Honour and virtue, Triumphing over the Grave. Exemplified in a fair devout Life, and Death, adorned with the surviving perfections of EDWARD Lord STAFFORD, lately deceased; the last Baron of that Illustrious Family: which Honour in him ended with as great Lustre as the sun sets within a serene sky.  
A Treatise so written, that it is as well applicative to all of Noble Extraction, as to him, and wherein are handled all the Requisites of Honour, together with the greatest moral, and Divine virtues, and commended to the practice of the Noble Prudent Reader.  
By Anth. Stafford his most humble Kinsman.  
This work is much embellished by the Addition of many most Elegant Elegies penned by the most acute Wits of these Times.  
LONDON: Printed by J. Okes, for Henry Seile at the tigers Head in Fleetstreet, over against St. Dunstan's Church. 1640.   

To my much honoured Lord, Thomas Lord Howard, chief of the Howards, Earl of Arundel and Surrey, Earl Martial of England, Knight of the most Noble Order of the Garter, and one of his majesty's most Honourable Privy council, &c.  
My very good Lord,  
THe Fame of your lordship's heroic virtues invites me to present to your gracious acceptance this Treatise, of which Honour is the theme. Indeed to whom more fitly can she make her address, then to your Lordship, through whose Veins she runs, from whose Bosom she flows, in whose Actions she shines, and by whose Protection she is secured from the insolent Affronts of the Vulgar? Being distressed, she makes You her fair sanctuary, being wounded, she makes you her sovereign balm. Nay, (which draweth near to a wonder) many put their Honour into Your hands, esteeming it more safe there, then in their own. This is the first cause of my Dedication; The next is, that the true Child of Honour (the deplored Subject of this Book) was a Debtor to Your Lordship for his Education, whose Advancement in virtue, Honour, and Estate; You made the greatest part of Your study. And, to say the Truth, where could such a Guardian be found for him as Your Lordship, since between the renowned ancestors of You both, virtue, and blood hath long since engendered a strict Friendship, and between whom there was a near similitude of good and evil Destiny, both having amply shared of Infortunity, and Glory? I may add, that there cannot be a more lovely Sight, then to behold an ancient, lofty Cedar sheltering with his Branches from the Rage of weather, a Young one of the same kind, aspiring to the same Height; had not the Frost of Death, immaturely nipped this Noble Plant, it were an heresy to doubt that he would have flourished under the care of a Lord, whose virtue is too immense for one Region to contain, and whose Perfections are so many, and so transcendent, that they are able not only to adorn these more polished Parts of the World, but to civilize also the more Barbarous, and to make an Athens of Madagascar. The Oblation of my tears, and Supplications to God, not availing to keep him here, i have sent my vows after him, and have given him a funeral Equipage consisting of the Testimonies of brave, good, and knowing Men, which will eternize him on Earth, as his goodness will in Heaven. Ay, confess freely, I was unwilling to leave him to the Mercy of some grossly ignorant Chronologer of the Times, in whose Rubbish, posterity might unhappily have found him lying more ruined than his glorious predecessors were by the Tyranny of Time, or the Cruelty of Princes. Now in the last place, I must most humbly beseech Your Lordship to take notice, that his whole Name have made an affectionate, but an imprudent Choice of me to be their weak orator, to render Your Lordship submissive, and due thanks for the Good You did, or intended him, and withal to make You a Religious Promise of their Prayers to God, and their praises; to Men, as in particular, I do of the vowed faithful service of  
Your lordship's most humble, loyal Servant, Anthony Stafford.   

To the virtuous, and excellent Lady, the Countess of Arundel.  
MADAM,  
THE causes why I make this Dedication apart to Your Ladyship, are divers. The first is, that sweet Lord (the lamented Subject of this book) in whose praise, my Muse ending, will expire like a Phoenix in a Perfume. He was extremely obliged to Your Ladyship in particular; and therefore You deserve particular and infinite thanks from all of his Blood and Name, of which I am one, who have ever had your virtues in admiration. The second is, that You, Madam, are none of those Romance Ladies, who make Fiction and Folly their Study and Discourse, and appear wise only to fools, and fools to the wise. By reading nothing else but Vanity, they become nothing else themselves. They make a more diligent enquiry after the deeds of Knights, and Ladies errant, than after the Acts of Christ and his Apostles. The loss of their time is their just punishment, in that they spend a whole Life in reading much, and yet is that much, nothing. But you, Madam, are capable of the most profound grave mysteries of Religion, and daily peruse and meditate books of Devotion. You despise the bold Adventures of those Female Follies, and piously survey the lives of the Female Saints. You have rendered yourself a most accomplished Lady on Earth, by imitating our blessed Lady which is in Heaven; who as she was here the first Saint of the Militant Church, so is she there, the first of the Church Triumphant; having learned that she spent all her hours in works of Charity, you trace her steps, knowing that she, and virtue, trod but one path. Hence it comes, that you are at no time so angry, as with the loss of an opportunity to succour the distressed; and that you are as indefatigable in doing good as heaven in motion. Hence it is, that the impetuous force of a Torrent may be as well stopped, as the constant flood of your goodness; which never stays till it have watered, and relieved all within its Ken, commendable either for Knowledge, or virtue. My third, and last scope in placing your Character in the Front of this Treatise is, that like a star it may strike a lustre throughout this book, and by its light chase away the darkness Oblivion would else cast upon it. Questionless it will breed a holy emulation in any of your sex, who shall here learn that there is a Lady, whose virtues are come to the Age of Consistence, and can grow no further; and from whom, not only her posterity, but her Ancestors, also receive honour; They, in this resembling the morn, who though she precedes the Sun, receives her splendour from him. Thus sweet, thus excellent, Madam, I have received you from those who have been truly happy in being daily witnesses of all your Words and Actions. I conclude with this protestation made in me by Truth herself, that I am so constant an honourer (I had almost said an Adorer) of virtue wherever I find it, especially when that in estimable Diamond is set in Honour (as it is in you, Madam) that should I round the World in your ladyship's service, I should esteem it a Voyage far short of Your Merit, and my Duty; and that I should not think the highest Title Imagination can rear, a greater addition to me, than is the submissive stile of  
Your ladyship's most humble loyal Servant, ANTHONY STAFFORD.   

To the noble Reader.  
IT hath been the manner of Ancient Times to commend their Dead, rather to testify a good affection, to bewail their loss, and to hold out the lamp of their virtuous Lives to others left behind, then to gratify the deceased. Thus David commended Saul and Abner, Elizaeus Elias, and Nazianzen Bazill; Ber bewailed Malachi, complaining that his very bowels were pulled from him. And i may truly aver that Death tore out my Heart, when he bereft me of that sweetest Lord, of whose rare Gifts and Graces this ensuing Discourse is composed. That I deferred till now to do him this right, and to administer comfort to his virtuous Mother, and the rest of his Noble and dear Friends, (who still keep warm his Ashes with their tears) was for a wise consideration, no base neglect. A green wound abhors the hand of the Surgeon, which after it patiently endures, nay, longingly expects: in like case, the Griefs of the mind, being newly entered, are not easily expelled, but at first reject all consolation given them; whereas afterward they become obedient to Reason, and readily admit of those Remedies, which at first they refused. There are so many reasons comprehended in this following Treatise, why his Friends should not grieve too immoderately for him, that I will only here add this, that they should not too violently lament his departure out of a World where Vice is natural, virtue but counterfeited, or at the best well acted. Here we discover her, but through a Cloud. Let them apply that usual saying of the rabbis to their sad souls, The godly even in their Death are alive, but the wicked in their Life are dead; if a Heathen could boldly aver, Nunc Epaminondas vester nascitur quiasic moritur: In so dying your Epaminondas is now reborn, may not we with greater confidence affirm the same of him?  
Thus much of the excellent subject, now to the work itself. In this Age (fertile in Coriats, barren of Sydney's and Raleigh's.) that book must come into the World with a good angel to defend it that escapes the severe censures of malevolent spirits, with whom it is a wicked custom to damn by Tradition, and traduce authors before they peruse them. As Cankers commonly cleave to those Roses which are best grown, and spread: So these envious detractors commonly fasten their venem●us Teeth on Works, to which Fame promiseth eternity. This ought not to deter Good and Knowing Men from publishing their Labours; who herein should imitate the sun, which (though the Atheist, and the Jmpious, are unworthy of his Light) shines forth still, and with his beams glads the Earth, and all the Movers on it. The only recompense i desire of my ingenious Readers is, that they would vouchsafe not to read this Treatise out, but that they would be pleased in imitation of the sorts Virgilianae to take the Staffordian Lot, that is, to practise in their lives the first Page Chance shall direct them to, in the opening of it; since there is not one in this work which contains not some lovely virtue or other of that dear Lord deceased: by enlarging of whose Fame, i have taken the Advantage to render my own less obscure. This small favour i hope my Noble Readers will not deny their Servant,  
A. S.   

Imprimatur  
Samuel Baker. August 9 1639.   

Honour AND virtue, Triumphing over the Grave: Or the life of the late Lord Stafford.  
NOne of wisdoms Children will either despair, or be confident of any thing in this inferior World, all things are subject to such a strange Revolution. We often see the money destined to set out a Triumph employed in furnishing a funeral, and the purple, together with these great preparations turned into balms, blacks, and cypress. Pluto sometimes snatcheth Hymen's Torch out of his hand, and leads the new linked couple from the bridal Bed into his solitary Vault. Nay, it hath been recorded that an Execution hath been changed into a Coronation, and a Scaffold built for a Delinquency, hath become a Throne of Glory. We have many certain signs of Danger and sickness, none of Security, there being in one part, or other daily examples of men that die, singing, laughing, eating, and drinking. The strongest human fabric Nature ever built, a crumb going down awry destroys. Force and Chance take away the young, and Maturity the Old. Nothing visible that is not mortal, no Object hath sense less fading than itself. The general Tide washeth all passengers to the same shore, some sooner, some later, but all at the last. Every man must take his course, when it comes, never fearing a thing so necessary, yet always expecting a thing so uncertain. Our Intemperancy prepares a Feast for Death, and is therefore called the Mother of Physicians. This goodly Tree of Life is surcharged with Fruit, some fall by clusters, some single, all once. Every thing riseth with the Condition of a Fall, and all increases have their Diminutions. This is the firm Bond that compasseth, and girdeth fast the Bundle of mortality, Dust thou art, and to dust thou shalt return. That all this is true the Noble Subject of this Book is a fair, yet sad Example, much to be lamented because much to be admired, of whom something I must speak, though it come as short of his inestimable Worth, as I do of an accomplished orator. And here I must crave pardon of the judicious Reader, if I draw not his perfections to the life. My apology may be a just complaint that my stile is fettered by the idle Censures of schismatical Fools, whose purblind souls cannot discern between a fawning Flattery and a due praise, who have hardly language good enough to make themselves understood, much less to persuade others, except it be never to read them again. I could without the aid of any rhetoric at all, pen one of their dim foggy Lines, wherein there is nothing considerable, that I would not reduce into a poesy for a Ring, so that they might wear their own story on what finger they please. But there are more than human helps required to give a hero his true Character, whose magnanimous soul harbours not a thought small enough to enter into their narrow, passive brains. As in the Ancient Sacrifices, it was not lawful to kindle the Altars of the Gods with any material common Fire, but with the pure rays of the glorious Sun: So a divine flame is required to illuminate that Spirit which undertakes to characterise the souls of great and eminent Men. I confess, freely, the the wings of my invention flag, and are not able to bear her to the Summity of her towering subject. It is a received opinion, that Wit increaseth grief, and grief Wit. I find the former part of this Tenent true; for that small proportion of Wit Nature hath given me, turns to my disadvantage, in that it makes me to apprehensive of his worth, and consequently of his loss; but the later I prove in myself to be false; for now the charming Eloquence of Anthony, Crassus, and Cicero is required to limb this rare Piece, a stupifying dullness seizeth on me, and the very Knowledge of what I have to write distracts me, so I know not what to write. And yet this is no wonder at all; for my best blood being lost in him, my worser remaining must needs chill, and no man is ignorant, that where there is not Focus in Venice, there cannot be Subtilitas in Intellectu: When Warmth forsakes the veins, subtlety must of necessity abandon the Head. Yet were I master of as great an eloquence as Demosthenes himself, my best words could not give his virtues a clothing correspondent to their lustre. The most skilful Painter cannot give a Picture all the lively Graces contained in the natural, from which it is drawn; Nor can the most expert orator fully, and truly delineate the beauty of an original so sublime that it transcends his Understanding. As it is more easy to tell what is not in Heaven then what is: So it is by far more facile to number the Vices which he had not, than the Excellencies of which he was the happy possessor. But because in great designs, even attempts are laudable, and that by many, this Testimony of my Duty is looked for at my hands, I am content to take the advantage though of a most unhappy, and unwelcome occasion to seal up my former Affection, and publish to the World the damage I have received by this fatal Deprivation, nor I alone but all his Stock, and all the lovely Brood of honour, and piety. And I now opportunely choose to make this Oblation to his Memory. Quando nec laudantem adulatio movet, nec laudatum tentat elatio; When neither Flattery moveth me, nor vainglory assaileth him. My comfort is, I have chosen a theme where (to some judgements) the highest Hyperboles will pass for defective Truths. Sure I am, I need not fear to outspeak his merit and my love, which ought to be so much that it cannot possibly appear too much. I dare tell envy and Detraction to their Teeth, that praise justly belongs to the pious deceased, & that I may call it, with Pliny, the charitable Dew that makes virtue spring up in the Living. Who knows my friends better than I myself? If they are not such as I make them, sure I am, I believe them such. No crown can give me such content as does this comfortable error; for such captious critics will term it, though in my belief it be an upright and impartial verity.  
Before I enter into his commendations, I must entreat all my Readers to consider that (besides the forementioned Obstacle) there is yet another, which is that my Pen is too straightly confined, the bounds afforded her not being large enough to make a Demonstration of her agility, and sufficiency; for obstinacy herself can not deny that (Man's Life being but a Span) she hath little more than an Inch allotted her to traverse in, he dying at the Age of Fourteen. She must therefore be enforced only to draw in a small Card the first Spring of his Youth newly delivered of such beautiful Issues commendable both for their Ornament and Odour, as are able to commit a Rape on all knowing souls, and to send out a perfume as far as posterity. Had he he arrived at the autumn of his Age, she had then been Mistress of a Field large enough to exercise her Art in, and she would have presented the Surveighers of this work with as beautiful Fruit as the large, spreading Tree of Honour ever bore. We might well divine of him, as Antigonus did of Pyrrhus, Magnus futurus si senesceret, he would prove great, if Aged.  
The common Method in handling matters of this nature commands me to make the first part of this Discourse the place of his Birth, the nobility of his Race, and Disposition, and to continue and close it up with the virtues practised in his Life, and the Sanctity expressed in his Death.  
IN setting down the place of his Birth I shall follow the usual course of others who hold it 
Where a worthy man of a fair Line is born, and bred is necessary to be known.  a Circumstance very necessary to make known where a worthy man, and of a fair Line is born, and bred, in that it is not the Fertility and Beauty of the soil, but the manners, and goodness of the Dwellers that commend the place. True it is that Isaac commands Jacob that he should not take a wife of the Land of Canaan, but of Mesopotamia in Syria, being more renowned. I must not thwart the Scriptures, nor deny that some countries are more famous than others, but I desire to know whether, or no the bravery of their Inhabitants have not conferred on them the renown they are so big with. What made Greece the Wonder of the World, but the Learning, and Valour of her people? What makes her now the contempt of all men but the baseness, dullness, and cowardice of the same? What once was Ireland but another Goshen? There was a time when the people of this Country being asked how they had disposed of their sons, their Ordinary Reply was, Mandati sunt ad Disciplinam in Hiberniam, They are sent into Ireland to be instructed. Within the remembrance of many, the Americans are not at this day more barbarous, then were the more Northern Natives of that island, though now (Heaven be praised) they have almost quite shaken of the cumber some shackles of that Cimmerian Ignorance. I infinitely applaud the speech of Aristotle to a vainglorious Fellow, who boasted himself a Citizen of a mighty city, Noli, inquit, hoc attendere, sed an dignus sis magna, & illustri Patria: Have not an eye, said he, to the splendour of thy Country, but to thy own Worth, and examine whether thou deservest to be derived thence. So that we see there is no Climate so obscure that is not illustrated by the Birth of meritorious men. Had Sir Philip Sidney written his Poem, or Sir Walter Raleigh his History amongst the Savages of America in Greek or Latin, I am confident all succeeding authors would have named America as often as now they do Rome, or Athens, and those rude creatures would have received an imputative worth from them, whereas now they are in little, or nothing to be distinguished from their cattle. Or had they penned those their immortal works in the Indian Tongue (after once they had come to light) we should have studied that unpolished Language as hard, as now we do the Oriental Dialects. Did not a Gaditanian come from the farthest part of the World to see the far famed Livy?  
I will here cut off this no impertinent Digression, with relating that this hopeful young Lord breathed his first air at Stafford, which town and Country the memory of him will for ever commend, ennoble, and endear to all such as profess themselves friends to him, or goodness.  
BEfore I begin to speak of the Antiquity of his Family, I must necessarily insert something of noble Extractions in general, because there are some clownish Infidels who believing there is no such thing as a Gentleman.  
That in all Ages, and Nations the more Worthy have been distinguished from the rest by superior 
it is here proved against all clownish Infidels, that there is such a thing as a Gentleman.  Titles, and callings is undeniable. The Hebrews severed them from others by styling them Jeduim, Horim, Scalithim, Scheliscim, Avarim, Massegucrim, Artsilim, Maginim, Guevirim, Guibborim, Nedivim, Kervim, Ahhaschedappenim, by which is signified in the propriety of that Language, that they are Illustrious, Generous, principal Men, not much inferior to Kings. But they were most honoured who were descended from the greatest Houses, and these they named Benhorim, Children of Noblemen. Moses governor of Israel, to the end he might rule the people well, and worthily, selected seventy Men of Eminent Condition, Hachamim, and Jeduim, Wise, and Noble men well versed in affairs of State. And Josuah his successor added others of the same quality. Men of honourable blood have ever been held to be of royal Condition, and reverenced as little Kings, because them in several Provinces their Princes have graced with great Titles, privileges, and Prerogatives, and on them have conferred their regal authority, that by this means they might be more reverenced, and obeyed by the people whom under them they were to govern. There is no man, saith Livy, so stupid, that he is not inflamed with a Desire of domestical Glory. The words of the same Author in another place are these. Parentage and nobility are great Ornaments, doubtless, for a man to enjoy here in this life, but far greater to leave behind him to his Posterity. Harken to Cicero, Omnes boni semper Nobilitati favemus, & quia Reipublicae utile est Nobiles esse homines dignos Majoribus suis, & quia valere debet apud nos senex clarorum hominum de Republica meritorum memoria, etiam mortuorum: All we who are good ever favour Nobility, because it is a thing profitable to the commonwealth to have men worthy of their Ancestors, as also that the aged Memory of famous Men deserving well of the commonwealth (though dead) ought to be in esteem with us. Plato divides Nobility into four parts. The first are they who derive themselves from good, and just parents. The second have Princes their Ancestors. The third are they whose Progenitors have been great warriors, and Lawreated Triumphers. The fourth and best, are they who excel in magnanimity, and greatness of Merit. And truly I am of Plato's mind; for though I am a never yielding Advocate for men of remarkable Stocks, yet I believe not that Honour is confined to run in certain particular Channels, or that the rational soul should be bound to the same laws with the Vegetative, or Sensible. Where Nobility is only Nuda Relatio, a mere bare Relation, and nothing else I esteem it, not a Grace, but a Disparagement. I shall never seek for that Fruit in the Root which I should gather from the Branch. Virtue is the legitimate Mother of Honour, not Fortune, who, though she be a Queen, many times imitates unhappily some of her own rank in suffering herself to be enjoyed by grooms, and fixeth there her admission where the World placeth its Derision. Him Him whom Vice, and Ignorance doth still detain prisoner in the Heard of the Vulgar, if by his own virtuous actions he cannot separate himself from them, my Vote, nor Judgement shall ever give him freedom. In this I am seconded by no worse a man then the most Eloquent Demosthenes. De Nobilitate parùm laudis praedicare possum, bonus enim Vir mihi Nobilis videtur, qui verò non justus est licet Patre meliore quam Jupiter sit genus Ducat Ignobilis mihi videtur. Nobility I cannot much predicate; he who is a good man appeareth to me noble; he who is not just (though he derive himself from a better parent than Jupiter himself) seems to me Ignoble. The French usually say, Le Splendeur de Vertu la Noblesse de Race: The Splendour of virtue is the Nobility of Race.  
I am not ignorant that the Censure and custom of many kingdoms are against me, where all men have respect, and precedency given them by their great parentage, not their good parts. But above all other, the Dane is the 
Amongst all Nations the Dane is the greatest Adorer of nobility.  most strict Observer of Descent. In Denmark he is not ranked amongst the Gentry, who cannot prove him e'en Herremand auff Seisten Aufner, A Gentleman of sixteen Descents by Father and Mother. At all Triumphs, and Tiltings it is proclaimed, that he who is not such must not presume to handle a Sword or Lance, or enter into the Lists. Nay, it is most certain, that at those great Solemnities they have excepted against some base sons of their own Kings defective in blood by the mother's side, and would hardly be pacified by their Prince's answer, which was, that what honour was wanting on the mother's side was superabounding on the Fathers. In the reign of Frederick the Second King of Denmark, there lived a most learned Man named Erasmus Laetus, who for his Science, and pleasing Discourse, was admitted into the best Companies, and had an eminent place at all Tables. He proud of his high value, and ambitious of higher, traveled to Venice, and was there created a Venetian Knight, and in coming back was, made Poet laureate by Caesar's own hand. The first Table he came to after his return home was the chancellor of that kingdom who placed him lowest of all his Guests, not sticking openly to tell him that the Reverence, and Superiority which before was given him as a profound Scholar, was now denied him as a superficial Gentleman. If in that kingdom an ignoble man deflower a noble Maid, his head is infallibly cut off, and she lives, and dies shut up between two Walls. If any woman gently borne marry a Roturier. (as the French call him) with us a Peasant, she is deprived of her portion, and never taken notice of afterward by any of her kindred. In some places of Polanda a gentleman hath this privilege that if he kill a Burger, a Hind, or any other ordinary man by paying down four shillings he is quit.  
I abhor this foolish strictness, and severity, yet could wish we were not as careless this way, as they were punctual, our Tables then would not be so thronged with farm, and shop-Gentry. The Ancient Romans in this case excluded omnem quaestum, All manner of gain. If my Vote might pass for good, all originals of great Families hereafter should issue out of schools and camps, there being no other beginning of power to warrant them from censure and laughter. A true testimony of this I will give you in Pallas Freeman, of Claudius the Emperor, a servant as Worthy, as his Master Wise. You shall see an Emperor, and a Senate of Rome (Lords of the World) conspire and combine to eternize this Pallas, and to set him up a mark of greatness, and glory to all succeeding Ages. The Senate presented this abject fellow with the Praetorian Dignity, and 150 Sesterces, the former of which he took, the later he refused. They assemble together on purpose, and humbly thank this sottish Prince for this his servile Favourite, in that he had vouchsafed to commend him to the Senate, and by that gave them occasion of shaping him a reward answerable to his merit. Upon his rejecting this their pecuniary offer, they flock again to the Emperor, embrace his knees, and submissively beseech him to persuade Pallas to accept of their gift, which supplication of theirs, this foolish Emperor presented to Pallas. Behold an Emrour, and a Senate, saith Pliny, contending for superiority in slavery. You would have thought by this their so frequent conventing before Caesar, that either the Confines of the Empire had been enlarged, or the Armies had returned in safety. Within the first stone of the Tiburtine way they built him a Monument with this Inscription. Huic Senatus at fidem, pietatemque erga Patronos Ornamenta Praetoria decrevit, & Sestertium centies Quinquagies, cujus honore contentus fuit. On this man for his Faith and Piety to his Patrons, the Senate conferred the Praetorian Ornaments, and presented him with 150. Sesterces, but he contented himself with the Honour only. The excellent Pliny repines so much at the grace and honour done this Furcifer (for so he calls him) that he breaks out into this bitterness of Speech. This mancipated Senate, saith he, styled that modesty in him, which, indeed was Insolency. How I applaud my fortune, that I lived not in their Times, in whose behalf I blush so many years after their committing of this base folly. But why should we repine at this? Rather let us laugh, that they may not think they have made any great purchase who are come to that degree of happiness, as to be laughed at. By this one Example we may clearly perceive, that it is not in the potency of Princes to create a never fading 
A never fading Honour is not the gift of Fortune, but of virtue.  honour, that supreme blessing being in the gift of virtue only.  
That the original of true Nobility is not derived from any accidental good flowing from Fortune, or lineage, but receives its birth, and growth from the ability, and Harmony of a virtuous Mind, I will both by reason and example demonstrate.  
By reason; for if solid and legitimate Nobility 
It is here proved by reason that Nobility depends not on the will of Fortune.  depended so on the will and beck of Fortune, that she could circumscribe the marks, and ensigns of Honour within the narrow compass of the womb, & give, and take them away at her pleasure, there would be nothing left in the spacious circumference of this earthly Globe for a Wise man to desire, who knowing Fortune to be so changeable, that some of the Ancients used to make her Statues of glass, as an argument of her fragillity, and even then suspecting, and fearing her when she most fawns on him, placeth not his confidence at all on her, but involves himself within his own virtue, which only can secure him from her tyranny. What ever is in her possession he scorns, though he may have it for the fetching, because she is so blind that she cannot penetrate into his worth, and so base that she lodgeth oftener and longer with the the ignorant and infamous, than with the more deserving and more knowing. He smiles at their arrogancy and pride, who upon an idle persuasion grounded on their Nobility, presume to take place of others, whereas, indeed, nothing is more vain, abject, and more remote 
Nothing is more remote from the nature of true Nobility, than an ancient stock void of virtue  from the nature of true Nobility, than an ancient stock void of virtue. The judgements of Plato, and Seneca will here be inserted opportunely, who affirm that if we be inquisitive after Pedigrees we shall find that there is no slave who is not sprung from mighty Kings; nor no King that is not descended from despicable slaves. By which we may apparently see that it is not greatness of Blood, but of Merit, that really dignifies any man. For my own part, I seriously protest, I should glory more in being the happy Master of the lofty mind, and low Extraction of undaunted Maerius, than in enjoying all the vast Dominions of Tersytha, and Sardanapalus, together with the innumerable splendent Images of their Ancestors. That Alexander the Great was truly Noble, no man will deny, in that he was son to so puissant a Monarch as Philip King of Macedon: yet was he so far from being puffed up with any vainglorious conceit of his royal descent, that Plutarch upon his credit assures us, he being yet a Child, repined at nothing so much as at his father's glorious Actions. To this purpose is remarkable that passage between him and other Children, who (Alleging to him his happiness in being son to so brave a Prince, that made such large Conquests, and only for him) received from him this magnanimous answer. What boots it me to possess much, when I myself have done nothing memorable? So prosperous a success attends all my father's Enterprizes, that he will leave me nothing to Conquer. O generous speech proceeding from a high aspiring mind, deservedly destined to Conquer, and govern this lower hemisphere. Me thinks I hear him thus enlarge his reply. Hath my Father in one night deflowered both Fame and victory, and extorted from them a vow never hereafter to wait on any but him? shall I then live like a Plant, and only grow to stand still? Sloth is the common Nurse to all Vices, and in learning nothing, we learn to do ill. I like the custom of that Nation who suffered not their Children to be taught any thing sitting, and always sacrificed to the gods the last comer to the Army. Bar me Motion, and action, and conclude me a trunk, not a Man. Shall I lie still imprisoned within the straits of my own Greece? No, I am resolved not only to trace my Sire, but to outgo him. I will have this massy Globe measured, that I may see how much is left for me to overcome. The sun shall not discover more than I will Conquer, only I would not so soon vanquish as he surveys, lest my Valour should want employment. Of the same thread with this opinion of Alexander, is that of Lijcus in Seneca's Hercule furente.  Nobiles non sunt mihi Avi, nec altis inclytum titulis Genus, Sed clara virtus. Qui Genus jact at suum Aliena laudat. 
It resteth now, that I confirm by Example 
It is here by example confirmed that Descent is no sound Argument of true Nobility.  what I have proved by Reason, that Descent is no sound Argument of true Nobility. The truth of this, the very consideration of the inconstancy of human affairs will assure us, in that the precedents are most frequent of men this day prostrate, and the scorn of all men, to morrow exalted, and their very nods observed.  
If we look back upon old Rome we shall quickly perceive, that not long after she was built, many obscure men became her Rulers. Who knows not that Tarqvinius Priscus, one of her most famous Kings, had for his Parents a banished Merchant, and a servile Woman? Was not Servus Tullius the son of a mean fellow, and a Maid servant? Was not the birth of Tullus Hostillius, who preceded both these in the Empire, very mean, he having been in his Nonage sometimes a Neatheard, sometimes a shepherd? Now let us come to the Caesars themselves, and examine whether or no they were of more renowned extraction than their Kings. Augustus himself (whose greatness and happiness grew to a proverb, (Sis Augusto Felicior, Trajano melior) and whose surname at this day the German Emperors with pride usurp, shutting up all their Titles with Semper Augustus, ever Augustus) was not his Grandfather a Silver-smith, and his Father an Astipulator? Both which Cicero writing to his brother Quintus avoucheth to have obtained the questor-ship by supplication. What other Founder of his stock had Vitellius than a Libertine, or Freed man, whom Cassius Severus, and many others maintain to have been no better than a tailor. Trajan, the best of all the Caesars (in whose reign the map of the Roman Empire was at the fairest) swam at first in no Flood of Fortune, and that he was of no great House. Nerva himself infers, who when he designed him Emperor, and commended him to the Senate, bade them look into the man's merit, not his parentage. Pertinax none of their worst Emperors had a slave to his Grandfather, and a freed man to his Father. Piscenninus Niger, no bad Prince, had no better a beginning. Opilius Macrinus, was first a Servant, than a Freed man. Galienus, Posthumus Lolienus, and Martius, whose reign continued but three days, could not glory much in their Pedigrees, the later of which was but a Smith. Galerius had poor Country parents, and he himself was an Armorour, and from thence got the surname of Armentarius. Of the same poor condition were Maximinus, Pupienus, and Balbinus, his Coregnant. The virtuous Aurelius was born meanly. The Father of the most accomplished Probus was a gardener, yet was he Lord of so many perfections, that Valerius the Emperor earnestly by Letters exhorted his son Gallenus to imitate him in all things, using often to say by the way of Allusion to his Name, that if his Cognomen had not been Probus his Praenomen should have been such. Bonosus rose from a schoolmaster to be an Emperor. Dioclesian was the son of a Notary. Licinius, and Maximinianus, Eutropius, and Paulus Orosius, number amongst the Plebeians. The Father of the Emperor Valentinianus was a Rope-maker, whence he himself got the nickname of Funerarius. Justinius was but an Armorour. I must not omit Basilius the Macedonian, who being brought Captive amongst other vendible slaves to Constantinople was there created Emperor. I cannot pass over Abdolominus, or, as some will have him called Abactonius, who was brought by Alexander from drawing water, and watering Gardens, and by him made King of Sidonia, to the eternal dishonour of all the discontented Nobility of that country. Nor must I conceal Antipater, the succeeder of Alexander in the kingdom of Macedonia, who was Nephew to a she Player, that acted the clowns part. Arsaces, King of the Parthians, is reported to have been the son of the people. The Parents of Cambyses, King of the Persians were of poor condition. Darius the son of Hystaspes, who bore no better an Office under Cyrus then that of a sergeant, was exalted to be King of the Persians, and was the first of that Name. Here I must introduce the Father of Eumenes carrying of burdens, and Telephanes, who being but a base Coachmaker, obtained the Lydian crown. I cannot but insert Midas, who by the Phrygians was called from the Cart to be their King, and Ptolomaeus who made so large a Step, as from being a common soldier to be crowned King of Egypt. Tyridates clome from a servant to be King of the Parthians. Livy informs us, that Vectius Messius King of the Volscians, was more commendable for his Deeds then his Birth. Who is ignorant that Parrhasius, and Lycastus (being exposed by their Mother to the mercy of the weather, and wild beasts) were found, and brought up by Tilliphus a Shepherd, and afterwards governed Arcadia. That the Shepherd and Hog-heard Tamburlaine was afterward King of the Scythians, is obvious to every man's knowledge. I will here make a holy conclusion with David, and Saul, whom God himself withdrew, the one from following the ewes, the other from following the Asses, to rule over the Hebrews.  
Notwithstanding all these forementioned 
Honour and virtue conjoined, outshine solitary Merit.  precedents, I would not have any man conceive me to be so simple, that I believe not two good things together are better than one single, that Desert, and Noble blood conjoined, far outshine solitary Merit. As the purest blood always resorts to the Heart as the first liver, and the last diet, and the noblest part of the Body: so for the most part Perfections and Graces, as the Requisites of Honour, make their repair to the more Honourable of mankind. Abortion sounds not so strangely in our ears as degenerating, because the former is common, the later not. We not very often, see any man of a Noble strain in whom we detect not some Impression, some seeds of his Parents worth, which in time spring up, bud, and flourish in him. Lightly, he who is well borne ponders with himself whether or no, his predecessors acquired their dignity by Arts, or arms, which once known he seeks by the same means at least to preserve, if not to increase the Honour they have left him.  
If our Hodiernall Nobility would spend some 
Arts & Arms should be the study of the more Noble.  time in this Meditation, and diligently exercise themselves both in Letters, and arms, their Honour would not be assailed on all sides by the Vulgar as at this day it is, and it would no longer appear as in some it does, a mere shadow of a consumed Body. The Emperor Adrian successor both in the Empire, and virtue to Trajan, (equally an Enemy to Vice, and Sloth) used to say, that it was not decent to see a young Gentleman without a Book in one hand to teach him wisdom, and a Sword in the other to defend the same against all Barbarians whatsoever. So amiable was the Conjunction of both these in his sight, that he did never eat without two standing by him of several Abilities, one to discourse to him of the secrets of Nature, the other of Stratagems of war. And that this was the custom of the other Emperors, appears by the two Masters of Nero, Burrhus, and Seneca, the one a Martialist, the other a Philosopher. Charlemagne, Lewis the debonair, Saint Lewis and others had them in such esteem, that they held the joining of them together as necessary, as the linking of the Husband, and the Wife.  
The politics dispute which of these two should have the precedency, but in the end give it to the gown, in that Good Letters can instructus in the Military Discipline, but arms cannot impart the Knowledge of the Arts.  
I may seem to some to have dwelled too long on this weighty, and necessary Argument of Honour in general, whose pardon I crave, and so proceed in my Method to treat of his nobility by Race, who is now my deplored theme.  
I am utterly void of all insight in Heraldry, and therefore can write nothing in this kind, save what I have upon trust, but that little I shall deliver shall be backed with great Authorities. That his Ancestors have been Dukes, I am confident, every man hath heard, but how great in Authority, and Revenue it may be all men apprehend not. I am informed by a Knight skilful and Excellent not only in our English, but foreign Heraldry also, that the Dukes of Buckingham have been so great, that Earls have been the Stewards of their Houses, and that they have 
The Dukes of Buckingham, have been so great that Earls have been Stewards of their Houses.  disbursed eight hundred pounds yearly old Rent in Pensions to Earls, Barons, Knights, and Gentlemen. To this worthy testator of their greatness, I shall yet add a far greater: namely, the Right honourable Henry Earl of Northampton, a Lord so omniscient that he seemed to all learned men living in his time, A walking Athens. In a speech of his contained in a book entitled, The Arraignment of the traitors, his formal words are these. It was a monk of Henton, that seduced the late Duke of Buckingham, to the ruin of as great a Name as any Subject in Europe (excepting only the surname of a King) can demonstrate, by which I receive a blemish, and all those that descend from him. This is enough for me, in that I cannot blazon coats, nor draw Pedigrees, and because I am unwilling to disparage some whose Names the Staffords bore in former times, and afterwards forsook them as somewhat too obscure, and low, for their lofty deeds.  
We have all this while dwelled in the Suburbs, we will now enter the city, and glad our eyes with the splendour of it. Imagine all the premises to be but the Curtain, which now being drawn we will gaze on the beautiful Piece, his Life, so pure and innocent to the outward sight (in God's eye who can be justified?) that what was said of Scipio Nassica, may be applied to him, Nihil in vita nisi laudandum aut dixit, aut fecit; Through his whole Life he never did, or spoke any thing that was not commendable.  
The first care of his Excellent Parents was to 
His pious Education.  let him know there was a God that made him, and they taught him by gesture to acknowledge this Truth, ere he could by speech. The erection of his eyes, and Hands spoke for him ere his Tongue could. To learn the Arts, and Sciences requires a convenient ripeness of Age, but it fares not so with Religion which is to be sucked in with the Mothers, or nurse's milk. A vessel 
Religion is to be sucked in with the milk.  retains long the sent of that wherewith it is first seasoned, and therefore he was taught to name, and know his Heavenly Father before his Earthly. When he came to have the use of speech, he was instructed every morning with an humble heart, and in a submissive phrase to crave the conduct, and safeguard of God for that Day, and in the same lowly Language to implore his Almighty protection for the ensuing Night. Then was he carried into God's sacred Temple there to offer up prayers, and vows due to his Maker. True it is, that we not only see, but handle God in his Creatures, but we nowhere speak univocally, and unanimously to him, nor he at all to us but in his Church.  
And that he might judge of Religion and 
His learned Education.  goodness aright, these his solicitous Parents gave him a learned Education: for though Learning be not the adequate Cause of virtue, 
Though learning be not the adequate cause of virtue, it is the adjuvant.  (that being Assuefaction in goodness) yet that it is the Adjuvant, all men not Contentious will easily grant. Some there be (who affirm) that virtue cannot be taught, because though the Intellect may be informed of the true form of virtue, yet the Will by this Instruction cannot be made flexible. Experience proving to us that many profoundly Learned, are withal damnably Wicked. But this falls out by accident, when Science meets with a perverse, and depraved Nature. If we consider Learning in itself, we shall find that though it do not necessarily engender virtue, yet it moves, and inclines the Will to embrace it. To this alludes that of Ovid.  
— Didicisse fideliter Artes  
Emollit mores, nec sinit esse feros.  
There are many forcible, convincing Reasons, why a learned man is more apt to follow virtue than an unlearned. Amongst many other I will only produce four. The first is, that by studying the Arts, and Sciences the thoughts of man are averted from dwelling on corporeal things, the ordinary objects of his Affections, and by that means the occasions are cut off, that usually allure him to be enamoured on Vice. Secondly, he who is a curious searcher into the Nature, and causes of things, judgeth of them aright, and esteems them as they are. Hence it comes to pass, that he magnifies things truly great, and contemns those equally base, and is nothing at all moved with such Events as in the Vulgar beget Terror, and Astonishment. Thirdly, through the Knowledge of things natural, and supernatural, he discerns many causes why we should adhere to virtue, and detest Vice: For he who understands the Nature and excellency of God, will desire to be like him, and he who knows that God hath created all things under the sun for him, will be inflamed with a divine love towards him, and approve himself grateful, and serviceable to this his Heavenly benefactor. Likewise he who espies in the bruit creatures themselves Images of virtues, in some that of Fortitude, in others that of temperancy, and chastity, in all an Instinct, and Industry in undergoing those Offices they are made for, and which are proper to them, will easily be induced to think it a shame, and dishonour to him, if he (having the use of Reason, and having the stamp of the Deity upon him) should be found defective in his Duty. Fourthly, and lastly, Learning lays before us the true form of virtue, and furnisheth us with Examples of brave accomplished men, with the rewards, and Glory they purchased by their Perfections: and on the contrary, the ignominious, and horrid ends of such as have lived, and died mancipated to their own sordid, enormous Imperfections, the Meditation whereof will render a knowing man an Admirer of goodness, and a loather of wickedness.  
They who are so obstinate as to reject these Reasons in favour of Good Letters, will surely be o'erborne, and have their Judgements rectified, and reformed by the authority of great Men, who have declared themselves fautors of Erudition. This Example of Alexander, subjecting 
Great men have declared themselves fautors of Learning.  himself to be the Disciple of Aristotle, shall be the Leader. Before he attempted the subduing of the World, he desired to know what the World was, and it is likely that the knowledge of it invited him to the conquest thereof. How he doted on Homer's Works is notorious even to dabblers in Story. The same Alexander it was, who would have no difference of Habit between the Grecian and the Barbarian, saying, that their knowledge, and their ignorance, were marks sufficient to distinguish them. That incomparable Prince Alphonsus King of Spain, Sicily, and Naples, (Coetanian with Charles the Seventh of France) after he had once read in Saint Augustine, that an illiterate King was no other than an ass crowned, had ignorance in such detestation, that where ever he went, and at all times whether in war, or Peace, he endeavoured both by Reading, and Conference, to better his Understanding, and at so high a rate he valued Science that he gave for his Crest, A Book open. It was a frequent saying with him, That his dead counsellors, his Books, were to him far better than the living, since they without flattery, fear, or bashfulness, presented to him Truth naked without any disguising Coverture. I ingeniously confess, I never read that speech of Solon, without infinite delight, who lying on his deathbed, & overhearing some of his learned Visitants desputing and deciding some subtle question or other, attentively listened to their Disputation, which a slander by observing, demanded of him why he now ready to leave the world, should give ear to their discourse: to whom he made this answer, worthy to be treasured up in all memories; Ut cum illud audiero moriar doctior. That when I have heard that point discussed, I may die the more learned. Aristippus being demanded by one, in what his son should be bettered if he learned the Arts, and Sciences; answered. Etsi nulla alia in re, nequit, certè vel in hoc, quod in Theatro non sedebit lapis supra lapidem: If in nothing else, saith he, yet truly in this, that he shall not sit in the theatre one stone upon another. The same Philosopher often protested that he had rather be a beggar than a fool, in that the former only wants money, the latter humanity. Antisthenes' confounded the studious, and the noble, and admonished his Scholars, that learning was the only Viaticum, that in storms and shipwreck when all things else perished, would boy up in spite of evil Fortune. Aristotle was so great a student, that when he went to rest, he used to hold in his hand a Ball of brass over a large basin of the same mettle, that when he slept, the noise of the Ball falling into the basin might awaken him. To one who asked him how the Learned differed from the ignorant, he replied, ut Viventes a Mortuis: As the Living from the Dead. he would often repeat this his own speech, That Learning was an Ornament in prosperity, in adversity a Refuge; and that Tutors were far to be preferred by Children, before natural Parents, because they received from the later the benefit of living only: but from the former the felicity of living well, and blessedly. I dwell the longer on this point that it may serve as an Admonition to all parents, especially the more Noble to bestow on their Children a breeding answerable to their Birth. In elder times, a son was discharged in all duty of obeying, comforting, and relieving his parents in their Age, if he could prove that they had neglected to instruct him in his Youth. The Ancients held, that they who provided Lands, and ample possessions for their posterity on whom to bestow a learned Education, they would would not be at the charge, resembled a silly fellow, that hath more care of his shoes than his feet. They thought that the heaping up of Riches for a flat-witted coxcomb, who knows not how to use them, was as if a fair sweet Lute should be presented to one who knows not how to make it speak harmoniously. They deemed ignorance to be at best but a dead sepulchre, in which many were buried alive.  
Of the same mind were the tender parents of this sweet young Lord, and therefore incessantly exhorted him to be careful rather of augmenting his Knowledge than his Estate, whom he readily obeyed, his ambition & their will being like two Lines that meet in one centre. The first show of his inclination to virtue, was his love to Science, and her Favourites, which I may properly call the entry to that future Glory which virtue intended him, and Time deprived him of. Though he had Lands to till, he forgot not to manure his mind: Some by necessity are constrained to study hard, he by delight was invited to his Book. He was none of those who imagine all that time lost which they lose not, accounting all those hours misspent which they take from their pleasures, & give to their studies. He would praise every man that aspired to Knowledge, whether he were his superior, his inferior, or his equal in Learning. His superior had his best words as his due, because he deserved them. His equal he would not despise, lest he should be thought to undervalue himself; and his inferior he would not contemn or insult over: for he held it no glory to excel the inglorious. The very desire of Learning he thought laudable in any man, much more the Acquisition of it. It was an infallible maxim with him, that except those eternal works of the soul, we can properly call nothing ours, in that all other things we leave behind us find other owners. He therefore laboured that by a barbarous Ignorance he made not a forfeit of an Inheritance so inestimable as is a fair Fame, which was able to make all the survivours of his name happy sharers in that honour posterity shall pay him. But what was the scope of his study? was it accutely to scold and wrangle, after the manner of the Times? No, his thoughts could not but be at peace, whose spirit was composed of nothing but sweetness and mildness. Was it to pry into the unrevealed Mysteries of the Deity? Nothing less; for he had found that many secrets in Nature, remain yet unexplicable, much more than are those of God inscrutable, and impenetrable by any human eye. He had purused the Fable of the Poets, which tells us that Minerva struck Tiresias blind, for beholding her naked. The moral is full, and significant, implying that the Deity must not be over-curiously searched into. Was it for vainglory, and to learn things more curious than profitable? No, he could not be proud of Knowledge, who understood that man was ignorant, and a stranger to himself, till God revealed him to himself. He learned nothing being a Child, that would not prove advantageous to him being a Man. He hated superfluous Science, and made choice of such Authors only as may instruct, not distract his mind. He knew it fared with the soul as with the body, which is not nourished by the greedy devouring of much, but the good digestion of a little. He made, according to the proverb, no more haste than good speed, finding, that to come to the end of a long journey required not to run a pace, but to be ever going. Was it language and words he only hunted after? Neither of those, for he loved the kernel far better than the shell. If none of these, what then was the aim of his study? surely nothing but virtue, which he knew to be Res, non Verbum, as one says, A Thing, not a Wordonely. And understanding that the Poets feign her to have short arms, inferring, that he who covets to be embraced by her, must make a near approach to her before he can come within her reach, and attain to that supreme happiness; he came so close up to her, and conversed so frequently with her, that all his actions ever after savoured of her sweetness. Her he made his supporter, knowing that ingenious Antiquity represented her to us by a hieroglyphic γ, whose top parts two ways, and resembles a Musket Rest, to denote the aid and support she affords those that put their trust in her. And because she divides herself into many branches, whereof some are divine, some moral, he resolved seriously, and intentively to practise, first the former than the later. The three theological he first chose to exercise himself in, were Humility, Obedience, and Charity; and that task ended, he purposed to make a strong Essay to gain a habit in all the Cardinal, and lesser moral virtues. In the service of these he made a vow to spend the remainder of his days, setting apart the virtues of Italy, where every Painter, Dancer, Tooth-drawer, and mountebank is called a Vertuoso.  
Here his religious parents stepped in again to his aid, who did not imitate the Images of Mercury set up in times past in the common roads, with the forefinger pointing out the way to passengers, but standing still themselves, not bearing them company. This loving couple (as happy in themselves, as in him) were his guides not only by Advice, but Action.  
The reason why he began with Humility was, that it rendered him more apt and able to 
humility extolled in itself and him.  acquire the rest, and was the virtue his, and our blessed Master commenced and ended with, and all the Saints in imitation of him have studied, and with diligence put in practice. Our sweetest Saviour forbade his Disciples to divulge his miracles, lest the World might think he gloried in them, as appears by his cure of the Leprous, of the Blind, of the Lame, and of the dumb, &c. In his Transfiguration he gave them the same charge; reveal this Vision to nobody. His Disciples demanding who should be the greatest in the kingdom of Heaven, he answered, Whosoever shall humble himself like one of these little ones, shall be greatest there. What taught he but Humility, when he said, When thou art invited to a wedding, take not the first place at the Table. What can persuade a man sooner to avoid vainglory, and to unroll himself amongst the servants of Humility, than his moving example of the Pharisee, and the Publican? He made choice to be conceived of a poor humble Mother, and to be borne not only in no remarkable Country, but in a Stable, where beasts only were witnesses of his Birth. Thirty years he lurked in the World, in somuch that we read little or nothing of him in all that time, save that when he was twelve years old, he was found hearing, interrogating, and determining in the Temple. About his thirtieth year he sent not for Saint John Baptist, but came to him, and demanded baptism at his hands: wherein we learn a profitable lesson for the proud, who disdain to visit their inferiors. He that came from Heaven scorned not to wait on earth, on his own servant: and shall insolent men who live on earth, and are made of earth, scorn or grudge to give each other a visit? He began his preaching in the same humble manner as John did, Repent, &c. He intruded not into the Nuptials of the rich and lofty, but of the meek, and penurious, where Wine was wanting. When he understood they meant to make him a King, he flew into the mountains to conceal himself. He being Lord of all things, paid Tribute as a servant. He travailed commonly on foot, and when he was weary, hungry, and dry, his lodging and fare were little better than that of the irrational Creatures. This is with ease proved, for he complains himself, that he hath not a house to put his head in: and we find that when he was faint and thirsty, he had no other repose then on the ground, nor no other drink then that pure Water drawn for him, by that purer Samaritan. he elected humble Disciples, and preached to them Humility. He said not to them, Be Omnipotent as I am Omnipotent, Be Wise as I am Wise; No, no, his Doctrine flew a lower pitch, and was delivered in a more stooping phrase, Be humble, as I am humble. He named himself the son of man, oftener than the son of God, and though he was truly both, in that he participated of both Natures, yet he chose his Denomination oftener from the inferior nature then from the superior. He made his Entry into Jerusalem, not like a Triumpher in a Chariot, nor on a proud Courser with rich Trappings, but on a silly ass void of rich Furniture. Being to depart out of this World, that he might leave behind him an unequalled and unheard of Example of humility, he washed his Disciples feet, and wiped them with the linen cloth wherewith he was girt. Lastly, every circumstance of his Passion relisheth humility. Did the Saints digress a whit from this path trod by their Redeemer? Surely no, one proof whereof we have in St. John Baptist, whose thoughts, deeds, and words were all humble. The Jews enquiring of him whether he were Christ, or a Prophet, he answered negatively to both: whereas our Saviour protesteth that the human Race could never boast of a greater than he. He assumed no higher a stile then, I am the voice in the wilderness, &c. His Diet, his Raiment, and his Lodging were all contemptible. How often did that fair recovered bankrupt of all Grace, Mary Magdalene, fall at our saviour's feet, and wash them with her tears? After the miraculous cure of the lame by Peter; his speech was lowly, not attributing the fact to himself, but to the divine virtue, and the Invocation of the Name of JESUS. When upon his entry into Caesaria, Cornelius meeting him fell at his feet, he raised him up, saying, I am a man also as thou art. Paul, and Barnabas hearing that the Inhabitants of the City of Lystris, concluded they were God's and resolved to sacrifice to them, cut their garments in pieces, and running into the midst of the Throng, cried out; What mean you to do? We are no other than poor Mortals, as you are; Yet with this their clamour could they hardly keep the superstitious people from sacrificing to them. Paul submitted himself to learn of Aquila, and Priscilla, the Art of tentmaking, and got his living by it. This last, but most learned of the Apostles, was a submissive petitioner for the prayers of others. I beseech you Brethren, saith he, even in the Name of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the charity of the Holy Ghost, to assist me with your Prayers. In other places he termeth himself the least of the Apostles, and professeth that he deserveth not the name of an Apostle. In his Epistle to Timothy, he descendeth yet lower; Jesus, saith he, came into the world to save Sinners, whereof I am the chief. Of the same Humility relish these his meek forms of speech, Not aspiring to height of Knowledge, and thinking themselves superiors to one another only in humility. Armatura tutissima animi Modestia, saith Saint Basil, A modest humble mind is an Armour of proof. Wittily Saint Bernard, As the morning Light is a sure sign that the Sun is entering into our hemisphere; so the very dawn of Humility in any man, is an infallible Token of approaching Grace. This is the virtue that sweetens all the rest, and a good Frame, and security ever attend it. By this the holy Martyrs have triumphed over Tyranny, and Death, and by it have obtained the eternal Crown of Glory they now wear. He who void of Humility, seeks to engross other virtues, do like him who gathereth dust to throw it against the wind. This virtue never entered into the Heads or Hearts of the Heathen. Nulla tanta est Humilitas, (saith Valerius Maximus) quae dulcedine Gloriae non tangatur: There is no humility so great, as to be altogether senseless of the sweetness of Glory. Humilis satis est (they be the words of Livy) qui aequo jure satis vivit, nec inferendo injuriam, necpatiendo etiam: He is humble enough, who is a just observer of this equal Law, neither to act, nor suffer an injury. To these I may add that of Isocrates; Legi, Principi, & sapientiori cedere modestum est: It is the part of a modest humble man to subject himself to the Law, his Prince, and those in wisdom above him. The Philosophers in the beginning were so proud as to assume to themselves the stile of Wisemen, Pythagoras being the first, (as witnesseth Laertius) that modestly called himself a Philosopher, that is, a Lover of wisdom. Socrates, indeed, seemed to look towards Humility, when he said, Hoc tantum scio me nihil scire: I only know this that I know nothing. But this was spoken respectively, that what he knew, was nothing in respect of that whereof he was ignorant. The stoical, Magniloquent Sect utterly excluded Humility, and the cynic though he appeared sordid and abject, was thought by other Sects as inwardly haughty as he was outwardly dejected, which was intimated by his speech, who said to one of them, That he espied his pride through the hole in his cloak. The Poets went this way altogether, as far as they,  
— Valet ima summis  
Mutare & insignem attenuat Deus,  
Obscura promens,—  
As saith the Horace, and Seneca in his Thyeste; addeth,  Laus vera humili sapè contigit viro. 
In this submissive virtue this our sweet Bud of Honour grew to such a height, that he had many noble emulators who aspired to climb to the same degree. He made man's miserable condition the mirror wherein his humility beheld herself. He rightly conceived, that as the Tree that grows high must take deep root: so the mind that ascends to God must first prostrate itself before him. His sanctified soul (if her creator accepted of her poor endeavours) was altogether careless of the applause of men, like a chaste Spouse, who being ravished with the delight she takes in the kisses and embraces of her Husband, is nothing at all mindful or careful of the frowns, or favours of others: yet did she humbly comply with all men as far as the Service, and Honour of her Maker would give her leave.  
This virtue prepared him to receive the yoke of Obedience, which he readily put on, and never 
Obedience commended in itself, and him.  after disobediently cast off. He was conformable in all things to the Word of God, the Church, his Prince, Parents, tutors, and superiors That there was a God he learned from the Order, and Beauty of the Universe, which to attribute to the virtue, or power of things created were to ascribe the motion of the wheel to the wheel itself, or the excellency of an Image to the pencil. He saw nothing that put him not in mind of God, but being admitted to be a member of his mystical Body, his Church, he there saw him more clearly, spoke to him, and received from him his divine behests, of which he forth with vowed himself a most obedient, and religious observer.  
The Duty he owed his Parents, Nature had 
His obedience to his parents.  engrafted in him, and Grace had assured him that he deserves neither the stile of Noble, nor of Man, who neglects to be dutiful to those to whom he owes his Life, and Being. A reverence to these in-seated in the blood. Two strange demonstrations of this verity we find in Livy, and Valerius Maximus. The first is, that Marcus 
Two rare examples of filial duty, and piety.  Pomponius having accused Lucius Manlius of cruelty to Titus Manlius his son, the said Titus went to the House of Pomponius then Tribune, and with his Sword drawn, threatened to kill him, unless he would swear to let the process fall against his Father, and forced him to take that Oath. The later in Valerius Maximus, is of a Woman condemned to die by Famine, whom her Daughter then a Nurse (having leave daily to visit her Mother) nourished with her milk, which pious deceit of hers being detected, bred that relenting, and astonishment in the hearts of the Judges, that they not only pardoned the Mother, but in memory of this pious, dutiful fact of the Daughter, razed the Prison to the ground, and erected in the same place a Temple to piety. Diceret aliquis, saith Valerius, hoc esse contra legem Naturae, nisi Naturae prima lex esset diligere parents: A man would say, that for the Daughter to give suck to the Mother were a thing preposterous, and against Nature, were it not that the first Law of Nature is to love our Parents. Aristotle affirms, that the Storks nourish their dams, in way of a grateful recompensation of their care, and pains in breeding them. Quicquid praestiti, saith Seneca, infra aestimationem Paterni Muneris est: What ever I have performed, comes short of the Benefits for which I stand a Debtor to my Father. None but Monsters of Ingratitude forget such blessings as these.  
His tutors he honoured and obeyed, not for fear of punishment, but love of Discipline. He 
His obedience to his Tutors.  suffered not himself to be hailed, and dragged to his Book, but was as sedulous in learning as his Masters in teaching, who (no doubt) had told him that the Muses love a smiling scholar, not one who lours on them, and beholds the school with the same countenance Malefactors look on the Gibbet. I cannot say whether his alacrity in receiving, or his care in executing his tutor's commands were the greater.  
The esteem of the holy Prophets, Apostles, and Fathers of the Church had this virtue in aught to advance it much in our esteem. God bound man to obedience presently after his creation in the state of innocency, the breach whereof he severely punished. Noah readily obeyed all God's commands when the flood was at hand. The swift obedience of Abraham was admirable, when without any delay at all, he made haste to sacrifice his son, and with his own hands to let out his own blood. It is worthy our observation, that when ever the Children of Israel, or any of God's servants fought with, or against his will, they had accordingly good, or bad success. God told that if he willingly executed all his precepts, he would ever fix the Throne of his kingdom in Jerusalem: but on the contrary, if he did not perform them, he would cut Israel from off the face of the earth. Therefore, saith S. Gregory, is obedience better than sacrifice, because by sacrifice another's flesh, but by obedience our own wills are subdued, slain, and offered up to the almighty. An obedient man, saith Saint Bernard, defers not the execution of a command, but straight prepares his ears to hear, his Tongue to speak, his feet to walk, his hands to work, and all his thoughts are fixed on the will of his Commander. And in another place, the same Father saith, That there is, no doubt, but he deserves more grace, and favour, who prepares and makes himself ready to receive a command, than he who willingly executes the same. To this alludes that of Plantus,  
— Pater adsum,  
Impera quid vis, neque tibi ero in mora,  
Neque latebrosè me abs tuo conspectu occultabo.  
And that of Terence,  Facis ut te decet cum isthoc quod postulo impetro cum gratia. 
We will conclude this point with that which Ovid speaks of Achilles.  
Qui toties socios, toties exterruit hostes,  
Creditur annosum pertinuisse senem.  
The next that presents itself to our view is Charity, a virtue that will usher any man to 
charity praised in itself, and him.  God's presence, who is ambitious of that greatest of Glories. This Love is the King of all the passions of the soul, and motions of the Heart, he attracts all the rest to him, and renders them conformable to himself. His Essence consists in doing good works readily, diligently, frequently. Let us hear that excellent Father Saint Augustine magnify this virtue. In Charity, saith he, the poor are rich, and without it the rich are poor. This sustains us in adversity, tempers us in prosperity, fortifies us against unruly passions, and makes us joyfully do good works. This was it made Abel delightful in Sacrifice, Noah secure in the flood; Abraham faithful in his peregrination, Moses merry amidst injuries, and David meek in tribulation. This made the fire a playfellow to the Children in the Furnace. This caused Susanna to be chaste above the temptations of man. Anna after the use of man, and the blessed Virgin without the knowledge of man. This animated Paul to be free in arguing, Peter humble in obeying, the Christians gentle in their confessions, and Christ himself prone to pardon sinners. What shall I say? should I speak with the tongues of men, and Angels, and want charity I were nothing, it being the soul of Divine Knowledge, the virtue of prophecy, the salvation contained in the Sacraments, the fruit of Faith, the riches of the poor, and the life of the dying. He adds, A man may have all the Sacraments and yet be evil, but he cannot have charity and be so. again, Science if it be alone, is puffed up with pride, but because charity edifies, she suffers not Knowledge to swell. He calls it in another place, the cement of souls, and the society of the faithful. Saint Jerome commends it to us in these words. I do not remember any one hath died an ill death, who willingly performed the Works of Charity: the reason is because he hath many intercessors, and it is a thing impossible that the prayers of many should not penetrate the sacred ears of God. Sweetly, saith St. Gregory. As many boughs spring from one root; so many virtues are derived from charity alone, in which not rooted, no branch of goodness can flourish. To these Suffrages, I will add that of Hugo, O divine charity, I know not how I should speak more in thy praise, then that thou didst draw God from Heaven to Earth, and didst exalt Man from Earth to Heaven. Needs must thy force be great, since by thee God was so humbled, and Man so exalted.  
In so few years as fourteen, a man can expect only a propension to this, and all other virtues: yet he that looks for no small progress in this, and most of the other (for the practice of some are not incident to that tender age) shall not have his expectation deceived. For his Charity, I may truly aver, that it was extensive not only to his friends, and acquaintance, but to the poor, to strangers, and enemies also. Some friends he chose both for support, and ornament, 
His love to his Friends.  as appears by his love, and imitation of his truly good, and great Guardian, the Earl of Arundel, Lord Martial of England, for no sooner had age ripened his judgement, but he elected him for the object of his affections, and the model of his actions. A copy drawn from so fair an original, you will say could not prove deformed. Others he chose for delight, and all he loved with a heart wherein Truth kept her Court. Some he would to his power so suddenly, secretly, and cunningly relieve, that they often times found their wants supplied, before they knew from whence the benefit came, resembling in this a Physician, who cures his patient unawares, before he dreams of a recovery. He approved that speech of Diogenes, Manus ad amicos non complicatis digitis extendi oportere: That a closed hand is not to be reached out to a Friend. Where he discovered a complete worth, he disdained not to be a suitor, and first to make an offer of his service, in imitation of a Husbandman, who first tilleth, and soweth the ground, and then expects the fruit of his labour. His word, and the effect of it, were as inseparable as heat and fire. This true property of a Gentleman the Ancients deciphered to us, when they painted a Tongue bound fast to a Heart. He was no importunate, or severe Exactor of the return of a love answerable in greatness to his own; wisely, and nobly considering that he is no true friend who is always no more a friend then his friend is.  
Marry (I must confess) he was exceedingly 
His curiosity in the choice of his friends.  curious, and cautious in his choice, following in that the counsel of Bias the Philosopher, Amicos sequere quos non pudeat elegisse: Follow such friends whom to have chosen you need not be ashamed. he applauded that of Anacharsis, Multo melius est amicum unum egregium quam gregarios multos possidere. It is far better to enjoy one brave Friend than many mean and vulgar. he knew that they who in haste, and without mature advice contract friendship, suffer the same inconveniency as they do, who greedily and hastily devour sundry meats which they can neither quickly with ease and safety cast up, nor retain. He discreetly weighed, that friendship made with the wicked, is as unstable Vice, the Basis whereon it is built. As the Ocean with great labour strives to work all dead bodies to the shore; so a generous friendship expels all such as are lost, and dead in sin. It is not enough to be wise and good ourselves, but we must not keep the foolish and the wicked company, except we will incur the censure of the World, and be ourselves thought such. Vice, and the vicious he fought with, after the manner of the Parthians, flying. If his dearest friend had solicited him to join with him in any act not warranted by virtue, he would have answered him with Pericles, who to an intimate friend that wooed him to forswear himself in his behalf, replied; I am my friend's friend as far as the Altars. As if he should had said, I will pass for thee through all miseries, dangers, and shipwrecks, save that of Conscience, which like a Maid of Honour, I must preserve inviolated, and immaculate.  
As he was extremely nice, and careful, not to entertain debauched friends, so was he also resolved 
A herd of Friends he loved not.  not to admit of many. He was not ignorant that a River which hath many arms, and outlets, is always in danger of being low, and dry. Plutarch maintains, he cannot be faithful, and honest, who hath a herd of friends, because many may want his Faith, and assistance at one and the same time, to all which he cannot be serviceable. But those he had once judicially chosen, and on whom he had fixed his affection he still regarded with the same countenance; whether they were in a flood, or an ebb of Fortune, clean contrary to the course of flatterers, and dissemblers, who fawn on their friends in abundance, and forsake them in penury, not unlike in this to Flies, which came in swarms to a kitchen full of flesh, and abandon it empty.  
His affection to his friends took nothing 
His love to the poor.  from his care, and love of the poor. It was not hidden from him, that the chief work of mercy, is to have pity on a man's own soul; he therefore first endeavoured to mundify his own heart, knowing that God more than man respects the pure mind of the giver. True it is, he was in his Nonage, and had no great store out of which his liberality should flow, but all he could spare Charity disposed of. God crowns the intent where he finds not the faculty. Legitimate Mercy proceeds not from a full purse, but a free bosom. He that in his heart compassionates his neighbour's infortunity, deserves more of him, and in the sight of God, than he who gives him only a material alms, for he who gives, parteth only with his outward substance; but he who affords the indigent sighs, tears, and groans, imparts that which comes from within, from the very centre of the soul. He kept to himself only what was necessary, and the superfluous he imparted to the Needy. He piously meditated, that Poverty is a consecrated Field, that quickly returns the sour a plentiful harvest. It fares with spiritual, as with temporal Husbandry, unless seed be scattered, no increase can be expected. He laid up his Treasure in his true eternal Country, Heaven: He thought continually that he heard the voice of his Saviour thus saying. I was thy Benefactor, now make me thy debtor, become my usurer, and thou shalt centuply receive the sum thou disbursest. In obedience to his command he assisted, as far as in him lay, all that wanted. He that gives indifferently to all, shall ever be merciful, but he who sits upon the lives of the poor, and judgeth them according to their faults, not their necessities, shall seldom or never do good. We ought to cast our eye on nature, not on the person, according to that of Aristotle, who being reprehended for succouring a Lewd, but poor man, replied, De Humanitati, non Homini. I give to human Nature, not to the man. He murders the poor, who denies him that whereby he subsists. Most accursed is he who shuts up in his Coffers the Health and Life of the distressed. In vain he lifts up his hands to heaven, who extends them not to the succour of the afflicted. It is a lovely ruin, and a pleasing spectacle to Christ, to see a devout man undo himself with his own hands, in freely and readily bestowing all that he hath on the naked. But oh! it is deservedly to be lamented that the whilom downy open hands of mercy are now shut, and brawny, and that most men either out of a flinty Nature, or out of a needless fear to be thought vainglorious leave to be pious. To the former hard-hearted brood, whom no misery of another can move. I will say with Pliny, If they merit the Epithets of wise & valiant they shall not be denied them, but we will never grant they shall be styled wise, and valiant men Men, since they have unmanned themselves, lost their bowels, and cast off all Humanity. The later, who make vainglory their scruple, I can assure that the Benefit is not despicable before God, which is confirmed in the sight of men, but that which is done to the end men may see it.  
From his proneness in giving, we now come 
His ready forgiving of injuries.  to his readiness in forgiving, another office of Charity, executed with far greater difficulty than any of the former. To love desert in friends, or supply the wants of the needy, reason and Nature invite us, but to suffer disgraces, and intolerable injuries from worthless men, is a thing they both abhor: for that of Seneca is most true; Duplicat dolorem sustinentis indignitas Inferentis. The grief of the sustainer is doubled by the indignity of the Afflictor. Appositively to this Cicero; Qui se non defendit, nec obsistit injuriae, sipotest, tam est in vitio quam si parents, aut amicos, aut patriam deserat: he who defendeth not himself, and repelleth not an injury, if he can, commits as great a crime as he that forsakes his Parents, Friends, or country. It is a thing not very hard for flesh and blood to rejoice in God, and his Blessings, but very difficult it is to take pleasure in all Slanders, Infamy, and Persecutions for his sake: for that gentle submissive soul, into which Ambition, nor the least thought of honour ever entered, would yet most gladly avoid all abuses, and dishonours. But our now truly blessed one, the beloved Theme we now handle, had learned this holy humble Art of him, whose life was nothing but a continued passion. All injuries intended, or acted against himself he could freely pardon: but those which were directed against the Majesty and dignity of his Maker, he could not endure. In such a case a holy Fury becomes the Child of God. It favoured in his opinion of more piety and wisdom, to overcome a slight injury, that reached not to his Parentage, or Religion, with silence, than with a tart reply; having found in Story, that small words have overthrown great Cities. No wrong being equal to that which is done with reproach, and contumely, in that to an heroic Spirit the loss of blood is not so grievous as that of Reputation.  
We will now descend from the Divine to the 
Valour magnified in itself and him.  moral virtues; amongst which Valour (according to the general vulgar belief) is the first required in a Lord, or Cavallier. Therefore the Poets feign the god of war himself to be borne in Thrace, because the people of that Country are hardy, and courageous. This was to denote that Fortitude usual resides amongst men of a generous, and lofty strain, whose Education leads them to knowledge in good Letters, which at once informs them of the Renown of their Ancestors; and that the image of Fame was ever placed before the Temple of Mars, to intimate, that the great exploits of daring, and undaunted men, are by her carried into every corner of the earth. It will not be amiss here to insert the judgements of the Fathers of the Church, passed on this virtue. St. Austin shall be the Chorus: Qui vera virtuta fortis est nec temerè audet, nec in inconsultè timet. He who is truly valorous neither dares rashly, nor fears unadvisedly. That of St. Jerome deserves our observation. Fortitudo via Regia est, aqua declinat ad dextram qui temerarius est, & pertinax, ad sinistram qui formodolosus est, & pavidus: Fortitude is the King's high way, from which he swarves on the right hand, who is fool hardy, and obstinate: He on the left hand who is cowardly, and fearful. Wisely and pertinently Cassiodorus. Vir vocatus, a viribus, qui nescit in adversis tolerando deficere, aut in prosperis aliqua elatione se jactare, sed animo stabili defixus, et Coelestium rerum contemplatione firmatur manet semper in pavibus. Man is so called from his strong and manly mind, which knows not how to faint in suffering adversity, nor to boast & insult in prosperity, but fixed in a stable resolution, and confirmed by the contemplation of heavenly things remains evermore fearless. The Heathens themselves differed not in opinion from these holy men, as Cicero testifies in his rhetorics: Sicut scientia remota justitia caliditas potius quàm sapientia appellanda est: sic animus ad periculum paratus si sua cupiditate, non aliena utilitate impellitur Temeritatis potius nomen habet quam Fortitudinis: As Knowledge not accompanied with Justice, is rather to be called Craft then wisdom: so a mind ready to encounter danger, if it be driven thereunto by its own desire and pleasure, not the public profit, meriteth rather the name of Temerity than Valour. In the same place, he thus defines Fortitude. Fortitudo est immobilis inter adversa gloriosa animi claritudo res arduas pulchrè administrans, quae nec adversis infestando frangitur, nec prosperis blandiendo elevatur: Fortitude is an unmoved glorious serenity of the mind fairly administering things difficult, which is neither broken nor dejected with the frowns of Fortune, nor puffed up with her smiles.  
This virtue is justly admired of all, truly understood, 
All men admire, few understand what valour is.  and practised but by a few. Some think it valour to kill themselves, some to injure and provoke others, and almost all believe that a valiant man ought to fear nothing. For the first, that a man ought not to lay violent hands on himself all good Christians conclude. Aristotle thus cries, this self-murder done: Mollitudinis est laboriosa fugere: It argues a man of effeminacy to seek by Death to fly from the troubles, and labours of this life. This Philosopher, and the Pythagoreans held that as a soldier ought not to leave his station without the command of his general. So no man should dare to go out of this life without the leave of God, and Nature that gave it him. We will therefore spare the proof of a thing so universally granted by all Christians, and many Philosophers. But withal the strength of Divinity and Philosophy, I shall never be able to convince the greater part of Mankind of another error almost as damnable as this, and that is a foolish, and pernicious Tenent, that they may lawfully send Challenges, and accept of them, though the occasion of the quarrel be Wine, Dice, or prostituted Women. Nay, many a man is the Martyr of temperancy, and is killed because he will not excessively drink. I knew two Gentlemen of great quality, and little wit, fall out in a tavern upon a protestation of the greatness of their mutual love each to other. In this ardency, each strove for priority in affection. One said, Thou art dearer to me than I to thee, whereupon the other replied with the Lie, and was run thorough in the place where he stood. Monsieur de la Nove a g●●lant and learned French captain demonstrates the misery of these Duels upon slight occasions, by an infortunity that befell himself in the like case. He being importuned by a Gentleman of his Nation, not Acquaintance, to be his Second; willingly, and thankfully condescended to his Request; for, indeed, the French think themselves never so much honoured as when their friends value them at so high a rate, as to put their Honours, and Lives into their custody. Well, this brave Second associated his principal into the Field, where they were to fight two to two. He no sooner arrived there, but with grief and horror he beheld his nearest Kinsman, and dearest friend he had in the World ready to encounter him, as being the opposite Second. You may easily conceive, what a combat there was in his noble breast between Honour and Affection, but the former being a Tyrant quickly overcame, and suppressed the later, and violently haled this great Commander to combat his Friend, who there fell under his sword. I will omit all other examples, for all come short of this. Non mediocris animi est fortitudo, saith Saint Ambrose, quae sola defendit ornamenta virtutum omnium: Fortitude bears no mean dejected mind, which alone defends the Graces, and Ornaments of all the other virtues. Sure I am, the most part of our Gentry put it to a clean contrary use, and exercise it only in the defence of Vice, and her deformed Litter. These silly brothers of the Sword either by the force of drink, Fury, or Ignorance, are rendered as stupid as the Natives of Barbary are with the excessive eating of Opium, which hurries them into Quarrels, that Grace and Nature both tremble at. The Spartans ever before a battle, tempered and allayed the choler of their soldiers with the melody of the Flute, and other instruments, that so their anger might not deface their Reason. We had need of some charming music to qualify the heat and rage of our roarers. Hardly will they endure the Test of the Scripture, who cannot undergo that of Aristotle. First, says he, a valiant man fights not for fear of Infamy, or Reprehension. Secondly, not for the awe he stands in of Military Discipline. Thirdly, not out of confidence of his skill in the Military Art, or of his own strength and armature. Fourthly, not being urged thereto by the violence of natural passions, as Anger, grief, Lust, and the like. Fiftly, not out of ignorance of his enemy's force, nor out of fear of servitude, or hope of booty. Sixtly, a valiant man is the Champion of honesty; for which only he is to combat all that oppose it. He could not imagine any thing in excellency above Honesty, which he still makes his utmost scope, not being so blessedly subtle as to discern God and his Church. Examine well all these Requisites of Valour, and how many now a days shall we discover and allow valiant; most men fighting against all the Rules of Honesty, and the Laws of God? If our Nobility and Gentry shall diligently peruse ancient Histories, they shall find that their renowned ancestors never ascended to the Throne of Honour this way. Debaushes, Quarrels, and Duels were not the degrees by which they mounted. They singled not out an enemy in the field upon exchange of idle words, never drawing their swords but to rescue their country out of the jaws of ruin, or their Prince from the Height of a Breach, or from the Centre of the enemy's Battalion. The Valour not thus nobly employed, they reputed no other than a womanish choler, a simple passion and a feeble revenge unworthy of a man magnanimous. Certainly, our Gallants cannot but imagine the great Alexander, and the mighty Julius to be nothing inferior to them in this virtue, yet did not they judge that a foolish hasty word should be put in balance with a Life. These Masterspirits of the World were utterly ignorant what reparation of Honour the Lie claimed, and of the circumstances in managing a quarrel, which these Hacksters make our younger sort believe to be a Mystery, and by this ridiculous Science get their Livings. Those great Worthies concluded that the offence always returned upon his head that offered it. From these single, bloody Encounters, what can Gentlemen expect other then if they kill, to have their Lands confiscated to the King, and (if married) to have their Wives and Children live by the succour of the Knapsack, to leave infamy to their Posterity, and to have no other Historiographer than the Hangman; whereas their lives lost in a set battle, would make them ever live in the best Chronicles of theirs, and after times. Now suppose they fall themselves under their enemy's hands, what can ensue but a burial of their Names together with their bones, and (without God's infinite extraordinary mercy) the damnation of their souls? These Duels, and the Horse-races of our Gentry so much in request with them, have two goodly originals. The first began amongst the slaves of Hannibal, after he had passed the alps, and the later amongst the Butchers of Barnet, who (their London Markets once ended) soundly dowsed in drink, used to run home for wagers. What will these Fighters say, if I prove to them out of the great Secretary of Nature, Aristotle, that a man may fear, and yet be valiant? First, saith he, a valiant man may dread all things shameful and wicked, and the Infamy of himself, and his. Secondly, he may fear all things so dreadful, that they exceed the power of human Nature to withstand, as Thunder, Lightning, Earthquakes, Inundations, and the like, which yet he fears not, so that they shall make him forget to do the office of a man resolved. Nay, he stops not there, but maintains that a valiant man may fly from an enemy without being justly branded with cowardice, in case he finds his Life may be more profitable to his country then his Death. He cannot then be said to shun death out of pusillanimity, but to reserve himself for a greater good.  
But I desire to be read by my own Light; for I would not have any man think that I infer by this Invective against the abuse of this heroic virtue, that I counsel any Gentleman to endure gross Injuries of a high nature, such as may disparage his whole Race, country, Religion, or hazard the safety of his person; for of these foul wrongs, all Nations allow a Repulsion, and the Ancients called this harmless defence, Incorruptam Tutelam. Therefore Mars was pictured with his bosom open, to show unto us that worthy men ought to expose themselves to all dangers, for the preservation of their Honour.  
This dear Gentleman, whose loss we condole, had not yet received force and vigour to make a demonstration of the external valour, but the internal he had abundantly, as appeared by many seeds of true Magnanimity, which both by his carriage and speech, were easily to be discerned in him. Such sparks as these of a great mind the Romans discovered in Cato yet a child, and by those judged of his future 
Two admirable signs of Cato's future valour discovered in him yet a child.  greatness. Two of these, as most remarkable, I shall here insert not only to delight but to confirm, and strengthen the minds of my Readers. He, and his brother Caepio, being educated in the House of their uncle Livius Drusus, it happened that the Latins were at that time suitours for the obtaining of a City, and that one of the chief of them, Popedius Silo, was entertained, and lodged in the House of Drusus. Popedius one day amongst the rest talking, and jesting familiarly with the children, said to them, Will not you intercede with your uncle that we may have a city granted us? To this Caepio fairly and readily assented, and promised his utmost aid, but Cato silent and sullen, looked on him with a brow knit, which Popedius observing, in a feigned fury, took the child up in his arms, and held him out of the window, threatening to let him fall, unless he granted his request. Notwithstanding all his threats, Cato still continued his silence, and his frowns; whereupon Popedius set him down again, and whispered this softly to his friends standing by. What will this child do when he comes to be a man? I believe we shall not obtain by his consent one voice from the people of Rome. Another proof of his Magnanimity he gave in the time of Sylla. Being about the age of fourteen, Sarpedon his tutor carried him to salute Sylla, who civilly and gently received him, in remembrance of the friendship he had contracted with his father. The palace of Sylla, was then no better than a slaughter-house, into which men were carried bound, and there suffered all kind of wracks and tortures, and after those death itself. The heads of proscribed men were as commonly and openly carried in and out, as if they had belonged to beasts: which Cato at several Visits, not only took notice of, but withal marked how good men sighed and groaned at this cruelty, and he himself abhorring so bloody a Tyranny, with a resolute mind, and countenance said to his tutor; Why does no man kill this monster of men? To this Sarpedo replied, Because they fear him more than they hate him: but you answered Cato, have given me a Sword that I may dispatch him, and free my country from servitude. he uttered this with such fierceness, that Sarpedo after that time seldom or never presented him to Sylla, or, if he did, it was not without preparation of him by his authority, and advise.  
From the vanquishing of outward Enemies, 
temperancy extolled in itself, and him.  our method leads us to the subduing of inward, which are our passions and affections. The conqueror of these is temperancy, who is nature's Minion, and studies her preservation. By this Reason governs the sensual part, tames it, and makes it endure the bit. Without this, our passions will violently carry us into the gulf of pleasure, out of which few or none return at all, or, if they do, it is not without suffering of shipwreck, and extreme peril. Delights betray us with kissing, and having charmed us into a profound sleep, we no sooner awake, but we see ourselves environed with horror and Despair, out of whose sharp claws none ever yet escaped unwounded. In the entry to voluptuousness we discern nothing but Roses, Violets, and the prime flowers of the Spring strewed in our way, but in coming back, we view nothing but unked, dismal Objects of solitude, and sorrow. The comfort is incredible of those who joyfully fly into the embraces of this virtue, loathing and abhorring the very shadow of intemperancy, which ugly traitress never leaves Youth till she hath brought them to those Precipices which she hath prepared for their destruction. The famous orator Demosthenes upbraided the Athenians with this folly, that they never treated of peace, but in mourning Garments, which they wore for their friends lately lost in the wars. And this is the custom of luxurious men, they never so much as mention Sobriety, and continency of Life, till they are under the lash of the Physician, or the hand of Death. We are by much more virtuous, saith Pliny, in sickness then in health, we then make God and virtue our continual meditation, and are no longer ruled by our passions and affections. We are not then Amorous, Ambitious, Covetous, revengeful. Riot is like a fierce untamed Tiger, the keeping whereof is as perilous as the taking. We must here imitate Ulysses, not his followers, whom Circe's turned into Swine. If we lend an ear to the enticing, ravishing voice of pleasure, we also shall be transformed into beasts. This virtue is exercised in bridling, and restraining the inordinate appetite to meat, drink, and Venery. The Romans used ever to embowel their dead, and not to allow those ignoble parts, the paunch, and guts burial, as being the only causers of our Dissolution. He is unworthy the Name, and Definition of man, who lives only to eat. Diogenes called the Belly the Charybdis of the Life. Musonius the Philosopher warns us that it is decent, and behooveful that man alone, amongst all Creatures, being descended from the Gods should chiefly nourish himself, as they do, with contemplation, not minding food farther than to satisfy nature: drunkenness, and Gluttony are comprehended under excess, who is the common mother to both.  
The Ancients represented to us the ugliness 
drunkenness dispraised.  of the former, by picturing Bacchus' naked and young, to signify unto us, that Drunkards can keep nothing secret. As when Wine begins to work in a vessel, that part of it which is in the bottom mounts up to the top: so a Drunkard discloseth the secrets that lie in the very bottom of his heart. His Chariot was drawn by Lions, Leopards, and Panthers, to intimate unto us that Wine metamorphoseth them into Savage bruits, that drink it beyond measure. They drew him clad in goat's skins, to denotate the incontinency of such. His Sacrifices were ordinarily executed by women, to argue the effeminacy of men given over to that vice.  
Neither are Surfeits of meat less odious and 
Gluttony reprehended.  enormous than these of drink. What a strange and undecent sight is it to behold men loathing, and longing for meats, like women with child? Where this Vice reigns, nothing of value can reside. As when we behold the Sun through vapours, and clouds, he appears not to us so beautiful as when he is in his full shine, having nothing interposed between him, and us: so a soul charged with Repletion & Fumes that arise from excrements, and meats undigested is eclipsed, and through the mists and fogs raised by sensuality can discern nothing subtle and generous, expressing no more harmony in her functions than we can expect from an instrument filled with dirt and Rubbish. Unclean spirits love unclean lodgings, as we may perceive by the devils in the possessed man, who petitioned our Saviour that they might enter into the herd of hogs, not into Oxen, Sheep, or any other clean Beast, nourished with clean food. The example of Dives should much terrify these ravenous devourers, who was so cruelly tormented in his Tongue, the Organ of taste. The devil knew man to be so prone to this sin, that he made it the bait to catch our first Parents, and the snare wherewith he thought to hold fast our redeemer. If thou be the son of God, said he, command these stones to be made bread. Innocentius thus inveighes against this superfluous feeding. Gula Paradisum clausit, primogenituram Vendidit, suspendit pistorem, decollavit Baptistam, Nabuzardam Princeps coquorum Templum incendit, & Hierusalem totam evertit: Gluttony first shut up Paradise, sold the birthright, hanged the Baker, beheaded St. John Baptist, Nabuzardam the Master Cook burned the Temple, and overthrew the Walls of Jerusalem. The frequent use of delicious meats and drinks amongst the Romans (as their Jecur Anserimum, their Porcus Trojanus, Sumen, wedulae, Ficedulae, Phaenicopteri, and their generous Wines, Cecuba, Falerna, &c.) caused them to be as much censured by succeeding Historians, as their virtues made them admired. The naturalists report, that the Sea-horse hath his heart placed in his belly, to intimate his voracity. Philoxenes wished his neck were as long as a Cranes, that he might the longer feel the sweetness of his meat. I knew an old witty Epicure of this nation who hath often in the presence of a whole Ordinary, wished himself a cow, that he might eat his meat over twice. Alas, said he, a man hath small pleasure in feeding twice a day half an hour at a time, I would be ever eating. He wished if he must needs go to heaven he Might be wound up thither by a Jack. All the while this glutton pampered his body, his soul starved, receiving no nutriment, but what was unclean and putrid. Sminderides rode a wooing attended by a thousand Cooks, a thousand Fowlers, and as many Fishers. That this sin of gluttony is no solitary vice, but is ever accompanied by Incontinency. St. Hirome tells us. Semper Saturitati junct a est Lascivia: Vicina igitur sunt venter, & genitalia; pro membrorum ordine ordo vitiorum. Lasciviousness ever associates saturity. Therefore are the Belly, and the secrets placed close by one another, to show that they are as near in consequence and dependency as in situation, the one feeding and maintaining the other. Wherefore they were in no error, who styled hunger the friend of Virginity, in that it cools the boiling blood, and renders the Flesh subject to the Spirit. Water, Fruits, and roots were man's first sustenance. Lord how far is his diet altered from its first simplicity? Remarkable is that saying of Alexander: I know no better a cook to procure me an Appetite to my dinner, than to rise betimes, nor to my Supper, than to eat little at Dinner. Epictetus counseleth us, not to deck our Rooms with Tablets and Pictures, but with Sobriety, and Temperancy; in that the former only feed the eyes, but the later the soul, to which they are eternal Ornaments.  
This our sweetly disposed Lord closely followed the advice of this Philosopher, who in all his Actions did nothing without the consultation, and approbation of Sobriety, and Modesty. He never was invited to a feast, but he diligently called to mind that he had two guests to entertain, the body, and the soul; and that what ever he bestowed on the one, would be corrupted, and converted into Excrements; but what he conferred on the other would enjoy the same Eternity with it. He observed such a beautiful Order in all his desires, that they never ran before, nor lagged behind, but ever kept that rank in which Reason had placed them. He lived by a Rule composed, and confirmed by either Testament, and taught his soul to affect nothing she might not lawfully covet. Thus we see the admirable fruit Temperancy brought forth in his mind, and will in all other wherein she is once planted. I will give a period to the discourse of this virtue, with the words of Prosper, who thus extols it. Temperantia facit abstinentem, parcum, sobrium, moderatum, pudicum, tacitum, & Verecundum. Haec Virtus si in animo habitat libidines fraenat affectus' temperat' desideria sancta multiplicat, vitiosa castigat, omnia inter nos confusaordinat, cogitationes pravas removet, scientiam inserit, ignem libidinosae cupiditatis extinguit, mentem placida Tranquilitate componit, & totam ab omni in semper tempestate Vitiorum defendit. Temperancy makes a man abstinent, sparing, sober, moderate, chaste, silent, and modest. This virtue once entered into the mind, bridles lust, tempers affections, multiplies holy desires, and chastiseth the vicious, sets our confused thoughts in order, and removes the wicked ones, inserts knowledge, quencheth all libidinous flames within us, composeth and settleth the mind in a pleasing tranquillity, and evermore defends every part of it from all storms raised by Vice.  
Justice challengeth a place here, and deservedly, it being a Cardinal virtue, and of great 
Justice exalted in itself, and him.  eminency, not only amongst the moral, but Divine virtues also. Homer says, she was begotten by all the gods, so divers, and so admirable are her effects. Cicero thus commends her to us: Justitia Virtutis splendor est Maximus, ex qua viri boni nominamur. Justice is the greatest splendour of virtue, from which we purchase the names of good men. Most elegantly Cassiodorus: Iustitia non novit Patrem, non novit Matrem, veritatem novit, personam no accipit, Deum imitatur: justice knows neither Father, nor mother, she knows Truth; she is no respector of persons, and is in that an imitator of God. According to the strict or slack practice of this virtue, all commonwealths have flourished, or decayed. Without her what were mankind, but a confused multitude of ravenous hungry lions, living by rapines, and murders. This virtue consists of two parts, the distributive, and commutative. The distributive is chiefly regal, and appropriate to Emperors, Kings, Princes, and to all those who derive their Authority from them. The Commutative is an equal and just dealing between all men, of what Condition soever they be.  
The former part is of greatest dignity, and acted but by a few, and they of great rank, and quality: yet of those few how many shall we find that execute the great Offices committed to their charge by God himself with impartiality and equity? The difference Aristotle puts between a just Prince and a Tyrant is, that the aim of the former is the public good, the scope of the later is his own profit. These two behold their Subjects with a different eye, no otherwise than a Shepherd, and a Butcher look on a sheep to different ends, the one to preserve, the other to destroy it. A Tyrant is like Boreas, that ever threatens shipwreck and ruin; A just King resembles Zephyrus, whose breath begets plenty and sweetness. That a just King, or Judge ought to be a most studious, and careful investigator of the Truth, is taught us by the example of God himself, who said, I will descend, and see whether the cry which is come unto me be just, or no. The Ancients pictured Astraea (whom they made a representor of Justice) without a head, which they said was in Heaven, to signify that Justice should not regard men, but have her eyes fixed on God. In Athens the Delinquents ever pleaded before the Judges with their faces covered, lest the sweetness of some pleasing countenance should so much move, and so far work upon them as to make them do injustice.  
Two stupendious precedents of Justice we have in two mighty Monarchs, Seleuchus, and 
Two stupendious precedents of Justice.  Cambyses. Seleuchus having made a law, the transgression whereof he ordained to be punished with the loss of both eyes: it most unfortunately happened that his own son was the first transgressor of it, whereupon being a most indulgent Father, and withal a most severe Justicer, to satisfy the rigour of the Law, he caused one of his own eyes to be pulled out, and another of his sons. Cambyses having condemned a cruel and corrupt Judge to be flayed alive, caused the chair of Justice to be covered with his skin, and make the son of this monstrous oppressor sit, and give judgement in it, for an astonishment, and terror to him, and all succeeding Judges. Junius Brutus executed his own children, for their conspiring against the liberty of their Country. By the severe laws of Draco, which were written in blood, when the author of a Crime could not be found out, even things inanimate were cited, condemned, thrown out of the City, banished for ever, or broken in pieces, according to the Nature of the Fact. As a Physician, or surgeon oftentimes administers stinking and loathsome potions, nay, sometimes cuts off a limb, and all this for the preservation of his patient: so in the body politic, a just Judge always inflicts bitter punishments on the putrid, wicked members of the commonwealth, nay, sometimes cuts them off, having this for a Statemaxime, that he who is merciful to the bad, is cruel to the good.  
In this distributive part of Justice, no wise man can look that this our mirror of the youthful Nobility should attain to the least degree of perfection, since neither his few years admitted, nor his Prince called him to sit in the seat of Justice. In the commutative part he was no way defective, doing to all men as he would be done unto. In this he strictly in all points obeyed the advice of Seneca: Quisquis Justitiam sectari desideras prius Deum time, & ama, ut ameris à Deo. Amabis Deum si in hoc illum imitaberis, ut velis omnibus prodesse, nihil nocere. Ab alio expectes quod alteri feceris. Praestabis parentibus pietatem, cognatis dilectionem, pacem cum hominibus habebis, bellum cum vitiis praestabis, amicis fidem, omnibus aequitatem: Whosoever thou art that desirest to follow justice, first fear, and love God, that thou mayst be beloved of God. Thou shalt show thou lovest God, if in imitation of him thou seekest to profit all, to hurt none. Expect from another what thou hast done to him. Thou shalt make an expression of piety towards thy Parents, love to thy kindred, thou shalt have peace with all men, war with vices, thou shalt keep thy faith unviolated to thy friends, and observe the laws of equity towards all men.  
What should have been placed in the Front, comes here in the rear, and that is prudency, 
prudency commended in itself, and him.  a virtue which serves, measures, graces, and crownes all other virtues whatsoever. As amongst precious stones some are of greater prize than the rest, and by their presence impart to them a lustre: so prudency amongst all other virtues, is of greatest esteem in the eyes of all men, as being to the rest a Guide, a Gage, and an Ornament. As the eye in the body is by all preferred before the other senses: so prudency in the soul is commended above all other perfection. In the troop of virtues she hath the most honourable charge. Prudency gives a measure, and a Gage to every other virtue; for (if not measured, and directed by discretion) a needful Care turns into an utter despair, a decent grief into Rage and bitterness, Love into Flattery, Hope into Presumption, Joy ●nto wantonness, and a just Anger into an immoderate Fury. So that we may perceive an undiscreet virtue to be no better than a Vice. This is she that hath ever an eye to what is past, present, and to come, and out of all three picks this advantage, that her Adversary can never surprise her unawares, or take her unprovided. She laughs at that usual saying of Fools, I had not thought. As in the wars, though the Enemy be far off, the Watch is still constantly set: so she is always vigilant, and hath a several ward for every blow of Fortune. She is like double-faced Janus looking two several ways at one and the same time. This all men will readily grant me, that if Fortune cause a Tempest to rage and roar, she shall not so soon sink him, that foreseeing the storm hath taken in his sails, as him, who mistrusting nothing, bears them all out. Prudency teacheth us that in this rolling, tottering World there is nothing stable, & that the best remedy against an evil is the prevention of it. To be brief, her assistance is more necessary, clean through all the affairs of this life, then on the Sea is the government of a Pilot, who knows not how to assuage the violence of a storm, nor to appease the fury of the winds, nor to gain his desired Port at his pleasure; whereas prudency will for the most part either prevent, or frustrate all practices that tend to her ruin. As if there were no Sun, we should live in a perpetual darkness, for all the comfort, and light the other Stars could afford us: so except the beams of this bright, and radiant prudency reflect on all our actions, and Negotiations, they will appear dim and sordid, notwithstanding all the light the other virtues can lend us. This virtue was in such repute with Agesilaus, that he exhorted his soldiers, now ready for the combat, that they should not mind the multitude of their Enemies, but bend all their forces against Epaminondas their general; for he once subdued, all the rest would in a trice be vanquished: For, said he, none but wise and prudent men know how to prevent a defeat, or obtain a victory. This virtue eminently and superlatively appeared in all the proceedings of Christ himself with the Jewish Nation. When he had attained to the age of twelve years, he sat in the Temple amongst the grave doctors, questioning, answering, and instructing; and the Text witnesseth, that all who heard him stood amazed at his prudent demands and replies. He also deluded the Priests and Elders of the Jewish Synagogue, by prudently answering one question with another. When they asked him by what power he did those Miracles? he demanded of them, Whence the baptism of John was? When again they demanded of him if he were the Son of God? he replied, You say that I am. This prudency (next to the Invocation of his Father) was the only Engine wherewith he defended himself against the pernicious plots of this Generation of Vipers. As no Architecture can come to perfection, without the help of the Compasses & the Rule: so stands it with Human Actions, without the aid of prudency, none of them can receive their grace, and accomplishment. Let a man be master of all abilities imaginable, if he be not withal judicious and prudent, to make a right use of them, and to produce them in their proper times and places, they will acquire him rather shame than glory. If one could have Aristotle and Seneca, without book, and were withal injudicious, inconsiderate, & undiscreet, he would oftener purchase laughter then applause. Diodorus (omitting the idle Fables of Proteus) informs us that he was adopted King by the Egyptians, in that he excelled all men in wisdom, which made him so cunning in giving, and taking counsel, and in changing it with dexterity when opportunity served, that hence arose the Fable, that he could turn himself into so many forms and shapes. If in his determinations he altered any thing, you could not so properly say he changed as he fitted his mind to the present occasion; as we see the hand is the same still whether it be shut or extended. Indeed the mind of a Wiseman is, as Seneca says, like the state of the World above the moon, where there is no change He always returns home (as it is said of Socrates) with the same countenance he carried out; and, according to Epictetus, is like himself even in his dreams.  
This our incomparable Child of Honour gave strong essays to climb the summity of this virtue, both by diligent reading, and observation of all the writings and actions of the wise. In his conversation he ever applied himself to those who had deservedly gained a fame in good Letters, or had acquired wisdom by Experience; whose sage precepts, and admonitions, he as greedily drank in, as a thirsty Traveller doth Water from a clear fountain. These he made the mirror, wherein he daily dressed, and composed his mind, which was a Paradise into which the Serpent never entered, but he received a sudden repulse. Two times especially he made choice of, to prepare and examine himself, the Morning, & the Evening. In the first he forecast what was that day to be done, in the later he called to mind what that day he had done. To do good was his fixed resolution, and when he had the power to do harm (like the true son of Prudency) he never had the will: whereas the Nature of a fool is, when he hath not the ability, then to have the will to do mischief, This virtue was defused clean through all his endeavours, nay through his very habit, gesture, and discourse; which were neither too mimical, too antic, nor too grave, but suitable to the modesty required in so green an Age. Impudence (which Politicians profanely call the gift of God) he hated so in others, that he never gave it countenance, nor harbour himself. In his Discourse he warily proportioned his words to the bigness of the subject he spoke of: in imitation of a Mariner, that fits his sails to the smallness or vastness of his vessel. As slender men lightly wear their clothes lose, and large, a little to augment their bulk: so small wits, who want matter, enlarge themselves in words; whereas indeed, that speech is best which comprehends most sense in fewest words; as we esteem that coin most, which in a small compass includes a great value. He was not hasty to speak, or in speaking, but in both prudently observed a decency. He was very careful not only what he vented, but what he heard, that it relished not of Immodesty, Levity, or Vice; for he held that, what ever it was, a villainy to act, it was also a villainy to hearken to. He talked always opportunely, and appositively, never above his knowledge. He derided those who with a great din uttered nothing but high profound nonsense, resembling in that the cypress trees, which are great, and tall, but bear no fruit. A visit given to a wise, but sick man, by one of these babbling, curious impertinents, afflicts him more than his disease. His own secrets, those of his friends, or of the state, he neither revealed, nor pried into; for he was sure he could at any time speak what he had concealed, but he could not conceal what he had once spoken. En la boca serada moxca no entra (Says the Spanish proverb) Into a mouth closed a fly never enters. he had happily read, or heard, that Anacharsis the Philosopher was accustomed to sleep with his right hand on his mouth, and his left on his secrets, being of opinion, that the Tongue more than Concupiscence needed a bridle. Not to be tedious, I may boldly, because truly, aver that Prudency was the general of his Demeanour, Speech, and Actions, and gave to all of them a Wise and safe Conduct.  
You see, pious Reader, what embellishment, what Ornaments his Life, like a sparkling jewel, 
His Death.  was set with; and I imagine you cannot believe so fair a beginning could have a foul end. You cannot surely be at once so stupid, and uncharitable: If you can, you shall quickly be convinced of your error, and shall see this sunset, with the same glory in which he rose. First, in his sickness that led to his death he made use of 
His Patience.  his patience, a virtue which miraculously overcomes by yielding. As he would not shun his death, so he would not hasten it, but used all lawful, and possible means to prevent it; no otherwise than the Master of a Ship, who when the sails are rent asunder, the Mast cut down by the board, and a leak sprung in the ship, yet still labours for life, and leaves no way unsought to preserve it. But when he saw his inconstant Mistress, Nature, ready to abandon him, and that as well Necessity forced, as God called him hence: then self-love, the life's jailor could no longer withhold him from readily running into the arms of Death, who he knew would soon usher him into the embraces of his Saviour. He beheld Death no otherwise then a Pilot does the Winds and the sails, that will bring him to his desired Haven. He endured the terrible approach, and the furious assaults of Death with so undaunted a resolution of a man, and so firm unmoved a belief of a Christian, that he became at once a pleasing, and sad spectacle to his friends, who believed he could not so patiently undergo such pain and torments, without the extraordinary assistance of some beatifical vision. We see many in the dark are afraid of every thing, but the comfortable light expels all fear: so it is for those who are blinded with the Mist atheism, and Impiety, have cast before their eyes to doubt, and tremble: security becomes such as live and die in the true Light, and are illustrated with the beams of God's favour, as was this Patient of Heaven, who not being curable here, was thither to be translated. Before the coming of the Holy Ghost upon the Apostles, they feared Death, and forsook their Lord, but when they were once illuminated from above, they undauntedly appeared before Tyrants, and constantly suffered martyrdom. Having sent his desires long before to cast Anchor in Heaven, he longingly expected his own passage with a calm, patient, and contented mind, wherein no distemper ever stayed, but as an unwelcome stranger. At length when he perceived all his senses were ready to forsake him, being innocently ambitious to retain to the last his knowledge of all things, he suddenly by a holy Art drew the vastness of his memory into a Compendium, and remembered God only in whom are all things, in whose Fatherly eternal protection we confident, and submissively leave him.  
In this bud of Honour two things are deservedly 
Two things to be lamented in his Death.  to be lamented. First that it died under the hand of a royal Gardner, who meant to underprop and cherish it: Secondly, that it so soon faded.  
All men will confess his infortunity was great in departing this life in the reign of a 
His infortunity in dying so immaturely in the reign of so gracious a Prince.  Prince great in the Union of the Roses, greater in that of the laurels, but greatest of all in the love of his people. He knows full well, that full ill it went with mankind if the Almighty Maker of all things should confine his favour to one only, and neglect the rest of Humanity, and therefore as a god on earth (in imitation of of the Heavenly) distributes his favours amongst all his subjects, but not eodem gradu, because they are not ejusdem meriti. Like the sun, he strives to impart the light of his countenance to all, and whither his beams cannot reach, thither his warmth extends. Though all cannot enjoy the honour of his presence, all are sharers in the comfort of his benefits. We are not more happy in living, than this brave deceased Lord was unfortunate in immaturely dying under so gracious a King, diligent in the search after desert, and magnificent in rewarding it, who in all probability (upon a proof made of his faith, and merit) might in him have raised his whilom great House to that Height from which Tyranny unmercifully threw it down. I say to the same Height, not the same Titles.  
As concerning the immaturity of his Death, 
The immaturity of his Death.  I willingly acknowledge the sudden, unexpectted deprivation of one so dear, and so hopeful, must needs be bitter, and grievous to all those whom blood, friendship, or acquaintance had linked to him. Yet ought they not to grieve immoderately, the sorrow of a Christian being by Christ himself bounded, and confined. We may deplore the absence of our departed friends, but we must not too much bewail their deaths, because they are with God. As not to feel sorrow in sad chances is to want sense; so not to bear it with moderation, is to lack understanding, since it is fit that grief should rather bewray a tender then a dejected mind. The effects of our sorrow must not too long outlive the cause. We moisten not the earth with precious Waters; they were distilled for nobler ends, either by their Odour to delight us, or by their operation to preserve our health. Our tears are Waters of too high a price to be prodigally poured into the dust of any Graves. But we unwisely court sorrow, and as a Lover always espies something in his Mistress that in his opinion exalts her above her sex, so we labour to find out causes for our excessive grief, and to prove our present loss unequalled, though indeed, it have many parallels. As the light handling of a Nettle makes it sting us, but the hard griping of it prevents that harm; so we should not struck and cherish our griefs, but out of Divinity and Humanity compose a probe that may search them to the quick. He who heateth an Iron, takes it not out by that part which the fire hath inflamed, but by that end which remained without: Nor should we take our afflictions by the wrong end, but if we can find any comfort to arise from them, we should discreetly lay hold on that. He who comes into a Rosary, finds every Rose guarded with innumerable Thorns, yet he warily gathers the one without being pricked by the other. The most bitter accident hath a grain of sweetness and Consolation in it, which a wise man extracts, and leaves the Gall behind.  
To apply this; out of the subitary death of this Noble Gentleman we may cull many comforts. True it is, that Death is said to kill the old by Maturity, and the young by Treachery, and that unripe, untimely ends, are by all extremely pitied; but if we will hearken to Reason, issuing out of the mouths of the most profound Philosophers, she will tell us that brevity 
Brevity of life to be preferred before Longevity.  of Life is to be preferred before longevity. If we will give belief to Seneca, he will assure us that Nature never bestowed a greater Benefit on man than shortness of Life, it being so full of Cares, fears, Dangers, and Miseries, that Death is become the Common wish of all men afflicted. He who dies soon, should no more complain than he whose Navigation in a rough troubled sea is quickly ended. We account not those the best trees that have withstood the rage of many Winters, but those who in the least time have borne the most fruit. Not he who plays longest, but sweetliest on an Instrument is to be Commended. Compared with Eternity, the longest and the shortest Life differ not. Life is not a constant fountain, but a fickle flood that quickly rises, and as suddenly falls. Some have compared life to a Bird in a child's hand, which sometimes flies away before he can well fasten his hold on it. By the virtue of that Organ wherewith we first behold the shine of the sun, by the defect of the same we are brought into the darkness and shadow of death. It is so, it is so, he that built this fair fabric would have nothing stable, and permanent in it but himself. This goodly, rational, subtle creature, Man, above the Stars themselves, and next to God himself in Dignity, able to penetrate into the deepest secrets of Nature, to observe the motions of the heavens, & to compass both heaven and Earth in a thought, is only immortal here below by succession; Generation being as restless as corruption. The mistocles rightly affirms that no creature is so miserable as Man, in that none but he knows the use of life, yet when with great study and industry, he hath attained to that knowledge, he is by death deprived both of life and it together. Age brings to us experience in one hand, and Death in the other. just were the tears, and sweet was the Humanity, saith Pliny, of that royal and youthful 
* Xerxes.  Grecian, who wept to think that not one of that glorious immense Army he then commanded should survive one Age. Such a gentle commiseration of human frailty made Anselm thus cry out. O durus Casus! Heu! quid perdit homo? quid invenit? perdi dit beat itudinem ad quam factus est, & invenit mortem, ad quam factus non est. O hard hap! Alas! What did man lose? What did he find? He lost the blessedness to which he was made, and found death to which he was not made. shall then the valiant, & the learned have a harder fate than fools, in so soon parting with those crowns which Mars and Apollo have placed on their heads? shall they so suddenly be deprived of the comfort of that fair Fame which with blood, and sweat, with fasting and watching they have purchased? Yes, yes, Caesar shall never terrify the World again with his valour, nor Cicero charm it with his eloquence. The sword of the one, and the pen of the other have now with their Lords the same eternal and unprofitable rest. Alas, alas, man is as brittle as glass, but not so conserveable. As he increases in growth, his life decreases. As whether one sleeps, or wakes in a ship under sail he is insensibly, as it were, carried away towards his intended Port; so what ever we are doing, we unawares sail towards the region of death. Time deals with man Arithmetically; He first adds to his Beauty, and multiplies his Graces, and then he subtracts all these, and makes a long lasting Division between him and Nature. It were strange, if we should think we shall never arrive there, whither we are ever going. Plutarch writes of creatures in a certain part of the World which are borne in the morning, are in their prime at noon, grow aged towards the evening, and are dead ere night. Had these reasonable souls as we have, they would have also the same passions. They would after our womanish custom lament their untimely death who die before noon, esteem them happy that live till the evening, and yet bewail them too who depart at night. Our fond whining were seasonable, and to purpose, if it could prevent the death of our friends, or call them from the dead; but it savours of a vain, foolish arrogant ambition to desire they should be privileged, and exempted from the fatal, common condition of mankind, since we cannot be ignorant that God hath set down a period beyond which Nature herself shall not pass. Nothing representeth better to us this world than a theatre; 
God hath set down a period, beyond which Nature herself shall not pass.  whereon one acts a King, another a Lord, a third a Magistrate; others again play the base servile parts of fools, messengers, & mutes. Some of them stay, stare, strut, & look big a long time on the Stage; others only show themselves, & without speaking 
This World compared to a Theatre.  one word, as soon as they come on go off again; to conclude, all have their Exits: So we poor Mortals who are sent by our provident omnipotent Creator into this world, to undergo several charges (some whereof are honourable, some ignominious) have all an egress out of this life, as welll as an ingress allotted us. Some a long time be at this earthly Stage with the majesty of a Tragedian; others are fools & sneak up & down to the laughter of all men; others again lie manacled, bedrid, or (which is the worst of Fates) distracted. Some no sooner enter but they go out again, as did that child in the besieged, depopulated, desolate town of Saguntum, who by an instinct of Nature, no sooner put his head out of his mother's womb, but he pulled it in again, as divining the approaching destruction of his city and himself. To continue the similitude; As he who acted an Emperor (the Play once done) is no better than he who represented a slave: so the Grave, as Horace saith, equals all, the King & the Beggar. Pertinently to this S. Ambrose, We are born naked, saith he, and die naked, & there is no difference between the carcase of the rich, and the poor, save that the former stink worse through a repletion with excrements, which surfeits of delicious fare have left behind. This world is death's region, about it as a triumpher over all flesh he rides his circuit. Since than his coming is so necessary, so inevitable, whether he comes in the dawn, the noon, or twilight of life, let us bid him welcome. What should hinder us to do so I cannot tell; since as there is no ship but in one Voyage or other dasheth not against some hidden rock, or shelf: so the most happy life is not free from infinite crosses and disasters. Yet though every man knows the inconveniences & perils of this life, saith S. Austin, and that he must once die, yet all men seek to shun, and defer the hour of death; not only the heathen, but they to who believe the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. To our reproach the holy Father spoke this; for though it be no shame for a Gentile to fear death, whose only scope of life is to see and be seen, to know & be known; yet to a Christian it is, whose aim and desire should be not only to serve God faithfully here, but also to reign gloriously with him hereafter. What is necessarily to be done, a wiseman does voluntarily; let us not therefore with the foolish Tyrant in Lucian, either with tears, prayers, or bribes vainly think to persuade inexorable Death, but wisely consider that we are neither the first, nor the last; All have gone before, and must follow us. Nay, not a man dies, that hath not at the same time many to accompany him, who arrive at the house of Death by several ways. Life is a due debt to God and Nature, as long as we have it, we enjoy a benefit, when we are deprived of it we have no wrong. Let us then daily render it back to him that gave it, since he is a bad debtor who unwillingly pays. As a soldier, the sign once given, readily obeys the command of his general, and armed at all points, follows him through all Dangers, and faceth Death himself: so must we cheerfully observe the very Beck of our Heavenly Commander, and through all miseries and destruction itself make our way to him. Death should be no longer formidable to us, since our Redeemer hath taken out his sting, and he is now no other than an old toothless Dragon. It is a foolish thing to delight in sleep, and abhor Death, sleep being only a continual imitation of it. He that seriously contemplates the privileges, and advantages that accompany a Christian Death, will be in love with it. It is the Refuge of the afflicted, and the end of all earthly evils. It takes not life from us, but presents it to the custody of Eternity. It is not an end but an intermittance 
Death to a Christian not a punishment, but a tribute.  of life, nor no longer a punishment, but a Tribute, and we are gainers by it. As he who hath a long time lain in a dark dungeon, is beyond imagination joyful when he comes to the light: so the soul when she is freed from the vapours and clouds in which the flesh involved her is ravished with delight. While she is yet in the body, though her ambition reach at Heaven, yet is she still clogged with that heavy mass of earth, and cannot so nimbly and nobly operate as she would. She may fitly be called the Guest, and the Body the Host, that makes her pay dearly for her clayie lodging. For if a Magistrate be vexed and busied to subdue and pacify the Rebels of a seditious city, needs must the soul be troubled and afflicted, who hath a harder office assigned her, which is to bridle, and restrain the vicious, inordinate, dissolute affections which are inseparable adjuncts to her while she hath a conjunction with the body.  
The prerogatives of Death being so many, and so certain, let us no longer condole the decease of this our completely noble Friend, but congratulate his happy departure hence, and his safe arrival in the imperial Heaven. When Proculus Julius had reported to the Romans that he had seen Romulus, and that assuredly he was a God, a Wonder it was, saith Livy, how much they gave credit to this Tale, and how greatly the miss of Romulus, both amongst the Commons, and soldiers, was by this belief of his immortality digested. Much more should our sorrow be mitigated by the confidence we have that this our blessed Friends soul is ascended to him from whom it descended. When brass or Gold is melted to make the Statue of some great deserving Man, we say not that the mettle is lost, but dignified: In like case when a Body is turned into its first Principles, Dust, and Ashes, We who have an eye to the glorious Resurrection of it, think not it is utterly ruined, but dissolved to be refined. As in the Eclipse of the sun or moon, we nothing at all wonder, or grieve, because we know either star will reassume its former splendour: So we who are conscious of the divine promise of Immortality should undismayed, believe the death of this our honoured friend, no other than a passage to a better eternal life. I will conclude with this double consolation to all his Honourers. First, that he died with that matchless comfort, The love of all men, and heard yet living, the judgement men would pass on him dead, and was, as it were, present with Posterity. Secondly, that whereas here he ran a perpetual hazard, in that he carried a heavenly Treasure in an Earthy vessel, he now lives in an unmoved security, and that Treasure is enclosed in a Magazine to which the Heavens are Walls, and the Angels Warders. It is now high time to cover this sweet, beautiful issue, who with the Rose and Violet is laid down to sleep in the bosom of his first Mother the Earth, and shall enjoy, though it may be not so sudden, yet as certain a Spring as they, and which is more, an everlasting.  
FINIS.   

ELEGIES upon THE DEATH OF THE LAST LORD STAFFORD.  

AS over-rich-men find it harder far  
T'employ what they possess, then poor men are;  
Such is the state of those who write of thee,  
Whilst in that larger field displayed they see  
All objects which may help invention in,  
They know not where to end, where to begin.  
And as into this Labyrinth they fall,  
loath to omit the least praise, lose them all.  
Then whilst some style thee with the glorious name  
Of lineal heir to Mighty Buckingham,  
And tells the greatness of thy line that springs  
From such as could raise up, and throw down Kings  
I'll not look back; but with the Indians run  
To meet and court thee, as my rising sun.  
My offerings to thy memory shall be seen,  
In telling what thou wert, or wouldst have been.  
Why say I wouldst? when the most jealous eye  
Could find no want, though in thine infancy,  
Which some say promised much, this I disdain,  
For where the gifts are, promises are vain;  
Since in this noble youth who did not see  
The old man's wisdom, young man's industry?  
An humble Majesty, that could tell how  
To scorn a league with pride; yet make it bow.  
Whose courage was not in extremes like ours;  
With ebbs and flows, caused by the passions powers:  
But was a constant ever grafted love  
To blessed goodness, and the powers above.  
Who though he joyed in this frail mortal life,  
As one whose soul had felt no ingored strife:  
Nor laboured with impatient haste like some  
To break their prison ere the freedom come.  
Yet when the ever seeing power had found  
So fair a flower planted in barren ground;  
Whose glorious beauties which that frame inspired,  
Were envied more than followed or admired:  
Resolved to take what he had only lent,  
As giving him reward, us punishment;  
Then death was welcome, and he so resigned  
(Not feeling grief to leave, nor fear to find)  
That such his parting was as might be said,  
Whilst he stayed here, he lived not, but obeyed  
That happy call, which all clear souls expect,  
Whose doubtful states are changed to be elect,  
Let then such friends as mourn the sad decay  
Of his great house, in him the only stay,  
Lift up their wondering eyes and for him look  
In Angels Quires, not in a herald's book.  
Yet though the root be taken hence to plant,  
Where heavenly moisture it can never want;  
There yet remains a branch shall ever shine  
Engrafted in the noble Howards line.  
John Beaumount.   

upon the Death of the most hopeful the Lord STAFFORD.  
Must than our Loves be short still? Must we choose  
Not to enjoy? only admire, and lose?  
Must Axioms hence grow sadly understood,  
And we thus see, 'Tis dangerous to be good?  
So books begun are broken off, and we  
Receive a fragment for an History;  
And, as 'twwere present wealth, what was but debt,  
Lose that, of which we were not Owners yet;  
But as in books, that want the closing line,  
We only can conjecture, and repine:  
So must we here too only grieve, and guess,  
And by our fancy make, what's wanting, less.  
Thus when rich webs are left unfinished,  
The Spider doth supply them with her thread.  
For tell me what addition can be wrought  
To him, whose Youth was even the bound of thought;  
Whose buddings did deserve the Robe, whiles we  
In smoothness did the deeds of wrinkles see:  
When his state-nonage might have been thought fit,  
To break the custom, and allowed to sit?  
His actions veiled his age, and could not stay  
For that which we call ripeness, and just day.  
Others may wait the staff, and the gray-hair,  
And call that wisdom, which is only fear,  
christian a coldness, temperance, and then boast  
Full and Ripe virtue, when all action's lost:  
This is not to be noble, but be slack:  
A Stafford ne'er was good by th' almanac.  
He, who thus stays the season, and expects,  
Doth not gain habits, but disguise defects.  
Here Nature outstrips Culture: He came tried;  
straight of himself at first, not rectified:  
Manners so pleasing, and so handsome cast,  
That still that overcame, that was shown last:  
All minds were captived thence, as if 't had been  
The same to him, to have been loved, and seen.  
Had he not been snatched thus, what drive hearts now  
Into his nets, would have driven Cities too:  
For these his essays, which began to win,  
Were but bright sparks, which showed the Mine within,  
Rude draughts unto the picture; things we may  
Style the first beams of the increasing day;  
Which did but only great discoveries bring,  
As outward coolness shows the inward spring.  
Nor were his actions, to content the sight,  
Like Artists Pieces, placed in a good light,  
That they might take at distance, and obtrude  
Something unto the eye that might delude:  
His deeds did all, most perfect then appear,  
When you observed, viewed close, and did stand near.  
For could there ought else spring from him, whose line  
From which he sprung, was rule, & discipline,  
Whose virtues were as books before him set,  
So that they did instruct, who did beget,  
Taught thence not to be powerful, but know,  
Showing he was their blood by living so.  
For, whereas some are by their big lip known,  
Others be imprinted, burning swords were shown:  
So they by great deeds are, from which bright fame,  
Engraves free reputation on their name:  
These are their Native marks, and it hath been  
The Staffords lot, to have their signs within.  
And though this firm Hereditary good,  
Might boasted be, as flowing with the blood,  
Yet he ne'er grasped this stay: But as those, who  
Carry perfumes about them still, scarce do  
Themselves perceive them, though another's sense  
Suck in th' exhaling odours: so he thence  
Ne'er did perceive he carried this good smell,  
But made new still by doing himself well.  
T' embalm him then is vain, where spreading fame  
Supplies the want of spices; where the Name,  
Itself preserving, may for Ointments pass:  
And he, still seen, lie coffined as in glass.  
Whiles thus his bud dims full flowers, and his sole.  
Beginning doth reproach another's whole,  
Coming so perfect up, that there must needs  
Have been found out new Titles for new deeds;  
Though youth, and laws forbid, which will not let  
Statues be raised, or him stand brazen: yet  
Our minds retain this Royalty of Kings,  
Not to be bound to time, but judge of things,  
And worship, as they merit: there we do  
Place him at height, and he stands golden too.  
A comfort, but not equal to the cross,  
A fair remainder, but not like the loss:  
For he, that last pledge, being gone, we do  
Not only lose the heir, but th' honour too.  
Set we up then this boast against our wrong,  
He left no other sign, that he was young:  
And, spite of fate, his living virtues will,  
Though he be dead, keep up the Barony still.  
Will. Cartwright.   

On the much lamented Death of the Lord Stafford.  
'tIs not t' embalm his name or crown his hearse,  
That our sad thoughts flow in our eyes & verse.  
Or t' add a lustre to his dimmed name,  
Which only now must shine in Heaven and Fame.  
This were to hold a Taper out by night,  
And cry, thus shone the glorious sun's fair light:  
To view his rising splendour at our noon,  
Were in a shadow to set out the Sun.  
Nor do we cypress bring in hope of bays  
(As death makes many Poets now a days)  
Our tears flow by instinct, and a cold frost  
Seizing our Palsie-joynts told what was lost  
Before the fat all knell, not a dirge sung,  
Ne'er a sad peal of Elegies was rung.  
No bearded wonder, or prophetic flame,  
Ushered the ruin of his house and name:  
Yet than we melted in a chilling sweat,  
And every fainting breast did something threat.  
Not each day's wonder, some strange news come  
Creeping upon us, like the general doom;  
And this was Stafford's death, in his own fall  
A world of people felt their funeral,  
And lost a being they ne'er had: for he  
Writ not a man, but House, or family.  
Thus have I seen a little silken clew  
Of completed twists, at the first view  
Comprised in a palm, but raveled out,  
And drawn to lines, the thread will wind about  
Countries or towns. Great shade the fate was thine,  
Who by the issue of thy Noble line,  
Might soon have peopled kingdoms; but thy all  
Is now wound up in a small urn, or ball:  
And all thy virtues in sad weeds do lie,  
Only spun out into thy memory.  
Thus have we lost what goodness knew to dwell  
In flesh and clay, more worth than we dare tell.  
As for an Epitaph upon his stone,  
Write this— Here lie a thousand Lords in one.  
Geo. Zouch. A. M. N. C. ox..   

On the Death of the Noble Lord STAFFORD.  

OThers to Stafford's hearse Encomiums give,  
Not that his worth, but that their wit may live  
My Muse hath no such aim; it is less praise  
To bear Apollo's, than his funeral bays.  
Nor is't the Lord I mourn; what is't to me  
Who am no Herald, if a Baron die?  
I do not hope for fees; I'm none of those  
That pay down tears for legacies, or clothes.  
My solemn grief flows in a Nobler tide;  
Soon as I heard one so well qualified,  
Had put off clay, the fright (not news) struck deep,  
And made my eye of understanding weep.  
He was no pageant Courtier, such as can  
Only make legs like a fine Gentleman.  
Though's outside showed all that the nicer eye  
Of critic Madams could desire to see:  
Yet was his soul more gay, his ample breast  
Was in a silken disposition dressed.  
And with heroic habits richly lined;  
The virtues had no wardrobe, but his mind.  
As th' Honours, and the Lands, so he alone  
The worth of all his ancestors did own.  
And yet that He is dead; so dead, that here  
Is nought preserves his name, but's tomb, & shire.  
That Noble stock is spent! injurious Fate;  
To make a House so ancient desolate!   

Felton killed England's George, and with his knife  
Only not cut the thread of others life.  
We had some comfort left in that his blood  
Was not quite spilled; after his fall he stood  
Transcribed in pretty Emblems, which we all  
Read as true Copies of th' original.   

But none survives this phoenix: 'tis our woe  
To have this sun not set but put out too.  
The gardener weeps not when his lilies die,  
If they their seed leave as a legacy.  
But should an only Flower, the Gardens gem,  
Wither in her full pride, and of her stem  
Bequeathe no slip, the poor man's eyes each plot  
Of ground would wet, without his water-pot.  
No wonder 'tis that reverend Arundel,  
And other Lords do groan out Stafford's knell:  
Since, at his fall, a Race of Heroes died,  
Which can't but by Creation be supplied.   
Ri. West.   

On the Death of the Lord STAFFORD.  
WHat trust to titles? shame t'our hopes there's gone,  
One who was, none can say how many a one.  
Muses, you are too few, to wait on's Ghost,  
wandering in sorry sheets to tell what's lost.  
His peerless Body earthed, some eyes may weep,  
As if they had never seen him but asleep.  
But those who viewed, with somewhat more than eye,  
The finer beauties of thy mind, put by  
The grief of tears, and call their Consistory  
Of inward Powers to lament thy story.  
Perfection, which might tempt the Scribes of Fate  
To voluntary penance; force their hate  
Recoil upon themselves; to Nature swear  
Rebatement of such rigour: Was't not severe  
To cast the blackness of dead night so soon  
On Noble lustre entering, into noon?  
How is deluding heaven thus pleased to whet  
Our hopes for Harvest, and then blight the wheat?  
This was not all, great Ghost we cannot free  
Thee from contempt of sad mortality.  
Thou thought'st enough, thy star should guide the wise  
To honour, which thyself meant to despise.  
Thy high-born Spirit ripening into Man,  
Deemed that so scant a measure must needs span  
Short of thy merit: so sliding out o'th' roll  
Of earthy Titles, thou wouldst shift thy soul.  
But yet me thinks, though heaven envy our soil  
Such virtuous Simples; Mercy should not spoil  
A Garden, of its only verdant pride,  
Until some hopeful plants were set beside.  
The plucks-up Olive; that the same sweet vein  
Might spring and flourish in high blood again.  
Our stock of Honour's is rooted up yet green,  
Whose draught's uncopied must no more be seen:  
An ancient house in this new rubbish lies,  
Here urned the ashes of whole Families.  
As if the Church in need of Ornaments,  
Should hence her number have of monuments.  
Proud exercise of Sextons, who dare live  
By fatal dust, and look that piety give  
To see this shrine, and know that in this One,  
There lived and died a Generation.  
No member of a Tribe, who fills this tomb,  
He's Sepulchre of Stafford's name, in whom  
A Race and Field is lost, a pedigree  
And Catalogue of Heroes—  
Could not presaging fears (which oft divine  
Ith' fall of one, the sinking of a Line)  
Move one years' haste, to sow in Hymen's bed  
Some seed, which when thou ere mered gathered;  
In living buds might fresh and growing save  
The grandsire trunk from rotting in a grave?  
But since the closing of thine eyes alone,  
Wink's many glorious Tapers into none;  
We wail thy death, more thy Virginity,  
We lose in that, in this posterity.  
Thy soul might still have lived, in others breath,  
Whose single life, is now a numerous death.  
Io. Castillion.   

On the most immature Death of the late young Lord Stafford, the last Baron of that Family.  

WHat Nemesis? what envious fate  
Still waits on those who antedate  
Their years by virtue, and behind  
Cast slow paced age with swiftest mind?  
So 'tis, wise nature shortest day  
Allows to things which post away.  
The long lived Olive tree of peace,  
And laurel slowly do increase,  
But the early pledge of Spring  
The Primrose soon is withering.  
So Ceres oft with too much haste,  
Her yellow dangling locks doth waste,  
And having rose too soon from bed  
Before night hangs her drowsy head.  
O see what hopes (which raised were high  
To aggravate our misery)  
Now blasted, as a star which shone  
New shot from Heaven, are flit and gone.   

Have you seen a Pine tree proud,  
Her head invested in a cloud,  
Which the fatal axe hath thrown,  
Or the giddy whirlwind blown.  
Whilst th' Hamadryades with floods,  
Of tears do drown their mournful woods;  
And Sylvan his espoused Queen  
Laments, fair, hopeful, fresh, and green.   

Have you seen a vessel trim  
Upon the smiling Sea to swim,  
Whose sails do gently swell with air  
Of many a Merchants zealous prayer,  
O never ship with greater pride  
Did on a watery mountain ride,  
But straight a blustering storm doth rise  
And dasheth her against the skies,  
Then on a rock her glory tears  
No shrieks nor cries nor clamours hears.   

Or have you seen but newly borne,  
The rosy-fingered fairest morn  
Whilst the sprightful satyr's play,  
And leap to see the golden ray,  
But then a sullen cloud this light  
Turns to a dark and dismal night,   

These were Emblems of thy fall,  
Noblest Stafford, so I'd call  
Virtue, by this name she's known,  
And 'tis more proper than her own.   

But which deeper wounds, with thee  
Died thy stem and barony,  
As that Nymph which by the Pine  
Lived, and with the same doth life resign.   

When the Deluge did deface  
The book of nature, human race  
Reprinted was, and found supply  
From the floating Library.   

But of Stafford w'have lost all  
Both transcript, and original,  
Only some margin notes are left  
To tells of what we are bereft.  
Here multa desunt, which to fill  
Passeth the learned critics skill.  
But as in ruined abbeys we  
Admire their fair deformity:  
And do build up thoughts from thence,  
To reach the first magnificence,  
So yet of Stafford's house do stand  
Some sacred relics, which command  
Our reverence, and by these we see  
What was his noble Pedigree,  
Whose earthly arms inter'd do lie,  
But soul placed in th' etherial sky,  
Shines with star-blazed nobility.   
Charles Mason.   

On the Death of the Right honourable Lord, the Lord STAFFORD, being the last of that Noble Family.  

Unseasonable Fate, vex not our sense  
With baleful sorrows, due forty years hence;  
Must Stafford needs expire at twenty four,  
Because in goodness only he's three score?  
So have we seen the morning Sun, to lay  
His glory down, and make a rainy day.  
Trust me, ye Destinies it was unjust  
So soon to lay his honour in the dust.   

But we do fix our sorrows as upon  
A private fate, when't is a public one;  
And weep (alas) as yet, but with one eye,  
If but for one we weep; why here doth lie,  
Not my Lord only, but a Family.  
No, no! he's but the Center-point, from whence  
Our groans, and sighs fetch their Circumference;  
Here we must teach our eye to drop a tear,  
Even for the loss of those who never were:  
Griefs mystery! we must for those be sad  
Who lose a being which they never had.   

Must ye, yourselves, O Parcae, women prove  
In that, the greenest of our fruits, ye love?  
Fruits! which not cropped, had thrived into a Tree  
Of a large branching genealogy!   

Ye might have seized some puling witless heir,  
And made a younger Brother; 't had been fair,  
And we had Praise, and kissed those bloody palms,  
Which in the killing this, gave tother alms.  
But you will no such spotted sacrifice,  
Such please not yet, for such are in your eyes  
Are neither good for earth, nor yet for Heaven:  
Stafford must only make your week-bill even;  
He's good, and therefore ripe: thus still we find  
That good wares first go off, bad stay behind.   
Will. Wallen. Coll. Joan. Soc.   

Upon the Death of the young Lord STAFFORD.  
Unequal nature that dost load, not pair  
Bodies with souls, too great for them to bear!  
As some put extracts, (that for souls may pass,  
Still quickening where they are) in frailer glass;  
Whose active generous spirits scorn to live  
By such weak means, and slight preservative;  
So high-born minds; whose dawn's like the day  
In torrid climes, cast forth a full noon-ray,  
Whose vigorous breasts inherit, thronged in one  
A race of souls, by long succession;  
And rise in their descents; in whom we see  
Entirely summed a new born Ancestry:  
These souls of fire, whose eager thoughts alone  
Create a fever, or consumption,  
Orecharge their bodies: labouring in the strife  
To serve so quick and more than mortal life:  
Where every contemplation doth oppress  
Like fits o'th' Calenture, and kills no less:  
Goodness hath its extremes, as well as sin,  
And brings, as vice, death, and diseases in;  
This was thy fate, great Staffords; thy fierce speed  
T'outlive thy years▪ to throng in every deed  
A mass of virtues; hence thy minutes swell  
Not to a long life, but long Chronicle:  
Great name (for that alone is left to be  
Called great; an't is no small Nobility  
To leave a name) when we deplore the fall  
Of thy brave stem, and in thee of them all;  
Who dost this glory to thy race dispense,  
(Now known to Honour) th'end with Innocence.  
Me thinks I see a spark from thy dead eye  
Cast beams on thy deceased Nobility:  
Witness those marble heads, whom Westminster  
Adores; (perhaps without a nose or ear)  
Are now twice raised from the dust and seem  
New sculped again, when thou art placed by them;  
When thou, the last of that brave house deceased,  
Hadst none to cry (our Brother) but the Priest:  
And this true riddle, is to ages sent  
Stafford is his Fore-father's Monument.  
Richard Godfrey.   

On the untimely Death of the Lord STAFFORD.  
NOt to adorn his hearse, or give  
Him another age to live,  
Need we to pretend at wit,  
His worth hath intercepted it:  
Whose every virtue doth require  
A Muse that only can admire.  
Death, though he strove, his utmost feared,  
He could not take him unprepared.  
H''ve ripeness in his Infancy,  
And lived well in epitome.  
Of what we hoped in others, he  
At th' same age had maturity.  
But he is dead: we may outdare  
Death now, as having nought to fear;  
The world hath lost her chiefest bliss,  
Heaven the only gainer is.  
One blow hath killed more than the plague, and we  
In losing one, have lost plurality.  
A sense might have been better spared, your price  
We would have thought too but a sacrifice,  
Such as was I saacks Ram, that saved in one  
Just Patriarch, a generation.  
One star we may see shoot, without a groan,  
But should we lose a constellation,  
'Twould puzzle astrology, nay almost  
By losing one, your science would be lost.  
Fate's wisdom see, that he might leave our taste  
In relish, he cut off your choicest last.  
H. B.   

upon the Death of my Lord STAFFORD, the last Baron of that Ancient stock.  
GRieve not ye Sacred ancestors of Fame,  
As if this were the carcase of your Name:  
The bark now flourishes: we may presume  
He's planted, and not buried in the tomb:  
Your famous branches by his fall are blown:  
His fate becomes your Resurrection.  
Good deeds were all his Progeny; whilst he  
Leaves them no other state, but memory:  
The Titles, and Revenues let them hoard  
That do delight to hear these words, My Lord.  
In Stafford I confess they bore some weight,  
Cause they spoke him, as well as this estate:  
It was his Name, not Title: and that tone  
Made him not famous, only better known.  
Deserts well placed shine more: It is a tie,  
And reverence to virtue to be high:  
Should the sun falling to the earth fix here,  
he'd suffer an eclipse from his own sphere.  
Sure to prevent that old and glorious itch,  
He died before the age of being Rich:  
No Lands was ever he possessed of, save  
That small unhappy portion of a grave.  
Death did deliver him, we may be bold  
To style it his redemption from Gold:  
Wealth is a sin, though used, and to be free,  
Yet never want, is but kind usury.  
He was so witty, yet sincere, that we  
Dare say he meant even an Hyperbole:  
He could not flatter: what he spoke was known  
No compliment, but an expression.  
Postures in him were virtues, for when he  
Did bend, it was not pride but charity:  
His hat went off so honestly, we may  
Affirm he only did himself betray:  
Not like to those that study the Court stride,  
And learn the decent stitch on the left side:  
He nothing to the stream o'th' Time did owe,  
The Staffords manners from themselves still flow.  
We must despair thy equal, unless he  
Could with thy Titles too inherit thee.  
H. R.   

On the Death of the Right honourable Edward Lord Stafford.  
WHen brave heroic spirits fly from hence,  
That governed others by their influence,  
Each Muse with cypress crowned instead of bays,  
Makes them the subject of their tears, and prays,  
Who were examples living; being dead  
With living Monuments are honoured:  
When other's course earth doth neglected lie  
That lived, as if they only lived to die.  
But with what Marble, or what brass shall we  
Honour the Noble Stafford's memory;  
Whose very Name inscribed would lustre give  
Enough to make those dead materials live?  
The glorious mind dwelled in his Noble breast  
Did entertain each virtue for its guest,  
And what soe'er was opposite and foul,  
For ever banished from his Christan soul.  
He was as good, as great; and taught the Time  
By what safe steps men might to Honour climb.  
Yet venturous death with his impartial Darts  
Hath disunited those his different parts.  
Whilst th' earth doth his more richer earth contain,  
What came from Heaven is thither flown again.  
E. B. Medii Templi.   

On the deplored Death of Edward Lord Stafford, the last Baron of his Name.  

STay Death, and hear a short plea; we would crave  
Only the mercy of a single grave;  
And that at one stroke, thou wouldst kill but one,  
In him thou slay'st a generation:  
Then ere thou strik'st, Death, know thy sin; for this  
Not a plain Murder, but Massacre is:   

Compendious slaughter of a Family,  
What yet unknown Plague shall we title thee?  
What Power art thou, what strange Influence,  
That thus usurp'st the spleen of Pestilence?  
Can the Grave propagate, that there should be  
As yet a new kind of mortality?  
Sure I mistake our misery; this was not  
That which we call disease, but a chain-shot;  
Death hath foregone his Archery, and Dart  
And practices the Canon; that dire Art  
Of murdering by the hundreds: Thus alone  
We lose not Stafford, but a Legion:   

Take a friends counsel yet, grim fate; and stay,  
Do not bereave thyself of future prey;  
Let him survive to a large progeny,  
Which will be but a number, that must die.  
Visit some friary, there thy wrath express;  
There, where Religion is barrenness;  
That were a thrifty cruelty, and to save  
This Youth were mercy, would enrich thy grave.   

Cheat not our hopes thus, riddling Destiny,  
When we did pray, Stafford might multiply  
As numberless as are the sands, there's none  
Meant such a fatal propagation,  
His own dust for an Off spring, our best prayers  
Forbid such sad increase, atoms for heirs!   

Howe'er be not so speedy, gods, but give  
Him breath, till he has taught us how to live:  
Must we thus wholly lose him, and such worth,  
Ere in Example he can bring it forth?  
And must this be his period? cannot we  
Express a man beyond his elegy,  
And Epitaph? can we pen History?  
What if long-lived, this little one would be:  
Where is your Art Genethliakes? who dare  
From the brachygrapie of some Prophet star,  
Transcribe the life of every birth, if Fate  
And your great skill be such, Death comes too late  
To prejudice your knowledge, and you can,  
When he has seized the corpse, reprieve the Man,  
And pen him a long-lived Example, though  
He had been borne a liveless Embryo:  
I pray, go calculate, and tell us then  
What Stafford in his ripe years would have been;  
Describe him at some Canon guarded Hill  
Leading his daunted general, and we will  
Lessen our present despair into fear  
And tremble, lest our Stafford should fall there:  
Then prosecute your story, till his years  
List him among the graver headed peers;  
And in the bustle of some fcard-state-rent,  
Let's hear him tutoring a Parliament:   

Alas! such thoughts but aggravate our cross,  
Instead of comfort, summing up our loss:  
Cease then all prattle; with the Grave and hearse  
Silence suits better, than the saddest Verse.   
Ri. Paynter, Ioan. Ox.   

To the Memory of the Right honourable the Lord STAFFORD, the last Baron of his Family.  
Great soul of Stafford,  

'tWas not for want of Merit, that thy hearse  
So long hath lacked its tributary Verse.  
Things, whose frail memory scarce outlives the time  
Their Elegies a reading, may have a rhyme  
In half an hour flung on them. Earthen plate  
'S framed at a turn, when the rich Porcelane's date  
Is a full Age. Raptures that do befit  
Objects of wonder, are the fruits of Wit  
And choice, not Fury. This kept Phoebus' choir  
Silent so long, that nought but hallowed fire,  
And purest gums might crown thine urn: yet still  
They find thy Worth beyond their power and skill.  
For who in meanest lines thy life should write,  
Would by Posterity be guessd to indite.  
Some Romance or vain legend. To th' dim sight  
The weakest Tapers yield the welcom'st light.   

He was (Vain voice!) the noble Stafford's heir  
His mother's comely graces hung on's fair,  
Yet manly check; the Younger-brothers heart  
And wit to boot, nay each heroic part  
Of Buckingham dwelled in him: so that he  
Alone might justly be a family.  
So have I seen grow upon one small Tree  
More various fruits, than in some Orchards be.   

No dying Hermit meeker, though a Lord,  
And under age too: virtuous though a Ward.  
No dial placed i'th' cross Meridian,  
Whose shade runs still irregular tothth' sun  
That should it guide: He Nobly bore that state  
Of Ward, as if Nature had gave't, not Fate.  
Like to our foreign Tulips, which each year,  
As more mature in growth, new liveries wear,  
Yet are th' same flower: so as he elder grew,  
Stafford was still unchanged, though's carriage new  
The fashion he scarce followed ne'er outrun,  
Striving to lose himself, and Nation.  
If he tothth' friars came, his judgement swift  
As Lightning, could each line, each Humour sift;  
And his discerning Palate straight could taste  
Beaumont, and johnson's wheat, from scraps & mast.  
But this was Play. The royal Academe  
His best hours challenged, where his noble theme  
Was his great father's Valour, though his Face  
Had not yet lost his mother's beauteous grace.  
So that from him being armed, the limmer might  
Exactly draw Venus, as she in bright  
steel came to Lacedaemon; or th' brave maid  
Jove's daughter, as she came t' her father's aid.  
Death will he proud of's dart, when he shall find  
'T hath slain two Families, in Blood, & Mind,  
Nay will more triumph that h' hath slain but one  
Than if by th' Plague or Sword a Million;  
Those could but last an Age; in Stafford he  
Hath killed Successive immortality.   

Now for his Epitaph, let only be  
Fixed on his tomb his royal Pedigree.   

This, like some well writ book, whose every Page  
Contains rich wit, and matter for an age,  
When th' reader with this treasury grows brisk  
For Finis, meets with a sad asterisk:  
Or like some stately palace, which half lies  
Unfinished, whose proud top should scale the skies,  
Will more with pity the beholder move,  
Then, if complete, with wonder, or with love.   

Perhaps some gentler Lady, reading this  
Three ages hence, may mourn Her loss of bliss,  
In Stafford's sudden fall: Had not his life  
Been short, she might have been a Stafford's Wife.   
Will. Creed, of S. John's. Oxf.   

Memoriae Sacrum Nobilissimi Dom. Domini Edwardi Stafford. Edwardus NOBILISSIMUS STAFFORDIAE DOMINUS.  
DE●…a●us nunquam satis plorabitur,  
Qui nunquam satis hilariter excipi poterat natu●.  
In Quo magna Staffordiae gens stetit, cecidit;  
Columon suae Domûs, simul erat & Terminus.  
Solus; & numerosa Prosapia!  
Unicus; & magna Familia!  
Exactissima Herois Buckinghamii Epitome:  
Gemmula mole per exigua, infiniti pene valoris;  
Mundus Major in Spithamam contractus,  
{non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} Magnus.  
Quem dilexerunt omnes, qui norunt,  
Plorârunt omnes, etiam qui non norunt.  
Comitatis anima;  
Nobilitatis Jdea;  
Virtutis universae Virtus ipsa.  
Aetate qui vix Ascanius, prudentiâ plusquam Aeneas:  
Apollo intonsus, & Musarum Deus.  
Cui corpus elegantius, quàm Foeminarum,  
Incoluit animus major, quàm virorum.  
Quem in armis diceres absque lanugine Gradivum,  
Nec adhuc in Numen adultum:  
Hunc, galeâ depositâ, Adonidem Diones osculis rubentem  
Ceu veriùs Cupidinem ex ephebis elapsum.  
Quem equitantem, alexandrun Bucephalo insidentem crederes  
Aut Centaurum in Lapitharum praelia ruentem,  
Sonipes ipse tam grato pondere superbiebat,  
Gestiens a tanto dirigi.  
Exteras hausit linguas, non quasi nostra sordesceret  
Sed ne ullum exactissimo Curiali deesset complementum.  
Latinam paenè habuit vernaculam:  
Heroïcam Graeci Sermonis majestatem,  
Non ex ignorantiâ sed acumine judicii admirabatur,  
Musicam didicit, ne tempus, cum ludo vacaret, porderet  
Qui tamen ex Oppiduli ruinis  
Altam posset Urbem extruere.  
Ubi in numerum gressus efformabat,  
Ei Perseum talaria commodasse crederes;  
Jn choro volanti semper similior, quam pulsanti terram  
Vestalibus ipsis castior; at hoc ex virtute natum,  
Non corprris intemperie.  
Quem tamen adeo castum vixisse lugemus,  
Nec Patrem fuisse (quod in aliis detest amur) quindecem jam annos natum;  
Tunc alii Staffordiae gentis haeredes superfuissent,  
Quam Vestes pullatae, & luctuosum funus.  
At ô praeposterae rerum humanarum vices!  
Qui in perpetuum vivere meruit, immaturus occubuit,  
Maternae priùs haeres Telluris, quàm Paternae.  
Disce lector.  
Familiae & tituli, aequè ac homines, suos habent occasus.  
Guil. Creede, Joan.   

On the Lord STAFFORD, the last Baron of his Race, who died in his None-age.  
YOur Country hinds if you have seen  
When they have a Lopping been,  
They take not here a Branch or there,  
But leave the naked back so bare,  
It cannot be termed Plant, but we  
Must call't the carcase of a Tree:  
Which they (Believing nought their own,  
But what within their Pale is thrown)  
Have so dismembered, for no good  
But to increase their Stack of Wood.  
Yet even these leave one sprout there  
Expecting Company next year,  
Where if so chance it be not found  
They lose their right to the whole ground.  
What hast thou forfeited, Death, now  
That hast not left a Topping Bough  
On such a glorious stock? not spared  
The tender sprig, but further dared  
Going beyond dire sickness spite  
Not for to bend, but break it quite:  
What Plot is now in hand? Does Fate  
Mean to bring in Confusion straight?  
How shall a Stately shady Tree,  
From Trunk or Mast distingnishd be,  
If this be suffered? shall the source  
Of Noble blood be stopped its course  
Or chilled? and shall the Pedant vein  
Through all the Body flash amain?  
Therefore Death (since you cannot be  
Exempted from all Penalty,  
When thou shalt dare trespass so high  
Not in mistake, but cruelty)  
Your Dart is forfeit, and must cease,  
The Darter being bound to th' Peace,  
And so disarmed by nature's Will,  
If you must needs yet Wound or Kill,  
You must your presence use, or sight;  
All weapons are debarred you quite;  
For let Time accursed be  
If he shall lend his scythe to Thee.  
And all this Nature does enact,  
Not for one petty Crime, or fact.  
Her Law does not thee guilty call  
Of treason, murder, but of All.  
That which last year you did commit,  
And we not know to name it yet;  
Prometheus once presumed so  
To steal from heaven a flame or two;  
Where now he feels loves angers edge  
In Hell, and rues his sacrilege:  
How many Vultures had love sent,  
If he had stolen the Element?  
Put out a star or Two, or more  
And make them give their winking o'er,  
You do no hurt, there's more to shine:  
Which else perhaps had not been seen:  
Or if we take them All away,  
We shall be blamed no more than day.  
But if we put out the sun's light,  
We may bid the whole World Good-Night:  
Not merely 'cause it is the sun,  
But chiefly 'cause it was but One:  
For had we Two, who could repine  
Though One did Set, so One did shine?  
Thus stands it with thee death, and us  
That hast affronted the state thus:  
Could not one House suffice, nay town  
But must you pull our nonesuch down?  
Could your transcendent envy aim  
Not at the Person, but the Name?  
Must Stafford die? True! statesmen say  
That even kingdoms have their day  
Nor dare javouch they err,  
A kingdom's a Particular:  
A Name's eternal, and a Race  
Is bound to neither Time nor Place.  
Now therefore think what thou hast done  
And burst thou foolish skeleton:  
Sithence we shall believe your spite,  
Not your Power, infinite:  
For though here lies the corpse of Stafford dead  
His Name and Epitaph can't be Buried.  
Io. Goad. Ioan. Ox.   

On the much lamented death of the Lord STAFFORD.  
A Name too great for numbers, fit for those  
Let lose their eyes, and weep as 'twere in prose  
And yet a theme too vast for eyes & here  
The greatest thing lamented is the tear.  
And when we have sat up to hang the hearse,  
We can't be thought to weep our Lord but verse,  
So great that we but toll his flame, and chime  
His glories growing, Sextons but in rhyme,  
Who when he is delivered best will bear  
A fame like modern faces blotted fair,  
Whom we conceal in phrase, so vast a task  
We write him to a beauty in a mask.  
Though he might blow a quill to verse, whilst men  
Envy to see the Poet in the Pen:  
For who can think in Prose a man so clear  
His thoughts did suffer sight, and soul appear?  
That he that searched his hearty words might find  
That breath was th' exhalation of his mind,  
Such faith his tongue did wear you might have vowed  
He spoke his breast, & only thought aloud,  
You might his meaning through his blood have spied,  
Too pure deformed dissembling to hide,  
As to his Virgin soul, Nature had drawn  
In so refined flesh a veil of lawn.  
So was he borne, cut up, that now we could  
Learn virtues from the Doctrine of his blood,  
Which we might see preach Valtur, and espy  
His vein, to make an Auditor of the Eye,  
And run conclusions, for from hence we tried  
Which was a flood of valour, which just tide,  
Learning from his wise heat, that in an Ill  
A spirit might courageously sit still  
That one might dare be quiet, and afford  
To think all mettle lies not in the sword,  
And Cutlers make no minds, Armour no doubt  
Does well, but none can be inspired without,  
So did her chide the Flame o'th' wilder youth  
That fights for Lady's hair or less, their truth;  
His blood discreetly boiled did make it clear  
It is the mind makes old, and not the year:  
That we may prompt his stone to say — lies here  
Stafford the Aged at his foure-teenth year?  
Io. whither.   

Sacred to the Memory of the Right Honourable, the Lord STAFFORD being the last Baron of his Name.  

'tIs high Presumption in us, that are  
The feet, so almost excrement, to dare  
Turn eyes and weeape a puddle rivulet  
Over thy hearse, which Nobles have beset  
We teemed too fast, and too much issue had  
That let us blood, as rules of physic bad:  
But this gnaws our land's heart, nobility,  
And is more cruel in epitome.  
By making us in this one Stafford's fall,  
To celebrate the exequies of all.   

Why wouldst thou yield so soon to death? alas!  
Thou hast too speedily finished thy race:  
Thou oughtst not, pretty flower, have hung thy head,  
Till thou wast ripe, and blown, hadst scattered  
Some seeds about thy bed: where in a shade  
Thou mightst have slept by thy sonne-flowers made:  
When with strong bulwark of posterity  
T''ve fortified, thy decayed Ancestry,  
Built up thy ruined house, allayed our fears,  
And wert fourscore as well in sons, as years,  
O then, and not till then, thou shouldst have tried  
Whether our tender love would let thee'ave died.   
Tho. Snelling. of S. John's Oxf.   

On the memory of the late Lord STAFFORD.  

HAdst thou stood firm, our eyes had yet been dry  
Not in their urns, but in thy breast did lie  
All thy stocks honour. Memphis never knew  
Amongst her wonders Pyramid like you,  
Stately how e'er great families they shroud  
And sceptered lines, yet far beneath a cloud.  
With pearly drops, that all may clearly see,  
Thou wast the jewel of Nobility:  
We cannot hope that our distracted cries  
Will please, amongst their well-tuned harmonies  
Our Elegies not weep, but are to be  
Wept at, and want themselves an elegy.  
Yet frown not on our verse, and tears of jet:  
(Ah never any sorrow truer let)  
Who can but sluice his heart throughout his eyes,  
When Youth, Nobility, Hope, Stafford dies?  
I sum not up thy beauty, comeliness,  
Nor thousand graces, which thy soul did bless,  
For, like to gamesters whom their lucks have crossed  
We fear to know the utmost we have lost.   

Thou didst not by Example, States false glass  
Dress thy behaviour, and thy life's face:  
Nor wast sufficient ground, that thou shouldst do  
This vice, because Lord such a one did so:  
Thy eyes, when once had but a point let in  
Of lust, the other spying the little sin,  
Would send a visive ray, as messenger,  
To tell, that if it would not drop a tear,  
And quench that spark, he would not his mate dwell;  
Then wept the sinful eye, and all was well.  
Thus each part, just as in philosophy,  
Would Rule, and maxim to the other be.   

O what disease, then shall we wish may meet  
With that disease, which took away this sweet?  
That envious disease, and which outvies  
Even the Pestilence in cruelties:  
For that, 'mongst hundreds; true, its poison thriled  
But they were troop, and so ill humour spiled.  
Thou in few years couldst such a height attain  
Orelooked the hills, and peered above the rain:  
Our tears are too too low, and watery eyes  
Do lose themselves in search of such a rise.  
The loss was ours, thy Pyramid did grow  
Still broad nigh heaven, decreased to us below.  
The virtues built thee, and the graces came,  
And with all sweetness polished thy frame,  
Honour, thy Mistress, there with glorious hand  
Full often made her splendid impress stand,  
For she loved Stafford, each adoring eye  
In thee insculpt read all nobility.  
So wert thou to the world by heaven lent,  
The life of new; old virtue's monument.  
Thy soul was large and able to contain,  
More than the worths of many ages gain,  
The virtues of thy Ancestors all knit  
Could not it fill, were proud to enter it.  
And thou encreasdest that happy stock so well  
As who will reckon, all the stars may tell  
Of heaven, which hath it, and us robbed in spite,  
Or fear that they should be less infinite:  
And man no more look up, since stars shine dim,  
To virtue's light, and heaven was nigh in him,  
Thy virtue's growth hath our endeavours chid,  
we'll raise no Pile to thee, great Pyramid.   
B. Ollivier.   

On the death of the Lord STAFFORD.  

IF from thy Sacred Ashes did arise  
Another Phoenix, breathing spiceries,  
Such as thy blossoms did (since funeral fire  
Refined in full age thine Honoured Sire)  
In whom you both might seem again t'returne,  
Our griefs had all been buried in thy urn.  
Nor vex the quiet Muses for a Verse  
To be thy offspring, or adorn thy hearse;  
Who leavest Succession unto none of thine,  
And but in such, liv'st in no other Line.  
But now herself Nature begins to fear,  
And startles to behold now here, now there  
A family extinct, which though she strive  
With all her Art and strength to keep alive  
It vanisheth (Great Stafford, thou shalt be  
To Nature a sad instance and to me)  
Lest by Inductions she herself might be  
Concluded in short time vacuity.  
When the whole fabrics into nothing hurled,  
And the great fadeth as the lesser world.  
Pillars of flesh, not stones and imagery  
Preserve the dead in Living Memory.  
The blossom cropped, before 'tis grown to a pear,  
Is no more worth, than if't had ne'er been there  
Which grown might from its kernels have begun  
In other grounds a new Plantation.  
The poor man's Only lamb, should have been spared  
It was his only One; 's there no regard  
Of One, and only One? This One may grow  
In time into a number, Whence may flow  
Succeeding Millions; This One being lost  
The hopes of all futurity are crossed.   

Happy who first by his Victorious hand  
Won honour to his house: whose Name did stand  
In the first front, and after lived to see  
His sons continue his nobility,  
But he who ends his Honour and his Name,  
In his sweet youth and early hopes (when fame  
Is scarce upon the wing to tell the Earth  
His Ancestors, his Honours, and his birth)  
Dies, leaving tears his only legacy,  
Which must be wept and paid from every eye:  
This gives our tears new birth, nor doth contract  
Our sad Laments only into one Act  
Such as was thy appearance; formed of clay  
Arrayed with, and bereft of Honour in a day.  
But will when e'er we turn the book of Fame  
Create new grief, when we shall read thy Name  
With this unhappy mention, He died Young  
And without issue, Here doth end the Line  
Of th' Ancient Stafford's Family. Thus Time  
Becomes their Period also, and the End  
Which should each action crown, to thee doth lend  
A double less, in whose one death do die  
More than thyself, Thy ancient Family.   

Tell me old Time, chief Register of Things,  
Who writ'st the fates of Commons, and of Kings  
Was not a Tribe once precious in the Eye  
Of the Almighty, though once doomed to die  
And perish all? yet some were left to be  
Preserved, and raise up a new progeny.  
So lest no branch of David should be left  
To bud till Shiloh came, Joash by theft  
Escapes the bloody stroke, only this One  
Continues kingdom and succession.  
For one out of a numerous race to die  
We know is common, when the race doth lie  
In One, and that One leaves no one behind  
Besides a fruitless name, Nature's unkind.  
" My own Creation's but a bliss begun,  
" Which is made perfect in succession.   
E. marrow.   

On the Death of the most Noble Lord STAFFORD.  

Impartial Nature, sham'st thou not that we  
Should ever brand thee thus with cruelty?  
Must all feel the like death? Must virtuous then  
Be subject to corruption, like bad men?  
Thus thou wouldst have it be, but he whose breath  
Thou enviously hast stopped, shall not know death.  
He who by Children thou deni'dst should give  
A life to's Name, makes it himself to live.  
He was borne Noble, and his life did so  
Answer his birth, that it was hard to know  
Which way he was most Noble, which most good  
By his own virtues, or his parent's blood.   

In him lived all his Ancestors, his fall  
Proves not his only, but their funeral,  
He was not his Stocks bare epitome,  
Nor was he like but one o'th' Family,  
He did resemble All. What died in him  
Was seen again revived and live in him.  
Life to the dead he gave. And though a Son,  
His father's Fathers Father was become.  
And now he that was like his friends in all things, tried  
To be more like them, and as they did, died.  
With him falls th'house of th' Staffords, and 'tis well  
It might have longer stood, not better fell.   
R. Pul.   

Sacred to the Memory of the most virtuous Edward Lord Stafford, the last Baron of his Illustrious Family.  

SO is the ancient rock that still sent forth  
Jewels of clearer light, and constant worth,  
By ruder hands still pillaged of its store,  
Safe only when they thought 'twould yield no more;  
The Sun discovering a fresh drop of light  
That might contest with him, and prove as bright  
Doth bid his beams that exudation steal,  
Before the moisture into stone congeal:   

So in the aged Rose tree, whose buds were  
Such that we might affirm th'were stars grew there,  
After it long had yielded growing Fires,  
Still snatched to seed the ravishers desires.  
The cold doth kill that bud that last shoots forth,  
And robs us of all hopes of afterworth.   

Thus here the heat, and there the frost doth more  
Spoil, than the Robbers Fingers did before.   

But we can pardon fate, when that the cross  
Extends itself unto no greater loss  
Then of a Gem, or flower: But when that hand  
Shall snatch such living jewels, let me stand  
Senseless, and stupid as that rock, and be  
Wretched, and fruitless as that withered tree.   

Fancy a morn that promised all delight  
Day ere afforded, yet unto the sight  
Clouded by sudden darkness, whiles the hours  
Were busy yet to dress it with fresh flowers;  
And you have fancied expectation crossed,  
But not like that of him we now have lost.   

Fancy a spark that Time would soon have blown  
Into a throng of flames, that would have grown  
Unto the pitch of lustre, as it bore  
The Pyramid higher, and filled more, and more,  
Dashed by a sudden, violent shower, and then  
Know you are short of this as sparks of men.   

Witness thou Deity of my pensive Muse,  
His Sacred soul, that I no Art do use  
To raise a noted grief from fancied loss,  
Making the tears when I have made the cross!  
Alas! the causes are too just. For where  
Hath Knowledge any glories, that his clear  
Mind did not reach at? Where hath Action ought  
Of Fame, and worth that he would not have sought?  
No flower in all that Garden, or in this  
That would not have been proud to be styled his?  
Bays most retired from Light, and Sun had been  
By his search found, and by his showing seen.   

For whereas others think high birth, and blood  
Virtues entailed, and all that's well borne good,  
Though he might boast in this an ample share  
(As the world knows, virtue and this Lord were  
As undivided still as Light and heat,  
That the Inherent Dowry, he the seat)  
Yet he ne'er would his Birth to virtue swell,  
But thought it only might set virtue well;  
Made it the Ouch, not jewel, and from thence  
Did raise new Titles of pre-eminence.  
Thus each day added to him, and we may  
Say, if we view his mind, he did die grey.   

Nor let me suffer misbelief, because  
You knew him yet not man by Time, and laws:  
Souls such as his sore, and produce high things,  
When others have as yet scarce hope of wings.  
His Genius did rich glories then beget  
And show, when lower could not Bud as yet.  
Thus Regions near the Sun do Fields afford,  
Thronged with the choicest flowers, and richly stored  
When the remoter places sleep, and show  
Only a garment of benumbing Snow.   

When I consider all this snatched, I must  
Wish that my tears could animate his dust.  
But being we can't call back lost good, nor bless  
Ourselves with him revived, I here profess  
My breast his Marble, and do thence become  
Both the bewailer of him, and the tomb.   
Anthony Stafford.   
FINIS.