Vera Effigies JOHANNIS CLEAVELAND   
Printed for Nat: Brook at the Angel in Cornhill   

CLIEVELANDI VINDICIAE: OR, CLIEVELAND's Genuine POEMS, Orations, Epistles, etc. PURGED FROM The many False and Spurious Ones which had usurped his Name, And from innumerable Errors and Corruptions in the True Copies. To which are added many never Printed before, with an account of the Author's Life. Published according to the AUTHOR'S own Copies.  
LONDON, Printed for Robert Harford, at the Angel in Cornhill near the Royal-Exchange, 1677.   

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 Piece, the injury that hath been and is done to the deceased Author's ashes not only pleadeth 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 Clieveland 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 uneequally yoked with a sooty Anvile-beater. Clieveland 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 rays, here a Galaxy; there some loose fancy frisking in the Air, here Wit's 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 brought in such insolent measures of Wit and Language that despairing to imitate, they must study to understand. That alone is Wit with them to which they are commensurate, and what exceedeth their scantling is monstrous.  
Thus they deify his Wit and Fancy as the Clown the plump Oyster when he could not crack it. And now instead of that strenuous masculine stile which breatheth in this Author, we have only an enervous effeminate froth offered, as if they had taken the salivating Pill before they set pen 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 Hurricanos of wit stonnieth the sense and doth not so much delight his Reader, as oppress 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 one 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 Clieveland 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. W. 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 Admissionn, and St. John's a Fellowship. There he lived about the space of nine years, the delight and ornament of that Society. 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 Burgess 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 Screech 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 courteth 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.   

CLIEVELANDI Manibus, Parentalia.  
UMbra diu Elisii lacrymabilis accola Pindi,  
Pieriis haesit quae taciturna vadis,  
Pegaseo meritae nudatáque remige primae  
Serpsit humi, gemino dignior illa jugo;  
Tandem cum cursum popularior awra negasset,  
Trajecit famae vela datura suae.  
Luce nouâ radians, jam fulgida cernitu umbra,  
Cui numen Phoebus foenerat, atque facem.  
Ridet Hyampe● que humilem de vertice vallem,  
Et volitat pennâ non nisi vecta suâ.  
jam reparat famae damnosa silentia, totâ  
Qui canitúrque Deae, Pieridum que tubâ.  
Cumque suâ, quae jam durabunt carmina, cedro,  
Elusere minas temporis & tineae.  
Blatta suo vexet Clievelandum Critica morsu,  
Vsque suos ungues rodat, & usque virum;  
Commistum salibus tamen ut gustarit acetum,  
Deciduae ultricem mittet hirudo cutem.  
Vsque Cothurnato conculcent carmina socco,  
Queis, praeter fastum, nil sua Roma dedit;  
Vsque 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 suscipit ore dies:  
Sed resplendet adhuc aeterni nominis umbra,  
Atque Poetastris 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 Sardonychata manus.  
Dissimili ingenio qui plumbea saecla flagellat,  
Quique alter Musis praesit Apollo suis.  
Cedit in exemplar venturi temporis, aetas  
Seraque Clievelandum 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 unfortunate.  
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 overcome with thy Mantum lays.  
Both ready to resign that breath  
With which you sing your own, and Country's 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 & 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 shalt 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, without his destiny.   
L. T.   

In Tertiam (at verò primam) Editionem Poematum johannis Clievelandi.  
QVid 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, & male sanos  
Qui genuit? prolem & te genuisse blatit:  
Hujus Tune parens? imò nec Compater, ipsam  
Consortem Tumuli ne patiare Tui:  
Sed sic ludit iners & credula fama popelli,  
Vnus delirat, plectitur innocuus,  
Non nova peccanti res est simulare parentem,  
Non nova mentiri nomen, & ora viri,  
Filius ast tandem Clievelandi en Filius ipse.  
Natus & ex Cerebro, ut nata Minerva Jovis,  
Et cum Cromvelicis nova Troja erat obruta slammis  
Filius ut veteris sustulit ille Patrem. (ipsum,  
Non est quòd clubites (lector) patrem exprimit  
Regius, omninò Regius, Acta sonans,  
Ingenio eloquioque po●ens, sed verba fatiscunt,  
Solus qui potis est dicere, Tolle Librum.  
Gasparus Justice.   

In mortem Doctissimi, & Poetarum plane Principis Domini Clievelandi Epicedium.  
QVi metricis nollet pedibus Cantare Poetam  
Pierides faciant, ut pereat podagrâ  
Quae vestros Clievelande manus non pingit honores,  
Scaevola, vel Tecum sentiat esse rogum.  
Pullatus lachrymor, quoties Lux ista recurrit  
Rubricam mortis quae memorare jubet.  
Hinc Epocham, numeret Luctûs, 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. Clieveland and his Poems.  
CLieveland 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 increase  
That it deserved no less an Hercules.  
This, this is he who in Poetic 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 then could write with so much art & skill  
That Rome might envy his Satiric Quill,  
And crabbed Persius his hard lines give o'er,  
And in disdain beat his brown Desk no more.  
How I admire thee, Clieveland! 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 loose,  
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 rifted 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 Freebooter 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 coy Pulse had beat him off;  
That Pulse, which he that feels may know  
Whether the World's long lived, or no,  
The next he preys 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 mystic 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 Argent Skin with Or so streamed,  
As if the milky-way were creamed;  
From hence he to the Woodbine bends  
That quivers at her finger's ends,  
That runs division on the 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 b●eeds, when he  
Nibbles his nice Phlebotomy.  
About her finger he doth cling  
Ith' 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 Errant'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  
Raviliack 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 Beadsmens' Rooms,  
And what they bleed but tart and sour  
Matched with my Danae's golden shower,  
Live Honey all, the envious Elf  
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 Jellied 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 Signet● 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 Votaress needs,  
Her very Syllables are Beads.  
No sooner 'twixt those Rubies born,  
But Jewels are in Earrings 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 A-dvowson 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 sored.  
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 woo 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 Furlows 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 rhythming Trade,  
Geld your loose wits, & 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 such 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 their 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 Physiogmony.  
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 Cuckoe-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 ●●all 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 Parol▪   

Virtue's no more in Womankind  
But the Green sickness of the Mind.  
Philosophy (their new Delight)  
A kind of Charcoal Appeti●e.  
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 Turnpike of his Chin.   

Since Love's Artillery than checks  
The Breast-works of the firmest Sex:  
Come let us in affections riot;  
Th' are 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 unlace  
Her at his rise, at his full stop  
Packs and shuts up her gaudy 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;  
L●st her full Orb his sight should dim,  
And bid us all good night in him;  
Till she should spend a gentle ray  
To force us a new fashioned day.  
But what religious Palsie's this,  
Which makes the Bows divest their bliss,  
And that they might her footstep, 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-light.   

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 open 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 be 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.  
Go study Salue and treacle, ply  
Your Tenant's Leg, or his sore eye.  
Thus Matrons purchase Credit, thank,  
Six penny worth of Mountebank;  
Or chew thy Cud on some Delight,  
That thou didst taste in Eighty eight▪  
Or 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 Breechess 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 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 superinstitute.  
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-kelder Hercules:  
Nay Sublunary Cuckolds are content  
To entertain their Fate 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  
Th' hast 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 D●st, 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 hopes 'tmay 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,  
Ith' Body joined, but parted in the Head.  
For you, my Brat, that pose the porphyry Chair,  
Pope john, or joan, or whatsoever 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  
Oth' 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 Gests, 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 Commendum 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 Veils 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 counfounded 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 camest thou to lack  
This Fiend in thy Prophetic Almanac?  
It's the dark Vault wherein th' Infernal Plot  
Of Powder against 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 catera 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;  
Ith' name of Rabbi Abraham, what art?  
Syriak? or Arabic? or Welsh? what skilt?  
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 Maccabees.  
Thus jack of all Trades hath distinctly shown  
The twelve Apostles in a Cherry-stone.  
Thus Faction's 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 Diaeresis, half one another;  
He with his little Sidesmam 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 Gossipping Dame; alone he is  
The Purlew of a Metempsychosis:  
Like a Scotch Mark; where the more modest sense  
Checks the loud Phrase & 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.  
Shorthanded 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 wire drawn 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 Walshman was his Godfather; for he  
Wears in his Name his Genealogy.  
The Banns 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 Cl●ra, choose you whether.  
See what an Offspring 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 Catterwaul and spite  
Which uses to Devorce, 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, & 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 Mouh.  
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 scared 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 minced; 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 Court.  
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 above the Commons 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 o'er and o'er.  
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 Cowmon 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.  
Fleabitten 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 Banns '●wixt these discolored 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 ringstreaked 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, or 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 distiguish either.  
Like their intended Discipline to boot,  
Or whatsoever 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 Piercie'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 Doxie-Marshal first advance.  
Twisse blows the Scotch-Pipes, and the loving Brace  
Puts on the Traces and treads Cinq●e-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 ne'er 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 Gaol-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 bear 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.  
CVrae Deo sumus, ista si cedint Scoto?  
Variata spleniis Domina Psych● est suis,  
Aut Stellionatûs rea. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Companulae omnes; totus Ucalegon fio;  
Coriaceae cu● millies mille hydriae  
Subur bicanis pensiles Paraeciis  
Non siut refrigerio. Poeticus furor  
Cometa non minus, vel ore flammeo  
Commune despuente fatum Stellulâ,  
Dirum ominatur. Ecquis è Stoâ suam  
jam temperet bilem, patria quando Iue  
Tam Pymmianâ, id est pediculosâ, perit,  
Bombimacbidisque fit bolus myrmeciis?  
Scotos nec ausim nominare, carminum  
Nisi inter amuleta, nec medit arier  
Nisi cerebello, quod capillitio rubens  
(Quale autumo coluberrimum Furiis caput)  
Quot inde verba, tot venena prompserit.  
Rhadamantheum fac, gut●ur esset nunc mihi,  
Sulphurque, patibulumque copiosius  
Ructans, Magus quam taenias Bombycinas  
Poteram, ut Agyr●a Circulator, pilulas  
Vomicas loqui, aut 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Styga;   

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,  
Aut ut Genevae stentores Perilleis  
Tartara & equuleos boare Pulpitis,  
At machinauti par forem nunquam Scoto  
Cunctis Sclopetis hisce gutturalibus.  
Vt 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;  
Vt Martyres olim induebant belluis  
(Quasi sisterent Rogis sacros bypocritas)  
En hos eodem Schemate, aut retro, Scotos,  
Extra Scotos, intus Feras, & sine tropo.  
Fallax Jerna viperae ●ihil foves  
Scoto Colono? Non ego Britanniam  
Lupis carentem dixerim, vivo Scoto.  
Quin Thamesinus Pyrgopolinices Scotus  
Poterat Leones, Tigrides, Vrsos, Canes  
Proprii Inquilinos pectoris spectaeulo  
Monstrasse, pro obolis omnibus quibus sol●t  
Spectare Monstra Cratis; & Forisimul  
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.  
Pene ocreatum vulgus. Et patria Feras  
Scotos, eremum indicat terrae plaga.  
Vel omnipraesentem negans Deum, nisi  
Venisset inde Carolus, cohors nisi  
Crafordiana, miles & Montrosseus,  
Feritatis eluens notam paganicae,  
Hanc praesti●isset 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.  
Vt Gens vagans recutita, vel Contagium,  
Aut Beelzebub, si des Vbiquitarium.  
Hinc erro fit semper Scotus, certos locos,  
Et hos, & illos quoslibet cilò nauseans.  
Vt frusta divisi Orbis & Topographicae  
Mendicitatis offulas, curtas nimis.  
Ipse Vniversitatis haeres integrae,  
Et totus in toto, Natio Epidemica.  
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 Loyal 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;  
Nec gliscet ergo jargonare Gallicè,  
Exoticis aut Indicis m●dis, neque  
Iberio nutu negare, nec studet  
Callere quem de Belgicis Hoghen Moghen  
Venture tumens, aut barba Canthari r●fert  
(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, cuijam malum est Haemorrhois,  
Haematopotas bos posteris meatibus  
Natura medica supposuit hirudines,  
Cruore satiendas licet nostro prius,  
Nostro, sed & cruore moribundas quoque.  
Nec computo credant priori, nos item  
Novum addituros, servitutem p●istinae  
Aliam, gemellam nuperae, fraterculos  
Palpare, quando coeperant (charos nimis)  
Suffragiorum scilicet Poppysmata,  
Et crustulam impertire, velut offam Cerbero  
Subblandiens decreverat Senatulus.  
Nos aera loculis? arma visceribus prius  
Indemus, usque & usque, vel capulo tenus.  
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 Villeinage, 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  
Seri videmus quo Scotum tracts modo.  
Princeps Rebelli mitior tergo, quasi  
Sellas equino detrahens, aptat suo.  
At jus rapinas has defendit vetus?  
Egyptus ista perdit, aufert Israel  
An Bibliorum nescis hos Satellites  
Praetorianis queis Cohortibus (novae  
Jerusalem triariis) Spes nititur  
Sororcularum? Cardo, Cardo vertitur  
Cupediarum, primitiva Legis?  
O bone Deus! quanti est career linteis!  
Orexis ut Borealis & fames movet!  
Victuque, Vestibusque cassi, hinc Knoxio  
Sutore simul & Knoxio utuntur Coquo,  
Piè quod algeant, quod esuriant piè.  
Larvas quin usque detrahas, & nummulis  
Titulisque, ut animabus, subest fallacia.  
Librae & Barones (detumescant interim  
Vocabulorum tympana) quanti valent!  
Hic Cantianum pene, pene villicum,  
Solidosque totos illa, sed gratis, duos.  
Apage superbae frauduléntiae simul  
Prosapia pictos, fide & pictos, procul:  
Opprobrium Poetico vel stigmati,  
Etiam Cruci Crux; non aliter Hyperbolus  
Hyperscelestus Ostracismo fit pudo●.  
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.  
Americanus ille qui coelum horruit,  
Quod Hispanorum repat eò sed pars quota!  
Viderat in Orco si Scotos (hui tot Scotos!)  
Roterodamus pependerat medioximus.  
Sat Musa! semissa fercularia  
Medullitus vorans, Diabolis invides  
Propriam sibi suam Scoti, paropsideus  
Vt Berniclis enim Scoti; sic Lucifer  
Saturatur ipsis Berniclatioribus.  
Nam lapsus a furcà Scotus, mox & styge  
Tinctus, suum novatur in Plant-Anserem.   

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 Barnacles.  
A Scot when from the Gallow-tree got loose  
Drops into Styx, and turns a Soland 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 Minster 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' art 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 fi●m 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 Britain'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 strange appear,  
YE 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  
Wafting 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 Antique 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 Ro●●l, so obscure a shade,  
Was Solomon in Proverbs all arrayed.  
Come all the Brats of this Expounding Age  
To whom the Spiri●●s 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 confess a Gild, though Innocent.  
Keys for this Cipher you can never get,  
None but Saint Peter's open 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 source fair Wether from a Scottish mistress  
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 Rhymes  
Their own Antipodes, and tract the times,  
Faces about says the Remonstrant Spirit,  
Allegiance is Malignant, Treason Merit.  
Huntington-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, then 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 cle●t 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 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 & 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 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 Eternitie'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.  
And as the Elder Sister's Growth and Sense  
(Souls paramount themselves) in Man commence  
But faculties of Reason Queen; no more  
Are they to him, who was complete before,  
Ingredients of his Virtues. Thread the Beads  
Of Caesar's Acts, Great Pompey's and the Swedes,  
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.  
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 Cit●●lay 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 Bridge;  
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 hears  
With their wide listening Mouth from the Great Peers  
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,  
And strait laced sweat for a Dominion bigger.  
The terror of whose Name can out of seven,  
Like Falstaf's Buckram-men, make 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 four-leged Cavalier.  
He 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:  
Against whom they have these 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 with Lust's Amsterdam,  
That lets in all Religions of the Game.  
Thirdly; he smells Intelligence; that's better  
And cheaper too, than Pym's from his own Letter,  
Who's doubly paid (Fortune or we the blinder!)  
For making Plots, and then for Fox the finder.  
Last; 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 Sir 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 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,  
Then 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 Smectymm●●,  
Who place Religion in their Vellam-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 Sibyls 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 Wheelbarrow.   

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 Winsor'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 gild 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-mor●;  
Only the House of Commons trips  
The Stage in a Triumphant sort,  
Now e'en 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 o'er 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 ●o 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; for lo,  
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 Whinyard 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.  
Stout 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 Huckster's care tells o'er and o'er,  
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 Mermaids, though upon  
His Death the Ocean might turn Helicon.  
The Sea's too rough for Verse; who ryhmes upon't  
With Xerxes strives to ●etter 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 Impostumed 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 Stagirite (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 Britain'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,  
Did 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 Ey●s.  
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 Strafford fell, the Church in Land,  
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.  
HIe jacet Quantillum Quan●i,  
Ille, quatenus potuit mori  
Thomas Spellus:  
Fuit nomen, erit Epitheton.  
Post humus sibi perennabit, idem  
Olim & olim.  
Ille qui sibi futurus Posteri,  
Vt 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 verba protulit, ut Alcedo pullos  
Omine pacis;  
Quocum sepul●a jacet Vrbanitas,  
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 fl●ndo 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,  
Numbering of Kisses Arithmetic prove  
Eyes, like Astronomy,  
Straight-limbed Geometry  
In her Art's Ingeny,  
Our Wits were sharp and ke●n.  
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-wandering Witches put on their Patens.  
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,  
As 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 Ropy 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 Palmstry 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,  
Frost, Pond and Rivers clean.  
Never did Incubus  
Touch such a filthy Sus,  
As this soul 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 basd 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 Pettticoats 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, & at the first pluck,  
The Toll-man Barnaby strikes 'em good luck,  
And so, etc.   

The Country Pa●sons 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 Marg'ret●Professor ●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- ●rent-Belief;  
Who should he but hear our Organs once sound,  
Could 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,  
And 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.  
Ay, 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 Hippocrene 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-Cap comes  
Shaking his Head, like an empty Bottle,  
With his new-fangled Oath by Jupiter's Thumbs,  
That to her Health he'll begin a pottle:  
He tells her, that after the Death of her Grannam  
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 Calot Leather-Cap strongly pleads  
And fain would derive his Pedigree of fashion.  
The Antipodes were 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 Tripleheaded Turn-key of Heaven with the Tripleheaded 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 sights while the left rules the Reigns. 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 Matress to fit 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 Cow 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 by 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, Party per pale, Soldier and Gentleman much of a scantling.  
Now enter his Taxing and deglubing Face, a squeezing Look, like that of Vespasianus, as if he were bleeding over a Close-stool.  
Take him thus, and he is in the Inquisition of the Purse an Authentic Gipsy, that nips your Bung 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 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-stockined Justice, lately made of a good Basket-hilted Yeoman, with a shorthanded 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, height 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 Sequestratour! 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 Superfetation, 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 Noble Men; 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 Sieveful 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 Almannack 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 Issues 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 meanner 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 filled a Chain so thin and light, that a Flea could trail it (as if he had worked Short hand, 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 Birth right accordingly, being shuffled out at the bed's feet of History. To what infinite numbers an Historian would multiply, should he ●●umble 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 it were not amiss to take a particular how he is accoutred, and so do by him as he in his Siquiss for the Wall-eyed Mare, or the Crop Fleabitten, 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 flappes 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 Linnnen, 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 ●he 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 Tarpawlin, 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 fares 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 solemn 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 College-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, Gallobelgicus the Protoplast, and the modern Mercuries but Hans-en-kelders. The Countess of Zealand 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 Frontispiece 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 Propertie●; 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 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 Plot, 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 all-to-be-traytored, 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 the Prerogative, and changing their profaner names 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 Brow-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 Tarrier 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 Whiffler 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 outkilled that half a Bar; and yet it is thought the sullen Corpse would scarce bleed were both these Manslayers never so near it.  
The same goes of a Dutch Headsman, that he would do his office with so much ease & 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 like 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 singes 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 gli●ters. 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▪ then down goes Dust and A●hes, 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 Holy day. 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 a 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 sight, yet all their Valour proceeds 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 Mars 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, Vous avez, Fox the Tinker, the liveliest Emblem of it that may be: for what did this Parliament ever go about to reform, but Tinkerwise, 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 Apule●us, 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. 8 d. 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 i● so, and that hereafter we shall find it no Sin to violate your Sanctuary, and upon the Audit find the Receipt, 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; if 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 start 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. 8 d. 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 is 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 Short hand, 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 lief to nibble at Wit. Though I dare not undertake like a mighty Coloss (whose very motion doth Cleave Land, like Terram findere) to devour indigested lumps of Wit, as the Cyclops Men at a Morsel, and then retail it out, 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 provission 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 how 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 Newark, as our Party of late hath done Garrisons, and converted as many Souls as Chaucer's Friar with the Shoulder-bone of the lost Sheep. But you say you expected (I thought you had had more than you expected) but however you expected Penitential Language and Humble Style, (the Groat I will not meddle with, 'tis holy Coin) an Address full of Complaints; Sir, we, like yourselves, can speak big of our Losses, and yet with more Ingenuity confess them; though I for modesty will not 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 mistaken 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 Garrison 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 Gra●●ham. I look upon your Letter as a Spittle-Sermon; Salinger'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 Terram findere. What a chargeable Commodity is Wit at Grantham, where the poor Writer plays the Pimp, and jumbles two Languages 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 & 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 Juggler-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 fed with all the Minced Meat in Divinity? Is it not pity such a Goggle of the Eye, such a melodious ●wang of the Nose, a pliable Mouth drawn awry, as if it were edifying 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 Lanspresado 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 Re● never springs the Partridge. You would have your Man taken for a Tax-gatherer. Lord how the C●ime 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 〈◊〉, 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 I, so long as there is Goose-shot to be had for Money. 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 sorry 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 phancied to be in Hell, that one should continually 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 Pamphleter 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 taken a Pamphleter, one of these Haberdashers of small Wares, without his Videlicets or his Vtpotes. An ingenious 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-souled Rythmer, 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 Boreas in the great Ship, with that ingenious Impress, 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 cry 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 not determined, and (what's as Material as any thing) 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 Bauns betwixt your Shoulders and a piece of Pack-thread: 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 guilty 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 apposite. If three or four Treasons be proved; if he be tied with three or four Cords; but if those Treasons prove but Misdemeanours, if those Cables be but Threads; if Samson that was bound with them have ●witch'd 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 confu●e his Speech, but his Conscience that would not be convicted. I am not tied to follow you in your Wild-goose 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 not infer 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 force. 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 an 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 Trangress'd; 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 lief 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 Sillogisms. 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 Vous 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. Pim 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 By't, 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 Narrowness 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 it must be made in order to a severer Lash? Must our Sores be engraven with our Wounds? Must we first be made Cripples▪ and 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 Kingdoms, make a stoop at us, who are the Rubbish of these Ruins. Methinks I hear your former Achievements interceding with you, not to fully 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 Prescriptions 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 ●aint 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. J.   

To the Earl of Holland, than 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, like the Sun, who if he be masked with Clouds, may thank himself who drew up the Exhalations. Sir, they that assign Tutelar Angels, betroath them 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 peculiar Influence to every private College. That Omnipresence which Philosophy allots to the Soul, to 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 summed into mine. It was almost impossible to read your Lines and be sober. You, You, my Lord, are the Favourite of the Muses. Your Strain is so happy and hath the Reputation for so Matchless, as if you had a double Key to the Temple of Honour to let in your Lordship's self and exclude Competitors. It's you, my Lord, have cut the Clouds and reached Perfection, who having mounted the Cliff, lends an hand to me, who am labouring in the Craggy Ascent. So towering are the Praises you please to bestow on me, and my Desert so grovelling, that to show you my Head is not worthy your Height, it 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, to distend them thus at length and breadth. Consider, I pray you, that the Leanest Endowments would be plump and full, thus blown up with a Quill; and that there are some so Dwarfish whom the Rack will not stretch to a proper Man. It is an excellent Breathing for a puissant Wit to overbear the World in the Defence of a Paradox; and a good Advocate will weather out the Cause, when there is neither Truth nor Invention. I persuade myself you had never undertaken to write my Panegyric, but that you saw it was to combat with the Tide, and to put your Abilities to the utmost Test in so unlikely a Subject. Little do you think what store of Opposers your Opinion will breed you; for though you be so powerful in the Art of persuasion, that should you turn Apostate, there would need no more but to Towl the Bell for Religion, yet this is an Heresy where you stand alone, and like Scaeva in the Breach, with your single Valour duel an Army. Now, my Lord, if 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 your Red Ribbon for my Commendations. Such, and so many are the Flowers of Rhetoric you have heaped upon me, that I run the hazard of the Olympic Victor, who was stifled with Posies cast upon him in approbation of his Worth; which Fragrant Fate, if I should sustain, what is there more to make me enamoured of Death, but that the same Flowers should straw 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 I 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 lief to tell you, that among all the Epithets you pile so Artificially to raise my Fame, there is one wanting to accomplish my Ambition, and that which I beseech your Lordship I may enjoy for the future; that is, to be esteemed  
SIR, Your Honour's &c. John 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 his 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: Insomuch as were you designed for a second Journey, it might be a part of your business to travel other Countries in quest of your own. Indeed she is such an Alien in her Look that most of her Off spring dare not ask her Blessing. Her Countenance is not Denizen of herself: you would think she were some Floating Island, that had made a voyage only to Truck for an outlandish Visage. Some who have spelled her Lineaments say she Copies out the Dutch, and to make good the Parallel they doubt not to instance in our Hogen Governors. It is in a broken Kingdom as in a cracked Looking-glass, wh●re in stead of one Face, that Monarch-like should represent the whole, you may have Variety of lesser ones glimmering in its room, and the Aspects of all of them fierce and frowning. Well then a Foraigner she is and her Complexion borrowed; so that as as our new Philosophers would have the Earth to move and the Heavens to stand still, the same may be said of this State of ours, and the Royal Train that you were part of. It was the Kingdom wandered, not you that left it. You are fixed and England in Exile. When a Country reels from its settled posture, there is no Defection in him that quits it, it having first abandoned itself. In this case▪ though it be a Fallacy in the sense, it 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 you, 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, left 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, nor 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 I 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 Leap year 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 or Easter. But as the Athenian Decree made November and August meet in March, so give me lief 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 Reigns 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 Text 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 Gaol-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 twain, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, He was delivered for our Offences; nay 'tis rend from top tothth' 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 Nation. 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 Anagramm, 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; Vniversus orbis, the whole World lies in Wickedness, whilst Virtue like the Centre is but an Imaginary point. Thiefs, and well too, Barrabbas was too good for him now; mark but their Election; Not him, but Barrabbas. But methinks his Crown might command a Distance; but 'tis a Crown of Thorns: and if you consider well the Troubles annexed to a Crown, it may seem a Tautology. Every Crown is a Crown of Thorns. See here Cruelty Quartering her Arms with Division. Pseudo-Philippus, that Counterfeit of the Macedonian King, when he was taken by the Romans, had so much honourable Calamity indulged unto him; Quod de eo tanquam de vero Rege triumpharetur. They Crown him, but 'tis for Sacrifice. They never acknowledge him King of the Jews, till upon the Cross, that 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 with a timorous Virtue to decline the Trial, so jealous is this Maiden Garrison of sullying her Loyalty, that she had returned your Summons without perusal. Which rebound of your Letter, as it were a laudable Coyness to preserve her Integrity; so it is the most compendious Answer to what you propound. For I hope you intent it rather as a Mode and Formality to preface your design, than with expectation of an Issue suitable to your Demands. You cannot imagine this untainted 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 of the Steward whereof the Lord and Master makes a voluntary tender? In vain do you court the Inferior Streams, when the Springhead prevents your expectation. It is our Duty to trace his Commands, not to outstrip them. So that if Honour and Conscience would permit the Delivery, mere Manners would retard us, lest by an overreaching speed we frustrate his Majesty's Act of Grace, and antedate his Royal Disposal. I shall wave the Arguments wherewith you endeavour to evince our Consent. I am neither to be stroked into an Apostasy, by the mention of fair Conditions in a misty Notion: Nor to be scared into Dishonour by your running Division on the Fate of Chester. For as I am 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 riper Destruction. For my part I had rather embrace a Wrack floating upon a single Plank, than embark in your Action with the fullest Sails to dance upon the Wings of Fortune. Whereas you urge the expense of the Siege, and the pressures of the Country in supporting your Charge, there I confess I am touched to the quick: But their Miseries, though they make my Heart bleed, must not 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 Pass for some Gentlemen to go to Oxford, that I may know his Majesty's pleasure, whether, according to his Letter, he will wind up the Business in general, or leave every Commander to steer his own Course; then I shall know what to determine. Otherwise I desire you to take notice, that when I received my Commission for the Government of this place, I annexed my Life as a Label to my Trust.   

Oratio in Scholis Publicis habita cum junior Baccalaureus in Tripodem disputaret Cantab.  
QVos 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; & ingentis curae quae praestandae observantiae me habet solicitum, non novi subtilius argumentum quam stuporem. Quod autem Poetarum Princeps Deorum Senatum cogit ad suam Batrachomyomachiam, pari audacia liceat & mihi vos ad ludicrum hoc cer●amen nostrum invitare. Vmbra est haec nostra contentio & Icon belli. Murium & Ranarum pugna, quid aliud quam Iliadis Brachygraphia? & in pusillis istis animalibus Hector & Achilles (tanquam Iliads in nuce) coarctantur. Ea siquidem est pensi nostri conditio, ut hic etiam Mars & Venus implicati jacent. Pugna est, sed ludicra; Ludus, & tamen bellicus; ita ut nec bis cincta placeat Philosopia, nec nuda Cytherea. Qui virili toga indutus, necdum reliquit nuces, sed totus jocos crepat, hujus ego Palladem posthumam cerebri sui prolem existimabo. Qui in hisce Floralibus solus Cato, & inter Philosophiae spinas nullos admittit Rhetoricae flores, hujus Minerva (ad Amazonis instar) alterâ mammâ destituitur. Ille demum sit noster Miles, qui & sese praestet ingenii Velitem, & Philosophiae Cataphractum; qui & viriliter audet disputare, & pueriliter cum Bipede Tripode par impar ludere. Me quod spectat ita rationem ad 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 coct a 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 Compatres duo & 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 jam passibus aequis. Euge speciosum Principem! in quo omnium legimus Simulachra Autographa; Margaretae nostrae Palladium Frederici Patris Numisma aureum & Matris Corneliae Ornamentum, Elizabethae dulcissimae, & in vestro vuliu totam Deam confessae; cujus laudes ut hodiernum saeculum effundit, ita Posteritatis Echo reparabit: cujus mascula anima jam sexu vestitur masculo, Elizabetha Carolo. Carolo! O quam luxuriat dicendi Seges! Quam decies repetitus placebit Carolus! Carolus Caroli Sobrinus & Caroli Auunculus. O Beatissima Carolorum Climax! Macte esto gradibus Carolina scala, ut cum prae altitudine suâ supremus Rex Carolus Coelos scandat, novi subinde succrescant Caroli, quibus, quasi internodiis, distincta ejus aeternitas usque & usque floreat; sic ipse sibi superstes Carolus, non hominum (parum illud Nestoris) sed Carolorum tres aetates vivat, Filii, Sobrini, utriusque Caroli.   

Ad Regem & Principem in Colleg. johan.  
QVAE nupero dolore obriguit Academia, tanquam orbatae Niobes soror 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 animavit. Nec magis eloquuntur Lapides, quam è diametro miraculi stupent Oratores. Quod in afflatis Numine fieri videmus; ita Deum recipere ut ejiciant Hominem, instinctu 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 exitium ut favoris insidias gratulamur: scilicet, ambitiosae moriuntur Musae, quae ad vestros pedes efflabunt Valè▪ 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 manu 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 suit Prologus Caroli; neque enim aptior Stella, quam Invictissima illius Herois Anima, quae vestrae sobol● res gerendas ominaretur. Stellam dixi? Muto factum; crederem potius ipsum Solem fuisse, qui ●unc temporis tibi r●ligavit moderamen Diei, & ut Principis cunas fortius videret, suum i● stellam contraxit oculum. Ecce ut patrissa● Carolus! Vt ad vestras Virtutes anhelus surgit! Quod sub pientissime Rege accidisse legimus Solem multis gradibus retro ferri, Principis aetas pari portento compensavit damnum, cujus festina virius devorat Horologium, & Pueritiâ 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, & Aeternitatem 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 ta● illustri praesentia in nescio quid majus piaculo excrescit. Minima coram Rege Errata, tanquam angustiores rimae, extenduntur lumine. Oratio itaque nostra pro gento temporum reformabitur, vel, quod tantundem est, rescindetur. Hoc unicum prae●abor votum; Vivas Augustissime, Pietas tuorum & Tremor Host●um. Vivas, vel in hoc declivio, Literarum Stator. Vivas denique eam indutus gloriam, ut Filium tuum Carolum appellemus Maximum, quia solo Patre minorem.   

Oratio habita ad Legatum quendam Gallicum, & Hollandiae Comitem, tunc temporis Academiae Cancellarium.  
QVam Augusta sit vestra Praesentia, & quam sacro horrore nostros percellit anim●s, utinam Oratoris vestri stupor non ita nimis testaretur. Quem enim alacritas offi●ii modo accenderat ut vos salutarem, impedit ●am eadem Religione in illas aures importunus ruerem iuquilinus, ubi Regum consilia habitarunt. Nec magis alloqui quam intueri nefas▪ Fulgura spont in ambor●m 〈◊〉, quorum splendorem si quis aspiceret▪ bidental fi●ret. Si quis Persarum, qui veneratur Solem, vos intueretur, utrumque ratus Numen, suum divideret sacri●icium. Nos quod attinet, fatemur lippitudine radiorum victoriam, & hoc geminum honoris jubar imbellis nostra ac●es eo magis commendat, quo minus sustineat. Salve igitur, Celeberrime Hospes, cujus gratissimi adventus, ut capacia essent nostra pectora, magnitudo gaudii nosipsos à nobis exclusit foras. Ecce quot Helluones oculi vos inspicimus! Quot in vestris vultibus Quadragesimam violamus! Sed nos indigni 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 Celi●udo 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 repraesentat. Theatra & Scholarum Pyramides nos ludibundi Vitruvii aedisicamus in chartis. Tu, Tu Architectus fortunae nostrae, cujus Magnificentia vel Pictoris nostri a●daciam superabit. Multus sum, Honoratissime Orator, in Cancellarii debitissimis laudibus, ut scias qualis Heros, quantus aliorum Patronus honori vestro hodie inserviat. Certè dum vos M●jorum Gentium Nobiles simul a●stantes videam. Nescio quis Isthmus videatur Galliam & B●ita●niam (invito Oceano) conjunxisse. Quin perpetuus sit ille Regionum nodus, & ita Gordianus, ut neuter Alexander dis●indat 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 prodiga 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 loquuntur) 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 Heautontimorumen●s & misere Absyrtos veteres Philosophos in Cruciatus denuò redigatis. Ruente Quercu vel quilibet Homuncio ligna colliget. Illius autem animosior est Spiritus qui è triumphantis Philosophi Fa●cibus eripiat, & eorum aliquem sub Clientela sua patrocinetur. Obsoleta ista Democriti, vel etiam Thaletis opinio ingenio V●stro siat Authentica. Neque tamen in ullas angustias vos redigam. Vniversas Naturae Pandectas 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.  
QVam 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 quilibet Orator componendus sit, ita ut cum Senibus tussiat, rideat cum pueris; quid ego hominis? Quale futurus sum Monstrum, gravitate & nucibus, Patre & puero interpunctum? Quod in dispertita & expansa Aquila fieri videmus unum corpus duplicem ostentare faciem: eadem est nostra erga vos & filios bifrons conditio. Hos cum aspicio, sumsonex Aquila pullos meosad 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 Elephantinum, oscillatione, quod quod aiunt, ludam. Superam modo, modo inferam occupabo partem; partim Senex, partim Puer, qualis Aeson 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 suit & 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 majori cum aenigmate sceleratus, quam quilibet vestrum pius: Matris Maritus, Vxoris 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 masculam magis, magis excultam sobolem 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 placet, Natura; Majoribus quidem nostris dedic 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. Ruct arunt illi glandes, vestrum est triticum: calceati corum dentes, & victus asper, vestrae dapes & ingenii gulae; quibus quod retro est seculum tantùm stravit mensam, erit à quadris futurum. Clari Convivae, quibus obsonantur antiqui, ministrant posteri. Sed quam effrons ego & devorati pudoris, qui dum vestra molior Encomia, Orationem meam foelicitatis tantae commensalem reddam! Liceat tamen peccare, Auditores, ut ignoscatis; pupura elotis maculis est iterata murice; gloriabor de culpâ à vobis remissâ magis quam de innocentiâ. Julius Sabinus, cum à Romano imperio defecisset, susis jam copiis & afflictis rebus in monumentum quoddam se abdidisse dicitur, ubi cum Vxore 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 Vxore tua Rhetorica tamdiu in Musaeo conclusus esses, quam ille in Mònumento, nunquam Orationem hujus parem genuisses. Gratias tibi, Sabine, de excusatione mea, qui cum necesse sit ut delinquam, habeo tamen deprecandi formulam. Habeo silios 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 sarcina. O quam tacito pede tempus labitur, & obrepit non intellecta senectus! Non est, quam videtis, barbae desperatio, sed genarum calvities; non sum implumi● puer, sed defloccatus senex. Prodite igitur in aciem, mei filii; non in aciem ingenii; nollem enim vos nimis ingeniosos in pueritia, 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 intertexta, 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 quod 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 Al●mena ad bellum, hunc ad fugam peperisset. Est & nobis multiplex Hercules, qui duodecim terminos totidem laboribus mensuravit: unus forsan aut alter Iphiclus, qui pocula sacra bibit & fugit; qui non alias se Herculis fratrem demonstrat, quam quod trinoctium illud quod ad procreandum Herculem continuavit Jupiter in intellectu suo usque conservat. Nata est (quamvis novitia) de quadam fabula; qui cum agnum instdiis excepisset, & odora nare persequeretur Pastor, ubi nullus pateret effugii locus, tugurium intrat, agnum fasciis involutum in cunas componit, quas huc illuc subinde quassat, ut balanti puero conciliaret somnum; si● 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 tantam componet litem? Quis conciliabit inter sese tam multiformis foe●us membra? Det Pollux Castori immortalitatem mutuam, uterque vivet alternatim; dies nocti lucem accomodet, utrinque crepusculum fiet; spargantur in emnibus merita, quae in aliquibus fluunt mista, & mea side omnes idonei ad respondendum questioni. Hitamen sunt in quibus stabit hodierna hilaritas: cum enim penuria verborum sit Mater Rhetoricae, non video quin defectus ingennii 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 Praelio abesset, & Africanus Victor causam quaereret, respondit, se tuendis castris dedisse operam, ne caeteris in acie d●ten●is diriperentur; suboluit Duci pusilanimis ratio. Non amo nimium diligentes. Etiam & filli mei hisce lepidis Exercitiis interessent, nisi quod tuenda sunt Castra, observinda Statuta, ne caeteris jocantibus violarentur. Euge mei filii! non suit Militis ignavi●, sed Castrorum cura; non Torpor ingenii, sed meius Statuti. Lex suit antiqua in Tabulis Decemviralibus primum inventa, ad Justiniani Codicem postea progressa, in jure qua Canonic●, qua Civili receptissima; & tandem ad hoc Municipale nostrum delapsa. Si quis faxit plus quam possit damnas esto. Lex imponit Castitatis fibulam; nonne damnandus Eunuchus si committat stuprum? Cavet Statutum ut frugi vivamns: nonne culpandus Mendicus si luxurietur? Pari modo plectendi sunt mei filii si sint ingeniosi. Crudele Decretum quod mutis execuit linguas, caecis extinxit oculos, filis meis ingenio interdixit.   

Oratio Inauguralis, cum Praelectoris Rhetorici munus auspicaretur.  
QVanta & 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 compensari 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 paribus numeris respondeant, ut munus & Gratiae in amoehaeam quandam Eclogam coalescant; secus ego gratulor meam gratiarum ignaviam: quò enim magis infra muneris vestri magnitudinem subsido, eò infamiâ meâ munus commendo. Gratiae cum beneficio in bilance posi●ae, & pro levitate suâ in sublime actaè, ex proprio ludibrio gloriam addunt & pondus beneficio. Quod si elegantes magis velitis gratias, estote vos minus munifici, Gratitudo ●st beneficii Echo, quae ut singula verba potest repetere, ita longam sententiam ne dimidiare. Monosyllaba (ut ita dicam) beneficia facilè reverberamus, cum grandioribus & vestris ne unam aut alteram syllabam rependimus: prodeo igitur in aciem cum amore vestro, sed ut succumbam studeo. Contendunt gratiae cum beneficio, sed ut ex istâ pugnâ major appareat vestra victoria. Qui in hostis potestatem se lubens offert, invidet hosti honorem suum; plenior ex capto quam ex dedititio Triumphus; & major erit munificentiae vestrae Paean ex Oratore victo, quam ex imbelli silentio. Quorsum autem ego in haec subsellia ascenderem, qui ita haereditarium à proavis meis praelectoribus accepi silentium, ut necesse habuerim quasi ex traduce, ta●nisse? 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 annuni obmutescerent. Nec immeritò; tam rarae enim fuerunt, tam infrequentes praelectiones nostrae, tam seculares denique, ut nescio quî possum melius praefari, quam illis praeeonis verbis; Venite ad Ludos quos nemo mortalium unquam vidit, 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 & Pulpita 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 destectanda mihi videtur Oratio; cujus in landes 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 hodiernùm 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 assensû, quasi Epimuthion nactum invenietis. Quare quos Eloquentia, si quae sit mea, agnoscit compatres, non dubito quin usque habitura sit susceptores; ut eadem lubentiâ in aures vestras resiliat quâ facilitate pectorum profecta est. Non causabor in posterum imbecillitatem meam, qui onus dedistis, dedistis humeros: & ut absint cae●era, satis erit virium sub aquilâ vestrâ militare. Refert Seneca de pusillo & monogrammate (ut ita dicam) homunculo, qui palaestram ausus est descendere, quoniam pugiles multos & strenuos servos domi aleret. Si servi tantum potuerint, si vicarii roboris confidentia infirmum herum commasculare possit, quid Domini facient? Et ego in hunc literarium pulverem possum irruere, non Mercurio meo, sed quoniam tam multos & tam facundas habeam Dominos. Non enim ad hoc officium designatus sum à dextro aut à laevo vulture, non à sitellâ aut sortibus, non ab imperito vulgo, vel (quod idem est apud Persas) hinniente equorum armento, sed à Senatu vestro, scilicet (ut sobriè audax possum dicere) ab oecumenico literarum concilio. Quid enim non infra erit eorum dignitatem, quibus Artes omnes pro satellitio, & conjuratae veniunt ad Clientelam Scientiae? Impos hîc 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 affatìm, abundè Figurarum. Quodigitur 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, cum eò deventum sit, ut vos omnes in volumen quoddam Rhetoricum compegerim, recipio in posterum me lecturum: In praesens aliquid de Rhetoricâ dicendum censeo; neque enim tam foelix Argumentum, quale vos reputo, prius reliquissem, quam individuis praeconiis vos & Rhetoricam semel simulque commendare. Ferunt Demonsthenem, optimum licet Rhetorem, non potuisse pronunciare nomen Rhetoricae. Quae Demosthenis fuit impotentia, est Rhetoricae modestia, quaè licet apud omnes laudatissima sit & multi nominis, titulos tamen suos erubescat proloqui. Quid igitur ego quam ut veterem illum medelae modum imitarer? lapides aliquos in os injiciam, quos nisi favor vester, plus quam Chymicus in preciosos verterit, indigni erunt qui in auribus vestris tam disertis pendeant. Age igitur Rhetorica, explica virtutes tuas, quae Logicae, Philosophiae caeterisque tuis Sororibus illicem facundiae hederam soles praefigere. Si tibi in eodem 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, quae cum Convivio inter aequales adesset, & probè jam saturatae omnes ludis operam darent; Lex lata est, ut quicquid facto praeiret quaevis, subsequerentur caeterae. Vbi 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 deterserant, apparuere. Hunc 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 Domin●e facies suas è Rhetoricae Pyxide mutuantur. Vt reliquas taeceam; Quid Logica citra Rhetoricam? Contractus ille pugnus ad colophos magis accommodus, quam ad aures demulcendas; ubi verò in palmam Rhetoricae extendatur, non opus est ut dicam quantum potuerit, cum frater meus Logicus exemplo suo nuper ostenderit. Quae igitur alias Artes la●dibus 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 faecultates 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 facilius sieret, utinam Thesaurarius ejus Cicero revivisceret; qui si toties de Rhetorica sua, quoties de Consulatu gloriatus esset, & aeque indefessum argumentum habuisset, & 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 numarare: idem in Cicerone plenius ac vellent evenisse constat; qui ubi Athenis studuit, Rhetoricam, praesidem Civitatis Deam, Vxorem duxit; & ubi aè 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 desendendas 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 conf●ssi. Hic tamen Cicero Facundiae Sponsus; hic (pace Bruti dixerim) Romanorum Rex; hi●, plusquam Caesar, perpetuus Dictator, ut divinum Rhetoricae numen sacro, quondam borrore 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. Vbi laborat Res-publica, 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 proclivem furtiuâ Rhetoricâ in virtutem prodit, sanctissimê reus Majestatis. Neque enim Reges aut Imperatores Rhetori●e jugum subterfugiunt. Tonat Rhetorica? frustra sub lecto cubat Testudo Caligula. Fulgurat Rhetorica? incassum lauro circundatur Tiberius, nec in isto 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 stylum implicitè loquitur & in aenigmate, ac si Persii Carmina in Prosam Orationem per modum Anagrammatis resolveret: anxiae ineptiae! & 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. Vbi interim Musarum Castitas? Adulter est ille Stylus, qui rem habet cum pluribus, & maxima Oratoris laus est aequum & integritas. Sed proh stupor! Egone ut Rhetoricae encomia moliar, & Oratorem nostrum publicum cui omnes assurgunt, praetermittam? cujus nomen cum Demosthene triplicare, est Rhetoricam ex omni parte definire. Peregrinatur in aliis 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, benè & 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, benè Latinè, perperam Graecé. 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 Religio: 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 muneris reliquum, in Termini proxime ineuntis exordium differam; ubi tamen spero Auditores meos non affutores; nam si nullo alio modo vos deterrere possum, legam Arabicè. O invidendam Praelectoris solitudinem! cujus in Individuo, coelestem admodum, universa species Arabica, quantum ad nos spectat, conservatur. Quod si meis 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.  
QVae cum ita sint, Auditores, liceat tandem perorare, Piladi dabo ut bodie insaniam, & tum finitus Orestes. Quod Reges solent, ubi satietas illos mundi ceperit, Coenobium intrare ut seipsos dediscant; perinde de nostro ingressu in hasce Scholas judicate. Penitet 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 peccaere nequeunt, resipiscunt. Spadonum est haec virtus; ingenia casta, quoniam non mascula; ac si Statuta nostra, sicut Turcarum Mulieres, non alios agnoscerent 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 striatam 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 coiturum. O quam studet illam Naturae Diaeresin resarcire, qui cum libro non indulserit Nasum; prohibere tamen nequit quin typis mandetur! ea enim est ejus cum literis communio, ut literato ejus cumulo vel hunc unicum librum addere, erant qui superfluum 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 policeo●; 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 Triumviratus regulâ, adaequare faciat, Quò tum te creavit virtus? Multiplex es in tuis Fratribus, & quascunque laudes illi meruerunt, tu nasceris particeps. Cer●è si●te unum tantum pepererit Academia, multos simul pariat necesse, ut duos dicatur peperisse. Neque tamen de Fratrum copia desperandum 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 prodit Cadmi seges, ut malè metuo ne vix satis sit litium ad omnes alendos. Quod si bono fato contigerit, armatae aristae se metent invicem & (piscium ad instar) ubi praeda deficit, vorabunt mutuó. Liciat 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 interreliquas excogitavit fallaciam. Fures duo à jurgiis auspicati pugnam simulant, capita pro mutuâ Colophorum libidine probè demulcent, quod cum confertus hinc illinc populus spectatum prodeat, usque praeliantur bellicos● Aucupes, dum à Collegis suis turbae commixtis, singulorum marsupia pertunduntur. Non in vestram peccabo dignit atem, si nubat haec Similitudo. Sunt & in vestra gente Cauponantes belli, qui ita disputant, ut quaestionem in alienis loculis inveniant, & (quod passimum est) in illis exercitiis nullum agnoscunt moderatorem. Ludiones 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 profecto qui ab Vxoribus suis vapularent milites, cum (tanquam meticulos● lepores) fortitudinis suae sexum mutent. Non tu hujusmodi Tiresias Gallicus, ut virilis anima sit degener in foeminam, & novissimae hebdomadae fortis Disputatio subsidat hodiè in sequiorem. Eccum vobis, Auditores optimi, eundem Respondentem! virtutem parem! noster Hercules non Ancillam induit, 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 & Sepulcrum? 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 ect, 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 Facultas vestra, ut, me Paride, vestrum esset Pomum Discordiae. Sterilescit hoc anno Medicina, ut quae satis novit quod ingruente bello, citra Medicorum opem mori possumus. Deficit Medicina, redundat Facultas vestra, neque mirum tamen quod binos alat ubere foetus, cum ad Artis vestrae mulctram nos humanum pecus toties veniamus. Gens Amazonum alteram mammam solet exurere, ut ad praeliandum magis sit accommoda; ambas habet jurisprudentia, & tamen plus quam Amazon est bellicosa. Qui solet omnia duplicare Bacchus à Poetis fingitur bis natus; duplex actus te peperit geminum. Ecce tibi Jovis & Patris mixtura dulcis, qui disputationis fulmine te primum genuit, in amoris femur nunc recondet. Epaminondas moriturus, cum ejus orbitatem defleret quidam, nihil de tam egregiâ stirpe reliquum fuisse: Leuctram & Mantinaeam, duas pulcherrimas filias se reliquisse dixit. Quid aliud tua disputatio gemina quam Leuctra & Mantinaea? pulchrae quidem filiae, quas ita desponsatas sibi velit posteritas aemula, ut qui in futurum seculum erit doctus, erit Gener tuus. Age igitur, & fortiter, cavendum enim est ab Achillis fato qui usque fuisti invulnerabilis, in Disputationis calce occidaris.   

Oratio itidem habita in Scholis Juridicialibus, cum Moderatoris partes ageret.  
CVm vos intuear, jurispiritûm Par, simulque reductis introrsum oculis imperitiam meam, Areopagum esse in hisce Scholis duplex argumentum in venio, vestram in agendo solertiam, & nostras judicandi tenebras. Fabula de Capro inter duos Arietes cursûs arbitro, & ab hinc illinc procurrentibus utrinque contuso; fabula inquam haec utinam esset fabula, nec in Moderatore vestro hodiernum nacta 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Saturni aetas foelix magis, quod innocens, an misera quod nullis Legibus instituta, digna vobis quaestio. Gratulor quidem ego primaevum scelus; qui primus deliquit, primus Solon & Lycurgus fuit, ita Ciconiae ad modum vitae damno Iura peperit, & tanquam Autographus Draco, suo sanguine Leges scripsit. Mehercule peccandi Inventio, quae Leges introduxit cujus qui primus Author extitit, tanto beneficio redemit scelus, ut facinus infra gloriam fuisse videatur. Nec vestra unius populi; sed Gentium▪ superbia est jurisprudentia, cujus in clientela Nationes omnes & Provinciae florent, & de juris Civilis ac de Solis communione universae participant. Insulas, Vrbes & singulae Geographiae frusta Ius Municipale occupat, cum Civile universum Orbem complectatur, & Regiones, ut ut dissitas, suâ tamen sub ditione foederatas, velinvitâ Naturâ, jubet co●lescere. Britannos ipsos, quos cum altero Orbe in bilance quadam Natura posuit, Ius Civile (tanquam Isthmus quidam) conciliat, & jugali quadam societate connectit. Neque magis Orbem Ius vestrum colligit, quam illud alterum dividit & articulatim comminuit. Est (quam vellem dixisse fuit!) leguleiorum genus, quos artem nescias an pulmones professos; qui ambiguitate vocis abusi, Forum in Emporium mutant, 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, & audias 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 pulvis sculum habeat Doctrinae qui vel hanc, vel illam praegravabit sententiam. Agite igitur Themidos Supreme. Flamen, tuque inferior Mysta, & dum vos tanto litetis Numini, ego (tanquam Cereris Arcano) sacro excipiam silentio; neque enim alio consilio huc ascendi, quam quo Philippi puer, ut Argumenta vestra, si prolixiora, mortalitatis suae admonerem.   

Ad Archiepiscopum Cantuariensem.  
QVos ad Aram vestram impulit prius Hostium malitia, eò Numinis bonitas allexit denuó Supplices qui primum accessimus, grati jam redimus; & ubi Asylum habuimus, eò Sacrificium reportamus, sed quantum thuri nostro diffidimus, ubi te Jovem Statorem cogitamus? Beneficium quidem vestrum seriò gratulamur, sed & dolemus pariter; cujus magnitudo gratias in tantum provocat, ut nos ad ingratos necesse damnet: enimvero nos indigni qui simus grati. Edvardus & Elizabetha Virginei Reges conjugantur in gratiis; quorum munera suam ex traduce Castitatem non conservassent, nisi quod Patrocinio vestro à sacrilego raptu vindicarentur. O quam sidelis erit ille erga Regem suum, cujus pertinax Pietas cineras Regios demeretur! Quam avida interim humanitas vestra, quae non nisi tribus seculis contenta! quae retro aevum intuetur, ut in futurum prospiciat; quae ad Proavos nostros ideo recurrit ut majori cum impetu ad Nepotes prosiliat. Vt Gr●titudo igitur nostra coaetanea sit beneficiis vestris, qui tres aetates beas, tertiam hominum aetatem vivas. Gratulamur igitur Patronum nostrum, quem dum gratulamur fuisse, usque gratulamur fore: quicquid enim gratiarum hodierni Clientes non absolvimus, posteris adimplendum relinquemus,  
Dominationi vestrae maximè obnoxii Magister & Socii Coll. D. I. 22. Febr. 1637.   

Ad Episcopum 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 nostram 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 adopted alienos. Si Tros Tyrius que nullo discrimine, Tyrius, vel in propriis penatibus erit inquilinus. Ergóne degener tandem vestrae familia, & desiderat indigenas honoribus pares. Erubescendum opprobrium! & dignum quod tantus Mecaenas 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 fratres 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,  
Quos Paternitas vestra habet mancupì Magister & Seniores Coll. D. joan. Dat è Coll. D. Joan. 16. die Aprilis, 1641.   

Ad Episcopum Lincolniensem tunc temporis è carcere laxatum.  
CVjus 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 moerore vestro, quid aliud fuit vita nostra quam nocturno lucubratio, & occidenti tuo superesse quam ingratiis Naturae vivere? Sed salva res est. Reddidit diem redux Phosphorus; & post tanta cum Astris jurgia, Collegium Mater jam tandem fatetur Coelos. Incassum Tubas fatigarunt Veteres ut Eclipsin redimerent. Alma mater suspiriis suis magis sonoris prostigavit vestram; scilicet hic fuit faelicitatis 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 quaesumus Clientum nomina, & 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 augustius, pro variâ speculorum indole reper●ussum; 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. Gratulamur 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, angeatur magis, & inter ipsos invidiae molares crescat virtus. Ita vovemus.  
Paternitati vestrae quam maximè obnoxii Mag. & Socii Coll. D. I. 5. Decemb. 1640.   

Ad eundem jam factum Archiepiscopum Eboracensem.  
USque & usque quod gratulamur si molesti simus, utinam indies cresceret peccandi materia. Pietas officiam 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 restrò tantum gaudemus, prensamus sinciput, & in futurum gratulamur: providè factum & tempestiuè; eò enim perrexit virtus vestra, ut si paululum promoveat, humanos limites supergressus eris ineffabilis. At luxat nobis animos divinus horror, cum sacra facturis eminus, & splendor vester & sublimitas obversentur. Nictat Religio quae veneratur. Solem, & tremore Luminum fatetur Deum. Eadem est nostra oculorum Conscienta, 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 amicissimâ ●ite, (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 facie suâ computat miserias. Musae, quibus vivere fuit Hyperbole, nunc audent vigere; quippe Altitudo vestra (ut Niliaca Aegypti) fertilitatem Literarum ominatur. Enimvero cum Astra sint soelicitatis 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.  
Dominationi vestrae Devotissimi Mag. & Socii Coll. D. I. Decemb. 12. 1641.   

Epistola Gratulatoria ad Episcopum Dunelmensem, qui in Bibliothecam johannensem saepius fuit Beneficus.  
Reverende Praesul;  
QVamvis ea sit 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 Mecoenas noster? Quam atavis erga nos beneficiis editus? qui ita annuus in teipsun● redis, ita 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 beneficia repetis, ac si novissima quaeque munera recentiori fulgore castigares. Quotuplicem igitur veneramur eundem Patronunt? 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 propior quam à fame abesset. Solvimus igitur quas debemus gratias, & usque debemus solutas, dapibus tuis Helluones accedimus; Libris & Honori vestro pariter incumbimus; ita enim commodum nostrum & observantia vestri mutuo nexu alligantur, ut quo quisque doctiores erimus, eò Munificentiae vestrae magis memores.  
Dominationi vestrae quam maximè devinctissimi Mag. & Socii Seniores Coll. D. I.   

Ad eundem Episcopum Dunelmensem.  
Reverende Praesul, Maecenas unice;  
TAm frequentia sunt erga nos benefici● vestra, tam perpetuis Choreis in orbem acta, ut ducat ilia gratitudo nostra, nec anhela tamen Liberalitati tantae respondere possit. Literae enim nostrae quid aliud sunt quam humanitatis vestrae Echo? ita dimidiata loquuntur vo●e, nec nisi ultimas ejus syllabas possunt repetere. Quorsum antem meditamur gratias, quas ne impune usquam egimus, quin nova subinde in vindictam surgit Munificentia. Nolumus tamen, nolumus inulti cedère, usque rebelles in obsequio erimus, & quo unico tam divinam indolem ulcisci possumus, munera vestra agnoscemus. Desponsast● tibi Bibliothecam nostram (ut Romanis usus) per coemptionem, quae singulas librorum frontes mariti nomine inscripta, tanquam victuro genio Posteritati commendatur. Vnum autem prae omnibus Amplitudinè vestrae debemus librum, illum volumus memorem Patronorum indicem, qui scriptus & in tergo, nec dum sinitus, nomen tuum, ut utrámque ejus paginam summâ cum lubentiâ recordatur  
Paternitati vestrae devotissimi Magister & Socii Coll. D. I.   

Domino Edvardo Littleton, Sigilli Custodi.  
Honoratissime Domine,  
QVod fortunas vestras infimi homines eminus gratulamur, peccamus de in●dustria, ut scias communem laetitiam inde perceptam, vel ad Reipublicae talos d●scendisse, Caput ubi lauro circundatur, triumphant & pede●. Obtinet idem membrorum foedus, ut quicquid tibi accedit decoris, illud ut nostrum gaudeamus: nec nostrum modo cum caeteris, habemus quod soli & ci●ra rivales gloriemur. Cum enim pro humanitate quâ polles maximâ, Collegium nostrum no● ita pridem inviseres (parce dicto cui vestra Comitas fecit sidem) adoptasse tibi Ma●re● videbaris; sed privatam superbiam 〈◊〉 pellat publica, & Gratulatio nostra ad 〈◊〉 Chorum est annectenda. Quae ante flu●●av● Delos Insula, nato Apolline steti● 〈◊〉▪ olim fabula, erit olim Historia. R●s●rvav●t se tibi fluctuans Anglia Tridente tuo c●mp●nenda. Nec nobis diutiùs frangit animum Antecessoris fatum, quod in ignotâ arenâ ja●ceat Palinurus; alter erit jam Typhis; & decumana quae illum absorpsit unda te propiùs ad Coelos tollet. Blandius aequor n●mo non facile moderatur, ut non nisi mare turbidum est periculum te dignum. Enimvero placent discordiae hac mercede, ut consilio tuo sopiantur; tanti enim est vestrum Regimen, ut majora pateremur. Macte igitur, Heros ter maxime, triplici omine, ut Militans Ecclesia te agnoscat Scutum, nutans Academia Scipionem, Laborans Britannia Statorem Jovem.  
Honori vestro quam maximè deditissimi Magister & Socii Coll. D. I.   

Edvardo Herbert, Domino Herbert de Cherbury.  
Honoratissime ex utroque Domine,  
QVod vestras graviores curas importuno officio intercalamus, peccamus magis si deprecemur: rapis enim ad illud obsequium tui plenos, & tanto afflati numine videmur nobis non posse delinquere. Enimvero eadem nobis agendi gratias quae tibi promerendi incumbit necessitas, & Gratitudo nostra, ut ut audacior, in hoc saltem erit innocens, quod à Liberalitate vestrâ suit tradux. Accepimus libros tuos & Tuos, geminos istos purioris Tuae Minervae Filios. O quam (ut ne quid amplius) satentur Patrem! Beatae, ad miraculum, Musae, quod intra Literarum declivia, cum Artium jugula moliatur Aetas, ipse emineas Scientiae Columen & Destina Veritatis. Libros dum legimus, legimus Vnum Duos. quam pulchrè patrissant Volumina! quam gemellos tuos Honores reserunt! Scilicet, Bilix est vestra Nobilitas, Literis & Stemmate intertexta. Helicon sanguinis tibi fuit in venis, non minor eruditionis quam Nataliu● Claritas. Amplectimur igitur hos Fratres in unum, & parentem suum ut Vnum nobiles veneramur. Sed incassum gratias meditamur, quas magnitudo beneficii ita provacat, ut simul extinguat. Sic vidimus Solem ignem accendere, & fortiori radio sopire denuô.  
Domine, Honori vestro quam Devotissimi.   

Ad Doctorem Newall.  
Dignissime,  
NEscimus enim quali compellemus nomine, quem maternus Collegii amor scribit Filium, misera mallet patronum, penes tuam erit benevolentiam, & Matrem agnoscere, & Clientem reddere: Bibliotheca & Sacellum precantur à Symbolis, & jugali quadam calamitate vestram attrahunt liberalitatem. O quam idoneum nactus es Argumentum, & doctum te prositeri & pium; nec in tuis ipsius virtutibus sistere, sed & nostrarum Artificem esse! Age igitur, Maecenas unice, & ubi divinam tuam benefaciendi indolem (cui nulla Epistola habet parem Suadam) per legeris, nullus dubita quin usque erimus, qui sumus Munificentiae vestrae memores,  
Magister & Socii Coll. D. I.   

Ad Magistrum Wandesforth.  
QVin & nos admittis ad hoc gaudii convivium? Commendat epulas rivalis Stomachus, quas solitaria quadra reddit insipidas. Liceat nobis commensales esse faelicitatis tuae, & in communis Triumphi chorum accedere. Quorsum autem supplices eramus, quod jure nostro possumus exposcere? Ea gaudemus gratis quae non solliciti ambimus: ubi vero vota nuncupavimus; ubi sedulis precibus Candidati fuimus,, non immeritò victoriae laetitiam arrogamus. Namque nupera est haec voluptas nostra; diuest quod extispices egimus virtutum tuarum, & in illis meritis honores providimus secuturos. Nec dum clauduntur oculi: Mater Collegium usque agit Sibyllam; perge vaticinium fortunâ indies viridi comprobare; perge Johannensem Genium agnoscere; perge denique eò assurgere, ut Mater tua nequeat (quod Parentum erga Liberos conspicilla praestant) majori sub specie representare filium. Sed ne nimii, ubi satis mul●i non possumus; inter virtutes tuos & recentes honores perpetuas vovemus nundinas, qui serio tibi hoc novissimum decus gratulamur,  
Magister & Socii Coll. D. I. Vndecimo Calend. Feb. 1637.   

UBi aurita satis est filii pietas, ibi vel tacitae matris est loquax paupertas, ita alacris gratitudo non expectat preces, sed in alto silentio cognatae audit ejulatum miseriae. Collegium quod vestram lactavit adolescentiam, vestra vicissim desiderat ubera, & quem in sinu fovit juvenem, aetatis agnoscit baculum, & parentes Scipionem; Bis perimus dum Squallorem repetimus, & aliis cogimur facere notius, quod ipsi nescire malumus: primitiae doloris nostri Deo sunt debitae, eo scilicet angustiarum redigimur, ut Sacellum in Sacello quaeramus, nec inveniamus tamen: Quod aliis igitur praesidii contigit, ut aram occupent, Sacellum sibi interdictum dolet; nisi Elemosynas quas ipsum erogare solet ab aliis accipiat? Habemus capsulam, penes te est ut dicamus Bibliothecam. O Quantum hoc mane nostrum! tam Augusta domus, tam paucos inquilinos? Quam pulchrum esset araneas deturbare? Quam te dignum huic putamini congruum adaptare nucleum. Agat prout velit liberalitas vestra, quod pressius à nobis dictum fuit susiùs exponat, optimum enim ipse Oratorem ages, & simul tibi quam maxime dovincies:  
Magistrum &c 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, Vrbem nominaret; Neptumus Equum, Pallas olivam produxit, unde victrix Athenas nominavit. Quod si meo judicio stetisset lis, si Neptunus talis Equi, qualis est vinum Author suisset, 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 Parnassus. 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 Succussor potius quam tolutarius, quam non citius nomino quin stupidus obmutesco. Sed tempus est ut Equus mens habenas audiat, huc usque Equo vestro paravi Ephippia, tenui stupa, ut vos conscenderetis: Vnicun● est quod singulos velim praemonitos, ea est hujus Equi ferocia, ut sobrium illud Phoebi Consilium sit maturum, Parce puer stimulis & fortiùs utere loris.  
FINIS.