THE ROYAL MISSIVE TO THE PRINCE OF WALES, BEING THE LETTER OF K. CHARLES I.  
IN PART METRICALLY PARAPHRASED, FOR ESSAY UNTO THE REST.  
BY RI. WATSON.  
Printed AT CAEN, By CLAUDE LE BLANC. M.DC.LX.   

To the Prince of Wales.  
SON,  

If my Papers at your hand arrive,  
Wherein by Conscience Counsel I contrive;  
Rally my private thoughts, and in array  
My forces ready for your march display,  
Proof-armed, & by sound Experience taught  
How to keep ground, retreat, how to assaued;  
Advance yours by my judgement to the field,  
Where Piety must be your sword and shield;  
Guide you in fight, and parley, to redress  
What now does, or hereafter may, you press.   

I wing the heavy Hours, and clear the sky  
From the cloud of restraint and injury;  
Through my immantled soul see brighter day  
Then's usherd by the messenger of May,  
In these light streaming lines, which o'er the hill  
Show me your future triumph by my skill,  
When neither Son, nor Subject, sure, will guess  
The measure of the Caeuse by my success,  
Convinced by yours; nor in opinion state  
My judgement, as my War, unfortunate.  
So, yet more thought so for your sake, & theirs,  
With myself Rivals, you my Love's coheires;  
The weights of whose afflictions press me down  
Deeper in sense, and sadness, than mine own,  
From a false title to my suffering,  
Because I am your father, and their King.   

But from most Princes have you Wisdome's prize  
Won, by encountering early miseries;  
And with dear-bought Experience crowned those years  
Spent in beguiling pleasures by your Peers;  
Practised your arms, and patience exercised;  
So that by no Chance can you be surprised,  
For want of judgement's guard, in your escape  
Secure, taught future cautel by my rape.   

In this black scile, & season, do you plant  
Politic Virtues, manure Moral, daunt  
Slow Expectation; turn joy into Rage  
At full grown Piety in pupillage.  
So shoot up winter-scians, more straight, & clean,  
Then in warm Sunshine set, or times serene.   

In days of peace and plenty Princes courts  
No Paradises are, but Scenes of sports,  
Where Virtue takes no root, & Pleasure weaves  
But Honour's counterfeit in silken leaves;  
Frame's language to put off, with disrepute,  
Empty formalities for real fruit,  
That starve the Public, to which Kings sons Know  
Their years, by birth, and Providence, they owe.  
That Royal couple, by the sacred pen  
Recorded, neither Kings alike, nor men,  
Give's us a prospect of th' enchanting power,  
Which blowe's the Grandsire's, blast's the Nephew's flower.  

* The Paraphrast here takes the liberty of some enlargement out of sacred History.  The son of jesse that step't first with his sling  
Toward the Court and tight of a King,  
Met, though the Giant fell by the small stone,  
Troops of Miss-fortunes for that happy one;  
Steep mountains climbed for a concealing cloud,  
And in dark caves did Innocency shroud,  
Until, fledged in afflictions, and high-flow'n  
He fetched from Heaven the laurel with his Crown,  
Maintained by sword and Virtue, but entailed  
To one who, fraught with Wisdom, by Will sailed;  
Become heir of vast wealth, & war-got leisure,  
Traffiqed for newfound fancies, unknown pleasure;  
Changed th' iron Chariot for an ivory Throne;  
On silver trod instead of sand and stone;  
Walked under bending Cedars clasped with gold,  
While globes of Incense through his Palace rolled;  
As many wives and women had, as wishes;  
More tables furnished, than his father dishes.  
His ships, witharmes, and horses, ploughed the Maine,  
Brought Apes too, and the bird with starry train.  
The Infant heir, in beds of softest down,  
Slept out the boding sorrows of a Crown;  
Chapletts of roses bound his youthful brow,  
While wine and joys his bowls did overflow;  
Intrancing music daily charmed his ear;  
In streams of oil and whispers did he hear  
All sycophantike language, not once told,  
The young Prince, as young Peasant, must grow old.   

In these rich softs & sweets Rehoboam bred  
His honour, peace, and Crown, half forfeited  
To his green Sages rashness, and those flies  
That stick to glorious Princes with pressed thighs  
And crippled knees, much like such summer creatures  
As in ripe fruit destroy the fairest features,  
Till Autumne's chase blasts do 'em disseise,  
As a miss-fortune spied give's wings to these.   

I had rather (which my Heart speaks by my Hand)  
That you should Charleses le Bon be, than le Grand;  
Yet I, hope, destined to my Royal seat,  
God will both Charles the good make, and the Great,  
Called in the dawning of your Age, to try  
With Nature's Champions Grace's chivalry;  
And by heavens influence subdue the mists  
That to delude your sense possess the lists;  
The guerdon to which conquest of your mind,  
Will be, to have it steadily inclined  
To the employment of those sacred powers  
Descended on you with the blooming Hours,  
By their full strength and lustre to maintain  
Your people's welfare, & their love to gain.   

With God begin and end, whose Vassals are,  
All Kings, each sceptre subject to some star,  
Wherein its Fortune wind's or low, or high,  
By an eccentric regularity,  
Till, at accomplished numbers, it the same  
With silent thunder strikes, or unseen flame,  
Which a loud summon is, and blazing light,  
For him to reach a Crown, that has no right,  
Whom the Disposer Sovereign may too  
Give a short turn, and then eternize you;  
For all the Kings and Kingdoms of the World  
Are by him calmed, or in tempests hurled;  
And crowns in lines descend not, nor are given,  
But by Fate wrapped up in the fold of Heaven.   

The highest Monarchy you can attain  
Is, to account the World's, your Sovereign;  
That you may copy right the Royal Are  
By the sway of his sceptre in your heart,  
That sceptre which by word proclaime's his will,  
By spirit inclines gently to fulfil.   

Prince's true glory is God's to advance  
In holy worship, and Church maintenance;  
By civil power to oblige or release,  
With justice, honour, deuce to public Peace.   

Auspicious Votes paid at the Altar may  
Vnveile your Morning for a glorious Day;  
At least keep up the cloud before her eyes  
From breaking storms, dethroning Miseries;   

Though with the Wretched shall I not enrol  
Him that, the field & Crown lost, save's his soul.  
Unto which centre of true Happiness,  
I trust, the All-directour does address  
These black lines of Affliction, from each arch  
Of Misery's circumference that march  
Through my soul's circlet, & me captive lead  
To Conquest, where, turned rays, they'll deck my head.  
You have already Kissed the Cup, but I  
Have congees quaffed of King-calamitie,  
Which though it in the hollow of each vein  
A tempest beat, and sympathetike pain  
Raise in my Spirits Palace, yet I call  
heavens Panace or safe Antimonial.   

Before all, if not, as Hope suggests, done,  
Ground a firm Quadrate for Religion,  
On which no slight Shaft or Pilaster set,  
With the late-fancied foliage, or fret;  
But such as English Architects have told  
Supported the Church Edifice of old,  
When Rome on no Grotisque, or Antic, stood,  
But on heavens Atlas', a 
* Christ on the Cross, and the holy Martyrs that supported the Primitive Church by their sufferings.  Colosse of blood;  
Greece not in ruins, and amazement, lay,  
The marble softened by her tears to clay▪  
Which Ancient Pile of Glory I best thought  
By the Britannike Modellers new- wrought,  
Wherein you have beauteous proportions seen  
With others eyes, but now must judge between  
Conscience and Custom, with your Reason try  
What Faith can reach short of Credulity.  
So shall the choice be yours, not, as before,  
The practice, on mine, or the Bishops, score.   

In it, thus raised, I charge you persevere,  
As the divinest Oracles most near  
Approaching, for pure doctrine, & the Prime  
Church order drawing down to modern time,  
Somewhat amended, which I often have  
Expressed, and offered, but none hearing gave.   

That you should fixed in Religion be,  
Has no more uncontrolled necessity  
For your soul's, than your Kingdom's lasting peace,  
When your wars, & now- forced travails, cease.  
Since the rebellious Devil, turn Divine,  
And in shape of Reforming Angels shine.  
Now the old gliding Serpent goes upright,  
Pretending from dark shades to new- sprung light.  
When Conscience Faction and sedition cries,  
Sun with Religion stop her mouth, and Lies;  
When Piety Patience pleads, and Peace, their peal  
Of Fury ring's, out nought but Arms and Zeal;  
So that unless the root well- earthed be,  
The Wind, that seems to kiss, will shake, the Tree.   

Nor shall you want Religion's tempting powers  
To Reform, that is, Ruin you and yours:  
For when the worst in treason would combine,  
They find nought better blancheth the design,  
Where, beside new invention, which affects  
The vulgar changing fancies, each project's  
Himself a share in the Great Work, the name  
Of a Reformer, to conceal his shame,  
Which, self-convicted mole's to impudence  
Of censure, with feigned zeal outfacing seize.   

What by your judgement, and the Church, is set  
Religion's standard, vindicate; abet  
No Partisans of faction, nor relieve  
The plaintiff Schismatic, th'accused to grieve.   

Head no disjointed Members, nor adhere  
To 
* By privilegiates are meant suich as claim privilege or exemption from thepublike establissement; and would have the King's countenance against himself.  Privilegiates, in hope, or fear;  
For the complying hearts, you gain, are such  
As, when you in Religion ben will crouch,  
While the more upright Votaries impute,  
That you their faith desprise, them persecute.   

With charity, and calmness, recompose  
Impartially divided spirits, but those  
That upon interest Rebellion raise,  
Out of Church-ruines to repair decays,  
Chastise by justice, or with forces scatter,  
So neither Faction need you fear, or flatter;  
For if their courtesy your want, my Son,  
I antedate your doom, You are undone,   

If Innocence mistake her mate, in love  
Bill with the Serpent, He'll devour the Dove.  
None will you find less loyal, just, humane,  
Then Rebels that Religion's name profane;  
All their demands, and actions, which surmount  
Reaeson, or rule, they place to God's account;  
Under whose Colours, and heavens Canopy,  
Ambition marcheth, with sly Policy,  
Secure and confident of the applause  
Common Devotion offer's to God's Cause.   

Thus may you from their covenanted Bands  
Heave Iacob's voice, but shall feel Esau's hands.  
England less no usurping Faction feared,  
Of late years, than Presbytery, which appeared  
Most Saintly modest, humbly retrograde  
From their forefather's boldness to invade;  
Nor, when they most in Consistory sat,  
Can they strike terror in my Church, or State;  
But since fantastic Frowardness divides  
My double- biased People into sides,  
As corrupt Humours, fond some Fever's name  
To get, meet in full fury to inflame:  
So does each scattered discontented Passion  
Here rendezvous, some in choice, some for fashion,  
While this New Light, shot from the Northern star,  
Religion guide's, by Parliament, to War.   

At first the petty Factions were the suit  
Of this great Rabbi, crouched & kissed his feet,  
Till Time experience gave, & war's success  
Leisure to search, discovery to guess  
Each at peculiar interest, that invites  
To divide spoils, and sequestered delights;  
To break Religion's stock for a new Trade  
By partie-profits, or preferments, made;  
This to Church ruin, and Republic, wrought;  
And on Presbytery self- confusion brought;  
Dashed his first hopes, when chosen General,  
He meant no sharing stakes, but sweoping all.   

Have nothing despicable in your eye  
That threatens the Church-peace or Piety;  
Errors, and schisms, presented from a fare  
But as Night- cloud- foils for Heaven's bright-faced star,  
Chase from your Church-horizon, and dispel,  
By early censure, each to its dark cell,  
Lest what seems a petitionary hand  
Or'ecloud you, spread into an Armed Band.   

The Temple cleansed, and the Altars dressed,  
Religion preserved, beautified, professed;  
To God, his Church, your Soul, due justice done;  
Truth, though betweme two crucified, kept one;  
Ascend your high Tribunal, judge each cause  
By your inheritance, the kingdom's laws:  
For as your great Fate in that Orb doth roll,  
So your good Ruling-starre mole's on this pole,  
Whose mixed influence may wonder bring,  
That set's your Subject free, yet keep's you King,  
If you know true Prerogative's to have  
A happy people Servant, no poor Slave;  
Whose safety, peace, and property preserved,  
imports no pampered Body, with Head starved.  
Ingenuous Liberty does not restrain  
The right- hand privilege to hold the reign,  
Fed with the fruits of a joint care, 'tis meant  
You guide they draw, the Chariot, by consent.   

Charge not your head with such a massy Crown,  
As sinke's the body and supporters down,  
From which nor strength, nor honour, can you have,  
Nor hope they will rise from ruin you to save.   

Best may you Royalty from rumours quit,  
When you intent not rigour, but remit;  
For while by justice you oppress, not awe,  
You play the Tyrant with a ruling Law.  
The censure of the raving World to me  
Is no reproach, so I a Martyr be,  
And such I am, who suffer, to maintain  
Fixed Laws, set- Worship of my Sovereign;  
Naught else my Kingdom- troublers can object  
But that these from their changes I protect;  
That I prefer the Oracles, I found  
By sun- rays writ, to dark dreams they propound;  
And shall, till better Reason me persuade  
Then Tumults, Armies, Prisons, which invade.   

I can not yet that uncouth lesson learn,  
Nor you, I hope, when at the kingdom's stern,  
That it is safe for us Kings to recant  
Our Laws for Faction's violence, or taunt;  
O●, for their feigned courtesy, unfold  
Those sacred sheets, where Wisdom hath enroled  
The Public Interest, and gratify  
With new Indentures razed Community.   

What, to alleviate my pressing weights,  
Heaven may contrive; how to enlarge my straits;  
How it will cross unnatural intents  
Of Hands, becoming Heads of Jnstruments;  
How into order such confusion bring;  
Reduce to subject each become halfe-King;  
I can't determine, nor will take much care  
How in the hands of unjust men I far,  
While in the Empire of my soul I hold  
Justice by God and Conscience uncontrolled.   

What Reason, Honour, Conscience, could permit  
To my concession, I indulged it,  
All strained atlength by offers to Reform  
Regarding only safety in the storm;  
Or'e-nice in no reserves, but where consent  
Must needs betray all due means to prevent  
Irreparable violences to  
My soul, the Church, my People, Son, & you,  
Who in the issues of my Grants have share,  
As of my Kingdoms next undoubted heir.   
 vase of flowers