The times anatomiz'd, in severall characters. By T.F. Ford, Thomas, 1598-1674. 1647 Approx. 59 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 60 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2008-09 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A84694 Wing F1518 Thomason E1203_3 ESTC R208774 99867696 99867696 120018

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A84694) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 120018) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 168:E1203[3]) The times anatomiz'd, in severall characters. By T.F. Ford, Thomas, 1598-1674. [118] p. Printed for W.L., London : anno, M DC XLVII. [1647] T. F. = Thomas Ford. Signatures: A-E¹² (-A¹). Reproduction of the original in the British Library.

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eng Characters and characteristics -- Early works to 1800. 2007-04 Assigned for keying and markup 2007-04 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-05 Sampled and proofread 2007-05 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

THE TIMES Anatomiz'd, In ſeverall CHARACTERS.

By T. F.

Difficile est Satyram non ſcribere.

Juv. Sat. 1.

LONDON, Printed for W. L. Anno, MDCXLVII.

THE CONTENTS of the ſeverall CHARACTERS. 1 A Good KING. 2 Rebellion. 3 An honeſt Subject. 4 An hypocriticall Convert of the times. 5 A Souldier of fortune. 6 A diſcontented perſon. 7 An ambitious man. 8 The Vulgar. 9 Errour. 10 Truth. 11 A ſelfe-ſeeker. 12 Pamphlets. 13 An envious man. 14 True Valour. 15 Time. 16 A Newter. 17 A Turn-coat. 18 A moderate man. 19 A corrupt Committee-man. 20 A Sectary. 21 Warre. 22 Peace. 23 A Drunkard. 24 A novice-preacher. 25 A ſcandalous Preacher. 26 A grave Divine. 27 A ſelfe-conceited man. 28 An inconſtant man. 29 Religion. 30 Death.
Courteous Reader,

ANtonio Diel (a Spaniard) brings in ſome laughing at an old man,Burton of Melanc. in Ep. that by reaſon of his age was a litle fond; but as hee admoniſheth there, Ne mireris, mî hoſpes de hoc ſene, nam tota haec civitas dilirium eſt. Certainly to play the Foole in this age, when the whole World's diſtracted, is not only tolerable, but neceſſary.1 Sam. 21. David once in wiſdome play'd the Fool, to deliver himſelf: and why may not I once play the fool, to deliver my conſcience, in a free reproof? which if ever was, is now neceſſary, when vice was never more perpotrated nor leſſe puniſhed,Fraus dolus in obſcura, eoque in nitabilia. Plin. Paneger, in Trajan. and ſo diſguis'd and fenc'd is ſome, that we may ſay of them as Alexander of the Scythians, Difficilius eſt invenire, quam vincere: More difficult it is to finde them out then to confute them. It hath been my endeavour to un-mask ſome, whereby to render them odious, and however you ſhall finde a heape of chaffe for an handfull of wheat, yet feare I not to profeſſe with that witty Epigramatiſt, Invenies paucos hic ut in orbebonos.Owen Ep. Although vice be almoſt grown a generall rule; yet are there ſome exceptions from it: Some who feare not to patronize Truth and Virtue, though vagabonds. Yet am I not ignorant that hereby I have expoſed my ſelfe to the cenſures of every detracting Momus, and carping Zoilus, ſo true is that Italian Proverb. Chi fà un caſa in piazza, ô è troppo alta, ô troppo baſſà. Who builds i' th' way where all go by, Shall make his houſe too low, or high. He that expoſeth himſelfe to publique view, betrayes himſelfe to every ones cenſure. If Apelles will ſet out his pictures,Plin. Nat. Hiſt. he ſhall heare the Shoo-maker finde fault with what he underſtands not. Much more may I, who have entered into the Liſts with ſo many prevailing enemies, yet have I not aymed at any mans perſon, but only at the vice: if any one ſhall apply to himſelf in particular what I ſpeake in generall, hee will thereby argue himſelfe guilty: 'Tis the gall'd horſe that kicks, ſayes the Proverb.

It is our miſery that we are miſerable, but greater that we are not ſenſible.Aug. Graviſſimè aegrotat qui ſe non ſen tit aegrotare: Iſ therefore we would return into the right way, we muſt firſt know our ſelves to bee in the wrong: Primus ſapientiae gradus eſt falſa intelligere, Lactan. ſayth Lactantius: The firſt ſtep to health is to know our ſelves to be ſick. The whole Kingdome hath laboured theſe five years full, with an uncivill civill Warre, one member deſtroying another, whilſt the whole body is indangered. Me thinks, I heare, our deare mother England calling to her contending children, like that affectionate mother in the Tragoedy,Dum pacem peto audite inermes. Iocaſta to her two ſons Etop les & Polinites. Sen. Trag. Thebais. weeping over the malice of her two ſons, in theſe words, or ſighs rather, Ille te, tu illum times, ego utrum que ſed pro utroque: Thy brother feares thee, and thou him, I both, but but for the danger of you both. If when Scipio had ſet Carthage on fire and ſaw that the flames thereof ſoared up to the clouds, although he were an enemy yet tears trickled down his cheeks to behold their ruine,Polybius cited by Melancth. Chron. fol. p. 126. as is teſtified by an eye-witneſſe, and can any one who is a member of the Kingdom not be ſenſible of, and ſorrowfull for the diſtractions thereof? To ſee Religion of late become a Monſter with many faces, to ſee that Dove beſpeckled with Sects and Schiſmes! Si fundamentum tollitur, quid niſi ruina expectatur? If Religion that is the foundation of a Kingdom be taken away, what can be expected, but ruine of the whole building? To ſee all government contemn'd, and a lawleſſe liberty juſtling out all Law, labouring to be introduc'd. But I would ſay to them as Lycurgus did,Sir Fr. Bacon. Apotheg. who being about to reforme and alter the State of Sparta, in that conſultation, one adviſed that it ſhould be reduced to an abſolute popular equality, Lycurgus ſaid unto him, Sir, begin it in your own houſe firſt. Conſidering theſe things, and other miſeries wayring upon a civill warre. Quis temperet à lacrimis! The Embaſſadours of Aſia Minor comming to Antonius, after hee had impoſed upon them a double tax, told him plainly, that if hee would have two Tributes in one yeare, he muſt give them two ſeed-times, and two harveſts: But alas! never was taxes greater, and takings leſſe then now, many tributes to be paid, but in many places, neither ſeed-time nor harveſt,Suet. Trā. in vit. Domit. and yet as Domitian the Emperour (a few dayes before he was killed) rubbing a wart upon his face, bloud chanced to guſh out: he ſaid, Utinam ad huc, I w ſh this may be all: So ſay I, God grant we have not the dregs of that cup yet to drinke off, of which we have hitherto but taſted: for it is obſerved, three things undid the Roman Empire; Young heads, Private grudges, and Private gains. Firſt, Young heads, I ſay of them, being State Phyſitians, but as the Proverb is, A young Phyſitian, and a new Church-yard, and for private grudges, where is the man that will doe as it is reported of G. Naz. who when the Church at Conſtantinople began to be divided, as he ſuppoſed, by occaſion that he poſſeſt the See, hee openly ſayd, Si propter me iſta tempeſtas: If I be the Jonas that cauſe this ſtorme in the State, why, ſacrifice me to the fury of the angred Diety? Where is now the man that would lay downe his private grudges, rather then engage the Kingdom in a publike Quarrell? And for private ends how many be there that long for fighting, becauſe they live by it?Ex utraque parte ſunt qui pugnare cupiunt, Tully Julius Caeſar was wont to ſay of men brought exceſſive low by ryot, or had committed divers crimes, that there was no other remedy for them but civill War. But i'le conclude with this ſtory.

Some few moneths before Domitian was murthered,Suet. Tran. ut Ante. there was a Crow in the Capitoll ſpake theſe words plainly, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 . All ſhall be well. And one interpreted this prodigie thus, Nuper Tarptio quae ſedit culmine Cornix Eſt bene non potuit dicete, dixit erit. The Crow that ſate on Tarpie news to tell, She could not ſay all is, but ſayd, All ſhall be well.

That this Fable (if it be ſo) may be turned into Truth, and the Propheſie into Hiſtory, in our Kingdom, is, and ſhall be the continuall Prayer of

Thine, T. F.
THE TIMES Anatomiz'd.
I. A good KING.

IS the Primum mobile of a Kingdome, the largeneſſe of whoſe Orbe moves all the reſt in their ſeverall places: The Sun, that not onely enlightens the ſeverall Planets and leſſer Stars in a State, but alſo the whole Kingdom depends upon the influence of his good or bad Aſpect. All the inferiour Magiſtrates and Miniſters of Juſtice, receive their virtue and power from him, as the Moon and Stars their light from the Sun. A Kingdom without a King, is but like a body without a head, like a heaven without a Sun, and no wonder if all miſchiefes be perpetrated, when the light of Iſrael is put out. Needs muſt the Kingdom float in a Sea of miſeries, that hath loſt its Pilot, and a miracle is it if it ſplit not on the Rock of ruine: He is the vigilant Argus, that ſees all parts of the Kingdome: to overſee the under-ſeers. The hundred-handed Briarius to revenge, and right-wronged innocence. He is a mortall god, on whom the Almighty hath ſtampt his image in a more eſpeciall manner, with power and terrour. The very preſence of a King ſtrikes awe into men. How have ſome Traitors been dazled with the ſplendent rays of Majeſty, that it hath melted and mollified their iron, ſtony and obdurate hearts into an humble and meek reluctancy? The happy Reigne of a good King makes the whole Kingdome to proſper and flouriſh, withwealth, peace and plenty. For like the Sun, though hée move but in one place at once actually, yet is he virtually preſent in all and every part of his Dominions; diſpenſing his ſacred influence, as well upon the loweſt as the higheſt. Juſtice hath committed her Sword and Ballance into his hands. Wiſdome and Power ſupport his Throne, and Piety is his continuall Hand-maid.

II. Rebellion.

IS a poyſonous weed growing up in a Cōmon-wealth, by the fatneſſe of the ſoyle. It may flouriſh for a while, but the ſword of juſtice doth in the end cut it down, being whetted by time and divine revenge. It is a true Viper, for as the ſhee-viper biteth off the head of the hee, and thereby conceives with young, & thoſe young prove her own deſtruction, making their birth her death; and thus doth Rebellion when it hath bitten off the head of government, it proves its own deſtruction, and will be the end of the beginners thereof; And not ſeldom, it is m de its owne ſcourge. For though Majeſty may be eclipſed for a ſeaſon, yet will it at length breake out againe into its force like the Sun in his greateſt brightneſſe, and diſpell thoſe miſty fogs and vapours that before had clouded it. Whileſt the two petty Combatants (in the Fable) ſtrove which ſhould overcome the other, they were both made a prey unto the royall Eagle: ambition and diſcontent are the two main wheels this Engine moves on, and becauſe it is ſo ugly in it ſelfe, that all men would deteſt it, it ſeldome appears but with a borrowed face for the good of the Common-wealth, and if it get hold on Religion, it flies (too truly) like wilde-fire.

III. An honeſt Subject.

IS one that fears God, honours his King, and meddles not with thoſe that are given to change; and without queſtion hee that is a good Chriſtian will be a good Subject. He hath learned ſo much loyalty from dumb creatures (taught by natures inſtinct) to ſhelter their wronged head with their whole body, as knowing that their life lies in their head. He hath heard that Subjects often are Adjectives that cannot ſtand without, and therefore ſhould not ſtand againſt their Sovereign: He loves peace: knowing that the ſowers of diſcord will reap deſtruction, however, in the midſt of Warre he labours to keepe peace in his own conſcience, being content with his own eſtate, and ſeeking not to increaſe it by unlawfull diminiſhing of others, for hee cannot thinke him an honeſt man that in publike loſſes goes away a gainer. Hee is ſo far from exceeding, that he can be content to be leſſe then himſelfe, accounting it more noble to be like the fruitfull bough, which ſtoops under a pretious burthen; then to aime at the eminencie of the fruitleſſe height of the pine tree. If his merits have brought him into the way of honour and preferment, they doe not there leave him; but he herein holds that maxime good, to keepe them by the ſame means he obteined them: and if he ſee undeſerving men preferred before him, he rather pitties then envies them, as counting it more noble to have deſerved preferment then to have it. When the the thrid of his naturall life is run to the appointed end, he leaves this world to enjoy a better, yet leaving behinde him the pretious balme of a good name, which ſhall preſerve his memory more ſurely to future poſterity, then the time-decaying monuments of Braſſe and Marble, which in proceſſe of time do molder away, and their glory obſcured in fewer years then ſome of thoſe ſumptuons Statues have been erecting.

IV. An Hypocriticall Convert of the Times.

IS a rotten Sepulchre, newly painted over with a colour of ſanctity. And now none ſo zealous as he, then whom before there was none ſo profane, but having drawne a faire glove of profeſſion over his foul hand. Hee now weares the livery of the Times; and all his policy is, if he can carry it undiſcovered: he is an eſſence needing a double definition, for he is not what he appears, but like ſome of the Spheres, that beſides their generall motion with the others, have a particular one to themſelves. Like a water-man that looks one way but rows another. But for all his out, he cānot change his inſide, ſo that he differs nothing from an Hypocrite, Without he is a ſevere Cato, but within a cruell Nero, like thoſe Dragons in Armenia that ſpit fire, yet have cold bodies: he is a Sheep-skin lin'd with Fox-fur; formall preciſeneſſe keeps the doore, whilſt profit and profaneneſſe lodge within, he hangs out Religion for a ſigne, but I take it for a ſigne he hath no Religion, like the Planet Mercury convertibly, good or bad according to his company: With the Religigious, hee is no leſſe then a Saint, and with the prophane none more looſe, but no foe to a falſe friend: the Devill is never ſo true a Devill, as when he is transformed into an Angel of light.

V. A Souldier of fortune.

HEe is a Salamander that lives in the fire of Warr. And is commonly a younger brother, for though the elder beare the coat, the younger beares the Armes. Peace is his greateſt enemy, for then he lies (like a fiſh out of water) out of his element. Honour and pay are the two main Engines that ſet him on going, hunger and cold march in the ſame file with him, and plunder brings up the reare. He ſhould be a Scholer, for he is alwayes is controverſies, bullets are his arguments, and his ſword a neceſſary concluſion. He queſtiōs not who hath the beſt cauſe, but the beſt treaſury. His onely fiſhing is in troubled waters. His life is action, his food bloud and booty, his honour valour, and his end conqueſt. He is Peaces envie, and Wars darling: a horſe-fly ingendred of the corruption of a Kingdome, when too much plenty hath ſet men on quarrelling, and then he's a neceſſary evill to help let out the ſuperfluous humours, which hee effects by letting them bloud, till the loſſe of their bloud prove the loſſe of their lives. But the Citizens of Athens baniſhed a coffin maker out of the City, becauſe the cauſe of his mirth, was others ſadneſſe, and much reſembleth a Lawyer, whoſe wealth is increaſed by others poverty.

VI. A diſcontented Perſon.

IS a diſ-joynted member of the Kingdome, one that is falne out with the World, and will not be reconcil'd againe with it, hardly with himſelfe. He is always weary of the preſent times, not becauſe it is bad; but becauſe it is preſent. He extols & commends times paſt, and deſpairs of ever ſeeing the like, but is always deſiring of changes, like ſick folks; thinking unquietneſſe would procure reſt. Hee continually carries a cloud of diſcontent in his countenance, whereby you may judge of the ſtorms in his breſt. He makes all croſſes ſeem the heavier by his conceiting them greater then they are; being once thus out of tune himſelf, all his ſtudy is to create diſcords. Hee is an apt ſubject for Rebellion to work on, as hoping thereby to eaſe his own by increaſing others miſeries. All his ſpeech is invectives againſt Fortune: and like a froward child, becauſe hee cannot be happy according to to his own will, he will be miſerable in ſpight.

VII. An ambitious Man.

IS a Merchant of honour, ſayling in the Venture, and ayming at the Cape of preferment, his ſayls are fill'd with the wind of hope: but he ſometimes meets with a tempeſt, that caſts him away. Like a traivailer climing up the Alps of honour, on a ſudden comes a puff of croſſe-wind, that tumbles him into an abyſſe of miſery: but his ambition is to get unto the top, not minding the bottom: deſire to riſe, hath taken away al fear of falling. He cares not though he creep low, ſo hee may thereby riſe any whit the higher, and ſtill the more he gets, the more he deſires to get: for the greater draught of honour, cauſeth the greater drought. Hee is a meer bladder puft up with the wind of hope. Many times hee riſes high, and then like a Rocket in the ayre, breaks, and falls down to the wōderment of all the beholders. Envy and pride are his two wings, hee ſtill flutters with, to get above others. And when he is got up, he uſually throws down thoſe whom before hee made (as ſtaires) the meanes of his riſing. He is of a reſtleſſe nature, and counts every ſtay a loſing of time. Hee can ſayle with any winde, nay, with a croſs winde, rather then ſtand ſtill. Hee is a great incendiary, and ſtirrer of Wars, whilſt one like Pompey, can endure no equall; another like Caeſar admit of no ſuperiour. He wiſhes all things turn'd topſie-turvy, knowing that then, the firſt will be laſt, and the laſt firſt.

VIII. The Vulgar.

IS an untamed monſter with many heads; but like roaring Cyclops with one eye: attempting things with great clamour, but little judgment: not able to judge of things as they are indeed, but only by outward appearances. And therefore as the Sea is mov'd with every puffe of winde, ſo are they with every breath of their Orators. They regard not what is ſaid, but who ſays it. For let the matter be never ſo good, if they like not the Authour, 'tis worth nothing; on the contrary, let one of theirs vent nonſence, 'tis preſently cry'd up for Goſpel, but their love or hatred is (like a childes) wonne and loſt in an hour. For whom they now extoll to the Skies, by and by they'l cry down, as faſt as before they cry'd him up: And if they take head againſt a man, they run violently like a torrent to overwhelm him, without law, reaſon, or judgment: making greater clamour, then the Frogs in Homer, that would not ſuffer the Goddeſſe Pallas to ſleep, for their continual croaking. They are (as wee ſay of fire and water) good ſervants, but, very bad Maſters.

IX. Errour.

IS the Ape of Truth. A Labyrinth wherein mens judgements wander like men led by an Ignis fatuus, to their own ruine. It is an enticing Syren, that with its deceitfull layes draws men into an Ocean of deſtruction. The cunning Mercury, which luls the ſenſes aſleep, that ſo it may captivate the reaſon and judgement. A darke cloud over-caſting with its fogs and myſts, the bright Sun of Truth, and herein it gains infinite advantages over Truth, in that Truth is but one, but errour infinite, and every one going masked in the mantle of Truth, for did men ſee Errour in its proper colours, they would never entertain it: but every one that maintains any Errour; does it not becauſe it is an errour, but becauſe he conceives it to be the onely Truth. Again, Errour is more pleaſing unto men then Truth, and therefore Errour findes entertainment where Truth is ſhut out of doors. It was the Delemma of the Philoſopher, If I ſpeake to pleaſe the people, I ſhall not tell the Truth, and if I tell the Truth, I ſhall not pleaſe them, but procure enmity: and therefore it is juſt, that thoſe that will not have Truth for their King, ſhould have Errour for their Tyrant, to whom their judgements ſhould be captivated and enſlaved.

X. Truth.

IS the food of the ſoule. The daughter of time, yet was the daughter before the mother. Simple without any mixture; not needing any artificiall painting, or decking with flowers of Rhethorick, but appearing moſt beautifull when naked and in its proper colours. It is the touch-ſtone and ſquare whereby to try all opinions and doctrines, the onely Anchor whereon all things depend, and the Chart whereby we ſayle unto Eternity. It is a ſtrong Caſtle, which if we defend, will defend us; for though it may be beſieged, it can never be conquered; but like a pretious Minerall, it lyes not on the face of the earth, but inveloped in a multiplicity of errours. It is fitly reſembled by the Sun; for firſt, as there is but one Sun, ſo but one Truth, & as the Sun enlightens the eyes of the body, ſo Truth the eyes of the ſoule, and though it may be ecclipſed, it cannot be extinguiſhed; and ſo glorious is this heavenly light, that our weake ſight is daz'led with the ſplendour thereof: ſo that though man be ſtrong enough to deſire, but too weake to receive Truth, or at leaſt, not to hold it when received. A witty Fryer told the people, That Truth was like Holy Water, which all men call for, yet when it came to be caſt on them, they would turne aſide their faces: they that cry faſteſt for Truth, when it comes to them, runs faſteſt from it.

XI. A Self-Seeker.

IS a cunning Archer, that looking to the publique ſervice as the marke he onely aymes at, yet ſquints aſide at his own ends, which is the true Butt, all the arrows of his endeavours are ſhot at. No man pretends more for the publique good then he, and yet no man can intend it leſſe, and well may he in ſhew advance that which indeed advanceth him. This is a dangerous crime in men of publique truſt, for ſuch leaks make the veſſels of the Common-wealth to ſinke. Like that notorious Pick-pocket, that whilſt (according to the cuſtome) every one held up their hands at reherſing the Creed, he by a divice had a falſe hand which hee held up like the reſt, whilſt his true hand was falſe in other mens pockets: Or as a cunning Phyſitian, that inſtead of lightning the diſeaſe, lightens the purſe of his patient, protracting the cure, to prolong his gains. A deceitfull Souldier, who under colour of the publique, fights onely for his private cauſe.

XII. Pamphlets.

ARE the Weekly Almanacks, ſhewing what weather is in the State, which like the Doves of Aleppo, carry news to every part of the Kingdom. They are the ſilent Traytors that affront Majeſty, and abuſe all Authority, under the colour of an Imprimatur. Ubiquitary flyes that have of late ſo bliſtred the eares of all men, that they cannot endure any ſolid truth. The Ecchoes whereby, what is done in part of the Kingdome, is heard all over. They are like Muſhromes ſprung up in a night, and dead in a day, and ſuch is the greedineſſe of mens natures (in theſe Athenian dayes) of news, that they will rather feigne then want it.

XIII. An envious Man.

IS one that can endure no man to be happy, with, or beſides himſelfe; Nay, he had rather ſee himſelfe in miſery, then his neighbour in proſperity. He had rather goe to hell alone, then to heaven with company, yet is he the greateſt foe to himſelfe, for whilſt he wiſhes harme to others, it rebounds to himſelfe and good men like Cammomile, grow the better, for envies treading, it is but as a black ground to ſet off the luſter of their merits: & not ſeldome whilſt envy ſeeks to wound, it cures, bringing an Antidote inſtead of a poyſon. Like the Mirrour of glaſſe that reverberated the poyſon of the ſerpent upon her ſelfe killing her with her own weapon. Goodneſſe appears with greater luſtre through the black cloud of envy. The envious man feaſts like flies on others ſoares, anothers Comedy in his Tragoedy. He is never merry but at others ſadneſſe, and their cryes makes the only harmony in his eares.

XIV. True Valour.

IS a virtue in the ſpirit, which keepes the fleſh in ſubjection, for whilſt it overthrows its enemies it conquers it ſelfe, which is the beſt victory. It reſolves without fear, and acts without fainting, not daunted with multitudes of oppoſitiōs, knowing that the greater the cōflict is, the greater wil be the honor of the conqueror. It is a ſweet temper of the ſoul, not caſt down in captivity, nor elated in victory, wiſdome is her guide, and reſolution her companion. A good cauſe makes her truly noble, and pittie it is it ſhould have any enemy but errour.

XV. Time.

TIme is the univerſall Standard, whereby we meaſure Houres, Dayes, Weeks, Moneths, Years and Ages. A Rivulet of Time, which proceeded from, and ſhall end in the Ocean of Eternity, compared by that great Stateſman and Philoſopher of our Kingdom, to the nature of a River, which carryeth down to us that which is light and blown up, and ſinketh and drowneth that which is ſolid and weighty. It is the devourer of all things, the great Monarch that caſteth down ſome, and raiſeth others, with a kinde of omnipotencie and unreſiſtable power, for there is not any thing in the power of man can ſcotch the ever-circling wheele of Time. 'Tis neither force nor flattery can ſtop his full career. It is he that opens the windows of heaven to let in day and drawes the curtaines of the night, to ſecure the ſleepe of wearied labor. And ſo ſwift is his flight that we cannot diſcover it, till paſt. He is alwayes the ſame, and yet not the ſame ſince I ſaid ſo. The onely ſubject of honeſt and lawfull avarice. But whilſt I ſpeake of Time I loſe it, conſidering that though hee is known to be, yet is his being unknown, for his name is better known then his nature. (⸪)

XVI. A Newter.

IS a very blank, wherein you may write any thing that will make for his profit. Hee is a meer Bat all the time of War, reſolving to lye hid till time and fortune have decided the quarrell; and then hee'l be ſure to have a Bird for the Conquerour. Fortune is his god, Machiavel his Prieſt, Time-ſerving his Religion, and his only Counſellours are Corrantoes: for by thoſe hee gueſſes which way the winde of Fortune blows, and accordingly (with the Hedghog) hee turns his Den. Hee is only a ſpectator of this bloudy Tragoedy, and will be ſure to reſerve his Plaudite till the laſt Act. What he ſhall be he knows not, nor what hee is, yet I hold him an Independent; for whilſt hee ſides with all, hee'l be ſure to none. Like a pair of Compaſſes, the one end of his owne ends ſtands faſt; while with the other of his ſpeeches he walks the round of every prevailing faction. He is a meer Polypus, always of the ſame colour of the ſide he meets with, for hee varies his ſhapes as often as his company; like an Adjective, that varies caſe and gender with his Subſtantive. Hee uſes Moderation as a fair maſque over his foul-face of Newtrality: but when hee comes to be unmaſqued, hee becomes then as ridiculous to all, as before he was odious. His diſcourſe is the very Almanack of the Times, for his judgment is as variable as Victory. Hee is of a very unfit temper to make a Zelot of, being neither hot, nor cold, but Lukewarme, which is deteſtable to both. Wee may well term him a Waveringman, for (like the waves) he is moved with the winde of ſucceſſe. Hee would make a very good Muſician, for hee ſtudies nothing ſo much as to keepe Time: keeping cloſe to the wheel of Fortune, which is ſomtimes broken on by ſhort turnings. Striving ſo long, to bend to all, till hee break himſelf. And ſo playing the Ambo-dexter, that hee becomes at length Ambo-ſiniſter. But I ceaſe to know further what he is, who knows not what hee is in himſelf.

XVII. A Turn-coat.

IS one that will be ſure to be of the ſtrongeſt ſide, and all his policy is, when the contrary party prevails to tack abont, and with a ſide-winde, to ſaile with them. For hee is always of the Religion of the Conquerour; if the more zealous party get up, then none more zealous then he; if the leſſe ſevere, then none leſſe religious. Setting his carriage to the tune of the times, though never ſo Baſe. The truth is, he abſolute ſoft wax, in which the laſt impreſſion always puts out the former. He is one that ſails with any winde; That will run with the Hare, and hold with the Hound. A meer Weather-cock, for by him you may eaſily know which way the winde of ſucceſſe bloweth: for the Times and him are Tearms convertible. He will be ſure to ſtand to his friend, no longer then he is able to ſtand, for like Vermin, his flight is a certain token of a falling houſe Hee never declares his judgment but in dubious Tearms, leaving himſelf a liberty to expound them as Times ſhall ſerve.

XVIII. A Moderate Man.

IS the temperate Zone of the times, quallifying the cold of deteſtible Neutrality, and the fiery heat of over-zealous raſhneſſe. Moderation is the ballaſt of his ſoul, which keeps him upright. He had rather for a time hide Truth in the cave of his heart, then by his weakneſſe, or the times wickedneſs betray both it and himſelf to the contempt of their adverſaries; as knowing that though Truth may be over-laid and buried, yet it will have a Reſurrection. If he live in ſuch a time (as ours) wherein two oppoſite parties pretend the truth, when but one can have it, hee reſolves with himſelf, not ſo far to reſolve with either, that his credit, but eſpecially t uths, might receive auy detriment thereby. If Truth be manifeſtly ingag'd againſt Errour, hee then though moderately, yet ſtoutly holds himſelf bound to defend it. Hee is neither of an hot fiery, nor of a key-cold temper, but of a moderate, between thoſe two extreams, which is the healthfulleſt, & wil be the longeſt liv'd. But as Neutrality gains much by having Moderation for its vizard; ſo Moderation ſuffers more by having neutrality for its neighbour, yet may they be eaſily diſcerned, for Neutrality hath only its own ends for its ayme, but Moderation looks only at the Truth. Again, the Neuter is a wandring Planet, never ſetled, but the Moderate man is a fixed Star.

XIX. A corrupt Committee-man.

HE is one of the Wens of the body politique, that draws the wealth of the Common-wealth from its proper uſe; to the nouriſhment of his own baſe humours. Like the horſe-leech or the grave, he is never ſatisfied, but continually trying, give, give; He is one that under the authority of the State, impoveriſheth it. A licens'd Cheater, authoriz'd by Authority, which gives him a freedome to examine and meaſure every one but himſelfe. Like Lyca n, hee devoures men, and turns his Office into an Office of Eſcheat, making himſelfe heire to every mans eſtate, under colour of the States ſervice. He deals with all that come before him, as the Gyant did with his gueſts, he fits them all to his ſize, for thoſe that are overgrown in wealth he cuts ſhorter, and thoſe that plead poverty he ſtretches longer. For the liberty of the Subject hee brings all men into ſlavery. This upſtart Ivie will in time eat out the heart of the Oake that ſupports him. Hee is a very good Chimiſt, for hee turns all things into gold, the maine engine of the Warre, and the pipe that conveys and commands all the treaſure of the Kingdome, but there's a crack of ſelfe ends that hinders it from going to the right end of the Kingdoms good. His very name is as terrible to the poore Countrey man, as the Inquiſition, ſpeaking nothing leſſe then commitment, for the Priſon is his rack, and an Oath the tormentor; whereby he makes men prove Traitors to themſelves worſe then ever, by the Oath Ex Officio. His will muſt be the Standard whereto every one muſt be reduced. The under Committees he uſes as a ſpunge, or as the Turks doe the Jews, which when they have gathered ſufficiently, he ſqueezes, and ſo the greater Thieves rob the leſſe, and both the Commonwealth. For his Religion, if hee have any, it is altogether for Liberty of Conſcience, but whileſt hee keeps looſe his own, he bindes all other mens. Nothing terrifies him ſo much, as to think of an accompt, 'tis therefore his policy to be an evil angel to ſtir & mud the waters, like the fiſh Sepia, that he may go away un-diſcerned, like a Thief in a crowd. Peace is as often in his mouth, as ſeldome in his heart, for like a corrupt Chyrurgion, he lives upon keeping the ſoare raw: as certaine the poore Kingdom muſt needs be a Patient that ſuffers under ſuch Chyrurgions. But how this foundation will ſtand, that is raiſed on other mens ruines, and built on others breakings, when the winde of Majeſty, and the reign of juſtice ſhall again deſcend, who knows? till then I leave him, if in the meane time his guilty conſcience doe not condemn him, and he himſelfe ſave the hangman a labour, by preventing him.

XX. A Sectary.

HEe is one that having left the roade of the Churches practice, wanders in the Labyrinth of Sects and Schiſmes, and being of a Quick-ſilver brain, can never be fixed in any till hee become an abſolute Atheiſt, for they that once are of all Religions, will quickly be of none at all. He cannot endure any government as tying him in an incloſure: for he will not be fed by the wholſome food of his proper Miniſter, but will carve for himſelfe, not diſcerning weeds from herbs, poyſon from wholſome meat. For learning hee utterly deteſts it, and no wonder if they that ſeek darke corners, hate the light of the Sun that would diſcover them, yet the Sun is never the worſe nor leſſe uſefull, becauſe blear eyes cannot endure its light. He is ſo ſtrict to obſerve the very words of the Scripture (though he can read never a word of it) that becauſe the Apoſtles were ſome of them fiſher-men, and Paul preached in an upper roome, He thinks him no Preacher that is not a mechanick, nor that no Church which is not in a chamber. He rails continually againſt pluralities, and affects nothing ſo much as to be ſingular. If he be the ring-leader of a Sect, his only care is to worke upon the weaker ſex, to deceive ſimple women, whom, if they follow him, hee ſuppoſes their husbands wil come after them. And thus the Serpent, the father of Heretikes firſt tempted Eve, and then leaving her to tempt her husband. And theſe all weare Chriſts colours, but fight under the Devils banner, which daily multiply by our diviſions, theſe abſtractions from the Church increaſe by the diſtractions in the Church, and it will be as eaſie to knit a rope of ſand, as to unite them againe thus diſſipated.

XXI. Of War.

WAr is a Tragoedy, that moſt commonly deſtroyes the Scene whereon 'tis acted. An unwelcome gueſt that devoures his Hoſt. The curſed off-ſpring of two bleſſed parents, Peace and Plenty, both which it deſtroyes and devoures, as Pharoes leane kine did the fat ones. Peace chains up al furies & miſchiefs, which the ſword of Warre lets looſe. War is a Wolfe whoſe peſtilēt breath ſtops the mouth of the Laws, whoſe voyce cannot be heard for the cryes of oppreſſed people, the effect, and the roaring of Cannons, and claſhing of Armes, the ſadder cauſes. Wars griping hand ſqueezeth and ſcattereth what good husbandry had raked together in time of peace. Time of War is the true Iron Age, for it converts all into iron, which iron will be maſter of all mens gold. Warre never comes but attended with a train of devouring followers: Deſtruction and that uſually goe hand in hand. this Generall Warre hath ſo univerſall a command, that no particular man can have any command of his now. But of all Wars, none ſo uncivill as civill War, other wars kill foes, but this friends, in this, one member riſes up againſt another. If a Kingdom divided from others cannot ſtand, a Kingdom divided againſt it ſelf muſt needs fall. But the uglineſſe of War will appeare better, or rather worſe, by viewing the beauty of Peace.

XXII. Of Peace.

PEace is the ligament or ſeament, that knits and unites the ſeverall members of one Kingdom into one body. Shee is the mother of plenty and proſperity. The nurſe and cheriſher of Arts and Sciences, and what's worth all, the beſt means for propagating the Goſpel, for the ſpirituall fiſhers never caught the more for fiſhing in troubled waters, for ſuch fiſh (as mariners ſay of the litterall fiſh) if they ſee bloud on the net, they will not be caught by any bayes. No this Goſpel is the Goſpel of Peace, and of the God of Peace, and his children the lovers of Peace. Peace makes thoſe calme dayes wherein the Halcyon of honour ſeats her neſt. It is the onely cordiall to revive a fainting Kingdom, languiſhing of the deadly wounds of the keen ſword of inraged warre. This one word Peace (as one well obſerves) is but a monoſylable, yet is it big with a world of happineſſe. Yet many Athenians there be who never went to conclude a peace but in mourning garments. But I feare to ſpeake farther of it, leſt I meet with the Florentine Law, which made it death for any one to name Peace. I ſuppoſe the miſeries of this cruell Warre may bee as ſo many mouthes to cry and call for Peace, and therefore I will hold my peace.

XXIII. A Drunkard.

IS a meere beaſt in the ſhape of a man. A living pipe or conduite, through which the liquour paſſeth. A great aſſertor of Copernicus his opinion, for he holds that all things go ronnd. He might make a reſolute Souldier, but that he ſtaggers ſo often. Drukenneſſe is uſed in High Germany for the Index, or Touch-ſtone of a mans nature, for the parents will ſee men drunk before they marry their daughters unto them, becauſe they will know what kinde of drunkenneſſe they are ſubject to; and according to the good or ill (if a Drunkard can have good) qualities they judge him convenient or not for their marriages: And indeed there is no paſſion that a Drunkard is ſubject to, but Wine will make him turn traytor to himſelfe and diſcover. It is not for nothing that the word in the Originall ſignifies Naked, drunkenneſſe breakes the veile of ſecrecie, and renders a man naked to his very enemies, when he is like Gryllus (in Plutarch) who was ſo transformed by one of Circes charmes, that he could not by all Uliſſes cloquence be induced to depoſe his hoggiſh nature, and reſume the perſon of a man. He is not then his own Maſter or his own man, whoſe ſenſes are fettered with Drunkenneſſe, and yet how he boaſts in making himſelfe a hogſhead, ſtriving to take off his liquour till he be taken of it, and become its captive, and inſtead of quenching his thirſt drownes his ſoule. And being thus bereaved of his ſenſes, he jumps not an inch from a mad-man. For as there are ſeverall ſorts of mad-men, ſo are there alſo of Drunkards, and every one in his ſeverall humour: ſome are mad, ſome merry, ſome raging Drunkards. How many brute beaſts will riſe up in judgement againſt the Drunkards, who make the ſufficing of Nature their Standard in eating and drinking, which they will not exceed no more then the Drunkard exceeds them in his drink? For there are but two things whereby a man is differenc'd from a beaſt, Ratio & Oratio, Reaſon and Speech, and the Drunkard wants them both. He wants reaſon like him that ſtuft a porrage pot with ſtraw to make it the eaſier pillow. He wants ſpeech alſo, for as the Ephramites were diſtinguiſhed from the reſt of the Iſraelites, by liſping, they could not pronounce the letter . Thus Drunkards (ſayth one wittily) are diſtinguiſhed from the Kings ſober ſubjects by clipping the coyne of the tongue. But lamentable it is when hee dares to quote Scripture examples for proofe of his actions, looking only at the evill of ſin, but not at the evill of puniſhmeut that follows thoſe ſins; let him ſhew me the example of a Saint that ſinn'd, and had not alſo his affliction for it. As the Comoedian, who when one objected to him his bringing a deboiſt fellow upon the ſtage, thereby giving an evill example to youth: He anſwerd, 'tis true, I brought ſuch an one upon the Stage, but I hang'd him before he went off, and ſo I gave them a good example. ⸪

XXIV. A novice Preacher.

IS a young Lapwing, running from his neſt of the Univerſity, before maturity of time and knowledge have caſt the ſhel of ignorance, which therefore he ſtill carries on his pate. How-ever this kallow Bird weary of his Mothers tuition, (when indeed ſhe might better be weary of him) having hopt out of his neſt, muſt be chirping on every hedge, and will be ſtragling abroad, never minding the danger of ſuch attempts; but Who ſo bold as blinde Bayard, ſaith the Proverbe? Wee may ſay of him as of the Nitingale, Vox & praeterea Nil, His greateſt commendation is the ſtrength of his lungs, having been but a while like a cypher, in the place of a figure, me thinks, I heare the people ſaying, to thoſe Novices, as the wiſe to the fooliſh Virgins, ye have not enough for us and your ſelves too, go yee rather and buy for your ſelves: for wee beare ye witneſſe, that hitherto out of your owne neceſſities ye have adminiſtred unto us. And no wonder, that inſtead of ſhining Lights, they prove fooliſh fires to lead their flocks into a Maze of Errours, in which they wander, not having the clue of learning or judgement to guide them out. They are rather ſmoake to put out the eyes of the ſeeing, then like to lend eyes unto the blind. They are meere wels without water, aud clouds without rain. His Sermons are but the ecchoes of other men, in which his greateſt commendation is, that he reads them Clerk-like. For his prayers they conſiſt moſt an end of naught elſe, ſave a zealous taking the Lords name in vain, in tedious tautologies which he is as devout in, as a Papiſt would be in dropping his beads. His Library conſiſts of a Directory, and an Ordinance for Tithes, and if his eſtate will reach to it, a Concordance.

XXV. A Scandalous Preacher.

HE is one who by his Doctrine ſheweth the way to heaven, but by his life, the road to hell. Like that ridiculous Actor iu Smyrna, who pronouncing ô coelum! pointed down to the ground, of whom Polemio in a chafe ſayd, This fellow hath ſpoken falſe Latine with his hand: ſo does he that preacheth well, and lives ill; he ſpeakes falſe Divinity with his converſation. His tongue ſpeakes the language of Canaan, but his life the language of Aſhdod. We may ſay of him as it was of Eraſmus, his Encheridion, that there was more devotion in the booke then the man; ſo that there is more Learning and Religion in the Sermon then in the Preacher, and what an incongruous thing is it, to ſee an holy Preacher and a wicked man in one and the ſame perſon? whoſe life is a Traytor to that Doctrine his tongue both profeſſeth and perſwades alleagance to, as if hee thought to goe to heaven ſome other way then what he teaches the people, ſoyling the glorious robe of Religion, by putting it upon a beaſtly converſation. He is a meere Comoedian in Religion, acting goodneſſe in voice and geſture onely. His life and Doctrine is like the cloud that led the Iſraelites in the wildernes, light on one ſide, but dark on the other, for no man teaches better then he, and no man lives worſe, teaching others what he does not himſelfe, like way-poſts, directing travailers in their way, but themſelves not ſtirring.

XXVI. A grave Divine.

IS a faithfull watchman, going before his flock, holding forth the ſhining lampe of his Doctrine in the lanthorne of a good converſation. Hee is a good ſteward, that hath ſtudyed before hand to lay in ſufficient proviſion for that great charge he hath undertaken. He leapt not from the Grammar Schoole to the Pulpit, but was long in the Tyring-houſe of the Univerſity, before he appear'd on the publike Theater, where he courted not the miſtriſſe Divinity firſt, but made his way to her the eaſier, by firſt winning the Arts, her hand-maids. Neither was he haſty to launch forth of that Port, till hee was ſufficiently ballaſted with learning. Being lawfully called to the Miniſtry, he firſt throughly learned the weight thereof, that hee may the better fit his ſhoulders to beare it, and ſurely he that is moſt carefull to know, will be moſt carefull to performe his duty. His endeavour is to fit his matter to the capacity of his hearers, as deſiring rather their profit then his applauſe. In any controverſie he more delights to ſhew the ſtrength of truth, then his adverſaries weakneſſe: uſing ſoft words, (as one well) but hard Arguments. He is very circumſpect in ordering his own converſation, as knowing that ignorant people learn as much (if not more) by their eyes then their eares; ſo that his whole life is but one continued Lecture, wherein his pariſhioners may legibly read their duty. And indeed the actions of the Miniſter, are the Pole-ſtars the people ſteere their courſe by: therefore it is our Miniſters care that they may read (as it were) all his precepts and exhortations to them in the line of his own life.

XXVII. A ſelf-conceited Man.

IS one that looking through the ſpectacles of ſelf-love on his own worth, which makes every ſmall thing ſeeme great in his own conceit. Like the Ape, he hugs the brats of his own brain, and with the Crow, thinks his own bird whiteſt. He looks only upon the flowers of his good actions, but not on the weeds of his imperfections, which, though never ſo bad, are the beſt part of his actions. Hee looks ſo on his own beauty, till Narciſſus-like he is inamoured with himſelf, being drunken with ſelf-conceit he ſees all things double. Whatſoever he ſayes, he counts like Pithagoras his ipſe dixit, to his ſcholars, that muſt ſtand for an infalible rule. His opinions are alwayes ſingular, and had rather erre by himſelf then hold a common truth. You can tell him nothing that is good in him, but hee knew it too well before. Whatſoever opinion he is pleaſed to grace with approbation, muſt be the only truth, not becauſe it is (if it be) truth, but becauſe he holds it.

XXVIII. An inconſtant Man.

HE is a wandring Star, never fixed in any reſolution. Whatſoever he meant or ſaid, is preſently altered, for he meant it not long enough to take impreſſion, his ſtrongeſt reſolutions being rather tack'd then faſtned. He is always building and pulling down, ſtriving to out-vey time it ſelfe in mutability: in the beſt things continuance is quarrell ſufficient, and novelty the higheſt ſtyle of commendation in the meaneſt. His underſtanding writes upon his wit, as men write on water, no ſooner written, but forgotten. He is a ſtranger to himſelfe, and all his actions ſo different from another, that one would think it impoſſible they ſhould all come out of one the ſameſhop. A piece of clay, tempered with running water, which keeps his wit in a perpetuall motion. He often reſolves ſeldome Acts, being rul'd by paſſion, not reaſon. He is the beſt enemy that can be, but the worſt friend, for 'tis a wonder if his love or hatred, laſt ſo long as a wonder. All his purpoſes are built upon the floting Iſlands of his ſeverall humours: but Ile here caſt anchor, and leave him to the winde of his own will.

XXIX. Religion.

REligion in it ſelf is naturally written in the hearts of all men: which will rather be of a falſe then of no Religion. It is the bond betweene God and us, and therefore in our old Engliſh called Eanfaſtnes, as the only aſſurance, and faſt anchor-hold of our ſouls health: and therefore irreligious men cut or diſſolve this band, and then no wonder if cutting this cable, they make ſhipwrack of their ſouls. Though there be many falſe religions, as many falſe gods in the World, yet is there but one true Religion, as one true and only God, who is the ſole object of Religion: and all thoſe ſeverall ones, though ſo far diſtant frō one another, yet they all meet in this, that they all worſhip a Diety. Religion (like Sampſon's haire) is the ſtrength of a Kingdom: where that is loſt, the Kingdom is a true Icabod, the glory is departed: and no ſuch way to loſe the true Religion, as in a crowd of falſe ones. Hee that opens his hand (or his heart rather) to contein all will, retein none: true Religion is of too pure a nature to admit of any mixture, but alas! we may too truly ſay of religion in our times, as Eraſmus did of the Friers Cowle in his, that it there was like Charity, for it cover'd a multitude of ſins, as if there was no ſuch way for men to fight for their own ends, as under the banner of Religion. * 〈☐〉 *

XXX. Death.

DEath is that univerſall winde to which all mortals, become wind-fals from the tree of life. Sickeneſſes & ſleep, are as pauſes and parentheſes, in the line of life, but Death the full point; the period; and Ne plus ultra, of the longeſt. The griſly Atropos that cuts in ſunder the ſtrongeſt cord of life, it is that unavoidable debt levied upon all mankind, by force of that Statute enacted by God in Paradiſe: and recorded by Saint Paul, That all muſt dye. As when one told Anaxagoras, the Athenians have condemn'd thee to dye, He anſwered, and Nature then. It is that black night, which over-takes, and over-ſpreads the brighteſt day of life. The grim Serjeant ſent from the Almighty with an Habeas Corpus, to arreſt every one for that unavoidable debt, due to Nature, ever ſince our firſt Parent broke and turn'd Bankerupt. The grave is his Priſon wherein he keeps them, till the Reſurrection, the time of their Gaol-delivery from it. But to the godly, it is a friendly-fo, which by robbing them of a mortall life, makes them capable of immortality; and by ſplitting the veſſell of their bodies, upon the rock of death, engulphs their ſouls into Eternity: ſetting her free from the priſon of the body, and endenizing her into Heaven. It is their Exodus out of the Egypt of the World, preparing them to enter into their promiſed Land of the heavenly Canaan: or new Hieruſalem. At this Port muſt weall arrive: whatſoever our Voyage be. This is the totall ſumme of all mankinde. It is the bitter cup our father Adam begun, and wee muſt all pledge it: the Inheritance which he purchaſed, as his wages of ſin, and is entayl'd to all his poſterity. A Deluge which broke in by Adams breach of Gods Commandement that ſooner or later will over-flow all mankind. By his rebelling againſt God, al are become ſubject to deaths command. what the Epigram ſayth wittily on the Gramarian is true of every man, that being able to decline all other Nownes in every Caſe, could decline Death in no Caſe. All muſt fall down at deaths feet, as well the Prince as the Peſant. He cannot be reſiſted, nor will he be flatterd. No Orator ſo eloquent, that could perſwade Death to ſpare him nor Monarch ſo mighty tha could reſiſt him. Hezekiah, indeed was repriev'd, by God himſelfe, for fiften yeares, but he came to it at laſt. When this wind blowes, and when this rain deſcends, it irreſiſtably blowes down, and waſheth away the clay tenements of our bodies. He is an Archer that ſhooteth, ſomtimes beyond us hitting our ſupriours, ſomtimes ſhort of us, ſtriking our inferiors, ſomtimes at our right hand, depriving us of our freinds, ſomtimes at our left hand, taking away our foes: and then at laſt hits the marke it ſelfe, and we muſt tread the ſame path, that all have, who are gon before us, and all muſt that ſhall come after. (⸪)

Mors, omnium FINIS.