Vera Effigies JOHANNIS CLEAVILAND    

THE WORKS OF Mr. JOHN CLEVELAND, Containing his Poems, Orations, Epistles, Collected into One Volume, With the LIFE Of the AUTHOR.  
LONDON, Printed by R. Holt, for Obadiah Blagrave, at the Bear and Star, over against the little North Door in St. Paul's Churchyard. 1687.   

TO THE Right Worshipful And Reverend FRANCIS TURNER D. D.  
Master of St. John's College in Cambridge, and to the Worthy Fellows of the same College.  
Gentlemen,  
THat we interrupt your more serious Studies with the offer of this Peice, the injury that hath been and is done to the deceased Author's Ashes not only pleddeth our Excuse, but engageth you (whose once he was, and within whose Walls this Standard of Wit was first set up) in the same Quarrel with us.  
Whilst Randolph and Cowley lie embalmed in their own native Wax, how is the Name and Memory of Cleveland equally profaned by those that usurp, and those that blaspheme it? By those that are ambitious to lay their Cuckoos Eggs in his Nest, and those that think to raise up Phenixes of Wit by firing his spicy Bed about him?  
We know you have not without passionate Resentments beheld the Prostitution of his Name in some late Editions vended under it, wherein his Orations are murdered over and over in barbarous Latin, and a more barbarous Translation: and wherein is scarce one or other Poem of his own to commute for all the rest. At least every Curiasier of his hath a fulsome Dragooner behind him, and Venus is again unequally yoked with a sooty Anvile-beater. Cleveland thus revived, dieth another Death.  
You cannot but have beheld with like zealous Indignation, how enviously our late Mushrom-wits look up at him, because he overdroppeth them, and snarl at his Brightness as Dogs at the Moon.  
Some of these grand Sophys will not allow him the Reputation of Wit at all: yet how many such Authors must be creamed and spirited to make up his Fuscara? and how many of their slight Productions may be gigged out of one of his pregnant Words? There perhaps you may find some Leaf-gold, here massy Wedges; there some scattered Ray, here a Galaxy; there some loose Fancy frisking in the Air, here Wits Zodiac.  
The Quarrel in all this is upbraiding Merit, and Eminence his Crime. His touring Fancy soareth so high a pitch, that they fly like Shades below him. The Torrent thereof (which riseth far above their high Water-Mark) drowneth their Levels. Usurping upon the State Poetic of the time he hath ●…ht 〈◊〉 such I●…t Measures of Wit and Language, and that despairing to initate, they must stately to understand. That above is Wit with them to which they are conmmensurate, and what exceedeth their S●…ling is monstrous.  
That they 〈◊〉 his Wit and Fancy as the (to win the plamp Oyster when he could not crack it. And now instead of that str●…s masculine Style which breatheth in this A●…thor, we have only an ener●… effeminate ●…oth offered, as if they had taken the s●…ivating Pill before they set Pai to Paper. You must hold your Breath in the perusal, lest the jest vanish by blowing on.  
Another Blemish in this Monster of Perfection is the Exuberance of his Fancy. His Manna lieth so thick upon the Ground they loathe it. When he should only fan, he with H●…ricanos of Wit stormeth the Sense, and doth not so much delight his Reader, as ●…ppress and overwhelm him.  
To cure this Excess, their frugal Wit hath reduced the World to a Lessian Diet. If perhaps they entertain their Reader with one good Thought (as these new Dictator's affect to speak) he may sit down and say Grace over it: the rest is Words, and nothing else.  
We will leave them therefore to the most proper Vengeance, to humour themselves with the perusal of their own Poems: And leave the Barber to rub their thick Skulls with Bran until they are fit for Musk. Only we will leave this friendly Advice with them; that they have an Eye upon John Tredeskant's Executor, lest among his other Minims of Art and Nature he expose their slight Conceits: And another upon the Royal Society, lest they make their Poems the Counterbalance when they intent to weigh Air.  
From these unequal Censures we appeal to such competent judges as yourselves, in whose just value of him, Cleveland shall live the Wonder of his own, and the pattern of succeeding Ages. And although we might (upon several Accounts) bespeak your Affections, yet (abstracting from these) we submit him to your severer judgements, and doubt not but he will find that Patronage from you which is desired and expected by  
Your humble Servants. I. L. S. D.   

A short Account of the Author's Life.  
HE was born at Hinckley, a small Market Town in the County of Leicester; if we may esteem that small, which glorieth in so great a Birth.  
His Father was the Reverend and Learned Minister of the place; Forts creantur è fortibus. Being thus well descended for a Vein of Learning, he even lisped Wit, like an English Bard, and was early ripe for the University, who was one.  
To cherish so great hopes, the Lady Margaret drew forth both her Breasts. Christ's College in Cambridge gave him Admission, and St. John's a Fellowship. There he lived about the space of nine years, the Delight and Ornament of that Soeiety. What Service, as well as Reputation he did it, let his Orations and Epistles speak; to which the Library oweth much of its Learning, the Chapel much of its pious Decency, and the College much of its Renown.  
The Rays, which he thus shed upon others, reflected upon himself. But that which alone may suffice for his Honour is, that after the Oration which he addressed to that Incomparable Prince, of Blessed Memory, Charles the First, the King called for him, and (with great Expressions of Kindness) gave him his Hand to kiss, and commanded a Copy to be sent after him to Huntingdon, whither he was hastening that Night.  
Thus he shined with equal Light and Influence until the general Eclipse; of which no Man had more Sagacious Prognostics. When Oliver was in Election to be Burge●…s for the Town of Cambridge, as he engaged all his Friends and Interests to oppose it, so when it was passed, he said with much passionate Zeal, That single Vote had ruined both Church and Kingdom. Such Havoc the good Prophet beheld in Hazael's Face. Such fatal Events did he presage from his bloody Beak. And no sooner did that Schritch-Owl appear in the University, but this Sun declined. Perceiving the Ostracism that was intended, he became a Volunteer in his Academic Exile, and would no longer breathe the common Air with such Pests of Mankind.  
From thence he betook himself to the Camp of his Sovereign, and particularly to Oxford the Head-Quarter of it, as the most proper and proportionate Sphere for his Wit, Learning and Loyalty; and added no small Lustre to that with which that famous University shined before.  
His next Stage was the Garrison of Newark, where he was Judge Advocate, until the Surrender: And, by an excellent Temperature of both, was a just and prudent Judge for the King, and a faithful Advocate for the Country. There he drew up that Gallant Return to the Summons of the Besiegers, which spoke him, and the rest that were embarked with him, resolute to sacrifice their Lives to their Loyalty, had not the King's especial Command, when first he had surrendered himself into the hands of the Scots, made such stubborn Loyalty a Crime. And here again he was Vates in the whole Import of the Word, both Poet and Prophet▪ for, beside his passionate Resentment of it in that Excellent Poem, The King's Disguise, upon some private Intelligence, three Days before the King reached them, he foresaw the Pieces of Silver paying upon the Banks of Tweed, and that they were the price of his Sovereign's Blood, and predicted the Tragical Events.  
Thenceforth he followed the Fates of distressed Loyalty, for which, when he had been long imprisoned at Yarmouth, he addressed his Petition to Oliver; wherein he courted his Freedom with such Insinuations, as might neither do Violence to his Conscience, nor betray his Cause.  
After many intermediate Stages (which contended as emulously for his Abode, as the seven Cities for Homer's Birth) Grays-Inn was his last: Which when he had ennobled with some short Residence also, an Intermitting Fever seized him, whereof he died. A Disease at that time epidemical: And if it had taken him only away (so public was the Loss) it deserved to carry the Name of a Common Mortality.  
He was buried upon the first Day of May (for which nothing but the 29. can atone) in the Parish Church of St. Michael Royal upon College Hill London, Anno 1658. To which being attended by many Persons of Learning and Loyalty, Mr. Edward Thurman performed the Office of Burial, and the Reverend and Learned Dr. Pearson (now Lord Bishop of Chester) Preached his Funeral Sermon, and made his Death Glorious.  
And now there wanteth nothing but a Monument for him; and in this Book he hath erected one to himself, which Envy may repine at, but cannot reach.   

CLEVELANDI Manibus, Parentalia.  

UMbradiu Elysii lachrymabilis accola Pindi,  
Pieriis haesit quae taciturna vadis.  
Pegaseo meritae nudatáque remige primae  
Serpsit humi, gemino dignior illa jugo;  
Tandem cum cursum popularior aura negâsset,  
Trajecit Famae vela datura suae.  
Luce nouâ radians, jam fulgida cernitur umbra  
Cui numen Phaebus faenorat, atque facem.  
Ridet Hyampeique humilem de vertice vallem,  
Et volitat pennâ non nisi vecta suâ.  
jam reparat famae damnosa silentia, totâ  
Qui canitúrque Deae, Pieridumque tubâ.  
Ca●…ue suâ 〈◊〉 jam durabunt carmina, cedro,  
Elusere minas temporis & tineae.  
Blatta suo vexit Clevelandum Critica morsu,  
Usque suas ungues rodat, & usque virum;  
Commistum salibus tamen ut gustarit acetum,  
Deciduae ultricem mittit hirundo cutem.  
Usque Cothurnato conculcent carmina socco,  
Queis, praeter fastum, nil sua Roma dedit;  
Usque necet Vatem crudum de pegmate Drama,  
Et levis excipiat tam grave visus opus;  
Attamen in meritos transibunt Sibila plausus,  
Clamosumque, premet murmur inane, Sophos.  
Altior incedit vates pumilone Cothurno,  
Grandius & superat pegmata celsa decus,  
Nostra quidem proavos aetas malè passa Poetas,  
Vix canos gemino suspicit ore dies:  
Sed resplendit adhuc aeterni nominis umbra,  
Atque poëtastris dat sine nube diem.  
Cui Tagus est Helicon, & Mons auratus, Olympus,  
Qui totas numerat Carmine divitias.  
Plurima cui nitido collucet gemma libello,  
Quamvis non panxit Sar donychata manus.  
Dissimili ingenio qui plumbea saecla flagellat,  
Quique alter Musis praesit Apollo suis.  
Cedit in exemplar venturi temporis, aetas  
Seraque Clevelandum consulet Archetypum.   
J. L.   


1.  
HAil venerable Relics! Unto whom  
Old and new Idolatrous Rome  
Might pay Devotion  
Free from Superstition.  
Your sacred Oracles found the Sibyl's Fate,  
Equally Divine, alike unfortwate,  
Injurious time did both disperse,  
Like Pompey's Ruins, through an Universe.  
Whose Leaves (like these) scattered were,  
The Burden of the swelling Air,  
Though fallen, yet like their Laurels flourishing and fair.  
Those sacrificed to Tarquin's Fame,  
Derived their Splendour from their flame:  
These from Charles his Name  
Illustrious became.   

2.  
Hail Mercury's and Apollo's Son!  
If not by Nature, sure by Adoption;  
By whose joint Gift thou dost inherit  
Cicero's Tongue, and Virgil's Spirit.  
Worthy thou enshrined to rest  
In a sacred Vatican,  
Or learned Tusculan,  
Worthy of Maecenas Breast.  
justly the Muses styled, and Caesar's Laureate,  
Since in the State  
Thy Pen did the Sword's Business anticipate.  
Thy Quill the Roman Eagles did outfly,  
And conquering taught the Rebel Scot fidelity.  
The noblest Triumph, and the happiest Victory.  
The Caledonian satire scarce thine withstood;  
Unto thy Laurel stooped the Glory of his Wood;  
From thee Montross had learned to write in Wounds and Blood.   

3.  
Thou Caesar like, for Sword and Book renowned,  
Both in the Muse's camp, and Martial crowned;  
(As if thy sacred Wreath was meant  
Both Wits and Lightnings flashes to prevent,  
Both for Security and Ornament)  
Thy no less flourishing praise  
Deserves Minerva's double Bays,  
Who sang so sweet in troublesome, and Halcyon days;  
Trent's dying Swans we see o'ercome with thy Mantuan lays.  
Both ready to resign that Breath  
With which you sing your own, and Countries Death.  
Of Newark's, and your own sad Story,  
The equal Grief and Glory.   

4.  
Hail Celestial Urn!  
Whose Ashes like the Neighbouring Stars do shine and burn,  
And liberally dispense  
To the Poetic World Wit's Benevolence;  
Whose greater Orb the less doth influence.  
Hail Reverend Bard whose name in british Story  
Shall raise new Monuments of Glory,  
Whereon thou sublimed shall sit  
The Genius of Wit.  
The winged Pegasus mounts so high,  
As if to the Wind the Jennet owed his Progeny.  
The lofty Pindar stops his flight,  
And only gazeth at not emulates thy height.  
Whom at that distance placed we see  
There's no Parallel for thy Degree,  
But thine own Climax, or Hyperbole,  
Which out soars Dedalus his Pitch, wihout his Destiny.   
L. T.   

In Tertiam (at verò primam) Editionem Poematum johannis Clevelandi.  

QUid video? Video, et laetor spectare cluentis  
Quam bene vulgati Tertia scripti libri.  
Annon prima valent? nec adhuc genuina secunda  
Quis spurias chartas edidit hasce suas?  
Quis fuit hos pupos, strigosos, & malè sanos  
Qui genuît? prolem & te genuisse blatit:  
Hujus Tune parens? imò nec Compater, ipsam  
Consortem Tumuli ne patiare Tui:  
Sed sic ludit iners & credula sama popelli,  
Unus delirat, plectitur innocuus.  
Non nova peccanti res est simulare parentem,  
Non nova mentiri nomen, & ora viri;  
Filius ast tandem Clevelandi en Filius ipse,  
Natus & ex Cerebro, ut nata Minerva Jovis.  
Et cum Cromvelicis nova Troja erat obruta flammis  
Filius ut veteris sustulit ille Patrem.  
Non est quòd dubites (lector) patrem exprimit ipsum,  
Regius, omninò Regius, Acta sonans;  
Ingenio eloquioque potens, sed verba fatiscunt,  
Solus qui potis est dicere, Tolle Librum,   
Gasparus Justice.   

In mortem Doctissimi, & Poetarum plane Principis Domini Clevelandi Epicedium.  

QUi metricis nollet pedibus cantare Paetam  
Pierides faciant, ut pereat podagrâ  
Quae vestros Clevelande manus non pingit honores,  
Scaevola, vel Tecum sentiat esse rogum.  
Pullatus lachrymor, quoties Lux ista recurrit  
Rubricam mortis quae memorare jubet.  
Hinc Epocham, numeret Luctús, Ecclesia & inde  
Proh dolor! Exitium Carolus ipse suum.  
In Scotos gladio Tibi Musa potentior olim:  
Versibus & Victi succubuere Tuis.  
Vota utinam in Terris Regem renoventque Poetam  
Hic Te Tuque illo Carole, dignus erat.   
Sic cecinit summo cum moerore Edvardus Thurman.   

On Mr. Cleveland and his Poems.  

CLeveland again his sacred Head doth raise  
Even in the Dust crowned with immortal Bays,  
Again with Verses armed, that once did fright  
Lycambes' Daughters from the hated Light,  
Sets his bold Foot on Reformations Neck,  
And triumphs o'er the vanquished Monster Smeck.  
That Hydra whose proud Heads did so e●…crease  
That it deserved no less an Hercules.  
This, this is he who in Poëtick Rage  
With Scorpions lashed the Madness of the Age;  
Who durst the Fashions of the Times despise  
And be a Wit when all Mankind grew Wise:  
When formal Beards at twenty one were seen,  
And Men grew Old almost as soon as Men;  
Who in those Days when Reason, Wit, and Sense  
Were by the Zealots grave Impertinence  
Cleped Folly, and in Ve-ri-ty  
Did savour rankly of Carnality:  
When each notched Apprentice might a Poet prove,  
For warbling through the Nose a Hymn of Love:  
When Sage George Withers and Grave William Pryn  
Himself might for a Poets share put in;  
Yet than could wit writh so much Art and Skill,  
That Rome might envy his Satiric Quill,  
And crabbed Persius his hard Lines give over,  
And in Disdain beat his brown Desk no more.   

How I admire thee, Cleveland! When I weigh  
Thy close wrought Sense, and every Line survey?  
They are not like those things which some compose  
Who in a Maze of Words the wand'ring Sense do lose,  
Who spin one Thought into so long a Thread,  
And beat their Wit too thin to make it spread;  
Till'tis too fine for our weak Eyes to find,  
And dwindles into nothing in the end.  
No; they're above the Genius of this Age  
Each Word of thine swells pregnant with a Page.  
Then why do some men's nicer Ears complain  
Of the uneven Harshness of thy Strain?  
Preferring to the Vigour of thy Muse,  
Some smooth, weak Rhymer, that so gently flows,  
That Ladies may his easy Strains admire  
And melt like Wax before the softening Fire.   

Let such to Women write, you write to Men;  
We study Thee, when we but play with Them.   By A. B.  

CLEVELAND'S POEMS. Digested in Order.  

SECT. I. Containing Love-Poems.  

Fuscara or the Bee Errand.  

NAture's Confectioner the Bee,  
(Whose Suckets are moist Alchemy;  
The Still of his refining Mould  
Minting the Garden into Gold)  
Having rifled all the Fields  
Of what Dainties Flora yields.  
Ambitious now to take Excise  
Of a more fragrant Paradise,  
At my Fuscara's sleeve arrived,  
Where all delicious. Sweets are hived.  
The Airy Free-booter distrains  
First on the Violet of her Veins,  
Whose Tincture could it be more pure,  
His ravenous kiss had made it blewer.  
Here did he sit, and Essence quaff,  
Till her coý P●…lse had beat him off;  
That Pulse, which he that feels may know  
Whether the World's long lived, or no.  
The ●…xt he pre●… on is her Palm,  
That Alm'ner of transpiring Balm;  
So soft, 'tis Air but once removed,  
Tender, as 'twere a Jelly gloved.  
Here, while his canting Drone-pipe scanned  
The my stick Figures of her hand,  
He tipples Palmistry, and dines  
On all her Fortune-telling Lines:  
He baths in Bliss, and finds no odds  
Betwixt this Nectar and the Gods.  
He perches now upon her Wrist  
(A proper Hawk for such a Fist)  
Making that Flesh his Bill of Fare,  
Which hungry Cannibals would spare;  
Where Lilies in a lovely brown  
Inoculate Carnation.  
Her 〈◊〉 Skin with Or so streamed,  
As if the milky-way were creamed;  
From hence he to the Wood been bends  
That quivers at her finger's ends,  
That runs division on 〈◊〉 Tree,  
Like a thick-branching Pedigree;  
So 'tis not her the Bee devours,  
It is a pretty Maze of Flowers.  
It is the Rose that bleeds, when he  
Nibbles his nice Phlebotomy.  
About her finger he doth cling  
〈◊〉 fashion of a Wedding Ring,  
And bids his Comrades of the Swarm  
Crawl like a Bracelet 'bout her Arm.  
Thus when the hover Publican  
Had sucked the Toll of all her Span,  
(Tuning his draughts with drowsy Hums,  
As Danes Carouse by Kettledrums)  
It was decreed (that Posy gleaned)  
The small Familiar should be weaned.  
At this the Erran●…'s Courage quails;  
Yet aided by his native Sails,  
The bold Columbus still designs  
To find her undiscovered Mines.  
To th' Indies of her Arm he flies,  
Fraught both with East and Western Prize,  
Which when he had in vain essayed,  
(Armed like a Dapper Lancepresade  
With Spanish Pike) he broached a Poor,  
And so both made and healed the Sore:  
For as in Gummy Trees there's found  
A Salve to issue at the Wound;  
Of this her breach the like was true,  
Hence trickled out a Balsam too.  
But oh! What Wasp was't that could prove  
Ravilliac to my Queen of Love?  
The King of Bees now jealous grown,  
Lest her Beams should melt his Throne,  
And finding that his Tribute slacks,  
His Burgesses and State of Wax  
Turned to an Hospital; the Combs  
Built Rank and File; like Beadsen Rooms,  
And what they bleed but tart and sour,  
Matched with my Danae's golden shower,  
Live Honey all, the envious El●…  
Stung her, 'cause sweeter than himself.  
Sweetness and she are so allied,  
The Bee committed Parricide,    

The Senses Festival.  

I Saw a Vision yesternight  
Enough to sat a Seeker's sight;  
I wished myself a Shaker there,  
And her quick Pants my trembling Sphere.  
It was a She so glittering bright,  
You'd think her Soul an Adamite;  
A Person of so rare a frame,  
Her Body might be lined with th'same.  
Beauty's chiefest Maid of Honour,  
You may break Lent with looking on her.  
Not the fair Abbess of the Skies,  
With all her Nunnery of eyes,  
Can show me such a Glorious Prize.   

And yet because 'tis more Renown  
To make a shadow shine, she's brown;  
A Brown for which Heaven would disband  
The Galaxy, and Stars be tanned;  
Brown by Reflection, as her Eye  
Deals out the Summer's Livery.  
Old dormant Windows must confess  
Her Beams, their glimmering Spectacles,  
Struck with the Splendour of her face,  
Do th'office of a Burning-glass.  
Now where such radiant Lights have shown,  
No wonder if her Cheeks be grown  
Sunburnt, with Lustre of her own.   

My Sight took pay; but (thank my Charms)  
I now impale her in mine Arms;  
(Love's Compasses, confining you  
Good Angels, to a Circle too.)  
Is not the Universe straight laced,  
When I can clasp it in the Waste?  
My amorous Fold about thee hurled,  
With Drake I girdle in the World;  
I hoop the Firmament, and make  
This my Embrace the Zodiac.  
How could thy Centre take my Sense,  
When Admiration doth commence  
At the extreme Circumference?   

Now to the melting Kiss that sips  
The Jellyed Philtre of her Lips;  
So Sweet there is no Tongue can praised,  
Till transubstantiate with a Taste,  
Inspired like Mahomet from above,  
By th'Billing of my Heavenly Dove.  
Love prints his Signets in her Smacks,  
Those ruddy drops of squeezing Wax,  
Which wheresoever she imparts,  
They're Privy-Seals to take up Hearts.  
Our mouths encountering at the Sport,  
My slippery Soul had quit the Fort,  
But that she stopped the Sally-port.   

Next to these Sweets, her Lips dispense  
(As Twin-conserves of Eloquence)  
The Sweet Perfume her Breath affords,  
Incorporating with her Words.  
No Rosary this Vot'ress needs,  
Her very Syllables are Beads.  
No sooner 'twixt those Rubies born,  
But Jewels are in Ear●…ings worn.  
With what delight her Speech doth enter,  
It is a Kiss o'th'second venture.  
And I dissolve at what I hear,  
As if another Rosamond were  
Couched in the Labyrinth of my ear.   

Yet that's but a preludious Bliss,  
Two Souls Pickeering in a Kiss.  
Embraces do but draw the Line,  
'Tis storming that must take her in.  
When Bodies join, and Victory hovers  
'Twixt the equal fluttering Lovers,  
This is the Game; make stakes, my Dear!  
Hark, how the sprightly Chanticleer  
(That Baron Tell-clock of the Night)  
Sounds Boute-sel to Cupid's Knight.  
Then have at all, the Pass is got,  
For coming off, oh name it not!  
Who would not die upon the spot?    

To Julia to expedite her Promise.  

SInce 'tis my Doom, Love's Undershrieve,  
Why this Reprieve?  
Why doth my She Advowson fly Incumbency?   

Panting Expectance makes us prove  
The Antics of benighted Love;  
And withered Mates when Wedlock joins,  
They're Hymen's Monkeys, which he ties by th'Loins,  
To play alas! but at rebated Foins.   

To sell thyself dost thou intend  
By Candle's-end,  
And hold the Contract thus in doubt  
Life's Taper out?  
Think but how soon the Market fails,  
Your Sex lives faster than the Males;  
As if to measure Ages span,  
The sober julian were th'Account of Man,  
Whilst you live by the fleet Gregorian.   

Now since you bear a Date so short,  
Live double for't.  
How can thy Fortress ever stand,  
If't be not Man'd?  
The Siege so gains upon the Place,  
Thou'lt find the Trenches in thy Face.  
Pity thyself then, if not me,  
And hold not out, lest like Ostend thou be,  
Nothing but Rubbish at Delivery.   

The Candidates of Peter's Chair  
Must plead grey hair,  
And use the Simony of a Cough  
To help them off;  
But when I woe thus old and spent,  
I'll wed by Will and Testament.  
No; let us Love while crisped and curled;  
The greatest Honours on the aged hurled,  
Are but gay Fu●…lows for another World.   

To morrow what thou tenderest me  
Is Legacy.  
Not one of all those ravenous hours  
But thee devours.  
And though thou still recruited be,  
Like Pelops, with soft Ivory;  
Though thou consume but to renew,  
Yet Love, as Lord, doth claim a Heriot due;  
That's the best quick thing I can find of you.   

I feel thou art consenting ripe  
By that soft gripe,  
And those regealing Crystal Spheres.  
I hold thy Tears  
Pledges of more distilling Sweets,  
Than the Bath that ushers in the Sheets.  
Else pious julia, Angel-wise,  
Moves the Bethesda of her trickling Eyes,  
To cure the Spittle-World of Maladies.    

The Hecatomb to his Mistress.  

BE dumb you Beggars of the rhyming Trade,  
Geld your loose Wits, and let your Muse be spade.  
Charge not the Parish with your bastard Phrase  
Of Balm, Elixir, both the India's,  
Of Shrine, Saint, Sacrifice, and Touch as these,  
Expressions common as your Mistresses.  
Hence you Fantastic Postillers in Song,  
My Text defeats your Art, ties Nature's tongue,  
Scorns all her Tinsoyled Metaphors of Pelf,  
Illustrated by nothing but herself.  
As Spider's travel by their bowels spun  
Into a Thread, and when the Race is run,  
Wind up their Journey in a living Clew;  
So is it with my Poetry and you.  
From your own Essence must I first untwine,  
Then twist again each Panegyric Line.  
Reach then a Soaring Quill that I may write,  
As with a Iacob's Staff to take her height.  
Suppose an Angel darting through the Air,  
Should there Encounter a religious Prayer  
Mounting to Heaven, that Intelligence  
Would for a Sunday-Suit thy Breath condense  
Into a Body. Let me crack a string,  
And venture higher. Were the Note I sing  
Above Heaven's Ela; should I then decline,  
And with a deepmouthed Gammut sound the Line  
From Pole to Pole, I could not reach her worth,  
Nor find an Epithet to shadowed forth.  
Metals may blazon common Beauties; she  
Makes Pearls and Planets humble Heraldry.  
As then a purer Substance is defined  
But by an heap of Negatives combined,  
Ask what a Spirit is, you'll hear them cry,  
It hath no Matter, no Mortality:  
So can I not describe how sweet, how fair,  
Only I say, she's not as others are:  
For what Perfection we to others grant,  
It is her sole Perfection to want.  
All other Forms seem, in respect of thee,  
The Almanac's misshaped Anatomy:  
Where Aries head and face, Bull neck and throat,  
The Scorpion gives the Secrets, Knees the Goat;  
A Brief of Limbs foul as those beasts, or are  
Their namesake Signs in their strange Character.  
As your Philosophers to every Sense  
Marry its Object, yet with some dispense,  
And grant them a Polygamy with all,  
And these their common Sensibles they call:  
So is't with her, who, stinted unto none,  
Unites all Senses in each action.  
The same Beam heats and lights, to see her well  
Is both to hear and see, and taste and smell:  
For can you want a Palate in your Eyes,  
When each of hers contains the beauteous prize,  
Venus' Apple? Can your Eyes want Nose,  
Seeing each Cheek buds forth a fragrant Rose?  
Or can your Sight be deaf to such a quick  
And well-tuned Face, such moving Rhetoric?  
Doth not each Look a Flash of Lightning feel,  
Which spares the Body's sheath, yet melts the steel?  
Thy Soul must needs confess, or grant thy Sense  
Corrupted with the Object's Excellence.  
Sweet Magic, which can make five Senses lie  
Conjured within the Circle of an Eye!  
In whom since all the five are intermixed,  
Oh now that Scaliger would prove his sixth!  
Thou Man of mouth, that canst not name a She,  
Unless all Nature pay a Subsidy;  
Whose Language is a Tax, whose Musk-cat Verse  
Voids nought but Flowers for thy Muse's Hearse,  
Fitter than Celia's Looks, who in a trice  
Canst state the long disputed Paradise:  
And (what Divines hunt with so cold a scent)  
Canst in her Bosom find it resident;  
Now come aloft, come now, and breathe a Vein,  
And give some vent unto thy daring strain.  
Say the ginger who spells the Stars,  
In that fair Alphabet reads Peace and Wars,  
Mistakes his Globe, and in her brighter eye  
Interprets Heaven's Physiognomy.  
Call her the Metaphysics of her Sex,  
And say she tortures Wits, as Quartans vex  
Physicians; call her the squared Circle; say  
She is the very Rule of Algebra;  
What e'er thou understand'st not say't of her,  
For that's the way to write her Character.  
Say this and more, and when thou hop'st to raise  
Thy Fancy so as to enclose her praise,  
Alas poor Gotham, with thy Cuckow-hedge!  
Hyperboles are here but Sacrilege.  
Then-roll up Muse what thou hast raveled out;  
Some Comments clear not, but increase the doubt.  
She that affords poor Mortals not a glance  
Of Knowledge, but is known by Ignorance.  
She that commits a Rape on every Sense,  
Whose Breath can countermand a Pestilence.  
She that can strike the best Invention dead,  
Till baffled Poetry hangs down the head.  
She, she it is that doth contain all Bliss,  
And makes the World but her Periphrasis.    

The Antiplatonick.  

FOr shame thou everlasting Wooer,  
Still saying Grace, and ne'er fall to her!  
Love that's in Contemplation placed,  
Is Venus drawn but to the waste.  
Unless your Flame confess its Gender,  
And your Parley cause Surrender,  
Y'are Salamanders of a cold Desire,  
That live untouched amidst the hottest fire.   

What though she be a Dame of stone,  
The Widow of Pygmalion:  
An hard and unrelenting She,  
As the new-crusted Niobe;  
Or (what doth more of statue carry)  
A Nun of the Platonic Quarry?  
Love melts the rigour which the Rocks have bred;  
A Flint will break upon a Featherbed.   

For shame you pretty Female Elves,  
Cease thus to candy up yourselves;  
No more you Sectaries of the Game,  
No more of your calcining Flame.  
Women commence by Cupid's Dart,  
As a King hunting Dubs a Hart.  
Love's Votaries enthral each other's Soul,  
Till both of them live but upon Parole.   

Virtue's no more in Womankind  
But the Green-sickness of the Mind.  
Philosophy (their new Delight)  
A kind of Charcoal Appetite.  
There is no Sophistry prevails,  
Where all-convincing Love assails;  
But the disputing Petticoat will warp,  
As Skilful Gamesters are to seek at sharp.   

The Soldier, that Man of Iron,  
Whom Ribs of Horror all environ;  
That's strung with Wire instead of Veins,  
In whose Embraces you're in Chains;  
Let a Magnetic Girl appear,  
Strait he turns Cupid's Cuiraseer.  
Love storms his Lips, and takes the Fortress in,  
For all the bristled Turn-pike of his Chin.   

Since Love's Artillery than checks  
The Breast-works of the firmest Sex:  
Come let us in affections riot;  
theyare sickly Pleasures keep a diet.  
Give me a Lover bold and free,  
Not Eunuched with Formality;  
Like an Ambassador that bed's a Queen,  
With the nice Caution of a Sword between.    

Upon Phillis walking in a Morning before Sunrising.  

THe sluggish Morn as yet undressed,  
My Phillis broke from out her East,  
As if she'd made a match to run  
With Venus, usher to the Sun.  
The Trees, like Yeomen of the Guard  
(Serving her more for Pomp than Ward)  
Ranked on each side, with Loyal Duty,  
Woven Branches to enclose her Beauty.  
The Plants, whose Luxury was lopped,  
Or Age with Crutches underpropped,  
(Whose wooden Carcases were grown  
To be but Coffins of their own)  
Revive, and at her general Dole  
Each receives his Ancient Soul.  
The winged Choristers began  
To chirp their Matins, and the Fan  
Of whistling Winds like Organs played,  
Until their Voluntaries made  
The weakened Earth in Odours rise  
To be her Morning Sacrifice.  
The Flowers called out of their Beds,  
Start and raise up their drowsy Heads;  
And he that for their colour seeks  
May see it vaulting to her Cheeks:  
Where Roses mix; no Civil War  
Divides her York and Lancaster.  
The S (whose Courtier's face  
Echoes the Sun, and doth un●…ace  
Her at his rise, at his full stop  
Packs and shuts up her gaw●…y Shop)  
Mistakes her Cue, and doth display:  
Thus Phillis antedates the day.  
These Miracles had cramped the Sun,  
Who fearing that his Kingdom's won,  
Powders with Light his frizzled Locks,  
To see what Saint his Lustre mocks.  
The trembling Leaves; through which he played,  
Dappling the Walk with light and shade,  
Like Lattice-windows give the Spy  
Room but to peep with half an eye;  
Lest her full Orb his sight should dim,  
And bid us all good ●…ght in him;  
Till she should spend a gentle Ray,  
To force us a new fashioned Day.   

But what religious Palsie's this,  
Which make the Bows divest their bliss;  
And that they might her foot steps straw,  
Drop their Leaves with shivering awe?  
Phillis perceived, and (lest her stay  
Should wed October unto May,  
And as her Beauty caused a Spring,  
Devotion might an Autumn bring)  
Withdrew her Beams, yet made no Night,  
But left the Sun her Curate ●…ght.    

To Mrs. K. T. who asked him why he was dumb, written calente Calamo.  

STay, should I answer, Lady, then  
In vain would be your Question.  
Should I be dumb, why then again  
Your ask me would be in vain.  
Silence, nor Speech, on either hand,  
Can satisfy this strange demand.  
Yet since your Will throws me upon  
This wished Contradiction;  
I'll tell you how I did become  
So strangely, as you hear me, dumb.  
Ask but the chapfallen Puritan,  
'Tis Zeal that Tongue-tyes that good man;  
(For heat of Conscience all men hold  
Is th'only way to catch that Cold:)  
How should Love's Zealot then forbear  
To be your silenced Minister?  
Nay your Religion, which doth grant  
A Worship due to you my Saint,  
Yet counts it that Devotion wrong,  
That does it in the Vulgar Tongue.  
My ruder words would give offence  
To such an hallowed Excellence;  
As th'English Dialect would vary  
The Goodness of an Ave Mary.   

How can I speak that twice am checked  
By this, and that Religious Sect?  
Still dumb, and in your Face I spy  
Still Cause, and still Divinity.  
As soon as blest with your Salute,  
My Manners taught me to be mute,  
Lest I should cancel all the Bliss  
You signed with so divine a Kiss.  
The Lips you seal must needs consent  
Unto the Tongue's Imprisonment.  
My Tongue in hold, my Voice doth rise  
With a strange Ela to my eyes.  
Where it gets Bail, and in that sense  
Begins a new found Eloquence.   

Oh listen with attentive sight  
To what my prating Eyes indite!  
Or, Lady, since 'tis in your choice  
To give, or to suspend my Voice,  
With the same Key set ope'the Door,  
Wherewith you locked it fast before.  
Kiss once again, and when you thus  
Have doubly been Miraculous:  
My Muse shall write with Handmaid Duty  
The Golden Legend of your Beauty   

He whom his Dumbness now confines,  
Intends to speak the rest by Signs.    

A Fair Nymph scorning a Black Boy courting her.  Nymph. 
STand off, and let me take the Air,  
Why should the smoke pursue the fair?  Boy. 
My Face is smoke, thence may be guest  
What Flames within have scorched my breast.  Nymph. 
Thy flaming Love I cannot view,  
For the dark Lantern of thy Hue.  Boy. 
And yet this Lantern keeps Love's Taper  
Surer than yours thats of white Paper.  
What ever Midnight can be here,  
The Moonshine of your Face will clear.  Nymph. 
My Moon of an Eclipse is 'fraid;  
If thou shouldst interpose thy Shade.  Boy. 
Yet one thing, Sweetheart, I will ask,  
Take me for a new fashioned Mask.  Nymph. 
Done: but my Bargain shall be this,  
I'll throw my Mask off when I kiss.  Boy 
Our curled Embraces shall delight  
To chequer Limbs with black and white.  Nymph. 
Thy Ink, my Paper, make me guests  
Our Nuptial-bed will prove a Press;  
And in our Sports, if any come,  
They'll read a wanton Epigram.  Boy. 
Why should my Black thy Love impair?  
Let the dark Shop commend the Ware;  
Or if thy Love from black forbears,  
I'll strive to wash it off with Tears.  Nymph. 
Spare fruitless Tears, since thou must needs  
Still wear about thy mourning Weeds.  
Tears can no more affection win,  
Than wash thy Aethiopian Skin.   

A Young Man to an Old Woman courting him.  

PEace Beldame Eve, surcease thy Suit,  
There's no Temptation in such Fruit.  
No rotten Medlars, whilst there be  
Whole Orchards in Virginity.  
Thy Stock is too much out of Date  
For tender Plants t'inoculate.  
A Match with thee the Bridegroom fears  
Would be thought Incest in his years;  
Which when compared to thine become  
Odd Money to thy Grandam Sum.  
Can Wedlock know so great a Curse,  
As putting Husbands out to Nurse?  
How Pond and Rivers would mistake,  
And cry new Almanacs for our sake?  
Time sure hath wheeled about his Year,  
December meeting janiveer.  
Th' Egyptian Serpent figures Time,  
And stripped, returns into his Prime.  
If my Affection thou wouldst win,  
First cast thy Hieroglyphic Skin.  
My Modern Lips know not, alack!  
The old Religion of thy Smack.  
I count that Primitive Embrace,  
As out of Fashion, as thy Face;  
And yet so long 'tis since thy fall,  
Thy Fornication's Classical.  
Our Sports will differ, thou must play  
Lero, and I Alphonso way.  
I'm no Translator, have no vein  
To turn a Woman young again;  
Unless you'll grant the tailor's due,  
To see the Fore-bodies he new.  
I love to wear clothes that are flush,  
Not prefacing old Rags with Plush,  
Like Aldermen or Under-shrieves  
With Canvas Backs, and Velvet Sleeves:  
And just such Discord there would be  
Betwixt thy Skeleton and me.  
Do study Salue and treacle, ply  
Your Tenant's Leg, or his sore Eye.  
Thus Matrons purchase Credit, thank,  
Six pennyworth of Mountebank:  
Or chew thy Cud on some Delight,  
That thou didst taste in Eighty eight;  
Oh be but Bedrid once, and then  
Thou'lt dream thy youthful Sins again:  
But if thou needs wilt be my Spouse,  
First harken and attend my Vows.  
When Aetna's fires shall undergo  
The Penance of the Alps in Snow;  
When Sol at one blast of his Horn  
Posts from the Crab to Capricorn;  
When the Heavens shuffle all in one,  
The Torrid with the Frozen Zone;  
When all these Contradictions meet,  
Then, Sibyl, thou and I will greet:  
For all these Similes do hold  
In my young Heat, and thy dull Cold.  
Then, if a Fever be so good  
A Pimp as to inflame thy Blood,  
Hymen shall twist thee and thy Page,  
The distinct Tropics of Man's Age,   

Well, Madam Time, be ever bald,  
I'll not thy Periwig be called:  
I'll never be 'stead of a Lover,  
An aged Chronicle's new Cover.    

Upon an Hermaphrodite.  

SIr, or Madam, choose you whether,  
Nature twists you both together,  
And makes thy Soul two Garbs confess,  
Both Petticoat and Breeches Dress:  
Thus we chastise the God of Wine  
With Water that is Feminine,  
Until the cooler Nymph abate  
His Wrath, and so concorporate.  
Adam, till his Rib was lost,  
Had the Sexes thus engrossed.  
When Providence our Sire did cleave,  
And out of Adam carved Eve:  
Then did Man 'bout Wedlock treat,  
To make his Body up complete.  
Thus Matrimony speaks but thee  
In a Grave Solemnity:  
For Man and Wife make but one right  
Canonical Hermaphrodite.  
Ravel thy Body, and I find  
In every Limb a double kind.  
Who would not think that Head a pair,  
That breeds such Faction in the Hair?  
One half so churlish in the Touch,  
That rather than endure so much,  
I would my tender Limbs apparel  
With Regulus his nailed Barrel:  
But the other half so small,  
And so amorous withal,  
That Cupid thinks each Hair doth grow  
A String for his invisible Bow.  
When I look Babies in thine Eyes,  
Here Venus, there Adonis lies;  
And though thy Beauty be high Noon,  
Thy Orb contains both Sun and Moon.  
How many melting Kisses skip,  
'Twixt thy Male and Female Lip?  
'Twixt thy upper brush of Hair,  
And thy nether Beard's despair?  
When thou speakest (ay would not wrong  
Thy Sweetness with a double Tongue,  
But) in every single Sound  
A perfect Dialogue is found.  
Thy Breasts distinguish one another,  
This the Sister, that the Brother.  
When thou joyn'st Hands my Ear still fancies  
The Nuptial Sound, I john take Frances.  
Feel but the difference soft and rough,  
This a Gauntlet, that a Muff.  
Had sly Ulysses at the Sack  
Of Troy brought thee his Pedlar's Pack,  
And Weapons too to know Achilles  
From King Lycomedes, Phillis  
His Plot had failed; this hand would feel  
The Needle, that the Warlike Steel.  
When Music doth thy pace advance,  
Thy right Leg takes the left to dance:  
Nor is't a Galliard danced by one,  
But a mixed Dance, though all alone.  
Thus every Het'roclite apart  
Changes Gender, but thy Heart;  
Nay those which Modesty can mean,  
But dare not speak, are Epicene.  
That Gamester needs must overcome,  
That can play both with Tib and Tom.   

Thus did Nature's Mintage vary,  
Coining thee a Philip and Mary.    

The Author to his Hermaphrodite made after Mr. Randolph's Death, yet inserted into his Poems.  

PRoblem of Sexes! Must thou likewise be  
As disputable in thy Pedigree?  
Thou Twins in one, in whom Dame Nature tries  
To throw less than Aums Ace upon two Dice.  
Were't thou served up two in one Dish, the rather  
To split thy Sire into a double Father?  
True; the World's Scales are even, what the Main  
In one place gets, another quits again.  
Nature lost one by thee, and therefore must  
Slice one in two to keep her number just.  
Plurality of Livings is thy State,  
And therefore mine must be Impropriate:  
For since the Child is mine, and yet the Claim  
Is intercepted by another's Name;  
Never did Steeple carry double truer,  
His is the Donative, and mine the Cure.  
Then say, my Muse, (and without more Dispute)  
Who 'tis that Fame doth super institute.  
The Theban Wittol, when he once descries  
jove is his Rival, falls to Sacrifice.  
That Name hath tipped his Horns; see on his Knees  
A Health to Hans in ●…elder Hercules:  
Nay Sublunary 〈◊〉 are content  
To entertain their 〈◊〉 with Compliment;  
And shall not he be proud whom Randolph deigns  
To quarter with his Muse, both Arms and Brains?  
Gramercy Gossip; I rejoice to see  
thoust got a Leap of such a Barbary.  
Talk not of Horns, Horns are the Poet's Crest;  
For since the Muses left their former Nest,  
To found a Nunnery in Randolph's Quill,  
Cuckold Parnassus is a Forked Hill.  
But stay, I've waked his Dust, his Marble stirs,  
And brings the Worms for his Compurgators.  
Can Ghost have natural Sons? Say Og, is't meet  
Penance bear Date after the Winding-sheet?  
Were it a Phoenix (as the double kind  
May seem to prove, being there's two combined,)  
I would disclaim my Right, and that it were  
The Lawful Issue of his Ashes swear.  
But was he dead? Did not his Soul translate  
Herself into a Shop of lesser rate;  
Or break up House, like an expensive Lord,  
That gives his Purse a Sob, and lives at Board?  
Let old Pythagoras but play the Pimp,  
And still there's hopesed may prove his Bastard Imp.  
But I'm profane; for grant the World had one  
With whom he might contract an Union;  
They two were one, yet like an Eagle spread,  
I'th'Body joined, but parted in the Head.   

For you, my Brat, that pose the porphyry Chair,  
Pope john, or joan, or whatsoe'er you are,  
You are a Nephew, grieve not at your State;  
For all the World is Illegitimate.  
Man cannot get a Man, unless the Sun  
Club to the Act of Generation.  
The Sun and Man get Man, thus Tom and I  
Are the joint Fathers of my Poetry;  
For since, blessed Shade, thy Verse is Male, but mine  
O'th' weaker Sex, a Fancy Feminine;  
We'll part the Child, and yet commit no Slaughter,  
So shall it be thy Son, and yet my Daughter.     

SECT. II. Containing POEMS which relate to STATE-AFFAIRS.  

Upon The King's Return from Scotland.  

Returned! I'll ne'er believe't; first prove him hence,  
King's travel by their Beams and Influence.  
Who says the Soul gives out her Guests, or goes  
A flitting Progress 'twixt the Head and Toes?  
She rules by Omnipresence; and shall we  
Deny a Prince the same Ubiquity?  
Or grant he went, and cause the knot was slack  
Girt both the Nations with his Zodiac;  
Yet as the Tree at once both upward shoots,  
And just as much grows downward to the Roots;  
So at the same time that he posted thither,  
By Counter-Stages he rebounded hither.  
Hither, and hence at once; thus every Sphere  
Doth by a double motion interfere;  
And when his Native form inclines him East,  
By the first Mover he is ravished West.  
Have you not seen how the divided Dam  
Runs to the Summons of her hungry Lamb;  
But when the Twin cries halves, she quits the first,  
Nature's Commendam must be likewise nursed?  
So were his Journeys like the Spider spun  
Out of his Bowels of Compassion.  
Two Realms, like Cacus, so his steps transpose,  
His feet still contradict him as he goes.  
England's returned, that was a banished Soil;  
The Bullet flying makes the Gun recoil.  
Death's but a Separation, though endorsed  
With Spade and Javelin, we were thus divorced.  
Our Soul hath taken wing, while we express  
The Corpse returning to their Principles.  
But the Crab-Tropick must not now prevail,  
Islands go back, but when you're under Sail:  
So his Retreat hath rectified that wrong;  
Backward is forward in the Hebrew Tongue.  
Now the Church Militant in plenty rests,  
Nor fears, like th' Amazon, to lose her Breasts.  
Her means are safe, not squeezed, until the Blood  
Mix with the Milk, and choke the tender Brood.  
She that hath been the floating Ark, is that  
She, that's now seated on Mount Ararat.  
Quits Charles; our Souls did guard him Northward thus,  
Now he the Counterpart comes South to us.    

A Dialogue between two Zealots upon the &c. in the Oath.  

SIr Roger from a zealous piece of Frieze,  
Raised to a Vicarage of the Child's Three,  
Whose yearly Audit may by strict Account  
To twenty Nobles, and his Vails amount;  
Fed on the Common of the female Charity,  
Until the Scots can bring about their Parity;  
So shotten, that his Soul, like to himself,  
Walks but in Cuerpo. This same Clergy-Elf  
Encountering with a Brother of the Cloth,  
Fell presently to Cudgels with the Oath.  
The Quarrel was a strange misshapen Monster  
Et caetera, (God bless us!) which may construe  
The Brand upon the Buttock of the Beast,  
The Dragon's Tail tied on a Knot; a Nest  
Of young Apocryphas, the fashion.  
Of a new mental Reservation.   

Whilst Roger thus divides the Text, the other  
Winks and expounds, saying, my pious Brother,  
Harken with Reverence; for the point is nice,  
I never read on't, but I fasted twice:  
And so by Revelation know it better,  
Than all the learned Idolaters o'th'Letter.  
With that he swelled, and fell upon the Theme,  
Like Great Goliath, with his Weaver's Beam.  
I say to thee, Et caetera, thou liest,  
Thou art the curled Lock of Antichrist;  
Rubbish of Babel; for who will not say  
Tongues are confounded in Et caetera?  
Who swears Et caetera, swears more Oaths at once  
Than Cerberus out of his triple Sconce.  
Who views it well, with the same eye beholds  
The old false Serpent in his numerous folds.  
Accursed Et caetera! Now, now I scent  
What the prodigious bloody Oysters meant.  
O Booker! Booker! How came'st thou to lack  
This Fiend in thy Prophetic Almanac?  
It's the dark Vault wherein th'Infernal Plot  
Of Powder'gainst the State was first begot.  
Peruse the Oath, and you shall soon descry it  
By all the Father Garnets' that stand by it;  
Against whom the Church (whereof I am a Member)  
Shall keep another Fifth day of November.  
Yet here's not all, I cannot half untruss  
Et caetera, it's so abdominous.  
The Trojan Nag was not so fully lined.  
Unrip Et caetera, and you shall find  
Og the great Commissary, and (which his worse)  
Th'apparitor upon his skew bald Horse.  
Then finally, my Babes of Grace, forbear,  
Et caetera will be too far to swear:  
For 'tis (to speak in a familiar Style)  
A Yorkshire Wea-bit longer than a Mile.   

Here Roger was inspired, and by God's diggers  
He'll swear in words at length, but not in Figures.  
No by this Drink which he takes off; as loath  
To leave Et caetera in his liquid Oath:  
His Brother pledged him, and that bloody Wine  
He swears shall seal the Synod's Catiline.  
So they drank on, not offering to part,  
Till they had sworn out the eleventh Quart:  
While all that saw, and heard them jointly pray,  
They and their Tribe were all Et caetera.    

Smectymnuus, or the Club-Divines.  

SMectymnuus! The Goblin makes me start;  
I'th' name of Rabbi Abraham, what art?  
Syriack? or Arabic? or Welsh? What skilled?  
Ape all the Bricklayers that Babel built.  
Some Conjurer translate, and let me know it?  
Till then 'tis fit for a West Saxon Poet.  
But do the Brotherhood then play their Prizes,  
Like Mummers in Religion, with Disguises?  
Outbrave us with a Name in Rank and File?  
A name, which if 'twere trained would spread a Mile.  
The Saint's Monopoly, the Zealous Cluster,  
Which like a Porcupine presents a Muster,  
And shoots his Quills at Bishops and their Sees,  
A devout Litter of young Macchabees.  
Thus jack of all Trades hath distinctly shown  
The twelve Apostles in a Cherry-stone.  
Thus Factions A-la-mode in Treason's Fashion,  
Now we have Heresy by Complication.  
Like to Don Quixot's Rosary of Slaves  
Strung on a Chain, a Murnival of Knaves  
Packed in a Trick; like Gipsies when they ride,  
Or like the College which sit all of a side:  
So the vain Satirists stand all a row,  
As hollow Teeth upon a Lutestring show.  
Th' Italian Monster pregnant with his Brother,  
Nature's Diaerefis, half one another;  
He with his little Sidesman Lazarus  
Must both give way unto Smectymnuus.  
Next Sturbridge Fair is Smec's; for lo his side  
Into a fivefold Lazar multiplied.  
Under each. Arm there's tucked a double Gizzard,  
Five Faces lurk under one single Vizard.  
The Whore of Babylon left these Brats behind,  
Heirs of Confusion by Gavelkind.  
I think Pythagoras' Soul is rambled hither,  
With all her change of Raiment on together.  
Smec is her general Wardrobe; she'll not dare  
To think of him as of a thoroughfare.  
He stops the Goshipping Dame; alone he is  
The Purlew of a Metempsychosis:  
Like a Scotch Mark, where the more modest sense,  
Checks the loud Phrase and shrinks to thirteen pence:  
Like to an Ignis Fatuus, whose flame,  
Though sometimes tripartite, joins in the same.  
Like to nine Tailors, who (if rightly spelled)  
Into one Man are Monosyllabled.  
Short-handed Zeal in one hath cramped many,  
Like to the Decalogue in a single Penny.   

See, see how close the Curs hunt under a sheet,  
As if they spent in Choir, and scanned their feet.  
One Cure, and five incumbents leap a Truss,  
The Title sure must be Litigious.  
The Sadduces would raise a Question,  
Who shall be Smec at th' Resurrection.  
Who cooped them up together were to blame;  
Had they but wiredrawn and spun out the name,  
'Twould make another Prentices Petition  
Against the Bishops and their Superstition.  
Robson and French (that count from five to five   

As far as Nature fingers did contrive.  
She saw they would be Sessers, that's the cause  
She cleft their Hoof into so many Claws)  
May tyre their Carret-Bunch; yet ne'er agree  
To rate Smectymnuus for Polemoney.   

Caligula (whose Pride was Mankind's Bail,  
As who disdained to murder by Retail,  
Wishing the World had but one general Neck)  
His glutton Blade might have found Game in Smec.  
No Echo can improve the Author more,  
Whose Lungs pay use and use to half a score.  
No Felon is more lettered, though the Brand  
Both superscribes his Shoulder and his Hand.  
Some Welshman was his Godfather, for he  
Wears in his Name his Genealogy.  
The Banes are asked, would but the times give way,  
Betwixt Smectymnuus and Et caetera:  
The Guests, invited by a friendly Summons,  
Should be the Convocation and the Commons:  
The Priest to tie the Fox's tails together,  
Mosely, or Sancta Clara, choose you whether.  
See what an Off spring every one expects;  
What strange Plurality of Men and Sects?  
One says he'll get a Vestry, but another  
Is for a Synod; Bets upon the Mother.  
Faith cry St. George! Let them go to't and stickle,  
Whether a Conclave, or a Conventicle.  
Thus might Religions Catterwawl and spite  
Which uses to Divorce, might once unite:  
But their cross Fortunes interdict their Trade,  
The Groom is Rampant, but the Bride is spade.   

My Task is done, all my he-Goats are milked;  
So many Cards i'th' Stock, and yet be bilked?  
I could by Letters now untwist the Rabble,  
Whip Smec from Constable to Constable.  
But there I leave you to another's dressing;  
Only kneel down and take your Father's Blessing;   

May the Queen Mother justify your fears,  
And stretch her Patent to your Leather ears.    

The Hue and Cry after Sir John Presbyter.  

WIth Hair in Character, and Lugs in Text,  
With a splay mouth, and a nose circumflexed;  
With a set Ruff of Musket-bore, that wears  
Like Cartrages, or Linen Bandeliers  
Exhausted of their Sulphurous Contents  
In Pulpit Fireworks, which the Bombal vents;  
The Negative and Covenanting Oath,  
Like two Moustaches issuing from his Mouth.  
The Bush upon his Chin like a carved Story  
In a Box-knot, cut by the Directory;  
Madam's Confession hanging at his ear  
Wiredrawn through all the Questions, How and Where;  
Each Circumstance so in the hearing felt,  
That when his ears are cropped he'll count them gelt.  
The Weeping Cassock scored into a Jump,  
A sign the Presbyter's worn to the stump;  
The Presbyter, though charmed against Mischance  
With the Divine Right of an Ordinance;  
If you meet any that do thus attire'em,   

Stop them they are the Tribe of Adoniram.  
What zealous Frenzy did the Senate seize,  
That tore the Rotchet to such rags as these?  
Episcopacy min●…'d; Reforming Tweed  
Hath sent us Runts, even of her Churches breed.  
Lay interlining Clergy, a Device  
That's Nickname to the Stuff called Lops and Lice.  
The Beast at wrong end branded, you may trace  
The Devil's footsteps in his cloven face.  
A face of several Parishes and sorts,  
Like to Sergeant shaved at Inns of Courts.  
What mean the Elders else, those Kirk Dragoons,  
Made up of Ears and Ruffs like Ducatoons.  
That Hierarchy of Handicrafts begun;  
Those New-Exchange-men of Religion.  
Sure they're the Antic heads which placed without  
The Church, do gape and disembogue a Spout:  
Like them about the Common's House t'have been  
So long without, now both are gotten in.   

Then what imperious in the Bishop sounds,  
The same the Scotch Executor rebounds:  
This stating Prelacy the Classic Rout  
That speak it often, e'er it spoke it out.  
So by an Abbey's Skeleton of late  
I heard an Echo supererogate  
Through Imperfection, and the Voice restore,  
As if she had the Hiccop over and over.  
Since they our mixed Diocesans combine,  
Thus to ride double in their Discipline,  
That Paul's shall to the Consistory call  
A Dean and Chapter out of Weaver's Hall,  
Each at the Ordinance for to assist  
With the five Thumbs of his groat-changing Fist.   

Down Dagon-Synod with thy Motley Ware,  
Whilst we are Champions for the Common Prayer,  
(That Dovelike Embassy that wings our Sense  
To Heaven's Gate in shape of Innocence)  
Pray for the Mitred Authors, and defy  
Those Demicastors of Divinity.  
For when Sir john with jack of all Trades joins,  
His Finger's thicker than the Prelate's Loins.    

The Mixed Assembly.  

FLea-bitten Synod, an Assembly brewed  
Of Clerks and Elders ana, like the rude  
Chaos of presbytery, where Laymen guide  
With the tame Woolpack Clergy by their side.  
Who asked the Banes 'twixt these discoloured Mates?  
A strange Grotesco this; the Church and States,  
Most Divine Tick-Tack in a Piebald Crew  
To serve as Table-men of divers Hue.  
She that conceived an Aethiopian Heir  
By Picture, when the Parents both were fair,  
At sight of you had born a dapled Son,  
You chequering her Imagination.  
Had Iacob's Flock but seen you sit, the Dams  
Had brought forth speckled and ring streaked Lambs:  
Like an Impropriator's Motley kind,  
Whose Scarlet Coat is with a Cassock lined:  
Like the Lay-Thief in a Canonic Weed,  
Sure of his Clergy e'er he did the Deed.  
Like Royston Crows, who are (as I may say)  
Friars of both the Orders, Black and Grace.  
So mixed they are one knows not whether's thicker,  
A Layre of Burgess, of a Layre of Vicar.   

Have they usurped what Royal judah had,  
And now must Levi too part stakes with Gad?  
The Sceptre and the Crosier are the Crutches,  
Which if not trusted in their pious Clutches  
Will fail the Cripple State. And were't not pity  
That both should serve the Yardwand of the City?  
That Isaac might go struck his Beard, and sit  
Judge of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and Elegerit.  
O that they were in Chalk and Charcoal drawn!  
The Miscellany-Satyr and the Fawn,  
And all th' Adulteries of twisted Nature  
But faintly represent this riddling Feature,  
Whose Members, being not Tallies, they'll not own  
Their Fellows at the Resurrection.  
Strange Scarlet Doctors these; they'll pass in Story  
For Sinners half refined in Purgatory;  
Or parboiled Lobsters, where there jointly rules  
The fading Sables, and the coming Gules.  
The Flea that Falstaff damned thus lewdly shows  
Tormented in the Flames of Bardolph's Nose;  
Like him that wore the Dialogue of Cloaks,  
This Shoulder john-a-stiles, that john-a-nokes.  
Like Jews and Christians in a Ship together,  
With an old Neck-Verse to distinguish either.  
Like their intended Discipline to boot,  
Or whatsoe'er hath neither Head nor Foot:  
Such may these stripped Stuff-hanging seem to be,  
Sacrilege matched with Codpiece Simony.  
Be sick and dream a little, you may then  
Fancy these Linsey-Woolsey Vestry-men.   

Forbear good Pembroke, be not overdaring,  
Such Company may chance to spoil thy Swearing;  
And thy Drum-Major Oaths (of bulk unruly)  
May dwindle to a feeble, By my truly;  
He that the Noble Percie's Blood inherits,  
Will he strike up a Hotspur of the Spirits?  
He'll fright the Obadiahs out of tune  
With his uncircumcised Algernoon;  
A Name so stubborn, 'tis not to be scanned  
By him in Gath with the six fingered Hand:  
See they obey the Magic of my Words,  
Presto; they're gone: and now the House of Lords  
Looks like the withered Face of an old Hag,  
But with three Teeth like to a triple Gag.   

A jig a jig, and in this Antic Dance,  
Fielding and Doxy Marshal first advance.  
Twisse blows the Scotch pipes, and the loving Brace  
Puts on the Traces and treads Cinque-a pace.  
Then Say and Seal must his old hamstrings supple,  
And he and rumpled Palmer make a Couple.  
Palmer's a fruitful Girl, if he'll unfold her,  
The Midwife may find work about her Shoulder.  
Kimbolton, that Rebellious Boanerges  
Must be content to saddle Doctor Burges.  
If Burges get a Clap, 'tis never the worse,  
But the fifth time of his Compurgators.  
Nol Bowls is coy, good sadness cannot dance,  
But in obedience to the Ordinance.  
Here Wharton wheels about, till Mumping Lidie  
Like the full Moon hath made his Lordship giddy.  
Pym and the Members must their Giblets levy  
T'encounter Madam Smec, that single Bevy:  
If they two truck together, 'twill not be  
A Childbirth, but a Goal-delivery.  
Thus every Gibelline hath got his Guelf;  
But Selden he's a Galliard by himself;  
And well may be; there's more Divines in him,  
Than in all this their jewish Sanhedrim;  
Whose Canons in the Forge shall then bare date,  
When Mules their Cousin Germane generate.  
Thus Moses Law is violated now,  
The Ox and Ass go yoked in the same Plough.  
Resign thy Coach-box Twisse, Brook's Preacher, he  
Would sort the Beasts with more Conformity.  
Water and Earth make but one Globe, a Roundhead  
Is Clergy-Lay, Party-per-pale compounded.    

Rebellis Scotus.  

CUrae Deo sumus, ista si cedant Scoto?  
Variata spleniis Domina Psyche est suis,  
Aut Stellionatûs rea. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Campanulae omnes; totus Ucalegon fio;  
Coriaceae cui millies mille hydriae  
Suburbicanis pensiles Paraeciis  
Non fint refrigerio. Poeticus furor  
Cometa non minus, vel ore flammeo  
Commune dispuente fatum Stellulâ,  
Dirum ominatur. Ecquis è Stoâ suam  
jam temperet bilem, patria quando lue  
Tam Pymmianâ, id est pediculosâ, perit,  
Bombimachidisque fit bolus myrmeciis?  
Scotos nec ausim nominare, carminum  
Nisi inter amuleta, nec meditarier  
Nisi cerebello, quod capillitio rubens  
(Quale autumo coluberrimum Furiis caput)  
Quot inde verba, tot venena prompserit.  
Rhadamantheum fac, guttur esset nunc mihi,  
Sulphurque, patibulumque copiosius  
Ructans, Magus quam taenias Bombycinias  
Poteram, ut Agyrta Circulator, pilulas  
Vomicas loqui, aut 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Styga;  
Aut ut Genevae stentores Perilleis  
Tartara & equuleos boare Pulpitis,  
At machinanti par forem nunquam Scoto  
Cunctis Sclopetis hisce gutturalibus.  
Ut digna Dii duint, vorem par est prius,  
Praestigator ut sicas & acinaces.  
Huc, huc, jambe, gressibus faxo tuis,  
At huc, jambe morsibus faxo magis,  
Satyraeque tortrices tot huc adducite  
Flagella, quot praesens meretur seculum.  
Scoti Veneficis pares; audax stylum  
Horum cruore tinge, sic nocent minus;  
Ut Martyres olim induebant belluis  
(Quasi sisterent Rogis Sacros hypocritas)  
En hos eodem Schemate, aut retro, Scotos,  
Extra Scotos, intus Feras, & sine tropo.   

Fallax Jerna viperae nihil foves  
Scoto Colono? Non ego Britanniam  
Lupis carentem dixerim, vivo Scoto.  
Quin Thamesinus Pyrgopolinices Scotus  
Poterat Leones, Tigrides, Ursos, Canes  
Proprii Inquilinos pectoris spectaculo  
Monstrasse, pro obolis omnibus quibus solet  
Spectare Monstra Cratis; & Fori simul  
Pene ocreatum vulgus. Et patria Feras  
Sco●…os, eremum indicat terrae plaga.  
Vel omnipraesentem negans Deum, nisi  
Venisset inde Carolus, cohors nisi  
Crafordiana, miles & Montrosseus,  
Feritatis eluens notam paganicae,  
Hanc praestitisset semivictimam Deo.  
Nec Scoticus est totus Leopardus, Leo,  
Habent & Aram, sicut Arcam foederis,  
Velut Tabellae bifidis pictae-plicis  
Fert Angelos pars haec, & haec Cacodaemonas.  
Cui somniante Tartarum suasit pavor  
Sic poenitere, viderat regnum velim  
Nigrius Scotorum semel, & esset innocens.  
Regio malignâ quae facit votum prece,  
Relegetur ad Gyaros breves nunquam Incola!  
Punisset ubi Cainum nec exilio Deus,  
Sed, ut ille trechedipnum, magis domicoenio.  
Ut Gens vagans recutita, vel Contagium,  
Aut Beelzebub, si des Ubiquitarium.  
Hinc erro fit semper Scotus, certos locos,  
Et hos, & illos quoslibet cito nauseans.  
Ut frusta divisi Orbis & Topographicae  
Mendicitatis offulas, curtas nimis.  
Ipse Universitatis haeres integrae,  
Et totus in toto, Natio Epidemica.  
Nec gliscet ergo jargonare Gallicè,  
Exoticis aut indicis modis, neque  
Iberio nutunegare, nec studet  
Callere quem de Belgicis Hoghen Moghen  
Venter tumens, aut barba Canthari refert  
(Quae coriatis una mens Nostratibus)  
Pugna est in animo, atque in patinâ Scoto;  
Huic Struthioni suggeret cybum Chalybs  
Et denti-ductor appetitus baltheo,  
Pro more pendulos molares inserit.   

At interim nostras quid involant dapes?  
Serpens Edenum, non Edenburgum appetit,  
Aut Angliae, cui jam malum est Haemorrhois,  
Haematopotas hos posteris meatibus  
Natura medica supposuit hirudines,  
Cruore satiendas licet nostro prius,  
Nostro, sed & cruore moribundas quoque.   

N●… computo credant priori, nos item  
Novum addituros, servitutem pristinae  
Aliam, gemellam nuperae, fraterculos  
Palpare, quando caeperant (charos-nimis)  
Suffragiorum scilicet Poppysmata,  
Et crustulam impertire, velut offam Cerbero  
Subblandiens decreverat Senatulus.   

Not ●…ra ●…lis? arma visceribus prius  
Inde●…, usque & usque, vel capulo tenus.  
Seri videmus quo Scotum tractes modo.  
Princeps Rebelli mitior tergo, quasi  
Sellas equino detrahens, aptat suo.   

At jus rapinas has defendit vetus?  
Egyptus istaperdit, aufert Israel.  
An Bibliorum nescis hos Satellites  
Praeto lanis queis Cohortibus (novae  
Jerusalem triariis) Spes nititur  
Sororcularum? Cardo, Cardo vertitur  
Cupediarum, primitiva Legis?   

O bone Deus! quanti est carere linteis!  
Orexis ut Borealis & fames movet!  
Victuque, Vestibusque cassi, hinc Knoxio  
Sutore simul & Knoxio utuntur Coquo,  
Piè quod algeant, quod esuriant pie.  
Larvas quin usque detrahas, & nummulis  
Titulisque, ut animabus, sub est fallacia.  
Librae & Barones (detumescant interim  
Vocabulorum sympana) quanti valent!  
Hic Cantianum pene, pene villicum,  
Solidosque totos illa, sed gratis, duos.  
Apage superbae fraudulentiae simul  
Prosapia pictos, fide & pictos, procul:  
Opprobrium Poetico vel stigmati,  
Etiam cruci Crux; non aliter, Hyperbolus  
Hyper scelesius Ostracismo fit pudor.   

Americanus ille qui coelum horrnit,  
Quod Hispanorum repat eò sed pars quota!  
Viderat in Oreo si Scotos (hui tot Scotos!)  
Roterodamus pependerat medioximus.  
Sat Musa! semissa fercularia  
Medullitus vorans, Diabolis invides  
Propriam sibi suam Scoti, paropsidem  
Ut Bernielis enim Scoti; sic Luciser  
Saturatur ipsis Berniclatioribus.   

Nam lapsus a furcâ Scotus, mox & styge  
Tinctus, suum novatur in Plant-Anserem.    

The Rebel Scot  

HOw! Providence! and yet a Scottish Crew!  
Then Madam Nature wears black Patches too,  
What shall our Nation be in bondage thus  
Unto a Land that truckles under us?  
Ring the Bells backward; I am all on fire,  
Not all the Buckets in a Country-Quire  
Shall quench my rage. A Poet should be feared  
When angry, like a Comet's flaming Beard.  
And where's the Stoic can his wrath appease  
To see his Country sick of Pym's disease;  
By Scotch Invasion to be made a prey  
To such Pig-Widgin Myrmidons as they?  
But that there's Charm in Verse, I would not quote  
The Name of Scot without an Antidote;  
Unless my head were red, that I might brew  
Invention there that might be Poison too.  
Were I a drowsy Judge, whose dismal Note  
Disgorgeth Halters, as a Juggler's Throat  
Doth Ribbons? Could I in Sir Empirics tone  
Speak Pills in phrase and quack destruction,  
Or roar like Marshal that Geneva Bull,  
Hell and Damnation a Pulpit full:  
Yet to express a Scot, to play that prize,  
Not all those Mouth-Granados can suffice.  
Before a Scot can properly be cursed,  
I must like Hocus, swallow Daggers first,  
Come, keen iambics, with your Badgers feet,  
And Badger-like bite till your Teeth do meet:  
Help ye tart Satirists to imp my rage  
With all the Scorpions that should whip this Age.  
Scots are like Witches; do but whet your Pen.  
Scratch till the blood come, they'll not hurt you then.  
Now as the Martyrs were enforced to take  
The shapes of Beasts, like Hypocrites at Stake  
I'll bait my Scot so, yet not cheat your eyes;  
A Scot, within a Beast, is no Disguise.   

No more let Ireland brag, her harmless Nation  
Fosters no Venom since that Scot's Plantation:  
Nor can our feigned Antiquity obtain;  
Since they came in, England hath Wolves again.  
The Scot that kept the Tower might have shown  
Within the Grate of his own Breast alone,  
The Leopard and the Panther, and ingross'd  
What all those wild Collegiates had cost.  
The honest High-shoes in their termly Fees,  
First to the Savage Lawyer, next to these.  
Nature herself doth Scotchmen Beasts confess,  
Making their Country such a Wilderness;  
A Land that brings in question and suspense  
God's Omnipresence, but that Charles came thence;  
But that Montross and Crawford's Royal Band  
Atoned their Sin, and Christened half their Land.  
Nor is it all the Nation hath these Spots,  
There is a Church as well as Kirk of Scots.  
As in a Picture where the squinting paint  
Shows Fiend on this side, and on that side Saint.  
He that saw Hell in's melancholy Dream,  
And in the Twilight of his Phancie's Theme  
Scared from his Sins, repent in a fright,  
Had he viewed Scotland had turned Proselyte.  
A Land where one may pray with cursed intent,  
O may they never suffer Banishment!  
Had Cain been Scot, God would have changed his Doom,  
Not forced him wander but confined him home;  
Like jews they spread, and as Infection fly,  
As if the Devil had Ubiquity.  
Hence 'tis they live at Rovers and defy  
This, or that place, Rags of Geography.  
They're Citizens o'th'World, they're all in all,  
Scotland's a Nation Epidemical.  
And yet they ramble not to learn the Mode,  
How to be dressed, or how to lisp abroad;  
To return knowing in the Spanish Shrug,  
Or which of the Dutch States a double Jug  
Resembles most in Belly, or in Beard,  
(The Card by which the Mariners are steered)  
No, the Scots Errand fight, and fight to eat,  
Their Ostrich Stomaches make their Swords their Meat.  
Nature with Scots as Tooth-drawer's hath dealt,  
Who use to string their Teeth upon their Belt.   

Yet wonder not at this their happy choice,  
The Serpent's fatal still to Paradise.  
Sure England hath the Hemorrhoids, and these  
On the North-postern of the Patient seize,  
Like Leeches; thus they Physically thirst  
After our Blood, but in the Cure shall burst.   

Let them not think to make us run o'th'score  
To purchase villainage, as once before  
When an Act passed to stroke them on the Head:  
Call them good Subjects, buy them Gingerbread.   

Not Gold, nor Acts of Grace, 'tis Steel must tame  
The stubborn Scot, a Prince that would reclaim  
Rebels by yielding, doth like him, or worse,  
Who saddled his own back to shame his Horse.   

Was it for this you left your leaner Soil,  
Thus to lard Israel with Egypt's Spoil.  
They are the Gospel's Lifeguard; but for them  
(The Garrison of New jerusalem)  
What would the Brethren do? The Cause! The Cause!  
Sack-Possets, and the Fundamental Laws?   

Lord! what a godly thing is want of Shirts!  
How a Scotch Stomach and no Meat converts!  
They wanted Food and Raiment; so they took  
Religion for their Seamstress, and their Cook.  
Unmask them well, their Honours and Estate,  
As well as Conscience, are sophisticate.  
Shrive but their Title and their Moneys poise,  
A Laird and twenty pence pronounced with noise,  
When construed but for a plain Yeoman go,  
And a good sober two pence, and well so.  
Hence than you proud Impostors, get you gone,  
You Picts in Gentry and Devotion.  
You Scandal to the Stock of Verse, a Race  
Able to bring the Gibbet in disgrace.  
Hyperbolus by suffering did traduce  
The Ostracism, and shamed it out of use.  
The Indian that Heaven did forswear,  
Because he heard some Spaniards were there;  
Had he but known what Scots in Hell had been,  
He would Erasmus-like have hung between.  
My Muse hath done. A Voider for the nonce,  
I wrong the Devil should I pick their Bones;   

That dish is his; for when the Scots decease  
Hell like their Nation, feeds on Bernacles.  
A Scot when from the Gallow-tree got loose  
Drops into Siyx, and turns a Sola●…d Goose.    

The King's Disguise.  

ANd why so coffined in this vile Disguise,  
That who but sees blasphemes thee with his eyes?  
My Twins of Light within their Penthouse shrink,  
And hold it their Allegiance to wink.  
O for a State-Distinction to Arraign  
Charles of High-Treason against my Sovereign?  
What an Usurper to his Prince is wont,  
Cloister and shave him, he himself hath done't.  
His muffled Feature speaks him a Recluse,  
His Ruins prove him a Religious House.  
The Sun hath mewed his Beams from off his Lamp,  
And Majesty defaced the Royal Stamp.  
Is't not enough thy dignity's in thrall,  
But thou'lt transcribe it in thy shape and all?  
As if thy Blacks were of too faint a die  
Without the Tincture of Tautology.  
Flay an Egyptian for his Cassock-skin  
Spun of his country's darkness, lined within  
With Presbyterian badge, that drowsy Trance  
The Synod's sable, foggy Ignorance.  
Nor bodily, nor ghostly Negro could  
Rough-cast thy Figure in a sadder mould.  
This Privy-Chamber of thy Garb would be  
But the Close-Mourner to thy Royalty.  
Then break the Circle of thy tailor's Spell.  
A Pearl within a rugged Oyster's Shell.  
Heaven, which the Minister of thy Person owns,  
Will fine thee for Dilapidations.  
Like to a martyred Abbey's courser doom,  
Devoutly altered to a Pigeon-room;  
Or like a College by the Changeling Rabble,  
Manchester's Elves, transformed into a Stable.  
Or if there be a Profanation higher,  
Such is the Sacrilege of thine Attire;  
By which th'u'rt half deposed, thou look'st like one  
Whose Looks are under Sequestration:  
Whose Renegado-form at the first glance,  
Shows like the Selfdenying Ordinance.  
Angel of Light and Darkness too (I doubt)  
Inspired within, and yet possessed without:  
Majestic Twilight in the state of Grace,  
Yet with an excommunicated Face.  
Charles and his Mask are of a different Mint,  
A Psalm of Mercy in a miscreant Print.  
The Sun wears Midnight; Day is beetle-browed,  
And Lightning is in Kelder of a Cloud.  
O the accursed Stenography of State!  
The Princely Eagle shrunk into a Bat.  
What Charm? what Magic Vapour can it be  
That checks his Rays to this Apostasy?  
It is no subtle film of Tiffany-air,  
No Cobweb-Vizard (such as Ladies wear;  
When they are veiled on purpose to be seen,  
Doubling their Lustre by their vanquished screen.)  
No, the false Scabbard of a Prince is tough,  
And three piled darkness, like the smoky slough  
Of an imprisoned flame; 'tis Faux in grain,  
Dark Lantern to our bright Meridian:  
Hell belched the Damp, the Warwick Castle Vote  
Rang Brittain's Curfew, so our Light went out.  
A black Offender should he wear his Sin.  
For Penance, could not have a darker Skin.  
His Visage is not legible; the Letters  
Like a Lord's Name writ in Fantastic Fetters.  
Clothes where a Swisser might be buried quick;  
Sure they would fit the Body Politic.  
False Beard enough to thatch a Poet's Plot,  
(For that's the Ambush of their Wit, God wot;)  
Nay all his Properties so plain appear,  
Y'are not i'th' Presence, though the King be there.  
A Libel is his dress, a Garb uncouth,  
Such as the Hue and Cry once purged at Mouth.  
Scribbling Assassinate! Thy Lines attest  
An ear-mark due, Cub of the Blatant Beast:  
Whose Breath before 'tis syllabled for worse  
Is Blasphemy unfledged, a callow Curse:  
The Laplanders when they would sell a wind  
Wasting to Hell, bag up thy Phrase and bind  
It to the Bark, which at the Voyage end  
Shifts Poop, and breeds the Colic in the Fiend.  
But i'll not dub thee with a glorious Scar,  
Nor sink thy Sculler with a Man of War.  
The black-mouthed Siquiss, and this slandering suit  
Both do alike in Picture execute.  
But since weare all called Papists: why not date  
Devotion to the Rags thus Consecrate?  
As Temples use to have their Porches wrought  
With Sphynxes, Creatures of an Antic draught,  
And purling Portraitures, to show that there  
Riddles inhabited; the like is here.   

But pardon Sir, since I presume to be  
Clerk of this Closet to your Majesty;  
Methinks in this your dark mysterious Dress  
I see the Gospel couched in Parables.  
The second view my purblind Fancy wipes,  
And shows Religion in its dusky Types;  
Such a Text Royal, so obscure a shade,  
Was Solomon in Proverbs all arrayed.   

Come all the Brats of this expounding Age,  
To whom the Spirit is in Pupilage:  
You that damn more than ever Samson slew,  
And with his Engine the same Jawbone too.  
How is't he escapes your Inquisition free,  
Since bound up in the Bible's Livery?  
Hence Cabinet-Intruders, Picklocks hence,  
You that dim Jewels with your Bristol-sence;  
And Characters, like Witches, so torment,  
Till they coufess a Gild, though Innocent.  
Keys for this cipher you can never get,  
None but Saint Peter's ope'this Cabinet;  
This Cabinet, whose Aspect would benight  
Critic Spectators with redundant light.  
A Prince most seen is least. What Scriptures call  
The Revelation, is most mystical.   

Mount then thou Shadow Royal, and with haste  
Advance thy Morningstar, Charles overcast.  
May thy strange Journey contradictions twist,  
And force fair Wether from a Scottish Mist.  
Heavens Confessors are posed; those Star-eyed Sages  
T'interpret an Eclipse thus riding Stages.  
Thus Israel-like he travels with a Cloud,  
Both as a Conduct to him and a Shroud.  
But O! He goes to Gibeon, and renews  
A League with mouldy bread and clouted shoes!    

Rupertismus.  

O That I could but vote myself a Poet,  
Or had the Legislative knack to do it!  
Or like the Doctor's Militant could get  
Dubbed at adventure Verser Banneret.  
Or had I Cacus trick to make my Rhimes  
Their own Antipodes, and tract the times:  
Faces about says the Remonstrant Spirit,  
Allegiance is Malignant, Treason Merit.  
Huttington-Colt that posed the Sage Recorder  
Might be a Sturgeon now and pass by Order.  
Had I but Elsing's Gift (that splay-mouthed Brother)  
That declares one way, and yet means another:  
Could I thus write asquint, than Sir long since  
You had been sung a Great and Glorious Prince.  
I had observed the Language of these days,  
Blasphemed you, and then periwiged the Phrase  
With humble Service, and such other Fustian,  
Bells which ring backward in this great Combustion,  
I had reviled you, and without offence  
The Literal and th'equitable Sense,  
Would make it good. When all fails this will do't,  
Sure that Distinction cloven the Devil's foot.  
This weremy Dialect, would your Highness please  
To read me but with Hebrew Spectacles;  
Interpret counter what is cross rehearsed;  
Libels are Commendations when reversed.  
Just as an Optic Glass contracts the Sight  
At one end, but when turned doth multiplied.  
But you're enchanted, Sir you're doubly free  
From the great Guns and squibbling Poetry;  
Whom neither Bilbo, nor Invention pierces,  
Proof, even against th' Artillery of Verses.  
Strange! That the Muses cannot wound your Mail,  
If not their Art, yet let their Sex prevail.  
At that known Leaguer where the Bonny Besses  
Supplied the Bowstrings with their twisted Tresses;  
Your Spells could ne'er have fenced you, every Arrow  
Had lanced your noble Breast and drunk the Marrow:  
For Beauty, like white Powder makes no noise,  
And yet the silent Hypocrite destroys.  
Then use the Nuns of Helicon with pity,  
Lest Wharton tell his Gossips of the City,  
That you kill Women too, nay Maids, and such  
Their General wants Militia to touch.  
Impotent Essex! Is it not a shame  
Our Commonwealth like to a Turkish Dame,  
Should have an Eunuch-Guardian? May she be  
Ravished by Charles, rather than saved by thee.  
But why, my Muse, like a Green-sickness Girl,  
Feedest thou on Coals and Dirt? A Gelding Earl  
Gives no more relish to thy Female palate,  
Than to the Ass did once the Thistle Salat.  
Then quit his barren Theme, and all at once  
Thou and thy Sisters like bright Amazons,  
Give Rupert an Alarm. Rupert! one  
Whose name is Wit's Superfoetation;  
Makes Fancy, like Eternity's round womb,  
Unite all Valour past, present, to come.  
He, who the old Philosophy controls,  
That voted down Plurality of Souls.  
He breathes a Grand Committee; all that were  
The Wonders of their Age constellate here.  
●…nd as the Elder Sister's Growth and Sense  
Souls paramount themselves) in Man commence  
●…ut faculties of Reason Queen; no more  
●…re they to him, who was complete before,  
●…gredients of his Virtues. Thread the Beads  
●…f Caesar's Acts, Great Pompey's and the Swedes,  
●…nd 'tis a Bracelet fit for Rupert's hand,  
●…y which that vast Triumvirate is spanned.  
●…ere, here is Palmistry; here you may read  
●…ow long the World shall live, and when't shall bleed.  
What every Man winds up that Rupert hath;  
For Nature raised him on the Public Faith.  
Pandora's Brother, to make up whose store  
The Gods were fain to run upon the score.  
Such was the Painter's Brief for Venus' Face,  
Item an Eye from jane, a Lip from Grace,  
Let Isaac and his Cits flay off the Plate,  
That tips their Antlets, for their Calf of State.  
Let the Zeal-twanging Nose that wants a Ridge,  
Snuffling devoutly, drop his silver Bridg;  
Yes, and the Gossip's Spoon augment the Sum,  
Although poor Caleb lose his Christendom.  
Rupert outweighs that in his Sterling self,  
Which their Self-want pays in Committee-pelf.  
Pardon, Great Sir; for that ignoble Crew  
‛ Gains when made Bankrupt in the Scales with you.  
As he who in his Character of Light  
Styled it God's shadow, made it far more bright  
By an Eclipse so glorious (Light is dim,  
And a black Nothing when compared with him:)  
So 'tis Illustrious to be Rupert's foil,  
And a just Trophy to be made his spoil.  
I'll pin my Faith on the Diurnal's sleeve  
Hereafter, and the Guild-Hall Creed believe.  
The Conquests which the Common-Council hea●…  
With their wide listening Mouth from the Grea●… Pee●…  
That run away in Triumph; such a Foe  
Can make Men Victors in their Overthrow.  
Where Providence and Valour meet in one,  
Courage so poised with Circumspection,  
That he revives the Quarrel once again  
Of the Soul's Throne; whether in Heart, or Brain  
And leaves it a drawn Match; whose fervour can  
Hatch him, whom Nature poached but half a Man  
His Trumpet, like the Angels at the last,  
Makes the Soul rise by a miraculous blast.  
Was that Mount Athos carved in shape of Man,  
As was designed by th' Macedonian,  
Whose right hand should a populous Land contain,  
The left should be a Channel to the Main;  
His Spirit would inform th' Amphibious Figure,  
●…nd straitlaced sweat for a Dominion bigger.  
The terror of whose Name can out of seven,  
●…ike Falstaf's Buckram-men, make fly eleven.  
Thus some grow rich by breaking; Vipers thus  
●…y being slain are made more numerous.  
●…o wonder they'll confess no loss of men;  
●…or Rupert knocks 'em till they gig again.  
They fear the Giblets of his Train, they fear,  
●…ven his Dog, that four-leged Cavalier.  
●…e that devours the Scraps that Lunsford makes,  
Whose Picture feeds upon a Child in Stakes;  
Who name but Charles he comes aloft for him;  
●…ut holds up his Malignant Leg at Pym:  
'Gainst whom they have these Articles in sauce,  
●…irst, that he barks against the Sense o'th'House;  
●…esolv'd Delinquent to the Tower strait;  
●…ither to th'lions, or the Bishop's Grate.  
●…ext for his ceremonious Wag o'th'Tail;  
●…ut there the Sisterhood will be his Bail;  
●…t lest the Countess with Lust's Amsterdam,  
●…hat le's in all Religions of the Game.  
●…hirdly; he smells Intelligence; that's better  
●…nd cheaper too, than Pym's from his own Letter,  
Who's doubly paid (Fortune or we the blinder!)  
●…or making Plots, and then for Fox the finder.  
●…astly; he is a Devil without doubt;  
●…or when he would lie down he wheels about;  
Makes Circles and is couchant in a Ring,  
And therefore score up one for conjuning  
What canst thou say, thou Wretch? O quarter! quarter!  
I'm but an Instrument, a mere Sir Arth●…:  
If I must hang, O let not our Fates vary,  
Whose Office 'tis alike to fetch and carry!  
No hopes of a Reprieve; the mutinous stir,  
That strung the Jesuit will dispatch the Cur.  
Were I a Devil, as the Rabble fears,  
I see the House would try me by my Peers.  
There jowler, there! ah jowler! st, 'tis nought,  
What e'er the Accusers cry, they're at default,  
And Glyn and Maynard have no more to say,  
Than when the glorious Strafford stood at bay.  
Thus Libels but amount to him we see  
T'enjoy a Copyhold of Victory.  
Saint Peter's shadow healed, Rupert's is such  
'Twould find Saint Peter work, and wound as much  
He gags their Guns, defeats their dire Intent.  
The Cannons do but lisp and compliment.  
Sure jove descended in a leaden shower  
To get this Perseus; hence the fatal power  
Of shot is strangled; Bullets thus allied  
Fear to commit an Act of Parricide.  
Go on brave Prince, and make the World confess,  
Thou art the greater World, and that the less.  
Scatter th'accumulative King; untruss  
That fivefold Fiend the State's Smectymnuus,  
Who place Religion in their Vellum-ears,  
As in their Phylacters the jews did theirs.  
England's a Paradise, and a modest word,  
Since guarded by a Cherub's flaming Sword.  
Your Name can scare an Atheist to his Prayers,  
And cure the Chincough better than the Bears.  
Old Sibyl's charm Toothache with you, the Nurse  
Makes you still Children, and the ponderous Curse  
The Clown salutes with is derived from you,  
Now Rupert take thee Rogue, how dost thou do?  
In fine the Name of Rupert thunders so,  
Kimbolton's but a rumbling Wheel-barrow.    

Upon Sir Thomas Martin who subscribed a Warrant thus, We the Knights and Gentlemen of the Committee, when there was no Knight but himself.  

Hung out a Flag and gather pence a piece.  
Which afric never bred, nor swelling Greece  
With Story's Tympany; a Beast so rare,  
No Lecturer's wrought Cap, or Barthol'mew Fair  
Can match him; Nature's Whimsy that outvies  
Tredescant and his Ark of Novelties;  
The Gog and Magog of Prodigious Sights:  
With reverence to your eyes, Sir Thomas Knights.  
But is this Bigamy of Titles due?  
Are you Sir Thomas and Sir Martin too?  
Issachar couchant 'twixt a brace of Sirs,  
Thou Knighthood in a pair of Panniers.  
Thou that look'st wrapped up in thy warlike-Leather,  
Like Valentine and Orson bound together.  
Spur's Representative, thou that art able  
To be a Voider to King Arthur's Table;  
Who in this Sacrilegious Mass of all,  
It seems, has swallowed Windsor's Hospital.  
Pair Royal, headed Cerberus his Cousin;  
Hercules Labours were a Baker's dozen,  
Had he but trumped on thee, whose forked neck  
Might well have answered at the Font for Smec.  
But can a Knighthood on a Knighthood lie?  
Metal on Metal is false Heraldry.  
And yet the known Godfrey of Bouloign's Coat  
Shines in Exception to the Herald's Vote.  
Great Spirits move not by Pedantic Laws,  
Their Actions, though Eccentrick, state the Cause.  
And Priscian bleeds with honour. Caesar thus  
Subscribed two Consuls with one julius.  
Tom never oaded Squire, scarce Yeoman high  
Is Tom twice dipped; Knight of a double die?  
Fond man, whose Fate is in his Name betrayed;  
It is the setting Sun doubles his shade:  
But it's no matter; for amphibious he  
May have a Knight hanged, yet Sir Tom go free.    

The General Eclipse.  

LAdies that gilled the glittering Noon,  
And by Reflection mend his Ray,  
Whose Beauty makes the sprightly Sun  
To dance, as upon Easter-day;  
What are you, now the Queen's away?   

Courageous Eagles, who have whet  
Your Eyes upon Majestic Light,  
And thence derived such Martial heat,  
That still your Looks maintain the Fight;  
What are you, since the King's Goodnight?   

Cavalier-buds, whom Nature teems,  
As a Reserve for England's Throne,  
Spirits whose double edge redeems  
The last Age, and adorns your own;  
What are you, now the Prince is gone?   

As an obstructed Fountain's head  
Cuts the Entail off from the Streams,  
And Brooks are disinherited;  
Honour and Beauty are mere Dreams,  
Since Charles and Mary lost their Beams.   

Criminal Valours! who commit  
Your Gallantry, whose Poean brings  
A Psalm of Mercy after it;  
In this sad Solstice of the King's,  
Your Victory hath mewed her wings.   

See how your Soldier wears his Cage  
Of Iron, like the Captive Turk,  
And as the Guerdon of his Rage!  
See how your glimmering Peers do lurk,  
Or at the best work Journeywork!   

Thus 'tis a General Eclipse,  
And the whole World is al-a-mort;  
Only the House of Commons trips  
The Stage in a Triumphant sort,  
Now even john Lilburn take 'em for't.     

SECT. III. Containing MISCELLANIES.  

Upon Princess Elizabeth born the Night before New-Year's Day.  

AStrologers say, Venus, the self same Star  
Is both our Hesperus and Lucifer;  
The Antitype, this Venus makes it true,  
She shuts the old Year, and begins the new.  
Her Brother with a Star at Noon was born,  
She like a Star both of the Eve and Morn.  
Count o'er the Stars, fair Queen, in Babes, and vie  
With every Year a new Epiphany.    

Upon a Miser who made a great Feast, and the next day died for Grief.  

NOr escapes he so; our Dinner was so good  
My liquorish Muse cannot but chew the Cud,  
And what delight she took in th'Invitation  
Strives to taste over again in this Relation.  
After a tedious Grace in Hopkin's Rhyme,  
Not for Devotion, but to take up time,  
Marched the Train'd-Band of Dishes, ushered there  
To show their Postures, and then as they were:  
For he invites no Teeth, perchance the Eye  
He will afford, the Lover's Gluttony.  
Thus is our Feast a (Muster, not a) Fight,  
Our Weapon's not for Service, but for Sight.  
But are we Tantalised? Is all this Meat  
Cooked by a Limner for to view, not eat?  
Th'Astrologers keep such Houses when they sup  
On Joints of Taurus, or the Heavenly Tup.  
What ever Feasts he made are summed up here,  
His Table vies not standing with his Cheer;  
His Church, Christen, in this Meal are all,  
And not transcribed, but in th'Original.  
Christmas is no Feast movable; fonlo,  
The self same Dinner was ten years ago!  
'Twill be immortal, if it longer stay,  
The Gods will eat it for Ambrosia.  
But stay a while; unless my Vineyard fail  
Or is enchanted, I'll cut off the Entail.  
Saint George for England then! have at the Mutton;  
Where the first cut calls me bloodthirsty Glutton.  
S●…out Ajax with his anger-codled Brain  
Killing a Sheep thought Agamemnon slain;  
The Fiction's now proved true, wounding the Roast,  
I lamentably Butcher up mine Host.  
Such Sympathy is with his Meat, my Weapon  
Makes him an Eunuch, when it carves his Capon.  
Cut a Goose Leg, and the poor Fool for moan  
Turns Cripple too, and after stands on one.  
Have you not heard th'abominable sport  
A Lancaster Grand-Jury will report?  
The Soldier with his Morglay watched the Mill,  
The Cats they came to feast, when lusty Will  
Whips off great Pusses Leg, which (by some Charm)  
Proves the next day such an old Woman's Arm.  
It's so with him, whose carcase never escapes,  
But still we slash him in a thousand shapes.  
Our Servingmen (like Spaniels) range to spring  
The Fowl which he had clucked under his wing.  
Should he on Woodcock, or on Widgeon feed  
It were Thyestes-like, on his own Breed.  
To Pork he pleads a Superstition due,  
But we subscribe neither to Scot, nor jew.  
No Liquor stirs; call for a Cup of Wine;  
'Tis Blood we drink, we pledge thee Catiline.  
Sauces we should have none, had he his wish;  
The Oranges i'th' Margin of his Dish.  
He with such Hu●…ster's care tells over and over,  
Th' Hesperian Dragon never watched them more.  
But being eaten now into despair,  
(Having nought else to do) he falls to prayer.  
Thou that didst once put on the form of Bull,  
And turned thine Io to a lovely Mull,  
Defend my Rump, great jove, alloy my grief,  
O spare me this, this Monumental Beef!  
But no Amen was said; see see it comes;  
Draw Boys, let Trumpets sound, and strike up Drums,  
See how his Blood doth with the Gravy swim,  
And every Trencher hath a Limb of him.  
The Ven'son's now in view, our Hounds spend deeper,  
Strange Deer which in the Pastry hath a Keeper,  
Stricter than in the Park, making his Guest,  
As he had stol't alive, to steal it dressed!  
The scent was hot, and we pursuing faster  
Than Ovid's Pack of Dogs e'er chased their Master;  
A double prey at once we seize upon,  
Actaeon, and his Case of Venison.  
Thus was he torn alive, to vex him worse,  
Death serves him up now as a second Course.  
Should we, like Thracians, our dead bodies eat,  
He would have lived only to save his Meat.  
Last; we did devour that Corpse of His  
Throughout all Ovid's Metamorphosis.    

On the Memory of Mr. Edward King drowned in the Irish Seas.  

I Like not tears in tune, nor do I prise  
His artificial Grief, who scans his eyes.  
Mine weep down pious Beads; but why should I  
Confine them to the Muse's Rosary?  
I am no Poet here; my Pen's the Spout;  
Where the Rain-water of mine eyes run out  
In pity of that Name, whose Fate we see  
Thus copied out in Grief's Hydrography.  
The Muses are not Mer-maids, though upon  
His Death the Ocean might turn Helicon.  
The Sea's too rough for Verse; who rhymes upon't  
With Xerxes strives to fetter th' Hellespont.  
My Tears will keep no Channel, know no Laws  
To guide their streams, but like the waves, their cause  
Run with disturbance, till they swallow me  
As a Description of his Misery.  
But can his spacious Virtue find a Grave  
Within the lmpostumed bubble of a Wave?  
Whose Learning if we sound, we must confess  
The Sea but shallow, and him bottomless.  
Could not the Winds to countermand thy death,  
With their whole Card of Lungs redeem thy breath?  
Or some new Island in thy rescue peep,  
To heave thy Resurrection from the Deep;  
That so the World might see thy safety wrought,  
With no less wonder than thyself was thought?  
The famous S●…garite (who in his life  
Had Nature as familiar as his Wife)  
Bequeathed his Widow to survive with thee  
Queen Dowager of all Philosophy.  
An ominous Legacy, that did portend  
Thy Fate, and Predecessor's second end.  
Some have affirmed that what on Earth we find,  
The Sea can parallel for shape and kind.  
Books, Arts and Tongues were wanting, but in thee  
Neptune hath got an University.   

We'll dive no more for Pearls; the hope to see  
Thy sacred Relics of Mortality  
Shall welcome Storms, and make the Seaman prise  
His Shipwreck▪ now more than his Merchandise.  
He shall embrace the Waves, and to thy Tomb,  
As to a Royaler Exchange shall come.  
What can we now expect? Water and Fire,  
Both Elements our ruin do conspire;  
And that dissolves us which doth us compound,  
One Vatican was burnt, another drowned.  
We of the Gown our Libraries must toss  
To understand the greatness of our Loss;  
Be Pupils to our Grief, and so much grow  
In Learning, as our Sorrows overflow.  
When we have filled the Roundlets of our Eyes  
We'll issueed forth, and vent such Elegies,  
As that our Tears shall seem the Irish Seas,  
We floating Islands, living Hebrides.    

An Elegy upon the Archbishop of Canterbury.  

I Need no Muse to give my Passion vent,  
He brews his Tears that studies to lament.  
Verse chemically weeps, that pious rain  
Distilled by Art is but the sweat o'th'Brain.  
Who ever sobbed in Numbers! Can a Groan  
Be quavered out in soft Division?  
'Tis true, for common formal Elegies  
Not Bushel's Wells can match a Poet's Eyes  
In wanton Waterworks; he'll tune his Tears  
From a Geneva-Jig up to the Spheres:  
But then he mourns at distance, weeps aloof,  
Now that the Conduit Head is our own Roof;  
Now that the Fate is Public, (we may call  
It Brittain's Vespers, England's Funeral.)  
Who hath a Pencil to express the Saint,  
But he hath Eyes too washing off the Paint?  
There is no Learning but what Tears surround,  
Like to Seth's Pillars in the Deluge drowned.  
There is no Church, Religion is grown  
So much of late that she's increased to none.  
Like an Hydropic Body full of Rheums,  
First swells into a Bubble, then consumes.  
The Law is dead, or cast into a Trance,  
And by a Law dough-baked an Ordinance.  
The Liturgy, whose doom was voted next,  
Died as a Comment upon him the Text.  
There's nothing lives, Life is, since he is gone,  
But a Nocturnal Lucubration.  
Thus you have seen Death's Inventory read,  
In the Sum total, Canterbury's dead.  
A sight would make a Pagan to baptise  
Himself a Convert in his bleeding Eyes.  
Would thaw the Rabble, that fierce Beast of ours,  
That which Hyena-like weeps and devours  
Tears that flow brackish from their Souls within,  
Not to repent, but pickle up their Sin.  
Mean time no squalid Grief his Look defiles,  
He guilds his sadder Fate with nobler Smiles.  
Thus the World's Eye with reconciled Streams  
Shines in his showers, as if he wept his beams.  
How could Success such Villainies applaud?  
The State in Strassord fell, the Church in Laud,  
The Twins of public rage, adjudged to die  
For Treasons they should act by Prophecy.  
The Facts were done before the Laws were made,  
The Trump turned up after the Game was played.  
Be dull great Spirits, and forbear to climb;  
For Worth is sin, and Eminence a Crime.   

No Churchman can be Innocent and High,  
'Tis height makes Grantham Steeple stand awry.    

Epitaphium Thomae Spell Coll. Divi johannis Praesidis.  

HIc jacet Quantillum Quanti,  
Ille, quatenus potuit mori,  
Thomas Spellus:  
Fuit nomen, erit Epitheton.  
Posthumus sibi perennabit, idem  
Olim & olim.  
Ille qui sibi futurus Posteri,  
Ut esse poterat Majores sui,  
Honestis quicquid debuit Natalibus  
Mactus in sese; disputandus utrum  
Sui magis, an ex Patrum traduce;  
Quem vitae Drama Mitionem dedit;  
Qui verbae protulit, ut Alcedo pullos  
Omine pacis;  
Quocum sepulta jacet Urbanitas,  
Et Malaci mores tanquam Soldurii  
Commoriuntur.  
Pauperum Scipio, & amor omnium.  
Collegii Coagulum, Honorum Climax,  
Scholaris, Socius, Senior, Praeses,  
Et Pastor gregis in cruce providus,  
Oculos à flendo non moror amplius.  
Vixit.    

Mark Anthony.  

WHen as the Nightingale chanted her Vespers,  
And the wild Forester couched on the ground;  
Venus invited me in th' Evening Whispers  
Unto a fragrant Field with Roses crowned;  
Where she before had sent  
My Wishes Compliment,  
Unto my Heart's content  
Played with me on the Green:  
Never Mark Anthony  
Dallied more wantonly  
With the fair Egyptian Queen.   

First on her cherry Cheeks I mine Eyes feasted,  
Thence fear of Surfeiting made me retire;  
Next on her warmer Lips, which when I tasted  
My duller Spirits made me active as fire;  
Then we began to dart,  
Each at another's Heart,  
Arrows that knew no smart;  
Sweet Lips and Smiles between.  
Never Mark, etc.  
Wanting a Glass to plate her Amber Tresses,  
Which like a Bracelet rich decked mine Arm,  
Gawdier than juno wears, when as she Grace's  
jove with Embraces more stately, than warm;  
Then did she peep in mine  
Eyes, humour Crystalline  
I in her Eyes was seen,  
As if we one had been.  
Never Mark, etc.   

Mystical Grammar of Amorous Glances;  
Feeling of Pulses, the Physic of Love,  
Rhetorical Court and Musical Dances,  
Num●…ring of Kisses Arithmetic prove  
Eyes, like Astronomy,  
Straight-limbed Geometry  
In her Art's Ingeny,  
Our Wits were sharp and keen.  
Never Mark Anthony  
Dallied more wantonly  
With the fair Egyptian Queen.    

The Author's Mock-Song to Mark Anthony.  

WHen as the Nightingale sang Pluto's Matins,  
And Cerberus cried three Amens at a Howl,  
When Night wand'ring Witches put on their Pattens,  
Midnight as dark as their Faces are foul:  
Then did the Furies doom  
That the Nightmare was come;  
Such a misshapen Groom  
Puts down Su. Pomfret clean.  
Never did Incubus  
Touch such a filthy Sus,  
At this foul Gipsy Quean.   

First on her Goosberry Cheeks I mine eyes Blasted,  
Thence fear of vomiting made me retire  
Unto her Blewer Lips, which when I tasted  
My Spirits were duller than Dun in the Mire;  
But when her Breath took place,  
Which went an Usher's pace,  
And made way for her Face,  
You may guests what I mean.  
Never did, etc.   

Like Snakes engendering were plaited her Tresses,  
Or like to slimy streaks of roapy Ale;  
Uglier than Envy wears, when she confesses  
Her Head is periwiged with Adder's Tail.  
But as soon as she spoke,  
I heard a harsh Mandrake:  
Laugh not at my Mistake,  
Her Head is Epicene.  
Never did, etc.   

Mystical Magic of Conjuring Wrinkles;  
Feeling of Pulses, the Palm'stry of Hags,  
Scolding out Belches for Rhetoric Twinkles,  
With three Teeth in her Head like to three Gags:  
Rainbows about her eyes,  
And her Nose Weather-wise,  
From them the Almanac lies,  
Prost, Pond and Rivers clean.  
Never did Incubus  
Touch such a filthy Sus,  
As this foul Gipsy Quean.    

How the Commencement grows new.  

'tIs no Curranto-News I undertake,  
New Teacher of the Town I mean not to make,  
No New-England Voyage my Muse does intend,  
No new Fleet, no bald Fleet, nor bonny Fleet send:  
But if you'll be pleased to hear out this Ditty,  
I'll tell you some News as True and as Witty;  
And how the Commencement grows new.   

See how the Simony-Doctors abound,  
All crowding to throw away Forty pound:  
They'll now in their Wife's Stammel-Petticoats vapour  
Without any need of an Argument-Draper;  
Beholding to none, he neither beseeches  
This Friend for Venison, nor t'other for Speeches  
And so the Commencement grows new.   

Every twice a day the Teaching Gaffer  
Brings up his Easter-book to chaffer:  
Nay some take Degrees, who never had Steeple,  
Whose Means like Degrees, come from Placers of people,  
They come to the Fair, and at the first pluck,  
The Toll-man Bernaby strikes 'em good luck,  
And so, etc.   

The Country Parsons they do not come up  
On Tuesday Night in their own College to sup;  
Their Bellies and Table-Books equally Full,  
The next Lecture-Dinner their Notes forth to pull:  
How bravely the Margaret Professor Disputed,  
The Homilies urged, and the School men Confuted?  
And so, etc.   

The Inceptor brings not his Father, the Clown,  
To look with his Mouth at his Grogoram Gown;  
With like Admiration to eat Roasted Beef,  
Which Invention posed his Beyond- Trent-Belief;  
Who should he but hear our Organs once sound,  
●…ould scarce keep his Hoof from Sellenger's Round,  
And so, etc.   

The Gentleman comes not to show us his Satin,  
To look with some Judgement at him that speaks Latin;  
To be angry with him that makes not his clothes  
To answer, O Lord Sir, and talk Play-book-oaths.  
●…nd at the next Bear-baiting (full of his Sack)  
To tell his Comrades our Discipline's slack.  
And so, etc.   

We have no Prevaricator's Wit;  
●…y, marry Sir, when have you had any yet?  
Besides no serious Oxford man comes  
To cry down the use of Jesting and Hums.  
Our Ballad (believe't) is no stranger than true;  
Mum Salter is sober, and jack Martin too.  
And so the Commencement grows new.    

Square-cap.  

COme hither Apollo's Bouncing Girl,  
And in a whole Hipprocrene of Sherry  
Let's drink a round till our Brains do whirl,  
Tuning our Pipes to make ourselves merry;  
A Cambridge-Lass, Venus-like, born of the Froth  
Of an old half-filled Jug of Barleybroth,  
She, she is my Mistress, her Suitors are many,  
But she'll have a Square-Cap, if e'er she have any.   

And first, for the Plush-sake, the Monmouth-Ca●… comes  
Shaking his Head, like an empty Bottle.  
With his new ●…angled Oath by Jupiter's Thumbs,  
That to her Health he'll begin a pottle:  
He tells her, that after the Death of her Grannum  
She shall have God knows what per Annum;  
But still she replied, Good Sir Labee,  
If ever I have a Man, Square-Cap for me.   

Then 〈◊〉 Leather-Cap strongly pleads,  
And fain would derive his Pedigree of fashion.  
The (Antipodes wear their Shoes on their Heads,  
And why may not we in their Imitation:  
Oh! how the Football noddle would please,  
If it were but well tossed on Sir Thomas his Lees:  
But still she replied, Good Sir Labee  
If ever I have a Man, Square-Cap for me.   

Next comes the Puritan in a wrought-Cap,  
With a long-wasted Conscience towards a Sister,  
And making a Chapel of Ease of her Lap;  
First he said Grace, and then he kissed her:  
Beloved, quoth he, thou art my Text;  
Then falls he to Use and Application next,  
But then she replied, your Text Sir I'll be;  
For then I'm sure you'll ne'er handle me.   

But see where Sattin-Cap scouts about,  
And fain would this Wench in his Fellowship marry,  
He told her how such a Man was not put out,  
Because his Wedding he closely did carry.  
He'll purchase Induction by Simony,  
And offers her Money her Incumbent to be,  
But still she replied, Good Sir Labee,  
If ever I have a Man, Square-Cap for me.   

The Lawyer's a Sophister by his Round-Cap,  
Nor in their Fallacies are they divided,  
The one Milks the Pocket, the other the Tap,  
And yet this Wench he fain would have Bribed:  
Come leave these threadbare Scholars, quoth he,  
And give me Livery and Seisin of thee.  
But peace john-a-nokes, and leave your Oration,  
For I never will be your Impropriation:  
I pray you therefore, Good Sir Labee;  
For if ever I have a Man, Square-Cap for me.    

The Character of a Country-Committee-man, with the Ear-mark of a Sequestrator.  
A Committee man by his Name should be one that is possessed; there is number enough in it to make an Epithet for Legion. He is Persona in concreto (to borrow the Solecism of a Modern Statesman.) You may translate it by the Red-Bull Phrase, and speak as properly, Enter seven Devils solus. It is a well-trussed Title, that contains both the Number and the Beast; for a Committee-man is a Noun of Multitude, he must be spelled with Figures, like Antichrist wrapped in a Pair-Royal of Six. Thus the Name is as monstrous as the Man, a complex Notion, of the same Lineage with Accumulative Treason. For his Office it is the Heptarchy, or England's Fritters; it is the broken meat of a crumbling Prince, only the Royalty is greater; for it is here, as in the Miracle of Loaves, the Voider exceeds the Bill of Fare. The Pope and he rings the Changes; here is the Plurality of Crowns to one Head, join them together and there is a Harmony in Discord. The Triple-headed Turn-key of Heaven, with the Triple-headed Porter of Hell. A Committee-man is the Relics of Regal Government, but, like Holy Relics, he out-bulks the Substance whereof he is a Remnant. There is a score of Kings in a Committee, as in the Relics of the Cross there is the number of Twenty. This is the Giant with the hundred hands that wields the Sceptre; the Tyrannical Bead-Roll, by which the Kingdom prays backward, and at every Curse drops a Committee-man. Let Charles be waved, whose condescending Clemency aggravates the Defection, and make Nero the Question, better a Nero than a Committee. There is less Execution by a single Bullet, than by Case-shot.  
Now a Committee-man is a particoloured Officer. He must be drawn like janus with Cross and Pile in his Countenance; as he relates to the Soldiers, or faces about to his fleecing the Country. Look upon him martially, and he is a Justice of War, one that hath bound his Dalton up in Buff, and will needs be of the Quorum to the best Commanders. He is one of Mars his Lay-Elders, he shares in the Government, though a Nonconformist to his bleeding Rubric. He is the like Sectary in Arms, as the Platonic is in Love; keeps a fluttering in Discourse, but proves a Haggard in the Action. He is not of the Soldiers, and yet of his Flock. It is an Emblem of the Golden Age (and such indeed he makes it to him) when so tame a Pigeon may converse with Vultures. Methinks a Committee hanging about a Governor, and Bandeliers dangling about a fur'd Alderman, have an Anagram Resemblance. There is no Syntax between a Cap of Maintenance and a Helmet. Who ever knew an Enemy routed by a Grand Jury and a Billa vera? It is a left-handed Garrison where their Authority perches; but the more preposterous, the more in fashion; the right hand fights, while the left rules the Reins. The truth is, the Soldier and the Gentleman are like Don Quixot and Sancha Pancha, one fights at all Adventures to purchase the other the Government of the Island. A Committee-man properly should be the governor's Mattress to sit his Truckle, and to new-string him with sinews of War; for his chief use is to raise Assessments in the Neighbouring Wapentake.  
The Country people being like an Irish Co●… that will not give down her Milk, unless she see her Calf before her: Hence it is he is the Garrison's Dry-Nurse, he chews their Contribution before he feeds them; so the poor Soldiers live like Trochilus, ●…y picking the Teeth of this sacred Crocodile.  
So much for his Warlike or Ammunition-Face; which is so preternatural, that it is rather a Vizard than a Face; Mars in him hath but a blinking Aspect, his Face of Arms is like his Coat, Partit perpale; Soldier and Gentleman much of a Scantling.  
Now enter his Taxing and deglubing Face, a squeezing Look, like that of Vespastanus, as if he ●…ere bleeding over a Close-stool.  
Take him thus, and he is in the Inquisition of the Purse an Authentic Gipsy, that nips your ●…ung with a Canting Ordinance: not a murdered Fortune in all the Country, but bleeds at the Touch of this Malefactor. He is the Spleen of the Body Politic, that swells itself to the Consumption of the Whole. At first indeed he ferreted for the Parliament, but since he hath got off his Cope he set up for himself. He lives upon the Sins of the People, and that is a good standing Dish too. He verifies the Axiom, jisdem nutritur ex quibus componitur; his Diet is suitable to his Constitution. I have wondered often, why the plundered Countrymen should repair to him for succour; certainly it is under the same Notion, as one whose Pockets are picked goes to Mal Cutpurse, as the Predominant in that Faculty.  
He out-dives a Dutch man, gets a Noble of him that was never worth six pence; for the poorest do not escape, but Dutch-like, he will be dreyning even in the driest Ground. He aliens a Delinquents Estate with as little Remorse, as his other Holiness gives away an Heretic's Kingdom; and for the truth of the Delinquency, both Chapmen have as little share of Infallibility. Lie is the Grand Salad of Arbitrary Government, Executor to the Star-chamber and the High Commission; for those Courts are not extinct, they survive in him, like Dollars changed into single Money. To speak the truth, He is the Universal Tribunal: For since these Times all Causes fall to his Cognizance; as in a great Infection all Diseases turn oft to the Plague. It concerns our Masters the Parliament to look about them; if he proceedeth at this rate, the Jack may come to swallow the Pike, as the Interest often eats out the Principal. As his Commands are great, so he looks for a Reverence accordingly. He is punctual in exacting your Hat, and to say, Right is his due, but by the same Title as the upper Garment is the Vails of the Executioner. There was a time, when such Cattle would hardly have been taken upon suspicion for Men in office, unless the old Proverb were renewed, That the Beggars make a Free Company, and those their Wardens. You may see what it is to hang together. Look upon them severally, and you cannot but fumble for some Threads of Charity. But oh, they are Termagants in Conjunction! like Fiddlers, who are Rogues when they go single, and joined in Consort, Gentlemen Musicianers. I care not much if I untwist my Committee-man, and so give him the Receipt of this Grand Catholicon.  
Take a State-martyr, one that for his good Behaviour hath paid the Excise of his Ears, so suffered Captivity by the Land-Piracy of Ship-money; next a Primitive Freeholder, one that hates the King because he is a Gentleman, transgressing the Magna Charta of Delving Adam: Add to these a Mortified Bankrupt, that helps out his false Weights with some Scruples of Conscience, and with his peremptory Scales can doom his Prince with a Mene Tekel. These with a new blew-stockinged Justice, lately made of a good Basket-hilted Yeoman, with a short-handed Clerk, tacked to the Rear of him to carry the Knapsack of his Understanding; together with two or three Equivocal Sirs, whose Religion, like their Gentility, is the Extract of their Acres; being therefore Spiritual, because they are Earthly; not forgetting the Man of the Law, whose Corruption gives the Hogan to the sincere Juncto. These are the Simples of this Precious Compound; a kind of Dutch hotchpotch, the Hogan Mogan Committee-man.  
The Committee-man hath a Side-man, or rather a Setter, right a Sequestrator, of whom you may say, as of the Great Sultan's Horse, where he treads the Grass grows no more. He is the State's Cormorant, one that fishes for the public, but feeds himself; the misery is, he fishes without the Cormorant's Property, a Rope to strengthen the Gullet, and to make him disgorge. A Sequestrator! He is the Devil's Nut-hook, the Sign with him is always in the Clutches. There are more Monsters retain to him, than to all the Limbs in Anatomy. It is strange Physicians do not apply him to the Soles of the Feet in a desperate Fever, he draws far beyond Pigeons. I hope some Mountebank will slice him, and make the Experiment. He is a Tooth-drawer once removed; here is the difference, one applauds the Grinder, the other the Grist. Never till now could I verify the Poet's Description, that the ravenous Harpy had a Humane Visage. Death himself cannot quit scores with him; like the Demoniac in the Gospel, he lives among Tombs; nor is all the Holy Water shed by Widows and Orphans, a sufficient Exorcism to dispossess him. Thus the Cat sucks your breath, and the Fiend your blood; nor can the Brotherhood of Witch-finders, so sagely instituted with all their Terror, wean the Familiars.  
But once more to single out my embossed Committee-man; his Fate (for I know you would fain see an end of him) is either a whipping Audit, when he is wrung in the Withers by a Committee of Examinations, and so the Sponge weeps out the Moisture which he had soaked before; or else he meets his Passing-peal in the clamorous Mutiny of a Gut-foundred Garrison: for the Hedge-sparrow will be feeding the Cuckoo, till he mistake his Commons and bites off her head. whatever it is, it is within his desert: For what is observed of some Creatures, that at the same time they trade in Productions three Stories high, Suckling the first, Big with the second, and Clicketing for the third: A Committee-man is the Counterpoint, his Mischief is Superfoetation, a certain Scale of Destruction; for he ruins the Father, beggars the Son, and strangles the hopes of all Posterity.   

The Character of a Diurnal-maker.  
A Diurnal-maker is the Sub-almoner of History, Queen Mab's Register; one whom, by the same Figure that a North-country Pedlar is a Merchantman, you may style an Author. It is like overreach of Language, when every thin, Tinder-cloaked Quack must be called a Doctor; when a clumsy Cobbler usurps the Attribute of our English Peers, and is vamped a Translator. List him a Writer, and you smother Geoffry in Swabber-slops; the very name of Dabbler oversets him; he is swallowed up in the Phrase, like Sir S. L. in a great Saddle, nothing to be seen, but the Giddy Feather in his Crown. They call him a Mercury, but he becomes the Epithet, like the little Negro mounted upon an Elephant, just such another Blot Rampant. He has not Stuff sufficient for the Reproach of a Scribbler; but it hangs about him like an old Wife's Skin, when the Flesh hath forsaken her, lank and loose. He defames a good Title, as well as most of our Modern Noblemen; those Wens of Greatness, the Body Politicks most peccant Humours, Blistered into Lords. He hath so Raw-boned a Being, that however you render him, he rubs it out and makes Rags of the Expression. The silly Countryman, who seeing an Ape in a Scarlet-coat, blessed his young Worship, and gave his Landlord joy of the hopes of his House, did not slander his Compliment with worse Application, than he that names this Shred an Historian. To call him an Historian is to knight a Mandrake: 'Tis to view him through a Perspective, and by that gross Hyperbole to give the Reputation of an Engineer to a Maker of Mousetraps. Such an Historian would hardly pass muster with a Scotch Stationer, in a Sieve full of Ballads and Godly Books. He would not serve for the Breastplate, of a begging Grecian. The most cramped Compendium that the Age hath seen, since all Learning hath been almost torn into Ends, outstrips him by the Head. I have heard of Puppets that could prattle in a Play, but never saw of their Writings before. There goes a report of the Holland Women, that together with their Children, they are delivered of a Sooterkin, not unlike to a Rat, which some imagine to be the Offspring of the Stoves. I know not what Ignis fatuus adulterates the Press, but it seems much after that fashion, else how could this Vermin think to be a Twin to a Legitimate Writer; when those weekly Fragments shall pass for History, let the poor man's Box be entitled the Exchequer, and the Almsbasket a Magazine. Not a Worm that gnaws on the dull Scalp of Voluminous Hollinshed, but at every Meal devoured more Chronicle, than his Tribe amounts to. A Marginal Note of W. P. would serve for a Winding-sheet, for that man's Works, like thick-skinned Fruits, are all Rind, fit for nothing but the Author's Fate to be pared in a Pillory.  
The Cook, who served up the Dwarf in a Pie (to continue the Frolic) might have lapped up such an Historian as this in the Bill of Fare. He is the first Tincture and Rudiment of a Writer, dipped as yet in the preparative Blue, like an Almanac Well-willer. He is the Cadet of a Pamphleteer, the Pedee of a Romancer; he is the Embryo of a History slinked before Maturity. How should he Record the Issue's of time, who is himself an Abortive? I will not say but that he may pass for an Historian in Garbier's Academy; he is much of the size of those Knotgrass Professors. What a pitiful Seminary was there projected! Yet suitable enough to the present Universities, those dry Nurses, which the Providence of the Age has so fully reformed, that they are turned Reformadoes: But that's no matter, the meaner the better. It is a Maxim observable in these days, That the only way to win the Game is to play Petty john's. Of this number is the Esquire of the Quill; for he hath the Grudging of History, and some Yawning accordingly. Writing is a Disease in him, and holds like a Quotidian; so 'tis his Infirmity that makes him an Author, as Mahomet was beholding to the Falling-sickness to vouch him a Prophet. That nice Artificer, who field a Chain so thin and light, that a Flea could trail it (as if he had worked Shorthand, and taught his Tools to cipher) did but contrive an Emblem for this Skip-Jack and his slight productions.  
Methinks the Turk should licence Diurnals, because he prohibits Learning and Books. A Library of Diurnals is a Wardrobe of Frippery; 'tis a just Idea of a Limbo of the Infants. I saw one once that could write with his Toes, by the same token I could have wished he had worn his Copies for Socks; 'tis he without doubt from whom the Diurnals derive their Pedigree, and they have a Birthright accordingly, being shuffled out at the bed's feet of History. To what infinite numbers an Historian would multiply, should he crumble into Elves of this Profession? To supply this smallness they are fain to join Forces, so they are not singly, but as the Custom is, in a Croaking Committee. They tug at the Pen, like slaves at the Oar, a whole Bank together; they write in the Posture that the Suedes gave fire in, over one another's heads. It is said there is more of them go to a Suit of clothes than to a Britannicus: In this Polygamy the clothes breed, and cannot determine whose Issue is Lawfully begotten.  
And here I think it were not amiss to take a particular how he is accourred, and so do by him as he in his Siquiss for the Wall-eyed Mare, or the Crop-Flea-bitten, give you the Marks of the Beast. I begin with his Head, which is ever in Clouts, as if the Nightcap should make Affidavit, that the Brain was pregnant. To what purpose doth the Pia Mater lie in so dully in her white Formalities: Sure she hath had hard Labour; for the Brows have squeezed for it, as you may perceive by his Buttered Bon-grace, that Film of a Demicastor; 'tis so thin and unctuous that the Sunbeams mistake it for a Vapour, and are like to Cap him; so it is right Heliotrope, it creaks in the Shine, and ●…aps in the Shade: whatever it be, I wish it were able to call in his Ears. There's no proportion between that Head and Appurtenances; those of all Lungs are no more fit-for that small Noddle of the Circumcision, than Brass Bosses for a Geneva-Bible. In what a puzzling Neutrality is the poor Soul, that moves betwixt two such ponderous Biasses! His Collar is edged with a piece of peeping Linen, by which he means a Band; 'tis the Forlorn of his Shirt crawling out of his Neck: Indeed it were time that his Shirt were jogging; for it has served an Apprenticeship and (as Apprentices use) it hath learned its Trade too, to which effect 'tis marching to the Paper-mill, and the next week sets up for itself in the shape of a Pamphlet. His Gloves are the shave of his Hands; for he casts his Skin like a cancelled Parchment. The Itch represents the broken Seals. His Boots are the Legacies of two black Jacks, and till he pawned the Silver that the Jacks were tipped with, it was a pretty Mode of Boot-hose-tops. For the rest of his Habit he is a perfect Seaman, a kind of Tarpaw●…, he being hanged about with his course Composition, those Pole-davie Papers.  
But I must draw to an end; for every Character is an Anatomy-lecture, and it ●…ares with me in this of the Diurnal-maker, as with him that reads on a begged Malefactor, my Subject smells before I have gone thorough with him; for a parting Blow then. The word Historian imports a sage and Tole●…n Author; one that curls his Brow with a sullen Gravity, like a Bull-necked Presbyter, since the Army hath got him off his Jurisdiction, who Presbyter-like sweeps his Breast with a Reverend Beard, full of Native Moss-Troopers: not such a squirting Scribe as this, that's troubled with the Rickets, and makes pennyworths of History. The Colledge-Treasury that never had in Bank above a Harry-groat, shut up there in a melancholic solitude, like one that is kept to keep possession, had as good Evidence to show for his Title, as he for an Historian: so, if he will needs be an Historian, he is not cited in the Sterling acceptation, but after the rate of Blew-caps Reckoning, an Historian Scot Now a Scotch-man's Tongue runs high Fullams. There is a Cheat in his Idiom; for the sense Ebbs from the bold Expression, like the Citizen's Gallon, which the Drawer interprets but half a Pint. In sum; a Diurnal-maker is the Antimark of an Historian; he differs from him as a Dril from a Man, or (if you had rather have it in the Saint's Gibberish (as a Hinter doth from a Holder forth.   

The Character of a London-Diurnal.  
A Diurnal is a puny Chronicle, scarce Pin-feathered with the Wings of Time. It is a History in Sippets: The English Iliads in a Nutshell: The Apocryphal Parliament's Book of Maccabees in single sheets. It would tyre a Welshman to reckon up how many Aps 'tis removed from an Annal: for it is of that Extract, only of the younger. House, like a Shrimp to a Lobster. The Original Sinner in this kind was Dutch, Gallobelgi●…us the Protoplast, and the modern Mercuries but Hans-en-kelders. The Countess of Zoaland was brought to bed of an Almanac, as many Children as days in the year. It may be the Legislative Lady is of that Lineage, so she spawns the Diurnals, and they at Westminster take them in Adoption by the names of Scoticus, Civicus, Britannicus. In the Frontispeice of the old Beldame Diurnal, like the Contents of the Chapter, sitteth the House of Commons judging the twelve Tribes of Israel. You may call them the Kingdom's Anatomy before the weekly Calendar; for such is a Diurnal, the day of the Month with what Wether in the Commonwealth. It is taken for the Pulse of the Body Politic, and the Emperick-Divines of the Assembly, those Spiritual Dragooners, thumb it accordingly. Indeed it is a pretty Synopsis; and those Grave Rabbis (though in the point of Divinity) trade in no larger Authors. The Country-carrier, when he buys it for the Vicar, miscalls it the Urinal; yet properly enough, for it casts the Water of the State ever since it staled Blood. It differs from an Aulicus, as the Devil and his Exorcist, or as a black Witch doth from a white one, whose office is to unravel her Enchantments.  
It begins usually with an Ordinance, which is a Law stillborn, dropped before quickened by the Royal Assent. 'Tis one of the Parliament's By-blows, Acts only being Legitimate, and hath no more Sire than a Spanish Jennet that is begotten by the Wind.  
Thus their Militia, like its Patron Mars, is the Issue only of the Mother, without the Concourse of Royal jupiter: Yet Law it is, if they vote it, in defiance to their Fundamentals; like the old Sexton, who swore his Clock went true, whatever the Sun said to the contrary.  
The next Ingredient of a Diurnal is Plots, horrible Plots, which with wonderful Sagacity it hunts dryfoot, while they are yet in their Causes before Materia prima can put on her Smock. How many such fits of the Mother have troubled the Kingdom; and for all Sir W. E. looks like a Man-Midwife, not yet delivered of so much as a Cushion? But Actors must have Properties; and since the Stages were voted down, the only Playhouse is at Westminster.  
Suitable to their Plots are their Informers, Skippers and Tailors, Spaniels both for the Land and Water. Good conscionable Intelligence! For however Pym's Bill may inflame the reckoning, the honest Vermin have not so much for Lying as the Public Faith.  
Thus a zealous Butcher in moorfield's, while ●…he was contriving some Quirpo-cut of Church-Government, by the help of his outlying Ears and the Otacousticon of the Spirit, discovered such a Piot, that Selden intends to combat Antiquity, and maintain it was a tailor's Goose that preserved the Capitol.  
I wonder my Lord of Canterbury is not once more ●…ll-to-be-traytor'd, for dealing with the Lions to settle the Commission of Array in the Tower. It would do well to cramp the Articles dormant, besides the opportunity of reforming these Beasts of ●…he Prerogative, and changing their profaner ●…ames of Harry and Charles into Nehemiah and Eleazar.  
Suppose a Corn-cutter, being to give little Isaac a cast of his Office, should fall to paring his Brows (mistaking the one end for the other, because he branches at both) this would be a Plot, and the next Diurnal would furnish you with this Scale of Votes.  
Resolved upon the Question, That this Act of the Corn-cutter was an absolute Invasion of the City's Charter in the representative forehead of Isaac.  
Resolved, That the evil Counselors about the Corn-cutter are Popishly-affected, and Enemies to the State.  
Resolved, That there be a public Thanksgiving for the great deliverance of Isaac' s Brown-antlers; and a solemn Covenant drawn up to defy the Corn-cutter and all his Works.  
Thus the Quixots of this Age fight with the Windmills of their own heads, quell Monsters of their own Creation, make Plots, and then discover them; as who fitter to unkennel the Fox, than the Terrier that is part of him?  
In the third place march their Adventures; the Roundheads Legend, The Rebel's Romance; Stories of a larger size, than the Ears of their Sect, able to strangle the Belief of a Solifidian.  
I'll present them in their order. And first as a Whister before the show enter Stamford, one that trod the Stage with the first, traversed his ground, made a Leg and Exit. The Country people took him for one, that by Order of the Houses was to dance a Morris through the West of England. Well, he's a nimble Gentleman; set him upon Banks his Horse in a Saddle rampant, and it is a great question which part of the Centaur shows better Tricks.  
There was a Vote passing to translate him with all his Equipage into Monumental Gingerbread; but it was crossed by the female Committee, alleging that the Valour of his Image, would bite their Children by the Tongues.  
This Cubit and half of Commander, by the help of a Diurnal routed his Enemies fifty miles off. It's strange you'll say, and yet 'tis generally believed, he would as soon do it at that distance as nearer hand. Sure it was his Sword for which the Weapon-salve was invented; that so wounding and healing (like loving Correlates) might both work at the same removes. But the Squib is run to the end of the Rope: Room for the Prodigy of Valour. Madam Atropos in Breeches, Waller's Knight-errantry; and because every Mountebank must have his Zany, throw him in Hazlerig to set off his Story. These two, like Bel and the Dragon, are always worshipped in the same Chapter; they hunt in couples, what one doth at the head, the other scores up at the heels.  
Thus they kill a man over and over, as Hopkins and Sternhold murder the Psalms with another of the same; one chimes all in, and then the other strikes up as the Saints-Bell.  
I wonder for how many Lives my Lord Hopton took the Lease of his Body.  
First Stamford slew him, than Waller out-killed that half a Bar; and yet it is thought the sullen Corpse would scarce bleed, were both these Man-slayers never so near it.  
The fame goes of a Dutch Headsman, that he would do his office with so much ease and dexterity, that the Head after Execution should stand upon the Shoulders. Pray God Sir William be not Probationer for the place; for as if he had the same knack too, most of those whom the Diurnal hath slain for him, to us poor Mortals seem untouched.  
Thus these Artificers of death, can kill the Man without wounding the Body, like Lightning, that melts the Sword, and never singdes the Scabbard.  
This is the William whose Lady is the Conqueror; This is the City's Champion and the Diurnals delight; he that Cuckolds the General in his Commission; for he stalks with Essex, and shoots under his Belly, because his Excellency himself is not charged there; yet in all this triumph there is a Whip and a Bell; translate but the Scene to Roundway down, there Hazelrig's Lobsters turned Crabs, and crawled backwards; there poor Sir William ran to his Lady for an use of Consolation.  
But the Diurnal is weary of the arm of flesh, and now begins an Hosanna to Cromwell; one that hath beat up his Drums clean through the Old Testament; you may learn the Genealogy of our Saviour by the names in his Regiment: the Muster-master uses no other List but the first Chapter of Matthew.  
With what face can they object to the King the bringing in of Foreigners, when themselves entertain such an Army of Hebrews? This Cromwell is never so valorous, as when he is making Speeches for the Association; which nevertheless he doth somewhat ominously with his Neck awry, holding up his ear as if he expected Mahomet's Pigeon to come and prompt him. He should be a Bird of Prey too by his bloody Beak: His Nose is able to try a young Eagle, whether she be lawfully begotten. But all is not Gold that glisters. What we wonder at in the rest of them is natural to him, to kill without Bloodshed; for the most of his Trophies are in a Church-window, when a Looking-glass would show him more Superstition. He is so perfect a hater of Images, that he hath defaced God's in his own Countenance. If he deals with men, 'tis when he takes them napping in an old Monument, than down goes Dust and Ashes, and the stoutest Cavalier is no better. O brave Oliver! Time's Voider, Subsizer to the Worms, in whom Death, who formerly devoured our Ancestors, now chews the cud. He said Grace once as if he would have fallen aboard with the Marquis of Newcastle; nay and the Diurnal gave you his Bill of fare; but it proved a running Banquet, as appears by the Story. Believe him as he whistles to his Cambridge-Teem of Committee-men, and he doth Wonders. But holy Men, like the holy Language, must be read backwards. They rifle Colleges to promote Learning, and pull down Churches for Edification. But Sacrilege is entailed upon him. There must be a Cromwell for Cathedrals as well as Abbeys; a secure sin, whose offence carries its pardon in its mouth: for how shall he be hanged for Church-robbery, that gives himself the benefit of the Clergy!  
But for all Cromwel's Nose wears the Dominical Letter, compared to Manchester, he is but like the Vigils to an Holiday. This, this is the Man of God, so sanctified a Thunderbolt, that Burroughs (in a proportionable Blasphemy to his Lord of Hosts) would style him the Archangel giving battle to the Devil.  
Indeed as the Angels each of them makes a several Species; so every one of his Soldiers makes 〈◊〉 distinct Church. Had these Beasts been to enter into the Ark, it would have puzzled Noah to have sorted them into pairs. If ever there were a Rope of Sand, it was so many Sects twisted into an Association.  
They agree in nothing, but that they are all Adamites in understanding. It is a sign of a Coward to wink and fight, yet all their Valour proceed●… from their Ignorance.  
But I wonder whence their General's Purity proceeds; it is not by Traduction: If he was begotten a Saint, it was by equivocal Generation, for the Devil in the Father is turned Monk in the Son, so his Godliness is of the same Parentage with good Laws, both extracted out of bad Manners; and would he alter the Scripture, as he hath attempted the Creed, he might vary the Text, and say to Corruption, Thou art my Father.  
This is he that put out one of the Kingdom's Eyes by clouding our Mother-University; and (if this Scotch Mist farther prevail) he will extinguish the other. He hath the like quarrel to both, because both are strung with the same Optic Nerve, Knowing Loyalty.  
Barbarous Rebel! Who will be revenged upon all Learning, because his Treason is beyond the Mercy of the Book.  
The Diurnal as yet hath not talked much of his Victories, but there is the more behind; for the Knight must always beat the Giant, that's resolved.  
If any thing fall out amiss which cannot be smothered, the Diurnal hath a help at maw. It is but putting to Sea and taking a Danish Fleet, or brewing it with some success out of Ireland, and then it goes down merrily.  
There are more Puppets that move by the wire of a Diurnal, as Brereton and Gell, two of 〈◊〉 his Petty-toes, such snivelling Cowards, that it is a favour to call them so. Was Brereton to fight with his Teeth (as in all other things he resembles the Beast) he would have odds of any man at the weapon. O he's a terrible Slaughterman at a Thanksgiving-Dinner! Had he been Cannibal to have eaten those that he vanguished, his Gut would have made him valiant.  
The greatest wonder is at Fairfax, how he comes to be a Babe of Grace; certainly it is not in his personal, but (as the State-sophies' distinguish) in his Politic Capacity; regenerate ab extra by the Zeal of the House he sat in, as Chickens are hatched at Grand Cairo by the Adoption of an Oven.  
There is the Woodmonger too, a feeble Crutch to a declining Cause; a new Branch of the old Oak of Reformation.  
And now I speak of Reformation, Vouz avez Fox the Tinker, the liveliest Emblem of it that may be: for what did this Parliament ever go about to reform, but Tinker-wise, in mending one hole they made Three?  
But I have not Ink enough to cure all the Tetters and Ringworms of the State.  
I will close up all thus. The Victories of the Rebels are like the Magical Combat of Apuleius, who thinking he had slain three of his Enemies, found them at last but a Triumvirate of Bladders. Such, and so empty are the Triumphs of a Diurnal, but so many Impostumated Fancies, so many Bladders of their own blowing.   

A Letter sent from a Parliament-Officer at Grantham to Mr. Cleveland in Newark.  
SIR,  
THough I have no reason to be guilty of much good meaning to your Garrison; yet I thought it not unfit to tell you, that on Friday last, one Hill by name, in no other condition than my Servant, entered your Ark, and with him of my moneys 133 l. 8ds. This precise Sum I was willing you should know, supposing your Wisdom might own the moneys, though your Honesty could hardly allow the Act: which if so, and that hereafter we shall find it no Sin to violate your Sanctuary, and upon the Audit find thereceipt, we may happily count it a Loan, and not a Loss, it being in hands responsible for greater matters. And now, Sir, let me speak to you as a Judge, not as an Advocate. Give the Fellow his just reward; prefer him, or send him hither and we shall: if you dare not trust him, let him be Trussed; i●… you dare, I shall wish you more such Servants; and for that only reason excuse me for the present, that I dare not say I am yours  
W. E,   

Mr. Cleveland's Reply.  
Sixthly, Beloved,  
IS it so then, that our Brother and Fellow-labourer in the Gospel is started aside? Then this may serve for an use of Instruction, not to trust in Man, nor in the Son of Man. Did not Demas leave Paul? Did not Onesimus run from his Master Philemon? Besides, this should teach us to employ our Talon, and not to lay it up in a Napkin. Had it been done among the Cavaliers, it had been just; then the Israelite had spoiled the Egyptian; but for Simeon to plunder Levi, That! That! You see, Sir, what Use I make of the Doctrine you sent me; and indeed since you change Style, so far as to nibble at Wit, you must pardon me, if to quit scores, I pretend a little to the Gift of Preaching. Sir, I expected to hear from you in the Language of the lost Groat, and the Prodigal Son, and not in such a Tantivy of Language; but I perceive your Communication is not always Yea, Yea; now and then a little Harlotry-Rhetorick. You say that your Man is entered our Ark: I am sorry you were so ignorant in Scripture, as to let him come single. The Text had been better satisfied, if you had pleased to bear him company; for then the Beasts had entered by Couples: But though he came alone, yet well lined it seems, with 133 l. 8ds. Sure your Hue and Cry hath good Lungs, it would have been out of breath else, before it had reached the Eight pence. This is the Sum; but why you call it the Precise Sum, since it is thus fallen away, I understand not. But how come you to reckon so punctually? Did Ananias tell it upon the Table Dormant? What year of the Persecution of the Saints? I wonder you did not rather count it by the Shekels, that is the more sanctified Coyn. You mistake in the Sanctuary you speak of; for that which your Man hath taken in Welbeck, one of our Chapels of Ease, not the Mother-Church, our Garrison of Newark; but the best is, they are both without the reach of your Sacrilege. Whereas you account your Loss but a Loan, we shall grant it a Debt, but bearing the same Date of Payment with that which you borrowed on the Public Faith. I suspect your hand was troubled with the Palsy, when you wrote of a Judge; your Man however shall find me an Advocate; for what say you to an occasional Meditation? Reflect but upon yourself, how you have used your Common Master, and I doubt not but you will pardon your Man. He hath but transcribed Rebellion, and copied out that Disloyalty in Shorthand, which you have committed in Text. Sir, I bemoan your Losses, and am sorry I cannot as easily repay that of your Money, as your Man, being resolved to supply that place myself; and to make it appear by wearing the Livery of this Title,  
Sir, Your Servant I. C.   

The Officer's rejoinder.  
SIR,  
HAd not Indulgent Mercy provided for troubled Spirits Sacred Oracles, how troubled had you been to contrive something worthy of Laughter? How easy had the expense of your Wit been trussed up in an Eggshell. I dare not trace in holy Ground, it is not safe nibbling there. You see what Doctrine I make of your Use; but yet so far as yours is Profane, give me leave to nibble at Wit. Though I dare not undertake like a mighty Coloss (whose very motion doth Cleave Land, like ●…erram findere) to devour indigested lumps of Wit, as the Cyclops Men at a Morsel, and then retail it ●…ut, as a Juggler doth Inkle, by the Yard; yet allow me to nibble, and I'll allow you the Gift in Preaching. Pity it is, the provision of so many savoury Lessons, wholesome Instructions, even so many pious Collections, as might worthily have entitled you to the comfortable Subsistence of a well-glebed Vicarage. Besides the Advantage of a Wit, which would require another Wit to tell ●…ow great; such a Divine Knowledge, as might enable you to profane every Leaf of Holy Writ; Unknown Sanctity, and a Conscience so tender I dare not touch. Pity it is, such accomplished Gifts and prodigious Parts, should be misemployed in Secular affairs. Such an Holy Father might have begot as many Babes for the Mother-Church of New●…ark, as our Party of late hath done Garrisons, and converted as many Souls as Chaucer's Friar with th●… Shoulder-bone of the lost Sheep. But you say yo●… expected (I thought you had had more than yo●… expected) but however you expected Penitentia●… Language and Humble Style, (the Groat I wi●… not meddle with, 'tis Holy Coin) an Addres●… full of Complaints; Sir, we, like yourselves, ca●… speak big of our Losses, and yet with more Ingenuity confess them; though I for modesty will no●… ask you who stole from you of late a Fort-town? Or who run away with the King? but of that— For that precise Sum, I see you are willing to quarrel at Preciseness; it was to tell you, Revenge would have transferred it upon your very— How you quarrel at your good! Had you mistaxen him for a Tax-gatherer, and eased him of his Portage before he arrived at your Chapel of Ease. I would not you should have abated him a fourth part for his Forwardness, and put it upon the File of Contribution for his majesty's good Garrsson of Newark; I should have liked the Security well and when your Works had failed to save you, expected a return upon the Public Faith; the Meditation whereof, putteth me upon this Advice: Think not Profaneness can compact with Mud, to cast up a Trench of Security. Attempt not (though a Giant) to reach at Stars; to throw that Proverb at you,  
Be wise on this side Heaven.   

Mr. Cleveland's Answer.  
SIR,  
THE Philosopher that never laughed but once, when he saw an Ass mumbling of Thistles, would have broke his Spleen at this rejoinder of yours; for who would not take that to be an Emblem of this, observing how gingerly, and with what caution you nibble at my letter, lest it should prick your Chaps? But something must needs be replied. Repetitions are usual with the Saints at Grantham. I look upon your Letter as a Spittle-Sermon; Sallinger's Round, the same again. I perceive your Ambition, how you would prove yourself to be a clean Beast, because you know how to chew the Cud; for the first Sentence where you speak of troubled Spirits and Sacred Oracles, you talk as if you were in Doll Commons Ecstasy. Certainly your spirit is troubled, else your Expression had not run so muddy; for never was Oracle more ambiguous, if possible to be reconciled to Sense. The Wit which you say may be trussed up in an Eggshell, I fear your Oval Crown hath scarce Capacity enough to contain. You disclaim being a Coloss: Content; I have as diminutive thoughts of you as you please. I take you for a Jack-a-Lent, and my Pen shall make use of you accordingly, three Throws for a penny: But you cannot Cleave Land like Terrain findere. What a chargeable Commodity is Wit at Grantham, where the poor Writer plays the Pimp, and jumbles two Language together in unlawful Sheets for the Production of a Quibble: But I applaud your Cunning, for the more unknown Tongue you jest in, your Wit will be the better. And why cannot you Cleave the Land? Tread but hard, and your cloven Foot will leave its Impression. You talk of Cyclops and Jugglers (indeed hard words are the Juggler's Dialect:) But take heed, the time may come, when unless you can play Presto be gone, your Runaway King may cause you Jugler-wise to disgorge your Fate, and vomit a Rope instead of Inkle. But to echo your Comparison, and to return you an Inventory of your good Parts. Is it not pity, that the pure Extract of sanctified Emmanuel, parboiled there in the Pipkin of Predestination, and since well read in the Sick-man's Salve and the Crumbs of Comfort, and liberally said with all the Minced Meat in Divinity? Is it not pity, such a Goggle of the Eye, such a melodious Twang of the Nose, a pliable Mouth drawn awry, as if it were ●…fying the Ear in private, besides Cheverel-Lungs that will stretch as far as seventeenthly? Is it not pity, that these gallant Ingredients of Modern Devotion, which might justly have qualified you for a Tub Lecturer, and in time made your Diocese as large as that of Heidelberg; that these ineffable Parts which pass all understanding, should thus be sequestered from their Primitive Use, and of a godly Lancepresado in the Church Militant, be converted to a Brother of the Blade. Such a walking Directory, such a zealous Roger as this, might have saved more Souls than Samson slew, and with the same Engine, the Jawbone of an Ass. Your Pen is coy, and you wave the Holy Ground and Holy Coin with a squeamish Preterition. I am glad to hear you acknowledge there is Holy ground; for than I hope Hatcham— Barn is not as good a Congregation as St. Paul's. For the Holy Coin, you must pardon me, if I suspect the Chastity of your Fingers. I am sure those of your Party have been troubled with Felons; witness the Church-Revenues, and the several Sacrileges which cannot be pared off with your Nails: But there is another Reason why you abstain from the Idiom of the Saints. You were in hopes to retrieve your Money, and Verily, Verily, Ret never springs the Partridge. You would have your Man taken for a Tax-gatherer. Lord how the Clime altars the Man! When he was with you, he was one of the Scribes and Pharisees, and here he must pass for a Publican and Sinner. Sir, We cast up no Trench of Security, though we might have Dirt enough in your Language to do it; and yet we hope to be saved by our Works, for all the strength of your Faith, whereby you hold yourselves able to remove Mountains. For your Advice not to throw Stars at your head, I embrace it; for what need 〈◊〉, so long as there is Goose-shot to be had for Mo●…ey. My Wit shall be on what side Heaven you please, provided it ever be Antarctick to yours. For the appellation of Giant, I accept it, only I am ●…orry I am not he with the hundred hands, that I might so often subscribe myself,  
SIR, Your Servant I. C.   

An Answer to a Pamphlet written against the Lord Digbies Speech, concerning the Death of the Earl of Strafford.  
'TIS the wittiest Punishment that the Poets fancied to be in Hell, that one should continunually twist a Rope, and an Ass stand by and bite it off. I know not how this Noble Gentleman should ever deserve it, but such is his Fate; for while the Pamphleteer strives to tear his Speech, to ravel this Twist of Eloquence and Judgement, what doth he but make my Lord and himself the Moral of the Fable? The first word in his Penny-libel is ominous for a Duel. The Sand was always the Scene of Quarrelling, and so he calls the Speech. If this be Sand, I shall easily incline to Democritus his Opinion, who thought the World to be composed of Atoms, and shall be able to render a reason hereafter, why jupiter, when he was most Oraculous, was called jupiter Ammon, jupiter of the Sand: but as Thomas Mason says, am I bound to find you Wit and History? Why the Sand? The Sand, that is, the Incoherent. You shall never take a Pamphleteer, one of these Haberdashers of small Wares, without his Videlicets, or his Utpotes. An ingeńious Metaphor needs no spokesman to the Apprehension, but is entertained without a pimping Videlicet. A Videlicet is an Hic Canis, it argues a Bungling Writer, as that a Painter. But wherein Incoherent? Because it shows, wherein the same Man may both condemn and acquit the same Man. Why, is that such a Riddle? May not I commend you for a Single soul'd Rhymer, one that can Chime All-in to an Execution, and yet use the Scotch Proverb, and turn your Nose where your Arse was in point of State-policy. Though you have a pretty Faculty in Country- Tom and Cambery-bess; yet faces about in State affairs. A divers Quatenus commends and vilifies, condemns and acquits. But a Pox of all English Logic. He hath found Idem qua idem somewhere Translated, and that's it which raises all this Dust, disturbs the Sand. Well, grant it be Sand; what becomes on't? Why, Captain Puff will blow it away. My Adversary, I perceive, has eaten Garlic, and wholly relies upon the Valour of his Breath; and indeed I question not the strength of that, I find it sufficiently in the Rankness of his Language. Certainly he hath a great mind to be painted like Bore●…s in the great Ship, with that ingenious ●…mpress, Sic Flo. But, hark you Gaffer; you that will tear the Speech and blow away the Sand; before you and I part, I shall so prick the Tympany of your Cheeks, and so mince your Pamplet, that the least Sand shall be a Grave sufficient for the biggest piece of it. But, see the Prowess of our Domitian; he'll kill this Fly himself, and not with an Axe, or a Bill of Attainder. He scorns to ●…ry Clubs; he'll not oppugn it with the Votes of the Houses, with the Judge's Opinions; nor are we so mad to enter the Lists of such a Comparison. But this is but one of his ordinary Solecisms. The Speech must be considered as when first made; then the Houses had not voted; then the Judges had ●…ot determined, and (what's as Material as any ●…hing) the Rabble had not yelled for Justice and Execution then; and therefore to commit them with this Speech, what were it but to fancy a Prolepsis? to antedate Combatants, that were not yet in being? so that if any thing add to the strength of the Speech, beside its own Nerves, it is the weakness of the Confuter, not of the Reader. I make no question but your Reader is quit with you for that abuse. You say, My Lord steals his Affection; I dare purge you of that Felony: Marry, if you will needs cry Guilty, it cannot amount to above Petty Larceny; so much as may ask the Banns betwixt your Shoulders and a piece of Packthread: for whereas you damn my Lord's Arguments to the Hospital; I am sure yours stand in need of Bedlam, and the wholesome Phlebotomy of a Whip, to fetch the Dog-days out of your Scull; and so, though you stand like Death over the Belfry, with a great Scythe comparing the Speech to Grass, the Event will disarm you of your Utensil; and in stead of a Scythe for Mowing, give you a Whetstone for Lying. Hitherto he hath been Tuning the strings, now he strikes up. Pray you mark the Lesson. Will you see an Argument of this Paper, and indeed a Paper-Argument? Did you ever hear the Changes better rung upon two Bells? I am persuaded the Author would dance well upon the Ropes, he keeps himself so equally poised. Heads and Points; the Argument of the Paper, the Paper-Argument. Well, score up one in the Column of Quibbles. The Argument that he runs division upon is this: It doth not appear to him by two Testimonies, that the Irish Army was to be brought over to reduce this Kingdom; Therefore the Earl of Strafford is not guil●… of High Treason. Now he breaks the Neck of this Ergo thus: If three or four other Treasons be objected and proved, though they be at a loss in one, this doth not strait evince his Innocence. To this Belief he will draw you (as he says) by a Comparison. Let him put himself in his Jeers. Let him play his Tricks of Fast and Loose. In the Interim thus I gird up his tedious Quemadmodum. If one be tied with three or four Cords, he is not at liberty, though one of them be loosed, as being still bound with the rest. Even as, Even so. Philip writing to the Spartans', prefaced every Sentence with If, If, If; they studying their Laconical Brevity, and denying the Contents of the Letter, returned nothing but the same Monasyllable. The Objection runs in Philip's fashion. If, is the Postilion of every Line; and I know not but the Answer may be as opposite. If three or four Treasons be proved; if he be tied with three or four Cords; but if those Treasons prove but Misdemeanour, if those Cables be but Threads; if Samson that was bound with them have twitched them in pieces; then I must say your Cords come in very unseasonably, unless it be to put you in mind of your Mortality. But he doubles his Files. Faults in this Paper (he saith) go not alone; that's the Reason he bears the Author company to the end of his Speech; that if there be any Faults, his Answer may match them with Twin-brothers. Though this reducing the Kingdom by an Irish Army be not proved by Retail, yet 'tis Treason in the Lump. Rip but up the bowels of a former Testimony, and there you shall find it. His Majesty is absolved from all Rules of Government, and may do what Power will admit. So ho! Whither now? My Task is to justify the Speech in what it treats, not to declaim the Question at large. This is not to confute his Speech, but his Conscience that would not be convicted. I am not tied to follow you in your Wildgoose-chase; yet I am so confident (whether of the strength of the Cause, or your Weakness, I say not) that I wish you and I might plead it on a Pillory, and he that lost the day pay Ear-rent for us both. But there is danger in following an Ignis Fatuus whither it will lead you, especially when he makes up at the Throat of Majesty. He sees that Power will admit the use of an Irish Army, or any other which that Power can purchase. A Suspicion which deserves to be answered with a Thunderbolt; but 'tis out of fashion; and I am afraid I shall be laughed at, if I speak any thing in defence of the King: yet (thanks be to God) there's no great need on't. His Majesty's Virtues are his strongest Guard. A King, like a Porcupine, is a living Quiver of Darts; every Beam of Majesty is a Fulmen Terebrans to his Blaspheming Enemies. My Fellow-traveller stepped aside a little to give his Brain a Stool, and now is returned into the Road, His Lordship, he says, multiplies and is fruitful in Absurdities. 'Tis true by an equivocal Generation; for so he begat your Pamphlet, meeting with the putrid Matter of your Invention, as the Sun produceth Insect Animals. The Absurdity is, he hath no Notion of Subverting the Law Treasonable, but by Force; and here we must score up the second Quibble, for then (he says) This Argument will never subvert the Law, as having no Force. Truly I am of a mind, that if my Antagonist were both to Dispute and Answer himself, he would have the best on't, and that's the Course he takes here. He frames an Argument where none is intended. His Lordship says he knows no other, nay and there is no other; but he doth notinfer the latter from the former, therefore there is no other because he knows no other; so that this is a Brat of your own Brain, not drawn from his Lordship's Ignorance (as your scandalous Quill foamed at the mouth) but from your own Impudence; and if it halt (as you say) it confesses its Father, it halts before a Cripple. You do well therefore to let Nature work to help your lame Dog over a Style, to cast it, as you conceive, in a right Frame. There is no way of Subverting the Law but what I know; but I know no way of Subverting the Law but by forcé. You would be loath a man should say this is no Syllogism; and yet 'tis true. There's no Figure will give it a Tenement to hide its head in. I could give you a Remove now and set you upright; but I had rather you should take it asunder, and my Lord and you part Stakes; part Propositions; he the Major, you the Minor, because in the first you say there is so much Knowledge, in the latter so much Ignorance. You see you are in a Bog; but I will throw my Cloak about you, and dance you out; for lo, a most Eloquent Si quis in quest of the Author of our Tenent. Who says this? Is it some ancient judge? No; I thank you as the Case goes; Or is it one that looks more into the Court than the Inns of Court? I perceive I must count Quibbles as they do Fish; thou art three; there he bounceth out with his 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 [A Young Gentleman knows not the Law.] I do not wonder you writ it in other Characters; for 'tis a most acute Apothegm, (though I say it; that should not say it) and such on one as may well beseem the Rump-end of Licosthenes at the next Impression. But he makes a Transition from Common Law to Common Reason, and he hopes to be scored up for that Quarter-Quibble, but I cannot afford it. If nothing but Force can subvert Law, than judges when they pronounce false judgements, stop lawful Defences, let lose the Prerogative, and all that Rout of Instances which he hath rallied up, do not subvert the Law. Well, to do you a Courtesy, they do not. 'Tis one thing to stop a Pipe, to cut an Aqueduct and divert a Conveyance, and another to spoil a Springhead. The Law in this Case suffers a Deliquium, but she is not dead. The Subversion of Laws is Root and Branch. A Castle may be dismantled, made unserviceable, and yet 'tis not said then to be quite overthrown. When you usurped the Chair of Logic and made a false Syllogism, were the Laws of Logic then subverted? No, but transgressed; so that if our Author suffer by Injustice (as I hope you are more Historian than Prophet) he will not involve the Laws in his Ruin. Your Apostrophe to Tressilian is a true Apostrophe, for 'tis from the Cause; for will ye introduce a Parity in Offences too? Scan the Cases and you shall find them divers. But give me leave by the way, to admire your Phrase of the Iron Laws. 'Tis a good Argument to me that there is no Alchemy, otherwise the Corruption of so many Judges, by this time had turned them into Gold: But my Lord must dispute again. Do you carry the Knapsack of his Arguments? My Lord hath a fine time on't, that you should feed him thus with a Spoon? 'Tis thus; The Earl of Strafford' s Practices have been as high as any. The Practices of Tressilian have been as high as High Treason. I wonder where you got all this Logic; at Furnivals' Inn? But I know the Reason of it, because Plutarch attributes Logic to a Fox, and King james maintains Discourse in a Hound, that's it which puts you upon Syllogisms. You would be loath to come short of any of your Fellows. For the words of the Major (which are only my Lords, and which indeed I had as lief he should justify as I) you must know they are a Comparison: Now Comparisons are betwixt things of the same kind: As high as any, that is, in the rank of Misdemeanours. The Painter, when his Picture would not sell for a God, made a special Devil of it, and so he vented it. Though my Lord cannot yield, that the Earl of Strafford's Practices should be sublimated into Treason; yet place them in the front of any lower Offences, and it seems he will pass it. This Similitude of mine doth not run of all four, no more must you think of that, As high as any. But to make few words; suppose I should grant you your Conclusion, that the Earl of Strafford's Practices were as high as Treason, yet if they be not specified by Statute for Treason, my Lord doth justly abstain his hand from his Dispatch. You ask how these words should sound in the Mouth of a Judge? Truly I have not the measure of your Ears, they are of too large a size for me. I being a Judge hold your Gild to be as high as Treason; yet having no Law to give me Commission, I'll have no hand in your Sentence: so that supposing all Cases to be like this, I grant you the Assizes would be in vain; the Judge's Circuit would be like the wheeling of a Mill, move continually, but never nearer their Journey's end: but when the Law hath provided sufficiently, unless in a Case as this extraordinary, the Vanity and Mockery, which you speak of, recoils upon him that first discharged them. For your last, where you would have Sir Henry Vane's. Oath to be preferred before my Lord's Suspicion, I would willingly answer as he did with Meditation; at the first time nothing, as much at the second, and at the third Vouz avez Sir Henry Vane. You say his Oath gets an addition of Belief from the Speeches before, and from the Memorials that day; so that you imply what I dare not say, that it is not full of itself, but wants a Supplement of Credit to gain our Faith. As for the words, Recorded whencesoever they had their Venom, it seems they were poisoned; (for to that, and not to their Pregnancy do I attribute it) that they swelled into such a bigness, that one Testimony appeared double: But that you should entitle Mr. Pym to this mistake, that he should look through a Multiplying Glass in a case so weighty as that of Treason; the Gentleman's known Integrity saves me the labour of his Defence. So that the Testimonies being but such, though the Charges be many; be the Earl of Strafford as high in his Practices, as it pleases my Lord to make him, yet my Lord's Dipthong, may easily be justified, and the Earl both at once Condemned and Saved. Thus I have entreated Patience of myself to Counterpuff your Pamphlet, when by the help of a Pennyworth of Pears I could (more suitably to your Defects) have confuted you backward. But I did it in hopes that you would muzzle yourself hereafter; for though your Teeth be hollow and cannot bite, yet wanting Cloves they may Infect.   

To the Protector after long and vile Durance in Prison.  
May it please Your Highness;  
Ruler's within the Circle of their Government have a Claim to that which is said of the Deity; they have their Centre every where, and their Circumference no where. It is in this Confidence that I address to your Highness, knowing that no place in the Nation is so remote, as not to share in the Ubiquity of your Care; no Prison so close as to shut me up from partaking of your Influence. My Lord, it is my Misfortune, that after ten years' Retirement from being engaged in the Differences of the State, having wound up myself in private Recess, and my Comportment to the Public so inoffensive, that in all this time, neither Fears nor Jealousies have scrupled at my Actions. Being about three Months since at Norwich, I was fetched by a Guard before the Commissioners, and sent Prisoner to Yarmouth, and if it be not a new offence to make an enquiry wherein I offended (for hitherto my Fault was kept as close as my Person) I am induced to believe, that next to my Adherence to the Royal Party, the Cause of my Confinement is the Narrrowness of my Estate; for none stand committed whose Estate can bail them. I only am the Prisoner who have no Acres to be my Hostage. Now if my Poverty be Criminal (with Reverence be it spoken) I implead your Highness, whose Victorious Arms have reduced me to it, as Accessary to my Gild. Let it suffice, my Lord, that the Calamity of the War hath made us poor, do not punish us for it. Who ever did Penance for being Ravished; Is it not enough that we are stripped so bare, but must it be made in order to a severer Lash? Must our Sores be engraven with our Wounds? Must we first be made Cripples, an●… then beaten with our own Crutches? Poverty, if it be a Fault, 'tis its own Punishment, who pays more for it, pays use upon use. I beseech your Highness put some Bounds to the Overthrow, and do not pursue the chase to the other World. Can your Thunder be levelled so low, as our Grovelling Condition? Can your Towering Spirit, which hath quarried upon Kingdom's, make a stoop at us, who are the Rubbish of these Ruins. Methinks I hear your former Achievements interceding with you, not to sully your Glories with trampling upon the prostrate, nor clog the Wheel of your Chariot with so degenerous a Triumph. The most renowned Hero's have ever with such Tenderness cherished their Captives, that their Swords did but cut out work for their Courtesies. Those that fell by their Prowess sprung by their-favour, as if they had struck them down, only to make them rebound the higher. I hope your Highness, as you are the Rival of their Fame, will be no less of their Virtues. The Noblest Trophy that you can erect to your Honour, is to raise the Afflicted; and since you have subdued all Opposition, it now remains that you attack yourself, and with Acts of Mildness vanquish your Victory. It is not long since, my Lord, that you knocked off the Shackles from most of our Party, and by a grand Release did spread your Clemency as far as your Territories. Let not new Proscriptions interrupt your Jubilee. Let not that your Lenity be slandered as the Ambush of your farther Rigour. For the Service of his Majesty (if it be objected) I am so far from excusing it, that I am ready to allege it in my Vindication. I cannot conceit that my Fidelity to my Prince should taint me in your Opinion, I should rather expect it should recommend me to your Favour. Had we not been Faithful to our King, we could not have given ourselves to be so to your Highness; you had then trusted us gratis, whereas now we have our former Loyalty to vouch us. You see, my Lord, how much I presume upon the Greatness of your Spirit, that dare prevent my Indictment with so frank a Confession, especially in this which I may so safely deny, that it is almost Arrogancy in me to own it: For the Truth is, I was not qualified enough to serve Him: All I could do was to bear a part in his Sufferings, and to give myself to be Crushed with his Fall. Thus my Charge is doubled; my Obedience to my Sovereign, and what is the Result of that, my want of Fortune. Now whatever reflection I have upon the former, I am a true Penitent for the latter. My Lord, you see my Crimes; as to my Defence you bear it about you. I shall plead nothing in my Justification, but your Highness' Clemency, which as it is the constant Inmate of a valiant Breast, if you graciously be pleased to extend it to your Suppliant, in taking me out of this withering Durance, your Highness will find, that Mercy will establish you more than Power, though all the days of your Life, were as pregnant with Victories as your twice auspicious third of September.  
Your Highness' Humble and Submissive Petitioner J. C.   

To the Earl of Newcastle.  
THough to Command and Obey be the fittest Dialogue betwixt you and us; yet since your Lordship pleases to descend from your Right and only to Request, pardon us, if, by your Example, we entrench upon you, and presume upon an Answer. Sir, we are sorry our Duty is not phrased in Action, nor can we determine, whether it was more grateful to us, that you required our Service, or grievous, that at this time we could not express it; for no sooner were we informed of your pleasure, but so obligatory is your Will, that poising your Letters with our Laws, we thought our Statutes were at Civil Wars. The College, like an Indulgent Mother, entails her Preferments on her own Progeny. Your Lordship prefers a stranger, whom to adopt were not only to Bastard her present Issue, but disinherit all succeeding hopes. If it seem a Delinquency to be thus tender of her own, she will entitle her offence to your Lordship, who when you honoured her with your Admission, taught her to set a greater price upon her Children. Thus hoping you will abstract our Will from our Power, we honour your Lordship, desiring that occasion may present us with some Service, whose difficulty may add a deeper Dye to the Observance of  
The Master and Fellows of S. I.   

To the Earl of Holland, then Chancellor of the University of Cambridge.  
Right honourable,  
YOU have raised us to that height by writing unto us, that we dare attempt an Answer; in which Presumption, if we have dishonoured your Lordship, you must blame your own Gentleness, ●…ike the Sun, who if he be masked with Clouds, may thank himself who drew up the Exhalations. Sir, they that assign Tutelar Angels, betrothe ●…hem not only to Kingdoms and Cities, but to each Company. Your Goodness hovers not aloft in a general care of the University, but stoops by a pe●…uliar Influence to every private College. That Omnipresence which Philosophy allots to the Soul, ●…o be every where at once through the whole Man, your Noble Diligence exemplifies in us. There is not the least Joint of our Body, but in its Life and Spirits confesses the Chancellor. Nor have we in special the least share of your Favours, as appears by many pregnant Demonstrations of your Love; among which this is not the meanest, that you would deign to require our Service. To offend against so gracious a Patron, would add a Tincture to our Disobedience; yet such is the Iniquity of our Condition, that we are forced to defer our Gratitude. We, have many in the College, whose Fortunes were at the last Gasp; and if not now relieved, their hopes extinct: Whereas he whom your Lordship commends, gives us farther day of Payment by his green years. He is yet but young, but the Beams of your Favour will ripen him the sooner for the like Preferment; which if it please your Lordship to antedate, by a present Acceptance of our future Obedience, We shall gladly persevere in our old Title of.   

To the Earl of Westmoreland.  
My Lord,  
IT were high Presumption in me, not to be proud of this Occasion; and I should be no less than a Rebel to Eloquence, if your Lines you sent me had not raised me above my ordinary Level; so that to express my Gratitude, I must renounce my Humility, and purchase one Virtue at the price of another. And well may my Modesty suffer in the Service, when my Reason itself is overwhelmed with the Favour. To see a Person of your Lordship's Eminency, possessed of Nobility by a double Tenure, both of Birth and Brain, so to bend his Greatness as to stoop to me, who live in the Vale both of Parts and Fortune; is so high an Honour, that who justly considers it, if he be not stupidly senseless, will be stupid with Ecstasy. ay, for my part, am lost in Amazement, and it is mine Interest to be so; for not knowing otherwise how to give your Present a fit Reception, it is the best of my play, to be beside myself in the Action. You see, my Lord, how I empty myself of my Native Faculty, to be ready for those of your Inspiring, as the Prophets of old in a Sacred Fury, ran out of their Wits to make room for the Deity. I shall not need hereafter to digest my Love-passions, I shall speak by Instinct: For when your Honour deigned to visit me with your lofty Numbers, what was it else but to make me the Priest of your Lordship's Oracle; Such is the Strength and Spirit of your Fancy, that methought your Poems (like the Richest Wine) sent forth a Steam at the opening. What flowed from your Brain fumed into mine. ●…t was almost impossible to read your Lines and be ●…ober. You, You, my Lord, are the Favourite ●…f the Muses. Your Strain is so happy, and hath ●…he Reputation for so Matchless, as if you had a ●…ouble Key to the Temple of Honour, to let in ●…our Lordship's self, and exclude Competitors. ●…t's you, my Lord, have cut the Clouds and reach●…d Perfection, who having mounted the Cliff, lends an ●…and to me, who am labouring in the Craggy As●…ent. So towering are the Praises you please to bestow on me, and my Desert so grovelling, that t●… show you my Head is not worthy your Height, i●… is not able to bear them; it grows giddy with the Precipice. It pains me to be on the last of an Hyperbole; you do but crucify my tender Merits, t●… distend them thus at length and breadth. Consider, I pray you, that the Leanest Endowment would be plump and full, thus blown up with 〈◊〉 Quill; and that there are some so Dwarfish, who●… the Rack will not stretch to a proper man. It i●… an excellent Breathing for a puissant Wit, to overbear the World in the Defence of a Paradox; an●… a good Advocate will weather out the Cause, whe●… there is neither Truth nor Invention. I perswad●… myself you had never undertaken to write m●… Panegyric, but that you saw it was to comb●… with the Tide, and to put your Abilities to the utmost Test in so unlikely a Subject. Little do yo●… think what store of Opposers your Opinion wi●… breed you; for though you be so powerful in th●… Art of Persuasion, that should you turn Apostat●… there would need no more but to toll the Bell fo●… Religion; yet this is an Heresy where you stan●… alone, and like Scaeva in the Breach, with your single Valour duel an Army. Now, my Lord, I●… be not mistaken, I have found the Motive that induced you to oblige me; you are tied by your Order to give Protection to the weak and Succourless So I must change my Addresses, and thank you Reb Ribbon for my Commendations. Such, a●… so many are the Flowers of Rhetoric you ha●… heaped upon me, that I run the hazard of the Olympic Victor, who was stiffed with Posies ca●… upon him in approbation of his Worth; which Fr●… grant Fate, if I should sustain, what is there more to make me enamoured of Death, but that the same Flowers should strew my Corpse in a Funeral Oration? Could you think (my Lord) that your suppressing your Name was able to conceal you, when it is easy to wind you by your Phrase? The Sweetness of the Language discovered the Author, like that Roman Senator, who hiding himself in time of Proscription, his Perfumes betrayed him. But 〈◊〉 shall not arrest your Lordship too far with a farther Interruption. My Lord, you have Ennobled me with your Testimony, and I shall keep your Paper as the Diploma of my Honour. Yet give me ●…eave to tell you, that among all the Epithets you ●…ile so Artificially to raise my Fame, there is one ●…anting to accomplish my Ambition, and that ●…hich I beseech your Lordship I may enjoy for the ●…uture; that is, to be esteemed  
SIR, Your Honour ' s &c. I ohn Cleveland.   

A Letter to a Friend dissuading him from his Attempt to marry a Nun.  
THough no man's Arms can be opened wider to receive you on shore, and give you possession of ●…s Breast; yet I know not, whether with the usual Compliment, I may welcome you home, as doubting your Country may have mewed that Relation in so long an Absence; she having exposed her Noble Issue, being Conviction enough to make you disclaim her. Besides, there is such a new Face of things since your Departure, that what was formerly the Character of the Inhabitants, is now the Kingdom's, To be a Stranger at home: Insomuc●… as were you designed for a second Journey, it migh●… be a part of your business to travel other Country's i●… quest of your own. Indeed she is such an Alien i●… her Look, that most of her Offspring dare not as●… her Blessing. Her Countenance is not Denizon o●… herself: You would think she were some Floating Island, that had made a Voyage only to truck fo●… an outlandish Visage. Some who have spelled he●… Lineaments say she copies out the Dutch, and t●… make good the Parallel, they doubt not to instan●… in our Hogan Governors. It is in a broke●… Kingdom, as in a cracked Looking-glass, where instead of one Face, that Monarch-like should represent the whole, you may have Variety of less ones glimmering in its room, and the Aspects o●… all of them fierce and frowning. Well then a Foreigner she is, and her Complexion borrowed; 〈◊〉 that as our new Philosophers would have th●… Earth to move, and the Heavens to stand still, th●… same may be said of this State of ours, and th●… Royal Train that you were part of. It was th●… Kingdom wandered, not you that left it, You a●… fixed, and England in Exile. When a Country ree●… from its settled posture, there is no Defection i●… him that quits it; it having first abandoned it sel●… In this case, though it be a Fallacy in the Sense, 〈◊〉 holds good in Reason, that the shore moves and falls off from the Sailor; whence you see, Sir, there is some possibility I might reverse your Travels, were it not for one Argument which abundantly confirms them, The sage Experience you have treasured up in your Observations; for no sooner had you lost your Native Soil, but by way of Reprisal you took in others. The Dominions you visit you carry along with yóu, and by a Victorious Industry make them pay Tribute to your Understanding. Not like a number of our Roaring Gallants, who return so empty and without their Errand, as if their Travel (like Witches in the Air) were nothing but the Waftage of a deluded Fantasy, persuading themselves that they circled the Globe, when the Card they sail by, is nothing else but a slumbering Imposture. But methinks we are too Grave, Sir. What if we unbend a while, and presume to tell you, that in all your Errantry there is no Adventure so much affects me, as that of the Nun; where I cannot determine, whether your Love itself were more Exotic, or the form of accosting it: For although it be natural for Jealousy to study Fornication, and every Cuckold within his own Precincts to be an Engineer; yet never before have I heard of a Mistress fenced with a Portcullis, or an amorous Visit managed with the Caution, which suspicious Kings use in an Interview. This manner of Greeting may not unfitly be termed Cupid's Barriers; a breathing Exercise, rather than a Combat, where the Sporting Champions have a Rail to part them, that they may not fight it out to the uttermost. Had your old Romancing Spirit possessed you, the Brandished Blade would have freed the Lady from her Enchanted Durance. Nor had you been less concerned in the Rescue than the Fair Recluse; for who that blows short in expectation of his Love, and in the Heat of Impatience, should be severed from his Hopes by a few envious Barrs, would not feel himself (like another St. Laurence) broiled on a Gridiron? But see how Customs vary with the Clime. As there are some Regions who salute one another, by putting off their Shoes instead of their Hats; so it seems, where you have been, there is as different a form of Imprisonment or Commitment. The Prisoner is at large and without the Grates, wishing for Admittance, and she at whose Suit his Soul is arrested, close clapped up and abridged of Liberty. Sure at this Grate those Chrism Lovers, called Platonics, had their first Training. Those Queasy Gamesters that diet themselves with the very Notion of Mingling Souls, without putting the Body to farther Brokage, than kissing of Hands and twisting of Eye-beams. For your part, Sir, you are none of those puling Stomaches: You have an Appetite for a whole Cloister. It is but Trifling Sport for you to pull down an Outlier, unless you leap the Pale and let slip at the Herd. I wonder what Exorcisms the Abbess used to get quit of the Incubus; for had she not checked your Hover Temptations, I am confident by this time you had transformed the Covent, and turned the Nunnery into a Seraglio. But in sober Sadness, why a Nun, Sir? How came you out of the Active Torrent into that Solitary Creek? Prince's seldom Treat of Matches, but in foreign Dominions. Your Affection takes greater State, as fixing upon one of another World. Had your Passion been centred on the Beauty of her Soul, I had looked upon it as the Act of your Conversion. Such a Love might justly have been Christened by the name of Zeal, being settled on a Person, with whom to be enamoured is in a sort to take Orders. Hence it is, there want not some who suspect your Religion, lest equivocating from the Beauty of her Person to that of her Profession, you should turn Monastic. Others, who are better acquainted with the warmth of your Temper, are rather solicitous for the Church in General, lest with Luther you should marry a Nun, and so with him make her a Jointure in a new Religion. If this be your Plot, Consider, I pray you, how difficult it is to innovate farther in this Age of Novelties, when the World is so spent in new Inventions, that for want of Gain, even Rust and Rottenness are flourished over with a seeming Verdure. Not one of all those Beldam-Heresies that did Penance formerly by the Doom of the Ancients, but hath cast her Skin since these Confusions, and giveth herself out for a Blooming Virgin. But I think I may spare this piece of Counsel, I dare be your Compurgator for meddling with Religion. That which fired your Spirits was the Ambition of the Enterprise; nor could you entertain a more Aspiring Frenzy, but by making Love to a Glorified Body. Tell me, I pray you, how many Beads did you drop in Wooing? By what Liturgy did you frame your Courtship? Laic Applications are here scandalous; nor will it avail to say, you languish without her Compassion. A Sensual Man is able to vitiate the Vestal Flame, even by his Martyrdom; other Lovers in the Jollity of their Trope are wont to canonize their Mistresses, as being of opinion that the Native Rubric of their Cheeks hath hallowed them. Will you run Counter to that Consecration, and degrade a Saint by Mortal Addresses? If you have no room in your Calendar for Persons upon Earth, yet do not profane a Probationer of Heaven; as if the readiest way to rectify Superstition, were, with our Modern Reformers, to bow it into Atheism. Let me advise you, Sir, to retrieve yourself back from this Carnal Sacrilege. Catch not at Herostratus his Fame, by setting fire on the Temple, and dispute not a share of Gild with Lucifer, in causing a second Fall of Angels. Nay, never start, Sir, not look about at the Expression: For I persuade myself, that those Divines who allot to each of us a Tutelar Angel for our Protection, would not prejudice their Opinion, should they leave her to her own Tuition; as hardly knowing in such a Person, how to distinguish between the Charge and the Guardian. Sir, I was entreated by our Noble Friend, that what my Fancy suggested upon this Subject, I would mould into Number; but I must beg your pardon, it being a Request with which to comply were to be your Fellow-criminal, and by a Conformity of Gild pervert a Votary: For even my Muse is vowed and veiled too, she is set apart for the Service of my Mistress, and what is that but entering Orders in the true Religion. The Truth is this; she is so chastely confined to that sole Employment, that should I in Verse attempt to yield you an account how much I honour you, not a whole Grove of Laurel would bribe her to a Distich: Whereas in Transitory Prose, were I a Master of all those Languages, which I make no question but you have gained by your Travels, I should hold them all too few to give you sufficient Assurance that I am,  
SIR, Your most Faithful Servant J. C.   

The Piece of a Common-Place upon Romans the 4th. Last Verse.  
Who was delivered for our Offences, and rose again for our justification.  
THE Athenians had two sorts of Holy Mysteries, two distinct times, November and August, for their Celebration: But when King Demetrius desired to be admitted into their Fraternity, and see both their Solemnities at once, the People past a Decree, that the Month March, when the King requested it, should be called November, and after the Ceremonies due to that Month were finished, it should be translated to August; and so at the second return of this new Leapuyear, they accomplished his Request. Two greater Mysteries are the parts of my Text, the Passion and the Resurrection; several times appropriate for either Good Friday as Easter. But as the Athenian Decree made November and August meet in March, so give me leave by a less Syncope of Time, to contract Good Friday and Easter both to a day, as the Passion and Resurrection are both in my Text; Who was delivered for our Offences, etc. And I may the rather link them both on a day, because the Text is willing to admit some Resemblance. The Evening and the Morning make the day, saith the Holy Spirit; the Method of my Text observes as much: Here is the Evening, the Passion, when our Saviour stripped himself of those Rags of Mortality, and lay down in the Bed of Corruption, where he stays not long; but the Morning breaks in the Resurrection, when this Corruptible shall put on Incorruption, and this Mortal shall put on Immortality. So then my Text is a Day from Sun to Sun, Soles occidere & redire possunt, from the Sunset of his Passion to the Sun-rise of his Resurrection.  
The Dew of his Birth is as the Dew of the Morning, There is a Morning-Dew, and there is an Evening Dew; the Evening Dew, the Tears that are shed at the Sun's Funeral, and they may justly decipher the Passion; the Morning-Dew, the Tears of Joy and Welcome at his new Return; and what is that but a Transcript of the Resurrection?  
My Discourse then must be changeable, composed of a Cloud and a Rainbow. 
Nocte pluit tota——   
A Deluge of Grief showers down in the Passion, but the Waters will cease, and the Dove will return with a Leaf in her mouth, 
— Redeunt Spectacula mane,  Nothing but Joy and Triumph, Pomp and Pageants at the Resurrection. But methinks St. Paul puts new Cloth into an old Garment, mends the Rent of the Passion with the Resurrection. Can the children of the Bride-chamber weep while the Bridegroom is with them? While the Resurrection is in the Text, who can tune his Soul to lament his Passion; again, by the Waters of Babylon is no singing the Songs of Zion. When Grief hath locked up the Heart with the story of the Passion, what Key of Mirth can let in the Anthem of the Resurrection? Different Notes you see, and yet we'll attempt an Harmony. Bassus and Altus, a Deep Base that must reach as low as Hell to describe the Passion, and thence rebound to a joyful Altus, the high-strain of the Resurrection.  
I begin with the Evening, and so I may well style the Passion, since the Horror thereof turned Noon into Night, and made a Miracle maintain my Metaphor. The Sun was obscured by Sympathy, and his Darkness points us to a greater Eclipse. The Sun and the Moon, what are they but Parables of our Saviour, and the Soul of Man? The Moon is the Soul; I am sure her Spots will not confute the Similitude. I might here slacken the Reins of my Comparison, and show you how the Moon of herself is a dark Body, and what Light she partakes, she receives it from the Sun at second hand. How every Soul is by Nature sinful, and in the Shadow of Death, till the Light that lightens the Gentiles, till the dayspring on high visit us. I might pursue my Allegory in the Eclipse. The Shadow of the Earth intercepts the Beams of the Sun, and so the Moon suffers an Eclipse. Pleasure and Profit, those two Dugs of the World, what are they but Earthly shadows that Eclipse the Soul, and deprive it of the sweet influence of the Sun of Righteousness. But I hold me to the Metaphor, my Téxt will warrant the Parallel. As the Moon is Eclipsed by the Earth, so she herself Eclipses the Sun. The Soul is not only sinful but makes God suffer; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is a Physick-word, and signifies the Labour of a Disease. Cure thyself, and there will be no Eclipse in him: Apply but Salve to thyself, and thou'lt heal the Wounds that thy Sins have made. Passus est Deliquium propter Delicta nostra. Deliquium and Delictum proceed both from a Root. He had never been delivered unto Death, but for the Goal-delivery of our Offences. See the Difference betwixt God's and Man's Eclipse. Man's sets God and him at odds; God's reconciles them. The Moon when she is Eclipsed, is always in Opposition with the Sun. The Soul will sin, though she be at Enmity with God for't: But the Sun, when he is Eclipsed, is always in Conjunction with the Moon. God will be Friends with Man, though he purchase the Union with his Passion, and seal the Covenant with his own Blood. But that all things which concern the Passion may be miraculous, we'll proceed in Method, and restrain that to Order and Distinction, which put Nature out of Frame, and threatened the World with Confusion. Consider then my Text, like the Veil of the Temple rend in ●…wain 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, He was delivered for our Offen●…es; nay 'tis rend from top to th'bottom; the same parts will serve for the Resurrection, He rose again for our justification.  
And well may my Text be divided by the Temple, since our Saviour shadowed both parts of it under that Notion. I will destroy this Temple, and within three days I will build it again. And now I begin with Simon of Cyrene, to bear his Cross, and labour, as he did, under the burden. The Death of the Cross, all the Languages upon it cannot express it: But we see the Sun better by looking into the Waters, than by affronting his Beams. The only way to comprehend the Sufferings of our Creator, is by feeling the Pulse of the Creature. What shall I say to the Convulsion of the Rocks? The Lapidary tells you, how the Compassionate Turcoise confesseth the Sickness of his Wearer by changing colour. The whole Rocks suffered with our Saviour, they were cleft; and shall not this rend our stony hearts? O that Deucalion's Men were not now a Fable! Caucasus is supple in comparison of our Breasts. Marble can weep, whilst we are Pumices. Moses his Rod will sooner fetch a River out of a Rock, than a Tear from a Rebellious Sinner. The Earthquake is the next Miracle. Tremble thou Earth at the presence of the Lord, at the presence of the God of jacob. She tottered under the Burden of so great a Sin. She had lost the Author of her being, and so might well be struck with a dead Palsy. 'Tis a good Observation of Aristotle, that among all the absurd Opinions of the old Philosophers; who held the Soul to be Fire; some Air, some Water; none ever had so gross a Soul, as to conceive it to be Earth. O that in this case we were Earthy-minded! That we were affected with this Religious Palsy! Then should we see that Motus Trepidationis, the Motion of the Heavens as well as the Earth. We must work out our Salvation with fear and trembling. But the Earth hath quaked so long till it hath awakened the Dead: nor is it a wonder that the Dead live, when Life itself can die. Heaven descends into the Bowels of the Earth, and, to make up the Anagram, the Graves open and the Dust ariseth. Thus were all things shuffled, and Nature rung the Bells backwards, as if every Creature desired to bear the Burden of our Saviour's Elegy. Attendite & videte— Behold and see, if ever there was sorrow like unto my sorrow. Cyrus to be revenged of a River cut it into so many Channels, that it lost its Name. This is the way to allay a Grief, to divide it into so many streams, to pour it into other Bosoms; but even this is denied to our Saviour. The Sons of Zebedee do not now petition to drink his Cup: They would not now be one on his right hand, another on his left; no, he is crucified betwixt two Thiefs. The Quality of his Companions augments his Misery. He was born among Beasts, and doth he not die so too? Man without Understanding is like unto a Beast that perisheth. Betwixt two Thiefs. You see Vice to Virtue is two to one: Virtue is in the Centre, Vice in the Circumference; vast is the Circuit; Universus orbis, the whole World lies in Wickedness, whilst Virtue, like the Centre, is but an Imaginary Point. Thiefs, and well too, Barrabas was too good for him now; mark but their Election; Not him, ●…ut Barrabas. But methinks his Crown might command a Distance; but 'tis a Crown of Thorns: And if you consider well the Troubles annexed to 〈◊〉 Crown, it may seem a Tautology. Every Crown ●…s a Crown of Thorns. See here Cruelty Quarter●…ng her Arms with Division. Pseudo-Philippus, ●…hat Sergeant of the Macedonian King, when ●…e was taken by the Romans, had so much honou●…able Calamity indulged unto him; Quod de eo tan●…uam de vero Rege triumpharetur. They Crown ●…im, but 'tis for Sacrifice. They never acknow●…edge him King of the Jews, till upon the Cross, ●…hat so his Title might set off his Misery.   

The Answer to the Newark-Summons.  
BUT that it argues a greater Courage to pass the Test of a Temptation uncorrupted, than ●…ith a timorous Virtue to decline the Trial; so ●…alous is this Maiden Garrison of sullying her ●…oyalty, that she had returned your Summons ●…ithout perusal. Which rebound of your Let●…r, as it were a laudable Coyness to preserve her ●…tegrity; so it is the most compendious Answer 〈◊〉 what you propound. For I hope you intent it ●…ther as a Mode and Formality to preface your ●…sign, than with expectation of an Issue suitable 〈◊〉 your Demands. You cannot imagine this un●…nted Newark, which hath so stoutly defended her Honour against several intended Rapes, should be so degenerous from her Virgin Glory, as to admit the Courtship of either your Rival Nations. Having therefore received a Letter subscribed with Competition of both Kingdoms, she wonders not at your busy endeavour to divert her Trent, since the Thames and Tweed with equal Ambition would crowd into her Channel. Which Letter, since it proceeded from a Committee, and was directed after the same Garb, as to a Committee-Governour, by putting the Gentlemen and Corporation in equal Commission (though the joining us together was with Intention to divide us) I shall in satisfaction of yours, unanimously desire you to reflect upon the King's Letter, lately sent to both Houses of Parliament; where, in a full Compliance with all their Desires upon the softest Terms, and gentlest Conditions that ever Prince propounded, he offers to disband all his Forces, and dismantle his Garrisons. To what end then do you demand that of the Steward, whereof the Lord and Master makes a voluntary Tender? In vain 〈◊〉 you court the Inferior Streams, when the Springhead prevents your expectation. It is our Duty to trace his Commands, not to outstrip them. S●… that if Honour and Conscience would permit th●… Delivery, mere Manners would retard us, lest b●… an overreaching speed we frustrate his Majesty●… Act of Grace, and antedate his Royal Disposa●… I shall wave the Arguments, wherewith you ende●…vour to evince our Consent. I am neither to 〈◊〉 stroked into an Apostasy, by the mention of fai●… Conditions in a misty Notion: Nor to be scared i●… to Dishonour, by your running Division on the Fa●… of Chester. For as I an no Huckster in the War, to measure my Allegiance by my Interest for the former; so I disdain that Poverty of Spirit, by a Resemblance of Chester to be executed in Picture. I shall be Loyal without that Copy, and I hope never to be the Transcript of their Calamity. You may do well, Gentlemen, to use your Fortune modestly, and think not that God Almighty doth uphold your Cause by reason of your Victories; perchance he fattens it with present Success for a ●…iper Destruction. For my part I had rather embrace a Wrack floating upon a single Plank, than ●…mbarque in your Action with the fullest Sails, to ●…ance upon the Wings of Fortune. Whereas you ●…rge the expense of the Siege, and the pressures of the Country in supporting your Charge, there 〈◊〉 confess I am touched to the quick: But their Mi●…eries, though they make my Heart bleed, must ●…ot make my Honour. My Compassion to my Country must not make me a Parricide to my Prince. Yet in order to their ease, if you will grant me a ●…ass for some Gentlemen to go to Oxford, that I ●…ay know his Majesty's pleasure, whether, ●…ccording to his Letter, he will wind up the Busi●…ess in general, or leave every Commander to steer ●…is own Course, than I shall know what to deter●…ine. Otherwise I desire you to take notice, ●…hat when I received my Commission for the Go●…ernment of this place, I annexed my Life as a Label ●…o my Trust.   

Oratio in Scholiis Publicis habita cum juninior Baccalaureus in Tripodem disputaret Cantab.  
QUos ne videre possum citra, oculorum hyperbolen, quomodo vos compellarem? Et cum altissimus vester gradus sine scalâ occupari nequeat, quaenam Orationis Climax vestram scandet dignitatem; Vestram dum suspicio in meo vultu invenio purpuram; & ingeniis curae quae praestandae observantiae me habet solicitum, no●… novi subtilius argumentem quam stuporem. Quod autem Poetarum Princeps Deorum Senatum cogit ad suam Batrachomyomachiam, pari audacia liceat & mihi vo●… ad ludicrum hoc certamen nostrum invitare. Umbr●… est haec nostra contentio & Icon belli. Murium & R●…narum pugna, quid aliud quam Iliadis Brachygraphia! & in Pusillis istis animalibus Hector & Achilles (tanquam Iliads in nuce) coarctantur. Ea siquidem e●… pensi nostri conditio; ut hic etiam Mars & Venus implicati jacent. Pugna est, sed ludicra; Ludus, & tamen bellicus; ita ut nec bis cincta placeat Philosophia; nec nuda Cytherea. Qui virili toga indutus, nec dum reliquit nuces, sed totus jocos crepat, hujus eg●… Palladem posthumam cerebri sui prolem existima●… Qui in hisce Floralibus solus Cato, & inter Philosophi●… spinas nullos admittit Rhetoricae flores, hujus Minerva (ad Amazonis instar) alterâ mammâ destituiti●…. Ille demum sit noster Miles, qui & sese praestet ingenii Velitem, & Philosophiae Cataphractum; qui & viriliter audet disputare, & pueriliter cum Bipede Tripod●… par impar ludere. Me quod spectat ita rationem a●… agendum subduxi meam, ut utrinque munus moliar & subterfugiam, & pudibunda metum inter & officium Musa, & fugit ad salices, & videri cupit.   

Oratio Salutatoria in Adventum Illustrissimi Principis Palatini.  
Serenissime Comes Palatine.  
SI Archetypam corporis vestri elegantiam possem transcribere, & Orationem meam tanquam venustatis Metaphoram à vestro vultu deducere, ita Imaginem vestram aemulis encomiis exprimerem, ut qui spectatum venias, venires spectandus & unicum esset johannense spectaculum teipsum tibi ostentare. Sed quoniam ad hosce solares radios caligat penitus Atheniensis Noctua, gratulor mihi meam inertiam, stuporem jacto: Ita enim cum Sacratissimo Principe in trutinâ quadam collocatus sum, ut in quantum me deprimit mea humilis facultas, in tantum sursum nititur vestra sublimitas. Salve igitur, desideratissime Princeps, hujus Collegii Anima, vel potius omnium animarum Collegium; ita tibi singuli devoti sumus, & in obsequium vestrum juncta phalange omnes ruimus. Ecce tibi Majorum tuorum Monumenta! Margaretae cocta maenia, quae Semiramis invideat Margaretae! Henrici Septimi, & nostrûm omnium Matris; quae uno partu enixa est quot Herculem fabulantur genuisse, quinquaginta Socios. Nec Tibi, Stemmatique vestro solam Margaretam, debemus, quin & paternae gloriae haeres esto; Fredericum volo beatissimae memoriae, qui viginti abhinc plus minus annis, una cum Augustissimo Carolo tunc temporis surgente julo, ad hanc Margaretae Sobolem, quasi Compaires d●… & Susceptores accesserunt. O quam laeti meditamur istum natalem nostrum diemque adeo festum, ut muros hosce sacro quodam minio pinxisse videatur! Ecquid huic foelicitati superesse possit? Possit, ut quod Patris splendore semel tinctum vestro olim foret Dibaphum, Sequerisque Patrem ●…am passibus aequis. Euge specicsum Principem! in quo omnium legimus Simulachra Autographa; Margaretae nostrae Palladium Frederici Patris Numisma aureum & Matris Corneliae Ornamentum, Elizabethae dulcissimae, & in vestro vul●… totam Deam confessae; cujus laudes ut hodiernum sae●…lum effundi●…, ita Posteritatis Echo reparabit: cujus mase●…la anima jam sexu vestitur masculo, Elizabetha Carolo. Carolo! O quam luxuriat dicendi Seges! Quam decies repeti●…s placebit Carolus! Carolus Caroli Sobrinus & Caroli Auunculus. O Beatissi●… Carolorum Climax▪ Macte esto gradibus Caroli●… 〈◊〉, ut cum p●… 〈◊〉 suâ supremus Rex Carolus Coelos scandat, novi subinde succrescant Caroli, quibus, quasi internodus distincta ejus aeternitas usq●… & usque floreat; sic ipse sibi supe●…stes Carolus, no●… hominum (parum illud Nestoris) sed Carolorum 〈◊〉 ●…ates vivat, Filii, 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 Caroli.   

A●… Regem & Principem in Colleg. johan.  
QUEEN A 〈◊〉 obriguit Academia, tanq●… orba●… Ni●…s 〈◊〉 saxea, si in pristinam Facundiam resolvatur hodie agnoscit omen vestrae Praesentiae. Memnonis statua solaribus percussa radiis vocalem Musicam dedisse fertur: habent vel hi Parietes Chordas Magicas, quas minima vultûs vestri strictura, quasi plectro anim●…it. Nec magis eloquuntur Lapides, quam è diametro miraculi stupent Oratores. Quod in afflatis Numine fieri videmus; ita Deum recipere ut ejiciant Hominem, instinct●… sapere, non intellectu; perinde vestra in nobis hospitatur Divinitas, cujus nimius splendor omnes omnium sensus sacrificat, & tam sanctam nostri jacturam in lucro deputamus. Ignoscimus jam Fatis immodestiam suam, imminens Literarum exit●…um ut favoris insidias gratulamur: scilicet, ambitiosae moriuntur Musae, quae ad vestros pedes efflabanut Vale. Lusit Archimedes Coelos in Sphaera? quid ni dicam Jovem in Carolo fabricatum? Adeo ut Orator ille qui, manu deorsum flexâ, O Coelum exclamavit, si istum ad modum perorâsset hodie, Soloecismum man●… non commisisset. Enimvero cum Regem Optimum Maximum & Principem simul astantes videam, nescio quomodo Principis Natalis videatur redux; ubi Solem & Stellam fulgentes à Symbolis (licet non equis radiis) conspicati sumus. Caesare mortuo novum in coelis emicuit sydus, quod Julii Anima passim audiit. Caesaris Epilogus fuit Prologus Caroli; neque enim aptior Stella, quam Invictissima illius Herois Anima, quae vestrae soboli res gerendas ominaretur. Stellam dixi? Muto factum; crederem potius ipsum Solem fuisse, qui tunc temporis tibi religavit moderamen Diei, & ut Principis cunas fortius videret, suum in stellam Contraxit oculum. Ecce ut patrissat Carolus! ut ad vestras Virtutes anhelus surgit! Quod sub pientissimo Rege accidisse legimus Solem multis gradibus retro ferri, Principis atas pari portento conpensavit damnum, cujus festina virtus devorat Horologium, & Pueritia nondum libatâ Meridiem attigit. Parcatur mihi, si turgeat Oratio; si nihil praeter Solem & Stellas crepet; quippe in Principis Natali ipsa Natura mihi praeivit Allegoriam. O foelicem interim Academiam, & Eternitatem quandam nactam! quae in Rege & Principe, & esse nostrum, & nostrum fore simul complectitur. Non est quod plura expectentur saecula; viximus & nostram & posterorum vitam. Sed vereor ne molestus fuerim importuno officio, quod in tam illustri praesentiâ in nescio quid majus piaculo excrescit. Minima coram Rege Errata, tanquam angustiores rimae, extenduntur lumine. Oratio itaque nostra pro genio temporum reformabitur, vel, quod tantundem est, rescindetur. Hoc unicum praefabor votum; Vivas Augustissime, Pietas tuorum & Tremor Hostium. Vivas, vel in hoc declivio, Literarum Stator. Vivas denique eam indutus gloriam, 〈◊〉 Filium tuum Carolum appellemus Maximum, quia solo Patre minorem.   

Oratio habita ad Legatum quendam Gallicum, & Hollandiae Comitem, tunc temporis Academiae Cancellarium.  
QUam Augusta sit vestra Praesentia, & quam sacro horrore nostros percellit animos, utinam Oratoris vestri stupor non ita nimis testaretur. Quem enim alacritas officii modo accenderat ut vos salutarem, impedit jam eadem Religione in illas aures importunus ruerem inquilinus, ubi Regum consilia habitarunt. Nec magis all●…qui quam intueri nefas. Fulgura sunt in amborum oculis, quorum splendorem si quis aspiceret, bidental fieret. Si quis Persarum, qui veneratur Solem, vos intueretur, utrumque ratus Numen, suum divideret sacrificium. Nos quod attinet, fatemur lippitudine radiorum victoriam, & hoc geminum honoris jubar imbellis nostra acies eo magis commendat, quo minus sustineat. Salve igitur, Celeberrime Hospes, cujus gratissimi adventus, ut capacia essent nostra pectora, magnitudo gaudii nosipsos à nobis exclusit for as. Ecce quot Helluones oculi vos inspicimus! Quot in vestris vultibus Quadragesimam violamus! Sed nos indigui tantis dapibus. Margareta, & Regii illi Manes, quos in Fundatoribus nostris numeramus, per me, tanquam per Legatum suum (ut Titulo vestro superbire liceat) Adventum vobis gratulantur. Nec invideas mihi, clarissime Advena, Legati nomen; nam cum Celsitudo vestra ad gradum meum (quem suscepisti modo) dignaretur descendere, Humilitas nostra (quod in bilance solet) ad vestrum apicem assurgebat. Scholas vidisti & illud unicum Sacellum, quorum alteri docuisti Literas, alteri Pietatem. Et quid amplius studes apud nos invisere? Eccum Academiam integram, Cancellarium dignissimum, qui quicquid Cantabrigia nostra complectitur plenius epraesentat. Theatra & Scholarum Pyramides nos ludibundi Vitruvii aedificamus in chartis. Tu, Tu Architectus fortunae nostrae, cujus Magnificentia vel Pictoris nostri audaciam super abi●… Multus sum, Honoratissime Orator, in Cancellar●… debitissimis laudibus, ut scias qualis Heros, quantus aliorum Patronus honori v●…stro bodie inserviat. Certè dum vos Majorum Gentium Nobiles simul adstantes videam; Nescio quis Isthmus videatur Galliam & Britanniam (inviro Oceano) conjunxisse. Q●… perpetuus sit ille Regionum nodus, & ita Gordianus, ut neuter Alexander discindat gladio. Plura vellem, & usque pergeret votorum pietas, sed victus diviti argumento plusquam Demosthenis Anginam patior. Quare si aures vestras, Regibus assuetas, nimis detinendo sacrilegus fuerim; si quid deliquerim, hoc saltem sit subitae Orationis pro●…ga temeritas; ut nè paratus ad peccandum prodiisse videar.   

Oratio habita cum unus è Prelectoribus, deficiente Termino, pensum (pro more) imponeret.  
HOdiernus intravi (juvenes Academici) tanquam Cato Floralia, ut exirem tantum. Convenimus fateor, sed ut dissiliamus: Siquidem hoc est longum Vale moribundi Termini, qui nollet (ut juridici loq●…ntur) intestatus mori. Sed singulis vestrum Legatum tribuit, & ejusdem cerae cohaeredes reddit. Penso igitur vobis erit Aristotelis Liber primus de Anima Conscriptus. Et quidem vos scio unam vel alteram Authoris paginam posse transcribere: hoc autem à vobis non expeto. Neque est ut expectarem, ut Heautontimorumenos & miserè Absyrtos veteres Philosophos in Cruciatus denuò redigatis. Ruente Quercu vel quilibet Homuncio ligna colliget. Illius autem animosior est Spiritus, qui è triumphantis Philosophi Faucib●…s eripiat, & eorum aliquem sub Clientela sua patrocinetur. Obsoleta ista Democriti, vel etiam Thaletis opinio ingenio Vestro fiat Authentica. Neque tamen in ullas angustias vos redigam. Universas Naturae Panaectas habeatis vobis usurarias. Modo etiam placuerit, (eruditi juvenes) liceat vobis leviter perstringere, & exesa ista Philosophorum Placita risui exponere. Quod si ita iis contigerit occumbere, habent quod Fatis imputent. Stuporem jactent, atque impotentiam suam in lucro possunt deputare: Si pereant manibus vestris periisse juvabit.   

Oratio habita in Scholis publicis cum Patris officio fungeretur.  
QUam aequivocum sit Patris nomen, quota & quam discolor officii ratio, si non aliunde, ab hac varia frequentia (Severiores viri & Lepidissima proles) possem dignoscere? Si enim ad singula Auditorum ingenia quiliber Orator componendus sit, ita ut cum Senibut t●…ssiat, rideat cum pueris; quid ego hominis? Quale futurus sum Monstrum, gravitute & nucibus, Patre & puero interpunctum? Quod in dispertita & expansa Aquila fieri videmus unum corpus duplicem ostentare faciem: eadem est nostra ergo vos & filios bifrons conditio. Hos cum aspicio, sum senex Aquila pullos meos ad vestrum jubar exploratura; ubi vos è contra, nescio quomodo ipse in pullum redeo, & ad instar Aquilae juventutem renovo. Duae igitur Dramatis personae sustinendae sunt; vestrâ in scenâ acturus sum Filium, in vestrâ Patrem, alterum genu flexum, alterum stabit Elephantinam, oscillatione, quod aiunt, Ludam. Superam modo, modo inferam occupanbo partem; partim Senex, partim Puer, qualis Aethon ille in Aheno Medeae semicoctus. Et quae quidem aptior via inveniri poterat, quam per ferulam ad fasces, per Filii scabellum ad culmen Patris assurgere? Serviendum ut imperes, Aulicorum methodus; à Vitulo ad Taurum Milonis progressus. Vobis igitur, Viri Gravissimi, primitiae nostrae sunt consecrandae; quod si nullo, vel, quod perinde est, tralatitio tantum honore prosequerer, non dico causam, quin filii mei improbitate erga me pari, injuriam vestram ulciscantur. Neque tamen interea noscimus quali vos compellemus nomine, quorum Eruditio scribit Academiae Maritos, obsequium malit Filios. Perplexus fuit & tortuosus ille incesti nodus, quem de Oedipo suo fabulatur Graecia; major Maeander unusquisque vestrûm, quorum eruditione cum Alma Mater gravida fiat, & quotannis parturiat; quorum praeceptis & exemplari virtute; cum tenella pubes (quasi binis uberibus) lactetur indies; non Oedipus majoricum aenigmate sceleratus, quam quilibet vestrum pius: Matris Maritus, Uxoris Filius, & Fratrum Pater. Neque hic se sistit vestra divina indoles, cujus vel pictura est satis prolifica; siquidem Alma Mater ubi concipiat, speciem vestram ob oculos ponit, vestrum instar repraesentat animo, ut masculum magis, magis excultam s●…bolem enitatur. Illi, illi estis, quibus si ante inventas literas contigisset vivere, Imagines vestras ab Aegyptiis expressas, hodie pro Artibus & Scientiis legeremus. Non ego sequax erroris illius qui nihil egregium ducit nisi quod vetustum, qui praesentia fastidit tempora, & ex hesterno jure panem atrum vorat. Senescit, si Diis placit, Natura; Majoribus quidem nostris dedit animarum jugera, nobis spithamas; Gigantes illi, nos Pusiones. Degeneres animae & verè minores in hac opinione: Lucrifecit haec aetas, non decoxit. Illi quidem Literarum Atavi, sed quota est familia? cujus primus fuit illud quod dicere nolo, secundus illud quod nequeo: Humilis principii nobilis progressus. Habeant quod suum est Antiqui, sed nè in solidum fiant Domini: suas sibi laudes vendicent, sed vestras vobis nè praeripiant; quorum ego meritis tantum confido, ut veterum sicut canitiem veneror, sic misereor impotentiam. Ructarunt illi glandes, vestrum est triticum: calceati eorum dentes, & victus asper, vestrae dapes & ingenii gulae; quibus quod retro est seculum tantùm stravit mensam, erit à quadris futurum. Clari Convivae, quibus obsonantur antiqui, minis●…rant posteri. Sed quam effrons ego & devorati pudoris, qui dum vestra molior Encomia, Orationem meam foelicitatis tantae commensalem reddam! Liceat tamen peccare, Auditores, ut ignoscatis; purpura elotis maculis est iterata murice; gloriabor de culpâ à vobis remissâ magis quam de innocentiâ. Julius Sabinus; cum à Romano imperio defecisset, fusis jam copiis & afflictis rebus in monumentum quoddam se abdidisse dicitur, ubicum Uxore tamdiu latuerit, ut plures filios ex ea susceperit; tandem vero deprehensus, & pro Tribunali positus, filios suos in medium sistens, sic affatur judicem: Parce, Parce, Caesar; hos in monumento genui, hosce alui, ut tibi plures essemus supplices. Vestram fidem, Auditores, quicquamne uspiam rotundius dictum? Consulite quicquid est Rhetorum. O vanas spes tuas Cicero! O frustra susceptos labores! O inanes cogitationes! Tinnis, tinnis prae hoc Oratorum maximo, qui si cum Uxore tua Rhetorica tam diu in Musaeo conclusus esses, quam ille in Monumento, nunquam Orationem hujus parem genuisses. Gratias tibi, Sabine, de excusatione mea, qui cum necesse sit ut delinquam, habeo tamen deprecandi formulam. Habeo filios quos ostendam, hanc circumstantem Rhetoricam Magna, magna est Infantium Eloquentia, qui eò plus exorant quò non loquantur. Eorum illice tacendi Suadâ & ego in praesens utar; neque dubito quin plus favoris demerear silentio, quam ulteriori taedio.   

Actus primi Scena secunda.  
REdeo jam alter Sosia: Redeo cum annorum sarcinâ. O quam tacito pede tempus labitur, & obrepit non intellecta senectus! Non est, quam videtis barbae desperatio, sed genarum calvities; non sum implumis puer, sed defloccatus senex. Prodite igitur in aciem, mei filii; non in aciem ingenii; nollem enim vos nimis ingeniosos in pueritiâ, ne Doctores sitis in senectute. Prudens Natura dedit Infantulis rationis somnum, ut in aetatis vespera lucubrentur. Cum animae nimis vigiles in praetexta, dormiunt, ut videtis, in purpura. Festo die si quid prodigeris, pro festo egere liceat, modo non peperceris; si juvenes prodigatis cerebra, Senes capita eritis & nil praeterea. Sed non est quod de vobis metuam; pari modo nostra, quo Claudiana familia est intertexa, aut Regem, aut Fatuum nasci oportet; aut lepidos & facetos juvenes, aut eorum Antipodas. Illos ita hilares & jocosos, ut ex Jovis cerebro jurares natos, alios ita hebetes & tardos, ut vel ex patris delirio, vel ex novissimo decreto. Non magis differunt illae primae sorores, Nox & Dies, quam hi Fratres. In hisce radiorum pompa & adulta lux; in illis spissae tenebrae vel, si qu●…d Intellectûs lumen, qualis è squamis piscium, aut putri ligno nocturnus splendor. Hercules & Iphiclus fratres fuerunt indole dispares; Herculi fortitudo data est, Iphiclo pernicitas pedum, ac si illum Alemena ad bellum, hunc ad fugam peperisset. Est & nobis multiplex Hercules qui duodecim terminos totidem laboribus mensuravit: unus forsan aut alter Iphiclus, qui pocula sacra hibit & fugit; qui non aliàs se Herculis fratrem demonstrat, quam quod trinoctium illud quod ad procreandum Herculem continuavit Jupiter in Intellectu suo usque conservat. Nata est (quamvis novitia) de qu●…dam fabula; qui cum agnum insidiis excepisset, & odoranare persequeretur Pastor, ubi nullus pateret effugii locus, tuguriam intrat, agnum fasciis involutum in cunas componit, quas huc illuc subinde quassat, ut balanti puero conciliaret somnum; sic scrutantium examen elusit, & astu non dispari Ulyssem vicit: Sunt & in nostra prole aliqui, quorum cunas si penitius excutiatis, illuc etiam reperire est illud simplicius animal, nihil praeter agninam pellem & innocentiam. Mortale ovum Castoris, immortale Pollucis; hic jovem Deum imitatur, aeternus, viridis, & mutationis expers; ille Jovem Cygnum; nec diu erit quin senior factus canitie simulabit plumas; alter filius Jovis, alter 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Quis tantum componet litem? Quis conciliabit inter sese tam multiformis foetus membra? Dei Pollux Castori immortalitatem mutuam, uterque vivet alternatim; dies nocti lucem accommodet, utrinque crepusculum fiet; spargantur in omnibus merita, quae in aliquibus fluunt mista, & mea fide omnes idonei ad respondendum questioni. Hi tamen sunt in quibus stabit hodierna hilaritas: cum enim penuria verborum sit Mater Rhetoricae, non video quin defectus ingenii sit Pater jocorum. Sed esto quod non sunt agiles & ad ingenium prompti; nonne statutis magis morigeri? non sunt stupidi, tantum obtemperant Authoritati. Centurio cum à Proelio abesset, & Africanus Victor causam quaereret, respondit, se tuendis castris dedisse operam, ne caeteris in acie detentis diriperentur; suboluit Duci pusilanimis ratio. Non amo nimium diligentes. Etiam & filii mei hisce lepidis Exercitiis interessent, nisi quod tuenda sunt Castra, observanda Statuta, ne caeteris jocantibus violarentur. Euge mei filii! non fuit Militis ignavia, sed Castrorum cura; non Torpor ingenii, sed metus Statuti. Lex fuit antiqua in Tabulis Decemviralibus primum inventa, ad Justiniani Codicem postea progressa, in jure qua Canonico, qua Civili receptissima; & tandem ad hoc Municipale nostrum delapsa. Siquis faxit plus quam possit damnus esto. Lex imponit Castitatis fibulam; nonne damnandus Eunuchus si committat stuprum? Cavet statutum ut frugi vivamus: nonne culpandus Mendicus si luxurietur? Pari modo plectendi sunt mei filii, si sint ingeniosi. Crudele Decretum quod mutis execuit linguas, caecis extinxit oculos, filiis meis ingenio inter dixit.   

Oratio Inauguralis, cum Praelectoris Rhetorici munus auspicaretur.  
QUanta & quam divina sit vestra benefaciendi Indoles, quam pauperrima gratitudinis nostrae talio, nescio an diutinum meum silentium, an hodierna Oratio luculentius fuerit testimonium. Imparem se fatetur modesta taciturnitas, & in tanto certamine maluit cedere, quam infantibus Gratiis humanitatem vestram balbutire in minimis, & quae compensare possunt beneficiis peccat silentium, quod in majoribus est religiosum. Sed frigidè agnoscere tantundem ac tacere; & in hoc tamen scelere pietatem meam invenietis, quod enim sollicitis votis ambiunt alii, ut favori vestro p●…ribus numeris respondeant, ut munus & Gratiae in●…amoebaeam quandam Eclogam coalescant: secus ego gratulor meam gratiarum ignaviam: quò enim magis infra muneris vestri magnitudinem subsido, eò infamiâ me●… munus commendo. Gratiae cum beneficio in bilance positae, & pro levitate suâ in sublime actae, ex proprio 〈◊〉 dibrio gloriam addunt & pondus beneficio. Quod si elegantes magis velitis gratias, estote vos minus munifici, Gratitudo est beneficii Echo, quae ut singula verb●… potest repetere, ita longam sententiam ne dimidian. Monosyllaba (ut ita dicam) beneficia facilè reverberamus, cum grandioribus & vestris ne unam aut alteram syllabam rependimus: prodeo igitur in aciem cu●… amore vestro, sed ut succumbam studeo. Contendu●… gratiae cum beneficio, sed ut ex istâ pugnâ major appareat vestra victoria. Qui in Hostis potestatem se luben●… offert, invidet hosti honorem suum; plenior ex capi●… quam ex dedititio Triumphus; & major erit munificentiae vostrae Paean ex Oratore victo, quam ex imbe●… silentio. Quorsum autem ego in haec subsellia ascenderem, qui ita haereditarium à proavis meis praelectoribus accepi silentium, ut necesse habuerim quasi ex traduce, tacuisse? Erat enim, cum Lectores legere Pleonasmus haberetur. Artis fuit apud illos dissimulare artem; munus suscipere, cum privilegio dormire; implere autem, (absit omen!) officium; ad industriam prodere, de posteris mereri malè. Crediderim sanè ego illud fuisse muneris nostri ingenium, ut, quod Papae solent, illarum virtutum à quibus maximè distant esse cognomines; proinde Rhetores eligerentur illi, qui per integrum annum obmutescerent. Nec immeritò; tam rarae enim fuerunt, tam infrequentes praelectiones nostrae, tam seculares denique, ut nescio quî possum melius praefari, quam illis praeconis verbis; Venite ad Ludos quos nemo mort alium unquam videt, nec visurus est postea. Sed nova hoc anno exoritur Lectorum Religio, quî, aliter ac Lectores solent, ad Canones & Statuta revocamur. Stamus indies, loquimur quotidiè, & tam ancipiti pulmonum virtute, ut & Pulpitae ad vigiliam, & Auditores ad somnum adigamus. Ad somnum? ad horrorem potius; tanto enim recentes hujus inusitati prodigii percussi sunt metu, ut verendum sit nè ad Paedagogos scripserint novitiam aliquam haeresin suppullulasse, Babylonicam Meretricem in Rhetoricis Lenociniis esse redivivam, & in liberalibus Scientiis septicollem Bestiam. Ecquid amplius apud vos Papisticum? imo & quod pessimum est, noctu & interdiu horas Canonicas observare Procancellarium; quem non citius maximo cum honore nomino, quin eò deflectanda mihi videtur Oratio; cujus in laudes tam alacris est mea Rhetorica, ut si semel undarent lora, vereor quod habenas non audiret denuo. Quotus enim est patronus noster? qui homines alioquin somnolentos, tanquam matutinus Sol, radiis suis ad laborem suscitat; qui otiari in officio, ac dormire in aprico pudendum ratus, non modo ipse laborat, sed & nostri laboris est Artifex: ita eandem quam ipse exercet diligentiam felici contagione nobis affricat. Qui denique (& quod ego palmarium duco) modestiam meam, nimis difficilem, in hodiernum vestrî obsequium rapuit. Vestrî intelligo, Senatus amplissime; quibus quicquid ego Praelectoris sum, refero acceptum; quorum nescio an me Rhetorem elegerunt judicia, aut Suffragia crearunt. Crearunt dico, & satis cum audaciâ repeto; tot enim & tam foecundae voces in unum congestae, quem non Rhetorem fecissent? Quod igitur fabulantur Poetae ad Pandorae Natalitia universum Deorum Chorum fuisse à Symbolis; idem in Rhetorica mea, & unanimi vestro assensu, quasi Epimuthion nactum invenietis. Quare quos Eloquentia, si quae sit mea, agnoscit compatres, non dubito quin usque habitura s●… susceptores; ut eadem lubentiâ in aures vestras resili●… quâ facilitate pectorum profecta est. Non causabor i●… posterum imbecillitatem meam, qui onus dedistis, dedist is humeros: & ut absint caetera, satis erit virium sub aquilâ vestrâ militare. Refert Seneca de pusi●… & monogrammate (ut ita dicam) homunculo, qui palaestram ausus est descendere, quoniam pugiles mulos & strenuos servos domi aleret. Si servi tantum pot●…erint, si vicarii roboris confidentia infirmum herum commas●…ulare possit, quid Domini facient? Et ego in h●… literarium pulverem possum irruere, non Mercurio meo, sed quoniam tam multos & tam facundos habeam Dominos. Non enim ad hoc officium designatus sum à dextro aut àlaevo vulture, non à sitellâ aut sortibus, no●… ab imperito vulgo, vel (quod idem est apud Persas) hinniente equorum armento, sed à Senatu vestro, scilicet (ut sobriè audax possum dicere) ab oecumeni●… literarum concilio. Quid enim non infra erit eorum dignitatem, quibus Artes omnes pro satellitio, & conjuratae veniunt ad Clientelam Scientiae? Impos hic sui Rhetorica, & laudes vestras nè anhelâ quidem eloquentiâ adaequare potest. Parcite, Auditores, si vos frequens compellem; ita enim subduxi mecum rationem ad agendum, ut ubi vos nominaverim, Troporum affatim, abundè Figurarum. Quod igitur artis Memoriae Professores solent per ea, quae sunt sibi ante oculos posita, alia quaecunque memoranda significare; idem Auditores meos edoctos velim, ut in vos ora & obtutus figant, ut hunc Metonymiam, illum Hyperbolen, universam multitudinem pro continuatâ figurarum Allegoriâ imaginati, omnes colores, omnia Orationis lumina, integram denique Rhetoricae Supellectilem, per quandam oculorum Metaphoram ad sese transferant. jamque, Auditores, ●…um eò deventum sit, ut vos omnes in volumen quoddam Rhetoricum compegerim, recipio in posterum me lectu●…um: In praesens aliquid de Rhetoricâ dicendum censeo; ●…eque enim tam foelix Argumentum, quale vos reputo, ●…riùs reliquissem, quam individuis praeconiis vos & Rhe●…oricam semel simulque commendare. Ferunt Demost●…enem, optimum licet Rhetorem, non potuisse pronuncia●…e nomen Rhetoricae. Quae Demosthenis fuit impoten●…ia, est Rhetoricae modestia, quae licet apud omnes lau●…atissima sit & multi nominis, titulos tamen suos erubes●…at proloqui. Quid igitur ego quam ut veterem illum ●…edelae modum imitarer? lapides aliquos in os injiciam, ●…uos nisi favor vester, plus quam Chymicus in preciosos erterit, indigni erunt qui in auribus vestris tam diser●…s pendeant. Age igitur Rhetorica, explica virtutes ●…as, quae Logicae, Philosophiae caeterisque tuis Sororibus ●…licem facundiae hederam soles praefigere. Si tibi in eo●…em deesses officio, quid aliud quam foris saperes, domi insanires? Atque hinc quam optimè Rhetoricae encomium auspicari possum, quòd nativa sit ejus Pulchritudo cum in caeteris nil nisi emptitium fucum deprehendas. Scitum est illud Phrynes Thebanae Commentum, qua cum Convivio inter aequales adesset, & probè jam saturatae omnes ludis operam darent; Lex lata est, ut quicquid facto praeiret quaevis, subsequerentur caeterae. Ubi ad Phrynes vices deventum est, poscit aquam, faciem lavat, quod cum caeterae pro imperio Legis fecissent, Phryne pulchrior, ut quae sordes eluerat, deformes caeterae, ut quae fucum deter serant, apparuere. Huc summa redit denique, Autographa est Rhetoricae venustas, quae in caeteris est tralatitia. Fictitii sunt aliorum vultus, cum nesciat Rhetorica qualis sit illa nova Prosopopoeia. Caeterae quidem Scientiae Magnates sunt Dominae; sed tanquam Dominae facies suas è Rhetoricae Pyride mutuantur. Ut reliquas taceam; Quid Logica citra Rhetoricam? Contractus ille pugnus ad Colophos magis accommodus, quam ad aures demulcendas; ubi verò in palpam Rhetoricae extendatur, non opus est ut dicam quantum potue it, cum frater meus Logicus exemplo suo nuper ostenderit. Quae igitur alias Artes laudibus suis deaurare solet, aequum est ut suis superbiat, quae (tanquam Danista) Elegantiam suam foris locat usurariam, iniquum esset si non ipsam sortem cum amplissimo foenore reciperet quanquam quidem Rhetorica non tam facultates suas foenori apponit, quam, tanquam Missilia, in Scientiarum plebem Regina disseminat. Hactenus quam dives Rhetorica in alienis loculis, nunc videamus quam opulenta sit in suis. Quod ut faciliu●… fieret, utinam Thesaurarius, ejus Cicero revivisceret; qui si toties de Rhetorica sua, quoties de Consula●… gloriatus esset, & aeque indefessum argumentum hab●…isset, & mitiùs ob superbiam vapularet. Hic ille Atticae Helenae Rivalis, hic Palladii Graeci Ulysses; hinc illae Philosophi lachrymae Rhetoricam è Graecia transmissuram. Quod enim Antonio Athenas proficiscenti Cives Minervam suam desponsarunt; ideoque pro adulationis poena Talentum, quasi pro dote, coacti sunt numerare: idem in Cicerone plenius ac vellent evenisse constat; qui ubi Athenis studuit Rhetoricam, praesidem Civitatis Deam, Uxorem duxit; & ubi à Pyraeo solveret, omnem ejus dotalem ornatum secum in Italiam transmisit. Euge redux Cicero. Salvete in Tusculum Athenae. Opima magis spolia quam terna illa jovi Feretrio consecrata. O qualis fuit Ciceronis copia! Qualis ejus dicendi Tyberis! imo Romanus Nilus! Quantum enim ejus Eloquentia excrevit, vel deferbuit, tantum foecunda vel sterilis, foelix vel misera extitit Italia. Quot ille Coronas ob Cives, quot ob Provincias defendendas meruit? qui cum duos parricidio liberaret Roscium & Popilium, ob unum in aeternum debuit vivere, teste omnium optimâ Oratione: ob alterum mori, idque Popilii manu, in ejus caede parricidium confessi. Hic tamen Cicero Facundiae Sponsus; hic (pace Bruti dixerim) Romanorum Rex; hic, plusquam Caesar, perpetuus Dictator, ut divinum Rhetoricae numen sacro quondam horrore agnosceret, in Orationum primordiis singultiit, ut ludit Comicus, victitavit Sorbillo. Vetus obtinuit Superstitio, ut ubi Luna pateretur Eclipsin, armorum strepitus, vel quilibet alius clangor parturienti (sic enim credebant) Numini obstetricari possit. Ubi laborat Respublica, ubi deliquium passura est Patria, intercedit Rhetorica ut Lucina Juno, & suavissimo tonitru tumorem sedat. Tumultuatur Plebs, secedit in Janiculum. Ecquis prodit Jupiter Stator? Ecce Rhetor Agrippa, qui Fabulae cujusdam de ventre & membris tintinnabulo fugitivum apum examen ad praesepe redegit. Tantum Artificis valet habitus oris. Senecam dum audiret Nero, quis aequavit ejus quinquennium? Ita facundus senex insidiatur Tyranno, & animum ejus ad vitia proclivam furtiuâ Rhetoricâ in virtutem prodit, sanctissimè reus Majestatis. Neque enim Reges aut Imperatores Rhetoricae jugum sub●…erfugiunt. Tonat Rhetorica? frustra sub lecto cubat Testudo Caligula. Fulgurat Rhetorica? incassum lauro circundatur Tiberius, nec in iste circulo securus. Duplex enim est Rhetoricae Genius; bonus, qui innocentes praemiis afficit, & malus, qui sceleratos exagitat; tam subtilis tamen est ejus Suada & hujus terror, ut tanquam fulmen terebrans, salvis corporum vaginis ipsas animas liquefaciat. Quid ego vobis Crassos, Curios, Loelios proponam? quorum illustrium Rhetorum tam numerosa sunt apud Historiam Exempla; quam apud nos nulla: nam siqua sit exilis & strigosa Oratio, sine sanguine, sine anima; sententiis ad tertium lapidem porrectis, haec (si placet) est Ciceroniana. Pudendum nominis Sacrilegium! & cujus in vindictam miror facundos manes non resurgere novas scripturos Philippicas. Sed ecce alius Ciceronis insons! qui perspicuum & simplicem perosus styluin implicitè loquitur & in aenigmate, ac si Persii Carminae in Prosam Orationem per modum Anagrammatis resolveret: anxiae ineptiae! Et quae neminem Oratorem praeter Sphingem Monstrum, neminem Auditorem praeter Oedipum admittunt. Tertius prodit uterque neuter, qui ambabus sellis sedet, qui omnia dicendi genera experitur; cujus Oratio tanquam multiformis Luna secundùm varias mutat Quartas; modò gibbosa, modò falcata, plena, semi-plena, ac si Rhetorica Metempsychosin quandam instituerit, per omnes stylos pervagata. Ubi interim Musarum Castitas? Adulter est ille Stylus, quire●… habet cum pluribus, & maxima Oratoris laus est aequum & integritas. Sed proh stupor! Egone ut Rhetoricae ●…ncomia moliar, & Oratorem nostrum publicum cui omnes assurgunt, praetermittam? cujus nomen cum Demosthene triplicare, est Rhetoricam ex omni parte definire. Peregrinatur in altis Rhetorica, hîc Incola est, non Hospes unde non magis illam divellas quam Solem è Coelo, justitiam a Fabricio. Ille decus suae & dolor nostrae Gentis, qui cum Orator sit & Graecus Professor, pari jure quo Caesar, Consules, nominari potest Academiae Oratores. Ille enim verus Orator qui Ambidexter, in quo binae linguae unum eloquentiae trahunt jugum. Refert Seneca de quodam, qui cum bis declamasset in eodem die, Graecè, & Latinè, & sciscitaretur quidam (ut curiosum sumus Literarum genus) quomodo perorasset, responsum tulit, bené & 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, benè Latinè, perperam Graecè. Dictum non magis lepidum & rotundum quam hodiéque verum; quam multi enim sunt Literati 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; Quot Eloquentes 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; Plures Cicerones (pauci licet) quam Demosthenes. Incipiat sanè Rhetorica à Latinis, sed adolescat in Graecis. Graecia à Latio mutuetur Calendas; sed Nonas, sed Idus apponat suas: qui enim in solis Latinis est exercitatus, est Polyphemus monoculus, pene dixerim 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Rhetoricus. Possem, Auditores, ad Cathedram ascendere, & ibi etiam quomodo Rhetorica pro Tribunali sedeat, demonstrare; sed pinge duos angues, sacer est locus: vel si fas esset laudes ejus attingere, attingere tamen est Peligio: ita enim in illo divino Professore conturbavit prodiga Rhetorica, ut nè unciam habeat unde cum posteris pro labore & vigiliis suis decernat. Huc usque eminus quasi verba feci; tempus est ut cum auditoribus meis cominus agerem: Moris enim est librum nominare, & sic pro hoc anno satisfecisse. Sed illud quicquid est numeris reliquum, in Termini proximè ineuntis exordium differam; ubi tamen spero Auditores meos non affutores; nam si nullo alio modo vos deterrere possum, legam Arabice. O invidendam Praelectoris solitudinem! cujus in Individuo, coelestem admodum, universa species Arabica, quantum ad nos spectat, conservatur. Quod si m●…is ingratiis Auditores adsint, & Ego contra me sistam Rhetorem, uterque agemus quod nostrum est, usque vobis grati erimus. Rhetoricae & honori vestro pariter incumbemus: ita enim commodum nostrum & observantia vestri mutuo nexu alligantur, ut quo quisque erimus magis Rhetores, eò Munificentiae vestrae magis memores.   

Oratio habita in Scholis Theologicis, cum Moderatoris partes ageret.  
QUae cum ità sint, Auditores, liceat tandem perorare, Piladi dabo ut hodie insaniam, & tum fi●…itus Orestes. Quod Reges solent, ubi satietas illos ●…undi ceperit, Coenobium intrare ut seipsos dediscant; perinde de nostro ingressu in hasce Scholas judicate. Poenitet nostrae nugacis facundiae, & in severiori hujus loci genio remedium quaero. Nec tamen sum ex illorum numero qui sapiunt in gratiis, qui gravitatem complectuntur, ut continentiam Senes, qui cum ulterius peccare nequeunt, resipiscunt. Spadonum est haec virtus; ingenia casta, quoniam non mascula; ac si Statuta nostra, sicut Turcarum Mulieres, non alios agno scerent Custodes praeter Eunuchos. Pudet haec opprobria nobis dici. Sunt qui ingenio ingenium debellant, qui ex ferratis Stymphalidum pennis desumunt spicula, quibus ipsas aves, vivas illas pharetras, interficiunt. Hujusmodi cum audiam Tripodum Oracula, & ambiguos Vates, exemplo praeeuntes ingenium, quod Orationibus insectantur. Video Catonem sui ipsius lacerantem viscera; Video Demosthenem proprio Calamo pereuntem. Ad quid autem, dicit aliquis, hispida haec rerum facies? Ergóne defluet comptior Eloquentia, ut barbae squallor dominetur? Absit omen! Regnet quidem Gravitas, sed citra straiatam frontem & Vultûs Tyrannidem, nè sit instar Sileni Alcibiadis, ita intùs Numen ut extùs appareat Demogorgon. Qui in Oratore odit foeminae mollitiem, fastidit magis agrestes villos; qui denudat aures Rhetoricis cincinnis, extirpat radicitus genarum sentes: Neque enim illi accedo, qui consultus de optimo Rhetore, respondit, Statuta Academiae. Liber noster non stat in catenis reus eloquentis criminis, sed tanquam Tyrius Apollo ideo constringitur, nè suam gravatus servitutem mutaret Dominum. Facilis à libro ad Respondentem transitio, quos cum ambos simul cogitem, nescio an gemellos rectè nominarem. Gemelli; corpora si respicias sunt unius Divortium, si animas unio duorum, quasi vulnus à Natura factum amore mutuo erat coi●… rum. O quam studet illam Naturae Diaeresin resarcirt, qui cum libro non indulserit Nasum; prohibere tamen nequit quin typis mandetur! ea enim est ejus cum literis communio, ut literato ejus cumulo vel huno unicum librum addere, erant qui superstuum credidere. Vultis omnia? tam eruditus est noster Respondens, ut vereor ne tanquam Cataphractus miles, onustus potius quam munitus literis videatur. Sed incassum ego molior; surge tui ipsius Encomium; ego enim (tanquam pictum velum, aut expansum carbasum) spectaculum polliceor; tuum est, Scaligeri verbo, monstrum perfectionis ostendere.   

Oratio prior habita in Scholis Juridicialibus, Domino Doctore Littleton Respondente.  
UNicum nostrum & captivum librum cum eodem obtutu quo numerosa tua conspiciam volumina, nescio quin disparis nostrae conditionis luculenta Icon videatur. Me quod spectat Eruditionis nostrae modulum satis unus, satis nullus liber repraesentat; cum tua grandiora merita vix integra complecti possit Bibliotheca. Ad quid autem librorum tantum; ubi magis est literarum? Veteris picturae fuit opprobrium quòd hîc Canis, fuit adscriptum, cum viva effigies (tanquam praeco domesticus) seipsam interpretetur. Credimus te literatum, non propter Authorum, sed propter tuiipsius testimonium. Optimus Nomenclator imaginis est loquax artificium. Propria virtus, non farrago librorum te honestabit, & unicus tuus Orator erit Respondens. O quam superbit Alma Mater, quae frequentem nuper enixa sobolem in te uno duplicavit numerum! Refert de patre quodam Historia, qui inter filios divisurus bona, primo tantum tribuit, & Lucium cohaeredem facit; tantum secundo, & Lucium addit; tertio tantum, & usque Lucium fortunae suae rivalem: cumque in qualibet cerâ scripsisset Lucium, hoc addit Elogium, Lucius & Fratres sunt Gemini. Quid aliud Gemini quam Naturae aequilibrium? quae cum unum fratrem reliquos Triumviratûs regulâ, adaequare faciat, Quò tum te creavit virtus? Multiplexes in tuis Fratribus, & qua scunque laudes illi meruerunt, tu nasceris particeps. Certè si te unum tantum pepererit Academia, multos simul pariat necesse, ut duos dicatur peperisse. Neque tamen de Fratrum copia de sperandum est; si enim parturienti Academiae, ut laboranti Lunae, strepitu & sono obstetricandum sit, nullum facilius quam juridicorum erit puerperium●… Crederem equidem vel in ipso utero litigare velle, ut citius nascerentur. Hinc est quod tam universa prod●… Cadmi seges, ut malè metuo ne vix satis sit litium ad omnes alendos. Quod si bono fato contigerit, arm●… aristae se metent invicem & (piscium ad instar) 〈◊〉 praedae deficit, vorabunt mutuò. Liceat mihi, Themidos Magnates, Causidicorum vulgus paulum perstringere, ut vestra magis internoscantur merita; cumque aliàs modestia vestra non patiatur, in aenigmate saltem adulari liceat. Subdola furium scientia hanc inter reliquas excogitavit fallaciam. Fures duo à jurgiis auspicati pugnam simulant, capita pro mutuâ Colophorum libidine probè demulcent, quod cum confertus hinc illius populus spectatum prodeat, usque praeliantur bellicosi A●…cupes, dum à Collegis suis turbae commixtis, singulorum marsupia pertunduntur. Non in vestram pecc●…o dignitatem, si nubat haec Similitudo. Sunt & in vestra gente Cauponantes belli, qui ita disputant, ut quaestionem in alienis loculis inveniant, & (quod pessimum est) in illis exercitiis nullum agnoscunt Moderatorem. L●…diones sunt qui ob mercedem pugnant, vestra Disputatio sola retinet liberalitatem scientiae. Sed Infans encomium addendo detrahit; laudare quod satis nequis est sacrilegium admittere. Age igitur, Doctissime Vir, & disputatio vestra quae praecidit mihi Orationis progressum, suo indicio, & vestris radiis magis eniteat.   

Oratio posterior, eodem Respondente.  
DE Gallis dicitur quod primus plusquam virorum impetus, secundus minor sit quam foeminarum. Digni profectò qui ab Uxoribus suis vapularent milites, cum (tanquam meticulosi lepores) fortitudinis suae sexum mutent. Non tu hujusmodi Tiresias Gallicus, ●…t virilis anima sit degener in foeminam, & novissimae ●…ebdomadae fortis Disputatio subsidat hodiè in sequiorem. Eccum vobis, Auditores optimi, eundem Respondentem! virtutem parem! noster Hercules non Ancillam ●…nduit, nec nobilis ille clavae terror ad humile ministerium Coli emasculatur. Cestius Rhetor ita sibi & Eloquentiae suae supervixit, ut discipulus ejus per cineres perorantis Cestii juraret. Quotusquisque est qui suum ipsius stat Monumentum, cujus vigor igneus in flebile frigescit marmor, idem Eruditionis Cadaver & Sepulchrum? Secus tua divina virtus, quae aemulos prius superare contenta, nunc audaci conatu seipsam molitur; quae cum alios ita nuper vinceret, nunc ipsam Victoriam captivam ducet. Hoc habet quilibet generosus animus, ut ne Solstitium patiatur, tantum abest ut agnoscat Tropicum. Praestat aeternùm fuisse claudum, quam tandem retrogradum. Malo Mulier esse quam Eunuchus. Malo nasci quam fieri ignavus. Pristinae igitur virtutis memor iterum descendis in pulverem, & priori gloriâ, tanquam optimo tubicine, redaccensus instauras praelium. Proinde à Majoribus nostris cautum est, ut duos actus praestarent juridici; absque enim vobis & vestris litibus dualis numerus non esset inventus. Hinc est quod semel tantum respondeat Theologus, ut quos vestra jurgia duos effecerint, ejus Pietas reduces faciat ad unitatem. Si Theologia & Medicina cum jurisprudentiâ de forma concertarent, tam turbida est Facult●… vestra, ut me Paride, vestrum esset Pomum Discordi●… Sterilescit hoc anno Medicina, ut quae satis novit quod ingruente bello, citra Medicorum opem mori possumus. Deficit Medicina, redundat Facultas vestra, neq●… mirum tamen quod binos alat ubere foetus, cum ad Ar●… vestrae mulctram nos humanum pecus toties veniamus. Gens Amazonum alteram mammam solet exurere, 〈◊〉 ad praeliandum magis sit accommoda; ambas habet jurisprudentia, & tamen plus quam Amazon est bellicosa. Qui solet omnia duplicare Bacchus à Poet is fingitur ●…is natus; duplex actus te peperit geminum. Ecce ti●… Jovis & Patris mixtura dulcis, qui disputationis f●…mine te primum genuit, in amoris femur nunc reconder. Epaminondas moriturus, cum ejus orbitatem defler●… quidam, nihil de tam egregiâ stirpe reliquum fuisse: Leuctram & Mantinaeam, duas pulcherrimas filias se reliquisse dixit. Quid aliud tua disputatio gemin●… quam Leuctra & Mantinaea? pulchrae quidem fili●…, quas ita desponsatas sibi velit posteritas aemula, ut qui in futurum seculum erit doctus, erit Gener tuus. Ag●… igitur, & fortiter, cavendum enim est ab Achilles fato qui usque fuisti invulnerabilis, in Disputationis cal●… occidaris.   

Oratio itidem habita in Scholis Juridicialibus, cum Moderatoris partes ageret.  
CUm vos intuear, jurispiritûm Par, simulque reductis introrsum oculis imperitiam meam, Areo●…agum esse in hisce Scholis duplex argumentum invenio, ●…estram in agendo solertiam, & nostras judicandi te●…ebras. Fabula de Capro inter duos Arietes curs●…s ●…rbitro, & ab hinc illinc procurrentibus utrinque con●…so; fabula inquam haec utinam esset fabula, nec in Moderatore vestro hodiernum nacta 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Sa●…urni aetas foelix magis, quod innocens, an misera ●…uod nullis Legibus instituta, digna vobis quaestio. ●…ratulor quidem ego primaevum scelus; qui pri●… deli●…uit, primus Solon & Lycurgus fuit, ita Ciconiae ●…d modum vitae damno Iura peperit, & tanquam Au●…graphus Draco, suo sanguine Leges scripsit. Me●…rcule peccandi Inventio, quae. Leges introduxit, cujus ●…i primus Author extitit, tanto beneficio redemit sce●…s, ut facinus infra gloriam fuisse videatur. Nec ●…estra unius populi, sed Gentium superbia est Iurispru●…entia; cujus in clientela Nationes omnes & Provinciae ●…rent, & de juris Civilis ac de Solis communione uni●…rsae participant. Insulas, Urbes & singula Geo●…aphiae frusta Ius Municipale occupat, cum Civile ●…iversum Orbem complectatur, & Regiones, ut ut ●…ssitas, suâ tamen sub ditione foederatas, vel invitâ ●…aturâ, jubet coalescere. Britannos ipsos, quos cum ●…ero Orbe in bilance quadam Natura posuit, Ius Ci●…le (tanquam Isthmus quidam) conciliat, & ju●…li quadam societate connectit. Neque magis Orbem ●…s vestrum colligit, quam illud alteram dividit & ar●…ulatim comminuit. Est (quam vellem dixisse fuit!) legultiorum genus, quos artem nescias an pulmones professos; qui ambi●…uitate vocis abusi, Forum in Emporium mutan●…, ubi quid vendant sat superque norint, qui tanti emunt poenitere. Quid turbae est apud Forum? Quid illic homines litigant; qui ita clangant, ac si cum Proavis suis Capitolium defenderent? Advertas modo, & audi●…s. Damonis Caprum à Causidico quodam pari clamore quo olim surreptum; multum latrante Lycisca repetitum. Sed quid ego illos perstringo, quos vestra coelitus dilapsa scientia ipsâ comparatione satis arguit? satis per seipsam splendet vestra purpura, ut ne alieno rubore indigeat. Quod meum igitur est, judex assurgo, vultis, & qualis? qui causam nescio. Ais? Aio: Negas? Nego; tam dubia est nostra Moderatrix Trutina; ut ne pulvisculum habeat Doctrinae qu●… vel hanc, vel illam prae●…ravabit sententiam. Agite igitur Themidos Supreme. Flamen, tuque inferior Mysta, & dum vos tanto litetis Numini, ego (tanquam Cereris Arcano) sacro excipiam silentio; neque enim alio concilio huc ascendi, quam quo Philippi puer, i●… Argumenta vestra, si prolixiora, mortalitatis su●… admonerem.   

Ad Archiepiscopum Cantuariensem  
QUos ad Aram vestram impulit pri●…s. Hostium malitia, eò Numinis bonit as allexit denuó. Supplices qui primum accessin●…us, grati jam redimus; & ubi Asylum habuimus, eò sacrificium 〈◊〉, sed quantum thuri nostro dissidimus, ubi 〈◊〉 Jovem Statorem cogitamus? Beneficium quidem vestrum seriò gratulamur, sed & dolenius pariter; cujus magnitudo gratias in ●…um provocat, 〈◊〉 nos ad ingra●…os necesse damnet: e●…vero nos indigni qui s●…s grati. Edvardus & Elizabetha Virginei Reges conjugantur in gratiis; quorum numera suam ex traduce Castita●…em non conservass●…, nisi quod Patrocinio vestro à Sacrilego raptu vindica entur. O quam fidelis erit ille erga Regem suum, cujus pertinax Pietas cineres Regios demeretur! Quam avida interim humanitas as vestra, quae non nisi tribus se●…is contenta! quae retro aevum in●…uetur, ut in futurum prospiciat; quae ad Proavos nostros ideo recutrit, ut majori cum impetu ad Nepotes prosiliat. Ut Gratitudo igitur nostra coaetanea sit beneficiis vestris, qui tres aetat●… beas, tertium hominum ae●…em vivas. Gratulamur ig●…ur Patronum nostrum, quem dum gratulamur fuisse, usque gratulamur sore: quicquid enim gratiarum hodierni Clientes non ab solvimus, posteris adimplendum relinquemus,  
22. Febr. 1637. Dominationi vestrae maximè obnoxii Magister & Socii Coll. D. I.   

Ad Episeopum Lincolniensem.  
Reverende Praesul;  
LIteras vestras ad Doctorem datas, & ad nos tanquam haeredes secundae cerae delatas, ut amoris vestri clementiam gratulamur! Consulto siquidem Amplitudinis tuae refringis radios, priusquam ad imbellem nostrum aciem pervenirent. Solem in unda spectamus faciles, quem in orbe suo non sine lippitudine sustinemus. Quae fuit scribendi; utinam eadem esset responsi methodus, ut excusatione ad alium traduce peteremus veniam, & vicario rubore delictum nostrum fateremur. Quanquam si penitius causam excutias, peccamus magis quod deprecamur, & majori obsequio rebelles fuimus, quam morigeri essemus. Quid enim aliud est peregrinum asciscere, quam sanguinem vestrum exhaeredem facere. Collegium mater abdicat suos, si adoptet alienos. Si Tros Tyriusque nullo discrimine, Tyrius, vel in propriis penatibus erit inquilinus. Ergóne degener tandem vestra familia, & desiderat indigenas honoribus pares. Erubescendum opprobrium! & dignum quod tantus Maecenas experiundo refutaret. Habet igitur quod imputet Collegium, non quod defendat; si enim in hoc peccet, quod sobolem suam habeat charissimam, jussu naturae peccat, vestris peccat sub auspiciis! pertinaciori enim amplexu fovet filios, quia fatres tuos: Fratres dicimus, & satis cum superbia repetimus, ita enim cura vestra profitetur Patrem, amor Fratrem; ut non Oedipus majori cum aenigmate sceleratus fuerit, quam tu pius Matris Maritus, & Fratrum Pater. Veneramur igitur Patris & Fratris mixturam dulcem. Solvimus quas debemus gratias, & magis debemus solutas. Est beneficii Mantissa gratias admittere, praesertim nostras quales receptas in damno potes deputare,  
Dat è Coll. D. Joan. 16. die Aprilis, 1641. Quos Paternitas vestra habet mancupi Magister & Seniores Coll. D. joan.   

Ad Episcopum Lincolniensem tunc temporis ò carcere laxatum.  
CUjus laborantes fortunas pari animorum deliquio diu expressimus, ne graveris si ejus redivivo jubare experrecti triumphemus: hodie enim est quod vivimus postliminio, & in vindiciis honoris vestri, quotquot sumus, Virbii. Siquidem in moerorè vestro, quid aliud fuit vita nostra quam nocturna lucubratio, & occidenti tuo. superesse quam in gratiis Naturae vivere? Sed salva res est. Reddidit diem redux Phosphorus; & post tanta cum Astris jurgia, Collegium Mater jam tandém fatetur Coelos. Incassum Tubas fatigarunt Veteres, ut Eclipsin redimerent. Alma mater suspiriis suis magis sonoris prostigavit vestram; scilicet hic fuit foelicitatis vestrae somnus, qui tantum abest, ut illam extingueret, ut reficiat potius & alacriorem reddat. Eccum tibi majorem mundum tuum ad exemplar compositum; vel (si mavis dictum) luce & tenebris distinctum! Sol si perpetuus splenderet, nec Aram, nec Mystam haberet Persicam. Enimvero caligantes oculi nostri pacti sunt inducias cum fulgore vestro, quibus finitis ad pristinum redit seipsum. Aspicias quae sumus Clientum n●…mina, & agnoscas tot radios à luminoso tuo corpore diffusos; nihil enim de nostro habemus. Percurras singulos, & videas teipsum exiliorem semper ad modum, sed modo plenius, modo angustius, pro variâ speculorum indole repercussum; atque hinc est quod Imaginem vestram, tanquam Collegii Palladium, inter Archiva recondimus; ut mater enixa sobolem ad picturam sistat, vultus comparet, & ita umbrâ vestrâ, plusquam splendore Phoebi, distinguat pullos. Gratu●…ur igitur vel nostro nomine novas hasce honorum induvias: Vivas in posterum fortunâ major. Ingens vester animus, tanquam illud aeternum jecur, indignetur vulturem, quo magis consumitur, augeatur magis, & inter ipsos invidiae molares crescat virtus. Ita vovemus,  
5. Decemb. 1640. Paternitati vestrae quam maximè obnoxii Mag. & Socii Coll. D. I.   

Ad eundem jam factum Archiepiscopum Eboracensem.  
USque & usque quod gratulamur si molesti simus, utinam indies cresceret peccandi materia. Pietas officii non metuit Cramben, sed vestri honoris aemula indignatur Non ultra. Quin placeat igitur nostris, in literis fortunas tuas ruminare, & prolixioris calami gutture (quod Philoxenus gruino voluit) repetere dapum voluptatem. Neque retro tantum gaudemus, prensamus sinciput, & in futurum gratulamur: providè factum & tempestiuè; cò enim perrexit virtus vestra, ut si paulutum promoveat, humanos limites supergressus eris ineffabilis. At luxat nobis animos divinus horror, oum sacra facturis eminus, & splendor vester & sublimitas obversentur. Nictat Religio quae veneratur Solem, & tremore Luminum fatetur Deum. Eadem est nostra oculorum Conscientia, qui radios vestros non sine visûs crepusculo sustinemus. Nec minus sublimitatem vestram luimus; siquidem sacrificantium Zelus, tanquam flamma Sacrificii, quò magis ascendit, eò magis trepidat. Sed Optimus emollis Maximum. Clementia vestra disputat cum Amplitudine, & hac amicissima lite, (quasi totius Naturae puerperium) officium nostrum est oriundum. Ignoscimus Fatis immodestiam suam, quicquid adversi contingit, ut favoris insidias imputamus. Scilicet recurrere videbantur fortunae vestrae, ut fortius prosilirent. Comprobavit exitus ingenium commenti. Militans Ecclesia jam triumphat in promulside; & fluctuans, ut olim Arca, tandem in montibus requiescit. Non amplius Collegium Mater Canos lacerat, nec facit suâ computat miserias. Musae, quibus vivere fuit Hyperbole, nunc audent vigere; quippe Altitudo vestra (ut Niliaca Aegypti) fertilitatem Literarum ominatur. Enimvero cum Astra sint foelicitatis nostrae condi-promi; quid est quod à Superis non expectemus, Patrono nostro in hac Syderum vicinia collocato? Orandus igitur es, Archi-Praesul Dignissime, ut ambitionem nostram serò sisteres, ut honores vestros subinde catenares, & cum supremum fortunae gradum conscenderis, nec dum terminetur Climax vestra, Coelum superest.  
Decemb. 12. 1641. Dominationi vestrae Devotissimi Mag. & Socii Coll. D. I.   

Epistola Gratulatoria ad Episcopum Dunelmensem, qui in Bibliothecam johannensem saepius suit Beneficus.  
Reverende Praesul;  
QUamvis ea sic Liberalitatis vestrae divina indoles, ut prodesse malit quam agnosci, ea nostrae Talionis paupertas, quae nec illam debita gratitudine metiri valeat, nolumus tamen donis lacessiti alternas deserere, sed Amoebaeo gratiarum obsequio humanitati vestrae succinere. Erubescimus quidem hunc imparem congressum, ubi tam frequentia volumina unico gratulatorio Indice colligimus; & quae Bibliotheca vix capit, exiguis Epistolii pellibus arctare cogimur. Quotus enim es Maecenas noster? Quam atavis erga nos beneficiis editus? qui ita annuus in teipsum redis, ita 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 beneficia repetis, ac si novissima quaeque munera recentiori fulgore castigares. Quotuplicem igitur veneramur eundem Patronum? qui ut caeteris omnibus praeripuit aemulationis secundas, ita nec sibi ipsi concedit primas; sed variatis subinde amoris indiciis seipsum vicit; nec diu erit quin ipsam victoriam captivam ducet. Esuriens modo Theca nostra ita benignitate vestrâ extendit fauces, ut si qua hujusmodi satius posset capi, à crapulâ proprior quam à fame abesset. Solvimus igitur quas debemus gratias, & usque debemussolutas, dapibus tuis Helluones accedimus; Libris & Honori vestro pariter incumbimus; ita enim commodum nostrum & observantia vestri mutuo nexu alligantur, ut quo ●…que doctiores erimus, eo Munificentiae vestrae magis ●…ores.  
Dominationi vestrae quam maxime devinctissimi Mag. & Socii Seniores Coll. D. I.   

Ad eundem Episcopum Dunelmensem.  
Reverende Praesul, Maecenas unice;  
TAm frequentia sunt erga nos beneficia vestra, 〈◊〉 perpetuis Choreis in orbem acta, ut ducat ilia g●… titudo nostra, nec anhela tamen Liberalitati tantae 〈◊〉 pondere possit. Literae enim nostrae quid aliud sunt q●… humanitatis vestrae Echo? ita dimidiata loquuntur 〈◊〉 ce, nec nisi ultimas ejus syllabas possunt repetere. Q●… sum autem meditamur gratias, quas ne impune usq●… egimus, quin nova subinde in vindictam surgit M●… ficentia. Nolumus tamen, nolumus inulti cedere, 〈◊〉 qùe rebelles in obsequio erimus, & quo unico tam di●… nam indolem ulcisci possumus, munera vestra agnos●… mus. Desponsasti tibi Bibliothecam nostram (ut R●… manis usus) per coemptionem, quae singulas libro●… frontes mariti nomine inscripta, tanquam victuro g●… Posteritati commendatur. Unum autem prae omn●… Amplitudini vestrae debemus librum, illum volumus 〈◊〉 morem Patronorum indicem, qui scriptus & in terg●… nec dum finitus, nomen tuum, ut utramque ejus pag●… nam summâ cum lubentiâ recordatur.  
Paternitati vestrae devotissimi Magister & Socii Coll. D. I▪   

●…mino Edvardo Littleton, Sigilli Custodi.  
Honoratissime Domine,  
QUod fortunas vestras infimi homines eminus gratulamur, peccamus de industria, ut scias commu●… laetitiam inde perceptam, vel ad Reipublicae talos ●…cendisse, Caput ubi lauro circundatur, triumphant pedes. Obtinet idem membrorum foedus, ut quic●…d tibi accedit decoris, illud ut nostrum gaudeamus: 〈◊〉 nostrum modò cum caeteris, habemus quod soli & ●…arivales gloriemur. Cum enim pro humanitate quâ ●…es maximâ, Collegium nostrum non it a pridem invi●…es (parce dicto cui vestra Comitas fecit fidem) ●…ptasse tibi Matrem videbaris; sed privatam super●…m interpellat publica, & Gratulatio nostra ad Patriae ●…um est annectenda. Quae ante fluitavit Delos ●…ula, nato Apolline stetit immota; olim fabula, ●…t olim Historia. Reservavit se tibi fluctuans ●…glia Tridente tuo componenda. Nec nobis diutiús ●…ngit animum Antecessoris fatum, quod in ignotâ ●…enâ jaceat Palinurus; alter erit jam Typhis; 〈◊〉 decumanae quae illum absorpsit und●… te propriús 〈◊〉 Coelos ●…ollet. Blandius aequor nemo non facile ●…deratur, ut non nisi mare turbidum est periculum dignum. Enimvero placent discordiae hac merce●…, ut consilio tuo sopiantur; tanti enim est vestrum ●…egimen, ut majora pateremur. Macte igitur, ●…eros ter maxime, triplici omine, ut Militans Ecclesia te agnoscat Scutum, nutans Academia Scipi●… Laborans Britannia Statorem Jovem.  
Honori vestro quam maxime deditissimi Magister & 5●… Coll. D. I.   

Edvardo Herbert, Domino Herbert de Cherbury.  
Honoratissime ex utroque Domine,  
QUod vestras graviores 〈◊〉 as importuno officio intercalamus, peccamn magis si deprecemur: rapis e●…im ad illud obsequium tui plenos, & tanto afflati numi●…e videmur nobis non posse delinquere. Enimvero ●…adem nobis agendi grati●… quae tibi premer endi incumbit ●…ecessitas, & Gratitudo nostra, ut ●…t audacior, in hoc ●…altem erit innocen●…, quod à Liberali●…te vestrâ fu●…●…dux. Accepimus libro●… tuos & Tues, geminos ●…stos purioris Tue Minervae Filio●…. O quam (ut ne ●…id amplius) fatentur Patrein! Be●…ae, ad ●…culum, Musae, quod ●…itra Literarum decliv●…, cum Artium ●…gula moliatur Aetas, ipse emineas Scientiae Columen & Destina Veritatis. Libros dum legimus, legimus Unum Duos. quam pulchrè patrissant Volumina! quam gemellos tuos Honores referunt! Scilicet, Bilex est vestra nobilitas, Liceris & Stemmate intertexta. Helicon sanguinis tibi fuit in venis, non minor eruditionis quam Natalium Claritas. Amplectimur igitur hos Fratres in anum, & parentem suum ut Unum nobiles ●…eneramur. Sed incassum gratias meditamur, quas magnitudo beneficii ita provocat, ut simul extinguat. Sic vidimus Solem ignem accendere, & fortiori radio sopire denuò.  
Domine, Honori vestro quam Devotissimi.   

Ad Doctorem Newall.  
Dignissime,  
NEscimus enim quali compellemus nomine, que●… maternus Collegii amor scribit Filium, misera 〈◊〉 let patronum, penes tuam erit benevolentiam, & M●…trem agnoscere, & Clientem reddere: Bibliotheca & Sacellum precantur à Symbolis, & jugali quadam calamitate vestram attrahunt liberalitatem. O quam idoneum nactus es Argumentum, & doctum te profiteri & pium; nec in tuis ipsius virtutibus sistere, sed & nostrarum Artificem esse! Age igitur, Maecenas. uni●…, & ubi divinam tuam benefaciendi indolem (cui 〈◊〉 Epistola habet parem Suadam) perlegeris, nullus dubit●… quin usque erimus, qui sumus Munificenti●… vestra memores,  
Magister & Socii Coll. D. I.   

Ad Magistrum Wandesforth.  
QUin & nos admittis ad hoc gaudii convivium? Commendat epulas rivalis Stomachus, quas solitaria quad●…a reddit insipidas. Liceat nobis commensa●…es esse felicitatis tuae, & in cemmunis Triumphi cho●…um accedere. Quorsum autem supplices eramus, quod jure nostro possumies exposcere? Ea gaudemus gratis quae ●…on solliciti ambimus: ubi vero vota nuncupavimus; ●…bi sedulis precibus Candidati fuimus, non immerito victoriae laetitiam arrogamus. Namque nupera est haec voluptas nostra; diu est quod extispices egimus virtu●…um tuarum, & in illis meritis honores providimus secuturos. Nec dum clauduntur oculi: Mater Collegium ●…sque agit Sibyllam; perge va●…cinium fortunâ indies ●…iridi comprobare; perge Johannensem Genium agnosce●…e; perge denique eò assurgere, ut Mater tua nequent (quod Parentum erga Liberos conspicilla praestant) majori sub specie represemare filium. Sed ne nimii, ubi satis multi non possumus; inter virtutes tuos & recentes ho●…ores perpetuas vovemus nundinas, qui serio tibi hoc no●…issimum decus gratulamur,  
Magister & Socii Coll. D. I. Undecimo Calend. Feb. 1637.   

UBi aurita satis est filii pietas, ibi vel tacitae matris est loquax paupertas, ita alacris gratitudo non expecta●… preces, sed in also silentio cognatae ●…dit ejulatum miseri●…. Collegium quod vestrum ●…tavit adolescentium, vestra v●…cissim desiderat ubera, & quem in ●…nu fovit juvenem, atatis agnoscit baculum, & parente●… Scipionem; Bi●… perimus dum Squallorem repetimu●…, & alti●… cogimur facere notius, quod ipse nesc●…re mal●…us: primitiae doloris nostri Deo sunt debit●…, eo scilicet angustiarum redigimur, ut Sacellum in Sacello qu●…ramus, nec inveniamus tamen: Quod aliis igitur praesidiis contigit, ut ara●… occupent, Sacellum sibi interdictum doler, nisi El●…emosynas quas ipsum erogare solet ab aliis accipi●…t? Habemus capsulam, penes 〈◊〉 est 〈◊〉 dicamus Bibliothecam. O Quantum hoc mane nostrum! 〈◊〉 Augusta domus, tampaucos inquilinos? Quam pulchrum esset araneas deturbare? Quam ●…e dignum 〈◊〉 pu●…amini congr●…um adaptare n●…leum Agat prout velit liber ali●… 〈◊〉, quod pressius à nobis dictum ●…uit 〈◊〉 ●…ùs exponat, optimum enim ipse Oratorem ages, & simul tibi quam maxime devincies  
Magistrum & Socios Coll. D. I.   

Vinum est Poetarum Equus.  
URbs Athenae cum fundaretur, Neptunus & Minerva litigarunt uter Civitatem haberet cognominem, pactum est ut qui majori beneficio humanum genus ditare posset, Urbem nominaret; Neptunus Equum, Pallas Olivam produxit, unde victrix Athenas nominavit. Quod si meo judicio stetisset lis, si Neptunus talis Equi, qualis est vinum Author fuisset, dignus sanè qui matri Academiae dedisset nomen. Vinum Equus, à cujus ungula dulcior fons quam Hippocrene scaturiit. Equus, qui plures alas ingenio addit, quam Pegasus ad volatile remigium accommodavit, qui labra proluit hoc fonte Caballino, non mirum si in proximo versu Ebrius in bicipiti somniavit Pernasso. Vinum Equus, sed qui sessorem suum saepe excutit, & ad terram affligit, qui tanquam ille Diomedis herum suum devorat, Pitissant poetastri & longa quasi arundine equitant, cum Ennius ipse pater, nunquam nisi potus ad arma prosiliit dicenda. Horatius toties equitavit, ac si vinum tanquam Bucephalus neminem praeter illum vectare debuisset. Denique ex hujus equi utero plures prodierunt Ingenii heroes quam ex Trojana, Vinum Equus, at Cervisia Musarum Mulus, majori ex parte Asinus, vel si Equus Successor potius quam tolutarius, quam non citius nomino quin stupidus obmutesco. Sed tempus est ut Equus meus habenas audiat, huc usque Equo vestro paravi Ephippia tenui stupa, ut vos conscenderetis: Unicum est quod singulos velim praemonitos, ea est hujus Equi ferocia, ut sobrium illud Phoebi Consilium sit maturum, Parce puer stimulis & fortiùs utere loris.    
FINIS.   

JOHN CLEAVELAND'S Revived POEMS, Orations, EPISTLES, And other of his Genuine INCOMPARABLE PIECES Now at last Published from his Original Copies by some of his entrusted Friends.  
Non norunt haec monumenta mori.  
LONDON, Printed by R. Holt, for Obadiah Blagrave, at the Bear in St. Paul's Churchyard. 1687.   

To the HECTORS, upon the unfortunate death of H. COMPTON.  

YOu Hector's! tame Professors of the Sword!  
Who in the chair state Duels, whose black word  
Bewitches Courage, and like Devils too  
Leaves the bewitched, when't comes to fight and do.  
Who on your errand our best Spirits send,  
Not to kill Swine or Cows, but Man and Friend;  
Who are in whole Court-Martial in your drink,  
And dispute Honour, when you cannot think  
Not orderly, but part out Valour, as  
You grow inspired by th' Oracle of the Glass:  
Then (like our zeal-drunk Presbyters) cry down  
All Law of Kings and God, but what's their own.  
Then y'have the gift of Fight, can discern  
Spirits, who's fit to act, and who to learn;  
Who shall be baffled next, who must be beat,  
Who killed, that you may drink, and swear and eat:  
Whilst you applaud those murders which you teach,  
And live upon the Wounds your Riots preach.   

Mere booty Souls! Who bid us fight a Prize  
To feast the Laughter of our Enemies?  
Who shout, and clap at Wounds, count it pure Gain,  
Mere Providence to hear a Compton's slain.  
A name they dearly hate, and justly; should  
They loved 'twere worse, their love would taint the blood.  
Blood always true, true as their Swords and Cause,  
And never vainly lost, till your wild Laws  
Scandaled their actions in this Person, who  
Truly durst more than you dare think to do.  
A man made up of Graces, every Move  
Had entertainment in it, and drew Love  
From all but him who killed him, who seeks a Grave  
And fears a Death more shameful than he gave.   

Now you, dread Hector's! you whom Tyrant drink  
Drags thrice about the Town; what do you think?  
(If you be sober) is it Valour? say!  
To overcome, and then to run away.  
Fie, fie, your lusts and Duels both are one,  
Both are repent of as soon as done.    

The Scots Apostasy.  

IS't come to this? What shall the Cheeks of Fame,  
Stretch with the breath of learned London's name  
Be flagged again? And that great piece of sense,  
As rich in Loyalty and Eloquence,  
Brought to the Test, be found a trick of State?  
Like Chemist's tinctures, proved adu terate?  
The Devil sure, such language did achieve,  
To cheat our unforewarned Grand am Eve;  
As this Impostor found out, to besot  
Th' experienced English to believe a ●…cot.  
Who reconciled the Covenant's doubtful sense;  
The Commons argument, or the City's pence?  
Or did you doubt Persistance in one good  
Would spoil the fabric of your Brotherhood,  
Projected first in such a forge of sin,  
Was fit for the grand Devils hammering?  
Or was't Ambition that this damned fact  
Should tell the world you know the sins you act?  
The Infamy this Super-treason brings  
Blasts more than murders of your sixty Kings;  
A Crime so black, as being advis'dly done,  
Those hold with these no competition.  
Kings only suffered then; in this doth lie  
Th' Assassination of Monarchy.  
Beyond this sin no one step can be trod,  
If not t'attempt deposing of your God.  
Oh were you so engaged, that we might see  
Heavens angry Lightning 'bout your Ears to flee,  
Till you were shriveled to dust; and your cold Land  
Parched to a drought beyond the Lybian Sand!  
But 'tis reserved, till Heaven plague you worse:  
Be Objects of an Epidemic Curse.  
First, may your Brethren, to whose viler ends  
Your Power hath bawded, cease to be your Friends;  
And prompted by the dictate of their Reason,  
Reproach the Traitors, though they hug the Treason.  
And may their Jealousies increase & breed,  
Till they confine your steps beyond the Tweed.  
In Foreign Nations may your loathed name be  
A stigmatising brand of Infamy;  
Till forced by general hate, you cease to room  
The World, and for a Plague to live at home:  
Till you resume your Poverty, and be  
Reduced to beg where none can be so free  
To grant; and may your scabby Land be all  
Translated to a general Hospital.  
Let not the Sun afford one gentle Ray,  
To give you comfort of a Summer's day;  
But, as a Guerdon for your traitorous War,  
Live cherished only by the Northern Star.  
No Stranger deign to visit your rude Coast,  
And be, to all, but banished men, as lost.  
And such in heightening of the Intliction due,  
Let provoked Princes send them all to you.  
Your State a Chaos be, where not the Law,  
But Power, your lives and liberties may awe.  
No Subject mongst you keep a quiet breast,  
But each man strive through Blood to be the best;  
Till, for those miseries on us you've brought,  
By your own Sword our just Revenge be wrought.  
To sumn up all— let your Religion be,  
As your Allegiance, masked Hypocrisy:  
Until, when Charles shall be composed in dust,  
Perfumed with Epithets of good and just;  
HE saved, incensed Heaven may have forgot  
T'afford one act of Mercy to a Scot,   

Unless that Scot deny himself, and do  
(What's easier far) renounce his Nation too    

Epitaph upon the Earl of Strafford  

HEre lies wise and valiant Dust,  
Huddled up 'twixt fit and just:  
Strafford, who was hurried hence  
'Twixt Treason and Convenience.  
He spent his time here in a mist,   

A Papist, yet a Calvinist.  
His Prince's nearest Joy and Grief,  
He had, yet wanted, all relief:  
The Prop and Ruin of the State,  
The people's violent Love and Hate.  
One in extremes loved and abhorred.  
Riddles lie here, and in a word,  
Here lies Blood, and let it lie  
Speechless still, and never cry.    

Epitaphium Thomoe Comitis Straffordii, etc.  

phium.  
EXurge Cinis, tuumque, solus qui potis es, scribe Epita-  
Nequit Wentworthi non esse facundus vel Cinis.  
Effare Marmor: & quem coepisti comprehendere,  
Macte & Exprimere.  
Candidius meretur urna, quam quod rubris  
Notatum est literis, Elogium.  
Atlas Regiminis Monarchici hic jacet lassus;  
Secunda Orbis Britannici intelligentia,  
Rex Politiae, & Prorex Hiberniae;  
Straffordii, & Virtutum Comes:  
Mens Jovis, Mercurii ingenium, & lingua Apollinis:  
Cui Anglia Hiberniam debuit, seipsam Hibernia:  
Sydus Aquilonicum; quo sub rubicunda vespera occidente,  
Nox simul & dies visa est: dextroque oculo flevit,  
Laevoque laetata est Anglia.  
Theatrum Honoris, itemque Scena calamitosa Virtutis,  
Actoribus, morbo, morte, & invidia,  
Quae ternis animosa Regnis, non vicit tamen,  
Sed oppressit.  
Sic inclinavit Heros (non minus) Caput  
Bellu●… (vel sic) multorum Capitum.  
Merces furoris Scotici, praeter pecunias.  
Erubuit ut tetigit securis,  
Similem quippe nunquam degustavit sanguinem.  
Monstrum narro; fuit tam infensus Legibus,  
Ut prius Legem quam nata foret, violavit.  
Hunc tamen non sustulit Lex,  
Verum necessitas, non habens Legem.  
Abi viator, caetera memorabunt posteri.    

On J. W. A. B. of York.  

SAy, my young Sophister, what thinkst of this?  
Chimera's real, Ergo falleris.  
The Lamb and Tiger, Fox and Goose agree,  
And here concorp'rate in one Prodigy.  
Call an Haruspex quickly: Let him get  
Sulphur and Torches, and a Laurel wet,  
To purify the place, for sure the harms  
This Monster will produce, transcend his Charms.  
'Tis Nature's Masterpiece of Error, this;  
And redeems whatever she did amiss  
Before, from wonder and reproach, this last  
Legitimateth all her By-blows past.   

Lo here a general Metropolitan,  
An Arch-Prelatique Presbyterian,  
Behold his pious Garb, Canonic face,  
A zealous Episco Mastix Grace;  
A fair blew-aproned Priest, a Lawn-sleeved Brother,  
One Leg a Pulpit holds, a Tub the other.  
Le's give him a sit name now, if we can,  
And make th'Apostate once more Christian.  
Proteus, we cannot call him; he put on  
His change of shapes by a Succession:  
Nor the Welch-Weather-cock; for that we find,  
At once doth only wait upon the wind:  
These speak him not; but if you'll name him right  
Call him Religious Hermaphrodite.  
His head i'th' sanctified mould is cast,  
Yet sticks th'abominable Mitre fast.  
He still retains the Lordship and the Grace,  
And yet hath got a rèverend Elders place.  
Such act must needs be his, who did devise  
By crying Altars down to Sacrifice  
To private Malice; where you might have seen  
His Conscience holocausted to his Spleen.  
Unhappy Church! The Viper that did share  
Thy greatest Honours, helps to make thee bare,  
And void of all thy dignities and store;  
Alas! Thine own Son proves the forest Boar:  
And like the Dam-destroying Cuckoo he,  
When the thick shell of his Welsh Pedigree,  
By thy warm fost'ring Bounty did divide  
And open, strait thence sprung forth Parricide.  
As if'twas just revenge should be dispatched  
In thee, by the Monster which thyself hath hatched.  
Despair not though, in Wales there may be got,  
As well as Lincolnshire an Antidote,  
Against the foulest venom he can spit, though's head  
Were changed from subtle grey to poisonous red.  
Heaven with propitious eyes will look upon  
Our party, now the cursed thing is gone;  
And chastise Rebels, who nought else did miss  
To fill the measure of their sins, but his;  
Whose foul imparalleled Apostasy,  
Like to his sacred Character shall be  
Indelible; when Ages then of late  
More happy grown with most impartial fate,  
A period to his days, and time shall give,  
He by such Epitaphs as this shall live!   

Here Yorks great Metropolitan is laid,  
Who Gods Anointed and his Church betrayed.    

An Elegy upon Dr. Chaderton, the first Master of Emanuel College in Cambridge being above an hundred years old whe●… he died.  
Occasioned by his long deferred Funeral  

PArdon (dear Saint) that we so late  
With lazy sighs bemoan thy fate;  
And with anafter-shower of Verse,  
And Tears, we thus bedew thy Hearse:  
Till now (alas!) we did not weep,  
Because we thought thou didst but sleep:  
Thou liv'dst so long, we did not know  
Whether thou couldst now die or no:  
We looked still, when thou shouldst arise,  
And ope' the Casement of thine eyes:  
Thy feet which have been used so long  
To walk, we thought must still go on;  
Thine ears after an hundred year,  
Might now plead custom for to hear.   

Upon thy head that reverend Snow  
Did dwell some fifty years ago,  
And then thy Cheeks did seem to have  
The sad resemblance of a Grave.   

Wert thou ere young! For truth I hold,  
And do believe thou wert born old.  
There's none alive I am sure can say  
They knew thee young, but always grey:  
And dost thou now, venerable Oak,  
Decline at death's unhappy stroke!  
Tell me (dear Son) why didst thou die,  
And leave's to write an Elegy?  
weare young (alas!) and know thee not,  
●…end up old Abraham and grave Lot:  
Let them write thine Epitaph, and tell  
The World thy worth, they kened thee well:  
When they were Boys they heard thee preach,  
And thought an Angel did them teach.   

Awake them then, and let them come,  
And score thy Virtues on thy Tomb;  
That we at those may wonder more,  
Than at thy many years before.    

Mary's Spikenard.  

SHall I presume  
Without Perfume  
My Christ to meet  
That is all Sweet!   

No, I'll make most pleasant Posies,  
Catch the breath of new blown Roses;  
Top the pretty merry flowers,  
Which laugh in the fairest Bowers:  
Whose Sweetness Heaven likes so well,  
It stoops each morn to take a smell.  
Then I'll fetch from the Phoenix nest  
The richest Spices, and the best:  
Precious Ointments I will make,  
Holy Myrrh and Aloes take;  
Yea, costly Spikenard, in whose smell  
The Sweetness of all Odours dwell.  
I'll get a Box to keep it in,  
Pure as his Alabaster Skin.  
And then to him I'll nimbly fly  
Before one sickly minute die:  
This Box I'll break, and on his head,  
This precious Ointment will I spread,  
Till every lock, and every hair  
For Sweetness with his breath compare:  
But sure the Odour of his Skin  
Smells sweeter than the Spice I bring.   

Then with bended knee I'll greet  
His holy and beloved Feet;  
I'll wash them with a weeping Eye,  
And then my Lips shall kiss them dry;  
Or for a Towel he shall have  
My hair, such flax as nature gave.   

But if my wanton locks be bold,  
And on thy sacred feet take hold,  
And curl themselves about, as though  
They were loath for to let thee go,   

O chide them not, and bid away,  
For then for grief they will grow grey.    

CHRONOSTICON Decollationis CAROLI Regis tricesimo die januarii, secunda hora Pomeridiana, Anno Dom. MDCXLVIII.  
Ter Deno jani Labens ReX SoLe CaDente CaroLVs exutus SoLIo SCeptroqVe Se-cure.  

CHARLES— ah! forbear, forbear, lest Mortals prise  
His name too dearly, and Idolatrize.  
His Name! Our Loss! Thrice cursed and forlorn  
Be that Black Night which ushered in this Morn.   

CHARLES' our Dread Sovereign!— hold! lest Outlawed Sense  
Bribe, and seduce tame Reason to dispense  
With those Celestial powers; and distrust  
Heaven can behold such Treason, and prove Just.   

CHARLES' our Dread Sovereign's murdered! tremble! and  
View what Convulsions shoulder-shake this Land,  
Court, City, Country, nay three Kingdoms run  
To their last Stage, and set with him their Sun.   

CHARLES' our Dread Sovereign's murdered at His Gate!  
Fell fiends! dire Hydra's of a stiffnecked State!  
Strange Body-politick! Whose Members spread,  
And, Monsterlike, swell bigger than their HEAD.   

CHARLES' of Great Britain! He! who was the known  
King of three Realms, lies murdered in his own.  
He! He! Who lived, and Faith's Defender stood,  
Died here to re-Baptize it in his blood.   

No more, no more. Fame's Trump shall echo all  
The rest in dreadful Thunder. Such a Fall  
Great Christendom ne'er patterned; and 'twas strange  
Earth's Centre reeled not at this dismal Change.   

The blow struck Britain blind, each well-set Limb  
By dislocation was lopped off in HIM.  
And though she yet lives, she lives but to condole  
Three Bleeding Bodies left without a Soul.   

Religion put's on Black, sad Loyalty  
Blushes and mourns to see bright Majesty  
Butchered by such Assassinates; nay both  
Against God, against Law, Allegiance, and their Oath,   

Farewell! sad Isle! Farewell! thy fatal Glory  
Is Summed, Cast up, and Cancelled in this Story.    

AN ELEGY Upon King CHARLES the First, murdered publicly by his Subjects.  

WEre not my Faith buoyed up by sacred blood,  
It might be drowned in this prodigious flood;  
Which Reasons highest ground do so exceed,  
It leaves my Soul no Anch'rage, but my Creed;  
Where my Faith resting on th' Original,  
Supports itself in this the Copies fall;  
So while my Faith floats on that Bloody wood,  
My Reason's cast away in this Red flood,  
Which ne'er overflows us all: Those Showers passed  
Made but Land-floods, which did some Valleys waste;  
This stroke hath cut the only Neck of Land  
Which between us, and this Red Sea did stand,  
That covers now our World, which Cursed lies  
At once with two of Egypt's Prodigies;  
Overcast with Darkness, and with blood o'er-run  
And justly, since our hearts have theirs outdone:  
Th'enchanter led them to a less known ill,  
To act his sin, than 'twas their King to kill:  
Which Crime hath widowed our whole Nation,  
Voided all Forms, left but Privation  
In Church and State; inverting every Right;  
Brought in Hell's State of fire without Light.  
No wonder then, if all good eyes look red,  
Washing their Loyal hearts from blood so shed;  
The which deserves each poor should turn an eye,  
To weep out, even a bloody Ago●…y.  
Let nought then pass for Music, but sad Cries,  
For Beauty bloudless Cheeks, and bloodshot Eyes,  
All Colours soil but black, all Odours have  
Ill scent but Myrrh, incensed upon this Grave:  
It notes a jew, not to believe us much  
The cleaner made by a religious Touch  
Of their Dead Body, whom to judge to die,  
Seems the Judaical Impiety.  
To kill the King, the Spirit Legion paints  
His rage with Law, the Temple and the Saints:  
But the truth is, He feared and did repine,  
To be cast out, and back into the Swine:  
And the case holds, in that the Spirit bends  
His malice in this Act, against his ends:  
For it is like, the sooner he'll be sent  
Out of that body, He would still torment.  
Let Christians than use otherwise this blood,  
Detest the Act, yet turn it to their good;  
Thinking how like a King of Death He dies;  
We easily may the World and Death despise:  
Death had no Sting for him, and its sharp Arm,  
Only of all the Troop, meant him no harm.  
And so he looked upon the Axe, as one  
Weapon yet left to guard him to his Throne;  
In His great Name then may His Subjects cry,  
Death thou art swallowed up in Victory.  
If this our loss a comfort can admit,  
'Tis that his narrowed Crown is grown unfit  
For his enlarged Head, since his distress  
Had greatned this, as it made that the less;  
His Crown was fallen unto too low a thing  
For him who was become so great a King:  
So the same hands enthroned him in that Crown  
They had exalted from him, not pulled down:  
And thus God's Truth by them hath rendered more  
Than ere men's falsehood promised to restore;  
Which, since by death alone he could attain,  
Was yet exempt from Weakness, and from Pain.  
Death was enjoined by God to touch a part,  
Might make his Passage quick, ne'er move his heart:  
Which even expiring was so far from death,  
It seemed but to command away his Breath.  
And thus his Soul, of this her Triumph proud,  
Broke, like a flash of Lightning, through the Cloud  
Of Flesh and Blood; and from the highest Line  
Of Humane Virtue, passed to be Divine.  
Nor is't much less his Virtues to relate,  
Than the high Glories of his present State;  
Since both than pass all Acts but of Belief,  
Silence may praise the one, the other Grief.  
And since, upon the Diamond, no less  
Than Diamonds, will serve us to impress,  
●…'ll only wish that for his Elegy,  
This our josias had a jeremy.    

AN ELEGY ●…n The best of Men, The meekest of Martyrs, CHARLES the I. etc.  

DOes not the Sun call in his Light; and Day  
Like a thin Exhalation melt away?  
●…oth wrapping up their Beams in Clouds to be  
Themselves close Mourners at the Obsequy  
●…f this Great Monarch? does his Royal Blood,  
Which th'Earth late drunk in so profuse a Flood,  
Not shoot through her affrightned Womb, and mak●…  
All her convulsed Arteries to shake  
So long, till all those ●…hinges that sustain,  
Like Nerves, the frame of Nature shrink again  
Into a shuffled Chaos? Does the Sun  
Not suck it from its liquid Mansion,  
And Still it into vaporous Clouds, which may  
Themselves in herded Meteors display,  
Whose shaggy and disheveled Beams may be  
The Tapers at this black Solemnity?  
You Seed of Marble in the Womb accursed,  
Rocked by some Storm, or by some Tigress nursed,  
Fed by some Plague, which in blind mists was hurled  
To strew infection on the tainted World;  
What Fury charmed your hands to act a deed,  
Tyrants to think on would not weep, but bleed?  
And Rocks by Instinct so resent this Fact,  
They'd into Springs of easy tears be slacked.  
Say Sons of Tumult, since you think it good,  
Still to keep up the Trade, and Bath in Blood  
Your guilty hands, why did you not then State  
Your Slaughters at some cheap and common rate?  
Your gluttonous and lavish Blades might have  
Devoted Myriad to one public Grave;  
And lop'd off thousands of some base allay,  
Whilst the same Sexton that interred their Clay,  
In the same Urn their Names too might entomb:  
But when on him you fixed your fatal Doom,  
You gave a Blow to Nature, since even all  
The Stock of Man now bleeds too in his fall.  
Could not Religion, which you oft have made  
A specious gloss your black designs to shade,  
Teach you, that we come nearest Heaven, when 〈◊〉  
Are suppled into Acts of Clemency?  
And copy out the Deity again,  
When we distil our Mercies upon Men?  
But why do I deplore this ruin? He  
Only shook off his frail Humanity,  
And with such Calmness fell, he seemed to be,  
Even less unmoved and unconcerned than we;  
And forced us from our Throes of Grief to say,  
We only died, he only lived that Day:  
So that his Tomb is now his Throne become,  
T'invest him with the Crown of Martyrdom:  
And Death the shade of Nature did not shroud  
His Soul in Mists, but its clear Beams uncloud;  
That who a Star in our Meridian shone,  
In Heaven might shine a Constellation.    

Upon the Death of CHARLES the First.  

GReat! Good! And Just! Could I but rate  
My Griefs, and thy too rigid Fate,  
I'd weep the world to such a strain,  
As it should Deluge once again.  
But since thy loud-tongued Blood demands supplies,  
More from Briareus hands, than Argus eyes,  
I'll sing thy Obsequies, with Trumpet sounds,  
And write thy Epitaph with Blood and Wounds.   
MONTROSE. Written with the Point of his Sword.   

ADDITIONS.  

The Public Faith.  

STand off my Masters: 'Tis your pence a piece,  
jason, Medea, and the golden Fleece;  
What side the line, good Sir? Tigris, or Po!  
Lybia? japan? Whisk? or Tradinktido?  
St. Kits! St. Omer; or St. Margaret's Bay?  
Presto begun? or come aloft? What way?  
Doublets? or Knap? The Cog? low Dice? or high?  
By all the hard names in the Litany,  
Bell, Book and Candle, and the Pope's great Toe  
I conjure thy account: Devil say no.   

Nay since I must untruss, Gallants look too't  
Keep your prodigious distance forty foot,  
This is that Beast of Eyes in th' Revelations,  
The Pasi●…isk has twisted up three Nations.  
Ponteus Hixius Doxius, full of Tricks,  
The Lottery of the vulgar Lunatics.  
The Knapsack of the State, the thing you wish,  
Magog and Gog stewed in a Chaffingdish.  
A Bag of Spoons and Whistles, wherein men  
May whistle when they see their Plate again.   

Thus far his Infancy: His riper Age  
Requires a more mysterious folio Page.  
Now that time speaks him perfect, and 'tis pity  
To dandle him longer in a close Committee.  
The elf dares peep abroad, the pretty fool  
Can wag without a truckling standing-stool;  
Revenge his Mother's Infamy, and swear,  
He's the fair Offspring of one half-score year.  
The Heir of the House and Hopes, the cry  
And wonder of the People's Misery.  
'Tis true, while as a Puppy it could play  
For Thimbles, any thing to pass the day;  
But now the Cub can count, arithmatize,  
Clinck Masenello with the Duke of Guise;  
Sign for an Irish Purchase, and traduce  
The Synod from their Doctrine to their Use;  
Give its Dam suck, and a hidden way  
Drink up arrears a tergo mantica.  
An Everlasting Bale, Hell in Trunk-hose,  
Uncased, the Devil's Don Quixot in Prose.  
The Beast and the false Prophet twined together,  
The squint-eyed Emblem of all sorts of Wether.  
The refuse of that Chaos of the Earth,  
Able to give the World a second Birth.  
afric avaunt! Thy trifling Monsters glance  
But Sheeps-eyed to this Penal Ignorance.  
That all the Prodigies brought forth before  
Are but Dame Natures blush left on the score.  
This strings the Bakers dozen, christens all  
The crosslegged hours of time since Adam's Fall.   

The Public Faith? Why 'tis a word of kin,  
A Nephew that dares Cousin any sin.  
A term of Art, great Behemoths younger Brother,  
Old Machiavelli, and half a thousand other.  
Which when subscribed writes Legion, names on truss,  
Abaddon, Beelzebub, and Incubus;  
All the Vice-Roys of Darkness, every Spell  
And Fiend wrapped in a short Trissillable.   

But I forestall the Show. Enter and see,  
Salute the Door, your Exit shall be free.  
In brief 'tis called Religion's Ease, or Loss,  
For no one's suffered here to bear his Cross.    

A Lenten Litany.  
Composed for a confiding Brother, for the benefit and edification of the faithful Ones.  

FRom Villainy dressed in the doublet of Zeal,  
From three Kingdoms baked in one common-we●…  
From a gleek of Lord Keepers of one poor▪ Seal  
Libera nos, etc.   

From a Chancery-Writ, and a Whip and a Bell,  
From a Justice of Peace that never could spell,  
From Colonel. 〈◊〉. and the Vicar of Hell  
Libera nos, etc.   

From Neat's feet without socks & three▪ penny Pies,  
From a new-sprung light that will put out ones eyes,  
From Goldsmith's Hall, the Devil and Excise  
Libera nos, etc.   

From two hours talk without one word of sense,  
From Liberty still in the future tense,  
From a Parliament long-wasted Conscience,  
Libera nos, etc.   

From a Coppid Crown-Tenent pricked up by a Brother  
●…rom damnable Members and fits of the Mother,  
●…rom Ears like Oysters that grin at each other,  
Libera nos, etc.   

●…rom a Preacher in buff, and a quarter staff-Steeple,  
●…rom th'unlimited Sovereign Power of the People,  
●…rom a Kingdom that crawls on its knees like a  
Cripple, Libera nos, etc.   

From a Vinegar Priest on a Crabtree stock,  
From a foddering of Prayer four hours by the Clock,  
From a Holy Sister with a pitiful Smock,  
Libera nos, etc.   

From a hunger starved Sequestrators maw,  
From Revelations and Visions that never man saw,  
From Religion without either Gospel or Law  
Libera nos, etc.   

From the Nick and Froth of a Penny Pot-house,  
From the Fiddle and Cross, and a great Scotch Louse,  
From Committees that chop up a man like a Mouse,  
Libera nos, etc.   

From broken Shins and the Blood of a Martyr,  
From the Titles of Lords and Knights of the Garter,  
From the Teeth of mad-dogs and a Countryman's quarter  
Libera nos, etc.   

From the Public Faith and an Egg and Butter,  
From the Irish Purchases and all their Clutter,  
From Omega's Nose, when he settles to sputter,  
Libera nos, etc.   

From the Zeal of old Harry locked up with a Whore,  
From waiting with plaints at the Parliament door,  
From the Death of a King without why or wherefore  
Libera nos, etc.   

From the French Disease and the Puritan fry,  
From such as ne'er swear but devoutly can lie,  
From cutting of Capers full three story high,  
Libera nos, etc.   

From painted Glass and Idolatrous Cringes,  
From a Presbyters Oath that turns upon Hinges,  
From Westminster jews with Levitical Fringes,  
Libera nos, etc.   

From all that is said, and a thousand times more,  
From a Saint and his Charity to the poor,  
From the Plagues that are kept for a Rebel in store,  
Libera nos, etc.   

The Second part.  

THat if it please thee to assist  
Our Agitators and their List,  
And Hemp them with a gentle twist,  
Quaesumus te, etc.   

That it may please thee to suppose  
Our actions are as good as those  
That gull the People through the Nose,  
Quaesumus te, etc.   

That it may please thee here to enter  
And fix the rumbling of our Centre,  
For we live all at Peradventure,  
Quaesumus te, etc.   

That it may please thee to unite  
The Flesh and Bones unto the Spirit,  
Else Faith and Literature good night,  
Quaesumus te, etc.   

That it may please thee O that we  
May each man know his Pedigree,  
And save that Plague of Heraldry,  
Quaesumus te, etc.   

That it may please thee in each Shire,  
Cities of Refuge Lord to rear  
That failing Brethren may know where,  
Quaesumus te, etc.   

That it may please thee to abhor us,  
Or any such dear favour for us,  
That thus hath wrought thy People's Sorrows,  
Quaesumus te, etc.   

That it may please thee to embrace  
Our days of thanks and fasting face,  
For robbing of thy holy place,  
Quaesumus te, etc.   

That it may please thee to adjourn  
The day of Judgement, lest we burn,  
For lo! It is not for our turn,  
Quaesumus te, etc.   

That it may please thee to admit  
A close Committee there to sit,  
No Devil to a humane wit!  
Quaesumus te, etc.   

That it may please thee to dispense  
A little for convenience,  
Or let us play upon the sense,  
Quaesumus te, etc.   

That it may please thee to embalm  
The Saints in Robin Wisdom's Psalm,  
And make them musical and calm,  
Quaesumus te, etc.   

That it may please thee since 'tis doubt,  
Satan cannot throw Satan out,  
Unite us and the High-land rout,  
Quaesumus te, etc.     

A Hue and Cry after the Reformation.  

When Temples lie like battered Quarrs  
Rich in their ruin'd Sepulchers;  
When Saints forsake their painted Glass  
To meet their Worship as they pass;  
When Altars grow luxurious with the die  
Of humane blood,  
Is this the Flood  
Of Christianity?   

When Kings are cup-boarded like Cheese,  
Sights to be seen for pence a piece;  
When Diadems like broker's tire  
Are customed Relics set to hire;  
When Sovereignty and Sceptres lose their Names,  
Streamed into words,  
Carved out by Swords,  
Are these refining Flames?   

When Subjects and Religion stir  
Like Meteors in the Metaphor;  
When zealous hinting and the yawn  
Excise our Miniver and Lawn,  
When blue digressions fill the troubled Air  
And th'Pulpit'S let  
To every Set  
That will usurp the Chair:   

Call ye me this the Night's Farewell  
When our Noon Day's as dark as Hell?  
How can we less than term such Lights  
Ecclesiastic Heteroclites?  
Bold Sons of Adam when in Fire you crawl  
Thus high to be  
Perched on the Tree,  
Remember but the Fall.   

Was it the Glory of a King  
To make him great by Suffering?  
Was there no way to build God's House  
But rendering of it Infamous?  
If this be then the merry ghostly Trade?  
To work in Gall?  
Pray take it all  
Good Brother of the Blade.   

Call it no more the Reformation  
According to the new Translation:  
Why will you wrack the common Brain  
With words of an unwonted Strain?  
As Plunder? or a Phrase in Senses cleft;  
When things more nigh  
May well supply  
And call it downright Theft.   

Here all the Schoolmen and Divines  
Consent, and swear the naked Lines  
Want no expounding or contest,  
Or Bellarmine to break a jest.  
Since then the Heroes of the Pen with me  
Near screw the Sense  
With difference,  
We all agree agree.    

A Committee.  

CAst Knaves my Masters, Fortune guide the chance  
No packing I beseech you, no by-glance  
To mingle Pairs, but fairly shake the Bag,  
Cheats in their Spheres like subtle spirits wag.  
Or if you please the Cards run as they will.  
There is no choice in sin and doing ill.  
Then happy Man by's dole, Luck makes the odds  
He acts most high that best out-dares the Gods.  
These are that Raw-boned Herd of Pharaoh's Kine  
Which eat up all your Fatlings, yet look lean:  
These are the after-claps of bloody Showers,  
Which, like the Scots, come for your good and yours;  
The Gleaners of the Field, where, if a man  
Escape the Sword that milder Frying-pan,  
He leaps into the Fire, cramping the Claws  
Of such can speak no English but the Cause.  
Under that foggy term, that Inquisition,  
Y'are wracked at all Adventures On Suspicion.  
No matter what's the Crime, a good Estate's  
Delinquency enough to ground their hate.  
Nor shall calm Innocence so scape, as not  
To be made guilty, or at least so thought.  
And if the Spirit once inform, beware,  
The Flesh and World but Renegadoes are.  
Thus once concluded out the Teazers run,  
All in full Cry and Speed till Wat's undone.  
So that a poor Delinquent fleeced and torn  
Seems like a Man that's creeping through a Horn,  
Find a smooth Entrance, wide and fit, but when  
he's squeezed and forced up through the smaller end,  
He looks as gaunt and pined, as he that spent  
A tedious twelve years in an eager Lent,  
Or Bodies at the Resurrection are  
On Wing, just rarifying into Air.  
The Emblem of a Man, the pitied Case  
And shape of some sad Being once that was.  
The Type of Flesh and Blood, the Skeleton  
And Superficies of a thing that's gone.  
The Winter quarter of a Life, the Tinder  
And Body of a Corpse squeezed to a Cinder;  
When no more Tortures can be thought upon,  
Mercy shall flow into Oblivion.   

Merciful Hell! Thy Judges are but three,  
Ours multiform, and in Plurality!  
Thy calmer Censures flow without Recall,  
And in one Doom Souls see their Final all.  
We travel with expectance: Sufferings here  
Are but the Earnests of a second Fear.  
Thy Pains and Plagues are infinite; 'tis true  
Ours are not only Infinite but new.  
So that the Dread of what's to come exceeds  
The Anguish of that part already bleeds.  
This only difference swells 'twixt us and you,  
Hell has the kinder Devils of the two.    

On the happy Memory of Alderman Hoyle that hanged himself.  

ALL hail fair Fruit! may every Crabtree bear  
Such Blossoms, and so lovely every year!  
Call ye me this the slip? ' Marry 'tis well,  
Zacheus slipped to Heaven, the Thief to Hell:  
But if the Saints thus give's the slip, 'tis need  
To look about us to preserve the Breed.  
theyare of the Running Game, and thus to post  
In Nooses, blanks the Reckoning with their Host.  
Here's more than Trussum Cordum I suppose  
That knit this knot: Gild seldom singly goes!  
A wounded Soul close coupled with the sense  
Of Sin, pays home its proper Recompense.   

But hark you Sir, if haste can grant the time?  
See you the danger yet what 'tis to climb trussed.  
In King's Prerogatives? things beyond just,  
When Law seems bribed to doom them, must be  
But O'I smell your Plot strong through your Hose,  
'Twas but to cheat the Hangman of your clothes;  
Else your more active Hands had fairly stayed  
The leisure of a Psalm, judas has prayed.  
But later Crimes cannot admit the Pause,  
They run upon Effects more than the Cause.  
Yet let me ask one Question, why alone?  
One Member of a Corporation?  
'Tis clear amongst Divines, Bodies and Souls  
As jointly active, so their Judgement rowls  
Concordant in the Sentence; why not so  
In Earthly Sufferings? States attended go.  
But I perceive the knack: Old Women say  
And be't approved, each Dog should have his day.   

Hence sweep the Almanac: Lily make room,  
And blanks enough for the new Saints to come,  
All in Red Letters: as their Faults have been  
Scarlet, so limb their Anniverse of Sin.  
And to their children's Credits and their Wives  
Be it still said, they leap fair for their lives.    

Platonic Love.  

Begun fantastic Whimsy, hence begun!  
I slight thy Dreams, I'm no Chameleon,  
Nor can I feed on Airy smoky Blisses,  
Or bait my strong Desire with Smiles and Kisses.  
Old Tantalus as well may surfeit on  
The flying Streams by Contemplation.   

Give me a minute's Heaven with my Love,  
Where I may roll in Pleasure; far above  
The Idle Fancy of the Soul's Embrace:  
Where my swift hand may ravish all the Grace  
Of Beauty's Wardrobe, where the longing Bride  
May feast her fill, yet ne'er be satisfied.   

Blaspheme not Love with any other Name,  
Than an enjoyment kindled from the Flame  
Of panting Breasts mixed in a sweet Desire  
Of something more than barely to admire.  
‛ Though Sighs and Signs may make the Pulses beat,  
‛ Action's the Bellows that preserve the Heat.   

If all Content were placed in the Eye,  
And Thoughts comprised the whole Felicity?  
Pictures might court each other and exchange  
Their whitelime Looks, woe hard, and yet seem strange:  
‛ No! Love requires a quick and home Embrace,  
‛ Nor can it dwell for ever on the Face.   

‛ What ever Glories Nature's tender Care  
‛ Compiles to make a piece divinely rare,  
' theyare but the sweet Allurements of the Eye,  
‛ Fixed on a Stage to catch the Standards by.  
‛ Or like rich Signs exposed to open Sight  
to tempt the Traveller to stay all Night.   

Yield then my (chaste Clarinda) once to see  
The sweet Meander of Love's Liberty.  
And seal thy thoughts a Grant to understand  
The welcome Pleasure of a Wife well man'd.  
For all the Sweets, mistaken in a Kiss,  
Are but the empty Circumstance of this.   

So shall a full Content wipe out the Score  
Of all our Sorrows that have passed before.  
Not a sad Sighs shall scape, unsatisfied  
Which in its Master's Passion wept and died.  
But like a Sea made subject to our Oars,  
we'll hoist up Sail and touch the wished Shores.    

Christmas Day; Or the Shuttle of an inspired Weaver, bolted against the Order of the Church for its Sclemnity.  

CHrist-m●… Give me my beads: The word implies  
A Plot, by its Ingredients Beef and Pies!  
A Feast Apocryphal, a Popish Rite  
Kneaded in Doughty (beloved) in the Night;  
The Night (beloved) that's as much to say  
(By late Translations) not in the Day.  
An annual Darklanthorn jubilee,  
Catesby and Vaux baked in Conspiracy.  
The Hierarchy of Rome, the Triple Crown  
Confessed in Triangles then swallowed down,  
With Spanish Sack? The eighty eight Armado  
Newly presented in an Ovenado.  
O Calvin! now my Cause upon thee fixes,  
Were ere such dregs mixed with Geneva six?  
The cloyster'd-Steaks with Salt and Pepper lie  
Like Nuns with patches in a Monastery.  
Profaneness in a Conclave? nay much more  
Idolatry in crust! Babylon's Whore  
Raked from the Grave, and baked by Haunches, then  
Served up in Coffins to unholy Men  
Defiled with Superstition like the Gentiles  
Of old, that worshipped Onions, Roots and Lentiles!  
Did ever john of Leyden prophecy  
Of such an Antichrist as Pudding-pie?  
Beloved 'tis a thing when it appears,  
Enough to set the Saints all by the Ears,  
In solving of the Text, a doubtful Sin  
Reform Churches ne'er consented in.   

But hold (my Brethren) while I preach and pray  
Methinks the Manna melts and wastes away.  
I am a man as all you are, have read  
Of Peter's Sheet, how he devoutly fed  
Without Exception; therefore to dispense  
A little with the Worm of Conscience  
And bend unto the Creature, I prof●…  
Zeal and a Pie may join both in a Mess.  
The dearest Sons may er●…, then why a Sinner  
May I not eat? Since Hugh eat three to Dinner?    

Piae Memoriae  
Doctiss. Reverendissimique in Christo Patris, johannis Prideaux quam-novissime Wigornioe Episcopi, harumque tristissime lacrimarum Patroni nec non defuncti.  

BUsta struant alii, l●…crymisque altare refundant,  
Quorum tristitia fata pianda cadu●…t.  
Talia praecurant cineres monumenta pusilli,  
Queis melos & tumu●…um fama gemenda perit.  
Hic neque pyramidum, nec inertis monstra colossi  
Poscuntur, subito corruitura die.  
Gloria securi confidentissima C●…li  
Non vocat haecstellis astra minora suis.  
Sic tuus ascendit currus, dignissime Praesul,  
Terreni miserans futile honoris onus.  
Sed vae Zodiaco nostro, vae (Phoebe) trementi,  
Ortus enim patriae lux tenebraeque fuit.  
In te floruimus, tecum decerpimur omnes  
Et Pater & gnati: Molliter ossa cubent.  
Parva tegant tenues & aperti funera fletus,  
Tanta ruant superis damna silenda metu.    

Obsequies.  
On the Right Reverend Father in God, John Prideaux, late Bishop of Worcester deceased.  

IF by the fall of Luminaries, we  
May safely guests the World's Catastrophe;  
The signs are all fulfilled, the Token's flown,  
(That scarce a man has any of his own:)  
Only the jews Conversion some doubt bred,  
But that's confuted now the Doctor's dead.   

Great Atlas of Religion! Since thy fate  
Proclaims our loss too soon, our tears too late,  
Where shall the bleeding Church a Champion gain  
To grasp with Heresy? Or to maintain  
Her Conflict with the Devil? For the odds  
Runs biased six to four against the Gods.  
Hell lists amain, nay and th'Engagement flies  
With winged Zeal through all the Sectaries,  
That should she sound into Question fall,  
We were within a Vote of none at all.  
But can this hap upon a single Death?  
Yes: For thou wert the Treasure of our Breath.  
That pious Arch whereon the building stood,  
Which broke, the wholes devolved into a Flood;  
An Inundation that overbears the banks  
And Bounds of all Religion: If some stancks  
Show their emergent Heads? Like Seth's famed Stone  
theyare Monuments of thy Devotion gone,  
No Wonder then the rambling Spirits stray,  
In thee the Body fell, and slipped away.   

Hence 'tis the Pulpit swells with Exhalations,  
Intricate Nonsense travelled from all Nations;  
Notions refined to doubts, and Maxims squeezed,  
With tedious Hickups till the sense grows freezed,  
If aught shall chance to drop we may call good,  
'Tis thy distinction makes it understood.  
Thy glorious Sun made ours a perfect day,  
Our Influence took its Being from thy Ray.  
Thine was that Gideon's Fleece, when all stood dry,  
Pearled with Celestial Dew, showered from on high.  
But now thy Night is come, our Shades are spread,  
And living here we move among the Dead.  
Perhaps an Ignis fatuus now and then  
Starts up in holes, stinks and goes out again.  
Such Kicksee Winsee Flames show but how dear  
Thy great Light's Resurrection would be here.  
A Brother with five Loaves and two small Fishes,  
A Table-book of Sighs, and Looks, and Wishes,  
Startles Religion more at one strong doubt,  
Than what they mean when as the Candle's out.  
But I profane thy Ashes (gracious Soul!)  
Thy Spirit flew to high to truss these foul  
Gnostick Opinions. Thou desired'st to meet,  
Such Tenants that durst stand upon their Feet,  
And beard the Truth with as intensed a Zeal,  
As Saints upon a fast Night quilt a Meal.   

Rome never trembled till thy piercing Eye  
Darted her through, and crushed the Mystery.  
Thy Revelations made St. John's complete,  
Babylon fell indeed, but 'twas thy Sweat  
And Oil performed the work to what we see,  
Foret old in misty Types, broke forth in thee.   

Some shallow Lines were drawn, and s●…onces made  
By Smatterers in the Arts, to drive a Trade  
Of Words between us, but that proved no more  
Than threats in cowing Feathers to give o'er.  
Thy Fancy laid the Siege that wrought her Fall,  
Thy Batteries commanded round the Wall:  
Not a poor loophole, Error could sneak by,  
No not the Abbess to the Friary;  
Though her Disguise as close and subtly good  
As when she wore the Monk's hose for a Hood.  
And if perhaps their French or Spanish Wine,  
Had filled them full of Beads and Bellarmine,  
That they durst sally, or attempt a Guard,  
O! How thy busy Brain would beat and ward!  
Rally! And reinforce! Rout! And relieve!  
Double reserves! And then an onset give  
Like marshaled Thunder, backed with Flames of Fire?  
Storms mixed with Storms? Passion with Globes of ire?  
Yet so well disciplined that Judgement still  
Swayed and not rash Commissionated Will.  
No, Words in thee knew Order, Time, and Place,  
The instant of a Charge, or when to face:  
When to pursue advantage, where to halt,  
When to draw off, and where to reassault.  
Such sure Commands streamed from thee, that 'twas one  
With thee to vanquish as to look upon:  
So that thy ruin'd Foes grovelling confess,  
Thy Conquests were their Fate and Happiness.   

Nor was it all thy Business hereto war,  
With foreign Forces: But thy active Star  
Could coarse a homebred Mist, a native Sin,  
And show its Guilt's Degrees, how and wherein;  
Then sentence and expel it: Thus thy Sun  
An Everlasting Stage in labour run;  
So that its motion to the Eye of Man  
Waved still in a complete Meridian.   

But these are but fair Comments of our Loss,  
The Glory of a Church now on the Cross:  
The transcript of that Beauty once we had,  
Whilst with the Lustre of thy Presence clad:  
But thou art gone (Brave Soul) and with thee all  
The Gallantry of Arts Polemical.  
Nothing remains as Primitive but Talk,  
And that our Priests again in Leather walk.  
A Flying Ministry of Horse and Foot,  
Things that can start a Text but ne'er come to't.  
Teazers of Doctrines, which in long sleeved Prose  
Run down a Sermon all upon the Nose.  
These like dull glow-worms twinkle in the Night,  
The frighted Landscapes of an absent Light.  
But thy rich Flame's withdrawn, Heaven caught thee hence,  
Thy Glories were grown ripe for Recompense:  
And therefore to prevent our weak Essays,  
thouart crowned an Angel with Celestial Bays;  
And there thy ravished Soul meets Field and Fire,  
Beauties enough to fill its strong Desire,  
The Contemplation of a present God,  
Perfections in the Womb, the very Road  
And Essences of Virtues, as they be  
Streaming and mixing in Eternity.   

Whiles we possess our Souls but in a Veil,  
Live Earth confined, catch Heaven by retail,  
Such a Darklanthorn Age, such jealous Days  
Men tread on Snakes, sleep in Batalias,  
Walk like Confessors, hear but must not say  
What the bold World dares act, and what it may;   

Yet here all Votes, Commons and Lords agree,  
The Crosier fell in Laud, the Church in thee.    

On the death of his Royal Majesty Charles late King of England etc.  

WHat went your out to see, a dying King?  
Nay more, I fear an Angel suffering.  
But what went you to see? A Prophet slain?  
Nay that and more a martyred Sovereign.  
Peace to that sacred Dust! Great Si●… our Fears  
Have left us nothing but Obedient Tears  
To court your Hearse; and in those Pious Floods  
We live, the poor remainder of our Goods.  
Accept us in these latter Obsequies,  
The unplundred Riches of our Hearts and Eyes;  
For in these faithful Streams and Emanations,  
weare Subjects still beyond all Sequestrations.  
Here we cry more than Conquerors: Malice may  
Murder Estates, but Hearts will still obey.  
These as your Glory's, yet above the reach  
Of such whose purple Lines confusion preach.  
And now (Dear Sir) vouchsafe us to admire  
With envy your arrival, and that Choir  
Of Cherubims and Angels that supplied  
Our Duties at your Triumphs: Where you ride  
With full Celestial joes, and Ovations  
Rich as the Conquest of three ruin'd Nations.   

But 'twas the Heavenly Plot that snatched you hence,  
To crown your Soul with that Magnificence.  
And bounden rites of Honour, that poor Earth  
Could only wish and strangle in the Birth.  
Such pitied Emulation stopped the blush  
Of our Ambitious Shame, nonsuited us.  
For where Souls act beyond Mortality,  
Heaven only can perform that jubilee.   

We wrestle then no more, but bless your day  
And mourn the Anguish of our sad delay:  
That since we cannot add, we yet stay here  
Fettered in Clay: Yet longing to appear  
Spectators of your Bliss, that being shown  
Once more, you may embrace us as your own;  
Where never Envy shall divide us more,  
Nor City-tumults, nor the World's uproar;  
But an Eternal Hush, a quiet Peace  
As without end, so still in the Increase,  
Shall lull Humanity asleep, and bring  
Us equal Subjects to the Heavenly King.  
Till when I'll turn Recusant, and forswear  
All Calvin, for there's Purgatory here.    

An Epitaph.  

STay Passenger: Behold and see  
The widowed Grave of Majesty.  
Why tremblest thou? Here's that will make  
All but our stupid Souls to shake.  
Here lies entombed the Sacred Dust  
Of Peace and Piety, Right and Just.  
The Blood (O startest not thou to hear?)  
Of a King, 'twixt hope and fear  
Shed, and hurried hence to be  
The Miracle of Misery.  
Add the ills that Rome can boast,  
●…rift the World in every Coast,  
●…ix the Fire of Earth and Seas  
With humane Spleen and Practices,  
To puny the Records of time,  
By one grand Gygantick Crime;  
Then swell it bigger till it squeeze  
The Globe to crooked Hams and Knees,  
Here's that shall make it seem to be  
But modest Christianity.   

The Lawgiver, amongst his own,  
●…entenc'd by a Law unknown.  
●…oted Monarchy to Death  
By the course Plebeian Breath.  
The Sovereign of all Command  
●…uffering by a Common Hand.  
A Prince, to make the Odium more,  
Offered at his very door.  
The head cut off, O Death to see't!  
●…n Obedience to the Feet.  
And that by justice you must know,  
If you have Faith to think it so.  
we'll stir no further than this Sacred Clay,  
But let it slumber till the judgement Day.  
Of all the Kings on Earth, 'tis not denied,  
Here lies the first that for Religion died.    

A Survey of the World.  

THe World's a guilded Trifle, and the State  
Of sublunary Bliss adulterate.  
Fame but an empty Sound, a painted noise,  
A Wonder that ne'er looks beyond nine Days.  
Honour's the Tennis-Ball of Fortune: Though  
Men wade to it in Blood and Overthrow;  
Which like a Box of Dice uneven dance,  
Sometime 'tis one's, sometimes fewer chance.  
Wealth but the hugged Consumption of that Heart,  
That travels Sea and Land for his own Smart.  
Pleasure à courtly Madness, a Conceit  
That smiles and tickles without Worth or Weight  
Whose scattered reckoning, when 'tis to be paid  
Is but Repenance lavishly in-laid.   

The World, Fame, Honour, Wealth and pleasure than  
Are the fair Wrack and Gemonieses of Men.  
Ask but thy Carnal Heart if thou shouldst be  
Sole Monarch of the World's great Family,  
If with the Macedonian Youth there would  
Not be a corner still reserved that could  
Another Earth contain? If so? What is  
That poor insatian thing she may call Bliss?   

Question the loaden Gallantry asleep,  
What profit now their Laurels in the deep  
Of Death's Oblivion? What their Triumph was  
More than the Moment it did prance and pass?  
If then applause move by the vulgar cry,  
Fame's but a Glorious Uncertainty.   

Awake Sejanus, Strafford, Buckingham,  
Charge the fond Favourites of greatest Name,  
What Faith is in a Prince's Smile, what Joy  
In th'high and Grand Concilio le Roy?  
Nay ●…sur's self, that marched his Honours throu  
The Bowels of all Kingdoms, made them bow  
Low to the Sti●…up of his Will and Vote,  
What safety to their Master's Life they brought?  
When in the Senate in his highest Pride  
By two and thirty Wounds he fell and died?   

If Height be then most subjected to Fate;  
‛ Honour's the Dayspring of a greater Hate.  
Now ask the groveling Soul that makes his Gold  
His Idol, his Di●…a, what a cold  
Account of Happiness can here arise  
From that ingluvious Surfeit of his Eyes?  
How the whole Man's enslaved to a lean Dearth  
Of all Enjoyment for a little Earth?  
How like Prometheus he doth still repair  
His growing Heart to feed the Vulture care.  
Or like a Spider's envious Designs,  
Drawing the threads of Death from her own Loins.  
Torturing his Entrails with thoughts of to Morrow,  
To keep that Mass with grief, he gained with Sorrow.  
If to the clinking Pastime in his Ears  
He add the Orphan's Cries and Widows Tears,  
The music's far from sweet, and if you found him,  
Truly, they leave him sadder than they found him.   

Now touch the Dallying Gallant, he that lies  
Angling for Babies in his Mistress' Eyes,  
Thinks there's no Heaven like a Bale of Dice  
Six Horses and a Coach with a device:  
A cast of Lackeys, and a Ladybird,  
An Oath in fashion, and a guilded Sword:  
Can smoke Tobacco with a Face in Frame,  
And speak perhaps a Line of Sense to th'same:  
Can sleep a Sabbath over in his Bed,  
Or if his Play book's there, will stoop to read,  
Can kiss its Hand, and congé a la mode,  
And when the Night's approaching bolt abroad,  
Unless his Honour's Worship's Rent's not come;  
So he falls sick, and swears the Carrier home.  
Else if his rare Devotion swell so high  
To waste an Hourglass on Divinity,  
'Tis but to make the Church his Stage, thereby  
To blaze the Tailor in his Ribaldry.  
Ask but the jay when his distress shall fall  
Like an armed Man upon him, where are all  
The Rosebuds of his Youth? Those antic Toys  
Wherein he sported out his precious Days?  
What comfort he collects from Hawk or Hound?  
Or if amongst his loser Hours, he found  
One of a thousand to redeem that time  
Perished and lost forever in his Prime?  
Or if he dreamed of an Eternal Bliss?  
he'll swear God damn him he ne'er thought of this.  
But like the Epicure adored the day  
That shined, rose up to eat, and drink and play.  
Knows that his Body was but Dust, and die  
It once must, so have Mercy, and God b'wy.   

Thus having traversed the fond World in brief,  
The Lust of the Eyes, the Flesh, and Pride of Life.  
Unbiass'd and impartially, we see  
'Tis lighter in the Scale than Vanity.   

What then remains? But that we still should strive  
Not to be born to die, but die to live.    

An Old Man courting a young Girl.  

COme Beauteous Nymph, canst thou embrace  
An Aged, Wise Majestic Grace?  
To mingle with thy youthful Flames,  
And made thy Glories stayed? the Dames  
Of loser Gesture blush to see  
Thy Lilies clothed with Gravity?  
Thy happier choice? Thy gentle Vine  
With a sober Elm entwine?  
Seal fair Nymph that lovely Tye  
Shall speak thy Honour loud and high.   Nym. 
Cease Grandsire Lover, and forbear  
To court me with thy Sepulchre;  
Thy i'll December and my May,  
Thy Evening and my Break of Day  
Can brook no Mixture, no Condition,  
But stand in perfect Opposition.  
Nor can my active heart embrace  
〈◊〉 shivering Ague in Love's Chase.  
Only perhaps the lucky tye  
●…ay make thy forked Fortune high.  Man. 
If fretted Roofs and Beds of Down,  
●…nd the Wonder of the Town,  
●…nded Knees, and costly Fare,  
●…ichest Dainties without Care,  
May Temptations Motives be  
Here they all attend on thee;  
●…nd to raise thy Bliss the more,  
●…ell thy Trunks with precious Ore,  
●…he glittering Entrails of the East  
●…o varnish and perfume thy Nest.  Nym. 
I question not, Sage Sir, but she  
●…hat weds your grave Obliquity,  
●…our Pthisick, Rheums, and Sultan's Face  
●…all meet with Fretted Roofs apace.  
●…ancy not your bended Knees  
●…st bowing you can sprightly rise;  
●…ur Gold too when you leave to woe  
Will quickly become Precious too.  
●…d dainty Cates without Delight,  
●…ay glut the Day but starve the Night.  
For when thou boasts the Beds of Bliss,  
The Man, the Man, still wanting is.  Man. 
Nay, gentle Nymph, think not my Fire  
So quenched, but that the strong Desire  
Of Love can wake it and create  
New Action to cooperate.  
The Sparks of Youth are not so gone,  
But I— ay marry that I can.  
Come smack me then my pretty Dear,  
Taste what a lively Change is here.  
Why fliest thou me?——  Nym. 
——— ice ice begun,  
Clasp me not with thy Frozen Zone.  
That pale Aspect would best become  
The sad Complexion of a Tomb.  
Think not thy Churchyard Look shall move  
My Spring to be thy Winter's Stove.  
If at the Resurrection we  
Shall chance to marry, call on me;  
By that time I perhaps may guests  
How to bathe and how to dress  
Thy weeping Legs, and sympathize  
With perished Lungs and wopper Eyes,  
And think thy touchy Passion Wit,  
Love disdain and flatter it;  
And 'midst this costive Punishment  
Raise a politic Content.  
But whiles the Solstice of my years  
Glories in its highest Spheres,  
Deem not, I will deign to be  
The Vassal of Infirmity,  
The Screen of phlegmatic old Age,  
Decayed Methusalem his Page.  
No! Give me lively Pleasures, such  
Melt the Fancy in the touch;  
Raise the Appetite and more,  
Satisfy it over and over.  
Then from the Ashes of those Fires  
Kindle fresh and new Desires.  
So Cyprus be the Scoene: Above  
Venus and the God of Love,  
Knitting true-love knots in one  
Merry happy Union.  
Whiles their feathered team appears  
Doves and Sparrows in their Gears,  
Fluttering o'er the jovial-fry,  
Sporting in Love's Comedy.  Man. 
Hold hasty Soul, Beauty's a Flower  
That may perish in an Hour;  
No Disease but can disgrace  
The trifling Blossoms of a Face,  
And nip the heights of those fond Toys,  
That now are doted on with Praise.  
The Noon-glory of the Sun  
To the Shades of Night must come.  
May, for all her gilded Prime,  
Has its weak and withering time.  
Not a Bud that owes its Birth,  
From the teeming-mother Earth,  
But excels the fading dress  
Of a Woman's Loveliness.  
For when Flowers vanish here,  
They may spring another Year.  
But frail Beauty, when 'tis gone,  
Finds no Resurrection.  
Scorn me then, coy Nymph, no more,  
Fly no higher, do not sore.  
Those pretty Rubies of thy Lips  
Once must know a pale Eclipse.  
And that plump alluring Skin  
Will be furrowed deeply in.  
And those curled Locks so bright  
Time will all besnow with white.  
Not a Glory, not a Glance,  
But must suffer Change and Chance.  
Then, though now you'll not contract  
With me in the Marriage Act,  
Yet perforce choose, choose you whether,  
You and I shall Lie together.   

An Epitaph on his deceased Friend.  

HEre lies the ruin'd Cabinet  
Of a rich Soul more highly set.  
The Dross and Refuse of a Mind,  
Too glorious to be here confined.  
Earth for a while bespoke his stay,  
Only to bait and so away:  
So that what here he doted on  
Was merely Accommodation.  
Not that his active Soul could be  
At home, but in Eternity.  
Yet while he blest us with the Rays  
Of his short continued Days,  
Each minute had its Weight of Worth,  
Each pregnant Hour some Star brought forth.  
So whiles he travelled here beneath,  
He lived, when others only breath.  
For not a Sand of time slipped by  
Without its Action sweet as high:  
So good, so peaceable, so blest,  
Angels alone can speak the rest.    

Mount Ida, or, Beauties Contest.  

THree regent Goddesses they fell at odds,  
As they sat close in Council with the Gods,  
Whose Beauty did excel! And thence they crave  
A Moderator of the Strife to have:  
But lest the partial Heavens could not decide  
The grudge, they stoop to Mortals to be tried.   

Mantled in Clouds then gently down they fall  
Upon Mount Ida to appease the Brawl,  
Where Priam's lovely Boy sporting did keep  
His Father's Lambs and snowy Flocks of Sheep,  
His lily Hand was soon ordained to be  
The harmless Umpire of the fond Decree.   

To him, to him, they gave the Golden Ball,  
O happy Goddess upon whom it fall!  
But more unhappy Shepherd, was't not pity  
Thou didst not send it at a close Committee?  
There, there thou hadst surpassed what did befall,  
Thou mightst have crowned One, yet pleased All.   

First then Imperious juno did display  
Her Coronet of Glories to the Boy,  
And ranged her Stars up in an arched Ring  
Of Height and Majesty most flourishing;  
Then Wealth and Honour at his Foot did lay  
To be esteemed the Lady of the Day.   

Next Pallas that brave Heroina came,  
The thundering Queen of Action, War and Fame,  
Dressed in her glittering Arms, wherewith she lays  
World's waist, and new ones from their Dust can raise:  
These, these she tenders him, advanced to be,  
With all the Wreaths of Wit and Gallantry.   

Last Venus breaks forth of her Golden Rays,  
With thousand Cupids crowned, ten thousand Boys,  
Sparkling through every Quadrant of her Eyes,  
Which made her Beauty in full Glory rise:  
Then smiling vowed so to sublime his Parts,  
To make him the great Conqueror of Hearts.   

Thus poor distracted Paris all on Fire,  
Stood trembling deep in doubt what to desire;  
The sweet Temptations pleaded hard for all,  
Each Theatre of ●…eanty seemed to call  
For the bright Prize: But he amazed, he  
Could not determine which, which which was she.   

At last the Cyprian Girl so struck him blind  
In all the Faculties of Soul and Mind,  
That he poor captived Wretch without delay  
Could not forbear his frailty to ●…etray,  
But 〈◊〉 Honour. Wisdom, all above  
He ran and kissed and crowned the Queen of Love.   

Pallas and juno then in high disdain  
Took Snuff, and posted up to Heaven again,  
As to a high Court of Appeal, to be  
Revenged on Men for this Indignity.  
" Hence than it happens that the Ball was lost,  
" 'Tis two to one but Love is always crossed.    

Upon a Fly that flew into a Lady's Eye, and there lay buried in a Tear.  

POor envious Soul! what couldst thou see  
In that bright Orb of Purity?  
That active Globe? That twinkling Sphere  
Of Beauty to be meddling there?  
Or didst thou foolishly mistake  
The glowing Morn in that Day break?  
Or was't thy Pride to mount so high  
Only to kiss the Sun and die?  
Or didst thou think to rival all,  
Don Phaeton and his great Fall?  
And in a richer Sea of Brive  
Drown Icarus again in thine?  
'Twas bravely aimed, and which is more  
thoust sunk the Fable over and over.  
For in this single Death of thee  
thoust bankrupt all Antiquity.   

O had the fair Egyptian Queen  
Thy glorious Monument once seen,  
How had she spared what time forbids,  
The needless tottering Pyramids!  
And in an emulative Chafe  
Have begged thy Shrine her Epitaph?  
Where, when her Aged Marble must  
Resign her Honour to the Dust,  
Thou mightst have canonised her  
Deceased Time's Executor?   

To rip up all the Western Bed  
Of Spices where Sol lays his Head,  
To squeeze the Phoenix and her Nest  
In one Perfume that may write Best;  
Then blend the Gallery of the Skies  
With her Seraglio of Eyes,  
T'embalm a Name, and raise a Tomb,  
The Miracle of all to come;  
Then, then, compare it: Here's a Gemm  
A Pearl must shame and pity them.  
An Amber drop distilled by  
The sparkling Limbeck of an eye,  
Shall dazzle all the short Essays  
Of rubbish Worth and shallow Praise.   

We strive not then to prise that Tear,  
Since we have nought to poise it here.  
The World's too light. Hence, hence we cry  
The World, the World's not worth a Fly.    

Obsequies  
To the Memory of the truly Noble, right Valiant, and right Honourable, Spencer Earl of Northampton, slain at Hopton Field in Staffordshire, in the Beginning of the Civil War.  

WHat! The whole World in Silence? Not a Tear  
In tune through all the speechless Hemisphere?  
Has Grief so seized and feared Mankind in all  
The Convoys of Intelligence? No Fall  
But those of Waters heard? No Elegies  
But such as whine through th'Organs of our Eyes?  
Can Pompey fall again? And no Pen say  
Here lies the Roman Liberey in Day?  
Or can his Blood Bow-die th'Egyptian Sand,  
And the black Crimes does less than tann the Land?  
And make the Region instead of a Verse,  
And tomb his sable Epitaph and Hearse?   

So here Northampton that brave Hero fell,  
Triumphant Roman thy pure Parallel,  
The Blush and Glory of his Age: Who died  
In all Points happy, but the Weaker side.  
Only to foreign parts he did not roam,  
The kind Egyptians met him nearer home.  
Both, and such, Causes, that the World confess,  
There's nought to plead against them but Success▪  
Malignant Loyalty! A glorious Fame  
And Sin, for which God never found a Name.  
Which had it scaped the Rubric of these times  
Had still continued among Holy Crimes.  
A Text on which we find no Gloss at all,  
But in the Alcoran of Goldsmith's Hall!   

Now (Great Adolphus) give me leave to 〈◊〉  
The Ashes of thy Urn, and Sepulc●…re;  
And branch the Flowers of the Swedish Glory,  
As rivalled to the Life in our sad Story;  
Yet not impair thy Plumes, by adding more  
To suit that Splendour from a Neighbour Shore;  
Nor deem thy Honour less thus matched to be,  
If Compton died to grasping Victory.  
An active Soul in Gallant F●…y hurled,  
To club with all the Worthies of the World.  
Blind, Envious, piping Fortune! What could be  
The tottering Ground of this thy Treachery?  
To stop the Balance of that brave Carrear,  
Was both at once thy Miracle and Fear?  
Was't not a panic Dread surprised thy Soul,  
Of being made servile to his high Control?  
Blush and confess poor Cai●… goddess! So  
we'll quit his in thy real Overthrow.   

And Death, thou Worm! Thou pale Assassinate!  
Thou sneaking Hireling of Revenge and Hate,  
Didst not thou feel an Earthquake in thy Bones▪  
Such as rends Rocks and their Foundations?  
No T●…tian shivering, but an Ag●… fit  
Which with a burning Fever shall commit  
The World to Ashes? When thou stolest crept'st under  
That Helmet which durst dare jove and his Thunder.   

But since the Bays he reached at grew not here,  
Like a wise Soldier and a Cavalier,  
He left his covetous Enemy at Bay,  
Rifling the Carriage of his Flesh and Clay:  
While his rich Soul pursued the greater Game  
Of Honour to the Skies, there fi●…'d his Name.  
I shall not therefore vex the O●… to trace  
Thy Sacred Footsteps in that hallowed Place;  
No●… start a feigned Star, and swear it thine,  
Then stretch the Constellation to thy Line,  
Like a Welsh Gentleman that tacks hi●… Kin  
To all Coat●… in the Country he lives in.  
Nor yet, to raise thy Flaming Crest, shall I  
Knock for the wand'ring Planets in the Sky.  
Perhaps some broken Beauty of sta●…e Doubt,  
To comment on her Face has hired them out.   

Let Fame, and thy brave Race thy Statue live,  
The World can never such another give.  
Whiles each Soul sighs at the is●…d thought of thee,   

There fell a Province of Nobility.  
A Fall, 〈◊〉 Zeal but husbanded its Throat,  
That sunk the House of Lords, and saved the Vote.  
They only State m●…e Titles in their Gears,  
He singly represented all the Peers.  
One, had the Enemy employed their Smeck,  
●…hose Ringworms of the Church, to beg a Neck  
With Claudius, to metropolize all Worth,  
●…ome, and what e'er the Suburb-world brought forth,  
〈◊〉 him the Sword did glut its ravening Eye,  
●…he rest that kicked up were the smaller Fry.  
●…parks only of that Fire in him deceased,  
●…yfles that cracked and vanished North and West.   

He led the Royal War in such a die,  
●…n that dire Entrance of the Tragedy,  
The Sense (Great Charles) no longer to prorogue,  
●…one but thyself could speak the Epilogue.    

The London Lady.  

GEntly my Muse! 'tis but a tender Piece,  
A Paradox of Fumes and Ambergris.  
〈◊〉 Cobweb-tinder at a touch takes Fire,  
The tumbling Whirligig of blind Desire.  
●…ulcan's Pandora in a Crystal Shrine,  
Or th'old Inn faced with a new painted Sign.  
The spotted Voider of the Term: In short,  
Chemical Nature physick'd into Art.   

But hold rude satire, here's a Hector comes,  
A Codpiece Captain that with her shares Sums:  
One claims a Jointure in her Sins, the Foil  
That puts her off, like the Old Man ere while:  
That with a Dagger-Cloak, and ho-boy gapes  
And squeeks for Company for the jack-an-apes.  
This is the fierce St. George, foreruns the Wagon▪  
And, if occasion be, shall kill the Dragon.  
Don Mars the great Ascendant on the Road,  
When Thomas' teem begins to jog abroad.  
The hinter at each turn of Covent Garden,  
The C●…-Pickeerer, the robust Church warden  
Of Lincoln's Inn back-corner, where he angel's  
For Cloaks and Hats, and the small Game entangles  
This is the City Usher strayed to enter  
The small Drink Country Squires of the first venture  
And dubs them batch'lor-Knight of the black Jugg  
Man's them into an Oath, and the French Shrug,  
Makes them fine Graduates in Smock-impudence,  
And gelds them of their Puny Mother's Sense.  
So that when two Terms more, and forty Pound  
Reads them acquainted all Gomorrha round,  
Down to their wondering Friends at last they range,  
With breeding just enough to speak them strange,  
And drown a younger Brother in a Look,  
Kick a poor Lackey, and berogue the Cook;  
Top a small Cry of Tenants that dare stir  
In no Phrase now, but save your Worship Sir.   

But to return: By this my Lady's up,  
Has swum the Ocean of the Cawdle-Cup,  
Conversed with every washing, every Ground,  
And Fucus in the Cabinets to be found.  
Has laid the fixed Complexion for the Day,  
Ber Breech rings High Change, and she must away.   

Now down the Channel towards the Strand the glides,  
Flinging her ●…mble Glances on both sides,  
Like the Death-darting Cockatrice (that sly  
Close Engineer) that murders through the Eye.  
The first that's tickled with her rumbling Wheels  
Is the old Statesman, that in Slippers reels,  
He wire draws up his Jaws, and snuffs and gri●…s,  
And sighing smacks, but for my Aged Shins,  
My Con●…ve of Diseases, I would board  
Your lofty Galley: Thus I served my Lord—  
But mum for that, his strength will scarce supply  
His Back to the Balcona, so God b'wy.  
By this she has surveyed the golden Globe,  
And finding no Temptation to disrobe,  
To Durham New Old Stable on she packs,  
Where having winced and breathed the whated ye lacks,  
●…usled and bounced a turn or two in Ire,  
●…he mounts the Coach like Phaeton all on Fire,  
●…it for th'impression of all sorts of Evil,  
●…nd whirls up towards the Lawyers and the Devil.  
There Ployden in his laced Ruff starched on Edg  
●…eeps like an Adder through a quickset Hedge,  
And brings his stale Demur to stop the Course  
Of her Proceedings with her Yoke of Horse;  
Then falls to handling of the Case, and so  
●…hews her the Posture of her Overthrow;  
But yet for all his Law and double Fees  
she'll bring him to join Issue on his Knees;  
And make him pay for Expedition too:  
Thus the grey Fox acts his green Sins anew.  
And well he escapes if all his Norman Sense  
Can save the burning of his Evidence.  
But out at last she's huddled in the dark,  
Man'd like a Lady-Client by the Clerk  
And so the nimble Youngster at the parting  
Extorts a Smack perhaps before the Carting.   

Down Fleetstreet next she rowls with powdered Crest,  
●…o spring clip'd-half-crowns in the Cuckoo's Nest.  
For now the Heroes of the Yard have shut  
Their Shops, and loll upon their Bulks to put  
The Ladies to the Squeak, if so perhaps  
Their Mistresses can spare them from their Laps.  
●…ot far she waves and sails before she clings  
With the young Tribe for Pendants, Lace, and Rings;  
But there poor tottered Madam, though too late,  
She meets the Topsie-turvey of her State;  
For the ca●…n'd Boys, having nought left to pay.  
Are forced to pawn her, and so run away.  
On this the dreadful Drawer soon appears,  
Like her ill Genius about her Ears,  
With a long Bill of Items that affright.  
Worse than a Skull of Halberds in the Night.  
For now the Jay's compelled to untru●…s all  
The tackling upon tick from every Stall;  
Each sharing Broker of her borrowed Dress  
Seems to do Penance in her Nakedness.  
For not a Lady of the noble Game,  
But is composed at least of all Long-Lane:  
An Animal together blowed and made,  
And uped of all the Shreds of every Trade.   

Thus purely now herself, homewards she packs,  
Excized in all the Dialects of her knacks:  
Squeezed to the utmost Thread, and latest Grain,  
Like Meteors tossed to their first grit again.   

A Lane, a Lane, she comes, summed down to nought,  
But Shame and a thin-under Petticoat.  
But lest I should pursue her to the quick,  
I pass: The Chase lies now too near the Nick.   

In pity satire then thy Lash let fall:  
He knows her best that scans her not at all.   

And though thou seem'st discourteous not to save her,  
No matter; when thou leav'st there's one will have her▪    

The Times.  

TO speak in wetshod Eyes, and drowned Looks,  
Sad broken Accents, and a Vein that brooks  
No Spirit, Life, or Vigour, were to own  
The Crush and Triumph of Affliction;  
And creeping with Themistocles to be  
The pale-faced Pensioners of our Enemy.  
No, 'tis the Glory of the Soul to rise  
By Falls, and at rebound to pierce the Skies.   

Like a brave Courser standing on the Sand  
Of some high-working Fretum; views a Land  
Smiling with Sweets upon the distant side,  
Garnished in all her gay embroidered Pride,  
Larded with Springs, and fringed with curled Woods,  
Impatient, bounces in the cap ring Floods,  
Big with a nobler Fury than that Stream  
Of shallow Violence he meets in them;  
Thence armed with Scorn & Courage ploughs away  
Through the impostumed Billows of the Sea;  
And makes the grumbling Surges Slaves to Oar,  
And waft him safely to the further Shoar:  
Where landed in a Sovereign Disdain  
He turns back, and surveys the foaming Main,  
Whiles the subjected Waters flowing reel,  
Ambitious yet to wash the Victor's Heel.   

In such a Noble Equipage should we  
Embrace th'Encounter of our Misery.  
Not like a Fie●… of Corn, that hangs the Head  
For every Tempest, every petty Dread.  
Crosses were the best Christians Arms: And we  
That hope a wished Canaan once to see,  
Must not expect a Carpet-way alone  
Without a Red-sea of Affliction.  
Then cast the Dice: Let's ford old Rubicon,  
Caesar 'tis thine, Man is but once undone.  
Tread softly though, lest Scylla's Ghost awake,  
And us i'th'Roll of his Proscriptions take.  
Rome is revived, and the Triumvirate  
In the black Island are once more a State;  
The City trembles: There's no third to shield  
If once Augustus to Antonius yield,  
Law shall not shelter Cicero, the Robe  
The Senate: Proud Success admits no Probe  
Of Justice to correct or square the Fate,  
That bears down all as illegitimate;  
For whatsoe'er it lists to overthrow,  
It either finds it, or else makes it so.   

Thus Tyranny's a stately Palace, where  
Ambition sweats to climb and nustle there;  
But when 'tis entered, what Hopes then remain?  
There is no Sallyport to come out again.  
For Mischief must roll on, and gliding grow,  
Like little Rivulets that gently flow  
From their first bubbling Springs, but still increase  
And swell their Channel as they mend their Pace;  
Till in a Glorious Tide of Villainy  
They overrun the Banks, and posting fly  
Like th'bellowing Waves in Tumults, till they can  
Display themselves in a full Ocean.  
And if blind Rage shall chance to miss its Way,  
Brings Stock enough alone to make a Sea.   

Thus treble Treasons are secured ●…d drowned  
By louder Cries of deeper Mouth and Sound.  
And high Attempts swallow a puny Plot,  
As Canons overwhelm the smaller Shot.  
Whiles the deaf senseless World inur'd a while  
(Like the Catadupi at the Fall of Mile)  
To the fierce tumbling Wonder, think it none;  
Thus Custom hallows Irreligion!  
And strokes the patient Beast till he admit  
The now-grown-light and necessary Bit.   

But whether do I ramble? Gauled Times  
Cannot endure a smart Hand o'er their Crimes.  
Distracted Age? What Dialect or Fashion  
Shall I assume? To pass the Approbation  
Of thy censorious Synod; which now sit  
High Areopagites to destroy all Wit?   

I cannot say, I say, that I am one  
Of th' Church of Ely-house, or Abington,  
Nor of those precious Spirits that can deal  
The Pomegranates of Grace at every Meal.  
No zealous Hemp-dresser yet dipped me in  
The Laver of Adoption from my Sin.  
But yet if Inspiration, or a Tale  
Of a long-wasted six Hours length prevail,  
A smooth Certificate from the Sisterhood,  
Or to be termed Holy before Good,  
Religious Malice, or a Faith w'out Works  
Others then may proclaim us jews or Turks:  
If these, these hint at any thing, Then, then  
Whoop! my despairing Hope come back again:  
For since the Inundation of Grace,  
All Honesty's under Water, or in Chase.  
But 'tis the Old World's Dotage, thereupon  
We feed on Dreams Imagination,  
Humours, and cross-gained Passions, which now reign  
〈◊〉 the decaying Elements of the Brain.  
●…is hard to coin new Fancies, when there be  
So few that launch out in Discovery.  
Nay Arts are so far from being cherished,  
There's scarce a College but has lost its Head,  
And almost all its Members: O sad Wound!  
Where never an Artery could be judged sound!  
To what a Height is Vice now towered? When we  
Dare not miscall it an Obliquity?  
So confident, and carrying such an awe,  
That it subscribes itself no less than Law?  
If this be Reformation then? The great  
Account pursued with so much Blood and Sweat?   

In what Black Lines shall our sad Story be  
Delivered over to Posterity?  
With what a Dash and Scarborow shall we be read?  
How has Dame Nature in us suffered?  
Who of all Centuries the first Age are  
That sunk the World for want of due Repair?   

When first we issued out in Cries and Tears,  
(Those salt Presages of our future years)  
Headlong we dropped into a quiet Calm,  
Times crowned with rosy Garlands, Spice and Balm;  
Where first a Glorious Church and Mother came,  
Embraced us in her Arms, gave us a Name  
By which we live, and an indulgent Breast  
Flowing with Stream to an Eternal Rest.  
Thus ravished, the poor Soul could not guests even,  
Which was more kind to her yet, Earth, or Heaven.  
Or rather wrapped in a pious Doubt  
Of Heaven, whether she were in or out.   

Next the Great Father of our Country brings  
His Blessing too, (even the Best of Kings)  
Safe and well-grounded Laws to guard our Peace,  
And nurse our Virtues in their just Increase;  
Like a pure Spring from whom all Graces come,  
Whose Bounty made it double Christendom.  
Such and so sweet were those Halcyon Days  
That rose upon us in our Infant Rays;  
Such a composed State we breathed under,  
We only heard of jove, ne'er felt his Thunder.  
Terrors were then as strange, as Love now grown,  
Wrong and Revenge lived quietly at home.  
The sole Contention that we understood,  
Was a rare Strife and War in doing good.   

Now let's reflect upon our Gratefulness.  
How we have added, or (O!) made it less,  
What are th'Improvements? what our Progress? where  
Those handsome Acts that say that some men were?  
He that to ancient Wreaths can bring no more  
From his own Worth, dies bankrupt on the Score.  
For Father's Crests are crowned in the Son,  
And Glory spreads by Propagation.  
Now Virtue shield me! Where shall I begin?  
To what a Labyrinth am I now slipped in,  
What shall we answer them? Or what deny?  
What prove? Or rather whether shall we fly?  
When the poor widowed Church shall ask us where  
Are all her Honours? and that filial Care  
We owed so sweet a Parent as the Spouse  
Of Christ, which here vouchsafed to own a House?  
Where are her Boanerges? And those rare  
Brave Sons of Consolation? Which did bear  
The Ark before our Israel, and dispense  
The Heavenly Manna with such Diligence?  
In them the primitive Mottoes come to pass,  
Aut mortui sunt, aut docent literas.  
Blessed Virgin! we can only say we have  
Thy Prophet's Tombs among us, and their Grave.  
And here and there a Man in Colours paint,  
That by thy Ruins grew a mighty Saint.   

Next Caesar some Accounts are due to thee,  
But those in Blood already written be.  
So loud and lasting, in such monstrous Shapes,  
So wide the never-to-be-closed Wound gapes;  
All Ages yet to come with shivering shall  
Recite the fearful Precedent of thy Fall.   

Hence we confute thy Tenent Solomon,  
Under the Sun a new thing hath been done;  
A thing before all Pattern, all Pretence  
Of Rule or Copy: Such a strange Offence  
Of such Original Extract, that it bears  
Date only from the Eden of our Years.   

Laconian Agis! We have read thy Fate,  
The Violence of the Spartan Love and Hate.  
How Pagans trembled at the thought of thee,  
And fled the Horror of thy Tragedy;  
Thyestes cruel Feast, and how the Sun  
Shrunk in his Golden Beams that Sight to shun.  
The Bosoms of all Kingdoms open lie,  
Plain and emergent to th'inquiring Eye.  
But when we glance upon our Native Home,  
As the black Centre to whom all Points come,  
We rest amazed, and silently admire  
How far beyond all Spleen ours did aspire.  
All that we dare assert is but a Cry  
Of an exchanged Peace for Liberty.  
A secret Term by Inspiration known,  
A Mist that brooks no Demonstration;  
Unless we dive into our Purses, where  
We quickly find Our Freedom purely dear.   

But why exclaim you thus? May some Men say,  
Against the times? When equal Night and Day  
Keep their just Course? The Seasons still the same?  
As sweet as when from the first Hand they came?  
The Influence of the Stars benign and free,  
As at first Peep up in their Infancy?  
'Tis not those standing Motions that divide  
The space of Years, nor the swift Hours that glide,  
Those little Particles of Age, that come  
In thronging Items that make up the Sum,  
That's here intended: But our crying Crimes,  
Our Monsters that abominates the Times.  
'Tis we that make the Metonymy good  
By being bad, which like a troubled Flood  
Nothing produce but slimy Mire and Dirt,  
And Impudence that makes Shame malapert.  
To travel further in these Wounds that lie  
Rankling, though seeming closed, were to deny  
Rest to an overwatched World, and force fresh Tears  
From stenched Eyes, now alarmed by old Fears.  
Which if they thus shall heal and stop, they be  
The first that e'er were cured by Lethargy.   

This only Axiom from ill Times increase  
I gather, There's a time to hold one's Peace.    

The Model of new Religion.  

WHoop! Mr. vicar in your flying Frock?  
What News at Babel now? how stands the Cock!  
When wags the Flood? No Ephemerideses?  
Nought but confounding of the Languages?  
No more of th'Saints Arrival? Or the Chance  
Of three Pipes two Pence and an Ordinance?  
How many Queer-religions? Clear your Throat,   

May a man have a Pennyworth? Four a Groat?  
Or do the juncto leap at truss-a-fail?  
Three Tenants clap while five hang on the Tail?  
No Querpo model? Never a knack or wile?  
To preach for Spoons and Whistles? Cross or Pile?  
No hints of Truth on Foot? no Sparks of Grace?  
No late sprung Light? to dance the wild-goose Chase?  
No Spiritual Dragoons that take their Flames  
From th'inspiration of the City Dames?  
No Crumbs of Comfort to relieve our Cry?  
No new dealt Mincemeat of Divinity?   

Come let's project: By the great late Eclipse  
We justly fear a Famine of the Lips.  
For Sprats are risen an Omer for a sauce,  
Which gripes the Conclave of the lower House.  
Let's therefore vote a close Humiliation,  
For op●…ning the sealed Eyes of this blind Nation;  
That they may see confessingly and swear,  
They have not seen at all this Fourteen Year.  
And for the Splints and Spaving too, 'tis said  
All the Joints have the Riffcage, since the Head  
Swelled so prodigious, and excized the Parts  
From all Allegiance but in Tears and Hearts.   

But zealous Sir, what say to a touch at Prayer?  
How Quops the Spirit? In what Garb or Air?  
With sauce erect, or Pendent, Winks, or Haws?  
Snivelling? Or the extension of the Jaws?  
Devotion has its mode: Dear Sir hold forth;  
Learning's a Venture of the second Worth.  
For since the People's Rise and its sad Fall,  
We are inspired from much to none at all.   

Brother adieu! I see y'are closely girt,  
A costive Dover gives the Saints the Squirt.  
Hence (Reader) all our flying News contracts,  
Like the State's Fleet from the Seas into Acts;   

But where's the Model all this while you'll say,  
'Tis like the Reformation, run away.    

On Britannicus his leap three Story high, and his escape from London.  

PAul from Damascus in a Basket slides,  
Craned by the Faithful Brethren down the sides  
Of their embattell'd Walls, Britannicus,  
As loath to trust the brethren's God with us,  
Slides too, but yet more desperate, and yet thrives  
In his descent; needs must! The Devil drives.  
Their Cause was both the same, and herein meet,  
Only their Fall was not with equal Feet,  
Which makes the Case jambick: Thus we see  
How much News falls short of Divinity.  
Truth was their crying Crime: One takes the night,  
Th'other th'advantage of the New-sprung Light  
To mantle his escape: How different be  
The Pristine and the Modern Policy?  
Have Ages their Antipodes? Yet still  
Close in the Propagation of ill:  
Hence flows this Use and Doctrine from the thump  
I last sustained (beloved) Good Wits may jump.    

Content.  

FAir Stranger! Winged Maid, where dost thou rest  
Thy snowy Locks at Noon? Or on what Breast  
Of Spices slumber o'er the sullen Night?  
Or waking whither dost thou take thy Flight?  
Shall I go seek some melancholic Grove?  
The silent Theatre of Despair and Love?  
There court the Bittern and the Pelican,  
Those Airy Antipodes to the Tents of Man?  
Or sitting by some pretty prattling Spring  
Hear hoarse Nyctimine her Dirges sing?  
Whiles the rough Satyrs dance Corantoes too  
The chattering Sembriefs of her Woe ho, ho?  
Or shall I trace some Ice-bound Wilderness  
Among the Caverns of abstruse Recess?  
Where never prying Sun, nor blushing Day  
Could steal a Glimpse, or intersqueeze a Ray?   

If not within this solitary Cell,  
O whether must I post? Where dost thou dwell?   

Shall I let lose the Reins of blind Desire?  
And surfeit every ravening Sense? Give Fire  
To any Train? And tyre Voluptuousness  
In all her soft Varieties of Excess?  
And make each Day a History of Sin?  
Drink the A la mort Sun down and up again!  
Improve my Crimes to such a roaring Score,  
That when I die, where others go before  
In whining venial Streams, and Quarto Pages,  
My Floods may rise in Folio, sink all Ages?  
O●… shall I bathe myself in Widows Tears?  
And build my Name in th'Curse of them and theirs?  
Shipwreck whole Nature to craw out a Purse  
With th'molten Cinders of the Universe?  
Belch nought but Ruin? And the horrid Cries  
Of Fire and Sword? And swim in drowned Eyes?  
Make Lanes to Crowns and Sceptres through th' Heart's Veins  
Of Justice, Law, Right, Church and Sovereigns?  
No, no, I trace thee not in this dark way  
Of Death, this Scarlet-streaked Aceldama.   

Shall I then to the House of Mourning go?  
Where the Saltpetre Vuates overflow  
With fresh Supplies of Grief? Fresh Tides of Brine?  
Or traverse the wide World in every Line?  
Walk through the Bowels of each Realm and State  
Simpling for Rules of Policy, to create  
Strange Forms of Government of new Mould, & wastes  
Like a French Kickshaw of a thousand Tastes?  
Or shall I dive into the Secrecy  
Of Nature? Where the most retired doth lie?  
Or shall I waste the Taper of my Soul  
In Scrutinies; where neither Northern-pole  
Nor Southern-constellation darts a Light  
To constitute a Latitude or Height?  
Or shall I float into the watery Pale  
Wan Kingdom of the Moon? And there set sail  
For all the Orbs? And keep high Holiday  
With th' Nectar-tipling-Gods in th'milky-way?  
Swell Bacchus tripes with a Tun of lusty Sack?  
And lay the Plump Squire flat upon his Back?  
O no, these Revels are too short, too sour,  
Too sad, hugged and repent in an Hour.   

Shall I then plough the Seas to foreign Soils?  
And rake the pregnant Indies for hid Spoils?  
Or with the Anchorite abhor the Eye  
Of Heaven, and banish all Society?  
Live in, and out the World? And pass my Days  
In treading out some strange mysterious Maze;  
Taste every Humane Sweet? Lily and Rose?  
With all the sharp Guard that about them grows?  
Climb where Despair would tremble to set Foot,  
Spring new Impossibles and force Way to't?  
Make the whole Globe a Shop of Chemistry  
To melt down all her Atoms, and descry  
That small jota, that last pitied Grain  
Which the gulled Sons of Men pursue in vain?  
Or shall I grasp those Meteors, Fame, and Praise  
Which Breath by th'Charity of the vulgar Voice?  
Pile Honour upon Honourt till it crack,  
The Atlas of my Pride, and break its back?  
Hold Fancy, hold! For whither wilt thou bear  
My Sunburnt hope to Loss? 'Tis, 'tis not here,   

Soar then (My Soul) above the arched Round  
Of these poor spangled Blisses: Here's no Ground  
To fix the Sacred Foot of pure Content,  
Her Mansions in a higher Element.   

Hast thou perceived the Sweetness of a Groak?  
Or tried the Wings of Contemplation?  
Or hast thou found the Balm of Tears, that press  
Like Amber in the Dregs of Bitterness?  
Or hast thou felt that secret Joy that flows,  
Against the Tide of common Ove-throws?  
Or hast thou known the Dawnings of a God  
Upon thee, when his Love is shed abroad?  
Or hast thou heard the Sacred Harmony  
Of a calm Conscience, e●…choing in thee  
A Requiem from above? A sealed Peace  
Beyond the Power of Hell, Sin or Decease?  
Or hast thou tasted that Communion  
Between a reconciled God and Man?  
That Holy Intercourse? Those precious Smiles  
Dissolved in Holy whisper between while?   

Here, here's the Steps lead to her blessed Abode;  
Her Chair of State is in the Throne of God.    

May Day.  

COme Gallants, why so dull? What muddy Cloud  
Dwells on th'eye-brows of the day? Why shrowded  
Ye up yourselves in the furled Sails of Night,  
And tossing lie at Hull? Hark how Delight  
Knocks with her silver Wings at every Sense?  
And Great Apollo Laureate doth Commence?   

Up! 'tis the golden jubilee of the Year,  
The Stars are all withdrawn from each glad Sphere,  
Within the tyring-rooms of Heaven, unless  
Some few that peep to spy our Happiness.  
Whiles Phoebus tugging up Olympus craw,  
Smokes his bright Teem along on the Grand Paw.   

Hark how the Songsters of the shady Plain,  
Close up their Anthems in a melting Strain!  
See where the glittering Nymphs whirl it away  
In Checkling Caravans as blithe as May;  
And th'Christal-sweating Flowers droop their heads  
In blushing Shame to call you Slug-a-beds.   

Wast but a Glance upon Hyde-park, and swear  
All Argus Eyes are fallen, and fixed there.  
The dapled Lawns with Ladies shine and glow,  
Whiles bubbling Mounts with Springs of Nectar flow;  
And each kind Turtle sits and bills his Dove  
Like Venus and Adonis lapped in Love.   

Hark how Amyntas in melodious loud  
Shrill Raptures tunes his Hornpipe! whiles a Crowd  
Of Snow-white-milk-maids crowned with Garlan●… ga●…  
Trip it to the soft Measure of his Lay.  
And Fields with Curds and Cream like green-chee●… li●…  
This now or never is the Gallaxie.   

If the facetious Gods e'er taken were  
With Mortal Beauties and disguised, 'tis here.  
See how they mix Societies, and toss  
The tumbling Ball into a willing Loss,  
That th'twining Ladies on their Necks might take  
The doubled Kisses which they first did stake.   

Those pretty Earnests of a Maidenhead,  
Those sugared Seals of Love, Types of the Bed,  
Which to confirm the sweet Conveyance more  
They throng in thousand times ten thousand Score.  
Such Heavenly Surfeits, as they sporting lie,  
Thus catch they from each others Lip and Eye.   

The Game at best, the Girls May-rold must be,  
Where Croyden and M●…sa, he and she  
Each happy Pair make one Hermaphrodite,  
And tumbling bounce together, black and white;  
Where had you seen the Chance, you had not known  
Whose Show had lovelier been Madam's or joan.   

Then crown the Bowl, let every Conduit run  
Canary, till we lodge the reeling Sun.  
Tap every Joy, let not a Pearl be spilt,  
Till we have set the ringing World a Tilt.  
A sacrifice Arabia Foelix in  
One bone fire, one Incense Offering.   

'Tis Sack, 'tis Sack, that drowns the thorny Cares,  
Which hedge the Pillow, and abridge our Years,  
The quickening Anima mundi that creates  
Life in Dejection, and outdares the Fates,  
Makes Man look big on danger, and outswell  
The Fury of that Thrall that threatens Hell.   

Chirp round my Boys: Let each Soul take its sip,  
Who knows what falls between the Cup and Lip?  
What can a voluntary pale-Look bring  
Or a deep Sigh to lessen Suffering?  
Has Mischief any pity or regard?  
The foil of Misery is a Breast prepared.   

Hence then with folded Arms, eclipsed Eyes,  
And low imprisoned Groans, meek Cowardice.  
Urge not with Oars Death that in full Sail comes,  
Nor walk in forestalled Blacks to the dark Tombs:  
But rather than th'Eternal Jaws shall gape,  
Gallop with Curtius down the Gallant hap.   

Mean time here's that shall make our Shackles light,  
And charm the dismal Terrors walk by Night;  
'tis this that cheers the drooping Soul, revives  
The benumbed Captive cramped in his cold Gives.  
Kingdoms and Cottages, the Mill and Throne  
Sack the Grand Leveller commands alone.   

'tis Sack that rocks the boiling Brain to rest,  
Confirms the Aged Hams, and warms the Breast  
Of Gallantry to Action, runs half-share  
And Metal with the buff-faced Sons of War.  
'Tis Wit, 'Tis Art, 'tis Strength, 'tis all and more;  
Then lose the Floodgates George, we'll pay or score.    

An Epig. to Doulus.  

DOulus advanced upon a goodly Steed,  
Came mounting o'er the Plain in very Dee●…  
Whereat the People cringed and bowed the Knee,  
In Honour of my LordsLords rich Livery.  
Hence swell not Doulus, nor erect thy Crest,  
'Twas for the Goddess sake we capped the Beast.    

An Epig. on the People of England.  

Sweeting and chafing hot Ardelio cries  
A Boat a Boat, else farewell all the Prize.  
But having once set Foot upon the Deep,  
Hotspur Ardelio fell fast asleep.  
So we, on Fire with zealous Discontent,  
Called out a Parliament, a Parliament;  
Which being obtained at last, what did they do?  
Even squeeze the Woolpacks, and lie snorting too    

Another.  

Britain a lovely Orchard seemed to be,  
Furnished with Nature's choice Variety,  
Temptations golden Fruit of every sort,  
Th' Hesperian Garden fanned from feigned Report:  
Great Boys and small together in we broke,  
No matter what disdained Priapu●… spoke:  
Up, up, we lift the Great Boys in the Trees,  
Hoping a common Share to sympathize:  
But they no sooner there neglected straight  
The Shoulders that so raised them to this Height;  
And fell to stuffing of their own Bags first,  
●…nd as their Treasure grew, so did their Thirst.  
Whiles we in lean Expectance gaping stand,  
●…or one Shake from their charitable Hand.  
●…ut all in vain, the Dropsy of Desire.  
●…o scorched them, three Realms could not quench the Fire.  
●…e wise then in your Ale, bold Youths, for fear  
The Gardner catch us as Moss caught his Mare.    

A Sing-song on Clarinda's Wedding.  

NOw that Love's Holiday is come,  
And Madge the Maid hath swept the Room  
And trimmed her Spit and Pot,   

Awake my merry Muse, and sing  
The Revels, and that other thing  
That must not be forgot.   

As the grey Morning dawn'd, 'tis said  
Clarinda broke out of her Bed  
Like Cynthia in her Pride:   

Where all the Maiden- Lights that were  
Comprised within our Hemisphere  
Attended at her side.   

But wot you then, with much ado  
They dressed the Bride from top to toe  
And brought her from her Chamber,   

Decked in her Robes and Garments gay,  
More sumptuous than the live-long-day,  
Or Stars enshrined in Amber.   

The sparkling Bullies of her Eyes  
Tike two eclipsed Suns did rise  
Beneath her Crystal Brow   

To show like those strange Accidents  
Some sudden changeable. Events  
Were like to hap below.   

Her Cheeks bestreaked with white and red,  
Like pretty Tell-tales of the Bed  
Presaged the blust'ring Night;   

With his encircling Arms and Shade  
Resolved to swallow and invade  
And screen her Virgin Light.   

Her Lips, those Threads of Scarlet dye,  
Wherein Love's Charms and Quiver lie,  
Legions of Sweets did crown;   

Which smilingly did seem to say  
O crop me, crop me, whiles you may,  
Anon theyare not mine own.   

Her Breast those melting Alps of Snow  
On whose fair Hills in open Show  
The God of Love lay napping;   

Like swelling Butts of lively Wine  
Upon their Ivory Stells did shine  
To wait the lucky Tapping.   

Her Waste, that slender Type of Man,  
Was but a small and single Span,  
Yet I dare safely swear,   

He that whole Thousands has in Fee  
Would forfeit all, so he might be  
Lord of the Manor there.   

But now before I pass the Line,  
Pray Reader give me leave to dine,  
And pause here in the Middle;   

The Bridegroom and the Parson knock,  
With all the Hymeneal Flock,  
The Plum-cake and the Fiddle.   

When as the Priest Clarinda sees,  
He stared as't had been half his Fees  
To gaze upon her Face:   

And if the Spirit did not move,  
His Continence was far above  
Each Sinner in the Place.   

With much Stir he joined their Hands,  
●…d hampered them in Marriage Bands,  
As fast as fast might be.   

Where still methinks, methinks I hear  
That secret Sigh in every Ear,  
Once Love remember me!   

Which done the Cook he knocked amain,  
●…nd up the Dishes in a Train  
Come smoking two and two;   

With that they wiped their Mouths and sat,  
●…ome fell to quaffing, some to prate,  
Ay marry and welcome too.   

In Prayers they thus impaled the Meat  
Roger and Margot, and Thomas and Kate,  
Rafe and Bess, Andrew and Maudlin,   

And Valentine eke with Sibyl so sweet,  
Whose Cheeks on each side of her Snuffers did mee●…  
As round and as plump as a Codlin●…   

When at the last they had fetched their Frieze,  
And mired their Stomaches quite up to the Knees  
In Claret for and Good Cheer   

Then, then began the merry Din,  
For as it were thought they were all'on the Pin,  
O what kissing and clipping was there   

But as Luck would have it the Parson said Grace,  
And to frisking and dancing they shuffled apace,  
Each Lad took his Lass by the Fist,   

And when he had squeezed her, and gaumed her unti●…  
The Fat of her Face ran down like a Mill,  
He tolled for the rest of the Grist▪   

In Sweat and in Dust having wasted the Day,  
They entered upon the Last Act of the Play;  
The Bride to her Bed was conveyed   

Where knee-deep each hand fell down to the Ground,  
And in seeking the Garter much pleasure was found,  
'Twould have made a Man's Arm have strayed▪   

This Clutter o'er Clarinda lay  
Half bedded, like the peeping Day  
Behind Olympus' Cap   

Whiles at her Head each twitt'ring Girl  
The fatal Stocking quick did whirl  
To know the lucky Hap.   

The Bridegroom in at last did rustle,  
All disappointed in the Bustle,  
The Maidens had shaved his Breeches;   

But let him not complain, 'tis well  
In such a Storm, I can you tell  
He saved his other Stitches.   

And now he bounced into the Bed,  
Even just as if a Man had said  
Fair Lady have at all;   

Where twisted at the Hug they lay,  
Like Venus and the sprightly Boy,  
O who would fear the Fall?   

Thus both with Love's sweet Tapers fired,  
And thousand balmy Kisses tired,  
They could not wait the Rest;   

But out the Folk and Candles fled,  
And to't they went, but what they did,  
There lies the Cream o'th'Jest.    

The Myrtle-Grove.  

JUst as the reeling Sun came sliding down  
Among the Moors, and Tethys in a Gown  
Of Sea-green Watchet settled to embrace  
Her great Apollo from his circled Race,  
And the streaked Heavens did themselves digest  
Into a larger Iris, to invest  
And canopy th'Illustrious lovely Pair  
In a Diaphanous Robe of costly Air:   

Clarinda rose amidst the Myrtle-Grove,  
Like the Queen-mother of the Stars above.  
But that Clarinda's was no borrowed Light;  
Nor could it, where she was bedeemed a Night.  
Such was the Natural Glories she put on,  
Thew owed no Being to Reflection.  
While the inspired Musicians of the Wood,  
Ravished at the new Day, poured out a Flood  
Of quavering Melody in honeyed Strains,  
To court the glittering Deity of the Plains.  
Those pretty flowery Beds of Sweets, that now  
Had closed their Heads up in an Amber Dew  
Of Tears, to mourn the drowsy Sun's Good Night,  
Warmed with a nobler Ardour sprung upright,  
And threw the Mantles of dull Sleep aside  
In a displayed and Meritorious Pride,  
To strew with rich Perfumes her balmy Way,  
Which grew more Fragrant by her active Ray.   

Thus sweetly wooed Clarinda laid her down  
On a curled Quilt of Roses, fond grown  
Proud of their own Oppression, whiles they may  
Kiss the dear Burden which upon them lay.  
Then screened with Harmony, she stretched along  
Upon her Damask Couch, where a bright Throng  
Of Graces hovered o'er the Firmament  
Of her pure Orbs drawn to a full Extent.  
Whiles a soft Gale of wanton Wind that blew  
Did sport her willing Glories into view.  
But I, poor dazzled I, not daring here  
T'attempt the Splendour of each naked Sphere,  
Stood peeping through the Optics of the Shade,  
Which to my Sight a kind Reflection made.   

Her Eyes half shut up in their Crystal Case,  
Stood twinkling Sentinels upon her Face;  
Or else to take the Prospect of those Fields  
Of Beauty which that flowing Tempe yields.  
Her coral Lips ten thousand Smiles enthroned,  
Like clustered Grapes which for a Vintage groaned.  
The Ivory Palace of her stately Neck  
Clothed with Majestic Aw, did seem to check  
The loser Pastime of her gamesome Hair,  
Which in wild Rings ran trick about the Air.  
Her Amorous Breasts swelled to a lovely Rise  
Of dripping Plenty, a twinned Paradise  
Of Milk and Honey, exhaled my roving Eye  
●…nto a Soul-ensnaring Ecstasy.  
And had I not recoiled without Delay  
〈◊〉 there had wandered in the Milky Way.  
Her Belly like the Ace of Clubs so white,  
So black, the strutting Pillow of Delight,  
So fired the catching Tinder of my Sense,  
That I no longer Student could commence,  
But straight weighed Anchor and tacked up the Sail  
To the main-yard, waiting a stiffer Gale  
To pass me through those ticklish straits of Man,  
●…nto the full Mediterranean.  
At last I plunged into th' Elysian Charms,  
Fast clasped by th'arched Zodiac of her Arms:  
Those closer Clings of Love, where I partaked  
Strong Hopes of Bliss; but so, O so I waked!    

To my honoured Friend. Mr. T. C. that asked me how I liked his Mistress being an old Widow.  

BUt prithee first how long hast been  
Lost in this sad Estate of Sin?  
That the mild Gout, or Pox, or worse  
Serves not to expiate thy Curse?  
Some Pestilence else may be thought upon,  
And not such absolute Damnation.  
Are Rocks and Halters grown so dear  
That there's no perishing but here?  
Do no Committee yet survive  
Those cheaper Gregory's of Men alive?  
If thou wilt needs to Sea, O must it be  
In an old Galliasse of sixty three;  
A Snail-crawled Bottom? A grey Bark  
That stood at Font for Noah's Ark?  
Whose wrinkled Poop in Figures furled  
Describes her Travels round the World?  
A Nut which when thou'st cracked and fumbled over  
Thou'lt find the Squirrel has been there before?  
Then raise the Siege from falling on  
That old dismantled Garrison.  
Rash Lover speak what Pleasure hath  
Thy Spring in such an Aftermath!  
Who, were she to the best Advantage spread,  
Is but the dull Husk of a Maidenhead.  
How canst thou then delight the Sense  
In Beauty's Preterperfect-tence?  
And dote upon that Freestone Face  
Which wears but the Records of Grace?  
Whose antic Monast'ry brags but a Chest  
Of venerable Relics at the best?  
O can there such a Famine be  
Of piping-hot Virginity,  
That thou art forced to slur and cheat  
Thy Stomach with the broken Meat?  
Why he that woos a Widow does no more  
Than court that Quagmire where one sunk before.  
Fie, prise not then those Arras Looks,  
Sullied and thumbed like Town-hall Books!  
I like thy Fancy well to have  
Its Misery so near its Grave.  
And 'tis a General Shift that most men use,  
But yet 'tis tedious waiting Dead Men Shoes.  
If'twere thy Plot I do confess  
For to make Mummy of her Grease,  
Or swop her to the Paper Mill,  
This were extracting good from ill.  
But if thou wedst on any worse Condition,  
Thou'lt prove Delinquent for thy Superstition.  
But prithee hold, let me advise,  
Perhaps she's rich and seems a Prize,  
New calked, new rigged, a stately Friggot;  
But yet she's tapped at lower Spigot.  
Yet if no Medicine for thy Grief be found,  
There's small odds Tom 'twixt being hanged or drowned.    

The Engagement stated.  

Begun Expositor: The Text is plain  
No Church, no Lord, no Law, no Sovereign.  
Away with Mental Reservations, and  
Senses of Oaths in Files outvie the Strand.  
Here's Hell trussed in a Thimble, in a Breath,  
Dares face the Hazard of the second Death.  
The Saints are grown Laconians, and can twist  
Perjury up in Pills like Leyden grist.   

But hold, precise Deponents: Though the Heat  
Of Zeal in Cataracts digests such Meat,  
My Cold Concoction shrinks, and my Advance  
Drives slowly to approach your Ordinance.  
The Sign's in Cancer, and the Zodiac turns  
Leonick, rolled in Curls while Terra burns.  
What though your Fancies are sublimed to reach  
Those fatal Reins? Success and Will can teach  
But rash Divinity. A sad Renown  
Where one Man fell to see a Million drown.  
When neither Arts nor Arms can serve to fight,  
And wrest a Title from its Law and Right,  
Must Malice piece the Trangum? and make clear  
The Scruple? Else we will resolve to swear?  
Nay out-swear all that we have sworn before;  
And make good lesser Crimes by acting more  
And more sublime? This, this extends the Line  
And shames the puny Soul of Catiline.  
On this Account all these whose Fortune's crossed  
And want Estates, may turn Knights of the Post.  
Vaux we out-vy'd thee, since thy Plot fell lame,  
We found a closer Cellar for the same;  
Piling the fatal Powder in our Mouths,  
Which in an Oath discharged blew up the House.  
Maugre Mounteagle, Asps not throughly slain,  
Their Poison in an Age may live again.   

Good Demas cuff your Bear, then let us see  
The Mystery of your Iniquity.  
May a Man course a Cur? And freely box  
The Question? Or the formal Paradox?  
But as in Physic, so in this Device  
This quirk of Policy the Point is nice.  
For he that in this Model means to thrive,  
Must first subscribe to the Preparative;  
Like Witches compact countermarch his Faith,  
And soak up all what ere the Spirit saith;  
Then seal and sign. Scylla threw three Bars short,  
He had a Sword indeed, but no Text for't.  
Old Rome lament thy Infancy in Sin,  
We perfect what thou trembled'st to begin,  
Blush then to see thyself outdone. But all  
The World may grieve epidemical.  
Heaven frowns indeed. But what makes Hell enraged,  
Sweet Pluto be at Peace, we have engaged.    

Praelegenda to the succeeding Poem, viz. The Wife-hater.  

1. Why Women were made.  
Woman in the Beginning (as 'tis said)  
To be an Help to Man was chiefly made:  
Then ought not Women much to be commended,  
Who answer th'end for which they were intended?  
Women were made to help Men, so they do,  
Some unto Sorrow, Grief, Diseases too;  
Others do their kind Husbands help to spend  
Their whole Estates; thus answer they their End.  
Some help men unto more than they were born  
To have (I mean) Actoeons' Head and Horn.   

2. Of what Woman was made.  
Crooked-conditioned Nature made her, when  
She formed her of the crookedst Parts in Men:  
Nature first framed her of a Man's Rib, she  
Then can't choose but a cross-grained Creature be.  
And ever since (it may not be denied)  
Poor Man hath Subject been t'a Stitch i'th'side.  
Yet some there are who in a grateful Mind,  
Would sound rib their Husbands, could they find  
A good tough Cudgel, and make this their Answer.  
They but restore what Eve stole from their Grandsire:  
And 'tis a Reason too (as't hath been tried)  
A bad Wife sits so close to her Husband's side.   

3. What they committed so soon as they were made.  
No sooner made, but she runs into all  
Mischief herself, then causeth Man to fall:  
And now that Judgement on their Sex is doubled,  
They're with a twofold Falling-Sickness troubled.   

4. To what they are now likened.  
Women in Love and Lust compared be  
Unto a Pumice-Stone, for that we see  
Is full of Holes; so they when once in Love  
Most hollow-hearted to their Servants prove;  
In Love they like it are, 'cause they dissemble,  
But when they lust most, they it most resemble.  
Play with a lustful Girl, and you shall see,  
How like unto the Pumice-stone she'll be,  
Which Way soever you do her troul,  
You'll find against you still an open Hole.    

Vituperium Uxoris: or the Wife-hater.  

1.  
HE that intends to take a Wife,  
I'll tell him what a kind of Life  
He must be sure to lead;  
If she's a young and tender Heart,  
Not documented in Love's Art,  
Much teaching she will need.   

2.  
For where there is no Path, one may  
Be tired before he find the Way,  
Nay, when he's at his Treasure;  
The Gap perhaps will prove so straight,  
That he for Entrance long may wait,  
And make a Toil of's Pleasure.   

3.  
Or if one old, and past her doing,  
He will the Chambermaid be wooing,  
To buy her Ware the cheaper;  
But if he choose one most Formose,  
Ripe for't, she'll prove libidinous,  
Argus himself shan't keep her.   

4.  
For when these things are neatly dressed,  
They'll entertain each wanton Guest,  
Nor for your Honour care;  
If any give their Pride a Fall,  
Th'have learned a trick to bear withal  
So you their Charges bear.   

5.  
Or if you chance to play your Game  
With a dull, fat, gross, heavy Dame,  
Your Riches to increase,  
Alas! She will but jeer you for't,  
Bid you to find out better Sport,  
Lie with a Pot of Grease,   

6.  
If Meager— be thy Delight,  
She'll conquer in venereal Fight,  
And waste thee to the Bones.  
Such kind of Girls, like to your Mill,  
The more you give, more crave they will,  
Or else they'll grind the Stones,   

7.  
If black, 'tis odds she's devilish proud,  
If short, Xantippe like, too loud,  
If long, she'll lazy be;  
Foolish (the Proverb says) if fair,  
If wise and comely, Danger's there,  
Lest she do cuckold thee.   

8.  
If she bring store of Money, such  
Are like to domineer too much,  
Prove Mrs, no good Wife;  
And when they cannot keep you under,  
They'll fill the House with scolding Thunder,  
What worse than such a Life?   

9  
But if her Dowry only be  
Beauty, farewell Felicity,  
Thy Fortunes cast away;  
Thou must be sure to satisfy her  
In Belly, and in Back-desire,  
To labour Night and Day.   

10.  
And rather than her Pride give over,  
She'll turn perhaps an honoured Whore,  
And thou'lt Actoeoned be;  
Whilst like Actoeon thou mayst weep,  
To think thou forced art to keep,  
Such as devour thee.   

11.  
If being Noble thou dost wed  
A servile Creature basely bred,  
Thy Family it defaces;  
If being mean, one nobly born,  
She'll swear to exalt a Courtlike Horn,  
Thy low Descent it Graces.   

12.  
If one Tongue be too much for any,  
Then he who takes a Wife with many,  
Knows not what may betid him;  
She whom he did for Learning honour,  
To scold by Book will take upon her,  
Rhetorically chide him.   

13.  
If both her Parents living are,  
To please them you must take great care,  
Or spoil your future Fortune;  
But if departed theyare this Life,  
You must be parent to your Wife,  
And Father all, be certai●…▪   

14.  
If bravely dressed, fair-faced and witty,  
she'll oft be gadding to the City,  
Nor can you say her nay.  
She'll tell you (if you her deny)  
Since Women have Terms she knows not why,  
But they still keep them may.   

15.  
If you make choice of Country Ware,  
Of being Cuckold, there's less Fear,  
But stupid Honesty  
May teach her how to sleep all Night,  
And take a great deal more Delight,  
To milk the Cows than thee.   

16.  
Concoction makes their Blood agree  
Too near, where's Consanguinity;  
Then let no Kin be chosen▪  
He loseth once Part of his Treasure,  
Who thus confineth all his Pleasure,  
To th'Arms of a first Cozen.   

17.  
He'll never have her at Command,  
Who takes a Wife at second Hand,  
Then choose no widowed Mother:  
The first Cut of that Bit you love,  
If others had, why maimed you prove  
But Taster to another?   

18.  
Besides, if she bring Children many,  
'Tis like by thee she'll not have any,  
But prove a barren do;  
Or if by them, she ne'er had one,  
By thee 'tis likely she'll have none,  
Whilst thou for Weak-back go.   

19  
For there where other gardeners have been sowing  
Their Seed, but ne'er could find it growing,  
You must expect so too;  
And where the Terra incognita  
‛ Soe'er ploughed, you must it fallow lay,  
And still for Weak-back go.   

20.  
Then trust not to a Maiden Face,  
Nor Confidence in Widows place,  
Those weaker Vessels may  
Spring-leak, or split against a Rock,  
And when your Fames wrapped in a Smock,  
'Tis easily cast away.   

21.  

Yet be she fair, foul, short, or tall,  
You for a time may love them all,  
Call them your Soul, your Life,  
And one by one them undermine,  
As Courtesan, or Concubine,  
But never as married Wife.   

He who considers this, may end the Strife,  
Confess no Trouble like unto a Wife.     

To Prince Rupert.  

O that I could but vote myself a Poet!  
Or had the Legislative knack to do it!  
Or, like the Doctor's Militant, could get  
Dubbed at Adventures Verser Banneret!  
Or had I Cacus Trick to make my Rhimes  
Their own Antipodes, and tract the Times:  
Faces about, says the Remonstrant Spirit;  
Allegiance is Malignant, Treason Merit:  
Huttington-colt, that posed the Sage Recorder,  
Might be a Sturgeon now, and pass by Order:  
Had I but Elsing's Gift (that splay-mouthed Brother)  
That declares one way, and yet means another:  
Could I but write asquint; then (Sir) long since  
You had been sung, A Great and Glorious Prince.  
I had observed the Language of the Days;  
Blasphemed you; and then Periwigged the Phrase  
With Humble Service, and such other Fustian,  
Bells which ring backward in this great Combustion  
I had reviled you; and without Offence,  
The Literal, and Equitable Sense  
Would make it good: When all fails, that will do't:  
Sure that Distinction cloven the Devil's Foot.  
This were my Dialect, would your Highness please  
To read me but with Hebrew Spectacles;  
Interpret Counter, what is Cross rehearsed:  
Libels are Commendations, when reversed.  
Just as an Optic Glass contracts the Sight  
At one end, but when turned doth multip'yed.  
But you're enchanted, Sir; you're doubly free  
From the great Guns, and squibbling Poetry:  
Whom neither Bilbo, nor Invention pierces,  
Proof even 'gainst th' Artillery of Verses.  
Strange! That the Muses cannot wound your Mail;  
If not their Art, yet let their Sex prevail.  
At that known Leaguer, where the Bonny Besses  
Supplied the Bowstrings with their twisted tresses,  
Your Spells could ne'er have fenced you; every Arrow  
Had lanced your noble Breast, & drunk the Marrow:  
For beauty, like white Powder makes no Noise;  
And yet the silent Hypocrite destroys.  
Then use the Nuns of Helicon with pity,  
Lest Wharton tell his Gossips of the City,  
That you kill Women too, nay Maids; and such  
Their General wants Militia to touch.  
Impotent Essex! Is it not a Shame  
Our Commonwealth like to a Turkish Dame,  
Should have an Eunuch-Guardian? May she be  
Ravished by Charles, rather than saved by thee.  
But why, my Muse, like a Green-Sickness Girl,  
Feedest thou on Coals and dirt? a Gelding-Earl  
Gives no more Relish to thy Female Palate,  
Then to that Ass did once the Thistle Sallate.  
Then quit the barren Theme; and all at once  
Thou and thy Sisters like bright Amazons,  
Give RUPERT an Alarm, RUPERT! One  
Whose Name is Wit's Superfaetation.  
Makes Fancy, like Eternity's round Womb,  
●…nite all Valour; present, past, to come.  
He, who the old Philosophy controls,  
That voted down Plurality of Souls.  
He breathes a grand Committee; all that were  
The Wonders of their Age, constellate here.  
And as the Elder Sisters, Growth and Sense  
Souls paramount themselves) in Man commence  
But Faculties of Reason's Queen; no more  
Are they to him, who were complete before.  
Ingredients of his Virtue thread the Beads  
Of Caesar's Acts, great Pompey's and the Sweeds:  
And 'tis a Bracelet fit for Rupert's Hand,  
By which that vast Triumvirate is spanned.  
Here, here is Palmistry; here you may read  
How long the world shall live, and when't shall bleed.  
Whatever Man winds up, that RUPERT hath:  
For Nature raised him of the Public Faith,  
Pandora's Brother, to make up whose Store,  
The Gods were fain to run upon the Score.  
Such was the Painters Brieve for Venus' Face;  
Item an Eye from jane, a Lip from Grace.  
Let Isaac and his Cit'z. flay off the Plate  
That tips their Antlets for the Calf of State;  
Let the Zeal-twangling Nose, that wants a Ridge,  
Snuffling devoutly, drop his Silver Bridge:  
Yes; and the Gossip's Spoon augment the Sum,  
Although poor Caleb lose his Christendom:  
Rupert out weighs that in his Sterling-self,  
Which their Self-wants pays in commuting Pelf.  
Pardon, great Sir; for that Ignoble Crew  
Gains, when made bankrupt, in the Scales with you.  
As he, who in his Character of Light  
Styled it God's Shadow, made it far more bright  
By an Eclipse so glorious; (Light is dim,  
And a black Nothing, when compared to him)  
So 'tis Illustrious to be rupert's Foil,  
And a just Trophy to be made his Spoil.  
I'll pin my Faith on the Diurnals Sleeve  
Hereafter, and the Guild-Hall Creed believe:  
The Conquests which the Common-Council hears,  
With their wide listening Mouths from the great  
Peers,  
That ran away in Triumph: Such a Foe  
Can make them Victors in their Overthrow.  
Where Providence and Valour meet in one,  
Courage so poised with Circumspection,  
That he revives the Quarrel once again  
Of the Souls Throne, whether in Heart or Brain;  
And leaves it a drawn Match: Whose Fervour can  
Hatch him, whom Nature poached but half a Man.  
His Trumpet, like the Angels at the last,  
Makes the Soul rise by a miraculous Blast.  
'Twas the Mount Athos carved in Shape of Man  
(As't was defined by th' Macedonian)  
Whose right Hand should a populous Land contain,  
The left should be a Channel to the Main:  
His Spirit might inform th' Amphibious Figure;  
Yet straight-laced Sweats for a Dominion bigger:  
The Terror of whose Name can out of seven,  
(Like Falstaffe's Buckram-men) may fly eleven.  
Thus some grow rich by breaking; Vipers thus  
By being slain are made more numerous.  
No wonder they'll confess, no Loss of Men;  
For Rupert knocks'em till they gig again.  
They fear the Giblets of his Train, they fear  
Even his Dog, that foun-legged Cavalier:  
He that devours the Scraps, which Lunsford makes,  
Whose Picture feeds upon a Child in Stakes:  
Who name but Charles, he comes aloft for him,  
But holds up his Malignant Leg at Pym.  
Against whom they've several Articles in sauce;  
First, that he barks against the Sense o'th'House.  
Resolved Delinquent, to the Tower strait;  
Either to th' Lions, or the Bishop's Grate.  
Next, for his Ceremonious Wag o'th'Tail:  
But there the Sisterhood will be his Bail,  
At least the Countess will, Lust's Amsterdam,  
That lets in all Religious of the Game.  
Thirdly, he smells Intelligence, that's better,  
And cheaper too, then Pym's from his own Letter:  
Who's doubly paid (Fortune or we the blinder?)  
For making Plots, and then for Fox the Finder.  
Lastly, he is a Devil without doubt;  
For when he would lie down, he wheels about;  
Makes Circles, and is couchant in a Ring;  
And therefore score up one for conjuring.  
What canst thou say, thou Wretch? O Quarter, Quarter!  
I'm but an Instrument, a mere St. Arthur.  
If I must hang, O let not our Fates vary,  
Whose Office 'tis alike to fetch, and carry.  
No hopes of a Reprieve, the Mutinous Stir  
That strung the Jesuit will dispatch a Cur.  
Were I a Devil as the Rebel fears,  
I see the House would try me by my Peers.  
There jowler, there! Ah jowler? 'st? 'tis nought  
Whate'er the Accusers cry, they're at a Fault;  
And Glyn, and Maynard have no more to say,  
Then when the Glorious Strafford stood at Bay.   

Thus Labels but annexed to him we see,  
Enjoy a Copyhold of Victory.  
St. Peter's Shadow healed, rupert's is such,  
'Twould find St. Peter's Work, yet wound as much.  
He gags their Guns, defeats there dire Intent,  
The Canons do but lisp and Compliment.  
Sure jove descended in a leaden Shower  
To get this Perseus: Hence the fatal Power  
Of Shot is strangled: Bullets thus allied,  
Fear to commit an Act of Parricide.  
Go on brave Prince, and make the World confess  
Thou art the greater World, and that the less.  
Scatter th'accumulative King; untruss  
That fivefold Fiend, the States SMECTYMNUUS;  
Who place Religion in their Vellum-ears;  
As in their Phylacters the Jews did theirs.  
England's a Paradise, (and a modest Word)  
Since guarded by a Cherub's flaming Sword.  
Your Name can scare an Atheist to his Prayers;  
And cure the Chincough better than the Bears.  
Old Sibyl charms the Toothache with you: Nurse  
Makes you still Children, nay and the ponderous curse  
The Clowns salute with, is derived from you;  
(Now RUPERT take thee, Rogue; how dost thou do?)  
In fine, the Name of Rupert thunders so,  
Kimbolton's but a rumbling Wheel-barrow.    

An Elegy upon Mr. John Cleveland.  

PRime Wits are pruned the First; this may appear  
By that high-valued Piece interred here;  
Whose Laureate Genius rapt with Sacred Skill  
Proved his Extraction from Parnassus' Hill;  
Whose Fame, like Pallas Flame, shone in each Clime,  
Crowning his Fancy royally Divine.  
Rich in Elixared Measures, and in all  
That could breathe Sense in Airs Emphatical.  
Pure Love his Native Influence; A Lot  
Given him from Heaven; No People save the Scot  
But did affect him:— These had loved Him too,  
Had he schooled Baseness with a smother Brow;  
But his refined Temper scorned t'engage  
His Pen to Time, or Humour any Age.   

Complete in all that might true Honour gain  
Only an Enemy to Withers Strain:  
Holding it still the Prodigy of Time  
To Canonize a Poet for a Rhyme.   

Free in Fruition of himself: Content,  
In what disrelished Servile Spirits, Restraint.   

Now some will say, His Volume was too small,  
To rear an Hermian Arch or Escural,  
To his dilated Fame:— O do not put  
These frivolous Objections! Homer's Nut  
Enclosed a living Iliad. 'Tis not much  
Perpetuates our Memory, but such  
As can act Wonders: And apply a Cure  
To States surprised with a Calenture?  
And with their Quill, beyond all Chemic Art,  
Purge the Corruptions of a State-sick Heart  
By rare Phlebotomy:— This Art was His,  
Which made his Name so precious as it is  
Such was the Practice of a Golden Time  
To spare the Person, but to tax the Crime.  
Age is not summed by Years but Hours; as Times,  
So 〈◊〉 are balanced not by Leaf but Lines.  
Clitus affirmed, and bound it with an Oath,  
That Celsus Poems were mere Food for th'Moth.  
And for those Manuscripts which Mevius writ,  
They might be styled the Surquedry of Wit..   

Look home; and weigh the Fancies of these Days  
And you'll conclude, they merit equal Praise.  
A Title or a Frontispiece in Plate.  
Drawn from a Person of Desertless State,  
Lures Legions of Admirers.— Wits must want  
That holds a Distance with the Sycophant.  
Timists be only Thrivers: But a Brain  
That's freely Generous scorns Servile Gain.   

Such was this pure Pernassian, whose clear Nature  
To gain a World could never brook to flatter.  
Poise this Imparallel; and you will find  
A Mine of Treasures in a Matchless Mind.  
" No more! The Name of Cleveland speaks to me  
" A living Annal, dying Elegy.    

Upon the pitiful Elegy writ lately on him; modestly taxed and freely vindicated, by the candied Censure of an endeared Brother.  

SInce thy Remove form Earth, there came to me,  
A Funeral Elegy addressed to thee:  
Elegiacks made gracious by thy Name,  
But too short-lunged to parallel thy Fame.  
Laurel and Bays were the Subjects of his Pen,  
Whose muddy Muse deserved none of them.  
A sublimated Style bereft of Sense,  
Is like a Brain-strapt Justice on a Bench,  
Whose Tones are Thunder, Fury and Command,  
But in a Dialect none understand.  
Thy Native Fancy was no Lucian Dream,  
Derived from th'crystal Rills of Hippocrene:  
Thy freeborn Genius did itself express  
In Phidias Colours without foreign Dress.  
Much like the Damask Rose but newly blown,  
And blusheth in no tincture but her own.   

Such was thy Posy; which th' Albion State  
May envy or admire, scarce imitate.  
In purest Odes Bards should thy Loss bemoan,  
And in surviving Measures, or in none.   

For these who want Art to Embellish Worth,  
Wrong them whom they endeavour to set forth.   

" Sic perit Ingenium, Genii ni pignora vitam   

" Perpetuam statuant, & Monumenta struant.  
" Aurea sic docilem coluerunt Secula vatem,  
" Ordine Pieridum commemorando parem.   
Auson.   

An Elegy in Memory of Mr: John Cleveland.  

SOon as a Verse with Feet as swift as Thought,  
The Stabbing News of cleveland's Death had brought  
To sad Parnassus, the distracted Nine  
First in a dismal Shriek their Voices join:  
Which the forked- Hill did echo twice, and then  
Each Eye seemed changed into an Hippocrene;  
As if like Niobe 'twere their Intent  
To weep themselves into his Monument:  
Nor did their Grief exceed their Loss; his Quill  
More Love and Honour gained to th' Muse's Skill.  
Then all those Modern Factions of Wit,  
Such as against Gondibert, or for him writ;  
And such, whom their Rhymes so much do affect  
To be esteemed o'th' Court or College Sect;  
Whose Lines with cleveland's, such Proportion hold,  
As the New-Court, and Colleges, with th'Old:  
How lofty was his Strain, yet clear and even,  
The Centre of●…s Conceptions was Heaven:  
'Twas not his Muse's toil, but ease to soar,  
He writ so high, cause he could write no lower;  
And though the World in English Poetry,  
No Monarch knew so absolute as He;  
Yet did he ne'er Excise the Natives; nor  
Made Foreign Mines unto his Mint bring Oar.  
He, his own Treasure was; and as no Quill  
Was Guide to his, so shall his Verse be still  
Un-imitated by the best; and free  
From meaner Poets Petty-larceny:  
That Plagiary that can filch but one  
Conceit from Him, and keep the Theft unknown,  
At Noon from Phoebus, may by the same Sleight  
Steal Beams and make'em pass for his own Light.   
W. W.   

An Elegy, offered to the Memory of that Imcomparable Son of Apollo, Mr. John Cleveland.  

GRief the Soul's Sables, in my Bosom lies  
A true Close-mourner at thy Obsequies,  
Whilst Tears in Floods from my o'er-charged Eyes ran  
With Grief to drown the little World of man.  
He that survives this Loss, may justly say,  
His Soul doth Penance in a Sheet of Clay;  
And rather welcome Death, than patient sit  
To solemnize the Funeral of Wit..   

The Painter Agamemnon's Face did screen,  
Drawing the Sacrifice of Iphygene,  
To show his grieved Looks as well as Heart,  
Did far transcend the humble reach of Art;  
So when all's said, that can be said, we find  
There's nothing said, to what he left behind.   

But his all searching Soul scorning to be  
Confined to th'limits of Mortality;  
Shook off its clog of Flesh, that ponderous Mass,  
His Spirit freer than his Country was;  
For Fate his Life might circumscribe and bond,  
But in his Circle Wit, no end is found.  
His Wit, Oh Miracle! (For who is he  
Dares name his Wit without an Ecstasy?)  
That Wit which was to several Tenants let,  
In him as in their proper Landlord met;  
For what in other petty Sparks was found,  
In him's contracted as one Diamond:  
His Rays ne'er darkened, but with Lustre won,  
He with his Eagle-eyes outstared the Sun:  
He was a Fountain, whose pure Stream did grow  
Unbounded, never used to ebb, but flow,  
As ever new, still streaming fresh Delights,  
And never so low drawn, as to run Whites;  
For in Discourse his Wit did never rest,  
When others were aground with one dry Jest:  
Nor did his meager Looks proclaim that he  
Did pine in study for his Poetry,  
Like such pale Apparition's Ghost-like Elves,  
That fatten Paper, and yet starve themselves,  
Whose Pireskean Pictures seem to be  
Diseased, with time decayed Antiquity;  
Though for his strongest Lines in Verse and Prose  
He travelled hard, yet he no Flesh did lose:  
In others what comparatively's found,  
In him superlatively did abound:  
No Vice the Anger of his Pen could slip,  
Who did whole Nations to Repentance whip.  
His honest Soul in Consultation sat,  
Unmasking Vices, both of Church and State.  
It was not Power, but Justice made him write,  
No Ends could May-like, turn him Parasite.  
The Cause by Candles-end he did not rate,  
When others Pens did Truth assassinate:  
●…y danger heightened, and made nobly fierce,  
●…or was his Prose less biting than his Verse.  
●…is Rebel Scot, was not a smarter satire,  
●…han his Diurnal, and Diurnal-maker:  
●…e made the Devil blacker; dressed in white,  
●…oving the Zealot the worst Hypocrite;  
●…lling the Veil from the Reformers Face,  
●…e left the Rebel to supply his place.  
●…e that affirmed (against Sense) Snow Black to be  
Might prove it by this Amphybology:  
Things are not what they seem, we may suppress  
●…ome Crimes, and raise the Devil's Holiness.  
The Presbyterian he did unnest,  
With the whole Kennel o'th'two-footed Beast,  
●…ed with the Bishops and the Clergies Blood,  
Right Canabals that made the Church their Food.  
The Senate Sir john's Appetite did prove,  
And paid him part of his Arrears in Love.  
The barbarous Scots are stigmatised by him,  
●…or their Rebellion, our Apostate Pim;  
●…ay, the just Fury of his Pen had thrown  
The Nation too into Oblivion,  
Had not the famed Montross puts Anger by,  
Raised th' Highlands higher in their Loyalty;  
And Rupertissimus, consecrated Wars,  
By giving Smec so many hideous Scars.   
I. M.   

An Elegy on Mr. Cleveland, and his Verse on Smectymnuus.  

POor Dabblers all bemired, that spur their Lank  
Pegasus, from Shoulder to the Flank,  
When Weather-beaten in a Shower of Sack,  
Jog still as things bejaded ride in black,  
Who t'reach the Muse's Seat, lash and put on,  
But fall short, and draw Bit at Trumpington:  
See with what Pangs they labour, and produce  
A stillborn Poem, and then hug their Muse.  
Others like Chemists thrive, who fain would wi●…  
By Force what God and Nature ne'er put in,  
Yet these bear Name and Voice: The smallest Boa●…  
Appears if in the narrow Thames it float,  
But vanisheth away in the vast Main,  
Which was before the Rivers Sovereign:  
Such was the Fate of my weak Streams, that ra●…  
To drown themselves in th'unbound Ocean,  
And lose their Name in His, to whom the Nine  
Bow down, and render up their Sacred Shrine.  
We poor Retainers angle for a thin  
Fancy, his like a Drag-Net sweeps all in;  
And as Gold-drivers that makes Spangles rare,  
Do beat the yielding Metal into Air:  
As Generals in War their Strength contrive,  
To make three Troops of Men seem more than five;  
We practise frugal Wit, and play't at length,  
In sleek and smother Numbers without Strength,  
His like the swift sure Ship is firmly built,  
Of deepest Bottom, and most stately gilt,  
If Number wants there, as in ruins, th'Face  
Though rough betrays the Treasure of the place.  
We struggling, Words into their Fetters frame,  
●…s Printers use to fit and join the same.  
His large Commands have all in Power to choose,  
●…nd 'tis the greatest Labour to refuse:  
We seldom shoot to make some Glimpse of Day,  
●…is thick as Atoms in the Sunshine play;  
●…nd therefore (Sir) just is the Accusation  
●…ou're charged with, this strong Accumulation  
●…bverts the Fundamentals, 'tis your Crime  
●… ' upbraid the State-Poeticks of this time  
With Wit so insolent, though Phoebus be  
The Pleader, our Notes ne'er shall set you free,  
●…or Smec 'tis sure the Conquest all is mine.  
●…ee how the Vipers through the Amber shine,  
●…nd bravely carved, as Indians joy to see  
Themselves so cut, although in Imagery.  
●…nd tell me when Domitian slew the Fly,  
Did he deserve the Laurel Victory?  
●…ad brawny Hercules the Hydra slain,  
〈◊〉 much beneath his Strength, were't not a Stain  
To all his former Labours, and a Brand,  
●…ch as to melt with Distaff in his Hand?  
●…was Smec's Ambition (Sir) thus to stand high,  
●…nd be conspicuous, though o'th' Pillory.  
Then as you love Religion surcease,  
●…or now the Knaves begin themselves to please.  
●…nce they're vouchsafed the Pen, the monstrous Fry  
●…ike Serpents with fair Speckles strike the Eye.  
●…e seen a Toad by curious Art so dressed,  
●…adies have hugged the Venom in their Breast:  
●…orbear hereafter, Vice, to paint so well,  
●…ch Draughts may hap t'enlarge the Power of Hell.  
●…nce writ by Ben, inspired by lusty Wine,  
We love Sejanus and bold Catiline.    

The Elegy made upon Mr. John Cleveland▪ Death cried i'th'Streets, he being then in good Disposition of Health.  

HE whom the Muses have forbid to die  
Durst Ignorance (Arts Enemy) belly,  
To rhyme him dead? She as well might say,  
That he like other Men was common Clay;  
Or that his Soul had nothing in it higher,  
Than poor Promethean Poets, mere stolen Fire.  
But when His shall disrobe itself, it shall be said,  
He's gone to sleep alone in Fame's high Bed,  
B'ing both the Nations, and the Muse's Wonder,  
Where all Poeticks else may truckle under;  
For 'tis impossible Him to entomb,  
For whose Famed Name all Britain's Isles want roo●…   
I. Parry.   

News from Newcastle: Or, Newcastle Coa●…pit.  

ENgland's a perfect World, hath Indies too,  
Correct your Maps, Newcastle is Peru!  
Let the Haughty Spaniard triumph till 'tis told,  
Our sooty Minerals purify his Gold:  
This will sublime, and hatch the abortive Oar,  
When the Sun tires, and Stars can do no more.  
No Mines are currant, unrefined and gross,  
Coals make the Sterling, Nature but the Dross.  
For Metals, Bacchus' like, two Births approve,  
Heaven heats the Semele, and ours the jove.  
Thus Art doth polish Nature, 'tis the Trade,  
〈◊〉 every Madam, hath her Chambermaid.  
Who'd dote on Gold, a thing so strange and odd,  
●…is most contemptible when made a God.  
●…ll Sin and Mischief hence have rise and swell,  
One India more would make another Hell.  
Our Mines are Innocent, nor will the North  
Tempt poor Mortality with too much Worth:  
They're not so precious, rich enough to fire  
〈◊〉 Lover, yet make none Idolater.  
The moderate Value of our guiltless Oar,  
Makes no Man Atheist, nor no Woman Whore.  
Yet why should hallowed Vestals sacred Shrine,  
Deserve more Honour than a flaming Mine?  
These pregnant Wombs of Heat would fitter be  
Than a few Embers for a Deity.  
Had he our Pits, the Persian would admire  
No Sun, but warms Devotion at our Fire:  
He'd leave the trotting Whipster, and prefer  
Our profound Vulcan'bove that Wagoner.  
For wants he heat? Or Light or would have Store  
Or both? 'Tis here: And what can Suns give more?  
Nay, what's the Sun, but in a different Name,  
A Coal-pit rampant, or a Mine on Flame?  
Then let this Truth reciprocally run,  
The Sun's Heaven's Coalery, and Coals our Sun:  
A Sun that scorcheth not, locked up i'th'Deep,  
The Lions chained, the Bandog is asleep.  
That Tyrant Fire, which uncontrolled doth rage  
Here's calm and hushed, like Bajazet i'th'Cage;  
For in each Coal-pit there doth couchant dwell,  
A muzzled Aetna, or an innocent Hell.  
Kindle the Cloud, you'll Lightning then descry,  
Then will a Day break from the gloomy Sky:  
Then you'll unbottom, though December blow,  
And sweat i'th'midst of Icicles and Snow;  
The Dog-days then at Christmas. Thus is all  
The Year made june, and Equinoctial.  
If Heat offends, our Pits affords us Shade:  
Thus Summer's Winter, Winter's Summer made  
What need we baths? What need we bower, or grove  
A Coal-pit's both a Ventiduct and Stove.  
Such Pits and Caves were Palaces of old,  
Poor Inns (God wot) yet in an Age of Gold;  
And what would now be thought a strange Design,  
To build a House was then to undermine:  
People lived under Ground, and happy Dwellers,  
Whose jovial Habitations were all Cellars:  
These primitive Times were Innocent, for then  
Man who turned after Fox, made but his Den.   

But see a Fleet of Vitals trim and fine,  
To court the rich Infanta of our Mine,  
Hundreds of Grim Leander's do confront,  
For this loved Hero, the loud Hellespont.  
'Tis an Armado Royal doth engage  
For some new Helen, with this Equipage:  
Prepared too, should we their Addresses bar,  
To force this Mistress with a ten years' War;  
But that our Mine's a common Good, a Joy,  
Made not to ruin, but every our Troy.  
But oh! These bring it with them, and conspire  
To pawn that Idol for our Smoke and Fire.  
Silver's but Ballast, this they bring on Shore,  
That they may treasure up our better Oar:  
For this they venture Rocks and Storms, defy  
All the Extremity of Sea and Sky.  
For the glad Purchase of this precious Mould,  
Cowards dare Pirates, Miser's part with Gold;  
Hence is it when the doubtful Ship sets forth,  
The naving Needle still directs it North,  
And Nature's secret Wonder to attest,  
Our Indies Worth discards both East and West  
For Tine: Not only Fire commends this Spring,  
A Coal-pit is a Mine of every thing.  
We sink a Jack of all Trades, shop and sound,  
An inverse Burse, an Exchange under Ground.  
This Proteus Earth converts to what you'll have't,  
Now you may wear't to Silk, now com't to Plate,  
And what's a Metamorphosis more dear,  
Dissolve it, and 'twill turn to London Beer;  
For whatsoe'er that gaudy City boast,  
Each Month doth drive to our attractive Coast.  
We shall exhaust their Chamber, and devour  
Their Treasure of Guild-Hall, and Minto'th ' Tower.  
Our Staiths their mortgaged Streets will soon deride,  
Blazon their Cornhill-stella, share Cheapside:  
Thus shall our Coal-pits Charity and Pity,  
At distance undermine and fire the City.  
Should we exact, they'd pawn their Wives, and treat,  
To swop those Coolers, for our Sovereign Heat.  
'Bove Kisses and Embraces Fire controls,  
No Venus heightens like a Peck of Coals.  
Medea was the Drug of some old Sire,  
And Aesons Bath a lusty Sea-coal Fire.  
Chimneys are old men's Mistresses, their Inns,  
A modern Dalliance with their meazled Shins.  
To all Defects a Coal-heap gives a Cure,  
Gives Youth to Age and Raiment to the Poor.  
Pride first wore clothes, Nature disdains Attire,  
●…he made us Naked, 'cause she gave us Fire.  
●…ull Wharves are Wardrobes, and the Tailor's Charm  
Belongs to th'collier, he must keep us warm.  
The Quilted Alderman in all's Array,  
Finds but cold Comfort in a frosty Day;  
Girt, wrapped, and muffled, yet with all this Stir,  
Scarce warm, when smothered in his drowsy Fur:  
Not Proof against keen Winter's Batteries,  
Should he himself wear all's own Liveries,  
But Chil-blain under silver Spurs bewails,  
And in embroidered Buck-skins blows his Nails.  
Rich Meadows and full Crops are elsewhere found,  
We can reap Harvest from our barren Ground.  
The bald parched Hills that circumscribe our Tine,  
Are no less pregnant in their hungry Mine.  
Their unfledged Tops so well content our Palates,  
We envy none their Nosegays and their Salads.  
A gay rank Soil like a Young Gallant grows,  
And spends itself that it may wear fine clothes,  
Whilst all its Worth is to it's Back confined,  
Our Wears plain Outside, but is richly lined.  
Winters above, 'tis Summer underneath,  
A trusty Morglay in a rusty Sheath.  
As precious Sables sometimes interlace  
A wretched Serge or Grogane Cassock Case:  
Rocks own no Spring, are pregnant with noShow'rs,  
Crystals and Gems are there instead of Flowers.  
Instead of Roses, Beds of Rubies sweet,  
And Emeralds recompense the Violet.  
Dame Nature, not like other Madams, wears  
(Where she is bare) Pearls in her Breasts and Ears.  
What though our Fields present a naked Sight,  
A Paradise should be an Adamite?  
The Northern Lad his bonny Lass throws do●…,  
And gives her a black Bag for a green Gown.    

On the Inundation of the River Trent: The Scene Mascham and Holm, two opposite Villages on the River side near Newark.  

WHen Heirs and Widows hoard up fresh supplies,  
Bottle up Tears wrung from St. Swithins Eyes,  
And the Hydropic Planets empty all  
Their Experiments into their Urinal,  
With Levies of auxiliaries, sent  
From lesser Rivers to rendezvouz in Trent:  
It makes an Insurrection, and to pillage,  
Quarters its Rebel-Forces in each Village.  
All objects, the Inundation spreads so far,  
(Like the Eye) but aggregates of Waters are.  
In this Deucalion. Wrack let me entreat  
Parnassus for to be my Ararat,  
And pump a while before the Flood be gone,  
What? So much Water, and no Helicon?  
Swans sing and die, so Poets Floods inspire,  
These glib Hydriaclicks, Water is their Fire.  
Come Neighbours, let's condole what will betid us,  
Mascham and Holm, or Cestus and Abydos,  
The jealous River now no more will pander,  
Between our Heroes and the loved Leander.  
Help! Xerxes'! Help! Now Hellespont disdains  
Its Fetters; see, it's loose, and we in Chains,  
Took Prisoners, and our Durance such will be,  
When Land appears, a Goal-delivery.  
Newgate or Woodstreet's not a closer Stay,  
Rocks but immure them there, and us the Sea.  
And what's the Difference pray? Resolve us what  
Betwixt a Counter— and a Water-Rat?  
We must confess confined to Boats and Waves.  
There's No Captivity to Galleyslaves.  
And though we hear no Storms nor Billows roar,  
We cannot stir unless we tug at Oar.  
Our Scene's translated, Fate will have it so,  
We live in Venice now or Mexico.  
Or Amsterdam, our Parlours so in pickle,  
Enough to make those in't a Conventicle.  
Petty wracked Strangers, tossed we know not whither  
Holm! Holm in England! Oh Sirs show us thither  
Yet sure 'tis England still, no other Nation  
Can show so much Land under Sequestration.  
All's swallowed up and drowned, our Fifths, and all,  
Something sweeps worse than Habber dashers-Hall  
A guilty Taphouse feels the Floods Assault,  
(Murder will out) and it had drowned much Malt,  
Must now itself be ducked by this just Tide,  
Because it stood so nigh the Waterside.  
See the tenth Wave into the House is tossed,  
And dubs a Captain Otter of mine Host,  
Who with a File of bowzing Comrades there,  
Resolve still not to leave their Dover Peer:  
Thus fixed, they drink until their Noses shine,  
A Constellation in this Watery Sign,  
Which they Aquarius call; for by Degrees  
Each Man perceives himself took up to th'Knees,  
Yet still they and the Flood do Brimmers vie,  
At last it sobs, and thus they drink him dry:  
But these the spongy-Leeches of the Town,  
Amphibious were, good Drinkers cannot drown:  
We puny Dabblers are as ill beset,  
We whose unliquored Hides will turn no wet,  
The Floods a Tenant too, untiled retreats,  
Great Rooms are Oceans, and the lesser straits.  
Tongues are confounded in a various Style,  
Our Computation runs by th'league, not Mile.  
How soon the Earth dissolved, so soon that some,  
That journeyed out, will make a Voyage Home.  
They go aboard their Dwellings, and embark;  
Houses are Ships, and Newark's a Noah's Ark.  
The Cook mistakes his floating Signories  
For Sound, and so takes Impost in his Fees.  
Some truck for Rumps and Kidneys, he and's Spouse  
Call them the Farmers of the Custom-house;  
Now Bedfellows do one another greet  
I'th' Sailor's Phrase, Vere, vere, more Sheet.  
Women are Sirens, for the wise Man wears,  
When they strike up their Ela's, wax in's Ears,  
Whose Fate is yet peculiar in this Flood,  
To scape the Water and retain the Mud.  
The inseparable Scum is so increased,  
Another Flood will not make all clean Beast,  
Yet still their Scene and their Complexion's right,  
(Place them but where they paint the Devil white)  
Our Townsmen, since of Floods, they must turn Skippers,  
Will change their Religion too, and so turn Dippers.  
Now they dispute, and no small Doubts propound,  
Some say the Meadows swim, some say they●… drowned;  
And 'tis disputed whether yea or no,  
They are Ground Chambers still that overflow.  
Their Hay is gone, and some the Question start,  
Howed could be fetched away without a Cart?  
But these submit to the rest of Learned Team,  
Who strongest conclude, it went away with Stream.  
At last it is observed by all the Sages,  
Who e'er set it on Work, they pay the Wages:  
One Hotspur storms and swears that he and's Faction  
Will sue the Flood, Trespass will ●…ear a●… Action,  
Then thought on's Lanlord, whom he fears hath sent  
His Water-Bayli●… thus to drive for Rent.  
Haycocks to Sea are driven, where they'll muster,  
And make of Scylla Isles another Cluster, Prize  
Till vampt with more such Wracks, they grow a  
For some Columbus new Discoveries.  
The Stakes stand firm, though battered all the while,  
These Pyramids are Proof against this Nile,  
And might like Egypt's Piles enjoy a Prime,  
Were't but for fiercer Teeth than those of Time.  
What neither Floods nor Age can, Beasts will tear;  
Our Beasts now starved lean, like Pharoahs' are.  
Strange Skeletons, for all the time of Flood,  
They nothing had to chew but their own Cud;  
And since alas! no work for Sy●…he or Sickle,  
(Poor Cattle) all their Commons are in Pickle.  
This sure must needs produce a Chap-faln palate,  
When without Meat they only feed on S●…llat;  
But these we prise, for most are sailed away,  
Who knows but to stock Hispaniola.  
One Herd and's Flock in one kind Hill found Mercy,  
Like Li●…burn (and his Wool) in the Isle of jersey.  
A Barber's close, yet all would counter-bail,  
Steeped till the Corn grew Malt, and Water Ale.  
Had we the Gotham Policy and Luck to  
Hedge in the Water, as they did the Cuckoo,  
But oh! it soon retreats, and the Ebb is more  
Disastrous to us than the Flood before.  
The Fifth day lands us, Shows each Man his Ground,  
But so much Slime, we can't see Ground for Ground.  
The Flood's a single Tyrant, Bogs allow  
No escape: Water and Earth both vex us now,  
Till the Sun our Low-Countries purge, and then  
Out-drink a Dutchman draining of a Fen:  
Till than our Trent is Acheron, we dwell  
I'th' Stygian Lake, the Netherlands are Hell.  
Rivers are Nymphs they say, something's the matter  
Then sure with ours she cannot hold her Water,  
Unless the Gossip, (th'room so on a Float)  
Went drunk to Bed, and spilt her Chamber-pot:  
However, since we're delivered let there be,  
From this Flood too another Epoch.    

For Sleep.  

REturn Grief's Antidote, soft Sleep return,  
Why dost thy blithe Embrace adjourn?  
Once more this Garrison of Sense surround,  
It's wild Exorbitances Pound;  
Lock the Cinque-Ports, the Sentinels arraign,  
Make Fractions in the Royal-Train.   

2.  
Sleep! The Souls Charter, Bodies Writ of Ease.  
Reason's Reprieve, Fancies Release;  
The Senses Non-term, Life's serenest Shore;  
A smooth-faced Death, thick candied over:  
Catastrophe of Care, Time's balmy Close,  
The Muses Eden and Repose.   

3.  
Sleep! The Days Centre, Night's Meridian,  
Bright Meteor in the Sphere of Man;  
A Grand Dictator in the Womb of Death,  
Whilst the still returning Breath  
Sails through Fears, Tears, and Joysat once,  
With quick Reciprocations   

4.  
Sleep! The firm cement of unravelled Hours,  
Night ushered with Ambrosial Showers;  
Days Phylactery with her Spangles crowned,  
Fancy snatched up at first Rebound:  
Fancies Exchequer, Natures younger Son,  
Times other jubilee begun.   

5.  
Sleep! The World's Evensong, Nature's Anthem, bor●…  
Between the Lips of Night and Morn;  
Heaven in a Mask, Sunday's Parhelion,  
Preface to th' Resurrection.  
Nepent he kissing out the wheeling Light;  
Darkness emparadized: Good Night.    

Against Sleep.  

BE gone Joys Lethargy, pale Fiend, be gone,  
Why this dull Fascination?  
No more Life's Citadel invade, no more,  
Ravish its Sallies over and over;  
Gag the Broad Gates, the Court of Guard Esso●…,  
At these disjointed thoughts rejoin.   

2.  
Sleep! The Souls Wardship, but the Body's Goal,  
Reason's Assassin, Fancies Bail;  
The Senses Curfew, Life and Loyal Breath  
Min●…'t small, and blended into Death:  
Joys Explicite, unfathomed Gu●…f of time,  
The Muse's Fence, and frozen Clime.   

3.  
Sleep! The Night's Winter, Shadow of a Dream,  
A dark Fog rampant, Horror's Theme;  
Free Denizon of Darkness, Blisses Wane,  
An untrimed Chaos, Beauty's Bane;  
Youth's Sepulchre, a Parallel to Age,  
A Negro fills Life's second Page.   

4.  
Sleep! The Days Colon, many Hours of Bliss  
Lost in a wide ●…arenthesis:  
Life in an Ecstasy, bound Hand and Foot,  
Spirits entombed, and Time to boot:  
The Trump of Solitude, a sprightly Flame,  
Smothered in Sables and made lame.   

5.  
Sleep! The World's Limbo, Nature's Discord Day,  
Because a Mourner hurled away;  
Hell paved with Down, a Purgatory screened,  
Death's Counterpane mixed with a Fiend;  
Half time eclipsed, and tinctured Black as Sorrow,  
Light dungeoned, manacled: Good Morrow.    

On a little Gentleman profoundly Learned.  

MAkes Nature Maps? Since that in thee  
Sh'has drawn an University:  
Or strives she in so small a piece,  
To sum the Arts and Sciences?  
Once she writ only Text-hand, when  
She scribbled Giants, and no Men:  
But now in her decrepit Years  
She dashes Dwarves in Characters,  
And makes one single Farthing bear  
The Creed, Commandments, and Lords Prayer:  
Would she turn Art and imitate  
Monte-rigos flying Gnat?  
Would she the Golden Legend shut  
Within the Cloister of a Nut?  
Or else a Musket-Bullet rear  
Into a vast and mighty Spear?  
Or pen an Eagle in the Caul  
Of a slender Nightingale?  
Or shows the Pigmies can create  
Not too little but too great:  
How comes it that she thus converts  
So small a Totum, and great Parts?  
Strives she now to turn awry  
The quick Scent of Philosophy?  
How so little matter can  
So monstrous big a Form contain?  
What shall we call (it would be known)  
This Giant and this Dwarf in one?  
His Age is blazed in silver Hairs,  
His Limbs still cry out want of Years.  
So small a Body in a Cage,  
May choose a spacious Hermitage.  
So great a Soul doth fret and fume  
At th'narrow World for want of Room.  
Strange Conjunction! Here is grown  
A Molehill and the Alps in one.  
In th'self same Action we may call  
Nature both Thirst and Prodigal.    

On an Ugly Woman.  

AS Scriveners sometimes take Delight to see  
Their basest Writing, Nature has in thee  
Essayed how much she can transgress at once  
Appelles' Draughts; Durer's Proportions;  
And for to make a Jest, and try a Wit,  
Has not (a Woman) in thy Forehead writ;  
But scribbled so, and gone so far about,  
Indagine would never smell thee out;  
But might exclaim, here only Riddles be,  
And Heteroclites in Physiognomy:  
But as the mystic Hebrew backward lies,  
And Algebra's, guest ' by Absurdities,  
So must we spell thee; for who would suppose  
That globous piece of Wainscot were a Nose,  
That crooked et-caetera's were Wrinkles, and  
Five Napiers Bones glued to a Wrist, and Hand;  
Egyptian Antiquaries might survey  
Here Hieroglyphics, time hath worn away:  
And wonder at an English Face, more odd  
And antic, than was e'er a Memphian God;  
Erased with more strange Letters than might scare  
A raw and unexperienced Conjurer.  
And tawny afric Blush, to see her fry  
Of Monsters in one Skin so kenneled lie.  
Thou mayst without a Guard her Deserts pass,  
When Savages but look upon thy Face:  
Were but some Pict now living, he would soon  
Deem thee a Fragment of his Nation;  
And wiser Ethiopians infer  
From thee, that Sable's not the only Fair;  
Thou Privative of Beauty, whose one Eye  
Doth question Metaphysics Verity;  
Whose many cross Aspects may prove anon  
Foulness more than a mere Negation.  
Blast one Place still, and never dare t'escape  
Abroad out of thy Mother Darkness Lapet,  
Left that thou make the World afraid, and be  
Even hated by thy Nurse Deformity.    

To the King recovered from a Fit of Sickness.  
Most Gracious Sir,  

NOw that you are recovered, and are seen,  
Neither to fright the Ladies, nor the Queen;  
That you to Chappel come, and take the Air,  
Makes that a Verse, which was before my Prayer:  
For Sir, as we had lost you, or your Fate,  
Not Sickness, had been told us, all of late.  
So truly mourned, that we did only lack  
One to begin, and put us all in Black.  
The Court, as quite dissolved, did sadly tell,  
White-Hall was only where the King is well.  
Nor grieved the People less, the Commons Eyes,  
Free as their Loyal Hearts, wept Subsidies,  
And in this public We some went so far,  
To think the Danger did deserve a Star,  
Which though 'twere short: As but to show,  
You would like one of us a Sickness know,  
And that you could be mortal and to prove,  
By Trial of their Grief your Subject's Love,  
Would keep your Bed, or Chamber, yet our ●…ear  
Made that short time we saw you not, a Year;  
So did we Reason mindless, and to gain  
Your quick Recovery, strived to share your Pain;  
Nay, such an Interest had we in your Health,  
That in you sick'ned Church and Commonwealth.  
Alas! to miss you was enough to bring  
An Anarchy, but that your Life was King  
More than your Sceptre, and though you refrained  
To come among us, yet your Actions reigned;  
They were our Pattern still, and we from thence,  
Did in your Absence choose our Rule and Prince.  
And lived by your Example, which will stay,  
And govern here, when you are turned to Clay.  
For what is he, that ever heard or saw  
Your Conversation, and not thought it Law?  
Such a clear Temper, of so wise and sweet  
A Majesty, where Power and Goodness meet  
In just proportions; such Religious Care  
To practise what you bid, as if to wear  
The Crown or Robe were not enough to free  
The Prince from that which Subjects ought to be.  
Lastly (for all your Graces to rehearse,  
Is fitter for a Story, than my Verse:)  
Such a high Reverence do your Virtues win,  
They teach without, and govern us within,  
And so enlarge your Kingdoms, when they see  
Our Minds more than our Bodies bend the Knee.  
And though before you we stand only bare;  
These make your Presence to be every where.    

Upon the Birth of the Duke of York.  

MAke big the Bonfires, for in this one Son,  
The Queen's delivered of a Nation,  
She hath brought forth a People, now we may  
Confess our doubted Life, and boldly say,  
This Prince completes our Joy, because he can  
Already make the Prince of Wales a Man,  
And so confute the Nurse, when he shall see  
Himself in him past his Minority.  
Good morrow, Babe, welcome into that Air,  
Which thou confirmestiours, which now we dare  
Bequeath to our late Nephews that shall see  
It always English in the Prince and thee,  
And never know the doubtful Sceptre stand  
In Expectation of a chosen Hand;  
Nor Danger of an armed, that may bar  
The Crown from falling perpendicular,  
And so cross Nature. For I must confess,  
〈◊〉 wish the Prince such lasting Happiness,  
And do commend to Providence this Work,  
That the State may not need a Duke of York.  
And think a g●… and protected Heir,  
Enough to silence any ●…odest Prayer:  
Yet since the wiser Heavens do conceive  
A way to bless Posterity, to leave  
So much of Charles to them as they shall see  
Drawn to the Life in so much Imagery,  
And durst not trust a Chronicle, but would  
Derive his Virtues only in his Blood,  
And thinking them too vast for one, did try  
To coin a Partner to his Legacy:  
May Heaven proceed to keep him, may he shine  
To mock the Poorness of the Indian Mine,  
And scorn the Fleet, having a Treasure far  
Above the Winds reach, or the Hollander.  
So may he puzzle Statesman, and put down  
All Reck'●…mgs of Revenues to the Crown,  
And alter the King's Rents, for his two Sons  
Must go for twenty Thousańd Millions;  
And so make Charles the jealous World ally,  
Thus grown too potent for an Enemy;  
All those must study Leagues now, that had rather  
Seem rich in any Title than of Father:  
But may he ●…ill be dreadful so, and be  
To these abroad feared as a Deity,  
At home loved as a Father, whilst he thus  
To them is Terror, a Shield to us.    

On Parson's the great Porter.  

SIr, or Great Grandsire, whose vast Bulk may 〈◊〉  
A Burying-place for all your Pedigree:  
Thou moving Colosse, for whose goodly Face,  
The Rhy●…e can hardly make a Looking-glass;  
What piles of Victuals hadst thou need to chew,  
Ten Woods or Morrets Throats were not enough;  
Dwarf was he, whose Wife's Bracelets fit his Thum●…  
It would not on thy little Finger come.  
If jove in getting Hercules spent three  
Nights, he might be Fifteen in getting thee.  
What Name or Title suits thy Greatness, thou,  
Aldiboronifuscorphornio?  
When Giants warred with jove, hadst thou been one,  
Where other Oaks, thou wouldst have Mountains thrown;  
Wert thou but sick, what help could e'er be wrought,  
Unless Physicians posted down thy Throat?  
Wert thou to die and Xerxes living, he  
Would not pair Athos for to cover thee;  
Wert thou t'enbalm, the Surgeons needs must scale  
Thy Body, as when Labourers dig a Whale.  
Great Sir, a People kneaded up in one,  
we'll weigh thee by Ship-Burdens, not by th' Stone:  
What Tempests might thou raise, what Whirlwinds when  
Thou breathest, thou great Leviathan of Men:  
Bend but thy Eye a Countryman would swear,  
A Regiment of Spaniards quartered there;  
Smooth but thy Brow they'll say, there were a Plain,  
T'act York and Lancaster once o'er again!  
That Pocket-pistol of the Queens might be  
Thy Pocket-pistol, sans Hyperbole:  
Abstain from Garrisons, since thou may'st eat  
The Turks, or Moguls Titles at a Bit.  
Plant some new Land, which ne'er will empty be,  
If she enjoy her Savages in thee:  
Get from amongst us, since we only can  
Appear like Sculls marched over by Tamburlaine.    

On his going by Water, by the Parliament-house:  

OH the sad Fate of unsuccessful Sin!  
You see those Heads without, there's wors●… within.    

Upon coming into a Chamber called Parnassus, where the Gentry Arms (were depicted) of Norfolk and Suffolk, in Norwich.  

HEre Gallants find their Arms, and so it's meet,  
But where they find their Arms, they lose their▪  
Feet.    

Against ALE.  

THou Juice of Lethe! O thou dull  
Inhospitable Drink of Hull,  
Not to be drunk, but in the Devil's Scull;  
Depriver of those solid Joys,  
Which Sack creates: Author of Noise  
Among the roaring Punks and Dammy-Boys:  
On thy Account the Watch do sleep,  
When they our Nightly Peace should keep,  
Then Rogues and Cutpurses in at Windows creep.   

2.  
The Jug-broke Pate doth owe to thee  
Its bloody Line and Pedigree,  
Now Murder, and anon the Gallow-tree:  
A Poet once did lick thy Juice,  
But oh! How his benumbed Juice  
Was mired in Nonsense, and in State abuse.  
A Soldier once that would have picked  
Strife with the Devil, thy dull Broth had licked,  
That Night this Renowned Turdibank was kicked.   

3.  
The other Night the Mealman Will,  
Did lap so largely of thy Swill,  
Next Morn he let a Fart blew down his Mill:  
That Lover was in pretty Case,  
That trimmed thee with a Ginger-race,  
And after belched in his Mistress Face.  
More of thy Virtues I could tell,  
But that to speak of thee's half Hell,  
Then take my Curse by Candle, Book, and Bell.   

4.  
May Bards that drink thee, write a small,  
Insubstanced Line pedantical,  
●…nsinewy, enigmatical;  
Saltless and galless be thy Curse,  
Numberless, rugged, empty, worse  
Than the poor Poets empty Belly, Purse.  
May he that brews thee wear a Nose  
Richer than the Lord Mayor's clothes,  
The Satin Clerry, or the Velvet Rose.   

5.  
May he that draws thee likewise wear  
Carbuncle from Ear to Ear,  
That Thatch and Linen may stand off and fear;  
●…ay some old Hag-witch get astride.  
●…hy Bung, as if she meant to ride,  
●…n purpose for to launce thy yeasty Side:  
●…ay others be as sick as I,  
●…hat tope thee next; then down and die  
●…or Ale, a Funeral-trap for Wasp, or Fly.    

The Old Gill.  

IF you will be still  
Then tell you I will  
Of a lovely old Gill,  
Dwelled under a Hill:  
Her Locks are like Sage  
That's well worn with Age,  
And her Visage would suage  
A stout Man's Courage.   

2.  
Teeth yellow as Box,  
Clean out with the Pox,  
Her Breath smells like Lox,  
Or unwiped Nocks.  
She hath a devilish Grin,  
Long Hairs on her Chin,  
To the foul-footed Fin  
She's nearly a kin.   

3.  
She hath a beetle Brow,  
Deep Furrows enough  
She's eyed like a Sow,  
Flat nosed like a Cow▪  
Lips swarthy and dun,  
A Mouth like a Gun,  
And her tattle doth run  
As swift as the Sun.   

4.  
On her Back stands a Hill,  
You may place a Windmill,  
And the Farts of her Gill  
Will make the Sails trill.  
Her Neck is much like  
The foul Swine's in the dike;  
Against Crab-lice and Tike;  
A blue Pin is her Pike.   

5.  
Within this Ano  
There dwells an Hurricane,  
And the Rift of her Plano  
Vomits Smoke like Vulcano;  
But a Pox of her Twist,  
It is always bepissed,  
And the Devil's in his List,  
That to her Mill brings Grist.   

6  
‛ Beware the dint of her Dirt,  
She will give you a Flirt,  
She has always the Squirt,  
She is loose and ungirt;  
Want of Wine makes her pant  
Till she fizzle and rant,  
And the hole in her Grant,  
Is as deep as etc.   

7.  
Yea, as deep as a Well,  
A Furnace or Kell,  
A bottomless Cell,  
Some think it is Hell.  
But I have spoken my Fill  
Of my lovely old Gill;  
And 'tis taken so ill,  
I'll lay down my Quill.    

To the Queen upon the Birth of one of her Children.  

THat Children are like Olive-branches, we  
Took for a Figure, now 'twas Prophecy.  
Your Births, great Queen, have made a new Account,  
Who bring not forth some Olives, but the Mount;  
And we, who wished your Table half Way round  
Beset with them, do now behold it crowned.  
Were there no other Court, or Nobles, yet  
The King, we see, can his own Court beget:  
Nay, in the first World's Age, he that could do  
Like him, was Father of his Country too.  
When in that Dearth of Subjects, Kings were fain  
First to beget their Kingdoms, and then reign,  
When their own Offspring were their People; and  
One Family both filled, and made the Land.  
But I speak Treason, to say Prince's Blood  
Can e'er run into People, 'tis a Flood  
Even in the Fountain: Small Streams lose their Name;  
Such Births, like th'Ocean are still the same.  
No Number makes them private, we may call  
Not all one Nation, but Nations all.  
For as l've seen the Ark drawn like the Womb  
Of the four Empires, and the World to come,  
Out of whose Midst hath sprung a mystic Tree,  
With every Branch a Genealogy,  
Not of some House, but of the World, this Bough  
For Europe, that for afric we allow:  
And all the other smaller Twigs there seen  
Have stood for Isles, or Countries: So, great Queen,  
From you, as from the Ark, nothing can be  
Born less than Kingdoms, or a Monarchy.  
Your pains are all Imperial, and your Throws  
Can bring forth nought that is not Great; yet those  
For Daughters still have thus more public been,  
That you by them to Christendom lie in;  
Your Sons may make us safe, but we the while  
Must be a World divided, still an Isle,  
We shall be now o'th'Continent; this Sex  
Will makesed all one to conquer, or annex,  
To be allied, will bring, what some in vain  
Hope for by th'Sword, an universal Reign;  
Which yet we may despair of, since we see  
Europe to match yours, will want Progeny.    

To Cloris, a Rapture.  

COme julia, Come! Let's once disbody, what,  
Strait Matter ties to this, and not to that?  
We'll disengage, our bloodless Form shall fly  
Beyond the reach of Earth, where ne'er an Eye  
That peeps through Spectacles of Flesh, shall know  
Where we intent, or what we mean to do.  
●…rom all Contagion of Flesh removed,  
we'll sit in Judgement, on those Pairs that loved  
●…n old and latter times, then will we tear  
Their Chaplets that did act by slavish Fear,  
Who cherished causeless Griefs, and did deny  
●…upids Prerogative by Doubt; or Tie;  
●…ut they that moved by Confidence, and closed  
●…one refining Flame, and never loosed  
Their thoughts on Earth, but bravely did aspire  
●…nto their proper Element of Fire,  
To these we'll judge that Happiness to be  
The Witnesses of our Felicity.  
Thus we'll like Angels move, nor will we bind  
In Words the copious Language of our Mind,  
Such as we know not to conceive, much less,  
Without destroying in their Birth, express:  
Thus will we live, and ('t may be) cast an Eye  
How far Elysium doth beneath us lie▪  
What need we cane, though milky Currents run  
Amongst the silken Meadows, though the Sun  
Doth still preserve by's ever walking Ray  
A never discontinued Spring, or Day.  
That Sun, though all its heat be to it brought,  
Cannot exhale the Vapour of a Thought.  
No, no, my Goddess, yet will thou and I,  
Devested of all Flesh, so folded lie,  
That ne'er a bodied Nothing shall perceive  
How we unite, how we together cleave;  
Nor think this while our feathered Minutes may  
Fall under Measure, Time itself can stay  
T'attend our Pleasures, for what else would be  
But tedious Durance in Eternity?    

An Elegy upon Ben. Johnson.  

AS when the Vestal Hearth went out, no Fire,  
Less Holy than that Flame that did expire,  
Could kindle it again: So at thy Fall  
Our Wits, Great B●…n, are too Apocryphal  
To celebrate thy Loss, since 'tis too much  
To write thy Epitaph, and not be such.  
What thou wert, like th'hard Oracles of old,  
Without an Extas●…e cannot be told.  
We must be 〈◊〉 first, thou must infuse  
Thyself into us both the Theme and Muse:  
Else, (though we all conspired to make thy Hearse  
Our Works) so that't had been but one great Verse;  
Though the Priest had translated for that time  
The Liturgy, and buried thee in Rhyme;  
So that in Meeter we had heard it said,  
Poetic Dust is to Poetic laid:  
And though that Dust being Shakespear's; thou mightst have  
Not his Room, but the Poet for thy Grave;  
So that as thou didst Prince of Numbers die,  
And live, so thou mightest in Numbers lie;  
'Twere frail Solemnity; Verses on thee,  
And not like thine, would but kind Libels be.  
And we (not speaking thy whole Worth) should raise  
Worse Blots than they that envied thy Praise.  
Indeed thou needst us not, since above all  
Invention, thou wert thine own Funeral.  
Hereafter, when Time hath fed on thy Tomb,  
Th'inscription worn out, and the Marble dumb,  
So that 'twould pose a Critic to restore  
Half Words, and Words expired so long before;  
When they maimed Statue hath a Sentenced Face,  
And Looks that are the Horror of the Place;  
That 'twill be Learnings and Antiquity,  
And ask a Selden to say, this was thee:  
Thou'lt have a whole Name still, nor needst thou fear  
That will be ruined, or lose Nose, or Hair.  
Let others write so thin, that they can't be  
Authors till rotten; no Posterity  
Can add to thy Works; th'had their full growth then,  
When first born, and came Aged from thy Pen;  
Whilst living thou enjoyd'st the Fame and Sense  
Of all that time gives, but the Reverence:  
When thouart of Homer's years, no Man will say  
Thy Poems are less worthy, but more grey.  
'Tis Bastard Poetry, and o'th'false Blood,  
Which can't without Succession be good,  
Things that will always last, do thus agree  
With things Eternal; th'at once perfect be.  
Scorn then their Censures, who gave out, thy Wit  
As long upon a Comedy did sit,  
As Elephants bring forth; and that by Blots  
And Mending, took more time than Fortune plots▪  
That such thy Draught was, and so great thy Thirst,  
That all thy Plays were drawn at th' Mermaid first,  
That the Kings yearly but wore, and his Wine  
Hath more Right than thou to thy Catiline.  
Let such Men keep a Diet, let their Wit  
Be racked, and while they write, suffer a Fit;  
When th'have felt Tortures without Pain the Gout  
Such, as with less, the State draws Treason out;  
Though they should the Length of Consumptions lie  
Sick of their Verse, and of their Poem die;  
'Twould not be thy worst Scene, but would at last  
Confirm their Boastings, and show made in haste.  
He that writes well writes quick, since the Rule's true,  
Nothing is slowly done, that's always new;  
So when thy Fox had ten times acted been,  
Each Day was first, but that 'twas cheaper seen;  
And so thy Alchemist played over and over,  
Was new o'th'Stage. when 'twas not at the Door.  
We like the Actors did repeat, the Pit  
The first time saw, the next conceived thy Wit,  
Which was cast in such Forms, such Rules, such Arts,  
That but to some not half thy Acts were Parts,  
Since of some silken Judgements we may say,  
They filled a Box two hours, but saw no Play;  
So that th'unlearned lost their Money, and  
Scholars saved only, that could understand:  
Thy Scene was free from Monsters, no hard Plot  
Called down a God t'untie th'unlikely Knot.  
The Stage was still a Stage, two Entrances  
Were not two Parts o'th'World disjoined by th' Seas:  
Thine were Land-Tragedies, no Prince was found  
To swim a whole Scene out, then o'th'Stage drowned.  
Pitched Fields, as Red-bull Wars, still felt thy Doom,  
Thou laidst no Sieges to the Music Room;  
Nor wouldst allow to thy best Comedies,  
Humours that should above the People rise:  
Yet was thy Language and thy Style so high,  
Thy Sock to th'Ancle, Buskin reach to th'thigh;  
And both so chaste, so 'bove Dramatic clean,  
That we both safely saw, and lived thy Scene;  
No foul loose Line did prostitute thy Wit,  
Thou wrot'st thy Comedies, didst not commit.  
We did the Vice arraigned, not tempting hear,  
And were made Judges, not bad Parts by th'Ear;  
For thou even Sin didst in such Words array,  
That some who came bad Parts, went out good Play;  
Which ended not with th'epilogue, the Age  
Still acted, which grew Innocent from th'stage.  
'Tis true thou hadst some Sharpness, but thy Salt  
Served but with Pleasure to reform the Fault.  
Men were laughed into Virtue, and none more  
Hated Fool acted, then were such before;  
So did they sting not Blood, but Humours draw,  
So much did satire more correct than Law.  
Which was not Nature in thee as some call,  
Thy Teeth, who say thy Wit lay in thy Gall,  
That thou didst quarrel first, and then in spite  
Didst against a Person of such Vices write,  
That't was Revenge, not Truth, that on thy Stage  
Carlo was not presented but thy Rage.  
And that when thou in Company wert met,  
Thy Meat took Notes, and thy Discourse was Net.  
We know thy free Vein had this Innocence,  
To spare the Party, and to brand th'Offence,  
And the just Indignation thou wert in these  
Did not expose but shift his Tricks and Gir,  
Thou mightst have used th'old Comic Freedom,  
Might have seen themselves played, like Socrates,  
Like Cleon Mammon might the Knight have been,  
If as Greek Authors, thou hadst turned Greek Spleen,  
And hadst not chosen rather to translate  
Their Learning into English, not their Rate;  
Indeed this last, if thou hadst been bereft  
Of thy Humanity, might be called Theft,  
The other was not, whatsoe'er was strange,  
Or borrowed, in thee did grow thine by th'change.  
Who without Latin helps hadst been as rare  
As Beaumond, Fletcher, or as Shakespeare were,  
And like them, from thy Native Stock couldst say,  
Poets and Kings are not born every Day.    

An Epitaph.  

STay, Gentle Reader, and shed o'er  
Those sacred Ashes one Tear more.  
These sad Accents clothed in black,  
Mourn him whom Church and State do lack,  
And this weeping Marble Stone  
Doth invite a parting Groan.  
Here lies within this stony Shade  
Nature's Darling, whom she made  
Her fairest Model, her brief Story,  
In him heaping all her Glory.  
Here lies one whom times of Old,  
Among their Wonders had enrolled,  
Whose set Beams might well aspire,  
Kindled by Poetic Fire,  
Unto a starry Light, and there  
For a Grave adorn a Sphere;  
One so Valiantly strong,  
He feared to do any wrong.  
Learning's Glory, who alone  
Was fit to write on his own Stone;  
Here Tongues lie speechless, to be dumb  
Is our best Epicedium.    

Upon Wood of Kent.  

SIr, much good do't ye, were your Table but  
Piecrust or Cheese, you might your Stomach shut  
After your slice of Beef, what dare you try  
Your Force on an Ell-square of Pudding-pie?  
Perhaps 't may be a Taste, three such as you  
Unbreakfasted, might serve Seraglio.  
When Hannibal scaled th' Alps hadst thou been there  
Thy Beef had drunk up all his Vinegar;  
Well mightst thou be of Guard to Henry th'Eight,  
Since thou canst, like a Pigeon, eat thy Weight:  
Full wise was Nature that would not bestow  
These Tusks of thine into a double Row;  
What Womb could e'er contain thee, thou canst shut  
A Pond of Aviary in a Gut.  
Had not thy Mother born thee toothless, thou  
Hadst eaten, Viperlike, a Passage through;  
Had he that wished the Cranes long Neck to eat,  
Put in thy Stomach too, 't had been complete.  
Thou Noah's Ark, dead Sea, thou Golgotha,  
Monsters beyond all Men of Africa!  
Beast's prey on Beasts, Fishes to Fishes fall,  
Great Birds feed on the lesser, thou on all:  
Hath there been no Mistake, why may't not be,  
When Curtius leapt the Gulf, 'twas into thee.  
Now we'll believe that Man of Chica could  
Make Pills of Arrows, and the Boy that would  
Chew only Stones; nor can we think it vain,  
That Doranetho eat up th'Neighbouring Plain.  
Poor Chrysicthon, that could only feast  
On one poor Girl, in several Dishes dressed;  
Thou hast devoured as many Sheep, as may  
clothe all the Pastures in Arcadia;  
Yet, O how temperate, that ne'er goes on  
So far as to approach Repletion.  
Thou breathing Cauldron, whose digestive heat  
Might boil the whole Provision of the Fleet;  
Say Grace as long as Meals, and if thou please,  
Breakfast with Islands, and drink Healths with Seas.    

On Christ-Church Windows.  

YOu that profane our Windows with a Tongue  
Set like some Clock, on purpose to go wrong;  
Who when you were at Service, sighed because  
You heard the Organs Music, not the Daws;  
Pitying our solemn State, shaking your Head,  
To see not Ruins from the Floor to th'Lead:  
To whose pure Nose our Cedar gave Offence,  
Crying, It smelled of Papists Frankincense;  
Who walking on our Marbles, scoffing said,  
Whose Bodies are under these Tombstones laid?  
Counting our Tapers Works of Darkness, and  
Choosing to see Priests in blue Aprons stand,  
Rather than in rich Copes, which show the Art  
Of Sisera's Prey, embroidered in each Part:  
Then when you saw the Altars Basin, said,  
Why's not the Ewer on the Cupboard laid?  
Thinking our very Bibles too profane,  
'Cause you ne'er bought such Covers in Duck-lane.  
Loathing all Decency, as if you'd have  
Altars as foul, and homely as a Grave.  
Had you one spark of Reason, you would find  
Yourselves like Idols, to have Eyes, yet blind;  
'Tis only some base Niggard, Heresy,  
To think Religion loves Deformity.  
Glory did never yet make God the less,  
Neither can Beauty defile Holiness.  
What's more Magnificent than Heaven, yet where  
Is there more Love and Piety than there?  
My Heart doth wish (were't possible) to see  
Paul's built with precious Stones and Porphyry;  
To have our Halls and Galleries outshine  
Altars in Beauty, is to deck our Swine  
With Orient Pearl, whilst the deserving Choir  
Of God and Angels wallow in the Mire.  
Our decent Copes only Distinction keep,  
That you may know the Shepherd from the Sheep.  
As gaudy Letters in the Rubric show,  
How you may holidays from Lay-days know;  
Remember Aaron's Robe, and you will say,  
Ladies at Masque are not so rich as they.  
Then are th'Priests Words like Thunderclaps, when he  
Is Lightning-like rayed down with Majesty;  
May every Temple shine like those at Nile,  
And still be free from Rat or Crocodile:  
But you will urge, both Priest and Church should b●…  
The solemn Partners of Humility.  
Do not some boast of Rags? Cynics deride  
The pomp of Kings, but with a greater Pride.  
Meekness consists not in the clothes, but Heart;  
Nature may be Vain glorious well as Art:  
We may as lowly before God appear,  
D●…est with a Glorious Pearl, as with a Tear.  
In his High Presence, where the Stars and Sun  
Do but eclipse, there's no Ambition.  
You dare admit gay Paint upon a Wall,  
Why then in Glass that's held Apocryphal?  
Our Body's Temples are, look in the Eye,  
The Window, and you needs must Pictures spy;  
Moses and Aaron, and the King's Arms are  
Daubed in the Church, when you the Wardens were,  
Yet you ne'er fined for Papist: Shall we say  
Banbury is turned Rome, because we may  
See th' Holy Lamb and Christopher? Nay more,  
The Altar-stone set at the Tavern Door?  
Why can't the Ox then in th'nativity,  
Be imaged forth, but Papists Bulls are nigh?  
Our Pictures to no other end is made,  
Than is your Time and's Bill, your Death, and's Spade.  
To us they're but Memontoes which present  
Christ's Birth, except his Word and Sacrament.  
If't were a Sin to set up Imagery,  
To get a Child were flat Idolatry.  
The Models of our Buildings would be thus,  
Directions to our Houses, Ruins to us:  
Hath not each Creature which hath daily Breath,  
Something which resembles Heaven or Earth?  
Suppose some Ignorant Heathen once did bow  
To Images, may not we see them now?  
Should we love Darkness, and abhor the Sun,  
'Cause Persians gave it Adoration?  
And plant no Orchards, because Apples first  
Made Adam and his lineal Race acqurst?  
Though Wine for Bacc●…us, Bread for Ceres went,  
Yet both are used in the Sacrament;  
What then if these were Popish Relics? Few  
Windows are elsewhere old, but these are new,  
And so exceed the former, that the Face  
Of these come short of th'outside of our Glass:  
Colours are here mixed, so that Rain-bows be  
(Compared) but Clouds without variety.  
Art here is Nature's Envy, this is he,  
Not Paracelsus, but by Chemistry  
Can make a Man from Ashes, if not Dust,  
Producing Offsprings of his Mind, not Lust.  
See how he makes his Maker, and doth draw  
All that is meant i'th'Gospel, or i'th'Law.  
Looking upon the Resurrection,  
Methoughts I saw the blessed Vision,  
Where not his Face is merely drawn, but Mind,  
Which not with Paint, but Oil of Gladness shined:  
But when I viewed the next Pane, where we have  
The God of Life transported to his Grave,  
Light then is dark, all things so dull and dead,  
As if that part o'th'Window had been Lead.  
jonas his Whale did so men's Eyes befool,  
That they have begged him th'Anatomy School.  
That he saw Ships at Oxford one did swear,  
Though Isis yet will Barges hardly bear:  
Another soon as he the Trees espied,  
Thought him i'th'Garden on the other side.  
See in what State (though on an Ass) Christ went,  
This shows more Glorious than the Parliament.  
Then in what awe Moses his Rod doth keep  
The Seas, as if the Frost had glazed the Deep;  
The raging Waves are to themselves a Bound,  
Some cry, help, help, or Horse and Man are drowned.  
Shadows do every where for Substance pass,  
You'd think the Sands were in an Hourglass.  
You that do live with Surgeons, have you seen  
A Spring of Blood forced from a swelling Vein?  
So from a touch of Moses Rod doth jump  
A Cataract, The Rock is made a Pump:  
At sight of whose O'er-flowing many get  
Themselves away for fear of being wet.  
Here you behold a sprightly Lady stand,  
To have her Frame drawn by a Painter's Hand:  
Such lively Look and Presence, such a Dress  
King Pharoahs' Daughter's Image doth express;  
Look well upon her Gown, and you will swear,  
The Needle, not the Pencil hath been there.  
At sight of her, some Gallants do dispute,  
Whether i'th'Church it's lawful to salute?  
Next jacob kneeling, where his Kid-skin's such,  
As it may well cozen old Isaac's Touch.  
A Shepherd seeing how Thorns went round about,  
Abraham's Ram, would needs have helped it out:  
Behold the Dove descending to inspire  
Thapostle Heads with cloven Tongues of Fire,  
And in a Superficies there you'll see  
The gross Dimensions of Profundity.  
'Tis hard to judge which is best built, and higher  
The Arch roof in the Window, or the Quire.  
All Beasts, as in the Ark, are lively done,  
Nay, you may see the Shadow of the Sun:  
Upon a Landscape if you look a while  
You'll think the Prospect at least forty Mile.  
There's none needs now go travel, we may see  
●…t Home jerusalem and Nineveh,  
●…nd Sodom now in Flames: One Glance will dart  
●…arther than Lynce with Galilaeus Art.  
●…eeing Elijahs Chariot, we fear  
There is some fiery Prodigy in the Air:  
When Christ to purge his Temple, holds his Whip,  
●…ow nimbly Hucksters with their Baskets skip.  
●…t. Peter's Fishes are so lively wrought,  
●…ome cheapen them, and ask when they were caught.  
●…ere's Motions painted too: Chariots so fast  
●…un, that they're never gone, though always past.  
●…he Angels with their Lutes are done so true,  
We do not only look, but harken too,  
●…s if their Sounds were painted: Thus the Wit  
●…'th'Pencil hath drawn more than there can sit.  
●…hus (as in Archimedes Sphere) you may  
〈◊〉 a small Glass, the Universe survey:  
●…ch various Shapes are too i'th'Imag'ry,  
●…s Age and Sex may their own Features see;  
●…t if the Window cannot show your Face,  
●…ook under Feet, the Marble is your Glass;  
●…hich too, for more than Ornament, is there,  
●…he Stones may learn your Eyes to shed a Tear.  
●…hey never work upon the Conscience;  
●…hey cannot make us kneel, we are not such,  
●…s think there's Balsam in the Kiss, or Touch,  
●…hat were gross Superstition we know;  
●…here's no more Power in them than the Pope's Toe.  
●…he Saints themselves for us can do no good,  
●…uch less their Pictures drawn in Glass or Wood  
●…hey cannot seal, but since they signify,  
●…hey may be worthy of a Cast o'th'Eye;  
Although no Worship, that is due alone,  
Not to the Carpenter's, but God's own Son;  
Obedience to Blocks deserves the Rod,  
The Lord may well be then a jealous God.  
Why should not Statues now be due to Paul,  
As to the Caesars of the Capitol?  
How many Images of great Heirs, which  
Had nothing but the Diu of being rich,  
Shine in our Temples? Kneeling always there,  
Where, when they were alive, they scarce appear;  
Yet shall Christ's Sepulchre have ne'er a Tomb?  
Shall every Saint have a john Baptists Doom?  
No Limb of Mary stand? Must we forget  
Christ's Cross, as soon as past the Alphabet?  
Shall not their Heads have Room i'th' Window, who  
Founded our Church and our Religion too?  
We know that God's a Spirit, we confess  
We cannot comprehend his Name, much less  
Can a small Glass his Nature: But since he  
Vouchsafed to suffer his Humanity;  
Why may not we (only to put's in Mind  
Of's Godhead) have his Manhood thus enshrined?  
Is our King's Person less esteemed, because  
We need him in our Coins as well as Laws?   

Do what we can, whether we think, or paint  
All God's Expressions are but weak and faint;  
Yet Spots in Globes must not be blotted the no●…,  
That cannot show the World's Magnificence.  
Nor is it fit we should the Skill control,  
Because the Artist cannot draw the Soul.  
Cease then your Rail and your dull Complaints  
To pull down Galleries, and set up Saints  
Is no Impiety: now we may well  
Say that our Church is truly Visible:  
Those that before our Glass Scaffolds prefer  
Would turn our Temple to a Theatre,  
Windows are Pulpits now; though unlearned, one  
May read this Bible's new Edition.  
Instead of here and there a Verse adorned  
Round with a Lace of Paint, fit to be scorned  
Even by vulgar Eyes, each Pane presents  
Whole Chapters with both Comment and Contents.  
The cloudy Mysteries of the Gospel here  
Transparent as the Crystal do appear.  
'Tis not to see things darkly through a Glass,  
Here you may see our Saviour Face to Face;  
And whereas Feasts come seldom, here's descried  
A constant Christmas, Easter, Whisuntide:  
Let the Deaf hither come, no matter though  
Faith's Sense be lost, we a new Way can show;  
Here we can teach them to believe by th'Eye;  
These silenced Ministers do edify:  
The Scriptures Rays contracted in a Glass,  
Like Emblems do with greater Virtue pass.  
Look in the Book of Martyrs, and you'll see  
More by the Pictures than the History.  
That Price for things in Colours oft we give,  
Which we'd not take to have them while they live.  
Such is the Power of painting that it makes  
A loving Sympathy 'twixt Men and Snakes.  
Hence than Paul's Doctrine may seem more Divine,  
As Amber though a Glass doth clearer shine:  
Words pass away, as soon as Headache gone,  
We read in Books what here we dwell upon.  
Thus, then there's no more Fault in Imagery  
Than there's in the Practice of Piety;  
Both edify: What is in Letters there,  
●…s writ in plainer Hieroglyphics here;  
" 'tis not a new Religion we have chose,  
'Tis the same Body, but in better clothes:  
You'll say they make us gaze when we should pray,  
And that our Thoughts do on the Figures stray:  
If so, you may conclude us Beasts: What they  
Have for their Object, is to us the Way.  
Did any e'er use Prospective to see  
No farther than the Glass? or can there be  
Such lazy Travellers so given to Sin,  
As that they'll take their Dwelling at the Inn?  
A Christians Sight rests in Divinity,  
Signs are but Spectacles to help Faith's Eye.  
God is the Centre; Dwelling on these Words,  
My Muse a Sabbath to my Brain affords;  
If their nice Wits more solemn Proof exact,  
Know, this was meant a Poem, not a Tract.    

The Antiplatonick.  

FOnd Love, what dost thou mean  
To court an idle Folly,  
Platonic Love is nothing else  
But merely Melancholy;  
'Tis active Love that makes us jolly.   

2.  
To dote upon a Face,  
Or court a sparkling Eye,  
Or to esteem a dimpled Cheek  
Complete Felicity;  
'Tis to betray one's Liberty.   

3.  
Then pray be not so fond,  
Think you that Women can  
Rest satisfied with Compliment,  
The frothy Part of Man?  
No, no, they hate a Puritan.   

4.  
They care not for your Sight,  
Nor your erected Eyes,  
They hate to hear a Man complain,  
Alas! He dies, he dies;  
Believe't they love a closer Prize.   

5.  
Then venture to embrace,  
'Tis but a Smack or two:  
I'm confident no Woman lives,  
But sometimes she will do;  
The Fault lies not in her, but you.    

A sad Suit in a Petitionary Poem, sent by a Poor Scholar to his Patron.  

WOnder not why these Lines come to your Hand  
The naked Truth you soon shall understand.  
I have a Suit to you, that you would be  
So kind as send another Suit to me:  
The Spring appears, and now Beasts, Birds, and Bees,  
The fruitful Fields, gay Gardens, and tall Trees  
Are covered, all things that do creep or fly,  
Are putting their Apparel on, but I.  
Time hath impaired my Breeches, they show, Sir,  
Like the Scotch Flags that hang in Westminster.  
Round about London the Hedges and the Ditches,  
As they catch Wool, wear Fragments of my Breeches.  
My Patches dangle on my tattered Trousers,  
Like Hens and Chickens which hang up in Houses;  
And having cracked out the contracting Stitches,  
They look rather like Petticoats than Breeches;  
So that my Doublet pined, makes me appear  
Not like a Man but a Loose-wastcoateer.  
The Women called me Woman, till the Fools  
Spied their Mistake through my Pocket Holes.  
My Waste-band's wasted, and my Doublet looks  
Like him that wears it, quite off o'the Hooks.  
My Eyes are out, and all my Button-moulds  
Drop like ripe Hazelnuts out of their Hulls.  
The Suburbs of my Jacket are so gone,  
I have not left a Skirt to sit upon.  
My Doublet Canvas be'n worn out behind,  
I put a Poem there to keep out Wind.  
Two sly Knaves followed me, and one or both,  
Like Boys in Horn-books, read it through the Cloth.  
My Belly-pieces are so fat, they will  
If toasted, serve for Belly-pieces still.  
Last Shrovetide my Fore-skirt, as I'm a Sinner,  
Fell in the Batter, and was fried for Dinner.  
And when the Wench saw how my Jaws did knock it it,  
She would have made a Pancake of my Pocket.  
That which I call a Shirt, looks like a Clout  
Which some unhappy Gibbet had worn out.  
Sir, as I am a live Man, and a Scholar,  
This very Spring will purge away my Choler.  
My Weeds so ploughed and harrowed, that I know,  
Unless I can get new, 'tis time to ●…ow.  
About my Neck, as you may understand,  
By the Dimidium's a right falling Band.  
I wear a pair of Cuffs withal, and they  
Look like those torn which Men snatch in a Fray.  
I had a Cirdle too when I was dressed,  
Which was long since, but now (ungi●… unbles●…)  
Instead of wearing powd'red Hair, my Chief  
Invention is to get me powd'red Beef.  
My Hat's so full of Holes, I can't devise  
A Way how I should pluck it o'er my Eyes:  
My Shoes and I in one Condition roll,  
And both appear as if we had no Soul:  
My Stocking-calves, the best of all my Stock,  
Are paradised as naked as my Nock.  
I'm like a Clock myself, which if fair Wether  
Should separate, no Art can put together:  
My Books are ran away from off my Shelf,  
I cannot quote my Author, nor myself;  
For like Sir Wills Heroic Verse they be,  
Heaven knows, all in the Land of Lombardy.  
That Land of Ignorance, and full of Ills,  
Where Scholars Teeth are their own Paper-mills.  
Sir, I am pieced like Cottages with Thatch,  
The old and new do sum up one grand Patch:  
Then pray Sir, quickly send me some Redress,  
Lest my Suit falls, as a Cloud vanishes:  
For it is now by most men's Approbation,  
The next Degree unto Annihilation:  
Sir, to be brief, 'tis a confused Rude  
Rag, that admits of no Similitude;  
There's no Imagination that can strike it,  
'Tis so like nothing, that there's nothing like it.    

The poor Cavalier, in Memory of his old Suit.  

THough thou hast lasted 'bove a thousand Days,  
Till thou art aged and grey through adverse ways;  
Yet Malice in its Highest, dare pronounce,  
No other, but that thou wert Scarlet once.  
As in fair Beauties innocently dead,  
Their very Paleness hath a Tinct of Red,  
Under thy grey, discernably thin Streams  
Lies, like to shipwreck Strawberries in Cream.  
I know 'tis vain to boast what thou hast been,  
Yet thou wert red, when bloody Votes were green.  
E'er ripe Rebellion had a full-age Power,  
To commit Laud, and Gourney to the Tower:  
e'er middle-sighted Judgement understood,  
That 'twas against Sense o'th'Houses to be good.  
It is no humble Honour of thy Fate,  
To follow in thy Sufferings, those of State:  
I have observed since Lesley's coming in,  
Thou hast been still declining with the King,  
Spite Fairfax, and the Scots did all agree,  
To take our Sleep from us, thy Nap from thee.  
But to declare thee in the State concerned,  
When Pomfret was relieved, than thou wert turned.  
Prove thou didst wear new Buttons on thy Breast,  
When baffleed Waller did retreat from th'west:  
When taken Leicester raised our Thoughts & Speech,  
Then wert thou reinforced in the Breech.  
Thanks to my Tops and Care, which though it meet,  
To rob my Legs to keep thee on thy Feet.  
Nay, may I want Belief, if when the Report  
Of lost Bridgewater first arrived at Court,  
Each Whisper did not rend thee: I could tell  
Still by new Holes, how our Disasters fell.  
At Langport when the West was well ago,  
(A sad Mischance) thy Rear miscarried too,  
And by a strong Intelligence the same time,  
Thy Hooks and Buttons sprung with Sherburns' Mine.  
Now Peace be with thy Dust, whilst I do mourn,  
And Loyally Industrious close thy Urn;  
For the next motion to a Calm in th'Air,  
Will thy poor Extants into pieces tear:  
And as the Wind when th'winged Nation pays  
Their feathered Tribute, send it several Ways;  
One Fragment would into Bridge-water fall,  
In Sherburn one, in several Garrisons all,  
And th'Insolent Rebels at that Sight be won,  
To think our Thread of Life like thine be done.  
No quondam Suit, I'll keep thee from their Claws,  
Rotten as th'u'rt, thou shalt be sound for th'Cause.  
Rather than to our Prejudice be dispersed,  
Thou shalt make jack-of-lents and Babies first:  
Bait Fishes Hooks to cozen Mackerel Lips,  
Because they keep the Seas with Rebels Ships:  
Make good a Field of Pease against Jack daw,  
Reduce revolting Turkeys into Awe;  
And every part of thee shall be employed  
To serve against Rebellion and Pride.  
And as the pious Ancients use to rear  
Tombs to the Bodies, which they know not where  
To find, to thee pure Shade of Shades (for in  
This mortal life no Ghost could be more thin)  
This Monumental Paper I do vow,  
And thank God I've another Habit now.    

To the Queen.  
Great Queen,  

Whom Tumults lessen not, whose Womb, we see,  
Keeps the same Method still, the same Decree;  
And midst the brandished Swords, and Trumpets voice  
Brings forth a Prince, a Conquest to that Noise.  
We greet the Courage of your Births; and spy  
Your Consorts Spirit dancing in your Eye.  
Valour he shrouds in Armour, you in Veil;  
You wrapped in Tiffany, and he in Mail.   

The fairest Bloom might since the Seasons lower,  
Lose all its Scent and turn a common Flower:  
A Storm might blast the Beauty of that Brow,  
And the fresh Rose shrink from its Glory now:  
But there the constant Flower in Tempests gay,  
As in the silent Whispers of the Day,  
Can thrive in Blasts, and alike fruitful be,  
When Charles in Steel, or Charles in Robes you see.  
You smile a Mother, when the just King stands,  
Or with a Shower, or Thunder in his Hands.   

Thus you alone, seated above all Jars,  
Turn Noise to Tunes, and Lightning into Stars.    

An Elegy on Ben. Johnson.  

POet of Princes, Prince of Poets (we,  
If to Apollo, well may pray to thee.)  
Give Glow-worm's leave to peep, who till thy Night  
Could not be seen, we darkened were with Light;  
For Stars t'appear after the Fall o'th'Sun,  
Is at the least modest Presumption.  
I've seen a great Lamp lighted by the small  
Spark of a Flint found in a Field, or Wall;  
Our inner Verse faintly may shadow forth  
A dull Reflection of thy Glorious Worth,  
And like a Statue homely fashioned, raise  
Some Trophies to thy Memory, though not Praise.  
Those shallow Sirs, who want sharp sight to look  
On the Majestick-Splendor of thy Book,  
That rather choose to hear an Archy prate,  
Then the full Sense of a learned Laureate;  
May, when they see thy Name thus plainly writ,  
Admire the Solemn Measure of thy Wit;  
And like thy Works beyond a gaudy Show  
Of Board's and Canvas, wrought by Inigo.  
Ploughman, who puzzled are with Figures, come  
By Tallies to the Reckoning of a Sum,  
And Milksop Heirs, which from their Mother's Lap  
Scarce travelled, know far Countries by a Map.  
Shakespeare may make Griefs, merry Beaumont's Style  
Ravish and melt Anger into a Smile;  
In Winter Nights, or after Meals, they be,  
I must confess very good Company;  
But thou exact'st our best Hours Industry,  
We may read them, we ought to study thee;  
Thy Scene's are Precepts, every Verse doth give  
Counsel, and teach us, not to laugh, but live  
You that with towering Thoughts presume so high  
(Swelled with a vain Ambitious Tympany)  
To dream on Sceptres, whose brave Mischief calls  
The Blood of Kings to their last Funerals.  
Learn from Sejanus his high Fall, to prove  
To thy dread Sovereign a sacred Love;  
Let him suggest a Reverend Fear to thee,  
And may his Tragedy thy Lecture be.  
Learn the compendious Age of slippery Power,  
That's built on Blood, and may one little Hour  
Teach thy bold Rashness, that it is not safe,  
To build a Kingdom on a Caesar's Grave.  
Thy Plays were whipped and libelled, only cause  
They're good, and savour of our Kingdoms Laws.  
Histrio-masticks (Lightning-like) doth wound  
Those things alone that solid are and sound.  
Thus guilty Men hate Justice, so a Glass  
Is sometimes broke for showing a foul Face.  
There's none that wish thee Rods, instead of Bays,  
But such whose very Hate adds to thy Praise.  
Let Scribblers (that write Post and versify  
With no more Leisure than we cast a die)  
Spur on their Pegasus and proudly cry,  
This Verse I made i'th'twinkling of an Eye;  
Thou couldst have done so, hadst thou thought it fit,  
But 'twas the Wisdom of thy Muse to sit  
And weigh each Syllable, suffering nought to pass,  
But what could be no better than it was.  
Those that keep pompous State, ne'er go in haste;  
Thou wentest before them all, though not so fast;  
While their poor Cob-web-stuff finds as quick Fate,  
As Birth, and sells like Alm'nacks out of Date.  
The marbled Glory of thy laboured Rhyme  
Shall live beyond the Calendar of time,  
Who will their Meteors 'bove the Sun advance;  
Thine are the Works of Judgement, theirs of Chance.  
How this whole Kingdom's in thy Debt, we have  
From others Periwigs and Paint, to save  
Our ruin'd Sculls, and Faces; but to thee  
We owe our Tongues, and Fancies Remedy.  
Thy Poems make us Poets, we may lack  
(Reading thy Book) stolen Sentences and Sack.  
He that can but one Speech of thine rehearse,  
Whether he will or no, must make a Verse.  
Thus Trees give Fruit, the Kernels of that Fruit  
Do bring forth Trees, which in more Branches shoot.  
Our Canting English of itself alone,  
I had almost said a Confusion,  
Is now all Harmony; what we did say  
Before was tuning only, this is Play.  
Strangers who cannot reach thy Sense, will throng  
To hear us speak the Accents of thy Tongue,  
As unto Birds that sing: If't be so good  
When heard alone, what is't when understood!  
Thou shalt be read as Classic Authors; and  
As Greek and Latin taught in every Land.  
The cringing Monsieur shall thy Language vent,  
When he would melt his Wench with Compliment.  
Using thy Phrases, he may have his Wish,  
Of a coy Nun, without an angry Pish.  
And yet in all thy Poems there is shown  
Such Chastity, that every Line's a Zone.  
Rome will confess that thou mak'st Caesar talk  
In greater State and Pomp than he could walk.  
Cataline's Tongue is the true Edge of Swords,  
We now not only feel, but hear thy Words;  
Who Tully in thy Idiom understands,  
Will swear that his Orations are Commands:  
But that which could with richer Language dress  
The highest Sense, cannot thy Words express.  
Had I thy own Invention which affords  
Words above Action, Matter above Words,  
To crown thy Merits, I should only be  
Sumptuously poor, low in Hyperbole.    

Another on Ben. Johnson.  

WHo first reformed our Stage with justest Laws,  
And was the first best Judge in his own Cause,  
Who (when his Actors trembled for Applause)  
Could (with a Noble Confidence) prefer  
His own, by Right, to a noble Theatre;  
From Principles, which he knew could not err.  
Who to his Fable did his Person fit,  
With all the Properties of Art and Wit,  
And above all that could be acted, writ.  
Who Public Follies did to Covert drive,  
Which he again could cunningly retrieve,  
Leaving them no Ground to rest on and thrive.  
Here johnson lies, whom had I named before,  
In that one Word alone I had paid more,  
Than can be now, when Plenty makes me poor.    

To his Mistress.  

COme (dearest julia) thou and I  
Will knit us in so strict a Tye,  
As shall with greater Power engage,  
Than feeble Charms of Marriage;  
We will be Friends, our Thoughts shall go,  
Without Impeachment, to and fro;  
The same desires shall elevate  
Our mingled Souls, the selfsame Hate  
Shall cause Aversion, we will hear  
One sympathising Hope and Fear;  
And for to move more close, we ●…rame  
Our Triumphs and our Tears the same:  
Yet will we ne'er so grossly dare,  
As our Ignobler selves to share;  
Let Men desire like those above,  
Spiritual Forms we'll only love;  
And teach the ruder World to shame;  
When Heat increaseth to a Flame:  
Love's like a Landscape, which doth stand,  
Smooth at a distance, rough at Hand.    

A Sight of the Ruins of St. Paul's.  

Homers' vast Iliads found so small a Cell,  
They reclused were to th'cloister of a Shell;  
There Fate attends, there Ruin, Paul's must be  
Unto itself both Urn and Elegy.  
But must the Marble from thy Carcase rend,  
Thy Glory once, now turn thy Monument?  
Can there no Sheet, nor Cerecloth be allowed,  
But thy own Lead to be thy Funeral-shroud?  
Since by their public Vote this was thy Doom,  
Thou and Religion are to have one Tomb,  
And wrapped up in a heap of Ruins, lie  
Entombed i'th'Center of an Anarchy.  
Must thou thyself, thy crumbled self inter  
And to thyself, be thy own Sepulchre?  
Nay, must thy Ruins too, in stead of Verse,  
Hang like dull Pendants on thy scattered Hearse?  
Sure when the Eastern Monarches shook away  
The narrow Circumscription of their Clay,  
'Twas thought contracted Mankind did expire,  
And mix its Ashes with their Funeral Fire.   

Such Hecatombs of dying Tribes became  
Unto their Urns both Hecatomb and Flame;   

So now, the unhallowed Breath of Storms, have thrown  
This Pile into a rude Confusion;  
And from its Aged Head fierce Zeal hath torn  
That Reverend Pomp which there so long was worn;  
That now its Face appears like withered Care,  
Or wilder than the Looks of Fevers are.  
All other Churches, which like lesser Rays,  
Darted their Light, from this Sun's Nobler Blaze,  
Did into Order, and fair Figure fall,  
As Transcripts drawn from this Original;  
Lest this sad Heap its Funeral-rite should lack,  
Each wears its Ruins like to solemn Black:  
But if this will not serve, the Dust of those  
Which slumber in their Silence and Repose  
Of their cold Urns, will like an Earthquake swell,  
And break the gloomy Cloister of each Cell,  
That treasures up their drowsy Clay, and make  
All the Convulsed Limbs of London shake,  
So long until it drop one Heap, and be  
At once its Mourner, Tomb, and Obsequy.    

A Relation of a Quaker, that to the shame of his Profession, attempted to bugger a Mare near Colchester.  

ALl in the Land of Essex  
Near Colchester the Zealous,  
On the side of a Bank,  
Was played such a Prank,  
As would make a Stone-horse jealous.  
Help Woodcock, Fox, and Nailor  
For Brother Green's a Stallion,  
Now alas what Hope,  
Of converting the Pope,  
When a Quaker turns Italian.  
Unto our whole Profession,  
A scandal 'twil be counted,  
When 'tis talked with Disdain  
Amongst the profane,  
How Brother Green was mounted.  
And in the Good time of Christmas,  
Which though the Saints have damned all,  
Yet when did they hear  
Of a damned Cavalier,  
Ere played such a Christmas Gambal.  
Had thy Flesh, O Green, been pampered  
With any Creature unhallowed;  
Hadst thou sweetened thy Gumbs  
With Pottage of Plumbs,  
Or profane minced Pie hadst swallowed:  
Rolled up in wanton Swine's Flesh,  
The Fiend might have crept into thee,  
Then Fullness of Gut  
Might have made thee Rutilio,  
And the Devil so have rid through thee.  
But alas! he had been feasted  
With a Spiritual Collation  
By our frugal Mayor,  
Who can dine with a Prayer  
And sup with an Exhortation.  
'Twas mere Impulse of Spirit,  
Though he used the Weapon carnal,  
Filly foal, quoth he,  
My Bride, thou shalt be:  
Now how this is Lawful, learn all.  
For if no Respect of Persons  
Be due amongst the Sons of Adam,  
In a large Extent,  
Than it may be meant  
That a Mare's as good as a Madam.  
Then without more Ceremony  
Nor Bonnet veiled, nor kissed her,  
He took her by Force  
For better for worse,  
And he used her like a Sister.  
Now when in such a Saddle  
A Saint will needs be riding,  
Though I dare not say  
'Tis a falling away,  
May there not be some Back-●…iding?  
No surely, quoth james Nailor,  
'Twas but an Insurrection  
Of the Carnal Part,  
For a Quaker in Heart  
Can never lose Perfection.  
For so our Matters teach us,  
The Intent being well directed,  
Though the Devil trapan  
The Adamical Man,  
The Saints stand uninfected;  
But yet a Pagan Jury  
Still judges what's intended,  
Then say what we can,  
Brother Green's outward Man  
I fear will be suspended.  
And our Adopted Sister  
Will find no better Quarter,  
But when him we enrol  
For a Saint, Filly Foal  
Shall pass at least for a Martyr.  
Now Rome that spiritual Sodom,  
No longer is thy Debtor,  
O Colchester now  
Who's Sodom, but thou,  
Even according to the Letter?  
Help Woodoock Fox, and Nailor  
For Brother Green's a Stallion  
Now alas what Hope  
Of converting the Pope,  
When a Quaker turns Italian    

Upon a Talkative Woman.  

PEace Beldame Ugly, thou'lt not find  
M'Ears Bottles for enchanted Wind;  
That Breath of thine can only raise  
New Storms, and discompose the Seas.  
It may (assisted by thy Clatter)  
A Pigmaean Army scatter;  
Or move, without the smallest Strain,  
Loretto's Chapel once again,  
And blow St. Goodrick while he prays,  
And knows not what it is he says.  
And help false Latin with a Hem,  
From Finkley to jerusalem;  
Or in th'pacific Sea supply  
The Wind that Nature doth deny.  
What, dost thou think I can retain  
All this, and spout it out again?  
As a surcharged Whale doth spew  
Old Rivers to receive in new:  
Thou art deceived, even Aeolus' Cave,  
That can all other Blasts receive,  
Would be too small to let in thine:  
How then these narrow Ears of mine?  
Defect of Organs may with me pass,  
By Chance to pillorize an Ass;  
Yet should I shake his Ears, they'd be  
Not long enough to hark to thee.  
Yet if thou hast a Mind to hear,  
How high thy Voices Merits are;  
Go serve the States, thou'lt useful come,  
And have the Pay of every Drum;  
Or trudge to Utretcht, there outrun  
Dame Scuermans' Score of Tongues with one.  
But pray be still, for I do swear,  
No Torment's like that of the Ear.  
O let me when I chance to die  
In Vulcan's Anvil buried lie,  
Rather than hear thy Tongue once knell,  
That Tom a Lincoln and Bow-bell.    

The Second part of the Scots Apostasy.  

GO helpless Virgins, teach some calmer Breast  
To sing a Poean at a Marriage-feast;  
Inspire some puling Lover, or with some  
Sad Friend weep forth an Epicedium.  
To these you may be welcome, but God wot,  
You have not Gaul enough to name a Scot   

I must invoke the Furies to awake  
My Rage, and impeach Letter with a Snake;  
Help, help good Enyo, thou who dost delight  
In Blood and Slaughter, fill my Veins with spite,  
Prompt thou my dull Invention, and disperse  
Some potent Venom through my Basilick-verse;  
That so my Breath may blast them, and each Word  
Do Execution like the Halls-man's Sword.  
Were my Tongue forked, and dipped like my Mind,  
In Poison, though I left the Sting behind,  
Scots, you should feel it, you my Scorpion Rhimes  
Should reach, though Justice cannot reach your Crimes.  
How my Flesh trembles! O you cursed Brood  
Of Cain and judas-fatted with the Blood  
Of Innocents', how long will Heaven permit  
Your devilish Art, or you to practise it?  
Sleeps the Eternal Justice, or forbears  
Only for want of Executioners?  
'Tis so you have escaped, because no Curse  
Can be so great, but you deserve a worse.  
Your Sins have saved you, pray you take them home  
'Tis more than Innocence could do by some;  
Yet you have got a strange Prerogative,  
That which condemns you, makes you now alive;  
And though belike the Hangman he can draw  
No Blood, but what is forfeited by Law;  
Yet 'tis no humble Honour that you deign  
Observant of these Partians Discipline.  
Who dare affirm that Scots did never yet,  
Before their Thievery, did earn their Meat:  
Thus hopefully brought up, at length you got  
A Way how to outgo the Powder-plot;  
For had that Practice undiscovered stood,  
Some bad had likewise perished with the good:  
But you, right ●…mps of Satan, only bend  
Your Malice to betray the Innocent,  
Making the Jews your Pattern, letting pass  
Sentence on Christ, and sparing Barrabas.  
Nor could the meaner Rank of Men suffice  
Your Treachery, thence Profit none could rise;  
For what you had you'd seem to have forgot  
The devilish Maxims of Iscariot,  
The Grand Professor of your Doctrine, you,  
As he sold his, have sold your Master too.  
May be you thought like Joseph's Brethren, thus  
By selling him to make him Glorious:  
Hell take your Craft, 'twas judas taught you this,  
How to betray your Master with a Kiss;  
This is a Sin could not be patterned by  
The worst Examples of fell Tyranny.  
When as incensed Catiline, whose ●…ath  
Breathed it, prescribed the City nought but Death:  
When in his proud Conceit Rome seemed to burn,  
And did all really drop into his 〈◊〉.  
The ravished Virgin's ●…am, beastly Desire  
Was quenched with Blood, to quench that Goddess Fire;  
Yet her Impious Thoughts did not prevail  
So far, to set the Senators to Sale  
I must commend your plain Forefathers way,  
Who weary of their Prince did only ●…ay  
His Person, and then straight did 〈◊〉 a new,  
They never murdered the Title too;  
Yet were they counted Traitors in those times,  
But oh! What Disproportions in your Crimes,  
Their Hate was finite dying in his Fall,  
They killed; yours I●…te; and strikes at all  
Not only endangering your Prince's Health,  
But even murdering Majesty itself.  
They oft gave Money to be rid of one,  
But you take Money, that you might have none;  
And yet Religion must become the Veil  
To cover your Eno●…es withal.  
When Truth can witness that you never knew,  
More of Religion than the Name comes to.  
Oh monstrous times! more 〈◊〉, who force  
Heavens fairest Child to be Sins Stalking-horse!  
Could not the sacred Name of King re●…am  
You Avarice from such Impious Gain.  
No, were the Name of so much Worth to you,  
The Name had been made Mercenary too;  
For to such bold Attempters, as dare ●…ame  
A senseless Idol of the saving Name  
Of jesus: 'Twere an easy thing  
To make a Tyrant of the Name of King;  
And so with the same Colour Brute once sent  
The very Title into Banishment.  
You Bruits may do the like, and make a Room  
At least of this, though nothing else at Home.  
A cruel, faithless Nation, never true,  
But to yourselves; I should think Cowards too,  
But that I see you dare in fresh Deeds sport  
After this C●…me, and fear no Vengeance for't.    

The Definition of a Protector.  

what's a Protector? He's a stately Thing,  
That Apes it in the Nonage of a King.  
A Tragic Actor, Caesar in a Clown,  
He's a brass Farthing stamped with a Crown.  
A Bladder blown, with other Breathes pu●…t full,  
Not the Perillus, but Perillus Bull.  
Aesop's proud Ass veiled in the Lion's Skin,  
An outward Saint lined with a Devil within.  
An Echo whence the Royal Sound doth come,  
But just as a Barrel-head, sounds like a Drum.  
Fantastic Image of the Royal Head,  
The Brewers, with the King's Arms, quartered:  
He is a counterfeited Piece, that shows  
Charles his Effigies with a Copper Nose.  
In fine, he's one we must Protector call,  
From whom the King of Kings protect us all.   
PROTECTOR. Anagram. O Portet C. R.   

Upon the new Invention of flying with Chemical Magic, with a Description of his Castle of Comfort.  

TEll us no more of Icarus,  
Of Hypogryph, or Pegasus  
Or of Menippus' Journeying  
With Eagles, and with Vultures Wings;  
Nor of the Ganza's, which did soon  
Transport Don Diego to the Moon.  
These are Inventions old and stale,  
The dull Effects of muddy Ale;  
For we have got a newer Trick, Sir,  
Which far out does the famed Elixir.  
Give us a Man in Bulk as vast,  
As th'Tun at Heidelburg i'th'waste,  
Or greater if it well may be  
Than Garagantus two or three,  
We'll so calcine him, that he shall  
Even become Aerial▪  
Give us an Hostess fat and dull,  
With Guts at least a Dung ca●…t full,  
Whose Corpse appears in outward Show,  
Just like a Lump of leavened Dough,  
We can by Spirits and by Art  
Evaporate her carnal Part.  
And make her mount the Welkin blew,  
A Way that never any knew.   

About the middle of Long-Aker,  
(If I be not a great Mistaker)  
A noble high built Castle stands,  
Which far and near the Coast commands:  
A Lion Couchant guards the Door,  
Which though he gapes, yet doth not roar,  
And though his Teeth may chance to fright you,  
Yet you may enter, he'll not bite you.  
Here, here springs that Celestial Fount,  
Which makes both Souls and Bodies mount.  
The great Commander of this Fort,  
Tells you in Earnest, not in Sport.  
That heretofore his total Weight  
Was full three Hundred, sans deceit;  
But since he in this Place did fix,  
'Tis but two Hundred thirty six,  
Quickly he could put off this Load;  
But finding yet that his Abode  
Unto the World is necessary,  
He is content a while to tarry.  
But when dull Mortals shall begin,  
By their Ingratitude and Sin  
To fright him hence, then in a trice  
He'll fly away by this Device.  
Have you not seen i'th'Month of May,  
An Egg by Force of Phoebus Ray  
Drawn from the Earth, filled with a few  
Collected drops of Morning-dew?  
Can Dew do this and shall not we  
Believe more Volatility  
To be in Spirit sublimate?  
Yes that we will, in spite of Fate.  
Besides, the Stones which Mongi●…el  
Disgorges from the Mouth of Hell,  
Are so calcined, that at their Fall,  
They'll not in Water sink at all.  
Can Aetna's Flames do thus to Stones?  
And do we think that Flesh and Bones  
May not by a more subtle Fire,  
Be raised to Perfection higher?  
If Bodies all composed be  
Of Sulphur, Salt, and Mercury,  
Easie it is by Chemic Skill  
To make the fixed Salt volatile;  
Which being done, for Company  
The other will together fly.  
This is the Way, and only this,  
Whoever hits it, cannot miss.   

Come then Ingenious Souls, that may  
By this Discovery find a Way  
To seek new Worlds about the Spheres,  
And pull Endymion by the Ears.  
Let France and Spain enjoy their Wine,  
We have a Liquor more Divine,  
Which by the 〈◊〉 Approbation  
Is called A Cup of Consolation.  
This, this will make you mount the Skies,  
Like nimble-winged Mercuries,  
For who the Operation feels  
Of this, hath Wings in's Head and Heels.    

The Coachman of St. James'.  

THe whip again? Away, 'tis too absurd,  
That thou shouldst lash with Whipcord now, but Sword.  
I'm pleased to fantly how the glad Compact  
Of Hackney-Coachmen s●…ear at the l●…st Act.  
Hark how the scoffing Concourse hence derives  
The Proverb, needs most go when th'Devil drives.  
Yonder a Whipster cries, 'tis a plain Case,  
He turned us out, to put himself i'th'place;  
But God-a-mercy Horses once, for ye  
Stood to't, and turned him out, as well as we.  
Another, not behind them with his Mocks,  
Cries out, Sir, faith you were in the wrong Box,  
He did presume to rule, because forsooth  
Has been a Horse Commander from his Youth;  
But he must know there's Difference in the Reins  
Of Horses fed with Oats, and said with Grains.  
I wonder at his Frolic, for be sure  
Four pampered Coach-horses can sling a Brewer;  
But Pride will have a Fall, such the World's course is,  
He that can rule three Realms, can't guide four Horses.  
See him that trampled thousands in their Gore,  
Dismounted by a Party, but of four.  
But we have done with't, and we may him call,  
In's driving jehu, Phaeton in's fall:  
I would to God for these three Kingdoms sake,  
His Neck, and not the Whip had given the Crack.    

On Black Eyes.  

IN Faith, 'tis true, I am in Love,  
'Tis your black Eyes have made me so,  
My Resolutions they remove,  
And former Niceness overthrow.   

2.  
Those glowing Char-coals set on Fire  
A Heart, that former Flames did shun,  
Who as Heretic unto Desire  
Now's judged to suffer Matryrdom.   

3.  
But Beauty, since it is thy Fate,  
At distance thus to wound so sure,  
Thy Virtues I will imitate,  
And see if Distance prove a Cure.   

4.  
Then farewell Mistress, farewel Love,  
Those lately entertained Desires,  
Wise Men can from that Plague remove;  
Farewell black Eyes, and farewel Fires.   

5.  
If ever I my Heart acquit  
Of those dull Flames, I'll bid a Pox  
On all black Eyes, and swear they're fit  
For nothing but a Tinderbox.    

In Nuptias Principis Auranchii & D. Mar●…e filiae Regis Angliae.  

FAma Refert nostris terras haesisse batâunas,  
Atque unum quondam gentibus esse solum;  
Oceanumque, duas qui nunc interluit Oras,  
Fluctibus haud semper disseovisse suis.  
Migrat in historiam fuer at quae fabula, taedis,  
Oceanusque tuo jam tandem pulsus amore est;  
Et cedunt flammis, pontus & unda tuis;  
Dùm populus populi procus est, passusque sagittas  
Nubentis simili principis igne calet,  
Et tua dum nostras sociant sponsalia dextras;  
Connubii tandem faeder a nomen habent.  
Non sponsam, Fateor, paribus natalibus aequas,  
Nec similes thalamos fers similesve choras;  
Nec te tam magnis jactaso Regibus ortum,  
Nec stirpem decorant Regnater-ampla tuam:  
Haud tamen accedis minor; est pro sanguine virtus,  
Quodque illi Foelix, dat tibi forte genus.  
Par Sceptris Patris Gladius, tibi stemmate bellis  
Auxit, & antiquis Regibus aequa dedit.  
Par tua Regali victrix domus, hinc quoque nobis  
Majorum factis Imperialis aedes.  
Et licet in dotem sponsae non porrigis Indos,  
Sed plures conjux ferret Iberus opes;  
Sallus & in thalamos Rueret magis aureus, & te  
Ex arcâ vincat Natio multa suâ:  
Tu tamen in dotem patris clara armae ministrans  
Ferrato in Gremium ditior Imbre ruis;  
Amplior & sors est Indis, ad ferre triumphos,  
Et par possesso victus Iberus adest.  
Cujus ad ereptum, plus est quòd nasceris, Aurum,  
quam natum; Gemina est India capta, tua.  
Fersque polococtum, dives sub utroque metallum;  
Et cadit in fiscum sol, oriturque, tuum;  
Dùm toties tibi vectat opes Hispania victas;  
Cedit & in sensus annua praeda tuos.  
Nasceris, & puerum gens spoliate timet,  
Aetatique metus nutrit, versatque coaevos;  
Atque annis fingit damna futura tuis.  
Anticipatque tuos, Infantia laeta, triumphos,  
Dum tenero fortis Spira●… in ore Pater.  
Qui sua bella, tuo cernet, sed mollia, vultu;  
Misceturque tuis Marte cupido genis.  
Hic gemina oppositis vibrantur vulnera telis,  
Currit ad haec conjux, hostis & illa fugit.    

Upon the Marriage of the young Prince of Orange with the Lady Mary.  

WE are no longer Island, speedily  
Cement these Hands, Priest; these our Isthmus be,  
Nor does the Sea divide us, but's become  
Our Wedding Ring, Type of our Union.  
Yet Wedding's a 〈◊〉 private Style, for this  
Not a plain 〈◊〉 Match, but a ●…ague is;  
A League that shall incorporate these two  
Nations, and that third which shall spring from you▪  
Make haste then, and prevent your Years, we all  
Long till we may the Belgian, Cousin call.  
While thus you couple young, you seem to be  
Espoused; not by Consent, but Sympathy.  
And like the Vine and Elm secure from Strife  
Embrace as horn, not as made Man and Wife.  
And you may like the Vine too multiply,  
That he, who shall sum up your Progeny,  
May be persuaded that you did bring forth  
Not Twins, but Clusters; while their Native Worth  
Antedates, breeding, and your Issues are  
Each Babe a sucking Hero, Infant Star.  
But why do I these needless Fancies vent?  
Your Marriage is an Act of Parliament.  
The State's your Priest, your People too, whose▪  
You voted thus, thus signed, think you to be  
Not wedded but enacted, and do since  
Acknowledge you are now both Law and Prince.    

Another upon the same.  

'TIs vain to wish them Joys; nor is it meet  
Verses should pray, changing to knees their feet,  
This were thy Cry, God help you, to a Saint,  
Can Fullness fail, or Glorious Bodies faint?  
Votes are for meaner Wedlocks; where there is  
Some Doubt or Hazard of a lasting Bliss;  
But now such Labour's equally unwise,  
As is the Priest's that prays for Deities;  
Blessings are proper to this Union,  
As heat to Fire, or Light is to the Sun;  
Nor is't a Wonder, for the Prince did woe  
Not Birth, Age, Beauty, but Religion too:  
Here Faith and Reason courts, this Match doth prove  
Wisdom in Youth, and Policy in Love.  
Some Bridegrooms (like the Days) all Nations try  
And cheapen every Toy before they buy.  
When one is only Worthy, and worth all  
Those that were Rivals for the golden Ball,  
He could not look on more, without Offence;  
A Thirst of Choice had thwarted Providence.  
The Theban Hearth could not divide these Flames,  
Which burned through all the Seas, 'twixt Rbine and Thames.  
Nor were their Hearts linked by the Painter's Hand,  
Or Legates Voice, such Bonds are Ropes of Sand;  
They their own Counsel, happier Steps have trod,  
Who not salute the Image, but the God.  
Should he have had a Speaker, who (though young)  
Carries an ordered Babel in his Tongue?  
Or should her Beauty in faint Colours lie,  
When there's no Tablet worthy but his Eye?  
This Sun and Moon may safely join their Lips,  
Who by their Nearness banish all Eclipse.  
Their Flames and Flowers (stolen Kisses like) do make  
Equal Amends, and at once give and take.  
Here are such emulous Beauties, that some do  
Think them united in one Body too.  
So that our Eyes see double, as a Face;  
Though single in the Flesh, is two i'th'Glass,  
And 't must be so, unless that's now confessed,  
Which once was Soloecism, that both are best.  
And each is all; which large Perfections are  
Beyond our Hopes and Faiths as well as Prayer:  
Thus then, here's nothing wanting, yet we may,  
Although not for them, to them humbly pray.  
Grant then Illustrious Prince (for we do vow  
To know no Nuptial Deity but you)  
Grant us our Boon, although your abler parts  
Make this a truer Marriage of the Arts;  
Yet throw your Euclid by, and only look  
To th'Propositions of your living Book,  
And you'll conclude Truth doth more clearly lie  
There, than i'th'Maxims of Philosophy.  
Measure over all her Limbs, and you will see  
No such Proportions in Geometry;  
Instead of Heavens rude Globes, survey her Eyes,  
There lurks no Snake, or Scorpion in those Skies.  
You'll there find richer Spheres, and blushing tell  
How in those Points Angels, like you, do dwell.  
Since she to day made you a Number, try  
Part of one Art alone to multiply;  
Think of no Tactics, but of those which are  
Read in the martial'd Orders of her Hair.  
Though you with Victory have Armies led,  
'Twas not so great a Triumph as to wed,  
Such Fetters will increase your Liberty;  
Count not these Bonds amongst your Armoury.  
Thus Prisons prove strong Forts, and Foes are slain  
The second time, now by a Captive Chain.   

And you (most gracious Lady, who alone  
Are all the Goddesses we call upon)  
Wear not too many Pearls, unless it be  
Upon a day of sad Humility.  
When you keep Masks, or celebrate a Feast,  
If you'd be Rich or Glorious, come undressed.  
Gems do but hide Sparks of a brighter hue;  
Those that are Stars to some, are Clouds to you;  
Think of no Jewel, but the Union  
That which the Priest, not Ladies did put on,  
And then you'll find true Lustre; Eyes are dim,  
And weary with the Light, but not of him;  
When you have made his Arms your Seat, be't known,  
'tis to debase yourself, to sit i th'Throne.    

An Epitaph on Ben. Johnson.  

THe Muses fairest Light in no dark time,  
The Wonder of a Learned Age; the Line  
Which none can pass, the most proportioned Wit  
To Nature, the best Judge of what was fit:  
The deepest, plainest, highest, clearest Pen;  
The Voice most echoed by consenting Men;  
The Soul which answered best to all, well said  
By others, and which most requital made:  
●…un'd to the highest Key of ancient Rome,  
●…eturning all her Music with his own:  
〈◊〉 whom with Nature, Study claimed a Part,  
Yet who unto himself owed all this Art:  
Here lies Ben. johnson, every Age will look  
With Sorrow here, with Wonder on his Book.    

On one that was deprived of his Testicles.  

THou Neuter Gender! Whom a Gown  
Can make a Woman, Breeches none:  
Created one thing, made another,  
Not a Sister, scarce a Brother:  
Jack of both sides, that may bear,  
Or a Distaff, or a Spear,  
If thy Fortune thither call,  
Be the Grand Seignors General;  
Or if thou fancy not that Trade,  
Turn th'sultana Chambermaid;  
A Medal where grim Mars turn right,  
Proves a smiling Aphtodite;  
How doth Nature quibble, either  
He, or she, Boy, Girl, or neither.  
Thou may'st serve great jove, instead  
Of Hebe both and Ganymed:  
A Face both stern and mild, Cheeks bare,  
That still do only promise Hair.  
Old Cybele the first in all  
This humane predicamental Scale,  
Why should she choose her Priests to be  
Such Individuums as ye?  
Such Insectas, added on  
To Creatures by Substraction;  
In whom Nature claims no part,  
Ye only being Words of Art.    

To his Mistress.  

WHat Mystery is this? That I should find  
My Blood, in kissing you, to stay behind  
'Twas not for want of Colour, that required  
My Blood for Paint: no Dye could be desired  
On that fair Cheek, where Scarlet were a Spot,  
And where the Juice of Lilies but a Blot:  
If at the Presence of a Murderer,  
The Wound will bleed, and tell the Cause is there  
A touch will do much more; even so my Heart,  
When secretly it felt your kill Dart,  
Showed it in Blood, which yet doth more complain  
Because it cannot be so touched again.  
This wounded Heart, to show its Love most true,  
Sent forth a drop, and wrote its Mind to you:  
Was ever Paper half so white as this?  
Or wax so yielding to the printed Kiss?  
Or seal so strong? No Letter e'er was writ,  
That could the Author's Mind so truly fit:  
For though myself to foreign Countries fly,  
My Blood desires to keep you Company.  
Here I could spill it all, thus I can free  
My Enemy from Blood, though slain I be;  
But slain I cannot be, nor meet with ill,  
Since, but to you, I have no Blood to spill.    

The Puritan.  

With Face and Fashion to be known,  
For one of sure Election,  
With Eyes all white, and many a Groan,  
With Neck aside to draw in Tone,  
With Harp in's Nose, or he is none.  
See a new Teacher of the Town,  
O the Town, O the Towns new Teacher.  
With Pate cut shorter than the Brow,  
With little Ruff starched you know how,  
With Cloak like Paul no Cape I trow.  
With Surplice none; but lately now,  
With Hands to thump, no Knees to bow.  
See a new Teacher, etc.   

With cozening Cough, and hollow Cheek,  
To get new Gatherings every Week,  
With Paltry Change of and to eke,  
With some small Hebrew, and no Greek,  
To find out Words, when stuff's to seek.  
See a new Teacher, etc.   

With Shopboard Breeding, and Intrusion,  
With some Outlandish Institution,  
With Ursin's Catechism to muse on,  
With Systems Method for Confusion,  
With Grounds strong laid of mere Illusion.  
See a new Teacher, etc.   

With Rites indifferent all damned,  
And made unlawful, if commanded,  
Good Works of Popery down-banded,  
And Moral Laws from him estranged,  
Except the Sabbath still unchanged.  
See a new Teacher, etc.   

With Speech unthought, quick Revelation,  
With boldness in Predestination,  
With threats of absolute Damnation,  
For Yea and Nay hath some Salvation,  
For his own Tribe, not every Nation.  
See a new Teacher, etc.   

With after Licence cost a Crown,  
When Bishop new had put him down,  
With Tricks called Repetition,  
And Doctrine newly brought to Town,  
Of teaching Men to hang and drown.  
See a new Teacher, etc.   

With Flesh-provision to keep Lent,  
With Shelves of Sweetmeats often spent,  
Which new Maid bought, old Lady sent,  
Though to be saved a poor Present;  
Yet Legacies assure the Event.  
See a new Teacher, etc.   

With Troops expecting him at th' Door,  
That would hear Sermons, and no more;  
With noting Tools, and Sighs great store,  
With Bible's great to turn them over,  
While he wrists Places by the Score.  
See a new Teacher, etc.   

With running Text, the named forsaken,  
With For and But, both by Sense shaken,  
Cheap Doctrines forced, wild Uses taken,  
Both sometimes one, by Mark mistaken,  
With any thing to any shapen.  
See a new Teacher, etc.   

With new-wrought Caps, against the Canon,  
For taking Cold, though sure he have none;  
A Sermons End, where he began one,  
A new Hour long, when's Glass had run one,  
New Use, new Points, new Notes to stand on.  
See a new Teacher etc.    

The Flight.  

My Lelia stay,  
And run not thus like a young Roe away,  
No Enemy  
Pursues thee (foolish Girl) 'tis only I,  
I'll keep off Harms,  
If thou'lt be pleased to garrison mine Arms;  
What, dost thou fear  
I'll turn a Traitor? May these Roses here  
To Paleness shred,  
And Lilies stand disguized in new Red,  
If that I lay  
A Snare, wherein thou wouldst not gladly stay.  
See, see the Sun  
Does slowly to his Azure Lodging run,  
Come, sit but here,  
And presently he'll quit our Hemisphere;  
So still, among  
Lovers, time is too short, or else to long;  
Here will we spin  
Legends for them that have Love's Martyrs been;  
Here on this Plain,  
We'll talk Naroissus to a Flower again:  
Come here, and chose  
On which of these proud Plaits thou wouldst repose:  
Here may'st thou shame  
The rusty Violets with the crimson Flame  
Of either Cheek,  
And Primroses, white as thy Fingers seek;  
Nay thou may'st prove,  
That Man's most Noble Passion is to love.    

To a Lady that wrought a Story of the Bible in Needlework.  

COuld we judge here, most virtuous Madam, than  
Your Needle might receive Praise from our Pen:  
But this our Want bereaves it of that part,  
Whilst to admire and thank is all our Art.  
The Work deserves a Shrine: I should rehearse  
Its Glory in a Story not in Verse.  
Colours are mixed so subtly, that thereby  
The Strength of Art doth take and cheat the Eye:  
At once a thousand we can gaze upon,  
But are deceived by their Transition.  
What Touches is the same, Beam takes from Beam;  
The next still like, yet differing in the Extreme.  
Here runs this Tract, whither we see that tends,  
But cannot say, Here this, or there that ends;  
Thus, while they creep insensibly we doubt,  
Whether the one pours not the other out.  
Faces so quick and lively, that we may  
Fear, if we turn our Backs, they'll steal away.  
Postures of Grief so true, that we may swear  
Your artful Finger have wrought Passion there:  
View we the Manger and the Babe, we thence  
Believe the very Threads have Innocence;  
Then on the Cross, such Love, such Grief we find,  
As 'twere the Transcript of our Saviour's Mind:  
Each Parcel so expressive, each so fit,  
That the whole seems not so much wrought as writ:  
'Tis Sacred Text all, we may quote, and thence,  
Extract what may be passed in our Defence.  
Blessed Mother of the Church, be in the List  
Reasoned with four, a She-Evangelist.  
Nor can the Style be Profanation, when  
The Needle may convert more than the Pen;  
When Faith may come by Seeing, and each Leaf,  
Rightly perused, prove Gospel to the Deaf:  
Had not that Helen haply found the Cross,  
By this your Work you had repaired that Loss.  
Tell me not of Penelope, we do  
See a Web here more chaste and sacred too.  
Where are ye now, O Women, ye that sow  
Temptations, labouring to express the Bow  
Of the blind Archer? Ye that rarely set  
To please your Loves, a Venus in a Net?  
Turn your Skill hither, than we shall, no Doubt,  
See the King's Daughter Glorious too without.  
Women sowed only Fig-leaves hitherto;  
Eves Nakedness is only clothed by you.    

To the King.  

THe Prince hath now an Equal, and may see  
A Fellow to his Sports, as great as he:  
Nor need he lessen Birth, or fall from State,  
Or he deposed to an Associate;  
Or else to fit Companions to his Play,  
Need lay your Sceptre or your Crown away.  
And now you may behold Sir, by your side,  
Your Royal self grown more, and multiplied;  
And those past Years, before and since your Reign,  
May in your Children see lived over again;  
Who are your Emblems; and though none be free  
From Fate, yet you in them Immortal be;  
And whilst we may preserve your Living thus,  
When e'er you die, you not depart from us;  
Your Sons will keep most of you from the Grave,  
So, though we change, we no new King shall have.  
You only will be varied; as a Grain  
Lost in a Harvest, more returns again.  
And though perchance we cannot say like those,  
Who are Heirs to their Father's Eyes or Nose,  
Report his Look, and are so justly faced  
Like him, as if they were not born but cast,  
That all these Signs we in the Princes find,  
Yet sure, there is more likeness in their Mind;  
Which you conveyed them through their Mother, who  
Even thus did travel with your Virtues too,  
Which to descend to our dull Sense and Earth,  
Comes to us in their shapes, and suffer Birth,  
And be your Offspring, who when Chronicle  
Is all we have, and Annals only tell  
Your Deeds and Actions, and when Men shall look  
And see the Prince and Duke do all the Book,  
And live your Royal Story, and that all  
Which you did well, was but prophetical;  
Will not be thought as your Posterity,  
But you in them will your Successor be.    

To the Queen, upon the Birth of her first Daughter.  

AFter the Prince's Birth, admired Queen,  
Had you proved barren, you had fruitful been;  
And in one Heir born to his Father's Place  
And Royal Mind, had brought us forth a Race;  
But we, who thought we wished enough to see  
A Prince of Wales, have now a Progeny;  
And you being perfect now, have learned the Way  
To be with Child as oft as we can pray.  
So that henceforth, we need no Altars vex  
With empty Vows, being heard in either Sex:  
Nor have we all our Kingdoms Incense tried  
So many Years, only to be denied.  
We no Desires but thankful Offerings bring,  
That bearing many, you prefer the King,  
And to us yet have but one Daughter shown;  
Who else had been the Original alone,  
Without a Copy: For the Shapes we see  
In Tables of you but bright Errors be;  
Nor could we hope Art could beget an Heir  
To that sweet Form, unless yourself did bear  
Your Portraiture, and in a Daughter show,  
That of yourself, which yet no Painter drew;  
Who with his subtle Hand, and wisest Skill,  
Hath hitherto but strived to draw you ill;  
And when he takes his Pencil from your Look,  
Finds Colours make you but a Piece mistook,  
And so paints Treason, nor would have Pretence  
To scape, but that he limns a fair Pretence:  
But in the Princess you are writ so plain  
And true, that in her you were born again.  
And when we see you both together placed,  
You are your Daughter, only grown in haste.  
In both we may the selfsame Graces see,  
But that they yet in her but Infant be,  
Not Woman Beauties; nor will we despair  
The Prince and Duke of York have equal Share  
In your Perfection, which, though they divide,  
Make them both Prince enough by th'Mothers side:  
Whose Composition is so clear and good,  
That we can see Discourses in your Blood,  
And understand your Body, so refined,  
That of you might be born a Soul or Mind.  
O may you still be fruitful, and begin  
Henceforth to make our Year by lying in.  
May we have store of Princes, and they live  
Till Heralds doubt what Titles they should give.  
To this, may you be young still, and no other  
Signs of more Age found in you, but a Mother.    

Upon one that preached in a Cloak.  

See you the Cloak at Church to day,  
The long-worn short Cloak lined with Say?  
What had the Man no Gown to wear?  
Or was this sent him from the Mayor?  
Or is't the Cloak which Nixon brought  
To trim the Tub, where Golledge taught?  
Or can this best conceal his Lips,  
And show Communion sitting Hips?  
Or was the Cloak St. Paul's? If so,  
With it he found the Parchments too;  
Yes, verily, for he hath been  
With mine Host Gaius, at the new Inn.  
A Gown (God bless us) trails o'th'Floor,  
Like th'Petticoat o'th'Scarlet Whore,  
Whose large stiff Plates, he dare confide,  
Are Ribs from Antichrists own side:  
A mourning Cope if it look to th'East,  
Is the black Surplice of the Beast.    

A Song of SACK.  

COme let us drink away the time,  
A Pox upon this pelting Rhyme,  
When Wine runs high, Wit's in the Prime:  
Drink and stout Drinkers, are true Joys,  
Odd Sonnets and such little Toys,  
Are Exercises fit for Boys.   

2.  
The whining Lover that doth place  
His Fancy on a painted Face,  
And wastes his Substance in the Chase  
Would ne'er in Melancholy pine;  
Had he Affections so Divine,  
As once to fall in Love with Wine.   

3.  
Then to our Liquor let us sit,  
Wine makes the Soul for Action fit,  
Who drinks most Wine, hath the most Wit:  
The Gods themselves do Revels keep,  
And in pure Nectar tipple deep,  
When slothful Mortals are asleep▪   

4.  
They fuddled me for Recreation,  
In Water, which by all Relation  
Did cause Deucalion's Inundation;  
The Spangle Globe had it almost.  
Their Cups were with Salt-Water dost,  
The Sunburnt Centre was the Toast.   

5.  
The Gods than let us imitate,  
Secure from carping Care and Fate;  
Wine, Wit, and Courage both create:  
In Wine Apollo always chose  
His darkest Oracles to disclose,  
'Twas Wine gave him his Ruby-nose.   

6.  
Who dares not drink, 's a wretched Wight,  
Nor do I think that Man dares fight  
All Day, that dares not drink all Night:  
Come fill my Cup until it swim  
With Foam, that overlooks the Brim.  
Who drinks the deepest? Here's to him.   

7.  
Sobriety and Study breeds  
Suspicion in our Acts and Deeds,  
The downright Drunkard no Man heeds:  
Give me but Sack, Tobacco store,  
A drunken Friend, a little Whore;  
Provide me these, I'll ask no more.    

A Time-Sonnet.  

NOw that our Holy Wars are done  
Between the Father and the Son;  
And since we have by Righteous Fate,  
Distressed a Monarch and his Mate,  
And forced their Heirs flee into France,  
To weep out their Inheritance:  
Let's set open all our Packs,  
That contain ten thousand Racks,  
Cast on the Shore of the Red Sea,  
Of Naseby and of Newberry.  
If then you will come provided with Gold,  
We dwell close by Hell, where we'll sell  
What you will, that is ill  
For Charity waxeth cold.   

2.  
Hast thou done Murder, or Blood spilt;  
We can soon get another Name,  
That will keep thee from all Blame;  
But be it still provided thus,  
That thou hast once been one of us;  
Gold is the God that shall pardon the Gild:  
For we have  
What shall save  
Thee from th'Grave;  
Since the Law  
We can awe,  
Although a famous Prince's Blood were spilt.   

3.  
If a Church thou hast bereft  
Of its Plate, 'tis Holy Theft.  
Or for Zeal sake, if thou be'st  
Prompted on to be a Thief;  
Gold is a sure prevailing Advocate.  
Then come, bring a Sum, Law is dumb,  
And submits to our Wits;  
For it's Policy guides a State.    

The Parliament.  

MOst Gracious and Omnipotent,  
And Everlasting Parliament,  
Whose Power and Majesty  
Is greater, than all Kings by odds;  
And to account you less than Gods,  
Must needs be Blasphemy.   

2.  
Moses and Aaron ne'er did do  
More Wonder, than are wrought by you  
For England's Israel;  
But though the Red Sea we have passed,  
If you to Canaan bring's at last,  
Is't not a Miracle?   

3.  
In six Years space you have done more,  
Than all the Parliaments before;  
You have quite done the Work.  
The King, the Cavaller, and Pope,  
You have o'erthrown, and next we hope  
You will confound the Turk.   

4.  
By you we have Deliverance,  
From the Design of Spain and France,  
Ormond, Montross, the Danes;  
You aided by our Brethren Scots,  
Defeated have Malignant Plots,  
And brought your Sword to Cain's.   

5.  
What wholesome Laws have you ordained?  
Whereby our Property's maintained  
Against those would us undo;  
So that our Fortunes and our Lives,  
Nay, what is dearer, our own Wives,  
Are wholly kept by you.   

6.  
Oh! What a flourishing Church and State  
Have we enjoyed e'er since you sat  
With a Glorious King (God save him:)  
Have you now made his Majesty,  
Had he the Grace but to comply,  
And do as you would have him?   

7.  
Your Directory how to pray  
By th' Spirit, shows the perfect Way.  
In Zeal you have abolished  
The Dagon of the Common-prayer,  
And next we see you will take Care,  
That Churches be demolished.   

8.  
A Multitude in every Trade  
Of painful Preachers you have made  
Learned, by Revelation:  
Cambridge and Oxford made poor Preachers,  
Each Shop affordeth better Teachers,  
O Blessed Reformation!   

9  
Your Godly Wisdom hath found out  
The true Religion, without Doubt;  
For sure among so many,  
We have five Hundred at the least,  
Is not the Gospel much increased?  
All must be pure, if any.   

10.  
Could you have done more piously,  
Than sell Church-Lands the King. to buy,  
And stop the City's Plenty?  
Paying the Scots-Church-Militant,  
That the new Gospel helped to plant,  
God knows they are Poor Saints.   

11.  
Because th' Apostles Creed is lame,  
Th' Assembly doth a better frame,  
Which saves us all with Ease;  
Provided still we have the Grace  
To believe th' House in the first Place,  
Be our Works what they please.   

12.  
'Tis strange your Power and Holiness,  
Can't the Irish Devil dispossess,  
His End is very stout;  
But though you do so often pray,  
And every Month keep Fastingday,  
You cannot cast them out.    

On the Maypole.  

THe Mighty Zeal which thou hast late put on,  
Neither by Prophet, nor by Prophet's Son  
As yet prevented, doth transport me so  
Beyond myself, that though I ne'er could go  
Far in a Verse, and have all Rhimes defied,  
Since Hopkins and good Thomas Sternhold died;  
Except it were the little Pains I took,  
To please Good People in a Prayer Book  
That I set forth, or so; yet must I raise  
My Spirits for thee, who shall in thy Praise  
Gird up her Loins, and furiously run  
All kind of Feet, but Satan's cloven one.  
Such is thy Zeal, so well thou dost express it,  
That were't not like a Charm I'd said, God bless it.  
I needs must say it is a spiritual thing,  
To rail against the Bishop and the King:  
But these are private Quarrels, this doth fall  
Within the Compass of the General;  
Whether it be a Pole painted, or wrought  
Far otherwise then from the Wood 'twas brought,  
Whose Head the Idol-makers Hand doth crop,  
Where a profane Bird towering on the top,  
Looks like the Calf in Horeb, at whose Root  
The unyoakt Youth doth exercise his Foot:  
Or whether it preserves its Boughs befriended  
By Neighbouring Bushes, and by them attended.  
How canst thou choose but seeing it, complain  
That Baal's worshipped in the Groves again?  
Tell me how cursed an egging with a Sting.  
Of Lust, do these unwily Dances bring:  
The simple Wretches say they mean no harm,  
They don't indeed, but yet these Actions warm  
Our purer Blood the more: For Satan thus  
Tempts us the more that are more Righteous.  
Oft hath a Brother most sincerely gone  
Stifled with Zeal and Contemplation,  
Where lighting on the Place where such Repair,  
He views the Nymph, and is clean out in's Prayer.  
Oft hath a Sister grounded in a Truth,  
Seeing the jolly Carriage of the Youth,  
Been tempted to the Way that's broad and bad,  
And were't not for our private Pleasures, had  
Renounced her little Ruff and goggle Eye,  
And quit herself of the Fraternity.  
What is the Mirth, what is the Melody  
That sets them in this Gentiles Vanity?  
When in our Synagogues we rail at Sin,  
And tell Men of the Faults that they are in;  
With Hand and Voice so following our Themes,  
That we put out the Sides-men in their Dreams,  
Sounds not the Pulpit then which we belabour  
Better, and holier then doth a Tabor?  
Yet such is Unregenerate Man's Folly,  
He loves the wicked Noise, and hates the Holy.  
If the Sius sweet Enticing, and the Blood  
Which now begins to boil, have thought it good  
To challenge Liberty and Recreation;  
Let it be done in Holy Contemplation.  
Brother and Sister in the Field may walk,  
Beginning of the Holy Word to talk,  
Of David and Uriah's lovely Wife,  
Of Thamar and her lustful Brother's Strife:  
Then underneath the Hedge that is the next,  
They may sit down, and so act out the Text:  
Nor do we want (how e'er we live Austere)  
In Winter Sabbath Nights some lusty Cheer,  
And though the Pastor's Grace which oft doth hold  
Half an Hour long, make the Provision cold;  
We can be merry thinking never the worse,  
To mend the Matter at the second Course:  
Chapters are read, and Hymns are sweetly sung,  
Jointly commanded by the Nose and Tongue;  
Then on the Word we diversely dilate,  
Wrangling indeed for Heat of Zeal, not Hate.  
When at the length an unappeased Doubt  
Fiercely comes in, and then the Lights go out;  
Darkness thus makes our Peace, and we contain  
Our fiery Spirits till we meet again:  
Till than no Voice is heard, no Tongue does go,  
Unless a tender Sister shriek, or so.  
Such should be our Delights, grave and demure,  
Not so abominable and impure  
As those thou seekest to hinder, but I fear  
Satan will be too strong, his Kingdom's there:  
Few are the Righteous, nor do I know  
How this Idol here shall overthrow,  
Sin our sincerest Patron is deceased,  
The Number of the Righteous is decreased;  
But we do hope these times will on, and breed  
A Faction mighty for us, for indeed  
We labour all, and every Sister joins  
To have Regenerate Babes spring from our Loins.  
Besides what many carefully have done,  
To get the unrighteous Man a Righteous Son.  
Then stoutly on, let not thy Flocks range lewdly,  
In their old Vanities, thou Lamp of Beaudly;  
One thing I pray thee, do not so much thirst  
After Idolatries last fall, but first  
Follow thy Suit more close, let it not go,  
Till it be thine as thou wouldst have't, for so  
Thy Successors upon the same entail,  
Hereafter may take up the Whit-sun-Ale.    

To the Queen.  
Most Gracious Queen,  

IF Poets could be born, as oft as you  
Bring Princes forth, something might then be new;  
Th'alembics of the Womb and Brain run cross,  
Elixirs they're more common than our Dross.  
Your fair and beautiful Soil pure Manna breeds,  
When our dull Mud is barren too in Weeds:  
Though then you here find nothing fresh but Names,  
This Verse being writ for Charles and that for james;  
Yet may they now (like sacred Relics) be  
Loved and embraced for their Antiquity.  
Your former Teeming taught the costive Earth,  
And barren Wives the Fashion of a Birth;  
But now (as if your wise Fertility,  
An Extract were of all State-policy)  
You give Example unto Men, and teach  
Loyalty more than our Divines can reach.   

You that do practise base Exactions, and  
Rail at the needful Taxes of our Land,  
Thinking your Money better spent upon  
A Coach or Feast, or some new Fashion,  
Of devout Rebels, the Non-ships which be  
Walls that imprison us to Liberty,  
Like those Athenian Grandees, who to see  
The costly Madness of one Tragedy,  
Could scatter large Supplies, although 'twas known,  
This want made them Spectators of their own.  
Learn Homage now from Majesty, the Queen  
Herself hath here the best of Subjects been;  
She pays large Tribute, that it may appear,  
Safety, like Heaven, is never bought too dear.  
I've read of Roman Matrons, who did drown  
Their Richest Jewels, to preserve their Town;  
Stopping the Gulf with Pearls, which graced their Ears,  
They rather choose no Ornaments than Fears.  
And those brave Dames of Carthage were content  
To shave their dangling Tresses, which they lent  
For Cordage then, and gloried they could see  
What once was Pride, turned now to Subsidy:  
Baldness was Beauty there, nor did they care  
So they could bend their Bows, to lose their Hair.  
But you (Great Queen) contrive your Countries good,  
Not from your Locks Expense, but from your Blood.  
Each parcel of the Duke, bright as his Eyes,  
Proves you give Jewels of a wealthier Prize:  
Who, for a General Safety, wish to be  
Blest with the Pangs of your high Agony.  
Whilst the dull Lees of Man scarce deign to give  
Poor common Service, that themselves may live.    

Upon Tom of Christ-Church.  

THou that by Ruin dost repair,  
And by Destruction art a Founder:  
Whose Art doth tell us what Men are,  
Who by Corruption shall rise sounder:  
In this fierce Fires intensive Heat,  
Remember this is Tom the Great.  
And Cyclops think at every Stroke,  
Which with thy Sledge his Side shall wound,  
That then some Statute thou hast broke,  
Which long depended on his Sound;  
And that our College-gates did cry,  
They were not shut since Tom did die.  
Think what a Scourge 'tis to the City,  
To drink and swear by Carfax Bell,  
Which bellowing without Tune, or Pity,  
The Nights and Days divides not well;  
But the poor Tradesman must give o'er  
His Ale at Eight, or sit till four.  
We in all haste drink off our Wine,  
As if we never should drink more:  
So that the Reckoning after nine  
Is larger now than that before.  
Release this Tongue, which erst could say,  
Home Scholars; Drawer, what's to pay:  
So thou of Order shalt be Founder,  
Making a Ruler for the People,  
One that shalt ring thy Praises Wonder,  
Than th'other Six Bells in the Steeple:  
Wherefore think, when Tom is running,  
Our Manners wait upon thy Cunning.  
Then let him raised be from Ground,  
The same in Number, Weight, and Sound,  
So may thy Conscience rule thy Gain,  
Or would thy Theft might be thy Bane.    

On a Burning-Glass.  

STrange Chemistry! Can Dust and Sand produce  
So pure a Body, and diaphanous?  
Strange kind of Courtship! That the Amorous Sun,  
T'embrace a Min'ral, twists his Rays in one;  
Talk of the Heavens mocked, by a Sphere, alas!  
The Sun itself's here in a Piece of Glass:  
Let Magnets draw base Iron, this alone  
Can to her Icy Bosom win the Sun.  
Witches may cheat us of his Light a while,  
But this can him even of himself beguile:  
In Heaven he staggers to both Tropics, here  
He keeps fixed Residence all time's o'th'Year:  
Here's a perpetual Solstice, here he lies,  
Not on a Bed of Water, but of Ice;  
How well by this himself abridge, he might  
Redeem the Scythians from their lingering Night.  
How well by this Glass Proxy might he roll  
Beyond the Ecliptic, and warm either Pole;  
Had but Prometheus been so wise, h'had ne'er  
Scaled Heaven to light his Torch, but lighted here.  
Had Archimedes once but known this Use,  
H'had burnt Marcellus from proud Syrdcuse:  
Had Vesta's Maids of Honour this but seen,  
Their Lady's Fire had ne'er extinguished been:  
Hells Engines might have finished their Design  
Of Powder (but that Heaven did countermine)  
Had they but thought of this; th'Egyptians may  
Well hatch their Eggs without the Midwife Day;  
Why do not puling Lovers this devise,  
For a fit Emblem of their Mistress Eyes?  
They call them Diamonds, and say th'have been  
Reduced by them, to Ashes all within;  
But they'll assumeed, and ever hence 'twill pass,  
A Mistress Eye is but Loves Burning-Glass.    

Upon Sheriff Sanbourn.  

FIe, Scholars, fie; have you such thirsty Souls,  
To swell, quaff and carouse in Sandbourn's Bowls?  
Tell me, mad Youngsters, what do you believe,  
It cost good Sandbourn nothing to be Shrieve,  
To spend so many Beefs, so many Wethers,  
Maintaining so many Caps, so many Feathers?  
Again, Is Malt so cheap this pinching Year,  
That you should make such Havoc of his Beer?  
I hear you are so many that you make  
Most of his Men turn Tapsters, for your sake;  
And that when he even on the Bench doth sit,  
You snatched the Meat from off the hungry Spit;  
You keep such Hurly-burly, that it passes,  
Ingurgitating sometimes whole half Glasses,  
And some of you (Forsooth) are grown so fine  
Or else so saucy, as to call for Wine;  
As if the Sheriff had put such Men in trust,  
As durst draw out more Wine than needs they must:  
In Faith, In Faith, it is not well, my Masters,  
Nor fit, that you should be the Sheriff's Tasters;  
It were enough, you being such Gourmandisers,  
To make the Sheriffs, henceforth, turn arrant Misers;   

Remove th'Assize, to Oxford's foul Disgrace,  
To Henly on the Thames, or some such Place.  
He never had complained had it been  
A petty Firkin, or a Kilderkin:  
But when a Barrel daily is drawn out,  
My Masters, then it's time to look about.  
Is this a Lie, trow ye? I tell you, No,  
My Lord High-Chancellor was informed so.  
And oh! What would not all the Bread in Town  
Suffice, to drink the Sheriff's Liquor down?  
But he in Hampers must it from hence bring,  
Oh most prodigious, and most monstrous thing!  
Upon so many Loaves of Home-made Bread,  
How long might he and his two Men have fed?  
He would, no doubt, the Poor they should be fed  
With the sweet Morsels of his broken Bread;  
But when that they poor Souls for Bread did call,  
Answer was made, The Scholars eat up all.  
And when for broken Beer they craved a Cup,  
Answer was made, the Scholars drunk it up;  
And thus, I know not how they changed the Name  
But did the Deed, and Long-tail bore the blame.    

Not to travel.  

What need I travel, since I may  
More choicer Wonders here survey?  
What need I Tyre for Purple seek,  
When I may find it in a Cheek?  
Or sack the Eastern Shores, there lies  
More precious Diamonds in her Eyes?  
What need I dig Peru for Oar,  
When every Hair of her yields more?  
Or toil for Gums in India,  
Since she can breathe more rich than they?  
Or ransack afric, there will be  
On either Hand more Ivory?  
But look within all Virtues that  
Each Nation would appropriate,  
And with the Glory of them rest,  
Are in this Map at large expressed;  
That, who would travel, here might know  
The little World in Folio.    

The Schismatic.  

ONce I a curious Eye did fix  
To observe the Tricks  
Of the Schismatics of the Times;  
Viewing which of them spoke the merriest Theme,  
And best would befit my Rhimes;  
Arminians I found solid, Socinian were stolid,  
But the Papist for Learning doth stickle,  
Ha, ha, ha, Rotundus, Rotundus, 'tis you that my Spleen doth tickle.   

2.  
Next to tell you must not be forgot,  
How I did troth  
With a great Zealot, to a Lecture,  
Where I a Tub did view,  
Hung with an Apron blew  
'Twas the Preacher's I conjecture:  
His Use and Doctrine too,  
Was of no better Hue,  
Though taught with a tone most much,  
Ha, ha, ha, etc.   

3.  
He talked among other pretty things,  
That the Book of Kings  
Small Comfort brings  
To the Godly;  
Besides he had some Grudges  
Against the Book of judges,  
And talked of Leviticus oddly.  
But Wisdom most of all  
He held Apocryphal,  
Great Bell and the Dragon like Michael,  
His Preaching, like himself, was but fickle,  
Ha, ha, ha, etc.   

5.  
Against Humane Learning he next inveighs,  
And he boldly says,  
It is that which decays Inspiration.  
Those that Preferment merit,  
Are not like to wear it,  
In hopes of Reformation;  
Cut Bishops down in haste,  
And Cathedrals as fast,  
As Corn that is fit for the Sickle,  
Ha, ha, ha, etc.   

5.  
I heard of one did touch,  
He did tell as much,  
Of one that would not crouch  
At Communion;  
Who thrusting up his Hand  
Never made a Stand,  
Till he came where her f— had Union;  
She without all Terror,  
Thought it no Error,  
But did laugh, till the Tears down did trickle,  
Ha, ha, ha, Rotundus, Rotundus, 'tis you that my  
Spleen doth tickle.    

A Sermon.  
Harken I beseech you, with Fear and Reverence to these Words, as you may perhaps find them written in the Apocrypha, the Chapter and Verse you may find out at your Leisure; the Words to my best Remembrance are these, A Carpenter took his Axe, and hewed the Root of the Tree, which because it brought not forth good Fruit, it was instantly thrown into the Fire. Beloved, instantly is certainly, the Axe instrumentally hewing, orderly struck against the Root, effectually of the Tree, particularly of that Tree, impartially because it brought not forth; put all together, my Beloved, because it brought not forth good Fruit, instantly, effectually, particularly, instrumentally, orderly, proportionally, impartially, it is inevitably and fatally to be cast irresistably into the Fire Everlastingly, and so of these, and of all these, as the time shall permit; but the Glass it out, and so am I   

A Zealous Discourse between the Person of the Parish, and Tabytha.  Parson, 
HAil Sister to your snowy Breast  
The Word permitteth us to jest,  
Now Sermon's done, nor should you be  
Stiffnecked to the Ministry,  
As you may read it more at large  
In Dod's Commandments, or my Charge  
Last Sabbath in my Catechism;  
Wherein we prove they make a Schism,  
Who do deny us in the Night  
To strengthen you by Candle-light;  
And truly might my Reasons be  
But waved according to the Grand Committee  
For Reformation I would prove,  
That we out of sincere Love  
Our devout Spouses Room might take  
Each Sabbath for Repetition Sake:  
And verily of late 'tis said,  
More Eyes have opened from the Bed  
Than from the Pulpit, and we there  
Can sooner teach you how to bear.  Tabytha. 
In Truth I know not what to say,  
Replies this zealous Tabytha,  
But on those Nights I you assure,  
Our Husbands are too, too impure;  
And clog our Consciences too high  
With Seed that doth not fructify,  
As you may read. Ruth, where's my Book?  
It is in Matthew, Mark, john, or Luke.  
But would it not a scandal be  
Unto the New Presbytery?  Parson. 
No: For all things must be done,  
You know, for Edification;  
Which is no more in English, than  
The building up of Faithful Woman.  Tab. 
But hold, do these same Words proceed  
From the Beast's Language then indeed?  
Sure the Scotch or Geneva Print  
Hath no such Rags of Babel in't.  
Nay fie, Good Sir, what do you mean?  
In troth your Hand is too obscene;  
Evil Requests must be denied,  
Let go, my Placket's on my side;  
Why look you now; I pray be calm,  
The Spirit moves to sing a Psalm.  
The Hymn. The Post, that came from Banbury,  
Riding in a Blue Rocket,  
He swore he saw, when Lunsford fell,  
A Child's Arm in his Pocket.  Parson. 
I think I hear your Husband pray,  
Listen hark! so; and then why may  
Not a Sister, or a Brother  
Engender Grace in one another?  Tab. 
You preached against it, Sir.  Par. 
ay, so I must,  
Where it is only done for Lust;  
But I protest 'tis Zeal indeed,  
To propagate the Holy Seed,  
That moves me.  Tab. 
And indeed said she,  
I feel that self same Prick of Zeal in me,  
As it were thrusting me on still,  
Therefore, Good Sir, even do what you will.  
Why look you now; what Hurt's in this,  
I'll feal it with a Holy Kiss.  
And e'er your Husband say Amen,  
I'll do this great Work twice again.  Tabytha. 
Sir, make haste to rise,  
'Tis for my Evening Exercise;  
It will be Supper time I doubt,  
E'er I shall read my Chapter out.  
Besides alas! Oh! How do I  
Forget my Practice of Piety.  
Pray rectify my Gorget, smooth my Whisk, that our zealous Conflict may not be discerned by the Reprobate, the Children of Wrath, Firebrands of Hell, and Heirs to Destruction.   

On O. P. sick.  

YIeld Periwiged Impostor, yield to Fate,  
Religious Whistler, Mountebank of Fate,  
Down to the low'st Abyss, the blackest Shade  
That Night dares own, that so the Earth (thou'st made  
Loathsome by thousand Barbarisms) may be  
Delivered from Heaven's Vengeance, and from thee.  
The reeking Steam of thy fresh Villainies  
Would spot the Stars, and menstruate the Skies.  
Force them to break the League they've made with Men  
And with a Flood rinse the foul World again.  
Thy Bays are tarnished with thy Cruelties,  
Rebellions, Sacrilege, and Perjuries.  
Descend, descend, thou veiled Devil, fall  
Thou subtle Bloodsucker, thou Cannibal:  
Thy Arts are catching, cousin Satan too,  
Thou hast a trick more than he ever knew;  
He ne'er was Atheist yet, persuade him to't,  
The Schismatics will back thee Horse and Foot.    

An Answer to the Storm.  

'TIs well he's gone, (O had he never been)  
Hurried in Storms, loud as his crying Sin;  
The Pines and Oaks fell prostrate at his Urn,  
That with his Fame his— 〈◊〉  
Winds pluck up Roots, and fixed Cedars move,  
Roaring for Vengeance to the Heavens above;  
From Theft, like his great Romulus did grow,  
And such a Wind did at his Ruin blow.  
Strange that the lofty Trees themselves should fell  
Without the Axe, so Orpheus went to Hell;  
At whose Descent the stoutest Rocks were cleft,  
And the whole Wood its wont Station left;  
In Battle Hercules wore the Lion's Skin,  
But our fierce Nero wore the Beast within,  
Whose Heart was brutish more than Face or Eyes,  
And in the Shape of Man was in Disguise:  
Where ever Men, where ever Pillage lies,  
Like ravenous Vultures, our winged Navy flies,  
Under the Tropic we are understood,  
And bring home Rapine through a Purple Flood.  
New Circulations found, our Blood is hurled  
As round the lesser to the greater World.   

In civil Broils he did us first engage,  
And made three Kingdoms subject to his Rage:  
One fatal Stroke slew Justice, and the Cause  
Of Truth, Religion, and our sacred Laws.  
So fell Achilles by the Trojan Band,  
Though he still fought with Heaven its self in's hand.  
Nor would Domestic Spoil confine his Mind,  
No Limits to his Fury but Mankind.  
The British Youth, in Foreign Coasts are sent  
Towns to destroy, but more to Banishment;  
Who since they cannot in this Isle abide,  
Are confined Prisoners to the World beside;  
No Wonder then if we no Tears allow  
To him that gave us Wars and Ruin too.  
Tyrants, that loved him, grieved, concerned to see  
There must be Punish●…ent for Cruelty.  
Nature herself rejoiced at his Death,  
And on the Waters sung with such a Breath,  
As made the Sea dance higher than before,  
While her glad Waves came dancing to the Shore.    
FINIS   

THE Rustic Rampant, OR RURAL ANARCHY AFFRONTING Monarchy: IN THE INSURRECTION OF WAT TYLER.  
By I: C.  Claudian. 
Asperius nihil est humili cum surgit in altum.  
LONDON, Printed by R. Holt, for Obadiah Blagrave, at the Bear in St. Paul's Churchyard. 1687.   

john of Lydgate, Lib. 4.  

ANd semblably to put it at a proof,  
And execute it by clear Experience,  
One the most contrarious Mischief,  
Found in this Earth by notable Evidence,  
If only this by Fortunate violence,  
When that Wretches churlish of Feature  
The Estate of Princes unwarely doth recure.   

A Crown of Gold, is nothing according,  
For to be set upon a Knave's heed;  
A Foltish Clerk for to wear a Ring,  
acordeth not, who that can take heed,  
And in this World there is no greater Dread,  
Then Power give (if it be well sought)  
Unto such one that first rose up of Fought.   

There is no manner just Convenience  
A Royal Carbuncle, Ruby, or Garnet,  
For a chaste Emeraud of Uirtues Excellence,  
For Ind Saphires in Copper to be set,  
〈◊〉 Kind'ly Power in foul Metal is let,  
And so the State of politic puisance  
Is ever lost where Knaves have Governance.   

For a time they may well up ascend,  
Like windy Smokes their fumes spread,  
A crowned Ass plainly to comprehend,  
Void of Discretion is more for to dread  
Then is a Lion; for that one indeed  
Of his Feature is Mighty and Royal,  
Void of Discretion that other Beastial.   

The gentle Feature of a strong Lion,  
To prostrate People of kind is merciable,  
For unto all that fall afore him down,  
His Royal Puissance cannot be vengeable:  
But churlish ●…olves by Rigour untreatable,  
And folty She-asses eke of Beastialty,  
Failing Reason braid ever on Cruelty.   

Fone is so proud as he that can no good.  
The leuder heed the more Presumption,  
Most Cruelty and Vengeance in low Blood  
●…ith Malaper●…ness and Indiscretion,  
Of Churl and Gentle make this Division  
Of outhor of them I dare right well report  
Fro thence they came, thereto they will resort.    

To the Reader.  
THe Beginnings of the Second Richard's Reign are turmoiled with a Rebellion, which shook his Throne and Empire: A Rebellion, not more against Religion and Order, than Nature and Humanity too; a Rebellion never to be believed, but in the Age it was acted in, and our own, in which we find how terrible the Overflows of the common People (ever delighted in the Calamities of others) untied, and hurried on by their own Wills, and beastly Fury, must prove. Though Masanello is short of Tyler, yet if we compare that Fisherman with our Hind, the Neapolitan Mechanics, and our Clowns, we shall not find them much unlike; not in their sudden Flourish and Prosperity, not in the Mischiefs they did, and the barbarous savage Rudeness in the doing them: Masanello made a Show of foolish unseasonable Piety to the Prince and Archbishop, which became not his part, which made him the more imperfect Rebel, the worse Politician; however, he might seem the better Man; but these too might be but counterfeit Reverence, this might be his Disguise, and he might have come up to more, according to the new Lights, which we may imagine was breaking in. The Continuance and Misrule of these Worthies were much of a Length; in a few ' Days the Brands themselves had fired, broke upon their own Heads; they were plucked up before their full Growth, like airy flitting Clouds, they were blown over e'er they could pour down the Storm they were big with. The Colours of these Tumults were fair, and taking, such as their Architects Baal and Straw, the Priests had laid, such as the Masters of these Schools have delivered in all Ages. The Weal public, the Liberty of the freeborn People peeled, and flayed by the King's Taxes, and the cruel Oppression of the Gentry, justice, Reformation, or Regulation of Fundamental Laws long subverted (considerable Names if we may believe them) set them on. The King, his Glory, his Honour, his Safety, the King and the Commons are cried up. But the King was compassed with Traitors and Malignants, they will have it so, and it is their Care to remove them Root and Branch; they will fire the House to cleanse it; much other Business they had, much was amiss, much to be reform, but in the first Sally all is not noised; what was not handsome, what might give a fuller Fright was lapped up in Folds, to be discovered as they had thriven, to be swallowed, but gilded with a Victory: we know Crimes carried in a happy Stream of Luck, lose their Names in it, are Beautiful, and must be thought so: The Ordale of the Sword justified Caesar, and condemned Pompey, not his Cause. Adversae res etiam bonos detractant (says Sallust.) Good Men if they miscarry, do not only lose themselves but their Integrity, their justness, their Honesty; they are what the Conqueror pleases, and the silly Multitude, which ever admires the glitter of Prosperity, will hate them. Providence preserved the English Nation from this Blow. The Laurel of Success crowned not the Rebels, they crumble to their first Dust again, are ruined by their own Weight and Confusion. They had risen like those Sons of the Dragon's Teeth, in Tempests, without Policy or Advice. Their Leaders were merely fantastical, but Goblins and Shadows; Men willing to embroil, and daring, whose Courage was better than their Cause; and who to advance the Design would not boggle at a piece of Honesty, an Oath, a Protestation, or Covenant, a Verse of St. Paul, or St. Peter, a Case of Conscience in the Way of brave, bold, manly Spirits; yet without Heads or Wits to manage the Great Work, which in so vast a Body suddenly composed like the Spawns of Nile, of Slime and Dirt, of so different Parts, so unequal Members, was fatal to the Whole. Tyler had no Brains, he could not plot, nor contrive; and those about him were as heavy, as very Asses as himself: He is said to be a crafty Fellow, and of an Excellent Wit, but wanting Grace; yet crafty enough he was not for the great and dangerous Enterprise: A Marius (however Impious, for such he must be) pace pessimus, fitter to remove things, to overturn overturns, than for Peace; but (as Plutarch of him) subtle, faithless, one who could over do all Men in Dissembling, in Hypocrisy, practised in all the Arts of Lying (and some of these good Sleights Tyler wanted not) one who had Sense and judgement, to carry things on, as well as desperate Confidence to undertake, had become this part incomparably, had gone through with it; how easily under such a Captain (if we look upon the Weakness of the Opposition, and the Villainous Baseness of the Gentry) had the Frame of the ancient Building been razed, the Model must have held. Richard (whose Endeavours of Defence or Loyalty alone should have been killing) had not fallen by the Sword of Lancaster, he had found his Grave on Tower-hill, or Smithfield, where the faithful Liege's of his Crown were torn in pieces by these Cannibals. The Reverence due to the Anointed Heads of Kings began to fall away, and Naked Majesty could not guard where Innocency could not: But Tyler blinded by his own fatal Pride, throws himself foolishly upon the King's Sword, and by his overmuch Hast preserves him, whom he had vowed to destroy. The Heathens make it a Mark of the Divinity of their Gods, that they bestowed Benefits upon Mortal Men, and took nothing from them. The Clowns of the Idol upon this Rule were not very Heavenly, they were the meek Ones of those times, the only Inheritors of Right; the Kingdom was made a Prey by them, it was cantoned out to erect new Principalities for the Mock-Kings of the Commons; so their Chiefs or Captains would be called. Here, though the Title of Rebellion spoke fair, was shown somewhat of Ambition, and no little of unjust private Interest, no little of Self-seeking, which the Good of the People (in Pretence only) was to give Way to, and no Wonder for the good of the People properly, was merely to be intended of themselves: and no where but amongst those was the Commonwealth. Had these Thistles, these Brambles flourished, the whole Wood of Noble Trees had perished: If the violent casting other Men out of their Possessions, firing their Houses, cutting off their Heads, violating of all Rights, be thought God's Blessing, any Evidence of his owning the Cause; these Thiefs and Murderers were well blessed, and sufficiently owned. Such was then the Face of things; Estates were dangerous; Every rich Man was an Enemy; men's Lives were taken away without either Offence or Trial, their Reign was but a Continuation of horrible Injuries; the Laws were not only silent, but dead: The Idol's Fury was a Law, and Faith, and Loyalty, and Obedience to Lawful Power, were damnable: Servants had the Rule over Princes, England was near a Slavery, the most unworthy of free and ingenious Spirits of any.  
What I relate here (to speak something of the Story) I collect out of Sir John Froissart, a Frenchman, living in the Times of King EDWARD the Third, and his Grandchild, King RICHARD, who had seen England in both the Reigns, was known and esteemed in the Court, and came last over after these Tumults were appeased: And out of Thomas of Walsingham, a Monk of St. Alban in Henry the Sixth's Days; who (says Bale in his Centuries of him) writes many the most choice Passages of Affairs and Actions, such as no other hath met with. In the Main, and to the Substance of things, I have made no Additions, no Alterations. I have faithfully followed my Authors, who are not so historically exact, as I could wish, nor could I much better what did not please me in their Order. No Man (says Walsingham) can recite fully the Mischiefs, Murders, Sacrilege and Cruelty of 
Hypod. Neust.  these Actors; he excuses his digesting them, upon the Confusion of the combustious Flaming in such Variety of Places, and in the same time. Tyler, Litstar, and those of Hartfordshire take up most part of the Discourse; Westbrome is brought in by the Halves; the lesser Snakes are only named in the Chronicle: what had been more, had not been to any purpose: Those were but Types of Tyler the Idol, and acted nothing but according to the Original, according to his great Example: they were Wolves alike, and he that reads one knows all. Thomas 
Par Wals. Westen etc. Per Thomae Sanguinem salva nos Breviar. fest. S. Tho. Cant. Rishang Polyd. D'Avilla jaques Clem. the Parricide of Hen. 3. of France was prayed for as a Saint.  of Becket, Simon of Montfort; the English Catiline, Thomas of Lancaster, Rebels and Traitors of the former years are canonised by the Monks (generally the Enemies of their Kings) Miracles make their T●…mbs Illustrious and their Memories Sacred. The Idol and his Incendiaries are abhorred every where, every History detests them, while Faith, Civility, Honesty and Piety shall be left in the World, the Enemies of all these must neither be beloved nor pitied.   

THE Rustic Rampant, OR RURAL ANARCHY.  
THe Reign of King Richard the Second was but a Throw of State for so many Years, a Fever to whose Distempers all pieces of the home Dominions contributed by Fits (
* Given.  the foreign part only continuing faithful.) In the fourth Year of his Reign, and Fifteenth of his Age the Dregs and Off-scum of the Commons unite into Bodies in several parts of the Kingdom, and form a Rebellion (called the Rebellion of the Clowns) which lead the rest, and showed the Way of Disobedience first. Of which may truly be said (though amongst other Causes, we may attribute it to the Indisposition and Unseasonableness of the Age, that the Fruits of it did not take) it was strongly begun, and had not Providence held back the Hand, the Blow had fallen, the Government had broke into Shivers then. The young King at this time had few besides Thomas of Woodstock his Uncle, Earl of Buckingham, and after Duke of Gloucester, but the Servants of his House in Ordinary about him, the Lord Edmund of Langley Earl of Cambridge, after Duke of York, with the Lords Beauchamp, Botereaux, Sir Matthew Gourney, with others of the Nobility and Gentry, had set sail for Portugal, the Duke john of Lancaster, another of his Uncles, was in Scotland treating a Peace, when this Commotion broke out. Though no Cause can be given for Seditions, those, who design public Troubles, can never want Pretences; Polidore (as much out in this Story as any) gives this Reason for this; the Poll-mony, says he (imposed by Parliament) a Groat Sterling upon every Head was intolerable. It was justly imposed, and so by some, to whom Law and Custom of England were intolerable not to be endured; but we shall find in the Tyranny breaking in, not only fifth and twentieth Parts and Loans forced, out of Fear of Plunder and Death; but Subsidies in Troop and Regiments, by Fifties, (more than Sequestrations and Compositions) not under Foot, low Sales; for what had these Rascals to give, but downright Robbery and Violent Usurpations of Estates.  
Thus would Polidore have it in Defence of his Priests, who blew the Fire, and thrust the silly Rout into the midst of it. He takes it ill that Baal (Valle he calls him) should be supposed, by I know not what Flatterers of the Nobles, to have filled these Sails, to have let these Winds out of their Caverns.  
In the fourth Year of this King (says the Monk) there was a grievous Tax exacted in Parliament; after Cause of great Trouble, every Religious paid half a Mark, every secular Priest as much, every Layman or Woman 12d. This might discontent the People, but who prepared the Mutineers for such dangerous Impressions? Who fell in with them after, and pushed them forward, will be soon found. Froissart complains of the Servitude of the Villains or Bondmen (now Names worn out) a miserable sort of Drudges, frequently known here in the Saxon times; excluded from any Right of Propriety, sold, and passed away with the Manor or Lands to which they belonged, bound to till the Lord's Ground, cut down, and carry in his Corn, cleanse his Ditches, cover his Hall, etc. These Froissart make the first Stirrers in the Insurrection, these he makes look back to the Beginning of Men and things to talk of the Primitive Freedom, of the Liberties of the Creature, above Ordinances; that only Treason against the Lords could forfeit Liberty, which was the Case of Lucifer, and could not be made theirs, who were neither Angels nor Spirits, but Men of the same Shape, Extraction, and Souls with those who proudly would be thought their Lords; which (say they) was an height too much, and deserved Levelling, must not be endured hereafter. Equality was the Way of Peace and Love. But can Clouds fire in Thunder and Lightning, can Earthquakes tear the Entrails of Expiring Kingdoms, without a Muncer, or a Wiggington, a Garnet, or an Hall in the Mine?  
If the Church and Government must be blown up, it is fit a sanctified Hand should (cast the Balls) a Man (according to the pure Dialect) of immediate Calling, who has had the Seal of it, of wonderful Zeal, of resolute Dealings, the Lord's Messenger extraordinarily gifted and exercised, is only fit to advance God's Matters, the Holy Cause, and Action: And a Renegado from his Orders, an Apostate Churchman will best become this Person, a Man with whom nothing else is Sacred but his own Ambition, his Innovation, and the Propagation of his Schism. One Baal the most sottish and most unworthy, but most factious of the Clergy, is stirred up by the Devil (who, if Rebellion be as the Sin of Witchcraft, is the Father of both) to be the Antichrist of this Reign, to blaspheme and cry down God and Caesar his Anointed, the Rights of God and Caesar; and who, if he knew any thing, was certainly the very Atheist of that Age: Of these Imaginations (so Froissert of those before) was a foolish Priest in the County of Kent, called John Wall (for Baal) and to make it plain that he was the Father of the Uproar, he had been (says this Knight) three times in the Archbishop's Prison (a persecuted Saint) for these Opinions, but delivered by him, his Conscience was scrupulous of proceeding farther, which this Historian condemns him for: We shall hereafter see the Archbishop in John's Hands, who shall come short of this Mercy. john had preached (if it be not Impious to Use the Word here) twenty Years, and more, ever babbling those things which he fancied would be Gracious to the Multitude; he haunted By-places, the Cloisters of the Cathedral; when the Church was shut against him, the Streets and Fields were Holy Ground; there this excommunicated Apostate laid his Nets. His Discourses to the People were partly Invectives against Tithes (which he allowed not where the●… Parishioner was of better Life and smaller Estate than the Parson, whose Estate at this rate must be small enough) against Bishops, and the Clergy, Nobility and Gentry; Then he had his Quarrels to the Government, his Doctrine struck at Propriety, and Order, the World was impaired with Diseases, which must be the more for their Age, the Crisis would be dangerous, and there could be no Health, no Soundness hoped for, till Names, Estates and Things were common. His Advise was to let the King know the Resolutions of the new Common-weaths-men, to tell him where the Supreme Power lies, whose Trustee he was, that another Course must be taken, and if he would not join with them, other Remedies thought of: The third time he was Imprisoned, he had his Revelations, his enlightenings, was full of Divine Raptures, 
Froiss.  he foretold his Deliverance by 20000. Men, which happened in the following Tumults, when his Disciples made so many Goal-Deliveries. This, knowing what Numbers he had seduced and abused, he might presume upon probable Conjecture. He was no sooner lose, but he incites and stirs up the unruly Clowns to all the Mischiefs possible.  
He tells them they were pious and necessary Excesses, and that the Law of Nature, which allows all Acts for our own Preservation, would justify them: That a mad Father, who seeks to rob and destroy his Offspring, might be resisted, his Thrusts might be put by, the Son might bind his Hands, and if there were no other way to escape his furious Violence, kill him in his own Defence. The Safety of the People is the Supreme Law. If the Prince persisting (after fair Warning) to make himself a Shield and Defence to wicked Instruments of Mischiefs, Malignants and Enemies of the Commons, securing them from the justice of the Commons, endanger himself and his Kingdom, he may thank himself; We (says he) are willing to hazard ourselves (good Men) to preserve both; we will never give any Impediment, or neglect any proper Means of curing the Distempers of the Kingdom, and of closing the dangerous Breaches (made by themselves) according to the Trust which lies upon us. At Black-heath, where an Assembly of 200000 Men made their Rendezvonz, after some time spent in seeking God, he baits in Rhyme, 
When Adam dalf and Ebe span,  
Who was then a Gentleman? 
Walsingh.   Was his levelling lewd Text: Hence it was to be consequent, that as Nature, and the Creation made no Distinction, no more ought Laws to make or suffer any; that Servitude is the▪ Daughter of unjust Oppression, introduced by wicked Men against Gods Will. That if it had pleased him to have created Slaves, in the Beginning he would have chosen, and marked out who should have been the Lord, who the Vassal; he asks where the Word allows these sweet things called Lords, verily Knaves in Purple, Sons of Cain, of Nimrod, of Esau, of Ishmael, fat by the Blood and Sweat of the poor innocent Plebeians, Honourable in nothing but the Outside, and Noble only in Riots and Adulteries, as cruel, as ravenous, as killing (and as barbarously) as the Bears, the Lions, the Tigers of their Escutch●…ons, the Dragons of their Bearing; he asks why the limber Knights, and Franklins, who are only better combed, can kiss the Hand and lout with more Grace, must eat the Capons, which the sturdy brave Commons must starve themselves to cram: Nothing could be good which was great, nothing but Independency was Divine.  
He bids them consider, now was the time appointed them by God to cast off the Yoke, that if they would not be wanting to themselves, they should assert their long-looked for Liberty, and like good Husbandmen, who love their Field, pluck up the Weeds which overrun it (which signified rooting out the Wicked, and those who carried the Mark of 
Deposito servitutis jugo, libertate, etc. Wals. more boni patrisfamil. excolentis agrum suum.  the Beast (He points them out the Heads devoted, destined for Slaughter. 
* Regni Majores.  The House of Lords, the Peers (as yet they speak no higher) whom he would have brought to Repentance. Then the Lawyers, Justices, Judges, Jurymen, 
† Quoscunque nocivos communitatis de terra sua tollerent.  all the Enemies of the Commonalty were to be swept from the Earth, there could not else (so he concludes) be any Peace or Security for the Future, 
* Si sublatis Majoribus oequa libertas, etc.  lopping off the Heads of those, which were too tall, which overtopped too much, equal Nobility, equal Liberty, Dignity and Power (this was his old Doctrine) were the only Antidotes, without which the poisoned Commonwealth must perish. Whosoever loved not the Cause was a Reprobate, hateful to God, and damned Body and Soul. john concludes with an Exhortation, that in Order to the Security and Preservation of Religion and Liberty of the Subject, they will never consent to the laying down of Arms, so long as the evil Counsellors and Prelates arming, or in open War, shall by Force of Arms be protected against the justice of the Commons. John adds, of long time there hath been, and now is a Traitorous Plot for the Subversion of us and the Liberty of the Subject.  
No Wonder, when Peter the Hermit's Goose was believed to be 
In the Crusade for the Holy Land.  the Holy Ghost, that john amongst as very Ninnyhammers could strike up for a Prophet.  
The base Crew prick up their Ears, and wonder at the new Truths, which their Pastor held forth, they applaud him, he is 
† Ut acclamarent eum Archiepiscopum.  Archbishop elect, and Chancellor, the true Archbishop must be called a Traitor, 
* Communium & regni proditorem.  a Traitor of the Commons and the Realm, to make him Room, is voted so, to be apprehended wheresoever he could be found in England, and his Head to be cut off.  
Here was a new Treason, and a new Way of Trial and Sentence. But though Baal had more of the Spirit, there were other Adventurers not to be robbed of their Honours, other Worthies, precious Men, called to do the Work of the Lord; who put to their Hands, and brought Trowels and Mortar toward the raising this Babel. jack Straw, another Priest full of Life and Vigour, the Confessor, and Bosom-chaplain of Tyler, more inward with him, his special Councillor, acquainted with all his Plots, in the Contrivance of which he had a great part, bestowed his Pains upon the Cause, and for Action next Tyler the Idol carried the Name; which may be one Cause why Polydore kills him in Tilers stead, with the Mayor's Sword, the most Eminent Sticklers of the Laity, of the profane Sty, where Wat the Tyler, a Tiler by Trade, not by Name, his Name was Helier, an ungracious Patron, as Froissart) was 
* Wals. Rex ribald●…rum, Idolum rusticorum.  King of the Ribaulds, The Idol of the Kentish Clowns. john Kirkby, Alan Treder, Thomas Scot, and Ralph Rugg, a Magnifico, who gave freely away amongst his Fellow Scoundrels the Spoils of his Conquests, were Princes of the Separation of the Tribes in Kent and Essex. Robert Westbrome (Wraw his Chaplain refusing to set 
* Wals.  Crown upon Crown, and contented to be the Archpriest of the Province) was King of Suffolk, and the Parts adjacent. St. Edmunds-bury, once the Palace of the East-Angle Kings, and Milden-hall, were the Seats of his Sovereignty. john Litstar a Tanner usurps the Name and Power of a King at Northwalsham in Norfolk; I may say the Power and more, never was any English King so Absolute, nor can any just and legal Principality be so large, and Arbitrary; Law of the Land, with which the old Englishman was free enough, and contented, was here to be thrown out of Doors. The Heptarchy of the Saxons seemed to revive again, but prodigiously; the Blaze of these Comets must have been fatal to the Nation. To keep an Order in the History of these Ruffians, who abhorred it, I will give the Van to the Idol of the Clowns, it is due to him, he is the first who lists up his Head in the Confusion among the Brethren, and deserves the first Chair. He was the Dragon, and no question in the Conclusion, had swallowed up or clipped the rest; Litster Westbrome, and the others merited highly, but they must have been taken down some Pins. Tyler must have Elbow-room, he must have been Lord Paramount, and one such Come●… would have been more than enough for one Horizon. Besides, Kent and Essex were the Puddle, the Lerna which bred this Hydra with the many Heads, which poisoned most of the Counties, and in the Conjunction of these two Provinces, Tyler the Idol swayed all. And here I must observe this, that however Walsingham hatches the Cause in Essex, yet his own Relations of Baal, and the Letters and Sermons of this seducing Prophet, bring this into question, and by him if Kent be not the Mother, yet are the Treasons of her and Essex, Sister-twins of the same Birth, Essex only started first.  
The Fire kindled from a small Spark. The Clowns of two Villages not named in the Chronicles contrive the Conspiracy there: They send Warrants to the smaller Towns about, and rather command than entreat, all Men of what Age soever, without any Stay or Deliberation, to repair to a Rendezvouz set down. The Conclusion was terrible; It threatening plundering of Goods, Burning, plucking down Houses, and cutting off the Heads of those who disobey the present Power.  
The summoned Villages are frighted into Obedience, which is to rebel; They leave their Ploughs, their Fields, their Wives and Farms, and in their first Rising no less than 5000 of the sink of the People meet ill armed, some with Staves, some with rusty Swords, some with Bows and featherless Arrows, few knowing any Cause of their assembling, gazing upon one another, and of not finding any Enemies of their own Peace and Good but 
Wals.  themselves. Not one of a thousand was provided like a Soldier, but their Number supplied all things, they were highly conceited of themselves, and believed they were invincible, not to be resisted. To confirm their Steps, Baal (watching to catch, who had long waited for such an Opportunity of Imbroiling) drives them Headlong forward, he writes to them his Letters exhortatory (where to consecrate the Enterprise, God's Name is brought in; He is made to own the Cause) composed of a Jargon, a canting Gibridge, fit for the Design (to abuse and cheat the Innocent Peasant, who cannot pry into things, cannot look farther than the Bait) fuller of Riddles than Sense; one of them, found in the Sleeve of one of these wretched Men condemned, and under the Gallows, was this.  
John Schep, sometimes St. Marry Priest in Yorkn and now of Colchester greeteth well John Nameless, and John the Miller, and John Carter, and biddeth them that they beware of Guile in Borough (which Stow by a notable Mistake calls Gillinborough) and stand together in God's Name, and biddeth Pierce Ploughman go to his Work, and chastise Hob the Robber, and take with you John Trewman, and all his Fellows and no moe, John the Miller that yground small, small, small, The King's Son of Heaven shall pay for all. Beware or ye be woe; Know your Friend from your Foe. Have enough, and say ho. And do well and better, and flee Sin and seek Peace, and hold therein; And so biddeth John Trewman and all his Fellows. A List of Sanctity does well in these Cases, but his seeking of Peace, chastising the Robber, and fleeing of Sin, I must leave as mystical. This shows the Industry, Carefulness, and Vigilancy of the Prophet in his Preparations, and his Willingness to hurt. He disperseth other Letters of this kind, in one, he chargeth all Men in the Name of the Trinity, etc. to stand Manlike together, and help Truth (now we have Truth to our Peace) and Truth shall help them, in his Rags of Verses (for a Rhimer he would be) he is as earnest for Truth. They begin, 
jack Trewman doth you to understand  
That Falseness, and Guile hath reigned too long.  
And Truth hath been set under a Lock,  
And Falseness reigneth in every Flock;  
No Man may come truth to  
But he must sing si dedero.   
Many Remonstrances and Declarations flew abroad from him. The Kentishmen, seasoned by this Priest or Prophet of the Idol, are easily tempted by the Essexians to associate in the Undertake, and share in the Honour of gaining Liberty, precious Liberty for the People, and taking away the evil Customs of the Kingdom; which is the Glorious Title of the Tumult. This was no more (says the Monk) than the Kentishmen had long wished for. They are quickly ready, and by the Arts used by those of Essex put all the Country into a Combustion. That they may not appear with too much Horror 
Wals.  at the first Sight, they would seem to pretend to an Outside Piety; they account (so they tell the Kingdom and the World) the professing of any thing in the sight of God, the strongest Obligation that any Christian, and the most solemn public Faith, that any such State, as a Commonwealth can give. In all Humility and Reverence they contrive a Sacred Vow and Covenant.  
They fasten the knot of their Holy League with National Covenants and Oaths, which themselves will first break (than which there can be no stronger tie; Religion consists in Faith, he who loses his Faith hath lost himself) Oaths contrary to their sworn Allegiance, and former Oaths, which is a most absurd Impiety; here God must be called upon to help, and witness the Perfidiousness. Oaths use to end— so help me God— He who performs not his Oath, directly and plainly, renounces God, and all that is Sacred and Divine: To swear to Day against what we were sworn to yesterday, must be strange amongst Christians; these Impieties being once allowed, there can be neither Peace, Society, nor Government amongst Men safe and unindangered. The Ways leading to Canterbury are beset, the Pilgrims swarming thither (according to the Superstition of those Ages) are seized, and forced to swear with these extraordinary Workers. To keep Faith to King Richard (whose most faithful Servants, most humble and Loyal Subjects, they profess themselves to be) and the Commons according to their Power and Vocation. To accept no King called john (a Vanity thrown in for Duke john of Lancaster's Sake the King's Uncle, and neglected by the Norfolk Reformers, who advanced King john Litstere to the Sovereignty) To be ready upon Summons to assist the Commons (the great Wheel of the New State, for whom this Oath was given, and to be principally respected by it.) To induce their Friends and Allies to hold with them, and to allow no Tax but the Fifteenth (which say they falsely was the only Tax their Forefathers ever heard of, or submitted to.) How Sacred in all the Parts this ●…th will be with them (which never was to be intended more than temporary) will soon be discovered: Diversity of Words cannot change the Nature of things. Their first March is to Canterbury, where they visit 
Froiss.  Thomas of Canterbury who lived and died a Rebel to his Prince, and to use the Words of Rogerus a Norman, in Caesarius the Monk deserved Death and Damnation for 
Caesar Dial. l. 8. 〈◊〉 6. 9  this Contumacy against his King, the Minister of God, a fit Saint for such Votaries; their Kindness was not much, they spoil his Church, break up the Bishop's Chamber, and make a Prey of all they find, protest the Bishop shall give them an Account of the Profits of his Chancery; and here they begin their Audit.  
Thus we see our New Reformers are entered, but Sacrilege ushers them in, they break open the Prisons, and free the Saint in Bonds, Baal; when they had done what they came for, the Citizens, who had entertained them, willingly leave their Houses to keep them Company; a Council is called to resolve upon what Ground the next Storm should pour down. London ever false to the Prince. The Wood, which no doubt would lodge the Wolves, is set by their Orders. Tyler the Idol who knew his Reign would last no longer, than while these Men continued mad, thought this the only place likely to keep them so; London too was the fairest Mark; and besides, the Clowns were assured of a Welcome upon a private Invitation from some of the Citizens, whose Ancestors and Predecessors in all Ages, in the Tumults of the Confessor S. Edward's Reign, in all the Baron's Wars since, have gained the Renown to be Lovers of Reformation otherwise pure Rebellion, Enemies to Courtiers and Malignants, Enemies to the Enemies of their dear Liberties, which yet sometimes they pursue with too much Heat and blind Zeal, sometimes to their Cost and Repentance, mistaking every where both Notions and Things; the Bridles which they without Fear or Wit, provide for their Kings being often thrust into their own Mouths by the New Riders, which themselves lift into the Saddle, while they grown sober Mules, dare neither kick nor fling. Behold the common People (says the Knight) when they be 
Froiss Wals. Lond. quibuscunque deest furia. etc.  up against their Prince, and especially in England, among them there is no Remedy for they are the perillousest People of the World, and most outrageous if they be up, and specially the Londoners; says the Monk, the Londoners never want Fury if they be not kept in, if Licence or Infolence be permitted them. The Princess Dowager of the incomparable Edward the black Prince, Mother of the young King, then at Canterbury, hardly escapes these Savages, who rudely assault her Chair, and put her and her Ladies in no small Fear of ●…lany to be done to their Persons.  
This Princess was so willing to be out of their reach, that notwithstanding she was very fat and unwieldy, she got to London in a Day. Tyler, who had insinuated himself into the good Grace of these Churls, by appearing the most stirring and active of the Kennel, who began and ruled the Cry, and was by I know not what Ceremony, perhaps like that Irish Election by casting an old Shoe over his Head, declared Prince of the Rabble, leads them to Rochester, which will not come behind Canterbury in Kindness. The People of the Town (says the Knight) were of the same Sect, it seems the Castle (once one of the strongest in the Kingdom,) was now neither fortified nor manned, the Governor Sir john Moton yields himself into their Hands; he was one of the King's Family, of his Household, and must be thought awed, as he was into the Engagement. Here the Commons might be thought ashamed of their own Choice, they offer Sir john the General's Staff▪ which had he accepted, he must have commanded according to the Motions of Lieutenant General Tilers Spirit, and when this turn had been over, at the least stamp of his Foot have vanished, sneaked off the Stage.  
They tell him, Sir john you must be our Captain, and (which shows the Power of 
Froiss.  his Commission) you shall do what we will have you. The Knight likes not their Company, he tries his best Wit and Language to be rid, of them but could not prevail: They reply downright, Sir john, if you will not do what we will have you, you must die for it; we will not be denied, but at your Peril. Enough was said, the Knight yields, but his Charge of Captain General is forgotten; we shall see hereafter what Use they make of him, and in what manner he must be employed. This Example is followed in the other Countries. The Gentry did not only lose their Estates, and Honour, but their Courage and Gallantry, their Bloods were frozen, Fear had stifled their Spirits. The Clowns (as the Knight) had brought them into such Obeisance, that they caused them to go with them, whether they would or not, they fawned on them, humbled themselves to them, like Dogs grovelling at their Feet. The Lord Molines, Sir Stephen Hales, Sir Thomas Guysighen, this Sir john Moton, and others were Attendants and Vassals to the Idol. Every Day new 
Wals. qui censuram juris timebant propter malefacta, etc.  Heaps of Men flock to them, like Catiline's Troops, all that were necessitous at Home, Unthrifts, broken Fellows, such as for their Misdeeds feared the Justice of the Laws; who resent the dangerous and distracted State of the Kingdom alike; and will no doubt hammer out an Excellent Reformation, they will mend their own Condition, which will be enough, we must expect no more; and now the Confidence in their Strength made them bold enough to throw off their Mask of Hypocrisy, they began to open the Inside. They departed from Rochester (says Froissart) and passed the River (he says the Thames at Kingston) and came to Brentford, (where I think he leads them out of their Way) beating down before them, and round about, the Places and Houses of Advocates, and Procurers, and striking off the Heads of divers Persons. Walsingham tells us, who those Advocates and Procurers were; All Men (says he) were amused, some looked for good from the new Masters, others feared this Insurrection would prove the Destruction of the Realm. The last were not deceived. All the Lawyers of the Land (so he goes on) as well the Apprentices, Counsellors, as old Justices, all the Jurymen of the Country, (this was Priest Baal's Charge) they could gripe in their Clutches had their Heads chopped off.  
It was a Maxim of the Cabal, That there could be no Liberty, while any of these Men were suffered to breath. From little to great they fell upon things which they never thought of in their first Overflow, which Guicciardine observes (in civil Discords, where the Rebellion is Fortunate and Mens Minds are puffed up with Success) to be Ordinary. The Statue of Cumaean Apollo weeps for the Destruction of Cumae, we shall here read of Men without Sense or Apprehensions; both the Stories will seem as Incredible. The stupid Nobility and Gentry sleep in their Houses, till they are roused by these Bloodhounds, that they might seem to deserve the Calamity tumbling upon their Heads. They were becoming Tenants at Will, in Villeinage, to their Vassals, under their Distress, their Task, and Taxes, more by the sottish Baseness of themselves, than any Virtue in these Rascals, scorned and slighted by every tattered Clunch; Their Lands continually upon any Vote or Information to be sold, or given away upon any Information of Loyalty, or Faithfulness: The ancient Virtues of the Gentleman, not to be found in that Age, and serving only for a Pretence to Ruin, no one could form an Expectation of more than this, to be the last Man born, (what was Polyphemus his Kindness to Ulysses) to be devoured last; all which they were contented to hazard, and endure to preserve a Shred, or jagg of an incertain ragged Estate (for the Health or Mistress' Sake) subject ever to the Violence of the same lawless spoiling Force, which maimed and rend it before. Next (to return to this Riffraff) their Cruelty reaches to Parchment Deeds, Charters, Rolls of Courts; Evidences are cast by them into the Fire, as if they meant to abolish all Remembrance of things; this was to defeat their Lords in the Claims of any ancient Rights; and to leave no Man more Title than themselves had to their Sword and Power.  
The Kentish and Essexian Rout, were joined (says the Monk, but 
Wals.  he tells us not where) and approached near London; at Black-heath they made an Halt, where they were near 200000 strong.  
Thither came two Knights sent by the King to them, to inquire 
Wals.  the Cause of the Commotion, and why they had amassed such Swarms of the People. They answer, they met to confer with the King concerning Business of Weight; they tell the Messengers they ought to go back to the King and show him, that it behoves him to come to them, they would acquaint him with their Desires (we shall quickly discover why his Presence was required.) Upon Return of the Knights, it was debated in Council by the Lords about the King, whether he should go or no: Some of the Table more willing to venture the King than themselves, willing to throw him into the Gulf, or perhaps not scenting the Design of the Clowns, persuade him to see them: Your Majesty (thus they) must make a Trial of these Men, Necessity now must be looked on above Reason; if any thing can give the Check to the Uproars, it must be your Presence, there can be no Safety but in this Venture; it is now as dangerous to seem not to trust, as to be deceived; Fate is too much feared, if it be imagined that this Tree of your Empire, which has flourished so many Ages, can fall in an Hour.  
The Archbishop of Canterbury, Simon Theobald of Sudbury, Lord 
Wals.  Chancellor of England, the most Eloquent, most wise, and most pious Prelate of the Age, Faithful to his Prince, and therefore odious to those who conspired against his Majesty and Authority, likes not the Advice; the King ought not (says he▪) venture his Person among such 
* Discaligatos' ribauldoes.  hoseless Ribaulds, but rather dispose things so as to curb their Insolence: Sir, (says he) Your Sacred Majesty in this Storm ought to show how much of a King you can play; what you will go for hereafter; by your present Carriage, you will either be feared for the Future, or contemned; if you seriously consider the Nature of these rough hewn Savages, you will find the gentle Ways pernicious, your Tameness will undo you, Mercy will ever be in your Power, but it is not to be named without the Sword drawn; God and your Right hath placed you in your Throne, but your Courage and Resolution must keep you there; your Indignation will be justice; good Men will think it so, and if they love you, you have enough, you cannot capitulate, not treat with your Rebels, without hazarding your Honour, and perhaps your Royal Faith; if you yield to the Force of one Sedition, your whole Life and Reign will be nothing but a Continuation of Broils, and Tumults; if you assert your Sovereign Authority betimes, not only these Dolts, these Sots, but all Men else will reverence you. Remember Sir, God, by whom Lawful Prince's Reign, whose Vicegerent you are, would not forgive Rebellion in Angels; you must not trust the Face. Petitions delivered you upon Swords Points are fatal; if you allow this Custom you are ruined; as yet Sir, you may be obeyed as much as you please. Of this Opinion was Sir Robert Hales, Lord Prior of Saint john of jerusalem, newly Lord Treasurer of England, a Magnanimous and stout Knight, but not liked by the Commons. When this Resolution was known to the Clowns, they grow stark mad, they bluster, they swear to seek out the King's Traitors, (for such they must now go for; no Man was either good or honest, but he who pleased them) the Archbishop and Lord Prior; and to chop off their Heads; here they might be trusted, they were likely to keep their Words.  
Hereupon, without more Consideration they advance towards London, not forgetting to burn, and raze the Lawyers and Courtiers Houses in the Way, to the Kings Honour no doubt, which they will be thought to arm for. Sir john Froissart, and others report this part thus, which probably might follow after this Refusal.  
The Rebels, say they, sent their Knight (
* Grafton.  so they called him, yet was he the King's Knight, for Tyler came not up to Dubbing, we find no Sir john, nor Sir Thomas of his making,) Sir john Moton to the King, who was then in the Tower with his Mother, his half Brothers Thomas Holland Earl of Kent, after Duke of Surrey, and the Lord Holland, the Earls of Salisbury, Warwick, and Oxford, the Archbishop, Lord Prior and others. The Knight casts himself down at the King's Feet, beseeches him, not to look upon him the worse as in this Quality and Employment, to consider he is forced to do what he does: He goes on; Sir, the Commons of this Realm (those few in Arms comparatively to the rest would be taken for the whole) desire you by me to speak with them. Your Person will be safe, they repute you still their King (this deserved Thanks) but how long the Kindness will hold we shall soon find, they profess that all they had done or would do was for your Honour. For your Glory (your Honour and Security are their great Care) they will make you a Glorious King, fearful to your Enemies, and beloved of your Subjects; they promise you a plentiful and unparalleled Revenue. They will maintain your Power and Authority in Relation to the Laws, with your Royal Person, according to the Duty of their Allegiance, their Protestation, their Vow, their solemn League and Covenant, without diminishing your just Power and Greatness, and that they will all the Days of their Lives continue in this Covenant against all Opposition. They assure you Sir, That they intent faithfully the Good of your Majesty, and of the Kingdom, and that they will not be diverted from this end by any private or Self-respects whatsoever. But the Kingdom has been a long time ill governed by your Uncles, and the Clergy; especially by the Archbishop of Canterbury, of whom they would have an Account. They have found out necessary Counsels for you; they would warn you of many things, which hitherto you have wanted good Advice in.  
The Conclusion was sad on the Knight's part. His Children were Pledges for his Return, and if he fail in that, their Lives were to answer it. Which moved with the King; he allows the Excuse, sends him back with this Answer, that he will speak with the Commons the next Morning; which it should seem the report of the Outrages done by the Clowns upon his Refusal, and this Message made him consent to. At the time appointed he takes his Barge, and is rowed down to Redriffe, the place nearest the Rebels; Ten thousand of them descend from the Hill to see, and treat with him, (with a Resolution to yield to nothing, to overcome by the Treaty; as they must have done, had not the Kings Fear preserved him.) When the Barge drew nigh, the new Council of State (says our Knight) 
Froiss.  howled, and shouted, as though all the Devils of Hell had been amongst them; Sir john Moton was brought toward the River guarded, they being determined to have cut him in pieces, if the King had broke his Promise.  
All the Desires of these good and faithful Counsellors contracted suddenly into a narrow Room, they had now but one Demand. The King asks them, What is the matter which made them so earnestly solicit his Presence? They have no more to say, but to entreat him to land; which was to betray himself to them, to give his Life and Sovereignty up to those fickle Beasts, to be held of them during their good Pleasures; which the Lords will not agree to. The Earl of Salisbury, of the ancient Nobility, and Illustrious House of Montacute, tells them their Equipage and Order were not comely, and that the King ought not to adventure amongst their Troops. They are now more unsatisfied, and London how true soever to the Cause, and faithless to the Prince, shall feel the Effects of their Fury. Southwark a friendly Borough, is taken up for their first Quarters. Here again they throw down the Malignants Houses, and as a Grace of their Entrance, break up the King's Prisons, and let out all those they find under Restraint in them; not forgetting to ransack the Archbishops House at Lambeth, and spoil all things there— plucking down the Stews standing upon the Thames Bank, and allowed in the former Ages. It cannot be thought but that the Idol loved Adultery well enough, but perhaps these public Bawdy-houses were too unclean, and might stink in his Nostrils; we cannot find him any where quarrelling with the Bears, those were no Malignants.  
They knocked not long at the City-Gates, which (some say) 
Wals.  were never shut against them, or (as others) quickly opened: The Citizens fancied themselves Privy Counsellors born, inspired from their Shops for Affairs of State, and would not suppose the Reformation could be effected without them. They were rich by Lies, and all the most sordid Ways of Falsehood, and must be sage and knowing; Pride the first Sin the Devil taught Man tickles them. The Mayor Sir William Waleworth, whose Memory (while Truth and Loyalty shall be thought Virtues) must be Honourable, and nine of the Aldermen held for King Richard, in vain; a prosperous wicked Chief shall never want wicked Instruments; three Aldermen, and the greatest part of the People for the King of the Commons, the Idol, and his Priests. Those, the Considers, and well-affected to Tyler, forbid their Mayor to keep him out, own his Actions, as done for the Good of the faithful People of the Land, and the Commonwealth, and his Followers for their Brethren and Companions of the Holy Cause. They vow to live and die with Tyler. Many of those who had no thoughts of doing Mischief (yet being none of the wisest) were cheated into a good Belief of them, because of their Protestation (which in their first Entrance they made solemnly) that they had no Intent, but this only, to search and hunt out the Traitors of the Kingdom, the Subverters of the fundamental Laws, evil Counsellors and Malignants, and that this done they would give over, they would disband, and return home the same Men they were, to their Farms and Cottages, without enriching themselves, without any other Harvest of their Labour; not doubting but that in the end, it should appear to all the World, that their Endeavours have been most hearty and sincere, for the Maintenance of Religion, the King's just Prerogatives, the Laws and Liberties of the Land; in which Endeavours, by the Grace of God, they would persist, though they should perish in the Work. Which was believed. What confirmed this Faith was, they made Theft Capital (which yet was confined, all without the Fold of the Godly were Egyptians, and could not be robbed) and paid justly for what they had, but they paid not often, nor could their Reckonings be great.  
The Citizens were their Purveyors, and made Provision for them; every House was open to them, and Tables continually furnished. Their Entry was on the 14th. of june, 1385. on Wednesday (a little before Midsummer) the Eve of Corpus Christi Day; they spend the Morning of the next Day, being the Festival, in Rings, discoursing of the Piety, Honesty, and Fairness of their Cause, of Liberty and the Courses to gain it, Of seizing Traitors, Of bringing Incendiaries, Malignants, and evil Instruments to condign Punishment, Of the Duke john of Lancaster, who was above all Men hated by them, but too far off for the Scratches of their Claws, being employed in Scotland to treat a Peace there, whence these report him turned a Traitor to the King, and become Scottish: About Noon, being warmed more by their Cups, than with the Sun, for the richest Wines were drawn for them, and swallowed with that Greediness, that they were got to the height of Drunkenness and raved like Madmen, they are for Execution; the Savoy of the Duke of Lancaster, a Princely Building, the most stately Fabric of the Kingdom was fired by them, his Servants there murdered, his Plate and Jewels broke in pieces, a Coat of his of great Value (called in that Age a Jack) in Contempt and Scorn to this Prince, was stuck on the top of a Lance, made a Mark for their Arrows, then cut and gashed to Jaggs with their Hatchets; one of them who had hid a piece of Plate, was thrown by the rest into the Fire with it, crying out, We be zealous of Truth and justice, and not Thiefs and Robbers. 
Knighton.  The Londoners were here no slow Men, they knew themselves guilty of receiving, and that their Condition could be no worse; they might think too, it would be their shame for ever to be overdone in Mischief, nor were they here exceeded.  
The next fiery Shower is discharged upon the Temple and Inns▪ of 
Wals.  Court, or Colleges for Students of the Laws of the Nobler sort, but belonging to the Knights of Saint john of jerusalem, to whom the Possessions of the Knight's Templars were given by this King's Grandfather. Many Men lost there the Evidences of their Estates, many their Lives. From hence in Malice to the Lord Prior, they hasten to Clerkenwel, where they leave nothing of that Noble Palace of the Knights of S. john of jerusalem, but Rubbish, and Ashes, their Church too was consumed in the same wicked Flames. This House was seven days burning down. They break open the Exchequer and rifle Westminster the same day. The Flemings or Dutch Strangers, who since the jews were banished, suffer their part in every Sedition, are sought for all the Streets through, all of them massacred, no Sanctuary could save them; thirteen Flemings were drawn out of the Church of the Friar's Hermits of Saint Augustine, and beheaded in the Streets, and seventeen others pulled out of another parochial Church die in the same manner. They had a Shibboleth to discover them, he who pronounced Brot and cause, for Bread and Cheese had his Head lopped off; it was their Sport if they could catch any Man, who had not sworn their Oath, was not of the side, or was hated by any of the Commons, to snatch off his Hood or Capuch (which was a part of the Cloak, or outward Garment worn then, and served to cover the Head) with the accustomed Cry, or yelling which they used in beheading and overthrowing Houses; then to rush into the Streets, and hack with their Fellow Jobernolls, at his Neck in Crowds, till the Head dropped down.  
Our most Famous Chaucer flourishing then, in his Description of the terrible Fright and Noise, at the carrying away of Chanticleer the Cock by Reinold the Fox, reflects upon these Cries, but in an Hyperbole of his Poetical feigned ones, and much undervaluing the Horror of the Kentish Throats, as he will have it. 
They yellen as Fiends do in Hell, At.  
So hideous was the Noise, Ah benedicite!  
Certes jack-straw ne his meney  
Ne made Shouts half so ●…rill,  
When they would any Fiemming kill.  The Lombard's scaped better, they were only robbed of what they had, their Skins were left them whole. Wat the Idol had long agone in France served Richard Lion a Merchant, and Lapidary, formerly Sheriff of London, one of the wealthiest of the City, who had given him Blows; it was not fit this Injury should be forgotten, nor was it; it was a Score now, or never to be paid; he strikes off his old Master's Head, which in Triumph is carried before him on a Spear.  
This Night the King was counselled to fall upon these Beasts, for the most part drunk, and cut their Throats, easy to be destroyed, if any Man had had but the Courage to overcome. It was the Gallant Mayor's Advice, they lay on Heaps without Sense or Motion, tired with the Mischiefs of the Day, drunk and asleep, without Guards or Watch; the Earl of Salisbury and the Nobility, against whose Lives, Honours and Fortunes these Beasts had conspired, desire the King to try all fair and gentle Ways of appeasing them, which Counsel he approves. They were not so kind to themselves, many lost their Lives by the Hands and Swords of their Companions; every petty discontent, or grudging, being enough to provoke them. Thirty two of them being drunk in a Cellar of the Savoy, were immured there, finding in the same place Death and the Grave together. Some of them threw Barrels of Gunpowder (which was little known then) into the Fire, and are blown up with part of the Palace.  
Proclamations were formerly made in Tilers Name, not in Straws, (as Polydore would have it.) Straw was this while busied elsewhere. The Country about was by these Proclamations summoned to repair to London with all speed, to spoil this Babylon; the close Menaces (lest they provoke Gods judgements) pluck them down upon their Heads; which themselves explain, if ye fail, if ye and your Officers give not Obedience freely to the Protector, we will send out 20000 Men (20000 of our Locusts) who shall burn the Towns of the Children of Disobedience. Those of S. Alban and Barnet (whose Famous Deeds challenge a place in this Story by themselves) struck with the Thunder of this Edict, haste to London; in their Journey thither, at Heibury, a 
Wals.  retiring House of the Lord Prior of S. john near Istington, they find 20000. or thereabouts, casting down the firmer parts of the House, which the Fire could not consume.  
jack Straw Captain of this Herd, calls these new Comers to 
Richard.  him, and forces them to swear to adhere to King Richard, and the Commons. How long this Oath will be sworn to we shall see, and how much the safer the King will be for it.  
We shall see too what is lost by this new Union of King and Commons, by the new Fellowship to observe the horrible Irreligious Hypocrisy of these Clowns, who only would be thought the Protectors of his Crown and Person. They alone had decreed his Ruin, who swear thus often to prevent it, to guard him from it; A Treason not to be believed by some then, till it had taken. The Commons were then divided into three Bodies, this with jack Straw, the second at Mile-end under the Essexian Princes, Kirkby, Treder, Scot, and Ruyg, the third on Tower-hill, where the Idol, and Priest Baal were in Chief.  
This last Crew grew horribly rude, and haughty; the Commons there were not contented to be the King's Tasters and no more, they snatch the King's Provision violently from the Purveyors, he is to be starved for his own Good, and after Harpies or Vultures, choose you whether, strike high, like brave Birds of Prey they will kill no more Flies; this was the Way to secure their smaller Mischiefs. Polydores conceit that the Archbishop and Lord Prior of S. john, were sent out by the King to allay their Heat, is not probable.  
Walsingham relates it thus, that they demanded these two (with full Cries no doubt of justice, justice) with some others Traitors by their Law, (a Fundamental, never to be found or heard of before) to be given up to them by the King with all the Earnestness, and Violence imaginable.  
They give him his Choice, bid him consider of it, they will either have the Blood of these their Traitors or 
Wals. alias sciret semetipsum vita privandum.  his; they making all those Delinquents who attended on him, or executed his lawful Commands; whom say they, the King with a high and forcible Hand protects, will not be appeased unless they be delivered up; conjuring him to be wise in time, and dismiss his extraordinary Guards, his Cavaliers, and others of that Quality, who seem to have little Interest, or Affection to the public Good. Whether the Tower Doares flew open at this Fright, or the Man-wolves crowded in, at the Kings going out to appease the Party at Mile-end, as Sir john Froissart tells it, What the Idol with Priest Baal are now Masters of the Tower, into which on Friday the 16th. of june they entered, not many more than 400 of their Company guarding them, where then were commanded six hundred of the King's Men of Arms, and six hundred Archers, a Guard not so extraordinary as was necessary then, all so faint-hearted, so unmanned at the Apparition, at the sight of these Goblins, they stood like the Stones of Medusa, remembered not themselves, their Honour, nor what they had been. The Clowns the most Abject of them singly with their Clubs, or Cudgels in their Hands, venture into all the Rooms, into the King's Bedchamber, (which perhaps had been his Scaffold had he been there) sit, lie, and tumble upon his Bed, they press into his Mother's Chamber, where some of the merry wanton Devils offer to kiss her, others give her Blows, break her Head. She swoons, and is carried privately to the Wardrobe by her Servants. Some revile and threaten the Noblest Knights of the Household, some stroke their Beards with their unclean Hands (which beyond the Roman Patience in the same Rudeness from the Gauls is endured) and this to claw, and sweeten (they meant it so) they gloss, with smooth Words, and bespeak a lasting Friendship for the time to come; they must maintain the Injuries done to themselves; must not disturb the Usurpers of their Estates and Rights; must not show any Sense of Generosity, of Faith, of Honour, (it concerned Tyler that they should be the veriest Fools and Cowards breathing) if they stir, make any Claims, they shall be reputed Seditious, Turbulent, and Breakers of the Public (otherwise and plainly) Tilers Peace. It was never heard (says the Emperor Charles in Sleydan) that it should be lawful to despoil any Man of his Estates and Rights, and unlawful to restore him▪ Our Tiler and his Anabaptists thought otherwise.  
As Walsingham, they went in and out like Lords, who were Varlets of the lowest Rank, and those who were not Cowherds to Knights, but to Boars, value themselves beyond Knights. Here was a Hotchpotch of the Rabble, a mechanic sordid State, composed as those under Kettes Oak of Reformation, after,  
Of Country gnooffes, Hob, Dick, and Hick, with Clubs, and 
Nevilli kettus.  clouted won.  
A medley or huddle of Butchers, Cobblers, Tinkers, Draymen, of Apron-men and Plough-joggers, domineering in the King's Palace, and rooting up the Plants and wholesome Flowers of his Kingdom in it. This place was now a vile and nasty Sty, no more a King's Palace, who will value a stately Pile of Building, of Honourable Title, or Antique Memory, since Constantine, when it is infected with the Plague, haunted by Goblins, or possessed by Thiefs. The Knights of the Court, were but Knights of the Carpet or Hangings. No Man seemed discontented, all was hushed and still. Whitehall was then a Bishop's Palace. The Tower was to be prepared for Tilers Highness, and his Officers but the Cement of the Stratocracy of the Government by Sword, and Club Law, could not be well tempered with vulgar Blood; a Servant of the Arch-Bishops (who had trusted himself to these Guards and Walls) is forced to betray his Lord. He brings them into the Chapel, where the Holy Prelate was at his Prayers, where he had celebrated Mass that Morning before the King, and taken the Sacred Communion; where he had spent the 
Wals. Sacram Communionem.  whole Night in watching and Devotion, as presaging what followed.  
He was a Valiant Man and Pious, and expected these Bloodhounds with great Security and Calmness of Mind; when their bellowing first struck his Ears, he tells his Servants that Death came now as a more particular Blessing; where the Comforts of Life were taken away, that Life was irksome to him, (perhaps his pious Fears for the Church and Monarchy, both alike endangered, and fatally tied to the same Chain, might make him weary of the World) and that he could now die with more quiet of Conscience than ever; a Quiet which these Parricides will not find, when they shall pay the Score of this and their other Crimes. However the Flattery of Success may abuse, our Deathbed represents things in their own Shape, and as they are: After this the Rout of Wolves enter profanely roaring, where is the Traitor, where is the Robber of the Common People? He answers, not troubled at what he saw or heard,  
Ye are welcome, my Sons. I am the Archbishop whom you seek, neither Traitor nor Robber. Presently these Limbs of the Devil gripping him with their wicked Clutches, tear him out of the Chapel, neither reverencing the Altar, nor Crucifix figured on the top of his Crosier, nor the Host, (these are the Monk's Observations, for which he condemns them in the highest Impiety, and makes them worse than Devils, and as Religion went then, well he might condemn them so.) They drag him by the Arms and Hood to Tower Hill without the Gates, there they howl hideously, which was the Sign of a Mischief to follow.  
He asks them what it is they purpose? what is his Offence? tells them he is their Archbishop (this makes him guilty, all his Eloquence, his Wisdom are now of no Use) he adds the Murder of their Sovereign Pastor will be severely punished, some notorious Vengeance 
Qui pastor, etc.  will suddenly follow it. These Destroyer's will not trouble themselves with the idle Formality of a Mock-trial or Court of their own erecting; an abominable Ceremony, which had made their Impiety more ugly; they proceed downright and plainly, which must be instead of all things. He is commanded to lay his Neck upon the Block, as a false Traitor to the Commonalty and Realm: To deal roundly, his Life was forfeited, and any particular Charge, or Defence would not be necessary, his Enemies were his Accusers, and Judges, (his Enemies who had combined and sworn to abolish his Order, the Church, and spoil the Sacred Patrimony) and what Innocency, what Defence could save? Without any Reply farther, he forgives the Headsman, and bows his Body to the Axe.  
After the first hit, he touches the Wound with his Hand and speaks thus, It is the Hand of the Lord. The next 
Ah, ah, manus Domini.  Stroke falls upon his Hand, e'er he could remove it, cuts off the tops of his Fingers, after which he fell, but died not till the eighth Blow; his Body lay all that day unburied, and no Wonder, all Men were throughly Scared, under the Tyranny of these Monsters, all Humanity, all Piety were most unsafe.  
The Archbishop died a Martyr of Loyalty to his King, and has his 
* Wals.  Miracles recorded, an Honour often bestowed by Monks (Friends of Regicide, and Regicides,) on Traitors, seldom given to honest Men. In his Epitaph (his rhyming Epitaph, where is shown the pitiful ignorant Rudeness of those times) he goes for no less, he speaks thus: 
Sudburiae natus Simon jacet hic tumulatus,  
Martyrizatus nece pro republica stratus.  
Sudburies' Simon here entombed lies,  
Who for the Commonwealth a Martyr dies.   
It is fit (says Plato) that he who would appear a just Man, become Naked, that his Virtue be despoiled of all Ornament, that be he taken for a wicked Man by others (wicked indeed) that he be mocked, and hanged. The wisest of Men tell us, 
† Eccles 7. 15.  There is a Just Man that perisheth in his Righteousness, and there is a wicked Man that prolongeth his Life in his Wickedness. The Seas are often calm to Pirates, and the Scourges of God, the Executioners of his Fury, the Goths, Hunns and Vandals heretofore, Tartars and Turks now, how happy are their Robberies, how do all things succeed with them beyond their Wishes! Our Saviour's Passion, the great Mystery of his Incarnation lost him to the jews his Murderers. Whereupon Grotius notes, it is often permitted by God, that pious Men 
Grot. Saepe à deo permitti, ut pii ab impiis non vexentur modo, sed interficiantur.  be not only vexed by wicked Men, but murdered too— He gives Examples in Abel, Isaiah, and others; the MESSIAH died for the Sins of the World, Ethelbert and Saint Edmund the East-Angles, Saint Oswald the Northumbrian, Edward the Monarch, etc. Saxon Kings, are Examples at Home.  
Thucydides in his Narration of the Defeat and Death of Nician the Athenian in Sicily, speaks thus: Being the Man of all the Grecians of my Time, had least deserved to be brought to so great a Degree of Misery. It is too frequent to proclaim God's Judgements in the Misfortunes of others, as if we were of the Celestial Council, had seen all the Wheels, or Orbs, upon which Providence turns, and knew all the Reasons and Ends which direct and govern its Motions: Men love by a strange Abstraction to separate Facts from their Crimes; where the Fact is Beneficial, the Advantage must canonize it, it must be of Heavenly Offspring, a Way to justify Cain, Abimelech, Phocas, our Third Richard, Ravilliac, every lucky Parricide whatsoever.  
Alexander Severus that most excellent Emperor, assassinated by the Militia or Soldiery, by an ill Fate of the Commonwealth (for Maximinus a Thracian or Goth, Lieutenant General of the Army, a cruel Savage Tyrant, by Force usurped the Empire after him) replied, to one who pretended to foretell his End; That it troubled aim not, the most Renowned Persons in all Ages die violently. This Gallant Prince condemned no Death, but a dishonest fearful one. Heaven itself declared on the Archbishops side, and cleared his Inocency. Starling of Essex, who challenged to himself the Glory of being Headsman, fell mad suddenly after, ran through the Villages with his Sword hanging naked upon his Breast, and his Dagger naked behind him, came up to London, confessed freely the Fact and lost his Head there; As most of those did, who had laid their Hands upon this Archbishop, coming up severally out of their Countries to that City, and constantly accusing themselves for the Parricide of their spiritual Father. Nothing was now unlawful, there could be no Wickedness after this; they make more Examples of barbarous Cruelty under the Name of Justice.  
Robert Lord Prior of St. john, and Lord Treasurer of England, john Leg, or Laige one of the King's Sergeants at Arms, a Franciscan, a Physician belonging to the Duke of Lancaster (whom perhaps they hated, because they had wronged his Master) a Friar Carmelite, the Kings Confesso●… were murdered there in this Fury. Whose Heads with the Archbishops, were born before them through London Streets, and advanced over the Bridge.  
This while the King was softening the Rebel●… of Essex at Mile-end, with the Earls of Salisbury, Warwick, and Oxford, and other Lords. Thither by Proclamation he had summoned them, as presu●…ing the Essexians to be more civilised, and by much the fairer Enemies, as indeed they were. There he promises to grant them their Desires. Liberty, precious Liberty, is the thing they ask, this is given them by the King, but on Condition o●… good Behaviour. They are to cease their Burning, and Destruction of Houses, to return quietly to their Homes, and offend no Man in their Way. Two of every Village were to stay as Agents behind for the King's Charters, which could not be got ready in time. Farther the King offer●… them his Banners.  
Some of them were simple, honest People, of no ill Meaning, 
Froiss.  who knew not why the Garboils were begun; nor why they came thither. These were won, and win others; without more Stir those of Essex return whence they came. Tyler and Baal are of another Spirit, they would not part so easily; Tyler the future Monarch, who had designed an Empire for himself, and was now, sceleribus fuit ferox atque praeclarus, famous for his Villainies and haughty, would not put up so, he and his Kentish Rabble tarry. The next day being Saturday the 17th. of june, was spent as the other Days of their Tyranny, in Burning, ruining Houses, Murders, and Depopulations.  
The Night of this Day the Idol and his Priest upon a new Resolution, intended to have struck at the Neck of the Nation, to have murdered the King (the Achan of the Tribes) probably by Beheading, the Death these Parricides had used hitherto, the Lords, Gentlemen, the wealthiest and honestest part of the Citizens; then to have pillaged their Houses, and fired the City in four parts; they intended this haste to avoid odious Partnership in the Exploit, and that those of Norfolk, Suffolk, and other parts might not share in the Spoil. This Counsel of Destruction was against all Policy, more Profit might have been made of this City by Excise, Assessment, and Taxes upon the Trade; Tyler might sooner have enriched himself, and have been as secure. Estates make Men lofty; Fear and Poverty, if we may trust Machiavelli, bend and supple; every Man had been in Danger, and obnoxious to him, one Clown had awed a Street. Near the Abby-Church at Westminster, was a Chapel with an Image of the Virgin Mary: this Chapel was called the Chapel of our Lady, in the ●…iew it stood, near the Chapel of S. Stephen; since turned from a Chapel to the Parliament House, here our Lady then (who would not believe it) did great Miracles. Richard's Preservation at this time was no small one, being in the Hands of the Multitude, let loose, and enraged. There he makes his Vows of Safety; after which he rides towards these Sons of Perdition under the Idol Tyler.  
Tyler, who meant to consume the Day in Cavils, protests to those who were sent by the King, to offer those of Kent the same Peace, which the Essex Clowns had accepted, that he would willingly embrace a good and honest Peace, but the Propositions or Articles of it were only to be dictated by himself. He is not satisfied with the King's Charters. Three Draughts are presented to him, no Substance, no Form would please; he desires an Accommodation, but he will have Peace, and Truth together. He exclaims that the Liberty there is deceitful, but an empty Name; that while the King talks of Liberty, he is actually levying War, setting up his Standard against his Commons; that the good Commons are abused to their own Ruin, and to the Miscarriage of the great Undertaking; that they have with infinite Pains and Labour acquainted the King with their humble Desires, who refuses to join with them, misled and carried away by a few evil and rotten-hearted Lords and Delinquents, contrary to his Coronation Oath; by which he is obliged to pass all Laws offered him by the Commons  
(whose the Legislative Power is) which Denial of his, if it be not a Forfeiture of his Trust and Office (both which are now useless) it comes near it, and he is fairly dealt with, if he be not deposed, which too might be done without any Want of Modesty or Duty, and with the Good of the Commonwealth, the Happiness of the Nation not depending on him, or any of the Regal Branches I will deliver the Nation from the Norman Slavery, and the World (says he) of an old silly Superstition, That Kings are only the Tenants of Heaven, obnoxious to God alone, cannot be condemned and punished by any Power else. I will make (here he lied not) an wholesome Precedent to the World, formidable to all Tyrannies. I declare, That Richard Plantagenet, or Richard of Bourdeaux, at this time is not in a Condition to govern, I will make no Addresses no Application to him, nor receive any from him; though I am but a dry Bone, too unworthy for this great Calling, yet I will finish the Work, I will settle the Government without the King, and against him, and against all that take part with him, which sufficiently justifies our Arms, God with Us, says he, owns them, Success manifests the Righteousness of our Cause, this is (says he) the Voice of the People, by us their Representative, and our Counsel. After the Vote of no more Addresses, which with all their other Votes of Treason were to be styled the Resolution of the whole Realm; and while he swells in this Ruffle, Sir john Newton a Knight of the Court, is sent to entreat rather than to invite him to come to the King, then in Smithfield; where the Idols Regiments were drawn up, and treat with him, concerning the additional Provisions he desired to be inserted into the Charter.  
No Observance was omitted which might be thought pleasing to his Pride (which Pride was infinitely puffing.) Flattery was sweet to him, and he had enough of it, that made him bow a little, when nothing else could do it. We may judge at the Unreasonableness of his Demands, and Supplies of new Articles out of his Instrument, by one: He required of the King a Commission to empower himself, and a Committee Team of his own choosing, to cut off the Heads of Lawyers and Escheators, and of all those, who by Reason of their Knowledge and Place, were any way employed in the Law. He fancied if those who were learned in the Law, were knocked i'th'Head, all things would be ordered by the Common People; either there would be no Law, or that which was should be declared by him and his, subject to their Will, with which his Expression the day before did well agree. Then, attributing all things to God (the God of War) and his conquering Arms, and striking his Sword (which showed the present Power) on London-stone,  
The Cyclops, or Centaur of Kent spoke these Words: From 
Walsingh.  this Day (or within four Days) all Law (or all the Laws of England, as others) shall fall from Wat Tilers Mouth▪ The Kings indeed had bound themselves, and were bound by the Laws. They were named in them. Tyler was more than a King, he was an Emperor, he was above the Laws; nor was it fit the old overworn Magna Charta should hold him. The Supreme Authority and Legislative Power (no one knows how derived) were to be, and reside in him, according to the new Establishment. Tyler like Homer's Mars 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 was a Whirl wind●… he was 
* Potius gladiator quam senator.  Egnatius in Paterculus rather a Fencer, a Swashbuckler that a Senator; his right Arm, his brutish Force, not Justice, not Reason must sway all things. Tyler will not rule in Fetters, his Will, his Violence shall be called Law, and grievous Slavery under that Will, falsely Peace. Had those, whom no Government never so sweet, and gracious will please, unless the Supreme Power be given the People, seen the Confusion and Dangers, the Cruelty and Tyranny of these few days, they would quickly have changed this Opinion.  
The Knight performs his Embassy, he urges the Idol with great Earnestness to see the King, and speedily. He answers, if thou must be so much for Haste, get thee back to the King thy Master I will come when I list, yet he follows the Knight on Horseback, but slowly. In the Way, he is met by a Citizen, who had brought sixty Doublets for the Commons, upon the public Faith. This Citizen asks him for his Money; he promises Payment before Night, and presses on so near the King that his Horse touched the Croup of the King's Horse.  
Froissart reports his Discourse to the King: Sir King (says the Idol) seest thou yonder People? The King answers, Yes, and asks him what he means by the Question? He replies they are all at my Command, have sworn to me Faith, and Truth, to do what I will have them. He and they had broke their Faith and Truth to their Prince, and he thinks these Men will be true to him. Here though it be a Digression too much, I cannot omit a passage of the late Civil Wars of France, begun and continued by the jesuiced Party to extirpate the Royal Family 
D'Avila.  there.  
Villers Governor of Roüens for the Holy League, tells the Duke of Mayen, Captain General of the Rebellion, That he would not obey him; they were both Companions and Spoilers of the State together: The King being leveled, all Men else ought to be equal.  
The Idol, as he that demanded (so the Knight) nothing but Riot, continues his Discourse (thus:) Believest thou King, that these People will depart without thy Letters? The King tells him, He means fairly, that he will make good his Word, his Letters are near finished, and they shall have them. But the Glory of the Idol (which was merely the Benefit of Fortune) began to fade, his Principality was too cruel, too violent to be lasting. Vengeance here hovered over his Head, and he who had been the Destruction of Multitudes hastens, nay precipitates his own Fate, and ruins himself by his own Fury; he puts himself into the King's Power, who should in his first towering, had he been wisely wicked, like a Vulture of the Game, have flown at his Throat. 
* In magnis principium injuriis non incipitur ut desistatur.  The judicious Politic will not begin to give over; However will never venture himself in the Prince's Hands, whom he has justly offended by Treasons against his Government.  

† Grand folly Com.  Charles of Burgundy confesses this to be a great Folly; his Grandfather Philip lost his Life at Montereau upon the Yonne by it, and our Idol shall not escape better.  
Sir john Newton, the Knight employed to fetch him, delivered his Message on Horseback, which is now remembered, and taken for an high Neglect; besides it seemeth the Carriage and Words of the Knight were not very pleasing. Every Trifle in Omission was Treason to the Idols Person, and new State. He rails foully, draws his Dagger, and bellowing out, Traitor, menaces to strike the Knight, who returns him in Exchange the Lie; and not to be behind in Blows, draws his: This the Idol takes for an intolerable Affront, but the King fearful of his Servant, cools and assuages the Heat; he commands the Knight to dismount, and offer up his Dagger to the Idol, which (though unwillingly) was done.  
This would not take off his Edge: The Prince who yields once to a Rebel, shall find Heaps of Requests, and must deny nothing. The King had given away his Knight's Dagger: Now nothing will content Tyler but the King's Sword, with which the Militia or Power of Arms impliedly was sought. This he asks, than again rushes upon the Knight, vowing never to eat till he have his Head.  
When the Nobility and Gentry of the Kingdom, whom neither Necessity nor Misery could animate, lie down trampled on by these Villains without Soul, or Motion; in comes the Mayor of London, Sir William Walworth, the everlasting Honour of the Nation, a Man who over did Ages of the Roman Scaevolae, or Curtij in an Hours Action and snatches the King and Kingdom out of these Flames. He tells the King, it would be a Shame to all Posterity, to suffer more Insolences from this Hangman, this Lump of Blood. This the rest of the Courtiers now wakened by their own Danger, (for he who destroys one Man contrary to Law or Justice, gives all Men else Reason to fear themselves and take heed) are Echoes to. This puts Daring into the young King; he resolves to hazard all upon this Chance: This Way he could not but die Kingly, at least, like a Gentleman, with the Sword, which God (of whose great Majesty he was a Beam) gave him in his Hand. The only Way left to avoid a shameful Death, was to run the Danger of a brave One, and a wise Coward (I will not say an Honourable One) considering the Incertainty of things under that Iron Socage Tenure, would think so.  
The King commands the Mayor to arrest the Butcher: This was Charge enough, and rightly understood; indeed there was then no time for Form nor Trial, the Suspension of the Courts was Tilers Act, his 
Grot. jur. Bell. v. l. 1. c. 4.  Crime, and he ought not to look for any Advantage from it: An Historian says, the Duke of Guyse's Power was so much, that the Ordinary Forms of Justice could not be observed; fair Law is handsome, but it is not to be given to Wolves and Tigers. Tyler was a Traitor, a common Enemy; and against such (says a Father long agone) every Man is a Soldier; whosoever struck too, struck as much in his own Defence, in his own Preservation, as the King's: And the Safety of the King and People, made this Course ●…ecessary; besides, Tilers Crimes were public and notorious.  
The generous Lord Mayor obeys the Sentence, which was given by the same Power, by which the Judges of Courts sat and acted, when Justice flowed down from the Fountain in the ordinary Channel, and which the Dam Head being thus troubled by this Wolf, could flow no otherwise, which was Authority sufficient; by this Power Richard's Captains must fight when he has them, and kill those whom the Courts of Justice cannot deal with: Tyler faints and shrinks to what he had been, he was as cowardly as cruel, and could not seem a Man in any thing but that he was a Thief, and a Rebel: He asks the brave Mayor in what he was offendedly him? This was a strange Question to an honest Man; he finds it so. The Mayor (says Froissart) calls him false stinking Knave, and tells him he shall not speak such Words in the Presence of his natural Lord the King. The Mayor answers in full upon the accursed Sacrilegious Head of the Idol with his Sword. He struck heartily, and like a faithful zealous Subject. Dagon of the Clowns sinks at his Feet. The King's Followers environ him round, john Standish an Esquire of the Court, alights, and runs him into the Belly, which thrust sent him into another World, to accompany him who taught Rebellion, and Murder first. Event was then no Sign of a good Cause.  
All History now brands him for a Traitor, which by some will be attributed to his Miscarriage: without Doubt had he prospered in the Work, he had had all the Honours which go along with Prosperity. The King had been the wrong Doer, and his 
Ut reus sit vincendus. est.  Afflictions, if nothing in so much Youth could have been found out, had been Crimes; we must overpower those whom we would make guilty. Henry the Great of France under the Popes Interdict, is told by a Gentleman, Sir, if we be overcome, we shall dine condemned Heretics; if your Majesty conquer, the Censures shall be revoked, they will fall of themselves. He who reads the Mischiefs of his Usurpation, will think he perished too late.  
Now I come to an Act of Richard's the most glorious of his History, which the Annals past can no where parallel; here his Infancy excels his after Manhood. Here, and in the Gallantry of his Death, he appears a full Prince, and perhaps vies with all the Bays of his Usurpers Triumphs.  
Alexander the Monarch of the World, (not more wondered at for his Victories, than for that suppressing the Sedition of his Macedons in Asia, tired, and unable to march, whither his Ambition carried him on Wings) leaps from his Throne of State, into the Battles of his Phalanges enraged, seizes Thirteen of the Chief Malcontents, and delivers them to the Custody of his Guards. 
Curtius  knows not what he should impute this Amazement of the Seditious to, every Man returning upon it to his old Duty, and Obedience, and ready to yield himself up into the same Hands: It might be (says he) the Veneration of the Majesty of 
Lib.  Kings which the Nations submitted under, Worship equally with the Gods, or of himself which laid the Tempest. That Confidence too of the Duke Alessandro of Parma, in a Mutiny of the Germane Ruiters at Namurs is memorable, who made his Way with his Sword alone through the Points of all their Lances, into the midst of their Troops, and brought thence by the Collar one of the Mutineers, whom he commanded to be hanged to the Terror of the rest. The Youth of Richard begat rather Contempt, than Reverence, of which too these Clowns Breasts were never very full: When the Fall of the Idol was known to the Rout, they put themselves into a Posture of Defence, thunder out nothing but Vengeance to the King and his, whom they now arraign of Murder and Tyranny: He is guilty of Innocent Blood, a Tyrant, a Traitor, an Homicide, the public Enemy of the Commonwealth Richard Plantagenet is indicted in the Name of the People of England of Treason; and other heinous Crimes. He is now become less than Tilers Ghost, a Traitor to the Freeborn People.  
His Treason was, he would not destroy himself, he would not open his Body to Tilers full Blow. They roar out, our Captain General is slain treacherously, let us 
Walsingh. Capitaneus noster.  stand to it and revenge his precious Blood, or die with him: I cannot pass this place without some little Wonder; had these Ruffians (with whom Kings hedged about by Holy Scripture, and Laws Humane, are neither Divine nor Sacred) been asked whether Tyler the Idol, of their own Clay and Hands, might have been tried, touched or struck, according to their resenting this Blow here: Let his Tyrannies, his Exorbitances have been what they would, they would have answered no doubt in the Negative: Though Richard might have been struck through and thorough, Tyler who had usurped his Power, must have been Sacred, it must have been Treason to touch him: Phocas must not be hurt: In Tilers Case Straw would allow the old Text again: The Powers were to be obeyed. Their Bows were drawn when the King gallops up to them alonae, and riding round the Throng asks them, what Madness it was that armed them thus against their own Peace, and his Life, whether they would have no end of Things or Demands.  
He tells them, If Liberty be their only Aim, as hitherto they have pretended, they may assure themselves of it, and that it is an extreme Folly to seek to make that our own with the Breach of Faith, of Laws, with Impieties, violating God and Man, which we may come by fairly. But they trod not the Path to Liberty; that where every Man commands, no Man can be free; the Liberty too they fancy cannot be had, the World cannot subsist without Order and Subjection, Men cannot be freed from Laws: If they were, there could be no Society, no Civility any where; Men must be shunned as much as Wolves or Bears, Rapine and Bloodshed would overrun the World; the Spoiler must fear the next Comer, like savage Beasts, who hurt others, and know not it is ill to hurt them. Men would devour Men, the stronger Thief would swallow up the rest; No Relations would be Sacred, where every Man has the Power of the Sword; the aged Sire (could there be any such) must defend his silver Hairs from the unnatural Violence of his own Sons.  
He adds, if there can be any just Cause of Sedition, yet is the Sedition unjust which outlasts it, which continues, when the Cause is yielded to, and taken away; that if his Prerogative has been sometimes grievous, his Taxes heavy, and any of those they call evil Counsellors faulty, they ought to remember, in their first Risings, and all along in all their Oaths, and Covenants, they swore continually not to invade the Monarchy, nor touch the Rights of his free Crown. You ought to remember your own Remonstrances; you once declared, that you acknowlegded the Maxim of the Law, The King can do no wrong; if any ill be committed in Matters of State, the Counsellors; if in Matters of Law, the judges must answer for it— My Person was not to be violated. He expects they should deal with him, as the honest Husbandman does in Overflows of Waters, who clears and drains his Ground, repairs the Banks, but does not usurp upon the Stream, does not enhance within the Channel; and farther, that quarrels to his Government and Laws are unreasonable from those, who out of Ambition arm to overthrow both; that Reformation is not the Work of Sedition, which ever disorders what is well settled. He conjures them to forsake these Furies, who, says he, abuse their Lightness merely for their own Ends, whose Companions and Masters they were lately, now are they but their Guards; and that if they refuse a Subjection according to all Laws Divine and Humane to his Sceptre, they must become Slaves and Tributaries to their Iron, to the Flails and Pitch-forks of some Mushroom of their own Dirt, and that advancing their Mushroom, thus upon his Power by the Ways of Force, gives an Example to the next Tumults against themselves.  
There can be no Safety for any new Power raised upon this Force; 
Non est diuturna possessio in quam gladio induciamur. Curt.  the Obedience to that upon these Rules being limited, and annexed to the Force, and Success, and to yield and give Way to the next Power visible, which shall overbear it. A way to thrust a Nation into a State of War, continual Perjury and Impiety to the Worlds End. This Realm (as he goes on) is my Inheritance; which I took Possession of after the Death of my Grandfather being a Child, and did I claim only by your Gift (which I shall never grant) yet are not you free, to make a new Choice; you are bound to me by Oaths and Compacts, and no Right of new Compliance, or Submission can be left you to transfer. He concludes, That Despair was a dangerous Sin, which would drive them headlong to Destruction; that whatsoever their Offences had been, they were not above his Mercy.  
He bids them not trouble themselves for Tyler, a base Fellow who thrust them into Dangers, and blew them into a Storm, to raise himself upon the Billows, upon the Ruins of his Country. He promises to lead them, he will be their Captain if they will follow him, he will please them in all their Desires. This he spoke to draw them off farther into Smithfield, fearing they would again fall to burning of Houses. They now wanted their Devil, who possessed them, and being in Doubt whether they should kill the King, or return Home with his Charters, there being no Incendiary to command, follow the King in Suspense; Baal and Straw about this time amazed at the Idol's Fall, lose Courage and slip away. In the mean time the stout Mayor spurs to the City with one Servant, where in a few Words he acquaints the Citizens with the King's Peril and his own, and requests their sudden Assistance, if not for himself, for the King, who (says he) is in Danger now to be murdered. Some Loyal Hearts, some good Men of the King's Party arm, and join to the Number of one Thousand, and range themselves in the Street, expecting some of the Cavaliers of the King's Knights to conduct them, resolved either to overcome, or not to fear the Conquerors.  
Sir Robert Knowles, a renowned Commander in the French Wars of the King's Grandfather (called falsely Canol by Polydore, and others) undertakes this Charge. Sir Perducas D'Albret (called D'Albreth) a Noble Gascoign and a Commander too in those Wars, Nicholas Brembre the King's Draper, and other Aldermen, come in with their Levies, and march to the King in sight of the Rebels. There the King knights the brave Wil: Walworth, john Standish, one of his Esquires, Nicholas Brembre, john Philpot, he most generous Citizen, (famous for his faithful Service to his Prince in the times succeeding) and others. The Nobility about the King desire him to strike off an hundred or two of the Clowns Heads, in Revenge of the Injuries and Infamy they had received from them. Sir Robert Knowls would have him fall on, and cut them all to pieces. The King dislikes both these Counsels; He says many of these unhappy Men were awed to side, without either Malice to his Person or Power; and that if the first Advice were taken, the most Innocent might be punished, and the Guilty escape: If the Second, the very Rebel and the Counterfeit (the forced one) must be swallowed up together, which was high Injustice. Yet were there many of these Rebels called to an Account, and their Acts of Blood, Rapine and Burning cost them dear; but these Acts of theirs done against Law, were punished Legally, upon the finding of Juries, when the Tumults were composed: Which was fair and handsome, and show the Honourable Justice of our King. All that was done against them that Night, was, to forbid the Citizens by Proclamation to entertain any of these Men in the City, or communicate with them; and to command all Men, who had not dwelled there for one Year before, to depart.  
So far was the young King from approving the Cruelty of the late Counsels, that in the next Place, he causes the Charters, which he had promised them, to be delivered: Yet some may suppose this but a Pardon of Show, and the Pardon-piece of the Charters, as well as the other part, rather a Piece of Policy than any thing else; the Countries being yet Tumultuons, the Clowns were upon their good Behaviour, that was a Condition of their Pardon, which they would not observe; they commit new Outrages, break the King's Laws, and pluck down the Vengeance of Justice upon their Heads afresh, they did not give over their Mischiefs after their Return, says Wals. By the King and his Counsel, the Charters at extorted out of Force, and Necessity were recalled; and though the meinie generally were pardoned, the King (again provoked) stayed but for a fit time to take Vengeance on the Ringleaders, and punish particular Offenders who could not be forgiven: It being necessary in so desperate a Revolt, for the Terror of others, to make Examples of some such malicious Disturbers of the Peace, as would never have been reclaimed. The King's Charters contained a Manumission of the Villains, and Abolition of the Memory of what was passed for the rest. The Tenor, says Walsingham, of the Charters extorted from the King by Force, was this, (he gives us only that of Hartfordshire the Province of his Monastery.)  
RIchard, by the Grace of God, King of England and of France, Lord of Ireland, To all his Bailiffs and others his Trusty, to whom these Letters shall come, greeting: Know ye that we of our special Grace have made free all our Liege's, and every of our Subjects of Hartfordshire, and we free those, and every of them from all 
* Ab omn bondagio.  Bondage, and quit them by these Presents; and also we pardon the same our Liege's, and Subjects, for all Felonies, Treasons, Trespasses, and Extortions by them, or any of them, in any wise done, or committed, and also every Outlary, or Outlaries, if any against them, or any of them, are or shall be published, and our full Peace to them, or any of them, therefore we grant. In witness whereof these our Letters we have caused to be made Patents. Witness ourselves at London the 15th. day of June, the 4th. Year of our Reign.  
This Charter was granted about the time the Clowns of Essex disbanded, and received theirs, it was brought into Harfordshire to Saint Alban by Wallingford one of the Town. 
* Illucescente die Veneris.  Friday says Walsingham the day of Tribulation, etc. (which was the 16th. of june) the Townsmen of Saint Alban being at the time of Matins acquainted by those of Barnet with the Command of the Ordinance, or Act, for repairing to London presently with the Esquires of the Abbot, set forth; So that I conceive the Day of this Charter is mistaken in it by the Monk.  
The Clowns throw down their Arms at the King's Feet, sue for Mercy, and deliver up their Chiefs; the Principal of which, Priest Straw was after drawn from his hiding Holes, and laid hold of by the King's Officers. What became of them we shall see below, in the Visitation made by the King, and his Ministers, through the Provinces in Uproar.  
The Commons of Kent now scatter and dissolve, the Heads of the Archbishop, Lord Prior, and the rest, are taken down from the Bridge, and the Idols advanced there. That Baal should now be taken in an old House is an Error of the Knights; Baal must take 
Fr●…iss. so.  his Turn, but he shall have a longer Run for it. That the Dagger should now be given in Honour of Sir William Walworth as an Addition to the City Arms is Fabulous; this Dagger is the Sword of St. Paul, and was born by the City when Tyler was living.  
The King now rides to Westminster, where he gives God Thanks for his Deliverance, and presents his Offering to the Virgin Mary, in her Chapel of the Piew; next he visits the Princess Mother in the Tower Royal, called the Queen's Wardrobe, and bids her rejoice, for (says he) this Day I have recovered mine Heritage, the Realm of England near 
Froiss.  lost; the Lords return to their own Houses. The other Countries now in Combustion, and upon their March to London, make halt; they were Thunder-stricken at the Disaster of the Idol, they hated the Fortune not the Wickedness of that Monster, and tarry to pour out those Plagues at Home, if they be not checked, which before they intended to carry farther off. The Example and Success of the Idol had moved with many, but his Invitation, and Solicitation by the Emissaries of this Confederacy and Spirit more. The Sectaries, or Ringleaders of the hurden rustic Raggamuffin's in the several Provinces of the Association (while Tyler was thus busied in the chief Seat of his new Dominions) promote the Cause, and pursue the Instructions of the Prince of Devils; they were all to trèad his Steps, as we shall find in what follows.  
I have before spoken of the Summons of the Idol to fetch the 
The lewd pranks of the Clowns at Saint Alban.  bordering Rogues into the Line of Communication, who were to serve as Auxiliaries only, to strengthen Tyler, rather than to enrich themselves, and likely to be cashiered, and cast off when he had perfected his Works: amongst these Rake-hells were the Townsmen of Saint Alban with the Abbot's Servants, shuffled in the Throng of purpose to oversee and awe the Clowns, from the new Fangles of our fanatics. These, as is related, were sworn to the Engagement at Heibury; whence they come to London; whither they are no sooner got, but the Townsmen separate from the Servants of the Monastery, and in St. Mary-bow-Church does their profane Conventicle consult how to make Advantage of the Tumult.  
And what Pretences of Revolt from their Lord Abbot would seem most fair, and taking. Here they make not the Causes of their Disobedience, they were hatched secretly amongst themselves; they deliberate how to perfect things, how to come to Effects. The enlarging the Bounds of their Common, free Fishing, Hunting in certain places, when they pleased, and Hand-mills, that the Bailiff of the Liberty shall no more meddle within the Precincts of the Town; the Revocation of Charters prejudicial to the Freeborn Burgesses, cancelling the Bonds of their Forefathers made to Abbot Richard, are the Propositions first voted.  
One, who would be wiser than the rest, persuades them not to attempt things rashly, and giddily, without Authority: He tells them, that Wat Tyler, Protector and Captain General of the Clowns was near; that the Protector, was a Righter of Wrongs raised, and inspired by Providence to redeem the faithful Commons from the Thraldom of the Wicked. At 
Wals. Ducem ribaldorum, ut accepta ab eo potestate, etc.  the Suit of the Godly Party (says he) Tyler has accepted the Government, he is to govern the two Nations; The Supreme executive Power resides in him; from him (says he) and from the Keepers of the Liberties let us seek for Remedy.  
Let us make our Addresses to him, let us seek to his Highness for Power, and Commission. This he said (as Walsingham writes) supposing a greater than Tyler should not be seen in the Kingdom, that Tilers Greatness for the time to come would only be eminent; That the Laws of the Land (the most ancient 
Wals.  English Saxon Laws) would be of no Force, of no Validity, because the most of the Lawyers were already murdered, and the rest in their Account not long-lived; the Axes Edge was turned towards them. He concludes, let us return Home, and in the Puissance of Wat, and ourselves, force the Abbot to Reason; if he deny our Requests, we will awe him with Burning and demolishing the Monastery, with killing the Monks, we will threaten not to leave one Stone upon another. Others conceive it more safe to petition the King (who might be spoken with by every Man, and durst refuse nothing) for his Letters under the Privy Seal, commanding the Abbot, to restore to the Townsmen the Rights, and Liberties which their Ancestors enjoyed in the time of King Henry the First, as if the English Church had been lately endowed, the Monasteries founded, their Royalties, Liberties, Privileges granted by the Norman Princes, than which nothing could be more false. The most Christian Saxon Kings of Blessed Memory, twelve of which died Martyrs of the Faith, ten shine Glorious Stars in the Calendar of Saints, were all nursing Fathers of the Church; scarcely was there one in the Illustrious Roll, who gave not Lands and Possessions with Exemptions, and Immunities to the Church; who erected not Bishoprics, or Monasteries, into which Thirty of our Crowned Heads, Kings, or Queens entered; the Superstition of the Ages than ought not to blemish their Piety. The Mercian King Offa, his Son Ecgfryd, King Ethelred, King Edward, are the Founders and Donors of S. Alban. What King Henry the First did for the Town I cannot say, nor how ample its Liberties were then. This is true, he confirms the Grants of the Saxon Princes, to the Monastery, and adds the Norman Seal to strengthen the Saxon Crosses; 
All these Grants end with horrible Curses against Sacrilege.  this is all; but Truth is not necessary in such Uproars; the Credulity of a Lightheaded Multitude is quickly abused, their Duty and Obedience easily corrupted without it.  
To keep our Way: Both these Counsels are approved; William Greyndcob an Hind, who had eaten the Bread 
Walsing.  of the Monastery for the most part of his Life, is elected with others, and sent on this Errand to the King, before whom he knelt six times out of Zeal to prevail. This Lo●… too was made principal Prolocutor (says our Monk) or Speaker to the Idol: before 
Walsingh.  whose sordid Excellency and his unclean Counsel he complains of the grievous Tyranny of the Abbot and Prior, (some few Monks are thrust in to make up the Number) of the Oppressures of the Commons, of withholding the Wages of poor Labourers; the Design was to rouse the Wolf.  
Tyler meant not to leave London, yet he promises, if need be, to send Twenty Thousand of the Saints, who shall not fail to shave the Beards of the Abbot and the rest, which signified (in plain English) cutting off their Heads.  
The gracious Captain General was yet more kind; he vows, if it be convenient, to assist them in his own Person. He gives them Directions and Orders to govern themselves by, and makes their Obedience here, a Condition of his Love. These Orders were generally enjoined by our English Mahomet, through all the Provinces of his Conquest, and were framed according to the Law of his bloody Koran. He swears them to omit nothing either in his Commands or Doctrine. A Servant of the Abbot, one of the Spies upon the Townsmen, rides in full Career to S. Alban and gives Intelligence to the Abbey of the Exploits of the new Masters at London. He tells them in what manner that Dirt of a Captain (Tyler) fullyed and polluted with the Blood of the Nobless, had butchered the English Patriarch, and the Lord Treasurer. That London, the Den of these ravenous Beasts, falsely called the Chamber of her Kings, was likely now to become the Charnel-house of Richard, and his Loyal Vassals: That these Fiends, who would go for Saints, and the only good Patriots commit the Acts of Thiefs, and Murderers, neither reverencing Religion nor Laws: And that the Conquering French, who makes fair War, nay the barbarous Scot, broke out of the Fastness of his own Desert, mortal Enemies of the Nation, could not spoil nor ruin with more Cruelty and Villainy. No Mercy, says he, (yield who will upon Mercy) no Favour, no Goodness can be expected from this Rout of Wolves. He bids those pointed at, and named by Greyndcob to Tyler, shift for themselves, which they are not long in resolving of. The Prior, four Monks, and some of their Servants, one part horsed, another on Foot, fly for their Lives, not assuring themselves till they got to Tynmouth, a Priory of this Monastery of Saint Alban in Northumberland. William Greyndcob, and William Cadindon a Baker, on Friday had hastened to S. Alban, that they might make the Honour of the Achievement theirs, by first appearing in the Action. These brag aloud of the Prosperity of Affairs, that they were no more Drudges and Slaves, but Lords for the time to come; that they had brought about great and wonderful Feats against the Abbey; they propose, first to defy the Abbot, 
Wals. ad diffideciandum.  to renounce all Amity and Peace with him, then to break down his Folds and Gates in Fauconwood, Eywood, and 
Suqtellerar●….  his other Woods, and to pull down the Under-Bowsers House, standing over against the Fishmarket, and hindering the Prospect of the Burgesses and Nobility of the Town, this is their own Style, a Nobility scarce to be paralleled in the World discovered, unless we fetch in the Man-eaters of Brasil, who have neither Letters nor Laws, acknowledge neither God nor Prince.  
This Night the first Scene of the Tragedy is acted; the next day, being Saturday, fatal to the Hangman Tyler, the Upstart Nobility of Churls assemble and make Proclamation, That no Man able to serve his Country, presume to slight the Lieutenants of the Idol, but that every Man furnish himself with such Arms as he can provide, to attend them the Lieutenants in his own Defence. The Crew summoned are commanded to press the Gentry for the Service, and to cut off the Heads of those who would not join with them, and swear to be faithful to them; beheading, burning Houses, Forfeiture of Goods were menaced to all that would not assist the Forces raised by Tyler, and fight the Lords Battles, that is, for the Cause. This, says our Monk, was the Charge of their Lord and Master Wat, this was his Rubric of Blood.  
Next, with great Pomp they march to Fauconwood; to levelly 
Cum magna pompa  the slips of their Haste and Nightwork; something they feared might be left whole, upon Review; when Root and Branch were pared and torn up, they retire.  
The other Growtnolls of the Neighbourhood, subject to the Distress, or signory of Saint Alban, wait for them; these were cited upon the same Threats to meet, and promised Bellyfuls, Cart Loads of Liberties. Now or never for the Liberty of the Subject, and the Power of Godliness. This Supply swells them into huge Hopes, it puffs them up. Greyndcob and Cadindon more haughty now than ever; lead their Battalias, blustering with surly Pride and Disdain, to the Gates of the Monastery, which with the same Loftiness they command the Porter to set open. Some of the Company, Friends of the House, had given private Intelligence to the Abbot of the Contrivances against him, who had instructed his Servants how to carry themselves toward this Tag and Rag of Swains; they observe them punctually.  
That they may seem pious in their Entrance, they free the public Malefactors out of the Abbot's Prison; but so that they should owe Faith hereafter, and Grace of the Benefit to the Commons (a Name the most Honourable, and which must swallow up all things else) and inseparably stick to them. One of the Offenders, whom they suppose unworthy of Liberty or Life (grown Judges and Executioners by the same Inspiration and Spirit) they behead on the Ground before the Gates, then fix his Head upon the Pillory, roaring with that devilish Cry they had learned at London. This was plain Murder by the Law, whatsoever this Man's Crime was, these Rogues were guilty in a most high Nature, so that besides the Baseness of their Condition, they were incapable of any Jurisdiction by the ancient fundamental Laws of England, as being Traitors, and out of the King's Faith: But to wave all this by these ancient Laws, every Prisoner 
Mir. 114  might demand Oyer, hearing of the Judge's Commission, these Villains had neither Authority nor Commission, but from Tilers Sword, which was but a Derivative of his Usurpation. No Act of which can be just, the Foundation of his Tyranny this Way, in being just, and illegal at the first.  
From the Idols first Entrance no Act of Confirmation or Grant was done (could any such Act be done and valid) to establish or make a Right, by the Power which had that Right to bestow; he asked for a Commission of Life and Death, but was refused, and his Arbitrary Acts were only a Continuance of his Intrusion, and of the Violence upon which he began.  
To fill up their tattered Regiments, their Fellow Leaguers or Covenanters of Barnet, Luton, Watford, and the Towns round enter St. Alban of the same Sacrilegious Affection to the Abbey. In all these Conspiracies the Church was the main Mark aimed at, about the Carcases of the Cathedrals and Abbeys (they were now nothing else) did these Vultures gather. In the same Conjuncture of times enters Richard Wallingford, Head-borough or Constable of the place, who tarried at London for the King's Letter of Manumission and Pardon, (which Greyndcob had been so earnest for) bearing the King's Banner or Pennon of the Arms of St. George, being the red Cross before him, according to the Fashion of the Clowns of London. The Commons hearing of his coming, pour themselves out in Heaps to meet him. He alights, strikes the Penon into the Earth, and bids them keep close and encircle it like a Standard. He entreats them to continue about it, and expect his Return, and the Lieutenants, who were resolved with all Speed to treat with the Abbot, and would suddenly bring them an Answer to their Propositions. Which said, he and they enter the Church, and send for the Abbot to appear before them, and answer the Commons (only Sacred then, and to whom all Knees were to bow.) The Abbot was at first resolute to die for the Liberty of his Church; (a pious Gallantry which will be admirable) but overcome with the Prayers of his Monks; who told him, as things stood, his Death could advantage nothing; that these stinking Knaves, these Hellhounds were determined to murder the Monks, and burn the Monastery, if they had the Repulse; and that there was no Way of Safety but to fall down before these Baal's, he yields. After he was come to the Church, and a short Salutation past; Wallingford reaches out to him the King's Letter or Writ (as Walsi●…gham calls it) in these Words, as I have rendered them out of the barbarous French of that Age.  
BEloved in God, At the Petition of our loved Liege's of the Town of St. Alban we will and command you, That certain Charters being in your Custody made by our Progenitor King Henry to the Burgesses and good People of the said Town, of Commune of Pasture and Fishing, and of certain other Commodities expressed in the said Charters, in what they say, you do as Law and Reason requires; So that they may not have have any Matter to complain to us for that Cause Given under our Signet at London the 15th. Day of June, the fourth year of our Reign.  
Here certainly again is a Mistake of the Day, for till Friday the 16th. of june, the Clowns of Saint Alban (as is observed) stirred not. Thus is the King forced to be the Author of other men's Injustice, to consent to those Insolences (and Wrongs) which must undo all those who are Faithful to him, to please a base Rabble, engaged to turn in the end their destroying Hands upon himself and his Royal Family; the Abbot receives the Letter with due Reverence, and reads it: Then thinking to work upon the Consciences of these Hellhounds, he begins a Discourse of Law, Reason, Equity, and Justice; Law and Reason were the Princely Bounds betwixt which the King's Commands ran. He tells them, whatsoever was demanded by them, had been long ago determined in the Courts of Justice, by the public Judges, Persons knowing and honourable, sworn to do equal Right.  
That the Records were kept amongst the King's Rolls at Westminster, whence he inferred, That according to the Laws anciently in Use, they had neither Right nor Claim left: He adds, the Usurpation upon another's Propriety is Tyranny in the Abstract; it is the greatest Injustice: The very Heathens will have it unnatural to enrich ourselves to make our Advantage from Spoil and Robbery, but Force is odious to God and Man, that aggravates the Sin; Violence is a more heinous Crime than Theft. This was ridiculous Wisdom, considering who they were the good Abbot spoke to; he had forgot perhaps how Antigonus armed to invade and seize the Cities, and Countries of other Princes, laughed at the serious grave Folly of one who presented him with a Tractate of Justice. Wallingford with his Hand upon his Sword takes him off pertinently, as reflecting upon the Manners of Men, whose Treasons prosper, and Practise of the times; in which now Men did not advance themselves by Virtue, by Learning, by Justice, or Valour, but by Murder and Robbery.  
My Lord (says he) every Story is not true, because it is eloquently told; you endeavour here to inveigle and deceive us in a long Discourse of Equity, of Law, and Justice; we come not hither for Words but Things; we pretend not to refute your Reasons, (which are but unjust Defences of your Oppression), but cunning Subtleties, but Colours to paint o'er the Wrongs you do us, nor can we; the Rudeness of our Education must disable us for this part, we have been born and bred under your Dominion, Slaves, and Villains to you under a Dominion so unmanly cruel; you have always kept us deprived, not only of all Means of Learning or Knowledge, but would willingly have taken away our very Reason and common Understanding, that we might groan under our Miseries with the feeling of Beasts, but be Masters neither of Sense nor Language for a Complaint.  
It is time now that we of the Commonalty, as you call and range us, should take our Turn of Command, however of Liberty. Nor is this to be wondered, at if you consider our Strength, and the Happiness of the new Model; the Eminency of the Commons is visible to every Eye, theirs is the present, theirs is the Supreme Power. We are armed, and we will not think of the Laws, nor regard them, they only submit to Laws who want Power to help themselves. Besides these Laws you tell us of, are but the Will of our Enemies in Form and Rule, they were made by them, they favour them; and our Captain General Tyler, who has conquered (a sad unhappy Word, where it is used of one part of a 
Perque uterum sonipes hic matris agendus.  Nation against another, and of Benjamin against Israel, by the worst and least against the better and greater) the Makers of them, the Lawgivers, was so become above the Laws themselves; your Reasons, when these Laws were backed with Force, when your King could protect you, before our Success might have served well enough; now we expect them not, nor will we accept them.  
He concludes in Persuasion not to exasperate the Godly Party, the Righteous Commons, who, says he, will not be appeased, will not give over, nor lay down Arms, till they be Masters of their Desires.  
The Abbot, entering into a new Speech, is again stopped and told, the Thousand before the Doors of his Monastery sent for him not to parley, but consent, which they look he should be sudden in; if not, we (says Wallingford) the Lieutenants, chosen by the Captain Representatives of the People, will deliver up and resign the Powers to him, which we received of him. We have voted, if you comply not, to send for the Captain General Tyler, and Twenty thousand of his Militia, to the Danger of this Place, and of the Monk's Heads.  
The Abbot here recites his good Deeds, how often in their Necessities he had relieved them, he had been (he says) their spiritual Father thirty two Years; in all which time, no Man had been grieved, or oppressed by him: this giving implyedly the Lie to Wallingford, they grant but will not be denied. The Obligations and Charters which they require, are delivered them, which they burn in the Marketplace, near the Cross. This did not content them, they ask for an ancient Charter concerning the Town Liberties, the Capital Letters of which (say they) were one of Gold, another of 
* De azorio.  Azure: The Abbot prays them to be satisfied for that time, he protests, they have all he has to give them, he knew of no more, yet he would make a search, and if any such Deed could be found, it should faithfully be delivered to them. This too was the answer of the Covent, it was agreed that the Abbot should after Dinner disclaim under his Hand and Seal in all Things prejudicial to their Liberty. In Memory of an old Suit betwixt Abbot Richard the First, and the Townsmen in the Reigns of William the Second, and Henry the First, wherein the Townsmen were overthrown, were laid Millstones before the Door of the Parlour. These john 
* Locutorii.  the Barber with others took away, as a Token of Victory over the Law; these they break into small pieces, and distribute amongst the Worthies, as the Sacred Bread is given in the Eucharist.  
Who could forbear Tears (says Walsingham) heavily bewailing 
Wals.  these Changes, to see Servants command their Lords, who know not how to rule, nor how to pity. To see London (once the noble Head of our Cities) become a Sty for unclean Swine. Who would not tremble to hear that the Archbishop and the Lord Treasurer should be offered Victims to wicked Spirits, to the Kentish ●…dol the Kentish Saturn or Moloch, and his Hobgoblins in the midst of the Kingdom. Nay (says he) whose Heart would it not have wounded through, to have seen the King of England, who of Right for Majesty and Dignity ought to precede all Kings in the World, out of Fear of his Head, observe the Nods and Becks of these Varlets, and the Nobility and Gentry, mortified Beasts, trampled on by these Scullions, enslaved at their own Charge, lick up their Dust.  
After Dinner, a sad Dinner to the Monks, this Merdaille, these Stinkards, throng before the Gates, and demand the Charter of Liberties, which the Abbot had promised them to seal, which was sent, and read to them in the thickest of the Rout: If they please to accept it, (this was the Abbot's Compliment) he is ready to seal. They (resolved never to be pleased) with much Scorn and Pride answer by an Esquire of the Abbot, That the Abbot must appoint some Clerk of his to attend them with ●…nk and Parchment, themselves would dictate, and after the Abbot and Covent should confirm what was done; when this Humour, was satisfied, the Safety and Peace of the Monastery and Monks were as desperate as ever. The old Charter, which they will everlastingly believe concealed, must be produced, else they will bury the Covent in the Ruins of the Cloisters.  
This Charter did certainly (as they will have it) contain all their ancient Liberties and Privileges; and if this was true, there was no great Reason it should be in the Abbot's keeping.  
Here the Abbot employs the most Honourable Esquires of the Country, as Mediators to soften them, and offers (if they desire it) to say Mass before them next Morning, and to swear upon the Sacrament he 
Super Sacramentum.  should be about to take, with what Monks they would name, that he kept from them no such Charter with his Knowledge.  
Make Choice (says he) of what Liberties you can, you shall have my Charters drawn, they shall be granted you by it; I will seal you a real Charter instead of a fantastical one, never seen by you, no where to be had. The Abbot struggles in vain against these Waves, this Charter of their Fancies they will have: Nor shall any other Price redeem the Monastery, they intended the Subversion of the House, and wrangle thus crossly, that they might seem to have some Pretences to do it; but because they had much Business to go about, and could not be here and there too, a Truce was taken for that Day, and many of these pure Brethren betake themselves to other parts; some of them would not be prevailed with, the Bread and Ale of the Monastery brought forth to them in huge Fats, would not work upon them to lay their Fury, they stayed only for a leading Hand. Here an honest Burgess interposes, Ribaulds (says he) what is it you 
Ribaldi.  purpose; most of you here are Foreigners of the Villages about, this is the most famous Mischief which can be acted in this Country, this Beacon must set all on Fire, and it is fit we, who are Burgesses and Freemen of this Town, should give the Onset: By this Fineness they are gained to quit the Gates, and join to the Assistance of their Fellow-Labourers. The rest of the Day is spent by their united Forces, in overthrowing of Houses, clashing of Vessels, and spoiling of Goods according to the Rule of Walter the false Founder of the Order. At Night 
Quod didicerant à Waltero.  the Lieutenants make Proclamamation under the King's Banner, commanding strong Guards to be set about the Town, that they may be assured against Surprises, and about the River Werlam, and Saint Germains; making it Loss of the Head to any Monk, who should be found issuing from, or entering the Monastery that Way; this was done to set a Trap for the Prior, and those who fled with him. They proclaimed also, that whosoever could challenge any Debts due to him from the Monastery, might put in his Claim (and little Proof should be needed) the next Day, and the Burgesses of the Town, would discharge as far as the Goods of the Monastery would reach. Much more was Magisterially thrown in, to show a Cast of the present Power: Which was no sooner done, but there appears a Farmer of the Manor of Kingsbury belonging to this Abbey, arm I with his Sword and Buckler; this Man was much in Arrears for his Farm, and durst not peep abroad from his lurking Holes before these Broils; which hiding of himself he imputes now to the Injustice, and Cruelty of the Prior: This Chuff demands one hundred Marks Damages for the Losses he had sustained in his Absence, and threatens to burn the Grange of Saint Peter, and Manor-house of Kingsbury near the Abbey, if he be not repaired; Twenty pounds he receives upon this Demand, and goes away, swearing, he would freely give it back again for the Priors Head.  
Saturday Night passed with much Perplexity to the Monks, who were at their Wits Ends, and Lives too (they could not hope better things) about the Charter, which was no where extant but in the Noddles of these Cluster-fists. But Day and Comfort broke out together upon them; suddenly this Overflow of Pride, and Arrogancy abated, their Loftiness fell, and their Bristles were somewhat laid, very unpleasing Rumours concerning the Army were spread, and the Death of the Idol Tyrant Wat, of stinking Memory, was certainly known and 
Wals. foedae memoriae.  divulged; and what was as stabbing, that the Citizens of London grown wise, and resolute, either out of Loyalty (or which is the rather to be supposed, Experience of their new Master) began now to own their Prince, their natural Lord unanimously, and to side with him against all Seditious Opposers of his Majesty, and the just Rights and Liberties of his People, which they saw like to perish 
Walsingh.  together. Farther a Knight of the Court, seconds the Report, and by Proclamation in the King's Name (now legal again) commands this Herd to keep the King's Peace under forfeiture of Life, and Members from that Hour.  
The King now grown a Protector again of his Subjects, sends his Letters Protectory to the Abbot in these Words.  
RIchard, etc. To all our Liege's, and Commons of Hartford, etc. We pray, charge, command, straightly as we may, etc. by the Faith and Liegances which to us ye owe, that to our Beloved in God, the Abbot of St. Alban, nor to our House and Monastery of the said Place, of our Patronage, nor to none of the People, Monks, nor others, nor to none of the Goods of the said Monastery, etc. Ye suffer to be done, as much as in you lies, any Grievance, Damage, etc. Given under our Great Seal at our City of London, etc.  
Though now these Carls were well cooled, yet e'er the Zeal was quite slackened, and the Clouds dispelled, which hovered weakly, and were likely to scatter with the next Breath of Wind, they conclude to perfect their Building, which to the great Nuisance of this Monastery they had raised. Besides, the Lieutenants, or Major Generals of Tyler, thought it a much unworthiness to droop too soon, before those whom they had summoned in to piece up their deformed Insurrection with so much Bravery, and Insolence. They continue and pursue their Requests to the Abbot, but with less Noise than formerly; the Abbot was advised by Letters from Sir Hugh Segrave, Lord Steward of the Household, and Sir Thomas Percy created after Earl of Worcester, to grant all things, assuring him these Grants being thus forced from him would be void in Law, and could not hurt his Monastery. The Abbot's Chamber, the Chapel, all Places are full of them, they give Directions to the Abbot's Clerk for their Charter of Liberties, which now they were contented to accept, but will have a Bond of One thousand pounds Sterling for the delivering 
Wals. Sterlingorum.  up the Charter unknown, before the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin next, if it can be found; if not, that the Abbot with his twelfth Hand, (an ancient Saxon manner of purging or clearing the Offender, where the Offence was secret) with twelve of his chief Monks should swear, that he neither has nor detains any such Charter with his Knowledge.  
The Abbot agrees, he and the Covent Seal; but oh! the Miracle (not to be believed, nor understood without another upon our Faith, and Understanding) the seal, in which the Glorious Protomartyr was figured, 
Wals.  three times together could not be pulled from the Wax, no sleight, no Strength could do it; to pass by the pious Frauds, and Dreams of Monks. From thence the Black-bands depart to the Marketplace, there at the Cross they publish their new Acquisitions, the Charters of the King, and Abbot, with the King's Protection of the Monastery, which was but a Counterfeit of their Love. On Monday and Tuesday following, the Villains of the Patrimony of our Protomartyr (as the others did in all places else imbroiled) exact of the Abbot Deeds of Manumission and Liberty, according to the Effect of the Royal Charter before, which Charter the Abbot recites, and confirms.  
From Villains these now conceive themselves Gentlemen of Welsh Pedigree, descended of Princes, nay, as our Monk, noble beyond the Line and Race of Kings; they are mere Freeholders', hold only of God and the Son, rather of the Sun, and Club, and will neither perform their Customs, and Services, nor pay Rend. The common People, who are neither swayed by Religion or Honesty, stop and check themselves, not that they were contented, 
Wals.  but because they could not, nay they durst not go on to more.  
The Plague of this Distemper was not only epidemical, but kept its Days; on the fatal Saturday, fifty thousand Clowns, out of Suffolk, Essex, Cambridgeshire, the Isle of Ely (places miserably harrassed according to the former Precedents) were incorporated by the juggling Tricks of the Essexian Impostors, sent out by the Fathers of Disobedience, in the first Conception of the Ruffle, to inveigle Proselytes to the Holy League. This was but an indigested Mass, without Shape or Form, Wraw not Straw (as sometimes he is called) a●…most lewd Presbyter, as Walsingham, or Priest, who came from 
Sceleratiss. Presbyter.  London, the Day before with Orders from Tyler (who according to his own Establishment had the executive Power) was employed into those parts to lick and fashion the Monster. He with Robert Westbrome King of this Congregation, lead the tattered Reformers from Mildenhall to St. Edmunds-bury, where then stood a most Glorious Monastery, and where their Fellow Scoundrels expected them. Wraw finds these Choperloches good Disciples, willing to learn, and quick of Apprehension, so capable they understood his least Signs. The same Frenzies are again acted by other Lunatics, the Lawyers or Apprentices of the Law (as the Monk) and their Houses are the first Objects of their spite, they do not only cut off them, but fire their Nests. Sir john Cavendish Chief Justice of the King's Bench, who had been one of the most able Sergeants of this King's Grandfather's Reign, and was made Chief Justice by him, they intercept, and behead. Orpheus Tracie, Nero the Roman, Belgabred the Britain, excellent in the Sweetness of a Voice and Skill of Song, with john of Cambridge. Prior of Saint Edmunds, lose their Lives in the same manner, as they unluckily fell into their Hands.  
The Cause of the Prior's Death is made this: He was discreet and managed the Affairs of his Monastery faithfully, and diligently; he was taken near Mildenhall, a Town then belonging to Saint Edmund of the Demain of the Abbey, the Vassals, Hinds, Villains, and Bondmen of the House, sentenced him, murdered him by Vote; His Body lay five Days Naked in the Field unburied. In Saint Edmunds-bury, these Cutthroats compass the Prior's Head round as in a Procession, after they carry it upon a Lance to the Pillory, where that and the Chief Justice's Head are advanced. The next Work was the levelling a new House of the Priors. After they enter the Monastery, which they threaten to fire, unless john Lakinhethe Guardian of the Temporalities of the Barony in the Vacancy than were delivered to them, which the Townsmen mingled in the Throng, put them upon: The Guardian stood amidst the Crowd unknown. This Man out of Piety to preserve the Monastery (it was Piety then, though it may be thought Impiety now) discovers himself, he tells them he is the Man they seek, and asks what it is the Commons would have with him. They call him Traitor (it was Capital to be called so, not to be so) drag him to the Marketplace, and cut off his Head, which is set upon the Pillory to keep Company with the Priors and Chief Justices.  
Walter of Todington a Monk was sought for, they wanted his Head, but he hid himself, and escaped. Our Hackster's Errand, of the Round Table, Knights of Industry, would be thought General Redeemers, to take Care of all men in Distress; for the Burgesses Sake, they command the Monks, (threatening them and their Walls, if they obey not) to deliver up the Obligations of the Townsmen for their good Behaviour, all the ancient Charters from the time of King Knute the Founder any way concerning the Liberties of the Town; besides they must grant and confirm by Charter the Liberties of the Town, which could not be done in the Vacancy (for so it was) Edmund of Brumfield Abbot in Name, by Provision of the Pope was a Prisoner at Nottingham, nor had any Election been since the Death of Abbot john Brivole, and therefore the Jewels of the House are pawned to the Townsmen, as a Gage that Edmund of Brumfield (whom they would suppose Abbot, and whom they intended to set free) should seal; which Jewels were a Cross and Chalice of Gold, with other things, exceeding in value One thousand Pounds, these were restored again in time of Peace, but with much Unwillingness. Upon the Bruit of the Idols Mishap, and the Suppression of his Legions at London, these Caterpillars dissolve of themselves. Wraw the Priest, Westbrome, and the rest of the Capital Villains in the General Audit, or Doomsday for these Hurliburlies, shall be called to a Reckoning for their Outrages. Cambridge suffered not a little in these Uproars, the Townsmen with the Country Peasants about confederated together, break up the Treasury of the University, tear and burns its Charters; they compel the Chancellor and Scholars under their common Seals, to release to the Mayor and Townsmen all Rights and Liberties, all Actions, and to be bound in 3000l, not to molest the Burgesses by Suits of Law concerning these things for the time to come. The Mayor and Bailiffs were fetched up by Writ to the next Parliament, where the Deeds were delivered up and canceled, the Liberties of the Town seized into the King's Hand as forfeited; new ones granted by him to the University, all which they owe yet to the Piety of this King, and his Parliament, a Court which the Idol never names: Had he set up one of his own begetting, it must have had nothing else but the Name, it would have been as destroying as the Field.  
Norfolk the Mother of the Kets would not loiter this while, nor sit lazily, and sluggishly looking on. john Litster a Dyer of Norwich, King of the Commons there, infuses Zeal, and Daring into his Countrymen; he had composed out of his own Empire, and the Borders, an Army of fifty thousand Men. This Upstart Kingling would not wholly move by Example, he makes Precedents of his own, and tramples not like a dull Beast the Road beaten by others. He had heard what was done by the London Congregations; he had a Stock of Traditions from the Elders there, which he was able to improve: and although I know not how he could exceed the Idol with his Council, yet (so the Monk) exceed them he did, he presumed greater things.  
Tyler lost his Life before things were ripe, was watched and undermined by the King and Nobility, he could not spread his full Sails, else for his Presumption he far outgoes Litster. Litster the Norfolk Devil begins with Plunder and Rapine (the only Way to flesh a young Rebellion.) The Malignants of the King's Party (the rich and peaceable go under that Notion) are made a Prey, no place was safe, or privileged. Plots were laid to get the Lord William of Ufford Earl of Suffolk, at his Manor of Ufford near Debenham in Suffolk, into the Company, out of Policy; that if the Cause succeeded not, than the Rebels might cover themselves under the Shadow of that Peer. The Earl warned of their Intention, rises from Supper, and disguised as a Groom 
* Gartion.  of Sir Roger of Bois, with a Portmanteau behind him, riding Byways, and about, ever avoiding the Routs, comes to St. Albans, and from thence to the King.  
The Commons failing here, possess themselves of the places, and Houses of the Knights near, and compel the Owners to swear what they list, and for greater Wariness to ride the Country over with them, which they durst not deny: Among those enthralled by this Compulsion were the Lords Scales, and Morley, Sir john Brews, Sir Stephen of Hales, and Sir Robert of Salle, which last was no Gentleman born, but as full of Honour and Loyalty as any Man, Knighted by the King's Grandfather for his Valour; he was (says Froissart) one of the biggest Knights in England, a Man not supple enough, who could not bend before the new Lords; he had not the Solidity of Judgement (as some more subtle than honest call it) to accommodate himself to the times. Like Messala he would be of the justest side, let the Fortune be what it would; he would not forsake Justice under Colour of following Prudence; he thought it not in vain to prop up the falling Government: perhaps his Judgement may be blamed he stayed not for a sit time, had he not failed here, he had not fought against Heaven, against Providence, whose Councils and Decrees are hid from us, are in the Clouds, not to be pierced; our Understanding is as weak as foolish, as Providence is certain and wise. Our Hopes and Fears deceive us alike, we cannot resolve ourselves upon any Assurance, to forsake our Duty for the time to come, God's Designs are known only to himself; it is Despair, not Piety (Despair too far from that) to leave our Country in her dangerous Diseases, in her public Calamities; the Insolency of injust Men is a Prodigy of their Ruin, and the Incertainty of things Humane may teach us, That those we esteem most established, most assured, are not seldom soon overthrown. Plato would not have them refer all things to Fate, there is somewhat in ourselves (says he) not a little in Fortune. Ours are but Cockfights, the least Remainder of Force and Life may strike a necking Blow, and by an unlooked for Victory raise what is fallen; if Death cannot be kept off, if our Country cannot he saved by our Attempts, there is a Comeliness in dying handsomely, nor can any Man be unhappy but he who outlives it. We have heard of Women who cast themselves into the fiery Pits, where their dead Husbands are consumed; of Vassals who stab themselves to follow their Prince into the next World; of Otho's Praetorians, of the Saguntines burning in their City's Flames. What can be so honourable as to die for or with our Country or Faith, our Religion or Honesty, to die with that which gave us Life, and Liberty, and Sense of these?  
Litsters Hog-herds vow to burn Norwich, unless this Knight will come out to them, which he does well mounted, and forsakes his Horse to please them. They seem to honour him highly, and offer him a fair Canton of the new Commonwealth, if he will command their Forces.  
The faithful Cavalier abhorred the proposition, and could not dissemble his Dislike: He tells them, he will not to his eternal dishonour renounce his Sovereign, whom all good Men obeyed, to engage with the veriest perfidious Traitors living, in their Villainies. He attempts to horse himself again, but fails; it was Treason to speak against the Government.  
The Commons grow furious, they cry out Treason, against Treason and Rebellion: Thousands of Hands are lifted up against him, as if they all moved by the same Nerves and Sinews; they hue him down, but he crushes some of them with his Ruin; whosoever stood within his Reach, lost either Head, Legs or Arms; he kills twelve of them; at length a Villain of his own beats out his Brains. Then do the Infernal Curs rush in with full Mouths and mangles him to bits, who (says Walsingham) would have driven a Thousand of them before him, had he had fair Play. This amazes the rest of the Gentry, they strive for Vassalage, with the same Emulation others do for Liberty; they observe Litster, they receive his Commands upon their Knees, who in all things imitates the State and Pomp of Kings. Sir Stephen of Hales a Knight of Honour carves before him and tastes his Meats, and Drinks; the rest of the miserable Courtiers are employed in their several Offices. But when the Fame of the King's good Fortune began to go strong, and of his Preparations to assert his Right and Authority, Litster sends on Embassy (from Northwalsham, the Throne of his Tyranny) to London, the Lord Morley, and Sir john Brews, with three of the confiding Commons, to obtain Charters of Manumission, and Pardon, with great Sums of Money, (squeezed out of the Citizens of Norwich, under Pretence of preserving the City from Slaughter, Fire and Spoil, or as others raised by an ordinary Tribute to Litster.) Which Monies were sent for Presents to the King, to win him to grant them Charters more ample and beneficial, than had been given to any others.  
These Messengers are met at Ichlingham near Newmarket by Henry le Spencer Lord Bishop of Norwich, of a noble Family, stout and well-armed; He had been at his Manor of Burleigh near Okeham, and there heard of the Tumults in Norfolk, and was now hasting thither to see how things were carried, with eight Lances only in his Company, and a few Archers. He charged the Lord Morley, and Sir john upon their Allegiance to tell him, whether any of the Commons (the King's Traitors) were with them. They look upon the Bishop as a young rash Man, and the Awe of their Masters was so prevalent, he could hardly wrest the Secret from them. After many Words they discover it; and the Bishop causes the Heads of the Clowns to be struck off, and fixed on a public place at Newmarket Then taking with him that Lord and Knight, he posts for Northwalsham. The Gentry hearing of the Bishop's Arrival in his Coat of Male, with his Helmet upon his Head, his Sword by his side, and his Lance upon his Thigh crowd in to him; the Bishop quickly found himself in a Gallant Equipage, and as quickly reaches Northwalsham, the sink of the Rebellion.  
Litster was entrenched, he had fortified his Ditch with Pales, Stakes, and Doors, and shut himself in behind with his Carts, and Carriages. The Heroic Bishop, like another Maccabeus, charges bravely through the Ditch, into the midst of the Rebels (when all the Barons of England hid themselves,) so suddenly, that the Archers could not let an Arrow fly at him, and came to handy Blows. As the French Historian de Serres observes; in Affairs of the World 
Raro simul bonam fortwam cum bona ment. Liv.  oftentimes he that is most strong carries it; a good Fortune, and a good Mind seldom go together.  
Otho tells his Soldiers, often times where the Causes of things are good, yet if Judgement be wanting (I may put in) where the Counsels are unsound, the Agents faithless, where Money, Arms, and Men are wanting, the Issue must be pernicious. The Goods and Honours of this World which follow the Triumphers Chariots are common to the good and bad; Grace, Charity and Love, are the Marks of a pious Man, not Success, to brag of which becomes rather a Spartacus or Mahomet, (who carry Faith and Law upon the Sword's point) than a Christian: The God of the Christians is not the God of Robbery, and Blood. But things here fell out as could be wished, the Innocency of the side prevailed, and the righteous weak side overcame the strong unjust. Litster touched with the Conscience of his Mischiefs, struggles to the utmost to avert his Danger, at length gives Ground, and attempts to shift for himself by leaping over his Carriages in the Rear. The Bishop pressed forward so fiercely, that this Course proved in vain; most of the unhappy Clowns are laid along upon the place. Litster and the Captains of the Conspiracy are taken and condemned to be drawn, hanged and beheaded, which was done. Others of the chief Conspirators dispersed over the Country, are searched out and executed.  
The Monk here tells us, It 
Nisi enim daemonis pleni fuissent, nequaquam in destruct. sacr. Eccles. Chr. fidei & regni exterminium conspirass.  was apparent by the Works of these Demoniacs, by their Fruits, that they had conspired (he speaks of the whole) not only the Destruction of the Church and Monarchy, but of the Christian Faith too. Schoolmasters were sworn by them never to teach Grammar more, and whosoever was taken with an Inkhorn about him, never saved his Head.  
Our Monk attributes these Calamities to the remissness of the Bishops, to the Conceits and Fangles of Presbyter Wycliff, which if they be truly registered by the Monks, his mortal Enemies, were pestilential and damnable. Indeed Presbyter Wycliff was then living, but is not named in these Commotions, as one busy in them, by the Monk, (though busy he might be, we shall find Sir john Oldcastle, Lord Cobham and others of Wycliffs Disciples, Rebels, and Traitors too too busy in Henry the Fifth's Beginning) Baal, and Straw, and Wraw were Priests of the Idol, and his Lieutenants, and might serve the turn to imbroil without fetching more Aid in: He attributes too these Mischiefs to the licentious Invectives of the Clowns against their Lords, generally to the Sins of the Nation, inclusively taking in the Orders of Mendicants, or Begging Friars, (like factious Lecturers) w●… had nothing of their own, and were obliged 〈◊〉 flatter the People, and make themselves popular; who, says he, forgetful of their Profession and Vows, greedy and covetous of Money, foster the People in their Errors, call good Evil, and Evil good, seducing the Great Men with Fawning, and the Rabble with Lies. So that in those Days (thus he proceeds) the Argument held in every Man's Mouth, This is a Friar, therefore a Liar, as strong as this, This is white, therefore coloured.  
Here again is Walsingham at a Stand; he complains, that it is impossible to relate the Villainies of the Rustic Devils, done in all parts.  
We will now return to see what the King does next, who was not asleep this while. After he had cleared the City (lately Tilers good Town) of the Kentish Fry; he commands the Nobility and Gentry (who durst now peep abroad) all the Kingdom over to repair to him at London well armed, and well horsed, as they loved him, and his Royal Honour. Their own Danger, and late Fears, add Wings to their Haste. Within a few Days, forty thousand Horse meet at a Rendezvouz upon Blackheath, whither the young King who had taken his Sequestration off, and restored himself to his Blood and Majesty, rides daily upon a Royal Courser, to view their Order, with his Imperial Banner born before him. He delighted to be seen and acknowledged for what he was amongst his own Homagers. Here he is informed, that the Kentishmen (a stirring People, but with what generous Resolution will soon be found) are again in Mutiny, (a Mutiny however else contemptible) not to be slighted at that time. The King commands his Cavalry (on Fire, as much as himself) to march, and root out this perfidious Race of Miscreants. Here the Nobility and Gentry of the County interpose, and become Pledges for the Commons, which appeases the King; who now disbands his Army, and resolves to take no other Course of Justice, but such as was ordinary and usual, by Judgements upon the known Laws of the Land, and by Juries of twelve Men; the Ancient Birthright of the Englishmen. Laws which could not have fitted Tilers Courts, nor Trials, but which have been ever the Rule in all just and legal Trials, in all calm and pious Ages. The Law Martial being proper to an Army marching, to be exercised in it. If otherwise, all Sentences by Colour of it, are against the Magna Charta, etc. and to 
Earl of Strafford Case.  the manifest Subversion of the Privileges of Subjects.  
Upon this fair, and Kingly Conclusion of Richard, Commissions were given, and Justices of Oyer and Terminer, to hear and determine the Treasons and Felonies committed in the late Insurrections; and principally to inquire, who were the chief Authors, Fomenters, and Incendiaries of the Broils, are sent into Kent, Essex, and the rest of the Provinces in Rebellion.  
The most Honourable Mayor of London, with others in Commission with him, sat upon those of Kent, Essex, Norfolk, and Suffolk, etc. who were apprehended in London. Straw taken in an old rotten House about London, Kirkby, Treder, Sterling are condemned, and beheaded, Straw's Head being set upon London-bridge with Tilers; but jack Straw, who was privy to all the Contrivances, and Plots of the Confederacy, could give Light into the Midnight Darkness of Tilers Steps, through all the close Windings of his Labyrinths of Treasons; is urged (the Mayor promising with some honest Citizens to be at the Charge of Masses for his Soul, the Good of which they desire him to consider) to declare his full Knowledge of the Counsels, and Votes passed, and to what end they had conjured up the wicked Spirits of those Garboils. john was obstinate at the first, and would confess nothing, but gained by these Promises, and a little penitent (which was much to be believed of one possessed with Legions) he tells them, Because I have hopes of Help from your Suffrages after my Death, and because this Discovery may be advantageous to the Common wealth, I will confess truly to you, what we intended: When we met at Black-heath, and sent for the King by our Captains-general Order, we purposed to have massacred all the Nobility and Gentry with him, then to have lead the King with us respected, and treated Kingly from place to place, to bait the vulgar by the Authority of his Presence into our League, whom they might so have taken for the Head of our Commotion, he being by these Means likely to have been supposed by his own Party too to have trusted us, when by the Confluence of all the Counties our Companies had been full, and the Supreme Executive Power wholly ours, we meant to have purged the Nation, to have destroyed the Gentry, and first the Knights of Saint John of Jerusalem, with all the Rags of Royalty, which by this time had been but a Rag itself. Afterwards to have killed the King, whose Name could then have been of no Use to us.  
Their Oath to preserve him could not last longer than their Conveniency and Opinions, which had then changed. We meant so once, but we mean otherwise now, had been a satisfactory Excuse. They had often sworn and covenanted, that they neither meant nor had Power to hurt the King's Prerogative; that they intended to maintain the King's Authority in his Royal Dignity, the free Course of justice, and the Laws of the Land; with infinite Expressions and Protestations of this kind. They might answer, the Time was when all this was real, when they would not have subverted the Government, nor have destroyed the ancient Family; to which, says a Statute (which we hope it can be no Treason to Tilers Ghost to recite) the Dominions, and Rights of the 
See Mag. Chart. etc. See 25 H. 8. 1 Eliz. 1 Jac.  Realm of England, etc. Ought by inherent Birthright, and lawful and undoubted Succession, descend and come. This we being bounden (thus speak the Members heretofore) thereunto by the Laws of God and Man do recognise, etc. The Answer we say might have been easy, they would not have done it some time agone, they swore and covenanted, and covenanted again they would, not now they will; Tyler is still Tyler, but his Liberty (false cheating Liberty) is every where free, both to Will and Dislike, as the Safety of the Commonwealth shall require and carry him on. This was the Faith and Honesty of that Age, by which we may guests at the Cause and Men who acted for it. Who were the Undertakers, what Trust is to be given to such perfidious Knaves, whose Protestations, and Covenants of one Day, are wiped out by an Inspiration of the next: We may say by an Inspiration, it was wondrous fit for these Changes. Our Proteus should bring Inspiration in. All those of Estates and Possessions, Bishops, Canons, Persons of Churches, Monks, we would have rooted out of the Earth: Only the begging Friars should have been preserved, who would have served (such Sheep such Shepherds) well enough for Church-duties; which we may wonder after all these Pranks that they should think of; here would have been a very plain Church. Questionless after all these Actions, the Devotion of these Reformers could not have been much; by that time our public Thiefs had cast Lots for the Kings, Churches, Nobilities, and Gentries Revenues, what Boars of other Countries could have compared with the Riches of our Peasants and their Captain Tyler. When there should have been (so Straw goes on,) none left more great, more strong, or 
Quib. subjecti regulati, etc.  more wise than ourselves, than we had set up a Law of our own forging, at our Pleasure, by which our Subjects should have been regulated. Necessary it was the old Law should be voted down; it condemned them in every Line. Then had we created us Kings, Tyler for Kent (a part too small for the Arch-tyrant) and others for other Shires: Here was to be Monarchy still, not Evil in itself, but where it ought to be of Right; only the Family was to be changed, the ancient Saxon Norman Stemm, for an upstart Dunghill Brood of Vipers: Tyler to be advanced upon the Ruins of Richard, the Cedar to be torn up, to make the Bramble Room enough, while any of the Royal Offspring had been in being to claim the Right, to have involved the Miserable, Perjured, Foolish People in an Everlasting Civil War; never to have ceased, while there had been a Vein of Blood to run. The Maintenance of Tilers Wrong, his Usurpation (not to look farther than the present World) would have been more fatal than ten Plagues. john adds, no Man thwarted these Ends of ours more than the Archbishop, therefore we hated him to Death, and made all the Haste possible to bring him to it.  
In the Evening of that Saturday in which Wat perished, because the poorer sort of the Londoners favoured us, we intended to have fired the City in four Places, and to have divided the Spoils (So the faithful Citizens, as forward as they were, had at last paid for their Love) he calls God to witness these Truths. The Confessions of many others of the Engagement agreed with this of Straw.  
The Lawyers, and those (as one) who fled from the Tyranny 
Stow.  of the Time, durst now show their Faces. Here is Tyranny of the Rout, Tyranny of a Savage Clown their Boutefeu; whose few Days of cruel Usurpation, were more bloody, more destroying than the Years of any Caligula, any Nero, any Domitian whatsoever. A Civil War (says a Noble Frenchman) 
Sieur de la Noué.  makes more Breaches, as to a Country, as to Manners, Laws, and Men in six Months, then can be repaired in six Years.  
What then can be thought or said of those Monsters, who, against all ties of Nature and Piety, shall raise a desperate Civil War, merely with the Intent to overthrow Religion, the Church, the Government, Laws, and Humanity, out of a cursed devilish Ambition to advance themselves (Tilers and Sons of the Earth before) to an Height which God (as some love to speak) never called them to. For though Power is of God, it is only so when the coming to it is by lawful Means. He that ordains the Power, allows not the Usurpation of it. Tyler had the Power to do Mischief, the Power of Rebellion, the Power which must have ruined the Church and Commonwealth; but whether this be the Power which Christians are to submit to, let the next Casuists judge.  
The Septuagint Translation of the Bible says of Abimelech, who slew his Seventy Brethren (Murder ushers Usurpation in) He made himself King, by Tyranny. The Monk, who writes the Lives of the Offa's, speaking of Beormred the Mercian Usurper has these Words: In the same Region of the Mercians, a certain Tyranny rather destroying and dissipating the Nobility of the Realm, then ruling &c. persecuting, banishing, etc. Lest any one, especially of the Royal Blood▪ should be advanced in his Place, he vehemently 〈◊〉. The thirty Usurpers in the time of Gallie●… are every where called Tyrants. Paulus Diac●…nus, writing of Valentine in the time of Valentinian, says, He was crushed in Britain, before he could invade the Tyranny▪ and of Maximus, that he was Sto●… and Valia●…, and worthy of the Empire, ●…ad he not against the Faith of his Oath, raised himself, per tyrannidem, by Tyranny. In other places Enge●…, Gratian, Constance, Sebastian, created Tyrannis. The Words Tyranny, and Tyrant, and Tyra●…ous Party, being used often by him, are ever opposed to just and Regal Power, never used in any other Sense▪ Widdrington, to the Example of Athalia urged by Bellarmine against Kings, says she was no lawful 
Apolog. 234.  Queen, she had seized the Kingdom as an Usurpress by Tyranny▪ the Kingdom belonged to joash, in whose Right, and by whose Power she was justly ●…lain— Our most learned Prelate Bishop Abbot of S●…lisbury tells the Cubs of Loyola●…, Athalia had 
Antilog. c. 3.  snatched, had grasped, and held the Kingdom with no Right, no Title, but by Butchery, Robbery, Rapine, and forcible Entry— and that she was thrown down and killed by the common bounden Duty and Faith of Subjects to their Prince. Baronius a Cardinal, that the Maccabees of Levi or House of the Assamoneans, may not be made Usurpers, matches them with the Royal Line of David, else says he, absque labe Tyrannidis, without the Stain of Tyranny, they could not meddle 
Apparat.  with the Kingdom. Rodolph, Duke of Suevia or Suabenland, set up for a false Emperor by that devilish Pope Hildebrand, against the Emperor Henry the IV. is called by the Germans a Tyrant upon this Score. A full Tyranny (says one of our Chief Justices, speaking of the Papal Power in Church-causes here) has two Parts without Right to usurp, and inordinately to rule, and the Statute 28 of King Henry the 8th. against the Papal Authority, calls it an usurped Tyranny, and the Exercise of it a Robbery, and spoiling of the King, and his People.  
The Statute 31 Henry the 6th. adjudging john Cade, another Imp of Hell, and Successor of Wat, to be a Traitor, which are the Words of the Title, and all his Indictments and Acts to be void, speaks thus; The most abominable Tyranny, horrible, odious, and arrant false Traitor, john Cade, naming himself sometime Mortimer (he and Tyler had two Names) taking upon him Royal Power, etc. by false, subtle and imagined Language, etc. Robbing, stealing, and spoiling, etc. And that all his Tyranny, Acts, Feats, and false Opinions, shall be voided, and that all things depending thereof, etc. under the Power of Tyranny, shall be likewise void, etc. And that all Indictments in times coming in like Case under Power of Tyranny, Rebellion, etc. shall be void in Law; and that all Petitions delivered to the King in his last Parliament, etc. against his Mind, by him not agreed, shall be put in Oblivion etc. as against God, and Conscience, etc.  
To proceed; The King, because all these Risings were by the Ringleaders protested to be made for him and his Rights, and that the Forces then raised, were raised by his Authority, and all their Actions owned by him, issues out a Proclamation from London, to this Effect.  
RIchard etc. To all and singular Sheriffs, Mayors, Bailiffs, etc. of our County of N. etc. Because we are given to understand; that divers of our Subjects, who against our Peace, etc. have raised and in divers Conventicles and Assemblies, etc. Do affirm, that they the said Assemblies, and Levies have made and do make by Our Will and Authority, etc. We make known to all Men, That such Levies, Assemblies, and Mischiefs, from Our Will and Authority have not proceeded. (He adds) They were begun, and continued much to his Displeasure and Disgrace, to the Prejudice of His Crown, and Damage of the Realm. Wherefore he enjoins and commands, etc. To take the best Care for the keeping of his Peace, and opposing of all such Levies with a strong Hand: Further, he commands every Man to leave such Assemblies, and return Home to his own House under Penalty of Forfeiture of Life, and Member, and all things forfeitable to the King, etc.  
These Clowns charge not the King to be transsported furiously, and hostily, to the Destruction of the whole People, which can never happen, where the King is in his Wits; but what is fully as mad, they will suppose him to arm against his own Life and Power, against his own Peace, and the Peace of all that love him. This Proclamation put Life into the Royalists, into all honest Hearts, and dismays as much the Rebels; yet after this the Essex Traitors, gather again at Byllericay near Hatfield Peverel, and send to the King, now at Waltham, to know whether he intends to make good his Grants of Liberties, and require to be made equal with their Lords, without being bound to any Suits of Court, View of Frankpledge only excepted twice the Year.  
The King and his Council are startled at this Impudence. The King answers the Agents, That if he did not look upon them as Messengers, he would hang them up: Return 
Wals.  (says he) to your Fellow Rebels, and tell them, Clown's they were, and are, and shall continue in their Bondage, not as hitherto but far more basely trampled on. While we live, and rule this Kingdom, by Gods Will we will employ all our Means and Power to keep you under: So that your Misery shall frighten all Villains hereafter: And your Posterity shall curse your Memory. At the Heels of the Messenger, the King sends his Uncle Thomas of Woodstock Earl of Buckingham, and Sir Thomas Piercy with a Body of Horse to quell them. The Rebels were entrenched according to the manner of Li●…sters Camp, in the midst of Woods; ten Lances of the Avant Currors rout them; the Lords, when they were come up, enclose the Woods round, five hundred are killed, eight hundred Horses for Carriage taken, the broken Remainders of the Defeat escape to Colchester, a Town ever honest, 
Wals.  and faithful to the Prince, where the Loyal Townsmen would not be gotten to stir; they solicit the Townsmen (says the Monk) with much Entreaty, great Threats, and many Arguments; neither Entreaties, nor Threats, nor Arguments would move them. From thence they get to Sudbury, making every where such Proclamations as of old they had used; where the Lord Fitzwalter (whose Seat was at Woodham-Walters in Essex) and Sir john Harlestone rush suddenly upon them, kill and take them: the King meaning to visit Essex in his own Person, comes to Havering at the Bower, a Manor of his own Demain, of the Sacred Patrimony, and from thence to Chelmsford, where he appoints Sir Robert Tresilian, Chief Justice of his Bench of Pleas of the Crown, to sit and inquire of the Malefactors, and Troublers of the Country, and to punish the Offenders according to the Customs of the Realm, known, and visible.  
Five Hundred of these wretched Peasants, who had no Mercy 
Wals.  for others heretofore, cast themselves down before the King barefooted, and with Heads uncovered, implore his Pardon, which he grants them, on Condition they discover the great Conspirators, the Captain Rogues. The Jurors are charged by the chief Justices to carry themselves indifferently, and justly in their Verdicts, neither swayed by Love, or Hatred, to favour, or prosecute any Man: Many upon the Evidence given in, and the finding of the Jury, were condemned to be drawn and hanged; nineteen of them were trussed upon one Gallows. Heading had formerly been the Execution of others in Essex, Kent, and London, because of the Numbers of the Guilty, which was now thought a Death short of the Demerits of the most foul and heinous Offenders; wherefore according to the Custom of the Realm, it was decreed (says the Monk) that the Captains should be hanged.  
The like was done in other Countries by the Justices in Commission, where the King was in Person. Here the King with the Advice of his Council, revokes his Letters Patents, the Charters granted to the Clowns: Although (so he speaks) we have in the late detestable Troubles, etc. manumised all the Commons, our Liege Subjects of our Shires, and them, etc. have freed from all Bondage and Service, etc. And also have pardoned the same our Liege Men and Subjects all Insurrections by riding, going, etc. And also all manner of Treasons, Felonies, Trespasses, and Extortions, etc. Notwithstanding for that the said Charters, were without mature Deliberation, and unduly procured, etc. To the prejudice of us, and our Crown, of the Prelates, and great Men of our Realm; as also to the disherison of Holy English Church, and to the Hurt and Damage of the Commonwealth, the said Letters we revoke, make void, and annul; etc. Yet our Intention is such Grace upon every of our said Subjects to confer, though enormously their Allegiance they have forfeited, etc. As shall be useful to us, and our Realm.  
The Close commands to bring in to the King and his Council all Charters of Manumission and Pardon, to be canceled upon their Faith and Allegiance, and under Forfeiture of all things forfeitable, etc. Witness ourselves at Chelmsford the 2. of July, and 5th. Year of our Reign. False for the 4th.  
In the Case of a Subject (and no reason Kings shall be more bound) every Act extorted by Violence, and Awe upon the Agent, is void. In the Time of Edward the Third, two Thiefs (which was the Case here) force a Traveller to swear that he will at a day appointed bring them a thousand Pound; and threaten to kill him if he refuse their Oath; he swears and performs what he had sworn: By Advice 
44 E. 3. 14.  of all the Justices these two were indicted of Robbery, and the Court maintains that the Party was not bound by this Oath. Yet if this be denied as unsafe, Violence, or Force, which strikes a just Fear into any Man, makes any Contract void, say the Casuists.  
Bishop Andrews, that most learned Prelate, answers to the 
Resp. ad Apo'og.  pretended Resignation of King john urged by Bellarmine, that what this King did, (if any such Act was done) was done by Force, and out of Fear.  
Widdrington, the most Loyal of all Roman-Catholick Priests, 
Admonit. disp. de jur. fid. l. 1.  who writ much against the Gunpowder Jesuits in Defence of the Right of Kings, against those Jesuits who would have cut off the King, the Royal Family, the Bishops of the English Catholic Church, the Nobility and Gentry, as their Letter speaks, with one Blow, says of this Resignation, or Donation, if we may (so he) call it so, that it was not freely given. The Jesuits Challenge the perpetual Dictature, or Regency of the University of Pontamousson by Bull of Sixtus the Fifth, contrary to the Statutes of the Foundation by Gregory the Thirteenth. Were the Bull true (says Berclay) yet it ought not to be of Force, because it was obtained presently after his Creation, when things are presumed to be rather extorted than obtained. Bodin denys that a King deceived or forced can be bound by his Grants. The Justice of Contracts is that alone which binds. The Distinction of Royal and private Acts is of more Sound than Strength, and answers not the Injustice of the impulsive Violence, which must be naturally vicious every where, and corrupt and weaken the Effects, and cannot be good and bad by Changes, or as to this, or that. Grotius, who loves this Distinction, in another place is positive, There must be Equality in all Contracts. He condemns all Fear, or Awe upon the Person purposely moved for the Contracts Sake, and tells us out of Xenophon of those of Lacedaemon who annulled a Sale of Lands, which the Elians had forced the Owners to pass out of Fear.  
A Charter of King Henry the Third imprisoned and forced, is said by Aldenham to be void upon this Reason, and I judge the Justice of this Revocation by the Law of England, by which, as our old Parliaments, such Force is Treason. The Fruits of which 
Exil. Hugh. de le Spencer pat. & fill.  were here more justly plucked up than they were planted. He who gives up his Money to Thiefs, according to his Oath, may lawfully take it away from them: However they are bound to make Restitution. Nor can any Prescription of time establish a Right of Possession in him, who makes his Seizure upon no other Title 
Rei furtiva aeterna authoritas esto.  but Plunder and Robbery. The 5th. of this King, the Parliament declares these Grants to be forced and void. Enough to clear the Honour of King Richard, as to this part.  
At Chelmsford the King is informed of the whole History of Mischiefs done at St. Albans, and resolved in Person with all his Guards and Cavalry to ride thither, and sentence the Malefactors with his own Mouth; but Sir Walter Ley of Hartfordshire, fearing the much impoverishing the Country, if the King should make any long Stay there, with such Numbers as then attended him, beseeches him to make a Trial, whether things might not be composed without him, and offers to reconcile the Abbot and Townsmen, if the King would; which was consented to: The King grants him a Commission, and joins with him Edward Benstude, Geofry Stukely, and others of the Gentry of that County.  
The coming of these Commissioners was noised at St. Alban: The fiercest of the Clowns knowing what they had done was condemned by the Law, and not to be defended, but by Force, which now they had not, began to shake and take Fright, are plotting to get out of the Way. Greyndcob, Lieutenant of the late Idol, comforts them, he persuades to go to Horse; let us meet the Knight (says he) and see whether his Looks promise Peace or not; if not, the Towns about us have engaged, they have associated, and are of our League; we are rich, and cannot want good Fellows, who will assist us while our Monies last. On St. Peter's Day this ill-advised Crew meets the Knight upon the Road, who was ignorant of their Resolutions, and conduct him Honourably, according to their Fashion, to the Town: Sir Walter had with him fifty Lances, and some Companies of Archers, listed at random, many of them being of the Churls, and Confederates with them: The Knight citys the Townsmen and their Neighbours to appear before him in Derfold, to hear the Pleasure and Commands of the King; they fail not, There he tells them what Forces the King had assembled; how rigorously those of Essex were sentenced: That the King was highly incensed at the Troubles and Seditions of this place, of which he was the Patron and Defender: That with Great Difficulty he had procured of the King a Commission, by which himself, and others, not Strangers, or Enemies, but their Friends and Neighbours were authorized to do justice in the KingsStead; he concludes if they will appease the King, they must find out, and deliver up the Beginners of these Broils, and make Satisfaction to the Lord Abbot, an holy and a just Man, for the Wrong they had done him.  
This many of the Hearers approve, and promise to obey. The Knight charges a Jury to be made ready the next Morning, and make what Discovery they can, and gives the People Leave to depart. Towards Night he sends for the Jury to his Chamber, intending to have apprehended the Lieutenants, by the Assistance of the Jury, without any Noise. These good Men and true know nothing; it was the Case of their Fellows in Mischief, and might be their own. They answer in a plain Ignoramus, they can indict no Man, accuse no Man. Amongst all the sounder of these Swine, there was not one who had been Faithless and Disloyal to his Natural Liege Lord, not one Breaker of his Peace, not one who could appear so to them.  
The Knight seems not to understand the Falseness and Cunning of these Hob-nail perjured Jugglers: He takes another Way, and next requires them within a peremptory time, to bring him the Charters which they had forced from the Monastery; they return after a short Consultation, and in the Abbot's Chamber, where the Knight then was, tell him, They dare not obey out of Fear of the Commons; what was more, they knew not in whose Custody the Charters were. The Knight grows angry, and swears, they shall not go out of the Chamber till he have them, which they call imprisoning their Persons. Here the Abbot intercedes, and though he knew them as very Knaves and Liars as any Tyler had set on work, yet he will not (he says) distrust their Honesty; he will leave things to their Consciences, upon which they are freed.  
Another Assembly is appointed at Barnet Wood, whither the Villagers about throng in Multitudes. Three hundred Bowmen of Barnet and Berkhamsted, make here so terrible a Show, nothing is done.  
The Commissioners privately charge the Gentry, Constables, and Bailiffs to seize in the Night Greyndcob, Cadindon, john the Barber, with some others, and to bring them to Hartford, whither themselves went in all Haste; which was performed: The Esquires and Servants of the Abbey, were sent with them to strengthen the Company. This enrages the Townsmen afresh, they gather into Conventicles in the Woods and Fields, so much frightful to the Monastery, that the Abbot, recalls his Esquires, le's the Prosecution fall, and fearfully summons in his Friends to guard him. Greyndcobs' Friends take Advantage of this Change, and bail him for three Days, within which time they were either tied to agree with the Abbey, or render up Greyndcob to the Justices again. The Townsmen fierce enough still, yet earnest to preserve their Worthy, are content to part with the Charters; but this Greyndcob (more Foolhardy than wise) would not consent to. Nor does he, as knowing the Stifness of his Clowns whine in a Religious Tone, never used by him.  
He prays them to consider how Beautiful Liberty is, how sweet, how Honourable: Dangerous Liberty, (says he) is more valuable than safe and quiet Slavery; let us live, or die with Liberty, in so generous, so honest a Contention, it will be Glorious to be overcome; whatsoever our Fears are, worse we cannot be, than now we are about to make ourselves. Success too doth not so often fail Men, as their own Industry and Boldness: Fear not for me, nor trouble yourselves at my Dangers, I shall think myself more happy than our Lords, if they prosper, or their King, to die a Martyr of the Cause, with the Reputation of such a Gallantry. 
Per tale Martyrium vitam finire.  Let such Courage as would have hurried you forward to all brave and signal Mischiefs, had I lost my 
Si Hertfordiae, hesterno decollatus, etc.  Head at Hartford, inflame your heavy Sprights. Methinks I see the Hero Tilers Ghost chiding our sluggish Cowardice, and by the Blazes of his Firebrands kindled in Hell, and waved by Fiends about his Head, lead on to noble Villainies.  
Let dreaming Monks and Priests tremble at the airy Sounds of God, and Saints; he who fears Thunderbolts, is a Religious heartless Coxcomb, and shall never climb a Molehill. Thus our buskined Martyr swaggers, after the Raptures put upon him by Walsingham; Greyndcob's Stubbornness hardens on the Clowns, they now accuse themselves of Baseness, that they did not cut off the Knight's Head, and nail it on the Pillory, to the Terror (say they) of all Judges, and false Justices. Greyndcob had raised Spirits, which he could not lay when he would.  
Three days being expired, he is again sent to Hartford Goal, where he hears News from his Brother, who mediated for him in the Court, not very pleasing, which he communicates to his Townsmen. His Intelligence was to this Effect; That Richard of Beauchamp Earl of Warwick, and Sir Thomas Piercie with a thousand armed Men were appointed to visit S. Alban.  
At this Report the Rebels startle, they fall to new Treaties, offer the Charters and Book, in which the old Pleas betwixt the Abbey and the Town were recorded, with 200 l. for amends. The Book is received; the rest put off till the next Day. The Earl of Warwick sends only Excuses, he heard his own House was on Fire, that the Clowns of his own Lordships were up, and he leaves all things else to quell them. This raises the fallen Courages of those of Saint Alban, they now laugh at their late Fears, If the Commons, say they, must quit their Right of Conquest, and surrender their Charters, yet will not we the (Renowned Mechanics) of St. Alban be their Precedent. And as in all Tumults (which can never be observed too often) Lying is necessary, and must not be useless, whatsoever else is; they lay the Blame of their Obstinacy upon the Inhabitants of Barnet and Watford, who threaten (so they would have it believed) to burn their Town if they deliver up their Liberties.  
Which Inhabitants of Barnet and Watford had humbly surrendered theirs before, and submitted to the King's Mercy: Thus we find these Rebels of St. Alban again swaggering in their old Rhodomontadoes. An Esquire of the Abbots acquaints the King with these Turnings, who vows to sit personally in Judgement upon these Everlasting Malcontents.  
The Abbot full of Pity and Charity, who had saved some of these Enemies of his House from the Axe by Intercession at London, continues his Goodness still. He solicits Sir Hugh Segrave, Steward of the Household, and others of his Friends, to mitigate the King's Displeasure, and hinder his Journey thither, which was not in their Power. Now again are the Townsmen dejected, and seek by all means to keep off the Tempest, which threatened them: They fee Sir William Croyser a Lawyer to make their Defence, and mediate with the Abbot, wherethere was no Danger: An Agreement is concluded the Day of the King's Entry, by which they would bind the Abbot, not to disclose them, or inform against them.  
He promises (if they fail not in Performance on their Part) not to make any Complaints to the King of them; that he would be a Suitor for their Peace, if his Prayers may be heard, but that here he cannot assure them: Pardons were Acts flowing merely from 
See 27 A. 1. c. 24.  the King's Grace. No Man had any Power or Authority to pardon or remit Treasons, etc. but the King; and whether he could prevail for them, he knew not. This Doubtfulness troubles them, it seems to call their Innocency too much into Question: They tell him, his good Will was sufficient, and that as to what belonged to the Royal Dignity they should satisfy the King.  
After Vespers the King made his Entry into the Town, being met by the Abbot and Covent; the Bells rang aloud, and the Monks sang merrily his Welcome: He was followed by some thousands of Bowmen and Cavaliers. In this Train was Sir Robert Tresilian, Chief Justice of the King's Bench, who the next Day, being Saturday the 13. of july, and first of the Dog-days, sat in Judgement at the Moot-hall (says Walsingham) at the Townhouse.  
Greyndcob, Cadindon, and john the Barber, are fetched from Hartford, and laid fast till Monday, against which time new Jurymen are chosen, and charged to be ready with their Verdicts: Prophet Baal, the Sergius of the new Alcoran, the Priest of the Idol and his Calves, the Martin of the Yoke, of pure Discipline, of the Eldership, was taken by the Townsmen of Coventry, brought to St. Alban the Day before, and this Saturday condemned by the Chief Justice to be Drawn, Hanged, Beheaded, Embowelled, and Quartered, which was done on the Monday following.  
He confessed to the Bishop of London (to whose Christian Piety he ought the two last Days of his Life, which were begged for his Repentance) that certain hot and powerful Pastors of the Separation, Brethren of simple Hearts, called by the Spirit (he named six or seven) had covenanted and engaged to compass England and Wales round, as Itinerant Apostles to propagate the Gospel, beat down all Abomination of the outward Man, Antichristian Hierarchy, and Tyranny of the Nimrods' of the Earth, to cry up the great and Holy Cause, and to spread the Law, Principles, and Heresies of Baal; which Disciples (says this Rabbi) unless they be prevented, and taken off will destroy the Realm in two Years: He might have said two Months, and been believed, as to the Civility, Humanity, Order and Honour (never intermitted but in the Confusion of a barbarous, impious Age) which made England Glorious, they had been destroyed, and torn up in a less time. A few licentious ill Acts easily beget a Custom, and an hundred ill Customs quicklier grow and prevail than one single good one. There is a Proneness in unruly Man to run into Debauchments, and no wonder that the arrogant, misled, silly Multitude, capable of any ill Impressions, should deprave and disorder things, where all Ties of Restraint are loofened; nay, where Disorders are not only defended by the corrupt Wits of Hirelings, but bidden, strengthened by a Law, and Villainies made legal Acts.  
Had the Idol King Tyler, with his Council, not gone on too far in the Way of Extermination, but endeavoured to repair the Breaches of his Entrance; it would have been no small Labour to have restored things to any mean and tolerable Condition; if Presbyter Wickliff, and his Classes, by their pernicious Doctrines (as they are charged to this Day) did first pervert and corrupt the People, and broach that Vessel with which Father Baal and Straw poisoned them, they must have ruined themselves by the Change; sure enough they had been no more comprehended in any of Tilers Toleration, than the Prelatical or Papistical Party.  
In the Turmoils and Outrages of this Tyranny, had it taken, Innocence, Virtue, Ingenuity, Honesty, Faith, Learning, and Goodness had been odious, and dangerous. The Profit, and Advantage of the new Usurpers, had been the Measure of Justice and Right: The Noble and Ignoble had died Streets and Scaffolds with their Blood, not by Laws and Judgement, but out of Malice to their Height and Worth, out of Fury and Covetousness to enrich publich Thiefs and Murderers. The Jealousies too and Fears of Tyler, had made all Men unsafe. Yet the Repute, the Renown of the Founders could not have been much. The Glory of Success cannot be greater than the Honesty of the Enterprise; there must be Justice in the Quarrel, else there can be no true Honour in the Prosperity. Cato will love the conquered Commonwealth: Iugurtha's Fame, who is said to be Illustrious for his Parricides and Rapines, will not make all Men fall down and worship.  
On Monday the Fifteenth of july (not of October, as Walsingham is misprinted) the Chief Justice Tresilian calls before him the Jury for Inquiry, who falter and shamelessly protest they cannot make any such Discovery as is desired. The Chief Justice puts them in Mind of the King's Words to them upon the Way, promising Pardon if they will find out the Offenders; else threatening them with the Punishment they should have suffered, who through such Silence cannot be apprehended.  
Out they go again, and the Chief Justice follows them: He shows them a Roll of the principal Offenders Names, tells them they must not think to delude and blind the Court with this Impudence, and advises them out of a Care to preserve wicked men's Lives, not to hazard their own.  
Hereupon they indict many of the Town and Country, which Indictments are allowed by a second Inquest, appointed to bring in the Verdict, and again affirmed by a third Jury of Twelve, charged only for the Fairness of the Trial: So no Man was pronounced guilty, but upon the finding of thirty six Jurors. Then were the Lieutenants Greyndcob, Cadindon, and Barber, and twelve more condemned, Drawn, and Hanged. Wallingford, john Garleck, William Berewill, Thomas Putor, and many more; with Eighty of the Country, were Indicted by their Neighbours, and Imprisoned, but forgiven by the King's Mercy, and discharged. They were forgiven most by the King's Mercy; for he had forbidden by Proclamation, all Men to sue or beg for them, a Command which the good Abbot sometimes disobeyed, and he shall be well thanked for it.  
No Benefits can oblige some Men: A true rugged Churl can never be made fast, never be tied by any Merit whatsoever: Nothing can soften him: See an unheard of Shamelesness till then. These lazy, tender-hearted Clowns, who could hardly be got to discover the Guilty, now run with full Speed to betray the Innocent: They indict the Abbot as the principal Raiser, and Contriver of these Tumults, which struck at his own Life, and the Being and Safety of his Monastery. The Abbot, as it is said, sent to Tyler, upon his Ordinances, some of the Town and Monastery, but to temporize, and secure himself. This is now supposed by the very Traitors indeed, Treason by Common Law and Statute against the King his Natural Liege Lord. This having not the Fear of God in his Heart, etc. but being seduced by the Instigation of the Devil, is compassing the Death, etc. the Deprivation and deposing of his Sovereign Lord from his Royal State, etc. (as such Indictments use to run) This must go for levying War against the Lord the King, adhering to, comforting, and aiding his Enemies by open Fact; Which are the Words of the Statute of Treason, 
25 Edw. 3.  declarative of the Common Law.  
The Chief Justice, abominating and cursing the treacherous Malice, and Perfidiousness of these Brutes, makes them tear the Indictment which themselves, though urged, are not wicked enough to swear to; nay, which publicly they confess to be false in the Face of the Court.  
Villeinage was not now abolished, though some think otherwise, but by Degrees extinguished since this Reign. Besides, the Letters of Revocation before, restoring all things to their old Course, a Commission, which the Abbot procured from the King out of the Chancery, then kept in the Chapterhouse of this Monastery, makes this manifest; which speaks to this Effect.  
RIchard, by the Grace of God, King of England, and of France, and Lord of Ireland, etc. To his Beloved John Lodowick, John Westwycomb, etc. We command you, and every of you, upon Sight of these Presents, etc. That on our Part, forthwith ye cause to be proclaimed, That all and singular the Tenants of our Beloved in Christ, the Abbot of S. Alban, as well free as bond; the Works, Customs and Services, which they to the foresaid Abbot ought to do, and of ancient Time have been accustomed to perform; without any Contradiction, murmur, etc. Do as before they have been accustomed.  
The Disobedient are commanded to be taken, and Imprisoned as Rebels  
In the Time of King Henry the Seventh there were Villains. This 
11 H. 7. 13.  I observe to make it appear, how little it is which the miserable Common People, without whom no famous Mischief can be attained, are Gainers by any of their Riots or Seditions; whatsoever the Changes are, their Condition is still the same or worse. If some few of them advance themselves by the Spoils of the public Shipwreck, the rest are no happier for it; the insolent Sight offends their Eyes, they see the Dirt of their own Ditches lord it over them, and the Body of them (perhaps) more despised than ever. Tyler (who could not but have known, that nothing can be so Destructive to Government, as the Licentiousness of the base Commons) would doubtless (when his own Work had been done) quickly have chained up the Monster; he would have perched in the King's sacred Oak; all the Forest should have been his, Bishoprics, Earldoms, nay the Kingdoms had been swallowed by him. Instead of a just legal Power by which the Kings acted, an Arbitrary, boundless, unlimited Power must have been set up; instead of a Fatherly Royal Monarchy, a Tyranny after the Turkish Mode, a Monarchy Seignioral; and had he brought in upon the Fall of the Christian Faith and Worship, which must have followed his Establishment, Circumcision, and the Creed of Mahomet, as the Spirits of Men were than debased, he must have been obeyed. All the Kings Right (and more) must have been his; Sultan Tyler's Prerogative would have been found more grievous, more heavy, more killing than all the Yokes and Scorpions of our Kings; no Man when he went to Sleep, could assure himself that one Law would be left next Morning; the Ordinances of Tyler and his Council flew about in Swarms, killing and rooting up the Laws: One Proclamation of this Tyrant's was of Force to blow up the ancient Foundation; enough to have made Men mad, if ever they could wake, and understand. When the French had conquered Naples, the People looked for a golden World, they thought their new Master would (as the King of Mexico's Oath used to say) do Justice to all Men, make the Sun to shine, the Clouds to rain, the Earth to be fruitful: They promise themselves Liberty, and that the accustomed Imposts of their former Kings of the House of Arragon, should not only be taken off, but the very Word Gabelle driven out of the Kingdom, there should be no such thing in Nature left; but foolish Dolts as they were, they found an Alteration quickly, instead of a Court Cavalry before (the new Masters ill established and assured, not daring to trust any thing) standing Armies were continually to be kept on Foot; instead of one Tax, intolerable of late, they are oppressed with ten, their Backs and Shoulders crack under the Load.  
Upon this Fancy of these abused Italians, says the Historian, This is the Custom, for the most part of all People, weary ever of the present Condition, and inconsiderately gaping after a Change, but they receive such Wages of their fond and disorderly Lightness.  
The War undertaken against Lewis the 11th. of France, by the House of Burgundy, Dukes of Berry, Britain, and Bourbon, called the Weal Public, was not made against the King (says the Allies) but against evil Order, Injustice in the Government, and for the Public Good of the Realm. In the Treaty for Peace these fine things are forgotten, the wretched. Peasants torn, and ground with Taxes, left to shift for themselves.  
The Prince of the Burgundy's demands the Towns upon the Some for himself: Normandy for the Duke of Berry, and other places; Offices, and Pensions for the rest; some Overtures were made for the Weal Public (says the History) that is all, the Weal 
comen.  Public was the least of the Question, the Weal Public was turned to Weal Particular; Self-seeking was the Sum of the Business. This has been the Fashion of all Rebels hitherto, and will be to the Worlds End. After these Proceedings the Hartfordshire Men betwixt the Ages of 15 and 60 present themselves according to Command, and take the Oath of Allegiance; they are sworn too to unkennel and apprehend the late Incendiaries.  
The King having now quieted the Commotions removes to Berkhamsted, eight Miles from St. Alban; a Royal Castle then, and at Easthamsted where he hunts, is informed, that the Bodies of the Traitors executed were taken down from the Gallows; hereupon he directs his Writ or Letter to the Bailiffs of St. Alban, commanding them under Penalty of forfeiting all things forfeitable, to hang up again the said Bodies now rotten, and stinking in Iron Chains, which the Townsmen are forced to do with their own Hands.  
A Parliament sitting in May the Fifth Year of this King's Reign, john Wraw Priest of the Reformation at Mildenhall, and St. Edmunds-bury was taken; and upon the Petition of the House of Commons to the King, judged to be drawn, and hanged. In the same Parliament too it was enacted, That wheresoever any Clowns by six or seven in a Company kept suspicious Conventicles, the King's good and faithful Subjects should lay hold of them, and commit them to the next Gaol 
Wals. Hypod.  without staying for the King's Writ. In the same Parliament of the King it was made Treason to begin a Riot, Rout, or Rumour; by this Parliament, and that of the 6. Provisions are made for those whose Deeds were burnt or destroyed in the late Insurrection, and in the 6. of Richard, the King pardons the Multitudes for their Misdemeanours in the Tumults. The Clowns now every where returned to their old Obedience, and the Winds were laid in all their Quarter. Richard, a Prince born for Troubles, shall be turmoiled with the Rebellions of his Peers and Parliaments, deposed and murdered by them, yet his Memory shall be Sacred, his Peers and Clowns shall dig for him in his Grave; Posterity too shall owe all things to his Person. After the Death of Maximinius a wicked bloody 
jul. Capitol. nefarii improbi latronis.  Thief, a cruel Tyrant, who invaded the Roman Empire, Capitolinus recites a gratulatory Letter written by Claudius julianus a Consul to the Emperors Maximus and Balbinus, whom he calls Preservers and Redeemers of the Commonwealth, there the Council tells them they had restored to the Senate (the House of Lords) their ancient Dignity, to the Romans their Laws, Equity, and Clemency established, their Lives, their Manners, their Liberty, the Hopes of Succession to their Heirs. He adds, they had freed the Provinces from the insatiable Covetousness of Tyrannies; no Voice, Language, nor Wit can express (says he) the public Happiness.  
King Richard restored to the Church and Universities their Rights and Possessions, to the Nobility their Honour, to the Gentry their Respect, to the Cities their free Trade; the Plenty of his Harvest to the industrious Countryman, Security, Peace, and Liberty to all Orders; what Prince could bestow greater Benefits upon a People? He was the Stator, the Saviour of the Nation, a Nation not worthy of him, whose Ingratefulness to his Sacred Head, whose Perfidiousness and Impiety in advancing an Usurper upon his Ruins, were punished with a fatal Civil War, which lasted Ages, with an Issue of Blood, which could not be stopped till the true and lawful Heir of this Prince was seated in the Imperial Throne, according to the Faith and Oaths of this People (which whatsoever may be pretended, no Power on Earth can dispense with) and according to the fundamental Laws of England.  
FINIS.   

A TABLE TO Mr. john Cleveland's WORKS.  

A.  
THe Antiplatonick Page 11  
The mixed Assembly p. 32  
Answer to a Pamphlet written against the Lord Dygbies Speech, concerning the Death of the Earl of Strafford p. 100  
Against Ale p. 304  
Answer to the Storm p. 383   

B.  
On Britannicus his Leap three Story high, and his Escape from London p. 247  
Elegy upon Ben. Johnson p. 310  
A second Elegy p. 303  
An Epitaph upon Ben. Johnson p. 353  
To a Lady that wrought a Story of the Bible in Needlework p. 359  
On a Burning-Glass p. 375   

C.  
AN Elegy upon the Archbishop of Canterbury p. 63  
How the Commencement grows new p. 68  
Square Cap p. 70.  
To the Hectors upon the unfortunate Death of H. Compton p. 181  
An Elegy upon Doctor Chaderton the first Master of Emanuel College in Cambridge, being above a hundred years old p. 188  
Ch●…ronostion Decollationis Caroli Regis p. 193  
An Elegy upon King Charles the First murdered publicly by his Subjects p. 195  
Christmas Day p. 213  
Content p. 247  
A Sing-Song at Clarinda's Wedding p. 255  
To his honoured Friend Mr. T. C. that asked me how I liked his Mistress being an old Widow p. 262  
A Committee p. 208  
Character of a Country Committee-Man with the Ear-Mark of a Sequestrator p. 72  
Character of a Diurnal-maker p. 78  
Character of a London-Diurnal p. 83, 84  
Cleveland's Letter to a Friend dissuading him from his Attempt to marry a Nun p. 117.  
The Piece of a Common-Place upon Romans the 4th, last Verse p. 123  
On the Death of King Charles the First p. 219  
To Cloris, a Rapture p. 309  
On Christ-Church Windows p. 316  
The poor Cavalier in Memory of his old Suit p. 327  
Coachman of St. James' p. 346  
Upon one that preached in a Cloak p. 363  
Upon Tom of Christ-Church p. 374   

E  
The General Eclipse p. 56  
Upon Princess Elizabeth born the Night before New Years Day p. 58  
Epitaph on his deceased Friend p. 228  
An Epig. to Doulus p. 354  
An Epig. on the People of England p. 254  
The Engagement stated p. 263  
Elegies on Mr. Cleveland p. 277  
Of Black Eyes p. 347   

F.  
FUscara or the Bee Errand. p. 1  
The Public Faith p. 200  
Upon a Fly that flew into a Lady's Eye and there lay buried in a Tear p. 231  
Upon the new Invention of flying with Chemical Magic with a Description of Castle of Comfort. p. 344  
The Flight p. 358   

G.  
ON a little Gentleman profoundly Learned p. 297  
The old Gill p. 306   

H  
THe Hecatomb to his Mistress p. 8  
Upon an Hermaphrodite p. 19  
The Author to his Hermaphrodite made after Mr. Randolph's Death, yet inserted into his Poems p. 21  
On the happy Memory of Alderman Hoyl that hanged himself p. 210.  
Cleveland's Letter to the Earl of Holland, the Chancellor of the University of Cambridge p. 113   

I.  
TO Julia to expedite her Promise p. 6   

K.  
UPon the Kings Return from Scotland p. 24  
The King's Disguise p. 46  
On the Memory of Mr. Edward King drowned in the Irish Seas p. 61  
To the King recovered from a fit of Sickness p. 299  
To the King p. 360   

L.  
ALenten Litany p. 202  
The London Lady p. 235  
A Letter sent from a Parliament Officer to Mr. Cleveland p. 92  
Mr. Cleveland's Reply p. 93  
The Officers rejoinder p. 95  
Mr. cleveland's Answer p. 97   

M.  
A Young Man to an old Woman courting him p. 17  
An old Man courting a young Girl p. 224  
Upon Sir Thomas Martin, who subscribed a Warrant thus, We the Knights and Gentlemen of the Committee when there was no Knight but himself p. 55  
Upon a Miser who made a great Feast and the next Day died for Grief p. 59  
Mark Anthony p. 65  
The Author's Mock-Song to Mark Anthony p. 67  
Mayday p. 251  
Myrtle Grove p. 259  
Mount Ida, or Beauties Contest p. 229  
Model of New Religion p. 245  
To his Mistress p. 334  
Upon the Marriage of the young Prince of Orange with the Lady Mary p. 348  
To his Mistress p. 354   

N.  
A Fair Nymph scorning a Black Boy courting her p. 16  
To the Memory of the Earl of Northampton slain in the Beginning of the Civil War p. 233  
News from Newcastle or Newcastle Coalpits p. 286  
Cleveland to the Earl of Newcastle p. 112  
The Answer to the Newark Summons p. 129   

O.  
Orations in Latin upon divers occasions, beginning at Page 132 and ending at p. 177  
Oliver Protector sick 383   

P.  
UPon Phillis walking in a Morning before Sunrising p. 13  
The Hue and Cry after Sir John Presbyter p. 30  
Platonic Love p. 211  
On the Right Reverend Father in God John Prideaux Bishop of Worcester p. 214  
Mr. Cleveland's Petition to the Protector after a long Durance in Prison p. 109  
Upon Parsons the great Porter p. 303  
On his going by Water by the Parliament House p. 304  
The Antiplatonick p. 324  
A Sight of the Ruin of St. Paul's Church p. 335  
The Definition of a Protector p. 343  
The Puritan p. 355  
The Parliament p. 366  
On the May Pole p. 369  
A zealous Discourse between the Parson of the Parish and Tabytha p. 380   

Q.  
TO the Queen upon the Birth of one of her Children p. 308  
To the Queen p. 329  
A Relation of a Quaker, to the shame of his Profession, attempted to buggar a Mare p. 336  
To the Queen upon the Birth of her first Daughter p. 361  
To the Queen p. 372   

R.  
REbel Scot in English and Latin p. 37  
Rupertismus p. 49  
A Hue and Cry after the Reformation p. 206  
The Model of the new Religion p. 245  
To Prince Rupert p. 272  
The Rustic Rampant or Rural Anarchy affronting Monarchy in the Insurrection of Wat Tyler by J. C. a large Tract beginning at page 387 and ending at p. 499   

S.  
TThe Senses Festival p. 4  
Smectymnuus, or the Club Divines p. 27  
Epitaphium Thomae Spell Coll. Divi Johannis Praesidis p. 65  
Scots Apostasy p. 182  
Epitaph on the Earl of Strafford p. 185  
Mary's Spiken●…rd p. 189  
Survey of the World p. 221  
For Sleep p. 295  
Against Sleep p. 296  
A sad Suit in a petitionary Poem sent by a poor Scholar to his Patron p. 325  
Second Part of Scots Apostasy p. 340  
Song of Sack p. 364  
Upon Sheriff Sandbourn p. 376  
The Schismatic p. 378  
A Sermon p. 380   

T.  
TO Mrs. K. T. who asked him why he was dumb, writing Calente Calamo p. 15  
The Times p. 239  
On the Inundation of the River Trent p. 291  
On one that was deprived of his Testicles p. 353  
A Time Sonnet p. 365  
Not to travel p. 377   

V.  
Vituperium Uxoris, or the Wife-hater p. 267   

W.  
Cleveland's Letter to the Earl of Westmoreland p. 114.  
Wife-hater, why Women were made p. 265  
On an ugly Woman p. 298  
Upon Wood of Kent p. 315  
Upon a Talkative Woman p. 339   

Y.  
ON I. W. A B of York p. 182  
Upon the Birth of the Duke of York p. 301   

Z.  
A Dialogue between two Zealots upon the &c. in the Oath p. 25    

Books Printed for and sold by Obadiah Blagrave at the Black Bear and Star in St. Paul's Churchyard, over against the little North-Door.  
DOctor Gell's Remains; being sundry pious and learned Notes and Observations on the whole New Testament, opening and explaining all the Difficulties therein; wherein our Saviour Jesus Christ is yesterday, to day, and the same for Gever. Illustrated by that learned and judicious Man, Dr. Robert Gell, Rector of Mary Aldermary, London, in Folio.  
Christian Religions Appeal from the groundless Prejudice of the Sceptics to the Bar of common Reason; wherein is proved, 1. That the Apostles did not delude the World. 2. Nor were themselves deluded. 3. Scripture matters of Faith have the best Evidence. 4. The Divinity of Scripture is as demonstrable as the being of a Deity. By john Smith, Rector of St. Mary in Colchester, in Folio.  
The True Christians Character and Crown; in a Sermon Preached at the Funeral of Deputy Cade on Rev. 2. 10. By john Lake Rector of St. Bottolphs' Bishopsgate, with a large Preface of Mr. Cade's to it, in 40.  
Weighty Reasons for tender and conscientious Protestants to be in Union and Communion with the Church of England, and not to forsake the public Assemblies, in several Sermons on 1 Cor. 1. 10. That ye all speak the same things, and that there be no Divisions among you, but that you be perfectly joined together in the same mind, and in the same judgement; on Heb. 10. 25. not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is; in 80 large.  
The Psalms of King David paraphrased, and turned into English Verse, according to the common Metre, as they are usuallysung in Parish Churches, by Miles Smith; in 80 large.  
A Fountain of Tears, emptying itself into three Rivulets, viz. Of Compunction, Compassion, Devotions; or Sobs of Nature sanctified by Grace, Languaged in several Solyloquys and Prayers upon various Subjects, for the benefit of all that are in Affliction, and particularly for these present times, by john Featly, Chaplain to his Majesty.  
Select Thoughts, or choice Helps for a pious Spirit, a century of Divine Breathe for a ravished Soul, beholding the Excellency of her Lord Jesus: To which is added the Breathe of the Devout Soul, by jos. Hall Bishop of Norwich; in 120.  
A General Treatise of Artillery or great Ordnance: Written in Italian by Tomaso Moreti of Brescia, Ingenier first to the Emperor, and now to the most serene Republic of Venice translated into English, with Notes thereupon; and some Addition out of French for Sea-Gunners. By Sir jonas More, Knight: With an Appendix of artificial Fireworks of War and Delight; by Sir Abraham Dagger Knight, Ingenier: Illustrated with divers Cuts.  
Blagrave's Introduction to Astrology, in three parts; containing the use of an Ephemerideses, and how to erect a Figure of Heaven to any time proposed; also the Signification of the Houses, Planets, Signs and Aspects; the Explanation of all useful terms of Art: With plain and familiar Instructions for the Resolution of all manner of Questions, and exemplified in every particular thereof by Figures set and judged. The second treateth of Elections, showing their Use and Application as they are constituted on the twelve Celestial Houses, whereby you are enabled to choose such times as are proper and conducible to the Perfection of any matter or Business whatsoever. The third comprehendeth an absolute Remedy for rectifying and judging Nativities; the Signification and Portance of Directions, with new and experienced Rules touching Revolutions and Trans●…ts, by Io. Blagrave of Reading, Gent. Student in Astrology and Physic; in 80 large.  
The Seaman's Tutor, explaining Geometry, Cosmography and Trigonometry, with requisite Tables of Longitu●… and Latitude of Sea ports, Travers Tables, Tables of Easting and Westing, meridian Miles, Declinations, Amplitudes, Refractions, Use of the Compass, Calendar, Measure of the Earth Globe, use of Instruments, Charts, differences of Sailing, estimation of a Ship-way by the Log, and Log-line Currents. Composed for the use of the Mathematical School in Christ's Hospital London, his Majesty Charles TWO his Royal Foundation. By Peter Perkins Master of that School.  
Mr. Nich. Culpepers last Legacy, left and bequeathed to his dearest Wife for the public good, being the choicest and most profitable of those Secrets, which while he lived were locked up in his Breast, and resolved never to publish them till after his Death; containing sundry admirable Experiments in Physic and Chirurgery. The fifth Edition, with the Addition of a new Tract of the Anatomy of the Reins and Bladder, in 80 large.  
Pharamont, that famed Romance, being the History of France, in twelve parts; by the Author of Cleopatra and Cassandra, in Folio.  
Meronides, or Virgil Travesty, being a new Paraphrase upon the fifth and sixth Book of Virgil Aeneas, in Burlesque verse; by the Author of the satire against Hypocrites  
The Woman is as good as the Man, or the Equality of both Sexes: Written Originally in French, and translated into English.  
Newly reprinted the exquisite Letters of Mr. Robert Loveday, the late admired Translator of the three first Volumes of Cleopatra, published by his Brother Mr. Anthony Loveday, in 80 large.  
Wallographia, or Britain described, being a Relation of a pleasant Journey into Wales; wherein are set down several remarkable Passages that occurred in the Way thither; in 80.  
Wit and Drollery, Jovial Poems, corrected and amended with new Additions; in 80 large.  
A new Survey of the Turkish Government completed, with divers Cuts, being an exact and absolute Discovery of what is worthy of knowledge, or any way satisfactory to Curiosity in that mighty Nation; in 80 large.  
Ethicae Christianae, or the School of Wisdom. It was dedicated to the Duke of Monmouth in his younger years, in 120.  
The Life and Actions of the late Renowned Prelate and Soldier Christopher Bernard Van Gale Bishop of Munster, in 80.  
The Conveyancers' Light, or the Complete Clerk and Scrivener's Guide, being an exact Draught of all Precedents and Assurances now in use. Likewise the Forms of all Bills, Answers and Plead in Chancery, as they were penned by divers learned Judges, Eminent Lawyers, and great Conveyancers, both Ancient and Modern, in 40 large.  
The new World of Worlds, or a general English Dictionary, containing the proper Signification and Etymologies of hard English Words, derived from other Languages; in Folio.  
Cocker's new Copy-Book, or England's Penman, being all the curious Hands engraved on 28 Brass Plates, in Folio.  
Sir Robert Stapleton's Translation of Juvenal's satire, with ●…nnotations thereon, in Folio.  
Indiculis Universalis, or the whole Universe in Epitome, wherein the Names of almost all the Works of Nature, of all Arts and Sciences, and their most necessary Terms are in English, Latin, and French, methodically digested, in 80 large.  
Farnaby's Notes on juvenal and Persius, in 120.  
Sir jonas More's Arithmetic reprinted, with large Additions of the Author, together with his Translation of Madorgius Conical Sections and other Mathematical Tracts.  
john Cleveland's Works reprinted, with all such Poems and Tracts as have been formerly printed; collected into one Volume, together with his Life.  
The British Physician, describing the Nature of all Herbs, and Plants, with their Virtues, that are used in England by Physicians or others.  
The perfect Cook, exactly describing all the several ways of dressing Diet; whether by Pastry, or other ways; with some rare Secrets worth Observation.  
Apho●…ismes and Discourses of the Bodies Celestial, their Nature and Influences, discovered from the Variety of the Alterations of the Air, temperate or intemperate, as to Heat or Cold, Frost, Snow, Hail, Fog, Rain, Wind, Storm, Lightning, Thunder, Blasting, etc. with other Secrets of Nature: Collected by the Observation of thirty Years: By Dr. john Goad; in Folio: price 14 s.  
A Platform for Purchasers, a Guide for Builders, a Ma●…e for Measurers, by William Leybourn, in four Books, an Account whereof is given in the Preface to the Reader; in 80 large, with divers Brass Cu●…s.   

An Advertisement of a most excellent Water for the Preservation of the Eyes.  
THere is sold by the said Obadiah Blagrave, a Water of such an excellent Nature and Operation for Preservation of the Eyes, that the Eye being but washed therewith once or twice a day, it not only takes away all hot Rheums and Infla●…ations, but also preserveth the Eye after a most wonderful manner; a Secret which was used by a most Learned Bishop: By the help of which Water he could read without the use of Spectacles at 90 years of Age. A Bottle of which will cost but 1 s.  
FINIS.