J. Cleaveland Revived: POEMS, ORATIONS, EPISTLES, And other of his Genuine Incomparable Pieces, never before published.  
WITH Some other Exquisite Remains of the most eminent Wits of both the Universities that were his Contemporaries.  
Non norunt haec monumenta mori.  
LONDON, Printed for Nathaniel Brook, at the Angel in Cornhill. 1659.   

 

For weighty Numbers, sense, mysterious ways  
Of happy Wit, Great Cleauland claims his Bayss.   
Sepultus Colleg: Whitintonij. 1. May Anº: 1658.   

To the Discerning READER.  
WOrthy Friend, there is a saying, Once well done, and ever done; the wisest men have so considerately acted in their times, as by their learned works, to build their own monuments, such as might eternize them to future ages: our johnson named his, Works, when others were called Plays, though they cost him much of the lamp and oil, yet he so writ, as to oblige posterity to admire them; our deceased Hero, Mr. Cleaveland, knew how to difference legitimate births from abortives, his mighty Genius anviled out what he sent abroad, as his informed mind knew how to distinguish betwixt writing much and well; a few of our deceased Poets pages being worth cartload of the Scribblers of these times. It was my fortune to be in Newark, when it was besieged, where I saw a few manuscripts of Mr. cleaveland's, amongst others I have heard that he writ of the Treaty at Uxbridge, as I have been informed since by a person I entrusted to speak with one of Mr. cleaveland's noble friends, who received him courteously, and satisfied his inquiries; as concerning the papers that were left in his custody, more particularly of the Treaty at Uxbridge, That it was not finished, nor any of his other papers fit for the press. They were offered to the judicious consideration of one of the most aecomplisht persons of our age, he refusing to have them in any further examination, as he did not conceive that they could be published without some injury to Mr. Cleaveland; from which time they have remained sealed, and locked up, neither can I wonder at this obstruction, when I consider the disturbances our Author met with in the time of the Siege; how scarce and bad the paper was, the ink hardly to be discerned on it; the intimacy I had with Mr. Cleaveland, before and since these civil wars, gained most of these papers from him; it being not the least of his misfortunes, out of the love he had to pleasure his friends, to be unfurnished with his own manuscripts, as I have heard him say often, he was not so happy, as to have any considerable collection of his own papers, they being dispersed amongst his friends; some whereof, when he writ for them, he had no other answer, but that they were lost, or through the often reading, transcribing, or folding of them, worn to pieces; so that though he knew where he formerly bestowed some of them, yet they were not to be regained; for which reason the Poems he had left in his hands, being so few, of so inconsiderable a Volume, he could not (though he was often solicited with honour to himself) give his consent to the publishing of them, though indeed most of his former printed Poems were truly his own, except such as have been lately added, to make up the Volume; at the first some few of his Verses were printed with the Character of the London Diurnal, a stitched pamphlet in quarto, Afterwards, as I have heard M. Cleaveland say, the copies of verses that he communicated to his friends, the Bookseller by chance meeting with them, being added to his book, they sold him another Impression; in like manner such small additions (though but a paper or two of his incomparable Verses or Prose) posted off other Editions. I acknowledge some few of these papers I received from one of M. cleaveland's near Acquaintance, which when I sent to his, ever to be honoured, friend of Gray's Inn, he had not at that time the leisure to peruse them; but for what he had read of them, he told the person I entrusted, That he did believe them to be Mr. cleaveland's, he having formerly spoken of such papers of his, that were abroad in the hands of his friends, whom he could not remember; my intention was to reserve the collection of these manuscripts for my own private use; but finding many of these, I had in my hands, already published in the former Poems, not knowing what further proceedings might attend the forwardness of the Press, I thought myself concerned, not out of any worldly ends of profit, but out of a true affection to my deceased friend, to publish these his never before extant pieces in Latin and English, and to make this to be somewhat like a volume for the study. Some other Poems are intermixed, such as the Reader shall find to be of such persons, as were for the most part Mr. cleaveland's Contemporaries; some of them no less eminently known to the three Nations. I hope the world cannot be so far mistaken in his Genuine Muse, as not to discern his pieces from any of the other Poems; neither can I believe there are any persons so unkind, as not candidly to entertain the heroic fancies of the other Gentlemen that are worthily placed to live in this volume; some of their Poems, contrary to my expectation, I being at such a distance, I have since heard, were before in print: but as they are excellently good, and so few, the Reader (I hope) will the more freely accept them. Thus having ingenuously satisfied thee in these particulars, I shall not need to insert more; but that I have, to prevent surreptitious Editions, published this Collection; that by erecting this Pyramid of Honour, I might oblige posterity to perpetuate their memories, which is the highest ambition of him, who is,  
Yours in all virtuous endeavours, E. Williamson. Newark, Novemb. 21. 1658.   

Verses that came too late, intended for Mr. J. Cleaveland, pictured with his Laurel.  
GReat storm of Wit, whose fierce sharp wounding rods,  
Did awe the Powers, and discipline the Gods,  
Whose singeing lightning falls on all he meets,  
Granado's, Satyrs, Balls of wild fire greets  
The Kirk, the zeal o'th' Scottish Nation,  
He flung at all as vengeance were his own;  
Monster of reason, and deep sense! what praise  
Can reach thy Muse? Cleaveland commands his Bays.   

Upon the KING'S return from SCOTLAND.  
Returned? I'll ne'er believe't, first prove him hence;  
Kings Travel by their beams and influence.  
Who says, the soul gives out her guests, or goes  
A flitting progress 'twixt the head and toes?  
She rules by omnipresence, and shall we  
●eny a Prince the same ubiquity?  
●r grant he went, & cause their knot was slack,  
Girt both the Nations with his Zodiac:  
●et as the Tree at once both upward shoots,  
●nd just as much grows downward to the roots:  
●o at the same time that he posted thither,  
●y Counterstages he rebounded hither.  
●ither and hence at once; thus every Sphere  
●oth by a double motion enterfere:  
●nd when his Native form inclines him East,  
●y the first mover he is ravished West.  
●ave you not seen how the divided Dam  
●uns to the Summons of her hungry Lamb,  
But when the twin cries Halves, she quits the first,  
Natures Commendum must be likewise nursed.  
So were his journeys, like the Spiders spun  
Out of his bowels of compassion.  
Tow Realms, like Cacus, so his steps transpose,  
His feet still contradict him as he goes.  
England's returned, that was a barren 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 our principles.  
But the Crab-tropick must not now prevail,  
Islands go back, but when you're under ●ail;  
So his retreat hath rectified the wrong:  
Backward is forward in the Hebrew Tongue.  
Now the Church Militant in plenty rests,  
Nor ●ea●s, 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 sea●ed on mount Ararat.  
Quits Charles, our souls did guard him northward thus,  
Now he the Counterpane comes South to us.   

Upon a talkative woman.  
PEace Beldame Ugly, thou'lt not find  
M'ears bottles for enchanted wind;  
That breath of thine can only raise  
New storms, and discompose the Seas.  
It may (assisted by thy clatter)  
A Pigmaean army scatter;  
Or move, without the smallest strain,  
Lotetto's Chapel once again,  
And blow S. Goodrick while he prays,  
And knows not what it is he says,  
And help false Latin with a hem,  
From Finkley to Jerusalem,  
Or in th' Pacifique Sea supply  
The wind that Nature doth deny.  
What, dost thou think I can retain  
All this, and spout it out again?  
As a surcharged whale doth spew  
Old rivers, to receive in new:  
Thou art deceived, even Aeolus' cave,  
That can all other blasts receive,  
Would be too small to let in thine:  
How then these narrow ears of mine?  
Defect of organs may with me pass,  
By chance to pillorize an ass:  
Yet should I shake his ears, they ' d be  
Not long enough to hark to thee.  
Yet if thou hast a mind to hear.  
How high thy voices merits are;  
Go serve the States, thou'●t useful come,  
And have the pay of every Drum,  
Or trudge to Utrecht, there outrun  
Dam● Skurmans score of tongues with one.  
But pray be still, for I do swear,  
No torment's like that of the ear,  
O let me when I chance to die  
In Vulcan's Anvil buried lie;  
Rather than hear thy tongue once knell,  
That Tom a Lincoln and Bow-bell.   

Rebellis Scotus.  
CVrae Deo sumus, ista si Cedant Scoto?  
Variata splen●is domina Psyche est suis.  
Aut Stellionat●s rea, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
Campanulae omnes, totus Vcalegon fuo,  
Coriaceae cui Mill●es Mille Hydriae,  
Suburbicanis pensiles paraeciis  
Non sint Refrigerio, Poetic●s furor,  
Comet â non minùs, vel ore flammeo  
Commune despuente fatum stellulâ,  
Dirum ominatur, Ecquis, è, Stoa, suam  
jam temperet bilem? patria quando lue  
Tam Pymmianâ, ●d est pediculosà, perit?  
Bomba machid●sque sit bolus mermeciis?  
Scotos nec Ausim-nominare, carminum  
Nisi inter Amuleta, nec Meditarier  
Nisi cerebello quod Capilitio rubens  
(Quale Autumo coluberrimum furiis caput)  
Quot inter verba, tot vene●a prompserit.  
Rhadaman●heum, fac, gu●tur ●sset nunc mihi,  
Sulph●rque, patibulumque copiosus  
Ructans, Magus quam Coenias bombycinas;  
Poteram ut Agyrta circulator, pillulas  
Vomicas loqui, aut 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 styga:  
Aut ut Genevae stentores, perilleis  
Tartara, & equuleos boare pulpitis:  
At Machinanti par forem nunquam Scoto  
Cunctis sclopetis hisce guttural bus.  
Ut digna dii dicant, vocem par est prius,  
(Praestigiator 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 reges sacros hypocritas)  
En bos eodem schemate (at retro) Scotos,  
Extra Scotos, intus feras, & sine tropo.  
Fallax Ierna viperae nihil foves  
Scoto colono? non ego Britanniam.  
Lupis carentem dixerim, vivo Scoto.  
Quin thamesinus pyrgopolinices Scotus  
Poterat Leones, Tigrides, Ursos, Canes  
Proprii Inquilinos pectoris spectaculo  
Monstrâsse; pro obolis omnibus quibus solet  
Spectare monstra Cratis, & fort simul  
Poene ocreatum vulgus, & patria fera  
Scotos Eremus judicat terrae plaga  
Vel omnipr asentem negans Deum, nisi  
Venisset inde Carolus, cohors nisi  
Crafordiana, miles & Montrosseus,  
Feritatis ●luens notam paganicae  
Hanc praestitisset semivictimam Deo;  
Nec Scoticus est, totus Leopardus, Leo,  
Habent & Aram sicut Arcam foederis;  
Velut tabellae bifidis pictae plicis;  
Fert Angelos pars haec, & haec cacodemonas:  
Cui somnianti Tartarum suasit pavor  
Sic poenitere, viderat regnum velim  
Nigrius Scotorum semel, & esset innocens.  
Regio, Malignâ quae facit votum prece,  
Relegetur ad Gyares breves nunquam incola:  
Sed ut ille trechedipuum, magis Domicoenio,  
Vt gens vagans recutita, vel contagium,  
Aut Beelzebub, ●i des ubiquitafium.  
Hinc erro sit semper Scotus, certos Locos,  
Et hos & illos quos libet citò nauseans,  
Vt frusta divisi orbis, & Typographiae  
Mendicitatis offulas, curtas nimis.  
Ipse Vniversitatis haeres Integrae,  
Et totus in toto, Natio Epidemica,  
Nec Gliscit ergò jargonare Gallicè,  
Exoticis aut indicis modis, neque  
Iberio nutu negare, nec studet  
Callere quem de Belgicis Hoghen Moghen  
Venture tumens, aut barba canthari refert.  
(Quae Coriatis una mens nostratibus)  
Pugna est in Animo, atque Animus in patinâ scoto,  
Huic struthioni suggeret cibum Chalybs,  
Et Denti-ductor appetitus, baltheo,  
Pro more pendulos molares, inserit.  
At interim nostras quid Involant dapes?  
Serpens Edenum non Edenburgum Appetit.  
Aut Angliae cui jam malum est Hemorhois,  
Haemetopotas hos posteris meatibus  
Natura medica supposuit hirundines  
Cruore satiandos licèt nostro priús,  
Nostro sed & Cruore Moribundos quoque.  
Nec computo credant priori, nos item  
Novum Addituros, servitutem pristinae  
Aliam, gemellam nuperae, fraterculos  
Palpare quando coeperant Charos nimis  
(Suffragiorum scilicet poppysmata)  
Et Crustulum Impertire velut offam Cerbero  
Subblandiens decreverat senatulus.  
Nos ●raloculis? Arma Visceribus prius  
Indemus usque & usque vel capulo tenus.  
Seri videmus quo scotum tractes Modo  
Princeps rebelli mitior tergo quasi  
Sellas Equino detrahens apt at suo.  
At Ius rapinas hasce defendit vetus?  
Egyptus Istaperdit, aufert Israel  
An bibliorum. Nescis hos satellites?  
Praetorianis queis cohortibus, (nova  
Jerusalem triarii●) spes nititur  
Sororcularum? Cardo, cardo vertitur  
Cupediarum, primativae legis, etc.  
O bone Deus! quanti est Carere Linteis!  
Orexis ut borealis, & fames movet!  
Victuque vestibusque cassi, hinc Knoxio  
Sutore simul, & Knoxio utuntur coquo  
Pie quod algeant, quod esuriant pie.  
Larvas quin usque detrahas, & Nummuli●  
Titulisque (ut animabus) subest fallacia.  
Librae & Barones (detumescant interim  
Vocabulorum tympani) quanti valent  
Hic Cantianum poene, poene villicum  
Solidosque totos illa, sed gratis, duos.  
Apage superbae fraudulentiae, simul  
Prosapia Pictos, fide & Pictos procul:  
Opprobrium poetico vel stigmati  
Etiam Cruci Crux, non al●ter hyperbolus  
Hyperscelestus ostracismo sit pudor.  
Americanus, ille qui Coelum horruit  
Quod H●spanorum repat eo sed pars quota!  
Viderat ni Orco si Scotos, (hu● tot Scotos!)  
Roterodamus pepender at Medioximus.  
Sat Musa! semissa fercularia  
Medullitùs vorans, Diabolis invides  
Propriam sibi suam Scots paropsidem.  
Ut berniclis en●m Scoti, sic Lucifer  
Saturatur ipsis Berniclatoribus.  
Nam lapsus à furcâ Scotus, mox & styge  
Tinctus, suum novat●r in Plant-Anserem.   

On an ugly woman.  
AS Scriveners sometimes take delight to see  
Their basest writing, Nature has in thee  
Essayed how much she can transgress at once  
Appelles' draughts, Durer's proportions;  
And for to make a jest, and try a wit,  
Has not (a woman) in thy forehead writ;  
But scribbled so, and gone so far about,  
Indagine would never smell thee out;  
But might exclaim, here only riddles be,  
And Heteroclites in physiognomy:  
But as the mystic Hebrew backward lies,  
And Algebra's, guest by absurdities,  
So must we spell thee, for who would suppose  
That globous piece of Wainscot were a nose,  
That crockt & caetera's were wrinkles, and  
Five Napers bones glued to a wrist, and hand;  
Egyptian Antiquaries might survey  
Here Hieroglyphics, time hath worn away,  
And wonder at an English face, more odd  
And antique, than was e'er a Memphian god,  
Erased with more strange letters than might scare  
A raw an unexperienced Conjurer:  
And tawny Africa blush, to see her ●rie  
Of monsters in one skin so kenneled lie.  
Thou mayst without a guard her deserts pass,  
When Savages but look upon thy face.  
Were but some Pict now living he would soon  
Deem thee a fragment of his Nation;  
And wiser Ethiopians infer  
From thee, that fable's not the only fair;  
Thou privative of beauty, whose one eye  
Doth question Metaphysics verity;  
Whose many cross Aspects may prove anon  
Foulness, more than a mere Negation.  
Blast one place still, and never dare t'escape  
Abroad out of thy mother Darkness lap,  
Lest that thou make the world afraid, and be  
Even hated by thy nurse, Deformity.   

To the King recovered from a fit of sickness.  
Most Gracious Sir,  
NOw that you are recovered, and are seen,  
Neither to fright the Ladies, nor the Queen;  
That you to Chapel come, and take the air,  
Makes that a verse, which was before my prayer:  
For, Sir, as we had lost you, or your fate,  
Not sickness, had been told us, all of late.  
So truly mourned, that we did only lack  
One to begin, and put us all in black.  
The Court, as quite dissolved, did sadly tell,  
White-Hall was only where the King is well.  
No● grieved the people less, the Commons eyes,  
Free as their loyal hearts, wept Subsidies.  
And in this public woe some went so far,  
To think the danger did deserve a star.  
Which though 't were short, as but to show,  
You would, like one of us, a sickness know,  
And that you could be mortal, and to prove,  
By trial of their grief, your Subjects love,  
Would keep your bed, or chamber, yet our fear  
Made that short time we saw you not, a year;  
So did we reason mindless, and to gain  
Your quick recovery, strived to share your pain.  
Nay, such an interest had we in your health,  
That in you sick'ned Church & Commonwealth.  
Alas, to miss you was enough to bring  
An Anarchy, but that your life was King  
More than your Sceptre, & though you refrained  
To come among us, yet your actions reigned;  
They were our pattern still, and we from thence,  
Did in your absence choose our rule and Prince.  
And lived by your example, which will stay,  
And govern here, when you are turned to clay.  
For what is he, that ever heard or saw  
Your conversation, and not thought it Law?  
Such a clear temper, of so wise and sweet  
A Majesty, where power and goodness meet  
In just proportions; such religious care  
To practise what you bid; as if to wear  
The Crown, or Robe, were not enough to free  
The Prince from that which subjects ought to be.  
Lastly (for all your graces to rehearse,  
Is fitter for a story, than my verse:)  
Such a high reverence do your virtues win,  
They teach without, and govern us within,  
And so enlarge your Kingdoms, when they see  
Our minds more than our bodies, bend the knee.  
And though before you we stand only bare,  
These make your Presence to be every where.   

On a little Gentlewoman profoundly learned.  
MAkes Nature maps? since that in thee  
She has drawn an University,  
Or strives she in so small a piece,  
To sum the Arts and Sciences?  
Once she writ only Text-hand, when  
She scribbled giants, and no men:  
But now in her decrepit years,  
She dashes dwarves in characters,  
And makes one single farthing bear  
The Creed, Commandments, and Lords prayer:  
Would she turn Art, and imitate  
Monte-regio's flying gnat?  
Would she the Golden Legend shut  
Within the Cloister of a nut?  
Or else a musket-bullet rear  
Into a vast and mighty sphere?  
Or pen an Eagle in the call  
Of a slender Nightingale?  
Or show the Pigmies can create,  
Not too little, but too great.  
How comes it that she thus converts  
So small a Totum, and great parts?  
Strives she now to turn awry  
The quick scent of Philosophy?  
How so little matter can  
So monstrous big a form contain?  
What shall we call (it would be known)  
This giant and this dwarf in one?  
His age is blazed by silver hairs,  
His limbs still cry out want of years.  
So small a body, in a cage,  
May choose a spacious Hermitage▪  
So great a soul doth fret and fume  
At th' narrow world for want of room.  
Strange conjunction, here is grown  
A Molehill and the Alps in one.  
In th' self same action we may call  
Nature both thrift and prodigal.   

Upon the birth of the Duke of York.  
MAke big the bonfires, for in this one Son,  
The Queen's delivered of a Nation,  
She hath brought forth a People, now we may  
Confess our doubted life, and boldly say,  
This Prince completes our joy, because he can  
Already make the Prince of Wales a man,  
And so confute the nurse, when he shall see  
Himself in him past his minority.  
Good morrow, Babe, welcome into that air,  
Which thou confirmest ours, which now we dare  
Bequeath to our late nephews, that shall see  
It always English in the Prince and thee,  
And never know the doubtful Sceptre stand  
In expectation of a chosen hand;  
Nor danger of an armed, that may bar  
The Crown from falling perpendicular,  
And so cross nature. For I must confess,  
I wish the Prince such lasting happiness,  
And do commend to Providence thi● work,  
That the State may not need a Duke of York.  
And think a given, and protected Heir,  
Enough to silence any modest prayer:  
Yet since the wiser Heavens do conceive  
A way to bless posterity, to leave  
So much of Charles to them, as they shall see  
Drawn to the life in so much imagery,  
And durst not trust a Chronicle, but would  
Derive his virtues only in his blood;  
And thinking them too vast for one, did try  
To coin a partner to his legacy:  
May Heaven proceed to keep him, may he shine  
To mock the poorness of the Indian Mine,  
And scorn the Fleet, having a treasure fa●  
Above the winds reach, or the Holland●●  
So may he puzzle Statesmen, and put down  
All reckon of revenues to the Crown,  
And alter the King's rents, for his two sons  
Must go for twenty thousand millions;  
And so make Charles the jealous world ally,  
Thus grown too potent for an enemy,  
All those must study leagues now, that had rather  
Seem rich in any title than of Father.  
But may he still be dreadful so and be  
To these abroad feared as a Deity,  
At home loved as a Father, whilst he thus  
To them is Terror, and a Shield to us.   

On Parson's the great Porter.  
SIr, or great Grandsire, whose vast bulk may be  
A burying place for all your pedigre:  
Thou moving Coloss, for whose goodly face,  
The Rhine can hardly make a looking-glass;  
What piles of victuals hadst thou need to chew,  
Ten Woods, or Marrets throats, were not enough;  
Dwarf was he, whose wives bracelets fit his thumb,  
It would not on thy little finger come.  
If jove in getting Hercules spent three  
Nights, he might be fifteen in getting thee.  
What name or title suits thy Greatness, thou,  
Aldiboronifuscorphornio?  
When Giants warred with jove, hadst thou been one,  
Where other oaks, thou wouldst have mountains thrown;  
Wert thou but sick, what help could ere be wrought,  
Unless Physicians posted down thy throat?  
Wert thou to die, and Xerxes living, he  
Would not pair Athos for to cover thee;  
Wert thou t'imbalm, the Surgeons needs must scale  
Thy body, as when Laborers dig a whale.  
Great Sir, a people kneaded up in one,  
we'll weigh thee by ship-burthens, not by th' stone;  
What tempests mightst thou raise, what whirlwinds, when  
Thou breathes, thou great Leviathan of men:  
Bend but thine eye, a Countryman would swear  
A regiment of Spaniards quartered there;  
Smooth but thy brow, they'll say, there were a Plain,  
T' act York and Lancaster o'er once again!  
That pocket-pistol of the Queens might be  
Thy pocket-pistol, sans Hyperbole,  
Abstain from Garrisons, since thou mayst eat  
The Turks, or Moguls titles at a bit:  
Plant some new land, which ne'er will empty be,  
If she enjoy her Savages in thee:  
Get from amongst us, since we only can  
Appear like skulls marc'ht o'er by Tamberlane.   

To the Queen upon the birth of one of her Children.  
THat children are like Olive branches, we  
Took for a figure, nowed was prophecy,  
Your birth's, great Queen have made a new account,  
Who bring not forth some Olives, but the Mount;  
And we, who wished your Table half way round  
Beset with them, do now behold it crowned.  
Were there no other Court, or Nobles, yet  
The King, we see, can his own Court beget:  
Nay in the first world's age he that could do  
Like him, was father of his Country too.  
When in that dearth of subjects, Kings were fain  
First to beget their Kingdoms and then reign.  
When their own offspring were their people; and  
One family both filled and made the land.  
But I speak treason to say Prince's blood  
Can e'er run into people, 't is a flood  
Even in the fountain: small streams lose their name.  
Such births like th' Ocean are still the same.  
No number makes them private we may call  
Not all one Nation, but Nations all.  
For as I've seen the Ark drawn like the womb  
Of the four Empires, and the world to come  
Out of whose midst hath sprung a mystic Tree  
With every branch a Genealogy,  
Not of some house, but of the world this bough  
For Europe, that for afric we allow:  
And all the other smaller twigs there seen  
Have stood for Isles, or Countries; so, great Queen,  
From you as from the Ark, nothing can be  
Born less than Kingdoms, or a Monarchy.  
Your pains are all imperial, and your throws  
Can bring forth nought that is not great; yet those  
For daughters still have thus more public been,  
That you by them to Christendom lie in,  
Your sons may make us safe, but we the while  
Must be a World divided, still an I'll,  
We shall be now o'th' continent; this Sex  
Will make't all one to conquer, or annex,  
To be allied, will bring, what some in vain  
Hope for by th' sword, an universal reign;  
Which yet we may despair of, since we see  
Europe to match yours, will want progeny.   

To Cloris a Rapture.  
COme julia, come! let's once disbody, what,  
Straight matter ties to this, and not to that,  
we'll disengage, our bloodless form shall fly  
Beyond ●he reach of earth, where ne'er an eye  
That peeps through spectacles of flesh, shall know  
Where we intent, or what we mean to do;  
From all contagion of flesh removed  
we'll sit in judgement, on those pairs that loved  
In old and latter times, then will we tear  
Their Chaplets that did act by slavish fear,  
Who cherished causeless griefs, and did deny  
Cupid's prerogative by doubt, or tie,  
But they that moved by confidence, and closed  
In one refining flame, and never loosed  
Their thoughts on earth, but bravely did aspire  
Unto their proper▪ Element of fire,  
To these we'll judge that happiness to be  
The witnesses of our felicity.  
Thus we'll like Angels move, nor will we bind  
In words the Copious language of our mind,  
Such as we know not to conceive, much less,  
Without destroying in their birth, express:  
Thus will we live, and ('t may be) cast an eye  
How far Elysium doth beneath us lie,  
What need we care, though milky Currents run  
Amongst the silken Meadows, though the Sun  
Doth still preserve by's ever waking ray  
A never discontinued spring, or day.  
That Sun, though all his heat be to it brought,  
Cannot exhale the vapour of a thought.  
No, no, my Goddess, yet will thou and I  
Devested of all flesh so folded lie,  
That ne'er a bodied nothing shall perceive  
How we unite, how we together cleave;  
Nor think this while our feathered minutes may  
Fall under measure, time itself can stay  
T'attend our pleasures, for what else would be  
But tedious durance in eternity.   

An Elegy upon Ben. Johnson.  
AS when the Vestal hearth went out, no fire  
Less holy than that flame that did expire  
Could kindle it again: so at thy fall  
Our wits, great Ben, are too Apocryphal  
To celebrate thy loss, since 'tis too much  
To write thy Epitaph, and not be such.  
What thou wert, like th'hard oracles of old,  
Without an ecstasy cannot be told.  
We must be ravished first, thou must infuse  
Thyself into us both the Theme and Muse:  
Else, (though we all conspired to make thy hearse  
Our works) so that 't had been but one great Verse,  
Though the Priest had translated for that time  
The Liturgy, and buried thee in Rhyme,  
So that in Meeter we had heard it said  
Poetic dust is to Poetic laid:  
And though that dust being Shakespears thou mightst have  
Not his room, but the Poet for thy grave,  
So that as thou didst Prince of numbers die  
And live, so thou mightest in numbers lie,  
'Twere frail solemnity; Verses on thee  
And not like thine, would but kind Libels be.  
And we (not speaking thy whole worth) should raise  
Worse blot● than they that envied thy praise.  
Indeed thou needest us not, since above all  
Invention, thou wert thine own funeral.  
Hereafter, when time hath fed on thy Tomb,  
Th' inscription worn out, and the Marble dumb  
So that 'twould pose a Critic to restore  
Half words, and words expired so long before;  
When thy maimed statue hath a sentenced face  
And looks that are the horror of the place;  
That 't will be learnings and Antiquity,  
And ask a Selden to say, this was thee  
Thou'●t have a whole name still, nor needest thou fear  
That will be ruined, or loose nose, or hair.  
Let others write so thin, that they can't be then,  
Authors till rotten, no posterity  
Can add to thy works; th' had their full growth,  
When first born, and came aged from thy pen,  
Whilst living thou enjoy'dst the fame & sense  
Of all that time gives but the reverence:  
When thouart of Homer's years, no man will say  
Thy Poems are less worthy, but more grey.  
'tis bastard poetry and o'th' false blood  
Which can't without succession be good,  
Things that will always last do thus agree  
With things eternal; th' at once perfect be.  
Scorn then their censures, who gave out, thy wit  
As long upon a Comedy dit sit  
As Elephants bring forth; and that by blots  
And mending, took more time than fortune plots,  
That such thy drought was, & so great thy thirst  
That all thy plays were drawn at th' Mearmaid first,  
That the Kings yearly but wore, and his wine  
Hath more right than thou to thy Catiline,  
Let such men keep a diet, let their wit  
Be racked, and while they write, suffer a fit;  
When th' have felt tortures without pain the Gout,  
Such, as with less, the state draws treason out;  
Though they should the length of Consumptionslie  
Sick of their Verse, and of their Poem die,  
'Twould not be thy worst scene, but would at last  
Confirm their boastings, and show made in haste,  
He that writes well writes quick, since the rule's true,  
Nothing is slowly done that's always new;  
So when thy Fox had ten times acted been,  
Each day was first, but that 't was cheaper seen,  
And so thy Alchemist played o'er and o'er,  
Was new o'th' stage, when 't was not at the door;  
We like the Actors did repeat, the pit  
The first time saw, the next conceived thy wit,  
Which was cast in those forms, such rules, such Arts,  
That but to some not half thy acts were parts,  
Since of some silken judgements we may say  
They filled a box two hours, but saw no play:  
So that th' unlearned lost their money, and  
Scholars said only, that could understand:  
Thy scene was free from monsters, no hard plot  
Called down a god t' untyth ' unlikely knot.  
The stage was still a stage, two entrances  
Were not two parts, o'th' world disjoined by th' Seas;  
Thine were Land-Tragedies, no Prince was found  
To swim a whole scene out, then o'th' stage drowned  
Pitched fields, as Red bull wars, still felt thy doom.  
Thou laidst no sieges to the Music room,  
Nor wouldst allow to thy best Comedies  
Humours that should above the people rise;  
Yet was thy language and thy stile so high  
Thy sock to th' ankle, busk in reached to th' thigh;  
And both so chaste, so 'bove Dramatic clean  
That we both safely saw, and lived thy scene;  
No foul loose line did prostitute thy wit,  
Thou wrot'st thy Comedies, didst not commit,  
We did the vice arraigned, not tempting hear,  
And were made Judges, not bad part● by th' ear,  
For thou even sin didst in such words array,  
That some, who came bad parts, went out good play,  
Which ended not with th' Epilogue, the age  
Still acted, which grew innocent from th' stage.  
'tis true thou hadst some sharpness, but thy salt  
Served but with pleasure to reform the fault,  
Men were laughed into virtue, and none more  
Hated fool acted, then were such before,  
So did thy sting not blood but humours draw,  
So much did Satire more correct than Law,  
Which was not nature in thee, as some call  
Thy teeth, who say thy wit lay in thy Gall,  
That thou didst quarrel first, and then inspite  
Didst against a person of such vices write  
That 'twas revenge, not truth, that on the stage  
Carlo was not presented, but thy rage;  
And that when thou in Company wert met  
Thy meat took notes, and thy discourse was net,  
We know thy free vein had this innocence  
To spare the party, and to brand th' offence,  
And the just indignation thou wert in  
Did not expose shift but his tricks and gin,  
Thou mightst have used th' old Comic freedom, these  
Might have seen themselves played, like Socrates,  
Like Cleon Mammon might the Knight have been,  
If as Greek Authors, thou hadst turned Greek spleen.  
And hadst not chosen rather to translate  
Their learning into English, not their rate,  
Indeed this last if thou hadst been bereft  
Of thy humanity, might be called theft,  
The other was not, whatsoever was strange,  
Or borrowed in thee did grow thine by th' change,  
Who without Latin helps hadst been as rare  
As Beaumond, Fletcher, or as Shakespeare were,  
And like them, from thy Native stock couldst say  
Poets and Kings are not born every day.   

An Epitaph.  
STay gentle Reader and shed o'er  
Those sacred Ashes one tear more.  
These sad accents clothed in black  
Mourn him whom Church and State do lack,  
And this weeping Marble stone  
Doth invite a parting groan,  
Here lies within this stony shade  
nature's darling whom she made  
Her fairest model, her brief story  
In him heaping all her glory.  
Here lies one whom times of old  
Amongst their wonders had in●ol'd,  
Whose set beams might well aspire,  
Kindled by Poetic fire,  
Unto a starry light, and there  
For a Grave adorn a sphere;  
One so valiantly strong,  
He feared to do any wrong,  
Learning's glory, who alone  
Was fit to write on his own stone;  
Here tongues lie speechless, to be dumb  
Is our best Epicedium.   

Upon Wood of Kent.  
SIr, much good do't ye, were your table but  
Piecrust or cheese, you might your stomach shut,  
After your slice of beef, what dare you try  
Your force on an ell-square of pudding-pie?  
Perhapsed may be a taste, three such as you  
Unbreakfasted, might serve Seraglio.  
When Hannibal scaled th' Alps, hadst thou been there,  
Thy beef had drunk up all his vinegar:  
Well mightst thou be of Guard to Henry th' Eighth,  
Since thou canst like a pigeon eat thy weight:  
Full wise was Nature, that would not bestow  
These tusks of thine into a double row;  
What womb could e'er contain thee, thou canst shut  
A pond or Aviary in a gut.  
Had not thy mother born thee toothless, thou  
Hadst eaten, viperlike, a passage through;  
Had he that wished the Cranes long neck to eat,  
Put in thy stomach too, 't had been complete.  
Thou Noah's Ark, dead Sea, thou Golgotha,  
Monster, beyond all them of Africa!  
Beast's prey on beasts, fishes to fishes fall,  
Great birds seed on the lesser, thou on all:  
Hath there been no mistake, why may't not be,  
When Curtius leapt the gulf, 'twas into thee.  
Now we'll believe that man of Chica could  
Make pills of arrows, and the boy that would  
Chew only stones, nor can we think it vain,  
That Doranetho eat up th' neighbouring plain.  
Poor Crisicthon, that could only feast  
On one poor Girl, in several dishes dressed;  
Thou hast devoured as many sheep, as may  
clothe all the pastures in Arcadia;  
Yet, O how temperate, that ne'er goes on  
So far, as to approach repletion.  
Thou breathing Cauldron, whose digestive heat  
Might boil the whole provision of the Fleet;  
Say grace as long as meals, and if thou please,  
Break fast with Islands, and drink healths with Seas.   

On Christ-Church windows.  
YOu that profane our windows with a tongue  
Set like some clock, on purpose to go wrong;  
Who, when you were at Service, sighed, because  
You heard the Organs music, not the Daws,  
Pitying our solemn State, shaking your head,  
To see no ruins from the floor to th' Lead:  
To whose pure nose our Cedar gave offence,  
Crying, It smelled of Papists frankincense,  
Who walking on our marbles, scoffing said,  
Whose bodies are under these tombstones laid?  
Counting our tapers works of darkness, and  
Choosing to see Priests in blue aprons stand,  
Rather than in rich copes, which show the art  
Of Sisera's prey embroidered in each part:  
Then when you saw the Altars Basin, said,  
Why's not the Ewer on the Cupboard laid?  
Thinking our very Bibles too profane,  
'Cause you ne'er bought such covers in Ducklane.  
Loathing all decency, as if you'd have  
Altars as foul, and homely as a grave.  
Had you one spark of reason, you would find  
Yourselves like idols, to have eyes, yet blind;  
'Tis only some base niggard, Heresy,  
To think religion loves deformity.  
Glory did never yet make God the less,  
Neither can beauty defile holiness.  
What's more magnificent than heaven? yet where  
Is there more love and piety than there?  
My heart doth wish (were't possible) to see  
Paul's built with precious stones and porphyry;  
To have our hals and galleries outshine  
Altars in beauty, is to deck our swine  
With Orient pearl, whilst the deserving Choir  
Of God and Angels, wallow in the mire.  
Our decent copes only distinction keep,  
That you may know the Shepherd from the sheep,  
As gaudy letters in the Rubric show  
How you may holidays from lay-days know;  
Remember Aaron's robe; and you will say,  
Ladies at Masques are not so rich as they.  
Then are th' Priests words like thunderclaps, when he  
Is lightning like rayed round with majesty;  
May every Temple shine like those at Nile,  
And still be free from Rat or Crocodile:  
But you will urge, both Priest and Church should be  
The solemn partners of humility,  
Do not some boast of rags? Cynics deride  
The pomp of Kings, but with a greater pride.  
Meekness consists not in the clothes, but heart▪  
Nature may be vainglorious well as Art:  
We may as lowly before God appear,  
Dressed with a glorious pearl, as with a tear.  
In his high presence, where the Stars and Sun  
Do but eclipse, there's no ambition.  
You dare admit gay paint upon a wall,  
Why then in glass that's held Apocryphal?  
Our body's temples are, look in the eye,  
The window, and you needs must pictures spy;  
Moses and Aaron, and the King's Arms are  
Daubed in the Church, when you the warden were.  
Yet you ne'er fined for Papist, shall we say▪  
Banbury is turned Rome, because we may  
See th' holy Lamb and Christopher? nay more,  
The Altar-stone set at the Tavern door?  
Why can't the Ox then in th' Nativity,  
Be imaged forth, but Papists bulls are nigh?  
Our pictures to no other end are made,  
Than is your time and's bill, your death and's spade,  
To us they are but Memento's, which present  
Christ best, except his Word and Sacrament.  
If 't were a sin to set up imagery,  
To get a child were flat idolatry.  
The models of our buildings would be thus  
Directions to our houses, ruins to us,  
Hath not each creature which hath daily breath,  
Some thing which resembles heaven or earth:  
Suppose some ignorant Heathen once did bow  
To Images, may not we see them now?  
Should we love darkness, and abhor the Sun,  
'Cause Persians gave it adoration?  
And plant no Orchards, because apples first  
Made Adam and his lineal race accursed.  
Though wine for Bacchus, bread for Ceres went,  
Yet both are used in the Sacrament;  
What then if these were Popish relics; few  
Windows are elsewhere old, but these are new,  
And so exceed the former, that the face  
Of these come short of th' outside of our glass:  
Colours are here mixed, so that rainbows be  
(Compared) but clouds without variety.  
Art here is Nature's envy; this is he,  
Not Paracelsus, but by Chymistrie  
Can make a man from ashes, if not dust,  
Producing offsprings of his mind, not lust.  
See how he makes his Maker, and doth draw  
All that is meant i'th'the Gospel, or i'th' Law.  
Looking upon the Resurrection,  
Me thoughts I saw the blessed Vision,  
Where not his face is merely drawn, but mind,  
Which not with paint, but oil of gladness shined:  
But when I viewed the next pane, where we have  
The God of life transported to his grave,  
Light then is dark, all things so dull and dead;  
As if that part of th' window had been lead.  
jonas his whale did so men's eyes befool,  
That they have begged him th' Anatomy school.  
That he saw ships at Oxford one did swear,  
Though Isis yet will barges hardly bear:  
Another soon, as he the trees espied,  
Thought them i'th' garden on the other side.  
See in what state (though on an ass) Christ went,  
This shows more glorious than the Parli'ment.  
Then in what awe Moses his rod doth keep  
The Seas, as if the frost had glazed the Deep;  
The raging waves are to themselves a bound,  
Some cry, Help, help, or horse and man are drowned.  
Shadows do every where for substance pass,  
You'd think the sands were in an hourglass,  
You that do live with Surgeons, have you seen  
A spring of blood forced from a swelling vein:  
So from a touch of Moses rod, doth jump  
A Cataract, the rock is made a pump:  
At sight of whose o're-flowing, many get  
Themselves away, for fear of being wet.  
Here you behold a sprightful Lady stand,  
To have her frame drawn by a Painter's hand;  
Such lively look and presence, such a dress  
King Pharaohs daughters image doth express,  
Look well upon her gown, and you will swear  
The needle, not the pencil hath been there.  
At sight of her, some gallants do dispute,  
Whether i'th' Church 'tis lawful to salute?  
Next jacob kneeling, where his Kid-skin's such,  
As it may well cozen old Isaac's touch.  
A Shepherd seeing how thorns went round about,  
Abraham's ram, would needs have helped it out;  
Behold, the Dove descending to inspire  
Th' Apostles heads with cloven tongues of fire,  
And in a superficies there you'll see  
The gross dimensions of profundity:  
'Tis hard to judge which is best built & higher,  
The Arch-roof in the window, or the quire.  
All beasts as in the Ark are lively done;  
Nay, you may see the shadow of the Sun:  
Upon a Landscape if you look a while,  
You'll think the prospect at least 40 mile;  
there's none needs now go travel we may see  
At home jerusalem and Ninivy.  
And Sodom now in flames: one glance will dart  
Farther than Lynce with Galilaeus art,  
Seeing Eliahs' Chariot, we fear  
There is some fiery prod'gy in the air,  
When Christ to purge his Temple holds his whip,  
How nimbly hucksters with their baskets skip.  
St. Peter's fishes are so lively wrought,  
Some cheapen them, and ask when they were caught.  
Here's motions painted too: Chariots so fast  
Run that they're never gone though always past,  
The Angels with their Lutes are done so true,  
We do not only look, but hearken too,  
As if their sounds were painted: thus the wit  
Of th' pencil hath drawn more than there can sit.  
Thus as (in Archimedes sphere) you may  
In a small glass the Universe survey;  
Such various shapes are too i'th' imagery  
as age and sex may their own features see,  
But if the window cannot show your face,  
Look under feet, the Marble is your glass;  
Which too, for more than ornament, is there,  
The stones may learn your eyes to shed a tear,  
They never work upon the conscience;  
They cannot make us kneel, we are not such  
As think there's Balsam in the Kiss, or Touch,  
That were gross superstition we know;  
There's no more power in them then the Pope's Toe.  
The Saints themselves for us can do no good,  
Much less their pictures drawn in glass, or wood,  
They cannot seal, but since they signify,  
They may be worthy of a cast o'th' eye,  
Although no worship: that is due alone,  
Not to the Carpenters, but Gods own son:  
Obedience to blocks deserves the Rod,  
The Lord may well be then a jealous God.  
Why should not statues now be due to Paul,  
As to the Cysars of the Cappitoll;  
How many images of great Heirs, which  
Had nothing but the din of being rich,  
Shine in our Temples? kneeling always there  
Where, when they were alive, they'd scarce appear?  
Yet shall Christ's Sepulchre have ne'er a Tomb?  
Shall every Saint have a john Baptists Doom?  
No Limb of Marie stand? must we forget  
Christ's Cross, as soon as past the Alphabet?  
Shall not their heads have room in th' window, who  
Founded our Church, and our Religion too?  
We know that God's a spirit, we confess,  
We cannot comprehend his name, much less  
Can a small glass his nature: but since he  
Vouchsafed to suffer his humanity;  
Why may not we (only to put's in mind  
Of is Godhead) have his manhood thus enshrined.  
Is our King's person less esteemed, because  
We read him in our Coins as well as Laws?  
Do what we can, whether we think, or paint,  
All God's expressions are but weak and faint,  
Yet spots in Globes must not be blotted thence,  
That cannot show the World's magnificence.  
Nor is it fit we should the skill control  
Because the Artist cannot draw the Soul.  
Cease then your rail and your dull complaints,  
To pull down Galleries and set up Saints  
Is no impiety: now we may well  
Say that our Church is truly visible:  
Those that before our glass scaffolds prefer  
Would turn our Temple to a Theatre.  
Windows are Pulpits now; though unlearned, one  
May read this Bible's new Edition.  
Instead of here and there, a verse adorned  
Round with a Lace of paint, fit to be scorned.  
Even by vulgar eyes, each pane presents  
Whole Chapters with both Comment and Contents,  
The cloudy mysteries of the Gospel here  
Transparent as the Crystal do appear,  
'Tis not to see things darkly through a glass  
Here you may see our Saviour face to face;  
And whereas feasts come seldom, here's descried  
A constant Christmas, Easter, Whitsuntide,  
Let the deaf hither come, no matter though  
Faith's sense be lost, we a new way can show,  
Here we can teach them to believe by th' eye  
These silenced Ministers do edify:  
The Scriptures ray's contracted in a glass  
Like Emblems do with greater virtue pass,  
Look in the book of Martyrs and you'll see  
More by the pictures than the History:  
That price for things in colours oft we give,  
Which we'd not take to have them while they live,  
Such is the power of painting that it makes  
A loving sympathy 'twixt men and snakes,  
Hence then Paul's Doctrine may seem more Divine,  
As Amber through a glass doth clearer shine:  
Words pass away, as soon as headache gone,  
We read in books what here we dwell upon,  
Thus then there's no more fault in imagery  
Then there's in the practice of piety;  
Both edify: what is in Letters there  
Is writ in plainer Hieroglyphics here;  
'Tis not a new Religion we have chose,  
'Tis the same body but in better clothes;  
You'll say they make us gaze when we should pray;  
And that our thoughts do on the figures stray,  
If so, you may conclude us beasts; what they  
Have for their object is to us the way.  
Did any ere use prospective to see  
No further than the glass; or can there be  
Such lazy Travellers so given to sin,  
As that they'll take their dwelling at the Inn?  
A Christians sight rests in Divinity,  
Signs are but spectacles to help faiths eye,  
God is the Centre; dwelling on these words,  
My Muse a Sabbath to my brain affords;  
If their nice wits more solemn proof exact,  
Know, this was meant a Poem not a Tract.   

An entertainment at Cotsall.  
TRudge hence ye tender flocks, some gloomy grove  
Must be this days refreshment, now remove  
Yourselves ye must; your walk's must be resigned  
Unto a matchless troup of female kind,  
Whose beauty, should the flat-nosed Satyrs spy,  
They would not live, but languish, and so die.  
Troy's lofty Towers, which once o're-topt the clouds  
And menaced heaven, Helen's beauty shrowds  
In cinders; for his tender Hero's sake.  
Leander cuts the H●lles-pontick Lake,  
Yet those to these, were tawny, riveled, dun,  
Such as a glimmering Taper to the Sun.  
This Turret swells (me thinks) as proud to be  
The seat, or footstool of that Company;  
And Aeolus, before he will set free  
The windy Tenant, says, Now go and flee  
O'er flowery Gardens, brush the verdant meads  
And sweetest walks, where fairest beauty treads;  
Yea, Ransack nature's wardrobe for perfumes  
More precious than the costliest dame consumes,  
Then gently breath upon that lovely train  
That are a tripping on the fallow plain;  
For now, unless my Calendar do lie,  
Since fair Diana and her Company  
Did trace these spacious plains, bright Phoebus' Car  
Hath run from Pisces to the watery Star,  
From thence to Leo, for 'tis just the day  
That was appointed for to dance and play;  
That day, which to posterity shall shine  
In Almanacs, writ with a Rubric line,  
In which days praise the sisters that do sing  
In pale Pyrene, and Heliconian spring  
Do drink of, shall compose more witty lays  
Than were e'er heard of in old Orpheus' days;  
Their chief Musician shall Indite a story,  
Which shall eternize this days founders glory,  
He's a fit subject for all Poet's quills,  
That bring's Arcadia to our Cotswold-hills;  
Me thinks each Creatur's proud to spend his breath  
In vindicating this man's name from death;  
The Candid winds, as they these downs fly over,  
Whistle the praise of praise-deserving Dover;  
Heavens winged Quiristers do warble forth  
More pleasant notes, and celebrate his worth  
In sweetest tunes, the till-now sullen earth  
Hath decked her breast with flowers fit for mirth  
Fain would she vent, but 'cause she cannot speak  
His praise, she weeps it, else her heart would break;  
For where that famous Valley she o'er looks,  
Run drilling from her eyes sweet silver brooks,  
Which, when in progress they salute those plains,  
Whose large increase yields Wickham men great gains,  
In honour of that place they leap on high,  
And frisk and dance for joy they are so nigh;  
Each lumpish pebble stone they justle far,  
As who should say, Be frolic as we are;  
Then they repine at their streight-lacing shore  
Prohibiting their passage to his door;  
And to declare that they obliged stand  
In sign of homage they salute the land;  
But when their haste hath posted them from thence,  
Where his Tutelars keep their residence,  
They burt against each nook, and as they swell  
Look back and cry, For ever live, farewell.  
Then they to Avoan blazon out his worth,  
And she to Severne, Severne sets it forth  
To Isis, who her sister Thame implores  
To tell the Ocean, an the Ocean roars  
It to the world; so that there is no ground  
Where his Enconiums Echo doth not sound;  
The Bacchides, old Bacchus made to thee,  
Their rednosed pimple-faced deity,  
Those feasts called Orgia, and the Matrons chaste  
To Ceres celebrate a nine-dayes feast,  
Called first-fruits offerings; to the Queen of May,  
Called Flora, youth did make a holy day,  
Where garlands decked the temples of the Queen▪  
And maidens measured Galliards on the green.  
Th' ensuing age wants Patrons to support  
Bacchus, or Ceres' rights, or Flora's sport,  
Till Dover comes, who Flora Queen of May  
Doth reinstall into her holiday.  
He sleights the rest, 'tis sure, because they be  
The Grand supporters of all Luxury;  
First shall the tender Lambs with Tigers dwell,  
And fearful Hearts shall lodge with Lions fell;  
First shall the glorious Star-bestudded sky  
Want light, and Neptun's regiment be dry;  
First shall the Courtiers leave their sweet embraces,  
Ladies to plaster o'er their furrowed faces;  
First she whose nasty breath offends her love  
Shall cease her mouth to sweeten with a Clove;  
First shall Nyctimene that bird of night  
To fly at noon take pleasure and delight;  
Ere Cotsall shepherds, on their jointed reeds,  
Shall cease to sing his fame-deserving deeds;  
Who from their Tombs wherein they were enthralled  
The ancient dancing, Druids hath called,  
Which from the woods did walk unto the plain,  
There dance a Jig, and so return again.  
Let him that dares this dancing green deface  
Be plagued as well as Erisychthon was,  
Who, cause he ●eld those dancers sacred tree,  
Was pined with famine, died in misery.  
The rustic swains shall henceforth take delight,  
To cheat the tedious cold December night,  
With such sweet Sonnets as the Poet's frame,  
In honour of thy thi●-dayes-work and name:  
Yea, they themselves so long shall sleep in mirth,  
Making of Lambs-woll on the winter's hearth,  
Until Aurora's snow white limbs they spy  
Through nights black Curtains, and the night to die:  
Thus shall they daily sing, sit, hatch a laugh,  
And to thy health (brave Dover) freely quaff.   

To the Queen.  
Great Queen,  
WHom tumults lessen not, whose womb, we see,  
Keeps the same Method still, the same decree;  
And midst the brandished swords, and trumpets voice  
Brings forth a Prince, a conquest to that noise.  
We greet the courage of your births: and spy  
Your consorts spirit dancing in your eye.  
Valour he shrouds in armour, you in veil;  
You wrapped in Tiffany, and he in mail.  
The fairest bloom might since the seasons lou'r  
Loose all its scent, and turn a common flower  
A storm might blast the beauty of that brow,  
And the fresh Rose shrink from its glory now.  
But there the constant flower in tempests gay,  
As in the silent whispers of the day,  
Can thrive in blasts, and alike fruitful be,  
When Charles in steel, or Charles in robes you see,  
You smile a mother, when the just King stands,  
Or with a shower, or thunder in his hands.  
Thus you alone seated above all Jais,  
Turn noise to tunes, and lightning into Stars.   

An Elegy on Ben. Johnson.  
POet of Princes, Prince of Poets (we,  
If to Apollo well may pray to thee.)  
Give Glowworms leave to peep, who till thy night  
Could not be seen, we darkened were with light;  
For Stars t' appear after the fall o'th' Sun,  
Is at the least modest presumption.  
I've seen a great Lamp lighted by the small  
Spark of a flint found in a field, or wall,  
Our inner Verse faintly may shadow ●orth  
A dull reflection of thy glorious worth,  
And like a statue homely fashioned, raise  
Some trophies to thy memory, though not praise.  
Those shallow Sirs, who want sharp sight to look  
On the majestic splendour of thy book,  
That rather choose to hear an Archy prate,  
Then the full sense of a learned Laureate,  
May, when they see thy name thus plainly writ,  
Admire the solemn measure of thy wit,  
And like thy works beyond a gaudy show  
Of boards and canvas, wrought by Inigo.  
Ploughman, who puzzled are with figures, come  
By tallies to the reckoning of a sum,  
And milksop heirs, which from their mother's lap▪  
Scarce travelled, know far countries by a map.  
Shakespeare may make griefs, merry Beaumont's stile▪  
Ravish and melt anger into a smile;  
In winter nights, or after meals, they be,  
I must confess, very good company▪  
But thou exact'st our best hours industry,  
We may read them, we ought to study thee;  
Thy scenes are precepts, every verse doth give  
Counsel, and teach us, not to laugh, but live.  
You that with towering thoughts presume so high  
(Swelled with a vain ambition's tympany)  
To dream on Sceptres, whose brave mischief calls  
The blood of Kings to their last funerals,  
Learn from Sejanus his high fall, to prove  
To thy dread Sovereign a sacred love;  
Let him suggest a reverend fear to thee,  
And may his Tragedy thy Lecture be;  
Learn the compendious age of slippery power  
That's built on blood, and may one little hour  
Teach thy bold rashness, that it is not safe,  
To build a kingdom on a Caesar's grave;  
Thy plays were whipped and libelled, only 'cause  
They're good, & savour of our Kingdoms laws,  
Histriomastix (lightning like) doth wound  
Those things alone that solid are and sound.  
Thus guilty men hate justice, so a glass,  
Is sometimes broke for showing a foul face;  
There's none that wish thee rods, in stead of bays,  
But such whose very hate adds to thy praise;  
Let Scribblers (that write post, and versify  
With no more leisure than we cast a die)  
Spur on their Pegasus, and proudly cry,  
This verse I made i'th' twinkling of an eye;  
Thou couldst have done so, hadst thou thought it fit,  
But 'twas the wisdom of thy Muse to sit  
And weigh each syllable, suffering nought to pass,  
But what could be no better than it was;  
Those that keep pompous state, ne'er go in haste;  
Thou wentest before them all, though not so fast;  
While their poor cobweb-stuff finds as quick fate,  
As birth, and sells like Alm'nacks out of date;  
The marbled glory of thy laboured rhyme  
Shall live beyond the Calendar of time,  
Who will their Meteors 'bove thy Sun advance;  
Thine are the works of Judgement, theirs of  
Chance.  
How this whole kingdom's in thy debt, we have  
From others periwigs and paint●, to save  
Our ruin'd skulls, and faces; but to thee  
We owe our tongues, and fancies remedy.  
Thy Poems make us Poets, we may lack  
(Reading thy book) stolen sentences and Sack.  
He that can but one speech of thine rehearse,  
Whether he will or no, must make a verse.  
Thus trees give fruit, the kernels of that fruit  
Do bring forth trees, which in more branches shoot.  
Our Canting English (of itself alone)  
(I had almost laid a confusion)  
Is now all harmony; what we did say  
Before was tuning only, this is play.  
Strangers who cannot reach thy sense will throng,  
To hear us speak the accents of thy tongue,  
As unto birds that sing: if't be so good  
When heard alone, what is't when understood!  
Thou shalt be read as Classic Authors; and  
As Greek and Latin taught in every land.  
The cringing Monsieur shall thy language vent,  
When he would melt his wench with compliment;  
Using thy phrases he may have his wish  
Of a coy Nun, without an angry pish:  
And yet in all thy Poems there is shown  
Such chastity, that every lin's a zone.  
Rome will confess, that thou mak'st Caesar talk  
In greater state and pomp than he could walk:  
Catiline's tongue is the true edge of swords,  
We now not only feel, but hear thy words;  
Who Tully in thy Idiom understands,  
Will swear that his Orations are commands:  
But that which could with richer language dress  
The highest sense, cannot thy words express.  
Had I thy own invention, which affords  
Words above action, matter above words,  
To crown thy merits, I should only be  
Sumptuously poor, low in Hyperbole.   

On Ben. Johnson.  

WHo first reformed our stage with just est Laws,  
And was the first best Judge in his own cause  
Who (when his actors trembled for applause)   

Could (with a noble confidence) prefer  
His own, by right, t' a noble Theatre;  
From principles which he knew could not err.   

Who to his fable did his person fit,  
With all the properties of Art and wit,  
And above all that could be acted writ.   

Who public follies did to covert drive,  
Which he again could cunningly retrieve,  
Leaving them no ground to rest on and thrive.   

Here johnson lies, whom had I named before,  
In that one word alone I had paid more,  
Than can be now, when plenty makes me poor.    

To his Mistress.  
COme (dearest julia) thou and I  
Will knit us in so strict a tie,  
As shall with greater power engage,  
Than feeble charms of marriage;  
We will be friends, our thoughts shall go,  
Without impeachment, to and fro;  
The same desires shall elevate  
Our mingled souls, the selfsame hate  
Shall cause aversion, we will bear  
One sympathising hope and fear;  
And for to move more close, we'll frame  
Our triumphs and our tears the same:  
Yet will we ne'er so grossly dare,  
As our ignobler selves to share;  
Let men desire like those above,  
Spiritual forms we'll only love;  
And teach the ruder world to shame,  
When heat increaseth to a flame:  
Love's like a Landscape, which doth stand  
Smooth at a distance, rough at hand.   

In Nuptias Principis Auranchii & D. Mariae filiae Regis Angliae.  
FAma Refert nostris terras haesisse batâ●nas,  
Atque unum quondam gentibus esse solum;  
Oceanumque, duas qui nunc interluit or as,  
Fluctibus haud semper dissecuisse suis.  
Migrat in historiam, fuer atquae fabula, taedis,  
Oceanusque tuo jam tandem pulsus amore est;  
Et cedunt flammis, pontus & unda tuis;  
Dùm populus populi procus est, passusque sagittas  
Nubentis simili principis igne calet.  
Et tua dùm nostras sociant sponsalia dextras;  
Connubii tandem foedera nomen habent.  
Non sponsam, Fateor, paribus natalibus aequas,  
Nec similes thalamos fers, similesve thoras;  
Nec te tam magnis jactas è Regibus ortum,  
Nec stirpem decorant Regna ter●ampla tuam:  
Haud tamen accedis minor; est pro sanguin● virtus,  
Quodque illi Faelix, dat tibi forte genus.  
●ar Sceptris Patris Gladius, tibi stemmata bellis  
Auxit, & antiquis Regibus aequa dedit.  
●ar tua Regali victrix domus, hinc quoque nobis  
Maj●rum factis Imperialis ades.  
Et licet in dotem sponsae non porrigis Indos,  
Sed plures conjux ferret Iberus opes;  
Gallus & in thalamos Rueret magis aureus, & te  
Ex arcâ vincat Natio multa suâ:  
Tu tamen in dotem patris clara arma ministrans  
Ferrato in Gremium ditior Imbre ruis;  
Amplior & sors est Indis, adferre triumphos,  
Et par possesso victus Iberus adest.  
Cujus ad Ereptum, plus est quod nasceris, Aurum,  
Quam natum; Gemina est India capta, tua▪  
Fersque polo●coctum, dives, sub utroque metallum;  
Et cadit in fiscum sol, oriturque, tuum;  
Dùm toties tibi vectat opes H●spania victas;  
Cedit & in census annua prada tuos.  
Nasceris, & puerum gens spoliata timet.  
Aetatique metus nutrit, versatque coaevos;  
Atque annis fingit damna futura tuis.  
Anticipatque tuos, Infantia l●ta, triumphos,  
Dùm tenero fortis Spirat in ore Pater.  
Qui sua bella, tuo cernit, sed mollia, vultu;  
Misceturque tuis Marte Cupido genis▪  
Hic gemina oppositis vibrantur vulnera telis,  
Currit ad haec conjux, hostis & illa fugit.   

Upon the Marriage of the young Prince of Orange with the Lady Marie.  
WE are no longer Island, speedily  
Cement these hands, Priest; these our Isthmus be,  
Nor does the Sea divide us, but'● become  
Our wedding ●Ring, Type of our Union.  
Yet wedding's a too private stile, for this  
Not a plain moral match, but a league is,  
A league that shall incorporate these two  
Nations, and that third which shall spring from you.  
Make haste then and prevent your years, we all  
Long till we may the Belgian, Cousin call.  
While thus you couple young, you seem to be  
Espoused, not by consent, but sympathy.  
And like the Vine and Elm secure from strife,  
Embrace as born, not as made man and wife.  
And you may like the Vine too multiply,  
That he, who shall sum up your progeny  
May be persuaded that you did bring forth  
Not twins, but clusters; while their Native worth  
Antedates breeding, and your issues are  
Each babe a sucking Hero, infant star:  
But why do I these needless fancies vent?  
Your marriage is an Act of Parliament.  
The state's your Priest: your people too, who see  
You voted thus, thus signed, think you to be  
Not wedded but enacted, and do since  
Acknowledge you are now both Law & Prince.   

Another upon the same.  

'tIs vain to wish them joys; nor is it meet  
Verses should pray, changing to knees their feet.  
This were the cry, God help you to a Saint,  
Can fullness fail, or glorious bodies faint?  
Votes are for meaner wedlocks, where there is  
Some doubt, or hazard of a lasting bliss;  
But now such labour's equally unwise,  
As is the Priest's that prays ford's Deities;  
Blessings are proper to this Union  
As heat to fire, or light is to the Sun,  
Not is't a wonder, for the Prince did woo  
Not birth, age, beauty, but religion too:  
Here faith and reason Courts, this match doth prove  
Wisdom in youth, and policy in love.  
Some Bridegrooms (like the days) all Nations try  
And cheapen every toy before they buy.  
When one is only worthy, and worth all  
Those that were rivals for the golden ball,  
He could not look on more, without offence,  
Athirst of choice had thwarted providence.  
The Theban ●earth could not divide these flams  
Which burned through all the Seas, 'twixt Rhine and Thames.  
Nor were their hearts linked by the painter's hand,  
Or Legates voice, such bonds are ropes of sand;  
They their own Council, happier steps have trod,  
Who not salute the image, but the God,  
Should he have had a speaker, who (though young)  
Carries an ordered babel in his tongue?  
Or should her beauty in saint colours lie,  
When there's no Tablet worthy but his eye?  
This Sun and Moon may safely join their lips,  
Who by their nearness banish all Eclipse.  
Their flames and flowers (stolen kisses like) do make  
Equal amends, and at once give and take.  
Here are such emulous beauties, that some do  
Think them united in one body too.  
So that our eyes see double; as a face,  
Though single in the flesh, is two i'th' glass,  
And 't must be so; unless thats now confessed,  
Which once was solecism, that both are best,  
And each is all; which large perfections are  
Beyond our hopes and faiths, as well as prayer.  
Thus then, here's nothing wanting, yet we may,  
Although not for them, to them humbly pray▪  
Grant then Illustrious Prince (for we do vow  
To know no Nuptial Deity but you)  
Grant us our boon, although your abler parts  
Make this a truer marriage of the Arts;  
Yet throw your Euclid by, and only look  
To th' propositions of your living book,  
And you'll conclude truth doth more clearly lie  
There then i'th' maxims of Philosophy.  
Measure o'er all her limbs, and you will see  
No such proportions in Geometry,  
Instead of heavens rude Globes, survey her eyes,  
There lurks no Snake, or Scorpion in those skies.  
You'll there find richer spheres, & blushing tell  
How in those points Angels, like you, do dwell.  
Since she to day made you a number, try  
Part of one Art alone to multiply.  
Think of no Tactics, but of those which are  
Read in the Mar●iald orders of her hair.  
Though you with victory have Armies led,  
'Twas not so great a triumph as to wed,  
Such ●etters will increase your liberty;  
Count not these bonds amongst your Armoury.  
Thus Prisons prove strong Forts, and foes are slain  
The second time, now by a captive chain.   

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

An Epitaph on Ben. Johnson.  
THe Muses fairest light in no dark time,  
The wonder of a learned age; the line  
Which none can pass; the most proportioned wit  
To nature, the best Judge of what was fit,  
The deepest, plainest, highest, clearest pen;  
The voice most Echoed by consenting men;  
The Soul, which answered best to all well said  
By others, and which most requital made,  
Tuned to the highest key of ancient Rome,  
Returning all her Music with his own,  
In whom with nature study claimed apart,  
Yet who unto himself owed all this Art:  
Here lies Ben. johnson, every age will look  
With sorrow here, with wonder on his book.   

On one that was deprived of his Testicles.  
THou Neuter Gender! whom a Gown  
Can make a woman, Breeches none:  
Crea●ed one thing, made another,  
Not a sister, scarce a brother:  
Jack of both sides, that may bear,  
Or a distaff, or a spear,  
If thy fortune thither call,  
Be the Grand Signiors General●▪  
Or if thou fancy not that t●●de,  
Turn th' Sultana's Chambermaid;  
A Medal where grim Mars turned right,  
Proves a smiling Aphrodite;  
How doth nature quibble, either  
He, or she, boy, girl, or neither;  
Thou may'st serve great Jove instead  
Of Hebe both and Ganymed,  
A face both stern and mild, cheeks bare  
That still do only promise hair,  
Old Cybele the first in all  
This humane predicamental scale,  
Why would she choose her Priests to be  
Such Individuums as ye?  
Such Insectas, added on  
To creatures by substraction,  
In whom nature claims no part,  
Ye only being words of Art.   

To his Mistress.  
WHat mystery is this? that I should find  
My blood, in kissing you to stay behind;  
'Twas not for want of colour that required  
My blood for paint: no die could be desired  
On that fair cheek, where scarlet were a spot,  
And where the juice of Lilies but a blot:  
If at the presence of the murderer,  
The ●●und will bleed, & tell the cause is there,  
A touch will do much more, even so my heart,  
When secretly it felt your kill dart,  
showed it in blood, which yet doth more complain,  
Because it cannot be so touched again,  
This wounded heart, to show its love most true,  
Sent forth a drop, and wrote its mind on you,  
Was ever paper half so white as this?  
Or Wax so yielding to the printed kiss?  
Or seal so strong? no letter e'er was writ,  
That could the Author's mind so truly fit;  
For though myself to foreign countries fly,  
My blood desires to keep you company;  
Here I could spill it all, thus I can free  
My enemy from blood, though slain I be;  
But slain I cannot be, nor meet with ill,  
Since, but to you, I have no blood to spill.   

The Puritan.  

WIth face and fashion to be known,  
For one of sure election,  
With eyes all white, and many a groan,  
With neck aside to draw in tone,  
With harp in's nose, or he is none.  
See a new Teacher of the town,  
O the town, O the towns new Teacher.   

With pate cut shorter than the brow,  
With little rust starched you know how,  
With cloak like Paul, no cape I trow,  
With Surplice none; but lately now,  
With hands to thump, no knees to bow.  
See a new Teacher, etc.   

With cozening cough, and hollow cheek,  
To get new gatherings every week,  
With paltry change of and to eke,  
With some small Hebrew, and no Greek,  
To find out words, when stuffes to seek.  
See a new Teacher, etc.   

With shopboard breeding, and intrusion,  
With some Outlandish Institution,  
With Vrsines Catechism to muse on,  
With Systems method for confusion,  
With grounds strong laid of mere illusion▪  
See a new Teacher, &c▪   

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

With speech unthought, quick revelation,  
With boldness in predestination,  
With threats of absolute damnation,  
Yet yea and nay hath some salvation,  
For his own Tribe, not every Nation.  
See a new Teacher, &c,   

With after licence cost a crown,  
When Bishop new had put him down,  
With tricks called repetition,  
And doctrine newly brought to town,  
Of teaching men to hang and drown.  
See a new Teacher, etc.   

With flesh-provision to keep Lent,  
With shelves of sweetmeats often spent,  
Which new Maid bought, old Lady sent;  
Though to be saved a poor present;  
Yet legacies assure the event.  
See a new Teacher, etc.   

With troops expecting him at th' door,  
That would hear Sermons, and no more;  
With noting tools, and sighs great store,  
With Bible's great to turn them o'er,  
While he wrists places by the score.  
See a new Teacher, etc.   

With running text, the named forsaken,  
With For and But, both by sense shaken,  
Cheap doctrines forced, wild Uses taken,  
Both sometimes one by mark mistaken,  
With any thing to any shapen.  
See a new Teacher, etc.   

With new wrought caps, against the Canon,  
For taking cold, though sure he have none;  
A Sermons end, where he began one,  
A new hour long, when's glass had run one,  
New Use, new Points, new Notes to stand on.  
See a new Teacher, etc.    

The Flight.  
My Laelia stay,  
And run not thus like a young Roe away,  
No enemy  
Pursues thee (foolish Girl) 'tis only I,  
I'll keep off harms,  
If thou'lt be pleased to garrison mine arms;  
What, dost thou sear  
I'll turn a Traitor? may these Roses here  
To palness shred,  
And Lilies stand disguised in new red.  
If that I lay  
A snare, wherein thou wouldst not gladly stay;  
See, see the Sun,  
Does slowly to his azure lodging run,  
Come, sit but here,  
And presently he'll quit our Hemisphere;  
So still, among  
Lovers, time is too short, or else too long;  
Here will we spin  
Legends for them that have Love's martyrs been,  
Here on this plain,  
we'll talk Narcissus to a flower again:  
Come here, and choose  
On which of these proud plaits thou wouldst repose.  
Here may'st thou shame  
The rusty violets with the crimson flame  
Of either cheek,  
And Primroses, white as thy fingers seek,  
Nay, thou may'st prove,  
That man's most noble passion is to love.   

To a Lady that wrought a story of the Bible in needlework.  
COuld we judge here, most virtuous Madam, than  
Your needle might receive praise from our pen;  
But this our want bereaves it of that part,  
Whilst to admire, and thank is all our art,  
The work deserves a shrine: I should rehearse  
Its glory in a story not in Verse,  
Colours are mixed so subt'lly, that thereby  
The strength of Art doth take & cheat the eye,  
At once a thousand we can gaze upon,  
But are deceived by their transition,  
What toucheth is the same, beam takes from beam  
The next still like, yet differing in the extreme,  
Here runs this tract, thither we see that tends,  
But cannot say, Here this, or there that ends:  
Thus, while they creep insensibly, we doubt,  
Whether the one powers not the other out.  
Faces so quick and lively, that we may  
Fear, if we turn our backs, they'll steal away  
Postures of grief so true, that we may swear,  
Your Artful fingers have wrought passion there:  
View we the manger and the Babe, we thence  
Believe the very threads have innocence,  
Then on the Cross, such love, such grief we find,  
As 'twere the transcript of our Saviour's mind,  
Each parcel so expressive, each so fit,  
That the whole seems not so much wrought, as writ:  
'Tis sacred Text all, we may quote, and thence,  
Extract what may be passed in our defence;  
Blessed mother of the Church, be in the list  
Reasoned with four, a she Evangelist,  
Nor can the stile be profanation, when  
The needle may convert more than the pen,  
When saith may come by seeing, and each leaf,  
Rightly perused, prove Gospel to the deaf:  
Had not that Helen haply found the Cross,  
By this your work you had repaired that loss.  
Tell me not of Penelope, we do  
See a web here more chaste and sacred too.  
Where are ye now, O women, ye that sow  
Temptations, labouring to express the bow  
Of the blind Archer, ye that rarely set,  
To please your Loves, a Venus in a net,  
Turn your skill hither, than we shall, no doubt,  
See the King's daughter glorious too without;  
Women sowed only fig-leaves hitherto.  
Eves nakedness is only clothed by you.   

To the King.  
THe Prince hath now an equal, and may see  
A fellow to his sports, as great as he:  
Nor need ●e lessen birth, or fall from state,  
Or be deposed to an Associate;  
Or else to fit companions to his play,  
Need lay your Sceptre or your Crown away.  
And now you may behold, Sir, by your side,  
Your Royal Self grown more, and multipled,  
And those past years, before and since your Reign,  
May in your Children see llved o'er again;  
Who are your Emblems; and though none be free  
From fate, yet you in them immortal be:  
And whilst we may preserve you living thus,  
When e'er you die, you not depart from us:  
Your sons will keep most of you from the grave,  
So, though we change, we no new King shall have:  
You only will be varied; as a grain  
Lost in a Harvest; more returns again.  
And though perchance we cannot say, like those,  
Who are Heirs to their father's eyes, or nose,  
Report his look, and are so justly faced  
Like him, as if they were not born, but cast,  
That all these signs we in the Princes find,  
Yet sure there is more likeness in their mind,  
Which you conveyed them through their mother, who  
Even thus did travel with your virtues too,  
Which to descend to our dull sense and earth,  
Come to us in their shapes, and suffer birth.  
And be your offspring, who when Chronicle  
●s all we have, and Annals only tell  
Your deeds and actions, and when men shall look  
And see the Prince and Duke do all the book,  
And live your Royal story, and that all  
Which you did well, was but prophetical,  
Will not be thought as your posterity,  
But you in them will your Successor be.   

To the Queen, upon the birth of her first Daughter.  
AFter the Prince's birth, admired Queen,  
Had you proved barren, you had fruitful been;  
And in one Heir born to his father's place  
And royal mind had brought us forth a race.  
But we, who thought we wished enough to see  
A Prince of Wales, have now a progeny:  
And you being perfect now have learned the way  
To be with Child as oft as we can pray.  
So that henceforth, we need no altars vex  
With empty vows, being heard in either Sex:  
Nor have we all our Kingdoms incense tried  
So many years only to be denied.  
We no desires, but thankful offerings bring,  
That bearing many you prefer the King,  
And to us yet have but one daughter shown;  
Who else had been the Original alone.  
Without a Copy: for the shapes we see  
In tables of you but bright errors be.  
Nor could we hope Art could beget an Heir  
To that sweet form, unless yourself did bear  
Your Portraiture, and in a daughter show  
That of yourself, which yet no Painter drew,  
Who with his subtle hand and wisest skill  
Hath hitherto but strived to draw you ill;  
And when he takes his Pencil from your look,  
Find's colours make you but a piece mistook,  
And so paints treason, nor would have pretence  
To scape, but that he limbs a fair pretence:  
But in the Princess you are writ so plain  
And true, that in her you were born again.  
And when we see you both together placed,  
You are your daughter, only grown in haste.  
In both we may the selfsame graces see,  
But that they yet in her but Infant be,  
Not woman beauties, nor will we despair  
The Prince and Duke of York have equal share  
In your perfections, which, though they divide,  
Make them both Prince enough by th' mother's side.  
Whose composition is so clear and good,  
That we can see discourses in your blood,  
And understand your body, so refined  
That of you might be born a Soul, or mind.  
O may you still be fruitful, and begin  
Henceforth to make our year by lying in.  
May we have store of Princes, and they live  
Till Heralds doubt what Titles they should give,  
To this, may you be young still, and no other  
Signs of more age found in you, but a mother.   

Upon one that preached in a Cloak.  
See you the Cloak at Church to day,  
The long worn short Cloak lined with Say?  
What had the man no Gown to wear?  
Or was this sent him from the Mayor?  
Or is't the Cloak which Nixon brought  
To trim the Tub, where Golledge taught?  
Or can this best conceal his lips,  
And show Communion-sitting hips?  
Or was the Cloak St. Paul's; if so,  
With it he found the Parchments too;  
Yes, verily, for he hath been  
With mine Host Gajus, at the new Inn;  
A Gown (God bless us) trails o'th' floor,  
Like th' Petticoat o'th' Scarlet whor●,  
Whose large stiff pleads, he dare confide,  
Are ribs from Antichrists own side;  
A mourning cope if it look to th' East,  
Is the black surplice of the beast.   

On the May Pole.  
THe mighty zeal which thou hast late put on,  
Neither by Prophet nor by Prophet's son  
As yet prevented, doth transport me so  
Beyond myself, that though I ne'er could go  
Far in a Verse, and have all times defied,  
Since Hopkins and good Thomas Sternhold died;  
Except it were the little pains I took,  
To please good people in a Prayer book:  
That I set forth, or so yet must I raise  
My spirits for thee, who shall in thy praise  
Gird up her loins, and furiously run  
All kind of feet, but Satan's cloven one▪  
Such is thy zeal, so well thou dost express it,  
That were't not like a Charm I'd said, God bless it.  
I needs must say it is a spiritual thing  
To rail against the Bishop and the King:  
But these are private quarrels, this doth fall  
Within the compass of the General;  
Whether it be a pole painted, or wrought  
far otherwise then from the wood 't was brought,  
Whose head the Idol maker's hand doth crop,  
Where a profane bird towering on the top,  
Looks like the Calf in Horeb, at whose root  
The unyoakt youth doth exercise his foot,  
Or whether it preserves its boughs befriended  
By neighbouring bushes, and by them attended.  
How canst thou choose but seeing it, complain  
That Baal's worshipped in the groves again?  
Tell me how cursed an egging with a sting  
Of lust, do these unwily dances bring:  
The simple wretches say they mean no harm,  
They don't indeed, but yet these actions warm  
Our purer blood the more: for Satan thus  
Tempts us the more that are more righteous,  
Oft hath a brother most sincerely gone  
Stifled with zeal and contemplation,  
Where lighting on the place where such repair  
He views the Nymph, and is clean out in's prayer.  
Oft hath a sister grounded in a truth,  
Seeing the jolly carriage of the youth,  
Been tempted to the way that's broad and bad,  
And were't not for our private pleasures, had  
Renounced her little ruff and goggle eye,  
And quit herself of the fraternity.  
What is the mirth? what is the melody  
That sets them in this Gentiles vanity?  
When in our Synagogues we rail at sin,  
And tell men of the faults that they are in.  
With hand and voice so following our Themes,  
That we put out the sides-men in their● dreams,  
Sounds not the Pulpit then which we belabour  
Better, and holier then doth a Tabor;  
Yet such is unregenerate man's folly,  
He loves the wicked noise and hares the holy;  
If the sins sweet enticing and the blood,  
Which now begins to boil have thought it good  
To challenge liberty and recreation;  
Let it be done in holy contemplation;  
Brother and sister in the field may walk,  
Beginning of the holy word to talk;  
Of David and Vriahs' lovely wife,  
Of Thamar and her lustful brother's strife,  
Then underneath the hedge that is the next,  
They may sit down and so act out the Text,  
Nor do we want (how ere we live Austere)  
In Winter Sabbath nights some lusty cheer,  
And though the Pastor's grace which oft doth hold  
Half an hour long make the provision cold;  
We can be merry, thinking ne'er the worse,  
To mend the matter at the second course,  
Chapters are read, and Hymns are sweetly sung,  
Jointly commanded by the nose and tongue;  
Then on the word we diversely dilate,  
Wrangling indeed for heat of zeal not hate,  
When at the length an unappeased doubt  
Fiercely comes in, and then the lights go out;  
Darkness thus makes our peace, and we contain  
Our fiery spirits till we meet again:  
Till than no voice is heard, no tongue does go,  
Unless a tender sister shriek, or so.  
Such should be our delights, grave and demure,  
Not so abominable and impure  
As those thou seekest to hinder, but I fear  
Satan will be too strong, his Kingdom's there,  
Few are the righteous, nor do I know  
How we this Idol here shall overthrow,  
Since our sincerest Patron is deceased,  
The number of the righteous is decreased;  
But we do hope these times will on▪ and breed  
A faction mighty for us, for indeed  
We labour all, and every sister joins  
To have regenerate babes spring from our loins,  
Besides, what many carefully have done,  
To get the unrighteous man a righteous son.  
Then stoutly on, let not thy flocks range lewdly  
In their old vanities, thou Lamp of beaudly,  
One thing I pray thee, do not so much thirst  
After Idolatries last fall, but first  
Follow thy suit more close, let it not go,  
Till it be thine as thou wouldst have't, for so  
Thy successors upon the same entail,  
Hereafter may take up the Whit sun Ale.   

To the Queen.  
Most gracious Queen  
IF Poets could be born as oft as you  
Bring Princes forth, something might then be new.  
Th' Alembecks of the womb and brain run cross  
Elixar's, they're more common than our dross.  
Your fair and beautiful soil pure Manna breeds,  
When our dull mud is barren too in weeds.  
Though then you here find nothing fresh but names,  
This Verse being writ for Charles, and that for james:  
Yet may they now (like sacred Relics) be  
Loved and embraced for their Antiquity,  
Your former teeming taught the costive earth,  
And barren wives the fashion of a birth;  
But now (as if your wise fertility,  
An Extract were of all state-policy)  
You give example unto men, and teach  
Loyalty more than our Divines can reach.  
You that do practise base exactions, and  
Rail at the needful taxes of our Land,  
Thinking your money better spent upon  
A coach, a feast, or some new fashion,  
Of devout Rebels, the Nonships which be  
Walls that imprison us to liberty,  
Like those Athenian Grandees, who to see  
The costly madness of one Tragedy,  
Could scatter large supplies, although 'twas known,  
This want made them Spectators of their own.  
Learn homage now from Majesty, the Queen  
Herself hath here the best of Subjects been;  
She pays large tribute, that it may appear,  
Safety, like Heaven, is never bought too dear.  
I've read of Roman matrons, who did drown  
Their richest jewels, to preserve their Town;  
Stopping the gulf with pearls, which graced their ears;  
They rather choose no ornaments than fears.  
And those brave Dames of Carthage were content,  
To shave their dangling tresses, which they lent  
For cordage then, and gloried they could see  
What once was pride, turned now to Subsidy:  
Baldness was beauty there, nor did they care,  
So they could bend their bows, to lose their hair  
But you (great Queen) contrive your Country's good,  
Not from your locks expense, but from your blood.  
Each parcel of the Duke, bright as his eyes,  
Proves you give jewels of a wealthier prize;  
Who, for a general safety, wish to be  
Blest with the pangs of your high agony,  
Whilst the dull lees of man scarce deign to give  
Poor common service, that themselves may live;   

Upon Tom of Christ-Church.  

THou that by ruin dost repair,  
And by destruction art a Founder:  
Whose Art doth tell us what men are,  
Who by corruption shall rise sounder:  
In this fierce fires intensive heat,  
Remember this is Tom the great.   

And Cyclops think at every stroke,  
Which with thy sledge his side shall wound,  
That then some statute thou hast broke,  
Which long depended on his sound;  
And that our College-gates did cry,  
They were not shut since Tom did die.   

Think what a scourge 'tis to the City,  
To drink and swear by Ca●fax bell,  
Which bellowing without tune, or pity,  
The nights and days divides not well;  
But the poor Tradesman must give o'er  
His Ale at eight, or sit till four.   

We all in haste drink off our wine,  
As if we never should drink more;  
So that the reckoning after nine  
Is larger now than that before.  
Release this tongue, which erst could say,  
Home Scholars; Drawer, what's to pay?   

So thou of order shalt be Founder,  
Making a Ruler for the people,  
One that shalt ring thy praises wonder,  
Than t'other six bells in the steeple:  
Wherefore think, when Tom is running,  
Our manners wait upon thy cunning.   

Then let him raised be from ground,  
The same in number, weight, and sound,  
So may thy conscience rule thy gain,  
Or would thy theft might be thy bane.    

On a Burning-glasse.  
STrange Chemistry! Can dust and sand produce  
So pure a body, and diaphanous?  
Strange kind of courtship! that the amorous Sun,  
T' embrace a Min'rall, twists his rays in one;  
Talk of the Heavens mocked, by a Sphere, alas,  
The Sun itself here in a piece of glass:  
Let Magnets drag base iron, this alone  
Can to her icy bosom win the Sun;  
Witches may cheat us of his light a while,  
But this can him even of himself beguile:  
In Heaven he staggers to both Tropics, here  
He keeps fixed residence all times of th' year,  
Here's a perpetual Solstice, here he lies,  
Not on a bed of water, but of ice;  
How well by this himself abridge, he might  
Redeem the Scythians from their lingering night.  
How well by this glass Proxey might he roll  
Beyond the Ecliptic, and warm either Pole;  
Had but Prometheus been so wise, he had ne'er  
Scaled Heaven to light his torch, but lighted here.  
Had Archimedes once but known this use,  
HE had burnt Marcellus from proud Syracuse;  
Had Vesta's Maids of honour this but seen,  
Their Lady's fire had ne'er extinguished been;  
Hell's Engines might have finished their design  
Of powder (but that Heaven did countermine)  
Had they but thought of this; th' Egyptians may  
Well hatch their eggs without the mid wife clay;  
Why do not puling Lovers this devise,  
For a fit Emblem of their Mistress eyes?  
They call them Diamonds, and say th' have been  
Reduced, by them, to ashes, all within;  
But they'll assumeed, and ever hence 'twill pass,  
A Mistress eye is but Loves Burning-glass.   

Upon Sheriff Sandbourn.  
FIe, Scholars, fie, have you such thirsty souls,  
To swil, quaff, & carouse in Sandbourns bowls?  
Tell me, mad youngsters, what do you believe,  
It cost good Sandbourn nothing to be Shreife,  
To spend so many Beefs, so many weathers,  
Maintaining so many caps, so many feathers?  
Again, is malt so cheap, this pinching year,  
That you should make such havoc of his beer?  
I hear you are so many, that you make  
Most of his men turn Tapsters, for your sake;  
And that when he, even on the Bench doth sit,  
You snatch the meat from off the hungry spit;  
You keep such hurly-burly, that it passes,  
Ingurgitating sometimes whole half glasses,  
And some of you (forsooth) are grown so fine,  
Or else so saucy, as to call for wine;  
As if the Sheriff had put such men in trust,  
As durst draw out more wine than needs they must:  
In faith, in faith, it is not well, my Masters,  
Nor fit, that you should be the Sheriff's tasters;  
It were enough, you being such Gurmundisers,  
To make the Sheriffs, henceforth, turn arrant Misers;  
Remove th' Assize, to Oxford's soul disgrace,  
To Henly on the Thames, or some such place;  
He neve● had complained, had it been  
A pe●●y Firkin, or a Kilderkin:  
But when a Barrel daily is drawn out,  
My Masters, then it's time to look about.  
Is this a lie, trow ye? I tell you, No,  
My Lord high Chancellor was informed so.  
And oh! what would all the bread in town  
Suffice, to drink the Sheriff's liquor down?  
But he in Hampers must it from hence bring,  
Oh most prodigious, & most monstrous thing!  
Upon so many loaves of home-made bread,  
How long might he and his two men have fed?  
He would, no doubt, the poor they should be fed  
With the sweet morsels of his broken bread:  
But when that they poor Souls for bread did call,  
Answer was made, the Scholars eat up all.  
And when for broken Beer they craved a cup,  
Answer was made, the Scholars drunk it up;  
And thus, I know not how they changed the name,  
But did the deed, and Long-tail bore the Flame.   

Not to Travel.  
WHat need ● Travel, since I may  
More choicer wonders here survey;  
What need I Tyre for purple seek,  
When I may find it in a cheek?  
Or sack the Eastern shores, there lies  
More precious Diamonds in her eyes?  
What need I dig Peru for Oar,  
When every hair of hers yields more?  
Or toil for Gums in India,  
Since she can breathe more rich than they?  
Or Ransack afric, there will be  
On either hand more Ivory?  
But look within all virtues that  
Each Nation would appropriate,  
And with the glory of them rest,  
Are in this Map at large expressed;  
That, who would Travel here might know  
The little World in folio.   

Jo: Cleveland HIS ORATIONS AND EPISTLES, On Eminent Occasions, In Latin.  
Englished by E. W.  
Printed for Nath. Brook, at the Angel in Cornhill. 1659.   


Oratio coram Rege, & Principe Carolo in Collegio joannensi Cantab. habita. 1642.  
Augustissime Regum, Archetype Carole.  
QVae nupero dolore obriguit Academia, tanquam orbatae Niobes soror Saxea, si in pristinam facundiam resolvatur hodie, agnoscit omen vestrae praesentiae. Mem●onis statua solaribus per●ussa Radiis, vocalem Musicam edidisse fertur: Habent vel hi parie●es Chordas Magicas, quas minima vultus vestri strictura quasi plectro animabit. Nec magis eloquuntur lapides, quam è Diametro miraculi stu●ent Oratores: Quod in afflatis numine fieri videmus, it a Deum recipere ut ejiciant Hominem, instinctu sapere non intellectu, perindè vestra in nobis Hospitatur Divinitas, cujus nimius splendor, omnes omnium, sensus sacrificat, & tam sanctam nostri jacturam in lucro deputamus. Ignoscimus ●am fatis immodestiam suam, Imminens litera●um exitium ut favoris insidias gratulamur, scil▪ ●ambitiosè moriuntur Musae quae ad vestros pedes efflabunt vale. Lusit Archimedes coelos in sphaerâ: quid ni dicam jovem in Carolo fabricatum? Adeò ut Orator Ille, Qui manu deorsum flexâ, O Coelum! exclamavit, si istum in modum perorâsset Hodie, soloecismum manu non commisisset: Enimverò, cum Regem Optimum Maximum & Principem simul astantes videam, nescio quo modo Principis Natalis videatur Redux, ubi solem & stellam, fulgentes à symbolis, (licèt non aequis Radiis) conspicati sumus. Caesare mortuo novum in coelis emicuit sydus, quod julii Anima passim audiit: Caesaris Epilogus fuit Prologus Caroli: Neque enim aptior stella, quam Invictissima illius Herois Anima, quae vestrae soboli res g●rendas ominaretur: Stellam dixi? mutò factum: Crederem potius ipsum solem fuisse qui tunc temporis delegavit Tibi moderamen Diei, & ut Principis cunas fortius videret, suum in stellam contraxit Oculum: Ecce ut Patrissat Carolus! ut ad vestras virtutes anhelus surgit! Quod sub pientissimo Rege accidisse legimus, solem muliis gradibus retrò ferri Principis aetas pari portento compensavit damnum, cujus festina virtus Devorat Horologium, & pueritiâ vix dum libatâ meridiem ●ttigit. Parcatur mihi si turgeat Oratio, si nihil praeter solem, & stellas crepet: quippè 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 soecula, viximus & nostram, & posterorum vitam▪ Sed vereor nè molestus fuerim importuno officio, quod in tam illustri praesentiâ, in nescio quid majus piaculo excrescit: Minima coram Rege errata, tunquam angustiores Rimae extendu●tur lumine: Oratio itaque nostra pro genio temporum Reformabitur, quod tantundem est, Rescindetur. Hoc unicum praefabor votum, Vivas, Augustissime, Pieta● Tuorum, & Tremor Hostium. Vivas vel in Hoc declivio stator literarum: vivas denique eam ●●dutus gloriam, ut Filium tuum Carolum appellemus Maximum, qui● solo Patre Minorem.  
Dixi Jo. Cleev'land. Joa●n. Cantabrig.   

An Oration delivered before the King and Prince Charles, in St. John's College at Cambridge, 1642.  
Charles' most August of Kings, and you, Great Britain's hope, Illustrious Charles.  
THis Academy, whom but even now equally Marble with the widowed Niobe, grief congealed into a sencelesse-statue, if this day she be restored to her wont smiles, 'tis to you, Great Princes, and to your Auspicious presence, that she must owe this happy change. The statue of Memnon darted upon by the Sun's royal beams is reported by the ancients to have uttered a vocal harmony, nor is it less true, that even these walls have now their charming chords, from which as with a Plectre, or Quill, the least glance of your countenance hath power to call forth a most melodious Sound, & by a strange contrariety of miracle, at the same time the stones speak, and the Orators are struck dumb with admiration. It happens in those, who are actuated with Divine impulse that they so receive God as to cast off Man, and that they understand rather by heavenly instinct then by humane reason, in like manner your Divinity hath taken up its habitation in us, and with its overpowerfull splendour sacrificed all our senses, and yet we account it a gain to have so gloriously lost ourselves. We now pardon the fates their immodesty, and congratulate the imminent dissolution of Letters as a favourable surprise, for indeed the Muses must needs be ambitious to die, if at your Royal feet they may be admitted to breathe their last: Archimedes sportively imitated the Heavens in a Globe, what hinders, but that I may affirm jove to be lively set forth in Charles; so that he, who pointing to the earth cried out! O Heavens, if at this present he had so declaimed, he had not committed a solecism with his hand, for since I behold the best and greatest of Kings and Princes in place together, me thinks the Prince's birthday seems to be brought back to this present time in which we see the Sun and Star shining in conjunction, though not with equal rays, when Caesar died there appeared a new Star in Heaven, which was generally called the Soul of julius; the Epilogue of Caesar hath been Charles his prologue, for what Star was fitter to portend the great things to be done by your offspring (mighty King) than the Soul of that most invincible Hero. Star did I say? pardon me, great Sir, I should rather believe that it was the Sun himself, who at that time resigned unto your hands the government of the day; and, that he might the more intently observe the Prince's Illustrious Cradle he contracted his universal eye into a Star; Behold how Charles begins already Patrissare, and with what haste and eager pursuit he soars up to his father's virtues, that which we read to have happened of old, under the most pious King of juda, that the Sun went back many degrees, is now in Charles his days recompensed by no less a wonder; nor was the course of time then so much retarded as his forward virtues have now hastened it and brought it on, since in the very dawn of his youth, he hath attained unto the noon of perfection. Pardon me if my Oration swell and sound nothing but Sun and Stars, since in the Pr●nce's Nativity nature hath anticipated my allegory; Oh happy Academy, in the mean time, and invested with a kind of eternity, as comprehending at the same time in King and Prince, both our Present and our Future; what need we expect the ages to come, having lived our own life, and that of posterity together: But I fear least by an officious zeal, I have been too tediously troublesome, which in so illustrious a presence, may soon grow up to a crime beyond expiation. The least absurdities committed before a King, are like chinks which though never so narrow, are discovered and enlarged by the light that passeth through them; our Oration therefore is to be corrected according to the genius of the times, and that which is superfluous to be lopped off; One prayer alone remains to Usher in the close. Live, most August, the desire and welfare of your own and the terror of your enemies, Live, even in this descent of your age, the stay, and prop of learning: Lastly, live adorned with so much glory, that the Prince your Son may acquire the name of Charles the Greatest, as being less than his Father only.  
John Cleaveland.    


Ejusd. Epistola ad Episcop. Lincolnensem, cum factus esset Archiepiscopus Eboracensis.  
USque, & usque quod gratulamur; Si molesti sumus, utinam indies succresceret peccandi materia▪ Pietas officii non metuit Cramben, sed vestri honoris aemula indignatur Non-ultrà. Quin placeat igitur nostris in literis rumniare fortunas Tuas, & prolixioris calami gutture (quod Philoxenus Gruino voluit) repetere dapûm voluptatem. Neque retro tantum gaudemus, prensamus sinciput, & in futurum gratulamur: providè factum, & tempestiuè; eo enim pergat virtus vestra, ut si paulum promoveat, humanos limites supergressus, eris ineffabilis. At luxat nobis animos Divinus horror, quum sacra facturis eminus, & splendor vester & sublimit as observantur. Nutat Religio quae veneratur solem, & Tremor Luminum fatetur Deum●●adem est nostra oculorum conscientia, qui Radios vestros non sinè O●ulari crepusculo sustinemus. Nec minus sublimitatem vestram luimus; siquidem sacrificantium Zelus, (tanquam flamma sacrificii) quò magis ascendit, eò magis trepidat. Clementia vestra disputat cum magnitudine, & hâc amicissima lite (quasi totius Naturae Puerperium) officium nostrum est oriundum. Ignoscimus fatis immodestiam suam, quicquid adversi contigit, ut favoris insidias amplectimur: sic recurrere videbantur Fortunae tuae, ut fortiùs prosilirent Comprobavit exitus ingenium commenti: Militans Ecclesia jam triumphat & fluctu●●●● (ut olim Arca) tandem in montibus acquiescit. Non amplius Collegium Mater Lanas lacerat, nec facie sua computat miserias. Musae, quas vivere fuit Hyperbole, nunc audent vigere: Quippe altitudo vestra ut Niliaca Aegypti fertilitatem literarum ominatur. Enimverò cum Astra sunt faelicitatis nostrae Condi-promi, quid est quod a superis non expectemus; Patrono in hoc syderum vicinia collocato. Orandus igitur es (Archi-Praesul dignissimè) ut ambitionem nostram serò sisteres, & honores vestros subindè catenares, ut cum supremum Fortunae Tuae Radium conscenderis, nec dum terminetur Clymax vestra, Caelum superest Dominationi.  
Vestri quam Devotissimi J. Cleev'land. Cantabrigiae.   

An Epistle of the same Author to the Bishop of Lincoln, when he was made Archbishop of York.  
IF in never giving over our congratulations we are too importunate, I wish, that every day new matter were afforded, of so offending; the zeal of my duty fears no check, but rather, emulous of true honour, disdains to meet with a Non ultra. It is a more than ordinary satisfaction in frequent Letters to ruminate upon your fortunes, and (as Philoxenus wished in another sense) to repeat the pleasure of those delicacies with a long-neckt quill; nor is it enough to rejoice only for what is past; but to take hold on the forelock, and congratulate for the future; and this certainly is a provident and seasonable course, considering that your virtue moves forward so fast, that within a short while it will go near to transcend humane limits, and so become ineffable; but a certain divine horror unse●tles our minds, when, going to offer up our respects, we observe from a far off, at once, your splendour and exaltedness. Veneration staggers when it approacheth the Sun, and the trembling of our lights confess a Deity, such is the abashment of them, that they cannot endure the brightness of your rays without an ocular twilight, nor have we less awe of your exaltedness. For as much as the Sacrificers zeal, like the flame of the sacrifice, by how much the more it ascends, so much the more it trembles; but your clemency disputes with your greatness, and from this most friendly strife (as if Nature were in travel) our duty is to take its birth; we pardon the Fates their incivility, and whatsoever hath happened adverse, we embrace it as a favourable ambush. So your fortunes seemed to recoil back, that they might spring forward with the greater force; the event hath made good the happiness of invention: the Church militant now triumphs, and lately floating (as heretofore the Ark) now rests upon the mountains, no more shall our Mother-Colledge card and spin, or discover her sorrows by her dejected countenance; the Muses, who could not be said to live without an Hyperbole, have now the confidence to show their excellencies; nor could it be otherwise, since your advanced state (as that of Nile brought fruitfulness to Egypt) is a most happy Auspice of the prosperity of learning: and so long as the stars are the stewards of your felicity, what is that we may not expect from the Powers above, having a Patron placed so near the stars? This only remains, Most Reverend Archbishop, to be requested, that our ambition may at length be restrained by some little curb put unto the full career of your Honours; so that as when you shall seem to have mounted up to the highest pinnacle of your fortunes, the scale of your ascent may not yet be terminated, and besides all earthly glories, Heaven is still reserved the chiefest guerdon to crown your high deserts.  
Yours most humbly devoted, J. Cleaveland.    


Alia ejusdem, ad Episcopum Londinensem.  
CVjus laborantes partes pari animorum deliquio diu expressimus, ne graver is in ejus redivivo jubare experrecti triumphemus: Hodie enim est quod vivimus postliminio, & vindiciis Honori vestri quotquot sumus, sumus Virbit: siquidem in moetore nostro quid aliud fuit vita nostra quam nocturna lucubratio? & in tuo Occidente superesse, quam in gratiis naturae vivere? Sed focra res est: Reddidit diem redux Phosphorus, & post tanta cum astris jurgia Collegium mater taxdem fatetur Coe●os. Incassum tubas fatigarunt veteres▪ ut ecclipsin redimerent. Alma Mater suspiriis magis sonoris profligavit vestram sc▪ hic fuit foelicitatis vestrae somnus, qui tantum abest ut illam extingueret, ut reficeret potius, & alacriorem reddat. Eccum majorem mundum tuum adexemplar compositum, vel si mavis dictum luce & tenebris distinctum! Si Sol in perpetuum splenderet, nec aram, nec mystam haberet Per●icum: Enimvero caligantes oculi nostri pacti sunt inducias cum fulgore vestro, qu●bus finitis ad pristinum redit seipsum. Aspicias quae sumus Clientum nomina, & agnoscas r●dios è luminoso tuo corpore diffusos, nihil enim de nostro habemus. Percurras singulos, & videas teipsum (prolixiorem semper admodum) sed modo plenius, modo angustius pro varia speculorum indole repercussum. Atque hinc est quod imaginem vestram (tanquam Collegii Palladium) inter Archiva recondimus, ut Mater enixa sobolem, ad picturam se sistat, unltus comparet, it a umbra vestra (plusquam splendorem Phoebi) distinguat pullos. Gratulamur itaque (vel nostro nomine) nov as hasc● honorum inducias. Vivas in posterum fortuna major: ingens vester animus (tanquam illud aeternum jecur) indignetur vulturem; quo magis consumitur augeatur magis, & inter ipsos invidiae Molares crescat virtus.  
J. Cleveland.   

Another of the same Author to the Bishop of London.  
THink it not strange that we now triumph, awakened by his revived lustre, whose sufferings we have long resented with a suitable depressure of spirit; this day it is, that we start up (as it were) from the dead, and by an honourable assertion of liberty, look how many men we are, so many Virbii we are; for in the state of our sadness what was our life other than a late sitting up at night? and to have lived in your declining Sunset, what was it but to live at Nature's courtesy? But now our condition is well amended, Phosphorus returning, hath brought back the day, and so many contests with the stars, our Mother-Colledge hath at length found Heaven an helper. In vain the Ancients so often sounded their trumpets, to profligate the Sun's eclipse; but our sacred Mother, with the more effectual harmony of her sighs, hath dispelled yours; this indeed was the slumber of your felicity, and was so far from extinguishing it, that it rather renewed it, and made it more flourishing; behold, the greater world framed, or rather pronounced, according to your exemplar, distinguished with light and darkness: if the Sun should shine perpetually, he would neither have altars erected to him, nor would the Persians keep in their sacred fire, our dazzled eyes have made a truce with your brightness, which, that truce being ended, returns to its former lustre; behold here, we beseech you, your devoted Clients, and in them observe the rays that flow forth from your own resplendent body, for we have nothing about us, that we can call ourselves. View every one of us, and there you may see yourself (to a great advantage always) but sometimes more full, and sometimes less, according to the various reflection of the object; and hence it is that▪ we lay up your image (as the Palladium of our College) amongst our Archives and Monuments; as a Mother having brought forth her Infant, goes to her picture and compares the features, so your shadow (more than the Sun's brightness) distinguisheth us young ones: We congratulate therefore in our own behalf, this new truce of honours. Live from hence forth greater than your fortune, and may your exalted mind (like that eternal liver) despise the eating vulture, and by how much the more it is consumed, so much the more increase, and your virtue still grow up, and prosper even among the grinding teeth of envy.  
J. Cleaveland.    


Ejusdem Oratio ad Acad. Cantab. Cancellarium, & Legatum Gallicum, publicè habita.  
Honoratissime Domine Cancellarie!  
Illustrissime Hospes!  
QVam Augusta sit vestra praesentia, & quam sacro horrore nostros praecellit animos utinam Oratoris vestri stupor non ita nimis testaretur; Quem enim alacritas officii nuper accenderat ut vos salutarem, impedit jam eadem Relligio nè in illas importunus ruerem inquilimus aures ubi Regum Concilia habitarunt, nec magis Alloqui quam Intueri nefas. Fulgura sunt in Amborum oculis, quorum splendorem si quis aspiceret Bidental fieret: si quis Persarum (qui venerantur solem) aspiceret, utrumque ratus suum Numen, divideret sacrificium. Nos quod attinet fatemur lippitudine, Radiorum victoriam, & hoc genunium, honoris jubar, imbellis nostra Acces eô magis commendat quo minus sustineat. Salve igitur Celeberrime Hospes! cujus gratissimi adventus (ut Capacia essent nostra pectora) magnitudo gaudii nos metipsos a Nobis exclusit foras. Ecce quot Helluones Oculi vos inspicimus! Quot in vestris vultibus, Quadragesimam violavimus! sed nos indigni tantis Dapibus; Margarita, & Regii illi Manes quos in Fundatoribus nostris numeramus, per me (tanquam per Legatum suum (ut Titulo vestro superbire liceat) adventum vobis gratulamur. Nec invideas mihi (Clarissime Advena) Legati nomen, cum Celsitudo vestra ad Gradum meum, (quem modò suscepisti) dignaretur Descendere. Humilitas nostra (quod in Bilance solet) ad apicem vestram assurgebat. Scholas vidisti, & Unicum illua Sacellum: Quorum Alteri do●uist● Literas, Alteri Pietatem: & quid amplius studes apud nos invisere? Eccum Academiam integram! Cancellarium Dignissimum! Qui quicquid Cantabrigia nostra in se complectitur plenius repraesentat. Theatra, & Scholarum Pyramides, Nos ludibundi Vitruvii Ludificavimus Chartis: Tu, Tu, Architectus fortunae nostrae, cujus magnificentiae vel pectoris nostri audaciam superabit. Multus sum (Honoratissime) Orator in Cancellarii deb●tissimis laudibus, ut scias Qualis Heros, Qualis Heros, Quantus Aliorum Patronus Honori vestro hodiè inserviat. Certè dum vos majorum gentium Nobiles simul astantes videam, nescio Quis Isthmus Galliam & Britaniam (invito Oceano) conjunxisse videatur. Quin perpetu●s sit iste nodus, & ità Gordianus, u● neuter Alexander discindat Gladio. Plura vellem, & usque pergeret votorum pietas, sed Rictus (Diviti Arg●●mento) plusquam Demosthenes Anginam patior: Quare si Aures vestras (Regibus assuetas) nimis detinendo sacrilegus fuer●m; si quid deliquerim, Haec sa●ltem sit subitae Orationis provida Temeritas, ut nè paratus ad peccandum prodiisse videar.  
Sic Dixit J. Cleaveland.   

An Oration of the same Author, publicly spoken before the Chancellor of Cambridge, and the French Ambassador.  
HOw August your presence is, and with how sacred a horror it strikes our minds, I wish the amazement of your Orator did not too apparently testify, for the same duty which of late stirred me up with cheerfulness to salute you, is now become a kind of religion in me, lest I should rush, an importunate inmate upon those nice ears where the Counsels of Kings have dwelled: Nor is it less a crime to look upon you then to speak before you lightning appears in your eyes, upon whose too powerful splendour whoever shall presume to look, must become a Bidental sacrifice; If any of the Persians, who have the Sun in Veneration should chance to behold you, he would take each of you for his own deity, and so divide his sacrifice. But as to what concerns ourselves we confess by our dazzled eyes the victory of your rays, and this genuine lustre of honour our weak sight so much the more commends, by how much the less it is able to endure the brightness of it; Hail therefore thrice renowned guest, whose most grateful arrival (that our breasts might be so much the more capacious to receive you) hath with the excess of joy driven us out of ourselves: behold how many greedy eyes glut themselves with the beholding of you, how many lents have we broken in your gladsome aspect, a●d yet we are unworthy of such delicates; Great Margareta, and the Souls of those royal persons whom we number amongst our founders, by me as their Ambassador (a title I have cause to boast of) congratulate your coming hither, nor need you envy me, most illustrious guest the Title of Ambassador, since your Highness hath been pleased to descend to my degree, which you have so lately taken upon you, or rather our humility, as in equal poise of the balances raised itself up to your height. You have seen our Schools, and that famous Chapel, to the one of which you have taught learing, to the other piety, and what is there more among us that you can desire to see, behold the whole University, behold our most Noble Chancellor; who, whatsoever our Cambridge comprehends, represents with high advantage; behold, our structures and the Magnificence of our Schools wherein with the sport of Art we have put to shame whatsoever hath been described by Vitruvius, 'tis you, great Sir, 'tis you who are the Architect of our fortune, and whose magnificence will far exceed the highest glories we can presume to imagine. I am the more ample; most honoured guest, in the deserved praises of our Chancellor that you may be the more sensible, what worthy, what Hero, how great a Patron of others it is, who is this day subservient to your virtue and excellence; Certainly while I see two of the most Illustrious personages of two such great Nations in place together, there seems I know not what Isthmus, maugre the swelling ocean, to have joined France & Britain into one; and may this knot be everlasting, and so strongly Gordian, that no Alexander may be able to cut it asunder with his sword. Farther I would expatiate, and the zeal of my wishes should still go on forward, but that by the richness of the Argument, my mouth already suffers a squinancy greater than ever Demosthenes felt: wherefore if I have been sacrilegious in detaining overlong your ears accustomed only to the speech of Kings, if in this I have been aught criminal, let it at least be imputed to the provident temerity of my overhasty Oration, that I may not be thought to have come prepared to offend.  
J. Cleaveland.    


Ejusdem Oratio in Scholis habita cum Junior Baccalaureus in Tripodem deputaret. Cantab.  
QVos nè videre possum citra Oculorum Hyperbolen, quomodo vos appellarem: & cum altissimus vester Gradus, sine scalâ occupare nequit, Quaenam Orationis Climax vestram scandet Dignitatem? Vestram dum suspicl● in meo vultu invenio purpuram: & ingentis curae quae pr●standae observan●e a me habet sollicitum non novi subtilius Argumentum quam stuporem. Quod autem Poetarum Princeps Deorum senatum ad suam cogit 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, pari liceat & mili vos invitare ad hoc Ludicrum certamen nostrum. Vmbra'st haec nostra contentio & Icon Belli. Murium, & Ranarum Pugna quid aliud fuit quam Iliadis Brachygraphia: & in pusillis illis animalculis, Hector & Achilles (tanquam Iliads in Nuce) coarctantur. Ea s●q●idem est pensi nostri conditio, ut Hic etiam Mars & Venus implicati jacent. Pugna est, sed Ludicra: Lusus, & tamen Bellicus, ità ut nec bis cincta placeat Philosophia, nec nuda Cithara. Qui virili togâ indutus, nec dum reliquit Nuces, sed totus jocos crepat. Hujus ●go Palladam, Posthumam Cerebri sui prol●n existimabo▪ Qui in hisce Floralibus solus Cato, & inter Philosophiae spinas nullos admittis Rhetoricae Flores, Hujus Minerva ad Amazonis instar, altera mamma destituitur. Ille demum sit miles noster, qui & sese praestet ingenii veliten●, & Philosophiae Cataphractum; qui & virislter audet disputare, & cum Bipode Tripode par-imparludere. Me quod spectat: Ita Rationem ad agendum subduxi meam, ut utrunque munus molior simul, & subterfugiam, Et pudibunda, metum inter & officium, Musa, & fugit ad salices, & videri cupit.  
Sic Dixit J. Cleaveland.   

An Oration of the same Author delivered in the public Schools: When he was junior Bachelor, and was to dispute upon the Tripos.  
YOu whom I cannot look upon without a Hyperbole of eyes, by what name, or title shall I be able to salute you? And since your high and mighty degree cannot be reached without a Ladder, what Climax of Oration will serve to climb your dignity? while I suspect my cheeks to be hung with your scarlet, nor do I know a more subtle argument of that exceeding care which holds me solicitous of rendering you your due respect then my silence and astonishment, but whereas the Prince of Poets brought the Senate of the gods to his battle of Frogs & Mice; by the same reason I may make bold to invite you to this sportive Combat, or contention of ours, which is a shadow, or image of war; the fight of the Mice and Frogs, what was it other than the shorthand of the Iliads, Hector & Achilles drawn in little in those petty animals, like the Iliads compressed within a Nut shell, and such also is the condition of our task, that Mars and Venus may here be seen entangled together. It is a fight but sportive, a play which yet hath in it somewhat of war; so that streight-laced Philosophy will not here be seasonable, nor the bare Harp alone; he, who clad in the Robe of manhood hath not yet left his toys, but seems as if he were made up of jests, his Minerva I shall esteem the posthume offspring of his own brain; the man, who appears a mere Cato in these May-games, and among the prickly Thorns of Philosophy admits no flowers of Rhetoric, his fancy like and Amazon seems bereft of one pap. Our Soldier must be such a one as can show himself, both a light Horsman of wit, and a Cuirasser of Philosophy; who dares both manfully dispute, and play at even, or odd with the two legged Animal, and the Tripos, or three legged stool. As for me, I have so ordered my affairs, as to perform both offices together, and yet provide for an escape: Thus my Muse at a loss between duty and distrust, both fly's to the reeds, and yet desires to be seen.  
J. Cleaveland.    


Ejusdem Oratio Salutatoria in adventum Illustrissimi Principis Palatinati. Cantabrig.  
Serenissime Comes Palatine:  
SI Archetypam corporis vestri elegantiam possem transcibere, & Orationem mea●● tanquam venustatis Metaphoram, ● vestro vult●● deducere, ita imaginem vestram aemutis encomiis exprimerem, 〈◊〉 qui spectatum venias, venires spectandus, & unicum esser joannense spect aculum 〈◊〉 tibi ostentare. Sed quoniam ad solares hosce radios caligat ponitus Atheniensis noctua▪ gratulor mihi meam in●rtiam, stup●rem jact●. Ita enim cum Sacratissimo Principe in Trutina quadam sum collocatus, ut in quantum deprimat me mea humilis facult as, in tantum sursum nititu● vestra Sublimitas. Salve igitur (Desideratissim● Princeps) hujus Collegii Ani●●a, ceu potiu● Omnium Animarum Collegium. Ita tibi singuli devoti sumus, & in obsequium vestrum juncta phalange ruimus. Ecce tibi Majorum tuorum monument a Margaretae (quae Semiramis invideat) cocta moenia: Margaretae, & Henrici septimi, & nostrum omnium matri●, quae uno partu enixa est, quot Herculem fabulantur genuisse, quinquaginta Socios. Nec tibi, stemmati▪; vestro solam Margareta● debemus, quin & paternae gloriae haeres esto, Fredericum volo beatissimae memoriae, qui vigintiab hinc plus minus annis, unà cum Augustissimo (tunc temporis surgente julo) ad hanc Margaretae sobolem, quasi compatres, & susceptores accesserunt. O quam laeti meditamur istum natalem nostrum, diemque adeò Festum: ut muros hosce, sacro quodam Minio pinxisse videatur. Ecquid huic foelicitati superesse possit, ut quot patris splendore semel tinctum, vestro olim foret Dibaphum; sequeris patrem jam passibus aequis. Euge Principem pretiosum in quo omnium legimus simulacra Autographa, Margaretae Palladium. Frederici patris numisma aureum, & matris Corneliae ornamentum, Elizabethae dulcissimae, & in vestro cultu totam Deam confessae; cujus laudes ut hodiernum saeculum effundit, ita posteritatis eccho reparabat, cuius mascula anima jam sexu vestitur masculo Elizabetha Carolo. O quam luxuriat dicendi Seges! O quam Decies repetitus placebit Carolus! Carolus, Caroli sobrinus, & Caroli avunculus. O ●eatissima Carolorum Climax! Macte esto gradibus Carolina scala, ut cum pra altitudine tuâ supremus Rex Carolus co●lum petat, novi subinde succrescant Caroli, quibus (quasi Internodiis) distincta ejus aeternitas usque & usque floreat, sit ipse subinde superstes Carolus non hominum (parùm Ilium Nestoris) sed Carolorum tres aetates vivunt filii sobrini utriusque Caroli.  
Sic dixit. J. Cleveland.   

A Salutatory Oration of the same Author, upon the arrival of the Most illustrious Prince Palatine.  
Most Serene Prince:  
If I were able to copy out the natural handsomeness and elegant composure of your body, and to deduce my Oration, as the Metaphor of beauty, from your person, I should so set forth your Idea with emulous praises, that you who came to behold, should then come only to be seen and admired, and it would be the only design of St. john's College to show you unto yourself. But since, like the Athenian Owl, I am almost blinded with those bright Sunlike rays, I applaud myself in my own weakness; and boast my stupidity; for being placed, as it were, in the ●eales with you (most Sacred Prince) so much as my humble faculty depres●eth me, so much your sublime Excellence is raised up and advanced: Hail therefore, most desired Prince, the soul of this College, or rather the College of all Souls. So devoted are every one of us unto you, that we rush in a united Brigade, into the respect and observance of you. Behold here the monuments of your Ancestors, great Margaret's stately walls, to be envied of Semiramis herself: walls, I may say, of pearl, as being the structure of this famous Margaret, the mother both of Henry the leventh, and of this whole Society of us here, having at one birth brought forth as many as Hercules himself is ●abled to have begotten at one time, to wit, fifty Fellows: nor do we owe ●nto you, and unto your noble Lineage Margaret alone, but we also look upon you, as the true Heir of your Father's glory, Frederick of most happy memory, who about twenty years ago, together with the most August, the rising julius of his time, came, as it were Godfathers, or Undertakers hither to this Progeny of the great Margaret; Oh how joyfully do we call to remembrance that birthday of ours, a day so joyful and festival, that it seems to have le●t a tincture of sacred Vermilion upon these walls, to this day. What more could we have desired to have been added to our felicity, than that what hath once been puprled by your Father's splendour, should be died in grain by yours, who so closely follow the tract of your Father's noble footsteps; go on, most highly valued Prince, in whom we plainly read, naturally and lively described by yourself, the resemblances of all your Ancestors at once, the Palladium of Margaret, the golden Medal of your Father Frederick, the ornaments of Cornelia-chaste Elizabeth your Mother, who this day appear to us all Goddess, in the excellence of your form and virtues; and whose praises, as the present age is filled with, so the echo of Poster● tie will ever repeat, whose masculine soul is now invested with a masculine Sex, Elizabeth with the masculine Charles; Oh how many new occasions still crowd upon my discourse, to make it swell into a vast bulk? how grateful is the name of Charles, though ten times repeated? Charles the Cousin of Charles, and the Uncle of Charles. Oh happy Climax of Charles'! Let this Caroline scale be an increase of your Honour many degrees, that when our King Charles, at the very top of it, shall touch Heaven for height, there may hyet spring up new Charles, by which his eternity distinguished (as it were by Internodes) may never cease to flourish, and may Charles himself, in the mean while survive, not three ages of men (for we regard not Nestor's Ilium) but three lives of Charles, the posterity of both Cozen-German●, and long may they also live.    


Ejusdem Oratio in Scholis Publicis habita cum Patris Officio fungeretur. Cantab.  
QVàm equivocum sit nomen Patris, quota, & quam discolor officii ratio, si non aliundè, ab hâc variâ frequentiâ (severiores viri & lepidssima Proles) possem dignoscere; si enim ad singula Auditiorum ingenia quilshet Orator componendus sit, it a ut cum senibus Tussiat, rideat cum Pueris, Quid ergò Hominis? Quale futurus sum Monstrum? Gravitate & nucibus Patre & Puero interpunctum. Quod in Dispartitâ, Aquilâque expansâ fieri videmus unum corpus duplicem ostentare faciem, eadem est nostra ergò vos & Fil●os Bifrons conditio. Hos cum aspicio sum Senex Aquila, Pullos meos ad vestrum jubar exportatura; ubi vos è contrà, nescio quo modo, & ipse in Pullum redeo, & (ad instar Aquilae) juventam renovo. Duae igitur Dramatis Personae sustinendae sunt, Vestrâ in scaenâ acturus sum Filium, in vestrâ Patrem, alterum genu flexum, alterum stabit Elephantinum. Oscillatione quod aiunt superam modò, modò infimam occupato partem, partim Puer, partim Senex, qualis Aeson, ille in Ahaeno Medeae semicoctus. Et quae quidem aptior via inveniri potest quam per ferulam ad fasces? per Filii scabellum, ad Culmen Patris assurgere? serviendum ut Imperes, Aulicorum methodus: A vitulo ad Bovem Milonis progressus, Vobis igitur (viri Gravissimi) primitiae nostrae sunt consecrandae, quos s● nullo, vel (quod perinde est) translato honore persequar, non dico causam quin Filii mei improbitate erga me pari, injuriam vestram ulciscantur. Neque tamen interea noscimus quali vos compellarem nomine, Quorum Erudii●o scribit Academiae Maritos, Obsequium malit Filios. Perplexus fuit & Tortuosus ille incesti nodus, quem de Oedipo suo fabulatur Graecia; Major Maeander unusquisque vestrum, quorum cum Eruditione Acadëmia Ma●er Gravida fuit, & quotannis parturiat; Quorum praeceptis & exemplari vir●●●e, quam Tenella Pubes (quasi Binis Uberibus) lactatur indies. Non Oedipus majori cum Aenigmate sceleratus, quam quilibet vestrum suis: Matris Maritus, uxoris Filius, & Fratrum Pater: Neque hic sistat Divina vestra Indoles, enjus vel pictura est satis prolifi●a, siquidem Alma Mater ubi concipiat vestram speciem ob oculos ponit, vestrum instar repraesentat Animos, ut masculam magis excultam enitatur sobolem, Illi, Illi estis, quibus si antè invent as liter as contigisset vixisse, Imagines vestras ab Aegyptiis expressas, hodiè pro Artibus, & scientiis legeremus. Non ego sequax erroris Illius qui nihil egregium ducit, nisi quod vetustum: qui praesentia fastidit Tempora, & hesterno jure Panem atrum devorat, Senescat (s● Di●s placet) Natura; Majoribus Nostris dedit Animarum jugera, nobis spithamas: Gigantes Illi, Nos Pusiones: Degene●es 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 Quod nequeo. Humilis principii nobilis progressus. Habeant quod suum est Antiqui, sed ne in solidum fiant Domini, suas sibi laudes vindicent, sed vestras vobis nè accipiant, Quorum ego meritis tantum confido, ut veterum sicut ego canitiem veneror, sic misereor impotentiam, Ructarunt illi Glandes, vestrum est Triticum. Calceati eorum denies & victus asper; vestrae Dapes, & ingeni● gulae, quibus quod retro est soeculum stravit tantum mensas, erit a quadris ficturum. Clari Convivae quibus obsonantur Antiqui, ministrant Posteri! sed qu●m effrons Ego, & Devorati pudoris, qui dum vestra molior encomia orationem meam tantae f●licitatis Commensalem reddam. Liceat tamen peccare (a●ditores) ut Ignoscatis: purpura elotis maculis, iterat●â injuriâ gloriabor de culpâ à vob●s remissâ, magis quam de Innocentiâ. julius Sabinus quum a Romae Imperio defecisset, fusis jam copiis & afflictis Rebus; in Monumentum quoddam se abdidisse dicitur, ubi cum uxore tamdiu latuerit, ut plures filios ex ea suciperet: Tandem verò deprehensus, & pro Tribunali positus, Filios suos in medium sistens, sic affatur judicem, Parce, Parce, Caesar: Hos in Monumento genu●. Hosce alui, ut Tibi plures essemus supplices! vestram fidem (Auditores) quicquamnè uspiam dictum Rotundius! O vanas spes tuas Cicero: Frustrà susceptos labores! O cogitationes inanes Tuas! Tinnis Tinnis prae Hô● Oratorum Maximo; Qui si cum uxore tuâ Rhetoricâ tamdiu in Musaeo clusus esses, quam ille in Monumento, nunquam Orationem hujus parem genuisses. Gra●ias Tibi (Sabine) de hâc excusatione meâ, qui cum necesse sit ut delinquam, habeo tamen deprecandi Formulam: Habeo Filios Quos ostendam, Hanc circumstantem Rhetoricam; Magna, Magna est Infantum Eloquentia qui eo plus exorant quo minus loquantur. Suorum ilicet tacendi in praesens utar, neq●e dubito quin plus favoris demerear silentio quam ulteriori taedio.  
Six Dixit J. Cleaveland.   

An Oration spoken by the same Author in the public Schools, when he took upon him the office of Father.  
HOw equivocal the name of Father is, what and how various the reason of the paternal office, if by no other means beside (Grave Bench of Seniority, and your more frolic Offspring) yet from this mixed concourse of Auditors, I might be enabled to judge; for if every Orator should be driven to frame his behaviour according to the humour and capacity of all sorts of Hearers, so as to cough with old men, to laugh with boys, what kind of man would this dexterity require, or indeed what kind of monster must he be, interpointed with graviy and whirlegigs, with Father and Children; that which we see happens in the divided, or double-spred Eagle, where one body presents to view two faces, the same is our double- fronted condition towards hyou, Grave Seniors, and toward these my Sons, these, when I behold, I am the old Eagle, and going about to expose my young ones to the test of your piercing rays; when yourselves, on the other side I look upon, I also myself, I know not how, return into a Chicken, and, like a true Eagle, renew my youth. In this Comedy therefore, I am to take upon me two persons, in your Scene I must act the Son, in yours the Father; the one with a bended knee, the other stiff as an Elephant: I fancy myself at the tottering game cal●'d Oscillation, where sometimes I possess the upper part, sometimes the lower; partly a child, partly an old man, like that famous Aeson of old, half boiled in the cauldron of Medea; and what fitter way can there be found out, than by the rod of correction, to arrive at the staff of authority; by the low settle of a Son, to come to the reverend chair of a Father. We must serve, that we may obey; it is the rule of Courtiers: and, according to Milo's practice, the way to come up to an Ox, is to begin at a Calf. To you therefore, most Reverend Sages, our first fruits are to be consecrated: but in case I shall be thought to accost you with none, or, which is as bad, with borrowed honour: I see no reason, but my Sons may, with the like disobedience toward me, revenge your injury; nor do I yet know in the mean time, by what title to salute you, whose learning may style you the Husbands of the University, whose obedience may rather make you pass for her Sons. Intricate and perplexed was that incestuous riddle, which Greece reports of her son Oedipus; but every one of you are a more involved Meander; with your learning, our Mother● University impregnated, brings forth every year, by your precepts and exemplary virtue, as it were by two teats, the tender babes are suckled every day; so that Oedipus himself was never branded with a more mysterious incest, than each of you are guilty of, being the Husband of your Mother, the Son of your Wife, and the Father of your brethren, nor do your Divine fancies rest here, your very Portraitures being apt enough for generation, for as our sacred Mother when she conceives, puts some of your Ideas before her eyes, and hath a representation of Souls like unto you, that she may bring forth a Masculine and perfect offspring, such and so Authentic you are, that if you had chanced to live before Letters were invented, your pictures express' as Hieroglyphics by the Egyptians might have been read at this day instead of Arts and Sciences, I am not addicted to that vulgar error, of those that esteem nothing of any moment unless what is ancient, such loath the present time, and in favour of yesterday feed upon course bread; Nature so sooth must grow old, to our ancestors she gave acres of Soul, to us but spans, they were Giants, we but Dwarves; how degenerous, and truly little Souls have they that persist in this opinion; the later ages have gained, and not become bankrupt, those indeed were the great Grandfathers of Letters, but how many families are there, the first of which were, I will not tell what, the second I cannot tell what; a mean beginning hath ofttimes a fair and happy progress; let the Ancients have attributed to them what is their due, but let them not be altogether Deified, they may challenge to themselves their deserved praises, but must not defraud you of yours; so much respect I bear to the Ancients, that I both reverence their grey hairs, and pity their decays; they be●ch forth Acorns, but to you belongs the Wheat, their teeth were Hobnailed, and their fare course, but to you belong the delicates, and the luxury of wit, to you the past ages, cover the table, and the future times attend with Trenchers, happy guests as you are, whom Antiquity feasts, and posterity waits upon at Table: but how frontless am I, and as it were eaten out of shame, who while I attempt your Praises make my own Oration a fellow-commoner of so much felicity, yet perhaps it may be allowable to let slip some offences, that you (gentle Auditors) may have what to pardon; the spots being once washed away out of my scarlet, and the Grain renwed, I shall glory more in that fault which you shall think worthy to be remitted, then in having been altogether innocent. julius Sabinus having revolted from the Roman Empire, when he had been overthrown in battle, and reduced to the utmost extremity he is said to have shut himself up in an old Mounment, where together with his w●fe he lay hid for divers years, and during that time had begotten a great company of Children; but at last being dis●●vered and brought before the judgement seat he placed his Sons before him, and addressing himself to the Sovereign Judge, Spare me, said he, spare me great Caesar, these Sons have I begot in the Monument, and I have brought them up carefully, to the end that we might come the greater number of suppliants before you; to you (courteous Auditors) I appeal, what could there have been said more effectual than this; Vain were thy hopes, O Cicero; In vain thy great pains bestowed, or were thy soaring fancies any thing but flashes, thou wert but low, and flat in respect of this most excellent of Orators; nor, hadst thou been shut up in thy Musaeum with Rhetoric thy wife, couldst thou ever have begot Orations like to his. I render thee thanks, O Sabinus, for this my excuse, who since I could not but prove peccant, have yet by this means met with so handsome a precedent of begging favour. I have also my Sons to show, this crowd of Rhetoric that stands about me; Great, Great is the eloquence of Children, who so much the more prevail, by how much the less they speak; their example therefore for the present I shall follow, and doubt not but I shall better deserve by being silent, then by the tediousness of my proceeding forward.  
J. Cleavel●●d.  
FINIS.    

COurteous Reader, by reason of my so far●e distance of place, some few Erratas (too usual in printing) have escaped in the Latin Copies, the Judicious that rightly knew our learned Author, will not impute such common Errors▪ incident to the Press, to him, and therefore I have not thought them worthy of taking notice of. There are some other faults in the English, p. 12. r. for little Gentlewoman, little Gentleman. Other mistakes correct with thy more favourable judgement, Farewell.  E. W.  

Courteous Reader,  
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FINIS.