AMARYLLIS TO TITYRUS. Being, the First HEROIC HARANGUE OF THE EXCELLENT PEN OF Monsieur SCUDERY. A Witty and Pleasant NOVEL.  
Englished by a Person of Honour.  
LONDON, Printed for Will. Cademan, at the Pope's Head in the New Exchange. 1681.   

Amaryllis to Tityrus. THE FIRST HEROIC HARANGUE OF Monsieur de Scudery.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
The Great Virgil, introducing himself, in his Eclogues and his Bucolics, under the Name of a Shepherd, called Tityrus, He regrets therein Rome, and the Court of Augustus, (being far from it) be confessed himself to be very little satisfied with the Woods and Campaign: Which caused the Author to introduce him in this place, with his Mistress Amarillis, who surprised him in this thought, and reproached him of the small value he put on their Abode; representing to him its Beauties, and compares 'em to the defaults of that which he regretted; seeking to make him avow, That the Campaign Life is to be preferred to that of the City.  
AMARILLIS to TITYRUS.  
CEase, illustrious Shepherd, cease to regret the Magnificence of Rome, and and trouble not the Tranquillity of our Groves, by your unjust and inutile Plaints, and leave to persuade us, That be it for the Agreement of Persons, or Purity of Manners, or the Innocence of Pleasures, or the Felicity of Life, or for veritable Virtues, our Campaigns ought not to be preferred before the Pomp of the most celebrated Cities; and the simplicity of our Cabins, to the Abode of the most Superbe Palaces. I avow, that the description which you have made of this Haughty Pride, which vaunts itself of subjecting all the Earth to it, is very different from that which I have a design to show you this day. In the one they see Crowns and Sceptres; in the other but Chaplets of Flowers and Sheep-hooks, In the first, they see but by the splendour of Gold, Pearls, and Diamonds; in that which I am about to show, you shall see no other Gold than that of the Sunbeams; no other Pearls, than that of the Dew, spread over the Enamel of our Meads and Flowers; nor no other Diamonds, than the liquid Crystal of our Fountains: But, O Tityrus, how pure is this Gold, and what an agreeable Lustre have these Pearls, and how delicious is this moving Crystal, to those who leave not themselves to be blinded with false Appearances; and He who knows to do as he ought, discerneth the Beauties of Art from those of Nature, and prefers, with Judgement, a durable Felicity from that which passes away. You will say to me, perhaps, What do I mean to speak so, it seemeth as if I had but little considered the Magnificent description of the Portraiture that you have made me see of the Court of Augustus, since I accord not with you, that you have cause to complain of being so far from it; 'tis true, I have remarked all the Lines out, and I avow, that at the first, the sight of these great Buildings of Marble, of Jasper, and Porphyry, have made me doubt, if I ought not to prefer 'em to our Grots; however, I have not been any long time in this Error, and though, without doubt, this Picture is not a little flattering, I have not left to know, that you are in the wrong, to speak of Rome as of a place in which nothing is wanting to render an honest man happy; and of our Forests, as of an Abode where one can find nothing, which can reasonably satisfy a Person of Spirit. Examine all these things in order, I conjure you, and forget not to hear me attentively, and to persuade you more strongly, I shall let you see that Rome is, in my imagination, such as you have depainted it, to the end, that by the opposition of the Life of the Court, and that of the Country, I may make you see the Advantages and the Defaults of the one and the other, that I may lead you the more easily into my Sense. You have said to me (if I deceive not myself) that the Beauty of the places where they inhabit, serve very much to render men happy; and that fine Objects elevate the Spirit; and, that this being so (as I avow it,) Rome is the most charming Abode in the World, since that it is there, where one may find the most splendid Objects: You have, I say, assured me, that all the Temples there are filled with the Works of all the greatest Masters of Antiquity; that all the Furniture is Superbe, and that all the public Places are adorned either with Statues of Brass, or with Triumphant Arches; and that, in fine, she shuts up in her Walls all that which Art can produce of marvellous, and all that which is most rare in the Universe. We shall see after this, unjust Shepherd, if I shall find in our Solitudes wherewith to make you forget such fair Objects, and wherewith to make you confess, that a Campaign Life is preferable to that of the City. I see well that you find my Design too hardy, and that you have pain to comprehend (you, I say, who have never loved the place where you were born, and who have forgotten it:) that out of Rome one can see any thing of marvellous, nevertheless, there is a notable difference between the Ornaments that embellish it, and those of the place where we inhabit; Art is that which renders it Fair; on the contrary with us, we rejoice of all the Beauties of Nature; in fine, she's but the Work of men, and our Abode is the chief Work of the Gods. It is true, we have no Palaces, but if our Cabins are less Magnificent, they are by their lowness farther from Lightning, and Tempests. And then, to say the truth, whoever sets himself to consider the marvellous Structure of the frettised Canopy over our Heads, regretteth not the most Superbe Ceilings at Rome. But, shall I tell you, that it seemeth as though you studied to tell me, that the Stars, and the Sun, each one in their courses, enlighten not the Capitol, and that Rome is but a place of obscurity and darkness. I avow it, Shepherd, I avow it, and to make you avow the same, suffer that I make you see that, which without doubt, you remember not to have seen, I would say, the Rising and the Setting of the Sun in our Campaigns, be it when we are in our Woods, or when we walk on the Banks of some of our Rivers: Ah, Shepherd! if it is true, that fine Objects elevate the Spirit, and that the Marble, Jasper, Porphyry, Pearls, Diamonds and Gold, give agreeable thoughts, what ought not this fair Star to do, at his Arrival upon the Horizon? He who hath communicated to all these things the little Beauty that they have? In fine, there, is nothing more Beautiful in all the Universe, than his Magnificent entrance in the Mornings with us; at Rome, they scarce ever see him without Clouds; the Mists and the Smoke obscure one part of his Rays; and they say, he is angry not to be employed in that place, but to enlighten Cheats, Flatterers, and voluntary Slave, they think (I say) that he hides one part of his Light, because his heat serves not there, but to dry the Dirt in the Streets. In the place where we are, when he gins to appear, it is but to dissipate the innocent Vapours which arise out of the Earth, and to dry the Dew which refreshes our Fields, and to open our Roses, to paint the Wings of our Butterflies, and to receive the Vows of all the Shepherds in our Hamlets; also he appeareth to us all the Day, with so much magnificence, as nothing can equal his Glory: the first of his Rays begin to sow Purple, Gold, and Azure, in some paths of the Sky, and it seemeth that all Nature rejoiceth therein. The darkness of the Night dissipates itself, the Stars disappear by Respect, the Birds awake themselves to sing: Our Flocks would go out of the Folds, and all our Shepherds and Shepherdesses, who are never weary of seeing the same Object, when 'tis agreeable, admire more and more, this marvellous Mass of rich and vivid Colours, which spread themselves upon the Clouds at the arrival of this fair Star: they admire, I say, these Beautiful Impressions of Light, which he communicates to all Objects which are capable to receive it. He gilds the tops of our Mountains, and silvers the surface of our Rivers, and by his long luminous Beams he pierceth through the shades of our Forests, only to render 'em more agreeable, and not to take away their coolness, nor to dissipate their shade. In the morning he permits us to behold him, at Noon it suffices that our Groves defend us from his Heat; in the Evening he makes us see his Image in our Fountains; but so charming and so marvellous, as all the Diamonds in the World cannot equal the Beauty of the least of his Rays. When he leads away the day, he gives us hope to see him very soon again, by the Superb Apparel which goes before him, and when he unrobes himself, he seems to assure us, by the abundance of the Riches that he hath employed to paint the Skies, of Vermilion, and of burnished Gold, and that pleasing variety of bright and dark Colours, that his absence shall not be long, and that he will return again to us in a few hours, as illustrious as before. I avow, Shepherd, by this feeble Discourse that I am about to make, that there is nothing at Rome so fine as this that I have now represented to you, though this is not the only thing that renders our Abode agreeable. There are other places where the Sun scarce enters, which are yet diverting enough; We have profound Grots within the Concavity of Rocks, where the Day never comes without difficulty, and the Night mingles its Shades with the Light, though Darkness is never entirely banished thence, and, tho' they are carpetted and hung but with Moss, nevertheless the Silence and the Coolness that's there is never encountered but with Pleasure: there one may Treat himself with that Tranquillity and that Sweetness, as if he were the only thing in Nature; there one may peaceably rejoice of all the Charms of Solitude: You may, if you please, go from hence to a Fountain, the Waters whereof are so clear, that it permits you to see through its Waves the diversity of the Flints and Gravel which are at the bottom of its Bed: It makes but a feeble murmur, apt to invite you to repose, than to disturb you with Chagrin: the Waters which flow from it forms a Brook, which winds itself like a Serpent, making a little noise as it passes amongst the Pebbles, the Moss, and the Flowers, into a Meadow, where 'tis confounded with others which run thither, and there unite and mingle their Waters, till they make a large River, whereof the flowing and the Banks make a new Diversion, and the Purity on't ought, without doubt, to be more agreeable than the muddy Waters of Tiber. But if from these peaceable Beauties you'll pass to those which mingle their Charms with I know not what of terrible, and which give somewhat of Horror in diverting: We have dreadful Precipices, we have Rocks whose Tops touch the Clouds, and from whence descend furious Torrents, who in their fall make as much Noise as Thunder, or the Sea: They say these are Mountains of Snow, which precipitate themselves one upon another, till so many Waters rush from 'em, that one would say to see 'em ●oul and bound in such abundance, and with such impetuosity, that they would submerge all the Earth, nevertheless they fall into a Gulf which is at the foot of a Rock, from whence they go till they hid themselves in the Abyss, where they go (without doubt) to render their Tribute to those from whence they came. At parting from hence, Shepherd, will you that I conduct you into one of these fine Meadows, where you shall find a great Carpet of different flowers, where you may see an hundred Sources of Crystal; where on the one side there is an agreeable River, on the other a great quantity of Pines, Willows, and Alders, who by their shade permit you to pass the Day (though the Sun be entirely there) very pleasantly, as well as the Shepherds which repose themselves there; but perhaps you will not stay there any long time: Let us go then, Shepherd, let us go into one of these Forests, whereof the Obscurity, the Silence, and the Age seem to imprint a Respect in all those which walk there. If this shady Forest were at the Gates of Rome, it would not but be filled with Thiefs or fugitive Criminals: and in this place, here with us, is found but Deer, Stags, Hinds and Kids: You may know by their number, that we employ not often the Toils to take 'em, and you may see by the little care they take to hid themselves, that this place is an inviolable Azile unto 'em. All these great Paths, where the Day permits us with difficulty to distinguish the Colours, and we almost doubt whether the Leaves be not rather Blue than Green, leaves us not without something wherewith to divert the Spirit, and the Eyes of a Melancholy Shepherd, and in some of the Walks, that have less of this thick shade, where the Sunbeams come to dissipate a part of this agreeable Night, there was never any thing seen finer than these long streams of Silver, who seem as they would force this Obscurity to yield its place to their Light, and one would say, by the Agitation of the Leaves, that they would press themselves together to hinder their passage, but it makes 'em tremble the more, to give entrance to this Enemy of Darkness. As you walk from this Forest, will you let me conduct you to the side of a great Pond, whereof the Tranquillity wants little of the place from whence you came (which stayed you to remark its Beauties.) The Zephir here is no more than what serves to curl its Waves, and it agitates them so gently, as you may easily see all the Fish which are at the bottom of these Waters, which are as Clear as Peaceable; some of 'em swim with precipitation, to seek their Food, others elevate themselves above the Water, whilst some of the more fearful go to hid themselves at the least Noise that they understand. But, if from the bottom of this Crystal, you will consider the Surface, you shall see it all covered with Swans; you may admire, Shepherd, the whiteness of their Plumage, the Gravity that they observe in swimming, and the Noble Pride which appears in their Eyes: Say they not that they despise all those who behold 'em? and say they not also, that they have hovers in which they have a design to please, when they make Sails of their Wings, to divert 'em, and that they swim not but to be admired? Ah, Sheph●●d! how far are the Inhabitants of Rome from these innocent pleasures? their tumultuous Life robs 'em of these Delicacies. I am not yet at the end of the description of the Places where we inhabit, I must therefore conduct you upon one of these high Mountains, from whence you may discover at once Rivers, Forests, Plains, and Pasturage; whereof the view is so boundless, as if the Objects seemed to efface and shut up themselves, and, as if the Sky touched the farthest part of the Earth you descry. But perhaps you love not a Prospect so extensive: Suffer then that I bring you to some of our little Hills, or into some of our Valleys, to the end to make you avow, that their Abundance ought to be preferred to the Sterility of the seven Hills of Rome: These little Corners of the Earth are so much favoured of Heaven, that they seem to be entirely covered from all the injuries of the Air: The Wind seldom blows, the Hail spoileth not the Grapes, the Verdure is eternal there; and, I think, what they cultivate not, the Sun only does it, and makes 'em grow and ripen, and does all that which Agriculture produces elsewhere with so much care and pain. And, not to forget that which shows the Liberality of our Shepherds, and that which is the innocent Love of our Shepherdesses; Can you put in comparison the Perfumes at Rome with the amiable Odour of our Violets, Roses, and Gillyflowers, there is at lest this difference, that the one satisfies but the Sense of Smelling, and the other, besides their agreeable Odour, please the Sight infinitely; in effect, can you see any thing finer than this prodigious Quantity of Flowers wherewith our Gardens are replenished, be it for their Form, for their lovely shining Colours, or for that pleasing Variety that's found amongst 'em. Believe me, Shepherd, the Magnificent Tapestries of Rome shows you nothing so marvellous: the Purple in them is not so fair as the incarnate of our Roses, the Pearls of our Crowns Imperial, are better than those of the Orient, and the least of our Flowers is more worthy of Admiration, than all that which Humane Art can invent. After that I have made you see that which I call the chief Work of the Sun, let me conduct you into the next Grove, it is there where you shall find that which one can never find at Rome; it is there, where you shall understand what they never understood in any City; it is there that you shall be constrained to avow, that one must be insensible of Pleasure, not to prefer the Country Life to that of the Court. See then, I conjure you, this great, number of Shepherds and Shepherdesses, who, whilst the great Heat of the Day continues, have conducted their Flocks to graze in the shadow, under the thickest part of the Grove, and admire the good mien of the one, and the Beauty of the other, (though this is not yet the place where I ought to speak of it) and hear only that which they hear, (I would say) this great quantity of Birds, who, by their different Notes make such an agreeable consort: They say to those that understand their Songs, that they dispute amongst themselves who shall carry the prize of the Victory. But, above the rest, admire this knowing Master of Music, who, by the least of his Songs surmounts all others; the rest have a sense of their feebleness, and they refrain by impuissance, or by Respect, and the Nightingales are those only which come with equal Arms, and assay to vanquish or to be overcome, the one of the other. Hear how admirably this here passes his Cadences, how he falls his Voice and upholds it again, and enforces it there, and with what justness he animates his Songs: He who answers him hath a particular Charm, he is more languishing and more Amorous; but as he is more feeble than the other, I think he will be overcome: Hear how they redouble their Efforts, you may discern the Joy in him who find, himself to have the Advantages and the Dolour, and the Anger of it, in him who feels his Forces diminish. Behold, Shepherd, when he can no more, his passages are no less just, though they're more frequent; the sweetness of his Voice changeth itself, and he sings no more but by Despair; I discern through the traverse of these leaves, his Feet can no more embrace the Branch that upholds him, and I see him fall with despite, and in falling he yet murmurs some languishing Notes, and he had almost rather lose his life then his voice. Behold, Shepherd the only Ambition of our Campaigns, and compare it (I conjure you) wi●h that at Rome: Though the condition of this poor Bird be worthy of Pity, I avow 'tis better that Ambition make Nightingales die, than that it should Reverse Thrones and Empires. In sum Shepherd, It is not only in the Spring, the Summer, and the Autumn, that we have the advantage of the City; the Winter as dreadful, and as Horrid as it is deciph'red, hath something amidst its Rigours, of fine and magnificent, in our Campaigns; The Snow which in the City loses all its Whiteness as it falls, and conceives it there only on the tops of the Houses; It makes here Rich Plumes with with the Branches of our Cypress, of our Cedars and of our Firs; These Trees (I say) of whom the leaves fall not, mingles their verdure, with its Whiteness, and, makes without doubt such an agreeable object, as the Summer cannot show us: and when the Ice, and sharpness of our Frosts have converted all our Rivers, into Crystal, we see all our Trees Loaden with Diamonds; But you'll say to me perhaps that these Diamonds every us not, and that the Sun takes from us, what the Cold hath given us: But Shepherds if these Diamonds, every us not, at least they do not make us Criminals, we cannot suborn the fidelity of any person with 'em, neither can they be employed to so many sordid uses, as (you know) they do theirs at Rome. There is yet one thing in the City, which seemeth to me insupportable, it is that they say there, that there is but one season in the year, for those who inhabit in't: They see always the same things, they have always the same employments, their Houses are always alike, their Pleasures change not, and unless they have Cold, and Heat, according to the divers temperature of the Air, there arrives no change in their Life: On the Contrary with us, to whom Nature renews the year four times, giving us several employs, very different: The Spring with her Chaplet of Flowers, calls us to the care of our Meadows and our Flocks; The Summer Crowned with Wheat-Ears, obliges us to the care of our Harvests: The Autumn with her Garland of Vine-Branches, would not that we should leave our Grapes to be spoiled by passengers: The Winter covered with Ice, would have us render to the Earth, that Tribute that each one owes her, to the end that at another time, she may restore with Usury, the Grain that we have Sown in her bosom, O! Shepherd how innocent is this Usury? and how unlike to that which is practised in the City? we impoverish no person to enrich ourselves, of this sort; we need not hid the gain that is got in this manner, they can neither envy nor reproach us, neither accuse us of any Crime: For as much as the more careful we are, the more we are praised. In the other, all their cares are , if they are not blamed, they have more pain, and less trouble, and which they acquire by injustice, they cannot possess but with inquietude: They fear the envious, their Enemies, and Thiefs: But for us, we have neither Enviors, Enemies, nor we fear no other Thiefs, than the poor Birds, which Robus of some of our Fruits, however we would not banish from our Campaigns, these innocent Criminals, for the diversion they give us in other encounters. But to make you see that maugre the Magnificent Structure of your Temples and of your Palaces, that notwithstanding the Marble, the Jasper, the Porphyry, that make all their Ornaments: and maugre your Aqueducts, your Statutes, and triumphant Arches; we are the more veritable possessors of all the fairest gifts of Nature you have not. But to remark, that Rome Adorns not herself, but with that which the Earth shuts in her Bosom, and of that which she hides from the Eyes of men: Here we rejoice of of all that, with which she Adorns herself, and of all which she sends forth to the view of the Universe. No Shepherd, these are not her Treasures, these Metals, which are at this Day, the Tyrants of Spirits, and the Corrupters of the most Sage; If they were her riches, we should see our Trees loaden with Gold, Pearls, and Jewels, she would adorn herself, with her fairest Ornaments and not leave imperfect, that which you call her chiefest Works; we should not need Lapidaries, to Cut and Embellish our Diamonds, nor Refiners to purify Gold, nor Artists to polish our Pearls, all these things would be finished before they are seen and produced, in perfection, as are our Flowers, our Woods, and our Fountains. Cease then Shepherd, Cease to remember, that the Abode of Rome is finer than that of our Campaigns, and prepare you at last to make the magnificence of your diversions at Rome, to give place to the Innocence of ours: Of all the public Feasts with which you have entertained me, those of the Triumphs, and those of the combats of your Gladiators, are the most Celebrated. But O! Tytirus, these Feasts, and these Joys, have somewhat of Tyranique, and funest; and it is difficult, for Rational persons to rejoice, in seeing so many infortunates. That which is called Delight, ought not to be mingled with Bitterness; Tears and Laughter, ought not to be seen together: And Blood shedding ought not to please, even in Battles; much less in Diversions. Nevertheless the most agreeable that they have at Rome, are to see Kings in Chains, and four thousand Gladiators killing one another, to please the Roman people: O! Shepherd what are those people who divert themselves in seeing Rivers of Blood, and Mountains of the Dead. For us, we afflict ourselves when one of our Lambs are Sick; and we are far from rejoicing to see the miserable dye cruelly: neither does it satisfy us, to behold Kings, or Princes loaden with Chains: For me, Shepherd; if I see such a spectacle I have more compassion for the vanquished, than esteem for the Victors. And in fine (to speak to you as I think) I see no Innocent pleasure at Rome. They insult there upon the infortunate, and there they make their unhappy slaves perish: They lead thither in Chains Captive Kings, after they have Usurped their Kingdoms: And they hear there, and behold, not only without horror, but with satisfaction, the last plaints and actions of the dying. Caesar (as they say) wept after the Battle of Pharsaliae, over the great number of the slain, that he saw lying there, without life and motion. But at Rome they Laugh at that which made Him weep; And they call that a Feast of rejoicing, which ought rather to be named a public mourning. Behold then Shepherd (I conjure you) if we are cruel, or innocent in our joys: And if in making you remember it, you avow not, that if we have less Pomp, we have more Ingenuity, and more Address, more Equity, and more pleasure: Recall then to your imagination one of the general Feasts of our Hamlets, or one of the Sacrifices that we make to the Gods, after the ingathering of our Harvests: is there any thing more agreeable then to see not Kings loaden with Fetters; not Gladiators covered with Blood and Wounds; But an innumerable company of Shepherds, and Shepherdess's Crowned with Chaplets of Flowers with a joy in their Visages which communicates its self to all those that behold 'em: Some with Flagelets, others, with Shalms, some lead the Victims, others bring the Consecrated Vases, some raise the Altar of Turf, others put fire to it: And almost all have their Crooks enriched with Devices, Ciphers and Ribbons, and the propriety of their Habits, serves to render them more aimable: It is not gorgeous, but it is graceful, and although neither Purple, nor Precious-Stones glitter in them; yet their whiteness, and the beautiful variety of the Jewels that the Spring, Summer, and Autumn gives us, sufficiently repairs that defect. In sum Shepherd, the beauty of my Companions (if I deceive not myself) ought not to yield to that of the Roman Dames. You will answer perhaps, if it be true that they have as fine features, and an Air as agreeable, yet I cannot deny, but that the Sun-burning in the Country, spoils their complexions, and destroys much of its freshness; But besides that the thickness of our Shades, defends us from that Enemy; I have yet to say that Tanning is better than Painting, and a native beauty is more charming, than that which is Artificial. For us, Shepherd, we appear such as we are; we have no other mirors, than our Fountains, nor other Paint then the Dew: Nevertheless there are maids found amongst us, in our Woods, whose complexions are so marvellous that they surpass the Lilies, in whiteness and the fairest incarnate of the Roses. The modesty of their Actions, the sincerity of their discourses, and the serenity which appears in their Eyes are things which are are not found but in our Campaigns, elsewhere they are but faint and Artificial: They regard, but to be regarded, they make no Conquests without design; and that is not fine which appears so: And they sometimes deceive the discreetest persons. But to return Shepherd, to this fair Assembly, where our sage Pastors, are the Witnesses, and the Judges of our Diversions, who have prepared the Prize for the Victors, (in this Feast) you know well by the simplicity of their Matter, that it is no sentiment of avarice, that gives 'em the desire to gain 'em, since that are destined for Shepherds, (as you know better than I) are but Panniers of Reeds, Sheep-hooks, Flagalets, Shalms and Darts: And for the Shepherdesses, Baskets of Rush, Crowns of Flowers, Nosegays and Ribbons: Nevertheless we have as much care to vanquish, as if we acted to Conquer all the Earth. But Shepherd, we need no Arms to carry this Victory; we shed no Blood to defeat our Enemies: They lead not in triumph, those who have had the disadvantage; on the contrary, instead of inchaining them, they embrace 'em, and they say to 'em, that they are the most expert, tho' they are not the most fortunate: And lastly they seek to comfort 'em of this little disgrace; (and if I am not very much deceived) Races, Lutes, Dancing, Music and Poetry, give more diversion than all the Combats of the Gladiators; He than that Runs the Swiftest: He who Plays well on the Lute: He that Dances agreeably: He who makes the finest Verse: And he who Sings most skilfully, gives, without doubt, more satisfaction than the Combats of Panthers and Tigers, whereof you make so much discourse. Think Shepherd, think well: If you had not rather see the Shepherdess Galathea Dance, or the fair Lycoris Sing; than to see a Lion devour a Tiger, or an Elephant overthrow a Rhinorceros: Yes you like it better, I remark enough upon your Visage that you accord with what I say, and I think also that you love better to see these two fair Maids tho' they have heretofore enthralled you, than to be the spectator of the most magnificent Triumph, that Rome hath ever made you see, when Augustus himself was Victorious. Blush not Shepherd at this little reproach that I make you, nor repent of so many Verses that you have composed for their Glory; neither be ashamed of having carried the prize so often at our exercises, from the expert Melibeus, from the active Coridon, from the hardy Menalcus', and from the ingenious Daphnies, in the sight of our most knowing Shepherds. But if from our public Feasts, you will pass to those innocent Wars, which make some of our greatest pleasures, I would say Fishing, and Hunting, you will be constrained to avow, that Rome knows not all that which is capable to please, since she cannot give these agreeable diversions, to those which inhabit in her: Nevertheless it is certain that one cannot find any thing more likely to please, than to see many Shepherdesses, with their Lines in their hands, keeping all a most profound silence, for fear lest by the noise they should make the Fish that they would take, go from 'em, and hid themselves in the bottom of the Waters: The one makes her Fishhooks ready upon the Banks: Another cast her Line into the River, and is so attentive to what she does, that she appears to be her own statue, & by an action as subtle as pleasant, lifts up her Arms, draws the Line, and overjoyed with her prize, casts the Fish on the Banks, which after bowing, raising, and divers boundings, makes the emeralds of the Meadow, shine with his Silver Scales. Another hoping to have the same success as her companion, draws her Line without catching any thing; wherewith others hold themselves comforted, in having the same destiny. But that which is most diverting, is to see our Shepherds loaden with Nets, go to Fish a Pond; it is there that when they are happy, they make to be seen, in drawing their Net, a living wave as it comes upon the shore, by the multitude and diversity of the Fish, that, they have taken: some leap above the Nets, others Break 'em, some bound above the Vase; others more happy save themselves, and others entangle themselves more in seeking to be disengaged, and all of 'em make their efforts to save their lives, and to escape from that which retains 'em: But 'tis in vain that they strive, and beat themselves, for they have changed their element, and they must die, the coolness of the Grass is not for them, like that of the Water. This diversion tho' very simple is not always so; since Queens as well as Shepherdesses, have sometimes employed themselves in't: And Cleopatra who had the Glory to take, in her Nets, the Hearts of Caesar and Anthony, affected to go a Fishing, and to cast the Line, and made it one of her most ordinary Gallantries. But Shepherd, if there be some pleasure in deceiving the innocence of Fishes, there is no less in deceiving that of the Birds, As soon as they have hid that which is to take 'em, under the heaps of Corn, that they have cast 'em to the end that in searching for somewhat to live, they find wherewith to die; sometimes they Shoot 'em, sometimes they are surprised upon the Trees where they use to go, the Branches thereof being full of some kind of Birdlime, which retains 'em so fast by the Wings, that the more they endeavour to fly from 'em, the more they are entangled in these dangerours' Branches. After these innocent exercises, be it Fishing or Hunting, you shall see the one, and the other, returning charged with their prizes; the Shepherds carrying great Panniers of Reed, full of Fish; the Shepherdesses bringing Cages of Rush, where they have conserved alive some Birds, that have pleased 'em; and altogether without abandoning the care of their Flocks, retake the way of their Cabanes. Those that have been happy, tho' charged with their booty, leave not to sing some Eglogue, or to play on their Shalms; all their Flocks following their Masters or their Mistresses: The Dogs by their fidelity, take heed that neither Ewe, nor Lamb go a stray; and the Bulls by their long cries; and by their Bellow, advertise those of the Hamlet, that the Hunting or the Fishing is ended; and they come with all imaginable impressions of joy, to know the success. It is too much Shepherd, it is too much, that I speak of this innocent War, although (if I be not deceived) it ought to be preferred to that which has made to be erected, the most superb Trophies and wherewith the Victors, have obtained their most magnificent Triumphs. Come then if you please to somewhat more solid, and let us compare the Vices of Rome, to the Virtues that are to be seen amongst us. In the first place Rome is replenished with Flatterers, and we scarce know what Flattery is: At Rome Lying and Wickedness Reigns, and in our Woods there always appears Verity: They are never wanting to praise that which meriteth to be praised: At Rome all men are slaves, either to their ambition, or to their avarice, and in our Campaigns, we possess more Gods than we desire to have, and are avaricious but of time only, which we would always employ well. There men found at Rome, which make the greatest poisons in Nature, their greatest treasures, with which they would destroy their Enemies, (or themselves if it happen that they are to be punished for their offences) Amongst us we make salutary herbs our dearest treasures, which can heal the stinging, and biteing of Serpents. At Rome they think but of their own interest, here we think but of our pleasure, provided it be innocent: At Rome all those that inhabit there, seek how they may Render themselves acceptable to the Prince: In our Woods we seek but our Equals: At Rome they will not be free, but love to kiss the hand which enchains 'em: in our Hamlets we pay obedience to our Old Pastors, with as much affection as freedom. At Rome those who make the Laws, deride and break 'em; with us the most sage Shepherds instruct us rather by their example, than by their words; yes we do rather what they do, than what they say; and we know not amongst us, those that break either Laws, or Customs. At Rome riches only make the difference between men; with us 'tis virtue and merit, make the distinction. At Rome all are busied either to deceive others, or to hinder themselves from being deceived; in the place where we are, we seek but the occasion to serve one another; if it happen at any time, that one of our Shepherdesses lose a Sheep from her Flock, that she loves better than the rest, all our Shepherds are in pain till she recover that which she hath lost; They inform themselves with care, and they tell to all they meet, all the marks of this aimable Animal, to the end to know whether they have seen it; they describe its Whiteness, its Marks, the Flowers and the Ribbons, which are tied to its Horns, and forget nothing of all that which may serve to their design; and if they are happy enough to retrieve it, they return with as much joy as one of your Consuls when they have gained a Battle. It is true that we ardently love to serve, not only our friends, but all those that have any need of us. At Rome it is not so, for all the world there, rejoices at the misfortunes of another: Those whom the Prince looketh not on with a good Eye, are abandoned of those that they have the most obliged; whatever virtue they have on the contrary, those that he favoureth, tho' they should be the most vicious, and the most imperfect of men, are found to have not only friends, but also Idolaters and Slaves. It goes not in this manner in our Campaigns; we see nothing above us but the Heavens: We have no Princes, nor favourites to fear or seek for; we live with Equality, we love those which love us, and we hate no person. In sum, I have always heard say, that Shepherd's were the Image of Sovereigns, and that they ought to govern their People, as we govern our Flocks, and that the Sceptre and Sheephook ought to have the same resemblance. Nevertheless of the Fashion that these things are recounted, there is a notable difference between 'em, or to say better, they have no resemblance, we love our Flock with tenderness, we have no other care but this to render them happy, we choose the freshest Grass for 'em, and the clearest Water, we give 'em a faithful and courageous Guard, which are our Dogs, and we defend 'em ourselves at the hazard of our Lives, when the Woolves attaque 'em, and we take care not only to nourish and defend 'em, but to hinder 'em from the extremities, of Cold and Heat, in the Winter we leave 'em in the Sheepfolds when the Frost has Iced the Grass. In the Scorching Heat of Summer, we seek umbrages in our Groves for 'em and defend 'em from all sorts of inconveniencies: when they are sick we seek remedies which are proper for 'em; when they are well, we deck them with Flowers, and Ribbons; it is not not so With some of these Princes who ought to be Pastors, they do not love their Flock, nor care to be loved of 'em, provided that they be feared, they serve themselves more of the Crook to fear 'em than to reassemble or defend 'em; instead of choosing their Grass and their Waters, they would have their Flock serve only to their magnificence and profit; instead of keeping 'em as we do, they reverse the order, and 'tis the Flock which keep the Pastors; in leiv (I say) of defending 'em, from all sorts of incommodities, 'tis these that cause it every way, when they are sick they are so far from seeking remedies, that they augment their Evils, by their tyrannies; and when they are well, they are so far from adorning them, that they spoil them of their natural ornaments: we would have our Flocks always Fat, and they would have theirs Lean and Feeble. Shepherd we content us to take from 'em their Wool to make afterwards Purple wherewith to make their most Rich Habits, they pluck it from theirs with violence, and I dare say, that the Purple that covers them, rather Borrows its Colour from the Blood of their Flock, than from the industry of the most excellent Artists, of whom they boast so at Rome. Ah Shepherd, if we had such Pastors amongst us, we would banish 'em from our Campagns, and we would esteem 'em worse than Wolves, who are the declared enemies of our Flocks: we would degrade 'em from this noble employ, and take a way their Sheep-hooks, Pipes, Scrips, Shalms, and all the Glorious marks of our innocent profession. Tityrus I must tell you 'tis a dangerous thing, when a Sovereign is no good Pastor, and it were better to make a faithful Pastor, a King, than to have a King, which cannot be a good Pastor: I know what you will say to me, that there is to be found, at this time, a Prince who has so much sweetness, clemency and bounty, that he rather merits the name of a good Pastor, than that of a Tyrant: And that Augustus, after having brought back his Troops, is one of the best Pastors that ever carried Sheephook: But tell me in a few words, how many Sheepcotes hath he destroyed, and desolated to enrich his Flock? how much Blood hath he shed? how many Pastors hath he killed? how many Tigers, Panthers, and Wolves, have served him, to make Desert the fairest Meadow of the Empire? and how many innocent Lambs, have felt his fury, before they found his Clemency? Speak Shepherd I conjure you, and answer me precisely. No no, I see well by your silence, that you cannot contradict me, and that you are constrained to avow, that there are more Pastors to be found, who would make good Princes, than Princes, capable to be good Pastors. In effect, the felicity of a Compaign life, is not so very much unknown at Rome, but that it hath been embraced with fervour, by her most illustrious Heroes; yes those who after having gained Battles, (as you know better than I) have Cultivated the Earth with their own hands, they have also, in the pressing affairs of the public, been recalled from holding the Blow to guide the Reigns of the Empire, and from the Coulter, to the head of an Army; and from Solitude to Court. Nevertheless these men, after they have done these great and fair Actions there, have never been more praised, than when after having governed the republic, carried Cities with force, gained Battles, recovered the Bounds of Roman Puissance, and merited the Honours of Triumph, they were seen to refuse these Honours, to return to the government of the Blow, from the head of an Army to the Campaign life, and from the Court to solitude. After this Shepherd, complain not of your destiny, and have not the injustice, to find nothing sweet but the magnificences of Rome, since our simplicity is better than her Artifice; and if from general manners, we pass to particular passions, you shall find that all those which have been accustomed, to cause the greatest disorders, are not known amongst us, to produce any other than agreeable effects. First ambition torments us not, we are but the Children of Shepherds, and we would be no more; our desire having no other object, we desire nothing else, we live without pride, and without inquietude; we see nothing above our heads, but the Heavens, nor nothing under us: We are without insolence, and without chagrin, and we would not change our Sheep-hooks, for all the Sceptres of the universe. It is easy to Judge that if we are not Ambitious, we know neither envy, nor avarice, since these two passions, are almost inseparable one from another: wrath is unknown to us, and hatred can have no entrance in a Country where all is worthy to be loved: but you'll say to me what then is this passion, which hath been accustomed to produce such strange disorders in the City, and of which you'll make but agreeable effects to be seen in your Campaigns? As for me there is so long a time since I dwelled there, that I have almost lost the Remembrance on't. It is Tityrus the most noble, and the most puissant of all others, it is that which made Hercules Spin, which Burnt Troy, and which hath overthrown so many Empires; which hath caused so many Ruins, through all the Corners of the Earth; which hath made so many Wars; which hath given Anthony to Cleopatra, Augustus to Livia: It is, in fine, this passion, which hath its birth amongst the delicacies of Flowers, of Groves, of Fountains, of Meadows, of Shepherds, and Shepherdess's, with more innocence and less bitterness, than upon the Throne, and in the Palaces of great Kings, it is in those elevated places, that this Passion called Love, is almost always dangerous: a lover which gives Laws to all the World, is no less apt to receive it of his Mistress: He wills what He desires more ardently, and obstinately, than others, and when He finds any obstacle in his designs, this Crowned slave, that hath not been accustomed to obey, and who hath always been accustomed to be obeyed by all those who approach him; This slave (I say) quits his Chains and revolts, remounts upon the Throne, and becomes the Tyrant of her, of whom he called himself the Captive, and often makes her prove the most funest adventures. But on the contrary amongst us, this little God, whose puissance hath no bounds, never appears in our Woods, without the Graces of his Mother, he inspires not into the hearts of Shepherds, none but reasonable sentiments, we see 'em kiss their Fetters, even then when the Rigour of their Mistresses, makes 'em seem heaviest, They receive favours with Transport, and when that they are ill treated, their discretion and their patience, obliges 'em, to support this misfortune with respect; and with submission: They are always our Slaves and by consequence they are never our Tyrants: we have some rigorous Shepherdesses, but we have no indiscreet Shepherds: They are in pain but to discover their plaints upon their Pipes, and their Shalms: their Verse, their Song, and their discourse, are all full of our praises; all our Trees are graven with then Characters, and ours mingled together, and by all their Actions, they give us daily new marks of their esteem, or Love. Constancy, that virtue which so few men practice in Cities, is encountered almost every where amongst us: the equality of our Conditions, and of our Riches, make the most feeble to continue constant. There is here neither Sceptres, Gold, or Diamonds, which may Blind or Suborn us; the wisest amongst us despise 'em and others know 'em not. You cannot see here a Husband repudiate many Wives, as at Rome; here the Lover continues his passion after Marriage; he would not acquire us, but to esteem us the more. Here they take care of the conquests that they have made and make it their Glory to carry but one Chain in all their life. Our Shepherdesses are no less faithful, their freedom and their innocence, make 'em so candid, that they disguise not their sentiments: They are modest and sincere, and if a little Jealousy, maugre so many virtues, which ought to hinder its birth, trouble not the tranquillity of our Woods, all our Roses would be without Thorns, and our pleasures without any mixture of Bitterness: However this Passion acts not here as at Rome, they have there recourse to violence, they put in use Poisons, Poniards, and they serve 'em equally against the Rival, and the Mistress. But here the greatest evil which can arrive to us, is to see the complexion of our fair maids become a little Pale. The flocks or our Shepherds resent the inquietudes of their masters, who pass their trouble in the darkest Groves, abandoning them, to the care of one of their friends: This retreat however lets us see but few Tragical events, and ordinarily some Complaint, some Song, and some Verse make the Revenge and the accommodation of the most Jealous. If it is the Shepherdess which is irritated, they bring back her Lover to her feet, sorrowful and changed as he is, She hears him, receives his justification; and if he be innocent she pardons him, and if he be culpable, provided that he repent himself, and that he demand his Pardon with a good grace; but if, on the contrary, 'tis she that is in the wrong, we condemn her to make him a Chaplet of Flowers, with her own hand, and sometimes we consent that he Rob her of a Bracelet of her Hair; after that their felicity is more solidly founded than before, and the Innocence of their lives justifies all their pleasures, and they continue the most happy of any in the World; the Shepherd takes care of his Mistress' Flock, and they are almost always upon the same heaths as his, they seek the same shades, their Sheep-hooks are engraven with the same Characters, their baskets are tied with the same Ribans, their Sheep decked with the same colours, and even their Dogs seem to have contracted together some particular amity. This happy state considered as it ought to be; is it not true Shepherd, that the love at Rome, aught to be painted of another manner than ours? he aught to be represented as a Fury, and he ought to have more of the Bow, and more of the Flambo (given him) to see the disorders that he hath caused, and he ought to bear a Sith as well as Saturn, and as death, since that he destroys as many, as Time and Death Destroy. He reverseth all as well as they, he never carries Love into a Heart, but Hate, Jealousy, and Choler, soon follow after it: He ought then to be depainted as a Monster, he produceth so many different things in the same moment. But for him who inhabits, with us, he ought never to be seen but upon a Bank of Flowers; He ought to have his Wings of the same Colours as the Rainbow; and his Scarf, of the delicatest Silk, his Shafts and Quiver adorned with Roses and Jasmin: His complexion white and incarnate, that Laughter never abandon him, and that his Innocence appear in all his Actions, and that his Flambo seem rather to light us than to trouble us. Judge then (after all I have said to you) if the abode at Rome, aught to be preferred to that of the Campaign? we have our habitations in the finest places in Nature; we enjoy all the innocent pleasures, and are the possessors of all veritable Riches, and we are not very far from the most solid virtue: our customs are equitable, and we have no Ambition, and we see nothing above us that we can desire, and what can I say more? Render you then Shepherd, render you then to reason, to my prayers, and to my persuasions, and to yourself; for without doubt you would not endure, that I should give you the Name of a Shep-herd, if you did not esteem it glorious. So many Eglogues as you have made justify (much better than I) the advantages of a Campaign life. Remember you no more than not to be persuaded of this that I desire, It shall suffice one day to remember that Tityrus after having Sung the Acts of Aeneas (as he hath a design) hath not disdained to accord his Pipe, and his Shalms, with those of our expert Shepherds: Remember not (I say) the Sunbeams to be as illustrious as I have depainted 'em; Nor our Rivers whose waves are Argent; Nor the aimable obscurity of our Grots: Nor the Emeralds of our Meadows: Nor our high Mountains, of whom the sight is so delightful: Nor our Torrents, the fall of whom tho' they are somewhat dreadful, are nevertheless diverting: Nor the Shades of our Forests: Nor of the Ponds covered with Swans: Nor our little Hills: Nor our Valleys: Nor the aimable diversity of our Flowers: Nor our Woods: Nor the Music of our Nightingale: Nor the advantages that we have of the City in all the seasons of the year: Forget also if you can the Beauty of our Shepherdesses: Lose the memomory of our Feasts, of our Sacrifices, of our Hunt, of our Fishings: The innocence of our manners, and of Amarillis herself: But Remember at least to say nothing against a Campaign life. But go forth out of Rome and be as you were before: You have been a Shepherd, you have carried the Sheephook and the Basket, with the same hand wherewith you have written the praises of a Trojan Prince, and the Complaints of Dido: You have writ the Plaints of Tityrus, to the Shepherdess Galatea, and the praises of a Campaign Life.  

The effect of this Harangue.  
THE Reader may believe that this discourse was persuasive, since that Virgil, (who is the same as Tityrus?) regretted not Rome, but once only, in all his Bucoliques (tho' he were three years in Composing them.) He employed seven years afterwards, in the composition of his Georgics, a work of the same nature, which contains all the Offices of a Pastoral Life. Also can one (as I have said) unless his imagination be deceived, but believe that Amarillis, persuaded, in some sort, Tityrus? This Large Campaign, is curiously enough depainted & boldly enough touched, not to displease his Eyes.    

TO HERSELF On the COUNTRY.  
DOwn in the Country, far from Noise,  
Or aught that may disturb its Joys;  
A Bower I have, near a young Grove,  
In which I live, as pleased as Jove.  
In the first Age, when men were free.  
From Avarice, and Impiety:  
When little Cottages contained,  
Such Heroes, as o'er many Reigned,  
Their homely Couches often stood,  
Within a Gloomy Grot, or Wood  
(Then happy Mortals did desire,  
No more, than Nature did require,)  
Here I do, pleasantly survey,  
In all her works, kind Nature's sway,  
And find in every Rose and Flower,  
Characters of a greater Power.  
And have the pleasures of the Spring,  
And flagrance of its Blossoming;  
And see how Flora does return,  
the favours of her love, the Sun  
How gay with Flowers she does attire  
Herself, to heighten his desire.  
Nor does she only please the sight,  
But Courts each others Appetite;  
With such variety and store;  
As Fate intended us no more:  
And by her bounty gives such fruits,  
As even the nicest Palate suits,  
Here's Real Lantskips to delight,  
And please my Fancy with their sight:  
Here's Rocks, Rivers, and Woods Adorn  
The Fields, their Mountains, Flocks & Corn,  
And when I walk by Mossy Springs,  
To hear their Gentle murmur:  
I have the pleasure of the Rare,  
And Cheap Musicians of th' Air.  
These were the Joys, these were the sights,  
In which of Old, were men's delights:  
Since Fate has me inspired like those,  
I will not this enjoyment lose;  
Not any thing shall me invite,  
To leave this innocent delight:  
Nor will I Quit this little Bower,  
To sojourn with an Emperor.   

AN ESSAY ON Dramatic Poetry.  
'tIS not that I think myself a competent Judge, even of the smallest matters, that are Transacted, that I adventure to declare my thoughts on this excellent Subject, (which deserves a much better Pen) but only to intimate to my friends (to whom I am apt to scribble my thoughts) how great an inclination I have for this ingenious diversion; of which ('thas been always presumed,) a good use may be made, by intelligent persons, who make reflections on what they either See or Read; for if they be inclinable to virtue, 'tis magnified upon the Theatre, and they encouraged in't if too vice; 'tis there severely reprehended, and they may, if they will, be deterred from it, by observing the punishment thereof in real, as well as feigned examples: (for usually the Historical part of Tragedy is authentic.) And since I have begun to say somewhat of this kind of Poetry, I can't, without infinite ingratitude to the Memory of those excellent persons, omit the first Famous Masters in't, of our Nation, Venerable Shakespeare and the great Ben Johnson: I have had a particular kindness always for most of Sakespear's Tragedies, and for many of his Comedies, and I can't but say that I can never enough admire his Style (considering the time he writ in) and the great alteration that has been in the Refining of our Language since) for he has expressed himself so very well in't, that 'tis generally approved of still; and for maintaining of the Characters of the persons, designed, I think none ever exceeded him; I shall say no more of Johnson, but that his Catiline Sejanus, and Alchemist, will stand as eternal Monuments of his excellent abilities this way; but yet I confess I have a greater inclination for the incomparable of their time, Beaumond and Fletcher, and chief, of all theirs, for the Maid's Tragedy, King and no King, the Faithful Shepherdess, and Philaster, (notwithstanding some faults found in them,) Philip Messenger had also the happiness to be the Author of some good Plays, Sir John Suckling's Aglaura, Sir John Denham's Sophy, are very well Writ; Sir William Davenant's, and Sir Robert Howard's Plays are generally good; but I am full of the great obligation we all own (that love this innocent diversion) to my Lord Orrory, and to Mr. Dryden, for those they have favoured us, and adorned this Age with; for they have both equaled (in my opinion) the very best Authors in theirs most excellent: And Mr. Dryden has much exceeded any of his Predecessors, in the number of good Plays; And 'tis well for his repose, that I have bid adieu to the Muses (and humour of Verse) or else I should have been troublesome unto him upon this occasion, In telling him how very fond I am of his Plays, and how much they ought to be celebrated: And tho' Mr. Lee, (who I must name for Sophonisba's sake) and some other persons, have Writ divers Good ones; Yet Mr. Dryden will be allowed to keep the Garland (without competitors, I think) both for the Excellency, and number of good Plays: And I foresee, without the assistance of Astrology (or Spirit of Prophecy) that his Dramatic Poetry will be always the Sun in that Firmament; and himself the most illustrious Poet of this Nation, in that kind.   

Artemisia to Isocrates. THE FIRST HARANGUE OF Monsieur de Scuderie's First Volume of HEROICK HARANGUES.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
After Artemisia had employed the most expert Architects of her time, to Build that stately Tomb, which was since one of the seven wonders of the World; the love that she had for her dear Mausolus, being not fully satisfied: She than made to come from Greece, Isocrates and Theopompus, the most celebrated Orators of Antiquity; and by a Liberality, truly Royal, she obliged these great men, to make use of all their Eloquence, in favour of the King her Husband, to externize his memory. It was then to demand this kindness, that this Fair disconsolate Lady, spoke to 'em in this manner, when the excess of her love, had made her forget, that she spoke to the Famous Isocrates.  
Artemisia to Isocrates.  
IT is from you, O Illustrious Orator, that I expect the immortality of Mausolus; it is in you to give life to the Statue that I have erected to him; it is in you to make him a monument, which the Revolution of time, can never destroy, and which will eternize it for ever: think not that I believe that either time or fortune, respect Gold, Marble, Jasper, Porphyry, or Oriental Alabaster, which I have employed to build this superb structure: No, I know that these three hundred Columns, of whom all the Orders are observed with care, and the Bases are so well fixed, and the Chapiters' are so magnificent, and whereof the workmanship exceeds the materials, shall be one day but pitiful ruins, and at last reduced to little or nothing, and all the embossed Images which make and adorn the four fronts of this Sepulchre, shall be successively defaced, by the very injury of the season and not without difficulty hereafter, shall there be some imperfect Figures perceived of all that which we do admire at this day. These obelisks, who seem to defy the Tempests, shall be perhaps struck with Lightning, and by it reduced to Ashes; these Vases smoking with incense, these extinguished Flamboes', these Trophies of Arms, and all the ornaments whereof Architecture is capable, cannot hinder the destruction of this Work. In fine Isocrates, when I have employed all my Treasures, on't, when by the skilful hands of Scopus, of Brixis, of Timothus, and of Lochares, I have put it into an Estate, to pass for one of the marvails of the World, if, after all that, some one do not take care to conserve it in memory, by his writings, the Statues of Gold that I have erected, the Marble, Jasper, Porphyry, Alabaster, the Columns, the Images, the Obelisks, the Vases, the Flamboes' and all the ornaments of Architecture, which appear in this work, hinder not, I say, that Mausolus his Tomb, his Architects, his Sculptures, and Artemisia herself be buried in oblivion, and be as unknown to the ages afar off, as if they had never been: It is then in you Isocrates; it is then in you O Theopompus, to give this edifice its most solid foundation: It is in you, to animate these Marbles, by magnificent inscriptions; it is in you, to resuscitate Mausolus; It is in you to make me live eternally, although I feel that I shall die very soon; I demand not of you Isocrates, that you give me the praises of Helen, or the Eulogy of Busires, (tho' perhaps they have sometimes had their Penegyricks.) I shall give you a more easy and a more illustrious Theme; the virtues of Mausolus and the conjugal affection of Artemisia; this is a more noble subject, than the inhumanity of Busires, and the Lightness of Helen; your Eloquence shall have no crimes to disguise: All the Artifices that Rhetoric teaches, to impose deceits, and render 'em like truth, shall not serve you, but to persuade verity, and without borrowing any thing of the Sophists, it shall suffice that you writ as an Orator, as a Philosopher, and as an Historian altogether. Eloquence, that Gift that the Gods have granted to men, as a Ray of their own divinity, ought never to be employed, but to protect the innocent, or to eternize virtue; those who made a Goddess of Persuasion, never designed to render her a slave to the capriccios' of men; and they knew without doubt (better than I) that Eloquence is a gift of Heaven, that they ought never to profane the power that she hath either of exciting, or appeasing the most violent passions, to move the hearts of the most perverse, to persuade the most incredulous, to force the most obstinate, and to constrain 'em to their wills; and to make us oppose ourselves, and quit our own opinions to follow those of another: All these advantages I say, have not been given to men, to serve themselves of 'em to unjust purposes; on the contrary it is she whom the Gods have chosen to make virtue appear to the World, as Fair as she is, and to make new conquests daily for her: It is by her that those that possess her, acquire immortality, and immortalize others; it is she who maugre the times, and the vicissitute of things, conserveses the memory of fair actions; it is she who maugre the devastation of Kingdoms, and Empires, continues the remembrance of Kings, and Emperors; and when that their Ashes themselves are no more in their Tombs, when their Palaces, are destroyed; when their most famous Cities are deserted, when their Statues are reversed, and when their Realms themselves have changed their Names, makes yet to be seen to all the Earth, an Image of their virtue; yes many ages after they have ceased to live, they live still amongst men; they have yet friends and subjects, they are consulted for the good conduct of life, their good qualities are imitated, they make 'em New Eulogies; envy doth not Tarnish their glory, they give 'em all the praises they merit, the veneration that they have for 'em is so much that it carries them with a great deal of reverence to the places where they have inhabited; and if there continues but some old ruins of their buildings, they respect that which time hath not respected; they look on 'em with pleasure, and prefer 'em above all the magnificence of the modern and most famous Painters, adorn their Tables with these illustrious Ruins, and eternize their memory after 'em. Isocrates wonder not then if I desire so passionately that your Eloquence, make a Panegyric, for my dear Lord; I know in what esteem it is in all Greece, and I foresee with certitude, that it will do him justice: In future Ages, all the writings which carry the name of Isocrates and Theopompus shall be be revered of time, of fortune, and of all men; and that they shall pass through all Nations, and through all Ages, without doing 'em an injury (unless they be outraged) and they shall bring with 'em the reputation of those of whom they have spoken; and perhaps there will be found some illustrious persons, who, by the esteem that they make of your works, shall make 'em speak Tongues not yet invented, who by the light of your glory; will believe they increase their own, by publishing yours. Speak then, Theopompus, Speak then Isocrates, of the virtues of Mausolus, and of the love of Artemisia, to the end that all men may speak after you: But imagine not that I mingle any sentiment of vanity in the prayer that I make you: No Isocrates, I will not that you seek, in my person, or in my life, wherewith to make me a magnificent Elegy; I will not that you speak of my Illustrious Birth; I will not that you say, that I was Born to the Crown of Halycarnassus; I will not have you say that tho' a Woman, I have known the art to Reign, I will not that you tell posterity, of the extraordinary esteem that the Great Xerxes, had for me; I will not have you say that I made the Voyage into Greece with him; I will not that you make known, that I had the first place in his Council, and that my opinion was always followed; I will not have you speak of the Exploits that I did in that War, no more than of the excessive price that the Athenians promised to those that would put me into their hands. But I would only have you say that Artemisia, was Queen of Caria, because she was espoused to Mausolus who was the King thereof. That Artemisia above all other virtues, hath always loved that which is the most necessary to her Sex; that she hath never had other passion, than that of perfectly loving her Husband, and that after having lost him, she hath lost the desire of life, and in fine that after this misfortune, Artemesia hath had no other care, than to illustrate his memory, but after you have said all these things, and have praised Mausolus as much as he merited, and after you have depainted my dolour or (to say better) my despair, as great as it is, forget not to learn posterity that having made to be built, the most superb Monument, that hath ever been seen; I have not been able to find an Urn, that I thought worthy to conserve his Ashes in. Crystal, Alabaster, and all the Precious Stones that nature hath ever produced, have not seemed sufficient to witness my affection, although it be magnificent and liberal, to give him an Urn of Gold covered with Diamonds, (but to give him a heart for an Urn) it must be only Artemesia that would do it, it is there Isocrates, that I shall enclose the Ashes, of my dear Lord; It is there Theopompus, that I shall put in depositum these dear relics of my Lord; & I expect with impatience till this Tomb be in an Estate to receive this living Urn, that I have given him. It is truly my heart which ought only to serve for an Urn to the Allies of my Mausolus, and it seemeth to me that I shall give 'em a new life by putting 'em there: it seemeth to me also, that they communicate to me, the mortal coldness that I find therein; and, 'tis but just that Mausolus, having been always in my heart, as long as he lived, that he should be there after his death. Perhaps if I had put his Ashes in this Urn of Gold, covered with Precious Stones, perhaps I say, some unjust Conqueror, might come and open his Tomb, and with Profane and Sacrilegious hands carry away the Urn, and scatter his Ashes in the Wind, and so separate mine from Mausolus'; but of the fashion that I use 'em we shall be inseparable: there is no Tyrant which can trouble my repose, since it is not he, who can divide me from my dear Lord: Behold Isocrates, that which you ought to say, see Theopompus that which I would have you say of me; but for my dear Lord, forget nothing of all that which may be glorious to him, nor of all that which was effectually in him. Say that he was redoubted of his Enemies, loved of his Subjects, and in veneration with all his Neighbour Princes: Speak of all the great Qualities of his Soul, as well as of the graces that he had received from Nature: Praise his Valour in the War, his Sweetness in Peace, and his Justice, and Clemency, to all the World: In fine, form you the Idea of an accomplished Prince, and you shall make the true Portrait of Mausolus. But after all the things that you have said of this Illustrious Husband, speak with fervour of the love that he had for me: decipher this passion, so strong, so pure, and so faithful as it was, undeceive those that believe that Crimes are the only nourishment of love, and who think a lawful passion, can either be long, strong, or so agreeable; tell 'em that Mausolus, and I, have given 'em an example which destroys all their reasonings and their experiences to the contrary, since that our love had so much of Innocence, and no less fervour, and that it continued even unto death, to be infinitely agreeable. Speak then with Elegy, of this sacred bond, which forced two virtuous persons, to love one another eternally. But as much as is possible hasten to satisfy me, and employ even all your Eloquence, to all those who work on this Tomb, to use their utmost diligence to finish it, as soon as they can, for I find my work is almost consummated, for the little Ashes of my dear Mausolus which remains, will be quickly consumed, and then I have no more to do in the world; all that which is on the earth besides, cannot touch my spirit, I am insensible to every thing else, except dolour, and the only desire that I have in my Soul, is to be rejoined to my dear Mausolus, and to know certainly, that you take care of his glory: and that of yours ought to oblige you thereunto, and also compassion ought to carry you to it; And if it were permitted, to propose other rewards, to Philosophers, than the only pleasure of well doing, I might desire you to consider what charge I have been at, in raising this magnificent Tomb; and pray you to judge from thence, that she who disposed of so much Treasure on mute Marble, will not be ungrateful to you, when you speak of the glory of her dear Mausolus; but use what speed you can to put an end to your works; for neither the Architects, nor you, can so soon end yours, as I shall mine: for if I am not much deceived, I shall die soon enough, to permit you to illustrate the Panegyric of Mausolus, by the death of Artemesia.  

The Effect of this Harangue.  
THIS Virtuous Queen obtained her desire, Isocrates, and Theopompus, spoke so advantageously of her Dear Mausolus, that some have accused 'em as tho' they flattered for Silver. As to her it was not without reason that she pressed the Architects to hasten, for their Work was not ended on this Superb Tomb, when she must have had a place in't. Those which undertook this Miraculous Structure finished it, and it continued a long time one of the marvels of the World: and the glory on't, had a more solid foundation than it, for it continues yet, in the memory of Men, with that of Mausolus, and of the Illustrious Artemesia.  
FINIS    

A Catalogue of Books, printed for Will. Cademan.  

Folio.  
AN Institution of General History, or the History of the World, by William Howell. L. L. D. In two Vol.  
Historical Collections, or an exact Account of the Proceed of the four last Parliaments of Queen Elizabeth of famous Memory.  
Pharamont, a Romance, complete, English.  
Clelia, a Romance. English.  
Parthenissa, complete. English.  
An Historical heroic Poem on the Life of the Right Honourable Thomas, Earl of Ossory, (with his Picture neatly engraven on a Copper Plate) Written by Elkanah Settle.   

Quarto.  
An Historical Relation of the first Discovery of the Isle of Madera.  
The Protestant Religion is a sure Foundation, etc. By the Right Honourable Charles, Earl of Derby.  
The Jesuits Policy to suppress Monarchy. By a Person of Honour.  
A Warning-piece for the Unruly: In two Visitation Sermons. By Seth Bushel. D. D.  
The great Efficacy and Necessity of good Example; especially, in the Clergy. In a Visitation Sermon, at Guildford. By Tho. Duncomb. D. D.  
A Sermon preached before the King. By Miles Barnes, Chaplain in Ordinary to his Majesty.  
A Sermon preached at the Assizes at Lancaster. By Hen. Pigot. B.D.   

Plays.  
The Rivals, a Comedy.  
Cataline's Conspiracy.  
Island Princess.  
Flora's Vagaries.  
Town Shifts.  
Citizen turned Gentleman.  
Morning Ramble.  
Macbeth.  
Cambyses.  
Empress of Morocco.  
Herod nnd Mariam.  
Notes on the Empress of Morocco.  
Ibrahim.  
Pastor fido.  
Love and Revenge.  
Pope Joan.  
Fatal Love.  
Careless Lovers.  
English Princess.  
Reformation.  
Spanish Rogue.  
Marcelia.  
The Mall.  
Rehearsal.  
Mock Tempest.  
Dumb Lady.  
Gentleman Dancing-Master.  
Alcibiades.  
Dutch Lovers.  
Pisoe's Conspiracy.  
Siege of Memphis.  
Rival Kings.  
Constant Nymph.  
Wrangling Lovers.  
Tom Essence.  
French Conjurer.  
Wits led by the Nose.  
Counterfeit Bridegroom.  
Tunbridge Wells.  
Man of Newmarket.  
The Conspiracy.  
Match in Newgate.   

Octavo and Twelves.  
Spanish History; or, the Differences that happened in the Court of Spain, between Don John of Austria, and Cardinal Nitard: with all the Letters and Politic Discourses relating to those Affairs.  
Reflections on Ancient and Modern Philosophy.  
The English Princess; or, the Duchess Queen. A pleasant Novel.  
Court Songs and Poems; being, an exact Collection.  
The Temple of Death; with other Poems. By a Person of Honour.  
Hogan Moganides; or, the Dutch Hudibras.  
Liquor Alchahest, or the Immortal Dissolvent or Paracelsus and Helmont, etc.  
A Philosophical Essay; or, the History of Petrifaction. By Dr. Shirley.  
Gulielmi Ferarii de bello Batavico.  
Westminster Quibbles. Very pleasant.  
The Amours of Count Du Noys. A witty Novel.  
Zaide, or the Spanish History. A Pleasant Novel.  
Mazarine's Memoirs. A Novel.  
Penitent Hermit. And English Monsieur. Two Witty Novels.  
Clark's Manual; a Book of Precedents.  
Saunders his Astrological Physic.  
Anima Mundi, an Historical Narration of the Opinion of the Ancients, concerning Man's Soul after this Life, according to unenlightened Nature.  
History of the Pallas Royal; or, the Amours of Madamoiselle de La Valiere.  
The Amours of Madam and Count de Guiche.  
A Copy of the two Journal Books of the House of Commons; in which, is the whole History of the late horrid Popish Plot.  
The Wits paraphrased; or, Paraphrase upon Paraphrase. In a Burlesque on the late several Translations of Ovid's Epistles.  
Two Discourses. The first showing how the Chief Criteria of philosophical Truth, invented by Speculative men, more eminently serve Divine Revelation, than either Philosophy or Natural Religion. The second, manifesting how all the Foundations of the Intellectual World, viz. Reason, Morality, Civil Government and Religion, have been undermined by Popish Doctrines and Policies. By Tho. Mannyngham, M. A. Fellow of New College in Oxford, and Rector of East Tysted in Hantshire.  
Macchiavel Redivivus; being, an exact Discovery or Narrative of the Principles and Politics of our be-jesuited Modern fanatics.  
The present State of Geneva; with a brief Description of that City, and the several Changes and Alterations it hath been subject to, from the first Foundation thereof.   
FINIS.