Virtus Rediviva A Panegyrick On our late King CHARLES the I. &c. of ever blessed Memory. ATTENDED, With severall other Pieces from the same PEN. Viz.

  • I. A Theatre of Wits: Being a Col­lection of APOTHEGMS.
  • II. Foenestra in Pectore: or a Century of Familiar LETTERS.
  • III. Loves Labyrinth: A Tragi-comedy.
  • IV. Fragmenta Poetica: Or Poeticall Diversions.

Concluding, with A PANEGYRICK on His Sacred Majesties most happy Return. By T. F.

Varietas delectat.

Printed by R. & W. Leybourn, for William Gran­tham, at the Sign of the Black Bear in St. Pauls Church-yard neer the little North door; and Thomas Basset, in St. Dunstans Church­yard in Fleet-street. 1660.

VIRTƲS REDIVIVA: OR, A PANEGYRICK On the late K. Charls the I. Second Monarch OF GREAT BRITAIN. By THO. FORDE.

Honoris, Amoris, Doloris ergo.

Propositum est mihi Principem Laudare non Principis facta, nam laudabilia multa etiam mali faciunt.

Plin. Panegyric▪ in Trajan.
[Emblems of England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland]

LONDON, Printed by R. and W. Leybourn, for William Grantham at the Black Bear in St. Pauls Church-yard, neer the little North Door. 1660.

The Preface.

XEnophon charactered his Cyrus, not as he was but as he ought to have been: making him ra­ther the subject of a brave Romance, than a true History.

But such is the advantage of our Charls his Virtue, that when I have said all I can say, it will be infinitely beneath what I should say, I shall doe truth no injury to con­fesse the weaknesse of Art to repre­sent [Page] a person so admirable, without diminishing his glories, whose Fame surmounts the most daring Hyper­bolies of Rhetorick; and to praise faintly (in Seneca's opinion) is a piece of slander.

I must be forced to imitate the Cosmographers, who describe a large Kingdome by a little point, and confine the whole world in a small circle: whereto when I have done all, I must subscribe this Motto, Intelligitur, plus quam pin­gitur.

Alexander the Great gave straight commands, that no Painter should dare to make his Picture, but A­pelles: I know no Pensill fit to draw great Charls, his Picture, but his own, Ipse, ipse quem loquar, loqua­tur. And well it is he hath done it in his divine Portrayture, that Aureum flumen orationis: a piece [Page] wherein Learning and Language, Reason and Religion, speak him at once a Solomon for knowledge, and a David for piety and devo­tion.

Timanthes that rare and ingeni­ous Artist (as Pliny tells the Story) divising in a little Table to repre­sent a Cy [...]lop [...]s sleeping, because he would seem in that little Compasse to shew his Gyant-like bignesse, he painted little Satyres hard by, ta­king measure of one of his thumbs with long perches. Our insuffici­ency to represent his sacred Majesty to the full, may perhaps be none of the least Arguments to evince the greatnesse of his merit, who (as Pindar said Elegantly of Heiro) cropt the tops and summities of all virtues, which dispersed among all others, met in Him, as in their proper Center.

[Page]The Coloss at Rhodes, one of the wonders of the World, was no lesse admired being beaten down, than when it stood, when as they saw that with one of the fingers they might make many great Statues: Nor can Great Charls his Fall, lessen our Admiration of Him, when it shall be considered that from His incom­parable Actions may be drawn per­fect Images, and assured Examples of the greatest and most noble Virtues.

It is the priviledge of Virtue to give a new Life after Death.

Chi Semina virtu, racoglie fame,
e vera Fama supera la morte,

Sayes the Italian Proverb; He that sows virtuous Deeds, reaps Re­nown, and true Fame out-lives death.

[Page]How many have we read of who have been buried with ignominy and obscurity; yet in a short time, the Sun of their virtue hath risen out of the dark grave of prejudice and slan­der, and shined with more luster than before! Benedet [...]o Alberti was ba­nished by the Florentines, and yet after his death, they confessed their errour, and fetcht home his bones, burying him with solemn pomp and honour, whom being alive they had persecuted with slanders and re­proaches.

It is said of our English Edward the 2d, that they who despised him being alive, so much honored him be­ing dead, that they could have found in their hearts to make him a Saint.

The grave which buries a man should also bury all his enemies, it being unnaturall to hate the dead▪ whom we cannot hurt, for the ut­most [Page] that malice can doe is to kill; and therefore it is noted a prodigi­ous and unexampled hatred between the two brothers of Thebes, E [...]ocles and Polinices, as Statius tells us,

Nec furiis post fa [...]a modus, flam­mae (que) rebelles
Seditione rogi, &c.
Their furies were not bounded by their fate,
One's Funeral flame the others flame did hate.

Solon made a Law that none should speak evill of the dead, and his reason was, for fear of immortal enemies.

Livor post fata quiescit. Envy sleeps after death; says the Poet, as confidently as if it were not to be questioned. Onely our Charls hath found it false, and the men of [Page] our Age alone have made an exce­ption to this generall rule of charity. There have been found those who have persecuted his Ghost, and com­mitted Treason against his Memory; like those chief Priests in the Gospel, who consulted to put Lazarus to death, after his resurrection. But his Virtue hath survived their malice, and he Lives in spight of Fate or envy.

Haec est CAROLI gloria, ut nullius laudibus crescat, nullius vitu­peratione minuatur; as Macrobius sayes of Virgil. This is CHARLS his Glory, that as the prayses of his friends can adde nothing to him, so the slanders of his enemies can detract nothing from Him. His Virtue need­ethnot our Encomiums, His Memo­ry contemneth their scandals, and his Merits Surpasse all Discourses.

Vivit post funera Virtus.

VIRTƲS REDIVIVA: OR, A PANEGYRICK On the late K. CharlstheI. Second Monarch of Great BRITAIN.

TO praise the living, although never so deserving, is not seldome suspe­cted of flattery, and design: There­fore say the wise Italians, La lode nascer deve quando è morto chi s [...] h [...] da lodar; Praises ought not to be born, till the party praised be dead: when both envy in the Reader, and flattery in the Writer are useless: when the Writers Pen is neither brib'd by favours to a [Page 2] mercenary, and sordid▪ adulation▪ nor frighted by the frownes of greatnesse into a Paral [...]ick and shaking cowardice.

I have undertaken a Subject which will [...] me from the guilt of fawning flattery, as being so far above all praises that I fear not to be guilty of saying too mu [...]h, but too little in his commen­dation. The richest colours of Rhetorick are too dark to represent a life so transparent, so full of worth, so full of wonder. The brightest lan­guage will prove but a dark shadow, to that shi­ning merit▪ which exceeds all apprehension, much less expression; well it is if it do not spoil, what I confess I am not able to adorn. Materies tamen ipsa juvat. Charls the First, whom but to name is to cast a cloud upon all former Ages, and to be­night Posterity; In taking of whose Picture, I shall not need to doe as that Painter did, who drew Antigonus▪ imagine luscâ, hal [...] faced, that so he might hide his want of an eye from the view of the beholder. There is nothing in Charls, but what is lovely▪ and admirable▪ no deformity, or imperfection. I shall rather choose to imitate the famous Apelles; who to express his art to the full in the picture of Venus rising naked out of the Sea, assembled together all the most beauti­full women of the Island of Coos (his native place) uniting in that piece all their divided per­fections. There is nothing eminent, or excel­lent in all the deservedly admired antients, that is not only met, but out-done in Charls. It is affirmed by the learned Raleigh, that if all the pictures and patterns of a merciless Prince were lost in the world, they might all again be painted [Page 3] to the life out of the Story of Hen. 8. But I shall with as much truth▪ and perhaps more Charity, maintain, that if all the Pictures, and Patterns of a mercifull Prince, of a couragious and constant King, of a vertuous, and brave Man, were lost▪ they might be repaired, if not infinitely excell'd in the Story of Charls the First whose life needs no Advocate, whom detraction it self cannot men­tion without commendation. I find not any man in all the Records of the antients, or the Wri­tings of the more modern authors, over whom he hath not some advantage; nor any ones life, taken altogether, so admirable as His: nor any thing admirable in any, that was not in Him: Qu [...] simul omnia uno isto nomine continentur. In Him alone are to be found all the vertuous qua­lities of the best Princes in the world, without the vices of any of them: for he only hath made it appear, that great vertues may be without the attendance of great vices.

It was said of our Hen. the 5th. that he had something in him of C [...]sar, which Alexander the Great had not, that he would not be drunk, and something of Alexander the Great, which Caesar had not, that he would not be flattered. But Charls had the vertues of all; without the vices of any, tam extra vici [...], quam cum summis virtutibus. He as much exceeded all other Kings, as other Kings doe all other men. In a word, he was what ever a good Prince ought to be, and what others should be, yet was this Lilly born in the land of thorns and briers, this Rose sprang up amidst a field of thistles; I pre­sume the description hath prevented me saying it was Scotland.

A Land that calls in question, and suspence
Gods Omni-presence, but that Charls came thence.

In quo▪ nihil praeter unum Carolum est, quod com­mendemus. A Nation famous for the birth of Charls, but infamous for their treachery and dis­loyalty to so brave a Prince. But the happiness of a brave and incomparable Father, did suffi­ciently recompence for the place of his birth: So that I may say of him what is said of Lewis the 8th of France, father to St. Lewis, that he was Son to an excellent Father, and Father to an ex­cellent Son; a Son only worthy of such a Father, a Father only worthy of such a Son. A Father so admirable that Sir W. Raleigh hath left it upon Record to all Posterity, that if all the malice of the world were infused into one eye, yet could it not discern in his life, any one of those foul spots, by which the consciences of all forreign Princes (in effect) have been defiled; nor any drop of that innocent bloud on the Sword of his justice, with which the most that fore-went him have stained both their hands and fame. This Encomium of the Father, may justly descend to the Son as Heir apparant to his virtues, as well as his Crowns.

In his Childhood, the weaknesse of his lower parts which made him unapt for exercises and feats of activity, rendred him more retired, and studious, and more intent upon his Book then perhaps he had been otherwise. So great a Stu­dent was he in his younger dayes, that his Father would say, he must make him a Bishop: Provi­dence [Page 5] then seeming to design him, rather to the Crosier then the Crown. By his great study he became a great Historian, an excellent Poet, a great lover and Master of Musick, and indeed a generall Scholar. This rare Cien was not graf­ted upon a wilding or crab-stock, but an inno­cent and studious youth, was the prologue to a more active and vigorous manhood. For be­ing grown in years, and state, he shook off his former retiredness, and betook himself to all manner of man-like exercises, as vaulting, ri­ding the great Horse, running at the Ring, shoo­ting in Cross-bowes, Muskets, and great Ordi­nance, in which he became so expert, that he was said to be the best Marks-man, and the most comely Manager of a great Horse, of any one in his three Kingdoms. Nor were these excellencies ill-housed, but his fair Soul was tenant to a lovely and well proportioned body. His stature of a just proportion, his body erect and active, of a delicate constitution, yet so strong withall, as if nature had design'd him to be the strife of Mars, and Venus. His countenance amiable and beauti­ful, wherein the White Rose of York, and the Red of Lancaster were united: his hair inclining to a brown, till cares and grief changed them into a white, at once the Embleme of his innocence, and his fortune; clear and shining eyes, a brow pro­claiming fidelity, his whole frame of face and fa­vour, a most perfect mixture and composition of Majesty, and Sweetness.

Thus long have we beheld him as a Man: Let us now view him as a Husband, as a Father, as a King; and we shall find him alike admi­rable in all relations.

[Page 6]As an Husband▪ he is a rare Example of love and chastity; at his first receiving of his Queen, he professed▪ that he would be no longer Master of himself▪ then whilst he was a Servant to her; and so well did he make his words good, that on the day before his death he commanded his Daughter, the excellent Princess Elizabeth, to tell her Mother that his thoughts had never strayed from her, and that his love should be the same to the last. And indeed no man more lo­ved, or less do [...]d upon a wife.

As a father, how tender was he of his children, without a too remiss indulgence! how carefull of their education in the true Protestant Religion, which he alwayes professed, and learnedly defen­ded, advising the Lady Elizabeth (and in her the rest) to read Bishop Andrews Sermons, Hookers Ec­clesiaistcall Politie, and Bishop Laud's book against [...]isher, to ground them against Popery.

Let us now view him as a King, and we shall see him as the Soul of the Common-wealth, a­cting vigourously, and regularly every particu­lar member in its several place and office. Be­hold him in his royall Throne, and thence dis­pencing his sacred Oracles of Law and Justice, to the admiration of all that had the happiness to see and hear him. Witness Mr. Speaker [...] Speech to his Majesty on the 5th of Novem. 1640. I see before my eyes with admiration (sayes that then eloquent Orator, as the mouth of all the Com­mons of England) the Majesty of Great Britain, the glory of times, the history of honour, Charls the First, in his forefront placed by descent of an­tiquity, King, setled by a long succession, and conti­nued [Page 7] unto us by a pious & peaceful government; concluding with this serious and loyal promise; And all our Votes shall pass, that your sacred Majesty may Long, Long, Long reign over us. To which, no doubt, all that heard him said, Amen. Such was his pious and paternall care over his people, that the most [...]ullen ingratitude could not but acknowledge him the Father of his Coun­try: teaching his people obedience to his Laws, not so much by Proclamation, as Example; as he was Imperio Maximus, so he was Exemplo Ma­jor, as Paterculus sayes of Tyberius: or as it is said of Lycurgus, that famous Law-giver, he ne­ver ordained any thing to others, which he did not first exactly observe himself.

So chast was he in his embraces, so pious in his devotions, so just in all his actions, that the Law-maxime of Rex non peccat, was never more true of any King, than of Him. Behold him at the Councill Table, and there we shall find him (by the testimony of one of his greatest ene­mies) principall in all transactions of State, and the wisest about him but Accessaries: for he ne­ver acted by any implicit faith in State matters; He had more learning and dexterity in State af­fairs, undoubtedly (sayes that Cook russian) than all the Kings in Christendom. And herein, if ever, the good words of an enemy are true.

It is reported of our Henry 4th. that he stood more upon his own legs than any of his Predeces­sors had done, in cases of difficulty; not refusing, but not needing the advice of others, which might confirm, but not better his own judgement. But this is far greater and truer commendation [Page 8] in Charls, who succeeded so wise a Prince as James the first, the greatest Master of King-craft (as he used to call it) that ever swayd the English Scepter.

But as our Charls his wisdome was great, in that he was able to advise, yet was it greater in that he was willing to be advised: being never so wedded to his own opinions but that on good grounds he might be divorced from them; for though some of his enemies have reported him wilfull, and too tenacious to his own resolves; one who knew him bettet then all of them (though perhaps their malice was greater than their ignorance) affirms, and that without sus­pition of falshood, that though in his childhood he was noted to be very wilfull, which might proceed from that retiredness, which the imper­fection of his Speech, not fitting him for publick discourse, and the weakness of his limbs and joints (as unfit for action) made him most de­light in; yet afterwards, as he shaked off his retiredness, so he corrected in himself the pec­cancy of that humour, which had grown up with it, there being no man to be found (sayes my Author, and it is verbum Sacerdotis) of an evener temper, more pliant to good counsel, or less wedded than he was to his own opinion. Indeed as he was long and serious in deliberating, so was he just and true to his resolves, and resolute in the execution of them.

Let us attend him to the Chappell, and there we shall see him, so pious and devout in prayer, so re­verend and attentive in hearing, that we may justly conclude his piety to be as a rich Diamond [Page 9] in the Ring of his royall virtues. Constantine alwayes heard Sermons standing, acknowledging thereby what reverence is due to the Word of God, the irreverence that hath since crept into our Churches, may well make us bewail the loss of that laudable Example of our English Constan­tine, who alwayes bare a great regard to the Church and Church men; whom he reverenced for their function, and loved for their fi [...]l [...]y; so much a friend was he to all Church men, that had any thing in them beseeming that sacred Function, that he hazarded (as he says himself) his own interest, chiefly upon conscience & con­stancy to maintain their rights, whom the more he looked upon as Orphans, & under the sacrile­gious eyes of many cruel & rapacious reformers, so he thought it his duty the more to appear as a father, and patron for them and the Church.

He was at once a dutifull Son, and an indul­gent father of the Church, esteeming it (with that good Emperor) a greater honour to be a member of the Church, than Head of an Empire. Nor was he onely a gracious Patron of the Church, but also a resolute Champion in behalf of the Hierarchy, as well remembring that Prophe­tick Apothegm of the King his father, No Bishop, no King; his own experience being too great a Comment upon that truth to be by him neg­lected, or by us forgotten.

Bassianus the Emperor refusing the name of Pius, would be called Foelix: on the contrary our Charls chose rather to be informiatly Pious, than irreligiously prosperous, well knowing that piety shall not want its reward in a better place. A [Page 10] King so religious, so devout, that if all his sub­jects had been like the King, we might then in­deed have had a Kingdom of Saints.

If we enter his Courts of Judicature, there shall we behold Justice with her sword and ballance, equally dividing, and impartially weighing out the rewards of virtue, and punishments of vice: po­verty never excluding the Innocent, nor power absolving the nocent; and though the Asylum of his mercy was never shut to the meanest suppli­cant, whom the rigour of the Law had cast, yet was he alwayes inexorable to the supplications of the greatest offender, if found guilty of will­full murther. Agesilaus wrote to a Judge in behalf of his Favourite, Si causa bona, pro justitia, sin mala pro amicitia absolve. But hath not our Charls delivered up the greatest of his favourites to the sentence of the Law? did his power ever shield the most powerfull offenders from the stroke of justice, though himself were wounded through their sides? As his justice was blind to all rela­tions, his hands were continually open to receive the Petitions of his meanest subject: not like Demetrius who threw the Petitions of his people into the water; He was always ready and ex­pectant to receive them, and never better plea­sed than when he took them from the hands of the poorest Petitioner; justly meriting the style of James the fifth of Scotland, who was called, The poor mans King.

Worthy was the Speech of that Goth, a King of Italy, who speaking of his Subjects, said, Messis n [...]stra, cunctorum quies: Our harvest is their rest. Such was the vigilancy of Charls, whose waking [Page 11] eyes secured all his flock from being a prey to any subtle Mercury: No forreign invasion da­ring to land upon our coasts; no home-bred broyles frighting the Husbandman from his Plough, or the Tradesman from his Shop: but peace and plenty crowned all their endeavours, they being married in our Kingdome, as nearly as in the French Proverb. Every man sate under his own Vine and Fig-tree, eating the fruit of his own labours. No loading taxes made their trade move slowly, or clogged the wheels of their honest industry. No polings, no plun­drings, no spies to catch at every whisper, and make a man an offendour for a word; but Law was duly administred, Religion mainteined, Learning encouraged, the arts liberally professed and rewarded. Our Merchants traffickt with safety and honour wheresoever the necessity of their employments lead them; and no corner of the world so barbarous, but the name of an Englishman was welcome and pleasant.

It is reported that Henry the 8th confessed on his death bed, that he had never spared man in his wrath, nor woman in his lust: But of Charles let me ask, whose house did he plunder? whose wife did he abuse? whose right did he wrong? may it not be more truly affirmed of him, what the Historian flatteringly spake of Livia, the wife of Augustus, Ejus potentiam nemo sensit, nisi aut levatione periculi, aut accessione dignitatis? No man felt his hand▪ unless in raising the oppressed from the pit of misery, or advancing the deser­ving to the hill of honour. To such a pitch of felicity were we then arrived, by the virtues and [Page 12] indulgence of a gracious Soveraign, that no­thing could render us more happy, but a conti­nuance of our happinesse. Never was Prince more beloved, or better obeyed by loyall Subjects. Nothing but the want of him could render him more glorious, or desired.

But the greatest felicities are shortest lived, and the most glorious summer is followed by the sharpest winter; the clearest skie is not without its clouds, the longest day must have a night. The sunne of our glory was arrived to the Me­ridian and Verticall point, it must now decline, la­bour under a sad and almost total Ecclipse; and at last set in a cloud of bloud, darkness, and confu­sion. O nulla longi temporis foelicit as! But as the sun is no less glorious in it self, when labouring under the darkest Ecclipse, nor leaves his wonted course, for all the clouds and va­pours that flie in his face: So neither was our Charls less great and admirable under the most fatall Ecclipses of his glory, nor less constant, and unwearied in all the royall Offices of a King, when the clouds and vapours of calumny and sedition endeavored most to obscure and darken his brightnesse.

As he was a lover of Peace, he was no lesse valiant in War, if we confesse at least valour consists not onely in doing, but also in suffering. As he was moderate in prosperity, so was he cou­ragious and patient in adversity: his virtue, courage and Christian patience having carried him with an unwearied course through both the Hemisph [...]res of prosperity and adversity, com­passing (as I may say) the whole globe of both [Page 13] fortunes, and rendring him an unparalleld pat­tern of such vertues, as were formerly undis­covered to the world, and had still remained as a Terra incognita to all other Princes, had not his admirable example taught them, and all o­thers, that no Cross is too heavy for a Christian resolution, nor any difficulty too hard for ver­tue to conquer.

On the Sepulcher of Possenius Niger was pla­ced this Epitaph, Here lieth Poss. Niger, an an­tient Roman, who in merit was equal with the virtuous, but in misfortune exceeded the most unfortunate. We may affix the same with very little alteration to the Statue of Charles the first, second Monarch of Great Britain, That he was equal in merit with the most virtuous, but in misfortunes exceeding the most unfortunate: yet did the brightness of his virtue shine through, and his piety gild and enamel the darkest clouds of his afflictions, baffling all the daring mists of malice and envy, and converting them in­to well-placed shadows, which rendred his Pi­cture more lively and admirable.

Naturalists write of a precious stone called Caraunias, that it is found onely in a day of thunder, glistering when the Sky is overcast with darkness: such are the virtues of faith, hope, charity, patience, and magnanimity of Charles, which perhaps had never so gloriously appear­ed, had not the darkness of his fortune brought them to light: and being like winter flowers produced between storms and tempests, and grown up like the noble Palm under the pres­sures of weights and burthens.

[Page 14] Prolixum est enumerare omnes, cognoscite aliquas, as St▪ Ambrose said of Judiths virtues; I shall on­ly cull out some few of those many rich jewells, to adorn his Panegyrick, and leave the rest to be collected by his Historians, and thredded by their more diligent hands upon the string of their more lasting stories.

The eye of mine observation fixeth first upon the orient gem of his Patience in affliction, which made him so ductile and plyant to the will of Heaven, that he willingly exchanged his Crown for the Crosse, and made his Scepter stoop to the Rod of affliction.

In his March after Essex to the West, it hapned that one of the carriages brake in a long narrow Lane, which they were to pass, and gave his Ma­jesty a stop, at a time of an intolerable showre of rain which fell upon him, some of his Courtiers and others which were near about him, offered to hew him out a way through the hedges with their Swords, that he might get shelter in some of the villages adjoyning; but he resolved not to forsake his Canon upon any occasion: At which when some about him seemed to admire and marvail at the patience which he shewed in that extremity; his Majesty lifting up his Hat made answer, That as God had given him afflictions to ex­ercise his patience, so he had given him patience to bear his afflictions. A Speech so heavenly and divine (says my Author) that it is hardly to be parallel'd by any of the men of God in all the Scripture. We may observe him in his divine Meditations, like the industrious Bee, sucking the Hony of comfort and consolation, out of the bitter flowers of his unequall fortune.

[Page 11]An Ancient said, he that can bear an injury, is worthy an Empire; But if we consider with how even and equall a temper, with how constant and Christian a fortitude his Majesty bore all the injurious insolencies, and insolent injuries which the tongues and pens of his malitious ad­versaries continually loaded him withall, we must be forced to confesse, that if merit herein might have won, or justice have been Elector, he had not been King of an inconsiderable Island, but Emperor of the whole world. So far was He from repining at his afflictions, or being angry at the injuries of his ignorant and insolent ene­mies, that he never esteemed himself more glo­rious, than when dressed up in the robe o [...] their scorn and mockery: alwayes fencing himself with that royall Maxime as with a shield, Bona agere, & mala patiregium est. Nor could the in­juries and affronts of some, force him to a reta­liation, being often angry at, but never pleased with those satyricall invectives against his e­nemies which a just indignation sometimes forced from the sharper Pens of some of his friends.

As his losses could not make him despond, his victories never made him insolent; though the one rendred him more humble, the other could not make him proud; He was rather like Fenu­greek, which (sayes Pliny) the worse it is handled the better it proves.

It is said of that mother in the Maccabees, who saw her seven children slain before her eyes, and last of all was her self slain; Octies passus est Martyries, that she suffered Eight times over: [Page 16] and can we think that so indulgent a Father of his people, did not suffer as many several mar­tyrdomes, as his subjects sufferd miseries and destructions.

Non placet vindicta, sed victoria, was the ap­plauded speech of the conquering Caesar; but we may hear our victorious Charls professe, He never had any victory which was without his sorrow, because it was on his own subjects, who like Absalom, died many of them in their sin: and yet (sayes he) [...] never sufferd any defeat which made me desp [...]r of Gods mercy and de­fence. And that he might convince the world that he loved not war▪ nor delighted in the ruine of his subjects, he ever sought for peace, after his greatest victories; The highest tide of suc­cesse (as he saith himself, who could best tell) set him not above a Treaty, nor did any suc­cesse he had, ever enhance with him the price of peace, though he was like to pay dearer for it than any man.

It is Recorded to the honour of the Roman Scipio Africanus, and will be to the glory of our English Charls, that he had rather save one friend, than kill a thousand enemies. But to such a height were our sins, and the guilty malice of some particular men amounted, that rendred all his Royal endeavours and tenders of Peace unfortunate and fruitlesse; So true is that observation of the grave Tacitus, Inviso semel principe, seu malè, seu benè facta praemiunt: A Prince once distasted is ever suspected, and his actions misconstrued; it then appearing plain­ly, that whatever pretentions palliated the de­signs [Page 17] of some, yet their intentions terminated in a Nolumus hunc regnare; nor was it hard to pro­phecie that such Recusants then would in time appear Ravilliac's: and some there were, who though they could not but admire [...]harles, yet they hated the King.

Others there were who too well knew the Maxime of their Countryman Machiavel, that a succession of two or three virtuous Princes worketh strange effects, and therefore feared to be at the cost of the experiment, lest it might have pro­ved to have been at no cheaper ra [...]e than the ruine of their design, the erecting of their Babèl of confusion, thereby to make way for their Catholick Monarch. But to their wonder and their envy, when all his forces were defeated, and his sword faln out of his hands, Charles alone maintains the Combat, and singly duels (like another Athanasius) the whole world, in defence of his Conscience and Religion, which were all the wealth his shipwrackt fortune had left him, and which, ma [...]gre the malice of his fate, he carried safe to shore.

The victories he then gained will remain as Eternal Trophies of his honour, and undenia­ble arguments of his vast abilities in matters of Controversie: Let his Conference with the Mar­quess of Worcester, the papers which passed be­twixt his S. Majesty and Mr. Henderson, and those other with the Ministers in the Isle of Wight, testifie how great a Master he was of rea­son, how well read in the Fathers, the Councils, Ecclesiastical History, and the customs of the Church in all Ages. By all which it will plain­ly [Page 18] appear that he was as well the scholar, as the Son of K. James, by whom he was so well in­structed in the controversies of Religion, that when he was in Spain, D. Maw, and D. Wren, two of his Chaplains being appointed to fol­low after, came to K. James to know his plea­sure and commands: the King advised them not to put themselves upon any unnecessary Disputations, but to be onely on the defensive part, if they should be challenged; and when it was answered that there could be no reason to engage in such disputations, where there could be no Moderator, the King replied, that Charles should moderate between them and the opposite party. At which, when one of them seemed to smile on the other, the King pro­ceeded, and told them, that Charls should ma­nage a point in Controversie with the best Stu­died Divine of them all. He was without que­stion Master of an Imperial pen; His Eagles fea­thers (upon all occasions) devoured his adver­saries goose-quils, and infinitely recompenced the impediment of his speech, with the advan­tage of an inimitable style.

Spartianus reports of Trajan, that after his death he triumphed openly in the City of Rome, In imagine, in a lively Statue, or Representati­on, invented by Adrian for that purpose. But Charles triumphs more nobly in his Royal Por­traicture, drawn by himself, with such curious lines, and lively colours, as no hand but his own could draw. There is he seated more glo­riously than ever he was on his Royal Throne, or in his Royal Robes; there shall he live and [Page 19] reign, and be as immortal as his enemies malice. Never was devotion clad in a more rich, or more modest dress. There doth he make it ap­pear that his soul was free and unconfin'd, though his body were a prisoner, and that he could exercise the office of a Priest, when he was deprived of that of a King. Such was the power of his noble and commanding Soul, e­ven then, that he made his Conquerors his cap­tives, and subdued the hearts of those to love him, who had deprived him of all other wea­pons.

Such was the Princely carriage of Francis the First, King of France, that he thereby so won upon the hearts of Burbon, and the rest of his enemies, to whom he was a prisoner, that they honoured him with no lesse observancy, than if he had been on the top of his prosperity: and Homer much commends his Ulysses, that when by shipwrack he was cast on shore, he had no­thing to commend him but his carriage. Had Homer had Charls for his subject, or Charls Ho­mer for his Historian, what an admirable strife would there have been betwixt the workman and the matter, and yet the matter would have exceeded the workmans art.

Paterculus saith of Tyberius, Quod visus praetul [...] ­rit principem, his Countenance proclamed him King: So Majestick was the Countenance, and so winning the carriage of Charls, that his e­nemies became his converts, and his very Gao­lers his Confessors: some of them having ever since exchanged their former Masters and E­states, for a prison, and banishment, to expiate [Page 20] their former injuries to so good a King.

And now we have brought him to the last, and most glorious act of his life, wherein we shall see him out-do himself, as he had done all others in his former actions; God fitting him with a Couragious and Christian patience, as much above all other men, as his case and con­dition was transcending all former examples.

Trees that grow on the tops of rocks (they say) have stronger roots than other trees, be­cause they are more exposed to the boisterous­ness of the winds and weather. His Sacred Majesty was now to act a part beyond all pre­sident, and God fitted him with a virtue and constancy beyond all parallel.

En horret animus, & pavor membra excutit.
—refugit loqui
mens▪ [...]gra, tantis at (que) inhorrescit malis.

My thoughts are distracted, and my pen falls out of my hand with amazement, I must there­therefore draw a veil of silence over, and Com­ment upon this Tragical Scene with tears in­stead of words. I will onely adventure to draw the curtain so far, as may let in the Readers eye to discover the King singly maintaining his own Innocence, his Successors Rights, and his peoples Liberty, against a Legion of his adversa­ries, who were at once his Judges and Accu­sers. Scipio being one day accused before the Ro­man people of a capital offence, instead of excusing himself, or flattering the Judges, turn­ing to them, he said, It will well beseem you to▪ [Page 21] judge of his head by whose means you have authority to judge of all the world. Private persons have ma­ny Judges, Kings none but God, said M. An­tonius. But our King had to do with people of another principle, who too well knew that po­litick maxime of Monsieur de Foy, That a man must not trust a reconciled enemy, especially his King, against whom, when he draws his sword, he must throw the scabbard into the river.

It was not enough that he had granted what­ever they desired, which his conscience and the safety of his subjects would permit, or that his Royal Concessions went beyond the foremost of their hopes and wishes, or that his reasons were unanswerable, and that they had no great­er plea against him, but that of the rapacious wolf to the innocent lamb, Thou hast the better cause, but I have the better teeth. Though Charls was innocent, it was crime enough that he was King, and stood in the place that ambition aim­ed at.

Semiramis (as Aelian tells the Story) was an humble Petitioner to the King of the Assyrians, whose Concubine she was, that she might take upon her the government of A [...]sia, and com­mand the Kings servants, but for the transitory space of five dayes; it was granted, she came forth wit [...] a Princely robe, and her first words were (ingrateful wretch!) Go take the King, and kill him: and so by one venturous step climbed up to a setled state of Imperial Government. I leave the parallel to the readers thoughts, and go on to observe what is truly observable, that notwithstanding the natural impediment of the [Page 22] Kings Speech, God at this time of his extremi­ty so loosed his tongue, that he delivered his thoughts without the least stammering or hae­sitation; enough to have convinced any but a Pilat, and a Jurie of Jewes, that by that mira­cle God seemed to say to them, in the language of that dumb man, Rex est, ne occide. But it was argument enough to them to cut off that head, that it wore three Ctowns. A thing so strange and unheard of before our times, that though they made a President, they could ne­ver find an Example for it in all the Histories of the world. So sacred and inviolable was the Person of the Prince amongst the Romans, that when Nero (made valiant by his own fear) ran himself through, Epaphroditus his Secretary, at his request, helping to dispatch him the sooner, for that service was afterwards put to death by Domitian, who thought it not meet to suffer a­ny man to live, who had in any sort lent his hand to the death of a Prince.

The Kings of Peru were so reverenced by their subjects▪ and so faithfully served, that never any of their subjects were found guilty of Treason. Indeed the people of Nicer a gua in America, had no law for the killer of a King, but it was for the same reason that Solon ap­pointed none for a mans killing of his Father; both of them conceiting that men were not so unnatural, as to commit such crimes. But such is the miserable condition of Princes, as the Em­peror Domitian complained, that they cannot be credited touching a Conspiracy, plainly detected, un­til they be first slain. More strange and sad it is, [Page 23] that men should commit murther with the sword of Justice, and treason execute justice as a malefactor. Such actions seldome want their reward, and many times receive it from the Actors own hands.

It is the observation of Causabon in his Anno­tations upon Suetonius, that all they who con­spired against Caesar, slew themselves with the same poniards wherewith they had stabbed the Emperor. Such a death (saith he) may all have who so wickedly and disloyally enterprize up­on the lives of Princes. For a man to attempt upon the life of a forreign or neighbour Prince, may perhaps passe with the guilt of simple mur­ther; but for a subject to assassinate his own na­tive King, is no less than Paracide in the super­lative degree.

At the Solemn Coronation of the Prince, eve­ry Peer of the Realm hath his station about the Throne, and with the touch of his hand upon the Royal Crown, declareth the personal duty of that honour which he is called unto, name­ly, to hold on the Crown on the Head of his Soveraign, to make it the main end of his greatnesse, to endeavour the establishment of his Princes Throne. Justly may those branches▪ wither▪ that contrive the ruine of the Stock that feeds them: and well may they prove falling stars, who endeavour the ecclipsing of that Sun from whom they have received their light and lustre.

Rodolphus D. of Suevia, having usurped the Empire of the Romans, in a Conflict with Henry the right Emperor, his right hand was struck [Page 24] off in battel, which being brought to him ly­ing upon his death-bed, in the horrour of his guilt he cryed out, This is the hand wherewith I confirmed my promised loyalty to the Emperor. Such as repay hatred where they owe love, and return disloyalty where they owe allegiance, may expect a payment in their own coin from the hand of Divine Justice.

But to disguise Majesty into an habit of trea­son, and to dress up treason▪ in a robe of justice; to place guilt on the bench, and set innocence at the bar, and by a mockery of Law to condemn the Fountain of Law, is like the Italian Physici­an, who boasted he had kill'd a man with the fairest method in the world, è mort [...] (said he) canonicamente, è con tutti gli ordini; He is dead (says he) regularly, and with all the rules of art.

To dwell no longer on this unpleasant sub­ject, we had sinned, and Charls must suffer. Di­lirant Archivi, plectun [...]ur Reges. He who had worn a Crown of Gold, must now admit a crown of thornes, that might fit him for the Crown of Glory.

They had promised to make him a glorious King, and now was the time come; Sit divus, modo non sit vivus, say they. His Kingdom was not to be any longer of this world, and there­fore he prepares himself with humility, piety, charity, and magnanimity, to bear this earthly cross; that he might attein his heavenly crown: His e­nemies curse him, he prays for them; they slan­der him, he forgives them; they load him with affronts, he carries them with patience. And now his pious soul is on the wing, and makes [Page 25] many a sally to the place where she longed to be at rest: and in the fire of an ardent devotion, he offers up himself an Holocaust, being kindled with the flames of Divine Love, and is fill'd with a large measure of celestial joy, and holy con­fidence; witnesse that admirable Anagram made by himself on the day before his death,

Carolus Rex▪ Cras ero Lux.

Hermigildus Son of Levigildus King of the V [...] ­sogoths, forsaking the Arrian Heresie, which his Father maintain'd, and embracing the Ca­tholick truth, was threatned by his Father with death, unless he returned to his former errors: To whom the pious Son, Poteris (saith he) in me statuere pater quod lubet; regno privas? sed peri­tura tantum: immortale illud eripere non potes. In vincula me rapis? ad coelum certè patet via; ibimus, illuc ibimus. Vitam eripit [...]s? restat melior & aeter­na. Such were the pious resolves of the most Christian Charls: You may doe with me what you will, ye may deprive me of my King­domes, alas! these are perishing things; but mine immortal Crown ye cannot reach. If ye confine me to the narrow walls of a prison, my soul vvill mount to Heaven; thither, thither vvill vve▪ goe. If ye take avvay this life, I shall but exchange it for a better and eternal one.

Thus prepared, he vvith all humility and Christan resignation, offers up himself the peo­ples Martyr; to the grief of his friends, the shame of his enemies, and the amazement of all the world.

Quis talia fando temperet à la [...]hrymis!

Many wiped up his blood with their handker­cheifs, which experience proved afterwards an admirable Collirium to restore the sight even to those (I could name some of the recovered pa­tients; from whom I received the relation) who were almost blind: this wants not truth so much as a Roman pen, to make it a miracle▪ Sure I am his death opened thousands of eyes, which passion and prejudice had blinded: and those who whilst he lived, wish'd him dead, now he was dead wish'd him alive again.

That so great a Prince (who yet chose ra­ther to be good than great, to be holy rather than happy) might not die unattended, many loyal subjects left this life with the very news of His death: as it is reported of Hugh Scrimiger, ser­vant to S. W. Spotswood, beheaded by the Cove­nanters of Scotland, passing by the Scaffold be­fore it was taken down, fell into a swound, and being carried home, died at his own door. The truth of this Relation I leave to the credit of the Historian; the former I attest upon mine own knowledge, my self being assistant at the Funeral of a Kinsman, who (with divers others) died of no other disease than the newes of the Kings death; on whom, as I then bestowed, I here deposite this Epitaph.

Here lies a loyal member dead,
Who scorned to survive his Head.

[Page 27]Thus died Charls, Aliorum majori damno, quam suo: It being hard to determine, whether the Church and State were more happy to have had, or more miserable to lose so incomparable a King; who wanted nothing but to have li­ved in an Age when it was in fashion to Deifie their Worthies, or in a Country where it is a trade to be Sainted. But alas! He lived in an Age when vices were in fashion, and virtues ac­counted vices. Of whom, his worst enemies (sayes one who was none of his best friends) cannot but give this civil, yet true Character, That he was a Prince of most excellent natural parts, an universal Gentleman, very few men of any rank or quality exceeding him in his natural endowments, and the most accom­plished King this Nation had ever since the Conquest.

FINIS

Doloris nullus.

Oweni Epigr. in Regicidas.

Si manus offendat te dextra, abscin­dito dextram,

Offendat si pes, abjice, Christus ait.

Corpus in errorem dexter si ducat o­cellus,

Ipse oculus peccans, effodiendus erit.

Quaelibet abscindi pars corporis ae­gra jubetur,

Excipiunt medici, Theologi (que) Ca­put.

An Elegie on Charls the First, &c.

COme saddest Muse, tragick Melpomine,
Help me to weep, or sigh an Elegie;
And from dumb grief recover so much breath,
As may serve to express my Sovereigns death.
But that's not all; had Natures oil been spent,
And all the treasury of life she lent
Exhausted: had his latest sand been run,
And the three fatal Sisters thred been spun;
Or laden with yeares, and mellow had he dropt
Into our mothers bosome; not thus lopt,
We could have born it. But thus hew'd from life
B'an Axe, more hasty than the cruel knife
Of grisly Atropos; thus to be torn
From us, whom loyal death would have [...]orborn,
This strikes us dead. Hence Nero shall be kind
Accounted, he but wished, and that wish confin'd
Within the walls of Rome; but here we see
Three Kingdoms at one blow beheaded be:
And instead of the one head of a King,
Hundreds of Hydra-headed Monsters spring.
Scarce can I think of this, and not engage
My Muse to muster her Poetick rage,
To scourge those Gyan [...]s, whose bold hands have rent
This glorious Sun from out our Firmament,
Put out the light of Israel, that they might
Act their black deeds securely in the nigh [...]:
When none but new and foolish lights appear,
Not to direct, but cheat the traveller.
[Page]But biting births are monstrous, Ours must be
(My Midwife Muse) a weeping Elegie.
Well may we, like some of whom Stories write,
From this Sun-set in mourning spend our night:
Until we see a second Sun arise,
That may exhale those vapours from our eyes.
Since the breath of our nostrils we have lost,
We are but moaning statues at the most,
Our wisedome, reason, justice, all are dead,
As parts that liv'd, and died with our Head.
How can we speak him praise, or our loss, when
Our tongue of language silenc'd is with him.
Or can our fainter pensils hope to paint
Those rayes of Majesty, which spake him Saint?
In mortal weeds, not man; As great a King
Of virtues, as of men; A sacred thing,
To such an heighth of eminency rais'd,
Easier by far to be admir'd than prais'd.
'Twould puzzle the sage Plutarch now to tell,
Or finde on earth our Charls's parallel.
Let Rome and Greece of Heroes boast no more,
To make our One, would beggar all their store.
Weep ye three Orphan Kingdoms, weep, for He▪
To you was truly Pater Patriae.
Mourn too Religion, Liberty, and Lawes,
He was your Martyr, and died in your cause.
Levy a tax of grief, for who'll deny,
For this so general loss, a general cry.
Though to bear arms be, yet I know no reason
That loyal tears should be accounted treason.
[Page]Let not thy grief be small, I thee intreat,
Britain, for him who onely made thee Great.

An Anniversary on Charls the First, &c. 1657.

PArdon, great Soul, the slowness of my verse,
Who after eight years sing thine Anniverse:
Since he who well would write thine Elegie,
Must take an Ages time to study thee.
Nay must be you, for none but you can tell,
Or measure the just height from whence you fell.
We know not how to estimate thy loss,
Nor can we feel the weight of thy sad cross.
If we should rack our fancies, to invent
Mischiefs, & plots far worse than hell e're meant
To best of men (when men with hell combine)
They all would prove faint Metaphors of thine.
He who once [...]old his Kingdom for a draught
Of running water, and then perish't strait,
Had much the better bargain; thou didst lose
All men could wish, for miseries and woes.
Saints (like their Saviour) when for drink they call,
The world presents them vinegar & gall.
What monstrous sins of ours made Heaven to frown,
When Virtue met an Axe, and Vice a Crown!
Thrones, Scepters, Crowns, and all the gaudy things,
That use to deck and load the heads of Kings;
Who now will value you, since you have bin
[Page]Rewards of vice, and recompence of sin!
Thou better knew'st (blest Martyr [...]) to slight those
And leave them as revenges to thy foes.
These, like the Prophets mantle fell from thee,
When thou, like him, didst climb t'Eternity.
Poor Princes thus to others leave their own
Small states, when called to a richer Crown.
As when a jewel's taken out the case,
Attoms and air usurp'd the jewels place;
Or as the Sun leaving one Hemisphere,
Darkness and night presume to revel there.
So is thy place supply'd, the Sphere which thou
Wert wont to fill, we see invaded now
By a wild Comet, whose blaze doth portend,
If not a sudden, yet a certain end.
Though dead, thou still upon our hearts dost gain,
And so more nobly and more truly reign.
Those blessings which we prize not, whilst pos­sest,
Their worth our want of them d [...]scovers best.
Night makes the day, & darkness gilds the Sun,
Thus things grow greater by comparison.
We envy not thy glory, nor bemoan
With tears thy sad misfortunes, but our own.
Whilst thou with an immortal Crown dost shine,
The woe is ours, the happiness is thine.
Thou hast attaind'd the Haven, we are tost
Upon a sea of woes; our Pilot lost;
Driven by th'winds and waves, distrest, forlorn,
Our lading shipwrackt, and our tackling torn.
Cloath'd with a long white robe of innocence,
Thou walk'st; in blackest mourning ever since
Our hearts are clad. To rid us of our pain,
Wee'l die, so be thy subjects once again.

Second Anniversary on Charls the First, 1658.

THe year's return'd, and with the year my task,
Which to perform no other aid I ask,
No Muse invoke, but what my grief affords,
Grief that would fill a dumb mans mouth with words.
A King's my subject, and a King whose name
Alone, speaks more than all the tongues of fame.
Charls, good as great, whose virtues were his crimes,
The best of men duell'd the worst of times.
But by his sad example we may know,
Excess of goodness is not safe below.
T'was too much worth just Aristides sent,
(By a wild ostracism) to's banishment.
Oh! hadst thou liv'd when virtue was in fashion,
And men were rul'd by reason, not by passion,
How had'st thou been ador'd! Thy actions had
Been the just Standard of what's good or bad.
Thy life had pass'd for law, and the whole Na­tion
Might have been virtuous by imitation.
To have been good, and in the best degree,
Had been no more but to be like to thee.
Thou art all wonder, and thy brighter Story,
Casts an Ecclipse upon the blazing glory
Of former ages; all their Worthies, now
(By thee out-done) do blush, and wonder how
They lost the day, beclouded with a night
Of silence, rising from thy greater light.
[Page]Their moral deeds are of too faint a dye,
If once compared with thy piety.
Be dumb ye lying Legends, here's a Reign,
Full of more miracles than ye can feign.
Here is a saint, more great, more true than e're
Came from the triple crown, or holy chair.
We need no farther for Example look,
Than unto thee, thou art the onely book;
Thou art the best of Texts, hereafter we
Expect no more, but Comments upon thee:
Thou art the great Original, and he
Who will be famous now, must transcribe thee;
Spight of the Sword and Axe, you found a way
To win the field, although you lost the day.
In thy rare Portraicture thou livest still,
And triumphst more by thine all-conquering quill;
There shalt thou reign, and as immortal be,
As was the malice of thine enemie.
Thou hast out-witted all thy foes, and by
Thy Book thou gain'st the greatest victory.
That hath enlarg'd thine Empire, and all men
Stoop to the Scepter of thy Royal Pen.
Thy Virtues crowd so fast, I cannot tell
How to speak all, or which doth most excell.
All I can say is but Epitomie,
A life's too little for thy History.
I can but write thee in Stenographie,
The whole of others is but part of thee.
But thou hast spoke thy self in such a strain,
Our wits are useless, and endeavours vain.
Silence and admiration fit me best,
Let others try to write, I'll weep the rest.
FINIS.
T. F.
A THEATRE OF WITS, A …

A THEATRE OF WITS, Ancient and Modern. Represented in a Collection of Apothegmes. Pleasant and Profitable. By THO. FORDE.

Omne tulit punctum, qui miscuit utile dulci.

Habent enim Apothegmata peculiarem quandam rationem, & indolem suam, ut breviter, argutè, salsè, & urbanè cujus (que) ingenium exprimant.

Erasmus.

LONDON, Printed by R. and W. Leybourn, for William Grantham at the Black Bear in St. Pauls Church-yard, neer the little North Door. 1660.

To the Reader.

Reader,

I Here present thee with a dish of Apothegmes, pull'd from the leaves of many Authours; if they please thee in the tasting, but as much as they did me in the gathering, I shall not doubt their entertainment. A­mongst those swarms of books which our age is daily glutted with, there is not one Author hath travelled in this road, nor any one book of this nature (that I know) in our Lan­guage, [Page] except a Manual of that great Advancer of Learning, Sir Francis Bacon, which hath long since been out of print. I had therefore some temptation to have added mine as a Supplement to his; but upon se­cond thoughts, considering none e­ver attempted to add a line to that peece Apelles left imperfect, I have chosen rather to erect a new frame by his model, than to build upon anothers foundation.

That the Volume is small, my diligence hath been the greater, for I have laboured to substract, rather than multiply them; not putting in every one I met with, but what was best, at least in my opinion. These are but the fi [...]st fruits, your acceptance may ripen them into a larger har­vest, if God shall lend me time and opportunity.

I have waved any particular De­dication, [Page] as not willing to entitle any man to the Patronage of my weaknesses; nor am I of that vain humour of Appian the Grammari­an, who promised immortality to those to whom he dedicated any of his Works.

And they who write to Lords re­wards to get.
Donnes Sat.
Are they not like singers at doors for meat?

There is a Vine in Asia, that brings forth Burnt-wine, so excellent (saithJohnston Hist. Nat. mine Author) that none exceeds it. Such is the nature of these short sen­tences, they are ready dress'd and dish'd out to thy hand; like some Diamonds, which grow smoothand polished, and need no farther labour to fit them for use, but using. As it is said of Isidore the Philosopher, that he spake not words, but the very substance and essence of things. They [Page] contain magnum in parvo, much matter in a few words. Significant potius quam exprimunt. You have here much gold in a little ore, easie for carriage, ready for use. We have many things to learn, and but little time to live; I know not therefore any kind of Learning more plea­sant, or more profitable than this, which teacheth us many lessons in a few lines. But I will not waste thy time (Reader) whilst I study to improve it, and to approve my self

Thy servant, T. F.

Apothegmes:

AN old Mass-Priest in the dayes of Hen. 8. reading in English after the Translation of the Bible, the mircale of the five loaves and two fishes, when he came to the verse that reckoneth the number of the guests, he paused a little, and at last said, they were about 500; the Clerk whispered into the Priests eares, that it was 5000; but the Priest turned back, and replied with indignation, Hold your peace, sirrah, we shall never make them believe they were 500.

Aristides said, concerning the Elegance of the City of Smyrna, that no man, except he which shall see it, will be drawn to believe it.

The Savages, an English Family, held Ardes (in Ireland) long in possession, amongst whom there goeth a great name of Him, who said no less stoutly than pleasantly, when he was mo­ved to o build a Castle for his defence, that he would not trust to a castle of stones, but rather to a [Page 2] castle of bones. Meaning his own body.

Columbane, a Monk of Ireland, when Sigebert King of the Frankners, dealt very earnstly with him, and that by way of many fair and large promises, that he should not depart out of his Kingdom: Answered him, That it became not them to embrace other mens riches, who for Christs sake had forsaken their own.

Porpherie, in regard of the many tyrants ri­sing up in his dayes in Britain, cried out in these terms, Britain a foolish Province of tyrants.

St. Ambrose in his Funeral Sermon of Theo­dosius, cryeth out in these terms: that Eugenius and Maximus (who had five years usurped the Empire) by their woful example, doe testifie in hell what a heavy thing it is to bear arms against their Natural Prince.

Of this Maximus it is said, that he was a va­liant man, victorious, and worthy the title of Au­gustus, but that against his allegiance he had by way of tyranny and usurpation attained the place.

Homer saith of one that had a misfortune, It was because he did not honour his Parents.

Upon a triumph, all the Emperor Severus's Souldiers, for the greater pomp, were to put on Crowns of Bayes; but one Christian there was amongst them which wore it on his arm; and being demanded the reason, boldly answered: It becomes not a Christian to be crowned in this life.

Arnobius was wont to say, that persecution brings death in one hand, and life in the other; for while it kills the body, it crowns the soul.

The Empress Eudoxia, sending a threatning [Page 3] message to Chrysostom, (for boldly reproving her) He answered, Go tell her I fear nothing but sin.

Justus Jonas said of Luther, that he could have of God what he pleased.

Epaminondas being asked what was the great­est joy he ever had in the world, He said Leu­trica Victoria, the Battel of Leutrick.

Rocardus, King of Frisland, being by Wolfra­nius perswaded to be Baptized, having one foot in the Font, the other out, asked Wolfranius where went the most part of his Predecessors that were not Baptized? To hell, said Wolfrani­us; then Rocardus drew his foot out of the Font, saying, It was best following of the greatest company.

The Devil meeting with a devout Hermit, asked him three questions: First, what should be the strangest thing that God made in a little frame? He answered, a mans face. The se­cond, Where was the Earth higher than all the Heavens? Where Christs body, born of the Virgin Mary, was adored of Angels and Archangels. The third, what space was between Heaven and Earth? Thou knowest best (said the Hermit) which wast from Heaven thrown down to the Earth.

L. Silla finding his souldiers timerous, and fearful to fight with Archelaus, M [...]hridates Ge­neral, drew out his sword, and said, You souldi­ers that mean to fly to Rome, tell them at Rome, that you left Silla your General, fighting in the midst of the Battel, with the enemies in Boetia.

Philipides the Poet, refused to be of King Ly­simachus Counsel, that when the King said to [Page 4] him, What wilt thou that I give unto thee? Nothing (said the poor Poet) but onely this, that I may not be of thy Council.

In a publick meeting with all the Princes of Germany, at Wormatia; where the Duke of Saxon first preferring his mettals, and rich veins of earth: the Duke of Bavaria much commen­ding his strong and brave Cities and Towns: and the Duke Palatine of his wines, and ferti­lity of his lands: the Duke of Wittenbergh said, I can lay my head, and sleep upon the lap of any of my subjects I have abroad in the field, every where. Huic facile concedite palmam (said Maximilian the Emperor) Give him the palm.

Themistocles being asked whose Oration he would hear? Even him (said Themistocles) that can best set forth my praise, and advance my fame.

Isocrates repeating an Oration of Demo­sthenes his adversary, at Rhodes, they of Rhodes much delighting therein, and much commend­ing the Oration that Isocrates made, though he was enemy to Demosthenes, was forced against his will to say to the people, What if you had heard the beast himself pronouncing his own Oration?

Julius Caesar seeing certain men of Apulia, in Rome, carrying Apes upon their arms, playing, asked the men, If they had no women in Apulia to get children to play withal.

Diogenes, when he saw mice creeping for some crums to his table, would say, Behold, Diogenes also hath his parasites.

Lewis the 10th. was wont to brag of his own Kingdom of France, that it far exceeded all o­ther [Page 5] Kingdoms, wanting but one thing; and being requested to know what that was, he an­swered, Truth.

The great Antiochus brought Hannibal to his treasures, and shewed him his gold, his silver, his wealth and treasures, and asked him if all that would not please the Romans? Yea, said Hannibal, it would please the Romans, but not satisfie the Romans.

A Councellor of State, said to his Master the King of Spain, that now is, upon occasion: Sir, I will tell your Majesty thus much for your comfort, your Majesty hath but two enemies; whereof the one is all the World, and the other is your own Ministers.

Domitian perceiving many of his Predeces­sors in the Empire to be hated, asked one, how he might so rule, as not to be hated? the party answered, Tu fac contra: By not doing what they did.

When M. Cicero stood for the Consulship of Rome, Q. Cicero wished him to meditate on this, Novus sum, Consulatam peto, Roma est.

Alexander having a souldier of his name▪ that was a coward, He bad him either leave off the name of Alexander, or be a souldier.

A brave Roman Captain told his souldiers, That if they could not conquer Britain, yet they would get possession of it, by laying their bones in it.

It was a smart answer which Mr. Durant, a witty and learned Minister of the Reformed Church of Paris, gave a Lady of suspected chastity, (and since revolted) when she pre­tended the hadness of the Scripture: Why, [Page 6] said he, Madam, What can be more plain, then, Thou shalt not commit adultery.

It was the saying of the dying Emperor Ju­lian, He that would not die when he must, and he that would die when he must not, are both of them cowards alike.

Aristippus told the Sailers, that wondred why he was not, as well as they, afraid in the storms, that the odds was much▪ For they feared the torments due to a wicked life, and he expected the rewards of a good one.

It was cold comfort Diogenes gave a lewd liver, that banished, complained he should die in a forreign soil. Be of good cheer man, whereso­ever thou art, the way to hell is the same.

It was the admonition of dying Otho to Coc­ceius, Neither too much to remember, nor altogether to forget, that Caesar was his Ʋncle.

Isocrates, of a Scholar full of words, asked a double Fee, One, he said, to learn him to speak well, another to teach him to hold his peace.

Euripides, when he brings in any woman in his tragedies, makes them alwayes bad: So­phocles in his tragedies maketh them alwayes good: whereof when Sophocles was asked the reason; he made this answer, Euripides, saith he, represents women as they be, I represent them as they ought to be.

Sir Henry Wotton was wont to say of Sir Philip Sydneys wit, that it was the very measure of congruity.

Having in Italy acquaintance with a pleasant Priest, who invited him one evening to hear their Vesper musick at Church; the Priest see­ing Sir Henry standing obscurely in a corner, [Page 7] sends to him by a boy this question writ in a small piece of paper: Where was your Religion to be found before Luther? To which Sir Henry Wotton presently under-writ, My Religion was to be found then, where yours is not to be found now, in the written word of God.

To another that asked him whether a Papist may be saved? He replied, You may be saved without knowing that; look to your self.

To another that was still railing against the Papists, he gave this advice, Pray Sir forbear, till you have studied the points better: for the wise Italians have this Proverb, He that understands a­miss▪ concludes worse.

To one being designed for the office of an Embassador, requesting from him some ex­perimental rules for his prudent and safe carri­age in his Negotiation, Sir Henry Wotton gave this for an infallible Aphorisme; That to be in safety himself, and serviceable to his Country, he should alwayes, and upon all occasions speak the truth; for, said he, you shall never be believed, and by this meanes your truth will secure your self, if you shall ever be called to any account, and it will also put your adversaries (who will still hunt counter) to a loss, in all their disquisitions and undertakings.

He directed this sentence onely to be inscri­bed on his Tomb-stone; Hic jacet hujus senten­tiae Author. Disputandi pruritus fit Ecclesiarum scabies.

Bolislaus the 4th. King of Poland, who bear­ing the picture of his Father, hanged about his neck in a plate of gold, when he was to speak, or doe any thing of importance, he took his [Page 8] picture, and kissing it, said, Dear Father, I wish I may not doe any thing remissly, unworthy of thy name.

A gentile spirit said to an old man, who caused his grisly hairs to be painted with the lustre of green youth: Poor fool, although thou couldst deceive the whole world with thy hair, yet death well knoweth they are grey. Sit te Proserpina canem.

It is said, a French King enquiring one day of a Wise-man, after divers instructions to go­vern himself, and guide his Kingdome, this Wise-man took a fair large sheet of paper, and for an infinite number of precepts, which others use to produce upon this subject, he onely wrote this word: Modus, measure, or mean.

One who having lived free from the bonds of mariage, caused to be set on his Tomb, Vixit sine impedimento, He lived without hinderance.

A mother grieving for the death of her son, said, That all her evil came from loving too much what she might lose. Amabam miser a periturum, &c.

An old humourist vapouring once that wo­men had no souls, was answered by a modest Lady: Sure, Sir, you are deceived, for I can pro­duce a good text to the contrary, My soul doth magnifie the Lord: and it was a woman that spoke it.

Isocrates had an excellent wit, notwithstand­ing finding himself destitute of countenance, gesture, and confidence, he never durst to speak in publique, contenting himself to teach, even to his decrepit dayes, and commonly saying, He taught Rhetorick for a 1000 Rials, but would give more than 10000 to him who would teach him confidence.

[Page 9]It was the saying of Lewis the French King, to Henry the third of England, who asking him (in those times of implicit faith) whether he would goe sooner, to the Eucharist, or to a Sermon? He answered, I had rather see my friend, than hear him onely spoken of.

One said that Aristotles School was a great Scold.

It was not said improperly of him, who ha­ving passed his grand Climacterique, That he was got loose from his unruly passions, as from so ma­ny lyons and wolves.

A French Baron, not long since, meeting two Capuchins going bare-foot in cold frosty wea­ther, with their scrips upon their backs a beg­ging, and knowing them to be Gentlemen of a good Family, he said, How grossly are these men cozen'd if there be no heaven.

An Italian Prince being upon his death-bed, and comforted by his friends, touching the joys of the other world, whereunto he was going, he fetched a deep sigh, and said, Oh! I know what's past, but I know not what's to come.

There is a saying fathered upon Paul 3d. when he lay upon his death-bed, that shortly he should be resolved of two things, Whether there be a God and Devil, or whether there be a hea­ven and hell?

When a rare Italian Statuary offered Rh. 2d. of Spain, that without expence to the King, he would set up his Majesties arms and portrai­cture over the gates of every City in Lombardy, the King commending the mans good will, answered, He had rather have a workman, that with [Page 10] any expence whatsoever, could set up his image in Heaven.

When the souldiers demanded a donative of Galba, he answered, That he used to choose, not to buy souldiers.

Vespasian was not moved with the scoffs of Demetrius Cynicus, but slighted them, saying, I use not to kill barking dogs.

Domitian punished Informers, saying, That not to punish such, was to encourage them.

Trajan delivered his sword to the Captain of the Guard, willing him to use it for him, if he did well, but against him, if otherwise.

Antonius Pius, Emperor, comming to see Omulus his house, he enquired whence he had his marble pillars? Omulus answered, that in a­nother mans house he should be both deaf and dumb.

When Julia, Mother-in-law to Caracalla (whom he married) told him he was too pro­digal, he laid his hand on his sword, saying, I shall never lack money, so long as this is with me.

Julian robbed the Church of her Revenues, telling the Clergy that they should be the fitter for Heaven, because it is written, Blessed be the poor.

Tyberius Constantinus, Co-Emperor with Ju­stin, when Sophia the Empress reproved him, as being too prodigal in his bounty to the poor: He answered, that he should never want wealth on earth, as long as he had laid up treasures on earth, by relieving the poor.

Maximilian the Emperor, was wont to say, to compel the conscience, is to force heaven.

[Page 11]It was not ill answered of Merope, to King Polyphontes, who therefore kill'd his brother, because he had entertained a purpose to have killed him: You should only have done the same in­jury to him, which he did to you; you should still have had a purpose to kill him.

Aquinas was once asked, with what compendi­um a man might best become learned? He an­swered, By reading one Book.

A great Italian General, seeing the sudden death of Alphonsus Duke of Ferrara, kneeled down instantly, saying, And shall not this sight make me religious?

When the Duke of Candia had voluntarily entred into the incommodities of a Religious life, and poverty, he was one day spied, and pi­tied by a Lord of Italy, who, out of tenderness, wish'd him to be more careful, and nutritive of his person. The good Duke answered, Sir, be not troubled, and think not that I am ill provided of conveniencies; for I send a harbinger before, who makes my lodgings ready, and takes care that I be royally entertained: The Lord asked him, who was his harbinger? He answered, the know­ledge of my self, and the consideration of what I deserve for my sins, which is eternal torments; and when with this knowledge I arrive at my lodging, how unprovided soever I find it, me thinks it is ever better than I deserve.

'Twas a reasonable answer of Pericles to one that asked him, Why he being a severe and Philosophical person, came to a Wedding trimmed and adorned like a Paranymph▪ [Page 12] I come adorned to an adorned person, trim'd to a Bridegroom.

The Emperor Ferdinand the 2d. had wont to say to those that brought him any ill newes, 'tis good, 'tis Gods pleasure, I am contented.

Sir Thomas Moore, somewhat before he was made Lord Chancellor, built a Chappel in his Parish at Chelsey, where the Parish had all or­naments belonging thereunto abundantly sup­plied at his charge; and he bestowed thereon much plate, often using these words, Good men give it, and bad men take it away.

The King of Sweden, to the Dutch Embassa­dor, perswading him to a care of his person, answered, that his hour was written in heaven, and could not be altered on earth.

Sir Jervis Ellwis, when executed on Tower­hill for Overburies death, left these two Items to Posterity: 1. Not to vow any thing but to per­form it. 2. Not to take a pride in any parts, though never so excellent.

A Lord Mayor of London (in K. James his time) stopping the Kings carriages as they were go­ing through the streets with a great noise in time of Divine Service, and the King being told of it, he, in a rage, swore he thought there had been no more Kings in England but himself, & sent a warrant to the Lord Mayor to let them pass, which he then obeyed with this answer, While it was in my power, I did my duty; but that being taken away by a higher power, it is my duty to obey.

Demodocus said of the Milesians, they were no fools, but they did the same things that fools did.

[Page 13] Vincentius Lyrenensis saith of St. Cyprian, who had before the Council of Carthage defended re-baptizing, the Author of this errour (saith he) is, no doubt, in heaven, the followers and practisers of it now goe to hell.

A Gentleman having by fatherly indulgence tolerated the humour of gaming and wen [...]h­ing in his son, dis-inherited him for drinking, saying of the first, If he had wit, he would not lose much by it; and of the second, that in time for his own case he would leave it; but of the third, he said, he would prove, the elder, the viler, and hardly ever amend it.

A certain man comming to Athens, meeting one of his friends in the street, desired him to shew him the rarities of the City: His friend carried him to Solon; but the man having view­ed him some time, would have gone farther: no, said his friend, You have seen all. Vidisti So­lon, vidisti omnia.

It is said of the Germans, that they understand more than they can utter, and drink more than they can carry.

A certain old man, being asked why he wore his beard so large and long? that behold­ing those grey hairs (said he) I may doe nothing un­beseeming them.

Cyrus was wont to say, that a good Prince was like a good Shepherd, who can by no other means grow rich, than by making his flock to thrive under him.

A maid (in Plutarch) being to be sold in the Market, when a Chapman asked her, Wilt thou be faithful if I buy thee? Yes (said she) [...]tiamsi non emeris, whether you buy me or no.

[Page] Demosthenes said to him that objected that his Speech smelt of the candle; I know my candle stands in your light: The man being suspected for a thief.

Melancthon was used to say, He that dealeth with some men, had need to bring a Divine, a Law­yer, and a Souldier with him to get his right.

St. Bernard comming to the great Church of Spire in Germany, he was no sooner come into the Church, but the Image of the Virgin salu­ted him, and bad him, Good morrow Bernard: whereat, he well knowing the jugling of the Friers, made answer again out of St. Paul, Oh (said he) your Ladiship hath forgot your self, it is not lawful for women to speak in the Church.

John King of England, being wished by a Courtier to untomb the bones of one, who whilst he was living, had been his great enemy: Oh no (said the King) would all mine enemies were as honourably buried.

The Egyptian Calyph, offering an English Embassador his hand in his glove, the Embas­sador answered, Sir, we come not to treat with your glove, but your self.

When a Pyrate said to one of his fellows, Woe to us if we be known: an honest man in the same ship replyed: And woe to me if I be not known.

Luther was wont to say, He would be unwil­ling to be a souldier in that army where Priests were Captains, because the Church, not the Camp, was their proper place.

Plato being demanded how he knew a wiseman, answered, When being rebuked he would not [Page 15] be angry, and being praised, he would not be proud.

Marquess Pawlet, there being divers facti­ons at Court in his time, yet was he beloved of all parties; and being asked, how he stood so right in the judgment of all? He answered, By being a willow, and not an oak.

Diogenes was wont to say, when the people mock't him, They deride me, yet I am not deri­ded: I am not the man they take me for.

Rather than want exercise of his patience, he would crave alms of dead mens Statues; and being demanded why he did so? He an­swered, That I may learn to take denial from o­thers the more patiently.

Marius was never offended with any re­port went of him, because he said, If it were true, it would sound to his praise; if false, his life and manners should prove it contrary.

A Steward once replyed to his passionate Lord, when he called him knave, &c. Your Ho­nour may speak as you please, but I believe not a word that you say, for I know my self an honest man.

Philip of Macedon professed himself much be­holden to his enemies (the Athenians) for speaking evil of him; For (said he) they made me an honest man, to prove them lyars.

When Diogenes was told by a base fellow, that he once had been a Coiner of money, He an­swered, 'Tis true, such as thou art now, I once was, but such as I am now, thou wilt never be.

Socrates, when one asked him why he took such a ones bitter railing so patiently? An­swered, It is enough for one to be angry at a time.

Dion of Syracuse, being banished, came to The­odorus [Page 16] Court suppliant, where not presently ad­mitted, he turned to his companion, with these words, I remember I did the like, when I was in like dignity.

Socrates, being perswaded to revenge himself of a fellow that kick'd him, answered, If an ass had kick'd me, should I have set my wit to his, and kick'd him again?

Another time, being told that one spake evil of him▪ He replyed, Alas! the man hath not as yet learned to speak well, but I have learned to contemn what he speaks.

Diogenes, being told that many despised him, answered, It is the wise mans portion to suffer of fools.

When Dionysius the Tyrant had plotted the death of his Master Plato, and was defeated by Plato's escape out of his Dominions; when the Tyrant desired him in writing not to speak evil of him, the Philosopher replyed, That he had not so much idle time as once to think of him, know­ing there was a just God would one day call him to a reckoning.

When once an hot-spur was perswaded to be patient as Job was, He replyed, What do ye tell me of Job? Job never had any suits in the Chan­cery.

Mr. Bradford was wont to say, that in Christs cause to suffer death, was the way to heaven on hors­back.

Jugo, an ancient King, set all his Nobles, be­ing Pagans, in his Hall below, and certain poor Christians in his Presence-chamber with him­self; at which all wondring, he told them, [Page 17] this he did, not as King of the Drones, but as King of another world, wherein these were his fellow-Princes.

It was the saying of a merry fellow, That in Christendom there were neither Scholars enough, Gentlemen enough, nor Jewes enough: because if there were Scholars enough, so many would not be double and treble beneficed; if Gentlemen enough, so many peasants would not be ranked among the Gentry; and if Jewes enough, so many Christians would not profess usury.

Socrates was wont to say to Alcibiades, when he met him among gallants like himself, I fear not thee, but thy company.

Alexander, when a Commander of his in the Wars, spake loudly, but did little, told him, I entertained you into my service, not to rail, but to fight.

Illyricus, when one asked him why the old Translations (of the Bible) had no vowels? I think (saith he) that they had no consonants, for they could not agree among themselves.

Doctor Reynolds his Lecture in Oxford cea­sing, by reason of his sickness, some desired him to read▪ before he was well recovered▪ The Doctor said, He desired so to serve God, that he might serve him long.

Erasmus was wont to say in his time, That to Preach, with many Ministers, was but Perfri­care frontem, & linguam voluere.

Epiphanius, having stayd long at Constantino­ple, and being to take ship to return home a­gain, said, He was leaving three great things, a great City, a great Palace, and great Hypocrisie.

[Page 18] Charls the Great, when he was shewed by a Duke a Royal Palace, and all the rings, and sumptuous ornaments and jewels, said, Has sunt qui nos invitos faciunt mori. These are the things that make us unwilling to die.

Erasmus was used to say, That the dunsery and idleness of the Monks of his time, made him a Stu­dent.

The Athenian Commander, being asked what God was, said, He was neither bow-man, nor pike-man, nor hors-man, nor footman, but one that did know, istis omnibus imperare.

A noble Commander, in the Wars having taken great spoils, said to a souldier behind him, Tolle istos, Ego Christianus.

When Cajetan told Luther he should be ba­nished, Luther answered, Si non capiat terra, ca­piat coelum,

A great man comming to Aquinas, and of­fering him a Bishoprick, he leaning on his el­bow in his Study, replyed, Mallem Chrysosto­mum in Matthaeum.

The [...]ame Aquinas, when he was entreated to take a Cardinals place, answered, Sepul­chrum cogito, non gradum sublimiorem.

Luther and his Wife, with four children, were in a boat, and being in a great storm, were like to be cast away, Luther laughing a­loud, said, Oh how the Devil would rejoyce, if we were all drowned.

Plato, discoursing unto one of the contempt of death, and speaking strangely upon it, was answered, That he spake more couragiously than he lived: To whom Plato replyed, that [Page 19] he spake not as he lived; but as he should live.

Caesar Borgia, being sick to death, said, When I lived, I provided for every thing but death; now I must die, I am unprovided to die.

Gerson brings in an Englishman, asking a Frenchman, Quot annos habes? His answer was, Annos non habeo, I am of no years at all, but death hath forborn me this 50 years.

A man (said Luther) lives forty years before he knows himself to be a fool; and by that time he sees his folly, his life is finished.

Anaxamander said of the Athenians, That they had good Laws, but used ill.

Augustus lamented for Varus death; being asked why? He said, Now I have none in my Country to tell me truth.

A certain King of Tartaria writ to the Polo­nians, then wanting a King, that if they would choose him their King, he would accept of it upon these terms, Vester Pontifex, meus Pontifex esto, vester Lutherus meus Lutherus esto. But the Polonians rejected him with this wise answer, Ecce hominem paratum omni à sacra, & deos desere­re regnandi causa.

Marius, being accused by the Senate of trea­son, tears open his garments, and in the sight of them all shews them his wounds received in the service and defence of his Country, saying, Quid opus est verbis, [...]bi vulner a clamant?

Sir William Stanly, railing against his native Country, a Spanish Verdugo gave him this an­swer, Though you have offended your Country▪ your Country never offended you.

It is storied of a wicked City, which fear­ing [Page 20] the invasion of a potent enemy, sought re­lief of a neighbouring Prince, charging their Embassadors to relate unto him what forces they were able to levy of their own: The Prince replying to the Message, demanded of them what coverture they had to defend their heads from the wrath of heaven? telling them withal, That unless they could award Gods anger, he durst not joyn with them, God being against them.

The Mother of Peter Lombard, when having transgressed her vow of Continency, she told her Confessor plainly, that when she saw what a Son she had brought forth, she could not re­pent that she had sinned in having him: But her Confessor sadly answered her, Dole saltem, quod dolere non possis.

Caracalla said to them that desired that some honours might be spent upon his brother Geta, now dead out of his way; Sit divus (saith he) modo non sit vivus.

Edward the Third of England, having sent to France, to demand the Crown by Maternal Right, the Council there sent him word, That the Crown of France was not tied to a distaff: which scoffing answer he replyed, That then he would tie it to his sword.

Scaliger said, He had rather have been the Au­thor and Composer of one Ode in Horace, than King of all Arragon.

Cato would say, He wondred how one of their aruspices could forbear to laugh, when he met with any of his fellows, to see how they deceived men, and made a great number of simple ones in the City.

King Lewis the 11th. looking upon a Tapi­stry, [Page 21] wherein a certain Nobleman (who from a mean Clerk of the Exchequer, was advan­ced to be Lord Treasurer of France) had pour­tray'd the steps and degrees whereby he had as­cended, himself represented sitting on the top of Fortunes wheel: Whereupon King Lewis told him, He might do well to fasten it with a good strong nail, for fear lest turning about, it brought him to his former estate again. Which proved a true Pro­phecie of him.

One who before he was Pope, was the most crouching submiss Cardinal that ever was: His manner was to eat upon a net, as it were in a way of devout humility; but after he had ob­tein'd the Popedom, he commanded them to take away the net, saying, He had caught that which he fish'd for.

When a French King, seeing the Persian pomp of the Popes Court, and pride of the Car­dinals, asked a Cardinal of Avinion, Whe­ther the Apostles ever went with such a Train after them? He answered, No verily: but you must consider, Sir, that they were Apostles the same time that Kings were shepherds.

It was the saying of Rabbi Gamaliel, He that multiplies servants, multiplies thieves.

Melancthon said, when he furthered the Edi­tion of the Alchoran, that he would have it printed, Ʋt videamus quale poema sit: That the World might see what a piece of poetry the Alchoran was.

Artabazus, a Courtier, received from King Cyrus a cup of gold: At the same time Chry­santas, the beloved Favourite, received a kiss [Page 22] from him; which the other observing, said, The cup which you gave me, was not so good gold as the kiss you gave Chrysantes.

It was the Speech of an ancient Rabbi; I learned much of my Rabbies, or Masters, more of my companions, most of my Scholars.

The Emperor Sigismond, demanding of The­ [...]doricus, Arch-Bishop of Collen, the directest course to happiness: Perform (saith he) when thou art well, what thou promisedst when thou wert sick.

A certain King of the Lacedemonians being one day private in his garden, was teaching one of his children, of five years old, to ride on a stick; and unawares a great Embassador came to speak with him in that manner, at which, both the King, and the Embassador in the Kings behalf, began to blush at first; but soon after, the King putting away the blush and the hobby-horse together, and with a pret­ty smile, asked the Embassador, if he had any children of his own? He answered, No. Then (said he) I pray you tell not what you found me do­ing, till you have some little ones of your own, and then tell it, and spare not.

The Scouts of Antigonus, relating unto him the multitude of his enemies, and advising by way of information the danger of a Conflict that should be undertaken with so great an in­equality, He replyed, And at how many do ye va­lue me?

A West-Indian King, having been well wrought upon towards his conversion to the Christian Religion; and having digested the [Page 23] former Articles, when he came to that, He was crucified, dead, and buried, had no longer pa­tience, but said, If your God be dead and buried, leave me to my old god the Sun, for the Sun will not die.

Pythagoras said, He that knoweth not what he ought to know, is a brute beast among men; he that knoweth no more than he hath need of, is a man a­mong brute beasts; he that knoweth all that is to be known, is a god among men.

The Lord Treasurer Burleigh was wont to say, That he used to overcome envy and ill will more by patience than pert [...]nacy.

The Embassadors of the Council of Constance, being sent to Pope Benedict the 11th. when he, laying his hand upon his heart, said, Hic est ar­ca Noae, they tartly and truly replyed, In Noahs ark were few men, but many beasts.

When one seemed to pity an one-ey'd man, He told him he had lost one of his enemies, a very thief, that would have stolen away his heart.

The King of Navarre told Beza, He would launch no farther into the Sea, than he might be sure to return safe to the Haven.

A clown said to the Bishop of Collen, praying in the Church like a Bishop, but as he was Duke, going guarded like a Tyrant, Whither thinkest thou the Bishop shall go, when the Duke shall be damned?

King Edward the 3d. having the King of France prisoner here in England, and feasting him one time most sumptuously, pressed him to be merry. The French King answered, How can we sing songs in a strange Land?

[Page 24] Calvin answered his friends with some in­dignation, when they admonished him, for his healths sake, to forbear studying so hard. What? said he, would you that my Master, when he comes, should find me idle?

Spiridion, a godly Bishop in Cyprus, having not what else to set before a guest that came to him in Leut, set him a piece of pork to feed on; and when the stranger made a scruple of eating flesh in Lent, saying, I am a Christian, and may not do it: Nay, therefore thou mayst do it, said he, because to the pure all things are pure.

Dr. Preston on his death-bed, said, He should change his place, not his company.

A certain stranger comming on Embassage to Rome, and colouring his hair and pale cheeks with vermilion hue, a grave Senator espying the deceit, stood up, and said, What sincerity are we to expect at this mans hands, whose lo [...]ks, and looks, and lips do lye.

Sir Horatio Vere, when in the Palatinate a Council of War was called, and debated whe­ther they should fight or not? Some Dutch Lords said, That the enemy had many peeces of Ord­nance in such a place, and therefore it was dan­gerous to fight: That Nobleman replyed, My Lords, if you fear the mouth of the Cannon, you must never come into the field.

Sir John Burroughs, receiving a mortal wound in the Island of Rhees, and being advi­sed not to fear death▪ but to provide for ano­ther world. He answered, I thank God I fear not death, and these thirty years together, I ne­ver arose in the morning, that ever I made account to live while night.

[Page 25]A learned Frier, at a Council, complaining of the abuse of the Clergy, Preaching before the Emperor, wished him to begin a reforma­tion of the Clergy à minoribus: The Emperor thanked him for his Sermon, and said, He had rather begin à majoribus, from the better sort of the Clergy.

Aristippus being told that Lais loved him not; No more (saith he) doth wine, nor fish, yet I cannot be without them.

The Lord Burleigh being at Cambridge with Queen Elizabeth, viewing the several Schools, said, Here I find one School wanting, and that is the School of Discretion.

Henry the 4th. told the Prince his Son, Get­ting is a chance, but keeping is a wit.

A Philosopher, that hearing his creditor was dead, kept the money which he had bor­rowed without witnesses, a night or two; but after some strugling with his conscience, he carried it to his Executor, saying, Mihi vivit, qui aliis mortuus est; though he be ded to others, he's still alive to me.

Severus the Emperor, having passed through many adventures, at last died in our land, o­verladen with troubles: weighing with him­self what his life had been, he brake forth into these speeches, I have been all that might be, and now am nothing the better.

Scipio viewing his army, said, There was not one who would not throw himself from the top of a tower, for love of him.

Hildebert, Bishop of Mentz, said of the Ro­man Courtiers, Employ them not, and they hin­der [Page 26] you: Employ them in your causes, and they de­lay them; if you sollicite them, they scorn you; if you enrich them, they forget you.

When Antonius had made away his brother Geta, after the first year of their joynt Empire, he entreated Papinianus (a famous Lawyer) to plead his excuses: Who answered, It is easier Paricidium facere, quam excusare; thou mayst (said he) command my neck to the block, but not my tongue to the bar; I prize not my life, to the pleading of an evil cause.

Simonides, being asked what did soonest grow old among men? Made answer, A benefit.

Apollonius Thianaeus, having travelled over all Asia, Africk, and Europe, said, There were two things whereat he marvelled most in all the world: the first was, that he always saw the proud man command the humble, the quarrellous the quiet, the tyrant the just, the cruel the pitiful, the coward the hardy, the ignorant the skilful, and the greatest thieves hang the innocent.

A Philosopher being asked, how he could endure so ill a Wife as he had? The answer which he gave, was, I have hereby a School of Philosophy in my house, and learning daily to suffer patiently, I am made the more milder with others.

Alexander seeing Diogenes tumbling among dead bones, he asked him what he sought? To whom the other answered, That which I cannot find, the difference between the rich and the poor.

Demonax asked one a question, who answe­red him in old obsolete affected words. Prethee fellow, said he, where are thy wits? I ask thee a question now, and thou answerest 400 years ago.

[Page 27] Albertus Duke of Saxony, was wont to say, that he had three wonders in one City, viz. three Monasteries: For the Fries of the first had children, and yet no wives; the Friers of the second had a great deal of corn, and yet no land; the Friers of the third abounded with moneys, and yet had no rents.

A Captain sent from Cesar unto the Sena­tors of Rome, to sue for the prolonging of his government abroad, understanding (as he stood at the Council-chamber-door) that they would not condiscend to his desire, clapping his hand upon the pummel of his sword: Well, said he, seeing you will not grant it him, this shall give it him.

When Anne Bolen, that vertuous Lady, had received a message from Henry the 8th. that she must instantly prepare her self for death, an­swered, That she gave him humble thanks for all his favours bestowed upon her; as for making her of a mean woman a Marchioness, of a Marchio­ness a Queen, but especially, seeing he could not on earth advance her to any greater dignity, that he would now send her to rest, and reign upon Gods high and holy throne.

When Tully was asked, which Oration of Demosthenes he liked best? He answered, The longest.

Diogenes said of one, That he cast his house so long out at the window, that at last his house cast him out of the door, having left nothing rich, except a nose.

There are two saying fathered on two great [Page 28] Counsellors, Secretary Walsingham, and Secre­tary Ce [...]il, one used to say at the Council-Ta­ble, My Lords, stay a little, and we shall make an end the sooner. The other would oft-times speak of himself, It shall never be said of me, that I will defer till to morrow, what I can do to day.

Adrian the Sixt said, A Physician is very ne­cessary to a populous Country; for were it not for the Physician, men would live so long, and grow so thick, that one could not live for the other.

It was a bold answer Captain Talbot return­ed Henry the 8th. from Calais, who having re­ceived special command from the King to erect a new work at the Water-gate, and to see the Town well fortified, sent him word, That he could neither fortifie, nor fiftifie without money.

An Italian Vineyard-man, after a long drougth, and an extream hot Summer, which had parch't up all his grapes, complained, For want of water, I am forced to drink water; if I had had water, I would drink wine.

Andrea Doria, being asked by Philip the 2d. which were his best harbours? He answered, June, July, and Carthagena; meaning, that any Port is good in those two moneths, but Cartha­gena was good any time of the year.

A Gallego in Spain, in the Civil Wars of Arragon, being in the Field, he was shot in the forehead, and being carried away to a Tent, the Surgeon search'd his wound, and found it mortal; so he advised him to send for his Con­fessor, for he was no man for this world, in regard the brain was touched; the Souldiers wished him to search it again, which he did, and [Page 29] told him, that he found he was hurt in the brain, and could not possibly escape; where­upon the Gallego fell into a chafe, and said, he lyed, for he had no brain at all: If J had had any brain, J would never have come to this war.

A Spaniard having got a fall by a stum­ble, and broke his nose, rise up, and in a dis­dainful manner, said, This 'tis to walk upon earth.

Alexander quintus, Pope of Rome, said of him­self, That when he was a Bishop, he was rich; when he was a Cardinal, he was poor; and when he was a Pope, he was a beggar.

King Darius, by chance opening a great pomegranate, and being demanded, of what he would wish to have as many as there were grains in that pomegranate? answered in one word, Of Zopiruses.

It was the answer of an undaunted captive, who slighting the insulting braves of him who took him: Thou holdest thy conquest great in o­vercoming me, but mine is far greater in overcoming my self.

It was the saying of a judicious States-man, he that knoweth to speak well, knoweth also where he must hold his peace: Wisely concluding, think an hour before you speak, and a day before you pro­mise.

It was an excellent speech of a famous Histo­rian, who being demanded by one who had reduced his Empire to a meer Tyranny, why he remembred not him in his Writings? Be­cause (said he) I read nothing in you worth remem­bring. Why dost thou not then (reply'd he) re­cord my vices? Lest others (said he) should erre by your example, and so imitate you.

[Page 30]It was the saying of a famous Orator, I ne­ver knew any Poet (yet was I well acquainted with many) who did not think his own doings better than all others.

Zeno's servant Bruson, being taken in theft, and alledging for himself, that it was his desti­ny to steal. His Master answered, and thy de­stiny to be beaten.

Antigonus observing a sickly souldier to be ve­ry valiant, procured his Physician to heal him▪ who afterwards began to keep himself out of danger, not venturing as formerly; which An­tigonus noting, demanded the reason: The soul­dier answered, O Antigonus, thou art the rea­son; before I ventured nothing but a diseased corps, and then I chose rather to die quickly, than to live sickly: I invited death to do me a courtesie, now it is otherwise with me, for now I have somewhat to lose.

The Lydian Croesus, enthroned in his Chair of State, asked a wise Sage, if ever he beheld a more beautiful, or graceful Spectacle? Yes, said he, dunghil-cocks, pheasants, and peacocks; for those are cloathed with native beauty, but yours is but borrowed glory.

Carfitides being asked his opinion▪ what he thought of the Sea, and Sea-men? Answered, That there was nothing more treacherous than the first, and that the others were it's comrades.

It was a wise answer, that is reported of the best and last Cardinal of this Island, who, when a skilful Astrologer, upon the Calculation of his Nativity, had told him some specialties concerning his future estate, answered, Such [Page 31] perhaps I was born; but since that time I have been born again, and my second Nativity hath cross'd my first.

Valentinian, when his souldiers had chosen him to be Emperor, they were consulting to have another joyned with him: No (said [...]) It was in your power to give me the Empire while I had it not; but now when I have it, it is not in your power to give me a partner.

Epaminondas, the Theban Ruler, when the people made merry with banquets and dances on a Solemn Feast-day, went up and down the City in his worst array, and sadly (as it were) mourning: And being demanded why he did so? His answer was, That therefore was he sad, because they should with more security be merry.

The grave Cato, when one asked counsel of him in sober earnest, what harm he thought aboded him, because rats had gnawn his hose? He merrily answered, That it was a strange thing to see that, but it had been much more strange if his hose had devoured the rats.

Tully likewise, when one to enforce the veri­ty of Divination, said, that a Victory which [...]ell to the Thebans▪ was fore-shewed by an ex­traordinary crowing of cocks: He replyed, that it was no miracle cocks should crow; but if fish­es had so done, that had been wonderful indeed.

Apollonius being very early at Vespasian's gate, and finding him stirring, from thence he con­jectured that he was worthy to govern an Em­pire; and said to his companion, this man sure­ly will be Emperor, he is so early.

One being demanded what Caesar whisper­ed in his ear? Made answer, That Caesar told [Page 32] him he would invent a very strange punishment for such as pried into his words and actions.

Ferdinand the Emperor, making a Speech in a publique Assembly, by chance gave Priscian a fillip or two, which a Bishop hearing, started up, and said, Caesar, You have forgotten your Grammar: To whom Caesar, and you have for­gotten your Ethicks, Bishop.

Aexander, being desired to see Darius daugh­ters, who were fair and young, made answer, I will have a care not to be vanquished by women, see­ing I have vanquished men.

Some entreated Cyrus to see Panthea, which he refused to do; and being told that she was very fair, It is for that reason (said he) I may not see her; for if I do visit her now that I have leisure, she will bind me another time, when I shall be full of affairs.

Priscus Helvidius was advised not to come unto the Senate: He answered, It is in the Em­perors power not to make me of the Senate, but while I am a Senator, he shall not let me from going to the palace. You shall be suffer'd to go, said the o­ther, so you speak not: Helvidius answers, I will not speak a word, if they demand nothing of me; but if they ask me, I will answer what I think fit. If you speak, said the other, they will put you to death. He replies, And when did I brag that I was immortal? You shall do your duty, and I mine; it is in you to kill me, and in me to die without fear; it is in you to banish me, and in me to go to it cheer­fully.

When Athanasius was banished by the Em­peror Julian, he said unto his friends that came [Page 33] to sorrow with him in his disgrace: Courage [...] my children, this is but a little cloud, which will va­nish presently.

Fabius Maximus having spoiled Tarentum, and made it desolate, with all kinds of cruelties; when his Secretary came to ask him, What shall we do with the enemies gods? He answered, Let us leave the angry gods unto the Tarentines.

Scanderbeg had it in particular in all his en­counters and military actions, always to begin his first Stratagems of Victory with the death of the head, saying, That the head should be first cut off, and the rest of the body will fall alone; and that he knew no kind of living creature that could survive, the head being taken off.

It was a witty speech of him that said, That mens actions were like notes of musick, sometimes in spaces, and sometimes in lines, sometimes above, and sometimes beneath, and never or seldom straight for any long continuance.

Rubrius Flavius, being condemned by Nero [...]o lose his head; when as the Executioner said unto him, that he should stretch forth his neck boldly, he answered, Thou shalt not strike more boldly, than I will present my head.

Croesus, King of Lydia, seeing Cyrus's souldi­ers running up and down the Town of Sardis, he demanded whither they did run? They go to the spoil of the Town, answered Cyrus. They take nothing from me (replyed Croesus, all they car­ry away is thine, and not mine. Signifying, that the spoils of souldiers are the losses of the Con­queror, rather than the conquered.

One demanded of Sym [...]nides, why he was so [Page 34] sparing in the extremity of his age? For that, said he, I had rather leave my goods after my death to my enemies, than in my life-time to have need of my friends.

When Antisthenes the Philosopher was in extream pain, he cryed out, Who shall deliver me from these miseries? Diogenes presenting a knife unto him, said, This, if thou wilt, and that soon. I do not say of my life (replyed the Philo­sopher) but of my pain.

One demanded of Cercidas the Megalapoli­tane, if he died willingly? Why not (said he) for after my death I shall see those great men, Py­thagoras among the Philosophers, Hecateus among the Historians, Homer among the Poets, and O­lympus among the Musicians.

A Babler demanding of Aristole, if his dis­course were not strange? No, answered he, but yet a man having feet, should not give himself so long patience to hear thee.

The Embassadors of Lacedemon being come to the King Lygdomnus, he making difficulty to hear them, and feigning himself sick, the Embassadors said, We are not come to wrestle with him, but to speak with him.

Lewis the 11th. of France, one day went into the kitchin, whereas he found a young lad turning the spit, he demanded his name, of whence he was, and what he did earn? This turn-spit, who knew him not, told his name, and that though he were in the Kings service, yet he got as much as the King: For the King (said he) hath but his life, and so have I; God feeds the King, and the King feeds me.

[Page 35]The Emperor Maximilian answered a Mer­chant, who besought him to make him a Gen­tleman: I can make thee much richer than thou art, but it is not in my power to make thee a Gentleman.

Pope Julius the 2d▪ having had a long feud with the Emperor Frederick (against whom he had fought 12 Battels) being one day gent­ly admonished by the Arch-Bishop of Ostia, how St. Peter his Predecessor was commanded to put up his sword. 'Tis true said Julius, our Savi­our gave the prime Apostle such a comand, but 'twas after he had given the blow, and cut off Malchus ear.

Diogenes said, That Troy was lost by horses, and the Common-wealth of Athens by asses.

Alva [...]o de Luna, whom John King of Castile advanced, and loved above all men of his Realm, said to them that admired his fortunes: Judge not of the building before it be finished. He died by the hands of Justice.

Lewis the 1 [...]th. King of France, being but a child when crowned, tired with being so long (eight hours) in the Church, and bearing the Crown on his head, with divers other heavy vests upon his body, was asked, what he would take to take the like pains again? He answered▪ For another Crown I would take double the pains.

Those of the Religion, petitioning Lewis▪ 13. for a continuance of holding their cautionary Townes, as Hen. 3. and Hen. the great had done: He told them, What grace the first did shew you, was out of fear; what my Father did, was out of love; but I would have you know that I neither fear you no [...] love you.

The Marshal de Saint Geran, comming to [Page 36] Sir Edward Herbert (then Embassador from the King of England for the Rochellers) after a counter-buff with Luynes the Constable, and told him in a friendly manner, you have of­fended the Constable, and you are not in a place of security here: Whereunto he an­swered, That he held himself to be in a place of se­curity wheresoever he had his sword by him.

The Duke of Suilli was a Favourite to Hen­ry the 4th. whom he had reduced from a Ro­man, to be a Reformist, when he was King of Navar onely; and perswading him to become Roman again, the Duke bluntly answered, Sir, you have given me one turn already, you have good luck if you give me any more.

Lewis the 13th. when but a youth, he went to the Coutry of Bearn, at his entrance to Pan, the Inhabitants bringing a Canopy to carry o­ver his Head, He asked, whether there was ever a Church in the Town? And being answered, No: He said, he would receive no honour in that place, where God himself had no house to be ho­noured in.

William, Prince of Orange, to content those that reproved his too much humanity, said, That man is well bought, who costs but a saluta­tion.

A President of a Parliament in France, whose friends came to see him at his new house, be­gan exceedingly to commend it for the rare­ness of the Workmanship, and the goodness of the stone, timber, marble, and such like: You mistake (said he) the stuff whereof it is made; the house is onely built de testes les fols, of fools­heads.

[Page 37] Bias, one of the seven wise men of Greece, sailing in a ship where some fellows were that had given themselves over to lewdness, and yet in a storm were calling unto their gods for help, He said unto them, Hold your peace, for fear left the gods should know you be here.

Alexander Severus was wont to say, That a Souldier is never afraid, but when he seeth himself well apparelled, and his Belt furnished with money.

Dionysius the Tyrant, said, We should deceive children with dice and cock-alls, and men with Oaths.

Alexander the Great, when one wondred, why he not onely not kill'd his enemies, but took them to be his friends: It seems (says he) to thee profitable to kill an enemy, and I kill an ene­my while I spare him, and make him my friend while I advance him.

The Philosopher Anacharsis, said of Solons Common-wealth, That in the Consultations and Deliberations of the Greeks, Wise-men propounded the matters, and fools decided them.

Darius was wont to say of himself, In a pinch and extremity of peril he was always wisest.

Favorinus told Adrian the Emperor, who had censured him in his own profession of Gram­mar, That he durst not be learneder than he, who commanded 30. Legions.

Thou art an Heretick, said Woodrofe the She­riff to Mr. Rogers the Proto-Martyr in Queen Maries dayes: That shall be known (quoth he) at the day of Judgment.

General Vere told the King of Denmark, that Kings cared not for souldiers, until such time as [Page 38] their Crowns hung on one side of their heads.

Tamberlain having overthrown Bajazet, asked him, Whether ever he had given God thanks for making him so great an Emperor; who confessing he never thought of it; Tamberlain replyed, that it was no wonder so ingrateful a man should be made a spectacle of misery: For you (saith he) being blind of one eye, and I lame of one leg, was there any worth in us, why God should set us over two such great Empires?

Luther was wont to say, that three things make a Preacher, reading, prayer, and temptation; read­ing a full man, prayer an holy man, temptation an experienced man.

One having made a long, tedious, and idle discouse before Aristotle, concluded it thus, Sir, I doubt, I have been too tedious to you with my many words: In good sooth, said Aristotle, you have not been tedious to me, for I gave no heed to any thing you said.

Aigoland King of Arragon, comming to the French Court to be Baptized, and asking who those lazers and poor people were, that wait­ed for alms from the Emperor Charlemain's ta­ble? When one answered him, that they were the servants of God: I will never serve that God said he, that keeps his servants no better.

One being ready to die, clapt a 20 s. peece into his mouth, and said, Some wiser than some, if I must leave all the rest, yet this I'll take with me.

Sabina, a Roman Martyr, crying out in her travail, and being asked by her Keeper, how she would endure the fire the next day? Oh [Page 39] well enough, said she; for now I suffer in child-birth for my sin; but then Christ shall suffer in me, and support me.

Cardinal Columnus, when the Pope threat­ned to take away his Cardinals Hat, That then he would put on an Helmet to pull him out of his throne.

King James, after he had moderated as Dr. of the Chair at Oxford in all Faculties; when in the publique Library there, he beheld the lit­tle chaines wherewith the several Books were fastned to their places: I could wish (saith he) (if ever it be my lot to be carried captive) to be shut up in this prison, to be bound with these chains, and to spend my life with these fellow-captives that stand here chained.

Aesop being set to sale with two other slaves, a Chapman enquired of the first, what he could do? He, to endear himself, answered, moun­taines, and wonders, and what not? For he knew, and could do all things. The second answered even so for himself, and more too. But when he came to Aesop, and demanded of him what he could do? Nothing, said he, for these two have fore-stalled all, and have left nothing for me.

The Philosopher Byon, when a certain King for grief tore his hair: Doth this man (said he) think that baldness will asswage his grief?

One being demanded what his studies would stead him in his decrepit age? answered, That he might the better, and with more ease leave the world.

The Embassadors of Samos, being come to King Cleomenes of Sparta, prepared with a long [Page 40] prolix Oration, to stir him up to war against the tyrant Polycrates, after he had listned a good while unto them, his Answer was: Touching your Exordium, I have forgotten it, the middle I remember not, and for the conclusion, I will do no­thing in it.

Scipio being one day accused before the Ro­man people of an urgent and capital offence, in stead of excusing himself, or flattering the Judges, turning to them, he said, It will well beseem you to judge of his head, by whose means you have authority to judge of all the world.

Atisthenes was wont to say to his disciples; Come on my Masters, let you and me go to hear So­crates, there shall I be fellow-disciple with you.

Julius Drusius, to those Workmen which for 3000 crowns offered so to reform his house, that his neighbours should no more over-look into it: I will give you 6000 (said he) and contrive it so, that on all sides every man may look into it.

The Stanhop said merrily, That not he, but his stately house was guilty of high treason.

Eleazer, a Jew, being demanded when it would be time to repent & amend? Answered, One day before death. And when the other replyed, that no man knew the day of his death: He said, Begin then even to day, for fear of failing.

Apollidorus was wont to say of Chrysippus his Books, That if other mens sentences were left out, the pages would be void.

Cato said, He had rather men should ask why he had no Statues erected for him, than why he had.

A certain Souldan, who died at the Siege of Zigetum, being perswaded by the Muphti not [Page 41] to suffer so many Religions as were in his Do­minions: He answered, That a nosegay of many flowers smelled far more sweet than one flower onely.

Pope Sixtus said, That a Pope could never want money, while he held a pen in his hand.

One said of Erasmus his Enchyridion, That there was more devotion in the Book, than in the Writer.

A Frenchman being asked by one of his Neighbours, if the Sermon were done? No, saith he, it is said, but it is not done, neither will be, I fear, in haste.

When one asked the Duke of Alva, whether he had not observed the great Ecclipse of the Sun? No truly, said he, I have so much business on earth, that I have no time to look up to heaven.

A Physician was wont to say pleasantly to delicate Dames, when they complained they were they could not tell how, but yet they could not endure to take any Physick: Your onely way is to be sick indeed, and then you will be glad to take any medicine.

Diogenes being asked what time is best for meals? He answered, For the rich man when he had a stomack, and for a poor man when he could get meat.

Jovinian said to the Orthodox and Arrian Bi­shops, contending about Faith: Of your learn­ing I cannot so well judge, nor of your subtle disou­tations; but I can observe which of you have the bet­ter behaviour.

An Arrian Bishop entreating the Emperor▪ Constantine to give them a Church: He an­swered, If your cause be good, one is too few; but if bad, one is too many.

[Page 42]The Philosopher Theodorus was wont to say, That he gave his scholars instructions and lessons with the right hand, but that they received them with the left.

Luther would often say, That if he thought the reading of his Books would hinder the reading of the Scriptures, he would burn them all before he died.

When one accused a Comical Poet, that he brought a lewd debauched Ruffian on the Stage, and so gave bad example to young men. True, said he, I brought such a man on▪ but I hang­ed him before he went off, and so I gave them a good example.

One being asked what exploits he had done in the Low-countries? Answered, That he had cut off a Spaniards legs: Reply being made, that it had been something if he had cut off his head: Oh, said he, you must consider his head was off be­fore.

A gallant sometime said to a reverend Pre­late, If there be no judgment to come, are not you a very fool to bar your self from the pleasures of this life? To whom the Prelate: And what if there be a judgment to come, are not you then a very fool, for the short pleasures of this present life, to bar your self from those eternal joyes of your life to come?

Charls the 5th. Emperor was wont to say, That the King of Spain ruled over asses, doing nothing without violence or blows; the King of France over men; and the Emperor over Kings. And when one of the standers by said, that the Polonians also had their King: I grant, said he, that he is▪ [Page 43] their King. Meaning, that his power was limi­ted by them.

When Marshal Biron bid Sir Roger Williams bring up his Companies faster, taxing the slow march of the English. Sir, saith he, with this march our Fore-fathers conquered your Countrey of France, and I mean not to alter it.

The same Sir Roger Williams, to an idle Spa­niard, boasting of his Country-citrons, O­ranges, Olives, and such like: Why, saith he, we, in England, have good Surloyns of Beef, fat Muttons, and dainty Capons, to eat your sawee withal.

One demanding of an Italian, why their Muttons and Cattel were so small and lean? Because (quoth he) we Italians eat the grass in sallets, and by robbing the pastures, deceive the cattel.

A Portugal Captain once told King Sebasti­an, providing for his journey into Barbary, That wars should be accompanied with three streams, the first, of men; the second, of victuals; the third, of silver.

Another being demanded how many things were necessary hereunto, answered, Money, mo­ney, money.

Sigismond, the first King of Poland, moved by Leo the 10th. to war against the Turk, an­swered, Few words shall serve, first, make firm peace among the Christian Princes, then will I be not be­hind the forwardest.

When Ferdinando Cortez had conquered Mexi­co, the King of Mexico drawing his dagger, gave it to him, saying, Hitherto I have done the best [Page 44] for the defence of my people; now I am no farther bound, but to give thee this dagger to kill me with.

Hannibal having sent his Brother Mago to discover the Romans Camp, and returning, he asked him, What newes, and what work they were like to have with the enemies? Work enough (answered Mago) for they are an horrible many. As horrible a many as they are (replyed Hannibal) I tell thee brother, that among them all, search them never so diligent­ly, thou shalt not finde one man whose name is Mago.

Captain Gam, before the Battel of Agin­court, being sent to make the like Discovery, told King Henry the 5th. That of the Frenchmen, there were enough to be kill'd, enough to be taken prisoners, and enough to run away.

At a Solemn Convention of many Philoso­phers, before the Embassadors of a Forreign Prince, and that every one, according to his several abilities, made demonstration of their wisedom, that so the Embassador might have matter to report of the admired wisedom of the Grecians▪ Amongst those, one there was that stood still, and uttered nothing in the As­sembly, insomuch that the Embassador turn­ing to him, said. And what is your gift, that I may report it? To whom the Philosopher, Report unto your King, that you found one amongst the Grecians, that knew how to hold his peace.

A Barber going to the Court, and being at his return asked what he saw? He answered, the King was neatly trimm'd.

Themistocles, being invited to touch a Lute, [Page 45] said arrogantly, He could not fiddle, but he knew how to make a small town a great City.

Plutarch tells of two men that were hired at Athens for some publick work, whereof the one was full of tongue, but slow at hand, but the other, blunt in speech, yet an excellent Workman: Being called upon by the Magi­strates to express themselves, and to declare at large how they would proceed; when the first had made a long harrange, and described it from point to point, the other seconded him with this short speech: Ye men of Athens, what this man hath said in words, that will I make good true performance.

King Porus, when Alexander ask'd him how he would be used? answered in one word, [...], Like a King. Alexander replying, do you desire nothing else? No, said he, all things are in [...].

Solon being demanded how a Common­wealth might best be preserved in peace? An­swered, that the Common-wealth is in good estate, where the people obey the Magistrates, and the Ma­gistrates obey the Law.

Pelican, a German Divine, said, concerning his Learning, When I appear before God, I shall not appear as a Doctor, but as an ordinary Chri­stian.

When Plato saw one indulgent to his flesh in high diet, he asked him, What do ye mean to make your prison so strong?

Augustus said, that Petitions should not be gi­ven to Princes, as meat to an Elephant, that one is afraid of.

[Page 46] Vespasian asked Apollonius, what was Nero's overthrow? He answered, Nero could touch and tune the harp well; but in Government, he used some­times to winde the p [...]ns too high, and sometimes to let them down too low.

A fat man in Rome, riding always upon a very lean horse, being asked the reason there­of? Answered. That he fed himself, but trusted others to feed his horse.

Philip of Macedon was wont to say, That an ass laden with gold would enter the gates of any City.

At the Treaty between the English, and the King of Spain, the Commissioners being met in a French Town, the first question was, what Tongue they should Treat in? One of the Spaniards, thinking to give our English a sore gird, said, In French, and these Gentlemen cannot be ignorant of the language of their fellow-subjects: No, faith my Masters (said Doctor Dale, Ma­ster of the Requests) French is too common, especially in a French Town, We'l treat in the Mother-tongue, Hebrew, the language of Hierusa­lem, of which your Master is King.

One being exiled his native Country, and one day asked why he looked so heavily? re­plyed, I bear the Embleme of this place in my front.

When Ennius sought his friend at his house, and asked his servant where his Master was? Who hearing, said to his servant, Tell him I am not at home; which Ennius over-heard, but took the answer from the servant. The next day the same man, comming to Ennius his [Page 47] house, and demanded of his servant where his Master was? Ennius spake aloud, Tell him I am not at home. What, said he, will you de­ny your self with your own tongue? Why, said Ennius, I believed when but your man told me you were at home, and will you not believe me which say so my self?

Erasmus being asked by Frederick Duke of Saxony, what he thought of Luther, so much earnestly seeking Reformation? Erasmus an­swered, Luther had committed two great errours: One was, that he touch'd too near the Crown of the Pope; another, too much the bellies of the Monks.

A certain bold-fac'd fellow, came one day to an Emperor, and desired his Majesty to be­stow some reward upon a poor kinsman of his: I am your kinsman, quoth he, both by father and mother, for we come all of Adam and Eve. Indeed, thou sayest true (quoth the Emperor) and gave him a penny. A penny (quoth the other) shall I have no more but a penny? A simple reward for an Emperor. Hold thy self content, said the Emperor, If I should give to every one of my kinsmen a penny, I should soon become a poor Emperor.

Alphonsus King of Arragon, answered an O­rator, who had cited a long Panegerycal Ora­tion of his praises: If that thou hast said, consent­eth with truth, I thank God for it; if not, I pray God grant me grace, that I may do it.

A Painter being blamed by a Cardinal for colouring the vi [...]ages of Peter and Paul too red, tartly replyed, That he painted them so, as [...]lush­ing at the lives of those men who style themselves their successors.

[Page 48]When Alexander received any Letters from any of his Commanders in Greece, of some small Skirmish, or taking some Fort (He be­ing used to great Victories) was wont to say, They seemed to him but as the battels of frogs and mice in Homer.

Some saying it was a strange resolution in L. Scilla to resigne his Dictatorship. Caesar scoffing at him, said, That Silla could not skill of Letters, and therefore knew not how to Dictate.

Aristippus, having a Petition to Dionysius, and no ear given him, he fell down at his feet, in manner of a worshipper: Whereupon Di­onysius stay'd, and gave him the hearing, and granted it. And being reproved, that he would offer that indignity to Philosophy, as for a pri­vate suit to fall at a Tyrants feet; He replyed, That it was not his fault, but it was the fault of Di­onysius, who had his ears in his feet.

It is a notable speech reported of one Nemon, that was General of Darius his Army, when he was fighting against Alexander, one of his Souldiers reproached Alexander: The General came to him, and smote him, saying, I did not hire you to reproach Alexander, but to fight against him.

A great man, who himself was very plain in apparel, checkt a Gentleman for being over­fine: Who modestly answered, Your Lordship hath better cloaths at home, and I have worse.

Themistocles, when an Embassador in a set Speech boasted great matters of a small Vil­lage, took him up thus: Friend, your words re­quire a City.

[Page 49]It was the saying of a noble Venetian Duke That it is sufficient for a discreet Prince to have pow­er to revenge, that his enemies may have cause to fear him.

An Embassador of Athens, answered King Philip of Macedon, threatning that he would cause his head to be cut off: If thou take this head from me, my Country will give me another that shall be immortal. Statuam pro capite, pro morte im­mortalitatem.

Diogenes seeing a certain man dressing and decking himself for a festival day, said unto him thus: Why dost thou take such pains to trim thy self to day, seeing that every day is a festival day to a virtuous man?

There was a certain rich wretch who had in his house great store of wine, but was so nig­gardly, that he sold the best, and kept the worst for his own use. A servant of his, observing the pinching and preposterous niggardliness o [...] his Master, fled away from him; and being asked afterwards why he had left his Lord? an­swered thus: Because I could not endure to stay with a man, who having that which was good, made choise of that which was evil.

The Philosopher Aristippus, having lost one of his three Farms, said thus unto his freinds; That it was babishness to be sorry for one Farm los [...], and not to be merry for the other two that did rest in his hands, seeing that all of them had lien open to the same adventure.

Secundus the Philosopher being demanded, What is a wife? Replyed, She is contrary to an husband.

[Page 50] Richard Nevil, Earl of Warwick, when the people would have made him King, refused it, saying, That he had rather make Kings, than be one.

Pompey, when his souldiers, would needs leave the Camp, threw himself down at a nar­row passage, and bid them go, But they should first trample on their General.

Diogenes said to one that had perfumed his lo [...]ks: Be careful your odoriferous head procure you not a stinking life.

Themistocles to Symmachus, to whom, being desirous to teach him the art of memory; He answered, He had rather learn the art of forget­fulness.

Vespasian seeing at once two fatal presages of his end, a blazing Comet, and a gaping Se­pulcher, turned them both from himself, with this pleasant scoff; saying, The Sepulcher ga­ped for the old Empress Julia; and the blazing Star portended the death of the King of Persia, who at that time wore long hair.

When Mr. Sam. Hieron lay on his death-bed (rich onely in goodness and children) his wife made much womanish lamentation, what should become of her little ones. Peace Sweet­heart (said he) that God who feedeth the Ravens, will not starve the Herns.

Mr. Fox (the Author of the Martyrology) being once asked at a friends table, what dish he desired to be set up to him to begin his meal with? He answered, The last. Which word was pleasantly taken, as if he had meant [Page 51] a choiser dish, such as usually are brought at the second Course; whereas he rather sig­nified the desire he had to see dinner ended, that he might depart home.

Going abroad (by chance) he met a wo­man that he knew, who pulling a book from under her arm, and saying, See you not that I am going to a Sermon? Mr. Fox replyed, But if you will be ruled by me, go home rather; for to day you will do little good at Church. And when she asked, at what time therefore he would counsel her to go? Then (answered he) when you tell no body before-hand.

When a young man, a little too forward, had, in presence of many, said, that he could not conceive any reason in the reading of old Authors, why men should so greatly admire them. No manuel, indeed, (quoth Mr. Fox) for if you could conceive the reason, you would then ad­mire them your self.

One told a Grecian Statist, who had ex­cellently deserved of the City he lived in, that the City had chosen 24 Officers, and yet left him out. I am glad, saith he, the City affords 24 abler [...]han my self.

When one of Antipaters friends (who was an imperious and tyrannous Governor) com­mended him to Alexander for his moderati­on, that he did not degenerate into the Per­sian pride in the use of Purple, but kept the ancient habit of Macedon, of black. True, (saith Alexander) but Antipater is all purple within.

Alexander, when he gave large gifts to his [Page 52] friends and servants, and one asked him what he did reserve for himself? He answered, Hope.

One asked a grave Gentlewoman how her maids came by so good husbands, and yet seldome went abroad? Oh (said she) good hus­bands come home to them.

One having a shrewd wife, yet loth to use her hardly, awed her by telling her, That he would beat her when he was dead. Meaning, that he would leave her no maintenance.

One complaining that never had father so undutiful a child as he had. Yes, said his son, (with less grace than truth) my Grand-father had.

A Farmer rented a grange, generally repor­ted to be haunted with Fairies, and paid a shrewd rent for the same at each half-years end. Now a Gentleman asked him how he durst be so hardy as to live in the house? and whether no Spirits did trouble him? Truth (said the farmer) there be two Saints in heaven, vex me more than all the Devils in hell; namely, the Virgin Ma­ry, and Michael the Arch-angel; on which days he paid his rent.

When a Professor pressed an Answerer (a better Christian than a Clerk) with an hard argument: Reverende Professor, said he, ingenuè confiteor, me non posse respondere huic argumente. To whom the Professor, Rectè respondes.

When one told Latimer that the Cutler had cozend him, in making him pay two pence for a knife not (in those dayes) worth a penny: No, quoth Latimer, he cozened not me, but his own Conscience.

[Page 53]When Buchanan lay on his death-bed, King James sent to know how he did? He returned this answer, That he was going whither few Kings came.

Q. Metellus Pius, to one wondring at what he intended to do, and demanding of him what he meant? Let alone, saith he, farther to enquire; for if my shirt knew what I meant to doe, I would burn it.

Pericles being requested by his souldiers to fight, and that with vile reproachful terms, re­plyed thus: That if he could repair losses, and re­cover life, he would as gladly adventure as they. But you see (said he) trees being cut, they grow again; but men once slain, revive no more.

Henry the 4th. King of France, seeing the Chappel which the family of Bassom Pierre had builded, and reading this verse of the Psalm, which was set down for an Embleme: Quid retribuam Domino, pro omnibus quae retribuit mihi? He said, Bassom Pierre as a German should have ad­ded, Calicem accipiam.

To one, telling him that there is nothing doth sooner make those who are out of their wits to become temperate, than the punishment which is inflicted upon them, the King inter­rupted his speech, and told him, Mercy pardon­eth those who have not deserved it; and the juster that wrath is, the more commendable is mercy.

When men spake of the insolencies and ry­ots of the City, during the troubles, &c. He said, The people of Paris are good, it goeth as it is led; mischief commeth from those which go be­fore, and not from their simplicity which follow af­ter, and grow bad by infection.

[Page 54]Considering on a time that Taxes were ex­cessive in sundry places of the Kingdome: He said, My people are made to pay a double tax, one to me, and another to my Officers. The se­cond makes the first insupportable; for the expence of the Officers amount to more than the tax: It is a hard matter to keep my self unrob'd, and al­most impossible but that my people should be so.

He was wont to say, That he would not see them suffer harm, which were not in case to doe any.

Some one besought him to give him leave to carry the Cannon against some that held his house: The King demanded of him what he would do when he had forced them? His choller made him answer, That he would hang them all: Whereupon the King sent him away with this mild reply, I have no Cannon to that use.

A maker of Anagrams, presenting some­thing unto him upon his name, and telling him that he was very poor: I believe it, said the King, for they that use this trade, cannot grow very rich.

He was wont to say, That it was an of­fence to God, to give credit to those Prognosticks: and that, having God for his guard, He feared no man.

The same Henry, being at the Siege of A­miens, amongst others of the Nobles which he summoned for that service, he sent also to the Count Soissons, a Prince of the Blood [Page 55] to whom the King gives 5000 crowns pensi­on. The Count, at that time discontented, returned the King answer, That he was a poor Gentleman, and wanted meanes to come to that service, as became one of his birth and place, being a Prince of the Blood, and Peer of France: He therefore most humbly cra­ved pardon, and [...]at he would most humbly pray for his Majesties prosperous successe, which was all he could do. Well (saith the King) seeing prayer is not acceptable without fast­ing, my Cousin shall hereafter fast from his pension of 5000 crowns.

He used much this noble Speceh, when I was born, there were a thousand other souls more born; what have I done unto God, to be more than they? It is his meer grace and mercy which doth of­ten bind me more unto his justice; for the faults of great men are never small.

When certain Romans practised by secret counsel to kill the Emperor Domitian, and gave part thereof to Trajane: He did answer; I do well see that Domitian deserved not to be e­lected Emperor, and much less to be susteined in the same; yet never the more shall I consent unto his death, for that I will rather endure a tyrant, than procure the renown of a traytor.

The Emperor Adrian said, That he remem­bred not since the age of ten yeares, whether he stood still, or walked by the way, that he had not either a book to read in, or some weapon to fight with.

[Page 56]Being demanded why he was so bountiful unto his Ministers of Justice? He answered, I make the Ministers of Justice rich, because by robbery of Justice they shall no [...] make other men poor.

When Favorinus, having an old house, at the entry thereof he had raised a stately porch, painted with whi [...]e: The Emperor said unto him, This house of thine seemeth a gilded pill, which outwardly giveth pleasure, but within is full of bitterness.

Another friend of Adrians, named Silvius, very black of face, and of evil shape of body, comming one day unto the Palace, all clad in white, Adrian said unto those that were pre­sent, That black face, with that white garment, seem­eth no other, but a flie drowned in a spoonfull of milk.

There was in Rome a certain man named Enatius, somewhat entred in age, and of natu­ral condition mutinous, ambitious, importune, intermedling, quarrellous, and full of garboyl. The Emperor Adrian being advertised that E­natius was dead, He fell into a great laughter, and sware, That he could not a little marvel how he could intend to die, considering his great business both night and day.

There was a Senator named Fabius Cat [...], a man of a small stature, which would soon be offended, and as soon be pleased; unto whom Adrian said, Since your chimney is so small, you must beware to lay much wood upon the fire, for otherwise it will be always smokie.

When a certain cunning man made offer to the [Page 57] Emperour Antonius Pius, to place him teeth wherewith to eat or speak; Antonius made an­swer: Since never from my heart proceeded feigned or double words, there shall never enter into my mouth feigned teeth.

Antonius alwayes, for the most part, went bare-headed; and one advising him the air of Rome to be very hurtful, and therefore neces­sary to have his head covered, answered, assure me from troubles of men on earth, and I am assured that nothing shall trouble me which the gods shall send me from heaven.

He sent Fulvius Tusculanus as Praetor into the Province of Mauritania, whom within half a year he deprived of his Office, for that he was both impatient and covetous; who complain­ing of the injury, said, that in times past he had been a friend unto Antonius, but now it was for­gotten: Whereunto Antonius answered, Thou hast no reason thus unjustly to blame me, because the office was given thee by the Emperor, and not by Antonius; and since, thou didst not offend as Fulvi­us, but as Praetor; so I discharge thee of thy Office, not as Antonius thy old friend, but as Emperor of the Roman Empire.

Some speaking in his presence of Wars and Battels, that Julius Caesar, Scipio & Hannibal had fought and overcame in the field: Antonius Pi­us answered, Let every man hold opinion what he thinketh good, and praise what it pleaseth him; but for my own part, I do more glory in conserving peace many yeares, than with wars to conquer many bat­tels.

Before he gave any government unto Prae­tors, [Page 58] Censors, or Questors, he caused them to give an Inventory of their own proper goods, that when their charges were finished, the increase of their wealth might be conside­red: Saying unto them, That he sent them to administer Justice, and not by fraud to rob Countries.

The Emperour Pertinax used to say, That, of Princes charging their Kingdomes with unjust tribute, there succeedeth a wilful denial of due and most just payments.

He had a Son whom the Romans would have Created Augustus; which he would ne­ver like of, or consent unto; saying, The gods never grant that, with the hopes of the Empire, my son should be nourished unto vice and idleness.

The Emperor Bassianus would often say, I know not what man, having bread to eat, or gar­ments to wear, and cover himself on land, would (to become an Emperor) go to Sea.

The Emperor Alexander Severus was wont to say, Princes are not to be known by their vassals by their rich robes, but by their good works performed in their Common-wealths.

Lewis the 12th. King of France, when he heard that the Pope had extreamly cursed him; He said, That this was a Pope made to curse, but not to pray.

He had in King Charls his time been evilly used by divers, of whom he was advised to take revenge at his comming to the Crown: Whereunto he answered, That it became not a King of France to revenge the injuries done to a Duke of Orleans.

[Page 59]Looking upon the Roll of King Charls his servants, he found two that had been his dead enemies, upon each of whose names he made a cross; wherewith they being in great per­plexity, supposed the gallows to be prepared for them: Which their fear being discovered to the King. He sent them word▪ To be of good cheer, for he had crossed all their evil deeds out of his remembrance.

When a certain Courtier complained grie­vously of his wives unchastness, The King bad him be of good cheer, for he that respected his wives incontinencie, or the Popes curse, should never sleep quiet night.

Charls of Bourbon had often in his mouth the Apothegme of a Gascoigne Gentleman, who being demanded by Charls the 7th. what re­ward might win him to break his faith with him, whereof he had made trial in so many important affairs? I could not be drawn thereun­to (answered he) though I might have your King­dom given me, or the Empire of the Earth, and all the treasures of the world; but I might be moved to doe it by an outrage that might be offered me, and for some injury that might touch mine Ho­nour.

Plancus being told that Asinius Pollio had written certain Invective Orations against him, which should not be published till after Plancus his death, to the end they might not be answered by him. There is none (saith he) but Ghosts and Goblius that fight with the dead.

Peter Earl of Savoy, who to do his Liege­homage [Page 60] to the Emperor Otho the 4th. came be­fore him in a two-fold attire; for he had on the one half of his body, on the right side, from the top downward, set out with cloth of gold: and the other half on the left side, covered with shi­ning armour. The Emperor asking him what such a divers furniture meant? Sir, answered he, the attire of the right side is to honour your Imperial Majesty; this of the left, sheweth me ready to fight until the last gasp, against those that wish you ill, and speak ill of you.

Pope John the third, being asked what thing was farthest from the truth? The opinion of the common people (answered he) for all that they praise deserve blame; all that they think is nothing but vanity, all that they say is nothing but lying; they condemn the good, they approve the evil, they magnifie nothing but infamy.

Lewis the 11th. used this Apothegme, Where pride and presumption goe before▪ shame and loss follow after.

Dionysius having taken the City Reggio, and in it the Captain Phyton, he told him, how the day before he had caused his son and his kins­folks to be drowned: To whom Phyton answe­red nothing, But that they were more happy than himself by the space of one day.

Thales being asked how a man might be cheerful, and bear up in afflictions: Answer­ed, If he can see his enemies in worse case than him­self.

A souldier being demanded by Nero, why he hated him: Answered him thus: I lo­ved thee whilst thou nere worthy of love; but since [Page 61] thou becamest a paracide, a jugler, a player, and a coach-man, I hate thee as thou deservest.

Another being asked why he sought to kill him? answered, Because I find no other course to hinder thy uncessant outrages, and impious deeds.

Francis Duke of Britanny, Son to John the 5th, when he was spoken unto for a marriage between him and Isabel a Daughter of Scot­land, and some told him she was but meanly brought up, and without any instruction of learning, answered, He loved her the better for it; and that a woman was wise enough, if she could but make difference between the shirt and doublet of her husband.

Demosthenes companions in their Embassage to Philip, praised their Prince to be fair, elo­quent, and a good quaffer: Demosthenes said, They were commendations rather fitting a woman, an advocate, and a spunge, than a King.

Theodorus answered Lysimachus, who threat­ned to kill him: Thou shalt do a great exploit to come to the strength of a cantharides.

Aristotle being upbraided by some of his friends, that he had been over-merciful to a wicked man: I have indeed (quoth he) been merciful towards the man, but not towards his wick­edness.

When an Epigramatist read his Epigrams in an Auditory, one of the hearers stopt him, and said, Did not I hear an Epigram to this purpose from you last year? Yes, says he, it's like you did: But is not that vice still in you this year, which last years Epigram reprehended?

Some came and told Philopoemen, the enemies [Page 62] are with us: To whom he answered, and why say you not that we are with them?

When Sicily did curse Dionysius, by reason of his cruelty, there was onely one old woman that pray'd God to lengthen his life: Whereat Dionysius wondering▪ asked her for what good turn she should do that? She Answered, That it was not love, but fear; for (said she) I knew your Grandfather a great tyrant, and the people de­sired his death; then succeeded your Father, more cruel than he, and now your self worse far than them both; so that I think if you die, the Devil must come next.

Pompey being in Sicily, pressing the Mam­mertines to acknowledge his authority, they sought to avoid it, pretending that they had Priviledges and ancient Decrees of the people of Rome. To whom Pompey answered in cho­ler, Will you plead Law unto us, who have our swords by our sides?

When Lewis the 11th. demanded of Brezay▪ Senescall of Normandy, the reason why he said that his horse was great and strong, being but little, and of a weak stature: For that, answer­ed Brezay, he carries you and all your counsel.

He said, That if he had entred his Reign other­wise than with fear and severity, he had serv'd for an example in the last Chapter of Boccace his book of unfortunate Noblemen.

Considering that Secrecy was the Soul and Spirit of all Designes: He said sometimes, I would burn my Hat, if it knew what was in my Head.

He remembring to have heard King Charls [Page 63] his Father say, that Truth was sick: He ad­ded, I believe that since she is dead, and hath not found any Confessor.

Mocking at one that had many Books, and little learning: He said, That he was like unto a crook-back't man, who carries a great bunch at his back▪ and never sees it.

Seeing a Gentleman which carried a goodly chain of gold, He said unto him that did ac­company him; You must not touch it, for it is Ho­ly: Shewing that it came from the spoil of Churches.

On a time seeing the Bishop of Chartre moun­ted on a Mule, with a golden bridle, He said unto him, that in times past Bishops were con­tented with an Ass, and a plain halter: The Bishop answered him, That it was at such times as Kings were shepherds, and did keep shee [...].

Abdolominus, a poor man, rich in plenty ex­cept plenty of riches; to whom Alexander of Macedon proffering the Kingdom of Sydon, who before was but a gardiner, was by him refu­sed, saying, That he would take no care to lose that which he cared not to enjoy.

When one told a Reverend Bishop of a young man that Preached twice every Lords day, besides some Exercising in the week-days: It may be (said he) he doth talk so often, but I doubt he doth not Preach.

To the like effect Queen Elizabeth said to the same Bishop, when She had on the Friday heard one of those talking Preachers, much commended by some-body; and the Sunday after heard a well▪ labour'd Sermon, that smel [...] [Page 64] of the candle: I pray (said she) let me have your bosome-Sermons, rather than your lip-Sermons; for when the Preacher takes paines, the auditory takes profit.

When Dr. Day was Dean of Windsor, there was a Singing-man in the Quire, one Wolner, a pleasant fellow, famous for his eating, rather than his singing: Mr. Dean sent a man to him to reprove him, for not singing with his fel­lows; the messenger (that thought all wor­shipful that wore white Surplices) told him Mr. Dean would pray his worship to sing: Thank Mr. Dean (quoth Wolner) and tell him, I am as merry as they that sing.

A Husbandman dwelling near a Judge that was a great builder, and comming one day a­mong divers of other neighbours, some of stone, some of tinn, the Steward, as the man­ner of the Country was, provided two tables for their dinners; for those that came upon re­quest, powder'd beef, and perhaps venison; for those that came for hire, poor-John and apple-pyes: And having invited them in his Lordships name to sit down, telling them one board was for them that came in love, the o­ther was for those that came for money; this husbandman and his hind sate down at neither, the which the Steward imputing to simplicity, repeated his former words again, praying them to sit down accordingly: But he answered, He saw no table for him, for he came neither for love nor money, but for very fear.

Scipio being made General of the Roman Ar­my, was to name his Quaestor, or Treasurer [Page 65] for the Wars, whom he thought fit, being a place in those dayes (as is now) of great im­portance. One that took himself to have a special interest in Scipio's favour, was an earnest suitor for it; but by the delay, mistrusting he should have a denial, he importuned him one day for an answer. Think not unkindness in me, (said Scipio) that I delay you thus; for I have been as earnest with a friend of mine to take it, and yet cannot prevail with him.

A pleasant Courtier and Servitor of King Henry the 8ths. to whom the King had promi­sed some good turn, came, and pray'd the King to bestow a living on him, that he had found our, worth 100 l. by the year, more than e­nough: Why, said the King, we have no such in England. Yes Sir (said he) the Provostship of Eaton; for, said he, he is allowed his diet, his lodg­ing, his hors-meat, his servants wages, his riding­charge, and 100 l. per annum besides.

Ellmar Bishop of London dealing with one Maddox, about some matters concerning Pu­ritanisme, and he had answered the Bishop somewhat untowardly and thwartly, the Bi­shop said to him, Thy very name expresseth thy nature; for Maddox is thy name, and thou art as mad a beast as ever I talked with. The other not long to seek of an answer: By your favour, Sir, said he, your deeds answer your name righter than mine; for your name is Elmar, and you have mar­red all the Elms in Fulham, by lopping them.

In the dayes of Edward the 6th. the Lord Protector march't with a powerful Army into Scotland to demand their young Queen Mary [Page 66] in marriage to our King, according to their promises. The Scots refusing to do it, were beaten by the English in Musleborough-fight. One demanding of a Scotch Lord, taken priso­ner, Now Sir, how do you like our Kings ma­riage with your Queen? I alwayes (quoth he) did like the marriage, but I do not like the wooing, that you should fetch a Bride with fire and sword.

Theocritus, to an ill Poet, repeating many of his verses, and asking which he liked best? Answered, Those which he had omitted.

Castruccio of Luca, saying to one that profest himself a Philosopher, You are of the condition of dogs, that alwayes goe about those who can best give them meat. No (sayes the party) we are like Physicians, who visit their houses that have most need of them.

Castruccio going from Pisa to Ligorn by wa­ter, and a dangerous storm there arising, and thereupon being much perplex'd, was repre­hended by one of his followers as pusillani­mous, saying himself was not afraid of any thing: To whom Castruccio reply'd, That he nothing marvel'd thereat; for every one valu'd his life according to it's worth.

Being asked by one, what he should doe to gain a good esteem? He answered him: See when thou goest to a Feast, that a block sit not upon a block.

When one boasted that he had read many things: Said Castruccio, It were better thou couldst brag thou hast remembred much.

Another bragging, Though he had tippled [Page 67] much, he was not drunk: Reply'd, An Oxe doe the same.

Castruccio kept a young Lass, which he lay with ordinarily; and thereupon being re­prov'd by a friend, telling him that it was a great wrong to him, that he had suffer'd him­self to be so taken by a wench: Thou art mista­ken, said he, I took her, not she me.

Being one night in a house of one of his Gentlemen, where there were divers Ladies in­vited to a Feast; and he dancing and sporting with them, more than befitted his condition, was reproved by a friend: Answered, He that is held a wise man in the day-time, will never be thought a fool in the night.

When one ask'd him a favour with many and superfluous words; Castruccio said to him, Hereafter, when thou wouldst any thing with me, send another.

Having caus'd a Citizen of Luca to die, who had help'd him in his rising to his greatnesse; when it was said to him, he had ill done to put to death one of his old friends: He reply'd, You are deceiv'd, I have put to death a new e­nemy.

He said, He wondred much at men, that when they bought any vessel of earth or glass, they sound it first whether it be good; but in taking a wife, they are content onely to see her.

Seeing that one had written upon his house in latine, God keep the wicked hence; Said, The Master then must not enter here.

Treating with an Embassador of the King [Page 68] of Naples, touching some goods of the Borde­rers, whereat he was somewhat angry, when then the Embassador said, Fear you not the King then? Castruccio said, Is this your King good or bad? And he answering, That he was good, Castruccio replyed, Wherefore then should I be a­fraid of those that are good?

The Lord Tinteville said to a great Personage of France, that none could write the life of his deceased Master (Lewis the 11th.) so well as he. To whom he answered wisely: I am too much bound to him to speak the truth.

King James, being invited in a hunting jour­ney, to dine with Sir Tho. J. of Barkshire; turn­ing short at the corner of a Common, hapned near to a Country man, sitting by the heels in the stocks, who cryed Hosanna unto his Maje­sty, which invited him to ask the reason of his restraint? Sir Tho. said, It was for stealing a goose from the Common. The fellow reply'd, I beseech your Majesty be Judge who is the greater thief, I for stealing geese from the Com­mon, or his Worship for robbing the Com­mon from the geese? By my sale, Sir (said the King to Sir [...]ho.) Ise not dine to day on your dishes, till you restore the Common for the poor to feed their flocks. Which was forthwith granted to them, and the witty fellow set free.

Prince Henry was never heard to swear an oath: And it was remembred at his Funeral-Sermon by the Arch-Bishop; That he being commended by one, for not replying with pas­sion in play, or swearing to the truth: He should answer, That he knew no game or value [Page 69] to be won or lost, could be worth an Oath.

There was a Duel between two eminent Per­sons of the Turks, and one slain: The Council of Bashaws reprehended the other thus: How durst you undertake to fight one with the other? Are there not Christians enough to kill? Did you not know, that whether of you were slain, the loss would be the Great Seigniors.

King James having made a large and learn­ed Speech to the Parliament, the Lord Keeper, as Speaker to the Peers, whose place there usu­ally adds to the Kings mind and meaning, thus excuses himself: After the Kings Eloquence to be silent; not to enamel a gold ring with studs of iron. As one sayes of Nerva, That having a­dopted Trajane, he was immediately taken away: Ne post divinum & immortale factum, aliquid mortale saceret; So he durst not after his Maje­sties divinum & immortale dictum, mortale a­liquid addere.

Alphonsus King of Arragon, seeing a young Lady dance with a Gentleman who made love to her, said to him, Comfort your self, this Sybil will quickly render the Oracle you ask: Because the Sybils gave no answers but in motion.

The Monk, who ambitious of martyrdom, told the Souldan, That he was was come into his Court, to die for Preaching of the Truth; was answered, He needed not to have rambled so far for death, for he might easily find it among his Princes at home.

Antigonus being asked by his own son, what time he would remove his Camp? He said, The sound of the trumpet should give them notice.

[Page 70]The Conspirator had learn'd the lesson of silence well; who being asked his knowledge, answered, If I had known it, you had never known it.

Pyrrhus King of the E [...]irotes, having in two set Battels, with great loss of men, put the Ro­mans to the worst, and hearing by a Favourite of his, this his so great good fortune smooth­ingly congratulated: He said unto him, That two Victories indeed he had gotten of them, but them so dear, that should he at the same rate buy a third, the purchase would no less than undo him.

A souldier of Augustus, when his enemies throat was in his power, hearing the Retreat sounded, gave over his violence, with these words; Malo obedire Duci, quàm occidere ho­stem.

The Janizaries are very true to a man that trusts himself with them, and patient in bear­ing abuses. One of them being strucken by an Englishman, as they travelled through Morea, did not onely not revenge it, nor abandon him to the pillage and outrage of others, but condu­cted him unto Zant in safety: Saying, God forbid, that the villany of another should make him be­tray the charge that was committed to his trust.

A great Courtier of the great Moguls, noted to be a great neglecter of God, a souldier of ap­proved valour; but being in dalliance with one of his women, she pluckt an hair from his brest, which grew about his nipple, which presently began to fester, and in short time after became a canker incurable: Seeing he must die, he ut­tered these words: Who would have thought but [Page 71] that I, who have been so long bred a Souldier, should have died in the face of my enemy, by some instrument of war, &c? But now (though too late) I am forced to confess, that there is a great God above, whose Ma­jesty I have ever despised, that needs no bigger lance than an hair to kill an Atheist, or a despiser of his Majesty.

King Henry the 7th. having pressed Doctor Fisher to the Bishoprick of Rochester, all men thinking it to proceed from the request of the Lady Margaret, the Kings Mother, and his Mistris: The King said; Indeed the modesty of the man, together with my Mothers silence, spake in his behalf.

He refused the Bishopricks of Lincoln and Ely, proffered him by Henry the 8th. contenting himself with his former, though less: Saying, Others have larger pastures, but I have lesser charge of souls; so that when I shall be called to an account for both, I shall be the better able to give an account of either.

Bishop Fisher, having all his plate stolne in one night, his servant pursuing the thieves, found some pieces that they had let fall by the way; the Bishop observing the next day the sad countenances of his servants, when know­ing the cause, said: If this be all, we have more cause to rejoyce, that God hath restor'd us to some, than to be discontented that wicked men have taken away any; for the least favour of God Almighty, is more to be esteemed, than all the evil (which the De­vil and all his wicked instruments can do unto us) therefore let us sit down and be merry, thank God it is no worse, and look ye better to the rest.

[Page 72]Sir Thomas Moore, meeting the Bishop going before the Kings Commissioners at Lambeth, saluted him in these terms: Well met my Lord, I hope we shall meet in heaven. To which the Bishop reply'd: This should be the way, Sir Thomas, for it is a very streight gate we are in. They both suffer'd for refusing the Oath of Supremacy.

The Bishop would alwayes say, That the remembrance of death came never out of season.

The Bishops man being clapt up a close priso­ner, and threatned to be hanged (for carrying letters from his Master to Sir Thomas Moore) they then being both prisoners in the Tower) asked the Keeper, If there were another Act of Parliament come forth, whereby a man should be hang'd for serving his Master.

When Henry the 8th. was told the Bishops resolve, to accept of the Cardinals Hat, if the Pope sent it to him: The King said; Yea, is he yet so lusty? Well, let the Pope send him a Hat when he will, Mother of God, he shall wear it on his shoul­ders then, for I will leave him never a head to set it on.

Cardinal Poole saith of Bishop Fisher (in an Epistle Dedicatory to Henry the 8th.) That if an Embassador had been to be sent from earth to hea­ven, there could not among all the Bishops and Clergy so fit a man be chosen as he.

A foreign Embassador, some 200 years since, comming to Durham, addressed himself first to the high and sumptuous Shrine of St. Cuthbert, If thou beest a Saint, pray for me. Then comming to the plain, low, and little Tomb of St. Bede, Because, said he, thou art a Saint, good Bede pray for me.

[Page 73] Richard the [...]d. said no less spightfully than falsly of the Woodvills (brethren to the Wife of his brother King Edward the 4th. by whom they were advanced) That many were made no­ble, who formerly were not worth a noble.

One asked which was the best Edition of St. Augustine? To whom this answer was given (generally true of all ancient Authors) Even that Augustine which is least corrected.

There is a tradition of King Henry the 8ths. fool, comming into the Court, and finding the King transported with an unusual joy, boldly asked of him the cause thereof: To whom the King answered; It was because the Pope had ho­noured him with a style more eminent than any of his Ancestors. O good Harry (quoth the fool) let thou and I defend one another, and let the faith alone to defend it self.

The Lady Katherine, King Henry the 8ths. di­vorced Wife, was wont to say, She accounted no time lost, but what was laid out in dressing of her.

Once an Eloquent Orator, free only of words, being otherwise extreamly covetous, made a large and elegant Oration in Latine▪ to per­swade others bountifully to contribute to a proper object of charity, whilst he himself would not part with one penny to that pur­pose. To whom one of his Audience (though far his inferiour in Eloquence) made this sharp but short return: Qui suadet; sua det. Let him who seeks to perswade others, give something of his own.

Henry the 5th. having born away the Crown, [Page 74] supposing his Father had been dead; when his Father used these words, How I came by it, and what right I have unto it, God knows: He said, I am to receive it from you, as your next heir; and howsoever you came by it, I will keep the possession of it by the sword, against all mine enemies.

When Gowry was led to the Tower, a friend of his told him, Ah, my Lord, I am sorry you had no more wit. Tush (quoth he) thou know'st not what thou sayest, when sawest thou a fool come hither?

When the Romans had nominated Titus Manlius Torquatus to be Consul, he alledging the infirmity of his eyes, refused the honour, and said▪ He should bring in a very ill and perniti­ous example, if he should undertake to govern the Common-wealth with other mens eyes.

Charls the 9th. King of France, offered to the Prince of Conde his choise, whether he would go to Masse, or choose perpetual banishment, or imprisonment? What, replyed he? to goe to Masse, is simply a sin, therefore I will never choose that; but to choose either perpetual banishment, or imprisonment, that I cannot doe, for then I should imply a certain guiltiness in my self; but it is in your power, O King, to inflict which you please, and I am ready to suffer.

When Dionysius presented three whores be­fore Aristippus, bidding him make choise of them: He said, That Paris had such bad success for choosing one of that kind, that he would never make choise of one of the three.

A certain Scholar amongst the Jews, asked one [Page 75] of the Rabbies, his Master, Whether he might read any of the humane Writers, or not? He gave him this Answer: You may read them, pro­vided you read them neither day nor night.

Apelles, when his boy shew'd him a paint­ed Table, and told him that it was done in haste: He answered, He might have spared to tell him so, for the work sufficiently shew'd it.

Luther said, The Cardinals were like Foxes, sweeping the house with their tails, raising more dust than they cleansed.

Mr. Greenham answered one that spake some­what in his own disparagement: Oh (said he) why do you praise your self so much?

Espenceus saith of the Bishops in the Council of Trent; They were learned in their assistants.

Du Mouline said of Roniface his Extrava­gants, They will doe well with a sword in hand.

The Roman General said of a recruited Ar­my of Enemies, That those African Nations, mu­ster'd under several names, were but the same men whom they had formerly beaten under the notion of Carthaginians.

When a Roman Senator asked the Cartha­ginian Embassador, How long the Peace should last? That (saith he) will depend on the Condi­tions you give us, If Just and Honourable, they will hold for ever; but if otherwise, no longer than till we have power to break them.

Batton Desidiale, who moved the people of Dalmatia to rebel against the Romans (seeing them opprest too much with tributes and exa­ctions) making such sharp war against them, [Page 76] as Tyberius the Emperor asked him on a time, why he had caused the people to take Arms? To whom he answered b [...]dly, That the Romans were the cause thereof; for they, in sending them shepherds with good dogs to preserve them, they had sent them wolves which devoured them.

The Emperor Maximilian the 2d. could not endure that War should be made for Religion; and was wont to say, That it was a deadly sin to seek to force mens consciences, the which belongs to God only.

At the Treaty for delivery of the Town of Antwerp, the Hollanders insisting upon ex­plaining the word, scandal, &c. the Duke of Parma said: Can you not do as the Countryman did at Rome, who passing along the streets before an Ecce homo (which is the figure of the repre­sentation which Pilate made of our Saviour Jesus Christ unto the people) having made reve­rence, and passing on, he bethought himself that Pi­late might attribute this honour unto himself; wherefore turning and putting off his hat again, He said, It is to the Christ, not to the Pilate.

Pieresk us, the famous Frenchman, was wont to say, That whosoever seeks after the uncertain good things of this world, should think and resolve, that he gathers as well for thieves, as for him­self.

Plato saith, That the Lawes of Necessity are so inevitable, that the gods themselves cannot alter them.

Caracalla having miserably impoverished the people, his Mother reproved him: To whom he shewing his naked sword, reply­ed, [Page 77] As long as I have this, I will not want.

Aurelian demanding how he might govern well? Was answered by a great Personage: You must be provided with iron and gold; iron to use against your enemies, and gold to reward your friends.

The Caliph of Babylon demurring to give the Embassador of Almerick (King of Jerusa­lem) his hand bare, but gave it him in his glove. To whom the resolute Earl of Caesarea said: Sir, truth seeks no holes to hide it self; Prin­ces that will hold Covenants, must deal openly and na­kedly; give us therefore your bare hand, we will make no bargain with your glove.

Lewis King of France, going the second time to the Holy Land, passing by Avignon, some of the City wronged his Souldiers; wherefore his Nobles desired him to besiege the City, the rather, because it was suspected that therein his Father was poysoned. To whom Lewis most Christianly: I come not out of France to revenge my own quarrels, or those of my Father or Mother, but injuries offer'd to Jesus Christ.

Lewis severely punished blasphemies, searing their lips with an hot iron. And because by his command it was executed upon a great rich Citizen of Paris, some said, He was a Tyrant. He hearing it, said before many: I would to God, that with searing my own lips, I could banish out of my Realm all abuse of Oaths.

It was the Speech of Gustavus Adolphus, but three dayes before his death: Our affairs (saith he) answer our desires; but I doubt God will pu­nish me for the folly of the people, who attribute too [Page 78] much unto me, and esteem me as it were their God; and therefore he will make them shortly know and see I am but a man. He be my witness, it is a thing distasteful unto me: And whatever befall me, I receive it as from his divine will; onely in this I rest fully satisfied, that he will not leave this great enter­prize of mine imperfect.

Hormisda being asked what he thought of Rome? Said, He took contentment in this onely, that he had now learned, how even there also men are mortal.

Socrates, appointed to suffer death, would learn to sing: And being asked what good it would do him, seeing he was to die the next day? He answered thus: Even that I may de­part out of this life, learning more than I knew be­fore.

Themistocles, after a Battel fought with the Persians, espying a pair of bracelets, and a col­lar of gold, lying on the ground, Take up those things (quoth he, speaking to one of his com­pany that stood near unto him) thou art not Themistocles.

A Jew being turned Turk, soon after, buy­ing of grapes of another Turk, fell at variance with him about weighing the grapes; from words they fell to blows, and the Jew-Turk beat the other, which he endured very patiently, to encourage him (as it seem'd) in his new Re­ligion. Soon after another Jew came to the Turk who had been beaten, and demanded of him why he suffered himself to be so abused? Who answered, You shall beat me as much, if you will turn Musulman. So zealous are they to win Proselytes.

[Page 79] Philip the 2d. King of Spain was devoted to his Religion in so intense a degree, that he would often say, If the Prince his Son were an Heretick, or Schismatick, he would himself find fuel to burn him.

The Chyrurgeons being lancing his knee one day, the Prince his Son ask'd him, Whe­ther it did not pain him much? He answered, My sins pain me much more.

Reading a letter that brought him the newes of the loss of his Fleet in 88. He said (without the least motion, or change of countenance) Welcome be the will of God; I sent my Cousin, the Duke of Medina, to fight with men, not with the Elements.

He used to have a saying often in his mouth: Time and I will challenge any two in the world.

Bias being demanded by a wicked man, what was piety? He was silent: The other asking the reason of his silence: I answer not (saith he) because you enquire after that which nothing concerns you.

It was the sentence of Cleobolus: Do good to your friend, that he may be more your friend; to your enemy, that he may become your friend.

To one who reproved Anaxagoras, for not taking care of his Country: Wrong me not, said he, my greatest care is my Country. Pointing to the Heavens.

Portugal being revolted, the Conde D'Olivares came smiling to the King (Philip the 4th.) say­ing, Sir, I pray you give me las albricias to hansel the good newes; for now you are more absolute King of Portugal than ever, for the people have forfeit­ed [Page 80] all their priviledges by this Rebellion: [...]esides, the Estate of the Duke of Briganza, with all his Complices, are yours by right of Confiscation; so that you have enough to distribute among your old loyal servants by way of reward.

Attabali [...]a, a wild Pagan King▪ when he heard that his Kingdom was given by the Pope to the King of Spain: Surely (said he) that Pope must be an egregious fool, or some unjust and impudent tyrant, that will undertake to bestow other mens possessions so freely.

An Indian being to die, was perswaded by a Franciscan Frier to turn Christian, and then he should go to heaven. He asked, Whether there were any Spaniards in heaven? Yes, said the Frier, 'tis full of them. Nay, then (said he) I had rather go to hell, than have their company.

It was an excellent saying of Herod the So­phist, when he was pained with the Gout in his hands and feet: When I would eat (said he) I have no hands; when I would go, I have no feet; but when I must be pained, I have both hands and feet.

John, King of Hungary, used oftentimes to say, That the favour and love of valiant men, gotten by bounty and courtesie, was the best treasures of a Prince, for that courteous and thankeful men did of­tentimes, in some one worthy piece of service, plentifully repay whatsoever had been bestow'd upon them; as for such as were unthankeful, they did, to their shame, bear the testimony of another mans virtue.

After the Victory of Lepanto, one of the chief of the Turkish prisoners, hearing it compared to the loss of Cyprus, said: That the Battel lost, [Page 81] was unto Selymus, as if a man should shave his beard, which would ere long grow again; but the loss of Cyprus was unto the Venetians as the loss of an arm, which once cut off, could never be again reco­vered.

A Countryman in Spain, comming to an I­mage inshrin'd, the extraction and first making whereof he could well remember; and not find­ing from the same that respectful usage which he expected: You need not (quoth he) be so proud, for I have known you from a Plum-tree.

A Persian in England attending on the Em­bassador, anno 1626. who perceiving wealthy people in London, in the time of the plague, tu­multuously posting to their Country-houses: What (saith he) have the Englishmen two Gods, the one for the City, and the other for the Country?

Frederick, Burgrave of Noremberg (which he obtained of the Emperor Sigismond, for his ma­ny good Services) making his Will, he inten­ded to give that charge to his second Son Fre­derick; and acquainting his eldest Son John, (who was a contemplative man) answered: I did always think that Frederick had been more dear to you than my self, which did somewhat grieve me; but now, dear Father, I will change my opinion, and love and honour you, who by your last Will bequeath rest to me, and cares to him.

Caesar was counselled to have a guard al­wayes about him. Whereto he answered: That he would have none; for he would rather die once, than live continually in jealousie and fear.

After his Victory in Spain, against Pompey's Sons (considering the danger he had been in) [Page 82] he used to say, That only that day he fought for his life, and in all other Battels, ever for honour and vi­ctory.

When the Captaines and Souldiers would have given Valentinian a companion and equal in the Empire, He told them: It was in your hands, and in your pleasure, when I was not Empe­ror, to give me the government and command of the Empire; but now, that I have the government, and am in possession thereof, it is no part of your charge, neither ought you to intermeddle therein, for that it is my charge onely.

Valentinian the 2d. caused Ecius his General against Atila to be slain, having some suspition of him; but demanding of Proximus, a dis­creet and noble Roman, Whether he had not followed the best and most profitable Counsel, by putting Ecius to death? He answered: Whe­ther the Emperor hath put Ecius to death with, or without reason, I dare not determine; but this I dare affirm, that by killing him, thou hast with thy own left hand cut off thy right.

The Emperor Henry the 4th. having slain his Competitor Rodulph, whose servants go­ing about to bury the body of their deceased Lord, with the Ensignes and Ornaments of the Emperor, some asked of the Emperor Hen­ry, Wherefore he suffered Rodulph to be bu­ried with such honour, seeing he was a Ty­rant, and his enemy? Whereto he answered: I would to God that all mine enemies were like Rodulph, buried with the Ornaments and Ensigns of Emperors.

David Game, one of the bravest and most [Page 83] judicious Souldier of his time, being sent by Henry the 5th. to make an estimate of the number of the French Army (which infi­nitely exceeded the number of the English) went to the top of an hill, and seeing all the Champion covered with Tents, and blazing with fires, brought word back, That there were enough of them to be slain, enough to be taken pri­soners, and enough to be made run away.

A Kentish Knight, having spent a great E­state at Court, and brought himself to one Park, and a fine house in it, was yet ambi­tious to entertain the Queen at it; and to that purpose had new painted his gates, with a Coat of Arms, and Motto, over-written thus, OIA VANITAS in great golden letters, the Treasurer Burleigh offering to read it, desired to know of the Knight what he meant by OIA? who told him it stood for Omnia: The Lord replyed: Sir, I wonder, having made your Omnia so little as you have, you notwithstanding make your Vanitas so large.

The Philospher, when he saw a vain proud Gull, He wished (he said) that all his friends were but such as that man thought himself, and all his e­nemies such as he was.

Epiphanius having stay'd long at Constanti­nople, and being to take ship to return home again, he said: He was leaving three great things, a great City, a great Palace, and great Hypo­crisie.

Bishop Andrews, whom no man will envy the reputation of one of the greatest Clerks in his Age, when a plain man came seriously to [Page 84] him, and asked his opinion concerning an ob­scure passage in the Revelation: Answered: My friend, I am not come so far.

Henry the 4th. King of France, used to say; That in his Kingdome he observed there was a double tribute used to be paid: One to the King, the other to his Officers; but the first was made in­tollerable by the second.

Tierceline, a Knight of very ancient Extra­ction, observing in his time, the sale of Ho­nours and Offices, nay, the highest Dignitie of all, which is St. Michaels Order, was pro­stant for money: He said; The Order of St. Michael was become a Collar now for every Asse.

Robert, Duke of Normandy, when he was going to the Holy Sepulcher, being met by one of his own Subjects, as he was mount­ed upon a great Saracens back; and being much tyr'd, he said: Commend me to all in Nor­mandy, and tell them, I am going to heaven upon the Devils back.

It was a witty saying of King James, when he was onely King of Scotland, when he re­ceived a Caveat from his Godmother Queen Elizabeth of England, to take heed of the Spa­nish Fleet; He answered: For his part he de­sired but one request of the Spaniard, such a one as that Polyphemus had promised Ulysses, that when he had devour'd others, he would swallow him last of all.

After the loss of Calais, an English Cap­tain, having truss'd up his bag and baggage, to goe for England, as he was going out of [Page 85] the gates, in a jeering way, was ask'd, O English­men, when will ye back again to France? The Captain, with a sad and serious coun­tenance, answered: When the sins of France are greater than the sins of England, then will the En­glish return to France.

When one told Tyberius the Emperor, of some aspersions that were cast abroad upon him; He answered: We are not angry that there are some who speak ill of us; it is enough that we are in such a condition, that no body can do us any ill.

Two Persian Embassadors were imploy'd to Pope Ʋrban the 5th. who being admitted, and desired to deliver their Embassage as suc­cinctly as they could, in regard of the Popes indisposition; yet they made a long tedious Oration, which did disquiet his Holiness, as it was observed by the Auditors; the first Embassador having at last concluded, the se­cond subjoyned very wittily, saying: We have this moreover given to us in charge, that if you will not condescend to our demands, this my Col­league must repeat his Speech again, and make some additions to it. The Pope was so much taken with this, that he presently dismissed both of them very well satisfied for the busi­ness they came about.

A Gentleman, who in a Duel was rather scratcht than wounded, sent for a Chyrurge­on, who having opened the wound, charged his man with all speed to fetch such a salve from such a place in his Study. Why (said the Gentleman) is the hurt so dangerous? Oh yes (answered the Chyrurgeon) if he re­turns [Page 86] not in post-haste, the wound will cure it self, and so I shall lose my Fee.

A notable fellow, and a souldier to Alexan­der, finding his first admission to be the great­est difficulty, put feathers into his nose and eares, and danced about the Court in an An­tique fashion, till the strangeness of the Show brought the King himself to be a Spectator. Then this mimick throwing off his disguise; Sir (said he to the King) thus I first arrive at your Majesties notice in the fashion of a Fool, but can do you service in the place of a wise man, if you please to employ me.

A man full of words, who took himself to be a grand wit, made his brag that he was the leader of the discourse in what company so­ever he came; and none, said he, dare speak in my presence, if I hold my peace. No won­der, answered one, for they are all struck dumb at the miracle of your silence.

When once a Gentleman admired how so pithy, learned, and witty a Dedication was match'd to a flat, dull, foolish Book: In truth, said another, they may be well match'd together, for I profess they are nothing a kin.

A Gentleman travelling in a mysty mor­ning, ask'd of a shepherd what weather it would be? It will be (saith the shepherd) what weather shall please me: And being requested to express his meaning: Sir, saith he, it shall be what weather pleaseth God, and what weather pleaseth God, pleaseth me.

A rich man told a poor man, that he walk­ed to get a stomach for his meat: And I, [Page 87] (said the poor man) walk to get meat for my stomach.

A rich landed Fool, whom a Courtier had begg'd, and carried about to wait on him, comming with his Master to a Gentlemans house, where the picture of a fool was wrought in a fair suit of Arras, cut the picture out with a pen-knife; and being chidden for so doing. You have more cause, said he, to thank me; for if my Master had seen the picture of the fool, he would have begg'd the hangings of the King, as he did my lands.

When the standers by comforted a natural which lay on his death-bed, and told him that four proper fellows should carry his body to the Church: Yea (quoth he) but I had rather by half go thither my self.

One braved a Gentleman to his face, that in skill and valour he came far behind him: 'Tis true (said the other) for when I fought with you, you ran away before me.

Sir Francis Drake, riding within the Road of Port-Rico, a shot from the Castle enter'd the Steerage of the Ship, took away the stool from under him as he sate at supper, wound­ed Sir Nicholas Clifford and Brute Brown to death. Ah! dear Brute (said Drake) I could grieve for thee, but now is no time for me to let down my spirits.

One walking in London-streets, met a gal­lant, who cry'd to him a pretty distance be­fore-hand, I will have the wall. Yea (answer'd he) and take the house too, if you can but agree with the Land-lord.

[Page 88]It was a mannerly answer which a young Gentleman gave to King James, when he asked him what kin he was to such a Lord of his name? Please your Majesty, said he, my elder brother is his Cousin-german.

When one, being an Husbandman, chal­lenged kindred of Robert Grosthead Bishop of Lincoln, and thereupon requested the favour of him to bestow an Office on him. Cousin, (quoth the Bishop) if your Cart be broken, i'le mend it, if your Plough old, i'le give you a new one, and Seed to sow your Land; but an Hus­bandman I found you, and an Husbandman I'le leave you.

Arminius meeting Baudius one day disgui­sed with drink, he told him, Tu Baudi dede­coras nostram Academiam: Et tu Armini (an­swered he) nostram Religionem: Thou Baudius disgracest our Universitie; and thou Arminius our Religion.

Henry the 4th. of France, being troubled with a fit of the Gout, and the Spanish Em­bassador comming then to visit him, and say­ing he was sorry to see his Majesty so lame, He answered: As lame as I am, if there were occasion, your Master the King of Spain, should no sooner have his foot in the stirrup, but he should find me on horsback.

King James asking the Lord Keeper Bacon, what he thought of a French Embassador, who had then lately had his Audience? He answered, That he was a tall proper man. His Majesty reply'd, but what think you of his [Page 87] head-piece? Is he a proper man for the Of­fice of an Embassador? Sir, said Bacon: Tall men are like high houses of four or five stories, where­in commonly the uppermost room is worst furni­shed.

Lewis the 9th. who, in the Catalogue of the French Kings, is call'd St. Lewis, was Baptized in the little Town of Poyssy; and after his re­turn from Aegypt, and other places against the Saracens, being asked by what Title he would be distinguished from the rest of his Predecessors after his death? He answered, That he desired to be called Lewis of Poyssy. Reply being made, That there were divers o­ther places and Cities of Renown, where he had performed brave Exploits, and obteined famous Victories, therefore it was more fit­ting that some of those places should denomi­nate him. No, said he, I desire to be called Lew­is of Poyssy, because there I got the most glori­ous Victory that ever I had; for there I over­came the Devil: Meaning that he was Christ­ned there.

Don Beltran de Rosa, being to marry a rich Labradors (a Yeomans) daughter, which was much importun'd by her Parents to the match, because their Family should be thereby en­nobled, he being a Cavalier of St. Jag [...]: The young Maid having understood that Don Bel­tran had been in Naples, and had that dis­ease about him, answered wittily: Truly, Sir, To better my blood, I will not hurt my flesh.

It was the answer of Vespasian to Apollonius, desiring entrance and access for Dion and Eu­phrates, [Page 90] two Philosophers: My gates are always open to Philosophers, but my very breast is open un­to thee.

It is reported of Cosmo de Medici, that ha­ving built a goodly Church, with a Monastery thereunto annex'd, and two Hospitals, with o­ther monuments of Piety, and endow'd them with large Revenues, as one did much magni­fie him for these extraordinary works; he an­swer'd: 'Tis true, I imploy'd much treasure that way; yet when I look over my Leiger-book of ac­counts, I do not find that God Almighty is indebted to me one penny, but I am still in the arrear to him.

It was a brave generous saying of a great Armenian-Merchant, who having understood how a vessel of his was cast away, wherein there was laden a rich Cargazon upon his sole account, he strook his hand upon his breast, and said: My heart, I thank God, is still afloat, my spirits shall not sink with my ship, nor go an inch lower.

Sir Edward Herbert being Embassador in France, there hapned some classings between him and the great French Favourite Luynes; whereupon he was told that Luynes was his e­nemy, and that he was not in a place of secu­rity there: Sir Edward gallantly answered, That he held himself to be in a place of Security wheresoever he had his sword by him.

FINIS.
Familiar Letters.

Faenestra in Pectore. OR, FAMILIAR LETTERS. By THO. FORDE.

Quid melius desidiosus agam!—
[figure]

LONDON, Printed by R. and W. Leybourn, for William Grantham at the Black Bear in St. Pauls Church-yard, neer the little North Door, 1660.

To the Reader.

Reader,

THe witty Lucian brings in Momus, quarrelling at the Master-pieces which the gods had made; and the onely fault he found with Man, was, That he had not a window to look into his breast. For this rea­son, I call this Packet of Letters Fenestra in Pectore; Letters being the best Casements, whereby men disclose themselves. Judicium fit per Brachium, say the Physicians; and I know no better Interpreter of [Page] the Heart, than the hand; especial­ly in Familiar Letters, whereby friends mingle souls, and make mu­tual discoveries of, and to one ano­ther. The pen, like the pulse, dis­covers our inward condition; if it become faint, or intermitting, like the passing-bell, it gives notice of the decay, if not the departure of friend­ship; which is the soul of humane Societie.

For these, I have no better A­pology than their publication their impudence (if it be so) bespeaking their innocence. They desire to please all, to injure none. If you find some things in them that appear not cal­culated for the Meridian of the pre­sent times, know, that they are left but to shew what the whole piece might have been, had my time and the times accorded; they might then perhaps have given you some [Page] remarks of the miracles of our age, But the Dutch Proverb tels me, Who bringeth himself into needless dan­gers, dieth the Devils martyr.

Nulli tacuisse nocet, nocet esse lo­quutum.

And I very well remember that notable Apothegme of the famous (though unfortunate) Sir W. [...] ­leigh: Whosoever shall tell any great man, or Magistrate, that he is not just; the General of an Army, that he is not valiant; and great Ladies, that they are not fair; shall never be made a Counsellour, a Captain, or a Courtier.

Thou wilt say, it may be, I had little to do to publish my follies to the world, and I am contented thou shouldst think so, if it may pass for my Apologie, That I had little else to do. If it be a crime, the num­ber [Page] of offenders in this kind, is e­nough to authorize the fact, and turn the guilt into a pardon, if not a pass-port.

For they who write, because all write, have still,

That excuse for writing, and for writing ill.

At this time I shall use no other, nor trouble thee any farther (Rea­der) when I have subscribed the Author,

Thy Friend and Servant, T. F.

[Page 1]Familiar Letters.

To Mr. T. C.

Sir,

AT my arrival here, I finde all out of order, though abounding with orders. The King and Queen are departed, which makes us all dead▪ for what cause I cannot tell you, unless it were for fear of the arrival of a stran­ger to this Kingdom, and one that hath been long since banished from hence: Nor durst shee appear now, but that 'tis Parliament-time. She was landed at Westminster by the rout of Water-men, when they frighted away the Bi­shops commig to the House of Commons door, it was put to the Vote, Whether she should come in or no? The better part suspecting by [...]r habit it was Rebellion (they having seen [Page 2] her before in forreign parts) would not ad­mit her: But the Major part carried it in the Affirmative, and the five Members were ap­pointed to entertain her; which they, did, and some say, she was placed in the Speakers Chair. She came not in the Lords House, they could not Brook it; but I dare Say she had a Confe­rence with some of them in the Painted Cham­ber. Her Lodgings are provided in the City, where she goes attired (as necessary) with a fair new cloak of Religion, a Scotch Bonnet, a French Doublet, and Coats like Dutchmens Slops; her hair red, like an Irishmans; neither Bands nor Cuffs, for she indures no Linnen for spight of Lawn Sleeves, unless a two or three Night-caps, because they are of Holland. You would won­der to see in what droves our Citizens flock af­ter her, did you not know it is their nature, af­ter strangers. But I'll follow her no farther, lest you suspect me for one of her followers, who am, Sir,

Your Loyal Friend.

To Mr. T. C.

Sir.

THe Fire is now broken out of the House, and the sparks of sedition fly about the Ci­ty, being blown by the long-winded lungs of some Pulpeteers. Here want not seditious Sheba's [Page 3] to blow the Trumpet, and as a Preludium, here is an hot skirmish of Pens, but the Kings seems to excel them, as much as an Eagles wing a Goose quill. The Women and Maids to espouse the quarrel, bring in their Thimbles, Rings, and Bodkins, with as much zeal as the Israelites did their Jewels to making of their Golden Calf. Such a tyde of Plate every day ebbs and flows at Guild-Hall, that the Roman Emperour who swam in wine, had he enjoyed this, might have sailed in an Ocean of Gold and Silver. They have exer­cised their hands and Pens so long, till their Arms begin to be engaged, and 'tis thought it may prove a Generall Engagement. I can go no farther for the Press, but must here remain, Sir,

Wholly at your disposal,

To Mr. R. R.

My worthy friend,

I Received your Letter, wherein Love and Friendship seem to our-vie each other; and which is predominant, were not easie to deter­mine. Whereat, how I was transported with joy, you may easier guess than I express. For those unmerited Encomiums you so liberally put upon me, I conceive you rather thereby instruct me what I should be, than tell me what I am. Or [Page 4] else, you look'd on those poor m [...]tes with the Multiplying-glass of friendship. Your offer to continue this Literal correspondence, I willing­ly accept, and was never so ill bred as to neg­lect such a benefit, when profered. Willing­ly shall I exchange my glass for your Gold: yet how mean soever my expressions may be; you shall find them richly quilted with Love, which hath long since knit my affections to your ver­tues▪

Nec si surgat c [...]ntimanus Gygas,
—divellet unquam.
The Gyant with his hundred hands,
Shall not untie those silken bands,
VVhich bind me fast to your commands,

Concerning the Books you wrote for, I cannot but admire you should not have received them, since I delivered them to the same Carrier that brought you my Letter. They set out together, however my letter out-strip't them in speed, but I wonder not, that being wing'd with love and desire to visit that breast, which the Muses and Graces emulate to make their Habitation. I may not forget to remember my respects to your Brother, and Mr. P. and to assure you, that a letter from either of them would be ve­ry acceptable; and the rather, though you tell me my friends are all lame, that they are not [...]ame friends. This is the desire of

Sir,
your and their Friend and Servant, T. F▪

To Mr. J. A.

Sir,

I know you will much wonder at this seem­ing Solecisme, and I wonder as much at the cause thereof. Having found the truth of the former part of the verse, that vox audi­ta perit—I am bold to make an experiment of the latter, and try—Si litera scripta mane­bit. Since words, like running messengers, have the fate to have their errand forgot as soon as they are gone, may this serve as a more constant Leiger, to whisper in your ears, that he who was so bold to request that small courtesie of you, was emboldned thereto by a considera­tion, that he was still, as you were once pleased to style him, your Friend. I protest, Sir, in that confidence I so long importun'd you, that I was ashamed to appear to you again with the like request. And yet, desirous to see that poor brat of my own brain, I resolv'd to make use of this Proxie, the rather, because (you know) Literae non erubescunt. Sir, I readily be­lieve that your occasions are great; yet, if you please to make truce with your time, but so long as you may look that poor paper, I will engage the utmost of my abilities to make you a requital; and if you doubt of my abi­lity, 'twill be a work of charity in you to for­give me.

[Page 6]In Solomons Temple there was an outer Court, into which strangers were admitted; and an inner Court, where onely Jewes were to assem­ble; and the Sanctum Sanctorum, where onely the High Priest might enter. Give me leave to tell you, that though you shut me out of the Sanctum Sanctorum of your Friendship, nor will admit me into the inner Court of your Fa­miliars, you shall not exclude me from the out­ward Court of your acquaintance. And in this re­solve he rests, that is Sir,

What, or how you please to call him beside T. F.

To Mr. C. F.

My Real Friend,

I Received your welcome Letter, and as wel­come Token: For the one I send you an An­swer, though not answerable; but to the other, I forbear to retaliate, lest I should thereby turn your Gift into a Bargain.

Sir, I am very glad to hear that you receive your due money for your spiritual bread, al­though, I fear, it is not the Tenth of your de­sert, knowing that you cannot feed them but with fine Flour. And although I would not rob your Family of their Dimensum, yet shall I hope you will not deny me a continuance of [Page 7] those witty crums that fall from their Table. Nor can I be so far mine own enemy, as not to think of yours, as Tully did of Atticus his E­pistles, that the longest are the best. And assure your self, as Cato said, He never knew an old man forget where his gold was. My Fancy often turns Forrester, and walks the round, till I meet with you, when I am infinitely transported with that but imaginary enjoyment of that person I so much delight in; the conceit of which, has driven me into a serious consideration and search, after the wonderful force of the Imagi­nation. And I find, some have been kill'd, others preserv'd, meerly by the strength of their ima­gination. Here could I be tediously copious in as facetious as strange stories to this purpose; but I will not, with Phormio, read a Lecture to Hannibal. It shall suffice me, to hope that such Imagies of the brain, are no breach of the se­cond Commandement: Nor yet am I of the be­lief of that Priest, that was fully perswaded, That nothing was false that was printed. What­ever be, I am sure this is not, that I am

Sir,
your affectionate Friend, T. F.

To Mrs. B.

Mistris,

ALthough unknown (but by your courte­sie) I am bold hereby to salute you, and have sent this poor paper to kiss your hands, who have so kindly provided for mine; not doubt­ing but you will as much admire at these rude lines, as I did at your kinder token. I call it yours, and therefore hold my self obliged by the laws of Gratitude, to return you thanks. And, lest that should be too poor a requital for so great a favour, be pleas'd to accept of this small to­ken; for I hate to be ingrateful, and am loth to be in debt, either i [...] [...]oyn or courtesie. And, that I may not part those whom God hath united, I must not forget to return like thanks to your loving Companion, as knowing it was from your Conjunction this Influence proceeded. May your Lives be as Lines parallal, knowing no date till they both meet in our common Centre of hap­piness. But I fear to be tedious, time and op­portunity may so propitiously befriend me, as in some kind or other, at least, to endeavour you a larger requital: In the interim acknow­ledge me

Your ready, though unknown Servant, T. F.

To Mr. B. R.

Sir,

BEing informed by our common friend N. H. that your intentions are for—next week, I thought it un mannerly, or rather un­friendly, not to bid you Farewel: And I know not better how, than in the words of the Lyrick Poet to his Florus,

I bone quo virtus tua te vocat, I pede Fausto.

And this not being present in person, I am forc'd to do by Proxie, and with [...]o in the Poet, Litera pro verbis. I dare believe, though you go far­ther off, yet your affection will be never the less; for I may justly confer on you, what one once did on Augustus,

Rarus tu quidem ad recipiendas amicitias, ad re­tinendas verò constantissimus.

Story tells us of two Palm-trees, growing on the two opposite banks of a River, which not­withstanding the distance of the roots, and de­spight of the intervening water, did lovingly infoliate and twine their branches▪ So, notwith­standing the distance of place, our bodies are planted in, maugre all opposition, we may en­twine our branches (Letters I mean) neither (I hope) shall any envious Catterpiller (or false [Page 10] friend) eat away those leaves, so long as life re­mains in the root of

Sir,
your unfeigned Friend, T. F.

To M. A. E.

Worthy Sir,

THe opportunity of this Bearer is sufficient importunity to me of troubling you at this time, and your wonted ingenuity, I hope, will be my sufficient warrant: Nay▪ I should be ve­ry much wanting to myself, and that respect I owe you, if I should not. To let you know, that you have not sown the seed of your fa­vours in an altogether barren soyl, as doth he that confers a benefit on an ingrateful person. But it is my grief, that the crop of my abilities falls so much short of your desert, and my desire. To tell you any Newes, were but to put you in mind of those miseries which you are already too sensible of; yet, lest you should expect it, be pleas'd to understand, there was another mes­sage came lately from the K. to the H. H. who have voted an answer to it; God grant it may [...] for Peace, the onely Aqua-vitae to restore [...]is fainting Kingdome. I hope it is not yet [Page 11] with us, as it was once in Persia, when there was a Law made against Peace; though I know subjects seldome draw the sword against their Sovereign, but they throw away the scabbard. I forbear to say more, because I know not whose hands my letter may go through; such is the misery of our Times▪ that Burglary in this kind was never more practis'd▪ nor less pu­nish'd: Nay, Lyes are more tolerable now in Print, than loyal Truth in Writing: Yet fear I not who sees and knows that I profess my self (as I am)

Sir,
your devoted Servant, T. F.

To Mr. T. F.

Sir,

NOt having had the happiness to see you of late, and hearing that you intend to let the Country ingross your company, I thought good to visit you by this silent, yet (to make it a Paradox) speaking messenger, and I had ra­ther you should imagine the cause; yet, if you will not, I must be bold to tell you, that I much wonder I should all this while hear no noise of my Viol. Seriously, Sir, I had such a confidence of your reality to your friends (in which number I esteem my self one) that I could not believe the [Page 12] contrary, though it were strongly instigated to [...]e. And Sir, whether your usage of me hath been answerable to my expectation of you, I leave your self to judge. I cannot ima­gine that you should think I would sell my—for the mending or lend it, with an intention to lose it. I should be very sorry, that that which was made for Harmony, should be an Instrument of Discord between friends; it lies in your power to prevent it: I am willing to be­lieve you will; give not, I pray, my good o­pinion of you the lye, because I desire to re­main,

Sir,
your Friend, T. F.

To Mr. J. A.

Sir,

SInce your departure, the cruel Fates, intend­ing thereby to make me truly miserable, have robb'd me of a very friend, and that by the irrecoverable hand of Death; and, as if they intended me the sole object of their envy, have protracted, if not put off the performance of your promis'd courtesie; so that now I am left alone, solitarily pondering the complaint of old Erasmus: Anicorum meorum, alii moriuntur, alii mutant animum. Me thinks I am depriv'd of all my Senses, since I can neither see you, nor hear, either of, or from you. Knowing [Page 13] not the reason, I am ready to believe the best, and have Charity (which Erasmus in his time compar'd to a Friers Cowle, because it covers a multitude of sins) enough to hide all surmi­ses, till Time, the son of Truth, shall discover all things in their perfect colours. Me thinks I have the fortune of some children, who ha­ving lost one arrow, shoot another after it, ho­ping thereby to find it, and not seldome lose both: However you shall not Him, that will resolve to continue

Your entire Friend, T. F.

To Mr. N. C.

Sir,

I Have sent you as many Letters, as there are Graces, and now, I hope, I may lawfully de­sist, and I have the old rule for my warrant: Si ter pulsanti nemo respondit, abito. I have long look'd, and attentively listned for that happy word, which should at once put a period to your silence, and mine expectation. Happily you may thereby tacitly instruct me of the un­welcomness of my too forward scribling; but I shall end with this, lest I fall under the lash of the Italian Proverb: Chi scrive à chi non ri­sponde, ò è matto, ò hà di bisognia: He that writes to one that answers not, either he is a fool, or [Page 14] has need of him. Your silent action makes me remember the conceit of one, that going in the street, and seeing the Signe of the Gol­den Cross, would lay a wager with him that went with him, that he would make the Ma­ster of the shop (whom I very well know) to pull down his Signe without speaking a word to him: The wager being laid, he pulls off his his hat, and drops half a dozen legs to the Signe; first, on one side, and then on the other; which the Master of the shop seeing, thinking to pre­vent his future Superstition, suddenly pulls down his Signe, which is now supplied with the badge of the Gilded Trumpet. Enough this time, when I have subscribed

Yours, T. F.

To Mr. R. R.

Sir,

I Am so ambitious of continuing our ancient friendship, almost as old as our selves, that I cannot omit the least occasion, that may ei­ increase or preserve it. And although, me thinks, I hear you tell me, that my sounding on so slight a knock, doth but argue me the empter vessel, whilst you who are more full fraught, give no answer, though with much importunity; I have no other excuse, but to tell you, that I do it, to let you see, I had rather seem to be a trou­blesome, than a forgetful friend. Truly sayes our English Proverb: He loves not at all, that [Page 51] knows when to make an end. And the Italians are not amiss, who say, L'amore senza fine, non ha fine. Love that has no by-end, will know no end.

For my part, I profess no other end in my af­fections, but your service, for which I once gave you my Heart, and now my Hand, that the World may see whose servant is

T. F.

To Mr. C. H.

Mr. Ch.

AS I was going to Church, to keep the Fast, your Letter encounter'd me, and (as good reason) turn'd my Fast into a Feast; but such a one, as my Senses were more em­ploy'd on, than my Palat: It rejoyc'd me ex­ceedingly to hear of that ingenious Fl. though I expected to have heard from him before this: But I see

Non factis sequimur omnia qu [...] loquimur, I am sure, Non passibus aequis.

To those Poesies you tell me of, I shall only answer them with expectation, since the Instru­cter of the Art of Poetry tells me;

Nec verbum verbo, curabis reddere.

And to return you something for your Newes, I can only tell you this, that our streets abound with Grashoppers silenc'd by our great Hercules; and others, that look like horses [Page 16] thrown into a certain River in Italy, which are consumed to the bare bones. For your desire to be made merry, I must confess, Laeta decet laetis pascere cor [...]a jocis. But for you to desire it of me, seems to be a jest it self. I doubt to be tedious, and well know Seneca's rule, That an Epistle should not Manum legentis implere. I onely take time to subscribe my self▪

Your true Friend, T. F.

To Mr. S. M. at Barbados.

Friend,

I Received your as welcome, as unexpected Let­ter; of which I will say, in the words of Se­neca that famous Moralist, in an Epistle to his friend Lucilius, Exulto quoties lego Epistolam tu­am, implet me bonâ spe: jam non promittit de te, sed spondet. And God forbid that I should be so uncharitable, as not to believe it: Yet, let me tell you, that without the reality of the actions, it is but a dead letter; nay, 'twill prove a deadly, for, should you neglect to do, what you there promise, or speak there, more than you do, that very letter will one day rise up in judgment a­gainst you. Pardon my plainness, and think never the worse of the Truth for my bad lan­guage; Truth may many times have bad cloaths, yet has she alwayes a good face. It is a good mark of the moral Philosopher, that sheep do not come to their shepherd, and shew him [Page 17] how much they eat, but make it appear by the fleece that they wear on their backs, and the milk which they give. I will not wrong the sharpness of your judgment by applying the Moral. I have read of two famous Painters, who, to shew their skill, the one drew a bunch of grapes so lively, that he cozened the Birds; the other drew a veil so perfectly over his grapes, that he deceiv'd the Artificer himself: Could we draw the colour of our good works never so lively, as to cozen every mortal eye, and draw so fine a veil over our evil deeds, as to conceit our selves into a conceit we had none, yet is there an All-seeing eye, to whom the darkest secret is most appar [...]nt. Did we but tru­ly consider this, it could not chuse but hinder us from committing those things we would be ashamed to do in the sight of Man, which we daily doe in the sight of an Omniscient God. Therefore the advice of the Heathen Philoso­pher, may be made good Christian practice, who advised to set the conceit of Cato, or like Grave man, alwayes before us, to keep us from do­ing what might mis-befit their presence. It is a Character of the wicked man, drawn by the Divine hand, that in all his wayes he sets not God before his eyes: There is also another wit­ness within us, that can neither be brib'd, not blinded. O te miserum, si contemnis hunc testem! O have a care to offend that Bird in the breast, that must one day sing, either your joyful Elogie, or more doleful Dirge. Camd [...]n our Eng­lish Historiographer, tells us of a place in Staf­ordshire, call'd Wotton, in so doleful a place, un­der [Page 18] the barren Hill Weaver, that it is a common Proverb of the neighbours,

Wotton under Weaver,
Where God came never.

But alas! there's no such place on Earth to be found; yet can I tell a place where his pure Spirit abhors to enter, namely, into a person contaminated and defiled with sin, and thereby made the harbour of Satan, and hatred of the most High.

Whereas you tell me you are faln to labour, let me comfort you with this, that it is as uni­versal as unavoidable a Fate laid on us by the mouth of Truth. Man is born to labour, as the sparks to fly upward: As if Man and Labour were Termini Convertibiles. But that you take more pleasure now in Labour, than you did before in your Pleasure, it much comforts me, assuring me that you are now sensible of that which the Romans taught by placing Angina, the goddess of sorrow and pain, in the Temple of Volupeia, the goddess of Pleasure; as if that pain and sor­row, were the necessary consequences of plea­sure: Whereas on the contrary, Goodness is like the Image of Diana, Pliny speaks of: Intrantes, tristem; Euntes, exhilerantem. How wretched therefore is their condition, that have their portion in this life! Well may we be strangers in this worldly Aegypt, so we may be inhabi­tants hereafter of the Heavenly Canaan. And you, and I may say in the words of Seneca, Satis multam temporis sparsimus, incipiamus nunc in vasa colliger [...]: We have spent time enough [Page 17] already, and 'tis high time now to save the rest and to make the best of the remnant of our life, because we know not how short it is. It was a wise caution of Eleazer, a Jew, who be­ing demanded, When it would be time to repent, and amend? Answered, One day before death. And when the other replied, That no man knew the day of his death. Begin then (said he) even to day, for fear of failing. Hoc proprium inter caetera mala, hoc quoque habet, stultitia proprium, semper incipit vivere, quid est enim turpius, quam senex vivere insipie [...]s. Give me leave, not to instruct you, but to tell you what counsel I desire to practise; for it was an envious disposition of that Musician, that would play so softly on his Harp, that none could hear but himself. First, 'Tis my care not too much to indulge my body, as knowing that those things the body inclines to most, are of the world, which is en­mity with God; and what the Spirit prompts to most, must needs be best, because the Spirit is heavenly, and more of kin to the Deity. Ho­nestum ei vile est, cui corpus nimis charum est; said one, that knew well what he said: 'Tis not for nothing that our inward spirit is alwayes most sad, when our outward man is most merry. In the second place, 'Tis my desie to avoid ill com­pany, because, as 'tis said of the Tyrant Me­zantius, Corpora corporibus jungebat mortua vivis. In that the Living rather putrefied by reason of the Dead, but the Dead did not revive by the Living. Such is the nature of man saith St. Gregory, Ʋt quoties bonus malo conjungitur, non ex bono malus meliocriter, sed ex malo bono contami­netur. [Page 20] It is a good caution therefore St. Ber­nard gives (in his 48th. Serm. in Cantic.) wri­ting upon these words, As the Lilly among thorns, &c. Vide (saith he) quomodo cautè ambulas inter spinas. I speak this the rather, because I presume you walk there among thorns, and I know not whether there be a place there like the street in Rome, that was called vicus sobrius, because there was never an Ale-house in't. And, as Socrates said of Alcibiades (that miracle of his time) when he saw him among Gallants, I fear not Him, but his Company. Now the number of this Company, should not be a meanes to make us run with them, but rather to run from them. And to this end, 'tis necessary for a man to be ever resident on his Calling, lest he be turn'd out of his Living, or at least of his well living, for non­residency. Out of a mans Calling, out of Gods Protection. 'Tis an Apothegme of a late Wit, That he who counts his Calling a Prison, shall at length make a Prison his Calling. But whither do I straggle? Me thinks I hear you say, as Queen Elizabeth once did to an Embassador, who made a long Oration before her in high terms, She answer'd him, Expectavi Legatum, Inveni Heraldum; I expected an Embassador, but find an Herald: So, me thinks, I hear you say, Ex­pectavi Epistolam, Inveni concionem. I must con­fess, I might have learn'd so much modesty from Roscius the Roman Orator, who was ever mute when he din'd with Cato; and the Thrush never sings, if the Nightingal be by. I might very well have spar'd this labour, it being per­form'd so well by—yet if I have done amiss, [Page 21] it shall satisfie me, that I did it to satisfie mine own conscience. Now might I relaxare ani­mum, recreate your mind, by making you some mirth with the discords of our Times; but tru­ly they appear to me a fitter subject for our tears of sorrow, than of mirth. Assure your self, I had not thus far transgrest upon your patience, did you not know me to be

Perfectly your Friend, T. F.

To Mr. A. E.

Sir,

THough I have not had the happiness of late to be so propitiously be-friended by occa­sion as to write to you,; yet am I so confi­dent of your wonted ingenuitie, that you will not attribute it to any neglect of mine; which if I were conscious to my self were so, I should judge it a crime so great, that I should not for­give my self. But the truth is, I find more danger in the conveying of Newes, than in the hearing of it: Nay, my misery is, I cannot, or dare not at least, inform you of more than e­very Pamphlet can; to such a height of suspi­tion are we now arrived. Besides so barren is each day of Newes, that 'tis not worth doing penance in a sheet: yet, because you are desi­rous to know (and I as willing to satisfie your desire) what's done in the Assembly and P. I [Page 22] will venture to tell you in an old story. 'Tis this: Mr. Popham, when he was Speaker, and the lower House had sate long, and done, in effect, no­thing, comming one day to Queen Elizabeth, She said to him, Now, Mr. Speaker, what hath pass'd in the lower House? He answered, If it please your Ma­jesty, seven weeks. You need fear no danger in this, for 'tis Nothing; and the Treaty is come to as much, both Parties being not like to meet, standing still at their former distance. This was prettily Emblem'd by two Sphaerical bo­dies, touching onely in Puncto with this Motto, Pungere possunt, pacificari non possunt.

Thus, Sir, you see, amidst these dusky clouds, Friendship dares mingle flames in a Convex, though not in a direct line. Ascertain your self of this, That as it shall ever rejoyce me to hear of your health; so it shall be my endea­vour alwayes to be

Your unfeigned Friend, T. F.

To my Father.

Sir,

AFter the remembrance of my duty, which at all times wants not in my will, though sometimes in my power. I lately saw Mr. M. but cannot tell you whether with greater joy, or grief. It rejoyc'd me exceedingly to hear of your health, but grieved me more to hear of my Mothers grief, for a false information, that [Page 23] I was a Sectary, and a Malignant. Give me leave therefore to say something, whereby I may at once recover her right opinion, and my reputation. And first for the Sectary, Should I say nothing, my practice were enough to testifie, that I do as much shun their Compa­nies, as hate their Tenents. I count them as moles and warts, nay, wens in the face of the Body Po­litick, which, if not timely lanced, will in time not onely deface, but destroy our Common Mother the Church: Neither do I love to run into those by-wayes of Sects and Schismes, but rather keep the safer road of the Churches pra­ctice. There is but one Way, one Truth; and I account all those (not one better than ano­ther, but) all out of that one Way, all opposites to that one Truth. I esteem them but as wilde beasts broken into the Vineyard of the Church, the hedge of our Government being pull'd up; but as nettles and weeds, (sown and water'd by that envious man) grown up to such an height, that will in time, not onely o're-top, but o'return the good corn. They are true vipers, a beast, where­of Naturalists report, that first the she-viper bi­teth off the he-vipers head, and so she conceives with young, and those young g [...]aw a passage through their dams belly; so that their life is the death of both Father and Mother, as I may so speak. This story I onely relate, not ap­ply, the Time and Times will not permit me. But that these Vermin do daily encrease, is as true as lamentable; and they go on with that impudence, that they dare to quote Authority for their false actions. If this be not enough [Page 24] to evince my integritie in this particular, I here protest, that I am so far from falling, or leaning after any of these wayes, that I utterly abhor and detest them. I come now, to wipe off that other aspersion of a Malignant; a term that hath as much simplicity as malice in't: For indeed, it is a name fitter for the Devil, than a Christian; nay, the Devil, in French, is call'd The Malignant Spirit: And, according to the true signification of the word in our language, it signifies one that bears malice, or grudge to another. Now, if this be the thing is meant, I thank God, I bear no man in the world the least grudge or spight; therefore, in that re­gard, I am no Malignant: But, if this be not their meaning, for my part, I doubt of know­ing it, whilst they are ignorant of it themselves. Well, I see I must, like children, frame a Baby of clouts to shoot at, fancie a conceit in my brain, which I must confute. If then, by a Malignant, is meant one that opposeth the Par­liament; be it known, that I never, in the least word or action, did, or will do any thing to adopt me to be a Malignant: Or, if by it is intended such a one, as will not run with the giddy mul­titude, that run before they are sent, and are for that (with less simplicity, though as much malice, term'd Round-heads) that is, one that in ever turning, is never setled. And, indeed, I know not how they should otherwise but wan­der in the Labyrinth of Errors, not following the Cloud of the Churches practice: whereas, it is the Character of a good man, to be like the Timber of Noah's Ark, which was (not round, [Page 25] but) four-square, and would, therefore, not turn, but abide firm: If to be so, be to be a Ma­lignant, I care not to profess my self one. It is with men in these Times, as I have observ'd in a Company of Souldiers, upon any motion, those that are skilful and tried Souldiers, it is but taking a step with one foot, whilst the other stand [...] fast, and the motion is performed; whereas such as are ignorant, run to and fro, perplexing them­selves, and putting the whole company out of order, before they get into theirs. So it is with us, we move not without the word of Com­mand, and then we shall, without molestation, face about, if our Leaders think fit: Holding in this particular, the Politicians rule; However we admire what's past, to submit to what's present. It were easie to be infinite in this discourse. To shut up all, when I know better what it is to be a Malignant, I shall be ready to give an account of my judgment and practice. In the mean time, I beseech you to believe, that I am neither Sectary, nor Malignant: But

Sir,
your dutiful Son, T. F.

To Mr. E. B.

Ned,

GIve me leave to tell thee a truth in the words of that witty Martial, to his Friend Priscus.

Cum te non nossem, dominum, regem (que) vocabam,
Cum bene te novi, tam mihi Priscus eris.

I will not venture at a Translation, lest it should lose by't. But let me tell thee, I suppose more friendship in that Monosyllable, than all the swel­ling colours of abused Rhetorick. 'Twere a needless Tautologie, to tell thee thy Letter was welcome to me; Diu desiderata dulcius veniunt. Thou dost enhance my value of them by their scarcity. But, for mine, alas, poor ex tempore things! I make them as common, as they are easie; and yet am careless of my credit, that I may not seem careless of my friend. Thou needst not beg such a trouble, that is as certain as the Moons course. I am glad thou hast got a wit­ty Companion there, for 'twas long since (here) turn'd out of the Line of Communication. Com­mend me to L C. L. and tell him, his name should speak him my friend; for, really, I am more be­holding to that name, than any one I know. But I need not goe so far about, 'tis sufficient he is thy friend, and then he cannot chuse but be mine; for, among friends, all things are com­mon, and why not friends too? Really, I am so taken with that witty companion (and I know thou wilt not be-lye him) that if he will honour me with his name in a piece of paper, I will keep it as a Relick. And if I have run into an absurdity, let my fault be excusable, in that it is in relation to that thou callest Wit; and

If Cloris do at upon her face,
The fault is in her Looking-glass.

But for Newes, I know your eyes out-strip my pen, and, me thinks, I see thee first look for the Newes at the latter end; that thou readst my Letters, like Hebrew, backward. Yet, this time, thou wilt onely finde, what's no Newes, that I am

Thine, T. F.

To Mr. C. F.

Sir,

REsolving, not alwayes to act the Eccho onely in single Answers, to your wel­come Letters. No longer ago than the last night (my thoughts were wholly imploy'd upon a more pleasing object than sleep it self) in a serious contemplation of you, my Second-self: The result of my thought, after a full consultation, were, to visit you by a more real Proxie than my rambling fancie: For, though I have read of a Gentleman, who, going to the Spittle, to hear one of those an­nual Sermons, it seemes his slownesse had shut him out of all hope of hearing, and [Page 28] almost seeing the Preacher; till, remembring he had a Perspective glass in his pocket, there­by drawing the Preacher nearer to his sight (to prove a communitie of the Senses) the sto­ry tells me, he heard him audibly. I never try­ed the experiment, but I dare affirm, that by the Perspective-glass of Fancy, I have both vi­sibly and audibly enjoy'd your wished pre­sence. You know the old maxime is, Ubi a­mat, ibi animat: 'Tis therefore no Paradox to affirm, that I have often been in the New For­rest, (which your sweet presence converts into a Paradise) although I was never there. But I fear, this is no better than Crambe bis co [...]ta, and so nauseous, I quit it therefore, and re­turn to my first purpose, which was to tell you, that your last letter really prevented my resolved intentions, which yet I am (and ever shall be) glad of, to be thus intercepted, as professing it to be more proper to my weak pen to be Re­spondent; which you will not doubt of, if you consider, that Trumpeters love to sound near Fordy places, where the Eccho uses to be most solvibly Respondent: But I talk of an Answer, and return none.

In brief then, thus: I begin where you end, and here desire to erect an Altar of thanks to the protecting providence, that shielded you (and in you my self) from that first imminent, then eminent danger; as knowing the truth of that saying, That Blessings often ravel out, for want of h [...]iming by thankefulness. I cannot speak my mind fuller, than he has done to my hand: Now, to your desire, I cannot yet return you [Page 29] other answer, than that the utmost of my en­deavours were long since devoted to your com­mands: And for—I expect him daily in Town; when he is, I shall acquaint him with your intentions to him. I hear that he is al­ready turn'd Predicant; me thinks 'tis some­thing too soon, to spend his small stock of parts, which, I fear, will make him Mendicant. But I had forgot to tell you, that I cannot but ap­prehend, that Providence in your late delive­ry, hath plainly given you a Caveat, that you, at least your Credit, will be most safe in your own house. Prethee pardon me▪ if my affection make me thus (if not too) bold, to tell th [...], that you betray that precious jewel of your credit to the rape of every felonious tongue, which would be far more safe in your own House. I could say more, but verbum sat, &c. Take it as the counsel of

Your really endeared Friend, T. F.

To Mr. E. B.

Honest Ned,

IF there be one, whom the necessitie of my Stars compel me to love, 'tis thee: But be­sides this, I find my self entangl'd with a dou­ble tye; first, of thine unparallel'd Love, as the tree; and now a gift, as the fruit of that: And, how willingly am I imprisoned with these fet­ters! [Page 30] which, certainly if I could, I would not break; a three-fold cord is not easily crack't. Well, I acknowledge my self, not onely thy Debtor, but thy Prisoner, and count it my one­ly Liberty. Expect no such golden-mouthed Let­ter from me as yours was, nor any silver-tongu'd Complements▪ Believe me, where I see most com­plement, I suppose least friendship. Let me one­ly affirm, that though our bodies are severed, our souls still meet; though we are divided, we are not divorced; but like this Virgin-widow, still flourish, though in the All deflowring Winter. Take it therefore, not as a Token▪ but an Embleme of our Love. I presume it cannot be unwelcome; if not for the Senders, yet for the Author, and the Subjects sake: And for the other, if there be a Sympathy in Friendship (as I believe there is) then cannot that be unpleasing to you, which was so su­perlative pleasing unto me. However, I have aimed onely at a supplying you with what (I conceive) your Countrey is defective in. Sure I am, the offence cannot be great (if it be so) the gift it sell being so small; especial­ly from

Your fast Friend, T. F.

To Mr. R. R.

Worthy Friend,

WIth how much joy I received your exqui­site Epistle, is easier for you to imagine, than me to relate. You know me too well to expect the like Return from me; yet shall I de­sire to follow you,

Tamen non passibus aequis.

And to pay you your Golden Royals (if the comparison be not too mean) with my farthing language: Yet, hoping it may be Current a­mong friends; for, I dare assure you, they car­ry the stamp of the Heart.

My Tongue's not tip't with Complements, which be
But like green leaves to skreen Hypocrisie,
With words as false as fair. Who Fucus layes
Ʋpon her face, It's homeliness betrayes.
Nor skill I of the powerful charms of Art,
But I can speak the Language of the Heart.

I admire others Neatness, but practice Reality, which I esteem so much the more, as I find it less used. I think the Publique▪ Faith has devoured all fidelity, and the Sword cut that (supposed) indissoluble knot of friendship, can­cell'd the Bond of all Obligations. Henceforth, shall they be onely Names, and succeedings A­ges not know what they meant. But to your [Page 32] Letter, and my Answer; which when I consi­der I cannot but apply that proper Speech of the deep Putean to his Friend; Scribere ego poenè impudentiam, silere tu delictum censeas. Yet know I not of any letter that lies by me unanswer'd; for, I hold it a breach of the Articles of Friend­ship, not to be punctual in Returns of this Na­ture. If you accuse me of breach of promise, I cannot but tax you of delay in yours; though I count this but Billingsgate policie. Proceed, then, my Friend, and let our friendship be a Particular Exception from the General Rule of the worlds falshood. Our sweet Flower is trans­planted to a remote soyl, near the Isle of Wight. Pardon me, if I be covetous of your learned lines, to supply the vacuum of his absence: Nor is this covetousness unlawful; for I dare pro­nounce it (in Seneca's style) Avaritia Honesta. And, hoping your fair Cham will not disdain the silent whispers of a shallow Forde▪ assure your self, you shall not hereafter complain for want of this kind of trouble: Although, to deal ingeniously with you (as I would have my friends to deal with me) I have so long discontinued this practice, that my pen is grown blunt, and my ink thick: But some of your Academick Flames, may contribute much to the sublimating of my setled fancy, which shall wholly run in Channels of your com­mands: For I am

Sir,
your ready Servitor, T. F.

To L. C. L

Sir,

YOu are pleased to style me your Honoured Friend, which I must confess to be too high a style for my low deserts to climbe, did I not consider, that my Honour consists onely in your Honouring me with so unmerited a Title. 'Tis a Maxime, Honor non est in honoranti, non in h [...] ­rato. Sir, I protest I intended nothing that might occasion a blush; if it were, it was more proper for my self: yet, having such a mirrour, I was bold, against the rules of Maiden-modesty, to look a stranger in the face. And truly, though I have no skill in Palmistry, yet, by those fair lines of your Hand, I dare, without fear of flat­terie, tell you, that Ned nothing wronged you; for, I assure you, I discover in them a great deal of ingenuitie. But, to cast off all terms of distance, that we may meet in a closer conjun­ction, believe it, Sir, in plain English, that I love you with an implicite love; and shall count my self not a little happy, if those seeds of friendship, sown in Winter, may flourish in the Spring, and out-date time it self. This shall not be wanting, either in the desires, or endea­vours of

Sir,
your as real as unknown Friend and Servant, T. F.

To Mr. E. B.

Dear Ned,

I Should scarce believe there were such a thing in rerum naturâ, as what we call a Friend, did not you come in, and convince me that you are one; and, what's more, Mine. Goe on▪ and let the world see, there is yet living that flame of antique friendship, which the Ancients boast, and we despair of. I heartily thank thee for thy last letter, though by the hand of a left-handed man-midwife it mis-carried in the delivery; and (as bearing the fate of the Author) is gone on Pilgrimage as far as Exeter. I much la­ment the loss, and should more did I not think the kinder Fates did it out of love to me, lest I should have perished with too much joy. Hast thou not heard? I am sure I have read of ma­ny, that have been smothered with too much Happiness. Alexander, when hearing that he was at once made Father of a Son, and Con­querour of his Enemies, desired the gods to qualifie it with some cross. It were easie to be copious in this subject, did I not write to one, that may read to me in History: And, truly, my last letter had the fate to be out-dated long before I could get conveyance for it; wherein it much resembled the worm (in Pliny) called Multipoda, or many feet, and yet hath a very slow▪ pace. Ned, I wish thee often here, yet am I never absent from thee: For, since that friend­ship [Page 35] incorporated us, it is no Paradox to affirm, Hoc memorabile est, ego tu sum, tu es ego, unanimi sumus. Neither mayst thou think, that distance, or cold can sunder me, but I shall burn in friend­ship by an Anteperistesis. Things are now at the Height, that we expect a sudden crack: I will not make my paper guilty of relating any of it, you will see it in Print. What effects 'twill produce, I will not Prophesie: But you know, The Philosopher that looked too high, fell in­to the ditch. Farewel, and continue to Love

Thy constant Friend, T. F.

To M. C. F.

My Alter Ego,

MY last was in answer to yours of the 18th of September; since when, I have been for­ced to recreate my fancie, with thoughts of thee my second self, as Dido, in the Poet, did her▪ Aeneas:

Illum absens absentem auditque, viditque.

Which I find well paraphrased to my hand, thus:

Whilst absence sever'd them apart,
She saw, and heard him in her heart.

If my thoughts were so satiated with a meer [Page 36] what would your real Letters doe? which I know to be fraught with profitable plea­sure, the perquisites of a true Epistle: And though mine be not equal to ballance yours, yet I shall endeavour to recompence in num­ber, what they want in weight.

Yours are rich wares, mine poor baggatels,
Yours Orient Gems, mine rugged oyster-shels.
Yet Tokens, with the true stamp, may
Be currant, though of base allay.

Sir, flattery is no part of friendship; Non amo quemquam nisi offendam, said a wise Heathen. Give me therefore leave to tell you, that you are too careless of your credit: I hear you have thereby lost much ground in your P. af­fections, which I could wish by Mr. E's▪ ex­ample, you would be careful of; for I can as­sure you, in these times, the peoples affections are but a fickle foundation to build ones hopes on: 'Tis a thousand pities, that the best ground should be the dirtiest, and the best work-men the worst husbands; especially one of your colour, who ought to walk not onely castè, but cau [...]è. You know who sayes, A Ministers Doctrine is like a candle, if not guarded by the lanthorn of a cautious life, will soon be blown out by the wind of detraction. The Egyptians Hierogliphick God by an open eye: He is totus oculus; and I am perswaded, there is no colour so much in his eye as black▪ E­nough of this: I am not willing to run into the common errour of the Times, to usurp Moses Chair. If my zeal to your welfare has already committed a trespass, let it be suffici­ent, [Page 37] that it was out of perfect friendship. It is said of Gerson (that famous Frenchman) that he took not content in any thing so much, as in a plain and faithful reproof of his friend: And, it is the note of that venerable Bede, that Sem­per optimos sapientum ut dictum majorum auscultent, aliquando minorum. And I will not onely suffer, but thank you, to deal so with me. Concern­ing Newes, I am of the Italians mind, That nulla nuova, is bona nuova; the least newes is the best newes. Take it briefly thus: His Majestie doth lay aside his own Interest wholly, that He may (if possible) comply with his Con­querors; that I may truly apply to him that saying of an undaunted Captain, slighting the insulting braves of him that took him, thus: Thou holdest thy Conquest great, in overcomming me, but mine is far greater, in overcomming my self. 2. Death is grown as insatiable a Coun­try C. M. for he hath of late swallow'd all the living creatures, men, women, dogs, cats, &c. in a whole Citie in Spain, not leaving one alive to relate it. But I forgot your business. I men­tion'd it to Sir Ch. who is no Orderly man, nor willing to receive it: I have mention'd it to others, with as much earnestness as you can i­magine, but the great distance of place, makes them not meet my desires. Though I have u­sed this (as I thought perswasive) argument, The farther out of sight, the more safe: For I am confident, many a mans Good Living, and not his bad life, has entitl'd him to a Prison. There­fore count I you wise, in sequestring your self, to avoid a Sequestration. Sir, I hope you will [Page 38] judge of my endeavours by the success, but believe me to be

Yours as real as obliged Friend and Servant, T. F.

To Mr. E. B.
Bad, wicked warr. Anagr.

Honesty,
NOw must my wearied fancy undertake
A tedious task: to seek I know not where,
Whom I shall find, alas! I know not when:
Yet on I must, bound by a thred of love,
Which happily may prove a clew to guide
Me in this wide Maeandring Labyrinth.
So have I seen (as groping in the dark)
An arrow shot at randome, hit the mark.
On then, my Pilgrim-pen, mask'd in the weeds
Of blackest sorrow; and with big swoln eyes,
Seek him thou canst not see: make hils & dales
Resound with thy loud voicing of that name,
Whose Eccho stands in competition with,
And far out-vies the musick of the Spheres:
At whose sole sound my duller senses dance
A Galliard; but that failing, lifeless stand.
Like that strange Lake, that whilst the musick sounds,
Doth flow in measures; and then ebb as fast,
When that doth cease: Or like the stones & trees
[Page 39]That danc'd attendance on Orpheus Harp.
Strike thou blest Lyre, and with thy musick call
My sorrow-fetter'd senses from the grave
Of lumpish grief; which Resurrection must
Only be wrought by thine all-charming pen:
Or else, as great Augustus, in a kiss,
Surrender'd up his latest breath unto
His dearest Livia; thereby making her
Sole Heir to that surviving part, which long,
By transmigration, lived in her breast.
So must my starved Hopes surrender to
Those long and fierce assailants, which besiege
Me, with their troops of fears, and pale despair,
If not relieved by thy timely quill.
But fear, like to a cunning enemy,
Doth labour to perswade my jealous thoughts,
That thou art not in a capacitie.
Now, therefore quickly, my Terpander, come
With thy Harmonious layes, allay these stirs,
And civil broyls, in my perplexed thoughts,
For fear they mutinie, and me betray.
Delay not, now, to give my fears the lye:
For, spinning out the thred of time, will make
But a sad woof to cloath my sorrows with,
And turn my Tragick verse to Elegies.
And thus my many feet have almost run
My fancie out of breath: Here I must rest,
And Tantalize with weary expectation,
Till mother-time (that's gravidated with
A dubious issue) be deliver'd of
A masculine, white boy of mirth, or with
A female Negro of grief; which will be
Strange welcome to
Your Servant, Allégre.

To Mr. S. M.

Sir,

IT is reported by Pliny, that Apelles, that fa­mous Painter, was wont, when he had finish­ed any piece of work, or painted table, to set it forth in some open place, or thorow-fare, to be seen of Passengers; and himself would lie close behind it▪ to hearken what faults were found in it; in that, preferring the judgment of the vulgar▪ before his own, imagining they would spie more narrowly, and censure his faults more severely than himself could. Ha­ving exposed this homely piece to publick view, I have, with Apelles, li [...]n unseen, and to that purpose, unknown, that thereby I might the better learn what others opinions were thereof: Not trusting to my own, as knowing that Ely was not the onely indulgent Father to his own Off-spring. And, as it was his aym to relie up­on the judgment of the most judicious (of which number, I esteem your self none of the least) it had been presented to you in the first place, had I not been deterred, as not daring to approach the scorching rayes of your severer censure: Like him, that being in the presence of Augustus▪ the Roman Emperor (who had a piercing Eagle-eye) turn'd away his face; the Emperour demanding the reason why he did so? He replied, Quia fulmen oculorum tuorum ferre non possum. The like may I affirm: Ter [Page 41] limen tetigi, ter (que) recedi. Oft have I been about it, and as oft repulsed by the consciousness of mine own unworthiness: Yet have I, at length, ad­ventured, in confidence that you have, as well charity to pardon, as judgment to find out errours. With such a hope therefore, that you will skreen your severer censure with a veil of charitie, I have, at length, presumed this into your pre­sence: The rather, because I do hereby but return you the Hony, made from the various flowers of your own garden; where, I hope, I have not (as some that do, Spinas libroru [...] collige­re) weeded books; but crop't their blossomes, and yet left never the less behind me. Natu­ralists (those Clerks of Natures closet) report of the Peach-tree, that it receives the qualitie of the soyl where it is planted. In Persia it is poyso­nous, elsewhere nutrimental: Such is the conditi­on of our nature, that it ever reteines the sa­vour of that liquor wherewith it was seasoned in its youth. It hath been my care, and is my hope, that I may one day affirm that of the Philosophers scholar, Me mihi melior reddidit, quàm accepit. Another obligation there is also, which hath occasioned in me this present bold­nesse, and to you this present trouble: Tha [...] you are one that do not scaenam servire, but are truly sensible of the irregular actions of those, who would be thought the line of Truth. I think the Poet Prophesied of our age, when he com­plain'd,

Victa jacet pietas, & cedit viribus aequum.
Non metuunt leges, stat pro ratione voluntas.
Omnia pro tempore, nihil pro veritate.

Comines complaines, that many mens Offi­ces and Lands were taken from them for run­ning away (in the Battle between Lewis the 11th. and the Burgundians) and given to those that ran nine miles farther. But I have made too long a Parenthesis in your more se­rious occasions; and, me thinks, I hear Apelles his Ne sutor ultra crepidam, rounded in my ear. I here cease, though not from being

Your faithful Servant, T. F.

To Mr. C. F.

Sir,

YOur Letter of the 2d. of November, came safe; and though late, yet at last I return you an answer: For, though the Apostle saith, it is the duty of a good servant [...] not answering again: yet I think, it is no part of a good friend. Whereas you tell me, it is no Newes to hear of the theft of felonious tongues, but that it were a greater wonder, if they should turn honest, it puts me in mind of a facetious speech of the grave Cato: When one asked counsel of him soberly, what harm he thought [Page 43] boaded him, because Rats had gnawn his Hose? He answered with this jest: That it was a strange thing to see that; but it had been much more strange, If his Hose had devoured the Rats. Now, to be serious. If you will needs know from whence that smoak came, I must tell you, it arose from the New Forrest, but I dis­cover'd it at London; and finding it might fore­run a storm, I was bold to fore-warn you of it, because, you know, Praemonitus, praemunitus. Neither ought you (I suppose) to despise it, (especially comming from a hand aimed only at your safety. Great ships have been cast a­way by a little leak unlook'd to. I remember the Fable that the Butterfly asked the Owle, How she should deal with the fire that had scorched her wings? Who counselled her, not to behold so much as its smoak And, because you will know of me where this vapour did beat in; Truly, I was informed, you were like to ruine your for­tune, and that by one whom I know you e­steem your friend. Therefore was I bold to advise you to provide an Ark against the De­luge: Not like the merry Scholar in Chaucer, that he might lie with the Carpenters wife. But I talk idle. Really, I had not said any thing, had I not been confident, you would take it with the right hand, as I gave it; and the ra­ther, that I might thereby engage you to deal with me in the same manner: For, Hoc offici­um (as I take it) is Maximum beneficium. And now, would not my very excuse increase my fault, I would Apologize for my (I fear) too te­dious prolixitie. I will onely add, that I shall [Page 44] be very glad your more urgent businesse would permit you to punish me in the same kind: Who am, not queint, nor quick now, but still

Your entire Friend, T. F.
Poste.

The Fratres Gladiferi are still predominant. People were never so poor, nor never so brave, as if they would be proud by an Antiperistasis.

To Mr. J. W.

Sir,

THat you accost me with the name of Friend, I am not a little joyful, but more to be yours. It is a term used by all, understood by few, but practised by none, that I can find. But I will not build my credit upon the ruines of others: It is sufficient, that I can boast of this, that I am yours; and I hope you will still deign to be mine. And now Sir, I shall return an answer to the several particulars of my Letter, Ordine quisque suo. First, You tell me you are solitary and Hermetical. I could hardly for­bear envying of your Happinesse: 'Tis a life I as much desire, as I little hope for. But, Sive pluit Jupiter, aut non pluit, non omnibus placet. And so I quit that, and am arrived at your desire, which to me is a sufficient command. 'Tis [Page 45] Newes you desire, and it would have been Newes indeed, if you had not. In brief then, Kent is, for the general, quiet, onely some ex­cepted places: But, to make you laugh, Pro­phet, Hunt, the other day, at a full Exchange, came crowding into the middle, with a joynt­stool upon his head; which, when he had set down, he stood up on, and cried, O yes, if any man in the Town, or Country, can tell me what good the Parliament hath done these eight yeares, let him come, and speak, and I'll sit down and hear him: and, that you may know the truth of it, he is in Bridewell for his labour. And now I meet with your Cordial, which is Cordiality, well may we invent new terms to signifie realitie by; for I think, hereafter the old will not be understood. I have remembred you to as ma­ny as I suppose your friends, and have only in return, Mr. Th. E's service. The rest, not con­cluding you aymed at them in particular, since you onely shot at Rovers in the general. The second part of your commands, I have perfor­med onely upon your welcome Letter, and have sent this to kiss your hands. If this may contribute any thing to the delivery of your ex­pectation, I shall count your acceptance a suf­ficient reward. But I will not add feathers to the wings of time, which I know you put to lawful usury. Here then I take my Rest, and resolve to remain,

Sir,
yours ready to serve you, T. F.

To Mr. W. L.

Will.

LEt my Hand now speak for my Heart, and know▪ that the lines of the one, is the language of the other. But I will not tire thee with a pre­amble, lest it might be suspected for a piece of Rhetorical insinuation; but abruptly tell my er­rand, without respect so much as to a civil Complement. Will. How really I am obliged to thee in my affections, my engagements thereto, by thy many multiplyed courtesies, may sufficiently testifie: And for that reason (to make short work) I am resolved to give thee that, for which, from another I should have expected, and happily have had a price. You cannot imagine me so little Man, or that to cost me so little paines, but that I must con­ceive it worth as much as every puny Pam­phlet; or (grant it were not) think me so sim­ple, as to run the Gantelope of the worlds censure▪ for Nothing. Yet is not any, or all of these strong enough to draw me from dispensing with mine own profit, or credit, when they stand in competition with a friend. In brief therefore, if you can imagine it worth your acceptance, or but enough to strike off the least notch from the tally of mine engagements, 'tis yours. I refer it, and my self, wholly to your dispose. Some (you cannot but think) I must [Page 47] bestow on some friends; and I should be loth to buy, what I did not sell, or have and must give away. My short stay here, will not ad­mit any long delay. Let thy answer be like my time, and my departure, short and shortly. I am still

Your long-lasting Friend, T. F.

To Mr. J. W.

My friend,

FOr so I presume to call you, because, if your Tongue and Heart were Relatives when you wrote your last kind Letter, you were pleased to dishonour your self with that Title. To lay aside all terms of distance, that we may close, and mingle soules in the flame of friend­ship, pardon me hereafter, if I lay aside the name of Mr. as incompatible with that of friendship. But let me tell you, that I can scarce think your invective against Complements to be real, since you cannot compleat your Letter without them. Tully once told a Lawyer, pleading a bad cause: Tu nisi fingeres ne sic ageres. For your Complements you bestow on me and mine, I shall onely assure you, you struck the ball to an ill hand, if you look for a rebound. Your quibble upon my name, would have pleas'd me exceedingly, had you not married (and so marr'd) it with so dis-agreeing an Epe­thite, [Page 48] as to call that deep, whose very name speaks it but shallow: So that by styling me deep, you have taken away my name of Forde. But if you will have my Etymologie, it is this; Vadum à vadendo, from going; and so it tells you, that I shall never be wearie of travelling in your service. Or, if you will, it is [...], traji­cere, to pass over, and so I pass it by. That that poor draught has satisfied your thirst, I am not a little glad; but it seems, it was of the nature of salt water, which makes the drinker but the drier. And, truly, I question not but you are, if you keep your promise, and not drink till the return of this, which I wish may be answerable to your expectation. For your complaint of want of Books, I conceive it needless in you, who are a walking Library. Now will I relate what they here tell for truth. One Rolph, (something near Ravillac) a Shoomaker, had plotted to have brought his Majestie to his Last; but (as Heaven would have it) he prov'd but a Cobler at it, and so was discovered. Your Letter which mine was big with, is safely deli­vered, by

Your Friend and Servant, T. F.

To Mr. E. B.

My best of Friends,

FInding friendship to be as cold as the weather, we thought to repel it, by celebrating this present time with the remembrance of thee; when we turned thy Aurum Palpabile into Au­rum Potabile; and I dare affirm it was Cordial. We did remember thee Pleui [...] poculis; and be­cause two make no musick, we engaged two or three other Consorts, to compleat our Harmony. And that thou mayst see, we did not only drink like irrational animals, I will tell thee (if my memory fail me not) the Original of Healths. When the Danes Lorded it over our Kingdome, (whence by corruption they were termed Lur­danes) they were quartered in several Houses, (a word, I must confess, I understood not when I read it first; but since, the Times have in­structed me with a witness.) They were so im­perious, that no man thought himself secure in their presence: and knowing the advantage men have of one that is lifting his hand to his mouth in drinking, they used (which after was a custome) to drink to one at the Table, who was thereby engaged to be their pledge, or surety for their safety, whilst they were drinking▪ and some of our Countries do still retein the original, in answering Sir, I pledge for you. To this I doubt not but the witty Waller alludes in his Poems, where he sings,

Wine fills the veins, and Healths are understood,
To give our friends a title to our blood:
Who naming me, doth warm his courage so,
Shews for my sake what his bold hand would do.

Newes is so confused, that I know not where to begin; yet where should I, but at home: and that's in the Church-yard, that you may know▪ In nomine Domini incipit omne malum. Our yard is a place of Rendezvouz, a Bridewel, an Execu­tion-place, &c. Here the gallant Pitcher went to Pot: I mean, was broken, by the merciless blind bullets; or (if thou wilt have it in plain terms) was shot to death. I could not name him without an Elegie, but that I think my Muse is run away, to seek a better Master in these hard times. And indeed, the Muses may well be Maids, for they are commonly far­thest off, when most intreated. Mary was once the hate and burthen of the City, and the name's but Anagrammatiz'd; but they are as weary of their Physicians, as they were before of their disease. I cannot resemble our rich Citizens bet­ter, than to some Hogs I have read of, that were so fat, that Mice made nests in their buttocks, and they felt them not. But now they have pretty well eaten through their fat, and are come to the quick, and now they begin to be sensible of them. Here are some desperate Members, that gape wide to devour their Head, and there is nothing can rescue him but a mira­cle. And now, I hope, the largeness of my Letter will excuse me from adding any more▪ [Page 51] No wonder my Letters are so big, being so old before they come to hand. Let me onely add that I am still

Dear Ned,
Thine, usque ad aras, T. F.

To Mr. C. F.

Friend, or Brother, chuse you whether,
Natures bonds are strong in either.

THough I never knew the happiness of a Brother, I count that want infinitely sup­plyed, if not out-gone, by the adoption of some friends: of which number, I need not now tell you, you hold a chief place. You may easily imagine how welcome your last was to me, the rather, because it assured me of your, not onely receiving, but accepting mine; which (seriously) I doubted, when afterward I read Seneca's Caveat: Vide, non tantum an ve­rumsit quod dicis, sed an ille cui dicitur veri patiens sit. But, believe me, it was pure friendship that praecipitated my pen; and in friendship, those are great faults, that are not venial. And now it lies in your power only, to make those poor papers a true glass (as you are pleased to call them) in a reflection of my own face, without partiality; and indeed, this was the chief intent of my designe at first: and you cannot think [Page 52] how I will [...]ug it, nay, out-dote Narcissus him­self. I hope, though you have entertained the Graces, you have not quite cashier'd the Mu­ses: For, though the Times be hard, yet they are no chargeable retinue. But, I know you ex­pect some Newes: and truly, here is Nova, & ina [...]dita rerum facies. Here, they that count Sta­bles as good as Churches, have made our Churches Stables. But enough of this, and for this time, when I have styled my self

Your diligent Observer, T. F.

To Mr. L. C. L.

Noble Sir,

THe last clause of your last ingenious Letter, has proved a Prophesie: For, you are pleas'd to tell me, that you long for my answer, and truly I have made it a long answer, though a short letter: and that, till it come, every day's a moneth; and I am sure, it will be a moneth every day e're you have it: yet be confident, it was not for want of love, but want of leisure. You know, Parvus amor loquitur, ingens stupet. Great love (like great grief) must move gra­datim. Sir, that you tell me, since you saw my lines, you are grown womanish, and long for a view. I dare not think it flatterie, because from a friend; yet am I not a little proud on't. Thus have we the happiness (like Princes) to [Page 53] wooe by Picture, and wed by Proxie. For though I have hitherto been an Atheist to female love, yet have I thus often wooed, and as often won a se­cond-self; for so's a friend, as well as a wife, and the marriage of the minds, is no less firm and ho­nourable, than that of the body. And I will as­sure you, Sir, I am more ambitious of that happy visit you are pleased to promise me, than some Amorett [...] would be of his Mistris. In the mean-time, I shall hope to see you in those lively Images of your ingenious self. To those unmerited Encomiums you are pleased to bestow on my unworthy Poeme, I will answer no­thing, save that I will make it an argument of your love to me; for 'tis a Symptome.

Quae minimè pulchra sunt, e [...]
Pulchra videntur Amanti.

If now you expect any Newes, I must de­ceive your expectation; for here is none, save what you will see by the Printed Papers: and truly, I am afraid this cold weather will usher in a hotter Summer. You'l spell my meaning, though in a mysterie; because, Plura literis committere, nec vacat, nec tutum est. But that I am

Your most affectionate Friend. T. F.

To Mr. C. F.

Sir,

I Received your late (I think last) Letter, fraught with Flowers: and, credit me, with as welcome a countenance, as we behold those early violets, the first fruits of the Spring, after a long and tedious Winter. I heartily congra­tulate your entrance into the Bond of Wedlock, for 'tis a bond, though a sweet one, and question not but you have a fit yoke-fellow. Now are you a Compleat Man, which the Rabbins say no man is, till he have his female Rib restor'd him, which before he wanted. That you have match'd one of my name, I cannot account a­ny other than an act of the Divine Providence, to make our Friendship grow up into a Brother­hood: So that now it shall be no longer as you say,

Friend and Brother, chuse you whether,
But Friend and Brother both together.

Hereafter shall I be not a little proud of my name, that it may be serviceable to the produ­ction of such sweet Flowers as your self. Won­der not now, that in stead of greeting you with an Epithalamium, I grace you with an Elegie. Indeed, I must acknowledge, that mourning is not fit for a Wedding garment, yet most fit for me at this present, being really sensible of the death of the general Father of our Country, [Page 55] and fearful of the death of my own dear Father in particular. And to express my self in the words of the Poet,

Hei mihi difficile est imitari gaudia falsa,
Difficile est tristi fingere mente jocum.

Give me leave onely to present your Wife, my Sister, with my as hearty, as invisible sa­lutes; and so I take my leave of you both, with that of the witty Catullus:

—Boni Conjuges bone vivite, & munere assiduo valentem exercite juventam.

This is the hearty wish of him that is proud to be accounted

Your glad (though sorrowful Friend and Brother, T. F.

To Mr. E. B.

Ned, dear N. my N.

AS I was going to write a Letter to thee, came thine to me; and, believe me, with no little welcome. I thank thee for thy Let­ter, more for thy Verses, but most of all, for thy constant perseverance in friendship. Goe on, and let us (if possible) draw the knot of [Page 56] our love yet faster. I dare presume thou wilt, and for me, may the Muses, or what's more, the Graces hate me, when I cease to love thee: For thy superlative wishes, may they rebound a thou­sand, times multiplied upon thine own head. But for the particular of Trading, truly, I shall chuse (in these (times) to sit down, rather than set up; not daring to put to Sea, while this Tem­pest lasts. Me thinks, we wander still as in a night of miseries, and yet see no Hesperus of a­ny comfort appear, that might be the welcome Harbinger of a more wish'd for▪ than expected Sun: We still like (the Andabates) fight blind­folded. No sooner has two Parties conquer'd one, but they oppose each other: and yet, as if the Tragedie were ended, the Souldiers have routed the Players. They have beaten them out of their Cock-pit, baited them at the Bull, and overthrown their Fortune. For these exploits, the Alderman (the Anagram of whose name makes A Stink) moved in the House, that the Souldiers might have the Players cloaths given them. H. M. stood up, and told the Speaker, that he liked the Gentlemans mo­tion very well, but that he feared they would fall out for the Fools Coat. But you know who has Acted that part, and may very well merit that, among the rest of his gifts. Ask me no more for Newes, for now I am careless how things pass, as setting down this resolution, that no­thing can happen well, nor worse than has. Be­ing stun'd with that fatal blow, I am not sensi­ble of any thing else: only that I am still

Really thine, T. F.

To L. C. L.

Sir,

LEaving the inclosed to speak for it self, and indeed the muteness of grief is Eloquence. I am sorry that our infant-friendship should finde so sudden a grave of forgetfulness; but I hope it is not dead, though sleeping: Let this be as the Trump to awaken it to a Resurrection: For, as­sure your self, it will be as welcome to me, as a dead debt to an Usurer. We are faln into Times (like those the Father spake of) In qui­bus non erat quandum vivere. And truly, these speaking pictures of my friends, are the onely Scaene of mirth to me in this deep Tragoedy. Par­don me Sir, if I now claim a debt of you; for a promise is a debt, I mean an Elegie: I'll as­sure you I have expected it long, and I know it will not come short of mine expectation: I know you have delay'd it all this while but to inhance its value; but there needs no art to make me prize a wel-writ Poeme, and such I dare not but think yours to be, Fortes creantur fortibus, &c. I dare not flatter my self into so high a presumption, as to merit it by any thing of mine, yet may this serve as a challenge▪ and though I lose my credit, I shall account my self a gainer by the bargain.

The last, though not the least of those that honour you, T. F.

To Mr. C. F.

Sir,

SO willingly could I have born the Bearer company, in so pleasant a Pilgrimage, that I cannot but at once complain of my hard hap, and envy this papers Happiness.

But though my body be confin'd
To time and place, so's not my mind.

For with my nimble fancie I out-run both this and them, and salute you, as the Food Nessus did Pythagoras, and called him by his name, as one admired for his flood of wisdome, if we credit the faith of Aelian. And I dare not sus­pect but you feed your friendship with equal flames, that it may be like the Vestal fire, per­petual. Nor can I think your pleasant Forde will prove a Lethe of forgetfulness, to drench the remembrance of our friendship. I have read of a mountain so high, that what was written in the ashes of one years Sacrifice, was found legible in the next: So, hope I, the Characters of our friendship indelible by ought but Death. I am now changing the air, but not my mind of being

The admirer of your worth, T. F.

To Mr. J. P.

Sir,

I Received your Letter, and that with as much welcome as Penelope did her Ʋlysses, after an Ages absence. Seriously, that I have not hi­therto writ to you, was not either for want of Love or Leisure, but blind-folded by ignorance of the place you make happy with your pre­sence, I knew not how to find you out. Be­lieve me, Sir, you, with my honest Lightfoot, are so deeply fixed in the fastest of my affecti­ons, that I shall sooner forget my self to be, than you to be my friends, or my self your servant: And think not this a complement, but a lively Image of my thoughts; which, though I want your Art to give it colours, yet is as really de­cypher'd in this poor black and white, as in the richest tincture. Sir, I pray let the shortness of my time (at present) excuse the shortness of my Letter, and be confident, that my next An­swer shall be more answerable to your desert, and my desire; the height of whose ambition is but to continue

Your Th. Forde.

To L. C. L.

True Philanax,

NOw have I found a way to try thy yet un­question'd friendship; 'tis this. See here a poor Pamphlet shrowding it self under the pa­tronizing wings of all that dare style them­selves the Authors friends. My absence from the Press, has fill'd it with an innumera­ble company of unpardonable Errata's: So that, besides the principal of pardoning the irre­gularitie of the thing it self, there arises an un­expected score, for unlook'd for Errata's. Well, it cannot now be help't: 'Tis the Image of thine unknown friend; and, though much dis­figur'd in the limning, if thou canst but discern a Real Heart, 'tis all I wish for. Read it over, tell the errours, and tell me of them, so shalt thou truly approve thy self, what I would be loth not to believe thee. You know, Caecus amor proli. Parents eyes are blind to their own, they read with the multiplying glass of self-love, which sees a spark of fire through an heap of ashes. Do me therefore that real part of friendship, as to send thy most rigid censure of it: And in so doing, thou shalt (if possible) yet farther oblige

Thy T. F.

To Mr. E. B.

Ned,

BEing now reduced to my primitive condi­tion, I have for the present shaken hands with the world, and retired my self into my Cell: there will I lie perdu, and laugh at the madness of the Times, without envying their State. May they have as much as I contemn; 'tis riches enough for me, to lose as little as I can, which whatsoever it be, I am able to make up with thoughts of you my real friends. Ex­cuse my present shortness, and measure not my love by my lines; but ascertain thy self I honour thee as an unparallel'd piece of real friendship. I cannot question my farther di­stance will any whit turn the edge of thy quon­dam constancie, for what need words among friends. Ned, This unworthy piece will adven­ture upon thy charitie, seriously, not without the shame of the Sender; For, besides the Er­rours of the thing, the Printer has filled it so full of gross Errata's, that I cannot give one without an Apologie; and I cannot devise one good enough to equal the badness of the Press. However, draw the veil of thy friendship over the errours, and where thou findest them, par­don them. But one thing more, send me thy severest judgment of it; lay friendship aside, and tell me truth, without respect of person: Then shall I boast to have been

Thine Eternal Friend, T. F.

To M. C. F.

My double Flower,

AT length have I found a way, whereby this poor brat may bless the Author with the happiness of kissing your hands. 'Tis Freeborn, though begot in servitude. But I dare not ven­ture upon your more judicious brow, without an Apologie; not so much for the Printing, as the mis-printing. I must needs say, whilst I was at the press to overlook it, I durst own it; but as soon as I was gone, the Printers so dis-figu­red it, that I knew it not again, when I saw it. Had I been with them, I should have serv'd them as the Philosopher did the Potter, reading and mis-reading his verses, he brake all his ear­then ware: The Potter demanding his reason, he answered; You break my head, and I break your Pots. Seriously, I think I should break their pates as miserably as ever was poor Pris­scians by any Pedantick. But, prethee exercise thy friendship so far, as to send me a perfect Anatomy of it: I mean, thy judgment, with­out hands or eyes. Shut out the name of friend, whilst thou censurest it, and send me that cen­sure, as to one that is no whit indulgent to his own. Then shall I boast to have vowed my self

Thine absolute Friend, T. F.

One thing I forgot to tell thee, the Printer has rob'd it of its Letters of Credence: But you must put that upon his score.

To Mr. J. W.
Grace.

ANd now I dare promise my Letter a wel­come, marching under, and with so good a Grace. But I long to hear whether thou hast given thy Grace a Sirname yet, for I cannot find it among all the Catalogue of Virtues. Per­haps I mistook the Index, and should have look­ed for W. but I could not so readily hear of my Gloves. Thou seest I have found a way to whisper my yet unparched friendship, though at a distance. I have read of a place called the Hall of Gyants, in Mantua, which hath this strange and unusual Art, that how low soever one speak, at the Corners 'tis intelligible to be heard, whilst those in the Midst hear nothing. Me thinks, it fitly resembles our intercourse by Letters: Hereby shall we be able to conquer distance, and live together, though far asunder: Friendship hereby works like weapon-salve, at a distance, and undiscernable. But I intend­ed a Letter, not a Character of Letters. Now, having in part paid my debt promised, it will not be unmannerly to demand yours; for pro­mises are debts: and I love as little to be in­debted [Page 64] in courtesie, as in coyn. If thou search­est the File of thy promises, among other par­ticulars, thou wilt find this, Item, A Letter to

The expecter of that Happiness, T. F.

To Mr. E. B.

Dear Ned,

WIth thy Letter I received an Answer to my Search. 'Tis too long, and my time too short, and my wit too weak to return a Reply. Be contented onely with an acquittance for the receit of it; the rather, because I would not fail your expectation; for I hate abortives of that nature. But before I give you a discharge, I must quarrel with you, for some bad coyn. Tell me of History, Quotations, and Comments! What Galilaean-glass didst thou use for Specta­cles, when thou read'st my letter? Your Com­ment has bely'd my Text: And what argument hast thou to prove me a Poet, except poverty; and perhaps, an ill face, with Hipponax, who was no Painter, as you make him, but a Poet, with so ugly a face, that two Gravers in stone set out his Statue to the world, and him to the derisi­on of the beholders: At which he was so inra­ged, that whetting his Pen with anger, he did so thick discharge his Porcupine-quils, and his Badger-Jambicks so bit, that (as the Stories [Page 65] say) for very anger made the two Gravers hang themselves. Newes I can tell thee none, but that Trading, which before was wounded, is now dead. That the Army have now done what the King all this while fought for, namely, put a point, if not a period to the perpetual Parliament. And having seized the King in Hurst-Castle, have possest themselves of the major part of their Masters, and thrown them into Hell. But now I begin to grow as tedious to thee, as the time of thy absence will be to me: In deteining thee too long from that name

So much obliged to you, T. F.

To Mr. W. L.

Honest Will.

THe Romans had a custome, that after any one was dead, one hollowed three times in their ear, and after the third call, pronoun­ced, Conclamatum est, He's past recovery. I have called three times without an answer, yet I dare not pronounce a conclamatum est of our friend­ship, I know it is not dead. Thy last was in an­swer but to a part of mine. Dost thou mean to Comment upon my Letters in Tomes and Vo­lumes? Certainly we shall make excellent Har­mony with the several notes of Musick, in Longs, Briefs, Sem-briefs, Minims, Quavers, and Crotch­ets. But J. H. acts a part, (or rather no part), [Page 66] which, I think, is beyond the Musicians Ela: I find no name for it; but let not them over­hear me, and I'll call it a Pause. Well, this conceit is neither Meane nor Base, but, if you will, Treble, because we are three. Send me word what fortune my poor brat finds in the world. how it goes off, and is relished: And do it as forgetting me to be the Author, or

Thy Friend, T. F.

To Mr. J. H.

My best of friends,

LIttle less than infinite will number mine en­gagements to thee; and when I shall quit scores with thee, I know not; yet may it shew a willingness to pay, in him that confesses the debt. I am glad of such an argument of some­thing good in that worthless piece, as the dis­like of the world will draw for a Conclusion. Really, I never intended they should like it, and should have suspected it, if they had: For he that will please the Times, must go attired in a Fools coat, not a Scholars habit. Didst thou never hear of the Philosopher, that when (in an Oration) the people applauded him, turn'd a­bout to some of his friends, and asked, What he had said amiss [...] Thy Newes of the Hangmans so untimely death, when he was at the full ga [...] of one and thirty, drew this ex tempore Epitaph from me.

Here lies the Royal Headsman, who in's time,
Of the Court-cards hath cut & drawn the Prime:
But oh sad fate! death thus should Trump about,
And now at one and thirty put him out.

But I haste to subscribe my self

Thy much engaged Friend, T. F.

To Mr. T. P.

Sir,

I Had hitherto fully resolved, that the name of Mecoenas now lived onely in Horace lines; but your late Largess has made me recant my humour, and believe that there are yetsome that dare patronize the Muses when grown poor: But as the scarcitie increases your honour, so would it my shame, if I should be so ingrate­ful as not to acknowledge it; though I must confess, my retribution will be as bad, as my mind is good, to erect a Pyramid to your singu­lar example in this Age. Not that I intend any Panygerick of your praises, that were fit­ter for the Pen of Pliny, or the Mouth of Cicero, Give me leave only (without a blush) to acknow­ledge my many engagements to your merit, lest I should meet with the obloquie of the French, who (the Historian sayes) remember good turns no longer than they are in doing. Sir, when I seriously [Page 68] consider your large reward of so short a desert, me thinks (had I Plutarchs art) I could parallel it with the bounty of Artaxerxes, who return'd precious gifts to poor Sinaetas for his handful of water: Or, if that be too small, to Alexan­der the Great, who returned doubly to Anaxar­ [...]hus, for a small gift he received of him. Thus rich grounds yeild double flowers, for single seeds. Or yet, if these be too low, to Streton, who studi­ed to excel all other men in Liberalitie. And might it not be thought flattery (to praise a man to his face) I would tell others, that your Gene­rous disposition is a miracle in this Age) equal'd, if not excel'd one, of whom the Ancients boast, that was readier to give, than others to receive. But I fear to offend your modesty, & will there­fore silently admire, what I cannot safely speak, knowing there is also an eloquence in silence. Yet would I not altogether have my thankful­ness (like men near the River Ganges) without a Tongue. Alas Sir! what worth was there in that plain piece, that should cause so rich a re­compence! Truly, Sir, besides the reverence (which as a dictate to natures law) I alwayes bare you, your many favours, but especially the last, will exact from me (without a com­plement) the speech of Furnius to Caesar, Effi­cisti ut viverem & morer ingratus. Excuse the relating it in it's proper Idiom: For, though it be said, that the Tuscane Speech sounds better in the mouth of Sirangers, than of the Natives, I think not so of the Latine. You have so obli­ged me, that (to use the expression of a Father to his friend) I owe you, Et quae possum, & quae [Page 69] non possum. So that, did I not hope to meet with a merciful Creditor, I must break without hope of compounding: However, though you have cast your gift into a shallow Forde, yet it is so transparent, that you may see it, without fear of being covered with any Lethe of forgetful­ness. Nor have you cast your coyn on so soft a nature, that you should not hear it gingle, at least in an Eccho of Thanks: Although, when I have done all, my Thankfulness must be like Timantes his Pictures, wherein was more to be understood, than there was exprest. Thus, Sir, assuring you here is nothing, but what is the immediate Transcript of my Heart, I crave leave to boast my self,

Sir,
your solely engaged Servant, T. F.

To Mr. J. H.

Honesty,

THy Letter was as welcome to me, as ever was rain to the parched earth. I thank thee thee infinitely, but that's no payment. Well, set all upon the Tally, and 'tis possible we may one day cross scores. Excuse my shortness at this time, and let this Country Newes supply the defect. 'Tis this: That Phoebus (now) courts the Lady Flora as rudely as he did his Mother, that bit off her ear, when he should have kiss'd her.

[Page 70]That the Quadrupled Animals fare deliciously, for they feed on Roast-meat every day.

That the Sun hath saved the Husbandmen a labour of mowing and making their Hay; for it now grows Hay, like him that sowed Malt, to a­void the charge & trouble of making it of Barly.

That the world being turn'd Round, our Cli­mate is exchang'd for Spain, or some more sweating Country: That we here know no reason of this unparallel'd Heat, unless it be because we have now so many ruling Suns in the Sphere where there used to be but One.

That, if this weather hold, we are like to have no raw fish, but all ready boyl'd before ta­ken, and all our drink burnt-wine, or vine­gar.

That the poor Ephemeris suffer Martyrdome e­very day.

That, at night, when Sol is with our Anti­podes, we feel his heat through the cracks of the earth.

That this extream heat makes the Heavens sweat a little sometimes, in stead of rain.

Item, That my Ink is converted to Jet.

Item, That there's no more Newes.

For 'tis none that I am

Your T. F.

To Mr. R. R.

Sir,

I Dare not pretend to so much Philologie, as to criticize upon your term of Infinitiores grati­as; your adopting (by your using) it, is sufficient to patronize it, and pass it through the guards of the strictest enquiry. Here could I well cease, and, in stead of answering (which I shall never) admire at your Elegant Letter you were pleased to honour me with: wherein, what streams of Eloquence! what flames of Love! what Rheto­rick! what Realitie! nay, what not! So that, were all Epistles like yours, I would not won­der that Learning and Letters are terms conver­tible. I honour the presence of my friends; but may it ever be supplyed by such Letters, and I shall never complain of their absence. Before, I loved you as a friend, but now, I honour you as a Wit. But how easily doe passions exalted transport us! And how willingly do we yield the cloak of our resolutions to the flatttering Sun of praise! But I am too conscious of mine own unworthiness, to admit those large Encomiums your flourishing pen hath adorn­ed me with. 'Tis a Pos [...]e of rare beauty; but I dare not accept it, lest there should lie a snake of flattery, under those fairer Flowers: And I wish you have not shown your Wit, and hazarded your Judgment. When I read [Page 72] your neat lines, really I cannot but love them for their gallantness, and pitie them that, they had no better a Subject. Me thinks, they seem like rich cloaths upon a poor man (that do not sute) or like the Kings Saddle upon the Millers horse. Who will not suspect your eyes blind­folded with love, that have made Paris choise, and extoll'd a homely face, for an Heavenly beau­ty. Well, since my deserts are too short to scale them, I shall (I'll assure you) keep it by me, as too rich a cloth for my meanness, and shall lay it before me, as a pattern of what would I be, rather than a picture of what I am. Now, to your Why, let me return a Wherefore I have (to use your expression, and who can use bet­ter) masked my self under the single letters of T. F. that being unknown, I might more free­ly hear the worlds censure. I remember a fa­cetious tale of a Frenchman, that had printed much, concealing his own name: One asking a man that brought his Copies to the press, Who the Author was? He said, 'Twas one that de­sired to serve God invisibly. My humbler ambiti­on flies no such pitch; 'tis enough for me, if it may but reach to the service of my friends, of which number, I know you to be so intensely one, that, as 'tis said, that Plutarch once being named, the Eccho answer'd, Philosophy; so, should I call R. (I doubt not but) it would re­turn friendship. This is the Happiness of him that cares not to sacrifice his credit to your worth,

T. F.

To Mr. R. R.

Sir,

THat my late lines have produced your later Letter, I am not a little glad; but that they should occasion a quarrel, I should be more sor­ry. If the exception be my fear of flatterie, know, that it was not the Height of your ex­pressions, but my own lowness, that frighted me into such a fear. Would not a little David think himself mock't, to be proffer'd a Goliah's armour? But, for my part, your merits are caveat sufficient to keep my words from the least suspition: And the construction of my words will be best made by the Grammar-rule of friendship; for I was never guilty of so much Rhetorick, as to tell a learned lye. My tongue and my pen (if I deceive not my self) are al­wayes Relatives: Because Favorinus praised the Feaver, should not we praise Health? And be­cause some Romans sacrifice to that, might not others to Aesculapius? 'Twere more shame to d [...]ny praises where they are due, than to admit them where they are not. Why therefore are you so bashful? as if those parts (something above the degree of admiration) had erept into your bosome unawares? And though your modesty is such, (as may silently shame my forwardness) that you will not shew your self to the world, like that plant in Pliny, which buds inwardly, and shooteth out no bud, blossome, [Page 76] or leaf outwardly; yet give us leave to admire it, though you bury your worth in the ore of obscuritie. We count him a rich man, that has his wealth in his chest, not on his back; yet excuse me, if I think it an envious disposition, in him, that would play so softly on his Lute, that none should hear but himself. But whe­ther is my pen stragled? Surely as far from the matter of my first intentions, as the an­swers of the two deaf persons were from one another, that pleaded before a deaf Judge in the Greek Epigram. To return therefore from my digression to your Letter. How shall I in­terpret those expressions, of exact, ingenious, and learned Comment? rare, transcendent, and incom­parable Answer, not to say of flatterie, but of very large Hyperbolies!

But you have made me amends for them, when in the next sentence you handsomely call me fool under the name of the Indians: where you tell me, I look on my self afar off, through a perspective, and upon you near hand, &c. Me thinks, I cannot obtein of my self to believe, that I am farther from my self, than I am from you; and therefore the multiplying glass must go with the greater distance: But I am afraid I have turn'd the wrong end, and rather over­seen than over-valu'd your crescent parts. To your desire of seeing some other pieces of mine, I must onely answer, that I am very much un­provided of any, for my store lies in a Chaos, as yet unformed, in mold unmelted, or unmint­ed; but such as I have will be proud of your Sight and Censure. And for a continuance of [Page 77] this literal correspondencie, know that I cannot be so much an enemy to my self, as not to de­sire it; and with as much affection as I am

Your humble Admirer, T. F.

To M. J. H.

Honest Jack,

THe ancient Romans, who made a Deity of every thing, yet sacrificed not to death, be­cause from death are no Returns. For the same reason, should I not write to London, and by consequence, not to your self. Trumpeters love to sound where there is an Eccho, and I love to write whence I can hear an answer. Seeing once a Weaver at work, I observed, that by casting his shuttle from one side to the other, he fi­nish'd his web: Therein I saw a lively Embleme of friends correspondencie by letters; if either fail, the web's imperfect. I make it now my imployment, that the ball should not fall on my side. I must confess I have been from home of late, but now I am returned to that, and to my custome. Letters unanswered, like meat undi­gested, breed no sweet breath. Well, I shall ex­pect an answer as long as the time I have wait­ed for one, till when I shall resolve to be

Your most assured Friend, T. F.

To Mr. S. M.

Sir,

OBliged by your courtesies, your command, and my duty, that ingratitude must be more than Herculean, that could break this three-fold tie. I have resolved therefore now, to be ra­ther presumptuous, than ingrateful; that I may tender you thanks for the engagements you have laid upon me, though the very act increase them; and to assure you, that I am nothing of the nature of that beast, that is so forgetful, that though he be feeding never so hard and hun­grily, if he cast but back his head, forgets im­mediately the meat he was eating, and runs to look after new. And if my silence seems to ac­cuse me, believe me, Sir, it was meerly out to self-consciousness of my own unworthiness to present you with any thing worth the reading; yet also remembring, that the great Alexander would admit a return of Epistles between him­self and Publius his Bit-maker. I am a little encouraged you will at least pardon my poor scribling; if not for it self, or the sender, yet because it carries thanks in the front, and they are currant coyn, and in which the poorest may be rich, without [...]ear of a Sequestration. That word that ham-strings all industry, and makes men embrace the Stoical saying for a Maxime, Benè qui latuit, benè vixit. And tru­ly, for my part, I think we are faln into Nero's [Page 77] age, in which Tacitus saith (Inertia, sapientia fuit.) Sloth was a virtue. When the Ship of the Common-wealth is steer'd by a Tempest, 'tis best lying still in the Harbour: But I intend an Epistle, no Satyre. I am

Sir
(without a complement) your very humble servant T. F.

To Mr. J. A.

James,

PArdon the familiarity of the Title, I use no complements to my friends; not do I think them my friends that use them to me. The Italians speak out of experience, The more tongue, the less heart; and you know their Pro­verb, La penna della Lingua si dove tingere nel in­chiostro del cuore. I could wish that all the let­ters of friends were like Tullies, Epistolae Famili­ares; and the Polite Polititian tells me, that the greatest ornament of all Epistles is to be with­out any. James. I love thee, I honour thee, and that sine fuco, sine fallaciis. I would have my letters like the Herb Persica, which the Egypti­ans offer'd to their god Isis, whose fruit was like an heart, and the leaf like a tongue. Hereby do I talk with thee, now absent, and if thou wilt vouchsafe me the like, thereby shall I see thee. Pardon me, if I challenge, nay, expect your [Page 78] your promise, which if you perform not, I shall suspect your humour something of kin to that of an excellent Archer, that would rather lose his life, than shew a trial of his skill. Let­ters are like those mutual pawns the Grecians gave as Symbols of their friendship; like Dido's little Aeneas, to supply their absence. Hereby are they present in England, Spain, or France, all in an instant, and at once. Let it not be thought a Paradox, for Love goes beyond Art. But what do I talk of love and friendship in this Age, wherein fast friends are gone on pil­grimage, and their returns uncertain. But I grow tedious: 'Tis the fault of parting friends; and now, like one in that extasie. I know not what to say next: whether to commend thy diligence, in outvying Ʋlysses, in that which the Poet sayes made him wise. Whilest I am like the silly Grashopper, that lives and dies in the same ground: Or shall I fear thy danger, and with Charonidas, wonder not at those that go to Sea once, but at those that go again: Or shall I dare to assume the presumption, for me, who am no Traveller, to counsel thee, that art; no, I dare not. Yet let me remember thee of the Speech of one that was; That a Traveller must have Eagles eyes, Asses ears▪ the tongue of a Mer­chant, a Camels feet, a Hogs mouth, and an Asses back. In a word, mayst thou measure, thy hap­piness by the Ell of thine own desires, which shall not exceed the wishes of

T. F.

To Mr. J. H.

Sir,

YOur Letter was as welcome to me, as your absence is tedious. Complements suit not the reality of my intentions; but imagine all the meer complemental expressions of flattering Courtship put into truth, and all fall short of my affections. To obey your command, if your patience will pardon the tediousness, I will give you as brief an account as I can of my pre­sent estate. I have read, that one Philostratus lived seven yeares in his Tomb, to acquaint himself with Death. Truly, I have conversed above two seven years among the Dead, for so are our Authors esteemed; and indeed, our Shops may not unfitly be resembled to a Char­nel-house: and there, and thus, have I gotten such a familiaritie with those faithful and un­flattering Counsellours, that I rather chose to lie in the valley of obscurity, than to climb the dangerous Alps of aspiring greatness, so long as the wind blows so high, and the stream runs so swift. Rather had I sit still (by their per­swasion) than rise to fall; or to fare hardly, than feed on others bread: And, me thinks, I find my self very well decypher'd by the Em­bleme, which represented certain Grashoppers, that suck the dew, and pass their time singing, with this Motto; Di questo mi contento, è megilio spero. With this I am content, and hope better, when [Page 80] God shall so order the tide of occasions, and the blasts of my friends favour, to lanch me from the poor harbour, where I now lie wind­bound. Thus, Sir, I hope I have made you re­paration for my late silence, not doubting but you will make it but a Parenthesis, which shall break no sence in our friendship: And this I shall esteem a very great addition to your for­mer Engagements; to all which, I shall without scruple Subscribe

T. F.

To E. W. Esquire.

Sir,

COuld my messenger have delivered his er­rand in but intelligible non-sense, I should wil­lingly have spared you this trouble: But since it must be so, I shall endeavour to make a vir­tue of necessity, and from hence take occasion to tell you, that so many have been your favours, and so few the returns of my thanks hitherto, that they have rendred mine ingratitude as su­perlative as your goodness. Though you write your courtesies in running water (to which a Forde is of very near kin) I desire to write my thanks in marble; and had I so advantagious an occasion, I would make the whole world the Witness of mine Obligations. To this purpose, I could wish this poor paper immortal, that my gratitude, at least, might rival your bounty. But, Sir, you have endeavoured to make me [Page 81] live and die in your debt, which I shall rather resolve to suffer, than to slander your nobleness with a thought of my slender requital. Now, Sir, if you please to honour me with the additi­onal courtesie of your Cambden, you shall here­by infinitely add (if they surmount not that piece of Arithmetick already) to your former fa­vours and my engagements. And may this serve for my Surety, that I will keep it carefully, use it warily, and return it speedily. Thus, Sir, kis­sing the hands of your fair Venus, and her three Graces, I humbly take my leave, who am proud to wear the livery of

Sir,
your and their most obliged Servant, T. F.

To Mr. E. H.

Sir,

HAving armed my self cap à pe, with pati­ence to receive as you promised, your most rigid censure, I finde, in stead of arms, you en­counter me with flowers, and, like Paris, make me stoop to your golden ball. Nor do I less won­der at it, than the poor Norvegian did, the first time he saw roses, who durst not touch them for fear of burning his fingers, being much ama­zed to see (as he supposed) trees to bear [...]ire. With little less wonder, do I behold your lear­ned lines, nor with less amazement, to see flames [Page 82] of love, and streams of eloquence so Homogenial.

To your Letter, I shall return nothing, but onely tell you, that what I understand is excel­lent, and so I believe, and admire the rest. Your Allegory of the Cook is neatly dress'd, but except you be pleased to tinde one of his lights, I shall fear to remain in darkness, and discover no far­ther than his superficies. The censures of those blind-minded Jewes you speak of, I shall ac­count my greatest commendations: Like Cra­tes the Philosopher, who, having received a blow on the face by one Nicodromus, a man full of base condition (and as base conditions) was contented, for revenge, to set these words on his wound, Nicodromus faciebat. To those large En­comiasticks you bestow on my poor Pamphlets, I shall onely say I am sorry they had no fitter subjects; yet am I glad I was so happy to afford you any ground for your nimble fancy to work on, and shall here promise you, that if you please to continue this literal commerce, you shall not want a whetstone to sharpen your sythe, as you are pleased to desire; and this property I may have (like the whetstone) though blunt my self to sharpen another. Nor need you fear that you can use too much ingenuity to me; for I am no whit affected with the heresie of the Times, which count learning and wit (as you say) the scum of the bottomless pit; but know how to honour it as much as I want it. In a word, Sir, I thank you for your Letter, more for your Ver­ses, but most that you please to style me

Sir,
your very Friend, T. F.

To Mr. R. R.

Sir,

I Return you your New-Forrest, with as many thanks as it merits, and that's infinite; which submission to your better judgment (from which I would no sooner dissent, than from truth it self) I conceive this not at all behind the first part, but in time; it appearing to me of as fine a thred, and no less curious workman­ship. Happily the others, being chequer'd with forreign flowers, may render it more delecta­ble. But why should we think a forreign gar­den of flowers, and perhaps some weeds, better than an English Forrest? Well may it be more sightly, but, I'm sure, 'tis not so serviceable. Scarce can I hold my pen from glutting in his praises, who is far above it's highest flight, did not the Italian proverb check me, and tell me truly, La Lode nascer deve, quando è morto chi si ha da Lodar: That praises should not be born, till the praised be dead. I will therefore content my seff to say, that I hope such pleasant groves are not su­perstitious; and could wish, that the whole King­dome were so turned to a Forrest, and the Au­thor the Ranger General.

That's body might not be confin'd,
Who's a free Monarch in his mind;
One who with's Majestick Pen,
May give the Law to other men.

[Page 84]Sir, I have sent you a Clavis to it, not that I think you need any, but that, if you invite any friend to those pleasant walks, they may have an entry of understanding, without pick­ing the lock by a false construction. It was done at a heat, and I have not time to file it o­ver, but such as it is, 'tis yours. If you please to send me the last Edition of the Kings learn­ed pieces, I shall keep it carefully, return it spee­dily, and remain continually

Sir,
yours to command, T. F.

To Mr. W. L.

Sir,

I Must esteem it an happinesse to hear of you, though I cannot hear from you: and that I heard nothing of your sickness, till I heard also of your recovery; so that now to tell you I am sad or sorrowful for your sicknesse, were as preposterous, as to grieve for your death after your resurrection, or to bid you good-night in the morning when you are risen. But like the trem­bling needle between two equally attractive Loadstones, so am I between the two different passions of joy and sorrow: Joy for a friends re­covery, and sorrow for a friends restraint. Not to be joyful for your recovery, were to envy a publick good, and I might justly be accused for an enemy to the State, in not rejoycing at a [Page 85] happinesse so common, that deserves a day of Publick Thanksgiving. Then, not to be affe­cted with the sorrows and sufferings of a friend, and such a friend as E. B. were as great a crime as his whom the Romans condemned to death, For wearing a Crown of Roses in a time of common calamity. I long to hear how our honest friend stands, since the High Court sits; which if I do not now from thee, I shall think, that whilst thy body suffer'd under the fire of a Feaver, thy friendship was sick of an Ague; that though the Dog-star reigned in thy blood, thy affecti­ons laboured under Capricorn. But, since thy sickness is in it's Declension, I shall expect thy friendship to be again Ascendant, that before did Culminate. And for my part, think not that thirty miles distance, cold raines, or your silence, can make me forget you, or that I am

As much as ever Sir, your Friend, T. F.

To Mr. J. H.

Sir,

HAving hitherto waited with silence, to hear of your receit of my Letter, and finding none, makes me fearful that it miscarried in the delivery; and I am not ignorant, or insensi­ble of the many abortives of the Carriers Mid­wifery. [Page 86] But I hope your candor is sufficient to dispel all clouds of suspition that might seem to ecclipse my realitie, or to think that I am so much foe to my self, as not to desire, or at least not to endeavour the gainful commerce of your letters. I am not ignorant that all kind of Learning hath been wrapt up in Letters: And I assure you, Sir, I shall, in the enjoy­ment of yours, think my self little less honour­ed, than I do Lucillius by Seneca's. Nor shall I be a little proud, that I may be any wayes (though but occasionally) instrumental to you, to exercise your excellencie in this way: Nei­ther do I altogether doubt of the pardon of my rude scribling, because I am

Sir
(without Complement) your very humble Servant, T. F.

To Mr. E. H.

Sir,

THough I have paid the Principal, in re­turning your books, I am still indebted for the Interest you were pleased to lay on them, in giving you my account of them. For your Caussin, I return you thanks, in stead of censures, wishing that he were now alive, that our late Tragedies might be acted over again by his high­flying quill, and be thereby committed to in­credulous [Page 87] posteritie. The Novum Lumen Chy­micum, I understand, is lately Translated; and indeed it were a wonder, if there were any New Lights, that we should not have in English in these Times. But, because you told me you lent me that onely to laugh at, I shall only tell you, it no whit failed your intention, or my expectation. Now for your Vaughan, be plea­sed to take notice, that he is since answered by one Moore learned and better famed than He; and therefore I shall let that Answer be mine: Yet withal, that I serve such Books as the good Bishop serv'd Persius, when he threw him on the ground with a Si no [...]vis intelligi, debes negligi. Thus, as the Hollanders sometime made mo­ney of past-board, I make my payment in Pa­per, and in this coyn I shall pay you liberally for your Arithmetick. Believe me, Sir, 'tis Homers Iliads in a Nut-shell, and so handsomely com­pacted, that the doggedest Critick cannot fasten on it; onely let me tell you, it is deficient in one thing, and that is, that it is not able to help me to number the Engagements you have lain upon

Sir,
your unmeriting Friend, T. F.

To Mr. R. R.

Sir,

HE's a bad debtor that payes by halfs; but he's a worse that never payes. That I may not be guilty of that superlative ingratitude, I have sent you two Books of your three. And for Bacon, I pray think it not long, if I should keep it till Lent; for I mean, to all his Experi­ments, to add one more of your friendship. If you expect an account of your I [...] B [...]: know, it is far above my censure, as my praise; I go to that, as to my Bible, yet something in Alle­giance. Certainly, that Portraiture was drawn by a Divine hand, and wrote with a pen pull'd from some Angels wing. If there be one that wrote by divine inspiration since the Apostles times, 'twas He, when He pen'd those Medita­tions. Henceforth his Pen shall be his Scepter, His Book his Throne, and the whole World his Em­pire: There shall he live and reign, and be as im­mortal, as some of his enemies malice.

Take a more particular account of your Bal­zack thus: I undertook the reading of him, ra­ther for penance, than profit; but having read him once, that induced me to read him again, and the second time drew on a third, and the third a fourth; and now I send it you home, lest if I should keep it a little longer, I should tran­scribe the whole Book. A better Character cannot be given of him, than he gives of him­self, [Page 89] take it therefore in his own words, That his Writings smell more of musk and amber, than of oil and sweat. But to save time, I have sent you a Pamphlet, that may serve as a foyl to set off Balzack the better: Wherein expect neither Cicero nor Seneca; neither Howel nor Balzack; neither Learning nor Language; nor any Let­ters beginning with the ambitious title of My Lord, or Madam, they are more proud of the name of Friend, and, carrying that stamp, they presume to be currant, though they be but brass. Not that I intend to make my private Letters publique, but onely to advance a communitie in friendship, and to fulfil a command of yours in a letter (in that particular) yet unanswered, of seeing some pieces of mine. And truly, these are no other than pieces; yet, as in the several pieces of a broken Looking-glass, you shall in every one see the perfect reflection of

Sir,
yours in all Offices of Friendship, T. F.

To Mr. E. B.

Honest Ned,

RAther had I accuse the Carrier with negli­gence, than thee with forgetfulnesse: Nor can I think the requesting of a friendly courtesie, could scare thee into an unfriendly silence. Sure [Page 90] ye are all struck dumb at London, or your ink, if not your affections, is frozen. The serious thought of which, hath made me almost be­lieve, that the name of friend is but the fabu­lous birth of some Philosophical Poets, or Po­etical Philosophers, and fitted for Sir Thomas Moore's Ʋtopia, or Plato's Common-wealth; not for an Iron Age, or the dregs of Time. If thou art silent because thou hast no Newes to write, write that thou hast none: However, let the world see there is one dares call himself a friend, though in such an Age as this. And believe it, that the all-self-devouring teeth of time shall never eradicate the name of B. from out the heart of him, whose onely pride is to tell the world who is

Ned,
thine inseparable Friend, T. F.
Postscript.

You may, if you please, communicate this to all those that call themselves my friends, and tell them, that till I hear the contrary, I shall suppose their practice of silence intended for my pattern.

Vale.

To Mr. W. L.

Will.

NOr will I accuse your silence, nor excuse my own; 'tis sufficient I have broken the Ice, and adventured to tell thee, 'tis possible to be a friend, and silent; nor do I despair to hear the same from you: In confidence of which, I say no more now, but tell you, I expect it. To your Father thus much. Concerning the re-printing of my Characters, and augmenting them, I have had some serious thoughts, and the result is this. I find them, upon perusal, not suitable to the present State, being Calculated for the Meridian of a Kingdome, not a Common­wealth, they are now like old Almanacks out of date. And to go to them with the Arithmetick of Addition and Substraction, with the Pensil and the Spunge, were to make my self guilty of what I there condemn. Besides, they were then my resolved (and not yet retracted) thoughts: So that I hold it not safe for you to print, or me to enlarge them, nor this, farther than to tell thee, I long to hear from thee, and of our dear­est Ned. I have a Letter hath been designed for him a long time, did I but hope there were a crevise in his close prison, that I might peep through to assure him that I am his (as thine)

Still constant Friend, T. F.

To Mr. E. H.

Sir,

YOur last Letter I met on the way, as drawn thither perhaps by Sympathy, like the Mag­netick steel, to meet her loved Loadstone▪ I know love and friendship work miracles, and act in Paradoxes: It makes the enjoyers thereof flame without consuming, present and distant (if that word may be admitted in friendship) all at once. By this I see my friend, when invisible, and hear him, though silent. Like the Philosophers Stone, of which the Chymists so much boast, Con­traria operatur, sed semper in beneficium naturae. This is (if any thing) the true Sympathetick pow­der, that works truer, and at a greater distance, than weapon-salve. Willingly could I lose my self in this pleasing Maeander; but I will rather commend the Theory to your more active Pen, and resolve to act the practick part my self. For your Verses, I will rather remain in your debt, than pay you with bad coyn. I assure you Sir,

I have no vein in verse; but if I could,
Inclose each word a Mine, believe't I would:
I onely Court her that drops▪ Elegies,
Whilst others Musessing, mine onely cries.

Yet shall I not refuse what your injunction shall lay upon me, because I am

As really your Friend, T. F.

To Mr. T. P.

Sir,

FOr me to attempt an Answer to your Letter, were to venture at the flights of an Eagle, with a Sparrows wing. The Italians tell me in a Proverb, The higher the Ape climbs, the more he shews his nakedness. And truly, should I endea­vour to reach the pitch you have set me for a pattern, I should rather imitate Icarus in his fall, than you in your flight. It is enough for me to admire and applaud the happiness of your undertakings, that can at once captive Apollo and the Muses, and make the Triumphs of for­mer Ages, the Trophies of your Pen's victories. Where you profess your self Davus, I must con­fess my self no Oedipus: Giving you therefore the libertie the Civil Law allows (and I should be uncivil if I should not) to interpret your own words, I will guesse at your meaning, and re­turn you, not onely an Answer to your Riddle, but the reason of it. Sir, if my lesse comprehen­sive Genius deceive me not, you like not Latine lace to an English suit; and herein you have light upon an humour, that I have long since retra­cted, and esteem now as too pedantical. But you may perceive they savour of the ferula, and imagine my then regnant humour; like young stomacks, that like raw fruit, better than reasted food: Yet must I farther confess, I have been so conscious of mine own inabilities, and [Page 94] so confident of the Ancients worth, that I have preferred to use their more refined lines, than my unfiled language: So that I discover in my self the fancie of the Painters boy, who thinking to supply the defect of his skill, by the richness of his colours, had loaden Venus picture with gold and silver, in stead of native beauty: For which he met with this censure from his Ma­ster, that he had made her rich, whom he could not make fair. So have I embroidered my cour­ser cloth with others ends of gold and silver. It onely remains that I tell you, that I cannot tell you how much you have won me by that one act of dealing freely with me; and to assure you, that you could not have studied a way to oblige me more. And that you may believe my realitie herein, be pleased to inform me of the Author of your Utinam nescire Literas; and if it prove the speecch of that Negro-black Tyrant, you shall find my submission as hum­ble, as your conquest noble. If you think the Frontispiece discrepant to the following leaves, I shall conform the printed Title to the written Book, not the written Book to the printed Title▪ For I resolve not to change their name, nor al­ter their propertie of Familiar Letters, for my private friends. But I hinder you too long, from what I onely intended, to acknowledge my self

Sir,
your conquer'd Servant, T. F.

To Mr. T. P.

Sir,

THat that poor grain of mine hath produ­ced me so sudden, and yet so large a return, argues the fruitfulnesse of the Soyl wherein 'twas cast, not the goodnesse of the seed, or of the Sowers less skilful hand. Hereafter shall I believe, what before I took for a fable, That there is some ground so fruitful, that the husband­man reaps at night, what he sowed in the morning. Your Christning my fancie with the name of a Thrush, might very well teach me the modestie of that volatile, who is said to be silent, whilest the Nightingale (chief Chaunter of the aiery quire) produceth her more clear and tuneful note, did I not hope by my plain Song to gain your more artificial descant. Your proclaming my attempt rather Pheatontick than Icarian, is no more (pardon the boldnesse of my igno­rance) than for a man to be killed with a silver sword, rather than an iron dagger, the only prehe­minence being in this, that he perished like the other, but with this addition of honour (if it be so) of falling under the burthen of more bold attempts. Where before I but confess'd, I now profess my self no Oedipus, nor made I any riddles, but guess'd onely at the meaning of yours, and therefore am not apprehensive of your Analogie of the Cobler (whom I leave to maintein his more ambitious title of a Transla­tor) [Page 96] unlesse you intended your picture of your friend, like Horace's monster, which begins with a fair womans face, and ends in a foul fishes tail at last. But it was your Phaetons fate, to meet with so dangerous a fall, from the Chariot of the Sun to a Shop-window. Nor need we any Sphin [...], to unriddle this repugnancie in terms, whose part it was to make them. At what words of mine you admire, I know not, 'tis my endeavour to avoid that Selecisme Augustus found fault with in M. Antony, of writing such things as men should rather wonder at, than un­derstand. I applaud the happiness of your Ge­nius, who can coyn words with your own stamp; onely I suppose, that of unoepodize, would be no whit lesse currant, were it shorter by the first syllable. Of that Socratick vice you speak of, I have not so much in me, as to defend it: Far be it from me, to adopt the quarrel of those great Clerks; it is enough for me, if I may boast my self their, and Learnings unworthiest servant. To your confirmation of Nero's Ʋtinam, I now yield my full belief, and should do so, you af­firming it, though all Historians denied it, and withal, my promised submission: Only give me leave to cleave the hair, and tell you, that it was the speech of Nero, though not then a bar­barous tyrant, having then but newly entred his Quinquennium, so much by all extoll'd, whilest reteining his Master Seneca's more than Philosophical instructions. And so I leave him, when I have told you, I shall accept those un­merited Encomiums you impose upon me (with that then good Emperors speech to the Senate [Page 97] giving him thanks) Cum meruero. Sir, I do, and shall (I think) persist in confining those poor papers from the eye of the world, not da­ring to let them goe abroad in this super-fine Age, in so homely a dress; nor herein can I apprehend my self guilty of that [...], you Prophesie me guiltie of, unless it be, in that I have answered your letter before I had re­turned you the due thanks & praises the worth of that would justly exact from the most sullen ingratitude. Believe me, Sir, you are Master of an Imperial pen, and would you once break through the veil of derogating silence, your beams would be sufficient to create a day, even in the nightie Chaos of my duller intellect, to cast a cloud upon all former names, and be night posteritie. But I shall rather chuse an admi­ring silence, than an undervaluing commendati­on, because I desire to make good to a tittle the title of

Sir,
your faithful Servant, and not unfaithful friend, T. F.

To Mr. T. L.

Sir,

THat you may see how willing I am to com­ply with every occasion that may put me in a capacitie of serving you, I shall now answer your command, with my opinion of Speed, and [Page 98] his History. For the History, it is a work of de­served commendations, and without any ex­ception. For the Author, I cannot so well as­sure you; but if Speed be not too much wrong­ed in the relation, he was but the Journeyman-Taylor in the business: It was (say some) cut out by abler workmen, he onely made it up, and in that hath merited the commendations of a very good workman, besides what we are indebted to him for the fashion, the lining, facing, and pressing; but for the last, I believe we are more beholden to the Printers press, than to his goose. This presents me with a fair occasion of pre­senting you with a Copie of Verses, not unwor­thy your reading, upon Speeds Chronicle, sent from a Son to his Father.

God be my Speed, so I began, 'tis true,
And now 'tis time to wish a Speed to you:
Then briefly thus, as long as life endures,
God be my Speed, and let my Speed be yours.
If great books be great evils, loe a shift,
To turn this Speed into a lesser gift.

Take but some vowels out, and then 'twill be but an Epistles Preface, S. P. D.

Excuse me, for once, if I make it the Epilogue, and with it conclude my self

Sir,
your real, though remote Friend, T. F.

To Mr. C. F.

Sir,
Parvus amor loquitur, ingens stupet.

WOuld you measure my love by my silence, you could not pronounce it short. Oft hath my pen been on the paper to write to you, and as oft been taken off, with a consideration of the rudeness of my rustick scribling, which is now worn into such an habit, that you will wil­lingly retract whatever suspition you have for­merly had of any ingenuity in me. However, lest a continued silence should cast me in (and out of) your affection I am resolved to say some­thing, though it be but to confess my self guilty of that most unpardonable offence in friendship, Ingratitude. Yet am I not without some excu­ses, which would be ready to plead in my be­half, did I not rather wish to receive a new life, of happiness by your pronouncing my pardon. I am your prisoner, deal with me as you please, onely grant me my liberty, without which, I cannot make good, as I desire, the title of

Sir,
your though rude, yet real Friend and Servant, T. F.

To Mr. D. P.

Sir,

PResuming your goodness will pardon the rude­ness of the address, I have sent a brace of Pamphlets to kiss your hands. Being consci­ent to themselves of their own unworthinesse, like trewant Scholars, they durst not appear with­out an Apologie; neither should they, or this, but that I know you daily meet with such Exercises of your patience, and that I know you have in­dulgent charitie enough to cover the faults of those you love. Please you to suspend your severer thoughts, and to make a small truce with your nobler employments, I shall hum­bly beg their pardon in a very few words. That they came no sooner, was out of necessity; that I shall crave you will vouchsafe to indulge; that they come now, is out of duty, and that I shall promise my self, you will deign to accept. Sir, I hate to be officiously injurious to my friends▪ and therefore I will not increase my fault▪ in excusing theirs: only let me impetrate one thing more, which, I conceive, will de­ceive your expectation. It is not that you will correct their faults, that the world knows you can do; nor that you will forgive them, that your wonted candor flatters me you will doe; but, that having atteined your hands (which are the bounds of their ambition) they believe they have obtein­ed their end, and they desire not to out-live that [Page 101] happinesse; but that you will condescend, as I have made them an offering, to make them a sa­crifice, be you the Priest, your harth the Al­tar, and their Urne; and besides the courtesie you shall do your self, in saving the reading of such nugacities, you shall thereby answer their desert, and my desire, who am so far from cra­ving their reprieve, I would my self be the haste­ner of their punishment. Here would I cease, but I am loth to lessen the noble office of your mercie; by what impulse of spirit I know not, but such is the tendencie of my desires, to ex­presse the realitie of their professions to your service, that to say I love you, is beneath the ardor of my affection: I am ready to pro­fesse, with that old Roman, who proclamed, he was not onely in love with Cato, but in­chanted with him. Onely here is the defect, that, as the Italians say, He that paints the flow­er, cannot paint the smell: So, in professing my service to you, I cannot discover the realitie farther than you will please to give me credit, and believe that I am

Sir,
your most real Friend, and Servant, T. F.

To Mr. T. J.

Sir,

WHat in Superiors is counted gift and bounty, in Inferiors amounts to no more than ho­mage [Page 102] and gratitude: And well it is, if, in stead of abating, it increase not the audit of their Ob­ligations. Such is the nature of the present; and though it pretend not to acquit the least part of that debt your civilitie hath involved me in, yet shall I hope it may arrive at the ten­der of a grateful acknowledgment; and I wish my thanks may prove but as large, as you were liberal. Think it not strange that I have been thus long silent, nor account me an unclean beak, if I still chew the chud in a thankful re­membrance. Sir, the noble entertainment you vouchsafed to me, a stranger hath cherished the inclosed pamphlets into a confidence, that you will deign them not onely a favourable accep­tance, but that your goodnesse will also grant them the benefit of the late Act of Pardon, without which, they will seem as much stran­gers to our Common-wealth, as their Author was to your self, who should now too much wrong your noble nature, if he should not pro­fesse himself,

Sir,
your most indebted Servant, T. F.

To Mr. C. A.

Sir,

I Being of late arrested at the suit of some im­portunate occasions, which would willingly be called necessary, I have been so much their [Page 103] prisoner, that till I had satisfied the utmost mi­nute, I was so far from a possibilitie of being your servant, that I was not my own Master. Now must I compound with you, and intreat, that if my so long silence deserve not to be answer­ed with a repeated act of that dormant pardon you long since pleased to grant me, yet, that you will at least, accept of this as Interest, till op­portunitie shall enable me to discharge the whole. I shall now begin to turn the weekly hour-glasse of our Commerce, and hereafter measure my life by my letters: For, though I have intermitted my constant course▪ you are in no more likelyhood to be rid of this trouble, than you have hopes of losing your Ague by the alteration of the fits. If friendship be the incorporating of two bodies, by an union of souls making but one of two: Me thinks, this constant correspondence fitly answers to that deservedly applauded notion of the Circulation of the Blood. It shall be my care, that no stop be made on my side, that we may preserve the life of our Friendship, during the life of

Sir,
your Servant, T. F.

To Mr. T. P.

Sir,

BEsides the natural Antipathy of my Genius to Controversies, I have been of late so divor­ced [Page 104] from my self and my own thoughts▪ by the motion of an higher wheel than my own occasions, that I am altogether discouraged to give you any account of this piece, upon so transient a view, that I fear I shall give you as ill an account of it, as he did of Venice to King James, that told him, He knew nothing of it, for he rode post through it: Yet, to satisfie your command, against all these discouragements, I shall adventure a few hasty lines to your more setled judgment. Sir, did not the Authors worth out-poize those petty exceptions that might be taken in advantage, as the scarce sense of the title, and some other inconsiderate ex­pressions in the whole, that seem to clash one a­gainst another, I shall onely commend to your consideration these few thoughts. The Pro­verb is common (wherein wit and experience club, to say much in a little) That marriages are made on Earth, but matches are made in Heaven. I am easily induced to believe, that the omni­scient providence, which descends to take care of the falling of a sparrow, and the number of our hairs, should much more take care of that grand Climacterical Action of a mans life, the restora­ration of his lost rib: I shall therefore not fear to affirm, that a man hits not upon his mate by chance or casualty, but by the undeclinable [...]ate of Gods prae-determination: And having laid down this for a ground, I shall adventure this Su­perstructure, that it is not in the power of a man to dis-joyn himself from the companion which providence hath joyned him to, in so indissolu­ble a link of amitie, that one member is not [Page 105] more truly a part of a mans body than his Wife; and therefore he ought rather to under­goe with patience what God hath ordained him, perhaps for other reasons than he can un­derstand, than to forgoe it with wilfulnesse. I remember it was the resolution of a compleat man, That he took the untowardness of his wife as a School of patience. Yet, to pursue the Allegory, though I would not have a man to cut off a limb for a curable disease, yet if it out-face art and nature in a remedy, then Ense resciden­dumest. And having done so, I cannot sup­pose it lawful (though I should grant all his as­sertions for indisputable truth) that such a man should admit another member, like a wooden leg; and, if I mistake not (to help him a little) the weight of our Saviours argument, lies in the last clause, that whosoever puts away his wife for other cause than adultery, commits for­nication, If he marry another. To come as near therefore as I can, to comply with your Au­thor, I shall lay down this Position, that it is altogether unlawful for a man or wife to di­vorce, If both parties be not equally agreeing to it, and if either of them marry again. And to this I shall add this inconvenience, that being parted, they must not expect that the Devil, who is the Father and Factor of divisions, will be less active in so wide a breach, that is so ready to widen the least cranny of discontent into his advan­tage: He that will creep in when the doors are shut, shall we imagine him to be lesse willing to enter when they are wide open? This farther, I must confess, there are some natures so Hetro­genious, [Page 106] that the streightest, and most gordion knot of Wedlock is not able to twist, of which the Epigrammatist speaks my mind better than I can my self:

Non amo te Sabide, nec possum dicere quare,
Ho [...] tantum possum dicere, non amo te.

Take the English, is the words of a Gentleman to his wife.

I love thee not Nel,
But why, I can't tell:
But this I can tell,
I love thee not Nel.

So that I must confesse I cannot but afford them my pitie, that are thus joyned in you know whose phrase, like a Spread-Eagle, with one bo­dy▪ but two heads: But whether this division ought to make a Divorce, I had rather subscribe to your judgment than tell you my own, who am

Sir,
wholly at your dispose, T. F.

To Dr. S.

Sir,

NOt to confess your favours, were a sullen­ness beyond the sin of ingratitude; they were too late to be forgotten, and too large to be requited▪ Civilities, that might very well con­stitute a Turkish Paradise: A debt beyond my [Page 107] meannesse to discharge, so that you have paid me before-hand for all the services I shall e­ver be able to do you: And it shall be my en­deavour, that my performances of your com­mands, may be as swift as Lightning; or the flights of that Bird, which is happy to make his nest in your Arms. My thanks will bear the better weight (for they are too light of themselves) if you please to tender them to Mr. L. whom it were a Solecisme to put last: To your self varyed, and your self multiplied: And give me leave to kisse your hands, as I give you mine, that I am

Sir,
your much obliged Servant, T. F.

To Mr. C. A.

Sir,

IT was once my miserie, and your good fortune, that I have had, of late, no leisure to dis­charge my weekly tribute, which indeed a­mounts to no more, upon your audit, than the product of a constant trouble. Assure your self, I take no pleasure in being my own e­nemie: For how many rare fi [...]h might my course bait happily have taken! But tru­ly, I have been so crampt, or rather crip­pled with some not unnecessary diversions, [Page 108] that my pen hath been forced to wander from the direct road of your service. Now, having retrived an opportunitie of in happying my self, by this literal exchange, I shall take leave to tell you, that I will not forgive my self, till you pronounce my pardon. And I cannot but indulge my hopes, with confidence that you will once more exercise that noble virtue, from the many repeated acts of which good­nesse, I am apt to plead pr [...]scription. Though, having dealt so unworthily with you, I am something suspitious you will retract that ti­tle of worth, your friendship hath formerly fast­ned on my unworthiness, and no longer vote those lines for jewels, which in the midst of Summer, present you with conceits as cold as ice, or our modern charity. However, in obe­dience to the Sovereignty of your Judgment' I shall resolve to estimate my self by your va­luation of me, and make your opinion the Standard, whereby to measure my abilities to your Service. And, as we measure our hours by minutes, and those by the minuter at­toms of sand, may my several Letters but run into Syllables, by which together you may read me (though imperfectly)

Sir,
your very faithful Servant, T. F.

To Mr. C. F.

Sir,

PArdon the bashfulnesse of my Pen, that hath been hardly drawn to the presumpti­on of endeavouring an answer to your inge­nious lines. Had my fancie been better, or yours worse, you had long before this time re­ceived an Answer. But such is the unequal fate of the greatest merits, that they alwayes meet with the least returns; stupendious worth ex­acting from our surprized senses, but admirati­on (at best) in stead of praise; and admiration is never so well dress'd, as when 'tis cloathed in silence. Sorry I am that you should waste your so great respects upon one that deserves so little, and that hath nothing to return you, but the protests of a most real affection. The Gen­tleman you speak of, I have not yet seen, nor heard of, but in your relation: Whenever he comes, assure your self he shall be as welcome as his own worth and your commends can render him: But he shall pardon me, if I wish rather it had been your self. It is an Age, me thinks, since I enjoyed you, and I grow old in my unhappi­nesse: 'Tis in your power to create a Spring in my soul, and to make those faculties live a­gain, that have hitherto been buried in a silent grave of negligence. One li [...]e of yours will be strong enough to draw me from that depth of dulnesse into which some late melancholly [Page 110] thoughts have thrown me, though it were as profound as the pit wherein Truth lieth hid­den. The fire that shines in your expressions is onely able to call forth that quondam in­genuitie you accuse me of: If ever I enjoy­ed any such thing, 'twas when I enjoyed you; and that left me, when I left London: Like in­sects in Winter, retired to their first nothing, as resolving to enjoy no life, in the absence of the Sun their Father. Since I cannot encircle you in person, let me embrace your picture, and let your pen supply the silence of your tongue. If you will sometimes vouchsafe me this hap­piness, I shall quit scores with my wishes, and resolve to be no happier in this unhappy Age. Thus, because you have expected it long, I have at length returned you a long Letter, to assure you that I am, and most sincerely

Sir,
your Friend and Servant, T. F.

To Mr. C. A.

Sir,

THis Letter must begin, where yours ended' because, what you commend to me as an object of my pitie, hath been the subject of my thoughts; for it is impossible my friends should suffer any loss, and my self not be sensible of, and sorrowful for it. If the stream of your grief may be substracted by division, I refuse [Page 111] not, and that willingly, to take my part, that yours may be the less. The cause that challen­geth our grief (for now 'tis mine as well as yours) speaks it self in the loss of a Friend, of a Mo­ther. To begin with that ends all, Death, me thinks, I can find as little cause to lament, as to wonder at it, it being so general a necessitie, that none ever did, or ever shall avoid it. We were born to live, and live to die. It is the onely thing we can here expect, without a for­tass [...], the onely certainty of which we cannot be deprived. Epictetus wondred no more to see a mortal man dead, than to see an earthen pitcher broken. And as wise a Philosopher as the former, entertained the newes of his Sons deaths, with no more but a Scivi eos mortales esse natos: As being a greater wonder that they should have so long, than that they died so soon. Why should we wonder, or grieve, to see one goe before us, the same way that we our selves must follow. Vale, vale, nos t [...] sequemur, was the solemn leave the Ancients took of their deceased friends; and, if we believe the Gram­marians, from thence we call a Funeral Exe­quiae, the same being noted not without a si­lent lesson in our common custome, of the Coarse's going before, and the attendants follow­ing after. It is Seneca's observation, Nature hath ordained that to be common, which we ac­count so heavy, that the cruelty of the fate may be lessened by the equality. But 'tis the death of a Mother, and here nature and affection will put in a plea, and plead prescription for our grief; yet may we entertain our fortune with dry eys. [Page 112] We know she was mortal, and so liable to the common [...]ate; a mother, and so by the order of nature to goe before her children: She was before them, that they might be after her. It was thought ominous among the Jewes, and not without the re-mark of a punishment, for the Father to burie the Son, as if it were an inversi­on of the course of nature, and not to be seen without a Prodigie. But I remember what the Schools teach: That an Angel of an inferiour, can­not enlighten a superiour Hierarchy: Yet I presume you will excuse the rashness of the attempt, since it proceeds from the affection of one devoted to be in all relations

Sir,
your ready servant, T. F.

To Mr. C. A.

Sir,

THat a discourse of death from a sick per­son, and firm arguments from an infirm and shaking brain, should have the good hap to rout, or, at least, to prevent the triumph of your sorrows, was certainly to be ascribed to the benevolent Planet that co-operated in their production; or rather, to your own more favou­rable Aspect. I shall not pursue a flying enemy, nor torture that argument to a martyrdome, that is already a willing Confessor. Your quoted Au­thor hath expressed himself Fuller, than the [Page 113] smalness of my reserve pretends to. That the death of one, breaks anothers heart, is not safe to contradict, since it hath obteined the general vote of a Proverb. But I shall humbly adven­ture to lay the Scene at a greater distance, and date it from that Golden Age▪ when hearts were so entwined, they could not part without break­ing, when that Gordian knot of amitie was not to be united, till it were cut by the Sythe of him that out-conquers Alexanders sword. Were it not to upbraid the present Age by the compa­rison, I could willingly venture at a Character or Encomium of that venerable Friendship, the I­mitation of former, and Despiar of later Ages. But I shall do the subject more right to com­mend it to your more commanding Pen, and study always to make good the precise value you are pleased to put upon

Sir,
the meanest of your servants, T. F.

To Mr. D. P.

Sir,

WHether this should be an Apologie for my former, perhaps too frequent visits, or my later, as uncivil forbearance, I know not, since both have been equally liable to the piquant censures of detracting tongues; and in so loud an accent, that I question not but they have long since arrived your eares. It is not my intenti­on [Page 114] to make this paper guilty, by relating those stories which would be tedious for me to write, and troublesome for you to read. Had they been vented with as much innocence as falshood▪ I could have looked upon them as some pretty Roman­ces, and at once both laugh'd at the Relation, and pitied the Relator. But finding them so loaded with the over-weight of scandal, as well as slander, I should belye my own thoughts, if I should not say they have touched the most sensible part of my soul. That I have hither­to been silent, and contented my self to be an auditor onely, was, that so, if it had been possi­ble, they might have found a grave in their birth▪ And it is a common saying among the Jewes, That lyes have their feet cut off; they can­not stand long to what they say. But since I see (by what designe I know not) that they have already out-lived the common age of a wonder, though I know you are too wise to take up any ware upon trust from such walking­pedlers (for so I am informed the original speaks a Tale-bearer) I am not altogether diffident of your pardon if I shall enter my protests (which is all the re-action I shall endeavour) that what­ever some have fancied, or others reported, I never propounded any other end to my self (either in a direct or collateral line) in my ap­proches, than to make my self happy by the en­joyment of your societie. This was the cause that inducted me into your acquaintance, and I am not conscient to my self of any Apostacy from my first resolutions, or that those real intentions have suffered any dilapidations. I must [Page 115] confess, 'twas my ambition to rival your good­ness, and to make my respects (i [...] it had been possible) as infinite as your merit; and I have read, that excesses in friendship are not onely tolerable, but laudable. But that what I thought obedience, should be interpreted impudence, is a false construction of the Syntaxis of my inten­tions. 'Twas not your fortune, but your favour▪ that I have courted; were you as poor as Co­drus, I should love you no less than I do; and were you as rich as Croesus, I could love you no more. I conceived my self obliged by my Pro­fession to wait upon you as a Scholar, and by your courtesies, engaged to love you as a friend; and if this be a crime, I blush not to confess my self guilty in a very high measure: But if any of my words have been wrack'd by others, to make them depose any thing contrary to what I here profess, believe them not. I list not to enter the pitch'd field of a dispute; nor will I re­treat to the common intrenchments of excuses, I lay down my Arms at your feet: And, as I can have no other witness, I will have no o­ther Judge but your self; resolving to be either innocent, or guilty, as you shall pronounce me. It was no small commendation Paterculus gives of Pompey the Great, where he affirms, that he was Amicitiarum tenax, in offensis exorabilis, in recipiendâ satisfactione facilimus: Of this I be­lieve your continual practice an exact Transla­tion. What though the Comical Speech of Flo­rence be Canonical, Mulier aut amat, aut odit ni­hil est tertium; it would be as falsly applied to you, as truly to the Sex 'tis spoken of. And [Page 116] for my part you shall do me but right to be­lieve that I ever was, am, and will be

Sir,
your Friend and Servant, T. F.

To Mr. C.

Sir,

NOt out of any uncivil dis-respect to your commands, nor any unwillingness to serve you (so far as the too short line of my abilities will stretch) have I hitherto been silent. Could I have wrought my self to that height of pre­sumption, as to think any thing of mine of me­rit enough to arrest your sight, you had long since had an answer, and perhaps as long as your expectation. It was not that I thought a letter lost to me, but because I knew it would be loss to you; and hereof this is too sufficient a wit­ness. Yet, Sir, lest you should think I am ei­ther too full of business, that I cannot, or of idleness, that I will not write to you, I have sent these lines to kiss your hands, and to assure you, that you have infinitely obliged me by your late let­ters you vouchsafed to honour me with: So full fraught were they of your wonted ingenu­itie, that (to tell you the truth) I could spare no time from reading of them, to return a­ny answer to them. But now, since you are pleased to descend so far below your self, as to entreat for what you might command, I shall no [Page 117] longer dispute, but obey: Yet will I not tire my self with troubling you, farther than to re-assure you that I am

Sir,
your very humble Servant, T. F.

To Mr. C.

Noble Sir,

HAving already confess'd the debt, your late ingenious Letters have engaged me in, I shall take leave to pay you (since you are plea­sed to grant me that favour) as unsolvent debtors do their patient creditors, by small sums weekly. I would willingly speak my gratitude in as loud an accent as you have done your goodness: But, as you have honoured me beyond the utmost of my wishes, and placed my meanness on so high a pinacle of happiness, as my most ambi­tious thoughts durst never aspire to; so you have onely left me modestie enough to blush at my own unworthiness, and to promise you, that I shall hereafter lay hold on every handle of time, and court all opportunities to serve you. But, Sir, I wish you have not undervalued your judgment, by over-valuing those loose lines you undertake to call most choise jewels; which ('tis my fear) will prove but pebbles, or Bristow-stones at best: If they carrie any thing of jewels in them, it is onely this, that they have nothing of worth, but what your valuation puts [Page 118] upon them. However, since it cannot be ad­mitted as History of what I am, may it prove a Prophecie of what I may be, and that my en­deavours may overtake the mark your charitie hath already anticipated, that you may not re­pent that you have owned me for

Sir,
your very Servant, T. F.

To Mr. J. S.

Sir,

SO long it is since I received your Letter, that I should be ashamed to confess it, did I not believe that I have hitherto done you a courte­sie, by not troubling you with my rude lines: yet dare I no longer maintein that opinion, lest you should vote that for a neglect, which I have thought a favour. You would pardon, if not pi­tie me, did you know how I have been rack'd with diversions, neither pleasant, nor profitable, but as vexatious as the tediousness of the law, and the much business of the Lawyers could render them▪ But, I am now in hope that my Cause will hang in suspence no longer than till the next Assizes. The old rule was, Inter arma silent leges: I shall alter it, and say as truly, Inter leges silent literae▪ I must hope my friends will forgive me the Lawyers faults, since they have rob'd me of the most necessarie functions of my life: nay, I am in doubt whether I may put this last year [Page 119] into the account of my life, since I have not had time to tender you the services and re­spects due from

Sir,
your humble servant T. F.

To Mr. C. M.

Sir,

YOur civil reception of the tender of my endeavours to your service, hath made me presume, that your goodnesse will maintein your first favour with a second; and, if occa­sion serve, to mention my desires to those no­ble Gentlemen in conjunction with you; from whom I cannot despair of a favourable As­pect, being represented by so happie a Medi­um ▪as your self. But I should be too injuri­ous to the publick good, to detein you longer from your more noble employments. I shall onely beg the happinesse of a room in your memorie, in qualitie of

Sir,
your most humble Servant, T. F.

To Mr. T. P.

Sir,

HAving long since received your Letter and not receiving any answer, you might justly think I either not received, or slighted your command. But, when you have read this, you will believe that my silence was neither out of sloth, nor slighting; it being much against my will that I have deprived my self of the pleasure I take in serving you. The reasons that obliged me this delay, were more just than I wish they had been: For, this vagrant Pam­phlet that now attends you, was stragled from me, and much time pass'd before I could pro­cure a Pass to send it home to the place of its birth. Since when, I understood that your oc­casions called you to a greater distance, which rendred me uncapable of serving you. Thus, Sir, you see it was not out of any covetous or envious humour, or a fear of the expence of a few lines; which when you have them, are so worthless, that I might have done you a greater courtesie to have forborn them now. Onely this rudeness may serve to let you see how much I esteem you my friend, in that I have taken no more care to entertain you with that studied respect which I should, to any but my Familiar. I shall not Apologize for the rudeness of this undrest Pamphlet, which now waits upon you in obedience to your call; nor tell you, that I [Page 121] desire you would read it to your own ears onely; nor that I shall long to see it again: But onely desire you to remember what place you hold in the number of his first friends, who is

Sir,
your old Friend and Servant, T. F.

To M. C. F.

Sir,

I Have heard of those men-moles, that Ner [...] ­like, rip up the entrails of their Mother Earth, to plunder her of her hidden Excrements (who many times dig so long under ground, that they meet with their own graves before they are willing) though none of the best men, yet have they this good qualitie, that they are conti­nually calling and talking to one another, that if a sudden damp should surprize any of them, the rest may speedilie be readie to help and as­sist them. It is no shame for the best to learn what's good, though from the worst of men. Considering therefore the many clouds and va­pours that continually are readie to overwhelm and stifle us in this vault of earth (where we are but day-labourers) it is a necessarie dutie of friends to be frequent in these Offices of friend­ship. How unhappie had I been, had that boi­sterous wind blown down your earthlie taber­nacle, and deprived me of a friend without any warning! And though my eyes and ears were [Page 122] lately the happie witnesse of your recoverie: Yet, me thinks, I know not how to credit them, till you vouchsafe to give it me under your hand and seal, and confirm to me the continu­ance of my health and happiness in yours. Cer­tainly, there is more intended in these visits, than common custome and complement. Let­ters are the lawful Spies and Intelligencers of a­mitie; the honourable Leigers to continue a good correspondencie amongst friends. And, if, as our late Physicians hold, most diseases and distempers of the bodie are occasioned by the stopping of the bloods circulation, surely, the o­mitting of these correspondencies, breed no good blood, but, like the intermitting pulse, pro­clame the decay, if not the death of friendship. It is not enough that you are alive and well, un­less you tell me so, and communicate your hap­piness to me, by the information. I cannot safely say I am well, unless I know my friends are so, who are my self. Let your Letters some­times tell me how I do, and be at once my phy­sick and Physician; and I shall duly pay you the Fee of being

Sir,
your officious servant, T. F.

To Mr. S. S.

Sir,

HAving sounded a retreat to my self from my former, perhaps too familiar converse with the world; being able by experience to confirm the wise mans censure, that it is not on­ly vanity, but vexation of spirit. I have confined my self to my own home: Yet, because man is Animal sociale, and God himself thought it not fit for Him to be alone, I have undertaken (that lawful Negromancie) to converse with the dead; the best and most impartial instructors. I shall make bold (in obedience to your com­mand) from your well-furnished Market, to borrow some supply: For knowledge is truly pabulum Animae, and Books the best Caterers of that entertainment. Had I time, I would ven­ture at an Encomium of those best of Companions. But the messenger stayes, and I cannot. Let me therefore (without a Preface) crave the privi­ledge of your Fuller; from whose Pisgath, I am ambitious to take a view of that Holy Land▪ for which, and your many former favours, I must subscribe my self

Sir,
yours obliged, T. F.

To Mr. T. L.

Sir,

AMongst the ill turns of my cross fortune, it was not the least, that I could not attein the happiness of seeing you, when last in London; though your goodness often endeavoured it, and I was not idle in the like returns. If you will pardon me my City-misfortune, in recom­pence, I will enjoyn my self the penance, or ra­ther the happiness of a twelve miles pilgrimage, to kiss your hands, at your own home, when the weather and the way shall so far be-friend me. In pursuance of that service I owe you, I have now sent, &c.—I suppose you expect, and I presume, as good and as cheap as you could have bought them: For I would willingly ob­tein your belief, that my service to my friends is not mercenary; and that I look not to be paid again for those acts of dutie which your courtesies have paid me for before-hand. This is no complement, but the real, though ex tem­pore dictates of my Heart.

Sir,
your humble servant, T. F.

To Dr. S.

Noble Dr.

THe ingenious Italians have three significant phrases whereby they character a work ex­actly done. They say, it was performed, Con diligenza, con studio, & con amore. Without a­ny ambition, I must crave leave to tell you, that in order to the content I take in ser­ving my friends, and especially your self (to whom I am bound by so many repeated acts of friendship) I have not failed in any of those particulars in my search for—. For, to have enjoy'd the pleasure of satisfying your expecta­tions, I used all the diligence and care that could be thought on: For I think I left not a shop un­visited, though yours were my onely errand, and, but for one place, I must have returned with a non est inventus. Sir, your goodness makes me apt to believe, that you will not censure the Act by the Issue; and I shall live in hope, that some other command may render me more happy in the performance▪ Let the shortness of my time and paper excuse this abrupt tender of my thanks and service to your self, your good bed­fellow, and the rest of your happie Familie; and do me the favour, or rather the justice, to be­lieve me to be

Sir,
your very ready and real servant, T. F.

To Mr. S. S.

Sir,

AS needie debtors pay one sum, but with an intent to borrow a bigger; so I send you home three Books, with a request to borrow a fourth. Thus doe I link your courtesies, and my engagements together; and know­ing the undoubted fertilitie of your friend­ship, I shall make every former favour the Parent of another. So that, if it be a fable that Pliny tells of some Mice in Caria, that are so fruitful, that the young ones are with young in their Dams belly: The pregnant acts of your Friendship may be the Moral. I shall therefore request the use of your Plu­tarch's Morals, which (I doubt not) will in­struct me how to return you due thanks for your many courtesies, whereby you have so many times bound me to be

Sir,
your thankeful Friend and Servant, T. F.

To Mr. C. F.

Sir,

OF all pleasures, reading is the best: of all readings, those Antelucanas Lectiones are to me the most pleasant and profitable. And sure­ly there is something in it, that Lectus and Le­ctio are of near affinitie. These are the onely Curtain-Lectures. Not long since I fastened up­on Sir Richard Bakers Soliloquie, or, as he calls it, Pillar of thoughts; deservedly so styled, for the solidity of the composition, the rareness of the materials, and height of the fancie. There, amongst other choise notions, he falls upon the immortality of the Soul, and hath so well dis­charged himself in it, that he hath left no place for a Sceptick to rest in: Onely I could not see (for indeed my candle is not of the largest size) how he doth clearly evince the Original of the rational soul, but (with St. Augustine) refuseth to determine whether it be propagated, or infused. I dare not resolve, where so great men doubt, and wherein the soul it self is ignorant, or si­lent; as if it had drank of Virgils Lethe, before it came into the bodie, forgetting how it came there. Weighing the arguments of both sides, my reason holding the ballance with an equal hand, the arguments for the Traduction, in my eye seem to be most weightie. Perhaps because I know not how to answer them. When I consider the births of bastards, and other such [Page 128] like irregular productions (the Anomalies of nature) I cannot (me thinks) salve Gods justice, who, if the soul be not ex traduce, must favour those irregularities, so much against his Holi­ness: And what hath the poor innocent soul done, to be imprisoned in a sinful polluting bo­die? For, if the soul be not propagated, then the bodies of Infants onely have sinned, and are onely liable to the punishment of Original sin. Now certainly, it cannot be properly said that the bo­die sinneth, for the bodie is but the souls instru­ment, and what evil hath the soul of a young dying Infant committed, if his soul were not derived from Adam? And if the soul be infused, who doubts but that it comes pure and unspotted from the hands of God? It was an errour rec­koned upon the score of the Arrians, that our Saviour took onely flesh of the Virgin, but not the soule: But it is the opinion of the Church of England, that Christ took mans nature upon him in the Virgins womb; whence it must necessa­rily follow, that he took both body and soul, since either, without the other, make not perfect man. Yet, if this be evaded, as extraordinary, in the Historie of the Creation, when God took Eve out of Adams side, it is not said, that He breathed into her the breath of life, as before He did to Adam: Perhaps (and if silence may be interpreted consent) to intimate that her soul was derived with her body from the man. But, that the soul, which Philosophers call Anima, composed of the vegetative and sensitive facul­ties, is ex traduce, is yielded; the onely question being about the Spiritus, which, they say, is the [Page 129] breath of God, infused in the third, or four th' or sixth moneth; or, to say truth, they know not when. Now, if this Spirit be infused before the birth, why see we not the effects and work­ings of this Spirit? But it seems as dull as the bo­dy is feeble; whereas, experience tels us, Chickens as soon as hatch'd, fall to pecking, ducklings to padling, the colt fals to sucking as soon as foald, the lamb as soon as faln; whereas this Spirit in man is not seen, till almost the third part of his life be spent, and perhaps not at all▪ Let a child be brought up in a wood, or a wilderness, what difference will appear between him and a beast? So that this Spirit seems to be encreased by, if not derived from civil societie, and liberal education; whereas, if the soul be infused by God, that it must come perfect from his hands, who makes a question? These things my faith can easily leap over, and turn these mountains into mole-hils; but my reason is at a stand, and craves the fa­vourable assistance of your courteous hand, be­cause I know you will doe it, and that dexte­rously. If you have the good fortune to rout these light arguments, which I send out as my forlorn hope, I have yet a reserve left, which may tell you, that a man may be victus in praelio, and yet victor in bello. But I leave you to your good fortune, with assurance that your enemy is no other than

Sir,
your Friend and Servant, T. F.

D. P. B.

INfandum (Philippe) jubis renovare dolorem▪ Dolorem sub sigillo silentis signandum esse, vel lachrymis potius quam verbis exprimendum▪ Nefandâ illâ nocte, flagranti amicitiâ, fluenti eloquentiâ, medio de fonte leporum, surgit a­mari aliquid. A Cacumine montium sum de­jectus, è Paradiso ejectus; in orbem iturus, re­diturus nunquam: foemininae linguae gladius versatilis regressum prohibet.

Heu! quae nunc tellus, quae me aequora possunt accipere, aut quid jam misero mihi denique restat? Silentium olim pendidit Amyclas, jam vana lo­quacitas perdidit Amicos. Nunc seriò, ah nimis sera! illud C [...]mici, Mulier aut amat, aut odit, nihil est tertium. Tu tamen vale & constanter Ama.

Constantissimum tuum Amicum, T. F.

To Mr. S. S.

Sir,

CHristian moderation is the best reconciler of all controversies; for it hath been too often found by sad experience, that in the heats of [Page 131] disputations, men have sought victory, rather than verity, Truth being often lost by an over­hot and hasty search: Witness the many, and too eager Disputes concerning Admission to the Lords Supper; to which some men, by a too ha­sty, and less charitable zeal, have excluded all, though never so worthy, lest they should lose the authoritie of Examination, which the Scri­pture no where commands, no [...] hardly anywhere allowes; it being not possible for any man to know what is in man, but the Spirit of man which is within him. The Apostle St. Paul therefore layes the injunction upon every man to examine himself, not sending him to ano­ther to usurp the power of Auricular Confession, which they condemn in the Papists, yet would exercise themselves. I denie (under submissi­on) that any man can shew any one direct place of Scripture that commands or enjoynes the Minister to examine his Parishioners; it being his Office to teach them their duties, to re­prove them for, and convince them of their er­rours, and it is left to the people to examine and reform themselves by that glasse which the Minister holds out unto them. We accuse the Romanists (and justly) of grand Sacriledge, for denying the Cup unto the people, whilest we are deprived not onely of part, but of all. How justly, let the Scripture, and the practice of all Ages (till ours) shew. It is denied that Judas received the Sacrament with the other disci­ples, though three Evangelists absolutely re­late it, and the fourth doth not denie it. It is also denied, that the Sacrament is a converting [Page 132] Ordinance, because the Scripture doth not say so in expresse terms: By better reason we say it is, because the Scripture no where denies it, and reason it self speaks the use of it to be ver­bum visibile, it setting forth Christ and his Passi­on to our eyes, as the Word preached doth to our eares; and we have alwayes been taught, that the Eye is the aptest Scholar If it be not a Preaching action now, it is because we have it not to see; else to what purpose did our Savi­our command us to use it in remembrance of him? That all should receive the Sacrament of the Supper, because all have been Baptized, is an argument framed onely by the Con [...]uters thereof; for none (that I know) who plead for a free admission, but make some exception from this general rule, as infants, fools, and excommu­nicate persons; for that all have a right to eat, is an argument never maintein'd, the onely que­stion being who have this right, and who have not? That Infidels, Ideots, and Children have not, all agree, for reasons too plain to be question­ed. That scandalous persons have no right, we denie not neither, onely say, they are not to be accounted so, till excommunicated: Nor can that man be lawfully accounted guilty in the sence of the Law, till proofs have convicted, and sentence determined him to be so: For to denie a man the priviledges his birth allowes him till the Law determine that he hath for­feited them, is an injustice, and no command of Christ or Scripture. Sure I am, the Master in the Parable reproved not his servant for ad­mitting him without the wedding garment, it [Page 133] was their part to invite all, and if any would presume to come unfitted, it lay upon himself to bear the sentence of their Lord; the Apostle telling us, as it is a dutie upon every one to ex­amine himself, so he comes upon his own peril, to eat and drink his own damnation. And be­cause he that eats and drinks unworthily, eats and drinks his own damnation; yet it follow­eth not that the Sacrament should be denied them: For who knows not, that though a man have been loose and careless in his conversation, yet God may work a change in him in an in­stant, even in the very act of Administration: And certainly, no meanes ought to be denied any man, that may conduce to, if happily not produce that good end for which all the Ordi­nances of the Gospel are ordained. But I for­get, I intended a Letter, not a Dispute, since with­out controversie I am

Sir,
your Friend and Servant, T. F.

To Mr. S. S.

Sir,

I Am not at all infected with that itch of Dispu­tation; how contrary it is to my more peace­able temper, all that know me can witnesse. But having routed the main body of your argu­ments, I shall now scatter your reserve. It is said the Church of Ephesus is commended for [Page 134] trying and judging of men: But it is clear by the next words, that this trial was of their doctrine, not of their lives; and that they were found false Apostles. Neither can this (if it were as is pretended) authorize a particular Minister to that, which may be lawful to the Church, it be­ing too tender a thing to be trusted with one man alone to determine; for what inconveni­ences would thence follow, may easily be ima­gined. The Priests indeed (as you say)▪ were commanded to make a separation between the clean and the unclean, but it was of beasts for the sacrifices, as the Texts express themselves. And St. Peter saith God had shewn him, that he should not call any man common and unclean: And St. Paul tells the Corinthians, that he had no power to judge them without. That Christ gave the Supper onely to his Apostles, is plain, but it is as plain that one of them was a Judas; and what select company was ever in this world, wherein was not some close hypocri [...]e? and no Devil to the white Devil. I have done with your arguments, and shall now sound a retreat to my self, and resolve to draw my pen no more in this quarrel: For I know not whe­ther this kind of duelling be not forbidden by the late Act; if it be not, I wish it were, for I love not to contend with my friends with any o­ther weapons than love and service. When you conquer me at those weapons, I must forget your merit, or that I am

Sir,
your friend and servant, T. F.

To Mr. T. F.

Sir,

HAving lately (not without pleasure and profit) read your Church-History; by which, you have not only indebted our Church in par­ticular, but the whole Common-wealth of Learning in general; my memory continually upbraided me with ingratitude, till I found out this way to convey my resentments. For, though our Returns of thanks ought to be large and universal, as your merit, yet your goodness (I hope) will not refuse the single gratitude of private persons. In that number (though the last, and the least) I am bold to tender my mite. A task indeed better befitting a more equal pen, since none is able to do it but your own. But I know your modesty is as great as your merit, the highest worths being always accompanied with the lowest humiltie. May your name ever live, who have rais'd so many to life, and rescued their memories from the tyranny of oblivion. Amongst many others, I am particularly obli­ged to your courtesie, in the remembrance of that good man Mr. Udal, whom by kindred I am something related. One, of whom we have this tradition, that he was the first man King James asked for when he came into England; and being answered, that he was dead, the King (whose judgment was an exact standard of lear­ning & learned men) reply'd, By my sal, then the greatest Scholar in Europe's dead. And certainly, by his own party (if they may be admitted for [Page 136] competent Judges) it is not yet resolv'd, whe­ther his Learning or his Zeal were greatest; and they think they justly boast him a Confessor, if not a Martyr for that Cause, which since hath paid those scores with Interest. Now, though I am no heir to his opinions, yet a small affinity to his Person, makes me embrace the opportu­nitie of proffering you that Intelligence you complain to want, the rather, because (perhaps) no man can now do it but my self; and I have a Relation of all his Trials, Censures, and Sentence, written by himself; which (I doubt not) may give you a satisfactorie account in what you desire. If you please to command it, I shall be ambitious to serve you, and the truth therewith. But I could wish you would review that pas­sage in the 31 Sect. After the Execution of Udal, &c. for he died at the White-Lyon (just as his pardon was procured) and was buried at St. Georges Southwark. And so I leave him to his Rest, wishing his good name and doctrines may sur­vive his discipline. Sir▪ you have not onely en­gaged Learning, but Religion, to perpetuate your labours. Fame is much in arrears to your De­sert, and therefore cannot in justice but conti­nue that veneration in length to your memorie, which it yet wants in breadth. Those Religi­ous Houses, erected by a better devotion, than that which destroy'd them, are more beholding [...]o your Pen, than to their Founders, or Mate­rials; you having made them a task for the re­membrance and admiration of future Ages, so long as Time shall hold a Sythe, or Fame a Trumpet. I would say more, if the univer­sal [Page 137] applause of all knowing men had not saved me a labour. And (to pay you in some of your own coyn) It is no flattery to affirm, what envy cannot deny. Did I not fore-see that the relation would swell my discourse beyond the limits of a Letter, or the length of your pati­ence, I should assume the libertie to inform you, that my neighbourhood to the place, acquaints me with some Relicts of Religious Houses, at and near Ma [...]don, bearing still the name of an Abbey, a Friery, and a Nunnery. And, if we may judge of Hercules by his foot, of the whole piece by the remnant, and of them by their Remaines, I should suppose them not behind many in England. As yet, I know little of them, but their ruines; but, if you vote it con­venient, I shall endeavour to improve my present ignorance into a discoverie of them▪ I suppose it will be no hard task; I am sure it shall not, when in relation to your com­mand. I must now take pitie of your pati­ence, which had not run this hazard of abuse, did I not know I have to do with so great a Candor, from which I can expect no less than pardon. And in that presumption I crave your leave to be, as I subscribe my self

Sir,
your most assured servant, T. F.

To M.

Madam,

WEre I sure of the cause of your malady, I could easily hope the Cure; but, being to guess at the one, it will be no wonder, if I miss the other. Of all diseases, those of the mind are worst, of those, that of melancholy: of melancholies, the religious. I know not by what unhappy wit, the the badge of melancholy hath been fastned upon the spirit of Calvin, that Patriarch of Presbytery. This I know, since that unhappy Planet hath reigned over us, we have too sensibly felt all those unlucky effects that an ill-boading Comet could produce. What wars, what blood-shed, what ruines have we seen in the State? What factions, what fractions in the Church? What envy, what hatred, what divisions amongst private persons? What doubts, what feares, what distractions in all mens minds? In a word, what not?

Gladly doe I remember those happy dayes (now happy onely in the remembrance) that Golden Age, wherein we had but one Truth, but one Way, wherein men walked lovingly together, without contentious justling one a­nother. When those Silver Trumpets of the Sanctuary gave no uncertain sound; when the way to Heaven was, though a narrow, yet a plain and direct path; not block'd up by envi­ous censures, by distracting clamours. But [Page 139] now I sadly see, and sigh to say, our Rents are like to prove our Ruine, and our distractions our destruction. I remember a Storie of a knavish Painter (so my Author calls him) who, be­ing to make the Picture of some goddess for a Citie to worship, drew the Counterfeit of his own Mistris, and so caused her to be courted▪ that (perhaps) better deserved to be carted. I wish this tale were not too true of our times. It is too obvious to conceal the Parallel. Do we not daily see Religion drest up in the seve­ral shapes of every ones fancie, and obtruded upon the easie multitude, as the onely Deitie for their adoration and observance? our faith made as changeable as our fashions? And, what's the miserie of our miseries, none are so easily deluded, as the well-meaning, sim­ple-hearted, honest Christians; who, out of an excesse of Charitie, are ready to believe all men mean truly, because they doe so them­selves.

If this be your case (and I am to seek if it be not) let me give you this Caution, Beware of that evil which commeth near to the shew­of good; none can so easily deceive you, as those Hyaena's, who have learn'd your voice, to draw you out of the way. Take heed of those serpents of the colour of the ground. Let St. Paul beseech you to mark them which cause divisions and offences: Contrary to the Do­ctrine which you have learned, and avoid them. I am mis-inform'd, if the same word which we read Contrary, doth not also import near. There are no opinions so dangerously con­trary [Page 140] to the truth, as they that seem very near it.

Let me assure you, it is the old way, which is the good way, wherein you shall find rest. There shall you find a direct road, without any turn­ings and windings of private interest or facti­on: No briars and thorns of quarrelling dis­putes; no soul-destroying doctrines, under the ostentious titles of soul-saving truths. It is no such long and melancholy way, as we see now chalk'd out by those who have found out new paths to heaven, that our Fathers never dream't of. There shall you find gravity without moro­sity▪ and mirth without madness; Christian cheer­fulnesse as well commanded, as commended. Religion is no such frowning fury: Psalms and Hymns ar her daily practice, as well as prayers and teares. The same Holy Spirit that com­mands us to pray alwayes, enjoyns us also to rejoyce evermore. We sin, if we rejoyce not: There is not more errour in false mirth, than in unjust heaviness. Can they be sad, who have a God to defend, a Christ to save, and an Ho­ly Ghost to comfort them. It is for those that know not God, or know him displeas'd, to droop, as men without hope.

An humble practice of those Common truths, alone necessary to salvation, is far more safe, more happy, than all the towring and lofty spe­culations of unquiet Heads, and too busie Brains. There is some reason in the old Scotch Rithme.

Rob. Will. and Davy,
Keep well thy Pater noster, and Ave,
And if thou wilt the better speed,
Gang no farther than thy Creed:
Say well, and do none ill,
And keep thy self in safety still.

Our way is not tedious, nor our burthen heavy; why then should we add length to the one, and weight to the other, by an un-necessa­rie sadness? Whilest hypocrisie lies under the cloud­ed brow of a Pharisee; a cheerful countenance is the badge of innocence. It is a disparagement to our Master, and his service, to follow him sighing, I have done. Pardon me this (perhaps un-ne­cessary) length, and believe me, however the Physick chance to work, it is tender'd with an hand ayming onely at your happinesse; and that would gladly wish no better employment, than to strew your way to heaven with Roses. This is the height of his ambition, who is

Madam,
your most humble Servant, T. F.

To M. D. P.

Sir,

THe Italians say in a Proverb, That words are but females, deeds are males. I can allow them to be females, so they be fruitful in these [Page 142] masculine productions, and not subject to mis­carry of those fruits, with which they often seem so big. I have endeavoured my promises should not prove abortive; but it hath staid so long by the Carriers Midwifry, that what you expected as a gift, will amount to a purchase; for, a courtesie delay'd, is dearly bought. Besides, I cannot expect it should arise to the merit of a gift, since it will hardly amount to the least mite that I owe you. Your courtesies have been so many, your favours so large, and the conti­nuance so long, that I despair of discharging the Interest, should your goodness abate me the Principal. But if a thousand thanks, and ten thousand good wishes may pass for pay, you shall never have cause to call me ingrateful; for herein I can be as liberal as your self. I re­member the Dutch History tells us, that at the Siege of Alcmar, the souldiers within, being without pay, the Magistrates caused dollers of tin to be coyned, of three shillings a piece, with promise, that the Town being delivered, they would redeem them for good silver at the rate. I will wrap up this poor present with a faithful promise, that when propitious Heaven shall transmute my tin and copper into gold and silver, payments shall be more proportionate to your merits, and my obligations, by which I stand firmly bound to profess my self

Sir,
your Servant, T. F.

To M. J. W.

Madam,

NEither out of sloth, nor slighting; not out of forgetfulness, nor unwillingness, have I hither­to delay'd this debt of duty, which you may justly have expected sooner. Believe me, I have not yet forgot those many, many favours where­by you have perpetually bound me to serve you. My silence thus long, hath been not out of negligence, but designe. I was not willing to meet your sorrow in its full careere, resolving rather to await the turning of the tide, and ex­pect an ebb of your passion; lest in stead of a lenitive, I had brought a corrosive; and in stead of abating, encreased your grief. By this time, I hope, your Reason hath subdued your Passion, and natural affection given place to Religion; which, as it allows a moderate sorrow for the death of our friends and relations, so it appoints bounds to our tears, and commands us, Not to weep as those without hope. When my thoughts reflect upon your losse of so dutiful a daughter, so good a wife, so pleasant a companion, so true a friend, in the fair flower of her youth, in the pleasant Spring of her age; me thinks, I could mingle my tears with yours, and forget what I intended. But when agen I consider the mise­ries of this life, the troubles of this world, the losses and crosses, the corroding cares, the doubtful fears that attend us here: when I bal­lance [Page 144] our loss with her gains, the miseries she is past, with the happinesses she enjoyes, I can find so little cause to mourn, that I must confess we have infinitely more reason to rejoyce. Alas! what is our life but a sea of troubles, a pilgri­mage of dangers, a race, a warfare, a banish­ment; the world a prisonfull of chaines and captives, at best an Inn, no habitation? Death is our quiet harbour, an end of our journey, a conclusion of our warfare; that brings us from exile to our native home; that gives us a King­dome for a prison, crowns for chains, and for this poor baiting-place of earth, an everlasting ha­bitation in Heaven. Shall we then grieve for those are gone before us, who are released from the evils present, and secured against those to come, who are taken from labour to rest, from expectation to fruition, from death to life. Is it not unjust? Is it not envious? The Philosopher, who was asked, Which was the best ship? wisely answered, That which is safely arrived. Shall we weep for those, who have already made their voyage, or rather for our selves, who are still tossed upon the waters of strife, who are still subject to those storms and tempests, which they have happily past? They are not lost, but gone before; not perished, but perfected; not dead, but departed. A long-sick man commanded this Epitaph to be written upon his grave, Here I am well. Fortune (they say) most hurts, whom she seems to favour; Death most favours those he seems to hurt. Nor may we account an early death untimely: The fruit which to our appre­hension is blown down green and untimely, is ga­thered [Page 145] full ripe in Gods providence. The fair­est flowers soonest fade. The Sun and Moon, the most bright and glorious of these heavenly bodies, fulfill their courses in a short season, whilest the dimmer and duller Planets are long­er time wheeling about. It is sometimes the happiness of young John, to out-run old Peter to the Sepulchre. This is Gods will, and there­fore not to be resisted, not to be repined at. It is their happiness, therefore not to be lamented. Can our feares profit them where they are, or bring them back to us? I could allow you to be lavish of your sighs, to be prodigal of your tears, were they not unfruitful, were they not unlawful. I can easily believe your loss of her, to be as great as your love to her; but your meeting again will be more joyous, than your parting was grievous. But what do I do? I for­get that I write to one, whose Christian carri­age hath (I doubt not) already prevented me this office; and whose excellent parts are a­ble to anticipate whatsoever I am able to say. Give me leave onely to kisse your hands, and once more to assure you, that I am still as much as ever,

Madam,
the most humble, and the most real of your Friends and Servants, T. F.

To Mr. T. C.

Sir,

IT is informed from several parts, that the Butchers have knock't down the Excise-men, and cut the throat of the Excise upon meat: And they have so generally thrown off that yoke, that it is believed they will hardly be brought to admit the putting of it on again. Whither do these confusions tend! Where will they end! We are like the poor Ass in the Fable, who often changed his Master, but al­wayes for the worse. Will not all these mise­ries yet open the eyes of the blinded multitude! I would be-speak them in the words of Ana­nus, one of the Jewish Priests, inciting the peo­ple against the factious Zealots; amongst other passages (which you may find in Josephus) he thus questions them,—But why should I exclame against the tyrants? Did not you your selves make them great, and nourish their power and authority by your patience? Did not you, by despising those who be­fore were in authority, being but a few, make all these, who are many in number, tyrants over your selves?

When Consuls succeeded the Roman Kings, the Historian sayes, they changed gold for brass, and loathing one King, suffered many tyrants, scourging their folly with their fall, and curing a fester'd sore with a poysoned plaister. Do we not plainly see the Fable moralized by our selves? The Serpents Tail would needs one [Page 147] day fall a quarrelling with the Head, saying, that she would by turns goe before, and not al­wayes come lagging behind; which the Head having yielded unto, was the first that repent­ed it, not knowing how, or whither she should goe; and besides, was all rent and bruised, be­ing forced, against nature, to follow a member that had neither seeing nor hearing to conduct it. Our factions, fractions, and lawless liber­ty, render us like the poor Bactrans, of whom it is said, that they are Sine Fide, sine Rege, sine Lege. But whither is my pen running? Since I began with the Excise in England, I will waft you over into Holland, where it first began, and was invented; there you shall see how ill the Dutchmen at first relished this Tax upon their drink: It occasioned this Libel in Dutch, which you shall read in English:

I wish long life may him befall,
And not one good day there withal;
And Hell-fire after this life here,
Who first did raise this Tax on Beer.

With this Postscript, The Word of God, and the Tax on Beer, last for ever and ever.

But it is no wonder the Dutchman should be so angry with this charge upon his drink, since you know it is said, Germanorum vivere, est bibere. And they account the turning of water into wine, the greatest Miracle that ever Christ did; which miracle onely made one of them wish that Christ had lived in their Coun­try. No more now, but that I am still as always,

Sir,
your Servant, T. F.

To Mr. T. C.

Sir,

WE have now (thanks to our Preserver) li­ved to see those men confuted to their fa­ces, who would needs determine the end of the world, before the end of the year; and upon no better ground, that I could hear from any of them, than this, because (say they) the old world was drowned in the year from the Crea­tion, 1657. And I find the Learned Alstedius fathering of this fancie, because he found the same number of yeares in the Chronogram of Conflagratio Mundi. How miserably, and yet how often have the too credulous vulgar been deluded by the vain Predictions of such idle A­strologasters! I remember Hollingshed tells a sto­rie of the Prior of St. Bartholomews London, who built him an house on Harrow-hill, to secure himself from a supposed flood foretold by an Astrologer: But at last, he, with the rest of his seduced company, came down again as wise as they went up. Such is the fate and folly of those false prophets, that they often live to see themselves confuted. It is a witty jeer the Cambro-Britannian Epigrammatist puts upon the Scotch Napier, who more wisely had deter­mined the end of the world at a farther di­stance.

Cor mundi finem propiorem non facis? ut ne ant [...] obitum mendax arguerere: Sapis.

Thus, as is well observed, by a late and Learned Author, Astrologers have told of a sad and discontented day, which would weep it's eyes out in showers, which when 'twas born proved a Democritus, and did nothing but laugh at their ignorance and folly.

Infinite are the Stories upon Record of the madness of those men, and the vanitie and credulity of the easie multitude: Strange, that they should be so grossely, and yet so often cheated with the same bait! But I conclude with a more serious observation of Ludolphus, of the two destructions of the world: As the first, sayes he, was by water, for the heat of their lust; so the second shall be by fire, for the cold­nesse of their love. In hopes that ours is not yet grown cold, I subscribe my self,

Sir,
your loving Friend, T. F.

To Mr. E. M.

Sir,

BOdin the Frenchman, in his Method of Histo­ry, accounts Englishmen barbarous for their Civil Wars: But his Countrymen, at this time, have no great reason to cast dirt in our faces, till [Page 150] they have wash'd their own. They who have hitherto set us on fire, and warm'd their hands by it, are now in the like flames themselves. It hath been one of their Cardinal Policies to divide us, lest our union should prove their ruine. It was the saying of the D. of Rohan, a great States-man, That England was a mighty Animal, and could never die, unless it kill'd it self. Certainly we have no worse enemies than our selves, as if we had conspired our own ruine: For Plutarch calls the ardent desire of the Grae­cians to make Civil Wars in Greece, a Conspiracie against themselves. But well may the winds and waves be Pilots to that ship whose inferi­our Mariners have thrown their Pylot over­board. Dum ille regnabat, tranquillè vivebamus, & neminem metuebamus, said the people of the Emperour Pertinax. We remember the time when we lived in peace and plenty, till we sur­feited of our happiness; and as our peace be­gat plenty, so our plenty begat pride, and pride brought forth animosities and factions, and they, if not prevented, will be delivered of our ruine and destruction.

In times past (sayes Cornelius Tacitus of our Countrymen) they lived under a Monarchy; now, that they are subject to divers Masters, one can see nothing but faction and divisions amongst them. This was spoken of our fore­fathers; and our Posteritie will think it meant onely of us. The God of union re-unite us, and out of this Chaos of confusion, create an happy concord amongst us, before our rents prove our ruine, and our distractions our de­struction. [Page 151] This is the constant and hearty prayer of

Sir,
your assured Servant, T. F.

To Mr. T. C.

Sir,

I Must tell you, you are not justly troubled at the injustice of our new Judges, since they have thereby rendred those brave men Mar­tyrs, which otherwise had died as Criminals. Socrates his wife exasperated her grief by this circumstance, Good Lord, said she, how un­justly doe these bad Judges put him to death! What, wouldst thou rather they should execute me justly? replyed he to her. The injustice of the Judges sentence, declare the justness of the condemned's cause. It is not the being a Judge that makes his sentence just, or the prisoner guilty: There have been those, and we have seen them, who have committed murther with the Sword of Justice, and executed Justice as a malefactor. Nor have the friends of those hap­py Martyrs any cause to be ashamed of, or grie­ved for their death, or manner of it: Damnari, dissecari, suspendi, decolari, piis cum impiis sunt communia: (sayes Erasmus) Varia sunt hominum judicia, Ille foelix qui judice Deo absolvitur. The old Martyrs have accounted martyrdom the way to heaven on hors-back. The first man that di­ed [Page 152] went to heaven, but the first man that went to heaven died a Martyr, suffered a violent death by the hands of a cruel and unmerciful brother. We have lived to see that politick prin­ciple of Periander put in practice, who being con­sulted with how to preserve a tyranny, bid the messenger stand still, whilest he, walking in a garden, topt all the highest flowers, thereby sig­nifying the cutting off, and bringing low of the Nobility. Yet will not this do with us; it is but like Cadmus his sowing of serpents teeth, which will raise up armed men to revenge the quarrel of those brave spirits: For though our Cur­feu-bell hath been rung out, and the fire of our zeal rak'd up in the ashes of Acts and Orders, yet it is not extinguished: Witness those Sparks who have revenged the death of their Sovereign with the hazard of their own lives.

By this time, I doubt not, but they who most endeavoured his Majesties death, have seen cause enough to wish him alive again, and are ready to engrave that Motto upon his Statue (which they threw down with contempt) which was set upon the Statue of the Roman Brutus, Ʋtinam viveres. It is yet some comfort that we can mingle sighs, and assist one another with mutual counsels and courtesies, which shall ne­ver be wanting from

Sir,
your assured Friend, T. F.

To Mr. T. L.

Sir,

BEing lately at our New Court, there I saw his Highnose, so environed with his guard, as if he had been their prisoner, and wondred how he durst venture himself amongst so ma­ny dangerous weapons. I was ready to have said unto him, as Plato did to D [...]onysius the ty­rant, when he saw him compassed about with many souldiers of his guard, What, hast thou committed so many evils, that thou standest in need of such a guard of armed fellows? To see the dif­ference betwixt fearlesse innocence, and fearful guilt! M. Aurelius, that good Prince, never had any guard; for (sayes my Author) he stood not in fear of his subjects. Innocence is the surest guard, as Pliny told Trajan the Empe­rour: Haec arx inaccessa, hoc inexpugnabile muni­mentum, munimento non egere. Frustra se terrore succinxeret, qui septus charitate non fuerit. Armis enim arma irritantur.

White-hall is now become Black-hall, with the smoak of coals and matches: But it would make one sad and sigh to see what havock is made of his Majesties goods and houshold-stuff, and to whose using his house & furniture is faln. It minded me of a story in Q. Curtius, who says, Alexander (that great robber, as the petty Py­rat call'd him) sitting in Darius Seat, which was not fit for him, but higher than served for [Page 154] his stature, his feet could not touch the ground; one of his Pages put a board underneath for him to tread upon; whereat one of the Eunuchs that belonged to Darius, looked heavily, and fetch'd a deep sigh, whose sadnesse when Alex­ander perceived, he enquired of him the cause? He answered: That when he beheld the board whereon Darius was wont to eat, employed to so base an use, he could not behold it with­out grief. Who can see those brave horses which used to draw his Majestics Coach, now drag in enemies cart, without pity & indignati­on? But enough of this, and for this time I am,

Sir,
your very Friend, Servant, T. F.

To Mr. E. H.

Sir,

HAving now retrived my rude draught of that excellent, but lost virtue of friendship, I send the picture to you the pattern, that it may be corrected by the comparison. It cannot be ex­pected that it should be an exact piece, or that I should draw it to the life, which hath been dead to us poor mortals; especially having had so little light, and at so great a distance as we are re­moved from that golden age wherein friend­ship flourished. I cannot but admire, that so no­ble a subject hath found so few friends: For, ex­cept that Triumvirate of Eloquence, the Roman [Page 155] Cicero, our English Seneca, and that great Dicta­tor of Learning Sir Fra. Bacon. I have found few or none, who have written any just dis­course of it: From their trine Aspect hath my discourse received some light and augmentati­on. Yet have I not altogether trod in their steps, nor made any better use of them, than admire those I could not imitate; neither have I used any gay or painted language, but plain and sim­ple, like the subject I handle. I have laboured to make it like, rather than handsome. An Em­bassador comming to Treat with the Roman Senate, having his head powdered, and his face painted, Cato told them, they could not expect any truth from him, whose very locks and looks did lye. I have therefore studied to represent this Lady, sine fuco, sine fallaciis, without the dressings of any artificial handsomness, or auxi­liary beauty. If you like it, love it; if not, draw the curtain of your charity over it, and let it lie, till some abler workman shall take the pensil in hand. It is enough for me, if it can but speak the Author

Sir,
your true Friend, T. F.

To Mr. J. A.

Sir,

DId not the same peremptory businesse that pressed me down, still keep me here, I shoud (at least) have prevented the Of­fice of this Paper, and not been beholding [Page 156] to a mute proxie for the delivery of a message I should rather, if not better, have done in per­son. Since fate will have it thus, let me crave your credence, that what you shall here read, is not so much the dictate, as the transcript of my heart. Sir, I left not my careful thoughts with your line of Communication; they have been, and will be my constant companions. Haeret lateri lethalis arundo; and I despair of a­ny other cure, than the dictamen of your friend­ly counsel. I am confident your goodness will doe me not onely the courtesie, but the justice to believe that my recesse was rather retreat, than a flight from the negotiation we had in hand, A businesse (if my thoughts deceive me not) too weighty to be carried to the end with­out a rest. Pardon me, if I am willing to look before I leap.—But after the verdict of my most considerate and serious thoughts, I must pro­fesse I have a large and long experience of the skill and fidelity of you my leader: Nor doe I fear a miscarriage where you are pleas'd to be my guide. To say nothing of other circum­stances I am not forgetful of, though silent in, allow me the liberty to tell you, Spem de futu­ris foveo: principium liquet; and it shall not only be my wish, but the most earnest of my endea­vours, [...]. I have hither­to but tythed my thoughts, which should I al­low my pen the liberty to write, would be too tedious for you to read. In a word therefore (to doe you the courtesie of concluding) I shall promise, that one line from—(if he please to maintein his first favour with a second) will [Page 157] easily and quickly draw me from the most ear­nest of my engagements to tell him Vis à vis, that I am what I ever was, and still hope to be accounted

Sir,
your very very Friend, T. F.

To Mr. R. H.

Sir,

IN my addreresses to my friends, I do always intend too much reality, to be beholding to a Complement, in this to you, if an excess of affe­ction should unawares transport my pen to an extravagant flight, your merits to me, and my obliged respects to you, may sufficiently secure me from the guilt of a suspitious hyperbole. When I have said all I can, I shall be so far from thinking it too much, that I must confesse it to be too little. I could rather have contented my self to have been still your silent debtor, than by the adventure of a few hasty lines to stand in need of your pardon. To think to quit scores with you, by any thing I can say or doe, is be­yond the most confident of my hopes; and had not your command exacted it, I should not now have put you upon a new exercise of that goodnesse, to which I am already so much in­debted. In the large Catalogue of those whom your repeated civilities, and constant courtesies have purchased to be your friends, I dare af­firm, [Page 158] you have none more seriously sensible of your favours, or that doth more really wish your welfare, than my self. May success and prosperitie wait upon all your undertakings; may health and happiness be your constant at­tendants; and may the same good Angel that carries you from us, guide you in your jour­neys, and return you in safety.

Let not your dear Consort (the best of wives and women) think that I have all this while forgotten Her: She is too much your self to be divided from you in our good wishes. Sir, I am equally, and at once her and your

Most obliged Friend, T. F.
FINIS.
Loves Labyrinth.

LOVE'S LABYRINTH; OR, The Royal Shepherdess: A TRAGI-COMEDIE. By THO. FORDE, Philothal.

Quid Melius desidiosus agam?
Fata viam invenient.
Comica festina gaudet sermone Thalia.

LONDON, Printed by R. and W. Leybourn, for William Grantham, and are to sold at the Signe of the Black Bear in St. Pauls Church-yard. 1660.

To his Worthy Friend Mr. Thomas Forde on his LOVES LABYRINTH.

TRue Friend, while others me out-vie, and grace the [...]
(As thou dost them far more) I scarce can trace thee
I many thousand miles do wander
Of Pilgrimage in thy Maeander,
Till by the golden thred,
Of Love I'm safe through led.
Thy Wit is far beyond the Serpentine;
Thy wreathings chequer-work and warp divine;
Thy curious inter-woven Plots,
Rich twine, [...]y'd all in Lovers-knots:
Thy Skill is exquisite,
To untie and unite.
Thy Tent-works in-let pleases me so well,
I'de have none out-let: I'de rather dwell.
I love thy labyrinth, and approve,
That thou shouldst labyrinth my love:
There I poor well-hous'd elf
Might safely lose my self.
I see, work-women a'n't above workmen▪
How far short comes the needle of the pen!
Those Damosels, who are so devouts
In pricking little holes in clouts,
Thy lively Tapestry-story
Out-strips their painted glory▪
Let spleen it self judge eithers manu tract:
Their female works can't speak, thy male-words Act.
A drop of this your art (Sr.) passes
Beyond an Ocean of
allusiv [...] ad gr. [...].
the Lasses
Their by as-stitch doth squint,
But thine's down-right in print.
Nay all thou do'st would be such ne'retheless,
Though it ne're saw the light, nor felt the press.
Thy last impression comes behind,
The first and chief is in thy mind:
Thou art beyond the rest,
Thy first Edition's best.
None living can (I probably conjecture)
No not thy self) repair this Architecture.
Each line's right perpendicular,
Reason thy Pium, and Truth thy Square:
Each full-point may be sead,
A nail driv'n to the Head.
But I could wish there were no period,
That (though all's even) yet something still were od;
That after all Exits might begin
Still more fresh Intrats to come in.
The whole frame so divine is,
Nought vexes me but FINIS.
N. C.

To my ingenious Friend, Mr. Thomas Forde, on His LOVES LABYRINTH.

WHo truly will thy Labyrinth commend,
Shall find it hard, both to begin, and end:
Yet thou hast spun a thred, with which t'untwine
The wandring Lover, though all things combine
To stop his passage: Such a flowing Style
Thou usest too, as did my sense beguile:
For whilest I read, I neither Scaene nor Stage,
"Could think were feign'd: I saw an Active Rage
"Appear in Damocles, which to my eye
"Not Acted seem'd, but real Tyranny.
"Sephestia's love and doom; the better fate
"Of Pleusidippus, not more fortunate:
"For he Loves Labyrinth did also tread,
"And Court incestuously his Mothers Bed.
"And so her father, husband too (none known)
"Yet he by sympathy did claim his own,
"And had a grant, which mov'd the Tyrants spleen,
"(Since he could not enjoy her for his Queen)
"To kill e'm both; their destinies prevent,
"As loth to have destroy'd the innocent.
"Yet at the last each thing succeeds with good:
"Though the foundation seem'd t'be laid in blood.
"And then the harmless shepherds rural sport,
"Whose innocence makes every place a Court.
And all things in so consonanat a dress,
Makes more the seeming, not the being less.
That (credit me) there is not in't a line,
('Tis all so rare) but I could wish were mine.
And as before, so I say now of this,
Thou hast thy skill by Metempsychosi [...]
Proceed then Worthy Friend, and may thy Fame,
Like Laureat Johnson, ever speak thy Name.
Edw. Barwick▪

Persons Personated.

  • DAmocles, King of Arcadia. Father of Se­phestia.
  • Agenor, King of Thessaly. Father of Euriphyla.
  • Maximus or Melecertus, Prince of Cyprus, who married Sephestia.
  • Plusidippus, Son of Sephestia and Maximus.
  • Menaphon, the Kings Shepherd.
  • Doron, a silly Shepherd.
  • Lamedon, Brother to King Damocles.
  • 2 Lords of Arcadia.
    • Romanio,
    • Eurilochus,
    2 Pyrats of Thessaly, who found Plusidippus.
  • Artaxia, Queen of Arcadia, mother of Sephestia.
  • Sephestia, or Samela, wife to Maximus, and mother of Plusidippus.
  • Euriphyla, daughter to Agenor, who loved Plu­sidippus.
  • Pesana, sister to Doron, in love with Menaphon.
  • Carmila, sister to Menaphon, in love with Doron.

The Scaene Arcadia▪

[Page 1]Loves Labyrinth.

Act. 1.

Scaene 1▪

Enter King Damocles with two Lords, and Lamedon.
King.

CAn this be true?

1 Lo.

My Liege, as truth it self.

King.
And will neither the power of a King,
Nor precepts of a father over-sway
Her fond affections; but that thus she will
Run head-long to her ruine? Let her go.
1 Lo.
Yet shot she not at rovers, but a Prince
He is, young and deserving; therefore since
Sh'has hit the mark, it will now be in vain
To give her aym, or make her shoot again.
Kin.
Was she so hasty, that she could not stay
To take our Fatherly advice with her?
No wonder if she wander in the Labyrinth
[Page 2]Of love, without the clew of our counsel.
La.
Come brother▪ come, she's not the first has done
A miss; her own affections were the surest guide
Unto her own content: she chose to please
Her self, not you, come, let this anger cease.
1 Lo.
'Tis now too late for to recal what's past,
The match is made, and that so surely fast,
'Tis past dissolving now; a Grandfather
You are alreay: From their conjunction hath
This in [...]ence proceeded, a fair boy
Hath given them earnest of succeeding joy.
Kin.
How! a boy! and shall that base brat enjoy
My crown? no, no, I'll take a course for that.
La.
Why brother, 'tis a Prince by birth, & why
Not born to Reign?
Kin.
Ay, mischief's on my head,
But I'll prevent the plot and storm, we'l send
Them far enough▪ from troubling of our state:
Distance and danger shall they first subdue,
Before they gain our Crown; the slavish waves
Shall be their subjects: l [...]t them go and and win
The trydent of great Neptune, waters King.
I mean to set them forth.
1 Lo.

What means my Liege?

Kin.
Nay, I'm resolv'd, since that they do no more
Regard my favour, they shall feel my frowns.
O ye Coelestial Deities! where are
Your power and wonted justice now become?
All things run head-long, and the feet forget
Their duty to their Head, and traitors turn,
Breaking the bonds of government; that now
A Princes power, or Fathers care's contemn'd,
And only recompenc'd with slight and scorn.
La [...]
But▪ Sir, though she her duty do forget
[Page 3]To you, yet is she still your child, and may
Be easily reclaimed. Shall one misdeed
Forfeit all former loyalty? She us'd
To be more ready to give, than you
Could be to ask. Come, let the weight of that
O're-poize your anger, and this light offence.
Kin.
I'll hear no more, all pity now is gone,
And anger hath the castle of my breast
So strongly fortified, whole valleys of
Requests can never move: cease then your suit,
To which my ears are deaf, and tongue is mute.
1 Lo.
Heaven is not so impregnable, but that
Entreaties may both siege and conquer it:
If that your daughter hath run on the score
Of one offence, will nothing cancel it?
Kin.

My resolution's writ in Adamant.

1 Lo.

Dread Sir, and may not tears then blot it out?

Kin.
Nor all the liquid drop the sea contains
Shall quench my rage; for now I have forgot
All pitie of a father, and that wretch
Shall feel what 'tis to lose a fathers love.—
Since she will needs slight and contemn our care,
I'll have a Bark provided, without oar,
Or sail, or pilot, but the wilful wind,
And waves, true emblemes of their giddy act,
And therein with her brat, and mate imbarqu'd,
Shall seek their fortunes: And see you it done
Without delay, our Will admits no time,
T'expostulate no more than alteration▪
1 Lo.
O good my Lord command my service in
Some nobler act than this and do not try
My faith in that, for which [...]'de rather die,
Than do't. What heir shall succ [...]ed your self
In the Arcadian Diadem, if thus you drown
[Page 4]The Sun of all our hopes, which must
Supply your place, when as your Sun shall set
In darkest clouds of death, must night ensue,
And seize upon our Horizon?—O let
Some pity of our drooping state prevail.
Kin.
All will not do. I'll have it done; then go
Or stay and pull my vengeance on thy head.
Will you turn traytor too, to our commands?
As you tender our favour, or your safety,
Go execute my will without delay.
1 Lo.
And must my safety prove their ruin? can
They not live, but I must die? I'll do't.
Perhaps the tyrant-waves may prove more kind
Than is their King My Liege I'l ease your mind.
Lam.
And must they, & they only prove (poor hearts)
A sacrifice to fury for their love?
I'll be companion of their fortune. We
Will leave this cursed land, which is nought else
But a dry sea of miseries, in which
We dayly float; the sea can never be
More merciless. O what a maze of woe
Do lovers tread (dire fate) that for their love,
Are recompenc'd with hatred. Farewel world,
Thou ball of fortune banded to and fro,
And never quiet; we will try what fate
Awaits us in the sea, it can't be worse
Than here we suffer by our dearest friends.
Kin.
Well brother, since you are so weary of
The world, pray take your share with them, and care
Of her: I leave her unto you, and to
The mercies of the waves, and so adieu.
Exit.

Scaen. 2.

2 Lo.
Was ever man so resolute to undo,
[Page 5]What an whole age can't recompence again?
To cast away a Lady of that worth,
That bankrupt nature cannot furnish forth
Her Parallel: A beauty that would tempt
The gods to lust: But guarded with an eye
So modestly severe, it would strike dead
All lustful hopes of the hot ravisher.
See where she comes, like Phoebus newly rose
From Thetis bed: Little doth she suppose
The cruelty of her once happy Father,
In having such a daughter, now no [...] fit
T'enjoy a blessing which he values not.
Seph.
What news my Lord? Is the ice of my fa­thers
Anger broken? Hath the sun of counsel
Thaw'd his frozen breast?
1 Lo.

Ay, into a flood—

Seph.
What meanes this passion? Speak man, for I am
Prepar'd; it can't be worse than I expect.
1 Lo.
Why then it is—
Let me first drown my self
In mine own tears, and vent my mind in sighs:
Madam, you may guess sooner than I can tell.
Seph.
Prethee torment me not thus with delays,
More tedious than the thing can be, what e're
It is. Come, I am armed with the shield
Of patience, my breast is mischief-proof.
1 Lo.
'Tis easier far to tell than execute:
I wish my task were done with telling it.
Madam, He hath made me the sad Over-seer
Of that dire act, which he so fears to speak.
Silence will not relieve, it may protract
The doing of that horrid fact, which who
Shall hear, will loath the name of father, for
[Page 6]Your fathers sake, who when perhaps y'are gone
By's want will prize your worth the more, and, love
You better than he ever did before.
Thus are we taught to value of the light,
By the dull silence of the darker night.
Sep.
But to your story, and my doom, which sure
Must needs be great, that it can find no vent.
Come ease your shoulders of this burthen, lay
It on mine, who have deserved it.
1 Lo.
Lady, wonder not at our unwillingness
To tell what we had rather wish our tongues
Out, than to be th'unhappy messengers
Of such sad news, the truth whereof must rob
Arcadia of it's richest, choisest Gem,
That doth adorn her Princely Diadem:
By venturing all our hopes to the mercy
Of the cruel waves, He hath prest to be
Your only Pilot; being ship't alone,
With your dear babe and husband, without sail,
Or oar, to contradict the lawless seas,
In their unbounded raging tyranny:
Whose heedless rigour yet may hap to prove
More kind unto you than your fathers love.
Sep.
Heavens will be done: But had another hand
Inflicted this, it would have lighter seem'd:—
Yet is there comfort in his cruelty,
That hath not parted me from him, for whom
All this will be but light; his company
Will sweeten all my sorrows, and convert
My mourning into mirth: Can I be sad,
Enjoying him will only make me glad?
Enter Lamedon.
Lam.
I cannot win my brother to reverse
His cruel sentence, but it must be done.—
[Page 7]Dear Neece, I'm thy companion; misery
Shall never make my friendship to turn edge,
But at the lowest ebb of fortune shall
My love still flow: the sea shall never quench
That flame which virtue once hath kindled in
My breast, nor shall it meet, or be put out
With any cold extinguisher but death.
If many shoulders make griefs burthen light,
Then so shall ours: and may mine cease to be,
When they shall cease to bear their equal part,
And sympathize with thee, as doth my heart.
Seph.
Uncle, my thanks. How rare it is to find
A friend in misery! Men run from such,
Like Deer from him is hunted with the dogs,
As if that misery infectious were.
Men fly with Eagles wings away,
But creep like snails, when they should succour lend.
I cannot therefore chuse but prize your love,
Who dare be true unto your friend; a name
Nearer than that of kindred, or of blood:
This is th'effect of noblest virtue, which
Ties firmer knots than age can e're undo:
Such is the knot my Maximus and I
Have tied, spight of my fathers anger, it
Shall hold, when envy's tired to invent
Mischiefs, in vain, to cut the knot in two,
Which heaven hath knit too fast to loose again.
Alas fond man! who thinks to unravel what
The gods have wove together.—'Tis in vain.

Scaen. 3.

1 Lo.
Lady, time cals upon you not to stay,
Lest by a fond delay you call upon
His fury to convert into some worse,
[Page 8]And sudden punishment, which may deny
All hopes of future safety; of all ills
The least is always wisely to be chosen.
Seph.
Go and prepare that floting grave, which must
Devour's alive, I will attend you here.
Before when will my dearest find his grief,
In finding me thus lost without relief.
Exeunt.
Manet Sephestia.
Why doth my Love thus tarry? surely he
Forgotten hath the place, or time, or else
He would not stay thus long; but can I blame
Him, to be slow to meet his ruine? I
Could wish he would not come at all, that so
He yet might live, although I perish; but
How fondly do I wish to be without
Him, without whom alas! I cannot live.
'Twere as impossible as without air:
He 'tis for whom I suffer, and with him,
All places are alike to me.—See where
He comes, who is sole keeper of my heart.
Enter Maximus.
Max.

My dear!

Seph.
Ah, dear indeed, for whom thy life
Must pay the shot of cruelty enrag'd.—
Max.
What meanes my love? is't she, or do I dream?
Sure this cannot be she, whose words were wont
To be more sweet than honey, soft as oil:
These words, more sharp than daggers points, n [...]'re came
From her I know—What sayst thou my sweet?
Seph.
The same—truth will not suffer me to speak
[Page 9]Other, lest I should injure her▪—O that
'Twere possible so to dispense with truth,
Not to betray our selves—I know not what to say.—
Max.
Heavens bless us, what a sudden change is here!
Love, who hath wrong'd thee? tell me, that I may
Thrid their lives upon my sword, & make their
Dead trunks float in their own blood, till they blush
At their own shame: Tell me my heart, who is't?
Seph.
Alas poor soul! thou little dreamst what sad
News do's await thine ears; my tongue doth fail,
Not daring once to name the thing must be
Our loves sad end, and dire Catastrophe.
My fathers fury—Oh that that name
I once delighted in, should odious be
To mine affrighted senses!—But for thee
Alone, it is I grieve, not for my self.—
Max.
Be't what it will, so that it be but in
Relation to thy love, I will embrace,
And hug, and thank that malice too, that so
Invented hath a means whereby I may
But testifie my loyalty to thee:
For whose sweet sake I would encounter with
Legions of armed furies; sacrifice
My dearest blood unto thy service, which
I more esteem, than all the wealth the world
Can boast of: 'Tis thee alone I value,
Above whatever mens ambitious thoughts
Can fathom with their boundless appetites.
Seph.
This flame of love must now be quench­ed in
T [...] foaming sea; we are design'd a prey
[Page 10]Unto the fury of winds and waves.—
The deadly Barque's providing, which must be
Our moving habitation; the sea
Must be our Kingdom, and the scaly frie
Our subjects:—This, this, the portion is
Of fortunes frowns, and fathers fiercer hate.
Fly, fly, my dearest Maximus, and save
My life in thine; oh stay no longer here.
weeps
Max.
Why dost thou torment thy self before
Thy time? wilt thou anticipate the sea?
And drown thy self in [...]ears? Deny me not
To share with thee in suffering, as well
As I have done in pleasure; 'tis for me
This storm is rais'd, were I once cast away,
His rage would cease. I, I have wrong'd thee,
And I'll be just to thee and to my word.
draws
I'll ope the sluces of my fullest veins,
And set them running, till they make a flood,
Wherein I'll drown my self—
He offers to kill himself. She stays his hand.
Seph.
Thine heart lies here;
'Tis here, lock't up securely in my brest:
First open that, and take it out; for death
Shall ne're divorce me from thy company:
I will attend thee through those shady vaults
Of death, or thou shalt live with me.—Dost think
This body possible to live without
A soul? or without thee? Have pitie on
Thy tender babe, whose life depends on thine,
And make not me widow, and him orphan,
With unadvised rashness—Sheath thy sword.
Max.
Mine eyes will ne're endure it, to behold,
Thee miserable, no, no, death first shall draw
A sable veil of darkness over them——
[Page 11]Pardon my rashuess, I will live with thee,
And tire thy fathers rage with suffering,
So he'l but suffer thee to live in mirth,
The greatest sorrow shall not make me sad.
Seph.
Here comes my father, cerainly his rage
Will know no bounds: I fear it will
Break forth into some desperate act on me.
Max.
Although he be a King, which sacred name
I reverence, and as a mortal god
Adore; he shall not dare to injure you
Before my face: first shall he wear my life
Upon his sword, if he but dare to touch
Thy sacred self.——

S [...]n. 4.

Enter Damocles.
Kin.
How now light-skirts? have you got your Champion
To shield you from our anger? know I have
Not yet forgot the name of father, though
You thus have slighted it; but as a King,
We must be just to punish your contempt.
Did you so well know your beauty to be
Proud of it, and yet so little value it,
As thus to throw it all away at once?
Well, get you gone.—Since that you have e­steem'd
A strangers love before your lovalty
To me, or my care to you, a stranger shall
Inherit what you were born to, had not
Your fond affections forc'd this vile exchange.
Max.
Sir—for your fury will not suffer me
To call you father; think not your daughter
Undervalued by her love to me:
Her love ran not so low, as to be sto [...]p'd
To meet with crime, who am a Prince n [...] less
[Page 12]Than is your self: Cyprus my Kingdome is.
Kin.
What drew you hither then? you must needs know
It is no less than treason for to steal
An heir to our crown: what drew you hither?
Max.
Hither I came, drawn by that forcible
Attractive, for to offer up my self
A sacrifice at th'altar of her love.
Tost with a sea of miseries, I came
To anchor in the haven of her heart:
And if this be treason, I shall not blush
To be esteem'd a traytor. But if not,
Then pardon me, if bolder innocence
Doth force me tell you, 'tis not just in you
Thus to oppose what Heavens have decreed.
Believe me, Sir, it's neither safe nor just,
For you to violate the lawes of fate.
Kin.
Let not your pride so far transport you, that
You tax our justice. I shall scourge your haste th'wind
Into a leisurely repentance, when
The sea shall teach you that your teares, and
That sighs become your headlong rash attempts.
Max.
Great Sir, lay what you will on me, I scorn
To crave your favour for my self; but yet
Let Nature prompt you to be merciful
To her who is a chief part of your self.
Kin.
No, as ye have joyn'd your selves in mirth, so
Will I joyn ye too in mourning; and because
Two no good consort make, my brother shall
Bear a third part in your grave harmonie.
Seph.
Father, let me the heavy burthen bear
Of this sad song alone: let all your fierce
Justice center in my breast.——
Kin.
[Page 13]
No more,
Our sentence is irrevocable, nought
Shall satisfie me else: I'll have it done.
1 Lo.
My Liege, the barque is ready, and attends
Your pleasure; the commands of Kings are not
To be gain-said, or broken; for the will
Of heaven is obey'd in doing them.
Seph.
We do obey it then, and willingly,
Father, for yet I can't forget that name,
Although these injuries would raze it out
My memorie; I will not now dispute,
But readily obey your will: and know
The pleasures of your Court should not entice
Me shun this comming terrour, which will be,
More welcome to me by my companie.
And thus I take my leave. Here may you find
She kneels.
That happiness you wish, and we shall want
Whilest that we prove our selves loves Confes­sors,
If not his Martyrs.——
Kin.
I will hear no more.
Away with them, my Lord, you know the place,
Our sentence and the time, I long to see
Me, and my Kingdom from these monsters free.
Max.
Arcadia adieu! Thou hast before
Been famous for the happiness of loves:
Now mischief hath usurp't the seat, and may
It be the object of the gods hatred,
Since Love's the subject of their crueltie.
Come dearest, let us winde our selves so close,
That envie may admire, and so despair
To enter here, where love possession keeps.
Exe [...]nt.

Scaen. 5.

Kin.
Now shall I live secure, for now there is
None left, whose nearness to our blood might edge
Their hopes, by killing us to gain our Crown.
Kings lives are never safe from those that wish
Their ends, which must initiate them into
Th'enjoyment of a Kingdom; this same crown
Is such a bait unto ambitious spirits,
'Tis never safe upon the wearers head.
Enter Artaxia weeping.
Why weeps my dear?
Art.
Ask why I do not weep.
(Poor Artaxia) are my tears denied me!
Ask why I do not rave, tear my hair thus,
Why such a weight of sorrow doth not rob
So much of woman from me, as complaints!
Or rather, why do I not cloud the skie
With sighs; till at the last with one bold stab
My own hand take from insulting fortune,
This miserable object of her sport.
Ask why I do not this, not why I weep!
Kin.
Or stint thy teares, or mingle mine with them,
By a relation of their cause; these eyes
Trust me Artaxia, are not yet drawn dry,
Nor hath strong sorrow e're exhausted them,
To make them bankrupt of a friendly tear,
But not a fond one. Why Artaxia!
Why dost thou hasten those that come too fast,
Sorrow and age, clear up thy clouded brow.
Art.
Ah Damocles! how hast thou lost thy self!
And art become a monster, not a man,
Thus to deprive me of my onely joy,
The onely stay and comfort of mine age,
[Page 15]Which now must fall. Break heart, and give
My sorrows vent. Ah! my Sephestia's gone,
For ever lost unto the world and me.
Kin.
Content thy self, not I, but justice hath
Depriv'd us of her: Justice, that is blind
To all relations, and deaf to intreats
Of fond nature, or fonder affection.
Art.
Ah cruel justice! Justice! no tyranny,
This is: Death, be my friend, & joyn once more
My dear Sephestia and me—I come
Stabs her self!
Sephestia I come; curs'd world farewel.
Kin.
Help, help, Artaxia, my dear, help, help,
Sephestia doth live, she is not dead.
Art.

Oh, 'tis too late—oh-oh-oh—

She dies.
Enter 2 Lords.
2 Lor.
Heavens! what a sight is here?
The Queen, she's dead, stark dead, what shal we do?
This wretched land is fruitful grown of late,
Of nothing else but miseries and wo [...]s▪
Jove sends his darts like hail-shot, no place free:
Kin.
Ah miserable man I am, a wretch,
Who thus have lost two jewels that the world
Can't recompence: I know not what to do.—
Now could I tear my self in pieces, that I have
Thus parted friends, & left my self alone.
Offers to kill himself
I am resolv'd, I will no longer live.
2 Lo.
Stay, good my Liege, live, & repent of what
Y'have done, you have killd enough already.
Kin.
If I should kill my self, and lose my crown,
I were better live.—Call us a Council quickly.
But my wife, my dearest Artaxia!
That I could breath life into thee again,
Or else were with thee!
2 Lo.

He's not yet so mad.

Kin.
O ye powers above! what mean ye thus
[Page 16]To wrack us mortals with such blacker deeds
Than hell it self! or remove them, or take
All senses from us. Bear the bodie in,
And summon all our Lords with speed t'attend
Upon us, that we may find out from whence
It is we suffer this sad influence.
Exit.
2 Lo.
Unhappy King! he hath undone himself,
And all the Land. His sublimated rage
Hath sowne a crop of mischiefs, which no age
Can parallel; great-belly'd time is big
With sorrows; and our next succeeding times,
Must reap the harvest of his bloody crimes.
Exit.
Finis Actus primi.

Act. 2.

Scaen. 1.

Enter Menaphon, and Doron.
Men▪
HOw mad a thing is Love? It makes us lose
Our senses; whilest we wander in a maze
O [...] endless torments: sometime with his smiles
The cunning thief doth flatter us with hopes
And tantalize our expectations, when
Strait our winged joyes are gone, and we
Do wrack our selves with future coming fears:
A mistris frowns doth cloud our clearer skie.
1.
Fond love no more,
Will I adore
Thy feigned Deity.
Go throw thy darts,
At simple hearts,
And prove thy victory.
2.
Whilst I do keep
My harmless sheep,
Love hath no power on me:
'Tis idle soules,
Which he controules,
The busie man is free.
Enter Doron.
Dor.
Ah Menaphon, my Sister Pesana, a pies
On her, I had almost forgot her name, with come.
Thinking on her business.
Men.

VVhy what's thy business, Doron? tell me,

Dor.
My business, 'tis none of my businesse, I tell you,
'Tis my sister Pesana's business.
Men.

VVell, what's her business then? I pre­thee tell.

Dor.

Ah Sir! she's sick.

Men.

VVhat is she sick of Doron? let me know.

Dor.

VVhy▪ truly Sir, she's sick of you.

Men.

She sick of me? why, am I a disease?

Dor.

I mean—I mean—she is sick for you.

Men.
That's kindly done of her, Doron, that she
Will be sick for me: I'll make her amends.
Dor.
Will you make her amend, said you? I am
Afraid you'l make her end first; but truly
[Page 18] Menaphon I have a suit for you.
Men.

Hast thou a suit for me? Is it a new one?

Dor.

I say I have a suit to you.

Men.

To me? well, and what is your suit made of?

Dor.
In good sooth, Sir, I must intreat you will
Love my sister as well as you have done.
Men.
No, Doron, love and I are faln out, and he
Will not let me love thy sister or thee either.
Dor.
No [...] my sister, nor me neither. Out thou
Caterpiller, thou weasel, thou hedg-hog,
I will make you love me, and my sister too.
Men,
You are out of your suit now Doron, and
I fear you will catch cold, now you are hot.
Exeunt.

Scaen. 2.

Enter Maximus shipwrack't.
Max.
Where am I now? Sure 'tis Arcadia.
A land happy in giving birth to my
Sephestia▪ Ah my Sephestia!
But now no [...] my Sephestia, since the waves
Have ravish'd her from me, and all my hopes
Are prov'd abortive; why do I now live!
Since she is gone, whose life & mine were both
Twisted on one thred! Ye fatal Sisters!
Why did not your cruel knife cut my life
In twain, when hers was broken off by the
Rude waves & blustring wind, who strove which should
Gain her from each? But both from me have robd
Her▪ [...] now may the sea well boast, and out-vie
The begger'd earth; since it hath her who was
The earth's whole sum of riches. O ye gods [...]
Why did ye once make me so happy
To enjoy her, and now snatch'd her again
To make me thereby the more miserable?
[Page 16]Yet is she not quite drowned; for her heart
Is here: 'tis mine the sea doth prey upon.
Well, my Sephestia, oh that name doth ravish
Me: This body shall a monument be,
And my whole life a continued Elegie,
Both consecrated to thy memorie.
I'll drown thee once more in my tears,
Which I will daily pay, as tribute to thee.
Cyprus adieu, greatness also farewel.
I see, those who are lifted highest on
The hill of honour, are nearest to the
Blasts of envious fortune, whilst the low
And valley fortunes are far more secure.
Humble valleys thrive with their bosoms full
Of flowers, when hills melt with lightning, and rough
Anger of the clouds. I will retire from
The front of honour, to the rear of a
Shepherds life: where whilst I do daily tend
The harmless sheep, will I sing forth sad notes
Of their blest happiness, and my misfortune.
I will no longer keep this miserable name
Of Maximus▪ but clad in sorrows weeds,
Will I wear the name of Melecertus.
No more Maximus Prince of Cyprus, but
A poor shepherd will I be: when you see
Those weeds, and hear Melecertus name,
I am that wretched he, who, like the snake,
Have cast my former coat by creeping through
The hole of miserie, and got a new.
Exit.

Scaen. 3.

Enter Doron.
Dor.
My Carmela is comming, and I'm provi­ded to cast
A sheeps eye at her.
He flings at her.
[Page 20]Enter Carmela.
Car.
Now I see how Love came blind, he flung
His eyes at me in stead of a love-dart.
Dor.

Ha, my Carmela, let me kiss thy hony­suckle lips▪

Car.

You kiss so hard, you'l leave your beard behind.

Dor.
By my troth, Carmela, swains cannot swear,
But—I do love thee—by our great god Pan
I love thee.
Car.

You said you could not swear, and yet you Swear you love me.

Dor.

Love, I have stared so long at thee, that I Am now grown blind.

Car.
Then shall you be led, like blind beggars
With a dog and a bell, or else be beholding
To the glasier for a new pair of eyes.
Dor.
I know not what you mean eyes, but I am
Sure that I am off the hooks. You tell me of
Eyes, eyes, but 'tis your no's that torments me.
This blind god, that the Poets call Cupid, has seen
To hit me with his dart, I know not how,
But as the blind man kil'd the crow.
Car.
Then you are one of the wanderers in Loves
Labyrinth, I prethee let me lead thee.
Dor.
Ay, so we may both fall; but no matter,
For if you fall first, I'll fall on thee.
Car.

Fie, Doron, fie, are you not asham'd?

Dor.
Asham'd? of what? marry better falling
Falling out.
Car.

You'r very merry Doron, where's your in, than musick?

Dor.
Let me play on thee, my pretty bag-pipe,
And I know thou wilt sing, loth to depart.—
Car.
[Page 21]

And I'll try that, now follow me.

Ex [...]
Dor.
Nay, when you came to the snuff once, I thought
You would quickly go out.

Scaen. 4.

Enter Menaphon.
Oh Menaphon, hark, I am undone, as a man
Should undo an oyster.
Men.

Why Doron, what's to do with thee now▪

Dor.
Why man, thy sister Carmela is grown
proud,
And is just such another as thy self, she slights
And scorns poor Doron; and yet because I love
her▪
As my sister doth thee, she laughs at me. Well,
I will be even with her▪ for if she won't love
Me with a good will▪ I'll love her against her
Will; and I think I shall be even with her there▪
Men.
Come, Doron, come, count love a toy,
As I do, who take far more joy to view
My flocks; here's my content; when heavens frown,
I think upon my faults; and a clear skie
Puts me in mind of the gods gracious love:
Envie o're-looketh me, nor do I gaze
So high as tall ambition; and for love,
I feed my self with fancies, such as these.
Venus (the Poets say) sprang from the sea,
Which notes to me th' inconstancie of love,
Changing each day with various ebbs & tides▪
Sometimes o're-flowing the banks of fortune
With a gracious look from a lovers eyes,
Ebbing at other times to th' dangerous shelf
Of cold despair, from a Mistris frowns.
Your Cupid must be young▪ to shew
He is a boy, his wings inconstance tell▪
[Page 22]He's blind, to note his aym is without rule,
Or reasons guide; such is the god ye serve.
Dor.
Treason, treason against the god of love▪
Menaphon, though you be my friend, I will
Have you articl'd against at the next meeting well
Of the Shepherds.
Men.
Lovers sorrows be like to the restless
Labours of Sisyphus.
Dor.

Like thy tongue then.

Men.
Your Mistris favour's honey mixt with gall
A bitter sweet, a folly worst of all,
That forceth reason to be fancies thrall.
Then love who list for me, if beauty be
So sowr, then give me labour still.
Exit.
Dor.
How I would laugh to see Menaphon once
Manacl'd with loves fetters, that he might repent
His blasphemy against the shepherds deitie.
Exit.

Scaen. 3.

Enter Sephestia shipwrack't, with her Ʋncle Lamedon.
Seph.
Ah cruel fortune, but more cruel father,
Most wretched I, who thus am rob'd of all
My pregnant hopes, my springing joyes blasted
With winter frowns. Jove send a flaming dart
Into my breast, to melt my frozen heart
Into a flood of tears, that I may drown
My self in them▪ since that the waves have prov'd
Unkindly courteous to preserve my life,
But to prolong my miserie, and he
Is drownd who was my lifes preserver.
Ah ye enraged deities! could ye
Be so unkind to draw my life's thred out
Thus long, to survive him who was my life?
Why did ye not, or save his life with mine,
[Page 23]Or destroy mine with his, that so I might
Enjoy his companie in life or death?
Lam.

Ay, in the gods time, Neece, but not before.

Seph.
And oh▪ my dearest Plusidippus! could
The waves be so hard-hearted, as to crop
Thy blooming youth, to send thee to thy grave
Before thou wert a man? Had they but left
Me thee, it would have eas'd thy fathers loss,
If I had had his transcript to have view'd
In thee, who wert his perfect Image. Now
In stead of heir to the Cyprus crown,
The cypress grove shall be Joynter, where
I'll sadly spend the remnant of my life,
To weep my losses, and my own sad fate,
Which thus I will revenge; my Maximus
Shall live still fresh within my memorie,
There fixt too sure for all the briny waves
To wash away. Nor shall I e're forget
My son, my Plusidippus. I could feed,
My self unto eternitie with these
Sweet names, which do as far out-vie
The Nectar and Ambrosia of the gods,
As pearls do pebbles. I can hold no more▪
My heart's so full, 'twill break, or over-run
The sluces of mine eyes.— [...]'ll weep the rest.
Lam.
Why dost thou thus torment thy self in vain?
Thy tears wil not recover them again.
Fates dart is shot, and cannot be recall'd,
Nor is there any salve for fortunes wounds,
But patience; therefore seeing me
Partaker of thy sorrows, now lean all
Thy cares on me, it is some relief,
In sorrow to have fellows of our grief.
Seph.
My husband and my son are gone, and I
[Page 24]Survive alone un [...]o their miserie.
Lam.
Chance is like Janus, double-fac'd; some­times
With smiles she comforts us, sometimes
With frowns she casts us down again: A calm
Succeeds a storm, and a sharp winter doth
Precede a pleasant spring.
Seph.
Oft turnings tire
The weary traveller; and love doth lose
His followers, in a wild Labyrinth
Of woes. How am I faln from all my hopes!
(An exile in my native Country:) and
The crown hope seem'd to place upon my head:
Banished from the pleasures of the Court,
Parted for love from him I could not chuse
But love, from Maximus, who hath for me
Suffer'd as many mischiefs as malice
Could invent, and now all sum'd up in death.
Lam.
What of all this? after the storm that rent
Our ship, we found a calm that brought us safe
To th' shore, whilst Neptunes mercie was beyond
The envious blasts of Aeolus; and thus
The gods do recompense us with their favour,
For the dis-courtesies of your father.
Seph.
Sweet Lamedon, once partner of my joyes,
Though now partaker of my wants; I see
You are as constant in my sad distress,
As you were faithful in my richer fortunes:
Though friends seldom prove friends in poverty
Misfortune hath not chang'd your mind, but you
Temper my exile with your banishment:
Your aged years shall be my sole directors,
Your will the ruler of my actions.
If you perswade me to content, Portia
Shall not exceed Sephestia's patience:
[Page 25]If you will have me strike my sails, I will,
And steer my course by th'compass of your care.
Lam.
Since hope is all the portion we have left,
Let's thank the gods that sav'd our lives, and rest
Our cares on them, they can return us more
Than we have lost, or fit our minds to bear
Our present state. Contentment gives a crown,
Where fortune hath denied it: patience
Makes all things easie to an humble mind.
Cares are companions of the Crown, the Court
Is full of busie thoughts, and envious strife,
Whilst peaceful sleeps attend a Countrey life.
Seph.
Then Lamedon will I disguise my self,
And with my cloaths will change my former thoughts,
Measure my actions by my present state,
Not by my former fortunes. Sephestia
No more: Alas! I know not where, or how
VVe shall bestow our selves: Surely this is
Some un-frequented place, no harmless sheep
Do feed, nor shepherds tend their thriving flocks.
Enter to th [...] Menaphon

Scaen. 6.

Sephestia, Lamedon, Menaphon.
Men.
Heavens! what a sight is here! Such stars appear
But rarely in our Country Hemisphere,
I am so Planet-struck with one short glance,
I neither can retire nor yet advance.
VVhat resolution is of proof against
Such charms as these! Some goddess hath as­sum'd
An humane shape to tempt us weaker mortals.
Cupid, I cry thee mercie now, although
I were an Atheist unto thee before,
Thou art the Deitie I will adore.▪
[Page 26]Sure they are in distress, those pearly tears
Furrow her cheeks with cruel strife
Which shall run fastest, are no sooner dried,
New sighs, like the warm southern wind pro­clame
A fresh approaching showre. I fear they are
Some passengers late shipwrack't, for I saw,
(When walking by the shore) some floting parts
Of a torn ship, contending with the waves.
Lam.
Courteous shepherd, if distressed persons
Fortune hath rob'd, and the sea favoured
(If it be a favour to live and want)
May crave your aid so far, as to direct
Us to some place may rest our wearied bones,
Our charges shall be paid, and you shall have
For recompence, such blessings as the gods
Use to bestow on hospitable men.
Men.
Strangers, your qualitie I know not, nor
Shall now dispute; but if a country cell
May not too disparage you, here is
Hard by my cottage, and your home.
Seph.
Kind Sir, your courtesie is much beyond
Our merit, and our present hopes below
A suitable return; please you accept
Our thanks, as earnest of that larger debt
Future abilitie may see discharg'd.
Men.
Lady, I have no curious hangings to
Adorn my walls, nor plate to shew my wealth:
Yet do I live content; and you shall find
Such welcome as a cottage can afford.
Lam.
Sir, blame not our wills, but present want, which now
Makes us thus plentiful only in thanks.
Exeunt.

Scaen. 7.

Enter Doron, Carmela.
Dor.
Carmela, by my great bel-weather, Carmela,
I'm over the tops of my high-shooes in love,
And there shall I stick and starve, if thou dost
Not pull me out.—Where hast thou been
This live-long hour?
Car.

What, does the mouth of your affections water?

Dor.
Water? No, it fires. I'm so all a-fire, that I dare
Not go amongst my flocks for fear, lest
I should burn up all their pasture, if thou
Dost not showre down some dew of
Comfort to cool me.
Car.
I shall soon cool your courage▪ Doron; for
I cannot, may not, will not love thee.
Dor.
Out you gossip, not love me? go, get
You spin on Ixions wheel.
Car.

No, Lovers spin on that, and so must you.

Exeunt.

Scaen. 8.

Enter Menaphon.
Men.
How fond was I, when I as vainly strove
To keep my heart against the god of Love!
I little thought his power; when I resolv'd
To live, and not to love: Nature I see
Cannot subsist without loves harmonie.
In vain I shut the door, and bolted it
With resolution; strait the thief,
Thorough the casements of mine eyes got in,
And stole away my heart; as once of old
He serv'd the merry Greek Anacreon;
Whose fancie fits my fortune: Here it is▪
Loves Duel.
Cupid all his Arts did prove,
To invite my heart to love;
But I alwayes did delay,
His mild summons to obey;
Being deaf to all his charms.
Strait the god assumes his Ar [...].
With his how and quiver, he
Takes the field to Duel me.
Armed like Achilles, I,
With my shield alone defie
His bold challenge, as he cast
His golden darts, I as fast
Catch'd his Arrows in my shield,
Till I made him leave the field.
Fretting, and disarmed then,
The angry god returns agen,
All in flames; ▪stead of a dart,
Throws himself into my heart.
Useless, I my shield require,
When the Fort is all on fire.
I in v [...] the field did win,
Now the Enemy's within.
Thus betray'd, at last I cry,
Love thou hast the victory.
Alas! what heart's so fortify'd, to prove
The sev'ral batteries of the god of love!
What ear's not charm'd with th'rethorick of a voice,
Whose single note would silence all the Quire
Of the Aërial feather'd Choristers!
What eye would not be blinded to behold
[Page 29]Those eyes which cast a cloud upon the Sun,
And bring his light under disparagement.
Enter Sephestia.
Witness that face, whose Shrine hath made me blind.
How fares my fairest guest?
Seph.
The better for
Your courteous entertainment, may the gods
Be favourable to your flocks, as you
Have friendly been to us.
Men.
May I presume
To crave your name, and to enquire how
Hard-hearted fortune could be so unjust,
To injure innocence? Signe she is blind.
Seph.
My name is Samela, my parentage
But mean, the wife of a poor Gentleman
Of Cyprus, now deceas'd: How arriv'd here▪
Pray do not now enquire; time may reveal,
What present sorrows force me to conceal.
Men.
I will not press your yet fresh bleeding wounds,
With a rude hand; 'tis time and patience
Must work the cure; the gods allow a salve
For ev'ry sore, but we must wait on them:
Their time is best; for when we strive to heal
Our wounds too fast, they do but fester more.
Rest here content; a Country life is safe,
Fortune o're-looks our humble cottages
We are not pain'd with wealth, nor pin'd with want,
Our sheep do yield us milk for food, and wooll
To make us cloaths; hunger & cold we slight:
Envie hath here no place, we'l friendship keep,
Free from all jars, and harmless as our sheep.
Sam.
O happy life! would I had never known
Other than this, which by comparison,
[Page 30]Renders mine odious to my memorie.
Exit weeping.
Men.
Sorrow sits heavy on her heart, but shews
More lovely in her face; those tears appear
Like chrystal dew upon the blushing rose.
Beauty thus veil'd, is more inviting, than
Shining out in it's unclouded splendor.
Fortune, I hate thee, for thy spight to her,
But thank thee for thy courtesie to me,
In sending her for shelter to my house.
Kind love assist me now, and I will be
Her constant servant, and thy votarie.
Exit.
Finis Act. 2.

Act. 3.

Scaen. 1.

Romanio and Eurilochus, with Plusidippus.
Rom.
THis present to the King of Thessaly
Will gain us both reward and pardon too
For all our former Pyracies upon
His seas and ships.
Eur.
Ay, he hath ne're a son,
For to inherit the Thessalian Crown:
Hereby this lad may gain a Kingdom, whilst
We seek but our liberties and lives,
For time to come, and pardon for what's past.
This is the place the King doth oft frequent,
When publick cares oppress his Royal head,
Here he unloads the burthen of his thoughts,
And changes cares for recreation.—
See where he comes! God save your Majestie.
Rom.
[Page 31]

Long live Agenor, King of Thessaly.

Enter King.
Kin.
What meanes this bold intrusion? who are ye?
That dare presume into our private walks?
Eur.
Pardon, great Sir, we come not to offend
Your sacred Majestie, but to present
Shews Plu­sidippus to the King.
You with this living gift.
Kin.
This is a gift
Indeed; where had ye him, or what's his birth?
Rom.
Please you, dread Sir, grant us your par­don then,
We shall declare unto you what we know.
Kin.

Take it, we freely pardon ye. Now speak.

Eur.
Then be it known unto your Majestie,
VVe the two famous Pyrats are, you have
So long laid wait to take, but all in vain.
Roving upon the coasts of Arcady,
VVe found this beauteous youth upon the shore,
VVhom (we suppose) the seas had wrack't, but sav'd
His life, which we have nourish'd ever since,
And now bequeath unto your Majestie:
For which we beg no recompence, but this,
To seal our pardons for our former faults.
Kin.
Look that for time to come ye honest be,
And for what's past we freely pardon ye.
Rom.
Thanks, Royal Sir, the remnant of our lives
VVill we spend in your service, and so give
Again, our lives which you have given us,
VVhen they were forfeit to your laws and you.
Exeunt.
Kin.
This is a welcome gift. VVhat a divine
Beautie doth sparkle in his countenance!
Surely he cannot be of mortal race
[Page 32]Descended, but Jove himself hath sent him,
To be the happy heir of my Kingdom.
Immortal Jove! I thank thee for this gift.
Thou couldest not have sent a welcomer.
My pretty lad, where wer't thou born? canst tell?
Plu.

I know not, Sir,—my name is Plusidippus.

Kin.
Come, follow me, now have I found at once
An husband for my daughter, & an heir
For the Thessalian Crown. Thrones are supplied forth,
By Jove, who, when the root is withered,
Can make more heav'nly branches to sprout
Which may in time grow mighty trees to shade,
And shelter all their liege-subjects under.
Exeunt.

Scaen. 2.

Menaphon solus.
Strike home, great Cupid, with thy flaming dart,
As yet thou dost but dally with my heart:
'Tis rather scratch'd than wounded; I do hate
A luke-warm love: give me a love flames high,
As it would reach the element of fire,
From whence it came; a low and creeping flame
Befits [...] chimney, not a lovers breast.
Give me a love dare undertake a task
VVould fright an Hercules into an ague.
A love dare tempt the boldest fate, and die
An honour'd captive, or bold conquerour.
Give me a daring, not a whining love,
A love grows great with opposition:
A love that scorns an easie task, things great
And noble always are most difficult▪
This is the love (blind Cupid) I would have,
A love that brings home trophies, or a grave.
I'll tempt his god-ship with a song, and see
If verse, not sighs, will gain the victorie.
1.
No more, no more,
Fond Love give [...]'re,
Dally no more with me;
Strike home and bold,
Be hot, or cold,
Or leave thy deitie.
2.
In love, luke-warm,
Will do more harm,
Than can feavers heat:
Cold cannot kill
So soon as will
A fainting, dying sweat.
3.
I cannot tell,
When sick, or well,
Physick, or poyson give;
Still in anguish,
I do languish,
Or let me die, or live.
4.
If I must be,
Thy Votarie,
Be thou my friend or foe:
If thou wilt have
Me be thy slave,
Hold fast, or let me goe.
Sure Cupid hath resign'd his place, and giv'n
His god-head unto Carmela, whose eyes
Wound more than ever did his darts.
But what is that, if she have power to hurt,
And wanteth mercie for to heal those hurts.
[Page 34]I fear whilst I make her my deitie,
I do but thereby make her proud,
And with my own hands place her out of reach.
Yet she is in distress, and that should make
Enter Doron. Listens and laughs.
Her humble: I relieve her, therefore she
Hath the more reason thus to relieve me;
And certain, she will rather love than want.
Dor.
Ha ha, ha, &c. are you catch'd, Menaphon?
I'faith, I think y'are fetter'd now, you'r hang'd
Ith' brambles of love, as well as I. You laugh'd
At me before, but now I'll laugh at you.
Men.
Ah Doron! now I crave thy pitie, for
I never thought an earthly beautie could
So soon have fetter'd me; what did I say?
An earthly? No, Doron, she is heavenly,
Brighter than Phoebus in his glittring pride:
Venus her self was not so fair a Bride.
Do.
How now Menaphon! I'm afraid thou wilt
Be a beggar shortly, thou art a Poet already.
One of the thred-bare crew, that ragged regi­ment.
Enter Samela.
Men.
See Doron, see, see where she comes, who with
Her brighter lustre can create a day
At mid-night, when the Sun is gone to sleep;
Eclipse his noon-tide glory with her light:
Her absence would benight the world▪ & cloath't
In blackest darkness, for to mourn it's loss.
Sam.

Good-morrow Host, how thrive your well-fed flocks?

Men.
My flocks do thrive (Lady) and can't do less,
Blest with the auspicious sun-shine of your eyes;
And I were too ingrateful, if I should
Deny to give you back again, what I
[Page 35]Enjoy but by your beauteous influence.
Sam.
Y'are merry, Menaphon, if not prophane,
To rob the gods of what is due to them,
To give it to the object of their scorn.
Could I dispense good fortunes, I should not
Forget my self, & chuse the meanest lot.
Exeunt. Mena­phon
Dor.
This 'tis to be in love, how spruce is
Become of late, as he were always going
To a feast? and talks as if he were some
Citie Orator. Why can I not do so? I'm
Sure I am in love as well as he. But
I'll go hire some journey-man Poet, or other,
And he shall make me some verses
For my Carmela: And that will do as
Well, as if I made them my self; I'll
Set my brand upon them, and then no
Body will question them to be mine, no
More than they do my sheep that are mark'd.
Enter Melecertus.

Scaen. 3.

Ay, ay, it shall be so. Oh Melecertus,
Yonder is the finest shepherdess that ever
The moon held the candle of her light to; the
Shepherd Menaphon has got her to him, as
If because he is the Kings shepherd, he
Must have the Queen of Shepherdesses.
Mel.

Hast seen her, Doron? and dost know her name?

Dor.
Seen her? ay, and sigh to see her too; her name, I
Think, is Stamela—no, no,—Samela, Samela,
Ay, ay, that's her name, I have it now, I would
I had her too.
Mel.

What kind of woman is she, canst thou tell?

Dor.

Ay, or else I were naught to keep sheep.

Mel.

Can thy tongue paint her forth to mine [...]ar?

Dor.
[Page 36]
Ay, ay, legible, I warrant you.
Her eyes are like two diamonds, I think, for
I never saw any before; and her locks are
All gold, like the golden fleece our shepherds
Tell of.
Mel.
It were good vent'ring for that golden fleece,
Doron, as Jason long since did for his.
Dor.
Her hands are all ivory, like the bone-haft
Of my best knife, her alablaster, and her
Eyes black as my blackest lamb, her cheeks
Like roses red and white that grow together.
What think you of her now? have I not made
A fair picture on her?
Mel.
Ay Doron, were this picture painted to
The life, as thou hast here described it,
It could not chuse but make an absolute,
Rare, and compleat piece of deformitie.
Dor.
Nay, nay, if you don't like it, I don't
Care, but I had it out of an old book of
My brother Mor [...]'s, they call 'm
Rogue-mances, I think: my brother
Ha's a whole tumbrel full on 'm, he's
Such a Bookish block-head—
Mel.
Nay, be not angry, Doron, I believe
Thou mean'st a beautie beyond expression▪
And such an one I had, till envious fate
Rob'd me of her, and all my joyes at once,
Heavens envying at my happiness,
Sent death to fetch her from me, and she's dead,
Dead, Doron, dead,—she's dead to me, and to
The world, and all but to my memorie.
weeps.
Dor.
Fie, Melecertus, what dost mean to
Weep? what, wilt thou make dirt of
Her ashes with thy teares?
Mel.
[Page 37]
Well, Doron, we forget our flocks, and we
Shall miss the shepherds merry meeting.
Dor.
That's true, and there will be the shepher­desses
Too, and Menaphon will bring his fine
Mistris thither; there shalt thou see her,
But first mask thine eyes, lest thou lose
Them, and become love-blind, as I am.
Good Melecertus take the pains to lead me.
Exeunt.

Sc [...]n. 4.

Enter King Damocles melancholy, 2 Lords.
Kin.
How wretched am I grown, I hate my self,
And care not now for my own company:
I loath thee light, and fain would hide my self
From mine own eyes; I'm wearie of my life.—
Where shall I hide my self, that there I may▪
Deceive th'approaches of discov'ring day?
I'll seek some gloomy cave, where I may lie,
Entomb'd alive in shades of secrecie.
Exit.
1 Lo.
His thoughts are much perplex't, & black despair,
May push him on unto some desp'rate act,
If not prevented by our vigilance.
2 Lo▪
This is th'effect of rash resolves, when hast
And passion hurry men to do those things
Reason would wish undone, at least delay'd.
Our wills spur'd on by rage, ne're stop, till we
(Blinded with anger) headlong throw our selves
From dangers praecipice, into a gulf
Of black despairing thoughts; and then too late
Repentance lends us so much light as may
Shew us our madness, and our miserie.
1 Lo.
Ill actions never go unpunished;
They are their own tormentors, and do prove
[Page 38]At last, furies to lash the guilty soul.
2 Lo.
When reason is depos'd, & passion reigns,
Nothing but lawless actions do appear:
When passion hath usurp't the helm,
And steers a wild uncertain course, not by
The card and compass of advice, the ship
Will never make good voyage, but be tost
Upon the waves, and all her lading lost.
He by his wilful rage hath cast away
Himself, and floats upon the waves of ruine:
Let's try if we can waft him safe to shore,
Lend him our helping hands, lest he do sink
Into that deep and black gulf of despair.
1 Lo.
Let's after him, and try what we can do,
In saving him, we save our Kingdom too.
Exeunt.

Scaen. 5.

Enter Menaphon, with Samela, and Pesana after them, Melecertus leading Doron.
Pes.

Hey day, what's here, my brother Doron?

Mel.

Doron conceits himself that he is blind.

Dor.
Ay, Doron's as blind as any door: what
Creep I here upon? Carmila, oh Carmila,
The very sight of thee hath recovered mine
Eyes again.
He stumbles on Samela in Carmila's cloaths.
Men.
Nay, now I see,
Doron, th'art blind indeed,
That dost not know Carmila from her cloaths.
No, no, 'tis Samela, not Carmila.
Dor.
Which is my Carmila? good Melecertus.
Shew me where she is.
Mel.

It seems, Doron, Carmila is not here.

Dor.
Why, what do I do here then? I thought
It was something I miss'd, onely I
[Page 49]Mistook; for I had thought it had
Been my eyes were lost, but now I
See it is my Carmila is missing, whom
I had rather see than my own eyes.
Pes.

This is my corrival in Menaphon's love.

Mel.
She is a beautie indeed; and since my
Sephestia is drown'd, without compare.
I cannot blame Menaphon, but envie
Him rather, for his so happy choise.
O happy! yet to me unhappy beautie!
That doth (as in a glass) present unto
My frighted senses the remembrance of
My loss, which, unless by this fair piece,
Cannot be recompenced by the world.—
Mistris, y'are welcome to our company.
Dor.
By my troth, Mistris, you are very wel­come,
As I may say, unto our meeting.
Sam.
Thanks shepherds: I am a bold intruder
Into your company; but that I am
Brought by your friend, and my host Menaphon.
Mel.
Mistris, your presence is Apologie
Sufficient; yet do we owe him thanks,
That by his means we have the happiness
T'enjoy your sweet societie in this
Our rural meeting, when shepherds use
To cheer themselves with mirth & pleasant tales.
Sam.
I hope my company shall not forbid
The Banes between your meeting & your mirth.
Mel.
Then by your leave, fair shepherdess, I will
Begin with you. If the gods should decree
To change your form, what shape would you desire?
Sam.
I would be careful how to sail between
The two rocks, of immodest boldness, or
[Page 40]Of peevish coyness; therefore to answer
Unto your question, I would be a sheep.
Men.

A sheep? Mistris, why would you be a sheep?

Sam.
Because that then my life should harmless be,
My food the pleasant Plains of Arcadie,
My drink the curious streams, my walks
Spacious, and my thoughts as free as innocent.
Dor.

I would I were your Keeper.

Mel.
But many times the fairest sheep are drawn
Soonest unto the shambles to be kill'd.
Sam.
And sure a sheep would not repine at that,
To feed them then, who fed her long before.
Pes.
Then there's more love in beasts, than con­stancie
In men, for they will die for love, but when?
When they can live no longer, not before.
Men.
If they'r so wise, it is their mother-wit,
For men have their inconstancies but from
You women, as the sea it's ebbs and tides
Hath from the moon.—Your embleme to an hair.
Dor.
Menaphon, if you hate my sister, I'll—
Love yours for't in spight of your teeth▪
Pes.
Your mother surely was a weather▪ cock,
That brought forth such a changeling; for your love
Is like the lightning, vanished as soon
As it appears; a minute is an age
In your affections. You once loved me▪—
Dor.

Ay, I would you lov'd him no better.

Men.
If that I be so changing in my love,
It is because mine eye's so weak a Judge,
It cannot please my heart upon trial.
Pes.
If that your eye's so weak, then let your eares
Be open to your loves appeals and plaints,
Sam.
Come, for to end this strife, pray let us hear
[Page 41]Th' opinion of good Doren, who's so mute,
As if h' had lost his tongue too, with his eyes.
Dor.
By my [...]ay, fair Mistris, I was thinking
All this while with my self, whether in being
A sheep, you would be a ram, or an ewe?
Sam.
An ewe, no doubt; if I should change my, shape
I would not change my Sex; and horns are held
The heaviest burthen that the head can bear.
Dor.
I think then I were best be an ewe too,
So I might be sure to have no horns:
But I would not greatly care to wear horns,
Were I a ram, were it but where you were and gives
An ewe.—
Men.
VVell, shepherds, come, the day declines,
Us timely warning for to fold our flocks.
Exeunt.

Scaen. 6.

Manet Melecertus.
VVere my Sephestia living, I should think
This sheperdess were she: Such was her shape,
Such was her countenance; her very voice
Doth speak her my Sephestia. But alas!
How fondly do I dream! I do embrace
A cloud in stead of Juno. Yet I love,
And like her, 'cause she is so like my Love.
VVe love the pictures of our absent friends:
And she's the living picture of my dear,
My dear Sephestia. Me thinks I feel
A kind of sympathy within my brest▪
To like and love her of all women best.
Forgive me, my Sephestia, if thou livest,
If I do love another for thy sake:
Thy likeness is the loadstone which doth draw
My heart to her, that nothing else could move.
Exit.

Scaen. 7.

Enter Pesana.
Thou most impartial deitie of Love!
Can there be two Suns in Loves Hemisphere?
Or more loves in one heart than one that's true▪
Or can the stream of true love run in more
Channels than one? Shall I be thus paid
For my love to false Menaphon? Hereafter,
Venus, never will I adore thee, nor
Will I offer up so many Evening
Prayers unto Cupid, as I have done.—
Was ever poor maid so rewarded with
An inconstant lover, as I daily am
With this same fickle-headed Menaphon!
Enter Doron.
How now Pesana! what's the newes with thee?
Pes.
News! marry 'tis the news I complain of;
Were Menaphon the old Menaphon, that
He was wont to be, I should not complain▪
Dor.
Come—plain Pesana must not grutch to give
Way unto fine Samela▪ that hath turn'd his▪
Heart, and if he do not turn again
Quickly, he'l be burnt on that side; well,
Be content a while, by that time he hath loved
Her, as long as he did thee, he'l be as
Weary of her, as he is now of thee.
Pes.
But in the mean time▪ Doron, I must be
A stale to her usurps my right in him.
Dor.
Ay, that's the reason he doth not care
For thee, because thou art stale.
Thus do poor lovers run through
The briars and the brambles of difficulties,
And sometimes fall into the ditch of undoing.
Pes.
Good Doren, be my friend to Menaphon.
[Page 43]And mind him of his former love to me,
Or I shall learn at last to slight him too.
Dor.
Ay, ay, he has a sister, just such another
As himself, I'm zure she has e'en broken
My poor heart in twain; and if it be
Piec'd again, it will never be handsom.
Exeunt.

Scaen. 8.

Enter Lamedon.
How happy are these shepherds! here they live
Content, and know no other cares, but how
To tend their flocks, and please their Mistris best.
They know no strife, but that of love, they spend
Their days in mirth; and when they end, sweet sleeps
Repay, and ease the labours of the day▪
They need no Lawyers to decide their jars,
Good herbs, and wholsom diet, is to them
The onely Aesculapius; their skill
Is how to save, not how with art to kill.
Pride and ambition are such strangers here,
They are not known so much as by their names▪
Their sheep and they contend in innocence,
Which shall excell, the Master or his flocks.
With honest mirth, and merry tales, they pass
Their time, and sweeten all their cares:
Whilst Courts are fill'd with waking thoughtful strife,
Peace and content do crown the shepherds life.
Finis Act. 3.

Act. 4.

Scaene 1.

Enter King of Thessaly, and his daughter Euriphila.
Kin.
DAughter, it is enough, we will it, see
You shew your dutie in obeying us;
Since I have made choise of him for my Son,
Accept him for your husband: He's a man
Ancient in virtues, although young in yeares:
He's one whose worth is far beyond his age.
Eur.
Father, it grieves me that the cross Fates have
Forc'd me to hate the man you so much love▪
Cupid hath struck me with his leaden dart,
I cannot force my own affections.
Kin.
How's this? you hate him whom I love! can he
Be th'object of your hate, who is alone
The subject of my love and reverence?
He whom the gods in mercie have design'd
The happy Successor unto my crown,
And to your love? Bethink your self again.
Eur.
Great Sir, the gods themselves are subject to
That little deitie of love▪ can I
Withstand his power, or love against his will?
Force cannot work on love, which must be free,
And uncompell'd, else can it not be true,
Nor lasting. Sir, urge me no more in vain.
Kin.
What a strange change is here! Your will was wont
Freely to stoop to all my just desires;
Is it now grown so stiff▪ 'twill not be bent
By my commands? I know thou dost but feign.
Eur.

I would obey your will, could I command Mine own affections, or chuse my love.

Kin,
Do it, or else by Jove, whom I present▪
[Page 45] ▪ll punish thy neglect.—I cannot think
Thy words and thoughts agree. Surely to love,
Is natural, why then not to love him,
Whom nature made to be belov'd? He hath
Artillery enough about him to take in
The stoutest heart at the first summons.—Well,
Think on't Euriphila, when I am gone,
I'll leave thee here, Lovers are best alone.
Exit.

Scaen. 2.

Eur.
How rarely have I play'd this part, & hid
My love under a mask of hate!—but now,
Me thinks, I feel the fi [...]e of love to rage
More fiercely in my breast; for being kept
So close, it will break out too soon: I must
Invert the course of love, and woo him first.
Enter Plusidippus.
He comes, and fitly: Cupid, instruct me now,
To war and conquer in this bloodless fight,
That wins the field by flight, and not by force.
Yet must I veil my love still, and seem coy,
Till by a false retreat I make him fall
Into those snares I set, and wish him in.—
What means this bold intrusion? do'st befit▪
You to intrude into my privacies?
Plu.
Lady, the fault's not mine, fortune hath led
Me to this place: mine ignorance (I hope)
Will plead mine innocence. As I have found
Your Royal Fathers noble favours far
Exceed my hopes, or my requital, let
Not your frownes strike dead whom he hath rais'd
To life; crueltie cannot lodge within
That tender breast was onely made for Love.
Eur.
[Page 46]
Dare you presume to talk of love to me?
Am I a mate▪ fit for your choice? Be gone,
And seek some shrub may fit your lowness best.
Plu.
Madam, this storm becomes you not. It is
Degenerate from your noble Fathers strain.
I cannot think this should proceed from one,
That is the Heir to his name and worth.
Eur.
My fathers ears shall ring with this, that he
Hath warm'd a viper, which would bite him now,
And entertain'd a guest would rob his host.
Plu.
Lady, my spirit tels me that my birth
Is not so base as you conceit. I mean
To try my spirit, and my fortunes in
Mars his Camp, but not in Venus Courts.
Since nature's so unkind, as not to let
Me know▪ what honour I was born unto,
I'll win some to my name, by actions, which
Shal speak me noble; I had thought t'have made
You the fair goddess at whose shrine I meant
T'have offer'd up, and sacrific'd my self,
And all my services; but cause you prove
So rough, I will not harbour here▪ but seek
The world through, for an altar worthy of
My labours. So, fair proud, farewel.
Exit.
Eur.
Art gone! I did not well to tempt a part
I knew not how to act, to hide a flame
I could not well conceal: for hereby have
I drove him quite away.—Euriphila,
Thou wer't too blame.—Well, I will after him,
And try if I can fetter him with gifts,
Whom love cannot entangle: Mars is his god,
Not Venus; once more will I try, and shew
Him plainly how I love him: Juno help,
[Page 47]And thou, O little deitie of Love▪
Besiege the castle of his stubborn breast,
Bend all thy batteries unto his heart,
Make it the mark of all thy golden darts.
Let him no more resist, but know thy power,
That Mars with all his armour, nor his forts,
Castles, or coats of mail, can fence him from
Thy little piercing shafts, which wound unseen.
And I will try what work a womans arts
Can make against these stubborn warriors hearts.
Exit▪

Scaen. 3.

Enter Samela.
I have but one heart to bestow, and that
Must not be Menaphon's; mine eyes do fix
On Melecertus, the best counterfeit
Of my lost Maximus: I cannot yet
Think on that name, but it doth seem to chide
My hasty choise, and drown my love in tears.
She weeps▪
Enter Menaphon.
Men.
What mean these sudden passions, Samela?
Hast thou not here all thou canst wish? what dost
Thou want can make one happy, but content?
Sam.
'Tis true, I nothing want, that a poor wretch
Can wish for; but this happiness doth mind
Me of my fore-past happiness that's lost.
Is't possible the vein of true love can
Be broken, and the wound not bleed afresh
At every thought! Alas! my heart's so full
Of tears and grief, that some will over-flow.
Men.
Had thy tears power to raise the dead a­gain,
[Page 48]Then were they lawful and commendable:
But since that tears are fruitless, and your friends
(Like water spilt) now past recoverie,
It is but folly to weep for the dead.
Pursue no more fled joyes, turn and receive
Those comming pleasures which do court your hand
To take them. If thou wilt listen to my love—
Sam.

I like my grief much better than thy love.

Men.
Why so nice and coy fair Lady
Prethee why so coy?
If you deny your hand and lip
Can I your heart enjoy?
Prethee why so coy?
For thy flitting joyes are past,
I will give thee joyes at last.
Joyes that shall create each other,
Make thee both a wife and mother.
Sam.
Y're merry, Menaphon, but I can't joyn
In consort with you. Seek some other mate;
I have no heart to give, nor hand to take
Your gift. Another reaps what you have sown,
And like t'enjoy what you have hop'd in vain.
Men.
Another reap what I have sown! Is this
Your gratitude you so much boasted of?
Have I supplied your wants with plenty, and
With scorn do you repay my charitie?
Did I relieve you in distress for this?—
By Pan, the god of shepherds, or return
Love for my love, or be turn'd out of doors.
Sa.
My heart ne're knew what baseness meant,
Of thankful thoughts for your civilities; (it's full
If those will satisfie, I'll employ all
[Page 49]Th'exchequer of my breast; bu [...] as for love,
Alas! that is not in my power to give▪
Men.
I saw your loose eyes at the shepherds feast,
Rov'd every where, but Melecertus was
The mark they aym'd at most. Well, get you gone,
Expect no more from me, but slight and scorn.
Exit.
Sam.
My grief was ominous, and did presage
This sad mishaps was I not cross'd enough
Before? when will my suff'rings have an end!
Well, I'll go seek my uncle Lamedon,
The comfort and companion of my woes.
Exit.

Scaen. 4.

Enter Euriphila.
Love bids me go, but reason bids me stay;
Reason! thou hast no share in love; I'll on▪
Love is a passion▪ passions know no lawes,
The gods themselves cannot be wise and love.
Enter Plusidippus passing by.
Friend Plusidippus, hark, who would have thought
You so faint-hearted, that a maidens frowns,
Could turn the edge of your affections?
Plu.
No, madam, but your scorn hath whet the edge
Of my resolves, to seek some other clime
May prove more temperate: Arcadia is
The place I aym at, where, I'm told, there dwels
A Lady of that beautie, that the world
Can't shew her second; thither am I bound.
Eur.
You do but jest, I hope, I'm sure I did▪
No other; for I love thee with my heart,
Offers him gifts.
And may these signs confirm it that I do.
Plu.
I must not dwell at these signs, well I may
Bait for a while, but cannot make a stay.
[Page 50] Arcadia is the place I visit must,
That is the center whereunto I tend,
And where my labours hope to find an end.
Eur.
What, must a Lady wooe you to accept
Her favours? Come, what need hast thou to seek
Offers him her gifts again.
Dangers, and love abroad, who hast at home
The onely daughter of a King, who courts
Thee for thy love? what mean those silent looks?
Hear me, my Plusidippus: what, still mute?
Plu.
Th'attractive of that beautie I have seen
But in a picture. will not let me rest,
Until I see that creature so divine,
Arcadia is blest withal, to be
The happy casket of so rich a jewel.
Eur.
By all the love thou ow'st my fathers care,
I do adjure thee to stay here with me,
And in mine arms I'll lodge thee until time▪
Shall make thee King of Thessaly; mean-while
Let me be happy in th'enjoyment of
Thy companie, and seek not toils and care,
When thou mayst live more happy here, than
Canst wish, or find in any other place.
Plu.
My Genius prompts me, that I must not rest thou
Here, for the gods do seem to call me hence▪
And their decrees I may not break, nor will.
Exit.
Eur.
This scorn tormenth me, yet can I not
Repay his hate with hate; but I do love
Him more. Love, this is tyrannie in thee.
Enter Agenor King.
Here comes my Father, may his newes be good.
Kin.
Now forward girle, did I for this pro­vide
[Page 51]An husband for you? do you thus reward
My love to you, to slight him whom I love?
Your scornes will force him from our Court to flie.
And now I hear, he'l to Arcadia.
Eur.
Believe it, Sir, 'tis far from me to wish,
Or be the cause of his departure hence.
Kin.
Yes, yes, your peevishness I hear's the cause,
Nay, I my self have heard, with shame to think
You so much scorn'd a man, I so much lov'd.
Did I grace him, that you should disgrace him?
Eur.
Great Sir, the greatest loss is mine; & none
Can tell with what an heavy heart [...] shall
Be forc'd to part with him. And therefore, if
You please to use your power to stay him here,
You may so be my father the second
Time▪ by preserving the life you gave me,
Which, without his presence, is nothing worth.
As you tender the life of a daughter,
Or the welfare of a maid, endeavour
His stay, or I shall follow him to death.—
Kin.
I'll find him out and try what power I have
Upon him: I suppose my kindnesses
To him, may well deserve his acceptance,
They have not been such as should wearie him,
Nor is a Crown a thing to be slighted,
Nor easily obteined; yet his stay▪
May purchase mine, and 'tis an easie rate.
Exeunt.

Scaen. 5.

Enter Lamedon, Samela.
Lam.
What, Neece, still weeping! cannot curing time
Invent a plaister for thy wounds, but that
They still thus bleed afresh? what is the cause?
Sam.
Dearest Uncle! who hitherto have been
The onely Partner and Physician
[Page 52]Of all my griefs; unless your skill can fit
A cure unto my present cares, I must
Yeild to their strength, for with continued
Batteries they so assault me now, that
I must be forc'd to sink under their weight.
Lam.
Why, what new cross hath hapned unto thee?
That thus renews thy grief? Come, tell it me;
And doubt not of my readiness to trie
All means for thy relief; but first 'tis fit
I know the cause, the first step to the cure.
Unbosome then thy grief, and give it vent;
Is Menaphon as kind as he was wont?
Sam.
That name it is that is my sorrows spring
From whence these tears do flow, 'tis he alone—
Unkind and false, base-minded Menaphon.
Lam.
Out with it all, and tell me how he hath
Abused thee, and I will try to right
Thee, and requite him for his injuries.
Sam.
When as he saw I would not satisfie
His foolish fancie, for which cause alone
He hitherto hath entertained us,
And not for to relieve our wants; he sees
His hopes are frustrated, and I despise
His clownish love, he turn'd me out of's doors:
Where shall we lie? we are expos'd unto
The mercie of the kinder elements;
The heavens must be our canopie, and th'earth
Our bed, the poor flocks our companions.
Lam.
Well, fear not, S [...]la, already I
Have found a way to case thy mind; I have
A little money left, and there withal
Soon shall I purchase a small flock for thee:
Where thou shalt live secure, and free from fear,
[Page 53]Enjoy thy little with content; there is
A shepherd lately dead, whose flock I'll buy,
And thou shalt be it's Mistris, Samela.
Sam.
Uncle, my thanks shall ever ready be
For you, as always is your care for me.
But let your haste prevent my comming griefs,
For griefs have wings, wherewith they flie to us,
Comforts are leaden heel'd, and move but slow.
Lam.
Fear not, I will dispatch it suddenly,
The shepherd Doron's brother's lately dead,
And he hath the disposal of the flock,
As soon as I can find him, we will try
If reasonable price will make them ours,
Enter Doron.
See where he comes preventing me; Doron,
The merry shepherd! whither away so fast▪
Dor
I'm running for my life, Sir, my brother's
Lately dead, and I'm afraid death will catch
Me too, if I don't make haste. I'm sure
Carmela has half cut the thred of my
Life in twain, with the hook of her crueltie:
Besides, Moron's sheep are roving to find
Their master, and they I go till they lose
Themselves, if I find them not the sooner.
Lam.

Moron! what was he a kin to a fool?

Dor.

Why he was my own brother, Sir.

Lam.

I thought so. Dor. I must be gone.

Lam.
Nay, stay Doron, what wil [...] thou take, and we
Will ease thee of the trouble of thy sheep.
Dor.
By my troth Sir, and you shall have them, but
What will you give me, and you shall have
His flock,—ay and me too, if you will, for
I think Carmela won't.
Gives him gold.
Lam.

Will these content thee for thy sheep?

Dor.
[Page 54]
Ay marry, this is something lik—you
Shall have them Sir, were there as many
Of them as there are hairs on their
Backs.—They talk of a golden fleece
But I think I have made their fleeces
Gold now. Come Sir, I'll deliver you the sheep.
Exeunt.

Scaen. 6.

Enter Menaphon.
Forlorn, forsaken, and the object made
Of all the shepherds storms! what shall I do▪
Love is no god, Fortune is blind, and can
Not help; sleep flies, and cares possess my head.
Mirth makes me melancholy, company
Yields me no comfort: when I am alone,
A thousand fancies do distract my thoughts:
And when I try to drown my cares in wine,
They swim aloft, and will be uppermost.
I'll try if I can sing my cares asleep.
Ye restless cares, companions of the night,
That wrap my joyes in clouds of endless woes,
Spare not my heart, but wound it with your [...]ight,
Since love and fortune prove my equal fo [...]s.
Enter Pesana.
Farewel my hopes, farewel my happy dayes,
Welcom sweet grief, the subject of my layes.
Pes.
Now will I take time by the fore-lock, and
Creep into Menaphon's breast, through the cracks
His minion S [...]l [...] has made in it.
Aside.
Friend Menaphon, what▪ is your courage cool'd?
Men.

Cold entertainment hath my courage cool'd.

Pes.
You know where you might have been let in, long
E're this, without assault or batterie.
But you'r serv'd in your kind, for being coy:
[Page 55]Now you have met with your mate (friend) I hope.
Men.
She set my heart on fire by her presence,
That will not be put out by her absence.
Pes.
Then I see you mean to follow her with
Your suit and service still, for all her scorn.
Men.
No, she hath wounded me too deep, to make
Pursuit after her, therefore let her go.
Pes.
Now then you know what 'tis to be slighted;
So once you slighted me, now I'll slight you.
Exit.
Men.
Ah cruel love! whose musick is compos'd
Of Lovers jars an discords, mixt with sighs!
If I turn traytor once more unto love,
I'll rob him of his deitie, and pull
His little Kingdom down; I'll pull his wings,
And with the quils made into pens, and dipt
In saddest lovers tears, in stead of ink,
I'll Satyres write against his tyrannie.
Exit.

Scaen. 7.

Enter King Agenor, Plusidippus, and Euriphila.
Kin.
Why then, my Plusidippus, will you leave
Us, and your fortunes? It is my resolve
To make you heir to my crown, my Son
And Successor.
Plu.
Great Sir, I would not be
Fondly injurious to my self, or you,
Or so prophane unto the gods, to slight
Their and your gifts, when proffer'd me so fair:
I must obey their dictates, and my vowes,
Which call me to Arcadia, till when,
I cannot rest. Give me your Royal leave
To go, I will engage my hopes, and all
My future happinesses, to return
In so short a time as you shall limit me.
Kin.
[Page 56]
Then daughter, since it must be so, I can
Not tell how to denie his just request:
But see you part with him in friendship. And
The like Sir, I require of you to her.
Exit.
Plu.
Far b [...] it from me to denie so fair
Requests▪ Lady, in signe hereof, I take
This parting kiss, and may it cancel all
Miscarriages▪ and seal Loves covenants.
And thus I take my leave but for a while.
Eur.
Then take thee this my dearest heart, and bear
It with thee; may it be a charm to keep
Thy chaste affections from a Strangers love:
May your return shorten my tedious hours,
Since I neglect mine own content for yours.
Exeunt.

Scaen. 8.

Enter 2 Lords.
1 Lo.
It seems our Kink hath pretty well out­grown
His griefs; and now he meditates new Loves.
2 Lo.
The fire of love hath thaw'd his frozen breast,
And turn'd his cold December into May:
His Scepter's chang'd into a sheep-hook, He
Is gone on pilgrimage to seek a wife
Amongst the shepherdesses; there is one
Whom I have seen, and he is gone to see,
May vie with Juno for precedencie:
Who in the habit of a Country lass,
Carries a Prince-like countenance and grace.
In th'Arcadian Plains she keeps a flock
Of sheep, whose innocence and whiteness she
Surpasseth, whilst the shepherds daily strive
VVho shall bid fairest for this fairer prize.
1 Lo.
And he'l out-bid them all, if that will do.
[Page 57]But what a motley mixture will it be,
To see his grey hairs joyned with her green
And springing youth? The strange effects of love▪
VVell may she be his nurse, but not his wife:
VVhat's love in young, is dotage in old men.
2 Lo.
Love can create an Autumn Spring, in [...]u [...]
New spirits in the old, and make them young
Besides, Honour's a bait frail women know
Not to resist: who would not be a Queen?
Exeunt.

Scaen. 9.

Enter Samela.
Once more doth Fortune flatter me, with hopes
Of a contented life: now am I free
From jealous Menaphon's suspitions,
And without fear enjoy my wished love.
Enter Melecertus.
See where he comes, the picture drawn to th'life
Of my dead Maximus, my former joy.
Mel.
All hail unto the fairest Samela,
And to her happy flock: I envie them
She is their Mistris, I her servant am.
Long since my heart was hers, may she but please
To take that kindly, which I freely give.
Sam.
But, Melecertus, can I hope to find
You real unto me, whose worth I know
Cannot but be engag'd already to
Some more deserving creature than poor I.
Mel.
Lady, my services were never due
To any, but to one, which bond harsh death
Hath cancelled to make me yours alone.
Sam.
You call death harsh for freeing you from them,
And would you be in the like bonds again?
Mel.
Your heavenly likeness doth compel me to't
[Page 58]You are the same, but in another dress.
Let me no longer therefore strive to win
That fort, I so much covet to be in.
Sam.

Then Melecertus take thy Samela.

Mel.
Oh happy word! oh happy fate! the gods
If they would change with me, should give me odds.
Finis Act. 4.

Act. 5.

Scaen. 1.

Enter King Damocles, like a Shepherd.
THus▪ Jove chang'd shapes to satisfie his love,
He laid his god-head by; my Kingdome I
Have for a time forsaken, and exchang'd
My royal robes for shepherds weeds. How light
(Me thinks) I feel my self! having laid by
My crown, with its companions heavy cares!
Enter Plusidippus.
But who comes here? His paces to me tend.
Plu.
Shepherd, well met, but why without a flock?
What, hath the rot consum'd thy sheep? or are
They gone astray?
Kin.
No, not my sheep, but I,
Aside.
So far, I almost know not where, or what
I am▪—to seek, as yet I know▪ not whom.
Plu.
This old man dotes, and knows not what he sayes;
Where is thy bag-pipe, and thy merry layes,
That shepherds use to have in readiness?
[Page 59]Surely thou art no shepherd, but some goat
Crept lately into a sheeps habit.—Dost
Thou know the field of the fair Samela?
Kin.
This boy will be my Rival, for that name
Aside.
Sounds like the creatures that I seek for.—No,
Go seek your Stamela, I know no such.
Plu.
This is intolerable,—I will scourge
Enter Samela passing by.
Draws.
Thee into better manners.—But that divine
Appearance makes my spirits calm, and strikes
An awful reverence into my breast.
This is the beautie of th'Arcadian Plains,
Sh'has shot her rayes so home into my heart,
But partial fame was niggardly and base,
In giving but a glimpse of this rare beautie.
Sam.

D'you know me, Sir, or have you lost your way?

Plu.
I cannot likely lose my way, where I
Do find such glistring goddesses as you.
Indeed the force of such a light, may rob
Me of the office of mine eyes, and make
Them dark with too much brightness; can I chuse
But gaze upon the Sun, when first I see't.
Sam.
I think you lost your wits, or else your eys,
That you mistake a glo-worm for the sun,
And make a goddess of a shepherdess.
Plu.
Lady, if I have lost my wits or eyes,
It was with seeking you, whose beautie drew
Me hither; for your sake alone have I
Shook hands with Thessaly, and all my friends,
Onely to joyn my hands and heart with you.
Sam.
I should be loth to give my hand unto
So sudden a conclusion, and my heart
[Page 60]Is neither in my power or possession.
Plu.
Fair Shepherdess, my errand is in love,
To yield my heart into your hands; 'tis yours,
By gift and conquest; I'm at your command.
Sam.
If that you are at my command, be gone,
I cannot, will not listen to your words.
Exit.
Plu.
And have I left my dear Euriphila
For this! I see beautie makes women proud,
I would I were at Thessaly again,
There should I welcome be unto Euriphila,
Whose heart I know's my fellow-traveller,
Her salt rears, by this time, would make a sea,
Wherein I might swim back again with ease.
Exit.

Scaen. 2.

Kin.
I see this youth's repul'st, and he is young
And stout, and well deserving, how shall I
Hope to prevail with her? if lively youth
She do despise, then much more cripling age:
Nor do I know what arguments to use,
Unless to tell her that I am a King,
And lay my Crown and Scepter at her feet,
Which she will scarce believe: my shepherds hook
Will not be taken for a scepter, nor
This poor cap for th'usurper of a crown.—
I have a way whereby to work my will,
And this young man shall be my instrument:
There stands a castle hard by, whither he
Perforce shall carry her. I'll work my will
Upon her, when I have her there confin'd.
Enter Plusidippus.
Plu.
I will revenge this scorn, if force or wit
Will do, I'll make her pride come down.
Kin.
Be wise,
[Page 61]Young man, and valiant, and I will tell
Thee how thou shalt obtein thy full desire.
Plu.

But tell me how, and then let me alone To act, what e're it be.

Kin.
A Castle stands
Near by, guarded with crows and negligence,
Thither thou mayst by force convey her, and
Then force her unto what entreaties can't.
Plu.
Old man, if I do gain her by thy means,
Thou shalt not want reward: I know the place
Where she doth tend her flock, and I'l watch her,
As she doth them; and when I see my time,
I will convey her where you shall direct.
Exit.
Kin.
I will attend you here.—Now must I plot
To get her in my power, and then I shall
Advance her to a crown against her will.
But yet, I cannot think Honour should need
An Advocate; womens ambitious thoughts
Do swim aloft, they love to be above
Their neighbours, envying ev'ry one whose height
Doth over-look, and seemeth to upbraid
Their lowness by comparison; their minds
Are always climbing up to honours hill,
And pride, and self-conceit, are the two wings
Which elevate their thoughs to flie aloft.
Enter Plusidippus, with Samela.
Plu.
Now, Mistris Coy, y'are not in your own power,
But mine. Old shepherd, take thee charge of her.
Exit.
Kin.
Lady, you see what folly 'tis for you
To denie men what they can take without
Your leave. Now must you yield unto the
Of Thessaly.—But if you will be wise,
And see a good when proffer'd, you may be Knight
[Page 62]A Queen▪ by granting of my suit, who am
King of Arcadia, although thus disguis'd.
Sam.
My father Damocles! 'tis he now sues
aside.
To me his dauughter: He's incestuous grown.
Kin.
This is too woman-like, to turn away
From your own happiness.—And it is strange,
That honour doth not tempt her; thou shalt have
A Crown and Kingdom at thy sole command,
And change these rural weeds for princely robes,
If thou wilt be my wife, pleasure for pain,
And plenty for thy povertie. What sayst?
Sam.
Your potent batteries, and golden baits
Might win (perhaps) on some ambitious soul:
They nothing move me, to remove my love
Already plac'd on Melecertus, He,
He onely doth, and shall possess my heart.
Kin.
A shepherd. Shall a shepherds basnesse stand
In competition, and out-weigh a King?
A subject be before his Sovereign
Prefer'd? Oh how prepostrous are the minds
Of these fond women! Come, be well advis'd,
And change that pettie pebble for a pearl.
'Tis in my power to make thee happy, or
With one breath to blast the flower of thy hopes.
And to repay thy folly with thy shame.
Do not go on to kindle such a fire
Within my breast, as shall consume both thee,
And all that cross the current of my will.
Sam.
I have already sad experience of
The wilde effects of his enraged will,
aside.
Yet such the crosness of my fortune is,
I must again be made the subject of
His furious tyrannie; but I'm resolv'd.
[Page 63]Know Sir, I value more my minds content,
Than all the gawdie shows Courts can present:
I am too well confirmed in the bliss,
And sweet content attends a Country life,
To leave it for the giddy-headed Court.
Besides, my true affections are so riveted
Unto my Melecertus, that nor frowns,
Nor flatteries shall part my heart from him.
Cease therefore farther to commence a suit
Nature forbids me grant, and you to ask.
Kin.
And have I with my Kingly robes laid by
My Kingly mind? No, it shall ne're be said
A womans will hath contradicted mine.
But 'tis by policie that I must work,
Since I have laid my Kingly power aside,
I'll set my brains o'th'tenterhooks, and stretch
Them to their uttermost abilities,
To win this scornful beautie to my wife,
Or else revenge it with her dearest life.
Exit.

Scaen. 3.

Sam.
My life hath hitherto been chequer'd with
Varietie of fortunes; sometimes with
A white of happiness, and then a black
Of miserie; thus loves bright day of mirth,
Is follow'd with a darker night of woe.
How fair of late my fortune seem'd to be,
And now, alas! o're-cast with blackest clouds
Of discontents, wherein I labour with
Important suits, I cannot, may not grant.
No, no, my Melecertus, I am firm
To thee, nor shall the rain of tears,
Or winds of threats remove me from thy love.
Be thou but constant, nay, I know thou art,
[Page 64]I will not wrong thee with so foul a thought,
As once to doubt thou canst be otherwise.
Enter Plusidippus.
Plu.
You're from your shepherds now, or their defence,
Presume not they can rescue you, 'tis past
Their skill or power, to force you from mine arms.
Sam.
Alas, fond boy! I scorn thy threats, as much
As I hate thee, or slight thy boasted strength.
Were but my Melecertus here, he would
Whip thy rudeness into better manners.
Plu.
'Tis well you are a woman (not a man,)
And have no other weapon but your tongue,
Which you are priviledg'd to use, and we
To laugh at. But in short, if you'l accept
My love and service, then shall you be safe,
And happy: Souldiers cannot talk, but with
Their swords, and then they strike gain-sayers dumb.
Sam.
All this is nothing; for your words, nor swords
Shall not remove me from my dearest friend,
He hath my heart, and I have nothing left
But hate, if you'l accept of that, 'tis all
That I can give, or you receive from me.
Plu.
You must be dealt with as we use to do
With sullen birds, I'll shut you up, and then
Perhaps you'l sing another note, you are
Not yet in tune, you are too high for me,
But I will take you lower. I will plough
Your heart with grief, and then (perhaps) it will
Better receive the seed of my true love.
Sam.
Sooner the turtle shall forget her mate,
Than I my Melecertus; and when I
Can't see him with mine eys, my mind shall rove,
Wing'd with desire, throughout the spacious world,
[Page 65]And find no rest, until it meet with him.
And though our bodies never meet, our souls
Shall joyn, and love each other after death.
Thus is true love immortal, and shall never
Die, but with our souls shall live for ever.
Plu.
Shepherd, who e're thou art, I cannot chuse
But envie thee thy happiness, who hast
So true a love: I cannot but admire
This noble soul and love her, though she hate
Me for't; I'll treat her civilly, and if
I can't obtain her for a wife, she shall
My goddess be, and I'll adore her name,
Though at a distance. Lady, will you walk?
Exeunt.

Scaen. 4.

Enter King Damocles.
It is an ill wind that blows no man good;
Though the Thessalian lad have got the prize
In his possession, it shall not be long,
But I will have them both in mine, I have
Dispatch'd a letter to my Lords, to send
Me suddenly some servants to assist
Enter Menaphon.
My plot. Now Menaphon, what is the newes?
Men.
Great Sir, the messenger's return'd, and brought
The men you sent for, they are here at hand.
Kin.
'Tis well; direct them to the castle that
I told you of, and give them charge to seize
Upon the buzzard and his prey, and bring
Them both to me: mean-time go you, and find
Out Melecertus, that I may be sure
Of him, for he's my rival in my love.
Men.

My Liege, all shall be done to your desire.

Exit.
Kin.
[Page 66]
Blest policie, thou far exceed'st dull strength,
That wanders in the dark of ignorance,
Wanting the eye of wisedome, both to guide,
And to defend it from approaching harms.
Thus art with ease doth move the pondrous load,
Which strength could never master, or remove.
The Foxes tail must piece the Lions skin.
Little Ulysses with his wit did more
Against the foe, than Ajax with his strength.
Exit

Scaen. 5.

Enter Samela.
It is some comfort yet that I can change
My prison, though I am a pris'ner still,
Would I could change my companie as soon.
But ah! most wretched Samela, who wert
Born to misfortunes, and to nothing else:
As if that I alone were fortunes mark,
At which she onely ayms her angry darts.
The morning of mine age was clouded with
Mishaps, and now my noon is like to be
The fatal night unto my miserie.—
My Gaoler is so kind, as if he meant
To bribe my love; but these are gilded pills
I cannot swallow. Should my Father get
Me into his possession once again,
I were as bad, or worse: I know too well
His passion, to hope any help from him.
I'll tell him plainly who I am, and trie
If time have dull'd the edge of's crueltie:
Perhaps the kinder gods may move his heart
To pitie, and convert his rage to love.
He is my father still, and though unkind
To me, yet can I not forget I am
[Page 67]His child, and owe a dutie to his name.
He is my King, and so I must obey
His will; if I must suffer, let it be
From his, rather than from a strangers hands.
Exit.

Scaen. 6.

Enter Doron, reading.
I think I am provided now, if Poetrie
Will do't, my Carmila is mine; these
Wittie knaves, what fine devices they
Have got to fetter maidens hearts?
The Poet Orpheus made the Thracian
Dames dance after his pipe, and Ovid
Charm'd the Emperours daughter with
His Poetrie; there are some secret
Enter Carmila.
Charms in these same verses sure.
Let me see here what I have got.
Ha Carmila, look here, I think
You'l love me now.
Reads.

Carmila—A Miracle.

Car.

A miracle, for what, Doron?

Dor.
Why, a miracle of beautie, and I think
You'l be a miracle of folly, if you
Don't love me now.
Car.
What small Poet have you hired
To make a miracle of my name.
Dor.
Nay, I have more yet, and better,
That I found in the Nichodemus
Of Complements, that's a sweet book,
'Tis a very magazine of Poetrie, a
Store-house of wit; do but hear
Them Carmila.
Car.
Let's hear them, Doron, are they
Worth a laughing at? Let's hear.
Dor.
[Page 68]
Well, well, it is no laughing matter; but I'm
Sure your laughing ha's made me crie.
Now Carmila, you must imagine that 'tis
I, and only I, say this to you, and none but you:
For the unhappy wag ha's so fitted my
Fancie, as if 'twere made for no bodie but me.
Excellent Mistris, brighter than the Moon,
Than scowred pewter▪ or the silver spoon:
Fairer than Phoebus, or the morning Star,
Dainty fine Mistris, by my troth you are.
Thine eyes like Diamonds shine most clearly,
As I'm an honest man, I love thee dearly.
What think you now, Carmila, is not this
Admirable? if these strong lines will
Not draw your love, I know not what will.
Car.
Had it been your own mother-wit,
Doron, I could have like't it well:
But for you to father the brat of
Another's brain, is too ridiculous.
I like your love much better than your
Hackney lines: but bought wit's best.
Dor.
If you like not my lines, because they are
None of mine, you will not love my
Heart neither, for that's not mine, but yours.
Car.
Yes, Doron, if you have given me your
Heart, I will not die in your debt, but
Give you mine in exchange for yours.
Dor.
Than welcome to me my new found heart,
We'l live, and love, and never part.
Exeunt.

Scaen. 7.

Enter Melecertus.
Revenge shall soon o're-take this proud boy, who
[Page 69]Committed hath so bold a rape upon
My Samela: He had been better to
Have lodged snakes in his breast, than to steal
This spark, that shall consume him and his nest.
Samela! Samela! that name alone
Infuseth spirits into me, inflames
My soul with vengeance, till I recover
My dearest love.
Enter Menaphon.
Men.
Now shall I be reveng'd on Samela,
And on her Melecertus both at once:
I'll make her know neglected love may turn
To hate, and vengeance take the place of scorn.
Well met friend Melecertus, what, alone?
Mel.

I'm solitarie since my mate is gone.

Men.
Your mate has taken flight, she's on the wing,
But I can tell thee where she nests, and bring
Thee guickly where thou shalt retrive the game.
Mel.
If thou wilt do this, Menaphon, I shall
Be studious to requite thy love with mine:
I pay thee sterling thanks and services.
Men.
I will not sell my favours to my friends,
My work is all the wages I expect.
Come, follow me, I'll lead thee to the place,
Where the fresh gamesters have thy love in chase.
Exeunt.

Scaen. 8.

Enter King Damocles in his Royal robes, Plusidippus and Samela, prisoners.
Kin.
Now Sir, you see the shepherd is become
A King; and though you have deserved death,
Yet since you have but acted our commands,
We here release you, and not onely so,
[Page 70]But entertain you with all due respect,
At once belonging to our neighbour-Prince,
And near Allie, the King of Thessaly.
Some secret power doth force me love him so,
That if I had a daughter to bestow,
I'de wish no other Son-in-law, but him.
Now my Sephestia, what would I give,
Thou wert alive, I had thee, and thou him.
Sam.
He little thinks I am so near, or that
It is his daughter he would make his wife.
Kin.
Thus, Gentlewoman, you are once more faln
Into my hands, I am th' Arcadian King:
Be sudden therefore to give me your love,
Or else forseit your life for your contempt;
Think on't, and chuse which you'l rather do.
Sam.
Sir, I am still the same I was before:
My love, like to a mighty rock, stands fast,
Disdaining the proud billows of your threats.
Crowns cannot tempt, nor Kings command my love,
My love is free, and cannot be compell'd.
True love admits no partners, is content
With one, and Cupids statute law forbids
Pluralities of loves.
Kin.
Since y'are so stiff,
You will not bow, I'll make you bend, or break.
Enter Menaphon with Melecertus.
Mel.

I am betray'd by this base Menaphon.

Kin.
Here comes my Rival; when I have dis­patch'd
Him to the other world, your plea is spoil'd:
My sword shall cut your gordian knot in two;
Your ghosts may wed, your bodies never shall.
I'll be his Executioner my self,
I'll trust no other eyes to see it done.
Sam.
[Page 71]
Now is it time t'unmask, and let him know
He wounds his daughter through her Lovers sides.
She kneels.
Father, your furie once expos'd me to
The greedie jaws of death, which yet more kind,
In pitie sav'd my life, you sought to lose.
I'm your Sephestia, Father, know your child.
Mel.
And is it possible, Sephestia lives,
Once more t'enjoy her truest Maximus?
Sam.
My Maximus, I'm thy Sephestia:
Oh that our Plusidippus too were here!
Plu.

And I am he, my name is Plusidippus.

Seph.
My dearest son! 'tis he; now were my joys
Compleat indeed, were but my Uncle here.
Mel.
I am so wrapt with joy, I scarce can get
Breath, to express my thanks unto the gods.
Men.
What will become of me? I shall be hang'd,
Or lose my place at least; I'll get me home,
Amidst their mirth they will not think on me.
Exit.
Kin.
My onely daughter! Dear Sephestia,
And you, kind Maximus, I ask
Both of you pardon for your injuries,
And for requital, thus I do create
Thee King of Arcadie; and may the gods
Requite your sufferings, and forgive my crimes.
Long may ye live, and happy; may your dayes
Be sun-shine all, and know no clouds nor night.
Enter Lamedon.
And that we may not leave one string untun'd,
My brother comes to make our consort full;
The best of brothers, and the best of friends,
Thanks for your care of her, whom you have made
Your daughter by a better claim than mine.
[Page 72]Now let the whole land swim in mirth, and load
The altars with their thankful sacrifice
Unto the kinder deities, who through
A sea of woes, have sent us happiness.
Let's in, and hear the strange adventures have
Befaln your heaven-protected persons; griefs
Grow less by telling, joyes are multiplied.
Although against them all things seem to strive,
At last just men and lovers alwayes thrive.
FINIS.
Poetical Diversions.

Fragmenta Poetica: OR, Poetical Diversions. WITH A PANEGYRICK UPON HIS SACRED MAJESTIE'S Most happy Return, on the 29. May, 1660. By THO. FORDE, Philothal.

LONDON, Printed by R. and W. Leybourn, for William Grantham, and are to sold at the Signe of the Black Bear in St. Pauls Church-yard. 1660.

[Page] [Page 1] Poetical Diversions.

For Christmass-day.

1 Shepherd.
WHat, have we slept! or doth the ha­stie Sun
Bring back the day, before the night be done?
2 Shep.
What melodie is this that charms our ears?
Is it the musick of th'harmonious Sphears?
Angels.
Peace shepherds, peace; glad tidings we ye bring,
Your God hath got a Son, and ye a King:
And he hath sent us with this newes to tell,
Who late was Ours, is your Immanuel.
Up, up to B [...]thlehem, there shall you see
An Human shape enclose the Deitie.
Behold, a cratch imprisons him, whose hands
Have fram'd the earth, and curbs the sea with bands.
He now begins to be, that no beginning knew,
He now begins to live, who being gave to you.
Go see th'Eternal God a child's become,
The ever-speaking Word himself lies dumb,
[Page 2]Who by his word feeds all is fed by meat,
Th' Almighty King of Heaven hath left his seat,
And now keeps Court on earth: haste ye and see
The cratch his throne, beasts his attendance be.
And all to be your Saviour, and to free
Ye men from sin, and Satans slaverie.
Chorus of Angels.
Glory to God on high, and peace on earth,
Good will to men by this our God-mans birth.
Shepherds.
Come, let's go see these wonders which are told,
Let what our ears have heard, our eyes behold.
Soliloquie.
Croud in, my soul, and see amongst the rest,
And by thy sight, oh be for ever blest!
Hark how the Angels sing, the heavens rebound,
And earth with th'eccho of th'Angeli [...]k sound.
Never till now were the well-tuned Sphears
Heard to make melodie to mortal ears.
Now every pretty bird with's warbling throat,
To's new-born Maker elevates a note.
See how the earth, being big with pride to be
Out-gone by heaven, puts on her liverie
Of mirth, and laughs with joy to hear
Her Maker now will please to dwell on her.
The whole world was agreed to entertain
The King of peace, who now began his reign:
Mars shrunk for fear, Bellona hid her head,
When peace was born, all discords lay for dead.
Then why should bloody characters descrie
The blessed day of his Nativitie?
O let the purest white note out that morn
From all the rest, when Innocence was born.

On the Nativitie.

1.
Hail holy tide,
Wherein a Bride,
A Virgin, and a Mother,
Brought forth a Son,
The like was done,
Except her, by no other.
2.
A Virgin pure,
She did endure
After her Son, or rather.
It may be said,
She was a maid,
And this Son was her Father.
3.
Here riddles vex,
And do perplex
The eye of humane reason;
Heaven did combine,
With earth to joyn,
To consecrate this season.
4.
Hail blessed Maid,
For by thine aid,
Eternal life is Ours,
[Page 4]Thou didst lie in,
And without sin,
The son of God was yours.
5.
Hail happy birth,
Wonder of Earth
And heaven; the Angels sing
Anthems to thee,
As glad to see
Their new-born heavenly King.
6.
Though thou art poore,
Kings thee adore,
And precious presents bring,
They kneel to you,
And humbly bow,
As to some sacred thing.
7.
Thou that art able
To turn a stable
Into a Temple, come,
Possess my heart,
Cleanse every part,
And take it for thy home.

For Christmass-day,

LEnd me a pen pull'd from an Angels wing,
That I the news of this blest day may sing;
Or reach a feather of that holy Dove,
Wherewith to shew this miracle of love.
Darkness is turn'd to light, mid-night to morn;
Who can be silent when the Word is born!
Hark how the Angels sing, they bow, and more
Than Persians they this rising Sun adore.
The Court's remov'd, and the attendants flie
To wait upon this humane Deitie.
He, who was cloath'd with glorious Majesty,
Is veil'd with flesh, the better to comply
With mortal eyes; dis-robes himself of light,
Lays by his beams, stoops to our weaker sight:
And with his other favours this doth give
That man may see the face of God, and live.
The Son of God becomes the son of man,
That men may be the sons of God again!
Here God is man, and man is God, he takes
Our nature to him, not his own forsakes.
A mortal God, Immortal man in one,
Thus heaven and earth are in conjunction.
See how the shepherds flock, and Kings (as proud
To be his subjects) to his presence croud.
Haste, haste my soul, there's danger in delay,
Since thou hast nothing else to offer▪ lay
Thy self down at his feet; pray him to make
His lodging in thee, as he deign'd to take
Thy nature on himself.—But stay fond soul,
He's puritie it self, thou art too foul
[Page 6]To lodge so bright a guest, in whose pure eyes,
Heavens and Angels are deformities.
Yet see, he smiles, and beckens thee to come,
As if he meant to take thee for his home,
To wash thee with his blood; do not repine,
The sins are His, His righteousness is thine.
Hark, he invites himself to be thy guest,
Whose presence is thy physick and thy feast.
Behold he bowes the heavens, and comes down,
Takes up thy Cross, that thou mayst wear his Crown.
And in exchange assumes thy povertie,
Pays all thy debts, sets thee at libertie.
He sues to serve thee, and expects no more,
Thou shouldst give him▪ than he gave thee be­fore.
His work is all his wages, and his will
Is all his hire; be thou obedient still:
Love him▪ as he loves thee, and 'cause th'art poor,
Give him thy self, thy all, He asks no more.
Lord 'tis not fitting thou shouldst come
Into so base a room
First, with thy spirit cleanse my heart,
And by thy powerful art,
Thine and my enemies expel,
Make an Heaven of my Hell,
Then for ever in me dwell.
But, Lord, if thou vouchsafe to dwell
Within so dark a cell,
Take thou charge of the familie,
And let me dwell with thee.
Thine is the cost, be thine the care,
That Satan have no share,
For thou wilt find no room to spare.

For Christmas-day.

Invocat.
The Day, thy day is come,
O thou most glorious Sun,
When thou didst veil thy self, that we
Mortals might thy glory see.
Lend me a ray of light,
That I may see to write,
And Carol forth thy praise,
In ever-living layes.
Thyrsis.
WHat made the Sun poste hence away
So fast, and make so short a day?
Damon.
Seeing a brighter Sun appear,
He ran and hid himself for fear:
Asham'd to see himself out-shin'd,
(Leaving us, and night behind)
He sneak'd away to take a nap,
And hide himself in Thetis lap.
When, loe, a brighter night succeeds,
A night none of his lustre needs:
A night so splendent, we may say,
The day was night, and night was day.
Thyrsis.
See, Damon, see, how he doth shroud
His baffl'd glory in a cloud;
From whence he peeps to see the Sun,
That hath his lusters all out-done.
Damon.
But ventring on he spies a star,
More glorious than his Hesper far;
[Page 8]Which with a fair and speaking ray,
Told plainly where his Master lay.
Ambitious then to steal a sight,
He saw it was the God of light;
Then strait he whips away his team,
The well lost minutes to redeem;
And flies through all the world, to tell
The newes of this great miracle▪
It was not long before he came
Unto the lofty house of fame,
Where every whisper, every sound
Is taken at the first rebound,
And like an aiëry bubble blown
By vainer breath, till it be grown
Too big to be conceal'd, it flies
About a while, gaz'd at, then dies,
Something he tells, and hasts away▪
He could not, and fame would not stay,
To near the rest; for she well knew,
By mixing of false tales with true,
To make it more. To Rome she plyes,
Her greatest Mart of truths and lyes;
The gods (says she) will dwell on earth,
And give themselves a mortal birth.
But they of fame had got the ods,
For they themselves made their own gods;
And car'd not to encrease their store,
For they had gods enough before.
To Solyma she takes her flight,
And puts the Citie in a fright:
Unwelcome newes fills Herods ears,
And then his head, with thoughts and fears.
The King of whom the Sages told,
And all the Prophecies of old,
[Page 9]Is born, sayes fame; a King who shall
Deliver Judah out of thrall:
Kings shall his subjects be, and lay
Their scepters at his feet; his sway
Shall know no bounds, nor end, but he
Beyond all time, so fates decree.
By this the Sun had cross'd the seas,
And told the newes to th' Antipodes.
The aiëry spirits pack'd hence away,
Chas'd by the beams of this bright day.
The fiends were in an uproar, hell
Trembl'd with the dismal yell.
The Prince of darkness was in doubt
The Lord of light would find him out;
And that the word of truth being come,
His oracles must all be dumb.
Pale death foresaw he was betray'd,
That King of terrors was afraid.
Glory be to God above,
For this miracle of love:
Ever blessed be the morn,
When the God of Love was born.
Love so charming that it can
Contract a God into a Man.
And by the magick of his birth,
Make an Heaven of the Earth.
Ever, ever sing we thus,
Till Angels come and joyn with us.
They rejoyce with all their powers,
Yet the Benefit is Ours.
They with joy the tydings bring,
Shall We be silint when They sing?

The 25. Cap. of Job Paraphras'd.

Then Bildad answers, dominion and fear
(Which rule us mortals) loe his In-mates are.
Can numbers shallow bounds confine his hoasts?
Or does his light baulk any unknown coasts?
Can man be Gods Corrival to be just?
Can he be clean that is defiled dust?
The Moon in th'ocean of his light is drown'd,
The stars impure in his bright eyes are found.
Then what is man? (alas!) poor worthless span,
Or what's his son? a worm▪ less than a man.

35. Cap. of Job.

Then 'gan Elihu speak, vileness dost dare
Thy righteousness with Gods thus to compare?
Thou sayst, what gain will righteousness bring in?
Or shall I thrive by that more than by sin?
I'll answer thee. Behold, the clouds that stand
His surer guard against thy sinning hand.
Legions of doubled sins cannot assault
Thy God, or pierce his starry-guarded vault.
Nor can thy stock of good encrease his store,
Thy hand may hurt, or help (like thee) the poor. &c.

On the Widows 2 Mites.

How comes it that the widows mites are more
Than the abundance the rich gave the poor?
Whilst they their worldly goods lib'rally hurl'd
She gave her heart, more worth than all the▪ world.

On Christs Cross.

As from a Tree at first came all our woe,
[Page 11]So on a tree our remedie did grow.
One bare the fruit of death, the other life;
This was a well of Salem, that of strife.

On Christs Death and Resurrection.

What, can God die, or man live, being slain?
He dy'd as man, as God he rose again.

Gen. 2. 18.

When man was made, God sent an helper to him,
And so she prov'd, for she help'd to undoe him.

On the miracle of the Loaves.

This was a miracle indeed, when bread
Was by substraction multiplied:
Why wonder we at this strange feast,
When Gods's both giver, and a guest?

On Christ's Resurrection.

The Lord of life lay in a tomb,
as in the womb,
His Resurrection was a second birth,
from th'womb of th'earth.

On M. M. weeping at Christs death.

What, weep to see thy Saviour die,
Whereby thou liv'st eternally?
But now I know, 'twas cause thy sins
Were the sharp spears that wounded him.
Mark 12.‘Give to God, &c.‘And to Caesar, &c▪
Give God and Caesar both, how shall I do?
Give Gods receiver, and thou giv'st him too.

On the world.

That the worlds goods are so inconstant found,
No wonder is, for that it self is Round.

Similis simili gaudet.

Wherefore doth Dives love his Money so?
That's earth, So's Hee▪ Like will to like we know.

On Calvus.

Calvus of late extream long locks doth wear:
The reason is Calvus hath lost his Hair.

On Mal [...]ido.

Mal [...]ido on his neighbour looks so grim,
Proximus is Postremus sure with him.

On Will: who had run through all trades and was now a Cobler.

I prethee Will whither wilt thou so fast?
Thou canst not farther, for th'art at thy Last.

Better fortune.

Whilst that the Huntsman stared, he became
Unto his dogs their banquet and their game:
But from Acteons fortune I am free,
Because whilst I saw her, she could not me.

On Cornuto.

Cornuto cries Hee's weary of his life,
He cannot bear the Lightness of his wife,
She wants so many Grains, she'l go with loss;
Yet a Light Woman is an Heavie Cross.

Mart. Ep. 24. lib. 2.

If unjust fortune hale thee to the bar,
In rags, paler than guilty prisoners are,
I'll stick to thee; banîshd thy native soyl,
Through Seas and Rocks I will divide thy toyl.

On one who fell in love with Julia, throwing Snow-balls at him.

I'me all on fire; strange miracle of Love,
These Watry Snow-bals Hand-Granadoes prove?
If from cold clouds thou dost thy lightnings dart,
Julia, what Element will [...]ence my heart?

J. Cesaris Epigram.

A Thracian lad on Ice-bound Heber playes,
The glassie Pavement with his waight decayes.
Whilsts with his lower parts the river fled,
The meeting Ice cut off his tender head,
Which having found, the Son-less mother urnd,
Those to be drownd were born, this to be burnd.

Hensii Epitaph.

Trina mihi juncta est variis aetatibus vxor,
Haec Juveni, illa viro, tertia nupta seni est:
Prima est propter Opus, teneris sociata sub annis,
Altera propter Opes, tertia propter Opem.
Englished.
Three wives I had in severall ages Past,
A Youth, a Man, an old man had the last;
The first was for the Work, a tender maid,
The second was for VVealth, the third for Ayd.

Out of Italian.

My Mistris hath my heart in hold,
But yet 'tis under locks of gold,
In which the wind doth freely play,
But my poor heart doth prisoner stay:
What happier prison can there be?
Confinement is my libertie.

H. Grotius, S. Pet [...]i Querela.

Quae me recondet, recondet regio? quâ moestum diem
Fallam latebrâ? quaero nigrantem specum
Quâ me sepeliem vivus: ubi nullum videns
Nulli videndus, lachrymas foveam meas.
Englished.
What place will hide my guilt? that there I may
Deceive th'approaches of discovering day.
I'll seek some gloomy cave, where I may lie
Entomb'd alive in shades of secrecie:
There seeing none, nor any seeing me,
I will indulge my tears with libertie.

Out of Italian.

I am a child, and cannot love,
Ah me! that I my death must prove.
Wilt thou that I thee adore,
Cruel thou must be no more.
Torments my heart cannot bear,
Nor must any grief come there.

To Henry the 4th. out of Bahusius.

O mighty King! glory of Princely race,
Thy Kingdoms safety, and it's chiefest grace:
We wish our Muse worthy thy worth t'adorn,
She nothing more desires, can nothing less per­form.
Thou grace of arms, mak'st war a sport to be,
To labour's rest, to wake is sleep to thee▪
Thy call makes souldiers, whom th'hast so in awe,
Thy word is a decree, thy beck a law.
Thou lead'st them on, thy deeds serve for com­mands,
They learn their dutie from thy feet and hands.
Thou conquer'st e're thou fight'st, fortune's de­cree
Assures thee triumph, 'fore the victorie.
Thy helmet lawrel, fights all trophies be,
To fight and conquer is all one with thee.
Thy mercie strives thy sword for to reprieve,
And when thou strik'st thy foe, thy self doth grieve.
Though forc'd to fight, to expiate their deed,
Thine eyes do weep, fast as thy foes do bleed.
Pardons are thy revenges, whilst thy sword
Doth wounds dispence, thy hand doth help af­ford.
Like dreadful lightning to the war thou com'st,
Conquerour, than conquer'd milder thou re­turn'st.
To conquer others were too small, but thou
A nobler triumph o're thy self dost show.

Loves Duel, out of Anacreon.

CUpid all his arts did prove,
To invite my heart to love:
But I alwayes did delay,
His mild summons to obey:
Being deaf to all his charms,
Strait the god assumes his arms.
With his bow and quiver, he
Takes the field to duel me.
Armed like Achilles, I
With my shield and spear defie
His bold challenge: as he cast
His golden darts, I as fast
Catch'd his arrows in my shield,
Till I made him leave the field.
Fretting and dis-armed, then
Th'angry god returns agen,
All in flames; 'stead of a dart,
Throws himself into my heart,
Useless, I my shield require,
When the fort is all on fire;
I in vain the field did win,
Now the enemy's within.
Thus betray'd, at last I cry,
Love! th'hast got the victory.

With a Letter to Aglaia.

Goe happy paper, view those eyes,
Where beauties richest treasure lies;
[Page 17]The quiver whence he takes his darts,
Wherewith he wound's poor mortalis hearts.
But yet, fond paper, come not near
Those all-consuming flames, for fear
Thou perish by their cruell art,
That have inflam'd thy masters heart.
Yet if thou wil't so hardy be,
To venture on a batterie,
On that presuming Castle, say,
Wonder not I have found the way;
For (fairest Lady) hereby know,
The dart came first from your own Bow.

Excuse for absence.

You need inflict no other banishment,
The fault it selfe's my greatest punishment.
Oft would I pardon crave; but still my Muse
Prompts me, foul weather is a fair excuse.
If that will not suffice; then let this be,
That I have none, my best apologie.
Convict me of my crime, and as 'tis meet,
I'le do you daily Penance in a sheet.
But, prove me absent first, and then,
I'le write apologies, or burn my Pen.
Planets are where they worke, not where they move,
I am not where I live, but where I Love.

With Herberts Poeme.

The Poet's now become a Priest, and layes
His Poem at your feet, expects no Bayes,
[Page 18]But your acceptance; kind'le it with your eyes,
And make this Offering prove a Sacrifice.
The Vestal fire that's in your breast, will burn
Up all his drosse, and make it Incense turne;
And then your smile a second life will give,
Hee'l fear no death, if you but bid him live.
Pardon this bold ambition, tis his drift,
To make the Altar sanctifie the Gift.
Visit this Temple, at your vacant houres,
Twas Herberts Poem once, but now tis Yours.

On the death of M. A. S.

Fain would I pay my tribute to thy Herse,
And sigh thy death, in never dying verse.
But I in vain invoke my Muse, for she
(Alas!) is dead with him for company.
Like to those Indian wives who count the thred
Of their life ended when their Mate is dead.
When souls thus linck'd divorce, one cannot part,
Without the breaking of the others heart.
To vent my sorrowes yeelds me no relief,
He grieves but little that can tell his grief.
Let others less concern'd this truth approve,
And strive to shew their Wit, more than their Love
My grief confutes the Laws of Numbers, I
Whilst others Write, will Weep thine Elegie.
Each line my tears a Colons charge defray,
Verses have Periods, but no Period they.
Reader since He my better half is gone,
My heart is but his Monumentall Stone,
On which this Epitaph inscrib'd shall be:
I di'd in him, and yet he lives in me.

Laus & votum vitae Beatae. Out of Lipsius.

EQuall unto the Gods is he,
And much above what Mortalls be,
Who the uncertain day of fate,
Nor wisheth nor repineth at:
T'whom impotent Ambition, nor
The hope of gaine's Solicitor.
Whom Princes thundring threats can't move,
No, nor the darts of angry Jove.
But seated in Securitie,
Laughs at the vulgars vanitie.
Whose life's thread's spun so ev'n, that there
Can not be seen th' least knot of care.
O might I but thus far aspire,
To shape my life to my desire:
Nor Offices, nor Wealth I'de crave,
Nor with white Stee'ds in triumph brave,
To lead along poor Captiv'd Slaves.
I in vast Solitude should dwell,
A neighbour to the Muses Well:
Orchards, and Gardens to frequent,
There would I seat my sole content;
So that when as full ripened Death,
Shall put a period to my breath,
Tedious to none, and without strife,
Calmely to end my aged life.

On T. Bastard, and his Epigrams.

That thy names Bastard, friend, is thy hard fate,
Thy Births I'm sure are Legitimate.
Well may'st a Bastard be, all Common race
To thy diviner wit must need give place:
No, Jove himself begat thee, and thy Birth,
Gets in us Wonderment as well as mirth.
Momus to Bastard.
The proverb sayes, Bastards (remember it)
Must fling no stones; least they their father hi [...]
Answer.
Momus stand off gald backs will winch, tis true,
Here's Salt, or we should never hear of you.
Again to Bastard.
Bastard, that is of best wit, say the Dutch,
Then as thy name is so's thy nature such:
What if the multitude laugh at thy Name,
Know, their disprayses do advance thy fame.

To the Reader, Out of Faius.

Who will read these? None. Why? nor mock, nor jeere.
Nor Baudry (wishd by many) comes not here,
But one or other hap'ly they may finde,
Preferring good▪ before Jests, he will minde.
But if none read, griefe doth not me assault,
For if none read, then none can find a fault.

Upon His Sacred Majesties most happy Return, on the 29th. of May 1660.

AVVake dull Muse, the Sun appeares,
Open thine eyes, and dry thy teares:
The clouds disperse, and Sable night▪
Resignes to Charles his conquering light
Batts, Owles, and Night-birds flie away,
Chac'd by the beames of this bright day.
A day design'd by Destinie,
Famous to all Posteritie.
First for the birth of Charles, and now
'Tis His Three Kingdoms Birth-day too.
VVee mov'd before, but knew not how,
We could not say we liv'd, till now.
Like Flies in VVinter, so lay we,
In a dull, senceless Lethargie.
Toucht by his healing beames, we live,
His Presence a new life doth give.
Each loyall heart strook by his Rayes,
Is fill'd with gratitude and praise.
Those Phaëtons who had got the Raine,
And needs would guide great Charles his Waine;
Have found their Folly in their Fate;
And Phoebus now assumes his State.
[Page 22]The Trees who chose a woodden King,
To be their shade and covering:
Whilst they injuriously decline
The fruitfull Olive and the Vine
Consuming fire from the Bramble came;
They read their Folly by the Flame.
True Emblems of our giddy age,
Not rul'd by Reason, but by Rage:
The tayle would quarrell with the Head,
And no longer would be Led:
Th' inferiour Members soon give way,
And the Tayle must bear the sway,
Blind as it was▪ ('to ur misery)
With many a Sting, but never an Eye.
Then were we drag'd through mire & stones,
Which bruisd our flesh, and brake our bones,
Our Feet and Legs foundred and lame,
We saw our Folly in our Shame.
We praid, but no releif could find,
The Tayle was Deaf, as well as Blind:
Drums, Trumpets, Pulpits with their sound,
All our intreaties did confound;
Till pittying Heaven heard our cry,
And God vouchsafes, what men deny.
After a twelve years suffering,
Just Heaven Proclaims Great Charles our King:
Free (like Ulisses) from the harms
Of Forreign Syrens tempting charmes.
And now our Joyfull Land doth ring,
With [...]ö Paean's to our King:
All England seemd One bonfire, Night
Seem'd to contend with Day for light.
For Bells our Kingdome hath been fam'd,
And the Ringing-Island nam'd:
[Page 23]More truly now, when every Bell
Aloud the joyful news doth tell.
That Charles is landed once again,
With Peace, and Plenty, in his Train.
No more shall brother brother kill,
Nor sonnes the blood of fathers spill:
No more shall Mars & Madness rage,
Peace shall bring back the Golden-age.
No more shall Loyalty be Treason,
Errour truth, and non-sence reason;
Nor will we sell our Liberty,
For a too-dear bought Slavery.
No more shall Sacriledge invade
The Church, nor Faction make a trade
Of Holy things; nor Gospel be
Lost in a law-less liberty.
No more hope we to see the time
When to be innocent's a crime.
No more, no more shall armed might
Though Wrong'd, o'recome the weaker Right.
Now shall all jar [...]ing discords be
Drown'd in the pleasing Harmony
Of peacefull lawes, whose stiller voice
Shall charme the Drum & Trumpets noise,
The Church shall be Triumphant, more
Than it was Militant before.
The withered Lawrell, and the Bayes
Revive to crown our happy dayes
These, and all other blessings we
Great and Good Charles, Expect from thee▪
VVhose Vertues were enough alone,
To give Thee Title to the Crown.
You Conquerd without Arms, Your Words
VVin hearts, better than others Swords.
[Page 24] Pardons are Your revenges, we
Jov in Your Boundless Victory.
What others use to do with blowes,
You by Forgiving kill your foes:
Your mercy doth your Sword reprieve,
And for their faults, You most do grieve.
Your Martyr'd Fathers charity
(His last and greatest Legacy)
You most do prize. Could we but tread
That pace of virtue which you lead,
How quickly should we all agree,
To live in Love and Loyalty!
VVhilst others their rich Presents bring,
All I can give's, GOD SAVE THE KING.
FINIS.

Errata.

In the Panegyrric.

Page 9▪ Line [...] Read infortunately, In the first Elegy on K. C. [...]. p, [...] [...] [...] [...], moving [...] 11▪ [...], his,

In Apothegms p, 40 [...], 20 r, Lord Stanhop, p, 49 l, penul [...], r, the contrary, p, 50 l, 12 r, one, p, 50 l, 2 r, deadly, p 64 l, 17▪ r, neighbours with carriages.

In the Letters. p, 4 l, last r, lame, it may appear, p▪ 3 l, 9 r, to the p, 24 [...], clew, p, 44 l, 15 r, your, p, 54 l, 17 r or, l, 23 r▪ grate, p, 55 l, 11 r, bene, p, [...]7 l 10 r, jucundum, p, 69 l, 21 dele thee, p, 82 l, 12 dele full, p. 90 l, 13 r, else, p, 94 l, 19 dele Negro, p, 102 l, 11 r▪ beast, p, 111 l, 18 r, live, p, 115 l, 31 r, Terence, p, 130 l, 12 r, perdidit, p, 130 l, 14 r, Comici Cogito, p, 154 l, 12 r, in his p, 155 l, [...] r, than to, p, 156 l 13 r, rather a, p, 156 l. 28 r, [...].

In Loves Labyrinth, on the title, for festina r, festiva, in the first coppy of verses, after out-let r, there, p, 3 l, 4 r, ready in▪ p▪ 3 l [...] r, volleys l, 18 r, drops, p, 8 l, 30 r, thou now p, 10 l, 9 r, thou thus, l 15 r, wronged, p, 11, l, 1 r, rashness, l, the last, r, mine, p, 23 l, 12 r, be my, p, 26 l, 20 r, too much, p, 40 l 4 r, shine, p, 32 l, 27 r, grown, p, 33 l, 9 r, can a, p▪ 36 l, 9 r, her neck, p, 48 l, last r, empty, p, 54 l, 9 r, scornes, p, 55, l, [...]2 r, and, [...] 56 l, 16 r, King.

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