An Humble Motion To The PARLIAMENT Of ENGLAND Concerning The ADVANCEMENT of Learning: And Reformation of the Universities.  
By J. H.  
LONDON, Printed for John Walker, at the star in Popes-Head-Alley. MDC IL.   

TO THE PARLIAMENT.  
IT hath been the usual method of that eternal wisdom in the pursuance of any of his high designs, to render his Instruments, while they continued faithfully useful, full of honour and success: But when they once began either to stand still, or look back; to decline that honour which he had formerly cast upon them, and to wrap it up in a cloud of forgetfulness and misery; and than raise up such other means, which though to the eye of Reason they might appear contemptible, should carry on his great work to a just period, and make a full assertion of his glory, in despite of all the wicked cunning and resolution of men and the deepest Theorems of contrary policy.  
That this Assertion is neither vain nor new, I need not call in the Aids of any remoter Histories, if I appeal from the walls where you now sit in counsel, to the eyes wherewith you now see, you will find as strange and as noble an assertion of this Thesis, as was ever beheld by any Age or Nation. For whereas at first you met together by the conduct of a strong Providence (which in spite of all opposition and backwardness of these times and powers assembled you together) and begun more seriously and courageously to weigh what a heavy trust lay upon your shoulders; such of you who were early labourers, cannot but with joy remember through what pangs and throws you were delivered of the first attempt of freedom; when that great Bugbear of a continual and shining power (which though it endeavoured to seem a great light of itself, yet was only an opaque dense body, and had no other splendour but the reflection of yours) hung back, nay was possessed against you, when some ill-behold on to their education had not shaken off those prejudices which commonly attend men that judge according to their first thoughts; and others who could not but make a right judgement of things▪ being either biased by interest, or poisoned with hopes, grew cold toward you; what a labour was it to make one head, (which had it followed the Law, might have as much obliged the Nation as any whatsoever) an oblation to a betrayed and oppressed people? Nay when that was done, and an Army not of our own Nation, with excessive care and charge removed; how were you encumbered by a violent and sturdy humour, which would not suffer you to make use of those little advantages of liberty which you had ●lready gained, but assayed to return you under the ●ormer, if not a severer Tyranny.  
But the counsels of men were abortive, and you were reserved for greater matters, that humour burst forth like an Impostume, and went out from you, which had it continued within, and not professed open hostility, had been dangerous, if not fatal. But when you were ●●…ce left to yourselves, you had power to act more vi●●rously, and by a happy Antiperistasis to grow more intense; so being closely united in the Centre, you bravely broke through that stiff circumference that beset you, and were made the Masters of many happy and signal Victories.  
Yet those Victories seemed notwithstanding to carry ●●ate with them; for whereas your excessive lenity had permitted some of your conquered enemies to lodge amidst you, they scattered such a quick and powerful contagion among those whom you represent, and especially the chief City, that there were apparent symptoms of a relapse, which was shortly followed by such a dangerous sickness, that if you had not been miraculously aided with an almost immediate hand of Providence, you had never overcome, and yet you suddenly, and ere yourselves could imagine, wrestled out of it.  
But when your Victories were redoubled with these successes, there wanted not some who sat in counsel ●mong you, who to say no worse, either durst not, or would not be courageous in following those opportunities wherewith Providence courted you; nay they to retarded you by cunning cross debates, that your ●tter peace seemed far more dangerous to you, then ●ther of your former wars, you standing struggling with this oppressive humour, and not discovering any signs of motion, unless it were of Retrogradation; whilst you enabled your conquered enemy to give you what was already yours, and struck you with such concessions, as you had far more reason to dread, than any of his former Proclamations or menaces.  
But how soon were all these corrupt counsellors purged from among you, and disenabled for to disperse any of their infection? whilst you being loosed from those charms wherewith you before were maleficiat●▪ began to act powerfully and smartly, and indeed performed more in a few months, than you had done before in twice as many years, or your Ancestour● could do in the double number of Centuries.  
I mention this with no other design, then for you● glory (for you have cleared our liberties, and set them now on the right Base, having by a transcendent comprehensive piece of Justice, removed the common oppressor) and also to tell you, that unless you do no● also not rest here, but even run forward to the end o● that course to which the divine will shall by apparen● signs direct you, the work will be taken out of you● hands and put into others, who finishing it with the li●● and constancy which you ought to have done, must expect that reward and honour which waited on you.  
I say not thus much that either I fear it in you, o● that I can gather any even remote causes of fear, b●● that I would from it say, that unless you do absolutel● alter the complexion and temper of the Commo● wealth, and endeavour to your utmost to provide the best means to preserve it in the best constitution fo● the future; all that which you have hitherto done fo● us, will prove nothing, if not evil.  
Now by what means this may be effected, I have nei●her vanity nor impudence enough to direct you, especially since you seem to the exactest judgement of man, ●o be as happy in re-erecting, as you were fortunate in ●●l●ing down, and to take such a course both in matters 〈…〉 e, civil, and Military, as may, as much as possible 〈…〉 or render abortive all the machinations of future ●●●ch●efe, and avoid those errors and imperfections ●●ich cannot be exempted from human laws. But ●et (as here you must be acknowledged for res●●ing that liberty which warrants this freedom) all ●●ese cares, which are so pious, so noble, so worthy of ●●ch Lawgivers, will be found neither intense nor large ●●ough, if ye remit one grand consideration which must ●●●fuse itself through all, and knit them together; ●ay bestow on them both form and vigour: The most effectualll advancement, I mean, not the bare permissive ●●opagation of Learning.  
Somewhat you have done in this kind, but how ●uch to this purpose I cannot judge; for besides that it ●●ached no further than political aims, it removed ●any persons of a more thriving and consistent growth ● learning, than it either left there, or planted in their ●●eads; it meddled not at all with a view or reformation of ●●ose fundamental constitutions, on whose happy on ●●ak designations▪ the interest and prosperity, the decay ●●d ruin of such litterary republics principally depends, 〈…〉 we shall shortly find opportunity to demonstrate.  
But the wishes of the most knowing and best men are 〈…〉 far above these ●●ender performances; they profess ●nd I do but now make their sighings articulate) that ●●e body of learning lies scattered in as many pieces as ever Medea cut her little Brother into, and that they are as hard to find and reunite as his was. That there is no public encouragement given to these gallant industries that endeavour to gather them up, and as much as may be, recompose them: That we seem insensible of that great Genius which animates and conducts this present Age, and therefore slight the discovery of that in particular persons, who being many times big with heroic designs, perish for want of assistance in the delivery; or in case they be delivered, are found to have wasted themselves in the production of a weak or abortive infant, which otherwise might have been strong and goodly: whereas men if they would but se● themselves to await and receive every glimpse and dawning of knowledge (or at least cherish those that would do so) would find it easy to bring it into a just and beautiful body, and make an happy inversion of that common saying, That our Ancients were giants and we are Dwarfs. And whereas some of the Heathe● wise men could say, That those were the best personage that lived nearer, and less remoter from the Age of the gods: we might contrarily by experience find, tha● we had made up the decays of Humanity, and enforce ba●ke time into its first happy and lusty circle.  
For if we look into the life of man, take him in the bare naked condition, in which Nature thrust him upon earth, what a miserable helpless thing shall we find him? miserabler in this then the bruits themselves, wh● having at the most (though this also be denied with a good reason as granted them) the use of a dim an● dark reason, or rather sense, and that in a direct line cannot be judges of their condition, and therefore consequently want the greatest ingredient of misery, the sense of it; man is betrayed by his reason, (which cannot be smothered in him, but that there will be some sparks and embers still alive) to a discerning of his sufferings and some rude and unpolished wishes of a better condition; which if he can ever get into, it is merely by the collision of his natural faculties, which strike out some small sparks to kindle that fuel: so that he being in a manner in the condition of a Beast, hath no other way to exempt himself from that misery and slavery, but that little knowledge which chance, or the dark axioms of his own reason can help him with.  
And if again we consider men gathering into the Primitive societies, and assisting each other with their mutual endeavours and observations, we shall find that they come nearer civil Societies, by how much they have made greater inroads into experience, and were better versed in the acts of life. Nay, how willing have they been to congratulate, yea Idolatr●ze some of them, and put them into the lists of their gods, (as we may see out of the ruins of some Histories which time hath not yet eaten up) for some little inventions, which are at this day so common with us, that they seem to be among the postulated principles of nature, and to be borne with us; so that these men who were ignorant of knowledge, and possibly would have slighted it, if it had been offered to ●hem in its own lustre; yet did live, subsist, and were ●ivilized by it.  
But if we make a step further, and look upon Commonwealths, how easy will it be to observe, that as they flourished under the verdure, so have they withered under the decay of Learning. Nor have they been so fortunate under any governors as those who coming from a noble education, and a right observation and deduction of things (which may well make a man learned, though he never had seen a book) were neither subject to these wild e●●●ations, nor savage rudenesses which untutored Natures, through the want of a better discipline, were apt to fall into.  
Nay, if we look somewhat more narrowly into them, we may see that many private men born amidst the dregs of the people, & not capable of any such high hopes, have by this means far overtopped men of antiquity and ancient descent, and outvyed them with unequal services; whether by way of prevention, as old Appius a man wholly unacquainted with any systematical knowledge, in dissuading the Romans from an inconsiderate peace they were about to shuffle up with Pyrrhus; or conservation, as that excellent reign of Augustus, one, who though his Cradle was not private, yet in his first access to business, was not only left in a private capacity, but surrounded by an inimical faction: or if we look on augmentation what an illustrious time had Rome under Trajan, though a Spaniard, that she seemed to renew her age, and spread the wings of her Eagle, where they could never have hoped to reach in her first period of greatness, which eve● after his days fell into a sensible and gradual weakness: not to note Epaminondas that godlike Theban▪ who owed all his orient virtues to the light of the schools, with whom (though he came from a vulgar womb) the greatness of his Country (as Plutarch observes) di● shoot up and fade.  
But if we would go no further than the ornaments and outward splendour of a place, what was it distinguished all the palaces in Rome and Nero's golden house from the Sabin cottages, or the dwelling of Publicola? or the Imagery of Greece and Statues of Corinth, from the first rude shapes of unpollished oak, but curiosity and art; which yet notwithstanding had been vainly hoped, if there had not been a concurrent humour of men to entertain and foster it; and this humour hath been so fortunate to them, that notwithstanding time hath defaced all the bounds of the Roman conquests, and left them as invisible and inobservable, as the flight of any bird that flew yesterday, yet in a few stones and medals (not to mention the monuments of her intellectual greatness) she hath left us such prints and measures, that we may justly trace and compute her (as he did the giant's bulk by his thumb) in her vast and stupendous symmetry: whilst other Countries more remote from this greatness & happiness that have not so much as their ruins left them to vindicate them from ●ables, and to testify that they once were, live notwithstanding in all learned mouths, & that from the interest perhaps of o●e Citizen, whose merits hath made him a part of posterity, and enabled him to a noble gratitude to his Country, in rescuing her from the dotage and Tyranny of Time. And indeed without letters, and consequently the preservation and encouragement of them, to what a darkness and mist should we be confined, and in what a shadow should we live, a darkness worse than that of Plato his cave, when our children, or children's children, should be to seek for what we know to day, & no observation be left to mankind (for traditions must needs be in a few hands and soon corrupt) to shorten the long journey of knowledge, and to bring it nearer an end: As we may see by one example: The best man upon earth, and the only more than man, spoke and did so many things as all the volumes in the world could scarce contain (as one of his own Penmen witnesses of him) and yet there is no more memory of them preserved amongst us, than what is left in a very few sheets, not at all to mention that Question, whether all the integral parts of that divine Book were preserved or no. Certain we are what a great loss we have in human stories, and what a large measure of Time, was either not described by them, or not now to be found, so that in a Trichotomy of Time made by the learnedst Roman sixteen hundred years since, there was one part unknown, and the other fabulous; and yet sure we cannot but believe, but that before mankind had gleaned up some literature, and was softened and polished by it, there were abundance of examples of either fortitude, and many invincib●e Heroes before Achilles, whose trophies are buried with them, and Triumphs forgot as if they had never been seen, whilst those others that remain, must be accounted just such with us as the favour or envy of Poets and Historians are pleased to make and represent them, so vast is the Prerogative of letters, that they can dispense not only life, but estimation and glory unto whom they please, and command the reputation of past, and the belief of present and future ages.  
But to advance knowledge to its highest and truest end, how necessary and subservient will it be to that great design of Religion, which without an immediate concourse and favour of Providence, can scarce either subsist without it, or preserve itself untainted with gross errors, or distempered imaginations; how serviceable may it be to many sublime minds and refined understandings, that calling all things to an exact Test of reason, will not be brought to the acknowledgement of their Maker, or the Truth of what is left concerning him; if they be not guided by forcible demonstrations and porismaticall inferences of nature, which may not precariously, but irresistibly infer a Deity; and strong and natural inductions of Reason: without which, such minds are but in vain attempted, and difficultly overcome: Or to go further; how shall we ever be sensible of the excellency and power of that divine Book, which God's own finger hath wrote and left us; if we want ability and eyes to look upon the fullness and order of those Treasures; Man indeed who is a determinate narrow thing, must necessarily confine his thoughts to one subject, and when he thinks of one thing, of necessity desists thinking of another. But God who is such a free infinity, can with one intuitive knowledge see all things, and is the centre in every part of his circle. And therefore what he writes must needs be as universal as his own Spirit, and at one time communicate many knowledges; whereas man can only write of this or that, and therefore it is unprofitable industry, not to ●● undertaken without due assistances to attempt the search of that Book, which like himself, hath an infinity and immensity of knowledge in it. Not to speak of the form of it, which being writ in Tongues much removed from this place and age, and that surely with all height of Elegance and fullness of expression; 'tis not to be hoped for that any Translations can come up to it, but that there must be abundance of exquisite knowledge smothered up in the original. Which though it hath been studied and pursued, by numerous exalted wits, & unwearied undertakers; yet we know that there are abundance of ripe notions left to be found out by future and latter endeavours, which shall never think to want a Crown from this attempt, till this earth burn i● her funeral Pile, and we shall see all knowledge not in ● mist, but in a mirror, and view the centre, the spring▪ the root, the life of it face to face. Nor can I see what ca● more heighten or beautify this best Science, than the regaining those trophies from the Heathens which they stole from us, who, though they knew not how to use, yet triumphed in them: For all their glimmering notions, were but lighted at our candle, although they obscured and disguised them with false lights; yet b● that light did they shine to themselves and after ages▪ who cannot but look up with reverence at their advanced Natures, and wish they had been heightened b● a more noble principle, which had crowned all the● various Sciences with the principal Science, and in the● brave strayings after Truth, helped them to better fo●tune than only to meet with her handmaids, and kep● them from the fate of Ulysses, who wandering throug● hell, met all the ghosts, yet could not see the Queen. B● there is a strange magnetical attraction in knowledg● which plucks and draws the soul towards it, which ● just so much nearer its due repose, by how much it fal● nearer to this centre; And indeed it were a pity, that the great Princess of it should be less adorned, than some of her subjects; and that she who is all glorious within, should want her garments of wrought gold and needlework, and not as well make herself glorious in the spoils of her enemies, as the Israelites steal away jewels from the Egyptians, or Solomon fetch gold from Ophir to adorn the Temple.  
I wish it were in my power, and your patience (most Noble Senators) rather to view this intention, in its many large particularities, then to propose it thus dead coloured in a general draught, which can like a Mercury on the way, only point but go no further; But truly 'tis enough for me a person, (hid in obscurity and neglected into retirement) to make good wishes and breath after these huge attempts, which I hope the sublime disposer of all human affairs, will as well put into your hearts, as he hath put into your hands to accomplish. You have done great things for us, and equal to what hath been done in any Nation, either stoutly or fortunately. And if you will but now make good our hopes in this one thing, you will put an end to all our wishes, and settle us in a condition which will somewhat resemble that eternal fruition which we all breath after, a time of praises.  
And indeed, if you were men that only looked upon yourselves, and studied no further than the propagation of your own fame and interest. What better means have you to confute all the scandals and imputations of your deadly adversaries, who have not spared to speak you worse than Goths and Vandals, and the utter destroyers of all Civility and Literature, then by seriously composing yourselves to the design of cherishing of either. What directer causeway could you find to the aggrandization of your own glory, then entertaining the celebrated care of so many Kings, the only splendour of so many republics, the life and lustre of so many Ages? That which is certain to make all brave men for the future, your admirers and followers, and to distinguish your Government from theirs, who being hurried by Confusion and barbarism, shall hereafter vanish into eternal forgetfulness. What better way to your profit, then to command abundance of fruitful wits, which shall every day bud forth with some invention, serviceable either to the necessities of the poor, or graver magnificence of the rich? when mechanical knowledge shall be multiplied and abbreviated, and you be able not only to requite foreign parts for the curiosities they have lent you; but also invite them hither to be your scholars, when there shall be a confluence of the finest industries among you, and he shall be accounted to want of due civil Accomplishments, that hath not come to perfect them from this place.  
How serviceable will it be to you when you overflow with retired sagacities and raised industries, whom you may either for gown or Sword by land or sea employ upon all occasions; when you shall not need to put people in the places of greatest trust by reason of their Titular borrowed gaiety, but make use of such persons, as shall discover the greatest luxury and efflorescency of virtue; Such persons who may succeed you in the seats where you now sit, (and may it be a fortunate Omen) exceed and outstrip your glories, such persons, which shall preserve us in a blessed peace; ●herein yet there shall be neither sloth nor luxury, ●●d either enlarge our Territories with wide foreign ●●quests, or else pull down those powers which are ●ow the hate and burdens of the face of the earth.  
But you that are men of sublime minds, that have ●●rried you beyond all the doubts and objections of flesh and blood, above the extent of your own designs, ●● almost the latitude of your own wishes, beyond the dictates of common Law and reason, will not give over while there remains so great a work. That God who is abstract wisdom, and delights that his rational creatures should search after it, and that his Ministers should study to propagate it, will expect that you should be Foster-fathers of knowledge. He may punish your natural children with stupidity or ignorance, if you do not take the day while it is yours, to lead them into the paths and Mazes of Science. And will he, think you, forgive you (you being Fathers of the Publickew●ale) if you forget those that are your children in that relation? He cannot surely; he that is just will expect from you the discharge of your duties, which how it can be without a complete taking care of your charge your best selves can best consider. But certainly it is none of the probablest ways to bring a people into a little shape of liberty, and free their estates, from some small inconsiderable burdens, and leave the better part of them, their minds, no more re enlightened, no more tutoured, no more burr 〈…〉ed, than you at first found them. By this time some may object, to what end I press all this. Have not we Universities as famous as any under Heaven? Is there not provision in this case enough? Have not our ancestors been liberal beyond any of Europe? will we violate their wills? discompose the present frame, before we be ascertained what other to set up? beside running the commonwealth into an unnecessary charge, and that for an unnecessary end, and in a time unfit, if not contrarian● to these designs, and that for an idea?  
Believe me these are pretty Objections, and till the● be confuted, very probable; but I believe well look 〈…〉 into, they will according to the usual ingenuity 〈…〉 Truth, prove both to conduce to, and further this in▪ tention, and also to demonstrate unto you, that the thy 〈…〉 itself is so easy and feasible, that yourselves canno 〈…〉 without imputation of a gross neglect, and ugly discare of the public, avoid this consideration.  
'tis true that our Universities for outward Magnisicence, and a large, if not luxurious liberality, are equal if not superior to any of those that we yet know of 〈…〉 the lettered part of the world. They are venerable so their antiquity, and have a long time thriven under th' 〈…〉 indulgency of the past ages, & been ennobled by the p 〈…〉 duction of many rare and divine personages, who ha 〈…〉 made more illustrious the whole Nation. But wheth 〈…〉 in general their Statutes be so exact and refined, 〈…〉 may satisfy the need and curiosity of this exalted ag 〈…〉 or that our Accademies at the present teach either all 〈…〉 or the gallantest Theories of knowledge, will be see 〈…〉 anon. And that being once made evident, it will no 〈…〉 be hard to infer, that other Universities of a late standing and poorer subsistence, have both in extent oh 〈…〉 knowledge, and multiplicity of excellent persons, be 〈…〉 able to equal, if not outdo them. Nay that tho 〈…〉 present Revenues whereupon they now ●ur●eit, have 〈…〉 hoaked abundance of active Industries▪ nay been a means to thrust into ecclesiastical or Litterary offices 〈…〉 many of persons, who had they been suffered to obey their own inclinations, and followed some Trade or Handicraft, might have ranked themselves amongst the ablest of their Profession; Whilst others who had ●oules more towardly and capable, were by such ●rones as these kept out of the Hives, and either for 〈…〉 d to seek their food from afar, or else sit down (Unless provided for by their Parents) with no other gain by their Philosophy and Reason, than a few S●oicall sentences in the contempt of wealth, and the commendations of poverty.  
Now that there is provision enough, we shall both grant, and by it take occasion to insinuate, that the State need not multiply any of her expenses in pur 〈…〉 ance of this wish. All our suit is, that these endowments, and pious liberality, may be converted into uses 〈…〉 table to the ends of the Donors, and tend rather to a public advantage, then to the private fostering of 〈…〉 many idle pedantic Brotherhoods. It now lies like 〈…〉 cke, and possibly is noisome to the place where it 〈…〉▪ but spread it abroad, it will manure all the Land, and return the increase of an unvaluable and happy har〈…〉 saint. There is none requires it to another use, but one 〈…〉 to a better use, and in the end it can be no more rob 〈…〉 y, then 'tis sacrilege to rescue a Temple from the superstition wherewith it was defiled, to the use of a 〈…〉 oer and more illuminated Religion.  
I must needs confess, (and I speak it with a deal of Religion to the memory of them that are gone before us,) that among the many good examples they have left to this Nation, their liberality, if not profuseness, in things of this nature hath not been the least. But than I beseech you, Honourable Worthies, consider in what times they lived; they were dark, beef 〈…〉 with mists of ignorance and superstition, and they could only direct their charity that way so far as they knew it best. Their Ordinances and cautions, were, no doubt in their times, full of excellent wisdom and deep reason. But since they ceased to be mortal, it hath pleased the Son of righteousness to break through the clouds which shadowed their ages, and to let u 〈…〉 have more of day. And as the Sun here below doth not only in his rescuing the light, discover himself▪ but also guilds and discloses all about him; so that eternal Sun, when he opens himself, opens at the same time all human and inferior knowledge, which 〈…〉 still more or less visible, as his rays shine on it, o 〈…〉 withdraw from it. Now he having every day made greater appearances of himself; human learnin 〈…〉 hath also been more enlightened; and he is not acquainted with the business of knowledge, that knows no 〈…〉 what sensible increases (I had almost said perfections it hath of late arrived to. So that what means was used before to preserve it from perishing, and to propagate it, must now be used for augmentation, an 〈…〉 splendour. What means were used to keep it in a few hands in a corner (like a great exile, thrust away by 〈…〉 contrary power) till some better times, must now b 〈…〉 used to disperse it through the face of the earth, and t 〈…〉 make it tread as far as mankind. What means we 〈…〉 used before, for a bare historical knowledge, mu 〈…〉 〈…〉 owe be turned into a censorious justice upon o'er old opinions, and into severe and eager disquisitions of new truths; for knowledge hath no limits nor landmarks but being ubiquitary, and therefore desirous to diffuse itself, she endeavours by all means her promotion and dil●tation. Nor doth she ever meet with any that would enlarge her Empire, but she ambitiously encourages them, and willingly crownes them. Now for any one to think, that one and the same means are to be used to preserve a State, either new curdled and moulded into form, or else by outward violence retired to its last seat and almost first principles, and the same state when it hath overcome either its infancy or misery, and like a wakened giant begins to rouse itself up, and look where it may conquer, is utterly unversed in the affairs of the world, and below instruction.  
And doubtless, upon these considerations, were it possible that these happy souls could either return 〈…〉 ither, or were it suitable to their blessedness to mind things that are done under the moon, they could not but join with any that would undertake to serve them in so pious an engagement, as to make their contributions more excellently serviceable to the ends they purposed. And therefore we cannot think it any more violation to their will, at all to advance their provisions to their own ends by better ways, than 〈…〉 e think that you (Noble Senators) are parricides to your Country in rescinding those laws which your Predecessors made, yet through length of time, and 〈…〉 pine of those in whose care they lay, began contrary 〈…〉 their first intention, rather to oppress, then defend and relieve us. For so long as human reason is weak and imperfect, it can never provide any laws against all circumstances of chance, length of time, fraud and weakness of mankind, but it will bring forth a necessity to repeal them, equal, if not superior to that which first enacted them.  
For discomposition of the present frame, may not, I pray this be a Topicke for any Government, though never so ill grounded, never so irregular, or never so tyrannical? Should we sit still, and expect that those in whose hands it is, should quietly resign it, or new mould it themselves, or some fine chance should do i 〈…〉 to our hands? or should we not out of this very reason, if our houses were all untiled and obvious to all injuries of the weather, forbear to pull them down o 〈…〉 mend them, because we would make no alteration, and so continue in our miserable patience, because we fear a change and some trouble; like Aesop's Plowma 〈…〉 crying to Jupiter, to help our cart out of the mire, an 〈…〉 we never put to a hand? or should we expect tha 〈…〉 some Deity, or unthought of influence would rescue 〈…〉 us from these inconveniences which we saw, but would not remove? I am afraid whether any can be serious upon this question: For as happiness is the reward o 〈…〉 courage and industry; so what ever people ever yet obtained any Reformation without sweat or wounds, an 〈…〉 a just violence to the overruling power; just I say though it clashed with the letter of some Positive La 〈…〉 for with the fundamental and true ends of government it could not. But there is no need in this ca 〈…〉 to urge this so hard to you, who so nobly bra 〈…〉 through this objection, and redeemed the supreme power, which being now so indisputable in your hands this wish requires no more of you than the exercising 〈…〉 it, wherein you will only find opposition from those who have endeavoured to blast, and yet continue a will to defeat and malign your best actions. Nay, and 〈…〉 hope you will give me leave to mention it for your Honours) we are encouraged rather to press this from your own example of magnanimity, and zeal 〈…〉 whipping those high Priests, and buyers and sellers 〈…〉 t of our Temple, and that when your power was 〈…〉 umbrage, that now you will (when it hath obtained its just light and fullness) employ it on so easy a take, as this last piece of Reformation; which will 〈…〉 balm your memories, and leave almost nothing to your successors to do piously or justly. That this 〈…〉 e of time may not be capable of such a noble alteration, I am not afraid from the best comparison and recollection of times and reasons, not only to 〈…〉 ny, but even to evince the contrary. For what more seasonable opportunity can we have, then that we see the highest spirits, pregnant with great matters, and in despite of these Tumults and Troubles which environ them of every side, labouring with somewhat, the greatness of which they themselves cannot tell, and with a wonderful deal of courage, attempting the discovery of a new world of knowledge? These bodings cannot be of nothing, but upon 〈…〉 arrower recognition will appear full of miracle, which amounts with me to no less than the chasing away of shadows before the break of the great day. 〈…〉 d surely, that begins a fuller manifestation of himself, suffers us to approach him by these degrees, and therefore hath diffused a great and a restless Genius in this age, far greater than any hath been of a long time. And as Astrologers say, that there are at some certain times some powerful influences showered by the conjunction or positure of some Planets, which if they be not received and magically applied at that very time, do immediately pass away, and become ineffectual, and are not to be expected again, till after many ages; so any tract of time, when it meets a sublime and elevated spirit to assist and guide it, cannot certainly witho●t disadvantage and loss, refuse to entertain it; nay they cannot be so stupid, as not to think both that the time is unregainable, and that a judgement awaits them for being so bold as to resis 〈…〉 the discoveries of it. But I cannot think so ill of these men among whom I was borne, that they will shut their eyes against this light that breaks so brightly and glistringly in upon them, and be lethargically content to please themselves with the reverend follies and dreams of their forefathers.  
'tis no matter what some frozen Sadduces, or some others of a worse name if there be any, can scoff▪ that it is folly to entertain any such vain imaginations, and madness to prosecute them: 'tis folly will prove the happiest wisdom, and no more a deviation of the understanding, than the entertaining a new natural exact scheme of heaven, and nature, in lieu of the old broken interfering Hypotheses, which rely on no other probability but a sent of sense, distorted by education, and brawned by custom.  
'tis no matter, what some purblind politicians, or sneaking worldlings talk of the difficulty of times, and say, that these soft airs of peace, cannot be heard 〈…〉 midst the loud music of war, and that men's thoughts, are too much broken and harrassed to fall 〈…〉 'pon these things, which must be the fruits of the 〈…〉 eepest and most silent leisure, You have the highest destiny favouring your designs, put an end to all 〈…〉 ch Tumults; and we have now no more of War then 〈…〉 necessary to the preservation of our peace, which 〈…〉 ems to smile on us again, and promise us, that she 〈…〉 ill not fly away, for fear lest her snowy▪ garments 〈…〉 old be stained in blood.  
But put the case that your Enemy were as visible 〈…〉 d powerful as ever, yet I dare be known to think, 〈…〉 at it were much more honourable for you to assume 〈…〉 ease thoughts: nay that they both were not consistent together. What can you imagine to do 〈…〉 re worthy of memory, or imitation, then in the 〈…〉 dst of your most urgent dangers to lay a model, and 〈…〉 which the lines of happiness and security for all post 〈…〉 y? How can you better demonstrate yourselves 〈…〉 rlesse and hearty, in what you go about, then by 〈…〉 wing such a severity and composition of spirit; nay 〈…〉 h a contrary neglect of what opposition is set be 〈…〉 e you, as to mind those vast designs of literal ●gnificence, or further acquisition? What more 〈…〉 ning in all the annals of Rome, than the porten 〈…〉 us bravery of sending Forces into Spain, when 〈…〉 nniball was at the Gates, and selling that field 〈…〉 ereon he en camped at so dear a rate, as it would 〈…〉 e passed at, had he been prisoner within the walls, 〈…〉 d his Army dispersed? yea (and to show that these 〈…〉 oer times want not parallels of the Ancient Gran 〈…〉 rs) what will be more illustrious in the History of Holland, than their high and visible cares, and all 〈…〉 prodigal magnificence for learning, while as they y 〈…〉 struggled with a sad war, and had not yet released the 〈…〉 necks, from the sway of a per●idious and horrid Tyrant?  
For the people whom you are to care for, it can not be but that peace might have softened and ema 〈…〉 culated them, whereas their calamities have brought them into a better agility and constitution, to promo 〈…〉 their excellent desires to liberty in any thing which they may conceive really conducible; and there is n 〈…〉 cause to doubt, but they will facilly be swayed 〈…〉 that power under whose valorous conduct they 〈…〉 asserted themselves from all impressions and marks 〈…〉 dishonour and slavery, which usurpation, iniquity 〈…〉 time, or foreign force had put upon them.  
It cannot be denied, but by the invaluable loss 〈…〉 blood and Treasure, the body of this Nation is become thin and lean, and therefore he were a Vi 〈…〉 that would offer to gnaw or suck it any more (for 〈…〉 farther pressure, be it never so little is now excessi 〈…〉 and therefore it would be but just to wave a Pet i 〈…〉 for any public contribution (though possibly the hath been some liberality exercised to worse e 〈…〉 which had it been directed this way, might have 〈…〉 qualled any of the ancient magnificencies and hono 〈…〉 able profusenesses upon learning) although if y 〈…〉 were urged to some small liberality, or rather p 〈…〉 vented any suit for it, it would be a huge further a 〈…〉 to what is desired of you, yet we only beg; nay o 〈…〉 jure you by all that is dear to you, or desired you, that you will employ this which you find 〈…〉 〈…〉 ady left to your hands, and do these things without any charge, and only lend us your Authority, to 〈…〉 oe this longed for work; and no doubt if you cannot, or will not lend any fuel to it, God will stir 〈…〉 the hearts of many private persons, and inflame 〈…〉 'em with equal intentions, and make their hands 〈…〉 ing it in in a full measure.  
And now that which remains of me to do (for I 〈…〉 nceive I have quitted myself of the Objections, 〈…〉 d therefore may dismiss them) will be a triple 〈…〉 ske. First, to show how far the state of our Uni 〈…〉 rsities needs a reformation. Secondly, how it may 〈…〉 brought about: And thirdly, I shall particularize 〈…〉 me ends which I have transiently before glanced at, 〈…〉 t as ends, but as fruits and enjoyments of your 〈…〉ble piety. And herein I shall the rather be short, 〈…〉 cause these being at the most, but the best sort of wishes, I shall observe that course which the best 〈…〉 en do in their devotions, to pray for the best things 〈…〉 ey can, yet not limit the power they pray to, to 〈…〉 ch or such a way of granting their requests, as being 〈…〉 olved by what means soever it comes, to receive it 〈…〉 earfully, and knowing that power which they add 〈…〉 esse themselves unto, cannot only do it in a bet 〈…〉 r manner than they can think of, but in a fuller.  
For the first: I could never yet make so bad an idea 〈…〉 a true University, as that it should serve for no 〈…〉 bler end, then to nurture a few raw striplings, come 〈…〉 t of some miserable Country-school, with a few 〈…〉 eds of Latin, that is as immusicall to a polite ear as 〈…〉 e gruntling of a Sow, or the noise of a Saw can be 〈…〉 one that is acquainted with the Laws of harmony. And then possibly before they have surveyed th' 〈…〉 Greek Alphabet, to be racked and tortured with 〈…〉 sort of harsh abstracted logical notions, which their wits are no more able to endure, than their bodies the strappado, and to be delivered over to a jejune bar 〈…〉 Peripatetic Philosophy, suited only (as Mounsi 〈…〉 Descartes▪ says) to wits that are seated below Mediocrity, which will furnish them with those rare imaginations of Materia prima, Privation, Universalia, and such Trumpery, which they understand no more than their Tutors▪ and can no more make use of in the affairs of life, then if 3000. years since they had r 〈…〉 through all the hierogliphical learning of th' 〈…〉 Egyptians, and had since that time slept in their Mu●my, and were now awaken. And then as soon 〈…〉 they have done licking of this file, to be turned t 〈…〉 graze in poor ethics, which perhaps tell them 〈…〉 much in harder words, as they had heard their mother's talk by the fireside at home. Then are they turned loose, and with their paper-barks committed to the great Ocean of Learning; where if they 〈…〉 not torn, they return back so full of desperation and contempt of their profession, and sad remembrance of their youth so trivially spent, that they h〈…〉 all towardly engagements that way, and suffer themselves either to sink in a quagmire of idleness, or to be snatched away in a whirlepool of vice. But in c 〈…〉 some with much ado get a shore (for a long or a 〈…〉 voyage upon these terms they cannot make) and 〈…〉 the foresaid means stilt themselves into some proof 〈…〉 on; what deplorable things (Unless it be those fe 〈…〉 which Nature makes for o●tentation to be jewels i 〈…〉 this earth) prove they, in filling the world with detestable quacking empirics, lewd, and contentious, gownsmen, or ignorant mercenary Divines?  
Again, I have ever expected from an University, that though all men cannot learn all things, yet they should be able to teach all things to all men, and be able either to attract knowing men from abroad out of their own wealth, or at least be able to make an exchange. But how far short come we of this, though I acknowledge some difference between our Universities? We have hardly professors for the three principal faculties, and these but lazily read, and carelessly followed. Where have we any thing to do with chemistry, which hath snatched the keys of Nature from the other sects of Philosophy, by her multiplied experiences? Where have we constant reading upon either quick or dead Anatomies, or ocular demonstration of herbs? Where any manual demonstrations of mathematical Theorems or Instruments? Where a promotion of their experiences, which if right carried on, would multiply even to astonishment? Where an examination of all the old Tenets? Review of the old experiments & traditions which gull so many junior beliefs, and serve for nothing else but for idle Priests, to make their Sermons more gaudy? Where is there a solemn disquisition into History? A nice and severe calculation and amendment of the Epochs of time? Where a survey of Antiquities, and learned descants upon them? Where a ready and generous teaching of the Tongues? Free from pedantism, and the impertinencies that that kind of learning hath been pestered with? And all this done not by some stripling youngster, who perhaps understands that which he professes as little as any thing else▪ and mounts up into the chair twice or thrice a year, to mutter over some few stolen impertinencies, but by some stayed man, of tried and known abilities in his profession, allured by a competent encouragement to stay in the University, who may at certain times read, at certain times attend the resolution of doubts, offering directions at other times, and engaging them in sober and rational disputes, in which being restrained from sophistry, they may chafe and polish their endowments, and whe● one the other by praise or emulation.  
If we find very few, or perhaps none of them in our Universities▪ I suppose I offer no violation nor in▪ jury to their hoariness and venerable fame, if I say, they are ●apable of farther promotion, and that they have not yet arrived to the exactness of the Jesuits colleges, and many transmarine Universities, the latter of which, if not the former, they far exceed in pecuniary endowments and outward stateliness.  
And truly, but that I would not do violence to the Mother that bare me, and profane that place which is in my account holy, I could lay open abundance of their customs, both superstitious, irrational, uncivil, and ridiculous; I could instance how some vices are grown general in some degrees of them, how many slugs there are, how some courses they take will prove merely the choking of all literature. But since this would amount to a long ●abble, and degenerate into some satire or Pasquil, rather than an Areopagitick, I will be content, having a public business in hand; to lay aside all bitterness, though it might be advantageous to my purpose, and with due meekness▪ and 〈…〉 quanimity, draw to my last task, and then sit down with silent wishes and earnest expectation.  
Two things than I have to beg; some assistances 〈…〉 hat you would give the Universities from themselves▪ and some assistance that you would give them from without themselves. From themselves: that you would 〈…〉 educe those friar-like Lists of Fellowships into a fewer number, and those that you retain, to be bestowed on men, excellent in their particular endowments, and peculiar for some use or other, that so the number ff the professors might increase, and all of them be enabled to prosecute the hints and impetus of their own inclinations▪ and others of more patient heads 〈…〉 e tied to instruct those several persons which should make addresses to them; a third possibly, worn out with▪ contemplations and those greater labours of the mind, might sit warm, and know nothing less than Necessity in their honoured old age. Six Fellowships thus ordered, with a sufficient allowance and encouragement would be more advantageous, and contribute more to the raising up of the despised head of learning, then sixscore at this present do; while the remaining portion of Revenues might be sequestered by 〈…〉 select Committee of able and knowing men (wherein some Representatives of the University should be mingled) to be changeable and accountable every 〈…〉 ear: to be disposed of, for examining and pursuing experiments, encouragements of honour, completing and actuating some new inventions, supplying the nee 〈…〉 y ones that really wanted these wings to take great 〈…〉 ights, relieving of strangers; and lastly, provoking some sidereal and flaming souls to display themselves in their full and radiant meridian lustre. For then will it prosper with Learning, when rewards fit themselves to men, and men are not forced to distorted themselves to rewards; when every man's Genius moves in its own orb, and is not hurried aside in an eccentric motion.  
From without the Universities: that you would think of some better way of disposing those few colleges which are thinly scattered up and down the land, and make them either collateral or subservient to this design; whereas now they are of little or no other use then to nourish the supine idleness of a few Lurdans, and foment their illiterate debates; tossed to and fro among them without any delight to any but those who love bawling and canvasing such unlearned opinions which run in this circle without end, and contribute not the least to the promotion or discovery of Truth.  
Secondly, that as you would (with all due provision for the civil peace) take off that hateful gag of licensing which silences so many Truths, and frights so many ingenuities, and makes them abhor the public; so you would put such a gentle imposition upon Books, that upon every Impression two might go to the public Library; and that foreign books, brought over hither in any number, might do the like, or at least at some reasonable rate.  
Thirdly, that all the medals, Statues, ancient Rings, and other Antiquities, pictures of learned delight, or famous men, that either were the late Kings or any other persons whose estates stand confiscate to you▪ might be appropriated this way. For by a cheaper 〈…〉 d more generous magnificence you cannot endear 〈…〉 ur selves to all the lovers and sons of knowledge, and 〈…〉 refull Patrons of mankind; nor secure the memory 〈…〉 your noble acquests by more illustrious trophies.  
And lastly, since that this Island can no more possess 〈…〉 the Treasures of knowledge than it can the Trea 〈…〉 es of the earth, that you would be ready to cast all 〈…〉 pect and honour upon learned foreigners, although 〈…〉 u use no largesse towards them. Men that through 〈…〉 ●hirst of fame have beguiled themselves into large 〈…〉 d divine contemplations, cannot but think they reap a great fruit of their labours, and be surprised with it, when they see themselves smiled upon, and courted by 〈…〉 h a mighty State, and be ambitious to disperse their 〈…〉 eories there, where they see they are so much ho 〈…〉 red. Now how by this policy your Brethren of 〈…〉 island, have in a manner monoplized all the spark 〈…〉 g wits of Europe; there are many that sit among 〈…〉 that can best inform you. Nor is there yet any apparent reason to me why you should not also stud 〈…〉 emboss this Nation with them. Now to what 〈…〉 e particular design all this should level. There 〈…〉 e been so many models, and those so various, 〈…〉 ugh to the same end, chalked out by the greatest 〈…〉 enuities, that it would be very hard (Loved I tran 〈…〉 ptions or largeness never so well) to represent 〈…〉 m all, each one abounding in his own sense, and 〈…〉 possibly not so servant to the designations of ano 〈…〉. It shall be enough for me (waving my judge 〈…〉 〈…〉nt or disquisition of them) to set down the resul 〈…〉 ce of a many diligent observations and iterated thoughts; which as they have not strayed too much ●● to wild ideas, so I know not why they may not ●● more particularly fitted for our elevation.  
First, I have considered that an endeavour to bring all persons under the sway of knowledge, could no● but approach very near a Pla●onicke Commonwealth, and must in the trial enervate the people, and call them from those necessary professions of Tillage an● War, and make them acquainted with the artifices o● delight. Besides there were but a few inclinations so noble, as could overlook the gross entertainment of sense, and aim at a more pure and intellectu 〈…〉 happiness. And among these men I found particul 〈…〉 Temperatures as it were, and some secret Sympat 〈…〉 and Antipathies to some, or some particular study whilst there were very few intellectual complexi 〈…〉 that desired all; and these enjoyed not the particula● so fully as those that bent that particular way. 〈…〉 found also that many men rudely educated, and 〈…〉 as would have proved no great clerks, though th' 〈…〉 had been bred up in the pedantic way of t 〈…〉 schools▪ had notwithstanding through long a sore observation, so well tutored their reason, th' 〈…〉 they proved many times persons fitter for busi 〈…〉 then those that had the assistance of much unpro 〈…〉 able literature. I had seen also some men after ma 〈…〉 years' spent in the world, begin to retire into the●selves, and as seriously and effectually as they c●● apply themselves to Books, which yet was commo●ly ineffectual to them, if not quickened with so● live-voice and knowing assistance.  
From this mass of observations I fell to consid 〈…〉 〈…〉 us, That if Man were a creature both so excellent 〈…〉 d active, it were but justice to him that the natural 〈…〉 rgency of his Genius should be found out and assisted; 〈…〉 d that surely could not be in any better time than 〈…〉 his infancy at the dawning of his reason, when he 〈…〉 ld not be employed any other way, and his inno 〈…〉 cy made him most susceptible of any impression or 〈…〉 ure. And if at such a time, then surely he was to 〈…〉 assayed by most easy trials, and that by pleasant 〈…〉 stimes of sense, and not by any harsh abstractions 〈…〉 rough discipline. Yet those recreations of his I 〈…〉 ought ought to be such as should be profitable, and 〈…〉 le to furnish his maturer thoughts with some solid 〈…〉 as and sound representations of things. And here made account I had found the right path, which our 〈…〉 hooles having so long left, was the reason they 〈…〉 re so seldom prosperous or fruitful in great mat 〈…〉 rs. Well, this being so, those that had spent their 〈…〉 ildhood thus, I supposed, might with much more 〈…〉 vantage and ease, retire into a more ignoble calling; 〈…〉 d those whom some harder fortune alienated to oh 〈…〉 er employments, might carry such grounds away 〈…〉 h them, as might conduct and dispose their obser 〈…〉ions all their lives after; whilst all those who had 〈…〉 greater vivacity of spirits, might be set apart to 〈…〉 orthy and suitable employments, and none be des●ired by ill methods, or tyrannical Tutors.  
Thus far had I got, and there remained this with 〈…〉; That those men that were set apart for knowledge 〈…〉st busy themselves about two things, either about 〈…〉 e dispersing, or augmentation of it: And about dis 〈…〉 sing of it, there could be no better means then to make it easy and amiable; and this brought me to believe that that education would thrive the best in any place, that was the least cumbered with unnecessary notions, and did the most facilly and orderly insinuat 〈…〉 itself into the understanding; and I took the duty of a Master to endeavour these two. Besides, I considered that that was the best which was the most real and universal: and then I perceived that it was bette 〈…〉 to grave things in the minds of children, than word 〈…〉, for I had known some great speakers, though indiscreet, gazed on only as strange sights and Patra 〈…〉▪ where as I could not imagine, but that if a wise ma 〈…〉 came into any Country, whose language he had neve 〈…〉 heard, he would by his deportment and insinuations make a shift to be entertained and respected. And this made me suppose, that many men that could count their languages by their fingers, might possibly be of no more use among mankind, than so many Apes or Magpies. But such whose minds were strengthened with realties, were only men, and indeed so much men, as they were masters of the true use of reason, and knew how to guide it; and that to them▪ Languages must of necessity add beauty an 〈…〉 perfection, and acquaint them with a much of knowledge which was never writ in their mother Tongue. And since that there were some men who would fortunately learn and teach the knowledge of others, though they could not augment it much themselves; I judge that nature did principally intend these for dispensators and conveighers of it. And others of more vast and capacious intellectuals, that could never be bounded by the Theories of one other, were only fit 〈…〉 or augmentation; and because there were some propensions and aversions, of which they themselves 〈…〉 old not well render an account, which if disobeyed succeeded untowardly and unsuccessefully; I presently 〈…〉 ferred, that the genius of each one was to be employed and cherished in its own kind; and that there 〈…〉 as seldom any great matter to be expected from it, 〈…〉 preternaturally diverted, or dispersed into many va 〈…〉ous thoughts and designs, which did only distract 〈…〉 d weaken it.  
But when once I began to take a prospect of the whole Landscap of Knowledge, Methought there was ●uch of it moorish and fennish, much of it overgrown with thorns and brambles, and some parts of it had 〈…〉 t been justly measured, nor indeed fully discovered, 〈…〉 that I thought it would be too stupid humility, to 〈…〉st with the traditional wisdom of our ancestors, 〈…〉 d not to look after further enlargement and advancement. For there being much of it uncultivated 〈…〉 d unmanured; I saw there was abundantly left, 〈…〉 r to provoke and satisfy each future industry, which 〈…〉 w they should be employed, I could not better tell 〈…〉 w to design then thus; first, considering the excellency of Man, and the restless activity of his understanding, and the strange volutations of his affairs, I 〈…〉 ought the actions of so noble a creature deserved 〈…〉 r better, then to be covered in oblivion. And because experience was nothing but a sober deduction 〈…〉 d summing up of many observations, and man was 〈…〉 apish imitative thing; I thought there was nothing better to abbreviate the length of observation, and to 〈…〉 rnish him with good copies which he should follow, then being acquainted with past actions and time 〈…〉▪ and conversing with the images of the bravest persons that went before. And truly, all this, I for a while flattered myself, was supplied us out of those Histories which as yet survive. But after some acquaintance with them, I began to quit this belief; for I found many of them clash, many of them rent, many ridiculous, most composed to pleasure, and therefore not descending to those particularities and circumstances, without which a History is but dead, and a bare Skeleton without either flesh or sinews. Besides a many of them seemed to flourish up into Ideas, and others were so larded and pestered with the private discourses and conceptions of their Writers, that they seem to have been composed for no other end. Besides most of them were but Summaries and Epitomes, so that those deductions which were drawn from them, were not so pertinent, but fallible, and such as seemed rather to follow the conceptions of the observator, then to be naturally enforced from the things themselves. For this cause I began to wish that there were a place in some University appointed for a collection of all such Papers, Letters, Transcripts, and Relations, which should discover the inner side of Negotiations, and events, and the true fa 〈…〉 of things, without the adulteration of common policy. And I thought it were profitable rather to ta 〈…〉 in many needless things, then to leave out one needful, because a judging mind out of many particularities, could draw a better estimate of things, and deduce more certain, and unquestioned axioms.  
But because Man is a creature of such infinite variety, and that in every one, there is somewhat shining and excellent; I wished that some laudable diligence, had gathered a catalogue of Characters, and that 〈…〉 f the lives of some of the more eminent; which I 〈…〉 old not care, how much they had been stuffed with particular actions, because Man in business is but a theatrical person, and in a manner but personates himself, but in his retired and hid actions, he 〈…〉 ulls off his disguise, and acts openly. So that I judged by that means that Characters were the best and 〈…〉 aithfullest to be gained, and we should come to a 〈…〉 ighter knowledge and judgement of virtue, and the ●assions. For I had seen abundance of things related as high acts of generosity, which possibly were but 〈…〉 e effects of weakness, cruelty and despair. And withal seeing only the greatnesses of some men mentioned, and neither their particular imperfections, nor the means by which they achieved their 〈…〉 nds particularly set down; I thought it could not out stretch many weak minds to disproportionate thoughts; and like Palme●ine or Don Quixote make them think of things beyond the Moon. Therefore 〈…〉 d▪ I conceive it necessary to trace these Grandees as much as may be, through all their windings and hidden paths.  
But because men must walk upon the earth, and 〈…〉 eeds receive those influeuces which are shed from 〈…〉 even, and therefore exceedingly differ according to their several climes; I thought not only an exact 〈…〉 escription of the several Countries was to be obtained, and if it were possible, all their secret myste 〈…〉 ies, and retired criticisms of state; that so, observative minds, might have far richer stuff, and variety of forms whereupon to work. And also there might probably by this means in length of time, be found out several satisfactory reasons, and ways o● discovering and judging the many inclinations and natures of men: And so by that means a greater facilitation of business, and possibly greater success in it, then have yet commonly happened.  
Moreover, Man that had solely the use of reason, and by it was separated from other creatures, 〈…〉 thought had all the interest in the world to endeavour the perfection of it, and the several ways of it● best advantages. And this I thought, was no bette● way attempted, then if▪ the veins of things were rightly and naturally cut up, and he had such principles placed within him, as would without any disturbance or confusion assist him in the pursuance of any Truth, or in the examining of any thing doubtful. This I thought had been done by logic (as they call it) but there the Predicaments were so untowan●ly ranged, that a man's mind shall not without some hesitation know where to fasten; and then when he hath pitched there, he is but engaged in a dispute. But I believe had the dissection been natural, the mind would instantly have pitched right, and the● have been enabled to have wielded that Notion▪ to her best use. Here I expected relief from metaphysics, but they were so abstrusely abstract, and so far remote from use, that they seemed to hurry the mind too far away, and make it too volatile and airy, and so difficultly attainable, that half a life need to beseverely spent in learning them. But the conduct of reason which I wished for, I wished natu 〈…〉 ll and easy, and such as might gently sink into 〈…〉 unger minds, and be there embraced with no im 〈…〉 lsion; but the delight which commonly tickles the 〈…〉 ule when she meets with any radiant and pregnant 〈…〉 uth. This made me imagine highly of the Mathe 〈…〉 ticks for the clearness of their grounds and excel 〈…〉 t building upon them; but these were withdrawn 〈…〉 m Quantity, and besides had the liberty to make 〈…〉 eir own suppositions, which to moral and politic 〈…〉 ason (which was to judge of things as it found them 〈…〉 tracted into many casualties and circumstances) was 〈…〉 ied; and therefore that there was but little ad 〈…〉 tage to be had this way, so that I could not de 〈…〉 any better means then to make the mind pliant 〈…〉 passable to any Truth, to free her from all these 〈…〉 vinated prejudices of education, tradition, or 〈…〉 ldish observation, and then withal to plant such a 〈…〉 btfulnesse in her, as should not easily ascent to any 〈…〉 e thing which was not fortified with strong reason 〈…〉 right experience. And to do this, there cannot 〈…〉 be extreme necessity of a person not meanly versed 〈…〉 he causes of error, and stratagems of reason, who 〈…〉 uld dig out such axioms as should rectify the mind, 〈…〉 lead her by the hand, in the most subtle contem 〈…〉tions, and so refine her, that she might be able to 〈…〉 racked pure and large Theories out of things most in 〈…〉 said and hid in matter.  
●or the mathematics themselves, I found them full 〈…〉 excellent variety and harmony, strongly fenced 〈…〉 h their own Truth, and branched out into many 〈…〉 irable inferences and productions. But yet methought that there was somewhat in them which was yet hid from us, and that the ancient founders of these sciences had been content to retain somewhat not fully discovered. For I found most men employed only in learning those immense hea●s of Demonstrations they had left us, but seldom enlarging them or going forward, which made me fear that the key of these Sciences were hid, and that without such a key, or engine it had been unpossible to rear up such a huge super-structure of vast consequences. But this I found two or three great spirits had already light on, and had directed a way which if well followed, will make our mathematical reason nimble and apt to find the fountain head of every theorem, and by degrees, as we may hope, enable us to the solution of any problem without any more assistance than pen and ink (so that a man may carry all these admirable Sciences about him) and direct us to more exact and easy instruments than any have been yet known, and recall men's minds by delicate ravishing contemplations, from the sordid juggling use of those instruments on which they now so perversely and unanimously dote.  
But when I once begun seriously to view that strange disposition of things which we call Nature; I could not even in my ruder estimation of it but be much astonished. For it was plain to me there was more art and prodigious workmanship in a Gnat or a Fly then there was in the greatest engines or productions of man; which if they were not casually found out, were but the mere promotions and pursuances of Nature. By this I took myself deeply engaged for to look upon that fabric with more curiosity and diligence than they commonly use, who judge and suppute every thing according to the outward tickling and blandishments of sense. And as to this design, I thought I was well provided for, by those many volumes of natural Philosophy, which I found to flatter me with a many large and braving Titles. And I thought that when I was once well acquainted with them, I should have had my mind fitted for excellent notions, and embellished with such rich principles, as could not but furnish me with a many excellent and sweet deductions. But when I had spent some time thus; and began to shake off that implicit faith which must for a while bind up learners, and discovered what contradictions, loose conceptions, and endless controversies those volumes were fraught with, I perceived I had gained nothing else but a multitude of vain speculations, which in all reason of the world I ought to disbelieve. About this time I happened to be acquainted with a sort of books that denounced a sharp war against the old Philosophy, and very severely undertook to put it all under the sponge, and withal to raise up such other new observations as should prove more handsomely, and truly make up the apparences and changes of Nature. These men I hugged, and indeed expected from them, some performances equal to my expectations; but then again I found that man may be far more happy in discovering of errors then in finding out of Truths. For some of those Treatises were merely draughts and designations, others violently wrested the explaining of things to their own principles, and rather forced Nature to their conceptions, then enlarged their conceptions as wide as Nature. Othersome there were, who abusing a philosophical liberty, strayed into some antic Theories, and made Nature monstrous: Others laid down very probable and neat Hypotheses, but absolutely unsuited to the nature of the thing; so that I collected, that though we had made some steps forwards, yet we were not at our journey's end. And because I saw that a many curious notions were but like spider's webs, and that experiences have the greatest light, I thought we were principally to insist upon that way. But because most experiments were found out rather casually then by philosophical reasoning, and some men out of one small observation could be bold to raise abundance of vain consequences▪ and for one and the same experiment, there were sundry reasons brought, and it was easily wrested, and salved by divers principles, I judged that as there was an extreme deal of diligence and nicety to the practical pursuance of Nature, so, that it was not safe to draw any one principle from any one observation, unless there could not possibly be any other reason given for it, or else alike discoveries had confirmed it, that if any other interpretation were put upon it, it was unproper and vain: For as it is easy for men of acute wits to misjudge and misexpect Nature; so when an axiom is rightly gained, it is easy to work it up, and to draw from it many strange and magical Productions.  
And because there are abundance of extraordinary appearances both at home and abroad, I judged it necessary, that all these should be carefully gathered and registered; so that those many varieties coming into a long Catalogue, and digested by a sober mind, might afford many rare and beautiful discoveries of the glory of their Creator.  
What other means might be used both in this and Medicine, would be too large now to insist on, since I at first purposed but a Synopsis, which, I cannot despair myself, if it were rightly or hotly pursued, could not but bring forth a more plentiful harvest than we at the present expect. There are, no doubt, many of nobler thoughts, who might furnish you with more exact and high designations; and truly; I shall think myself abundantly satisfied, if, from these poor reflections, you may be invited to take their advice, and follow their vast and judicious considerations in this nature. However for my part let this humble Essay be as much neglected or reviled as may be, I shall sit down quiet with a conscience of the discharge of my duty, though it can reap no farther, than the putting of these wishes upon the file, and transmitting them to Posterity.  
These things, as I have but briefly touched, so to particularize them had been extreme folly, your wisdoms being so able to direct you, in case God stir your hearts for to take in hand this task: which if you cheerfully go through, no doubt but that gale of divine favour, which hath constantly gone along with you, will not now leave you, but bring you to the end. And as your eyes have been blessed with many strange fights, and your mouths oftentimes filled, nay strucken dumb with wonder; so there is no doubt, but if you do this one thing which now remains, you shall see the Taper of a learned Piety burn among us, I hope, like an immortal lamp, fed w 〈…〉 refined▪ and sublimest knowledge, whilst all those false ligh● of ignorance, human forgery, and superstition shall vanish away, or be put out, and the stubborn pervicacy of human reason turned into a gentle compliance to divine truth. You shall see Nature traced through all her Turnings, to a clear demonstration of her first cause, and every day bring forth varieties of experiments, either to the relief, astonishment, or delight of men; you shall then see us freed from all these fabulous illusions and impostures, which have hitherto beset either Traditions or Cures; and Nature which now disguises herself into so many shapes, forced into an open veracity and pure nakedness. You shall see the number of Arts daily increased▪ and th' 〈…〉 we known already, wonderfully promoted. You shall then see schemes of commonwealths brought forth, easy and natural, and not varied into a multiplicity of crooked Hypotheses. You shall then see Policy reconciled to Divinity, Morality, and itself, and yet better able to lay designs and prevent dangers. You will then have it in its native simplicity, and your posterity may at once learn to be both wise and innocent. You shall have the use of the Tongues daily increase, and that judgement of confusion, which hath so long and so heavily lain upon mankind, by degrees removed. You shall have the ways of Education made smooth, and your children with a pleasant success possessed of all the Treasures of real knowledge, ere they could have thought they had entered the gates. So that when you have added these fights to the former, and witnessed by a happy old age the blessedness of this Land; you may see the reins also prosper in the hands of those that shall be your successors, and melting away in a soft dissolution, find that Crown above which is owing to fidelity, and that reward below, that the best lawgivers have ever met with; that is, your Names shall increase in the silent motion of Time, and all Posterity shall look back upon you, with an eye of Piety and Adoration.  
The End.