THE Academy of Eloquence By Tho: Blount Gent:  
Demosthenes.  
Cicero.  
Fr: Lo: Bacon.  
Sr: Ph: Sidney.  
W: Faithorne. Fe:    

THE ACADEMY OF ELOQUENCE. Containing a Complete ENGLISH RHETORIC, Exemplified, With Common-Places, and Forms, digested into an easy and Methodical way to speak and write, fluently, according to the mode of the present times, Together with LETTERS both AMOROUS and MORAL, Upon emergent occasions.  
By THO. BLOUNT Gent '  CICERO, 
Vt Hominis decus est ingenium:  
Sic ingenij lumen est Eloquentia.  
LONDON, Printed by T. N. for Humphrey Moseley, at the Princes-Arm's in S. Paul's Church yard. 1654.   

TO ALL NOBLE gentlemans AND LADY'S OF ENGLAND.  
WEre it absolutely necessary for him that should write of Eloquence to be perfectly Eloquent, I would easily confess myself too rash in this enterprise: But having seen often those treat knowingly of Painting, that never held Pencil; and Cicero remarking that Aratus, by the common consent of learned men, wrote excellently of the Heavens & Stars, though he was no celebrated Astronomer; I'm encouraged to say, Why then may not I too discourse of Eloquence, without being a Orator?  
Galen that great Master of Physic, who wrote so learnedly of every part of that Science, was little seen in the Practic; Nor are those, that discourse best of the embattailing Arms, and differencing military functions, always the best Warriors, or the most daring. The like may happen in this subject, that he, who is able to set down the Rules and Laws which ought to be observed in Speech or stile, may notwithstanding find himself defective in the application, and so may be said to give that to others, which he has not himself.  
The conceits of the mind are Pictures, whose Interpreter is the tongue, and the order of God's Creatures in themselves, is not only admirable and glorious, but Eloquent; he then, that could apprehend the consequence of things in their truths, and deliver his apprehensions as truly, were a perfect Orator; Thus Cicero; Dicere recte nemo potest nisi qui prudenter intelligit.  
Eloquence is equally fortunate in taming Passions and in charming senses: she imitates Music, and makes use of the voice of Orators to enchant the Ears, with the cadence of Periods, and the harmony of Accents; whilst the gestures, apt motions, Natural Air, and all those graces, which accompany exact Recitation, steal away the Heart by the eyes, and work wonders upon the will. But Eloquence is chiefly grounded upon Wisdom, & Wisdom arises principally from a due pre-consideration of all our actions; Hence that excellent saying of a modern French Author, Il est impossible de bien dire, sans avoir bien pensé, 'tis impossible to speak well, without having first well considered what to speak. And Plotinus says, 'tis wisdom to think upon any thing, before we execute it.  
Now, as 'tis certain, that No harmony, can appear in his thoughts, nor soundness in his reason, whose speech is faltering and preposterous: So likewise no clearness nor perfection in that Fancy, which delivers itself by a confused abortion. Great is the disparagement which flows from the defailance of the Tongue: it not only dishonours the person of the Speaker, but even sullys the opinion of his reason and judgement with a disrepute, and ofttimes renders the very truth suspected.  
If then it so befall our verbal expressions, which are transient and less liable to censure, and where one handsome expression may excuse a number of solaecismes; how shall that person be esteemed prudent, whose pen lays him wide open in a fungous and sordid stile; how shall we expect ingenuity from him, whose leisure and Genius, assisted with the examen of his eyes, yield us no spirit in his writing? He that has worth in him and cannot express it, is a Cabinet keeping a rich Jewel and the key lost, says a modern. Author; whereas a good stile, with choice matter and embroidery of well chosen words, is like a beautiful Woman with a virtuous Soul, who attracts the eyes and charms the hearts of all beholders.  
This excellent faculty of speech has been in high esteem even from the very infancy, & will be to the end of the World; For in sacred Story we read, 
Prov. 16.21, 24.  the wise in Heart shall be called prudent and the sweetness of the lips increaseth understanding: Pleasant words are as an honycomb; sweet to the soul and health to the bones. Hence 'twas, an ancient Author maintained, that Pericles (the Orator) was no less Tyrant in Athens then Pysistratus; without acknowledging other difference, then that this exercised his Empire armed, the other without arms, by the sole terror of his speech, which Aristophanes compared to a thunder bolt, as Homer did that of Ulysses to a Torrent, that bears down all with its violence. And 'twas said of old, that the tongue of Cyneas (the famed Scholar of Demosthenes) conquered more Cities, than the sword of Pyrrhus, the valiant King of Epire.  
To have said thus much, of the much more might be added in behalf of this charming Faculty, and of the disadvantage commonly attending those who are unskilled in it, may serve as an inducement to the youth of both Sexes (for whose benefit this little Work is chiefly intended, and to their acceptance consecrated) to make the perusal of it their subservient Recreation for vacant hours, this with little study, will not only facilitate your discourse into the moding language of these times, but adapt your pens too with a acquaint & fluent stile, than which no qualities (with confidence I speak it) can render you more accomplished.  
Here shall you be furnished with all necessary materials and helps in order to the acquiring so great a treasure; such helps as have been advised and often wished for, but never before published.  
I. The first part contains a more exact English Rhetoric, then has been hitherto extant, comprehending all the most useful Figures, exemplified out of the Arcadia and other our choicest Authors.  
II. In the second part, you have formulae majores or Common-places, upon the most usual subjects for stile and speech; The use and advantage whereof is asserted by my Lord Bacon, who (in his Advancement of learning) says thus; I hold the diligence and pain in collecting Common-places to be of great use and certainty in studying; as, that which aids the memory subministers copy to invention, and contracts the sight of judgement to a strength.  
III. In the third place you shall find Formulae minores (as my Lord calls them) lesser forms, which he then reckoned among the defects in our Language, and says, they are as it were, the Portals and postern doors of stile and speech, and of no small use.  
IU. Lastly, you have a Collection of Letters and addresses written to, for, and by several persons, upon emergent occasions; with some particular Instructions and Rules premised, for the better attaining to a Pen-perfection.  
The Formula's are but Analects, which like the Humble-bec I gathered in Spring time out of the choicest Flowers of our English Garden; nor have I in the Rhetoric or Letters transplanted much from my own barren Seminary; I may say to some noble Correspondents, what the Poet did of old in a like Case, sic vos non vobis— But, you will easily distinguish Tinsel from better metal: what is mine will appear to be so, by the Bluntismes that frequently occur, the rest are of better allay; So that, if the defects of my own Essays be but pardoned, the rest I am confident will abide the touch, and pass for Sterling.  
T. B.   

AN English Rhetoric exemplified.  
figures and Tropes (says Alexander the Sophister) are the virtues of Speech and Style, as Barbarismes and Solecisms are the vices; we shall then begin with A METAPHOR or Translation is the friendly and neighbourly borrowing of a word, to express a thing with more light and better note, though not so directly and properly as the natural name of the thing meant, would signify. As to say, Drops of Dew are Pearls; Flowers in Meadows are Stars, and the murmuring of waters, Music; that little Birds are Angels of the Forests; Whales are living Rocks, or Ships with souls; that the Sea is a moving Earth; and fountain water, liquid Crystal. And in expressing Desirous; a kind of Desire, is thirst, and not much different from thirst is hunger; Therefore for swords desirous of blood, Sir Philip Sidney says, hungry of blood. Where you may note three degrees of a Metaphor in the understanding; First, the fitness to bloodshed in a weapon usurps the name of Desirous, which is proper to a living Creature, and then that it proceeds to thirst, and so to hunger.  
The rule of a Metaphor is, that it be not too bold nor too far fetched; And though all Metaphors go beyond the true signification of things, yet are they requisite to express the roving fancies of men's minds, which are not content to fix themselves upon one thing intended, but must wander to the confines; Like the eye that cannot choose but view the whole knot, when it purposely beholds but one flower in the Garden; Or like an Archer, that knowing his Bow will overcast or carry too short, takes an aim on this side or beyond the mark. Besides, a Metaphor is pleasant, because it enriches our knowledge with two things at once, with the Truth and a Similitude; As this, Heads disinherited of their natural Signories, whereby we understand both beheading, and the government of the head over the body, as the heir hath over the Lordship, which he inherits; Of which in another place, To divorce the fair marriage of the Head and body; where besides the cutting off of the head, we understand the conjunction of the head and body to resemble a marriage. The like in concealing love, uttered in these words, To keep love close Prisoner. There came along the street a whole fleet of Coaches, for a great number. Longinus saith, That Metaphors and exchanges of words, are of excellent use, and much conducing to height in eloquence.  
An Allegory is the continual prosecuting of a Metaphor, (which before I defined to be, a translation of one word,) and that proportionably through the whole sentence, or through many sentences; As Philoclea was so environed with sweet Rivers of virtue, that she could neither be battered nor undermined: Where Philoclea is expressed by the similitude of a Castle; her natural defence, by the natural fortification of Rivers about a Castle; and the Metaphor continues in the attempting her by force or craft, expressed by battering or undermining. Another, But when she had once his Ensign in her mind, than followed whole squadrons of longings, that so it might be with a main battle of mislikings and repine against their Creation; where you have Ensigns, Squadrons, main Battles; Metaphors still derived from the same thing. i Warr.  
As I said before, a Metaphor might be too bold, or too far fetched, so I now remember it may be too base, and too bald a translation; As the Tempest of judgement had broken the main mast of his will. A goodly Audience of sheep, Soldiers of friendship, or such like. Too base, as in that speech, Fritter of fraud, and seething pot of iniquity. And they that say, A Red herring is a shooing horn to a pot of Ale. But if you speak of disdainful ●atter, you may use the grosser terms.  
Therefore for general delight, take your expressions from ingenious Arts and Professions; to please the learned in several kinds; As from the Meteors, Plants, Beasts in natural Philosophy; And from the Stars, Spheres and their motions in Astronomy; from the better part of Husbandry; from politic government of Cities; from Navigation, from the military profession, from Physic; but not out of the depth of those mysteries; And (unless your purpose be to disparage) let the word be always taken from a thing of equal or▪ greater dignity, As speaking of Virtue, The sky of your virtue overcast with sorrow, where 'twas thought unfit to stoop to any Metaphor, lower than the Heaven.  
An Emblem, an Allegory, a Simile, a Fable, a Poetical Fiction differ thus. An Emblem is but one part of the Similitude in the body and the other part under application in the words; An Allegory is the similitude of the application expressed indifferently, and joined in one sentence with words, some proper to one part, some to another; A Simile hath two sentences of several proper terms compared. A Fable is a Simile acted by Fictions in Beasts; A Poet's Tale, for the most part by Gods and Men. In the former example, Paint a Castle, compassed with Rivers, and let the Motto be NEC OBSIDIONE NEC CUNICULIS, Neither by siege nor undermining, that is an Emblem. Lay it as it is in Sir Philip's Philoclea; Virtue, environed, Rivers, battering, undermining, the terms of the other part; Put all these terms in one sentence, and it is an Allegory; But let it be thus, There was a Lamb in a Castle, and an Elephant and a Fox besieged her; The Elephant would have assaulted her, but he could not swim over the River; the Fox would make an earth to get under her, but he feared the River would sink in upon him and drown him; than it is a Fable. Let Spencer tell you such a Tale of a Fairy Queen, or Ovid of Danae, and 'tis a Poetical Fiction: But utter it thus in one sentence, As a Castle, compassed about with rivers, cannot be battered or undermined. (And thus in another) So Philoclea defended round about with virtuous resolution, could neither be forced nor surprised by deceit; Then it is a Similitude in its own nature, which is the ground of all Emblems, Allegories, Fables and Fictions.  
METONIMIA is an exchange of a name, when one word comes in lieu of another, not for a similitude, but for other natural affinity and coherence; As when the matter is used for that which consists thereof; As, I want silver, for money. When the efficient or author is used for the thing made; As my blade is right Sebastian; for, of Sebastian's making. The thing containing, for the thing or person contained; As the the City met the General, for the Citizens. The adjunct, property, or quality, for the subject of it; As, deserts are preferred, for men deserving. Take heed young idleness; for, idle youth. Give room to the quoif, for, the Sergeant; with the like.  
SYNECDOCHE is an exchange of the name of the part for the whole, or of the name of the whole for the part. There are two kinds of total comprehensions; An entire body, or a general name; As, my name is tossed and censured by many tongues, for many men; where the part of an entire body goes for the whole. chose he carries a Goldsmith's shop on his fingers, for Rings. He fell into the water and swallowed the Thames, for the water. So the general name for the special; Put up your weapon, for your Dagger. And the special, for the particular, As, the Admiral is gone to sea, for Admiral Blake. The particular for the special. As I would willingly make you a Sir Philip Sidney, for an eloquent, learned, valiant Gentleman; or, for many; as, the Hollander they say comes against us, for the Hollanders, and such like; which (because they are easy) I have exemplified familiarly. Both these figures serve well, when you have mentioned something before, that may require Variety in repetition.  
CATACHRESIS, in English, Abuse, is now grown in fashion, as most abuses are; It is somewhat more desperate than a Metaphor; And is the expressing of one matter by the name of another, which is incompatible with, and sometimes clean contrary to it; As, I gave order to some servants of mine, (whom I thought as apt for such charities as myself) to lead him out into a Forest, and there kill him; where Charity is used for Cruelty. But this may also be by the Figure IRONIA. The abuse of a word drawn from things far differing; As, a voice beautiful to his ears. Accusing in himself no great trouble in mind by his behaviour or action. Do you grudge me part of your sorrow being sister in Nature, I would I were not so far off a Kin in fortune? This is a usual figure with the fine conversants of our time, when they strain for extraordinary expressions; As I am in danger of preferment. I am not guilty of those praises. I have hardly escaped good fortune. He threatens me a good turn. All by the contrary. And as he said that misliked a picture with a crooked Nose. The elbow of his Nose is disproportionable.  
The ear is not only pleased with store and variety of words, but takes great delight in the repetition of the same words; which, because they may be at the beginning, at the middle, in the end, and in sundry correspondencies of each of these places one to another; it happens that it has purchased several names of Figures; As Repetition of the same word or sound immediately without interposition of any other, is called EPIZEUXIS. O let not, let not from you be poured upon me destruction. Tormented, tormented? torment of my soul, Philoclea tormented. This figure is not to be used but in passion.  
ANADIPLOSIS is a repetition in the end of a former sentence, and beginning of the next; As, you fear lest you should offend; offend, O how know you that you should offend? Because she doth deny, deny? now in earnest I could laugh, etc. Why loved I? alas, alas; why loved I? to die wretched, and to be the example of the heaven's hate, and hate, spare not; for ●our worst blow is given.— From whom they have commonly such respect, and respect soon opens the door to persuasion, etc. This figure is often and handsomely used by Sir William Davenant in his Preface to Gondibert. And as no man strikes in thought upon any thing, but for some vehemency or distrust; so in speech there is no repetition without importance.  
CLIMAX is a kind of ANADIPLOSIS, by degrees making the last word a step to a further meaning. If it be turned to an argument, it is a SORITES; A young man of great beauty, beautified with great honour, honoured with great valour. You could not enjoy your goods, without government, no Government without a Magistrate, no Magistrate without obedience, and no obedience, where every one upon his private passion doth interpret the Rulers actions.  
Now to make it a SORITES or climbing argument, join the first and the last with an ERGO. As ERGO you cannot enjoy your own goods, where every man upon his own private passions doth, &c, This in a penned speech is too Academical, but in discourse more passable and plausible. Seeing to like, liking to love, loving to, etc. Deceived me, after deceit abused me, after abuse forsaken me. What doth better become wisdom then to discern what is worthy loving? What more agreeable to goodness then to love it, so discerned? and what to greatness of heart, then to be constant in it once loved. Where the last word or some one word in the last sentence begets the next clause. This Figure hath his time, when you are well entered into discourse, have procured attention, mean to rise and amplify.  
ANAPHORA is when many clauses have the like beginning; You whom virtue hath made the Princess of Felicity, be not the minister of ruin. You whom my choice hath made the Goddess of my safety. You whom Nature hath made the Load-starr of comfort, be not the rock of shipwreck. This figure beats upon one thing, to cause the quicker apprehension of it in the audience, and to awake a sleepy or dull passion.  
EPISTROPHE is contrary to the former, when many clauses end with the same words; Where the richness did invite the eyes, the fashion did en●ertain the eyes, and the device did teach the eyes. And all the night did nothing but weep. Philoclea, sigh Philoclea, and cry out Philoclea, etc. Either arm their lives, or take away their lives. This is rather a Figure of Narration or Instruction, then of motion.  
SIMPLOCE or COMPLEXIO, is when several sentences have the same beginning and the same ending. The most covetous man longs not to get riches out of that ground which can bear nothing; Why? Because it is impossible. The most ambitious person vexes not his wits to climb to heaven. Why? because it is impossible. This is the wantonest of Repetitions, and is not to be used in serious matters.  
EPANALEPSIS is the same in one sentence which SIMPLOCE or COMPLEXIO is in several; As, Severe to his servants, to his children severe. Or the same sound reiterated first or last in a sentence. As, His superior in means, in place his superior. In sorrow was I born, and must die in sorrow. Unkindness moved me, and what can so trouble my courses, or wrack my thoughts as unkindness? This is a mild and sweet Figure, and of much use, though single and by itself, not usual in the Arcadia, unless thus, Overthrow of my desires, recompense of my overthrow.  
EPANADOES is when the midst and the end, or the midst and the beginning are the same, As, If there were any true pleasure in sleep and idleness, than no doubt the Heathen Philosophers would have placed some part of the felicity of their heathen Gods in sleep and idleness. Your diligence to speak well must be great, but you shall be abundantly recompensed for the greatness of your diligence in the success of persuasion. If I should ever wish the perfection of your eloquence, it is for your instruction, and for your benefit, that I would wish you eloquent. This kind of Repetition and the former EPANALEPSIS are most easily admitted into discourse, and are freest from the opinion of affectation; because words recited at the beginning of many sentences, or at both ends of the same, are more remarkable.  
ANTIMETABOLE, or COMMUTATIO, is a sentence inverst, or turned back; as, If any for love of honour, or honour of love, etc. That as you are the child of a mother: so you may be mother of a child, etc. They misliked what themselves did; and yet still did what themselves misliked, etc. If before he languished, because he could not obtain his desiring; he now lamented, because he could not desire the obtaining.— Either not striving, because he was contented; or contented, because he would not strive— Just to exercise his might, mighty to exercise his justice. Learned Sir Philip slipped often into this Figure, yet he sometimes concealed the particularity of his affection to it, by not turning the words wholly back, as they lay; To account it not a purse for treasure, but as a treasure itself worthy to be pursed up, etc. Men venture lives to conquer; she conquers lives without venturing, etc. showed such fury in his force, such stay in his fury; which is rather EPANADOES; Sometimes the same sense inverst in contrary words. As, Parthenia desired above all things to have Argalus; Argalus feared nothing but to miss Parthenia. Where he returns fear to miss in stead of desire. Neither could you have thought so well of me, if extremity of love had not made your judgement partial; nor could you have loved me so entirely, if you had not been apt to make so great undeserved judgement of me. Where he returns, for, extremity of love; loving entirely, and for partial judgement; great undeserved judgement.  
Though this be a sharp and witty Figure, and shows out of the same words, a pretty distinction of meaning very convenient for Schoolmen, yet to ●●e this or any other unreasonably or unseasonably, is ridiculous. Let discretion therefore be the greatest, and most general Figure of Figures.  
PARANOMASIA is a present touch of the same letter, syllable or word, with a different meaning. And as for the running upon the letter more than very little, is more than too much, Sir Philip Sidney in Astropell and Stella, calls it the Dictionary method, and verses so made, Rhymes running in rattling rows, which is is an example of it. There is an old Swinish Poem made of it in Latin, called PUGNA PORCORUM.  
Hector, Hanno, Hannibal dead,  
Pompey, Pyrrhus spilt,  
Cyrus, Scipio, Caesar slain,  
And Alexander killed.  
Agnomination of some syllables is sometimes found in the Arcadia; as, Alas what can saying make them believe, whom seeing cannot persuade. And, while he was so followed by the valiantest, he made a way for the vilest. She went away repining, but not repenting. Our Alms-deeds are turned into all Mis-deeds; our praying into playing; our fasting into feasting. That kind of breaking words into another meaning, is much said in Drolerie, and youthful Discourse; as, you will have but a bare gain out of this bargain, A man not only fit for the gown, but for the gun; for the pen, but for the pike; for the book, but for the blade. The garnish of this figure hath been in much request in less serious matters, but the more learned have avoided this kind of flourish, lest their writings should savour more of the general humour, then of private judgement.  
POLEPTOTON or TRADUCTIO, is a repetition of words of the same lineage, that differ only in termination; as, exceedingly, exceeding. His faulty using of our faults. Sometimes the same word in several cases; as, for fear, concealed his fear. Sometimes the same word in several voices; as, forsaken by all friends, and forsaken by all comfort. Sometimes the same adjective in several comparisons; as, much may be said in my defence, much more for love, and most of all for that divine creature, who hath joined me and love together. This is a good figure, and may be used with or without passion, yet so as the use of it come from choice, and not from barrenness.  
To Amplify and Illustrate, are two of the principal Ornaments of Eloquence, and gain men's minds to the chiefest advantages, Admiration and Belief; For how can you commend any thing more acceptable to our Attention, then by telling us it is extraordinary, and by demonstrating it to be evident. We love to look upon a Comet above all Stars, for these two excellencies, its Greatness and its Clearness; such in speech is Amplification and Illustration. We amplify five ways, by Comparison, Division, Accumulation, Intimation, and Progression.  
Comparison is either of things contrary or equal, or things different: Equal, as, Themisto●les and Coriolanus (both great Statesmen, both of great deserts to their Country, both banished, both dead at one t●me: Themistocles his Council could not prevail against the Ingratitude of the Athenians; nor Coriolanus his Discretion overcome the unkindeness of the Romans; the one was too excellent, the other too noble, for the envious eyes of their Countrymen to endure, such is the force of virtue, above all quarrels of Nations, or divisions of Allegiances; that their exiles were honourably entertained, Coriolanus by the Volsci, Themistocles by the Persians, both by their enemies, and both leading great Armies against those Country's, which so ingratefully expelled them) were so inwardly restrained with a conscience of sacking their native soil, that they rather chose violence to their own lives, then to the lives of their fellow Citizens, and took it for a sufficient revenge, to make it evident that they might be revenged. But this is not so forcible an Amplification of things equal indeed (wherein, as you see, all the several points of a consorted, equality are to be searched out), as when things seeming unequal are compared, and that in Similitudes, as well as in Examples; for instance, where a woman is compared to a ship, out of Plautus, both ask much tacking, and sometimes rigging: And you shall profit most of all, by inventing matter of agreement in things most unlike: London and the Tennis-Court are like: for in both all the gains go to th● hazard. Policy is like the Sea, it serves for intercourse of profit, for defence against invasions; the●● are both ●●bings and flow, calms and tempests; the observation whereof may make a man first wise, then rich. But as the water serves for many outward uses, so can it not please, if it be inwardly swallowed. If you ●ail up●n it, it will carry you wheresoever you will desire; but if you drink it, it doth not satisfy, but increase desires. Again for Example; Eriphyle and Tarpeia (both women in whom nature should govern love, and love warrant fidelity) were both easily induced to be false, with trifling temptations, they both betrayed, not one friend to another, nor the dearness of love for the height of preferment, but their most assured lovers to their most deadly enemies, for toys, jewels and bracelets; Eriphyle, her husband Amphiaraus (the stay of her life) to Adrastus, his professed enemy: Tarpeia, the Capitol (the defence of her Country) to the Sabines, that besieged it, yet neither can remain as invitation, much less a encouragement to Treason; For Eriphyle was slain by her son, whom nature should have bound to her defence; Tarpeia by the Sabines, whom her deserts should have obliged to her safeguard. In comparing of two, when you would raise the person or thing, which you intent to make excellent, you must take the meanest parts of a greater example, and match them with the best of your purpose, and by such partiality you shall amplify and extol the subject you treat of; as Isocrates did in his comparison of Cyrus and Thaagarus. Otherwise for impartial comparisons, which notwithstanding do amplify, read the matches, or encounters of the most famous Grecian and Roman Examples in Plutark.  
Comparisons of things different. In the former Comparison, is a Composition of the points at first, because I presuppose the histories on both sides to be familiar unto you by reading; but if you were to marshal histories, whereof both or either were not sufficiently known, then had you need to begin with single relations; As if a man would compare Vascus G●ma with Sir Francis Drake, he might say, Sir Francis Drake indeed traveled round about the world in two years, saw divers Nations, endured many perils at sea, and returned laden with great Treasure; And Vascus Gama first searched the Coast of Quiloa, Mozambique, and Calicute, and opened the passage to the East-Indies. But as it was easy for Drake to proceed further in discoveries, when he had entrance made by Columbus: So was it most dangerous and difficult for Gama to adventure a course, without example and direction: Drake scoured the Coasts with a sufficient company of ships, made pillage of others, and thereof furnished himself for his interprize; Gama went but weak at first, lost most of his small Fleet, and met nothing at seas, but tempests and famine. Drake invaded upon opportunities, hazarded but his own fortune, and retired to sea upon all advantages: Gama had in charge an expedition of his Sovereign's Commandment, was constrained to victual himself amongst barbarous Nations, and not only buy provision in their continent with the price of his blood, but durst not depart without leaving his King proclaimed and possessed in their Territories, divers places of strength fortified, and established to his use: So that if Gama had been to pursue the example of Drake, as Drake had the light of Columbus and Magellus Travels, Vascus Gama ' s spirit was as like to have conquered the whole world, as Drakes fortune was to compass it. And where the parts of Collation are most obscure, there your narration must be the longer; As, Cicero in comparing Marcellus and Verres, makes a long recital of the acts of Marcellus to acquaint the hearers with them before comparison. In some cases, after good confidence of proof, your examples may come in more thick and plentiful; As, If to protract a battle upon advice, be cowardice, than Ph●cion, than Metellus, than Fabius, and all the valiantest Captains of all ages were cowards. If to displant the rebellious natives of Scotland, and to root them out of that kingdom, be cruelty, than the Colonies translated by the Romans into Sicily, into France, into the several coasts of Italy, & divers other places, testify great cruelty. But comparison of things different is most commendable, where there seems to be great affinity in the matters conferred; As in the King of Spain's assisting the Irish, and the Queen of England's aiding the Netherlands. The Spaniard gave assistance to a people untrue in their Treaties, uncivil in their manners, to those who have traitorously rebelled without provocation, and fled out contrary to their own submission, broke their own peace, and wasted their own Country. The Queen did but lend some few voluntaries to the protection of a Nation, peaceable in their lives, free by their privileges, a people denying no claim of any true Prince, except perpetual servitude of their bodies, and importable exactions of their goods. Another example of things different compared. Is not the marriage of heads of Houses & Colleges as lawful as the marriage of the Doctors of the Arches, or the Clerks of the Chancery, both were interdicted by the same law, & yet I take it not indifferent, that both should by the abrogation of the same Law be equally repealed; The one hath his living casual by his temporal pains, the other his maintenance certain by Ecclesiastical provision; The one may purchase by the improving his revenues, & so may lawfully raise a patrimony to maintain his posterity: The other can by no thrift upon the common goods, gather a living for a wife and children, without imbezeling from the poor, deducting from Hospitality, defeating the intent of the giver, or defrauding his succession. Lastly, the one hath all to the use of his office, the other is owner of nothing, but to his own behoof and disposition. In these two sorts of Amplifications you may insert all Figures, as the passion of the matter shall serve.  
Comparison of contraries is the third and most flourishing way of Comparison. Contraries are sometimes arranged together by pairs one to one, thus. Compare the one's impatiency with the others mildness, the ones insolency with the others submission, the ones humility with the others indignation, and tell me whether he that conquered seemed not rather confounded, than he that ●yeelded any thing discouraged. Compare not mind with mind lest it seem fantastical, and beyond the trial of our senses; But set the one's triumph against the others captivity, loss against victory, feasts against wounds, a Crown against fetters, misfortune against felicity, & the majesty of courage will be found in the overthrown. More examples of this you have in the figure Contentio, which is one of the instruments to aggravate, by way of Comparison. Yet one example more. He that prefers wealthy ignorance before chargeable study, prefers contempt before honour, darkness before light, death before life, and earth before, heaven.  
This is one way of arranging contrarieties.  
There is another way of ordering them with interchangeable correspondence in sentences, that though each touch not other, yet it affronts the other: As, Shall a Soldier (for a blow with his hand given in war to a Captain) be disgraced? And shall a Lawyer (for the Bastinado given in a Court of Justice to his companion) be advanced? shall we that profess Laws, maintain outrage? And shall they that break all Laws, yet in this observe civility? Where you may see every word in the later sentence aggravated by opposition to every word in the former. Another, Did the most innocent vouchsafe a part of his glory to pray for his enemies? And shall we the most sinful esteem it a blot to our reputation to be unrevenged on our brethren? Of this you shall have more examples hereafter. But unless it be for the Declamatory exercise, you are to avoid too great swelling without substance.  
The second way of Amplification, is by Division, which (as a modern Author says) is to anatomize it into several parts, and to examine it according to several circumstances; Not unlike the show that Pedlars make of their Packs when they display them, contrary to the Germane magnificence, that serves in all the good meat in one dish. But whereas the same Author says, that this Art of Amplifying will betray itself in method and order. I think it rather adorns itself. For in stead of saying, He put the whole Law to the Sword; let me reckon all ages and sorts, and say; He neither saved the young men, as pitying the unripe flower of their youth; nor aged men, as respecting their gravity; nor children, as pardoning their weakness; nor women, as having compassion on their Sex; Soldier, Clergyman, Citizen; armed or unarmed, resisting or submitting, all within the Town were destroyed by the fury of that bloody Executioner. Note that the divisions here, are taken from age, profession, sex, habit, or behaviour. It may likewise be from all circumstances; All dance, the Heavens, Elements, men's minds, Commonwealths, and so by part all dance.  
Another example varied, He apparels himself with great discretion; Thus amplify for circumstances, For stuffs, His clothes were more rich than glittering: As to the fashion, rather usual for his sort, then fantastical for his invention; for colour, more grave and uniform then wild and light. For fitness, made as well for ease of exercise, as to set forth to the eye those parts which had in him any excellency. So, to say, he would take an occasion of discourse with a young witty Lady, and would raise it first from her behaviour. If she said nothing he would partly quarrel with her silence; if she smiled, he would gather out of it some interpretation of praise of her favour, and of his own joy and good fortune; if she frowned, he would both move her to mirth, and deny that she could be angry in earnest; if she were sad, he would conform his speech and action in that soberness to her humour, as might beguile her passion, by way of false confederacy; if she walked or played, the secret praise of her face, her eyes, her hair, her voice, her hands, her body, her gait, was the application of most conceits, whatever gave the ground of them; yet with such dissembling art, as if forgetfulness or love alluded in them, not cunning or want of variety.  
So you may divide by the forms of speech in general; as, he was never to seek how to propose or invent, raise or maintain, reconcile and distinguish any Arguments, Histories, Similitudes, Proverbs; Jests attended him in great plenty, when he needed to employ them: he would deliver strong Reasons carelessly, and choice words smoothly and unaffectedly; he used a sporting wisdom, an eloquent prating. But with Gallants and Ladies of better respect, and less curiosity, his duty, their kindness, their common acquaintance, the occasion of his coming, the remembrance of his last conference, the place, the time, the last news of foreign parts, the Court, the Country, the City, fed his invention, and satisfied their ears. All this is but division of the persons, with whom you conversed, their Manners, Carriage, the Fashions and Ornaments, the Matter and Subject of discourse. This in some sort used, is more properly called Dilatation, than Amplification; and being often practised, will enable you to discourse almost of any thing, wherein you are not precisely tied to the exact manner of division, which Logicians use. But you have liberty of seeking all things comprised within the sense of your general Theme, differ they essentially, or in any notable Property. You may also if you please, run over the entire part of Amplification; as, the ship was blown up; for the ship you may say the mast, sails, tackle, keel, prow, stern; for blowing up, you may say rend, torn, smouthered, scattered in the air, sunk under the water, all the circumstances of blowing up. So in saying a fair tree, you may divide the tree into the root, body, branches and fruit; and fairness, into talness, straitness, verdure, sweetness, and such things as are fair in a tree. In describing a gallant man, you may talk of his mind, person, his attempting, prosecuting and finishing an enterprise. And note, that this Amplification hath in it both credibility and instruction; for it makes instances of that which being generally spoken, would seem but a flourish, and gives more special note of that kind, which universally could not be conceived, without confusion and dulness. This kind of Amplification is more taken up by Cicero then Demosthenes; for Demosthenes never uses it, but as it falls in his way.  
The third way of Amplification, is Accumulation, which is a heaping up of many terms of praise or accusation, importing but the same matter, without descending into any part, and hath his due season after some argument of proof. Otherwise it is like a Schoolman foaming out Synonima's, or words of one meaning, and will sooner beget a censure of superfluity of words, then of sufficiency, of matter. But let us give some example to amplify a Sedition; tumults, mutinies, uproars, desperate conspiracies, wicked confederacies, furious commotions, traitorous rebellions, associations in villainy, distractions from allegiance, bloody garboils, intestine Massacres of Citizens. But this example is somewhat too swelling. Now to describe a beautiful woman; you may say, She hath a most winning countenance, a most pleasant eye, a most amiable presence, a cheerful aspect, she is a most delicate object, etc. The taste of former times hath termed it sweet, to bring in three clauses together of the same sense; as, Your beauty (sweet Lady) hath conquered my reason, subdued my will, mastered my judgement. How this will hold amongst our curious successors in their time, I know not; he that looks on the wearing of it, will find it bare, how full of stuff soever it appears. First, it passeth for parts of division, when indeed it is but a variation of an English. Yet notwithstanding the practice will furnish you store of phrases, without which you shall never have choice, the Mother of perfection. Cicero in his Orations uses it much; some others follow it to four clauses, but he seldom exceeds three. It has this certain effect, that it will sufficiently secure your vein not to be dry and exhausted. But to return to our first sort of Accumulation, and reduce it with this under one precept. I take the use of this to be in anger, detestation, commiseration, and such passions, as you, seeming throughly possessed with, would willingly stir up in others.  
The fourth way of Amplification is by Intimation, and leaves the collection of greatness to our understanding, by expressing some mark of it. It exceeds speech in silence, and makes our meaning more intelligible by a touch, then by direct treating; as he that should say, you must live very many years in his company, whom you should account for your friend, says well; but he that says, you had need eat a bushel of salt with him, saith more, and gives you to reckon more than many years in his company, whom you should account for your friend. It savours sometimes of Hyperbole; as, that man that is grown gross, is grown from a body to a corporation; again, for a little man on horse back, He was taken for a hat riding on the pommel of a saddle. Of this sort, examples are familiar; So honest a wrangler, that his nose being betwixt, was the only cause why his two eyes went not to Law. So the hugeness of a Giant is expressed, by saying, his skull held half a bushel of wheat. This may be done with Ironia, or denial. He was no notorios malefactor, but he had been twice on the pillory, and once burnt in the hand for trifling oversights. So, by ambiguity of the word, he draws his sword oftener than his purse. This fashion of Amplification, I term Intimation, because it doth not directly aggravate; but by consequence or proportion, intimate more to your mind, then to your ears.  
PROGRESSIO is the last kind of Amplification, which by steps of comparison scorns every degree, till it come to the supreme; and sometimes to advance the matter higher, it descends lower. It is an ornament in speech to begin at the lowest, that you may aspire to the highest Amplification. For example, in reprehending the prodigality▪ of Monuments. I begin with the excesses of Alphonsus on his father's funeral; thence to Alexander's profusion upon one of his friends Tombs; then to Urbanus, towards his servant; thence to Caesar, on his horse's burial; after that, to the Molossians on their dogs; and thence to the Egyptians, that charged themselves with the sumptuous burial of a Crocodil. So seeming in some sort, to admit the first less than the second, and by growing weaker and weaker in the excess of every one, as I proceed, the last will seem most ridiculous, if not odious. So Cicero against Verres meaning to amplify his Bribery and Extortions. It is rigorous exaction (saith he) not to absolve the innocent without money; great cruelty to commit him, till be ransom himself; but not to suffer the parties to have access unto him without reward, is wretched covetousness. To sell the egress and regress of them that shall bring him victuals; nay, to take money that he shall have an easy death: To put a price upon the strokes that shall execute him; So much, that he shall be beheaded at one blow; so much, at two. This is beyond all degrees of most barbarous and intolerable extortion. So in another example; He was careless of doing well, a looseness of youth; he was inclined to do ill, a weakness of flesh; his mind consented to offend, a shrewd temptation; he committed the act, an unhappy fault; he accustomed himself to abuse, a sad employment: yet he did not this alone, but infected others with his persuasion, and seduced them by his example. And not that only, but detained those he had drawn in, with fresh inventions, and disgraced the modesty of them who resisted his corruptions, with scorns and derisions, which could argue no less in him, than a most reprobate damnable resolution.  
The rule of this is, when you would praise or discommend any thing, to consider how many less things there are of that kind, to which notwithstanding you would give some show of importance. As he that would render sleep obnoxious, may say that Idleness (which is less) by Draco's Laws was Felony. Or, to give that Bishop his right, that built two absolute Colleges at his own charges, and endowed them with Lands. Look downwards how rare it is for a Prelate in these days, not to grant long Leases, diminish the revenues of his fee. How laudable it is to repair the ruins of his own decayed Palaces and Granges? How magnificent an Act it is thought for a noble man to build an Hospital. How royal for two or three Princes to erect one College. And can there be such an unthankfulness, as to bear but an ordinary remembrance of him, that enriched his Bishopric, built two the most famous Nurseries of Learning in the Land, was liberal to all wants in his life, and left worthy bequests to all degrees at his death. In like sort, by an example of abusing the name of God. To make table talk of a mean man's name were injurious; to run upon a Noble man's title, were great scandal; to play with a Prince's name, were Treason: And what shall it be to make a vanity of that name, which is most terrible even to Tyrants and Devils, and most reverend even to Monarches and Angels? There be two contrary ascents to the top of this form, either by extenuating the means, as in a former example: or by aggravating them, as in this last of swearing. And may not a matter be well amplified in this manner, by exchanging the comparison of every particular circumstance, that the whole may seem the greater? As in this example, It is lamentable that a young man should be offended with the advice of his experienced friend, tending to his profit. First, it is a hard case that counsel should be neglected, but harder that it should offend. It is a sad thing to see any displeased with good admonitions, but more sad, to see a youth so affected, Who would not grieve to have his advice ill taken? but who would not grieve more, to see his experience controlled? Unhappy is that youth, that listens not to the good exhortations of the Skilful. But more, that disdains the instructions of his discreet friend. He is miserable and unfortunate, that quarrels with the sound precepts of his dear friends; but more miserable and unfortunate, that mislikes directions given for his own good and advantage.  
This is a most easy, clear and usual kind of Amplification; For it gives more light and force to every circumstance. The circumstances are these. The persons, who and to whom, the matter, the intent, the time, the place, the manner, the consequence, and many more: Out of every one of which, any thing may be made more notable, and egregious by way of comparison. And that it may the better be remembered by you, let inquiry be made in every controversy for the circumstances, and compare them with other less matters, and you shall hardly fail of discourse, or be left on ground for want of good invention. There is a richer show in this kind of amplifying by every circumstance, then in any other. First, you must begin every circumstance with a new figure. Sometimes with Affirmation, sometimes with Interrogation, sometimes with Admission, sometimes with Ironia. Secondly, when you, upon every circumstance, urge the whole sense, you are for every circumstance almost to vary the words: As before, for Lamentable; unhappy, unfortunate, heavy, sad, grievous; so for Counsel; A●monitions, Advice, Exhortations, Instructions, Precepts, Directions. Again, I say, remember this kind of Progression by circumstances, and urging and aggravating all the points of a Sentence: For you shall find it used as much as any figure in Rhetoric, by all good Speakers and Writers.  
There are Figures that help Amplification, and make show of setting forth a matter fairer than it is. The first of them is HYPERBOLE, whereof I will give you some such examples, as my own reading long since observed in the Arcadia. Sometimes it expresseth a thing in the highest degree of possibility beyond the truth, that in descending thence, you may find the truth. Sometimes in flat impossibilities, that you may rather conceive the unspeakableness, than the untruth of the relation. Possibly, as for Hypocritical Host; he gave as pleasing entertainment, as the falsest heart could give him, whom he means worst unto. That ever eye saw, or heart could imagine. For diligent inquiry; making their eyes, their ears, and their tongue serve for nothing else, but for that inquiry. This is the utmost that is possible. But in the very frontiers of impossibility, thus, though a thousand deaths followed it, and every death were followed with an hundred dishonours. The world sooner wanted occasions, than he valour to go through them. Words and blows came so thick together, as the one seemed a lightning to the others thunder. Sometimes there is no certain quantity of a thing set, but plainly and ingeniously told unvariably. As, Beyond the bounds of conceit, much more of utterance. And, this Figure is more for the credit of your wit, then of your speech.  
CORRECTIO, having used a word of sufficient force, yet pretending a greater strength of meaning, refuses it, and supplies the place with one of more extension; as, I persuade you not to let slip occasion, whilst it may not only be taken, but offers, nay sues to be taken. Where the first rising of the matter is, upon, Not only, but, then upon the correcting, Nay: Again, you must be content, nay you must be desirous to take pains, if you will write well; It is the only quality, which in all actions will gain you praise, praise (said I,) nay honour. This Figure is to be used, when you would make the matter more credible in itself, then by the manner of delivery; 'tis sometimes used upon passion, without intent to amplify. As, you stars, if you do not succour me: no, no, you will not help me. O Parthenia, no more Parthenia, what art thou? There are two contrary ways to this form, and both lead to Amplification, but in a dissembling sort. The first is by Ironia, which expresses a thing by the contrary, by show of exhortation, where indeed it dehorteth. As, yet a while, sleep a while, fold thine arms a while: so shall necessity overtake thee, like a traveller, and poverty set on thee like an armed man. It was but small charges of idle money that the Egyptians bestowed in erecting of a Pyramid of Brick, when the expenses in Onions and garlic for Workmen's diet, came to about 238000 l. of our money. Milo had but slender strength, that carried an Ox a furlong on his back, then killed him with his fist, and eat him to his Breakfast. Titornus had a reasonable good arm; that could hold two bulls by the tails, the one in the one hand, and the other in the other, and never be stirred out of his place by their violence. Here small, slender and reasonable, amplify as much as if you had said great, exceeding, or incredible.  
Paralepsis (the second counterfeit of Amplification) is when you say you let pass that which not withstanding you touch at full: as, I make no account of any hindrance in other the direct studies of my course: I value not my pains in collecting these Observations. I will forget that I denied the earnest entreaty of many kind and learned Gentlemen, that sued to me for helps: I am loath to tell you they are notes of his whom your Masters of the University have thought as great a Reader, and a greater observer, than themselves; I desire not, that you should make any greater estimation of them, then of a testimony of my love to you, and a pledge of my resolution to encourage those lovely sparks of good invention, which if you smother and quench in yourself, you commit a kind of intellectual murder. The like is used often in Progression. But an other, I urge not to you the hope of your friends, though that should animate you to answer their expectation, I lay not before you the necessity of the place, which you are to furnish, wherein to be defective and insufficient were some shame; I omit the envious concurrencies, and some prepared comparisons in your Country, which have some feeling with young men of foresight; I only say, how shall our promises give judgement against us? how shall we discharge our own Engagements to your Father, if this time hath not taken his full effect of profit in our labours and endeavours. Two figures properly belong to this kind of Amplification, which are called Accumulation and Division.  
The first is a round dispatching of much matter, not plainly and simply the same in sense, yet tending to the same end; as, Loves companions be unquietness, longings, fond comforts, faint discomforts, hopes, jealousies, rages, carelessness, yield, etc. Spite, rage, disdain, shame, revenge came upon hatred. These examples are out of Arcadia. You may frame one thus, All men exclaim upon these exactions, Nobles, Gentry, Commonalty; Poor, Rich, Scholars, Merchants, Peasants, Young, Old, High, Low, and all cry out upon the hard impositions of these burdens.  
The second Figure differs not much from the first, but that the first is a sudden entrance into a confused heap of matter: This is a wild and dissolute repetition of all that went before. As, you have heard of his pride, ambition, cozenage, robberies, mutinies, in the City, in the Camp, in the Country. What kinsman of his unabused, what friend undeceived, what companion uncorrupted, can speak for him? where can he live without shame? where can he die with honour? These two Figures do not only make your cause seem better, but skilfully and properly used, do amaze an adversary of mean ability.  
There are other Figures that come in fitly after Amplification▪ or any great heat justly inflamed, Interrogation and Exclamation.  
Interrogation is but a warm proposition, yet it oftentimes doth better than a bare Affirmation, which were but too easy and live-less a speech: as, The credit of behaviour, is to cover imperfection, and set forth your good parts better. Thus expressed, Is it not the chiefest credit of behaviour, to set forth your good parts fairly and clearly, and to cover imperfection. Men are ignorant, and therefore by good expressions without raunting or affectation, you shall gain a more general opinion, then by sufficiency smothered in too modest a silence. By Interrogation thus, Are not most men ignorant? shall you not then by acquaint expressions, withoutraunting or affectation, please more, and get a more general good opinion, then by great sufficiency concealed by your own shamefacedness? To dissemble excellencies is good policy in him, whom his course must at length necessarily draw into light and proof, and then all that he delivers will be admirable, because expectation forestalled nothing of his worth; which may likewise be turned into an Interrogation, and is very fit for a speech, addressed to many illiterate hearers; is much used in Pirocles Oration to the seditious multitude, and then it may be well frequented and iterated. Did the Sun ever bring fruitful Harvest; but was more hot than pleasant? Have you any of your children, that be not sometimes cumbersome? Have you any Fathers that be not sometimes froward? shall we therefore curse the Sun? hate our children? and disobey our Fathers? An example of many Interrogations. Have you not seen a stately kind of courtesy, and a proud kind of humility? have you not seen a wise man withdraw himself from mean company, with better grace, and more kindness, than some silly Gentleman that has bestowed himself on fools, thrown himself down into the midst of his miseries? doth not a commendations, a hat, a good word, a good-morrow, purchase more hearts than a months familiar prattling; with a flock of rude people? Do you converse with your superiors, to learn of them to be able to judge them, and benefit yourself? And shall not your inferiors do the like with you? Is it not a safer gain of popularity, with ceremonies, then with discovering your Nature? Many such like Interrogations might be added; but let it suffice, that it is easy and gentile to sharpen the flats of affirmations and downright telling of Tales.  
EXCLAMATION is not lawful, but in the extremity of motion; as Pyrocles, seeing the mild Philoclea innocently beheaded, cried out, O Tyrant Heaven, and Traitor Earth, blind Providence, how is this done? How is this suffered? Hath this world a Government? The like in the beginning of the second book of the Arcadia in the person of Ginetia tormented in mind. O Sun! O Heavens! O Deserts! O Virtue! O imperfect proportion! And in another Author thus; O endless endeavour! O vainglorious Ignorance! Dost thou desire to be known? Where? In Europe, how canst thou be famous? When Asia and Africa, that have thrice as many people, hear not of thy actions? Art not thou then thrice as obscure as thou art renowned? Dost thou look that all the world should take notice of thee, when for five thousand years three parts of the world took no notice of the fourth. But Europe is the house of Fame, because it is the Nursery of Arts, and Books, wherein reports are preserved. O weak imagination! O selfpleasing fancy! Canst thou expect in these parts from 40 degrees to 90 Northward, such praises and honours for thy name, when every Map on every wall shows thee as much space from 40 to 90 Southward, inhabited with nothing but silence and forgetfulness.  
ACCLAMATION is a sententious clause of a discourse, or a report, such as Daniel in his Poems concludes with often. It is a general instruction for every man commonly for his pains in reading a History, or other men's Books for some private use of it to himself. Like a Cashkeeper, who drawing great sums of other men's money, challenges somewhat in the pound for his own Fee. It serves for Amplification, when after a great crime or Desert exclaimed upon, or extolled, it gives a moral note worth credit and observation. As after the true relation of Scipio Africanus' course, who having been chief governor of the greatest Armies in the world; having all his life time Kings suitors for his favour, and nations kept in awe of his Name; yet in 56 years neither bought nor sold goods or lands, built any House or Castle of his own, left not above 46. l. in Gold, and 6. l. in silver behind him at his death. It may be folded up in this Acclamation: So little need has he to stoop to private cares, that thrives upon public victories; and so small leisure has he to be desirous of riches, that hath been so long possessed and satisfied with honour, which is the immortal end of mortal actions. Such notes are th●se scraps of policy which some nowadays gather out of Polybius and Tacitus, and not unlike are the Morals that hang upon Esop's Fables.  
This Acclamation sometimes is the cause and reason of a former Narration, as a story of one, who being a servant to a family, and of mean quality, won the doting love of a witty Lady in the House, whereas she never looked upon the humble suits, the cunning insinuations, the noble deserts of many lovers of higher degree, but with free judgement and careless censure; This close may follow, So hard entrance hath affection into a heart prepared to suspicion, especially in the weakest natures, whose safeguard is mistrust: So easy is the increase of love by insensible steps, when the service you offer seems to proceed out of the goodness of your own disposition, which women expect to be permanent, and not out of the necessity of your suit, which may force you for the time to a wained difference from the proper humour. Yet if this be too much used, it is like a notebook gathered out of Histories.  
Contrary to Amplification is DIMINUTION, and this descends by the same steps that Amplification ascends, and differs no more than up Hill and down Dale, which is the same way, begun out of several sentences; Yet some examples in Arcadia, will make you observe two ways of Diminishing single terms, one by denying the contrary; As if you should say, But reasonably pleasant; Arcadia speech is, Not unpleasant, hardly liked, nor misliked. But why should I give examples of the most usual phrases in the English tongue, as we say, Not the wisest that ever we saw, for a man of small wisdom. The second way is, by denying the right of the words, but by error of some; As, Those fantastical mind-infected people, which Children and Musicians call Lovers. That misfortune of letting fall his Dagger, which the rude Swaggerers of our time, call, being disarmed. That opinion of honesty, which hath lately been so proudly translated by the Soldier into the word (Honor.) And such like. But the former fashion of Diminution sometimes in Ironious sort goes for Amplification, As speaking of a great personage, No mean man; This is an ordinary Figure for all kinds of speeches.  
The Figures following serve for Amplification. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is a composition of contraries, and by both words intimates the meaning of neither precisely, but a moderation and mediocrity, As, bravery and raggery are contrary, yet somewhat better than both is meant by brave raggedness. So, wanton modesty; enticing soberness. And with that she prettily smiled, which mingled with tears, a man could not tell, whether it were a mourning pleasure, or delightful sorrow. With what a witty ignorance she would understand? etc. Absented presence; well-willing spite. The one contrary is affirmed to be in the other directly, by making the one the Substantive, the other the Adjective, as above in those examples; or indirectly, as in these words following. Seeking Honour by dishonour; And building safety upon ruin; O foolish woman, and most miserable foolish woman, because wit makes thee foolish. Captivity might seem to have authority over tyranny. This is a gentile way to move admiration in the hearers, and make them think it a strange harmony, which must be expressed in such discord. Therefore this example shall conclude. There was a perfect agreement in so perfect a disagreement: like music made of cunning discords. This is an easy Figure, and useful.  
CONTENTIO is contrary to the former; That was a composition of Sturmius disagreement; This is an opposition of them. As, there was strength against nimbleness, rage against resolution, pride against nobleness. He is a swaggerer amongst quiet men? but is quiet among swaggerers? Earnest in idle things, idle in matters of earnestness. Where there is both Antimetabole for the turning of the sentence back, and Contentio respecting the contrariety of things meant thereby. Could not look on, nor would not look off. Neither the one hurt her, nor the other help her. Just without partiality, humble without contradiction, Liberal without profusion, Wise without curiosity. This Figure is fit to embellish a copious stile, and serves much for Amplification by Comparison.  
COMPAR is an even gait▪ of sentences answering each other in measures interchangeably. Such as are in St. Augustine often, but oftener in Gregory the Divine; And in Bishop Andrews works in English. But many do intermingle this Figure with Agnominatio, and Similiter cadens; It is very useful in elocution; But in penning it must be used with modesty and mediocrity. A touch of Agnomination of the Letter is tolerable with a Compar; As, If ever I could wish my Faith untried and my Council untrusted. And (where there is a similiter cadens, but a more evident falling alike) in this. My years are not so many, but that one death may conclude them; nor my faults so many, but that one death may satisfy them. Without consonancy of fall or harping upon a letter or syllable, yet a Compar; because the words match each other in rank. Save his grey hairs from rebuke, and his aged mind from despair; where grey hairs, aged mind, rebuke and despair answer each other. Again, Rather seek to obtain that constantly by courtesy, which you cannot assuredly enjoy by violence. Verb to Verb, Adverb, to Adverb, and Substantive to Substantive. Lovelines can neither warrant you from suspicions in others, nor defend you from melancholy in yourself. In some places there is a shorter Compar: where word to word, or substantive to substantive, are joined, and yet without conjunction, which is ASYNDETON. Her face with beauty, her head with wisdom, her eyes with Majesty, her countenance with gracefulness, her lips with loveliness; Where many (And's) are spared. In some places only the Conjunction is put in the last in a Compar of three; As, her wit endeared by youth, her afction by birth, and her sadness by her beauty. A fair woman shall not only command without entreaty, but persuade without speaking. This is an excellent Figure, in no place untimely, if not too often used; It fits well the even pauses▪ and interruptions of an eloquent tongue, seems to be rich and copious, and to contain many parts (whereof each with a tedious man would be a sentence) and make an impression upon the hearer's senses; It has long been in request, ever since the days of Isocrates, whose Orations are full of it. This Figure belongs more properly to that part of Amplification, called Division, then to Accumulation.  
Sententia, if it be well used, is a Figure; if ill and too much, a Style, of which none that wri●e humorously and factiously, can be clear in these days, when there are so many Schisms of Eloquence, We study nowadays according to the predominancy of Critical fancies. Whilst Moral Philosophy was in request, it was rudeness, not to be sententious; whilst Mathematics were of late in vogue, all similitudes came from Lines, Circles and Angles; But now that Mars is predominant, we must recruit our wits, and give our words a new Quarter. It is very true, that a Sentence is a pearl in a Discourse; but it is a good Discourse that consists all of pearls. It is like an Eye in the body, nor is it monstrous to be all Eyes. I take Cyclops to be as handsome a man, as Argos. And if a Sentence were as like a hand in the Text, as it is commonly noted with a hand in the Margin, yet I should rather like that work that had no more hands than Hercules, then that which had as many as Briareus.  
These are Sentences, The rich man's bounty is the poor man's Exchequer. The sickness of age is avarice; The errors of youth profaneness. There is small difference between a Proposition and a Question, if I forget not Aristotle. (1. Top.) Since length of acquaintance, mutual secrecies, nor height of benefits could oblige a savage mind. There is a Sentence, and in it ZEUGMA, ASYNDETON, and METAPHORA. Guiltlesness is not always with ease oppressed, Where there is Meriosis, not always with ease, for, ever and hardly. Who stands only upon defence, stands upon no defence; A sentence with EPANADOES. Unlawful desires are punished after the effect of enjoying; But impossible desires are punished in the desire itself. A Sentence with DISTINCTIO and CONTENTIO. Love to a yielding heart is a King, but to a resisting, a Tyrant. COMPAR & CONTENTIO; It is a foolish wittiness to speak of more than one thinks. Neither is this sentence without a Compar: it is a double sentence, as they call it; To a heart fully resolved, counsel is tedious, and reprehension loathsome. And, There is nothing more terrible to a guilty heart, than the eye of a respected friend. There may be also Sentences particular to some men as well as general; As,— Amphialus, in whom abused kindness became spiteful rage. Fearfulness, contrary to all other vices, making Clinias think the better of another, the worse he found himself. Evarchus making his life the example of his laws. All which may be taken for Rules and Common-places, by putting the general name for the special, as they say, drawing it à THESI ad HYPOTHESIN. These Examples may make you believe, that a Sentence may be coursed through the whole Figure-book, and that many Figures may easily assemble in one Clause, and any one Figure consort with another. Yet it were absurd to ground the form and fashion of your whole stile upon any one Figure.  
ILLUSTRATION consists either in things or words, in the description of things living or dead. And of living things, either reasonable, as men and their personages, and qualities; or un●e●sona●le, as of Horses, Ships, Islands, Castles, and such like. Men are described most excellently in the Arcadia, As Basilius, Plexe●tus, Pirocles, Musidorus, Anaxius, etc. But he that will truly characterise a ●an, in a feigned Story, must first learn handsomely to describe a humour, a passion, a virtue, a vice, and therein, keeping decent proportion, add but names, and knit together the accidents and encounters. This perfect expressing of all qualities, is learned out of Aristotle's tenth Book of Moral Philosophy. But because (as Mac●iavel observes) perfect virtue, or perfect vice is not seen in our time, which altogether is humorous and spirting: Therefore the understanding of Aristotle's Rhetoric is held to be the best means to attain to true Eloquence; Excellent on this subject also are Theophrasti imagines; Heliodorus and Longinus in Greek (the last lately well translated into English) Zanaxarus his Arcadia in Italian, Diana de monte majori in Spanish, etc. But to our purpose, of personages and affections described in Arcadia. For men; pleasant, idle retiredness in a King Basilius, and a dangerous end of it. Unfortunate valour in Plangus; Courteous valour in Amphialus; Proud valour in Anaxius; Hospitality in Kalandar; The mirror of true courage and friendship in Pirocles, and Musidorus; Miserableness and ingratitude in Chremes; Fear and false subtlety in Clynias; Fear and rudeness, with ill affected civility in Dametas; And through this Story Mutual love in marriage in Argalus and Parthenia; O●t of marriage in Pirocles and Philoclea, Musidorus and Pamela, True constant love unrespected in Plangus, in Helena, in the true Zelmane; Inconstancy, envy, suspicion and tyranny in a King and his Councillors; General false love in Phamphilus; and slight carriage and credulity in Chremes daughter; base doting on a wife in Plangus father. But in women a mischievous and seditious stomach in Cecropia; Prudent courage in Pamela; Mild discretion in Philoclea●; Pamela's prayer, her discourse, squeamish cunning; Unworthiness in Artesia; Respective & restless dotage in Gynetia's love. Proud ill-favoured, sluttish simplicity in Mopsa. Now in these persons is there ever a steadfast decency, and uniform difference of manners observed wheresoever you find them? However each interrupt the others story and actions.  
And as for actions of persons, there are many rarely and perfectly described. As the mutiny and fire in a ship; causes of an uproar; The Garboyl; an armed skirmish; policy and preparation. Sometimes managing a Horse is described; tilting and shows. Many other lively and notable portracts there are, which I will not set down to save you so sweet a labour, as the reading of that which alone will make you eloquent and wise. Sir Philip Sidneys course (besides reading Aristotle and Theophrastus) was to imagine the thing present, that his pen might the better describe it.  
Under this notion of Illustration may come lively descriptions, and the apt fitting a person represented with speech and action, both which grow into very pleasing acquaintance with the understanding and memory of the Reader.  
For special light in every Sentence, there are other sparks of Figures. First, if there be any doubt or ambiguity in the words, it is better left out then distinguished. But if you are to answer former speeches, that imply any doubtfulness, you may disperse all clouds, and remove all scruples with Distinction. As being charged you have brought very light reasons, you may answer, If by light you mean clear, I am glad you see them; If by light, you mean of no weight, I am sorry you do not feel them. So you may express a man of hidden learning, Hidden as well for the obscure and mean estate of his person, as hidden for the unusual and not vulgar conceit of the matter. But as ambiguity is not only in words but in matter; so both ways it is taken away by Distinction. Sometimes it is in single words, as in these former, light and hidden. Sometimes in coherence of Sentences, by reason of the relation of each word to other, or by reason of the change of the pointing, which is cleared by delivery. You have many examples of this in the second Book of Tully de Oratore, and Quintilian, where there is mention of Jocus ab ambiguo. As also in Erasmus his Apothegms.  
Distinction of ambiguity in matters of determination of the truth of general propositions, is to tell wherein they are certain, wherein they are not. As, Travel in foreign Countries, settles a young man's humour. If it be taken in this sort, that it will enforce him to wariness and secrecy, and restrain him from pouring forth his counsels, it is very profitable: For he shall have few friends in whom to put confidence, and few companions with whom he might bestow his idle time, or communicate his youthful thoughts. But if you intent that, by travel, all vanities should be cast off, it seems not so likely and admirable, because he shall walk through many ill examples, and great liberty. Another proposition distinguished. They are but frail merits that you shall bestow upon young men's friendship. 'Tis true, if you satisfy those desires which are like to depart with their youth; As, gaming, feasting, idle sporting, you are like to be cast off with these toys, and forgotten. But if your deserts be in noble Exercises, learned Conferences, and civil friendly Offices, the remembrance thereof will increase as fast as their discretion.  
So much for Distinction; Next follows Definition, which is the shortest and truest exposition of the nature of any thing; hereof you have examples of all virtues in Aristotle's Morals, of passions in his Rhetoric, both in Thomas Aquinas secunda and secundae, of many affections and perturbations in Tusculan's Questions, and Cicero de Finibus, as the general definition of virtue is this, VIRTUS EST HABITUS RATIONI CONSENTANEUS. Virtue is a quality seated in Reason. Fear is an apprehenston of future harm. Thrift is a moderate and lawful increase of wealth by careful governmemt of your own estate. Compliment is a performance of affected Ceremonies in words, looks, and gestures. Where Definition runs into division of seven or eight ways. Of Definition you may read Valerius his Logic. But (to be most perfectly instructed) read the sixth book of Aristotle's Top. Your definitions need be no more tied to the Rules of Logicians, than your divisions. The matter is sometimes illustrated by Periphrasis; As, spurred his horse apace; Made his spur claim haste of his horse. A man not to be contemned; Nor a man over whom contempt might make any just challenge. Snorting loud; Snorting so loud, that no man might lay the stealing of a nap to his charge. But of Pariphrasis and Periphrasis more severally.  
Sometimes a Parenthesis makes your discourse more graceful and intelligible: As, Tell me ingenuously (if there be any ingenuity in you) whether, etc. That what his wit could conceive (and his wit can conceive as far as the limits of reason stretch) was all directed to the setting forth of his friend. Till the next morning (better known to be so by the Hourglass, than the days clearness) having run fortune, etc. And indeed all Parentheses are in extremes, either graces or foils to a Speech. If they be long, they seem interruptions, and therefore at the end of them must be a retreat to the matter, called ANTANACLASIS. As, Assure thyself most wicked woman (that hast so plaguily a corrupted mind, as that thou canst not keep thy sickness to thyself, but must most wickedly infect others) Assure thyself, I say, etc. Shall that heart (which does not only feel them, but hath all motion of his life placed in them,) Shall that heart, I say, etc.  
Division is a severing the whole into parts, as of time into that past, present, and to come, (which is rather a breathing then a Division) into supreme or subordinate. From their order; beasts or unreasonable creatures, into those of the Air, Water, Earth; Love is either of Beauty, or of Virtue. From the object. Study is of Liberal or Mathematic Science. And so you may divide as many ways as things may differ, as by their beginnings, endi●gs, properties, marks, effects, times, tunes, place●, forms, persons, in whom they are, and howsoever, which properly belongs to Logic; yet something is spoken thereof, in our second way of Amplification. Out of Divisions arise three several enforcements and manifestations of your purpose, which (though by Rhetoritians diversely handled and termed) yet are they in effect grounded upon the Art of Distribution.  
The first is Expedition, which (touching upon divers parts) destroys all, but that, on which you mean to rest; As, One of these courses must be taken, either you must distinctly observe and practise these Rules, or deny that ever you received Instructions, or allege want of capacity in yourself, or want of use of them in your life. That they are not necessary, you cannot say, for what more necessary in your life, then to write well? That you are uncapable, is a slander, and a contradiction to your own conscience and my experience, that hath seen such fair Essays of your endeavours. And to say you had never any directions, were to give your two eyes the lie, and to make me believe, that I did never but dream your good. Therefore must your labour conspire with my inventions, and so must you unavoidably become skilful. This is Enumeration and Inference, whereupon is that which the Logicians call Induction, as in reckoning up. It is neither that nor this, therefore this. And as one merrily saith, It is the Dog's Syllogism in a cross way, or that, or that, but I smell him not this way, nor this way, therefore he runs on his conclusion the third way, without smelling.  
The second of this sort is PROSOPODOSIS, that overthrows no part of the Division, but returns some part to each member. In Arcadia thus, Heretofore I accused the Sea, condemned the Pirates, and hated my evil fortune, that deprived me of thee: But now thyself art the Sea, thyself the Pirate, and thy will the evil fortune. Time at one instant seeming short and long to them; short in the pleasingness of such presence, and long in stay of their desires. Your silence must carry with it a construction of contempt, unkindeness or displeasure. If you take me not for your friend, you offer unkindeness; if you deem me unworthy of an answer, it proceeds of contempt; if your Passion defers a reply, it argues displeasure. The first of these denied all parts, save one: This affirms and keeps all sides up. The last is Dilemma, which proposes two sides, and overthrows both ability and will to write well: for to say I cannot, is Childish; and I will not, is Womanish.  

PERIPHRASIS & PARAPHRASIS.  
There is in the best Writers oftentimes a vain of stile, wherein vulgar fancies are exceedingly pleased, and know not wherewith. For they admire this most, that there is some excellency in it, and yet they themselves suspect that it exceeds their admiration. In some examples I would gladly discover the reason hereof: It cannot be, that if either the meaning of the words be obscure, and unfamiliar to a man's understanding, that the speech so composed, should be so accepted: And yet it is possible that there may be some extraordinary fancy in ordinary words, and plain meanings, how then shall we determine? It is as in many usual dishes at a table, both eyes and taste give them commendation, not for the substance, but for the dressing and service. What plainer meaning then, sleep among thiefs? And verily sleep, life trust and thiefs, are common English words, yet is it no common way of speaking, to say, To trust a sleeping life among thiefs. In the same sense, when they had slept a while, is ordinary. But when they had a while harkened to the persuasion of sleep, is extraordinary. Though all the words of it by themselves are most known and familiar; yet the ordering and fetch of it is strange and admirable to the ignorant; We therefore call it Periphrasis or Circumlocution, and it is much helped by Metaphors, as before: inclined to sleep is expressed by a Metaphor taken from one who moves and inclines by persuasions. But let us have one combat more with our adversary sleep; for, having risen early, having striven with the sun's earliness; Instead of Mopsa wept ill-favouredly, Mopsa disgraced weeping with her countenance. Instead of saying▪ they that guarded Amphialus, were killed themselves; it's said, seeking to save him, they lost the fortresses, which nature had planted them in. Instead of Plangus speech began to be suspected; it is said, Plangus speech began to be translated into the language of suspicion. Thus purposely did Sir Philip write, to keep his stile from flatness. As being to name a Thresher, he calls him one of Ceres' servants, Instead of his name was known to high and low; he saith, That no Prince could pretend highness, nor beggar lowness, to bar him from the sound thereof. And this is by going a CONCRETO AD ABSTRACTUM, and divers other ways.  
If a short ordinary sense be oddly expressed by more words, it is Pariphrasis; but if by as many other, it is Paraphrasis: as, manifest Oaths, plentiful perjury. To make a great show of himself. To make a muster of himself in the Island: for kill any married man; make his sword cursed by any widow, which is by consequence, seeking by courtesy, to undo him. Making courtesy the outside of mischief, by Similitude or Metaphor: so than the course is, instead of any ordinary words importing a trivial matter, to take the abstracts, or some consequence, similitude, note, property or effect, and thereby express it. These two figures serve for Illustration.  
It is sometimes requisite for gaining life and lustre in your discourse, to represent some unexpected strangeness, besides the tenor of your Theme or Story: and, as it were, to act your meaning; which is done either by feigning the presence or the discourse of some such persons, as either are not at all: or if they be, yet speak not but by your imagination. The first is by Apostrophe or Prosopopeia.  
APOSTROPHE, is a turning of your speech to some new person, as to the people or witnesses, when it was before to the ●udges or Defendant: as, Herein you witnesses are to consult with your own consciences, and to enter into a true examination of your own memory. Did you mark ●is looks? Did you note his speeches? Did you truly conceive the particular proceedings of the Action? To the people thus, Now let me entreat any man here present, that thinks himself not exempted from misfortunes, and privileged from all mischiefs, to imagine himself in my case, and to undertake for my sake some few thoughts of my Distress. Sometimes the occasion is taken from some quality or other thing, whereto yourself gives show of life; as, Hope tell me, what hast thou to hope for? Love, be ashamed to be called Love. But to animate, and make dead men speak is PROSOPOPAEIA; as, If your Ancestors were now alive, and saw you defacing so goodly a Monument by them erected, would they not say thus, etc. And as Sir Philip Sidney gives sense and speech to the Needle and Silk in Pamela's hands, as learning, as a Lily: as death itself is feigned to live, and make a speech.  
Another way of clearing and reviving your discourse, is by deliberating, by entering into communication, by preventing and answering Objections. In deliberating sometimes you are amazed; as, Whom shall I blame? what shall I pretend? shall I make learning hateful to you by my reprehensions? shall I make my silence accessary to your idleness? It is not in my power, It is not in my discretion to reform it. Under this figure are Philoclea's wishes of Zelmaine.  
There is another kind of Deliberation, which proposes many things with intricating or entangling a man's self: as Nothing can assure me of the countenance of your love towards me, if you discontinue the study of speaking well. For suppose you marry into some worthy Family; suppose they enrich you with some new friends; may not a vain of thriving rob me of your acquaintance? may not I lose you? nay, may not you lose yourself in a labyrinth of worldly cares? Sometimes we enter into Communication; as, Were it your case, what would you answer? Tell me, I appeal to your secret thoughts. Your friend hath esteemed better of his own stomach, then of the eternal love vowed betwixt you, and prefers the trial of his valour, before the regard of both your credits, which must die, however either or both of you survive the combat. Would you not judge him unworthy to be your friend, that began his fidelity with an inviolable Covenant never to be an Enemy.  
Prevention of an Objection hath two figures; the one is Occupatio, the other Subjectio.  
Occupatio is thus, You will say to me, that in a factious Country, it is the only policy to stand neutral. I say, not unless many circumstances help you; viz. These, if none of your friends be entered into the quarrel, If you be assured that your wealth and discretion is equal to the best. If there be a likelihood to scatter the reliance on both sides, and make a new park, than it is wisdom to stand aloof a while, that if you please, you may add the victory to which side you will. But having declared yourself, you intent to be upright? you will grow contemptible, you offer Reconciliation? your strength will forsake you, you dispraise your adversaries? you will be deemed envious. You commend his wisdom? you betray your own weakness: praise then his wealth, his Ancestors, his Beauty, his pleasures; but praise not his foresight nor his valour. Are you Judge amongst your neighbours and inferiors? be precisely just and rightful. Are you Assistant to your friend? be advisedly and throughly partial. You would be counted liberal? testify it seldom; but if publicly, worthily. You would thrive in bargaining? let your transactions be private: for many small breaches of conscience are more infamous, then one great one. But ●ffend not your conscience willingly to be Treasurer of all the Indian Ours. Thu● you see how Counsels, Precepts and Sentences may be translated into the form of Occupatio and Subjectio. Sometimes Occupatio is left out, and an Argument brought to the contrary; as Cecropia persuading her son Amphialus to offer violence to Philoclea, presupposed that he would say, He must be modest: she replies, Each virtue hath his time, the soldier that should march foremost, must not give way for modesty. There is Occupatio and Subjectio in Arcadia, if she contemned, then thus— if otherwise, then etc. Did I walk abroad to see my delight? my walking was the delight itself. He saw her alive; he was glad to see her alive. He saw her weep: he was sorry to see her wee●. He heard her comfortable speeches: nothing more joyful.  
This figure cannot be out of season, unless purposely, as it was in the fustian speech: You listen to my speeches, I must needs confess it; you harken to my words? I cannot deny it; you look for some sense? I partly believe it: But you find none? I do not much regard it.  
There is another figure, which hath been called by the name of Concessio. But I mean to mistake Occupatio and Concessio, one for the other, till I can distinguish them better. The form of Concessio is this, I admit you are resolute: I grant your determination is immovable, but it is in things against your friends judgements. And in things against your own praise and profit.    

OF EPITHETS.  
Epithets do much embellish Style or Discourse, yet they must be used (according to the comparison of Demosthenes) as sauce or seasoning, which whe●s the appetite, since they cannot pass for solid viands: otherwise in his opinion, there can be nothing more flat, and of less grace. Quintilian resembles a discourse, which is stuffed too full of Epithets to an Army, wherein there are not more soldiers for service, than boys for attendance; and which is, by that means, rendered very great in number, but weak in force and courage. Conform to this is that of Longinus, who advises that we moderately use such Epithets, as are not too high swollen, nor far fetched, but such as are apposite to the subject. In these late● refined days, we have a kind of compound Epithets, annexed to a noun with a Proche or Division (as the Printers call it) which are much used in Poetry, and sometimes in Prose: of which let me give you some examples, and so leave them.  

The Quiver-bearing Meads.  
The Tempest-tossed seas.  
The Wool-ore-burthened sheep.  
The Meadow-loving sorrel.  
A horror-strucken mind.  
The Earth-encircling Ocean.  
An Heaven inspired art.  
Sence-distracting grief.  
Fancy-pleasing faces.  
The Pine-plowed sea.  
The Green-mantled earth.  
Soul-subduing graces.  
A Heaven-faln star.  
A Self-condemning mind.  
An un-Sun-seen cave.  
Love-distilling tears.  
This Heaven-displeasing war.  
Liver-scalding lust.  
Marblehearted cruelty.  
Time-beguiling pleasure.  
This Blood-be-dabled Kingdom.  
People-pleasing Lectures.  
Corner-haunting lust.  
A Life-Conferring form. etc.    

Formulae Majores. OR, COMMON PLACES.  

Absence.  
AS thou art the food of my thoughts, the relief of my wishes, and the only life and repast of all my desires: So is thy love to me a continual hunger, and thine absence an extreme famine.  
In absence my grief grows, in finding my present estate so weak in fortune, and my deserts so slender in nature; that not knowing w●th Anthony how to requite his Cleopatra, I only rest with Anthony▪ to die for my Cleopatra.  
Tell him my love doth burn like vestal fire, which (with his memory, richer than all apexes) disperseth odours round about my foul, and did re●ress it, when 'twas dull and sad with thinking of his absence.  
He more breathed A.B. than the air itself; and all her absences were to him so many deaths.  
I want no part of welfare, but your wished presence.  
The love which he bore to her at her return was as a torrent, (which a●te● it hath a long time been restrained) breaks the forced damm●, and with vigorous impetuousness drowns the fields. Holy Court.  
Hoping, forgetfulness (which commonly waits upon absence) might possess him, he departed.  
Since your absence, melancholy hath been my Concomitant, and you●, remembrance my greatest comfort.  
I departed from you, like a hungry infant, pulled from his nurse's breast, or a thirsty Hart chased from a sweet fountain.  
Live I pray you in repose, as much as you may, during this absence; and if my being away causes sorrow in you, let the assurance of my affection diminish it.  
— forced a tedious separation of those sacred bodies, whose souls are entirely linked in divine affection.   

Acknowledgement.  
MY acknowledgement of your favours shall appear in my willingness to do you service  
And myself shall not only acknowledge this favour with humb●est thankfulness, but etc.  
The acknowledgement of your favours shall be my meanest thanks; and to thank you for those favours must be my best acknowledgement: I can do no more, I will do no less.  
They acknowledge (with more or less degrees of homage) some kind of fealty.  
— It sh●ll not be without a just confession of the bond your benefits have, and ever shall hold upon me.   

Affection.  
THe construction of his Speech might best be made by the Grammer-Rules of affection.  
It is the flaming Agony of affection that works the chilling access of your fever.  
The coals of his affection were so kindled with wonder, and blown with delight, that—  
Suffering neither his unworthiness nor his wrongs to cover with forgetfulness, or diminish with consideration, the affection she had born him.  
— to whom with words (which affection indicted but amazement uttered) he delivered—  
(Looking down upon her from the high-top of affections Tower.)  
If you retain as yet any spark of affection (which you have often given me witness of) kiss this paper in remembrance of him, who, etc.  
My affections no less love the light and witness, than they have conscience of your virtue.  
The high tide of overflowing affection restraining his tongue with astonishment, as unable to express an unexpressable passion.  
The blood of her face ebbing and flowing according to the tide of affection.  
He grafted his affection in the stock of her constancy.  
(Testimonies of a never-silent hearty affection.)  
But perceiving his affection so grounded, that striving against it, did more anger then heal the wound, and rather call his friendship in question, then give place to any friendly Counsel.—  
The large testimony of your affection makes me willing to suppress a great number of errors.  
She in an instant was made an unfortunate winter of affection.  
To intrinsicate myself in your affection.  
My affection shall find no parallel in its well-wishes to you.  
The tender tinder of his affection began to sparkle.  
Striving to match her matchless beauty, with a matchless affection.  
He (wh●se affection climbed by another stair)—  
In ●rue affection, two so become one, as they both become two. Rel. Med.  
— You, in whom my affection holds a steady mansion.  
Nor life, nor death shall divorce my affection from you.  
Upon what briars the roses of his affection grow.  
I conjure you to this by my affection, that never had equal. Ar.  
The sight of this place doth call my thoughts to appear at the Court of affection, held by that 〈◊〉 Steward Remembrance.  
Th●se lines represent in the poverty of fancy, the riches of my affection.  
— Good offices are the marks and cement of true affection. H.C.  
— The heart is the Continent of affection.  
Affection flows uncompelled.   

Anger.  
ANger is the fever of the Soul, which makes the tongue talk idle: it puts a man into a tumult, that he cannot hear what counsel speaks: 'tis a raging sea, a troubled wa●er, that cannot be wholesome for the use of a●y. Feltham,  
— They are things below the merit of my indignation; objects of scorn, which a little slighted, and not inflamed by opposition, or countenanced to a reply by confutation, will, within a whil● of themselves extinguish and vanish: like s●me dispersed roving winds, which without encounter are dispirited and die. Doctor Wats upon Bacon.   

Beauty.  
THen was plainly to be seen the Empire, which humane beauty and an eloquent tongue have over earthly powers.  
Beauty consists in complexion, in lineaments, and in harmony.  
You are the most excellent star that shines in the bright element of Beauty.  
Some became Petitioners and Prisoners to her Beauty, others did homage to her virtues.  
Beauty is to be reckoned, but as an outward fading benefit, that nature hath bestowed.  
The Idol of beauty ought not to be honoured with such oblations.  
My eyes drank much more eagerly of her beauty, than my mouth did of any other liquor.  
Her face is such a spark of beauty, as is able to en●●ame a world of love.  
— She, who in a definite compass, can set forth infinite beauty.  
The excellency of her returned beauty, was a credible ambassador of her health.  
Where beauty is, there needs no other plea.  
S●ll not your soul for such a vanity as eye-pleasing beauty  
Virtue is nothing else but inward beauty; and beauty nothing else but an outward virtue. Bacon.  
Making her beautiful beams to thaw away the former icyness of his—  
— Two sisters, about whom, as about two Poles, the sky of Beauty was turned.  
Rather than those eyes should overflow their own beauties, or the sky of your beauty should be over clouded with sorrow,—  
Beauty in the heaven of her face (two Suns eclipsed) was wrapped up in paleness.  
Beauty which hath no grace, is a bait floating on the water without a hook, to be taken, and to catch nothing. Eustatius.  
Beauty is like the herb Larix, cool in the water, but hot in the stomach.  
I cannot but applaud the wonder of your beauty.  
Such is the divine power of love's deity, such the virtuous force of your heavenly beauty, and such the happy issue of our decreed destiny.  
Beauty without chastity, is like a Mandrake apple, comely in sh●w, but poysonful in taste▪  
I must accuse myself of presumption, for daring to consider any moles in that face, which you had marked for a beauty. Sir K.D.  
— A beauty, which always with too eloquent a tongue did dictate tacit persuasions to his heart▪  
What a fair vestment is to a deformed body, the same is a comely body to a deformed mind. Bacon.  
A fair soul in a fair body, is a river that windingly creepeth with many wavy-turning within the ennamel of a beautiful meadow, and ravisheth the whole world with the admiration of its excellency.  
Beauty in itself is such a silent Orator, as ever i● pl●●ding for respect and liking: and by the eye● of others▪ is ever sending to their hearts for love. Feltham.  
The modest sweetness of a lilied ●ace—  
Beauty is the wit of nature put into the frontispiece.  
I have seen (and yet not with a partial eye) such features, and such mixtures, as I have thought impossible for either nature to frame, or art to counterfeit: yet in the same face, I have se●n that which hath our go them both, the countenance. Oh! if such glory can dwell with corruption, what Celestial excellencies are in the Saints above? who would not gaze himself into admiration, when he shall see so rich a treasure in so pure a Cabinet, unmatched virtue in matchless beauty? Feltham.  
Zeno said, grace of body was a voice of flower, and a flower of voice: Voice of flower, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  because it draws amity to it, as the flower of a garden, not crying out nor tormenting itself; 
H▪ C. Max. 296.  a flower of voice, because it is one of the most flowery elo●encies among the attractives of nature.  
What is temporal beauty, but a transitory charm, an illusion of senses, a voluntary imposture, a slave of pleasure, a flower which hath but a moment of life, a Dial on which we never look, but whilst the Sun shines on it? What is human● beauty but a dunghill covered with snow, a glass painted with fals● colour's, a prey pursued by many Dogs, a dangerous hostess in a ●rail house, a sugared fruit in a feast, which some dare not touch for respect▪ & ●ther● gourmandise through sensuality? Go ●rust so a ●ing a good Go, b●take you to so ●nhappy a s●are: G●, tie your contentments to ●o slippery a knot. What else will happen unto you, bu● to court a fantasy which loos●ing your hold, will leave you nothing but the sorrow of your illusions? H. Court.   

Blush.  
AS she s●ake that word, her cheeks in ●ed Letters writ more than her tongue did speak.  
As the wonder strove to make her pale, warm love did fortify her cheeks wi●h guilty blushes.  
— At whose presence a fr●sh vermilion die bestowed a new complexion on her.   

Company.  
HIs pleasing company did beguile the times haste, and shortened the ways length.  
Why will you give me with so sparing a hand, the riches of your presence?   

Constancy.  
She— whose constancy neither time nor absence, (the moths of affection) nor, what is more, this my change in fortune, could alter.  
— He, who signed his faith with the seal of his constancy.  
Be but thou as constant a friend to my mind, as thou shalt be a true possessor of my heart, and I shall have as just a cause of joy, as thou no cause of doubt.  
Though the surging sea hath moved the humours of my body, yet it hath not power to change the inclinations of my mind; for I love you no less at Antwerp (where I am arrived) than I did at London, etc.  
He continued always constant, like the Needle of a Sea-compass in a storm.  
Constancy is the foundation of virtue. Bac.  
Fortune is like Proteus; if you persist, she returns to her true shape. Bacon.   

Comparisons.  
THis comfort in danger was but like the honey that Samson found in the Lion's jaws, or like lightning in a foggy night.  
Resolved he was not to touch the forbidden fruit, nor to drink on Circe's cup; he would not with the Spider suck poison out of a fair flower  
In the greenest grass is the greatest Serpent: ●n the clearest water the ugliest Toad; In the most curious Sepulchre are enclosed rotten bones: The O●●●ich carrieth fair feathers, but rank flesh.  
As there hath been an unchaste Helen in Greece; so there hath been also a chaste Penelope; As there hath been a prodigious Pasiphae: so has there been a godly Theocrita.  
Hipp●manes ceased to run when she had gotten the Goal: Hercules to labour when he had obtained the victory: Mercury to pipe when he had cast Argus in a slumber: Every action hath his end.  
Each book sent into the world, is like a Bark put to sea, and as liable to censures, as the Bark is to ●oul weather. Herbert.  
Like the City Mindus, whose Gates were so big, that the City might go out of them.  
— Which like the flaming two edged waving sword of the Cherub cuts asunder on all sides, whatsoever does oppose it. Cressy.  
Li●e the stone that groweth in the River of Curia, which the more it is cut, the more it increaseth.  
There is no iron but will be softened with the fire; So no, etc.—  
As a fair flower nipped with the morning frost ' hangging down his head, as much sorry for his declining glory.—  
When the Haltions' hatch, the Sea is calm; and the Phoenix never spreads her wings, but when the Sun shines on her nest: So—  
Like the Spaniel which gnaws upon the chain that ties him; but sooner mars his teeth, then procures liberty.—  
Consider that the heavenly Sun disdains not to give light and shine upon the smallest worm.  
— In this 'tis so evident that I will not light the Sun with a rush candle.  
He commends unto us a golden chain of Christian perfections, consisting of these links, Faith, Virtue, Patience, etc.  
We can expect but Polyphemus courtesy, to be last devoured.  
Rome's Capitol was not built in one day; nor was Zeuxis Helena suddenly limned forth with one pencil.  
They have long sported in the blood and treasure of the land, as the Leviathan doth in the Waters.  
His mind was all this while so fixed upon another devotion, that he no more marked his friend's discourse, than the child that hath leave to play, marks the last part of his lesson, or the diligent Pilot in a tempest attends the unskilful words of a Passenger.  
She trembled like the unlicked lamb newly yeaned upon a sheet of s●ow.  
My expression is but like a picture drawn with a coal, wanting those lively colours which a more skilful pen might give it.  
It is the Decree of Heaven, That every Composition here beneath, as well framed by the hand of Art, as fashioned by the help of Nature, should sustain some imperfection; for glass hath its lead, gold its dross, corn its chaff. Helen her mole, the moon her spots, and the Sun its shade. Spa. Bawd.  
(Like the Sun that illuminates the whole air, (if no cloud or solid opacous body intervene) S. K.D.  
— Did make no more impressions on him, then. an Arrow on a rock of Adamant.  
— More impure than the stable of Augaeus. H. C As pensive as the night.  
— You, as cruel as the Duke of Muscovia, named Basilides, who commanded from his subjects a tribute of Sweat and of Nightingales in the midst of Winter. H Court.  
If thou be as hot as the mount Aetna, feign thyself as cold as the hill Caucasus: carry two faces in one hood.  
As ingenious Cicero could pick gold out of Ennius' dung; so may—  
His Fetters (like King Agrippa's golden chain) more became him then his Imperial Diadem. Ka meka thee▪  
As liberal as the Sun which shines on all.  
like Aesop's Crow pranked up in borrowed feathers.   

Descriptions.  
— HE was even ravished with contentment, in beholding th●se goodly P●●aces, where was seen an admirable Consort of Art and Nature, so many H●lls, so well furnished within; such rich hangings, such most exquisite pictures, such marbles, such guildings, and without mountains, which make a natural Theatre, tapistred without Art to surpass all workmanship, forests, which seem born with the world, hedges and knots curiously cut, Alleys and Mazes, where both eyes and feet are lost, Rivers which creep along with silver purl about gardens enamelled with most fragrant flowers, caverns replenished with a sacred horror, grotts and fountains, which gently gliding, contend with the warble of birds, and so many other spectacles, which at first sight astonished spirits and never satiate. H.C.  
— There were Hills which garnished their proud heights with trees, humble valleys, whose low estate seemed comforted with refreshing of silver rivers, meadows enamelled with all sorts of eye-pleasing flowers, thickets, which being lined with most pleasant shade, were witnessed so too, by the cheerful disposition of many well-tuned birds, each pasture stored w●th sheep, feeding with sober security, while the pretty lambs, with bleating oratory, craved the dams comfort; Here a Shepherd's Boy piping, as though he should never be old, there a young She●●●●rdesse knitting, and withal singing, and her hands kept time to her voices music, a show as it were of an accompaniable solitariness, and of a civil wildeness.  
— Neither are the gardens to be omitted, which for their largeness have the face of a forest, for their variety, of a Paradise; Here Cypress Groves, there walks with Statues; Here a Sea of fountains, there Swans, Ostriches, and other recreative creatures. Mer. Ital.  
— It is a place which now humbling itself in fallowed plains, ●ow prou● in wel-husbanded hills, marries barren woods to cultivated valleys, and joins neat gardens to delicious fountains, etc.   

Death.  
DEath is that inconsiderable atom of time that divides the body from the soul, etc.  
Scaliger defines Death to be the Cessation of the souls functions.  
When Hadrian asked Secundus what Death was, he answered in these several truths; It is a sleep eternal, the body's dissolution, the rich man's fear, the poor man's wish, an event inevitable, an uncertain journey, a thief that steals away man, sleeps father, life's flight, the departure of the living, and the resolution of all. Feltham.  
Death had no sooner absented him from her eyes but forgetfulness drew him out of her heart.  
When we once come in sight of the port of Death, to which all winds drive us; and when by letting fall that fatal Anchor, which can never be weighed again, the Navigation of this life takes end: Then it is, I say, that our own cogitations (those sad and severe cogitations formerly beaten from us by our health and felicity) return again and pay us to the uttermost for all the pleasing passages of our lives past. Sir Wa. Rawl.  
Death deprived me of my paradised bliss, and not only made my broken heart the sad habitation of woe, but also turned my mind (which before was a kingdom to me) into a hell of tormenting thoughts.  
Torches made of Aromatic wood, cast out their odoriferous exhalations when they are almost wasted: So the virtuous A. made all the good odours of her life evaporate in the last instant of her death  
Tha● he is dead,— As if she now scorned life, Death lends her cheeks his paleness, and her eyes tell down their drops of silver to the earth, wishing her tears might rain upon his grave, to make the gentle earth produce some flower should bear his name and memory.  
— She (prostrated on the body of her Lover) sought in his eclipsed eyes and dead lips, the remnant of her life.  
I shall not be unwilling to suffer a goal-delivery of my soul from the prison of my body, when I am called to it.  
— Delivered up to the immortality of another world. This deadly sha●t passing through him, so wounded me, that I myself was arrived within few paces of the land of darkness. In his silent marble, the best part of that small portion of joy I had in the world▪ but all my hopes are entombed. Wat's in Baa. Preface.  
(Drawing near to the confines of Death's kingdom▪)  
Death●rees ●rees a man from misery, and wafts him to the haven of his happiness. Her.  
As soon as Death hath played the Midwife to our second birth, our soul shall then see all truths more freely▪ then our corporal eyes at our first birth see all bodies and colours. Sir K.D.   

Desire.  
IF you desire that I make you a picture of the nature and perquisites of Desire, I will tell you, It is a strange Country, whereunto the prodigal Child sailed, when he forsook his Father's house to undertake a banishment: a Country where Corn is still in Grass; Vines in the Bud; Trees perpetually in Blossom, and Birds always in the Shell; You neither see Corn, Fruit, nor any thing fully shaped, all is there only in expectation: It is a Country full of Figures, Phantosmes, Illusions and hopes, which are dreams without sleep. A Country where the Inhabitants are never without Fevers, one is no sooner gone, but another comes into its place. There dwells Covetousness, a great woman, meager, lean, starven, having round about her, a huge swarm of winged boys, of which some are altogether languishing, others cast her a thousand smiles, as she passeth along; upon herself she hath an infinite number of Horseleeches, which suck upon her to the marrow. Time looks on her a far off, and never comes near her, showing her an enchanted Looking-glass, wherein she sees a thousand and a thousand false colours, which amuse her, and when she hath sported enough, she hath nothing to dinner but smoke. Holy Court.  
Albeit you can no ways quench the coals of Desire with forgetfulness, yet rake them up in the ashes of modesty.  
As Pharaoh longed to know his dream: so desired he to—  
Desire (the nurse of perseverance) gave him wings to make the more speed.  
Thus wishing my deserts still suitable to my desires, and my desires ever pleasing to your deserts.  
— More ready in desire, then able in power to serve you.  
— Then which nothing could shoot righter at the mark of my desires.  
— And wish you, as full of good Fortune, as I am of desire.  
She ●●a●d not 〈…〉 desires.  
Desire is a wind, that against the tide can carry us merrily; with it, make us fly. Feltham.  
Desire so blue the fire of his new conceived rage, that—   

Desert.  
HOw much my sm●ll deserts are overbalanced by your unspeakable goodness?  
— You, whose desert passes my best endeavours of requital.  
— I● flies to the sacred Al●ar of your immutable goodness, set off with all the additions of greatness which nature or affection can throw upon unmatched desert.  
— Thi● is the hard fate my just merit hath encountered.  
— It is a matter so far above my merits, that I 〈◊〉 not think upon i● without presumption.   

Despair▪  
THe fire of mine affection was blown by the bellows of despair.  
Despair of success was the hearse of his supposed idle thoughts.  
Love wanting desire, makes the mind desperate, and fixed fancy ●er●ft of love, turns into fury.  
My Lords! I speak to minds too Noble to be stifled in the narrow confines of fear: follow your Prince, whose virtue the spite of Fortune, shall not wrack into despair.  
Whilst I wear a hand, commanded by a heart, that knows no fear, I shall not despair of—   

Displeasure.  
Y●u● displeasure is so contrary to my des●●t, and your w●rds so ●ar beyond all expectations, that I have least ability, now I have m●st need, to speak in the cause upon which my life depends.  
What hath your poor servant deserved to have his own misfortune loade● with your displeasure?   

Eloquence.  
ELoquence is a way of speech prevailing over th●se whom we design it prevail; That is, if we will take it in the short or Laconic way, a distilling our notions into a quintessence, or forming all our thoughts in a Cone and smiting with the point, etc. Mr. Hall in his Epistle before Longinus.  
— A man, who (filling the sails of Eloquence) as easily moved his auditors, as winds do the sands of Lybia, which stir at their pleasure.  
His Speech appeared in costly robes, adorned with lofty and glorious language, sweetened by many a pleasant and clear Simile, quickened by divers acute and learned Criticisms; My Cabinet enshrineth no such treasure.  
Though I have not eloquence enough to win, yet I hope to find language enough to persuade.  
He was dazzled with ●he brightness of her aspect; bu● when she b●gan to unloose her tongue, never was Siren so attractive with songs, as she with words.  
— 'Tis a speech wherein the abundance of supereminent conceits chokes not the grace, nor doth curiosity take any thing from the propriety thereof.  
— Your manner of speech is indeed Princelike, flowing a● fr●m a fountain, and yet streaming and branching it sel● into Nature's order, full of facility and felicity, imitating none, and inimitable of any Bacon.  
Your conceptions are inimitable, your language sweet and polite, your Sentences are full of weight, your Arguments of force, and your Words glide along like a River, and ever bear in them some slashes of lightning—  
How greedily my ears did feed upon the sweet words she uttered.  
Were not your affection stronger tied to the Orator than the Oratory, I should not hope to persuade you that— Her.  
— He, with a fearless fashion, thus bespoke the audience.—  
Every accent falls like a fresh jewel to increase her value.  
— His masculine eloquence was thought worthiest to enjoy the maidenhead of the City's attention.—  
— Forcibly won by the smooth artifice of speech—  
It is no small dominion the imagination hath in persuasions, insinuated by the power of Eloquence. Bac.  
You have truly found out the Philosopher's st●ne; for every gross matter you can convert into the gold of fine language  
Eloquence does commonly storm the mind of the Auditor, and at length take him in.   

Entertainment.  
I want expression to give you the circumstance ●it● what a ●owing l●ve, or rather with what 〈◊〉 devotion, I entertain you. G●at. Ser.  
— Y●u much hon●r me; for ●ill this white 〈◊〉 th●se walls were never proud to enclose a ●●●st, ●he Genius of my house is, by s● gr●at a pre●●●●e waked▪ and glories to entertain you.  
Could this roof ●e capable of ill, your only pre●●nce (Lady) would convert it▪ There is a virtuous magic in your eye, for wheresoever it casts a beam, it does creates a goodness.  
I am much confounded for this honour you do me, Madam, but yet I am more ashamed ●o see you in a place, where virtue never entered but in your attndance. Ariana.  
Y'●re each of you a various banquet, where a breathing sweetness feasts the spectator's, and diverts all thought of ea●ing to beholding, and from beholding to enjoying. Am. War.  
Your presence is restorative.   

Friendship.  
AS Passion hath been well said to be Friendship run mad; So Friendship may be properly styled Sober passion, as having all the spirit and cordiality of the wine of Love, without the offensive fumes and vapours of it. Mr. Montagu in his Misce●lenea  
The love of men to women is a thing common, and of cou●se; but the friendship of man to man is infinite and immortal. Plato.  
The words of a friend joined with true affection, give life to the heart, and comfort to a care-oppressed mind. Chylo.  
The mutual habitude of no intermiting-friendship between us, hath strongly confirmed—  
(Receiving so dear witnesses of your friendship)  
The resemblance of their beauties and of their wits, joined their souls together, and soon after, that of their fortunes made this friendship perfect. Ar.  
(which your friendship rather finds, than I acknowledge)  
Hence grows the height of friendship, when two similiary souls shall blend in their commixions. Feltham.  
As nothing unites more than a reciprocal exchange of affection: So there is nothing hinders the knot of friendship more than then apparent neglect of courtesies. Feltham.  
Friendship a diligent Officer, taketh care to see the bonds thereof fully executed.  
Friendship i● the soul of humane society.  
Friendship is a pleasant sauce to any temporal happiness. Bacon.  
The worst solitude is be destitute of sincere friendship.   

Gift.  
TRuly (Sir) I doubt whether is greater the poverty of the Gift, or the boldness of the giver, who●e true respects have encouraged him to this small expression of service.  
I beseech you to excuse me, that this Present is not correspondent to your merit.  
Please to respect the enlarged heart of the giver, more than the quality of the gift; Since the meanness of this, can only serve to express the wellmeaning of the other.   

Hypocrisy.  
DO not we know that Hypocrisy is the same the same thing to virtue, which painting is to Faces, and that it is the very moth which devours sanctity.  
What doth not a plastered sanctity for the subversion of the simple? What doth not a bad servant when once he possesseth the easy nature of his Master?   

Inconstancy.  
INconstancy is properly a levity and an irresolution of mind, which shows itself in his manners, actions and words, who is touched with it. To say truth, this passion is a Devil that inhabits in a land of Quicksilver, where Earthquakes are almost perpetual, winds blow on each side, and blowing, make many weathercocks turn to & fro and every moment change posture. In this place a● admirable creature is to be seen, who is not what she is, and is that she is not, so many faces and figures she hath: She likewise is still upon transformations, and seems to do nothing at all, but to make and unmake herself. One while she is great, another while little; one while gross, another while sl●nder; one while affable, another while harsh; one while serious, another while gamesome, but ever slippery; and if you lay hold of her, you catch nothing. She goes forth of her lodging to appear in public, as if she came into a Theatre, clothed one while in changeable Taffeta, another while with different pieces, set together out of a singular fantastic addleness of wit. She alone represents all personages, talks with all kind of voices, and in all manner of languages, etc. H. Court.   

Hast.  
(BEing born away with the hasty Tide of smallest leisure▪)  
— Going with a pace not so much too fast for her body, as slow for her mind.  
With such haste (as if her ears hunted for words) desired to know.—   

Hope.  
HOpe is the gate of a great Palace replenished with riches. It is in my opinion the place which Tertullian terms, The Porteress of Nature. It hath two arms, with which it endeavours to pursue and embrace objects, whereof the one is called Desire, and ●he the other Belief to be able to obtain what one desireth, etc. H. Court.  
The Babylon of worldly hopes shows itself in the beginning, as a miracle; but if we proceed further, we find those desires, that were as pleasing as the dawning of the day (which at its first springing ●appeares all over studded with Emeralds and Rubies) turn at last, and are changed into the horrors of a sad tempest.  
Humane life hath not a surer friend, nor many times a greater enemy, than Hope. 'Tis the miserable man's God, which in the had●st gripe of calamity, never fails to yield him beams of c●mf●●t. It is the presumpt●●us man's Devil, which leads him a while in a smooth way, & then makes him break his neck o● the sudden. Hope is to man as a bladder to a learning swimmer, etc. Feltham  
— The sight whereof made Hope (the Harbinger of happiness) to breathe in her this pleasing comfort.  
Sweet, I see is the hope that springs in the bud, but most sorrowful I find is the hap that decays in the blossom.  
Our teeming hopes will ever be delivered of a gracious birth.  
— She whose weaker Bowels were straight full with the least liquor of hope.  
Hope is but the dream of a man awake.  
You have blasted the harvest of my hopes.   

Jealousy.  
Jealousy is a disease of the mind, proceeding from a fear which a man hath, that that thing is communicated to another, which he would not have common, but private to himself: it is also bred of that love which will not suffer a partner in the thing beloved.  
Thereupon a furious jealousy, as if it had been breathed from hell, began to lay hold on this gentle spirit, all the objects of what was passed returned to thicken this black-vapour, to frame a cloud thereof, and resolve it into a storm. H.C.  
What is it that you should thus conceal from me? Be my ears unworthy, or my tongue suspected?  
Love, as it is Divine with loyalty: so is it Hell, with jealousy.  
There can be no greater Tyranny than jealousy whereby a man continually murders himself living.  
All his actions began to be translated into the language of suspicion.  
Jealousy is a Gin that we set to catch Serpents, which, as soon as we have caught them, sting us. Feltham.  
Jealousy is the Canker of Wedlock.  
Jealousy continually studies the Anatomy of hearts, and shows great severity to the least defective part. Montagu.  
He is as jealous as a Turkey.   

Ingratitude.  
INgratitude challenges revenge by Custom, and is a vice most hateful before God and Man.  
Ingratitude deserves, that all the elements with their best forces, should conspire in its avengement.  
An unthankful man is compared to a vessel ful of holes.   

Joy.  
JOy triumphed in his eyes▪ and comfort lodged in his heart, and in this haven of happiness he would have swimmed still, but that—  
Joys had their fresh supplies, as if some golden dream had imparadised their thoughts with some glorious vision.  
— Lifted up from a Hell of grief to a Heaven of joy.  
Through how many restless nights, and less restless thoughts do we ●ncounter these sweet-bitter joys: And as the more we grasp the water into our hands, the loss we hold: So is content the farther from us, the more we seek it in these fading glories of the world; which, like an Ignis Fatuus, first light us through wild untrodden paths unto themselves, then through vast aeiry thoughts they lead u● up to that precipice, from whence we fall, and th●●e they leave us. Her.  
— This Charm reduced his passion to that contentment, brought his hopes to that height, and placed his soul in a heaven of such divine pleasures, that he was even ready to expire in this pleasing Ecstasy.  
O what a source of joy did then overflow her breast, that treasury of chaste delights!  
The Sun ne'er met the Summer with more joy.   

Letters.  
Letter's are the very thoughts of the heart, but once removed, where all the 'scapes of nature or breeding are most like to harbour. Rey. of Cab.  
These Paper presents are but weak reflections of stronger affections, yet being the best sacrifice of a friend, they deserve the higher place in your esteem.  
Letters are the sweet communication of fancy, which have been always esteemed the best fuel of affection, and the very marrow of friendship.  
Absence entertained by Letters full of confidence, is not always without its profit; for the foul by the memory tasteth what it hath taken in by the understanding, and gives itself more leisure to recogitate its pleasure, which is not so well perceived, when presence drencheth the mind in a deluge of contentments, and gives it not leisure to bethink itself. H.C.  
If I write a Letter, I imagine Love gives me the pen, that I dip it in my tears, that the paper is all over filled with flowers of affection, and that I send my thoughts and sighs, as courtiers, to seek out the well beloved of my heart. H.C.  
You have prostituted my chaste and holy Letters, to the base adulteries of all common eyes.  
Words are the images of cogitations: Letters are the images of words.  
I will not load your ears with those frivolous impertinencies, which would swell this Letter beyond your patience.  
An amorous Letter to a youthful heart, is a learned enchantment. The hooks of such Characters are artificial pick-lock-tools, to open the secret b●lt of a heart. To see a leaf written, is like seeing an Army in the field; every line is a file of men Words give battle to the mind, and overcome it: For there is no force more powerful, then that of words, to batter a mind. Stratonica.   

Loquacity.  
LOquacity is the Fistula of the mind, ever running, and almost incurable.  
A talkative fellow is the unbraced drum, which beats a wise man out of his wits.   

Love.  
LOve (in the interpretation of the envious) is softness; in the wicked, good men suspect it for lust; and in the good, some spiritual men have given it the name o● Charity: And these are but terms to this, which seems a more considerate definition, That indefinite Love is Lust: and Lust when it is determined to one, is Love. This definition ●oo, does but intrude itself on what I was about to say, which is (and spoken with soberness, though like a Layman) that Love is the most acceptable imposition of nature, the cause and preservation of life, and the very healthfulness of the mind, as well as of the body: But Lust (our raging fever) is more dangerous in Cities, than the Calenture in ships. Sir William Davenant in his Preface to Gondibert,  
Love (in the most obnoxious interpretation) is nature's preparative to her greatest works, which is the making of life. ibid.  
Love in humane nature is both the source and centre of all passion's; for not only hope, f●ar and joy, but even anger and hatred rise first out of the spring of love. Mr. Montagu.  
To be in love, is the most intensive appropriation of all the powers of our mind to one design. ibid.  
Sensual love is the most fatal plague among all passions. It is not a simple malady, but one composed of all the evils in the world; it hath the shiverings and heats of Fevers, the ache and prickings of the Meagrum, the rage of Teeth, the stupefaction of the Vir●●go, the furies of Frenzy, the black vapours of the Hypocondry, the disturbances of the Waking, the stupidities of the Lethargy, the fits of the Falling-sickness, the faintness of the Tysick, the heave of the passions of the heart, the pangs of the Colic, the infections of the Leprosy, the venom of Ulcers, the malignity of the Plague, the putrefaction of the Gangrene, and all, which is horrible in nature. Holy Court.  
Love! Care is thy Court, Tyranny thy Reign, Slaves thy Subjects, Folly thy Attendance, Lust thy Law, Sin thy Service, and Repentance thy Wages.  
Fear breedeth Wit, Anger is the cradle of courage, Joy opens and enables the Heart, Sorrow weakeneth it; but love is engendered betwixt lust and idleness, his companions are unquietness, longings, fond comforts, faint discomforts, hopes, jealousies, ungrounded rages, causeless yield; the highest end it aspires to, is a little pleasure, with much pain before, and great repentance after.  
At that time the flames of his chaste love, began to burn more forcible than ever.  
He loved her with a love, mingled with respect of merit and compassion of her persecuted innocency.  
To love is natural: not to love is monstrous. H.C.  
Such was the unresistable force of his unlimitable affection, that in spite of reason, he was enforced to do homage unto passion.  
Her love was a rich rock of defence against all Siren songs.  
— It received such an impression of that wonderful passion, which to be defined is impossible, because no words reach to express the strange effects of it, they only know it, who inwardly feel it, it is called Love.  
He besought him not to make account of his speech, which if it had been over passionate, yet was it to be born withal, because it proceeded out of an affection much more vehement.  
Humanity enjoins you to love me, seeing I hold my life an easy sacrifice to enjoy you,  
It is no pilgrimage to travel to your lips.  
Worldly loves are the true Gardens of Adonis, where w● can gather nothing but trivial flowers, surrounded with many briars. Christian Diary.  
A silent expression gives the pregnant'st testimony of a deep grounded affection, where every look darts forth love.  
Nothing shall have power to alien my love from you.  
Let me draw from your look one blush of love, or line of fancy.  
Let me become an abject in the eyes of fame, an object o● contempt to the world, if my faithful devotion and observance supply not all my defects.  
I am he, who either you have great cause to love or no cause to hate.  
She loved him as the pledge-bearer of her heart.  
You— towards whom I know not whether my love or admiration be greater.  
Your affection hath got a Lordship in my thoughts.  
Love to a yielding heart is a King, but to a resisting, is a Tyrant.  
(Sealing up all thoughts of love, under the image of her memory.)  
The extreme bent of my affection compels me to—  
Love in the heart is an exhalation in a cloud, it cannot continue idle there; it daily forms a thousand imaginations, and brings forth a thousand cares, it finds out an infinity of inventions to advance the good of the beloved, etc. H.C.  
Death may end my life, but not my love, which (as it is infinite) must be immortal.  
— Him, whose love went beyond the bounds of conceit, much more of utterance, that in her hands the balance of his life or death did stand.  
Such a love as mine, wedded to virtue, can never be so adulterated by any accident, no nor yet ravished by passion, as to bring forth a bastard disobedience, whereof (my very conscience not being able to accuse my thoughts) I come to clear myself.  
The proportion of my love is infinite.  
So perfect a thing my love is to you, as it suffers no question, so it seems to receive injury by addition of any words unto it.  
The more notable demonstrations you make of the love (so far beyond my desert) with which it pleaseth you to make me happy, the more am I, even in course of humanity, b●und to seek requitals witness.  
— (Having embarked my careful love in the ship of my desire)—  
Good God what sublimate is made in the lymbeck of Love.  
His eyes were so eager in beholding her, that they were like those of the Bird, that ●atches her eggs with her looks. Stratonica.  
He expected her at A. with so great impatience of love, that he would have willingly hastened the course of the Sun, to measure it by his affections.  
He, beholding her so accomplished, easily felt the glances shot from her eyes, were rays from her▪ but arrows for his heart, from whence he could receive nought but honourable wounds.  
If you have as much confidence in me, as I have love towards you;—  
Love is in effect, a force (pardon the exorbitancy of the word) that is unresistable, so strong a war is that, which the appetite wageth against reason.  
Then, then in the pride of your perfections you paradised me in the heaven of your love.  
The rare Idea that thus (through the applause of mine eye) hath bewitched my heart, is the beauteous image of your sweet self (pardon me if I presume, when the extremity of love pricks me forward.) Faults that grow by affection ought to be forgiven, because they come of constraint: Then (Madam!) read with favour, and censure with mercy;—  
Why should not that, which is one, rest in unity? Bacon.  
His bosom was the Cell, wherein I hid my secrets; his mouth was the Oracle, whereby I directed my actions; As I could not be without his presence, so I never would do any thing without his counsel.  
When I am from you, I am dead till I be with you; when I am with you, I am not satisfied, but would still be nearer you: united souls are not satisfied with embraces. Rel. Med.  
In the intercourse of affection, my love surmounts yours.  
Fire comes out of the hardest Flint with a steel; oil out of the driest jet by fire; love out of the stoniest heart by faith, by trust, by time. Eupheus.  
I cannot but admire thy love, knowing from what height of virtue it proceeds: as I will not envy thee thy death, so I wish a glory may await thy end, great as the constancy that advanced thee to it. Her.  
Two neighbouring Lilies, whom rude winds disperse 'mongst restless dust, may sooner meet upon their stacles again, and kiss each other in a second growth, than we our loves renew.  
Love is the good, which, by being diffused, is corrupted; she that loves one, another and a third; takes in men at the coil, and loves only for her pleasure. The object of true love is but one: From the Infancy of Time to her decrepitude, the love between two hath been held most honourable▪ Heroinae.  
Our mutual minds thus combined, was like the Garden of Eden, wherein grew more delights, than either Nature now affords, or Art can express.  
Gracious is the face that promiseth nothing but love, and most celestial the resolution that lives upon chastity.  
She had a pure flame shot from heaven into her breast: from no other place could so generous a mind be fired.  
My love shall never end, but with my life.  
There is nothing that belongs to us both, that can be divided: our wills united make but one mind, which ruling all our actions, it seems we are in like manner but one body. Ariana.  
— He was so rapt with these dear engagements, that the commotions of his heart disturbed his mind, and stopped the freedom of his thoughts.  
I must confess myself in prison, but 'tis a prison of love, where my desires, my thoughts, my hopes, my joys, are chains. H.C.  
chaste love.] She changes the fire of Babylon into that of Jerusalem. Her h●irs, which were the nets wherein so many captive souls did sigh under the yoke of wan●●n love, are now (as the Ensigns and Standards of wicked Cupid) trampled under the feet of the Conqueror. Those kisses, which carried the poison of a luxurious passion in her heart, do now breathe f●om her nothing but th● delicacies of chas●i●y. Her leasing odours, which before were vowed to sensuality, are now become the sweetest exhalations from that Amber Isle, which brings forth an odoriferous perfume. Entertainments for Lent.  
My passion hath for its object a thing too perfect to permit me a thought that may be unworthy of the cause of it.  
I like that love, which by a soft ascension, does degree itself in the soul. Feltham.  
Your presence is like Homer's Nepenthe, that can banish the sadness of the mind.  
The heart of a lover is a City, in which upon one and the same day are seen sports and banquets, battles and funerals. Plutarch.  
Who does not know, that love took away the senses of wise Solomon, and made him violate the sacred law. Love moved Biblis to be enamoured on her own brother Caunus, and Pasiphae to accompany with a Bull?  
Love is like a pan of Charcoal, which meeting with the wound, its contrary, makes it turn more ardent, or like a rapid torrent, which just against adam, swells higher: so love meeting with opposition, grows hotter and stronger. Dodona's Grove.  
— These two hearts; being dissolved into love, spoke in thoughts, not having language enough to express their affection. H.C.  
Since than I cannot retaliate your love, or retribute your favours, yet will I receive them with a desire ●o pay.  
The worthy St. Dionysius, in the book of Divine Attributes, distinguisheth three sorts of love, one is called circular, the other love in a right line, and the third oblique.  
Love (says an ancient Lover) hath made a But of my heart, where, so soon as it had shot all its arrows, it threw itself as an inflamed dart into the bottom of my heart, to set me all on fire.  
There is nothing comparable to the Martyrdom of love: It is an exhalation in a cloud: It is a fire in a Mine, a torrent shut up in ditches; a night of separation lasteth ages, and all waxeth old for it, but its desires.  
The life of this young Hero, (which was ever hanging about the heart of his Mistress, ever in the contemplation of her goodness, perpetually in the furnace of love) wholly tranformed itself into his well-beloved, as one wax melted into another, as a drop of water poured into a great vessel of Wine, as incense wasted in flames. H. Court.  
He said what a warm lover (when desire makes eloquent) could speak, he said she was both Star and Pilot.  
No birth or estate can challenge a prerogative in love.  
The deep wound of his love, being rubbed afresh with— began to bleed again.  
Love is to the soul, that which wings are to Birds, to carry us to its fruition.  
For want of well loving, we apply the most precious thing, which is love, to gain wretched creatures, as if one used a golden hook to fish for frogs, and a sceptre to shake hay.  
I'll always dwell with you like your shade.  
I'll keep a Jubilee to your memory.  
My eyes pay tribute where my heart pays love.  
I will repay your love with usury.  
(Love making in the field of his memory a muster of the virtues of that Lady.)  
The man that applies not himself to some love, is like a body without life.  
Love is the Wine of the soul.  
Love is the greatest Philosopher in the world; He can transmute substances without altering the accidents.   

Man commended.  
MAn is the pride of Heaven's creation▪ 〈◊〉— A man, whose life needs no Advocate, whom detraction itself cannot mention without▪ addition of some Epithets of respect, to conclude him in a word no object for any evil passion but envy; and a subject for no discourse, but what ends with admiration.  
It seems Nature from above had been dispatched as a brave Harbinger, to score out a lodging for this great Soul, and give him a Body suitable to the vigour of his Spirit (so well was it composed,) etc. H. Court.  
— What he is according to nature, a Master▪ piece, where many prerogatives meet together, a Body composed of a marvellous Architecture, a Soul endowed with—  
He is the Orpheus, who with his looks only, without setting his hand to the Lyre, enchants and ravishes the most savage of our Wilderness.  
Aristotle (that Lynceus of Nature)—  
Nature was sent by God (as a gallant Harbinger) to compose a Body for him suitable to his great Spirit.  
He did with great nobleness and bounty (which virtues at that time had their turns in his Nature) restore— Lo. Bacon.  
I find not any man, over whom he has not some advantage, nor any one life, which (take it altogether) is so admirable as his. The Prince.  
He is an Anthony in clemency, a Trajan in bounty▪ and another Augustus in wisdom.  
Though he exceeds not in those virtues which g●t admiration, as depth of wisdom, height of courage, and the like, yet he is notable for those qualities which stir affection, as truth of word, meekness, courtesy, mercifulness and liberality.  
He was Lord of great Revenues, to which his virtue not his fortune was his Title; his mind was richly embroidered with all the studied ornaments of learning, etc.— Heroinae.  
Bravest A! sooner shall the father's bowels be silent at the sight of his long unseen son, than posterity forget thy name.  
— Nor shall I rest content, till I bring one grain of incense more to that great oblation, which I hope the Muses will offer ere long in public to his memory, thereby to induce Historians, (those Goldsmiths of time) in their elaborate rings, the Chronicles and Relations of these days, curiously to enchase this choicer Diamond to the delight and benefit of succeeding ages. Of Sir I.S.  
The worth of worthiness hath his whole Globe comprised in his breast.  
The gallantry of his mind was plainly legible to every eye that was acquainted with the characters of virtue.  
— In this man there were such great abilities of wit and understanding, that into what Climate s●ever his nativity had cast him, he seemed to be able to command of fortune. Bacon.  
— Men, wh●●e Sentiments are Maxims and Oracles to govern the world's beliefs and actions. Sir K.D.  
— So well was he studied in the Art of Dying, that by continual watchings, fastings, prayers, and such like acts of Christian humiliation, his flesh was rarified into spirit, and the whole man so fitted for eternal glories, that he was more than half in heaven, before Death brought his bloody (but triumphant) Chariot to convey him thither,  
His head did bear the Calendar of age.  
Every man is a vast and spacious Sea: His passions are the winds that swell him in disturbant waves, etc. Feltham.  
A good man is like the day, enlightening & warming all he shines on, and is always raising upwards to a Region of more constant purity, then that wherein it finds the object. The bad man is like the night, dark, obtruding fears, and dimitting unwholesome vapouts upon all that rest beneath.  
Envy herself could not detract from his worth; he was learned even to an example, pious up to a proverb.  
— A person that in the Hurricans of great transactions is serenely pleased to throw off the public person, and adopt into his tenderness and protection, all that, unto which worth and letters may make a claim. Mr. Hall's Epistle before Longinus.   

Of the K: and his letters intercepted. 1645.  
AS a Man, see, but with what sagacity he writes, and with what judgement; see, but what a clean sense he hath of things, which does so overlook all his most perplexed affairs, that they seem to blush they have no better difficulties. See, but how far his wisdom looks into men's persons, which doth so weigh them and their actions with the grains and allowance of their unworthy servile ends, that he seems not more to observe then prophesy. See, but what an even spirit of Elegancy runs through every line, which beats and leaps as much in the description of his saddest condition, as of his serenest fortune; Insomuch that posterity will a little love his misery for her very clothing.  
Then, as a Husband, do but observe how kind he is, and withal how chaste? how full of warm expressions of love, and yet how far from wanton? Do but observe how he weighs his own health by his wife's Standard, every line bears a Venus in it, and yet no Doves; and he drives the trade of thoughts between the Q. and him, with so much eagerness, and yet with so much innocence in all his letters, as if he meant they should be intercepted.  
As a Christian, see, but what a conscience he makes of oaths, esteeming them (not according to the popular account) as if their ceremony made them the less sacred, or (as too many use them in the world) as bracelets to their speech, not (as they are indeed) as chains unto their souls; look but how he startles at the name of Sacrilege, though never so commodious a sin, etc.  
Last of all, as a King, see, but what a constant and true soul he bears to Justice, which none of his sad infelicities can alter. A soul that would come off true, were it put to Plato's trial, who said, That for a man to approve himself a true just man indeed, His virtue must be spoilt of all her ornaments. Key K. Cabinet.  
So many excellent pens have written upon his brave acts, and made them so well known to all the world, that it were to bring light into day, to go about to mention them. H. Court.  
He is the Pelops of wisdom, and Minos of all good government.  
Who hath not known or read of that prodigy of wit and fortune, Sir Wa. Ra. a man infortunate in nothing, but in the greatness of his wit and advancement, whose eminent worth was such, both in domestic policy, foreign expeditions and discoveries, in arts and literature, both practic and contemplative, that it might seem at once to conquer both example and imitation. Mr. Nath. Carpenter.  
— Man, who contracts in himself all the draughts and works of the Divine hand, and epitomizeth the whole world in his perfections, and bears the most animated Character of the living God. H.C.  
He is a noble, generous, and vvell-manured youth, bears beauties ensigns in his gracious looks, has that supreme Divinity in his eyes, as sparkleth flames able to fire all hearts, and the superlative virtue of his mind transcends his outward figure; he is wise, as most mature age, valiant in resolve, as fame's beloved child, reputaon, conjoins the masculine graces of his soul with lovely carriage and discreet discourse, etc. Argalus and Parth.  
— I could say much more of his worth, without flattery, did I not fear the imputation of presumption, and withal suspect, that it might befall these papers of mine, (though the loss were little) as it did the pictures of Q. Eliz. made by unskilful and common Painters, which by her own commandment were knocked to pieces, and cast into the fire. For ill Artists, in setting out the beauty of the external; and weak Writers, in describing the virtues of the internal, do often leave to posterity of well-formed faces, a deformed memory; and of the most perfect and Princely minds, a most defective representation. Sir. Wa. Rawl. in Preface.  
He was a man whose brave undaunted Spirit dignified his Family many stories high in the estimate of Fame.  
The excellent endowments of his soul, acknowledged even by Envy, and admired by Truth, together with his known propension to goodness, invited me to—  
I have been possessed with extreme wonder, when I consider the excellency of those virtues and faculties in him, which the Philosophers call intellectual, the capacity of his mind comprehending so many, and so great notions, the faithfulsness of his memory, the swiftness of his apprehension, the penetration of hi● judgement, the order and facility of his Eloc●tion. etc. Bacon.  
— He derived many streams from Sidney's great River into hi● own Channels.  
His Countenance (which by nature had no vulgar Air in it) grown lean by affliction, expressed (in a pale disagreement of colours) that the harmony of his individuum began its dissolution from the head.   

Nature.  
NAture is that Spirit or Divine Reason, which is the efficient cause of natural works, etc.  
— You whom nature hath made to be the Load-star of comfort, be not the rock of shipwreck.  
The errors in his nature were excused, by reason of the greenness of his youth.  
Nature having done so much for him of nothing, as that it made him Lord of something.  
Nature is the mirror of Art.  
— They wrestled with the disadvantage of single nature, and at last threw it into rule.  
— Then does Art appear perfect, when she can scarce be distinguished from Nature itself, and again, nature is ever happy, because she always carries a hidden Art in her own bosom. Longinus.   

Silence and Secrecy.  
SIlence is the fermentation of our thoughts. Bacon.  
— Assuring you in the faith of a friend, that you shall deposit it in the deepest and darkest de● of silence, never to come to light.  
It is hard to be silent, etc. since nature hath not made us like Crocodiles, who are said to have eyes to weep, and not a tongue to complain.  
I hope I shall find your ears faithful Treasurers.  
I will cover it under the vail of silence.  
Silence, in bashful signs, blushed out a dumb reply.  
— till when I lock these projects in the closet of your secrecy.  
There followed so deep and unbroken a silence, that midnight seemed thunder, it compa'rd to it.  Similitudes, see Comparisons, page 58.  

Sorrow.  
SOrrow is a grief or heaviness for things which are done and passed, it is t●e ●●ly friend to solitariness, enemy to company, and heir to desperation.  
Though his attached tongue could pay no tribute to his dumb sorrow, yet did his silent woes show his speaking grief.  
O happy Portia! they dead sad woes are all buried in my long lived griefs; and Hecuba's tears are all drowned in the sea of my sorrow.  
Lymbecks were her eyes of tears, a furnace was her breast of scalding sighs, a constant fever surprised her joints, yet with this did her sweet condition enforce a smile, (and with this (mixed with a pearly tear) did she beg this boon of, etc.— Holy Court.  
— Whereat the ice of his heart dissolved, and began already to evaporate through his eyes.  
He endeavoured to speak, but the more he strove, the more the sobs choked up his words.  
— Assaulted with a furious squadron of remediless dolours.  
(Drenched in a Sea of Sorrow.—  
Love, jealousy, anger and sorrow divided his heart, and drew strange sighs from him.  
He bore the image of his sorrow in his dejected countenance.  
He knew not how to answer her, but with the moist dew of his eyes, which began to do the office of his lips.  
Sh● made the apple of her weeping eyes speak to him in continual prayers.  
— (after the Flood of her tears was grown to an ebb.)  
— After she had bathed the beauty of her eyes in the sorrow of her tears.—  
My grief was at the highest before, and now like swelling Nilus it disdaineth bounds.  
That (washing anew her face in the balmy drops of her love-distilling tears) she began.—  
He banished both sleep and food, as enemies to his mourning, which passion persuaded him was reasonable.  
He opened his mouth, as a Floodgate for sorrow.  
I had in the furnace of my agonies, this refreshing.—  
The breath, almost form into words, was again stopped by her, and turned into sighs.  
Let the tribute-offer of my tears procure—  
— It deserves of me a further degree of sorrow, than tears.  
— Finding by the pitiful oration of a languishing behaviour, and the easily deciphered-Character of a sorrowful face, that—  
— With a demeanour, where, in the book of beauty, there was nothing to be read but sorrow, for kindness was blotted out, and anger was never there.  
Suffer not the weakness of sorrow, to conquer the strength of your virtues.  
— His soul drinking up woe with great draughts.  
— Her tears were like, when a few April drops are scattered by a gentle Zephyrus among fine coloured flowers.  
She painted out the lightsome colours of affection, shaded with the deepest shadows of sorrow.  
— Suffering her sorrow to melt itself into an abundance of tears, and giving grief a free dominion.  
At length letting her tongue go (as dolorous thoughts guided it) she thus (with lamentable demeanour) spoke,—  
Wilt thou give my sorrows no truce?  
Tears and sighs interrupt my speech, and force me to give myself over to private sorrow.  
Though ●y memory be a continued Record of much sorrow, yet among the many stories grief hate engraven in me, there is none to be compared with t●e disaster of—  
— This said, she wept the rest. But he not daunted at that majesty of sorrow that sat enthroned in Crystal; nor at her words, that would ●●arm ●●e most inhuman: but rather whet, then ●efin'd in passion, unloads his lust.— Her.  
— She, in whom sorrow had swelled itself so high, that rather than break out, it threatened to break her heart.  
— Appearing in his countenance a doleful Copy of what he would relate.  
— (Able to make an Adamant turn Niobe.  
When I am bereft of thee, in whom all my joys are so wealthily summed up, that thy loss will make my life my greatest curse, then will I die in honour, and think it fitter for my fame, then linger out my life in sorrow. Her.  
She was Empress of a mind, unconquered of sin or sorrow.  
It is not the tears of our eyes only, but of our friends also, that do exhausted the current of our sorrows, which falling into many streams run more peaceably, and are contented with a narrower channel.  
She melts her heart in a sacred Limbeck of love, and distils it out by her eyes.  
They resented his loss with as many griefs, as his desert and their good nature could produce in them. Arc.  
To give over sorrow I must of necessity give over remembering you, and that can I not, but with my life.  
— To see her countenance (through which there shined a lovely majesty, even to the captivating of admiring souls) now altered to a frightful paleness, and the terrors of a ghastly look. Feltham.  
— These are calamities, which challenge the tribute of a bleeding eye.  
— Tell him I do inwardly dissolve into a due of bleeding passion for his loss, and would, to reinvest blest quiet i● his heart, act o'er the scene of dangers I have passed since I known earliest manhood. Arg. and Parth.  
— I am passed the thought of grief for this sad fact, and am griefs individual substance.  
— She poured herself into tears without comfort, as her misery seemed devoid of remedy.  
— Thy looks upon a sudden are become dismal, thy brow dull as Satur's issue, thy lips are hung with black, as if thy tongue were to pronounce some funeral.  
Sorrow having closed up all the entries of thy mind.  
He made a shady tree his pavilion, with intention to make forgetting sleep comfort a sorrowful memory.  
He gave such tokens of true felt sorrow, as no imagination could conceive greater.  
Compassion procured his eyes with tears to give testimony.  
— He departed, as if he had been the Coffin that carried himself away.  
The river of your tears (if not stopped) will soon lose their fountain.  
— Pity my sorrows, which are only mine, because I am extremely yours.  
— Lost in my thoughts, I see myself wand'ring in various objects, and, for a height in misery, I walk in the night of a heart darkened with sadness.  
The melancholy complexion of my mind encilnes to hold a sympathy with all sorrow, that my senses communicate to me.  
The remembrance of her former ingratitudes delivered over such feeling arguments of her sad remorse, as were able to strike the water of tears out of the stoniest hearts of her beholders: Like the Rod of Moses, which drove water out of the Rock, etc. Sir To. Math.  
— A subject I confess so full of lamentation and horror, as would require some Homer to express it, or rather the mind and pen of Heraclitus, to weep and write together.  
Suffer mine eyes to discourse my griefs.  
You temporize with sorrow, mine is sincere.  
— Until mine eyes became the sad oblation of a fainting voice.  
It is hard to describe with what affection her eyes, big with grief, brought forth fears. The fair Lady in that Art resembled Aurora in travel of the day. Her tears much exceeded the morning dew in beauty. Stratonica.   

Speech.  
SPeech is nothing else but an expression to another man of the images one hath within himself. Sir K. Digby.  
Reason is as it were the soul of speech. Ba●on.  
Lecture is the aliment of speech.  
As houses without Doors are unprofitable: so are men that have no rule of their speech.  
— The very Order of his speech seemed to be Disorderly: and his disorders were ranged into a certain kind of order.  
— Though courted with all the blandishments and graces of speech, yet he could not be persuaded.   

Thoughts.  
THought, generally is all the imaginations of ●ur brain, which being a proposed object of the heart, makes it continually revolve, and work upon those conceits.  
Thoughts are but over-flowing of the mind and the tongue is but a servant of the ●h●ught●.  
Speech and Thought are two sisters, the youngest whereof is created, that the eldest may be known. Philo.  
The more I exercise my thoughts, the more they inc●ea●e the appetite of my desires.  
What a paradise of unspotted goodness his filthy thought sought to defile?  
— (Thinking to set my muti●ous thoughts at peace.)  
He made his thoughts more obligatory to her favours; and he fashioned his favours more complementory to her fortunes.  
My thoughts were winged with desire.  
You (the Secretary of all my thoughts)—  
Distilling my active thoughts in a continued study to serve you.  
— My hopes of honour, than which nothing but your fair self is so near unto my thoughts.  
She, conjured with this tyranny of compliment, with as undistracted words as could be pumped from the deepest confusion of thoughts, makes her reply— Her.  
— His word led by his thought, and followed by his deed.  
I could wish you were secretary of my thoughts, or that there were a Crystal casement in my breast, through which you might espy the inward motions and palpitations of my heart, then would you be certified of the sincerity of this protestation.  
Pleasing, but too ambitious thoughts! whither do you lead me?  
— Give my long imprisoned thoughts leave to appear in words.  
Let truth make up a part in the harmony of your noble thoughts.  
Thus when my thoughts are at a stand, and can raise my present happiness no higher, let me call to mind how—  
— Since you have tied your thoughts in so wilful a knot.  
A tumultuous Army of thoughts shall strike up an Alarm to your repose. H.C.  
Continually floating in a tempestuous Sea of thoughts, without either finding bottom or shore.  
And after I had run over all the pedigree of my thoughts, new thoughts possessed me.  
Weighing her resolutions by the counterpoise of his own youthful thoughts.  
Using his own Bias to bowl near the Mistress of his own thoughts.  
Words may be said to be a kind of body to thoughts. Montagu.  
My thoughts supplied the place of sacrifices.  
My very thoughts, I hope, are winged with innocence.   

Vanity.  
VAnity at this day opens all her gates to manifest divers men to the world, who should otherwise be buried in obscurity. It makes some appear ●y the luxurious excess of th●ir apparel, as so many ●●le creatures, whose heads (being high & costly dressed up) go to the market of idle love. Others by the riches and pomps of the world, others by honours and dignities, others by the spirit of industry, and others by deeds of arms and policy. Every one sets out himself to be seen and esteemed in the world. It seems that life is made for nothing, but to be showed, and that we should always live, for that which makes us die. Holy Court.   

Virtue.  
Virtue (like the clear heaven) is without Clouds.  
He ●●●●me ●er servant by the bonds, which virtue laid ●pon him.  
Vertue● (if his face be not a false witness) do apparel his mind.  
— Form by nature and framed by education to the true exercise of virtue.  
— Minds, which neither absolutely climb the ●●●k of virtue, nor freely sink into the sea of vanity.  
— She, (in whose mind virtue governed with the scept●● of knowledge.)—  
— She, to whose unstained virtue, it hath been my unspeakable misery, that my name should be become a blot.—  
(Far engaged to the memory of your virtues.)—  
Virtue is the tenure, by which we hold of heaven: without this we are but Outlaws, that cannot claim protection. Feltham.  
Virtue ha●h nothing to do with the vail of untruths to cover it.  
Virtue is as the Geometrical Cube, on what side soever it is cast, it always finds his Basis.  
Virtue and grace ●un parallel with heaven.   

Women Commended.  
WOmen, being of one and the self same substance with man, are what man i●, only so much more imperfect, as they are created the weaker vessel●.  
— She, whose virtue deserves to be consecrated with a pen of adamant in the Temple of Eternity, since she is able to dazzle the eyes of the most hardy, to fill the mouths of the most eloquent, and ravish the minds of those, who admire no vulgar things. H.C.  
A●k Sense what she is: Sense will tell us, Her face is the unclouded welkin in the infancy of day; her eyes the Sun and Moon that sleep by turns, lest they should leave the world in darkness: her tongue the harmony of Spheres and Nature: her breasts heavens milkly way, spangled with azure stars: her arms Castor and Pollux: her other parts because of ●ower function, are but the Symmetry of all the beauties of her sex: she is too much first to have any second, from the third, fourth and fifth form of women, from a million or all of them, you may take some piece of her, not all, for she herself is the All.  
Ask Reason what she is: Reason will tell you, she is her Directress, that she keeps the elements at peace within us: our fire she confines to religious zeal, and suffers it not to inflame either to lust or superstition: our watery element she hath designed to quench unlawful flames, etc.—  
Ask faith what she is: Faith will tell you, she hath yours and mine, and an hundred other souls in one soul, etc.— Were there, or were there no night: yet were she an everlasting day. Were there none bad: yet were she unparalleledly good. Were there any or none to be compared to her: yet were she superlative. All of her is an even proportion of extremes. Heroinae.  
— Those eyes more eloquent than all Rhetoric, that would raise an Anchoret from his grave, and turn the Fiend Fury, into the Cherubin Pity—  
Those white and red Roses (which no rain, but what fell from those heavenly eyes) could colour or sweeten. Those lips that slain the rubies, and make the roses blush, those lips that command the scarlet coloured morn into a cloud to hide his shame: That breath, which makes us all Chamaelions', should be wasted into unregarded sighs: Those breasts eternally chaste and white as the Apples: those legs, columns of the fairest Parian ma●ble, columns that support this monument of all pens,— her skin, smooth as the face of youth, soft as a bed of violets, white as the Queen of innocence, sweet as bean blossoms after rain, etc.  
— She, shaking off those glorious loads of state, retired from the crowding tumults of the Court, into a solitary and truly happy Country-condition, there to spin out her thread of life ●● her homely distaff, where we will leave her a verier wonder, than the Phoenix in the desert, the alone paragon of all peerless perfections. Her actions (so above the Criticism of my purblind judgement) I am not able to comprehend, much less contradict or controvert.—  
You are the beauty of the world, the pride of all joys, the sweetest fruit of best content, and the highest mark of true love's ambition.  
To her alone, it appeared, that heaven with a hand rather prodigal then liberal, would give what it had of most value in the rich treasury of nature Stratonica.  
Women are Angels, clad in flesh.  
The Roman Story (big with variety of wonder) writes Lucretia the female glory.  
She was natures fairest paper, not compounded of the rags of common mortality, but so searsed and refined, that it could receive no impression, but that of spotless innocence.— Her.  
Wherever she comes, her presence makes perpetual day.  
— They discovered A. (the rich triumph of nature) and in her as much as the world could boast of.  
Her eyes inviting all eyes, her lips all lips, her face loves banquet, where she riots in the most luxuriant feast of sense:— She was the model of divine perfection.  
— A flock of unspeakable virtues, laid up delightfully in that best builded fold.  
In this, a very good Orator might have a fair field to use eloquence.  
Her eyes seemed a Temple, wherein love and beauty were married.  
— So many things united in perfection.  
She hath an easy melting lip, a speaking eye.  
Venus' compared to her was but a blowz.  
As you are to me a Venus, and strike a warm flame in me, so you are Diana too, and do infuse a chaste, religious coldness. Amorous war.  
I stand before you like stubble before a burning glass, your eyes at every glance convert me into flame.  
Her voice was no less beautiful to his ears, than her goodliness was full of harmony to his eyes.  
Thy heavenly face is my Astronomy, thy sweet virtue, my sweet Philosophy.  
You are the Diamond of the world, the chief work of nature's workmanship. The pattern of perfection, and the quintessence of worth.  
Your fair forehead is a field where all my fancies fight, and every hair of your head seems a strong chain that ties me.  
You are the ornament of the earth, the vessel of all virtue.  
— With so gracious a countenance, as the goodness of her mind had long exercised her unto.  
— She, whose many excellencies won as many hearts, as she had beholders, nature making her beauty and shape, but the most fair Cabinet of a far fai●er mind.  
There's music in her smiles.  
A mart of beauties in her visage meet.  
— A woman in whom virtue was incorporated, goodness (which comes to others by study) seemed hers by nature.  
— You (the type of my felicity) to whom all hearts, respects, hopes, fears and homages are sacrificed.  
— Her countenance was too sweet, her speech too proper, her deportments too candid, to cover so b●ack a mischief.  
— She took hearts captive, and made them do vassalage and homage to ●er will.  
— Where they found A. accompanied with other Ladies, amongst whom her transcendent beauty and incomparable virtues, made her shine with as much superiority, as a star of a greater magnitude exceeds in splendour the less●●●●minaries of its own Sphere.  
Her hair seemed to stand in competition with the beams of the Sun.  
— She, whose rare qualities, whose courteous behaviour without curiosity; whose comely feature, without fault; whose filled speech, without fraud, hath wrapped me in this misfortune. Eupheus.  
Nature framed her to be the object of thoughts, The love of hearts, the admiration of souls.  
This is she, who is singularly privileged fr●m heaven with beauties of body, but incomparably heightened with gifts of the mind. Such is her learning, that she transcends men in their best faculties.  
She,— this bright morning Star, always bears in the rays thereof, joy, comfort, etc.  
She was able to enthrall a●l hearts with so many supereminent excellencies, as heaven had conferred upon her.  
She had a strong and pleasing spirit, a solid piety, an awakened wisdom, an incomparable grace to gain ●earts to her devotion. H.C.  
Nature in her promiseth nothing but goodness.  
He could not sufficiently admire the vivacity of her spirit, the solidity of her judgement, the equity ●f h●r counsels, and the happiness which ordinarily accompanied her resolutions, H.C.  
She gained hearts by sweetness, therein imitating the Sun, which neither breaks Doors nor Windows to enter into houses; but penetrates very peaceably with the benignity of his favourable beams.  
The eye and tongue of this creature mutually divided his heart, at one and the same instant love surprised him by the eyes and ears.  
Endowed with an admirable grace and singular beauty, to serve even as an Adamant to captivate hearts.  
Fair as the Firmament, which we see enameled with so many stars, that resplendently shine, as Torches lightened before the Altars of the Omnipotent.  
— ●he who was the Adamant of all loves.  
— A Lady, whose eyes will make a Soldier melt, if ●e were composed of marble, whose very smile hath a magnetic force to draw up souls, whose voy●e will charm a satire, and turn a man's prayer into ambition, make a Hermit run to Hell, etc. Gr. Seru.  
— Whose exquisite beauty was so beautified with rarest virtues, that men honoured Nature as a God in her perfections, and held her more than a Woman in her veru●s. Par. & Vienna.  
— She whose beauty was far fairer than the evening Star, and whose virtue was more powerful 〈…〉 greatest Constellation.  
The renown of her attractive virtues, and the virtue of h●r moving per●ections ha●h so captivated my freest thoughts, that, wondering at her same, I am wounded with fancy, and my desire is—  
I would willingly here draw to the life the Portraiture of this Lady, if my black Ink were not too unfit a colour to set forth a celestial beauty.  
You have far more perfections than years, and more inward excellence then extern beauty, yet so beautiful, as few so fair, though none more virtuous.  
She had a mind of excellent composition, a piercing wit void of ostentation, high erected thoughts, seated in a heart of courtesy, an eloquence as sweet in the uttering, as slow to co●e to the uttering, a behaviour so noble, as gave a Majesty to adversity. Arcadia.  
— she's a Virgin happy in all endowments which a Poet could fancy in his Mistress, being herself a School of goodness, where chaste maids may learn (without the aids of foreign principles) by the example of her life and pureness, to be (as she is) excellent. I but give you a brief Epitome of her virtues, which dilated on at large, and to their merit, would make an ample story.  
Were all her other graces worn in clouds, That eye, that very eye would charm a Lucrece.  
Her name (like some celestial fire) quickens my spirits.  
I never knew virtue and beauty meet in a sweeter nature.  
Thou art a virgin sweet, so precious in thy frame, that with the cordage of thy hair, thou mightst have fettered Kings. Thy voice has marred the beauties of the night; when thou didst sing, the quiet stars would wink and fall assee.  
I could gaze on her, till my wonder did convert me into marble, and yet my s●ul would in her self retain a fire, lively, as that which bold Prometheus stole.  
Madam! you are so large a Theme to treat of, and every grace about you offers to me such Copy of language, that I stand doubtful which first to touch at; if I err (as in my choice I may) let me entreat you, before I offend, to sign my pa●d●n.  
Wh●ther we consider her face or beauty, pleasingness (that charms hearts) and sweet majesty have spent all their riches upon her. Ariana.  
She breathes forth nothing but the sweets of love  
The eyes are the wonders of the face, and dark figures ●f Divinity; we may call them too the Dial's ●f love, which fastened on the wall of a countenance, show with the stile of their looks, the minutes of hours, either happy or unhappy to Lovers.  
Fame, which is accustomed to increase the desert of every thing it would commend, hath been constrained to diminish yours, being impossible to be published according to the greatness of it.  
It is a mark of great virtue not to be able to endure to be commended.  
She was crowned with a garland of odoriferous flowers, and her delicate hair in tresses, falling upon a neck of snow, did set forth the beauties of this divine face, whose splendour dazzled men's eyes so, that there was not any one that could support unwounded the sight of so many wonders.  
Lesser lights borrow beams of radiance from your greater Orb, which doth illumine and heat our Northern cly●e with celestial ardours. Ho. Court.  
Madam, if the duty (which commands me to serve all Ladies) did not ordain me this obedience, your birth and so many ●air qualities I see in you, oblige me to it. Ariana.  
— My eye of contemplation was fixed on this bright Sun, as long as it was able to endure the radiant beams of it, wh●se redundant light ve●les the looker on with a dark mist. Sir K.D.  
I esteem, reverence and adore you in the most secret and recluse withdrawings of my heart.  
— Her face did shine with so great evidence, as it defied the noon-tide Sun in its greatest brightness.  
Albeit Medea were wicked, yet Penelope was peerless; If Clytaemnestra were naught, yet Alcestes was passing good: If Phaedra were damnable, yet there was another laudable. Camd. Rem.  
— She had the spirit of a man in a feminine body.  
She's a burning mirror, in which all the beams of beauty are united.  
She is the Star, by whom my Fate is led.  
— Modest she was, and so lovely, that whosoever looked but steadfastly upon her, could not but-soul himself in her. Feltham.  
Her eyes, swift, as the shoots of lightning, nimbler than thought, and bright as the polished Diamond.  
— She is of so specious a glory, that though she need not the applause of any, to add to her happiness, yet she attracts the hearts of all that know her, to love, service, admiration.  
To apparel any more in these paper vestments, I should multiply impertinents, and perhaps displease. For I have ever found face commendation to die wisdoms cheeks of a blush-colour.  
— All lips are opened with singular prerogatives in honour of this Lady, and are all dried up in the abundance of her praises.  
In her person alone, a plenitude of all perfections does inhabit. H.C.  
In her, all the most delicious attractives of beauty, and the most conspicuous characters of power, are assembled together.  
This Aglae was a Roman Dame of prime quality, having a delicate wit in a beautiful body, and powerful passions in a great fortune. She had been married, but becoming a widow in an age, as yet furnished with verdant freshness, grace and beauty, she had not buried all her affections in the Tomb of her husband.  
After she had a little wiped away the first tears, which nature exacts as tribute in such like accidents, she quickly played so much the Courtier in her slight sorrow, that she seemed greatly to desire, as soon as might be, to finish what she had never well begun. Holy Court.  
But by success of time she felt her passion so much enkindled towards him, that she neither thought, spoke, nor lived, but for him.  
The fair Aretaphila inflames all hearts with the music of her voice; myriads of joys are in her looks, her eyes are nature's richest Diamonds, set in foils of polished Ebony, her breath expires Odours more sweet than issued from the trees of Balm in Paradise, Argal. & Parth.  
— She— upon whose meanest thought the Art of memory's grounded, and inspires each Organ of our meditating sense with their perfections merit. Ibid.  
She, in whom the sum and abridge of all sorts of excellencies are met, like parallels in their proper centre. Herb. Travails.  
— Whose listening ears were well pleased with the sweet harmony of her well-tuned words, and whose liking eyes were ravished with the sight of her perfections.  
— She— the ornament of the earth, the model of heaven, the triumph of Nature, the life of beauty, the Queen of love.  
Her action was beautified by nature, and apparelled with skill; her gesture gave such a way unto her speech, through the rugged wilderness of his imaginations, that—  
Her voice represented the heavenly seven-spheared harmony.  
Such an extraordinary Majesty shines in all her actions, as surely either Fortune by parentage, or Nature in creation hath made her—  
Pilgrims, who come from the remotest confines of the world, cannot see any thing in all the affluent wealth thereof, comparable to her. Insomuch that I wish all the members of my body were changed into tongue, and that I were nought but voice, to be throughout the whole Universe, the trumpet of her praises. H.C.  
Her gracious soul hath more Antidote in it, than all the world hath poison, which will therefore in her affliction make her like the Sun, which shows his greatest countenance in his lowest declension, and bring her out of it, like gold out of the fire, refined, not consumed. Lost. Sh.  
My prayer shall be, That your Fortune may surmount your greatness, and your virtue your fortune; that your greatness may be above envy, your goodness above detraction: that your illustrious example may darken the ages past, and lighten them to come; that you may live beloved, and die lamented, lamented by earth, but joyed by heaven, etc.  
She suffered no mutiny of passions against reason, nor of reason against God.  
She resolved to work with perspective Glasses, of different, yea and even contrary kinds; for when she described her own virtues', she served herself of a Diminishing Glass, which made them seem so little, as to be no more th●n a kind of nothing, But on the other side, when she gave account of her imperfections, she would by no means know them, by any other name then of Vices and Sins, because she took a Multiplying glass to herself, lest else those Molehills should not seem mountains. Sir Tob. Mat. in his preface to S. Teresa's life.  
You must give me leave to adjourn you (for more ample satisfaction of this expectation) to those drops, which I may perhaps both be able and willing to derive and draw out of the Sea of her perfections, etc. Ib.  
I shall only say in very few words (by way (as it were) of antepast, till the Feast come in) that she had a heart as open as day, in the exercise of bounty; But above all things, she was so perfect a lover of Truth, that she would no more have even so much as but disguised it, and much less varied from it in the least kind, than she would have sold herself for a slave, etc. Ib.  
I'll assure you this Elogium has no more in it, of the Panegyric, then of the just praise; I am rather her debtor then her creditor herein.  
She puts that in execution, which turns nature into admiration.  
— She, whose two eyes were the Suns that ruled my day, and to whom only her absence did make night; she whose mild virtue and beauteous looks, were a soft, visible music, which entranced the looker's ●n, and struck harmonious raptures into every chafed soul, and instilled pure fires into every unchaste, etc. Amor. War.  
A pretty smile made a kind of daybreak in her face.  
She is wholly made of charm.  
— She is the star that rules my faculties.   

Women discommended.  
Lose Women are whoups, proud birds, which have nothing but crest, and naturally delight in ordure; they are Bats which cannot endure one little ray of light, but seek to hide themselves under the mantle of night; they are Horseleeches, which draw blood from the veins of a House and State, where they exercise their power. They are Sirens of the earth, which cause shipwrecks without water. They are Lamiaes, who have Hosteries of cutthroats, that kill men under pretext of good usage. They are Harpies, who surprise even from Altars, and in the end become envenomed Dipsades, which enforce an enraged thirst upon those, whom they have once bitten. Ho. Court.  
A woman without devotion is like a Bee without a sting, which will make neither honey nor wax; is a case covered with precious stones, to preserve a dunghill.  
The tongues of women are like the bells of the Forest Dodona, which make a prodigious jangling▪  
O God What a dangerous beast is the spirit of a woman! It is able to create as many monsters in essence, as fantasy can form in painting.  
No Owl will live in Crect: In Rhodes no Eagle will build her nest▪ no wit spring in the will of women.  
It is an infinite simplicity to commit secrets to a woman, whose heart is as fit to keep what it out to conceal, as a Sieve to hold water.  
— As well may I collect the scattered wind into a bag, or from the watery surface scrape the guilt reflections of the Sun, as bring her heart within the quiet list of wives that will obey and love.  
Incestuous strumpet! more wanton than Lamia, more lascivious than Lais, and more shameless th●n Pasophane; whose life as it hath been shadowed with painted holiness, so hath it been full of pestilent villainies.  
Her Carcase (a better name I can hardly afford her outside) was the inside of a Sepulchre, her head was unth●cht as an old Parsonage, her eyes (like lights at the last snuff, when the extinguisher is ready to make their Epitaphs) sunk low into their Candlesticks; her ears, now deaf, now happy, (such was her tongue) they have lost their sense, her nose wormed like a piece of Homer of the first bind, offended with her breath, bowed to her chin to damn it up; her cheeks holed, as the earth in Dog▪ days drought; her lips fit to be kissed by none but themselves; her teeth rotten as her soul, hollow as her heart, loose as the shingles of an old silenced steeple, scragged as a disparked pale, stood at that distance one could not bite another; her tongue, so weakly guarded, scolds like the Alarm of a clock; her chin was downed with a China beard of twenty hairs, her breast lank as a quicksand, wasted as an hourglasse at the eleventh use; one arm, one leg, one foot she doffed with day, and, as a resurrection, donned with the morrow; her bones (pithless as a stallion for seven posterities) the slightest fears might now make rattle in her skin; her body (wasted to no waist, blasted with lust, as an Oak with lightning) was as familiar with diseases as a Physician: To conclude, she is odious beyond all comparison: one sight of her would make the heat of youth recoil into an infant continence. Heroinae.  
The look of a lascivious woman is like that of a Basilisk, which kills Chastity by beholding it.  
Diogenes snarled bitterly, when (walking with another) he spied two women talking, and said, See, the Viper and the Asp are changing poison. Feltham.  
No Weathercock under heaven is so variable as an inconstant woman: Every breath of wind forces her to a various shape: As if her mind were so near a kin to air, as it must with every motion, be in a perpetual change. Idem.  
Women are feathers blown in the bluster of their own loose passions, and are merely the dalliance of the flying winds.  
There are that account women only as Seed-plots for posterity: others worse, as only quench for their fires.  
Our daily experience teacheth us, that there are women very crafty, and such as under a pure and delicate skin, with a tongue distilling honey, often hide the heart of a Panther, all spotted over with subtlety, as the skin of this beast with diversity of colours. H. Court.  
— Women are more inconstant than light Whirlwinds; trust the Sea with feathers, or March winds with dust rather, and let their words, oaths, tears, vows pass▪ as words in water writ or slippery glass. Arg. & Parth.  
No Hell so low which lust and women cannot lead unto.  
Her tongue is like the sting of a Scorpion.  
A Woman is the unnecessary Parenthesis of Nature.   

World.  
THis word (World) called in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 signifi●s as much as ornament, or a well disposed order of things.  
The exterior lustre of the world, is but a cloud in painting, a petty vapour of water, a Fable of Time, a Dial, etc.  
He that will nowadays live in the world, must have a veil over his eyes, a key on his ear, a compass on his lips.  
This world is a chain, which setters men to the ●ivel●; but repentance is the hand which lifts 〈◊〉 up to God.  
He that is enamoured of the world, is like one ●hat enters into the sea; for if he escape perils, men will say he is fortunate, but if he perish, they will say he is wilfully deceived.  
If it be needful to show yourself to the world, 〈◊〉 then known by your virtues, which are Characters of the Divinity. Let men know you by your good examples, which are the seeds of eternity, and of all fair actions. Sir B B.  
I have ever thought the prosperity of the world was a current of ●resh water, which looks not back on any thing, but hastens to pour itself into the salt sea. H.C.  
The world's a Theatre of theft, great rivers rob the smaller brooks, and them the Ocean.   

Youth.  
I Have throughly sifted the disposition of youth, wherein I have found more bran than meal, more dough then leven, more rage than reason. Eup.  
Wine, Love, Play, Rashness were the Chariot which drew his youth to downfall.  
— Constrained to obey the transport of youthful fancies.  
Let me call to mind all the violent pleasures of my heady youth: let me sum up their extent, according to those deceitful measures I then rated happiness by: let me in my fancy chew over again the excessive good I then fond imagined in them: And to all this let me add as much more joy and felicity, as, in my weak thoughts I am able to fathom, or but aim at; and then let me say, (and with rigorous truth I shall say it) all this excess of bliss will be resumed, will be enjoyed to the full in one indivisible moment, of that bliss, which a well passed life in this world, shall bring me to in the next. Sir K.D. in his Treatise of Bodies.  
— So as whosoever he be, to whom Fortune hath been a servant, and the time a friend, let him but take the account of his memory (for we have no other keeper of our pleasures passed) and truly examine what it hath reserved either of beauty or youth, or fore gone delights; what it hath saved, that it might last, of his dearest affection, or of whatever else the amorous spring-time gave his thoughts of contentment, then unvaluable; and he shall find that all the Art, which his elder years have, can draw no other vapours out of these dissolutions, then heavy, secret, and sad sighs.  
He shall find nothing remaining but those sorrows which grow up after our fast-springing youth, overtake it, when it is at a stand, and overtop it utterly, when it begins to wither, etc. S. Walt. Rawl. in Preface.  
The harvest of his sins yielded him now more increase of woes, than the lusts of his youth afforded him pleasures.    

Formulae Minores, OR, LITTLE FORMS For Style or Speech.  
— HE, having waded thus far into the depth of his awaked intentions, thought good to sound the Ford at full, by—  
He took opportunity by the forepart, and (imprisoning his worthy resolution within the Closet of his secret thought●) did—  
He summoned his wits together, and set them all on the Rack of Invention.  
Violent streams being once run out, the mud will appear in the bottom  
— Doubt (the Hearse of my desires)—  
To Seal the Deed of my purchased favour, is the Gordian knot I most wish to unloose.  
— Who (during these tempestuous storms) lay at anchor in his own private harbour.  
To wove the web of his own woe, and spin the thread of his own thraldom.  
I wish he would repair hither, that the sight of him might mitigate some part of my martyrdom.  
Assure yourself I'll be your finger next your thumb.  
He erected Trophies of his own dishonour, and covered his ulcer with a golden veil.  
— Like Elia's Chariot, all flaming with glory.  
O that the Odours of my Sacrifices might ascend even to thy Altars!  
Your mind's a shop, where all good resolutions are forged.  
Our understanding is the steel and our will the flintstone: as soon as they touch one another, we see the sparks of holy affection fly out.  
— It bloometh in the eyes, that it may at leisure blossom in the heart  
That I may see some sparkles of hope glimmer in my affairs.  
To gnaw the bridle of your impatience.  
He felt fiery arrow● fly from her eyes, so sharp, that they transfixed his heart with compassion.  
Love, anger, jealousy, suspicion, drew him with four horses.  
— As innocently spoken, as treacherously interpreted.  
They murmured as do the waves of a mutinous Sea.  
Exercise the vivacity of your wit.  
In a vast Ocean of affairs, he hath lived as fishes, who keep silence within the loud noise of waves, and preserve their plump substance fresh in the brackish waters.  
He sheltered himself with subtleties, as a Hedge hog with his quills.  
To behold, (as in the glass of a bright mirror) on the one side— on the other—  
As soon as break of day drew the Curtain of Heaven—  
Virginity is as redolent Balm, which ascends to Heaven in a perpetual sacrifice.  
Religion is the hive where the honey of good Doctrine is made.  
He put them in the furnace of tribulation to purify them.  
O what may not depraved love do, since sincere amity cannot avoid suspicion?  
— Comforted with the sweet rays of this bright daybreak.  
— Which hath been sufficiently declared by the sequel of his deportments.  
She had not so much honey, but withal a sting.  
— He so breathed the air of ambition, that—  
To as little purpose as to cast chains into the Sea, to tie the Ocean in fetters.  
It was but dust he bore in his hands, blown away by the wind of presumption.  
She sent it as an earnest of her command.  
— He returned amply laden with victorious palms.  
— He went daily hunting after change, in the infinity of forbidden loves.  
I shal● offer my homage at your Altar.  
Ponds that are seldom scoured, will easily gather mud; So—  
Your heart is the Altar of love, and seat of friendship.  
Upon my Virgin heart I'll build a flaming Altar to offer up a thankful sacrifice for his return.  
My heart shall know no other love but his.  
Let Venus speed his plow.  
He received it at her hands with more content than Paphos' Queen did the golden fruit.  
Let patience conduct thee out of this stormy sea into a more quiet Port.  
How canst thou be a stranger to my purposes, that art the Treasurer of my secrets?  
That I may disperse those terrifying clouds, that threa●en shipwreck to my desires.  
To ●east his eyes, and to paradise his heart with the beloved sight of his all-admired and affected mistress.  
His muddy-clouded affection eclipsed the Sunshine of her far more glorious worth.  
Casting his eye (the Messenger of his heart) upon—  
Seest not thou these Trophies erected in his honour, and his honour shining in these Trophies?  
In vain it is to water the plant, the root being perished: or to—  
I here vow repay to the debt of my error, with the interest of all my endeavours.  
— I will not adventure my fortune upon the rock of this hazard.  
My business (Lady) is your will; my suit, your service; your service, my chief desire; and my desire, your favourable countenance.  
Your suit shall n●t be non▪ suit.  
They knit two hearts in one, and parted one will in two, and so departed.  
During these Haltion days,—  
●e ●ailed in a ship without a stern.  
Happy in myself, because happy in you.  
— Sailing with as many contrary thoughts, as E●lus sent out winds upon the Trojan Fl●et.  
He saw the cloud a far off, before the storm fell.  
She (great with child with the expectation of her friend's welfare) longed to be delivered with the notice of his health.  
I cannot use many words, where every word wounds me with a new careful conceit, and every conceit kills me with a fearful doubt.  
He set up the main sail of his obscured glory, in the wind of her mill.  
Who (smoothing the angry furrows of his discontment) seemed—  
She gave fire to his fancy.  
What ominous cloud shadows the brightness of this second Sun, that she appears not in her all-admired glory.  
— His wasted words died in their own sound, and all his hopes were utterly shipwrecked.  
— She gave fuel to his enraged will, and blew the coals of his displeasure.  
Her restraint is (I fear) like fire raked up in embers, that covertly will kindle, and openly burst forth into a flame.  
— He (whose senses held now a Synod) was driven to such an exigent, that (not knowing how to avoid the Check without a Mate) was perforce forced to—  
My Fortunes admit of no such Sovereignty.  
Who, swelling with ireful disdain (like the disturbed Ocean) breathed out direful rerenge.  
— He craved pardon till the infancy of his weak merit were grown stronger in better deserts.  
That I write to thee, may be thy glory, and that I love thee, let it be thy happiness.  
If thou wilt live like the King of Bees, seek huny at my hive.  
— Drowning the late flowing streams of his got glory in the full Sea of his preterhand haps.  
His unwished presence gave my tale a conclusion, before it had a beginning.  
I would her injury could blot out mine affection, or mine affection could forget her injury.  
Reverence and desire did so divide him, that he did at one instant both blush and quake.  
— Unsealing his long silent lips—  
Happy in wanting little, because not desirous of much.  
His countenance with silent eloquence, desired it modestly.  
Beyond the degree of ridiculous.  
— But I fear I have given your ears too great a surbet with the gross discourse of that—  
Restraint of liberty causeth more increase of that evil, for which they are so kept under, than otherwise: See whether a Dog grow not fiercer with tying.  
There is nothing so certain as our continual incertainty.  
While there is hope left, let not the weakness of sorrow, make the strength of it languish.  
More determinate to do, then skilful howto▪ do.  
Under the leave of your better judgement, I must say thus much—  
About the time that Candles begin to inherit the Sun's office.—  
Sometimes he thought one thing, sometimes another; but the more he thought the more he knew not what to think, armies of objections rising against any accepted opinion.  
— Actions worthy to be registered in the Rolls of Fame.  
Occasions tried him, and all occasions were but steps for him to climb fame by.  
— To lose the reins to his own motions.  
— My self am witness against myself of my own imperfections, and therefore will not defend them in me.  
To a heart fully resolute, counsel is tedious, but reprehension is loathsome.  
— And thus have you heard my Comedy, acted by myself.  
To you will I repair, because as my fortune either ebbs or flows, amends or impairs, I may declare it unto you.  
— Time at one instant seeming both short and long, short in the pleasingness in calling to mind, long in the stay of his desires.  
He talked with such vehemency of passion, as though his heart would climb up into his mouth to take his tongue's office.  
Upon what Briers the Fruits he laboured for, grew.  
Idleness is an Ant-heap of sins.  
But alas, how can speech produce belief in him, whom sight cannot persuade?  
I refuse not to make my life a sacrifice to your wrath.  
Exercise your indignation upon me.  
If your occasions can make use of my best endeavours, the employment shall be a favour.  
The haste of the bearer, admits no further liberty to proceed.  
Your desire is with me an absolute command.  
Thus far re hath your command and my duty led me.  
There is no man can better witness it then myself, whose experience is grounded upon trial.  
I have left nothing unsaid, which enquiry could make me know, or your command required of my duty.  
Give me leave to digress a little.  
I offer my weak and imperfect lines at the Altar of your favour.  
— Rapt with the wonder of your virtues.  
— Under the shadow of your favour.  
Silent admiration was the sole Orator of my affection.  
How much those lines (sweetened with your Character) have transported me, my endearest thoughts cannot impart unto you.  
Be it your goodness to believe me, I will sooner cease to live, then—  
— Him, who will hold himself unworthy of that life, which shall not be employed to serve you.  
Your zeal to goodness assures me.  
No line can limit my love; no distance divide my heart.  
— she appeared an Adamant to my fancy.  
As those easy errors (which too deservingly bred your distaste) may be redeemed by a fuller surplusage of content.  
Be it your piety to have mercy.  
Thou bringest herbs to Jarak. i Coals to Newcastle.  
Lines cannot blush; so as modesty admits a freedom to my pen, which would be taxed immodesty being delivered by the tongue.  
She made me (though most unworthy) the master of her desires, that was, and still am, a servant to her will.  
— He (whose smallest sails of hope, the least winds did blow.)—  
After he had stretched and tentred his wit, and set all possibilities on the rack of his invention.  
And longer may not I enjoy what I now possess, than you shall find my promises full laden with rich performances.  
And as I only breath by your favour, and live through your love; so will I ever owe you sealty for the one, and still do you homage for the other.  
He read her discontentment in the deep Characters of her face.  
The angry Ocean swollen not, as he seemed to storm.  
The Imperious Mistress of my enthralled heart.  
To imprison in silence.  
How great soever my business be, it shall wilingly yield to so noble a cause.  
At that time (when he thought the ship of his good fortune sailed with a prosperous wind towards the desired Port) a contrary chance raised up in this calm Sea, such a tempestuous storm, that he feared a thousand times to see it sunk.  
— She who till then seemed to be a miracle of beauty, did now appear to be a monster of ugliness.  
If you will raise me to that height of happiness.  
They gave him the Parabien of his safe arrival.  
Vouchsafe me your pardon for presuming, and your patience in accepting at my hands this—— This partly (if the great arrearage of duty and thankfulness which I owe you, do not challenge priority) hath moved me to present—  
I dare not give sail into the Ocean of your vast soul, which is capable of all things from the highest to the lowest in perfection.  
Like a man whose heart disdained all desires but one  
Which authority (too great a sail for so small a Boat) did—  
He made his eyes quick Messengers to his mind.  
Betwixt her breasts (which sweetly rose up like two fair mountainers in the pleasant vale of Tempe) ●ere hung—  
At which the Clouds of my thoughts quite vanished.  
Blushing like a fair morning in May.  
Do you not see that this is a salad of wormwood, while mine eyes feed upon the Ambrosia of your beauty?  
Here I make a full point of a hearty sigh.  
This promise bound him Apprentice.  
He thought so much of,— that all other matters were but digressions unto him.  
(Not spoken by Ceremony, but by truth)—  
I am too unfit a vessel, in whom so high thoughts should be engraven.  
Thus was the riches of the time spent.  
Despair is the bellows of my affection.  
— As if his motions were chained to her look.  
— Whose name was sweetened by your breath.  
Most blessed paper, which shall kiss that hand, whereto all blessedness is in nature a servant, do not—  
(Beautifying her face with a sweet smile.)  
— Humbly besought her to keep her speech for a while within the paradise of her mind.  
If in my desire I wish, or in my hopes aspire, or in my imagination feign to myself any thing—  
— With all the conjuring words whi●h desire could indite, and authority utter.  
(A new swarm of thoughts stinging her mind)—  
Vouchsafe (only height of my hope) to—  
I desire that my desire may be weighed in the balances of Honour, and let Virtue hold them.  
— More or less according as the Ague of her passion, was either in the fit or intermission.  
His sports were such as carried riches of knowledge upon the stream of delight.  
Then she began to display the storehouse of her desires.  
— Perceiving the flood of her fury began to ebb, he thought it policy to take the first of the tide,—  
— (Making vehement countenances the Ushers of his speech) began—  
Hide my fault in your mercy.  
I'll centinel your safety.  
Your words to me are Acts, your promises are Deeds.  
You wrap me up with wonder.  
Can your belief lay hold on such a miracle?  
Her mind (being an apt matter to receive what form his amplifying speeches would lay upon it) danced so pretty a measure to his false music, that—  
— Clouded with passion—  
Never did pen more quakingly perform his Office, never was paper more doubly moistened with ink and tears, never words more slowly married together—  
Fearing how to end, before he had re●ol●ed how to begin.—  
— Having the cold ashes of care cast upon the coals of his desire.  
— House. The seat Nature bestowed, but Art gave the building.  
It was hard to say, whether pity of the one, or revenge against the other, held as then the sovereignty in his passions.  
— 'Twas a Magnes stone to his courage.  
His arm no oftener gave blows, than the blows gave wounds, than the wounds gave death.  
— Her hand (one of the chiefest of Cupid's firebrands)—  
By the foolish Idolatry of affection.—  
(When the morning had won the field of darkness)  
I'll sooner trust a Sinon.  
'Tis now about the noon of night.  
(Too mean a Shrine for such a Relic.)—  
— Carried by the tide of his imaginations—  
But when her breath broke the prison of her fair lips, and brought memory (with his servant senses) to his natural office, then—  
I pray God make my memory able to contain the treasure of this wise speech—  
Her arms and her tongue (Rivals in kindness) embracing—  
Whilst the Roses of his lips made a Flower of affection with the Lilies of her hands.  
Your will (directress of my destiny) is to me a Law, yea an Oracle.  
She incorporated her hand with his.  
Then (as after a great tempest) the sky of her countenance cleared.  
As in a clear mirror of sincere good will, he saw a lively picture of his own gladness.  
— In my mind; as yet a Apprentice in the painful mystery of passions, brought me into a n●w traverse of my thoughts.  
I have not language enough to fathom the depth of your virtues  
I'll rear a Pyramid to your memory.  
My want of power to satisfy so great a debt, makes me accuse my fortunes.  
Such endearments will too much impoverish my gratitude.  
How can I commit a sacrilege against the sweet Saint that lives in my inmost Temple?  
I am too weak a band to tie so heavenly a knot.  
The greatness of the benefit goes beyond all measure of thanks.  
While she spoke, the quintessence of each word distilled down into his affected soul.  
Departing, he bequeathed by a will of words, sealed with many kisses, a full gift of all his love and life to—  
Having with a pretty paleness (which left milky lines upon her Rosy cheeks) paid a little duty to humane fear.—  
— You, whom I have cause to hate, before I have means to know.  
I will not die in debt to mine own duty.  
— She, in whom nature hath accomplished so much, that—  
Imagine, vouchsafe to imagine—  
His fault found an easy pardon at the Tribunal he appealed to.—  
O my Dear,—! said she, and then kissed him, as loath to leave so perfect a sentence without a Comma.  
— Dear purchasing the little ease of my body with the afflictions of my mind.  
I am not Oedipus enough to understand you.  
All things lie level to your wishes.  
They began to imp the wings of time, with the Feathers of several recreations.  
— When my wishes be at anchor in so secure a haven.  
You are the Life and Being of what I only esteem happy.  
(For the Heavens had made this the Rendezvouz where his misfortunes should meet)  
— It is a fit soil for praise to dwell upon.  
Thus great with child to speak—  
You (the secretary of all my thoughts)  
— Which (as the Polestar) is ever in motion, but never setteth.  
— This is no Benefice, but a Malefice, a golden snare, a Carcanet of Medea, a Trojan Horse, which will produce Arms—  
He went like a Torrent, whither passion transported him, and where the blast, of Ambition breathed.  
— More fruitful in strong imaginations, then Religious in choice of words, and polished in periods.  
Your words are full of cunning, your cunning of promises, your promises of wind.  
He is a Phaeton of pride.  
I'll bosom what I think.  
She was the object of his thoughts, the entertainment of his discourse, the contentment of his heart.  
My happiness being in the wane, or my misfortune growing towards the full.  
From a Window he sent his soul unto me by his eyes—  
I remain impossibilited to do otherwise then—  
That so I may be raised from the ground of my misery to the heaven of my desire.  
— Esteeming more this instant of glory which I enjoy in seeing you, than any other happiness saving that which is eternal.  
To deny me this favour, and give me my death, is one and the same thing,  
To wander in the America and untravelled parts of truth.  
He led our expectation into thoughts of great relief.  
Whetting his tender wit upon the sandy stone of her edging importunity—  
Let purpose be made servant to more apt opportunity.  
— Him, with whom compared, I am less than a shadow.  
— If I should expatiate upon this subject, I could not be held a flatterer, but rather a Suffragan to Truth,  
The only Quint-essence, that hitherto the Alchemy of wit could draw out of—  
— But then, as though he had been suddenly ravished with divine afflation, and struck into a transport, he swears—  
We utterly condemn and renounce (as Atalanta's Apple, which retards the Race) that unseasonable and childish humour of accelerating early pledges of new works. Bacon.  
— Rendered in an equal felicity of expression, to—  
It comes in, but Ex obliquo—  
— He died (Sicca morte) his own natural death.  
— Forcibly carried away (I know not by what Fate, against the bent of my own Genius) to—  
Fortune hath somewhat of the nature of a woman, that if she be too much wooed, she is the further off.  
You outshot me in my own Bow.  
Many strange and absurd imaginations cam● into his mind, and peopled his brain.  
Pardon my rude expressions, extorted from me by the nature of the matter.  
— This is indeed a service, whereunto I acknowledge myself able to b●ing more zeal and good affection, than any other abilities.  
(Till these late years of frenzy)—  
So we may both redime the fault passed, and with the same diligence provide against future inconveniencies.  
That every one may understand, I seek not to balk any thing by silence, or to cloud any thing by words. Bacon.  
Your bounty (like a new Spring) has revived the Autumn of my years.  
— It took me up little more time, then Nature uses to bestow in the production of a Mushroom, a day and a night—  
— When this succeeded not, I traveled in my mind over.  
Thus like Noah's Dove, wearying myself with flying up and down, and finding no rest for the sole of my foot, I was at last forced to— Cressy.  
What a world of inavoidable inconveniencies did presently throng into my understanding!  
To bury a Fly in a Sepulchre of Amber.  
My desire to see, took away my sight, as it fares with those who are suddenly taken with a kill beauty, or gaze upon the Sun, Herb. Travels.  
— I plead guilty to unworthiness, and all the imperfections you can throw upon youth or haste.  
None can think so ill of me, as I do of myself, the rather that your pardon may flow freely, and work a kind of miracle upon me, in raising my dead thoughts to life.  
— Discovering myself nakedly, to my very thoughts.  
Be pleased therefore with your natural benignity, to admit into your peaceful solitude this—; a blessing which the Author (alas!) dares not promise to himself, since by himself he is judged unworthy, and by others incapable of it. Cressy.  
I'll rather doubt an Oracle, than question what you deliver.  
I will lead you through no more extravagancies, lest your entreated patience turn into exotic passion. Herb. Trau.  
You have endeavoured to make A. the Foil, that should set off your brightness, and yet you prove but the cloud that darkens his light.  
To sail in the Aegean Sea. i. to be encumbered with difficulties.  
He (being a man of an early, as well as an implacable malice) did—  
A. was an Actor in that Tragedy, yet laid the blame on B. as the Cuckoo lays her brood in other nests.  
I will at length put an end to this tedious (but that it is so necessary) a discourse—  
This (if passion and interest do not interpose) will satisfy—  
In the strength of this well-meaning, and holy kind of Error, which he incurred (if any error may well deserve so indulgent a name) he did—  
— Driven too too hastily on by the impulse of a kind of inordinate humility. Sir. Tob. Mat. Preface.  
This which I promise shall be performed (upon the price of being otherwise accounted an Infidel)—  
Let me thrive as my intents are honest.  
When I compared that kind of descant with my plain song, I found—  
Such who have been cast overboard from Grace, into the storm and tempest of a sinful life, may yet, etc.  
Intellectuals and morals, I count but as the simples of the soul.  
— To such (if any be) I heartily wish a procul it●.  
In these times (wherein the Tongue and Press assume so luxurious a latitude)—  
He came (as the Italian says) a buóna luna, in a good hour, or happy time.  
A Cavallo a Cavallo. In post haste.  
Give me leave to fear (and I heartily wish, that it may be a causeless and mistaken fear) that such—  
For divisions (I speak it with depth of sadness) he need not—  
— Taking this result of— as an opiate to allay the fumes of all our distempers. Montagu.  
— Carried away with the Whirlwind of Ambition—  
It did (after the manner of the Tartars bow) shoot back from whence it came. Bacon.  
The amazed Sun hid his face behind a mask of clouds.  
Be not too indulgent to your folly.  
I cannot clothe my thoughts in better language.  
The night's black mantle overspreads the sky.  
Your language is more dubious than an Oracle.  
— Then, when the Morn's fair cheek had not yet lost her tears.  
Words are airy shades, they are deeds that please.  
Your heart is not confederate with your tongue.  
Night clad in black, mourns for the loss of day.  
The face is the Index of the mind.  
I am but coffin to my cares.  
As not by my assent, so neither by my silence, must I have any hand in the Midwifery of so monstrous productions.  
I will out-toyl the day for your content.  
I liftned for that string, and you have touched it— (Affairs being drawn to the very dregs of malice)—  
They are divided to so high a rivalry, as—  
By exquisite methods of cunning and cruelty, I must be compelled first to follow the Funerals of my honour, and then be destroyed. Icon. Basil.  
I am content so much of my heart should be discovered to the world, without any of those dresses or popular captations, which some men use in their Speeches and Expresses.  
The highest tide of success set me not above a treaty, nor the lowest ebb below a fight.  
A little leven of new distaste, doth commonly sour the whole lump of former merits. Bacon Hen. 7.  
These lines (the weak and feminine issue of my sick and distempered age)— Bp. London's Legacy.  
But above all remember (and let this be still riveted in your thoughts) the time—  
A Christian man's care ought to begin and end in the circle of himself. Tu tibi primus & ultimus.  
Give me leave to unbreast the secrets of my thoughts to you.  
He undertakes to correct Magnificat.  
— The Fates of whose House they seem with great affection to espouse, and think with their bladders to buoy up his sinking ship. Nahash redivivus.  
With unblushing importunity.  
Sooner shall the Seas ebbing and flowing forsake the Moon's course, then—  
But (the better to enliven our discourse with examples)  
My understanding's not so fraught with prejudice, nor acquainted with uncoth evasions, as to—  
— The trees are widowed of their leaves.  
— That Ember-week-fa●e of thine.  
Passed over, like great King Xerxes in a Sculler Thou bringest straw to Aphraim.  
To doubt of— is an effeminacy of belief.  
Ex abundanti amoris, out of the surplusage of love.  
— Sucking her sweet breath, determined in himself there had been no life to a Chameleons, if he might be suffered to enjoy that food.  
A little wealth shall suffice to put me in— safeguard against the accidents ●f a necessitous life. (Surfeiting in the pride of his 〈◊〉 content)  
If I satisfy you I satisfy myself, desiring the one, because I wish for the other.  
The promise is great, but the performance shall be no less.  
His rudeness was interpreted plainness, though there be great difference between them.  
I will not leave a mark in myself of an unredeemable trespass.  
I with as much confidence as necessity, fly to you, who have always had your determinations bounded with equity.  
The abortive issue of my wit.—  
— That moves not within the Zodiac of my expectation.  
It hath turned my cordials into corrasives.  
— Seeing the glory of this sun to obscure the lesser lamp of his reputation.  
— Which alone was the centre of her felicity.  
— Sealed by your solemn protestation, which is the non ultra of assurance.  
This is a syllogism of the fourth figure, absurd and ridiculous.  
Get thee to bed, the casements of thine eyes are shut, imprisoning their dear light.  
Heaven has made your memory too humble thus to record your creatures service.  
— Protesting that the period of his obedience should be the end of his life.  
— Which the unseasonable sins of these seasons, make so seasonable.  
— Men, who leave the fountains of the living waters, and take themselves to cisterns of their own digging.  
I have by diligent search found ou● Ariadne's thread, to wind you out of the perplexed mazes of a subtle Daedalus.  
— Your eyes (though now perhaps dimmed with ignorance, or bloud-shorten with passion) shall plainly discern—  
— He left the rude lump of his begun projects to be licked over with the industry of—  
I have sacred this offertory of my thoughts to you.  
— Persons, whom the conscience of their guilt hurries on to despair.  
If the happy Daemon of Ulysses direct not the wand'ring Planet of my wit within the decent orb of wisdom (my stammering pen seeming far overgone with superfluity of phrase) yet—  
— As delightful as the delays of parting Lovers. Gond.  
Many months are now past, since my heart hath increased the number of your vassals. Strat.  
I speak this, but en passant.  
To finish the Sacrifice of your intemperate cruelty.  
— My pen hath been redundant, as to due measure, but very scanty as to the matter.  
When corruption of manners had ravished away the world's virginity, and turned men from fervently devour in to a churlish and penurious tepidity; then was it.—  
Though your goodness rejects no emanation of a grea● affection, yet—  
— Which are the Passetemps of your severest hours.  
— I had rather your virtue should blush, than my unthankfulness make me ashamed. D. Taylor.   

Instructions for writing and addressing LETTERS,  
IN writing of Letters there may be four things regarded, the Invention; the Fashion, or inditing (as we call it); the Handwriting, and the Orthography; though the two first are most considerable.  
Invention ariseth from your business, whereof there can be no Rules of more certainty, or precepts of better direction given, than conjecture may lay down of the several occasions of all men's particular lives and vocations. But sometimes men make business of kindness; As, I could not satisfy myself, till I had discharged my remembrance, and charged my Letters with commendations to you. My business is no other but to testify my love to you, and to put you in mind of my willingness to do you any service: Or, have you leisure to descend to the remembrance of that assurance you have long had in me; and upon your next opportunity to make me happy with any employment, you shall assign me, etc. or such like words, which go a begging for some meaning, and labour to be delivered of the great Burden, Nothing.  
When you have invented, if your business be matter, and not bare form, not mere ceremony, but of some concern, Than you are to proceed to the ordering it, and digesting the parts, which is sought out of two circumstances: One is the understanding of the reasons to whom you write; the other is the coherence of the matter; for men's capacity and delight, you are to weigh what will be apprehended first with greatest attention and pleasure, what next regarded & longed for especially, and what last will leave most satisfaction, & as it were the sweetest relish & memorial of all that is passed in his understanding to whom you write.  
For the consequence of sentences, you must see that every clause do as it were give the cue to the other and seem to be bespoken ere it come, order & coherence in writing being that fire of Prom●theus, without which all our works would appear inanimate.  
Now for Fashion, it consists in four qualities of your Style. The first is Brevity; For Letters must not be Treatises or discourses, except it be amongst learned men, and even amongst them there is a kind of thrift and saving of words. You are therefore to examine the clearest passages of your understanding, and through them to convey the sweetest and most significant English words you can devise, that you may the easier teach them the readiest way to another man's fancy, and to pen it fully, smoothly, and distinctly; so as the Reader may not think a second view cast away upon your Letters. In effect, th● goodness of words is, as the foundation of all Eloquence; and he said well, who compared them to garments, that were invented for necessity, yet did also serve for ornament.  
But though respect be a part after this, yet must I here remember it. If you write to a person, with whose condition and humour you are well acquainted, you may be the bolder to set a ●ask to his brain. If to your superior, you are bound to measure in him three further points; First, your Interest in him; secondly, his capacity of your Letters; thirdly, his leisure to peruse them. For your interest, or favour with him, you are to be the shorter or longer, more familiar or submiss, as he will afford you time. For his Capacity, you are to be quainter, or fuller of those reaches or glances of wit or learning, according to his comprehension; For his leisure, you are commanded to the greater brevity, as his place is of greater discharges and cares. With your betters, you are not to put Riddles of wit, by being too niggardly of your words, nor to cause the trouble of making Breviates, by writing too copiously, or wastingly.  
Brevity is attained upon the matter, by avoiding idle compliments, prefaces, protestations, long Parentheses, supplications, wanton circuits of Figures, and digressions, by composition, omitting conjunctions, Not only but also, the one and the other, whereby it comes to pass, etc. and such like particles, that have no great business in a serious Letter; By breaking off sentences; as oftentimes a short journey is made long by many baits. But as Quintilian saith, There is a briefness of the parts sometimes, that makes the whole long; As, I came to the stairs, I took a pair of Oars, they launched out, rowed apace, I landed at Westminster, I paid my Fare, went to the Parliament House, asked for a Member, I was admitted. All this is, but I went to Westminster, and spoke with my friend.  
Under this Notion somewhat may be said of Periods, which ought not to be too long, nor yet too short, QVO MAGIS VIRTUS, EO MAGIS MEDIETAS. All virtue consists in a certain Geometrical mediocrity, equally distant from excess and default. Some Writers have prescribed a Period not to exceed that length which a man may well pronounce in a breath. There ought likewise to be a special regard had to the cadence of the words, that the whole contexture of the Period may yield a certain kind of harmony to the ear; for Longinus says, The true sounds and tones of Periods may be compared to a great Feast made up of many dishes,  
The next property of Epistolary Style, is, Perspicuity, which is not seldom endangered by the former quality. Brevity oftentimes by affectation of some wit, or ostentation of some hidden terms of Art, is ill angled for; few words darken speech, and so do too many; as well too much light hurts the eyes, as too little; and a long Bill of Chancery confounds the understanding as much as the shortest note. Therefore let not your letter be penned like an English Statute, and be sure to avoid fungous words, and empty inflations; which may best be done by considering your business, and distinctly understanding yourself; and this will be much furthered by examining your thoughts, and exposing them as well to the light and judgement of your own outward senses, as to the censure of other men's ears. 'Tis for want of this consideration that many good Scholars speak but faltringly, like a rich man that for want of particular note and difference, can bring you no ware readily out of his shop. By this means talkative shallow men sometimes content the hearers more than the wise. But this may find a speedier redress in writing, where all comes under the last examination of the Eyes. First, mind it well, then pen it, then examine it, then amend it, and you may be in the better hope of writing accurately.  
Under this virtue may come Plainness, which is, not to be too curious in the order; as to answer a Letter, as if you were to answer Interrogatories, To the first, first, to the second, secondly; But in the method, to use as Ladies do in their attire, a diligent kind of negligence; NON ENIM ELOQVENTIAM EX ARTIFICIO, SED ARTIFICIUM EX ELOQVENTIA NATUM, says Cicero. And Longinus hath this excellent observation, That Art does then appear perfect, when she can scarce be distinguished from Nature herself. And though with some men you are not to jest, or practise capriccios' of wit; yet the delivery of the most weighty and important matter, may be carried with such an easy grace, as it may tickle the fancy of the Reader, and yield a recreation to the Writer, as Plato observes, lib. 6. de Legib.  
There must be variety, but not excess of terms, as if you are to name store, sometimes you may call it choice, sometimes plenty, sometimes copy, or variety, But ever so, as the word that comes in. lieu, have no such difference of meaning, as to put the sense in hazard to be mistaken.  
You are not to cast a ring for the perfumed moding terms of the time; as to acquiesce, to espouse an interest, to cajole, to incommode, to have a pique against one, etc. but use them properly in their places, as others; matter & substance being preferable before words or form: For as a modern French Author says, the most excellent words without solidity of matter, are no more considerable, than the burst of a Cannon without Ball, which makes a great noise, but does no execution. Besides, a vain curiosity of words hath so much scandalised some Philosophers, that Seneca (in one of his Epistles) says, Had it been possible to make himself understood by signs, he would rather serve himself of them, then of discourse, to the end he might the ●etter avoid all manner of affectation. Whereunto may pertinently be subjoined those excellent lines of Mr. Hobbs (in his answer to Sir Will. Davenants Preface) in these words: As the sense we have of bodies, consists in-change and variety of impression; so also does the sense of language in variety and changeable use of words: I mean not in the affectation of words newly brought home from travel, but in the new (and withal significant) translation to our purposes, of those that be already received, and in far-fetched (but withal apt, instructive and comely) similitudes.  
There follows Life, which is the strength and sinews (as it were) of your style, by pretty sayings, similitudes and conceits, allusions, some known history or other Common-place, such as are in the second book of Tully, de Oratore. And (if we may credit Hermogenes) a moderate interlacing of verse among prose, is not without its gentilesse.  
But too great a mixture of other languages in your style, some (and those of the more learned) have compared to a party coloured coat, made up of several pieces of stuff; others to Anacr●ons Swan, which had neither blood, flesh, nor bone.  
The fourth is Respect, to discern what befits yourself, him to whom you write, and the matter you treat of, which is a quality fit to conclude the rest, because it does include the rest; and that must proceed from ripeness of judgement, which (as an Author truly says) is gotten by four ways, by the gift of God, by Nature, diligence, and conversation; serve the first well, and the rest will serve you.  
In the close of your letter you must by all means endeavour to come off handsomely, by avoiding those trite and overworn conclusions, Thus I rest, So I remain, Thus I take my leave, & the like; and by taking rise from the next precedent matter of your letter, make your subscription appendent thereto.  
For the Handwriting, if you attain not to perfection, it ought at least to be legible, and the matter fairly written, and truly pointed, with Comma (,) Colon (:) Semicolon (;) Period (.) Parentheses (Interrogation (?) and Admiration (!) points, as the matter requires.  
The last is the Orthography, or true writing of words, which (though not much valued by some, yet) I hold a quality so incident to a good Penman, that he cannot be said to be perfect in that faculty, without it; nor do I believe that one of ten, even among Scholars, are well skilled therein. And of this Orthography, as it were too long to be here treated of, so may I haply give you hereafter some observations thereupon.   

LETTERS.  

I. A Letter to revive Friendship in the Son, by remembrance of the Father's love.  
SIR,  
AS worth is not confined to place; so not the affection of friends to presence: your excellent deserts command my respects where ever, your absence draws these following salutes, as the testimonies of my esteems and well-wishes. In your noble Father I lost a worthy friend, in you I find him again: you no less inherit his goodness, than estate; this entitles me your neighbour, that makes his loves lineal and sure; and as neither with decrease, so both to the augmentation of my acknowledgements; The power of my friend is a shelter and joy, his faithfulness my security, yet I love for worth, not-profit. This name of Friendship I grant is spreadly appellative, but the thing itself as rare in experience, as loud in vogue. Your father's love I enjoyed in calm times; I prove yours in the tempests of Fortune: My confidence assures me he would not have failed the Test, my trial proves you do not; a certainty that precludes doubt, and no less obliges my proportioned gratitude. It were easy now (Sir) to say, were you under my Stars, I would be the same I find you; I would so, nay should hate myself, did I feel but an inclination to the contrary. Yet all this evinces no more, than what you please to believe; Professions and Performances are not the same; what I would be, will not surmount conjecture; your nobleness shows itself in effects irrefragable. I know nothing can make me truly miserable, but myself; and as well I know and feel in lowering times, how consolatory is the countenance of a real friend; such your best self, to whom I shall always subsign myself  
Sir, A most humble servant, D.W.   

LETTER II.  
SIR,  
A Great Philosopher complained, that the Fabric of man's body was defective; For (said he) Nature should have made a window in the Breast, by which we might look into the bottom of his heart, to see, when he speaks, whether his words be conform to the dictates of his heart, and whether that which we see without, have an uniform relation to that within. Trust me (Sir) though I quarrel not with Nature in this kind, yet I wish my Breast transparent, that you might see in what deep characters your affection is engraven in my heart, and how really I am (what you ●ave made me)  
Sir, Your most faithful servant, T. B.   

III. A Letter of Acknowledgement.  
SIR,  
I Have long studied an acknowledgement in some sort answerable to your many favours, but Fortune hath deal● so sparingly with me, that ● (who have most desire) a● lest able to show my remerciaments otherwise, 〈…〉 a course paper present; yet I wish I 〈…〉 some ●a●ing monument, that might 〈…〉 my engagements, whereby 〈…〉 might know, that though I had no● 〈◊〉 to 〈◊〉, yet I had a heart to be thankful, which shall always pronounce me  
Sir, Your most obliged friend and servant, T. B.   

IV. Another.  
THough my acquaintance with you, for time & conversation, hath had the misfortune to be but small: yet is my experience of your excellent worths both full and satisfied, even to admiration. With some natures, I confess, much salt is to be eaten, before judgement can be prudentially settled; Others like the Sun, or Light, have power to blazon themselves in a moment: This excellency seems to shine in your nobler constitution; and this commands my so sudden esteem and affections. Sir, you have then a servant, but he wants power to express how much he is so; If I say, all I am, is at your devotion, 'tis not all I am ready to perform, because desire and readiness surpass in me my too much limited abilities. You see then your creature and instrument expects but your pleasure for operation, as far as he is apt, yet some offices he wil● undertake uncommanded, (viz,) his daily orisons for your good, chiefly that which is sovereign; In which to make him more active, your consent and call, shall be the welcom●st employment the world can lay upon him. Future occasions may enlarge my expressions; I shall now content myself, that I have presumed to salute you with these generals, wh●m I have devoted myself to honour in all particulars. Now let me thank you for all received favours, for those immerited regards that began my obligations and continue my gratitude; for your late kind token, which was of multiplied value drawn from the sender●●lf these find acceptance, and their presumption pardon, 'twill animate him hereafter not to be silent, that shall live by being, if he may be (as he would)  
Sir, Entirely yours, D.W.   

V. A Letter to excuse silence.  
Madam,  
MY teeming hopes have been fed even with an assurance, that London should ere this have been made happy with your presence, else I had not thus long hazarded the loss of your good opinion by my silence; since I confess to owe a debt to your goodness, which all the respect and service my poor abilities are able to perform, can never throughly satisfy. I beg, at present, but a continuance of your favours towards me; and (because I know you just) shall only expect them hereafter according to the measure of my services, which I have faithfully devoted to your best sell, in quality of,  
Madam, Your virtues humble honourer, T. B.   

VI A Letter from a Gentleman banished the Lines of Communication, to a Lady in London.  
Madam,  
IF I could decline the thought of a necessity of being here, and believe this Banishment to be a voluntary retirement, I should account myself extremely happy; for here we freely enjoy those felicities so much sought for in London, the fresh air, and singing of the Nightingale; yet I must confess I begin to be satiated with these solitary pleasures, not so suitable with my disposition, as the conversation of my friends; and could willingly exchange the company of Birds and Beasts, for the society of men. But, pardon me (Madam) it was not my intention to trouble you with what I do or suffer, or to wish you where I would not be myself; but to beseech you to retain a memory of me, till I am restored to the honour of kissing your hands, a happiness daily desired by  
Madam, The humblest of your servants.   

VII. A second Letter of salutation, upon the miscarriage of a former.  
SIR,  
I Have addressed my salutes before, but hear they miscarried. The labour to repeat them is not burdensome, yet lest their loss might bring you into suspicion, that I was as silent as their miscarriage makes me seem, I add these to try better fortune; in which, if more happy, they know their errand, to present me & my loves to your devotion. If they stammer in the delivery, they best e●press myself, whose expression (surcharged by your deserts) must conceive more obligation, smother more affection, than I can utter. You can mend both by the clearness of a candid interpretation, till both are able to be more articulate and plain; None can better expound gratitude, than he who most merits it. Sir, I forget not the delights of your ingenious conversations, those sweet (but too short) moments of my contents. I remember your ready favours, your real endearments, I remember all, and for all am thankful. Will you have more? More than this you cannot, I am (what I am)  
Very much yours. D.W.   

VIII. An Answer to a Letter of kindness.  
Most honoured Cousin,  
THe great measure of content I received at your being here, and since that, the favour to be the unworthy object of your remembrance, makes me even proud of my own happiness. The truth is, I wish no other heaven upon earth, than always to enjoy your presence, that the influence of your many virtues may create in me some kind of goodness. But since there must needs be a separation, excuse it I beseech you if in this homely manner, I present you with the service and best affection of him that is,  
Most happy in your acknowledgement, T B.   

IX. A passionate letter of affection.  
Madam,  
SInce that very hour, wherein Fortune made me happy in your knowledge, next under God I neither have love, care, hope, nor contentment, but for you: The day yields up all my thoughts, as a tribute to your memory, and the night (which was made to arrest the agitations of Spirit) never removes the remembrance of you from my heart; over which, as you have already gained an absolute dominion, so shall it yield you a constant sacrifice of an affection which shall be permanent, as the Being of  
Madam, Your most devoted servant, T. B.   

X. A Letter from a Commander in war to his Mistress.  
Madam,  
THough I have lately been brought even to the confines of Death's Kingdom, yet I retain so much strength, as to tell you I am alive; and must crawe leave to renew that ● protestation, which I have heretofore so often made, not to be willing to live but for your service. The scars of war in some sort resemble the wounds of love, since those which I received, have not at all diminished the desire I had to serve my Religion, and these, which you gave me, have increased that passion to honour you which reigns within my soul. My hand has not strength enough to write more, and its weakness may serve as a proof of my affection, which shall be always greater than my power, as the effects of my obedience shall ever be less, than my devotion to serve you, all days of my life, in quality of  
Madam, The dearest lover of your best self, T. B.   

XI. A Consolatory Letter.  
Noble Madam,  
I Have received your gracious lines, of which I make a Jewel; because both in themselves good, as also because I take them not to be common. For these are the conditions, that upon most things set a value; But could those be wanting, yet would they not want a high rate, had they no other virtue, than the coming from you; If their kindness to me had been accompanied with the characters of your own more wished Fortunes, they had by far, been more contentful: whereas now, as they tell me, I have a friend, they at the same view add, she's far less happy than I could wish her; Thus the same syllables make the same thoughts at once, both hapless and fortunate. But, Madam, as the news general, and your particular, share both in malignity, because both bad; so I hope yours at least is at the worst, and by sequel upon amendment; and hopes of better is always a fair point of good fortune, which to make more sure, you to yourself will not (I hope) be wanting. There was a Philosopher said, that each one is the framer of his own Fate; and I am partly of his Sect, at least so far as I believe no fate so bad, but 'tis in the power of the sufferer to make it (if not good) better. And so Madam (I hope) will both your wisdom and virtue endeavour; and this by solid grounds and ways, without which the rest will be labour in vain. The task you have set me to this end (to wit) my prayers, I both daily have, do, & will perform; and if a partner in misfortunes might lessen the burden, as some have thought, I I cannot be without my part in yours. Nor, were't in my power, should your Ladyship be a moment without better comforts. But I leave this sad strain till fitter opportunity, and rest,  
Madam, Your Ladyship's humble servant, D.W.   

XII. A passionate Letter of affection.  
My inestimable Jewel,  
THe long continuance of all things (my infinite love to you excepted) does by little and little decay them; but 'tis my pride, that each grey hair time adds to the affection I bear you (which again I pronounce infinite) brings an inclination to a second infinity, and remains the only excusable dotage now extant, turning my present solitary life to one of much business; for always to think of you I esteem my business, my faith, my every thing. Your constancy can never find out a greater than mine; for 'tis a vast one, and shall outlast all things about it; Therefore look that yours be as true marble, as you will otherwise answer the utter undoing of  
Madam, Your truly, truly, truly, constant servant.   

XII. To a Landlord in behalf of his Tenants.  
Most honoured Sir,  
TO move you to justice were in some sort to conclude you guilty of injustice, and to request your pity in hehalf of your poor and long oppressed Tenants, were to proclaim you hardhearted against them; but experience tells me you are free from both, and your own works pronounce your worth. Only thus much I am bold to beg of you, that the false informations of A.B.C.D. and others of broken credits, as well as Estates, may not take place against these bearers, men of honour and good fortunes, and such as I dare presume will inform you of nothing but truth. In confidence whereof I assume the liberty to subsubscribe myself,  
Sir, Your very humble servant.   

XIV. A second Letter, upon a late acquaintance.  
SIR,  
AFter one Letter (long since sent) and often inquiries, I have, at last, had the happiness to hear your safety and health. The Relator had an accidental view of you, and I a real comfort. I was once made fortunate by opportunity to enjoy your obliging conversation, and engaged by your noble endearments, but this lost, almost as soon as gained; so vanishing the chief enjoyances of this fickle life, so unlasting those contents we esteem most ingenious and innocent. Sir, I have many ties to be yours, and not fewer misfortunes, that I may not be so as much as I would. But this is a world of crosses, such as, though it hath pulled many down, yet hath it set others up in the stead. And this must be so, since without a cross we cannot arrive our Crown. However, neither distance of place, nor interval of time can change those respects to your noble self, that took both root and date from our first interview. Affection grounded on virtue, must parallel it in content, or be injurious. Your true worth engaged me in ever-honoring esteems, and these I must be unworthy if I recall. Nor are our immortal souls so mensurated to place, but they can meet; though our duller clay be confined to the accident of commensuration; what they cannot perform by presence, by operation they can; remain where they live, and be where they love; in the circumference be disjoined, yet united in the centre of hearts, which is their life and Being; and this is God. Here (Sir) was our first union, and here, I hope, nothing shall separate: yea each flying moment of time draws to a more embosoming nearness. Sir, when we parted you enjoined me to continue you in my best thoughts, This not to remember, I account to forget myself. That I am not banished your memory, one word from your pen, would not only cherish and confirm, but honour and oblige,  
Sir, Your most devoted and humble servant, D.W.   

XV. A Letter to excuse silence, etc.  
SIR,  
What to you I know not, but to me it seems long, since my pen presented my respects. 'Tis true, I wrote last, but this will not excuse. Gratitude makes my addresses due; when you salute, your salutes are pure favours: still oblige, never incur obligation. If then I have been too remiss, I fly to the Asyle of your pardon; and to render me more capable of it, give me leave to add this qualification: That not neglect, but fear to be troublesome, caused the interval. Est modus in rebus— I would observe duty, I hate to be unseasonable: He that can light on the Mean, attains the accomplishment of Office; he that misses, may mean well, but is guilty of some defection towards an extreme. But as that moral Decorum is the beauty of humane life; so a precise niceness with friends, hath too much of scruple. Seemliness should not be transgressed, yet Friendship is not stern in her Laws. I may be bold with myself, and next with my friend. Whom endearment makes mutual, love entitles to a latitude of honest action. o Sir, that I bear the stile of your Friend, is the greatest adjunct the world can make me happy in; I desire no more splendour of honour, no relation to me is so precious. My request is, it may continue; my endeavour shall be to deserve the continuance; not that I presume I can deserve it, but rather, that I hope, not by a voluntary guilt, to forfeit what you freely confer. Nor will you easily (your goodness is too constant) reject, whom you have (with so much condescence) adopted. My resolve is unchangeable, and that is, to be  
Sir, Ever and most entirely your devoted servant, D.W.   

XVI. To a Mother.  
Madam,  
THis short time of absence make me sensible of that great good which Nature gave me, when she ordained you to be the Parent & me the child; for now I feel myself deprived of those joys, which your presence was wont to afford me; now I want those lovefull aspects, wherewith your indulgent eye was wont to solace me. In a word, I want all things, which an affectionate mother did ever bestow upon an undeserving, yet dutiful child, for such is  
T. B.   

XVII. A Letter to beg acquaintance.  
Sir,  
YOu may wonder at this boldness: but your worth animates it, and the same, I hope, will pardon what it causes. I have often heard of you, and once I saw you; and by the conversation of a few words, I perceived plentiful evidence, that what I have heard of your merits, was answered in the truth. This your humility may reply was too short a time for experience. I grant it: but not to confirm what both the Good and Wise by report had made credible: the senses should not be deceived in their proper objects; and Hearing is a sense as well as Seeing: and (if it follow the right Rules) perhaps as little erring; chiefly if a rational hearing, to which I have some title by essence. Report the subject; that you are deserving, the reported; this averred by wise men and good men, yea by all men that know you; which I must either believe or be irrational. Sir, the truth is, I am so fully persuaded of this verity, that I am truly ambitious of your more acquaintance; and that this may be by pen, till more joined abodes afford a presential intercourse. If your thoughts answer, no greater obligation can be laid upon  
Sir, Your most faithful servant, D.W.   

XVIII. In answer to a Letter of Compliment.  
Sir,  
THat I live (though absent) thus fresh in your memory, I count my glory, and that you write to me, my happiness; which favours, that I may seem in some measure to deserve, I address these, not as satisfactory Acquittances (for such my weak merit, does not aim at) but as respective acknowledgements, which your greater goodness commands from me. I have now throughly both seen and felt the Bath, and as I find myself nothing ameliorated in complexion of face, or temperature of body; so is the disposition of my mind to serve you nothing lessened, but does adequately increase, with the obligations of  
Sir, Your unalterable servant, T. B.   

XIX. A facetious letter upon sending a Christmas Pie to a Friend.  
Sir,  
I Salute you with a poor token, a pastry Bak'd-meat, as a recognition of my gratitude for your noble entertainments; and not entertainments only, but even harbour in a push of necessity, which I construe to have multiplied the courtesy to many degrees of height. These to requite I confess myself unable, and to forget as unwilling. The mean of both I undertake, that is to greet you with my grateful and remembering respects: which if you please to entertain in my sense, it shall be interpreted a new added favour, and speak me thankful. Grateful minds can acknowledge what they cannot retribute, and this is both my fortune and meaning. Sir, that I may be some imperfect Index, or like the Westminster Tomb-shewer, tell who or what lies here: You have or shall find in the centre, a Neat's Tongue, empanched by a Goose; next both tongue and Goose, like the Isle of Candia, swallowed up by the Turk; Round these, some few other Volatils, as lookers on, and though not main Partisans, yet not unimbroyled in the danger, for their curiosity. At last comes fierce General Cook, and fortifies all (as he hopes) with a strong line of Circumvallation, and having perfected his works, sends the besieged captive to your best appetite, whereto they are left for triumph and conquest. Sir, now were it not for fear of making this our Post-paste over tedious, and coming too near the heels of time, I could so compare these Animals, or their corpse, that there might rise upon their conditions both Emblems and Morals. But this saceteness I will leave to yourself and good company, to recreate and abetter your digestion with. What I chiefly desire to hear in this point, is, that you have been merry in parting the fray, friendly accepted what was cordially meant: That you have vanquished the cruel Turk, the peevish Goose, the betraying Tongue, the wild Pouline, the long-nosed Woodcocks; yea that you have razed the very proud outworks to the ground. This done, I pray, you may conquer your worse enemies, and number me in the Alb● of  
Your humble servants, D.W.   

XX. A Letter to excuse silence, and acknowledge past favours.  
Sir,  
I Have long done you the service, not to trouble you with my lines, but durst no longer pursue this method, lest it might degenerate into the semblance of neglect. It ver●ue (for her better practice) be enthroned 'twixt two extremes, writing (as an act of virtue) must also keep due distance with them; neither lean to importune frequency without leave, nor be benumbed by the Lethargy of Omission. And you, whose favours have always engaged me yours, will believe my aims have no other end, then to be so, as well in forbearances as actions; provided I fail not as your votary; a crime I should hate myself to think I could be wicked enough to commit; and am sure I never yet was. Sir, you have, I know, received my former Letter, and dained the civility of receiving from it my humble gratitudes, for the liberalities it acknowledged. This will not so far encroach upon the Office of my better expressions, as to repent that duty, but must again and again pronounce me  
Sir, Your grateful servant, D.W.   

XXI. A Letter of thanks, etc.  
Honoured Sir,  
I Have received your friendly Letter, and (by Proxy) your bounty: I am obliged by both, yet am by you debarred, by pen, to answer either. You fetter me in the limits of ten lines, and these too must be silent of yourself, the best subject; I could observe your number, and yet be tedious, did I write short hand, or would I imitate the Lawyer's length of a Chancery Bill. But I will not force a double sense on your sincerity; What you will not have in paper, shall warm my breast, those grateful thoughts, and unfeigned devotions, that vow and maintain me  
Sir, Your ever most affectionate servant, D.W.   

XXII. To a Lady upon her weaving hair-bracelets.  
Madam,  
LAst night when I found you in a pretty harmless employment, weaving hair-bracelets, you commanded me to make you some Poesies for that purpose, which I told you was a work fitter for Poets and men of wit, then for me, whose Cabinet enshrineth no such Treasure; yet (Madam) that you may see what a supremacy of power you have over all my faculties, I send you these enclosed; if any of which prove worth your use, the composure must be ascribed to the virtue of your commands, rather than to any skill of mine, which as I disclaim to have, out of a just sense of my own imperfections; so must I always subscribe myself (out of a like sense of your worth)  
Madam, Your most devoted servant, T. B.  

Qui est tout de Coeur; n'a point de langue.  
Qui dedit: se dedit. (Nec fallit nec fallitur.  
A se convertitur in se. (Vnus: una: unum.   

Wear this (dear heart) and prove as true  
In faith to me, as I to you.   

This gift shall tell you, that I do  
Love you alone, and none but you.   

No heart more true,  
Then mine to you.   

Cupid has bound me by this band,  
To be your servant at command.   

I find it true, since you are gone,  
That Love makes perfect union.    

XXIII. A Letter complaining of Absence.  
Madam,  
IF I could find out words to express the language of my heart, I should then be able to demonstrate how little I enjoy myself, whilst I am absent from you, in whom all my joys and all my felicities are so wealthily summed up; that as I live by none but you; so, were it as much in my power as desires, I should never be absent from you; But since Fate hath thus decreed a separation, I beseech you let nothing make you forget him, who always remembers you, in quality of  
Madam, Your greatest admirer, T. B.   

XXIV. In answer to one that congratulated an arrival in the Country.  
Sir,  
THat you congratulated our wellcoming to G. was so necessary for us, and so great a mark of goodness in you, that I believe without your good wishes, we had taken up our quarters on Saturday night in the Forest, where we were benighted (a sad thing to think on) and lost our way; But being (as I say) arrived here, by the help of God, and your good wishes, I find little subject for envy in our enjoyments, not a Deer being left in the Park, nor a Kid in season, (unless a wooden one) nor a Walk dry enough for a Spanish-leather shoe; and I am sure you will not envy us a little fresh air, since we have paid so dear for it, by the fatigues of a long journey. Trust me (Sir) these things (however you value them) bend my thoughts towards London, and the rather, in respect of your dear self, to whom I am (by manifold obligations)  
An affectionate humble servant, T. B.   

XXV. Upon the late Commotions.  
SIR,  
HAd not Pythagoras excepted our Terrestrial Orb, when he asserted the Orbs harmonious; this Age had clearly confuted him. For how musical soever those higher are; this I am sure sounds nothing but harsh Discords: and so loud; that we cannot but hear them; so unpleasant, that the din discomposes quiet minds. The way to ease ourselves is hard, yet not impossible: but what is it? 'tis this, To elevate our abode: To Compose our own interior. He that enjoys in time Peace, is not open to extern broils: they may beat the out side, but cannot enter; batter the walls of flesh and blood, but the Citadel of reason is safe; and if reason sway, we fly up to mansions indisturbd. We are all Citizens of the lower World, I grant, must wish 'tis good; may deplore its evils; Yet our own private welfare, aught to be to us most precious. This were a Paradox with Politicians (if not well glossed) and so I allow it (each part was made for the whole.) But our Placite still stands: and stands in this: each mortal is nearest to himself. My own preservation, lessens not my contribution to the Public▪ must I be, or I cannot be able? I must be able, or I cannot aid it. Of Aides, there is more than one sort. All were not framed for the same function, or influence. The Martial blade, and bullet has its office; so policy military; these we leave to the sons of Mars. Yet we have our duty too, and this is piety. Piety first calms its own lares; then becomes instrumental to others reconcilement. When heaven sees me at peace within, I am approved, fit to pacify. To complain of exterior commotions, and myself to be torn by the disorder of my own Passions, is an improper address, a mediation ineffectual. It was well dreamt by Scipio, when he said; as the intelligences guided (by a regular Order) the upper Spheres; so ought our intellectual powers govern our own little World. Where the superior portion of the soul obeys the divine Laws, and the part irrational acquiesces to the mind; (in the mind (and all man) resounds a harmony far surpassing Pythagorean accents. Ah! (my friend) were mental and private tumults appeased, the civil would cease, and whilst these (with you and I) are settled, the civil cannot annoy us. A composed soul miseries may try, cannot disorder. Whilst others, then fight for earth, and purple it with native blood; let us aspire higher enterprises: pray for their peace, secure our own. Let us fix our thoughts where ambition reaches not, where War embroiles not, where tranquillity eternally triumphs. Thus shall we offer ourselves a piacular sacrifice before the high Altar of God, in our own condition acceptable, in alien behoof not despised. The incessant vows, of  
Sir, Your most devoted servant, W.D.   

XXVI. ANSWER.  
SIR,  
YOu have given us, (who are indeed Terrestrial Cosmopolites) most excellent prescriptions, for the composure and regiment of the inward man in these times of fluctuation, whereby those that are at War within themselves, may know how to seek, and where to find a lasting peace, a peace with truth and endless repose, and those that are at peace may learn how to settle the soul's Militia in an unconquerable posture of defence against the Common enemy; In a word there's a volume of rich Apothegms abridged into the compendium of your letter; heavens make my breast a fit repository for such treasure. But in conclusion you evidence the virtue of self-abnegation to be one part of the Cargazon of your ship; For you still work with the old Perspectives, by serving yourself of a diminishing Glass, when you mention your own perfections, and of one, that multiplies, when you make the mole hills of your friends qualities (if any were) to seem mountains. Alas! what is my plain song, if compared with your heavenly descant; Majores majora canunt- It must content me to contemplate you in a higher Orb, whilst I lie muddling here below, even  
Sir, The humblest of your servants, T. B.   

XXVII. To a Lady, upon her leaving the City.  
Madam,  
EVer since you left London, all joys and good fortune have left us, the heavens have not ceased to shed continual 
| It was a time of great rain.  tears for your absence, and Mars has frowned upon all our undertake, nor can we hope to receive good news or enjoy fair weather, till the rays and virtue of your presence return hither, to uncloud the watery element and uncharm the fortune of War. Whilst in this sadness, I was studying what might render my lines worthy your acceptance, the enclosed arrives with the much wished for news of— And if this prove in any measure an Antidote to prevent the contagion of sadder thoughts, which these times are apt to administer, I shall enjoy the height of my ambition, which holds no title in competition with that of  
Madam, Your humble servant, T. B.   

XXVIII. To excuse the not taking leave, and to acknowledge received favours.  
SIR.  
BEfore I left London I did endeavour to have given my personal attendance upon your noble self, with an address of thankfulness for your generous favours, and free entertainments; But this devoir (by your absenting occasions) being frustrate; I am forced upon pen-supply. Wherein yet the most I can express to the purpose, is ingeniously to avow, I owe more to your bounties than I can express; more expressions to your high Worths, than I can make legible. Which defect of Language (I humbly yet conceive) you of all (Sir,) have most reason to indulge; since your great merits of me, and your own self-nobleness, has most put it to silence. Be then above my feeble Oratory, as your endearments transcend my deserts; 'tis praise enough, as you aim not at empty Epithets, so your real perfections are abundant and natively clear to be their own encomiums. I with admiring gratitude will remember what I cannot utter. Yet (Sir) take this unfeigned image of my thoughts; that from the first hour I received the honour of your acquaintance, I have singularly honoured yourself; and since you have been pleased to rank me in the albe of your servants, and privilege me not only with your friendly familiarities, but also signal favours, I confess myself bound for requital of all, as to yield to none in my respect, so to be ever (as I profess I am obliged)  
Sir, Your servant and votary. D.W.   

XXIX. A Ladies Answer to her servants first letter.  
SIR,  
THat upon so small acquaintance, you should make me such friendly and passionate expressions, I cannot but take as a civility, being apt to make the best construction of every one's actions; yet (Sir) that so many months should pass in silence, since I saw you, is enough to make me believe your letter merely complemental; For these times afford many of your sex, whose pens or tongues can speak one language, and their hearts another When I shall find cause to believe your professions real, I shall set a greater value upon your respect: Mean time civility invites me to subscribe myself  
Sir, Your humble servant, V.T.   

XXX. A Complemental Address from one Lady to another.  
Madam,  
I Have not so much vanity to think to make a return, worthy the honour I have received, nor do I bear so little justice to my own gratitude, as not to witness my resentment, though great, yet in huge disproportion to your merit, whose virtues and goodness I hold in equal value with those of demigods: I receive the new assurances of your Ladyship's favour, as a blessing sent me from heaven, which bids me cherish it and live, since I can relish no felicity without it. Indeed (Madam) I know not what Sacrifice to offer you for such a bounty; All hearts are made tributary to your Commands; yet none with so much obligation, as that of  
August. Madam, Your servant, E.D.   

XXXI. The Answer.  
Madam,  
YOu may say of me, as a Cavalier once said of the late Synod, that they had sat long and at length hatched a Monster (meaning the Directory:) So have I been long in answering yours, & at length my dull Genius produces this ill-shapd letter: Madam, if the faculty of my pen were correspondent to the devotion of my heart, I could say much, when as now I must be silent; Yet not silent neither; For every cast of my eye upon your lines begets a wonder & wonder makes me break silence; I have always had your sweet person and virtues in a reverential esteem, and now the charms of your pen have hurled me into new admirations; yet not so, as to forget the old, nor at any time to be lesset he●  
October, Madam, The most humble of your Devotees, A.T.   

XXXII. A letter from the Author of a book to the approver, Sir, N. B.  
SIR,  
THis hand which hath stood so long before your Bar, comes now to accuse itself of a fault by which the Judge must needs have suffered much from the offender, since the soulness of the Copy, is like to have tried your patience, more than the worth of the cause can hope to have recompencd your pains; Wherefore these lines come before you to offer satisfaction at least to your civility, if they fail of giving it to your judgement, and the course of my life qualifies me better for civil discharges, then for litterate satisfactions; You shall then Sir, receive by this a return of much sense of your fair and obliging carriage towards me in the examination of my papers; wherein I must desire you to consider the whole design, which aims solely at moral regulations, and does rather decline then accept any inducements to controversial doctrines; if there be any point so incident to the subjects, as my opinion must needs appear in some dark light, this may well be connived at by so ingenious a Judge, as yourself, who cannot expect I should dissemble my Principles, though in discretion I was forbid to declaim upon them; So that I conceive your abilities, will make a due difference, between what may critically be sifted out, and what does literally profess itself; and of this last sort, I presume you will find nothing in the whole work, that has an open face of contention or offence; Wherefore upon your animad versions, I have changed the looks of such places, as had any apparent features of enmity, and have offered you such satisfaction upon the other points, I have not altered, as I hope your candour and dispassionate temper may admit; Upon the opinion whereof, I shall conclude, that if you have found, in these my meditations, more matter promising good influences upon the affections of our Country, then projecting any dangerous infusions, you will allow them your contribution to that effect I have singly proposed in them; In order whereunto my prayers shall intend the supplement of my pens deficiency; which the less worthy it is of this exposure to the World, the more must it owe your patience and civility for your favour to  
Your most affectionate servant W.M.   

XXXIII. Upon the New-year.  
SIR.  
MY present Theme is, to give you the ceremonies (in real wishes) of a happy New-year. Nor shall I doubt the effect, since I cannot your Piety or Prudence. No revolution of time can be inauspicious, where these fair pair of twin-virtues are fixed, and in action. Time tells our hours, produces change, but our happiness, or infortunes only from ourselves. 'Tis vain then to accuse deaf fate, when we are our own destiny, or at least it in our arbitrement. Prudence, (the eye of our life) foresees, disposes our affairs; Piety, ourselves. That discharges our devoirs, This guides all events (prosperous or adverse) to our eternal (if it cannot temporal) felicity. Hence we have a method either to prevent misery, or of turning it into better luck, by being unhappy. Cross chances I grant, are but sour friends, rather to be entertained then invited; yet 'tis too visible none are more wretched, than those that most court fortune. Give me Indifferency and I'll be fortunes fate, and fortunate, maugre her despite. As to time itself, the best description of it, is to employ it well. 'Tis a thing of so swift an Essence, that 'tis gone before we can think what it is. 'Tis the measure of sublunary beings, and proclaims to us, (by its height) how fast we ourselves fade, and dwindle away. The past is no more ours, then frugal usage▪ has made it so. The future is not; and so, uncertain whether 'twill ever be in our power. What of it we can own is only the present, and this so coy, that if not taken by the sore-top, 'tis vanished, like a Ghost▪ and leaves us nothing, but cause to repent and gaze. Ah! my friend, how precious our moments; on these short Instances depends our whole Eternity. Temporal existence is as fickle as temporal happiness; both participate of the nature of time, are fleetings In this casualty then, let us fix on what is truly durable: above floating▪ incertainties, beyond temporal lastingness. Whilst our minutes fly from us, ourselves speed faster towards unchangeable permanency, so we do in natural tendency; but let us by virtue's vigours. Each hour posts away with its length of our life; The old year is gone, if ou● imperfections with it, 'twas well spent; if not, there's the more ne●d we spend the New better▪ And lest we live not to the end, let's take advantage of the beginning: make that our own that is so. Thrift of our days is th' only end to make ourselves in time eternally happy. But I fear by this rude Rhapsody of the initiate year, I have wasted your hourglass too much, rendering my prayer of your prosperous future, your present Damage; But pardon, because my subject (time) as well as my distracted capacity failed me. Suffice it, I wish you more than I can utter or need perscribe you the way to; and whilst you are blest, I patrake  
31 Decemb. Sir Your happy friend and joyed servant. W.D.   

XXXIV. To a Lady, residing in a Town that had lately been besieged.  
Madam,  
AFter the disquiet of your late Alarms, I am bold to congratulate the re-enjoyment of your wont repose, which (had I been General) no cause nor quarrel should have made me hazard; since in all things I value your content above my own; My regard to your safety had been in such case motive enough with me, to have suspended the chastisement of that mutinous City. Madam, If (as I hope and pray) you are now both free from disquietude and from fear; I have my hearts wish; desiring (as you know) nothing more, then by continued devotion to your self and service; to purchase at length the esteem of  
Madam, Your most faithful servant, T.B.   

XXXV. To his Lady M ri●, complaining of her cruelty.  
Madam,  
TYranny as ill becomes a subject as a Prince, and cruelty is the natural issue of that Monster; To say your Ladyship is guilty of both in some kind, is a truth undeniable: For ever since fortune made me happy in your knowledge, my affection hath had no Centre, but your breast; my faith, no fellow; and my constancy such as can never admit a change; yet my sighs are unpitied, my love unregarded, my faith and constancy answered with nothing, but your disproportionate denials; Nor can I, without wonder, consider, that your Ladyship should be 〈◊〉 all the world so perfectly charitable, to me so cruel, unless 'twere ordained by fate, That the first fruits of my love (which should be the first step to happiness) must be made abortive by your incompassion. Madam, the more you deny, the more fuel you add to those flames, which (if not suddenly allayed by your pity) will consume my very being into ashes of mortality; These are Madam, the real dictates of a heart, that's wholly ben●  
To serve you, T. B.   

XXXVI. A consolatory letter to a Mother upon the death of her first born  
Honoured Madam,  
THe sad need a Comforter, and a Soul, in desolation, requires to be assisted with reasons to bear the cause of its griefs. That you are both sad and grieved, I can no more doubt, than I can be without a share in your passions. That you have many comforters, because friends, many solid considerations from your own piety and pious wisdom to salve your sorrows, I am as confident; Yet as none more tenders your happiness then myself, so could not I alone be silent in this motive of your tears; what I would say is, Dearest Madam, be comforted, and this (were't in my power) I would effect. The reason of your sable thoughts, the spring that streams your cheeks, rise I know from the sad accident of your child's death. It was I confess the first image of your likeness, the first blessing that heaven honoured your body with, the first pledge of nature, the first title you had to be a Mother. And to be deprived of this, almost as soon as 'twas given, could not but find and afford matter both for tears and grief, in a disposition so natural and good. But Madam, there's a time for all, and a mean also. What could not be denied to your sweetness, must be moderated by your discretion. 'Tis true, that sweet infant was yours, 'twas your first, 'twas dear, and you suffered many dolours, to give it life; But withal you consider, as 'twas yours, so given you by God; as the first, so more due to him; as dear, yet could it not be too dear for him that hath it; Although of painful birth; yet that your throws brought forth a Saint, that your dolours were endured, so soon to enthrone a part of yourself among the Angels; these dolours, these throws, happily suffered. Those whom God makes Parents, he makes but Nurses of his own children, he lends them to be brought up for heaven: and if he hath so soon discharged you of this obligation, 'tis not so much a cross, as a blessing; Had it lived to mature age, perhaps he saw danger both to It and you: it might have been more cause of grief to you, more loss to itself; it might have been unfortunate in life, in death unhappy; 'Tis not the being children of either good or great extract, that makes them always either good or happy. And this perhaps God (that provident Parent of all) foresaw. Be it so, or not, certain it is, the bodies but the souls prison, wherein 'tis no sooner breathed from Heaven, but 'tis maculated by this corrupt Earth: and in this, as it longer sojourns, so is it not only debarred of its true happiness & welfare, but also offends its great Creator; and consequently is miserable. Therefore would God make the cradle of yours, its death bed, that he might hasten its bliss. As he breathed a pure soul into it, so would he again take it before defiled by the actual blemishes of sin. Had it lived, it could have afforded no comfort to your piety, but being in health, prosperity, and pious; and can it be more pious, then in heaven, more prosperous, then in heavens joys, more healthful then in the enjoyance of immortality. O consider, 'tis now past all danger, 'tis freed from all misery, 'tis blessed in blessedness, it prays for you. And can there be any sorrow so great that these considerations cannot consolate? O what more happy then to be so happy a Mother; no sooner a Mother, than a Mother to heaven. Nor doubt (dear Madam,) but he that gave you this dear pledge of his love, will give you more, and, as he took this to his own joys, so will he leave in its stead more to your comfort. This he took to give it as soon happiness as being, and therein to try your virtue and resignation to his will: this as I doubt not but he will find, so may you be confident he will be bountiful: a sure rewarder, of your patience, a prosperer of your soul, body, and its fruitfulness. But pardon (most honoured Madam) my love's redousness; and if in this unpolishd Consolatory I have erred, let it be as it is love's fault, a fault that your nobleness I am certain will remit. Thus with humblest respects he takes his leave that will no longer be, then be yours, the daily Petitioner to heaven for your most wished comforts of both Worlds.  
Madam, Your humble and most affectionate servant, D.W.   

XXXVII. To excuse the not answering a letter.  
SIR,  
THat I have committed so great a Solecism in good manners, as to receive two letters from you, without giving you humble thanks for either; I beseech you ascribe not to any want of zeal to your service; for in earnest you cannot make me more happy, then in vouch safing me the honour of your commands, which shall always find as ready an obedience in me, as any thing that most concerns my own interest; In the assurance ●●ereof I give you the humble respects of  
Sir, Yours ad nutum, T. B.   

XXXVIII. Upon a Motion of marriage.  
Dear Sir,  
I Give you many humble thanks, for your tendering me a wife, and your good advice in that affair; I well remember the Counsel of a prudent friend was, not to marry till I were 30 years of age, and then to have a wife ten years younger than myself; because women (especially teeming ones) sooner decay, than men. I have also read, that there are 3 principal motives to a wedded life; Procreatio Prolis: Conservatio Domus: and Consolatio vitae. Now the gentlewoman you write of, in stead of being ten years younger, I believe is ten years elder, than myself; and so may be in danger to frustrate the two first motives, by being issue-less. Yet if she have so many filled bags as you mention, it may be a shrewd temptation: But in marriage, Love (as you well observe) is most preferable, provided there be a competency of fuel (which is riches) to keep it warm▪ Now 'tis like I might love the Lady you motion me unto, with an ordinary conjugal love, but perhaps not with an eminent dear affection, and on this subject I remember to have read these old but well meaning verses.  
Who makes the object of his fancy, gold,  
Grows cold-in fancy, when his money's told:  
And she who feigns to love, to live a Lady,  
Is honours fawn, I know not what she may be.  
Examples are too frequent in this age of the infelicity of those Matches, which are merely concluded for wealth, without love: Therefore in this (as a choice, whereon the happiness of my whole life depends) I shall be very deliberate in resolving, yet ever glad to receive your advice, as being  
Sir, Your most respective nephew and humble servant.   

XXXIX. The first address to his Mistress.  
Madam,  
THat fear is an individual companion to sincere affection, and that the heartiest devotions, are brokenly expressed, are Maxims in humanity, and however Errors, yet venial; The discreetest love is seldom without some annexed passion, which ofttimes fetters the faculties and leads understanding captive; that which did and justly might deter, doth now animate; The moon in her farthest distance from the Sun, and greatest opposition, receives most light; The poorer they be to whom charity is extended, the greater the merit; Worth gains most honour by enobling unworthiness; Nature never ordained two Suns to shine in one firmament. I list not to expatiate in this kind. In the description of your worth this short expression shall suffice; That would Earth's Monarch pay his devotions before perfections Altar, he need seek no further than your breast. To express my devoted affection by deep protests and multiplied vows doth nothing please, my Motto is, rather in deed then in word. Till matters be maturely discussed, and the advise of friends on both sides had, I aim no higher than to be enstiled your servant; Deliberation (if in any case) in this most necessary. I honour you too much to wish you the smallest amiss, though the sum of my earthly felicity depended thereon. My affection is no frenzy; if my Stars mean me not the enjoying of such happiness, I must frame a content. For conclusion, I will only add, that though you may have your choice of many in all points more accomplished, yet none that shall so truly love you; My lines are confused like my thoughts; your milder censure he perfumes on, who truly honours your worth and rests  
Solely devoted to your virtues. T. B.   

LX. In answer to an expostulatory letter.  
SIR,  
THe receipt of yours brought with it some amazement to see myself almost shipwrecked in your good opinion, when my own Vessel was full fraught with respect, which I intended to di-simbark at your haven. I am first to thank you, for your plainness and ingenuity in my charge, and shall assume the same freedom in my own acquittal. The story told you by Mr. W. from Mrs. P. a woman's discourse (for those I suppose the parties mentioned in yours) I deny to have been either Author or Promulgator of, and must assure you, that such like, with other volatile reports were here before my return; yet I must tell you (since it so much concerns me) that I had Commission to make some inquisition in the Country upon a preconceived neglect in you, and other rumours, but do assure you, what I said was with such modesty, and so short of what common fame delivered, nay with such regret to have said any thing at all, that it will hereafter appear, I have been so far from being disaffected to this your service, that I have run myself into an Oblique opinion elsewhere, for promoting it, and I am confident the young Lady (when you shall be felicitated with her enjoyment) will assure you as much, nor indeed could I possibly have said less, in performance of that trust which was reposed in me. Sir, if this give you not satisfaction, I shall be glad to know what may, because I profess to owe you much service, and the more in order to that approaching happiness, which your Stars have assigned you, whereto no wishes of a happy confarreation shall more readily concur, than those of  
Sir, Your very humble servant, T. B.   

XLI. A REPLY.  
Lady,  
TIll I was blessed with the happy sight of yours I laboured in a strange perplexity, believing that either the attempt of mine had purchased your disfavour, or otherwise (by some harder fate) I had suffered in your good opinion, than which Peru is to me of less value. These fears I must confess withheld me till now from a second address of service, though not from offering continual thoughts of respect to your merit, and of perfect obedience to your commands, nor shall I longer live, then breathe the air of such devotion, being professedly.  
Lady, Yours in firm affection, T. B.   

XLII. IN ANSWER.  
SIR,  
I Am (as you say) indeed always pleased to accept, what time permits you to write. Your lines please, and cannot choose, being full of erudition, full of love, and guided by a judgement not vulgar; And, what ever your time is, your men●all store ●ailes not: what others with many a scratched brow cannot invent, you with facility dictate, and as copiously pen; Then for my acceptance, there's, no benignity required, but gratitude, and gratitude not common, but such as aught to quadre with merits impararelld. That you deign to entertain mine but with a superficial view, adds honour and value, adds courage and alacrity. We see many things carry price, not from innate worth, but the esteemers fancy: So Jewels and other rarities, which humane estimate and not nature, have made precious: The rule is Opinion; and if any man's approbation could make my lines accurate (that is, what they are not) sooner to yours should I yield the efficiency, and with much reason; for there's none I approve more. Whilst I am jejune and empty, you are polite, and even upon my deficiencies, raise Trophies to your own Genius; Thus what I am not myself, I make you, by accident; So increases a black spot the candour of a blanchd vesture; So gloomy shades seem to augment the Phaebean radiances, and so are your perfections set off by the foils of  
Sir, Your servant, W.D.   

XLIII. A conceited letter of thanks for favours.  
SIR.  
YOu know that I (with friendship and affection my sureties) stand already bound to you in an obligation, for requital of a larger sum of favours, than my poor abilities can any ways satisfy, yet now you make a large addition to the principal debt by— Till fortune better enable me, I much beg your acceptance of thankfulness, which I design in lieu of interest, and (for you better security) my Bond renewed for the rest, with the addition of another surety, my service, sealed with the privy signet of my love, attested by two witnesses, gratitude and acknowledgement, and subscribed by  
Sir, Your faithful servant, T. B.   

XLIV. In answer to a letter from a dear friend.  
SIR,  
OF late my many evocations render me, as, inconstant in residency, so in my letters and addresses both various and uncertain; Hence have proceeded (and a while I fear must) the languishment of my lines, the alteration of my weeks; Yet with this added disadvantage, that the more time may seem given me to write, the less I have to be accurate. I received your last abroad, and am never yet more at home, then where they find me, or I them. A virtue that (with me) accompanies yours, and yours only. And being it wants a name, let it be a Sympathy: a Sympathy 'twixt you and me, so charming, that by reading your characters, I draw in my own Ideas (but abettered and so fall, by an introversion, into myself. By this you may guess how much you endear your friend; by so expressing yourself his, to make him (even in the midst of distractions, and fatigues) his own; and yet only to own him, to be more yours and Gods. Know then, I am yet free from misfortune, nor enfeebled by any mortal malady, that's sensible; Some grudge of a Caduque being, and the unwholesome seasons effects if I feel, they are but the antecedents of what I am sure at last must follow. But since you style my sickness, your infirmity, my infortunes, your mishaps, I would be well, to increase your Vigours; fortunate to lessen your least bad events. The Heaven's influence and their interpreting Predictions now we hear begin to work in your clime; and as the operation bodens stupendious revolutions, so are we tickled with curiosity to know your changes, and ●y what steps, the main Designs are ascended to? and what you conceive will be the sequels, chiefly of nearest connexion? In the mean we will hope and fear; Two passions that will blend all the forecasts of humane life. Be careful of your health that you may enjoy yourself in a distracted Age: So shall you be safe in the guards of your own virtues; and in the innocency of your life, with comfort consolate your friends. Amongst whom not the least dependent, is ever,  
21 April 1653. Dear Sir, Your entirely affectionate D.W.   

XLV. Upon a promise to write to one.  
SIR,  
THe inconsiderate promise I made to render you my thoughts in writing during this absence, was grounded upon a just sense of my obligations, without the least reflection upon my disabilities for any such performance; And in this respect I might justly have been disobliged without breach of faith, but that (seriously) I had rather discover my imperfections in this kind, then be any ways wanting in my remerciaments, which are much indebted to your many favours: And therefore I send this small tribute, as an earnest of the much greater affection of  
Sir Your cousin and servant, T. B.   

XLVI.  
Dear Cousin,  
AMong the various contentments, which the Country yields in this season, I have met with none equal to that which the receipt of your letter affords me; for (trust me) I am so ravished with the contents, that whensoever I perceive that sadness to invade me, which the want of your sweet presence often begets, I have instantly recourse to your letter for cure. Thus do I honour the lines for your dear sake that sent them, nor shall I ever cease to acknowledge your numberless favours, whilst I have breath but to pronounce me  
Your most affectionate Cousin and servant, T. B.   

XLVII. In Answer to an elegant letter.  
Sir,  
WHen I observe the equal facility and felicity of your expression, I loathe the rudeness and indigestion of mine, and when I consider the pith and plenitude of your lines, I look upon the emptiness and inainty of my own with much indignation: yet though I were not born a Cicero for Eloquence, I am and must be another Achates for affection. If there be any thing in this World can deserve the name of good, 'tis really in the fruition of you; in and by whom I am so perfectly beatified, that I count myself in a Paradise, when I am gathering the fruits of your presence. Fortune (in other things less liberal) hath given me many friends, and Correspondents, yet none so real, none so learned, as yourself; I never made so happy a bargain (if I may so rudely style it) as when I contracted this intertrafique of love, I never hear from you or see you, but I make an infinite purchase of piety, and knowledge, from your weighty lines and solid discourse; But above all, I have gained (yet blush to think with how little desert) in you a friend, whose bosom is an Archive, fit to treasure up the greatest secret, and in whose hands I can repose my life, nay (which is dearer) my soul; O happiness; happiness said I? 'tis beyond the degree of common happiness; Such pious condescendings (where you give pure Gold and receive nothing but dross in exchange) argue a goodness in you, beyond the reach of my pen to delineate, which I must content myself, to admire. Sir, you have here the real dictates of my inmost thoughts, though wrapped up in a homely dress; for I am as yet hardly entered into the Suburbs of good Language, yet do but pardon these my rude expressions, & I may hope (by your conduct) in time to enter that City, where you, by due merit, command in chief. To morrow I am bound for the frigid Zone, yet will assure you, that no change of Climate shall have power to alter or frigidify the affections of  
Sir, Your devoted servant, and therein most happy. T. B.   

XLVIII. REPLY.  
SIR,  
YOurs, as a sudden joy, have surprised me. So accort your stile, so pathetike your love, that I am both rapt and inflamed: you could never in better time have made your friendly addresses. They came as cordials to refresh my exhausted Spirits. I was even spent in dispatches, distracted with unexpected visits of friends. From these, as a reviving refrigeration, I cast my eyes and thoughts on your emphatic strains. In which I am lost; Can wonder but not reply. In short I am so variously divided this day; and chiefly for the moments of the Messengers stay, that I have not respite of reply. Before you direct your course, toward the North Pole, I hope to get so much pause, as to be my own, that I may make some suppletory addition. Pardon these extemporaries: what in sense and language is deficient, that affection supplies, which really ever styles me  
Sir, Yours, D.W.   

XLIX. A further reply.  
SIR,  
MY hestern note answered yours, with apology, that I wanted time to answer them; I promised also to be more responsary, and now repent it. My leasure's as interrupted, and second revising of your accurate lines disanimate. What is most delightful to view, is as hard to parallel. Sir, the float of your Eloquence runs high, and where (by the Art of self-annihilation,) you would seem to depress your sufficiency, there you most rise; And indeed skill cannot but by skill be hid, nor perspicuous abilities better blazoned, then when most curiously mantled by arted inveloping. You are no Cicero born, 'tis confessed, yet I think born to be an English Cicero; of this, nature has given ripe specimen, and industry as fast polishes, judgement matures. In one letter I trace you flourishing in various figures; in the property and store of words choice, in composure count; in sense acute. Trust me, I admire, yet cannot envy; For whilst an Achates in affection, your embellishments are mine. The Accessary (you know) in Law follows the Principal, and love makes all common. If then by this inviolable tie we are one, your endowments entitle me joinct owner; a riches, I prepone to Monarchies. Sir, I were happy did I rightly own the least degree in the litterary attributes you please to give me; those of endeared passion I do; those of reality I cannot refuse. It is indispensably your claim; what e'er I am or shall be (that's commendable) is dedicated to your loyal friendship; honour me with belief till I fail. My breast (as long as the harbour of a heart) shall be a safe repository; I was never by ingenerate disposition futile and porous, and with so prudent and embosom'd a friend, I shall not sure begin. Upon secrets I do not wittingly encroach, yet if (by freedom of a friend) committed, the ghastly terrors of death unlock them not; He that wants this gift has no challenge to Amity's sacred interest. But I am now interturbed, and my pen (dear friend) is snatched off, yet first take these votary wishes; Propitious be your guiding Stars; inspiring the Muses; a safe journey; fortunately our expeditions, and a speedy circuit to your City entertainments and suspired retires; It is almost your peculiar felicity, that, where others are chiefly scattered, you can find or make an improving secess; An evidence as you are studious; so you can be, in all places, the commander of yourself and hours. Well! my loves, longings and prayers shall accompany this forced vagary, and with as much joy welcome you home. Interstices' local may divide bodies & abodes; vinted minds know no separation. Hence wherever I, in my better part, am with you concommitant, and lastingly  
Oxford 29 Sept. Sir, Yours, D.W.   

L. ANSWER.  
SIR,  
HItherto I have been in a superlative degree, both felicitated by the riches of your presence and enriched by the wealth of your lines; But I have learned there's nothing permanent in this world, otherwise 3 week's absence from the one and deprivement of the other, would be more afflictive, than words can express; For in earnest you are to me that fire of Prometheus, without which all my actions seem inanimate, detain but the food of your favours from me & I am a mere nothing. Though I am now bound (as you know) for the North, yet believe it my daily best thoughts shall steer Westward, where (how far soever distant in person) I leave the hearty affections of  
Sir, Your faithful servant, T.B.   

LI. Answer to a acquaint Letter.  
SIR.  
WHen will your treasury of choice words be exhausted, when will your fountain of Eloquence be drawn dry, when will your Magazine of rich matter be emptied? never; I now plainly see the more you write, the more you have to write, and may (with reverence) not ineptly compare your Cranium to the holy Chrismatory of France; you still take out, yet leave it without the least diminution; Prodigy of nature! It fares much otherwise with me; I (if at any time big with words) fall into a painful labour, and after many throws, am always by abortion delivered of a thing like a Bear's whelp, which I can lick into no form. Every Bucket drawn from mine own Well, goes nearer the bottom, the reason is, there's no springs for repletion of that store; yet in earnest the influence of your teeming Muse has (me thinks) in some measure fertilised my siccaneous and Barren soil. But whether rove I? Now for News (which is the primum quaerite of these days) I must tell you, thus— Sir, the length of my letter and this shortest of days do not well quadre; This is the winter Solstice, So is it also the station both of my invention and paper, the first is at a non p●us ultra of matter, the last only affords me room to subscribe myself  
13 Decembr. 1652. Sir, Your vowed servant, T.B.   

LII. To a Brother.  
Dear brother,  
YOurs equally full of love and good Council came to my hands with no small contentment, since I perceive you interest your self (as a very kind friend) in all things that concern my good, which as I can never forget, so do I ever account myself most happy, when I hear of your progress in all perfections and good qualities, wherewith to see you accomplished is the passionate desire of  
Your most affectionate brother, T.B.   

LIII. To Mr. G.  
SIR,  
THis is only to give you many humble thanks for the favour you did me to the D: If I live not to be able to strike Taleys with you, yet I shall always record your kindness with a thankful reminiscence: And though I am blunt in my expression, yet believe it, I shall most willingly in- Gage in any service that may approve me  
Sir, Your faithful servant, T.B.   

LIV. Another to him in Fustian.  
SIR,  
MY last was from Dunstable, and (though I am in person removed thence yet) I fear the matter of this may come from thence too, being not as yet sufficiently rudimented, in your Academy for such susceptions. I must tell you (with some regret) that I find, not an Academic (except the noble Briton) in all our voisinage; so that if we converse at all, it must be with Labradors and such out of whose hebetudinous cerebrosity, we may as soon extract A●rum potabile, as the Elixir of any knowledge; Their querilous outcry is, that the continual siccity of this season, has inusted all their herbiferous grounds, which mny happily breed a dearth of Aliment, as there is already of literature in these parts. Thus much ex obliquo, now to the purpose, I hope your late obstreperous Alarms, have not interturbed the procedure of our noble Author's Miscellany, which is a principal point in my Card. Sir, believe it without some Missive of Consolation from you, the Country will soon put me into a Chagrin, therefore be no longer costive, as you love  
10 Aug. Your servant, T.B.   

LV. ANSWER.  
SIR,  
HAving by the enclosed given you some few serious lines, let me now answer your facetious letter (of 10 August) with a joculatory line or two; And first by way of allauding your acuminous Exordium; but withal of showing, you immediately mistake the word susception, if you think it can stand in a sober sense for understanding, however in a way of Raillery it may pass. Again rudimented for taught is harsh; so is hebetudinous cerebrosity. Documented for taught may pass in a serious Line, and plumbious, better than hebetudinous; for inusted, you should say exusted; so for herbiferous, frugiferous; because herbs and plants are the less principal children of the Earth; whereas Corn and all sorts of grain are the most principal for Man's use; for so you must mean by the word (aliment) that follows in the text of your letter.  
And by this you see there is a kind of Elegance to be observed in a fustian phrase; nay I say more, the lepid lines of fustian are lost, when 'tis not genuine but strained; And trust me (Sir) I hold it a piece of greater Art to line a letter with proper fustian, then with silken language, especially when friends resolve to be merry by distantiall salutes, your French Chagrin and Spanish Labrador may pass as apposite, because proper to the sense, and nothing strained; So the missive of Consolation you desire, by way of an amicable observation upon the Text of yours; And this is what I can sport away, who must rest  
17 Aug. Sir, Your fustianizing friend, G.G.   

LVI. REPLY.  
SIR,  
THis brings you humble thanks both for your news and your Criticisms, and though mine of the 10 of August were but panis speusticus, a doghbaked piece of fustian, wherein I intended nothing ad amussim, yet you must give me leave to make some defence. For Susception I have Rider for my warrant in that sense; Rudimented I hold to be good and (according to the new mode of converting Nouns into Verbs) I purposely avoided plumbeous cerebrosity (not plumbious as you write it) as trite and thread bare; But for your exception to herbiferous, in that you mistake the sense, for the season hath been of late very good for Corn and grain, which frugiferous includes, and as bad for grass, the Sun having in some places not only burnt the very roots of it, but has also made strange clefts and impressions in the Earth, therefore I used inusted, a word which though not so usual, as exusted, or adusted yet in this sense I think no less proper, if not in a genuine, at least in a metaphorical way, and Cattle, that are fed by grass & hay, are a considerable part of our aliment, etc.  
Said me reprimo, not at all persuming to enter the Cirque with you in Logomachy or the pugnacity of such disputes, but with submission in all things to your greater judgement, whence I must confess to have received in these my junior years; a great increment to my smaller portion of knowledge, both by these and other your documentall redargutions, which I always receive with a reverential respect, answerable to your merit and the obligation of  
24 Aug. Sir, Your very humble servant, T.B.   

LVII. rejoinder.  
Sir,  
I Do hugely allaud your endeavour to abonar what I had vitiated in my last; For 'tis a sign you are Master of what you do, when you can avow it ab ipsis primis principiis, and thereby show you are as far from being conscious of error, as you are from being inscious how far you may use the latitude of ●ustianising, without exceeding the limits of modest avowment, per modum inculpatae tutelae, Macte animo mi Thoma, & perge eo quo cepisti pede, etc. Trust me Sir, I shall (without a blush) easily yield you the advantage of me in logomachy, as often times deep divines do to Logicians in point of reducing Syllogisms to all their possible variations into several Moods and figures; because the one is actually conversant in that particular, whereas the other depends only upon the habitual use of such figures, without retaining the rule that leads to the rectitude thereof; So men speak true Latin, without being able to give rule for it, and by this means some times are peccant against the Rule, which every schoolboy can correct them in. And truly in this particular of Logomachy you may and will be able to read Lectures to the deepest of men, because you laudably make it your professed study and consequently will make a world of men obliged to you, as well as  
2 Sept. Sir, Your servant, G.G.   

LVIII. An Answer from one sick.  
SIR,  
SUch my persent condition, that I receive your letters as sick men do visits, am grateful, yet cannot return the courtesy, but by feeble thanks; In this nature I have now been 3 weeks a decumbent; This the cause I have already failed in my wont intercourse, and the same continuate disability must render these, of my own complexion, infirm and faint, yet I beg you will not interrupt your turns; For though I am not responsible, yet your lines are much solace and no small divertisement from the sense of my weakness: What was before but a friendly correspondence, will (till it please God I mend) be an office of endearing charity, extended towards him, who is  
Entirely yours, D.W.   

LIX. To his Mris, after a long Journey.  
My dearest friend,  
I Have been a long and sad journey, which seemed so much the longer and so much the sadder, by how much I was farther distanced from your sweet abode, nor had the sadness of this forced vagary any solace at all, saving that of near 300 miles, I passed no one, without making a Relic of your memory, which had still the virtue to renew all joys in me, and expel the mists of melancholy, almost with equal force (so strong was my imagination) as if I had been really in your presence; If you have but bestowed one thought on me for every hundred I have dedicated to you, I am satisfied, believing that no love can come within so many degrees of mine, nor that there's any state so happy, as that of being  
Your devoted servant, T.B.   

LX. Another to the same.  
My only dear,  
THat you may see I forget you not at any time nor in any place, I present you these, and if I seem importune by my frequent addresses, you must pardon me, since I profess to receive no solace in this absence, but what the comfortable entertainment of thoughts on you affords me, and should I but as often put such thoughts in writing, as my heart presents them to my memory, I should be no day, even no hour without a pen in my hand; And I may well hope, from the excellency of your nature, that you will not leave such faith, such affection, without a just retribution, nor can I despair of your remembrance of me in some proportion answerable to mine of you; so may happiness in the end crown both, and I live eternally  
Yours, as at first, unalterable, T.B.   

LXI. In answer to a friend, ill of a cold.  
Sir,  
THe next degree to the happiness of not having evils, is to have had them: which imports, though not our immunity, yet riddance: & to have overcome annoyance may be better, than not to have suffered it. This since you say, you have been almost dead of a Cold, congratulates your almost Resurrection: and hopes to find your short-windednes turned into free respiration. 'Tis a vulgar Problem, whether this malady may be called a disease, or Physic. You I believe found it trouble some; but will not repent, if it prove medicinal. I imagine (allured by April's forward Sun) you slipped too early into your Summer apparel; which, though it proved too thin to defend you, yet not unable, to make you take a warier choice of your Wardrobe next Spring. Gondamar was of opinion, as there were in England many seasons of the year in one day; so a man had need of several suits: My fancy is, if you will not always be shifting, 'tis best not to shift till you see nature in her best Green gown: whose fashion you may harmlessly follow. Sir, you see by my spinning out this one Clause of your letter, I want matter; Yet you may see too, there's nothing drops so raw from you, but affords subject. Nor must you blame me, if your indisposition busy my Pen, since your 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is the Copy of it, and my own best constitution. Hence you have a double care lies upon your preservation; your love to yourself, and indulgence to  
Sir, Your servant, W.D.   

LXIII. In answer to a letter of Commends, etc.  
SIR.  
I Never looked awry (pardon the phrase) upon any of yours till now, and now (were not our mutual loves united with many a dear link) jealousy (that Canker of affection) would corrode my heart, I should, and can yet hardly forbear to) judge, that you had some more deserving object in your mind, when you fancied me with such high commends, as hold no proportion with my merit. I know you never wrote, but your heart and pen were coitinerants, yet (pardon me, if) I assure you that in this (and perhaps in this alone) love has pourblinded your (otherwise much discerning) judgement; should I believe all your write of me, I might quickly be wasted into a Fool's Paradise and so become a Ludibry; I'll rathet characterise myself, than own the least of your attributes, take it thus bluntly, yet with truth and candour, for I have studied that Sentence, which was engraven upon the gate of Apollo's Temple at Delphos (viz) 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. I was born under the dull planet Saturn, so that Mercury had no influence on my production, hence I am so far from being a Lynceus of nature, a Pelops of wisdom or Cicero of Eloquence, that I never pretended to any of those virtues, which beget admiration, nor to have my mind embroidered with any studied ornaments of learning, I only claim some small title to those qualities, which stir affection, As truth of word, sincerity of heart, etc. Having thus ingenuously premised, I now send you an inhibition from the Court of love, not to treat any more of that subject, but to redargue my Errors and show me the flats both of my pen and judgement, that what I write hereafter may merit this only Elogium; As here's no Elegance, so likewise no incongruity or affectation; I aim no higher; for in earnest if it were possible any thing of yours could nauseate me, the way were to send me a Laudatory Epistle, instead of a redargutory letter; But I have another task therefore 'tis high time to put Omega to this, by subscribing myself  
Sir, Your humblest servant, T.B.   

LXIII. THE REPLY.  
SIR,  
MY fancied excess in your praise, now recoils upon myself; you are, I see, your Art's Master: and what you could not divert, by a just disclaim; you can stop, by an exaggerated retorsion. You may expect, I should now imitate your shamefaced modesty; right this paper, with renouncing the abilities you heap upon me. But, I will not; should I, We should still dwell in one Theme, & by the Nauseous tautology, both impair, what ere we both merit. I dare not vindicate to myself, a perfect self-knowledge; nay, I avoid the reflex glances, that should tell me what I am; lest, what I am, might cast me into a dejection; & so, hinder amendment. Pusill animity, never yet attained an eminence. Do you cease your own undervaluings, & I shall my more adjusted expressions. I can let your worths be their own blazons, would you so let them; but, if you will wrong you self, justice calls me, to your vindication. Nor, must the Legists' Maxim, here sway; volenti non fit injuria. Neither of us (pardon the parallel) are so accomplished but we ought to thrive in embellishments. Whether our souls came Aristotle's Tabula rasa; or written with Plato's Ideas into our earth; in our earth, they have either forgot much, or learned little. The fault, doubtless, ours. For, by what we know, we know we might, & may, know more. Nature, has made us capable; that we become not better Proficients, our own truant inertie, the obstacle. ay, am not so much a Scotist, as to confess a substantial difference, in souls: nor yet, such an Abcedary Philosopher, as to deny the Organs must be fitted, where the operation is to be excellent. You, & I should be ingrate, did we not assert, God has been liberal enough. To asperse his bounty with our wants, were a petty blasphemy in Philosophy itself. Let us both confess, our respective ignorance, & our ignorance to be only ours. This done: we are not to centre in old dulness, but from the remorse of lost time, vigorously employ the future. It imports the Vulgar rout, more to be good, than sagacious: We, are moulded for higher action: yet must join Virtue to knowledge. Reason's brutish, where the will's incult. The Pattern, we were effigiated to, was infinitely Knowing, infinitely good; in both, we are bound to imitate: bound to be the Representatives, of both, or, we forfeit our orginal, and our similitude, too. Man's a little world; his mind the Heaven; the two great Lights those splendid faculties, his Intellect, and Will: the lesser Stars, are the other powers: the intellect the Sun of all: all borrow his brightness, all must Cooperate with his rays, by adding their proper virtues. Thus shall our Microcosm be resplendent and fruitful, & gloriously rich: thus, we wise, and good, & thus nor good nor wise, I am.  
Sir, Yours, D.W.   

LXIV. The Rejoinder.  
Sir,  
I Quarrelled your last in hope you would have retracted your transcendent elogicall conmends, which whilst you seem to intend in this, you have by a Rhetorical Artifice, added more fuel to that fire; So that I perceive whether I write or be silent, complain or acquiesce, I am every way dilemmaed; I must confess to have nor wit nor language enough, to fathom the depth of your abilities, and by consequence am rendered impossibilited to pay you in your own coin, which is of such allay, that I may well say, you have truly found out the Philosopher's stone, since you are able to convert any gross matter into the gold of fine language; your prosaic lines are (for excellency) like those metrical ones of Homer, which as they excel in other points, so they seem to have an easy native slide in them, and to be conducted by a happy Genius. If I had abilities to expatiate upon this subject, I could not be held a Patelin, but rather a suffragran to truth; what I want words to express, silent admiration shall speak in the thoughts of  
Sir, Your obliged servant, T.B.   

LXV. An Answer.  
Sir,  
'TIs well you are, as you are, the Rendezvouz where all perfections meet, otherwise I should in this intercourse have one (and one only) advantage of you; For whilst you at every return of the Tabellary, have your Theme to seek, and yet no sooner sought but found (such is the magazine of your invention) I have a plentiful subject always ready at hand, If I had answerable abilities to make my election, and to word it accordingly and that is news, news which whilst there are men, will never cease to be in vogue; And since this week affords that which is somewhat palaticall, I shall no longer tantalise you with a proletarious Exordium. Then know, etc.— I humbly kiss your hands and remain.  
Sir, Your faithful servant, T.B.   

LXVI. REPLY.  
SIR,  
I Am assaulted by your Martial metaphors, yet with this favour, that where others erect their engines, to ruin, your level aims to strengthen the weak fort you direct against; your continued Eulogies at last mean to persuade me (I see) into some Ability, and could you infuse what you commend (in stead of blush) your Rhetoric would make me doubtless eloquent. I will not say with that keen Satirist recuso Euge tuum & Belle. No I will with a modest guilt of non-desert embrace them, to profit, and that nec te quaesiveris extra (of the same Poet) was a good Monition. But our Muse is not so stoical.  
Quis enim virtutem amplectitur ipsam,  
Praemia si tollas— Sir, honour is the reward of Arts and fame the tongue of honour, nor are either honour or fame more the guerdons, than the incentives of Proficience. Do you see (my friend) how I hug your attributions? My vanity yet (in it) may be your lesson; not to be vain but ingenuous, Be not so squeamish, hence forward: Accept your Bayss offered, or merit it conferred. What praise finds not answerable, let it incite to answer. I know my insufficiencies, but utterly despair not amendment; If by your encouragement I amend not, I shall confess my Brutish nature, to be past cure. If I grant you an advantage over me, 'tis but what you have asserted: I answer the same Post, and to many besides yours; But what is this? (my both matter, and the couching shows it) to be suddenly slight and rude, an odd perfection, and but suitable to both my leisure and me; you have a ready subject for your pen, and how gratefully and ably you paint it forth, give me leave to be the Judge, that receive the delight: and I must keep it to myself, for you are as coy to receive the titles of your worth, as I am conscious they are due. Be then still higher than words can express you; so I may still be  
Sir, Excessively yours, W.D.   

LXVII. The first Address to his Mistress.  
Most honoured Lady,  
IN a cause whereon the felicity of my whole life depends, and wherein I have most will, I find least power to unbosom the secrets of my heart, such force has love to captivate my faculties; Hence 'tis I rather chose this, then that other way of verbal delivery; For though in either I should discover my own imperfections, yet in these lines my guiltless blushes will pass unseen. Hitherto I have only appeared a servant to your affairs, and in that quality had continued, if the excellency of your personal endowments had not (by some kind of heavenly impulse) driven me on to more aspiring thoughts; Thoughts, which (with truth I speak it) were engendered by the only object of your goodness, without any adulterate commixture of estate, which (however valued by others) is not of weight sufficient to turn the balance of my scale, if not otherwise well laden with pure and unbiass'd affection, which I profess to owe to none but you; and to you all things, even the being of  
Your most faithful and devoted servant, T.B.   

LXVIII. Another to the same.  
My inestimable Jewel,  
IF the fumes of those corrosives you gave me last night from other hands, had not been qualified with the sweet odours of your own cordials, I had (unfeignedly speaking) wholly sacrificed the ensuing night to the vigils of a disquiet mind; But as your goodness had not the will only, but the power to raise me from a hell of tormenting thoughts, to a Paradise of expected comfort, so does it multiply my endeared affections, which no misfortune shall have power to alienate, nor shall any thing but death determine. I am with much solicitude setting all my imaginations upon the tenter, in order to the removal of those Rocks, which seem (and but seem) to threaten Shipwreck to our approaching happiness, whereto your utmost contribution is (by all the ties of true love) most earnestly implored, together with the continuance of him in your best thoughts, who is  
Your own, beyond expresses, T.B.   

LXIX. ANOTHER.  
Dear pledge of my soul.  
AMong all the obloquys, which the unrelenting malice of mine (and by consequence your) enemies hath cast upon me, none appears so ghastly in my thoughts, as that pretended want of love towards you, which (the heavens will witness) was never imbreasted in any mortal with more purity and plenitude; For 'tis the foundation, whereon I intent (by divine assistance) to build a frame of mutual and interminable happiness; a happiness that will be admired by some, but envied by others. Please to remember that you are now filia emancipata (as divines term you) at your own dispose, and that you have of me a servant, who only breathes by your favour and lives through your love, who will ever owe you fealty for the one, and still do you homage for the other; a servant, who with unwearied expectation only waits for the happy hour, wherein that (fiat) shall be by you pronounced, which will in an instant (Elixar-like) turn all my drossy cares and anxieties into true contentments, and make me live eternally  
Yours without change, T.B.   

LXX. ANOTHER.  
My happy Choice,  
IF a more pressing occasion had not detained me, I should have thought the foulness of the weather but an easy penance, in respect of the solace, which the sweets of your presence would have afforded me; for the enjoyment whereof I must (with much regret) adjourn my expectation till to morrow; Mean time I send you the promised pictures, if the sight of which do at any time erect your thoughts to heaven-ward, even then remember him, who on earth desires no greater happiness, then to live and die loving (and beloved by) you, in quality of  
Your second self, T.B.   

LXXI. To excuse the not taking leave of a Lady of quality.  
Madam,  
THough it be held a readier way to gain pardon, by acknowledging then excusing a fault, yet the Eminency of your Ladyship's person doth so aggravate it in me, that I must beg leave to lessen, though, I cannot hope to have it wholly remitted, in saying the justness of your Ladyship's cause of stay, made me presume none had so little compassion as to deny it; and that I might expect the being freed from my ague, without danger of losing the opportunity of presenting my humble thanks for so many singall favours, undeservedly conferred on me; but since that happiness with many others is lost by your Ladyship's absence, honour this paper so far I beseech you, as to suffer it to supply my defects herein, and testify how ambitious I shall be, by my future observance, to merit the title of  
Madam, Your most humble servant, A.B.   

LXXII. Upon the death of a fair Lady.  
Sir,  
AMong other impartments, your last tells me, you were to usher a fair Lady to her grave; A Corporal work of Mercy, it is to bury the Dead, I grant; but to inter so great a Beauty ●e●ms to entrench on Pity and blast the Spring. Had she lived till Autumn or even Midsummer, the funerals of many flowers, had lamented her Urn: yea if but till they had been blown, they would have lost their lives to adorn her Hearse; and have been ambitious (like those Savages) to have been buried quick with their Lady Paragon, for her attendance in the other World. But she has inverted Nature, and the Season too; the flower of beauty died, when the beauty of flowers should spring; and so has not only left a withered World, but dismayed the Blowth of what should garnish it. Flowers are disheartened to open their fragrant Colours, since their Pattern is so early Cropped: and seem to intend (being she's entombed under the Earth's surface) to keep themselves under Earth to accompany her dust; yet I will free you of cruelty in this fate; you had no hand (I am sure) in her death, though you helped her to her Grave. And who should be a fitter Mourner at the exequys of a fair Lady, than so complete a servant of Ladies? Sir, I see what grace you are entertained with by them: they not only love you living, but are loath to part with you, dead: will carry you as for as they can towards the other life, when they go. That if they may not have your company quite through (which were a wrong to Survivors) they may your funeral tears, sighs, or prayers for their Vltime Vale: you preface a happy imprimis, to this sad discourse, and say having (first) done all that might tend to her future happiness. Happy News! and it owns you, I believe, an instrument of good effects and offices. Had all fair Ladies such faithful servants, More Idols of beauty would receive impression of the divine Image, and become the servants of God. And she had much reason to desire your care of her body's enterrment, that had first aided her soul, with a saving Viaticum for heaven. Long may you live the Author or helper of such good deeds. In the interim, as here was a double work of mercy (Corporall and Spiritual) exploited; so you, I am confident, have made your useful application of the Accident; beheld in the blasting of this flower, the fate of Fairness, the frailties of the fairest Clay, that feature, and white and red could embellish. If she were not Superlative in Beauty, in beauty she had many inferiors; if in fortunes, not the favourite of fortune; yet, she has had her smiles. Many Beauties have fallen sooner, many may sooner fade; yet in her all beauties, all fortunes, have expressed, what fortunes and beauties are; what is the Exit of the Fable of this temporary life: to wit, ugly death, eternal deprivation, the cold Tomb, and deformed dust. Fortunate life! that so contemplates mortal condition, as to be indifferent and ready to change; that frail incertainties, and vain glitter may be motives to assure and fix on lasting good, that by others death learns to live, and lives the life that fears not death: that so accompanies others funerals, as in that sable equipage, to behold the mournful Pomp of the World's farewell, and their own destiny: that reads in that earthy bed of death (the Grave of others) their own Motto, we are dust, and all mortal things Momentary. Sir, pardon this long slip of my pen: you see how a fair Lady's death and your living piety, entrances me, to the forgetfulness of other subjects, I confess I am also now in a dull Mood, not apt as to expression. Thanks for your News on which, the only present comment shall be; that I am for ever  
Sir, Your thankful servant, D.W.   

LXXIII. The Reply, relating the particulars of that Lady's death.  
Sir,  
SInce you have been pleased to sing so sweet a dirge, and to make so excellent a comment upon our late funerous text, I cannot think the particulars of that sad subject (how confusedly soever I deliver them) will be unacceptable to you; This Lady was 3 months continually dying, without any hope of recovery, and this occasioned by an ulcer in her throat, it was my good fortune (though others had assayed it) to gain her first assent to bring a spiritual Physician to her. Dr. G. was next at hand, and did act his part exceedingly well; after 2 or 3 effective visits, the Patient (through the comfort and ease of the spiritual Cataplasms and emplasters, which the Doctor applied) was so rapt and piously enamoured of him, as she even embraced him at every appearance. When she drew near the confines of death's kingdom, she did usually ejaculate not only most pious but even eloquent or rather diviniloquent expressions, as this (amongst many others) which heaven grant I may never forget. I have (said she) lived long in the vanity of this World, for which God hath placed me in this bed of sorrow; Were it his holy pleasure, I should act over one of them again, and the choice left to me, I would (by the Grace of Jesus) rather chose the torments of this bed, and malady, then have any thing to do with the World's vanities, &c Besides nothing did so much trouble her, as that she had lived (as she said) for fear of Worldly endamagement) some years in an outward profession that contradicted her inward persuasion; The Doctor was no less taken with his Patient, than she with him, for I heard him say he was never more satisfied with the manner of any persons death; And I confess her exit did more tristitiate me, than did that of my own Sister, the manner of it, not a little both mortifying and edifying me; For to see her picture in the Antichamber, and then go in and look upon the original, was subject enough for mortification, the one being so incomparable beautiful, the other so ghastly; In a word, the last breath she drew was Je-and in pronouncing- sus she expired. So that we may conclude, as she was a great beauty living, she was a greater dead; For whereas corporal beauty in others dies with the body, hers did not so, but by a secret transition passed into the soul. Thus have you heard the brief (but sad) story of this good Lady's end, and that from  
Sir, Your humble servant, T.B.   

LXXIV. LETTER.  
Sir,  
THe punishment that Apollo inflicts of reading Guicciardine is a light one, compared to this that you impose ●pon yourself, and yet you will only here play the Stoic in not acknowledging you are in pain; Nothing can justify me, but obedience, for persuming to offer this tedious Romance to those eyes that should only look upon Iliads; I give verses as Galenists do Physic, which clogs the stomach more than the disease; I must confess we may view Cities taken, kingdoms ruined, and new worlds discovered in less room; It is a Poem that hath neither height nor profundity, yet it has length; it overflows but swells not; it wearies without ascents, as Promenades do upon a flat; In a word, I shall think, if you do not find fault with it and reprehend me, it is because you are angry and will do nothing in Passion; however it is a trust I recommend to your secrecy, for follies are not things of the least consequence to trust a friend with. And having now performed my promise with you, I expect you should do the like with  
Sir, Your affectionate servant, J.C.   

LXXV. Upon the New year.  
Sir,  
AS all things sublunary owe their being to the revolution of the upper Spheres, so their change; And 'tis just, they should submit to their essential Guides. Amongst other novelties, the first mover had brought about the point of Circular motion, that has began us a New year: and promises many unwonted effects. Whilst these appear, let us be the same we were, constant old friends to God, heaven and ourselves. Change, though to the better, argues imperfection, yet not to change to the better, were the worst of imperfections. As restless rivers hast to their Ocean, so ought we to ours, which is God, that Ocean of bliss, repose, and Centre of eternity; Till here arrived, we are in flux and variety: Let us be so, but hold the right way.  
As Grace is elder than Nature, so she first begins her year; Astronomers commence theirs with the springs vigour, when the Sun's in Aries, the Church is content with Capricorn; When her Sun's in the Cradle, that Orient of Justice and mercy, the Son of God, The signs melancholy; yet the forerunner of more propitious. So let our sorrows shorten with the nights, our joys with the days lengthen. This solstice (if we follow the conduct of the right Star) will fairly move to a brighter height, a nearer approach; dispel our mists, warm our hearts, ravish our eyes.  
This rambling prologue, is but to bring in the prayer that wishes you a happy New year, and that regard of times winged Carrier's, which in running moments may take hold of the steadfast point of eternity. This is the Centre of circumference; In which who truly fix, may be moved but not from it. Then, as time whirls away the measure of our mortal being, it will ha●ten that, which shall know no alteration, but to be invariable. Sir, my complexion suits the dead season at present, and yields me but a languishing health: Hence my pen's as dull. You know when the bodies out of order, the spirits cannot but flag. I must suffer the one, you will pardon the other. And so to affairs that require no politure, but what your patience shall give them, etc.  
2 January. W.D.   

LXXVI. ANSWER.  
SIR  
YOurs I have received, read, and read again, and the more I read it, the more I have a a mind to read it, such are the incentives of your heaven-inspired lines, which as they clearly demonstrate the truth of that Maxim of a modern Author, that Eternity is the Port and Sabbath of all humane Contemplations: So, since my more earthy Soul and less heavenly cogitations are not able in due manner to comprehend them; I wrap myself in this your learned sheet and say to it (with equal wonder) As Aristotle once did to Euripus, Q●uia ego non capio te, tu capias me  
T B.   

LXXVII. A letter to a friend upon his marriage.  
SIR.  
I Have of late with held from you the Characters of my hand, though not the welwishes of my heart, conceiving you as close in the pursuit of your fair Daphne, as Phoebus was of his, when the breath of his mouth disordered her dissheiveld hair: For I perceive you have now ran so, as happily to take the Virgin-prize; may you be ever mutually happy. There now only remains the metamorphosis (not into the Beast with two backs, which the knavish Shakespeare speaks of) but of that more ingenious, two into one, unus, una, into unum, which you have hinted so modestly in yours. Your Daphne I hope (before the arrival of this paper) will be converted not only into Bays, but Rosemary, which is one fragrancy, due to her perfections (if you have (as I doubt not) given her a true Character) more than the Poet gave Apollo's Mistress; Let this therefore suffice to give you both the parabien of Hymen's honours and felicities, and to let you know I shall both expect and be ambitious to wear a sprig in honour of her, nor will I fail heartily to commend you both to the great Precedent of the wedding of Cana in Galilee, that he may turn the bitter Waters of your long expectation into the Wine of a happy and contented life, made up with the blessing of a good and pious posterity. In which devotion I affectionately rest  
Sir, Your humble servant, H.T.    

Superscriptions FOR LETTERS, to be addressed to all sorts of persons, according to the usage of the present times.  
If to a Duke,  
TO the most Noble (and some times) Excellent or illustrious Prince.  
And in discourse we style him Grace  
If to a Marquis,  
To the right Noble or right honourable.  
And in discourse his attribute is, Lordship or Honour.  
If to an Earl, Viscount or Baron  
To the right honourable.  
And to begin a Letter, we, either say  
May it please your Honour or Lordship  
Right honourable  
My Lord.  
Which last is used only by Lords to Lords, or by Gentlemen of some quality, otherwise it is held too familiar.  
If to a Baronet, or Knight of the Bath, we say  
To the honourable or much honoured.  
And his attribute (in the beginning of a letter may be Much honoured Sir.  
The like may be given to a Colonel.  
The usual attribute of a Knight was of old  
Right Worshipful.  
And of an Esquire  
Worshipful.  
But these are much disused, unless it be by persons of inferior rank.  
We say (writing to a Knight)  
To my noble or to my much honoured friend,  
Sir A.B. Knight, these present.  
To an Esquire we say  
To my much honoured or most worthy friend T.G. Esquire.  
Observe that (when you write to an Esq) you be sure not to say Master T.G. Esq for the (Master) is ridiculous, the Esq including it.  
So if you write to a Doctor of Divinity, a Doctor of the Civil Law, or Doctor of Physic, you must not say Mr. Doctor T.G. nor Doctor T.G. Esq; for Doctor both comprehends Master and Esquire, and of these the Divine hath first place, the Civilian next, and the Physician last.  
To an ordinary Gentleman thus,  
To my approved friend  
To my most esteemed friend  
To my much valued friend  
To my very much respected friend  
To my worthy good friend, or the like.  
Note that all the younger Sons of Dukes and Marquesses are Lords for their lives only, and are called Lord John, or Lord William, etc. by their Christian names.  
The eldest Son of an Earl is a Lord by birth, so is not a Viscounts Son, till his Father be dead.  
The youngest Sons of Viscounts and Barons are but Esquires, yet are honourable, and take place of all Baronet's and Knight's.  
The eldest Son of a Baron is but an Esq during his Father's life.  
Esquire (comes from the French Escuier, in latin Armiger or Scutifer i. a bearer of Arms, or of a Shield, and) is that Degree of Gentry, which is next to a Knight; It is conceived that at the first these Esquires were bearers of Arms to Lords and Knights, and thereby had their name and dignity: Now to be true Esquires according to the Law of Arms, they must either be Lords younger Sons, Baronet's or Knights eldest Sons, members of Parliament, Sheriffs, Justices of the Peace, Sergeants at Law, Barristers at Law (yet the late Earl Martial would not allow Barristers to be Esquires, but in the Act for Polemoney they were ranked by the then Parliament as Esquires and paid as Esq) or of some ancient family that has it by being heir to a Knight in the right line; Though now a days (I know not by what warrant) all Gentlemen that have but some considerable Estate in Lands, take that title upon them, when as the Estate (though never so great) adds no title. And that the title of Esq should descend from Father to Son (as the Estate of Gentry doth) is mere fabulous, says Mr. Herne in his Glory of Generosity, p. 100  
Ladies have (for the most part) the same attributes as their husbands.  
Both in Letter and discourse, we give a Duchess the title Grace.  
But to a Marchioness, Countess, Viscountess or Baroness, right honourable and in discourse your honour, and among their equals, or in more familiar discourse, Madam.  
If you write to any of these, the title Madam, is very moding, both at the beginning and end of your Letter, But if the person writing be of much lower Rank, than the Lady written unto, it will be decent to say.  
May it please your honour, or Right honourable!  
All the daughters of Dukes, Marquesses and Earls are Ladies by birth, and are called Lady Anne, Lady Marry, etc.  
But the daughters of a Viscount or Baron are but Mistress, yet are honourable; And their Addition (being named in instruments of Law or Conveyances) is no more than a Yeoman's daughter hath, and that is Spinster, wherein there seems to be some title wanting.  
And for the better understanding the point of precedency, I have thought fit to transcribe an abstract of two Decrees made by King James touching the same, in the 10 and 14 years of his reign, which you may read more at large in Mr. Seldens, Titles of honour, Page 906.  
That the younger Sons of Viscounts and Barons shall take place and precedence before all Baronet's.  
That such Bannerets (as shall be made by the King's Majesty, his heirs and Successors, or by Henry now Prince of Wales, under his or their Standard displayed in an Army Royal in open war, and the King or Prince personally present) for their lives only, and no longer, shall for ever in all places take place and precedence, as well before all other Bannerets whatsoever, as likewise before the younger Sons of Viscounts and Barons, and before all Baronet's.  
The younger Sons of Viscounts and Barons, and all Baronet's, shall take place before all Bannerets whatsoever, other than such as shall be made by the King as aforesaid.  
That the Knights of the Garter, Privy Councillors to the King, the Master of the Court of Wards and Liveries, the Chancellor and under Treasurer of the Exchequer, chancellor of the Duchy, the chief Justice of the King's Bench, the Master of the Rolls, The chief Justice of the Common-pleas, the chief Baron of the Exchequer, and all other the Judges and Barons of the degree of the Coif of the said Courts, shall have place before the younger sons of Viscounts and Barons, and before all Baronet's.  
That Baronet's and their heirs Males shall always have place next unto the younger Sons of Viscounts and Barons, and their wives shall take place accordingly.  

And in another Decree, 14 Jacobi.  
That the eldest sons of Baronet's and their wives as well during their husband's lives, as after; And the daughters of the same Baronet's following next after the said wives of the eldest sons of Baronet's, shall have place and precedence before the eldest son and the wife of the eldest son of any Knight of what Order soever, And likewise the younger sons of such Baronet's and their wives shall take place accordingly before the younger Sons of any Knights, etc.    

ERRATA  
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FINIS.