A Farrago Of several PIECES.  
Newly written by RICHARD FLECKNOE.  
Being a SUPPLEMENT TO HIS Poems, Characters, Heroic Pourtraits, Letters, and other DISCOURSES formerly Published by him.  
Quicquid Agunt homines—  
— Nostri est Farrago Libelli.  
LONDON, Printed for the Author, 1666.   

To Her Grace MARGARET Duchess of Newcastle.  
MADAM,  
THE Stork (they say) in sign of Gratitude, leaves always some of its young to the house where it builds its Nest. This Gratitude I strive to imitate in these Pieces of mine, made (most of them) under your Grace's Roof at Welbeck: And if I appear too presumptuous to Dedicate so little and worthless a Work as this, to your Grace, who writes so Great and Worthy Ones, I hope in your Goodness, Madam, you will pardon me; for to whom should the Little fly for Protection, but to the Great? And the worthless, but to the Worthy, to dignify and honour them? Accept then, Madam, I beseech you, this small Acknowledgement of his Infinite Obligation unto your Grace, who shall rather die; than not live  
Your Grace's most humbly devoted Servant, Richard Flecknoe.   

PREFACE.  
To his Noble Friends.  
THE Mortality of the last Year, has given Life to most of these Pieces, which I made in the Country, whilst I fled thât in Town; nor is it strange that the Corruption of one, should be the Generation of another.  
I make them short, because I would have them read; and easy, because I'd have them understood; and writ them only for mine own, and my Friend's Recreation; not for the Critics nor Vulgar; for those who are too wise, or who are not wise enough: And as I writ them, so I publish them only for my Friends, and should be sorry they should come into the hands of any other.  
I pretend no place for them in Bodle●s Library, (that is for greater Volumes) for mine, all I can hope for, is to ●ave them have some place in a Friend's Closet, or Lady's Cabinet; and as others writ to live when they are dead, I writ only that they may not think me dead, whilst I am alive. When I am dead, let Posterity dispose of my memory as it pleases. Alive, I desire to live with this Reputation, of conserving an inviolable Faith unto my Friends, a Loyal heart to my Prince, and a Good Conscience to Almighty God.   

ON THE QVEENS Being with Child.  
OUR vows are heard O Heaven! our vow● are heard,  
Though for our greater faith a while differed.  
The Queen's with Child; and in her fruitful womb  
Are all our wishes past, and hopes to come.  
It was the greatness of the benefit  
Made Heaven, it seems, so slow in granting it:  
Who's l●ng in making of great Princes, though  
In making lesser people 'tis not so;  
And does consult no less about it, than  
When th' world begun, 'bout making the first man▪  
So though with us, our Potters every day  
Make Urns and Pitchers of more common clay:  
●et vesse●s of more precious mould we see  
●n China must whole age● making be;  
●nd by the curious Artist must be had  
● thousand cautions too before th' ar' made.  
●ut now 'tis done, and Carolus has an heir,  
●hiefly obtained by Catharinas prayer.  
So pious Hanna once for Children prayed,  
Until at last a child from Heaven she had:  
When she converted all her prayers to praise,  
As now our no-less-pious Hanna has.  
What may we imagine, must this Infant be,  
Who is the Child of so much piety?  
As the Conception did, so may the Birth.  
Hold more immediately of Heaven than Earth.  
So Princes should b● born, whose lives should be  
Nighest approaching to divinity:  
As those to whom (being Gods on earth) is given  
To be most like unto the Gods in heaven.  
They say Heaven suffers violence, and from whence  
But force of prayer proceeds this violence?  
O mighty Prayer! that can such wonders do,  
To force both Heaven and the Almighty too.  
Fools were those Giants then since if instead  
Of heaping Hills on Hills, as once they did,  
They had but heaped up prayers on prayers as fast,  
They might have easily conquered Heaven at last.  
there's nothing now that England may despair  
T' obtain of Heaven by Catharinas prayer:  
Let us have faith in her, but to confide,  
And she has faith enough for all beside.   

On Her Miscarrying.  
NOT yet! but must she iterate her prayer  
Before heaven grants, & Carolus has an heir?  
And has it only impregnated her womb,  
To give assurance that an heir will come?  
If so, we are satisfied, O Gracious Heaven!  
And thank thee, for th' assurance thou hast given.  
This was a pattern only (it seems) to show  
What men were to expect, and God could do.  
As Statuaries little models make,  
From which for greater works they patterns take.  
Let all who grieve, that she's miscarried, then  
Take comfort, that she'll soon conceive again:  
Which since 'tis caused by her fruitfulness,  
Does make our Hopes the more, though Joys the less:  
So when trees once have born, it is a sign  
That they will bear again another time.  
What, though their first fruit by untimely frost  
Or Hail, or wind, or some mischance be lost;  
Why should we grieve? since weare assured they'll bear  
Us other fruit again, another year.   

TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE Duke of YORK, Returning from our Naval Victory, over the Hollanders, June 3. Ann. 1665. Under His Royal Highness' happy conduct.  
GReater and famouser then ere  
Cesar or Alexander were,  
Renowned by land as well as they,  
And now far more Renowned by sea.  
What those great Hero's could not do,  
He has both done, and outdone too;  
Far more beloved of Heaven than they  
To whom both Waves and Winds obey,  
Till Empire of the Seas we get,  
No victory can be complete:  
For Land and Sea make but one Ball,  
They had but half, he has it all.  
No more let vain Batavians boast,  
The Watery Empire they have lost,  
Rebbels by Sea, as once by Land,  
If now they obey not his command:  
Nor think themselves and State undone,  
Because by him they're overcome,  
It is a kind of Victory  
To be overcome by such as he.  
Increased in stile, we well may call  
Him (now) the whole world's Admiral,  
Whilst mighty Charles with Trident stands,  
And like some God the Sea commands.  
Great Prince! the honour of our days  
And utmost bound of humane praise,  
Having by Land and Seas overcome;  
What now remains but to come home:  
And fixed in our British Sphere,  
Shine a bright Constellation there,  
Greater and famouser than e'er  
Caesar or Alexander were,   

TO HIS HIGHNESS PRINCE RUPERT.  
On the same.  
GReat and Magnanimous Prince, surpassing far  
Him who was styled the Thunderbolt of war.  
The Belgic- Lion trembles for to see,  
A mighti●r Lion than itself in thee.  
And quite abandoning the Seas command,  
Roaring for fear, does hide itself on land,  
And Zealand one no more dares to appear  
But sinks into the waves, and hides it there:  
Lions no more but rather Wolves of prey,  
〈◊〉 all men hate, and all men chase away.  
〈◊〉 Navy shattered, and their courage lost,  
What's now become of all their glorious boast  
Of 〈◊〉 us? themselves n●w conquered,  
〈…〉 more for shame to show their head:  
〈…〉 be to add,  
A 〈…〉 to the first we had.  
M●an tim● th● ●ritons hissing them to scorn,  
〈…〉  
And Sea-Nymphs ri●●ng from their watery bed,  
Make wreaths for crowning thy victorious head.  
So should the Conquerors be ●rown'd, and so  
The Conquered hist, and scorned, where e'er they go.  
Greatest Example of Heroic worth,  
As ever yet our latter age brought forth.  
As formerly the Land of Britain was,  
So now the Sea's too narrow for thy praise.  
Which will in time so immense become, as we  
Must seek new Worlds and tongues for praising thee,  
And 'twill at last become the work alone  
Of Ecstasy, and Admiration.  
Great and Magnanimous Prince surpassing far,  
Him who was styled the Thunderbolt of War.   

TO JANUS.  
Recomending Welbeck to him, etc. On Newyears-day, An. 1666.  
THOU that art always old and new,  
That yearly dost thy youth renew,  
And yearly too, more aged grow,  
janus, if ever thou'lt bestow  
A well deserved gift, and grace,  
On any persons, any place:  
Bestow it now, this present year  
Upon this place, and persons here;  
Preserve them long in safety, and  
With them, preserve the King and Land:  
For they would not be safe, I know,  
Unless the King and Land were so.  
First, drive this year from England far,  
All other wars, but foreign war;  
And let our Enemies only prove  
The harm of Mars, who harm do love.  
Next, let no storms our Seas molest  
Where th' peaceful Halcyon builds her nest.  
But to those Coasts and Climates go,  
That Halcyon-days did never know▪  
Lastly, that plague which where it comes,  
Unpeoples' Towns, and people's Tombs;  
Drive hence; and what is worse than that,  
All Traitors to the King and State.  
That so delivering of our Isle  
From all its fears, we may the while  
Abroad, Sea-monsters overcome,  
And its Land-monsters too, at home.  
Another gift thou hast in store,  
Which if thou grant, we ask no more;  
That this year, to our Royal King  
And Queen, may happy Issue bring.  
This janus grant and thou shalt see  
Each year, on this solemnity:  
More vows unto thee, we shall pay,  
And offerings, on thy Altars lay,  
Then ever was, or shall be paid,  
Or ever on thy Altars laid:  
Since out of Chaos, all was born,  
Till unto Chaos, all return.   

On Welbeck.  
WElbeck a place of much Renown, betwixt  
Your best of ancient, and of modern mixed.  
As if one age alone could not suffice,  
For building such a noble Edifice.  
No petty Garnishments that look so spruce,  
As they were more for ornament then use;  
Nor Towers nor Turrets in the air again,  
As they were rather built for birds than men:  
But all large, and capicious you find  
Justly proportioned to the Owners mind;  
All great and solid, as in ancient times  
Before our modern buildings were our crimes.  
Entered, at first, you'd think you entered some  
Huge Piazza made for all the world to come.  
So great men's Houses should be builded great,  
And not so much for prospect, as receipt.  
Amongst the rest the Stables all appear,  
As if each one, some Princely Palace were:  
And 'twas but fit they should be so, where all  
The Horses, you of princely race might call.  
For the Riding-House 'tis of so vast extent,  
It does some mighty Temple represent.  
Where seeing them ride, Admiring Indians would  
Adore each Horse there as a Semi-God:  
And if this to the Horse, what would they do  
To him who rides, and animates them too?  
From hence beholding of the Park, you'd say  
For pleasantness 'twere some Arcadia,  
And think you saw the jolly Nymphs and Swains  
Feeding their flocks upon the lawns and plains,  
And heard them in the pleasant woods and groves,  
Enchant your ears, with chanting of their loves.  
'Mong trees so thick and fair they seem th' abodes  
Not only of Rural birds, but rural gods:  
But lest we lose ourselves and stray too far,  
'Tis time to th' house itself, for to repair:  
Where though the Rooms be vast, and every thing  
Seems made for entertainment of a King:  
Yet that's the least you look on, but the Lord,  
Himself the noblest prospect does afford.  
In whom your late Nobility may see  
What th' ancient were, and modern aught to be.  
And amongst the * other Arts, he does profess,  
May learn of him the Art of Nobleness.  
He looks not (as some do) that you should d' off  
Your Hat, and make a reverence twelvescore off:  
Nor takes Exceptions if at every word  
You don't repeat your Grace, or else my Lord;  
But as they'd seem great men by Pride, so he,  
Is one indeed by noble courtesy:  
And does appear a hundred times more great,  
By leaving it, than they by keeping state:  
Whence h'as so high a reputation got,  
Amongst all that know, & all that know him not;  
Through all degrees of honour he has past,  
Of Viscount, Earl, Marquess, and Duke at last.  
H'as ever had the general esteem,  
Of honouring them, more than they honoured him.   

ON THE Duchess of Newcastles Closet.  
WHat place is this! looks like some sacred Cell▪  
Where Holy Hermits anciently did dwell,  
And never ceased importunating Heaven,  
Till some great Blessing unto Earth was given!  
Is this a Lady-Closet! 't cannot be,  
For nothing here of vanity you see;  
Nothing of curiosity, nor pride,  
As all your Lady's Closets have beside.  
Scarcely a Glass, or Mirror in't you find,  
Excepting Books, the Mirrors of the mind.  
Nor is't a Library, but only as she,  
Makes each place where she comes a Library,  
Carrying a living Library in her brain  
More worth than Bodleys or the Vatican.  
Here she's in Rapture, here in Ecstasy,  
With studying high and deep Philosophy.  
Here those clear Lights descend into her Mind,  
Which by Reflection in her Books you find;  
And those high Notions and Ideas too,  
Which none before, but she, did ever know:  
Whence she's her Sex's Ornament and Grace  
And Glory of the Times, hail sacred Place!  
To which the world in aftertimes shall come,  
As unto Homer's shrine, or Virgil's Tomb,  
Honouring the walls wherein she made abode,  
The Air she breathed, & ground on which she troed▪  
So Fame rewards the Arts, and so again,  
The Arts shall honour her who honoured them,  
Whilst others, who in other hopes did trust,  
Shall after death, lie in forgotten dust.   

TO LILLY, Drawing the Countess of Castlemains PICTURE.  

STay daring man! and ne'er presume to draw  
Her Picture, till thou may'st such colours get,  
As Zeuxes and Apelles never saw,  
Nor e, re were known by any Painter yet.   

Till from all Beauties thou extracts the Grace,  
And from the Sun, the beams that gilled the Skies;  
Never presume to draw her Beauteous face,  
Nor the bright Beams, and Sunshine of her Eyes▪   

In vain the whilst thou dost the labour take,  
Since none can set her forth to her desert;  
She who's above all Nature e'er did make,  
Much more's above all can be made by Art.   

Yet been't discouraged, since who e'er does see't,  
At least with admiration must confess,  
It has an air for charming, and for sweet,  
Much more than others, though, then Hers much less.   

So the bold Giants who would scale the sky,  
Although they in their high attempt did fall;  
This comfort had, they mounted yet more high  
Than those who never strove to climb at all.   

Comfort thee then, and think it no disgrace,  
From that great height a little to decline,  
Since all must grant, the reason of it was  
Her too great Excellence, and no want of thine.    

ON Mrs. STVART.  
Formerly printed, but after an imperfect Copy.  
STUART a Royal Name that springs  
From th' Race of Caledonian Kings▪  
Whose virtuous parts and beauteous frame  
Adds honour to that Royal Name.  
What praises can I worthy find  
To celebrate thy form and mind?  
The greatest power that is on earth  
Is given to Princes by their Birth;  
But there's no power in earth, nor heaven,  
More great than what's to Beauty given:  
That makes not only men relent  
When unto Rage and Fury bend,  
But Lion's tame, and Tigers mild,  
All fierceness from their breasts exiled:  
Such wonders yet could ne'er be done  
By Beauty's force and power alone,  
Without the power and force to boot,  
Of excellent Goodness added to't;  
For just as Diamonds we behold  
More brightly shine when set in Gold:  
So Beauty shines far brighter yet,  
In virtue and noble goodness set.  
Continue then but what you are  
So excellently good and fair.  
Let Princes by their Birthrights sway,  
You'll have a power as great as They▪   

ON A Lady's Embracing a Religious life.  
A Gentle shepherdess as e'er did tread  
Upon the plains, whereon her flocks were fed;  
Inspired by him, who all good thoughts inspires,  
Felt in her breast, till than unfelt desires:  
To taste Heavens pleasures, seeing earth had none,  
A soul in longing, long could feed upon:  
But changing one, a weary of the first,  
She found the latter pleasure still the worst;  
And so went still deluded in her mind,  
Seeking for that which she could never find.  
This Infant thought, with pious care she fed,  
And with Religious education bred;  
Giving it now an Aspiration,  
Or wish for that blessed life to feed upon,  
And now a sigh, and now a tear again,  
Never to have known true happiness till then.  
Avoiding carefully those rocks and shelves,  
On which so many fouls had wracked themselves.  
Those two extremes on which so many fall,  
To undertake too much, or nought at all:  
For 'tis with new born children of desire,  
As 'tis with sparks you kindle unto fire.  
Starved with too little fuel, 'twill not light,  
Oppressed with too much, 'tis extinguished quite.  
And now she's all afire! happiness be  
Fair Virgin to thy best desires, and 〈◊〉  
So full, so high, so great a happiness,  
As nothing can be more, that is not less;  
Nothing beyond, but down the hill again,  
And all addition rather loss then gain.  
By glad experience, may'st thou find all store  
Of heart's contentmert, thou expects, and more:  
And learn that magic of Religion there,  
Make every thing quite contrary appear;  
To you, then unto us, rich poverty  
Triumphant sufferance, brave humility;  
Soft hardness, hardest difficulties slight,  
Sweet bitterness, and heaviest burdens light;  
Ease in your labour, pleasure in your pain,  
A heaven on earth, and all things else but vain.   

To the Lady Rockingham. On her nursing her Children.  
HOW like to Charity this Lady stands  
With one child sucking, t'other in her ha●d●,  
Whilst bounteous Nature parent of us all,  
Of her fair breasts is not more liberal.  
mirror of Mothers! in whom all may see  
Both what you are, and what they ought to be:  
Ready like Pelicians for your children's good,  
To give your very life, and vital blood.  
Those mothers, but half mothers, or, at best  
Who whilst they give their wombs, deny-their breast.  
And bringing children forth, they nothing do,  
Unless when they are born, they nurse them too.  
How far much better than the mother's blood  
Is mother's milk, may hence be understood;  
By milk original piety's taken in,  
But by the blood only original sin.  
Happy thrice, happy than those children are  
Of whom their Parents take such pious care!  
Whilst those as oft unhappy are again,  
Whose Parents take so little care of them.  
Such mother's little different are from those  
who anciently their children did expose:  
Who soon as they are born do leave them to  
The care and nursing of they know not who.  
How many harms the whilst to children come  
By other nurses, endless were to sum:  
Besides diseases which they suck from them  
And more malignant qualities again.  
Whence 'tis to change their kind, and nature mock  
To graft their offsprings on another stock,  
And hence it is, that often times we find  
So many children of a mongrel kind.  
Nurse still your children then, as now you do,  
By which yourself, you a true mother show;  
And if't be true that milk's but blood turned white,  
You'll show yourself great strafford's daughter right.  
Both alike, ready for the public good,  
You for to give you milk, and he his blood.   

The ANT.  

LIttle thinks thou poor Ant who there  
With so great pains, in so long time  
A grain or two to th' Cell dost bear,  
there's greater work i'th' world than thine.   

Ith' small Republic too at home,  
Where thou'st perhaps some Magistrate,  
Little thinks thou when thou dost come,  
there's greater in the world then that.   

Nor is't such wonder now in thee  
No more i'th' world, nor things dost know,  
That all thy thoughts o'th' ground should be,  
And mind on things so poor, and low.   

But that man so base mind should bear  
To fix it on a clot of ground,  
As if no greater world there were;  
Nor greater business to be found.   

He so much of the man does want  
As metamorphosed quite again,  
While thou'rt but man turned groveling Ant,  
Such groulers seem but Ants turned men.    

The Birthday.  
A General silence was in Heaven, and expectation on Earth, with a busy whispering in either, as if some great and extrordinary business was to be done. When Mercury in the name of jupiter, summoned a council of all the Gods: which being assembled, jupiter commanded the destinies to spin out one of their finest and most lasting Threads of life, to which Mars was to give a warlike spirit, Pallas wisdom, Mercury eloquence, and finally the Graces whatsoever was wanting else, to render it every ways accomplished, when Lucina presently was dispatched to earth, to assist at the nativity of this illustrious Child, whom jupiter was pleased particularly to honour, by breathing into it a spirit of his divinest air, (For though all, he inspires be celestial and divine, yet there is some grosser than others, as there is here on earth, he reserving still the most rarified and refined, for your most noblest bodies,) and those whom he favours most, mean time on earth (as at launching of some great Ship-Royal.) There was a great and joyful Assembly, in longing expectation of the Infants coming into the world; when behold the mother having invocated juno thrice, and Lucina as oft, was at last happily delivered of a Son, who had all the aforesaid endowments of Heaven, and all the applaudisments that possibly could be on Earth; for celebration of his Nativity: And as there are never wanting some on Earth, who undertake to know all that is done in Heaven. Your Astrologers undertook by inspection of his stars, and calculating his nativity, to foretell that in the management of Arms and perfect knowledge of the Equestrian Art, he should be the compleatest Cavalier of his time, and every ways the most accomplished. But it was not their predictions that made him so, but his being so, that verified their predictions.  
How he passed his youth, is not necessary to declare, (for youth most commonly are but the same in little, as afterwards they are in great when they are men,) And how great he was, would require a Chronicle to tell, as how he surpassed Lucullus rate in peace, (who held that none who could not spend a private patrimony at an entertainment, should be accounted splendid and magnificent) and Crassus rate in war, (that none should be counted rich, that could not maintain an Army at their own proper cost.) To tell his name only is Chronicle enough;) 'Tis William Duke of Newcastle▪ who as if his fate and the Crowns were inseparably conjoined, supported the Crown whilst he stood; and when (by the iniquity of the times) he fell, the Crown fell too; till they were both at last restored again, and raised to greater height than ever they were before. The Crown by Heaven's favour, and He, by favour of the Crown.   

The Portrait Of MARGARET Duchess of NEWCASTLE.  
IT will be most hard and difficult for me to make this Portrait well, since other Ladies (for the most part) are all outside, and nothing else, and when you have seen but that you have seen them all, but that which you see in her, is the least part of her, she being all soul and mind, nor could an Angel in a mortal body, be more spiritual than she, nor have more interior graces and perfections.  
For her exterior than I will only say that Heaven and Nature, never agreed better, i'th' composition of any one, giving her a beauteous mind in a beauteous body, and you would easily imagine her as good, as fair, to see (when she sees any one in misery,) how tender and compassionate she is, even like that noble Tree ready to wound herself to afford balm and cure for others wounds.  
Nor has Fortune been wanting to make her as great, as fair, and good; none ever better deserving it, by the greatness of her mind, nor comporting better with all states and conditions, whilst none ever carried it higher in adversity nor lower, and more humbly in prosperity, so counterpoising either, within herself, when others are all without themselves, or too much depressed with the one, or elated with the other. To which supreme height of wisdom, since she could not attain, without as supreme and high Philosophy; It ocurs in the next place, to speak of that.  
For which, I need only remit you to her works, in which she of all others has most reason to glory; they being only Nurses and Fosterers of others opinions: but she the true parent of hers, using that liberty which heaven has bestowed on every one, and humane custtom allows, to have their opinions free, which though in point of Faith and Manners of good Raeson it be restrained, to avoid error and confusion in Church and Commonwealth, yet in Philosophy it has been always free; Every one having liberty to hunt in common, nor was it ever enclosed by any unless by some few Schools of so inconsiderable Authority, as when you are once out of their walls, you are out of their jurisdiction, to whom she has been so little beholding, as never any with less help of them, addressed themselves to writing, nor ever performed it more happily than she; of whom one may well say, that whilst oothers only traslate many Books to make one; she without help of translation, has writ so many: As it is the Admiration of every one, which being so rare and extrordinary in her sex, does as little derogate from others, as miracles do from the ordinary works of God.  
Let all then cease to envy what she has writ, or think that flattery which we write of her, whose virtues and perfections are so great, and many, as they ought rather to think those envious, who praise her not, then flatterrs who do.   

To the Lady GERRARD Baroness of BROMLEY.  
Of Education.  
MADAM.  
ALmighty God, having blest you with such a son, as a more hopeful in Nature can hardly be: you do wisesly, and like a pious mother indeed, to take care betimes of his Education, without which Parents do but half their duty, and leave with all the better half undone; for Education is not only a second Nature, but also a perfectioning of the first, and that which whilst their birth makes them only children, does make them men. You are to consider then how that mother does nothing, who only brings children into the world, unless she takes care they should live well, whilst they are there, by which she makes both herself and children happy, for a good child is the happiness of the mother, and a good life the happiness of the child.  
This being so, if you but examine well, what 'tis that makes that almost all our youth now adays, have so little sense of Virtue and Religion; you will find that 'tis only because they are not trained up enough in the principles of either, whilst they are young.  
For the Age proper for their Educacation, being chiefly their first fifteen years, or their Infancy, Childhood, and Adolescence, or Youth; in which the main business ought to be, the removing of Vice, Error and Ignorance, from their souls and minds. You shall find that whilst their Parents take care only of the two last; the first which ought to be the principle is wholly neglected by them & left undone: They never considering that man is like a Garden, where it is not enough, to ●ow good seeds, but you must be daily plucking up ill weeds too, or else they will soon be over grown with them.  
During their Infancy then, leaving the care of the first year unto their Nurse's who give them suck, As soon as they arrive unto the second year, their Parents should provide them of some discreet Governant, who may carefully observe their natural inclinations, either to good or evil, and cherish the one, and correct the other, as they shall see occasion.  
Some may say now; this is too soon to begin with them, and that children can apprehend nothing yet: But they who say so, rather want apprehension; For when is the time (I pray) to bow and bend a Tree, to rectify it and make it straight? Or make a Garment take a good fold or pleyt, but when it is first put on? And for their apprehensions of things we see, they can be afraid of Bug-bears; rejoice when you tell them they shall have somewhat they are delighted with, and love those who give it them: Which being so, why may they not at those years be taught to fear vice, to delight in virtue, and to love God? if they were but prudently represented to their imaginations.  
Let them be taught then to fear no other bugbear but vice, (especially that which they shall see them most inclined unto▪) and when they see them delighted with any thing, either of fair or sweet etc. Let them tell them 'tis God who gives and sends it them, and presently cry out, Oh how Good! How fair, how sweet is God etc. By which means they shall imprint in their tender minds, a dear and affectionate love of him; after which it would be easy to to make them do whatsoever they shall understand to be most pleasing to him, and abstain from doing whatsoever may be displeasing to him on the contrary, under which notions they may represent both virtues and vices to them as they shall see occasion. This if their first Tutors or Governants would but do; Their second Tutors or preceptors would more easily do the rest: of whom I will only say that you are to choose him more for prudence then for learning; more a Gentleman than a Pedant, and one that has more studied men than Books. Mean time let him so season what he teaches him with sweetness, (the common bait of children) as so he may be delighted with learning it.  
Above all, let him be a Religious honest man for he is to inform his manners as well as his understanding; and more souls for want of good Tutors, than Bodies for want of good Midwives, in these latter Times have perished and been cast away.  
For the ordering his studies in particular, I say nothing more, But let his Rule be ne quid nimis to study nothing too much, for learning consisting either in words or matter, of which the first has no depth, and the last no bottom▪ to study t'one too much, were trifling, and t'other labour lost, besides too much study, but condenses the thought which is only for your melancholy Schoolmen; a Gentleman's thoughts should be more rarifyed and refined.  
As for Travail none can give him better directions than my noble Lord his Father, who has made right use of them, by bringing home all that was good mother Nations; and leaving all the bad behind.  
And thus much concerning Education may suffice, and I have insisted more upon the pious then learned part, because as 'tis the most neglected, so 'tis the most necessary, for none can be either a good child to his Parents, or subject to his Prince, who is not first a good servant to Almighty God: And the reason is clear, for how can it be expected, that they should be grateful or obedient unto either, for their being and conversation; if they be not so to God, in whom (as the Scripture says) They both live, and move, and have their being.  
Neither let any imagine that this sort of Education should make children sad and melancholy, on the contrary I see not how any can be truly merry and cheerful, who cannot think on God or Death without fear and horror, whilst every thing puts them in mind thereof, and this is the case of all those who in their youth are not Educated in Virtue and Piety.  
Which Education MADAM, if you give your Son, it may well be said of you, as it was of another most resembling you, that she not only brought forth children, but virtuous ones, her Virtue being as fruitful as her Self.   

TO Sir C. B.  
Of the choice of a Wife.  
OF all worldly things, the choice of a wife is that which requires the longest deliberation: for diu deliberandum est quod statuendum est semel. We are long to deliberate of that which we can only choose but once: and and when all's done, Fortune will have a main hand in it: or to speak more Religiously, Almighty-God. Whence 'tis said, that Marriages are made in Heaven. 'Tis the part of a Wise man then, to leave as little in it to Fortune as he can; and of a Religious, as much as he can unto Almighty God.  
Amongst all the requisits of Marriage, Beauty is the most fragile, and deceives the expectation most, both because the one expects to find the same Adoration when a Wife, as when she was a Mrs and tother finds not their Wives such Goddesses when married, as they imagined before they married them.  
To marry for Beauty only, is to buy a House only for the outside, without considering the Conveniences within; and Age or a little sickness takes that away and them, and there's an end of all the delight you had. Whence 'tis no ill distinction, that a woman exceeding fair, is better for a Mrs. then a Wife, If she be but moderately handsome it is enough, so the rest be supplied by the Beauty of the mind; the one being only the pleasure of the first day, t'other of all your life.  
Of all things, Complacency is the best Cement of affection, and similitude of humour and disposition; for similis simili gaudet, All Likes do love their Like, and hate the contrary; unless perhaps some humours in them, may be too predominant; and then a little of the contrary would be a good Alloy, as Mirth to Melancholy, or a placid or Patient humour, to a Harsh or Choleric disposition.  
With handsomeness of Body, and good disposition of mind, the Goods of Fortune make no ill composition, so they be not the principal ingredient, for so Love, would wholly degenerate into interest, and men would look on their wives no otherwise then Farmers, on their cattle, only considering how much they are worth in the Market and nothing else.  
I need not give you a Caveat not to marry with any of condition much below yourself, for you are too wise I know to be fooled by any such fond affection, nor is there any danger of your marrying much above yourself, since we have few nobility so high, into which a Gentleman of your birth and fortune may not aspire to match without ambition.  
This is all Sir that ocurs to write unto you for this present upon this subject, who wish you all happiness in a wife, and know you so well, as I am sure your wife will have all happiness in you.   

TO THE LADY N. N.  
Of Benefits.  
GOod will is that well ordered charity, which the Holy Scripture commends unto us so much, and which it obliges us to have, even for our Enemies; 'tis that, which humanity binds us to, and which makes one man a man unto another, who otherwise would be a God, or else a Beast, according as he benefited or injurred them. But in friendship Good Will, is like the power that never proceeds to Act, promises to performance, or flowers unto fruit, unless it proceeds to benefits withal, for a benefit is the Aliment of Friendship, as Oil is of the flame, but as too much poured into the Lamp at once, rather extinguishes it, than nourishes it, so 'tis with benefits. Wherefore Madam I only desire of you small benefits at once and humbly thank you for satisfying my desire.  
Else 'twere to smother me with Roses, and to Oppress me, rather than Relieve me; for 'tis with pain, when we are obliged too much, and great benefits, are but great debts and heavy burdens to a Grateful man: Whilst little ones are light burdens, which every one can bear; and small debts, which every one can pay. Nor did they ever make Bankrupt yet, or Modesty blush, or Generosity ashamed. Besides Madam, loving my Liberty as I do, and to be too much obliged being a kind of servitude; I thank you for leaving me in possession of that I love so well, and in possibility of that which you love so well, Gratitude; In which noble virtue you so excel, as none yet could ever oblige you so much, but you would find some way or other to disoblige yourself again and turn those Bonds on them which they had bound you withal: But Madam, you have obliged me so far already, as now there is no farther danger of my Liberty, nor should I more willingly give it to any one, then to her to whom already I have given my heart, and for whom I am ready for to give my life.   

CHARACTERS.  

Of One Who changes Day into Night.  
HE is the Antipodes to the Country where he lives, and it is Day with him when it is Night; and Night with him when it is Day with them, and he is worse than those who call light darkness, and darkness light; for he makes it so: he contradicts that old proverb, that the day was made for man to labour in, and the night to rest, and says 'twas meant only by Day Labourers; and he thinks that saying of Solomon, nothing concerning him, that all is vanity underneath the Sun, for all his is underneath the Moon; for the Rising- Sun, it serves him only to go to bed by, and as formerly they measured the Time by Water, so now he does by Fire, and the burning of so much Light. He says his Paternoster by contraries, and as others pray for their Daily, so he prays for his Nightly Bread. He fears neither Death nor judgement, for Death is said to come like a Thief in the Night, and then he sits up and watches; and judgement by Day, and then he is a Bed and sleeps, and if the Angels awake him with their loud trumpeting, he hopes they can charge him with nothing concerning Time, for he only changes it, and change is no Robbery, and h'as this comfort that amongst all his other sins, though they may say the Sun did rise sometimes, they can never say that it Set upon his wrath.   

OF A FRENCH TAILOR.  
HE is the King of Fashions, and Emperor of the Mode, and commands more absolutely than the King of France himself: for his Edicts pass, where the others will not go; and in England and other Nations, they obey his Authority; where they care not a rush for that of the King of France. Nay they not only submit their bodies to him, but their minds, obeying him with such Implicit faith, as though their Fashions be never so unbecoming, yet they believe them becoming, only because they come from him. Such a Charm there is in this word Alamode de France, As 'tis able to transform men Circes-like, into Apes, Babboons, or what Antic shapes they please. But to make up the Dance or Masquerad complete, you must have a French Violin and Dancing-Master too, and then you shall see how the Englishman will lead the Dance and other Nations follow him, amongst the rest, the Hollander in the French Fashion, is the veriest Antic of them all, looking in it just like a dog in a doublet, mean time, the Spanish and Italian, are the only wise Nations; who whilst all others in Europe make themselves ridiculous, with following the French Fashion, laugh at them, and keep their own.   

OF AN Old Bachelor  
WHen he was young, he loved his Liberty too well to marry; and now he's old, his ease and quietness; nor does he love every night to be put in mind how old he is. He was as long in choosing a Wife, as Scoggen was in choosing a Tree to be hanged on; and at last resolved to choose none at all, for the same Reason as the Fox refued to go to the Lion's Den, because he saw the footsteps of many going thither, but of none returning back. Above all, that which chiefly deterred him, was the very name of Wedlock the yoke of Marriage and and bonds of M●trimouy etc. All sounding nothing but locks yokes and bonds; or imprisonment, slavery and captivity. For the rest, they can say nothing for the profit or pleasure of Marriage, but he can say as much or more against it, and they have long since given him over for a Heretic, too obstinate in his opinions to be disputed with. In fine, he imagines all who are married, to be sick of it, though they complain not; because they hold their disease incurable: but if there were a Physician who could cure it, he thinks he would soon be Richer than Mayern.  
For your Maids now, he hopes they will not be offended at this Character, but be of his opinion: since in point of Marriage they have always the worst bargain of the two, (as we shall presently declare) and if the name of Old Maid sounds ill, that of Nun sounds well, at least. and for Married Wives, we shall make them honourable amends, in the Character of an Excellent Wife.   

OF A Wife in General.  
THough in itself, and the institution of the Church, Marriage be holy and honourable; yet, there is no more miserable Creature in the world, than a Married Wife: when Maids, sold by their Parents to slavery; and when Widows, selling themselves, (so inur'd to servitude) as 'tis become natural to them as their beings, and necessary as their food.  
Some aptly compare their Marriages, to Aviaries or Bird-cages in Gardens, where the Birds which are without, long to get in; and the Birds which are within, long to get out. Others to the Horn of surtiship, where they desperately throw themselves without any consideration at all, into the larger end, and come squeezed out of the Betall.  
It were a blessed life, f the wheels of desire could continue still wound up, and not run down with enjoying; but as it is, they are only happy for a day, and miserable all their lives after; and their Gallants come fawning and fiattering to them at first, as the Hedghogg did to the Hare in a frosty night, desiring to shelter himself in her Muset against the cold; pretending his prickles should never do her harm; but being entered once, and a little warm, he began to bristle them up; at which the poor Hare cried out, but had only this answer for all her courtesy, that those who found themselves not well, might go out.  
Yet this I will say, for the comfort of the English Wives, that the English Men make the best Husbands in the World, if their Natures have not been too much corrupted and depraved with the licentiousness and Vices of the Time. Notwithstanding they should answer them if they be wise, when they come a wooing to them, as the Athenians did Demetrius, who pretending Dominion over them; told them, that he would be a good Lord unto them; to whom they wisely answered, that they no ways doubted it; but for their parts, they desired to have no Lord at all.   

OF AN Excellent Wife.  
SHe is like an Excellent Watch, Rich and Fair, but above all, True; only in this they differ, in that her Goodness depends on nothing but herself, (for those who are only good because they are looked unto, it follows, if they were not looked unto, they would be bad.) She is never in ill humour; and never in better, then in her Husband's company, with whom alone she is familiar, but civil and courteous unto all; she has all the handsomeness of a Mrs. the Goodness of a Wife, and delightsomness of pleasant Company; united in her alone; and whatsoever she does is becoming her, not so much because 'tis so, as because she makes it so. She is sparing in superfluous things, that she may be more bountiful in those more necessary; and spends with such discretion in her House, as her expenses are more profitable than others save are. Her Virtue and Beauty makes it always a Temperate Zone with her, where her Husband lives as in a PARADISE; Her HONOUR like a flaming Cherubin, conserving and rendering her inaccessible to all beside: Whence in this Critical Age, where they find out blemishes in the Moon, and spots even in the Sun itself, they could never find out any spot or blemish in her, she only having found out the way to stop Rumours Mouth, and silence Calumny, whilst they bark and bite at every one besides. In fine, she has all the perfections of a Wife; and all that can make a Husband happy.  
This, if her husband knows not, 'tis an unpardonable fault, and ignorance in him; if he does, 'twere no compliment, nor fondness in him, but a Just esteem of his own Happiness, to say as often as he sees her, O my dearest! you are all mine, and I am all yours; and when I cease for to be so, may I be the miserablest man alive, as now I am the most happy.    

OF Your New Irreligious ORDER.  
THey are, amongst you Irreligious, as your reformed Orders, (or Capucins and Carthusians) are amongst your Religious, professing a more perfect state of life, and higher degree of perfection than the rest. They keep choir, and for Psalmody, have a sort of Bawdy songs, composed by certain Authors of their own, far surpassing your Ancient Heathens; for their Legend of Saints, they have Apitious's and Heliogabulu's Lives, and Aretins pictures for heightening their devotion. They meditate most devoutly on a Petticoat, and are rapt into ecstasy with contemplation of the Mystery therein; they observe their Rules of Modesty in Lady's company most exactly, standing with their hands in their Codpieces, and minding Bawdry whatsoever they say unto them. As others have done by Philosophy, they have wholly subverted all Morality, neither deal they more favourably with Divinity, doubting whether there be any God or no; and holding all Scripture Apochrypha, Excepting only the Canticles of Solomon, which with their gloss passes for Canonical Bawdry; they count Heaven but a Melancholy place, and care not for coming there; so as those who would have them saved, must make a new Heaven a purpose for them. Marry the old Hell (with a little Addition) will serve them well enough. In fine, they are incapable to conceive how any Man can be honest, or Woman chaste, and make a fool of Macchiavel, who held that Men could not be extremely vicious, so as by help of their Example, your after Ages will learn of the present; that too many Religions incline men to Atheism, as well as none at all. And such as these, whilst they call themselves Wits, have brought the name of Wit into such obloquy, as you will shortly see the Church censure it; the Laws condemn it, Casuists invent new Cases for it; And finally, all Good Christians put it in their Litanies, to be delivered from such wits as these.   

OF WIT.  
WIT, like Beauty, has somewhat in it of Divine, and they profane either, who use them to vicious ends; it is rather a slight then force of the spirit, and is chiefly expressed in quick expedients and repartees. The French call it le point de l'esprit, because it is sharp, and easily penetrates things; whence clenches and quibbles are not wit, because they go no farther than the outward word: It is that, in pleasant and factious discourse, as eloquence is, in grave and serious; and well comports with jest & raillery, but no ways with profaneness and scurrility; it is the spirit and quintessence of speech, extracted out of the substance of things; and a spiritual fire that rarefies and renders every thing spiritual like it s●lf; it is a soaring quality, that just as Dedalus wings, elevates those who have it above other men; and is the same in the brain, as Nobility is in the blood. In fine, it is somewhat above expression; and easier to admire, then tell you what it is: not acquired by Art and Study, but Nature and Conversation; and is so volatile a thing, as it is altogether as volatile to describe: Rendering those who have it, good and virtuous, as well as witty men; and whosoever is otherwise, we may well conclude, wants as much of wit, as they do of being such.   

ESSAYS OF HISTORY, And how it is to be written.  
HISTORY may well be called the Book of Princes, since it chiefly becomes Princes to read and study it. It is a Mirror, representing passed Times or Persons, and is twofold; either of affairs in General, or Heroic Persons in particular; in either, It is to represent nothing that is false, nor conceal any thing that is true; but since all truths are not indifferently to be uttered; it is enough to pass over lightly, and touch gently, what is dangerous to handle, or insist upon. 'Tis long since that (not without some reason,) the wiser sort, have suspected the Faith of all Historians, whilst they writ all in extremes, either through hate or favour; and leaving the Truth in the midst, think they do nothing, unless they ●●ther depress to Hell, or exalt to Heaven, those which they treat of, with their Invectives or Encomiums.  
To write a History well, of all your four dimensions, 'tis rather to have height and depth, than longitude and latitude; that is, 'tis rather to have height and depth of expression, than too diffuse circumstances, or long narrations; and for heighthning your stile, similitudes much confer; as for depth of the matter, grave sentences, and politic notes and observations.  
It is not like Philosophy, to be delivered too plainly and briefly, (for so it nothing differs from an Epitome;) nor like Poetry, nor Rhetoric, all garnished with Flowers and Figures, like their Poems and Orations; (the one being a clothing too plain and simple, the other too light and flaunting, for the dignity and gravity of History:) But it is rather to be represented like a Grave Matron, rich, not gaudy; fashionable, not fantastical; & more set out for reverence, than ostentation; beside, as in contriving a Building, so in writing a History, a main regard is to be had to the apt coherence of the whole; and passing handsomely from one part unto another, consisting either in Time, Place or Persons; in all which they may easily introduce on any other, by way of comparison, either for similitude or dissimilitude.  
To write of Actions only, differs nothing from a Gazette; unless you declare the reason why they were done; and it is but looking ignorantly upon the outside of a Dyal, without considering the wheels that give it motion within. And in declaring these Reasons, you are not to be wiser than the truth, by imagining those which are not; nor less wise by ignoring those which are; but you are to collect them out of the private Cabinets of Princes or public Registers of affairs and negotiations; neither are they to be crudly delivered, ●ut digested into the corpse of History; unless you may judge it more convenient, to insert the Originals Entire, for the greater Authority of what you write.  
By which we may clearly perceive, that there is no sort of writing that requires greater sufficiency, nor more judgement than that of History; nor of which we may more truly say, that when well done, none better; when ill, none worse than it; and conclude for the method, that when your Historian enters into matter with promise of what he is to write, and clearly deduces it all along (to avoid confusion) till he end at last with performance of what he has promised; both He and his History will be every ways complete.   

OF MUSIC AND POETRY.  
ALL Poets anciently were Musicians, and Music and Poetry were conjoined together; when their chiefest employment was to sing the praises of the Gods; which begat them so much reverence with men, as they imagined a certain Divinty in them. Poets were counted Prophets; and as Poetry was the Language of the Gods, so Music was the Accent in which they spoke.  
Music was then but simple, and had no more variety in Singing, then had the Voice in speaking; it being only an Harmonious speaking, as Poetry was but a speaking Harmony.  
Whilst they remained thus united, all those miracles were effected by them, as are recorded of Orpheus, Amphion and Arion, etc. Neither did they ever such miracles and wonders since they were separated, as when they were conjoined.  
That which first separated them, was, (I imagine) the Extravagancy and Fantasticalness of some instrumental Musicians, introducing into the Art, so much division, with their crocheting and quavering, as Music could afterwards no more express a word entire, than a River divided into too many branches, support that weighty Burden it did before: Besides, whereas formerly when they sung in Chorus, they sang altogether the same words; now their counterpoint has rendered our vocal Music so disjointed and confused, as we can no longer understand the words they sing. To reduce them to their former unity and simplicity, divers have laboured in the Psalmody of the Church (in our forefather's days) as in these of ours, in their R●●i●ative Music for the Stage; but they could never do such wonders with it, as formerly they did; nor ever will, till People and the world return again to their former simplicity: Besides, 'tis Novelty that chief●y begets Admiration; and for that, in point of Music and Poetry, Ancient Times will always have the advantage and start of ours.  
Yet certainly our Music is much more Artificial than theirs, with whom a discord was an unheardof thing, and going out of the Air, an unpardonable fault. Besides, our Musical Instruments are much more improved. But the more 〈◊〉 Advance in Art (perhaps) the farther we recede from Nature; and 'tis that which chiefly moves the passions and affections of men.  
What their Ancient Music was, there are ●●areely left any footsteps or memorial to inform us, excepting only the Nam●s of Doric, Phrygian, jonick, Lydian or AE●lick; to which if we only compare our Pipes, or Wind Instruments, as our Organs, Flutes, or Recorders, to their grave and solemn Doric; our Cornets or Trumpets, to their Warlike Phrygian; our W●i●s 〈◊〉 Hautboys, to their Enthusiatick jonick or Eolian; and our Scotch or Bagpipes, to their Bacchic Lydian: The magnificent opinion we may have conceived of them, would as soon vanish (perhaps), as Mountains did of Architecture, when he found all their Terms of Art, which he Admired so much before, of Freeze, Coronish, Plinth & Archetrave, etc. in an old Chimney of his, which no body took notice of. Or, I could liken the Italian to their Pathetic or Enthusiack Music; the French to their sweet and melting Airs; the Spanish to their loud and haughty Tones; and the English jigs, or Scotish Lyds, to their light and Frantic Bacchic Tunes, but that I study Brevity, as much as Music, or Poetry.  
I will conclude then, That there is nothing found in the one, that is not in the other, of Elegance, Grace and Ornament, both so little comporting with Mediocrity, as unless either arrive to Excellence, they are counted no better than Minstrelry, or Ballading.   

A Discourse of LANGUAGE: And particularly, of the ENGLISH TONGUE.  
'tIS Fabled, that Mercury god of Eloquence, distributing to every Nation their several Language's; out of certain Vases or Phiols, (in which, by Reason of their fluidness they were contained) flying over England, and having exhausted all his store, was forced to compose them a Language out of the Remains of all the rest; of which (say they) the English Tongue is only the Dregs and Lees; but abusively; for certainly, we having our choice of all, and being our own Mercuries, were Fools slued we not choose the best of every one.  
'Tis certain, that our Language is but a mixture of other Languages: and as certain that all our Neighbour-●n●s are the ●ike; your French, Spanish a●d Italian having a deep mixture of the Latin● most of your Northern Nations of the Dutch, as the Oriental of the Arabic, or Sclavonian, there being but few Original Languages in the world.  
For ours, the best notion I can give you of it, is, That it is French Embrothered upon Dutch, with some few Additions of other Languages, (all our monosillables being Dutch, and our compounds, French and Latin,) the Dutch, or Saxon, first expelling the British-Tongue, than the French or Norman, usurping upon that; till at last, it became neither Dutch nor French, but somewhat of both, or a mongrel of either.  
Certainly for wit and facetiousness, we yield unto no other Nation, n●i●her for figurative speaking by Allusions and metaphor; they speaking but simply, whose words enfold not some do●ble meaning, or somewhat beyond the bare words which they pronounce  
Neither is it a dull sluggish Language, like the Dutch or Turkish, in which you shall never hear a witty j●st, or good conceit, but is capable of as much quickness, wit, fancy, and conceit, as any other Language, and the Nation is as well fitted for it too; only it is defective in superlatives and diminitives, and has not so many compliments as the French, nor so vast Hyperboles, as the Italian, to say, schavo di vestre signory; nor wish them dieci milli anni, whom they wish health unto; which is rather a commendation of the Nation, and a mark of their wellmeaning and sincerity, that they can't dissemble, nor enlarge themselves so far beyond the Truth.  
In fine, for copiousness and variety of expressions, it yields to none No Comedy being too light▪ nor Tragedy too grave for it; though by Reason of our situation, it has not that esteem nor vouge as the French, (for Example) who being situated in the midst of Europe, and the concourse of all Nations, your Travellers are necessitated to learn their Language, under pain of being Tongue-tied whilst they pass along.  
Another Reason that makes our Language the less esteemed, is its many monosillables (derived from the Dutch) which makes it nothing so resounding as other Languages; (And strangers judge of the goodness of a Language, as they do of Bells▪ or Mu●●cal-Instruments only by the so●nd) 〈◊〉 the principal grace of words, b●ing 〈◊〉 the Cadence or Ending, where 〈◊〉 word for strength is able to sustain 〈…〉 ours comes so faintly and weakly 〈◊〉 t'one is forced to fall on t'other 〈…〉 support.  
Notwithstanding, if we 〈…〉 take a little pains to smooth and 〈◊〉 our Language, as the French 〈…〉 an does, by liquifying all 〈…〉 pronounciation●, (as we 〈…〉 pronouncing our harsh Dutch 〈◊〉) and would not stick so close to 〈◊〉 ●●thography, but write as we sp●ak, and speak more clearly and distinctly 〈◊〉 we do; we need not envy oth●rs Language's, nor speak (as some do) 〈◊〉 contemptibly of our own.  

POSTSCRIPT OF THE STYLE OR PHRASE.  
FOR the Style or Phrase, which is only the habit a Language is clothed in; Ours follows much the Italian fashion; (Those learned men that had the ordering of our Language in former times, being most conversant with that Nation it seems) where note, that as there are two sorts of Languages, your dead ones, or those which are past farther growth, (as the Hebrew, Greek, and Latin) and your living one's, or such who grow every day, as all our European ones so in every growing Language, there are two sorts of styles, the Eru●ite, and the stile of the Time, or ●f the Mode; of which the first never changes, because (e. g.) 'tis cast in the Latin mould, which always remains the same; whilst that of the Time changes perpetually, as the fashion of our Habit does; whence, whosoever would write for Lastingness, should write in the Erudite styles; as Pictures we see drawn in Ancient Attire, remain always fashionable and becoming; whilst those drawn in modern-habit (which changes every day) soon become obsolete and ridiculous. Besides, the Phrase or Style (being as we have said) the habit of a Language, as the Apparel is of the Body, there is a certain becomingness, and natural propriety in either; which in the Excess or Defect, is equally vicious; a certain mean betwixt the Swissers Puffs, or Bombast, and Irish Trouse, neither too straight, nor too wide for the expression of our minds which whosoever has, is abundantly Eloquent.    

OF NOBLE womans.  
I Know not under what Constellation I was born, that it has always been my Fortune to live amongst the best and noblest of womankind; but I am sure, she's been a happy and fortunate one for me; for there I have seen nothing but honourable and virtuous; there as in a Sanctuary I have lived, protected from the Vices of the Time; and there (if any where) I have found that saying true, That if virtue could be seen with mortal eyes 'twould ravish all with Admiration and Reverence.  
I deny not, but virtue may likewise be found amongst men, but 'tis an Austere and Rigid one, not much different from that which you shall find in Cells, and Cloisters, rather deterring with its rigour and austerity, than any ways attracting with sweetness and gentleness; besides, 'tis a quarrelous and contentious one, that would force every one to its opinion, and for my part, like him in the Fable, if the Sun by its sweetness and Gentleness cannot do it, the wind certainly by Ruffling and blustering, never shall.  
Now amongst them, (on the contrary) you find nothing but sweetness and gentleness, accompanied with such awful Majesty and Gravity, as whilst they attract to a certain distance, they there suspend you with Reverence and Admiration; nor needs there any frowning looks to do it, since as one said well, Beauty is Regnum sine satellitio, a Kingdom that needs no force to guard it: if it guard not itself, all other force is vain; and frowning and ill looks will never do it. With good Reason then, they make all vertus of the Feminine Sex, since virtue in a fair Body, as Virgil says, is always most grateful and becoming; and it implies a certain Congruity, that the richest jewels should be conserved in the fairest Cabinets; besides, there is a kind of necessity, as well for nobility of Form, as blood; To be Good and Virtuous, not to degenerate from the stock and origine from whence they came.  
This Testimony then, I will give of the Truth and Them, That I never saw greater Innocence, higher Honour, more Virtue, nor truer Cheerfulness then amongst them: and above all, none better disposed for piety and devotion; without which, all the rest would easily fall to ruin, and decay, like buildings, wanting their foundation. Mean time, I deny not, but there are many to be found who are not so; but then they are no longer to be counted noble nor beautiful; there being a certain baseness and deformity in vice, that deprives them both of Beauty and Nobleness, and like Traitors to their Sovereign Prince, degrades them of all the honour and dignity they had before.   

OF THOSE Who Glory in their VICES.  
WHen any hide their Vices, I shall never seek to discover them; and a well-palliated Vice, shall pass for virtue with me at any time: but when they glory in them, and discover them themselves, they must pardon me, if I take notice of them, and tell them they glory in that, which they ought rather to be ashamed of; and seek Fame from that, which would be another's Infamy.  
There are few so mad, to Glory in their Corporal infirmities; and if they do, their Cures may well be dispaired of; yet thât these do in their spiritual ones, and never perceive how miserable they are, nor know they the whilst, what harm they do to others: for to do ill (most commonl●y) goes no farther than ones self; but to speak of it, is a spreading sin, and one knows not how far it goes: 'tis like oil, which easily insinuates self into others minds, and afterwards so spreads and dilates itself, as the stain of it can ne'er be wholly taken out again.  
As the Weapon-salve cures at distance, so do those discourses wound, and they raise up more Spirits with them, like ignorant Conjurers, than they can lay again.  
Amongst the rest, lascivious speeches are the most dangerous of all, for such is man's proneness to lust and the Lubriety of his mind; as 'tis well compared to Ice about the brink of some precipice, which of itself is so slippery, as they can hardly abstain from falling in; but when you add the Impulse of others, 'tis in a manner impossible.  
Such than I shall avoid, as public empoisoners, or as those infected with the Plague, who long to communicate their contagion to others; and there is nothing more infectious, than such men's company.  
Above all, I can least suffer them, when they talk profanely of God and of Religion; and 'tis but the duty of every Christian to reprehend them for it; for as he should be counted no good subject, who could hear the King and State ill spoken of; so should he be no good christian, who could hear the like of God and of Religion; and this is that which renders the state of such as these more desperate and deplorable, and wholly exempts them from the General pardon of other sinners; for if he who excuses his fault, redoubles it, he certainly who Glories in it, renders it a hundred times more inexcusable than before; for by the first, he only offends God; but by this he Braves him too; and the first may be repent of, and so forgiven; but in this they are so far from repenting it, and consequently of being forgiven, as they declare a will of committing it again.   

OF RELIGION AND GOOD LIFE.  
To Theotima.  
I Knew a Noble man, who was wont to say, when he saw any one bravely vicious indeed, That they were valianter than he, who durst be damned: And though we are not lightly to judge so of any one; yet when we see any professedly wicked and Irreligious, 'tis much to be feared, that they are in a damnable state; for there are two things conducing to salvation, a Good Life, and Good Religion; and the one without the other, nothing avails us, (as the Apostle says) towards the attaining of Eternal Life.  
For the first, our Rule is the Commandments of Almighty God, which whosoever transgresses, is in danger of damnation. For the second, the Evangil of our Saviour Christ, tells us, that out of his Church, there is no Salvation.  
Of the first there is no doubt; since even the very Heathens themselves by the only light of Nature, held absolutely necessary for a Good Life, the observance of all that God has commanded us: for the second, there is much doubt even amongst Christians themselves: Some holding they may be saved in all Religions, as well Christian, as jewish or Pagan, etc. And if so, what needed our Saviour to have come into the world to teach us a new Religion, since there were old Religions enough in the world before?  
Others again are of opinion, That in all Christian Religions they may be saved, at least; and if so, what needed the Holy Scripture so nicely to distinguish betwixt the True Church of Christ, and Heresies, pronouncing all Heretics infallibly damned, or such as adhered to their private opinions, against the Generally received ones of the Church? which being so, Theotima, all who have any care of their salvation, besides living well, are to endeavour to follow the Religion anciently instituted by our Saviour Christ, and to insist on the footsteps of the ancient Christians to find it out; which however obscured by length of time, may yet by those who diligently seek, be easily discovered.  
Since than our Saviour has said, that Seducers should come, but that his Church should never fail; Let us not hearken to these new startup Teachers, crying out, here is Christ, and there is Christ, so long, till they make many doubt whether there be any Christ or no; which is all the fruit of their new Doctrines, to make people doubt of the old, and be certain of nothing; nor will there ever be an end of them, till they return into the old again: For if it be lawful for any man to begin a new Religion, another will presently start up, and cry, Why not I, as well as he? and so they will at last increase to Infinite. As we tender then our salvation, Theotima, let us hold firm unto the old, which our Saviour himself has instituted and taught us, who says of himself, That he is the Way, the Truth, and the Life; the Way, in which we cannot err; the Truth, by which we cannot be deceived; and the Life, in which, and by which, we are to live Eternally.   

To the same: Counselling him to write OF SPIRITUAL MATTERS.  
YOu are the first, Theotima, who encouraged me to write of spiritual matters; from which, I confess, I was but too much discouraged before, by the Libertines of the Time, who make no more of God, ●or Godly things, than they did of the King and his Regalities, in the days of Rebellion. But where should I find Readers when I have done? when besides yourself, and some few others resembling you, it is a Language none now adays understand more than old ●sk, or the Punic and Carthaginian Tongue? when I shall find opportunity, I shall not be wanting to it; but for importunity, this is not a Time nor Place. There are spiritual Books enough already, unless they were better followed; and enough of Religion, unless they were better understood. Mean time, I thank you for the good opinion you have of me, to think me capable of so good a work; whilst some are so scrupulous, as they should think themselves damned, if they should but laugh; and have so little scruple on t'other side, as to think me little better, because I am not as melancholy as themselves.  
I thank God, I have always been a professed Enemy to Vice; and although this be but a negative kind of Virtue, yet 'tis somewhat, as the world goes now, where those may be counted Saints, who are not altogether Sinners; as those who are not altogether knaves, may be counted honest men; and I thank God, I am still constant to my first principles, as you will see by these pieces which I send you here; which though they are not so spiritual as you desire, tend towards it, yet at least, in a moral way; and credit me, Theotima, We have as much need now of Morality as Divinity; and 'tis but a preposterous way, to persuade the t'one without the other, or seek to plant virtue and piety in their hearts, without clearing them first of vice and impiety. This then is the way, Theotima, which I have ta'en, which if I find but approved by you, I shall with the more cheerfulness pursue it, and glory in the Title of being  
Your devoted Servant and Convertit.  
FINIS.