yet such little worlds there are, which seem to enjoy in some exemptions a priviledge above the lower heavens, and the earth; for they are free from storms, scorch­ings of heat, nippings of frost, inundations and other disorders; such Comets are sent sometimes to be admired, and to awake the dying vertue and reputation of your sex. Phidias an excellent sta­tuary, is said to have composed such a Minerva, and such a figure of himself in the center of her Target, that the whole work bear­ing upon it, it could be no lesse permanent, then the main peece: I have here presumed to place you as a precious peece of preservation unto me. The abridgement of my story shall now follow like a cloudy storm, after a faire Sun-shine, that I have been most unhap­pily miserable more then the outward face of nature, or fortune dis­cover in me, is known to all that know me, but true and secret cau­ses are so obscure, that it hath been even to my self a most intricate disquisition to finde them. Yet, besides what may be attributed to the Starres, Fate, Complexion, and an over-ruling hand, as in for­mer papers, though disorderly, I have made to appeare. They may be partly reduced to an unseasonable and Marri­age, accidentall, inordinate, and indiscreet use of Treacle, long and unfavourable dysaster, in respect of the Court, where I had my Introduction, a fortune unproportionable to my quality, spirit, and ingaged condition; A minde curious as well to its own furniture, as election of course, and no course obvious or faire unto me, espe­cially in the distracting ambiguous considerations of my seats; (and above all) for without that I could as well as another have passed over all the rest; a super-induced Melancholy from the abuse of such Treacle, which wholly altered and disanimated me, urging re­tirednesse, study, thoughts, care, and a distastednesse upon me. Phy­sick, instead of releeving me, was my bane, over-drawing of blood, and over-working my active minde, brought and held me in such a lownesse and consumption of spirits (whereunto also an over-slen­der dyet for feare of fatnesse, much conduced) that howsoever a free boldnesse of spirits and conversation was naturall unto me, I have been forced to live so farre under my naturall rate and facul­ties of Soule, that I wanted spirits to counterlook a Cat, confusion of eyes, memory, and gesture, with infinite other incident malig­nant symptomes, were the pernicious effects of my disorder; my naturall strength and violence of spirit, aggravated my disease, bred my continuall mischief, and by the same strength and Gods better grace, I as indefatigably resisted and subsisted; long and dangerous Feavours took advantage upon the matter and occasion of my infirmity, other desperate accidents in fortune I suffered, and much more then all this in the contrarieties of my contracted con­dition, and misgoverned errours. It hath pleased God as extraor­dinarily [Page 215] to support me, as by extraordinary and strange wayes to confound, deject, and bring me towards him. No man ever became extream bad in an instant, supernaturall goodnes is harder to effect. Being now at length throughly conscious of my infirmitie and vio­lence in all my affections, and as throughly wrought upon by Gods good Spirit and grace, that which I put in execution remained onely fit and necessary for me, which is as this King of France hath lately in consideration of extraordinary troubles, and in them as great protections of God towards him and his people, solemnly committed and devoted himselfe and his kingdome unto the pro­tection of our blessed Lady, though somewhat preposterously: so have I wholly resigned and consecrated my selfe to God, having withall put off or made indifferent unto mee, all common and worldly affections and ambitions, by meanes whereof I am now as quiet as I have formerly been agitated and troubled; abstinence is often lesse difficult then moderation, diversion is a powerfull meanes of cure, active affections must finde a subject, and there is none so happy, none so satisfactory as God; not to bee affected with goodnesse is not to bee affected with him, and to con­temne or bee insensible of beautie were to slight one of his Ma­ster peeces: such onely of my ancient concomitances I cast not off; vertue is ever to be prised, but most when fairest set. Grace, goodnesse, and beautie are his brightest beames, con­curring they move to veneration and delight. My thoughts shall at this time no further follow such an alluring subject, what I would be and resolve I declare, what I have been I cannot help, possibly I could not, many solutions are brought against the arguments of Fate, which more confound themselves then avoid it. Let Fate be as it will, the understanding rises from the senses, and the will from it, suc [...] constituted causes must produce such effects; right electi­ons must needs bee as difficult as happy, (our passions give tincture to our judgement, as a coloured pane of glasse to the Suns beames, or as in the Jaundies we see all yellow) they depend upon accidents, and upon our complexion, objects vary according as wee diversly approach them, their very being consists often more in fancy and apprehension then truth, they are involved in darknes and innume­rable circumstances, as hard to discerne as accommodate, in such circumstances, they hourely vary, and wee as much. It is hard for two ships in motion to hit the one the other; it is true that some see clearer, and are more circumspect then others, yet old and long experienced counsellors are often rejected, as the worst resolvers, they apprehend too much, chance and boldnesse give often the best successe, chance according to us holds a predominancy, but God is all in all. Happinesse and tranquillitie have no other true center or circumference, my Spirits naturally working and violent, were incapable of rest, had I not found it in his grace and favour to mee, and my totall surrender unto him. Faith is the sole Ca­tholicon, and generall Antidote against worldly perturbations. [Page 216] Hee hath wonderfully exempted me from scorne, from want, and all great infirmitie; He hath satisfied all my reasonable affectations even to this of writing, wherein I have so disburdened my selfe, that though it bee hard to write truely, and not inconveniently, or any thing to the full satisfaction either of others or my selfe, yet I have done enough to resolve to withdraw my selfe from it, confining my selfe hereafter to write nothing but necessary letters, and sub­scribe my selfe

Your Ladiships most humble and faithfull servant.
Noble Sir,

For Sir John Suckling upon the pre­face concer­ning Poetry and the Coro­na.YOur late request, which was to me an obliging command, makes me send you that peece which you honored with your preten­ded conversion; I never thought it any thing till now, and now I make it yours that it may receive some further vertue of operati­on from you; and seeing I finde you a proposition convertible, I pre­sume to lend you another peece of simple conversion. It consists of a few begging verses, if you find them blind, impute it to their hasty and zealous production. They beg a hand from God, a fa­vorable eye from you, from him fatherly, from you friendly cor­rection, they need it from you, and the lesse you need from them, the more your happinesse, and their obligation, I submit them and my selfe to you as

Your faithfull servant.

TO you whose sincere Faith to God and Christian religion, good affection towards mee, and good discretion and judgement in all things are most approved; to you who have been most present and domestique with mee through the late course of the most and best of my writings, and who above others are acquainted with the inside of my heart and fortune, I entrust my poore treasure of papers, what ever in themselves, to mee costly, and possibly to an inquisitive reader of no ungratefull or unprofitable relish: their unaffected nakednesse is their riches, nor was Adam ever poore till hee sought for covering; may they meete with no other eyes then such as yours, and their ingenuitie shall bee happy, at least find pardon: Monkeyes have a kind of prettinesse, one mans errors are [Page 217] anothers correction and institution, promiscuous fantasticall graf­fings afford delight, but I must runne the common fate, some must like mee better, some worse; If honest men finde an honest spirit in me, and prove indulgent to it, I am satisfied; they are happy fruits of my worldly misfortunes: for my particular, I would not have wanted my errors, upon our most uncomely parts wee put most comelinesse, and there are as well happy errors as unhappy prosperities: I have lately found in these last ornaments and com­plements which I bestow upon my house (wherein I have so con­teined my selfe as to have forborne the satisfaction of my fancy therein since I first knew it) that my workmens mistakings and abu­ses have produced a bettering to my designe. I have been strangely favoured by the weather, considering the earlinesse of the yeare: un­favourable seeming circumstances where God befriends prove our advantage, may the journey I am now called to, prove such to our betters and our selves. If God shall please to blesse mee in a good returne, I hope to fall handsomely to an honest country course, and play the Paterfamilias better then others have discharged them­selves towards mee in my infirmitie and trust; I am naturally over solicitous in what I undertake, impatient and exact; But God and experience I rely upon for my moderators: wee all have our im­perfections; God hath wonderfully supported mee against my owne and others miscarriage, no man owes more indulgence to frailtie then my selfe, but supine, wilfull, fierce and malepert weak­nesse or abuse deserves it not. The Text that saith who is over-wise or over-just shall be left alone, teacheth us a moderation in the best of our faculties and affections: the square of reason often puts our reason out of square. Schoole Logick instructed me that man con­sists of a reasonable soule, and I beleeved it so farre as to thinke them senselesse Poets who represented upon the Stage most senselesse and ridiculous personall absurdities, yet such and worse hath the world acquainted me with; some infirmities are to bee dispensed, others not, I worst endure my owne, the equall ba­lance and mixture of many dispositions betwixt good and evill, hope and despaire of amendment worke a perplexitie of resolution to conclude upon them, how farre to goe on, or where to leave them; charitie teacheth to presume and hope the best, it suffereth much, but often too much, if it begin not at home, wisedome is the rule of rules and God of wisedome; but it hath pleased him to call me to a practicall course, and I leave to write; whatsoever my Lord Bacon St. Albans pronounceth, that hee who imployes his mind to small things shall not bee fit for great, yet who contem­neth small, shall hardly or attaine or hope the greatest, Some have made the world it selfe to consist of Atomes. I will God willing so intend the greatest as not to neglect the least; To him let me enjoy your prayers, in him your affection, as you shall mine for you and all good men. Farewell.


THinking this morning of worldly power and pleasure, and of the pleasure of power, I tooke into consideration what propor­tions were conducible and necessary to a happy condition, and grew to state every man in a naturall and just dimension of his proper qualitie. For a man to have a grant of or to assume power and pleasures beyond his capacitie and use, were but supervacuous, troublesome, and often pernicious; That clothing is best that best fits the body, warme, comely, and easie, is I confesse to be wished, more is but cumbersome, enough is affirmed as good as a feast, what am I the better if when a pint is the uttermost my thirst requires, one give me leave to drinke a Tunne? If we suffer our selves to bee transported by an extravagant fancy, wee shall never bee rich; Reason ought to bee as well our bounds as our boast; Limited wee must bee when wee have done what wee can, a man is but a man; if the King would give mee vast possessions and power of life and death beyond my conveniencie, I should value it but an unprofitable load; It is pleasure sufficient to bee out of reall paine, power enough to bee safe, possession enough that corresponds our just occasions, what exceeds runnes more to others use then ours, and serves onely to plunge us to inconvenience and swell our ac­counts. The true advantage of power and Riches is the enabling us in meanes of beneficence: To win hearts is indeed a supreame delight to all natures that participate more of God then his op­posite, the devills damnation grew from a sinister affectation of power to doe mischiefe rather then good, our affections are devillish when they terminate not in Charitie: there pitcht my thoughts, thither confin'd I my discourse of power, pleasure, possessions, and the pleasure of power, which casting mee upon the 13. Chapter of the first to the Corinthians, where St. Paul falls into an ecstatiquall exaltation of charitie; I set upon the metrification of the beginning of the Chapter with a little close of my owne which here I subjoyne.

HAd I all tongues of Angels and of men,
And wanted charitie, what were I then,
[Page 219]More then the found of Cymbals, or of brasse?
Had I all perfect knowledge, and could passe
For a great Prophet, were my faith so great,
That I could make huge mountaines change their seat;
Gave I my goods to Almes, body to flame,
Charity wanting, all would prove but lame.
Charity is patient, Charity is meek,
Not envious, proud, perverse, nor doth it seek
Its own advantage; No dishonesty,
Despite, or evill thinking comes it nigh;
Loves truth as much as it abhorreth wrong,
Hopes all, beleeves the best, and suffereth long.
Without it man is but a fiend to man:
With it a God to doe all good he can,
Loving and lov'd, good to himself and others,
Is happiest life, and many errors covers.

At my return from York.

GIve me leave, Oh Lord, that I expresse my most humble and hearty thankfulnesse for thy most gracious favour and preser­vation towards me, in the divers accidents, incumbrances and ha­zards of my late journey, and course of life: thy indulgencies and accommodations have as much exceeded my hope, contrivings, and present condition as my demerit. Unspeakable are thy mer­cies to such as confide upon them, let their memory never decay in me, and with my due acknowledgement, perpetuate thy grace unto me: Honour, thrift and salvation, attend thy goodnesse and such as rely upon thee. I have found thy blessings, as well tem­porall as spirituall, in the sustentation of me and my fortunes fair­ly proportionable to the constant moderation of my minde: I am now by Gods grace and the Kings, returned to my home, where Church, Chappell, and my home-stall are like to bound my thoughts and course, the Oeconomy of my Soule and Family will abundantly employ me: Let the Schooles and the world make oftentation of their Ethicks, Politiques, and Theology, whilst I wrap them in my plain habit, and act them in my Soule and life. If I have ever written any thing beneficiall to others in either mo­rall, wholsome or Religious discourse, I shall bee glad, but my end was my own provision and discharge; I have been so much ver­sed in the world, and conversations, that I am no longer fond up­on them, I am neither ignorant of their vanity or solidity, it is no unnecessary Schoole of experience, I have bought it, but am sorry that others with my self have paid for it; It is of no small use un­to [Page 220] to me; God, that, and yeares, have taught me so to contract and prune my self of superfluities, that a little root and sap shall stretch further with me, then more with another, and I hope to give proof that God hath not made me incapable of governing my little hive; my minde and studies possibly were larger, but this is the most cer­tain, easie, and pious course; God, and my unsitnesse for the rug­gednesse of the time, cut off distractions and make it faire before me; Besides my want of health and failing in my hopes and en­devours of recovery, and others improvement, and due discharge, I have formerly suffered by trusting them too much, and my self too lit­tle, I have made triall of all performances but my own, to that I am necessitated, and that they have cast me upon; if God and my health enable me, I will so play the super-intendent, as to carry a through tempered eye to all duties, and expenses, making my way as regu­larly easie, and my houshold as undispensably orderly, as I can: The diversions of Fancy which obtrude their service to the sweet­ning of a present perplexed condition, shall no more predominate me; God who knows better then our selves what is best for us, hath contracted, satisfyed, and setled me; I am no more a stranger to the worlds market and my self, nor to seek as I was, in rules of proportion, commodities, and stock to drive an honest Trade. Few servants, religiously and orderly affected and chosen, make much of a little; and be they never so few or hard to finde, others I will not admit nor continue. My Friends shall be so entertained and welcome, that by their curious and wastefull reception, I make them not in effect my enemies, and fare the worse a moneth to feast them for a meale. This is my intention and resolution: Here­in I implore my good God to continue propitious unto me, and I desire no other worldly felicity: to him the Authour and perfecter of all blessings, be all glory, Amen, Amen.

Mr. Doctor,

I Am your debter for what I have heard from you, for a most obliging Letter received from you, and for what I have heard concerning you, many outward duties you know we owe, but none more then to the houshold of the faithfull, it is now contracted to a small number, our zeale may be the more though our exercise the lesse: My years, fortunes, the times and other circumstances have confined my course and discourse, to a resolved retirednesse, as unnaturall to the respects of my places of birth, education, and conversation, as solitarinesse to mankind; no man was ever more affected to an intelligent and well-spirited society then my self, I have formerly sought it and enjoyed it with greedinesse, I have now [Page 221] lost it, and that which to my discomfort comforts me the more, is, that it is grown scarse to be found; I wish that this expression pro­ceeded rather from my distaste, then a reall diminution of good­nesse, generosity and rationality: Our Soules next to God, have no food so sweet as the faire commerce of reason and knowledge, I am put to drive a trade of discourse, either without return, which is unpleasant, or with an impertinent unvaluable returne, which more offends me: All this tends to begge your Company when you can afford it, I have been little given to beg but from my Ma­ker, yet I never made scruple of it, where I presumed of goodnesse, and good will: I know you Charitable, and hope you will not de­ny me begging from you so much way and light; my Coach shall be at your Command: Mr. Doctor Bromrich is now free from his great Office, and taking you for birds of a Feather, I should be glad to see you flie together: if after your living in London, and now in Cambridge, you came to live in a Country Parsonage, you would commiserate me: You shall have good way, good Aire, and good fire, water enough to cleanse, and not to dull or infect; Christmasse is a season of Charity, which shall make you ex­pected by

Your faithfull Friend to serve you.

A Christians life hath been justly resembled to a warfare, mine hath been many wayes such, continually incumbred with out­ward and inbred troubles; occasions sometimes thrust upon me, sometime raised by my self upon my own grounds of minde and fortunes, commotions, insurrections for Religion, for Liberty, for Accommodation: and as Polydor Virgill, upon contemplati­on of the wonderfull extrications of England from divers ruine­threatning obsessions, attributes its subsistence to God alone, cal­ling it Regnum Dei, and supported by his Grace in despight of all its own misgovernments and prevarications for private advan­tage against the publique good: So have I to my great shame, found his mighty deliverances, above my most grosse relapses of error, and self-offending. How long I shall doe so I know not, for I am most unworthy thereo [...]: At such time as I have found my self upon recovery of strength and alacrity, fortune hath ever presented some most unexpected and extraordinary incident to per­plex my curious and working minde. Poore Soules that we are! how weak? how blinde? strong and seeing, onely to our own mischief and nakednesse; Nature runnes away with us in spight of [Page 222] bit and bridle. I once heard a learned, witty Magistrate (himself none of the best, if not one of the worst) say, upon the disgrace grown to one of our greatest, most learned, and witty Judges for corruption, how wee might see by him the power of Natures tor­rent against all erudition and ability of writing and discourse. I prove it too true, though (I thank God) not in that way. I have of late to gratifie some (who neerliest concern me) been carryed to reaccommodate my seat with a Park: My resolution for my own particular was, after having been Master of so good in that kinde (that it was impossible for me to become pleased therein) to for­beare as I have done a long time. In this particular, which hath been more then most troublesome unto me, Fortune according to her custome, hath plaid double with me, offering me on the one side most casually Grounds in my hands close by my house, well-wooded, and Park-like, which I confesse much surprized my fancy therein: Yet on the other side, such varieties of perswasion for greater, lesse, good, bad, dry, or wet Ground, wayes thorow or not, some neighbours Grounds to be taken in or no, and whether or no they might be had, difficulty of paling and carriage which I hate; for though I love not trouble, yet I endu [...]e my own more willingly then of my Friends and Neighbours. After these and many other crosse points of offers and retractings of Neighbours, and such like, I have been led by degrees (aliud agens) besides my meaning, to lay out a small, yet sufficient peece of Ground for houshold provision of Venison (a Garden to keep me from beg­ing) so neer, dry, fertile, pleasant in view, convenient, and com­modious, that I would scarsely wish it other; it was, as it were, marked out unto me, and for my purpose. Yet (blinde as I was) divers and crosse considerations, which this world and I abound in, kept me so long from discerning to lay hold of it, that I scorn my senses and my self, and almost condemn my self to all, that I have suffered in my non-sense: The inconvenience of pale is a­voided, for I have enough at hand, I am still Master of my Woods, my Ground found for Winter and Summer, and the goodnesse of it makes it much in little, nor would I wish it greater: great in­conveniences attend a great Park, it is a kinde of Whore, much in fancy, and often kept more for others use then our own; it is a wilde Mistris, and courted by a kinde of wilde people, fiercely riding this way and that way with great hoopings, and outcryes, upon a very slight errand. Our forefathers were not yet without reason, who meeting with a world and wildernesse of woods and wastes, assigned an otherwise uselesse part thereof to Parkes and Forests: It is not so with us; want of Tymber and Woods will tame our wildenesse, and reduce us to an usefull compasse. Ne­ver was Land bought dearer then I have paid for my own, (may house and land prove more happy to my Successours) how many years of my life it hath cost me, I know not, nor much (as the world is) care. This and much more, retirednesse, Melancholy, and For­tune [Page 223] have brought upon me, yet considering how ill a wandring or publique course of life would suite with mee I choose rather to suffer and compose as well as I may all incommodities within my selfe, then to expose my selfe to such as others finde, and thrust themselves into abroad, and which would bee to mee more in­tolerable. Quiet is not ill bought at any reasonable rate: Vt habe­as quietum tempus, perde aliquid de tuo jure, is a saying, which if the Spaniard had practised even to the quitting of the 17. Provinces, or I in sitting downe by some forbearances, wee might possibly have been both more at ease. God hath given him a strong state of dominions, and me of body and mind, to our owne as well trouble as subsistence; Hee maintaines his strength by exercise, and so have I done by extraordinary motion, agitation and disten­sions, such as to a man of an evener minde and fortune then mine are I confidently affirme shall keepe in health, strength, free from great inconvenience of colds, feavers, fulnesse, or putrefacti­on of humors, &c. vigor of spirits, and length of life, better then Lessius or Cornarus their staticall diet, which is most unnaturall, servile, subject by their owne confession to great distemper upon the least change, or excesse, (whereas the other comports with any tolerable diet) prescribed in reason rather for Monkes, Her­mites, Votaries and persons of a sedentary life, then such as are to use the world and labour. Thus much have I written in this early of the morning as hastily and wildly, and perhaps to as little purpose as Foresters follow their chase: which to my owne better instru­ction, and use of my selfe and mine may it please God to blesse. Amen.

Potius inserere virtutem, quam disserere de virtute.


IF I write wildly and erroneously, yet my follies are short and the shortest are the best; I had rather write without method and abrupt, then as many doe in long intricate and often mistaken di­stributions and divisions, as tedious and unprofitable in some one subject, as I am confused and wild in change, and varying my scenes. Thus Bos lassus fortius sigit pedem, and if my soule cannot digest and indure its owne weight, strength and discernings, it must suffer. Perplexed condition As in the end of the 7. Chap. o [...] Ecclesiastes God made man right, but hee hath sought out many inven­tions. of our sophisticated and preternatu­rall life; the wayes of nature are obvious, easie, certaine; The Swal­low, Crane, &c. know their seasons, and vary not in their course, [Page 224] or building of their nests, where the most ingenuous and right­affecting soules amongst us are ever to seeke, and even at the best (which I call) with the illumination of supernaturall grace, vexed with our owne scruples and fancies, and either forced from the world and natures libertie of delights, or like Lot, to have their righteous soules contristate with a vaine, crooked, perverse and wic­ked conversation.

IF my peeces appeare not all of a peece constant to themselves, but so diversified that I ordinarily fall into a superfetation, or va­rious births of male and female at one graviditie; If I superinduce and contract into little roome matters of severall and important consideration, such as might otherwise have been beaten out into particular and large treatises, I hope you will bee indulgent to the sparing of labour as well yours as mine, finding in your power to extend or remit your owne, either by receiving my coyne for cur­rant, or bringing it to the balance or test of a farther (yet favora­ble) examination, not forgetting that allowance which I have of­ten begged to my acknowledged infirmitie, defects, confusion and precipitation in their conception and production.

Passus graviora, dabit Deus his quoque finem.




IF you are at leisure, I will tell you my mor­nings dream, which was, that in the quality of a Soliciter for Old England, in a cause that concerned him for limme, life, land, and liber­ty, which were all drawn to stake, by I know not what Promooter, I cast my eye on a Friend as I rode into York, with the Chiefe Justice of Assize there to be held, and desired him to help me to some good Counsellors to plead for me; he lookt about him, and spyed some portlike men, riding on Scotch pads, but said they were not for me, for they favour'd of the others near them were on hard Scotch saddles, but had long since given desperate the cause of Old England, and were now packing and posting for New-England and the Isle of Providence. Some he saw upon French pads, who came this Circuit only for Company, to laugh, make good cheer, and advantage of the times, but not to meddle till the cause became their own. A greater number were mounted on the French great Saddle, with Pistols at the Bow, but my desires were peace, and their word was Vive la guerre. Then the Spanish Morocco men presented themselves to our view hope­lesse to me, for Warre was both naturall and profitable unto them. Next I eyed a grave Gown-man, fitting in Croop be­hinde a side Saddle, I liked him for a good forward man, but my Friend told me he was a Scotch Bishop, and had too much to doe for himself. Not farre from him rode a pretty pert luking man, upon a lean bare horse back, and I was informed he was a Scotch Recusant, and could not speak good English. Then I observed a Coach drawn by six Mules, with well-stuffed provender bagges at their noses, a long-Coated Postillion, with Pistols upon the foremost, a solemne robed personage, in place of Coach-man, the first a short whip in his hand, the second a long one which was somewhat tangled in the carriage, a company of Gown-men with­in, concerning whom I enquired, and found the fore-men were Church-men Militant and Triumphant, and those in the Coach were High-Commissioners, and the Kings learned Counsell, who were not used to plead in common Causes. After them came a company of plain fellows upon Pack-saddles, who proved to be out of favour for the present; yet followed on in hope of better Grace. In this distresse I fastened on one of my New Englanders, [Page 226] and prayed him for old Englands sake to stay his journey, and speak for me: he replyed, his tale would not be heard, and that he came this way only for his safety to defend himself and no body else: Whereat in great despaire, I asked if there were no conceit of a kinde of Parliament to be held here. My Friend told mee no, and that another Faux had long since blown up that hope with white Gun-powder. One while he advised me to sue in Forma Pauperis, and procure my self Counsell to be assigned, o­ther-while to suffer my selfe to be non-suited for this time, pay charges and expect a better advantage; But at last he encouraged me, saying, that counsell or not, I needed not to be dismayed, be­ing my Judge was both good and wise, and too much interested himself in the consequence of my cause, not to relieve and com­passionate me, which gave me such a joy of heart, that I awa­ked.

Newes from York.

THe world is full of expectation what will be the product of this early Spring; The Sun no sooner cuts the Line, but with him we march in the moneth of March towards the Cancred Tropick, our Lady day, and King Charles his Initiation, inaugurate our expedition; I should have said for us; We travaile towards the little Beare, exalting Charles Wayne ore our heads; great cost, great scot and lot we pay, which may prove Englands joy or bane. Mars is Lord of the Horoscope, Saturn may grumble and eat his Children, but Iupiter and his Lieutenant must rule the Roast: Mo­mus may goe whistle, and the World dance, whilst Mercury pipes, and with his Caduceus charmes, extracts, conjures and transformes the Clouds. There are ill Conjunctions abroad, that threaten lit­tle good, but if Iupiter prove not malevolent, all may goe well: Let Venus goe Retrograde, and Diana raise the Clouds, we will not feare but Sol at his heighth with a faire Northerly wind may dis­perse them and bring faire weather. These late raines promise a good year, and if Booker and his fellows may be credited, the storm will fall where it was least looked for: if you will be advised by me, break not your braines with over-calculating, for all this grew betwixt the pen and the paper. Many spirits are conjured up, and it must be the work of a good Exorcist to make them keep their circle and settle them again. York was never fuller of businesse and idlenesse; Feavors reign, and ravings must be admitted; Fancy, Reasons old Ape, will have his vagaries, and since the invention [Page 227] of Gallileos Glasse, men must discover farther into Moons, and Milstones then they were wont; in the mean time you that want work as I doe, exercise your selves with this my Trol Madam; To tell you the truth, I must be thinking, though I know not what, and indeed who does? These are times that would pose Oedipus, or Solomon, and make him fly to his Vanity of vanities and vexa­tion of Spirit; Vivere & Laetari, would be his Motto, but it is hard to do at York, where though Victuals are cheap, Ale is deare. The people drawn together, are too much strangers, to be over-familiar or confident: Never more company, never more solitarinesse, men are so hard to finde and farre to seek, that Diogenes would be trou­bled with his Lanthorn at noon day, to finde an honest friends lodging. Here is riddle me riddle me, what is this? A Courtier and no Courtier, a Souldier and no Souldier, Little Warre, and lesse pay to a great many, who finde great fault with the Translati­on that sayes, No man warres at his own charge; Many of the Court, few of the Counsell; Gentlemen want their Mistresses, Lords their Ladies; some have too much, some too little to doe, some ex­pected to have been Actors or Counsellors at least that prove but lookers on, and hangbies; some finde themselves prisoners with­out conflict or knowing the crime, and want the old comfort of the Warre, which was wont to be quick death, or victory. Many wish Sir Arthur Ingram had been made Purveyor Generall for the whole yeare, but he found it charge enough at York. Every man roves at an end; but many will misse their marks; where men scarse know their own ends, it is hard to know others, where intentions are concealed, wayes cannot be concluded, yet from Cards played a good gamester will guesse at the game, and from things appea­ring, results may be forked out, that either thus or thus, and so I entertain my self, and so do you; every man hath businesse, every man his thoughts, such as they are: The blinde man may hit the Crow; some are not wise enough to divine, others are divined wi­ser then they are: This would I doe, quoth I, a wiser man of ano­ther mind, sayes no; For brevity sake I omit to tell you my thoughts, I am wise enough yet for that, Sauue qui pent, Sweare what you will, but say nothing: This you may thanke me for, when I could write, but not read, and wanted something else to doe.

Your Cousin and servant Iohn Nonsense.

When the Children shall be drawne into the desert of Zim, it is much feared that hors and man will have somewhat to do to keep their iron and flesh on their backs, that murmuring will prove a great pastime, Quayles and Manna would prove in great request, and that Moses may have use of his rod.

SEventh Henry Roses, Kingdomes Iames united,
Eight Henry in Popes defence a booke endited,
Which made Romes Bishop stile him faiths defender,
The stile hee held, but made the Pope surrender
His Papall power: King Charles hath farre outgon him,
And with his sword taken Bishops cause upon him.
They owe him more then well they know to pay him,
If Woolseys Pope liv'd Gar would bee his saying:
Take heed good Bishops what you goe about,
Lest Charles hold fast the faith, and turne you out:
Of angry Bees Scotland's a parlous Hive,
Hedges twixt King and people seldome thrive.
Wise Jesuits with the Scots tooke little paines,
Well knowing thence would rise but little gaines.


AS I travailed along in my earthly pilgrimage to the heavenly Ierusalem accompanied according to my wishes by a good old Minister or Priest of Queene Elizabeths time, (I know not now how to terme him) there crost upon us in our way a supercilious perso­nage with an high cornerd bonnet (his name and nature did little agree) who questioning our intentions told us wee were out of our way, and that if wee would take him for guide and company, hee would carry us a sure smooth and pleasant way to our Journeys end, and if wee turned a little aside now and then it should bee at his charges, wee should not need to trouble our thoughts, hee would take all the care: Hee was witty-facetious company, and when my old companion would have replyed, I told him I thought hee was but in jest, and not to be dealt withall in good earnest, for whatsoever he pretended hee had a plot upon us for his own advan­tage, and wished to take our leaves of him, for hee had a Pistoll by his side that hee trusted to beyond his wit, which was great pitie; and what ever good companion hee seemed, he would make roast­meat of us if wee appeared not in every thing of his mind, and that all our good and true heart to God ward would not excuse us: whereupon leaving him and walking on, there crosses upon us on the other hand, as wee found him upon speech, a Banbury man who scor­ned to desire our company, but taking notice of our designe told us wee held too much of the left hand, that his was the onely right course and (whatsoever wee thought) not so rough and uneasie as some esteemed it, with much more; wee thanked him and told him his Sabbath day wayes and ours lay not together, and that if [Page 229] hee would have been lesse nice and censorious over good men (none of his Brotherhood) and more sociably attractive hee might have had more company along with him. Then crosseth us againe on the first hand an odde kind of person, I knew not well whence hee came, nor whither hee would, his fashion and habit were likewise ambiguous, sometimes formall and cringing, and sometimes staggering and licentious, hee forsooth would have eg­ged us out of our beaten path into a pretended better discovered by-way of his finding out, telling us it would prove much for our ease and forwardnesse: wee were thankfull for his good will, but told him wee did not love to follow wee knew not whither, and that his course sided something too much with the high cornered cap whose company wee had considerately forsaken. Our next en­counter from the second right hand country was a grave man in the Geneva print, a little more conformable and lesse rigid then hee of Banbury, hee tooke notice of our voyage, and much desired our company, intimating unto us that his way lay close by ours, but was much more plaine, certaine, and peaceable, as having more of terra firma then the inconstancy of a floting Iland: hee said hee had an invariable sure Cart and Compasse to direct us, and that hee was sorry to see us English whom hee loved, so apt to change that wee might bee as well painted with a paire of sheares in our hand for our Religion as our cloathing, that wee never knew when wee were well, and that it was ever a great fault with us to bee apt to overdoe, that ceremonies and indifferences grew so for­mall unto us that it was to bee feared Religion it selfe would be­come at last with us, but a ceremonious formalitie. Hee wooed us heartily and somewhat to the purpose, telling us he had no ends upon us but our journeys end, that hee would not trouble us with much complement, but much desired our company, which if wee refused, we should bee in danger of being entised or forced and justled out of our way, which was already also growne so little trodden that it was hard to hold: with our thankes wee dismissed him, telling him that having as sure a Cart and Compasse as him­selfe, and as learned and pious directors as hee or any other, wee doubted not of our way, which wee had hitherto found right and good, but if wee met with force and opposition wee would carry such an eye towards him that being as well in breath (otherwayes called spirit) as the best, wee would soone overtake him: his com­plement was little, ours not much more, and so with heartie short and comely prayers for our welfare, and industrious instructions, which none of the other would afford, (except the second, who was very tedious to us in terror and threats) wee parted, continuing our way with a resolution not to stumble at every straw, nor bee drawne by any zealous example or otherwise to leape over scanda­lous Christ-masse blocks.

STrict Rhymes stand by, and wanton measure,
All here is out of tune,
And my selfe more then all;
A skipping Satyre calls for roome,
Ruffe, wild, like him shall be my lines,
Bring the Fools cap againe,
And give the world its owne:
It ne're was fitter for the times.
Give me a foure Elbowd Coat,
There's no foole to the old,
That knowes the Fire, yet runs into't,
And cryes, Lord help, withhold.
Kings by your leave and take good heed,
[...]est whilst you shadowes graspe,
You lose true substance, love and ease,
Showing that you were out of tast.
States-men study right and peace,
Bee faithfull plaine and wise,
And doe not seeke so much to please,
That all may sinke whilst you may rise.
Church-men should mend, not marre the world,
Live as your reade in Scriptures then,
Wee know them now as well as you,
Thinke not to blind or God or men.
Good and bad Pastors they set out,
Bad vent their owne inventions,
Feeding themselves more then their Flock,
Bewate of such intentions.
Judges, occasion not the rout,
By a misguided course,
To thinke how they may live without
Your Furres and never fare the worse.
Would't not make the devill laugh
To see a masking faith,
Feed him with Corne and God with Chasse,
Whilst jugling zeale the truth betrayeth.
Would you not jeere to see an Ape of clay,
In Gowne or Doublet jet it to and fro,
Brisk as a Puppet in a Play?
Who Mushrome like hath but a week to grow,
Or see men play like busie buzzing flies,
Venereous, skraping still for Ore,
Upstarts with pride swell'd to the skies
Upon their journey to bee seen no more,
To see a Doctor play the learned foole,
The ravenous Woolf in justice seat,
The devill preaching in a coole,
Glossing the Text to get what he can get:
[Page 231]An old wife curious in her Curles,
Pratling and painted like a Jay,
Wise Gallants led by giddy Girles,
Triumphing to become a prey:
To see men love to gather hate
Woorying the one the other,
Losing themselves to get a state,
And trample on their brother,
Like Schooleboyes make rods for themselves,
By turnes to whip each one his marrow,
Running their mates upon the shelves,
Shortly to prove their proper sorrow.
The wiser sort the arrant'st knaves,
The learn'd make formall workes
Full of false method and mistakes,
Where nor delight nor profit lurkes,
Curious dissections to confound,
Things already knowne and plaine,
Great Treatises on little ground,
Notions from nothings to attaine,
Termes which should science easier make
To make it harsh and more obscure,
Like Sprights to fright and make forsake,
Things usefull else, who can endure?
Youth to vice and basenesse fram'd,
Impudence for vertue passe
Knowledge by ignorance disdain'd,
Gay trappings on a pamper'd Asse:
Temporizing wisedome counted,
Zeale of vertue folly,
Goodnesse by vice so much surmounted,
Small good can come from being good or holy:
Master Pamphlets sweld with words,
And tumors preternaturall,
Pageant-dishes for Mayors bords,
High cry, but little flesh or wooll,
Loftie, brave, corveting speech
Plaine dealing to outface,
Prauncing over hedge and ditch,
In stead of keeping even pace:
Truth a stranger is become,
Vitious times no more can beare it,
Flattery and falsehood holds its roome,
Writers must suffer or forbeare it.
Selfe conceipt, and foolish pride,
Hypocrisie, and jugling showes,
What sober judgement would abide?
But that shame meets them in the close.


Full many a want had Ages heretofore,
Had ours goodnesse and wit, we want no more.


GOd above all, thy Neighbour as thy self,
Lovely Epitome: could speculation see,
And practise thee, Iohns Common-wealth
Would flourish, and we should most happy bee.
REligion, Gods reasonable service is,
Christs yoke is easie, and his burden light:
This wel-agreed, would make the whole world his,
Pastors and people would walk more upright.
ALtar 'gainst Altar, Clergy against the Lay,
What may this breed? nay, what good can it breed?
Tis nine to one; yet God can all allay,
And raise sweet fruit, from foul and bitter seed.
POore creature man, that studies to be poore!
To whom God gave this ready furnisht frame,
To use, not pry, rip, live on follies score,
Quit Natures legs, to walk in knowledge lame,
Doe emulate, dissect, work what you can,
To Gods works still thou shalt be blinde, poore man.
Some steps affects, and squarings, thou mayest finde,
To the full Schematisms thou must be blinde:
Bacon, how-ever short of a clear light,
Did well to show how farre thou art from right.
[Page 233]When women marry to be chaste, not free,
When Clerks turn Priests, for Gods sake, not for gain,
When King, and People love, and well agree,
And all themselves within their Spheres contain,
Then may we hope to see a happy age,
F [...]aud will abate, and malice will asswage.
ILl-Clergy-men have reason to forbid
Reading the Scriptures, for they them discover
So clear that one would think all were kept hid,
By them as from the Lay, so from each other,
Else would they shame to say and doe so ill,
As if Religion they profest to spill.

St. Gregories Complaint, two houres work.

REady to dye, though well I know not why,
You that goe by, heare me lament and cry,
And tell the King, who can doe no ill thing,
'Twas no good ring under St. Paul his wing,
Gregory to spill, who hath stuck to him still,
And ne're did ill, (alas) by his good will.
I can prescribe, full many a Christmas tide,
How by his side, his Peterman I ride,
And what disgrace I now bring to this place,
I cannot guesse, unlesse as faln from grace.
Nor can I see, that a true cause should be,
In my degree, and consecrate Antiquity.
Happy St. Faith, whom no mis-hap betray'th,
My lowly heighth, casts me, St. Pauls glosse saith,
But my great crime, is, Paul I undermine:
Yet that's not mine, St. Faith take that for thine.
I will repaire, what ever I impaire,
My cost and care, shall make me thorow faire.
I am no wen, except miscall'd by men,
Mole be I then. Moles, faces grace have been.
I am no stain, except you overstrain,
And lay me plain, your good work to distain.
[Page 234]Good works to nurse, made good men ope their purse:
St. Gregories curse, may make Pauls fare the worse.
Make not them glad, who wish St. Gregory sad,
For being the Lad, who first turn'd Tables had.
The Parish cost, and rich inside they boast,
Would not be lost, since God loves inside most,
Though Pauls full age, nor sister needs, nor page,
'Tis no vantage.
To cast old Gregory off in holy rage,
My Verse breaks measure,
Great Neighbour, Lord of Treasure,
Assist my Rhymes, to those that rule the Times,
And help if you can well,
Whil'st I toll my own knell,
Yet I will not despaire;
Church ruines ill repaire.
My Caesar right inform'd,
My will shall be conform'd.
His sentence finall be my fate,
To stand, or to lye desolate:
Now doe not blame my Verse, but know it
St. Gregory never was a Poet:
Many a one hath reese by Rhyme,
O might I so my fall decline.

St. Gregory to St. Paul.

MIghty St. Paul, help Gregories desire,
And scorn me not, though none of thy great Quire,
Take heed a second time of Heavens fire,
If falling late, thou now my fall conspire.
Without thy Buttresses, thou canst not stand,
Accept of me for such; and thy command
Shall rule me still, though small, yet neer at hand,
And next to thee the greatest in the Land.
A shrub offendeth not a lofty tree,
An under Oratory let mee bee:
Thou partly standest by my Charity:
For that and Gods sake then, Oh pitty me.
My Bells and Western Steeple I will lend
To thee, that want'st them both, I'le bee thy Friend,
[Page 235]And stop their mouthes, who ill Invectives send
Against thy state and wayes, and so I end,
Sick, but not dead, and dying, but not sick.

I Have gotten a little leave of absence from the Parliament, to lay hold of your promise for the favour of a visit, and I hope not­withstanding all feares the carriage of affaires will be such as to give no suddaine occasion of my recall: Gods grace and his Majesties wisdome, goodnesse, and constancy, must be the Authours of our happinesse, our distractions and distempers are otherwise such in the State Ecclesiastick, Civill, and Military, our spirits in all parts so peremptorily and uncharitably divided, men so superabounding in their own sense, and so little indulgent, and communicable to others, and parties daily growing to a stiffer opposition, that with­out such a prop I should utterly despair of any good or quiet: If some men chance to finde a strength rising against them, they may partly blame themselves in their reservednesse, a Cause may be starved at Law for want of fees, and so may power by being over-sparing in a winning familiarity, it is harsh to a noble Nature to think it self slighted, a good Judgement may manage it self in an open free­dome, without profusion or betraying the bottome, and there is the greater need to use it where there is little else to pay.

It is true that the King may seem to have made himself a great lo­ser, by giving ground so much from the way of his former course, but it must first be cleared, that it was the right way of his advantage, and well examined, others, more their own Friends then his, may prove the greater losers, and his parting may be like Abrahams in the conclusion, rather with the Ramme then the Childe: The un­doubted Laws of England are no such churles, and niggards to their Prince, as not to leave him a Royall power, and splendid state: but there must be at this time more then leaving, after so much alie­nation, exhaustion, and contraction of debts, there must be a plen­tifull supply and support, this indeed after all our other payments, will be a work, but so it must, nor doe I doubt but suddainly it will be vigorously undertaken, if new jealousies interpose not themselves. His Majesties condition requires it, his goodnesse deserves it, and his faithfull Subjects affection, duty, and reputation can doe no lesse. It is true, that we have already had a long time, and paid dearely for it; possibly there might have been a better husbanding, but a good end will make all good, and for the best. As I said be­fore, that Grace of God, and wisdome of his Majesty, which have hitherto assisted us, are my hope and confidence, the Genius of the Kingdome doth as yet extraordinarily need them: The consideration of Divine Service, Episcopacy, and Recusants, in [Page 236] the scandall that these late times have drawn upon them (or they upon the times) is yet to be regulated, and the conceived offence and danger, springing from them, to be prevented; this you will say is a businesse, and the greater by the greatnesse of the parties se­verally affected in them: For the Common Prayer Book, you know how the Scots esteem it, multitudes of our own growing in all parts no lesse incurably impatient of it; Bishops are in the same predica­ment, but so much worse, by how much a dead Letter hath nei­ther so much imputed to it for our past troubles, nor apprehended from it for a future propension to Popery. But it may be said, Pu­nish then the men without rejecting that calling which certainly is more ancient then the Papacy; and that surely might serve, if there were not such a connaturality in the reasons for the one and the o­ther, that admitting the one, the other will ever bee in danger to follow, as hath been seen: The Common-Prayer-Book hath also unquestionably much good in it, but the scandall considered, whether another forme of another tenure and extraction, more of a peece, and conform to the other Reformed Churches, be not more fit and necessary to our quiet, I referre to better judgements. Gods Service and Worship is the substantiall and Morall part. E­piscopacy, and this or that Form, but the Ceremoniall, and I would be sorry to see cutting of throats for Discipline and Cere­monie: Charity ought to yeeld farre in things indifferent: But must all the yeelding be on the Governours part? God forbid, that we should yeeld to every fanatical opinion, and to fal into a way of Enthusiasts, without any set Form of Directory or Liturgy. Freedom of zeale, and inspiration may be reserved to the Sermon, or an after Prayer, without engagement through the whole time of convention, to go along and say Amen, upon surprise. The other great bodies of Reformed Churches, are in great part prescript and regulate; and as the ancient Druides who ruled the Religion of France and Britaine, were said to hold their chiefe seat in the Isle of Anglesey, so may his Majesty, I perswade my self without going farther then the Do­minions of his Crown of England, take from his Islands of Gern­sey and Iersey, in this rare necessary some such modell (at least with little alteration) as may fit his greater Island, and immaterially dif­fer from our Brother Churches. But howsoever, it is necessary to come to a resolution, and settlednesse, whereby to prevent the nu­merous spreading of obstinate Sects, which are said to grow too much upon us, amongst which multiplicity it is somewhat strange unto me, not to heare of any Lutherans, considering our late Queen Anne was according to her Country, conceived that wayes affect­ed. Now for our Recusants they have Petitions in Parliament to move a relaxation of the Lawes, and a Commiseration in their behalfe. And truely for the better and devoutest sort (such as turne not their Religion into wantonnesse and malice) I am moved to pity them, but as they affect to move us to pity them, I wish they would no lesse reflect upon us, and consider the troubles and un­sufferable [Page 237] condition that their leaders have affected, and will ever affect to draw upon us, and what a difference there would be in what we should suffer from them in respect of that being and con­versation which they have injoyed amongst us, to the proceed­ings of their Inquisition against us, I referre you: Charity begins at home, and let them in the first place pity their abused selves, let them crave the pity of their Pope and Priests, who for their own unjustifiable ends are guilty of all their sufferings. I spare them who spare no man, and whose policy, incompatible with all Monarchy and Government but their own, enforceth the in­dustry of others, in the preservation of their true faith to God, and their own safety: Thus after my manner, I runne and write, with a light hand, I touch, but not to the quick; You who carry a Key of my thoughts can further open mee, and will, I hope, as you use, bee indulgent unto mee: London, and the Parliament af­ford much company, but to mee little conversation; I am now in an opener Aire, and with you I lye more open. The truth is, Carriages have been so Cabalisticall of all sides, so unpleasant, and inconvenient to participate or comply with, that being em­barqued to a concurrency of results, I found enough to doe to look to my self, as little desirous to counsell, as affected, or thought fit to bee called unto it: No man ever acted lesse, or suffered more, then by my infirmity I have done this Parliament; My good God hath still wonderfully supported mee, and it may bee all to the best. Much good may others finde, and wee in them by their advancement. My ends are onely to keep my self an honest man, with an untainted Conscience and Reputation, nor am I, as I hope, unhappy therein, at least from the best. A faire and quiet retrait from the world, and worldly cares, hath long been, as you know, and still is, all my ambition, it is easier to wish then to finde; my appetite to the world was never much, (howsoever I have appeared) if ever it had been any thing, it is now past; My conversation is more in the other world then this; and that the rather, seeing (if my distaste misleads mee not) the generality of mens spirits is not possessed with that sweet­nesse, Courtesie, Familiarity, Indulgencie, and love to good­nesse as was wont to bee. But here my paper forceth mee to an end, and to professe my self, as you shall ever finde mee,

Your sincerely affectionate Friend and Servant. Du. North sen.

A sodaine, free and opportune discourse to the present 28. of March, 1641.

OUr weather is said to have been much more gentle then in the more Southerly neighbouring parts, the entrance of the Spring proves faire and more seasonable then of late yeares, our stormes and distempers possesse our spirituall and politique part; This Par­liament is our Crisis and time of Physick, which if unlucky our State is desperate, and health in truth is never to bee despaired till the body cannot beare the remedy: acute and pressing diseases hardly admit of long and preparative courses, and often as little of violence: the faire and just temper of our Spirits hath cast us upon more regular, though longer wayes of reformation and punish­ment then the practise of former more tumultuous times, but in the meane time our Physick and Physitians prove so costly as offends, whilst it mends: such may bee the Peccant humours, as the body may be sooner overthrown then they extirpate; to put off the present paroxysmes, induce a good diet, and abate predominant maligni­tie, may possibly suffice to overcome danger, and exempt the body from being obnoxious to every residing venome. Our disease hath consisted in the troubles of our Church and liberties; for Church matters, as we have gone slowly on, so still they stick in our own di­stractions. God be praised, our differences are rather about discipline then doctrine, and certainly so far as the Scripture prescribes a com­petent generall rule therein, it must and ought to prevaile, where it leaves a latitude, wee may respect our selves and the times, not without charitie to others scruples, and as farre as may bee an affe­ctation of conformitie and harmony with other reformed Churches; if our Bishops would have held the same course, it might have been better for them and us: we shall hardly attaine quiet without hearing all parties amongst our selves, nor are there wanting divers learned Ministers of other Nations resident with us: Judgement of private discretion holds a necessary sway in particular mens election to what Church they will incline, nor doe I see why a considerable number may not bee admitted to the same libertie. I meane the body and head of a Kingdome howsoever Layick: The Clergy having ever overmuch assumed to bee judge and party in their owne concernings hath ever bred a great disturbance in the world. Wee are now by Gods grace and the Kings in a happy way; Peace and truth are likely to kisse, may justice and mercy as well: wee are up­on an indissoluble conjunction of King and people, Scotland and England, reconcilement in Religion, and a marriage with the young Prince of Orange, and his Majesties eldest daughter. And now as it hath pleased the Almightie miraculously to effect, that Scotland and England severally within themselves have passed hi­therto thorough their late great troubles, as also their forces raised [Page 239] one against the other with an in consider able bloodshed, how happy I say would it be if any expedient & securitie could be found to save time, cost, and blood, with a celebration of all these happy con­summations in some other accommodation, such as a submission to Fine, Banishment, exclusion from all publick businesses and advises, to the satisfaction of justice upon transcendent misdemeanors, and this to bee the better assured by manucaption of friends, or other­wise? Pitie it were that this expected Jubile should not passe, if reaso­nably, without staine of blood: and surely His Majestie is too good and wise ever to readmit (though it were left free unto him) Ministers so hatefull, prejudged and unhappy, as they who now are questioned have been unto him; But this is rather my wish then conclusion and hope. I have in my hasty unaffected manner disburdened my selfe, I have I thanke God no affection or passion, but what is requisite to a good Christian, Subject, and Patriot, so in despight of all preju­dicacy and sinister misconstruction I will ever bee found, and so I submit to better judgements.

HAving, as my preface lately mentioned, adventured in a private way upon the Presse, and that now neere an end with mee, how censorious and tender soever the times are, I cannot bee so stupid as totally to forbeare a resentment of our unparallel'd calami­ties: Our sacred Anchor is come home, our ultimate hopefull pa­cifique Treaty is dissolved, ecstasie and despaire succeed; Eyes turne to fountaines, there is no Balme in Gilead: Tantum Religio po­tuit suadere malorum: No, no, it is not Religion, it is nothing of sincere Pietie; It is in the root, the artifice, the ambition, the ma­lice of prevaricating Jesuits and Priests: Poore silly infatuated Laity, they had a mission as of Sheepe among Wolves, but they invert it upon you; They drive you to their shambles, nay they prevaile with you to slaughter one another, (Gladiators of their Theater) to furnish and celebrate their feasts, their festivalls: And you un­happy (often the best meaning, though over-facile) Princes of the Earth, how grossely are you frequently intoxicated by them to your owne, to your neighbours, to your peoples funestious de­struction? they carry you irrecoverably by blinding degrees and traines to the precipice of their concealed, disguised, pernicious machinations; They worke upon the weaknesse and corruption of your Favorites and Counsellors, who Satanically tranfigure them­selves into Angels of light to abuse your over credulous goodnesse. Many times a superinduced, preternaturall, adventitious malice in­vadeth an otherwise well chosen Counsellor, finding his conceited merits mis-received, mis-interpreted by the vulgar; All to your ru­ine, [Page 240] to your subversion: you mainely suffer and are the losers, where they, if they faile and miscarry in their maine proposed ends, attaine no unacceptable satisfaction in revenge, in blood, in desolation.

For our Redeemers sake redeem your selves and us: your private and the publique good and quiet can hardly bee over-bought; our very being, not onely our wel-being is now almost thorough all Christendom in question; some proprietary goods are well thrown over boord to save a faire well-peopled Ship from perishing; time may supply them.

Avoyd extremities as a Rock, Gravissimi sunt morsus irritae ne­cessitatis: Take heed of permitting dangerous humours to settle overlong; take heed of raysing the Billowes and the Feavour too high; if water bee not now rather then oyle applyed, inevitable ruine alone must extinguish our devouring flames: Professions and pretences have beene hitherto on all sides not unfaire, O that they may be so contained! And now you also on each side, our soule and State Physitians, looke upon God, his truth, and publique peace more then your passions, selfe interest and policie, stre [...]ch not your strings too high: trust God with the blessing his owne Truth and Oracles, feare not the consequence of a truely ortho­dox assertion: may truth and peace bee ever as well your object as pretence; faire, uniforme, harmonious, reformed discipline, or­der and government your prudentiall and Christian ayme: main­taine our foundations as entire and unshaken as an orderly, candid, well intended edifice will admit, else may you pervert and destroy what you are bound to assert and maintaine. Nor will I pretermit you Stars of the greater and lesser magnitude in the Oxford Firma­ment, whose ennobled blood, birth & station constitute you Patrons and supporters of your Countreys preservation and welfare, whose predecessors and progenitors are glorious in the Registers of time as happy advancers and dilaters of the English possessions, name, and honour: Suffer not now our Annals to disgrace your name and me­mory as the impulsive active Engins to our Kings and Countreys lu­gubrious irreparable losse; commiserate the sighs and groanes of our gasping exspiring defaced Nation; Search home into the disguised ca [...]ses and Authors of yours and our miseries; undeceive, disabuse your selves, dispell the mists of your distemper'd bewildred spirits, and lend at last a hand to save and rescue, to stanch and cure our leti­ferous wounds; Let no Roman recorded eterniz'd examples devoted as a willing ambitious sacifice for their Countries deliverance and redemption diffame you in what you owe, and to procure can hardly over-doe or suffer. Infinite matter you may discover would here offer and suggest it selfe, the times require, but will not well comport with ingenuitie: much for caution, much for cure might bee exhibited; I have met with conjunctures to have been often versed and engaged in deliberations, obnoxious and captious, nor have proved my selfe destitute of some abilitie to [Page 241] tread by a line and cut by a thread; I am at this instant not un­furnisht of a plentifull Magazin of specious flattering materi­alls for the present occasion; somewhat I had conceived not im­pertinent to have farther alleaged for my selfe: I silence and passe by all, confining my selfe to what impremeditately falls and flowes upon my paper: my wonted diffusive confusion would fit these troubled distracted times, but I will containe: if my lines have a propitious Genius, (though unhappily I have as much des­paired as affected to bee able to serve my generation) either alive or dead, I may possibly with my little erudition prove an illiterate Author of some small fruite and edification, at least to the seeking, faire, industrious mind; such is my prayer, such my desire. How neere my end of writing, of abilitie to comply with publique du­tie, and my lives period concurre, I know not: The disorder of the times consumes our fortunes and spirits, consternates, devasts and plunders our soules and consciences. I have a long time conceived ordinary taken Oathes (especially when multi­forme) of great and evill consequence, and little effect, (Oathes of course, as I was wont to say, are coursly observed) they passe at length insensibly, they cauterize the vulgar, they often ensnare when considered, like over-iterated frequent Physick, they lose their operation; as well the tender conscientious as the libertine impatient, finding themselves pent and constrained, to disentan­gle they counterworke and perforate them, like Sampson they breake their uneasie bands, and by a depraved consecution care­lessely sleight them, letting out their soules to a subsequent disso­lution and corruption: Warre and custome turne blood and cruel­tie to nature, necessitie of imposing, and rigorous coertion ren­der us incompassionate: Yet however hee may appeare, the honest good Chirurgion being by the inconsiderate ignorant unjustly cen­sured of crueltie and hard-heartednesse by his incisions and other necessary operations of art, will to the better judgements stand justified, as having acted onely towards cure, preservation, health and recovery: May it please God to overrule and rectifie our hearts, blessing us in maintaining our Fundamentals of Faith, Hope, and Charitie, and mee in supporting my selfe by faire and necessary subterfuges and diversions: I am no Cabalist, one of the open, none of the closer Counsells; I am neither wise nor good enough, yet as the Scripture mentions of the over-wise and over-just, am left alone to my solitary unjunctoed selfe; my fate, not my affections or lazinesse may bee the cause: I confesse some unsutablenesse may bee in mee by my default and curiositie, ma­king mee in businesse more troublesome, and lesse ductile and tra­ctable then ordinary; my mind is also too sof [...] and smooth for the questionablenesse, anxietie, obliquities, hardnesse and roughnesse of the present; I am naturally active, yet daintie and scrupulous of resolutions and undertakings; What shall I doe?

Stirring Spirits must be fomented, if I finde no hope of doing [Page 242] good abroad, if no evasion, I will in all events endevour to make use of my experience to subsist, not injurying my self within my self at home; I have scarcely to this day become instructed how to forbeare to oppresse, how to favour, be charitable to, and ho­nestly indulge my self, but am in a much cleerer light for my guide then formerly, and even now (which you see is hard for me to do) to make use of it, I most humbly implore the Grace and Mer­cy of the Omnipotent, upon this disconsolate, afflicted, deplorate world, and me, and end, Amen.

Un peu de tout Rien come il fault a la Francoise.


MAnkind cruell to thy self,
No beast of prey comes neer to thee:
Thou need'st no other Rock or Shelf,
For Shipwrack, then thy cruelty.
Wolves thou destroyedst, more wolf then they,
They never prey upon their kind:
Nor joy to kill and to betray,
Where faire subsistence they might finde.
Wolves in Sheeps cloathing are the worst;
Poore Sheep, that with such Shepherds meet!
Our sins doe make us thus accurst,
Ensowring all that would bee sweet.
No warning nor forbearance could
On our obdurate Soules prevaile:
Wee still doe all, but what wee should,
Our fatall sufferings to entaile.
Bee wise at last by your own cost,
Exempt your selves from common scorn:
Else King and People, all is lost,
All into blood and peeces torn.
God and your Neighbour take to heart,
God alone can help impart.

IF you are a Formalist, one who does Stupere in Titulis Ima­ginibusque; here is scarcely so much as a tittle for you, exercise your severity somewhere else, this doth neither invite nor defie you; Master of it self, and its own entertainment. It rather forbids you as an unwelcome guest; Non omnibus dormit; what most by chance, and something by designe (as most things goe) the most important peeces carry their Date, you must ac­cordingly distinguish the times, like me, they are no temporizers, neither affectedly precisely following, nor over Monsterlike con­temptuously differing. I have known the Drapery of a picture drawn some time past, to the life, altered to the Modern fashion, it is endlesse and senselesse; Then was then, and so ought to ap­peare, and passe. Take measure of my Writings by their birth, and of mee by what I am, something must bee allowed to the Scene and other respects: I forbeare to particularize upon the pre­sent times, I hope they will favourably requite mee in their cen­sure: These foure last unhappy years I mean, and the calculation of this end of 1644. March 13.


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