NEWS FROM PARNASSUS, In the Abstracts and Contents of three Crowned Chronicles, relating to the three Kingdoms of England, Scotland and Ireland.  
IN A POEM, Divided into Two Parts: First, To the KING, Secondly, To the Subjects of the said Three Kingdoms.  
Dedicated to his Majesty.  
By a Serv●●● to Mars, and a Lover of the Muses, WILLIAM MERCER.  Sunt mala, sunt quaedam mediocria, sunt bona plura. 
London, Printed by M. W. for the Author, 1682.   

TO THE Majesty of GREAT BRITAIN, FRANCE and IRELAND, CHARLES STUART, ANAGRAMS.  

I Charles Stuart. Anagrams  
1. A Cleart he'rt is sur '  
2. T serve Christ at all  
3. I all trust has Care  
4. I cure all hurt hearts.   

Carolus Stuart. Anagram  
5. At tu ros Clarus.   

Charles Stewart, King. Anagram  
6. Sucking as real truth.   

Carolus Secundus, Angliae, Scotiae, & Hiberniae, Re▪ Anagram  
7. Ave▪ sinus longae arboris huic leni dexter est.   

I Charles Rex. Anagram  
8. I he 'xcels rare.   

Scotland's King. Anagram  
9 Scots kind Angel.   

Charles Stuart. Anagram  
10. Rule  Star.   

A Paraphrase on the Anagrams, in two Parts.  

The Argument.  
TEN Anagrams united, now agree;  
Which when you know, fall down upon your knee:  
Adore the King with works of Loyal wonder,  
Whose Anagrams agree so, set asunder.  
But Knaves combine, albeit they can be wracked,  
As will appear, perusing this Abstract.  
O! if men might consider seriously  
What is said here, by such an one as I;  
For when the Ark is opened once, than they  
Will wish the Hills heaped on their heads that day.   

The First Part.  

THough seven were set, three more I dared to do,  
And then contrived King Charles Acrostic too:  
Three more make ten, and draws the door to Look,  
Paying my precious Prince both Tithe and Stoke.  
Seven Anagrams I say, add three, and then  
Three set to seven, make very truly ten.  
I Charles Rex, and Scots natural King,  
Whence these two Anagrams, truly too, I bring  
1. I he 'xcels rare, and 2. Scots kind Angel,  
None give such Anagrams in the whole Evangel;  
No King's name neither, but Charles Rex show these  
I he 'xcels rare; unparallelled in Praise;  
Then in this Title of Scotland's King, I do  
This Anagram also, Scots kind Angel too:  
And all the rest, press whensoe'er you please,  
You get not nine such Anagrams as these:  
Kind Angel coming down daily from above,  
Makes Trinity in Unity, live in Love.  
An Example also flows forth of the same,  
Thus from King Charles his glorious diadem.  
Whence one in three, and three in one now I  
Do bind, but bring no blot of Blasphemy:  
Nor do I neither rashly run on Rocks,  
My Doctrine's duly rendered Orthodox:  
Scotland's King's England's King, and his Throne  
Owns Ireland also; now there's three in one.  
So Trinity, in such a sacred sense  
Acts Unity, without a false offence.  
Nine Anagrams so united, now do stand,  
And all are at one Gracious Kings command.  
Charles Stuart, sto●● King; one of the ten too are  
His Anagram, and that's this, Rule  Star.  
Still rule,  Star, and all your days adorn,  
As did the Star that day that you were born.  
Which decked that day; a very sacred sign,  
A Star at noon, beside the Sun to shine.  
Wherefore with these signs in your Arms that are,  
Rose, Thistle, Luce, Harp, there also stands the Star:  
All which Signs show us that our Sovereign must,  
As he is Sacred, be so served Just.  
For Kings are Gods, the Sacred Psalmist says,  
Though Death, their Deity, daily disobeys:  
And I say also, only this for that,  
This being all I'm always aiming at,  
King Charles is Christ's Anointed, no less now  
Anointed and United also too.  
Wherefore whom God doth doubtless so combine,  
At such no Subject should dare to repine:  
For being God's Vicegerent, and so Just,  
Bound to Obedience all men meekly must:  
I say, even must, and must as truly too  
Do what such good King bid us daily do.  
So all is said, which I professed before,  
Even to a tittle, till I can say no more.  
But for my fault, profaning of so high  
A name as doth demonstrate Majesty,  
And put in Print my prattling thereupon,  
So nigh the Sceptre, and my Sovereign's Throne,  
Deserves Death; but before I do condemn  
Myself, if I can humbly touch the hem  
Which hath the Honour as to be about  
Your Sacred self, albeed it be without,  
I can implore, and humbly prostrate lie  
Before your Footstool, if I die I die.  
But Caesar seldom was offended, when  
A Soldier's faults flowed from affection, than  
He smiled, and said, let him not from me fly  
Till I relieve him for his Loyalty.  
Poets are privileged to put rags in Rhyme,  
When they in Prose cannot proclaim a Crime:  
So I, Great Sir, Swear you in Rhyme, read what  
Knaves are in your three Kingdoms aiming at:  
For not embracing Bribes for to forbear  
(Though I'm abstruse in this my Abstract here)  
My Chronicle shall every case disclose,  
Not sparing Friends more than I favour Foes.  
But I conclude, because I'm not Scholastic;  
For to the King to constitute this Acrostic,  
Offends: wherefore to cure all discontents,  
I trust King Charles' grains of Ingredients.  
Now having on the Anagrams played so plain,  
Receive this Sonnet of our Sovereign.   

Acrostic.  

Can Art and Nature, in a Muse like mine,  
Heaven not inspiring special power divine,  
Attain unto a Prince's parts so high,  
Reigning and Ruling so Religiously?  
Lo England only, more than Europe ever  
Establish's Trophies t'be abolished never.  
Surely our Sovereign's covered with a Crown.  
So three Crowns crave of Carolus Rex renown,  
Triumphant Arches, Statues Crowned with Bays,  
Unstained, as streams of Phoebus' fairest Rays.  
All his Achievements, Choice, maugre those that dare  
Rebel; but if? then they as early are  
Trod under foot. Triumphing awful Arms,  
With help from Heaven, keep good K. Charles from harms     

The Second Part.  

I Charles Stuart. Anagram  
1. A cleart he'rt is sur '  
2. T' serv' Christ at all  
3. All trust has Care  
4. I cure all hurt hearts.   

A Cleart heart is sure t' serve Christ at all hours.  
These Anagrams and Attributes are ours,  
Saith good King Charles, whose Virtues weigh not far  
From what King Solomon's, and just King Joshua's are:  
Then let all Subjects see his Sacred Throne  
Established still in his Succession.  
All trust has Care, when Subjects it receives:  
Kings care not much till Trusty's turn to Knaves.  
All trust has Care, which when I well construe,  
And on you cast it, Subjects should be true.  
Such Skill exceeds all Sciences and Arts,  
King Charles saith truly, I cure all hurt: hearts:  
As he is King, his Faith yet failed him never,  
His Sacred Touch hath cured one evil ever.  
I trust all Cares, saith King, and use all Arts,  
I Cure all hurts that harbour in your hearts.  
And though myself lie by Bethesda sure,  
My Sovereign Master can command my Cure.   

Carolus Stuart. Anagram  
At tu ros Clarus.   
A Religious roundel upon this Latin Anagram.  

AT tu ros Clarus, we know can cleanse us clear,  
Should the Devil outdare us, At tu ros Clarus,  
His Malice could not mar us, though our spots appear,  
At tu ros Clarus, we know, can cleanse us clear.   
The Anagram Englished.  
But thou clear dew.  

Words of such worth, albeit but few,  
When best men bad have been,  
What stains can Satan on them strew,  
But thou clear dew, canst clean?   

Charles Stewart, King. Anagram  
Sucking as real truth.   

SVcking as real truth in Streams  
From his Queen Mother's Breast,  
As it is true, that sucking seems  
For newborn Babies best.   

Because some Reader suddenly may censure  
My roundel, I dare, as a desperate Fencer  
Defend, from them that's so pursuing me,  
As in these Lines ensuing, you may see.  
Even so, since one word will the wrath provoke,  
These few Lines following shall gain-stand the stroke.  
This Anagram goes high, with a Sacred Wing,  
In which I thus attribute to the King.  
Great men (almost) of King's great values want,  
And yet (in Scripture) are called Gods, you'll grant.  
Then take my say in such sense, and I  
Shall not be censured saying Blasphemy:  
For such Expressions from Parnassus' Pen  
Prove not profane, but only amongst men.  
Nor doth the thing in order seem so odd,  
Because the King doth govern as a God.   

On the Anagrams in General.  

Or add, or alter, or leave out one Letter,  
I may, to make the Anagram the better:  
And if you say my hand in it doth halt,  
Make one, I'll wager you fall in the fault.  
For this affords my freedom in the thing,  
Cum Privilegio, it is for the King.  
Though all these Anagrams I with care contrive,  
The sixth sucked real truth to confirm the five.   

I said I left my Latin at the School,  
But I did lie, I lost it like a Fool:  
For when I on this Anagram did fall  
I found but these four Latin words at all,  
Which I with gladness gave (indeed) for fear  
My Latin failed, left them in English here,   
But thou clear dew.  

Upon Parnassus Mount this morning  
I saw the Sacred nine adorning  
Themselves; so I implored their Power  
But to inspire my Pen one hour,  
To humour it: They asked in what?  
And promised when I told them, that  
They would assist; and so should be  
My Judges, do what's fit for me:  
I told them this was almost all  
My fault, whether I stand or fall,  
Seven Anagrams I granted I  
Had made upon his Majesty,  
And saw each Syllable of the same  
Within my Sovereign's Sacred Name;  
As also wherein every one  
Allude unto his Royal Throne:  
And thought the things would better be  
If they but blew their breath on me.  
Saying, should they display their Banner,  
The meaning must exceed the manner.  
Though words would show but weak inventions,  
In some things there lie strong intentions.  
Four of them sure the same in sense,  
Almost of equal consequence:  
The fifth is easy to be seen,  
A dew divine that washeth clean:  
Which lies in Latin, I allege,  
Expressing Princely Privilege.  
But though it lies in Latin now,  
I turned in English unto you.  
Because I am no Book-bred Bard,  
I play best with the plainest Card.  
The sixth, much more than all the other,  
Sucked real truth from his Queen-Mother.  
And if you ask how a King became  
The Author of this Anagram:  
No name but it can Parallel,  
Unless you will some Treason tell;  
For each so easily allude  
To him of whom they're understood,  
That I shall only say, but so,  
Naming another, I'll say no.  
God gave these goodly attributes  
TO our Sovereign, whom such only suits:  
And him allowed that name by lot,  
In which these Anagrams are got:  
Yea, I will live and die your debtor,  
If in the name you find one Letter,  
But in the Anagram I engrave;  
And you are tied too to receive  
What I so duly do set down  
To deck our Sovereign's Sacred Crown.   

My Theme's so easy, though my skill be scarce,  
I could on it make multitudes of Verse.  
But though men may in wide ways walk at will,  
I think 'tis best for tired men to sit still.    

A Paraphrase upon this Anagram  But thou clear dew. 

A Subjects Name, by Nature now's  
All full of faults, I say,  
But thou clear dew, thyself allows,  
To wash the same away.  
Five Anagrams I found before,  
Which so concerns the Throne,  
That I shall move on them no more,  
But let these five alone;  
The which, when in effect I found  
The sense to be the same,  
The sixth by Letters I collect  
Out of the Latin Name.  
No Subjects Name must make my Theme  
One that's above must be,  
It is my Sovereign's Sacred Name,  
Carolus Stuart's self you see:  
Which in effect, I found my Muse  
So freely to unfold,  
Praxiteles could not refuse  
It to Engrave in Gold.  
Though, I confess when I was young,  
And very void of Wit,  
And though I now seem something strong,  
Am not much mended yet:  
For what I gained, I then forgot,  
And so such Fool became,  
Though other Lines I learned not,  
I gained this Anagram;  
The which, as I have said before,  
It doth itself allow  
To play the game, so clear a stream  
of Dew hath done it now.  
But in regard a Subject should  
One so Divine, adore,  
I'll move (by making Anagrams)  
My Monarch's name no more.   

Upon Whitehall, and over all,  
Exposed to public view,  
Unto our Sovereign only shall  
But thou clear dew, be due:  
Be only due, I say indeed,  
So much (for this) the rather,  
His Royal Name doth now proceed  
From his most famous Father.    

Carlous Secundus, Angliae, Scotiae & Hiberniae, Rex. Anagramma  Aué sinus longae arboris Ecc' huic leni Dexter est. 

Cúr Leni est Dexter Regi sinus arboris altae  
Exprimit hunc Sensum Nominis Ecc' tenor.   

NOw those that think this Anagram not good,  
Must study until the strain be understood,  
Because the Name, which I presume to make  
My Theme, is more than men may undertake,  
King's Names are nice; likewise no less than such  
Uncircumcised Subjects must not much  
Come nigh them; nor their breath let blow thereon.  
Carolus Stuart demonstrates me a Throne.  
Dare not divide the Letters as they lie;  
An Anagram must not massacre Majesty.  
My eyes stood staring, when I longed to look,  
Then fell asleep; my senses me forsaken:  
For lo, what Latin I laid up at School,  
It proved not prosperous, having played the Fool:  
For when to Court, with my conceits I came,  
I scarce could offer up this Anagram;  
I dreamed it, and when I awaked, I vow,  
I could not tell if it was false or true:  
Nor did I alter one word of the thing,  
But drew it, as I dreamed it, next morning.  
Even so, I thought, it could not be called Treason,  
But that it was much rather Rhyme and Reason.  
Being sure my Sovereign takes the Subjects thought  
(When he proves Loyal) as the work were wrought.  
And then for to prevent the Carpers' quarrel,  
I rather rendered than opposed the peril:  
Saying, He that thinks my stories are abstruse,  
May mend them; but, I fear, my Friends refuse.   

Great Sir,  
I think you see in every Anagram  
How faithful and effectual too, I am.  
I do not tell, but I do stoutly stand,  
And plainly spell first, E. N. G. L. and  
S. C. O. T. L. A. N. D, and lo  
Draw I. R. E. L. A. N. D even so.  
Then read my Rhyme, so may your Majesty  
Mark men in much dissimulation lie. Let them die.       

Anagrams on his Royal Highness (th● Duke of York's Name) James Stewart.  

MAny make Stewart with a Double W,  
And many make Stuart with a single too:  
Which when I saw that both the ways were best,  
On each of them two Anagrams I expressed.   

James Stewart. Anagrams  
1. A Wise Master.  
2. Aims at Virtues.   

James Stuart. Anagrams  
1. As I am truest.  
2. Trust me as I am.   

A Wise Master aims at Virtues, than since,  
As I am truest, trust me as I am, a Prince:  
Your Ancient Acts say I from God alone  
Derive the right of my Succession. Which being so  
As I am truest, and (as Christ) I came  
From God alone, then trust me as I am:  
As I am truest, none denies but I  
Am Lawful Brother to his Majesty:  
On which account in confidence I came  
Trusting to you, then trust me as I am.  
My aims at Virtues, even as I am true,  
So you may trust me as I am to you.  
My aims at Virtues all the ways I work,  
And I am called Just James the Duke of York.   

These Anagrams are by the Art of Nature,  
Not only, but by our Divine Creature  
Contrived; then trust me as I am, for I  
Acknowledge Scotland's Love and Loyalty.  
No Power can press me, should it prove supreme  
To deviate from the dictates of my Name.  
●eing bound by Nature, no man must say no,  
●o love the Nation and its Subjects so:  
●hen truly, Trust me as I am, and I,  
〈◊〉 I am true, in your defence shall die:  
〈◊〉 which I know no Kingdom can correct me,  
because our Act of Parliament doth protect me.   

Reader.  
York's inniate Name no Anagram gives me  
So true as these four, pray you try and see:  
Whence since the same so Aims at Virtues, I  
Allude unto Jacobus Rex Righteously.  
They run so ready, that I none can raise  
So pertinent upon the point as these:  
Because our Sovereign's Grandsire on the Throne,  
Acknowledged this Royal Name his own.  
The rather too 'tis of such Sacred season,  
The Parliament proclaimed it to be Treason,  
For to oppose a Prince that's so approved  
〈◊〉 God and Nature, and by Millions moved.  
〈◊〉 Lawful to his Sovereign Father, who  
●eing Brother born unto King Charles too.  
All Subjects should as fairly, is professed,  
Content his Highness, taking of the Test:  
The rather that they do remember when  
The Covenant corrupted many men:  
Which now upon Experience, they do say  
Was nothing but Rebellion to obey:  
The which if they do seriously consider,  
They'll tie themselves unto his Highness hither:  
Not only in the taking of a Test,  
But also think all that he bids are best.  
All which my Quill in Chronicles completes,  
Called for, consisting of nine hundred sheets.  
The Scripture too, speaks of the matter much,  
Saying, neither Crown, nor Christ's anointed touch.  
Take notice then, and on the point appear,  
As you profess for what's rehearsed here:  
These Lines all Loyal Subjects will allow,  
Yourself being thought one of that number now:  
And I (as in Sincerity I said it)  
Annex my Name, maintaining Mercer made it.   

Since I from Scotland do my days derive,  
I am bound by nature truly to contrive  
My best advice, being wise advice I vow,  
As you will find, if you these words will view,  
Which follow, freely from this noble Name,  
Royal and Loyal, a too Sacred Theme  
For my mean Muse, or such a one as I  
To enterprise, such purpose to imply.  
However, I wish you with all reverence read  
The Name, and what doth from the fame proceed   

James Stewart. Acrostic.  

●AMES justly aims to reign in high renown,  
Apparent heir unto the Triple Crown.  
Moses makes mention in his Testament,  
Even so the Gospel gives us sure consent.  
Solomon also uses all his Art   

Such true instructions to us to impart,  
That now three Nations own him as their own,  
Either (as also earnestly) make known  
What Interest and Eminency so high  
Arise unto Great Britain's Monarchy:  
Remembering Ireland doth display its Banner  
There on the Harp, in most melodious manner   

Plays and Proclaims, agreeing all together,  
Emulating who shall see him first come thither.  
To stay in Scotland still in great renown,  
The Kingdom where this diton is set down,  
Nobis haec invicta miserunt centum sex proavi,  
Where we shall make our Enemies howl, and also call peccavi.  
Come these to Court, and could there come no more,  
The King calls no Idolatry to adore  
His Brother, whose greatness doth ingratiate  
Himself so in you, now remember that:  
Not standing strict on things misunderstood,  
But bowing, embrace York for your future good.   

These Rhimes which for the Royal Duke I do  
Gather by guess, trust to forgiveness too:  
Which Rhyme, now Reader, though rashly I o'errun it.  
'Tis true, and you may be ashamed to shun it.     

READER.  
 three crowns  

THis Emblem of three Crowns in one  
Contains such signs as suit the Throne,  
A Rose, a Thistle, De Luce, and Harp:  
Two smell, one sounds, and one is sharp.  
England's Rose red, and smells beside;  
Scotland's Thistles sharp, and pricks at Pride;  
The fragrant Flower de Luce from France,  
Ireland a Harp to make men dance.  
Three Crowns, Four Signs, one Rex, one Ring:  
This Emblem is an endless thing,  
Which none dare seek till the King ascend  
Where Seraphims shall him attend:  
Then that Prince may approach and speed  
That's next akin, three Crowns succeed:  
Continuing still as endless Rings,  
Reigning already nigh  Kings  
In Scotland, and unconquered too,  
The like till Doomsday let them do;  
Producing due Succession so  
As Atoms where Wind does not blow:  
Which I am bend to beg, because  
Divinity directly draws  
Such Contemplations from my Pen  
As are not meet for meaner men  
●han mighty Kings; for Kings and God's  
〈◊〉 all one Name, but at great odds:  
●nd though God gives great men the name,  
●reat men must not assume the same.  
●he King in jest can call a man  
〈◊〉, but dare that man own it than.  
〈◊〉 that by nature's surnamed King  
〈◊〉 no more Sovereign for the thing.  
●nd one in acting of a Play,  
〈◊〉 called a King for all that day;  
●ext morning mention made thereof,  
〈◊〉 will account it but a scoff;  
Who was King in less than an hour,  
〈◊〉 present they despise his power;  
〈◊〉 Deity adore to day  
Whom they did make a Fool at play:  
〈◊〉 they have been both born and bred  
〈◊〉 Naturalis that have sped:  
〈◊〉 better but throw Sceptres by,  
●nd even as men, lie down and die:  
〈◊〉 Kings are Christ's anointed, and  
●eing Treason to transgress command,  
●ur King alive, I affirm it fit  
●ll sorts of Subjects should submit:  
〈◊〉 he is King, and reigns over all,  
We should so, whether we stand or fall.  
Then let no Subject seem such Slave,  
〈◊〉 cross the King whom God them gave:  
scotchmen say they by them enjoy all,  
Then Scotchmen must to Kings prove Loyal.  
The Scots this in their Act contrives  
Their King his Right from God derives:  
●ew Kingdoms can make out so much,  
Then Scotchmen sure will be non-such:  
Which to extol, try my Extract,  
〈◊〉 Paraphrase upon the Act.  
And if they ask for whom it came,  
His Name (in part) implies I AM.  
I hope this now's no Blasphemy,  
Alluding unto one so high.  
To call men Gods, God doth allow  
Less Sin in this than I AM now.  
But pray proceed, see how my Theme  
Presumes to praise his Highness' name:  
And on King Charles, as I have skill,  
But better is in my Chronicle.  
Then see my Muse's Compliment,  
In praising of the Parliament:  
I praise't for this one Act, much more  
Than fifty Parliaments before;  
Or fifty Acts, with all consents,  
Made in five hundred Parliaments.    

A Paraphrase upon an Act of Parliament held in Edenburg, August 4. Anno Dom. 16● Acknowledging, Confessing, Ratifying and firming the Lineal and Lawful Succession of Crown of Scotland to be derived in Royal Po● from God Almighty alone.  

PArnassus feminines fairly put to touch,  
Having wiser ways than Masculines by much;  
I call on them a cause to carry on,  
Concerns King Charles and his Succession:  
My Ark includes all Acts since Thirty eight,  
In Scotland; and now to fill up the freight,  
I must this Act which Scotland doth contrive  
Enter it also; since they do derive  
The same from Law, and links of Nature, lo  
God ties them from that Government not to go:  
〈◊〉 shall my Acts in Chronicles for ever  
Proclaim this Act to be neglected never,  
But thereunto adhere with heart and hand,  
And to this Act of Parliament to stand:  
Establishing by all the Acts of Art,  
From true Successors never to departed:  
Not weighing their Religion in our Scale,  
But in the point, unto St. Paul appeal,  
Who bids us to superior powers submit,  
Grave Grecians also all affirming fit  
What they have done; their Souls and Bodies both,  
Becoming bend unto them to betrothe  
The Royal Rights; as Thales Milesius, and  
Pythagoras, Plato, these three truly stand  
To an effectual faithful definition  
Of the Soul; even so in a condign condition,  
Scotland concludes; and they of duty do  
Define King Charles' Heirs his Successors too,  
To Scotland; and, for them to prosper pray  
All Faithful Subjects, that remain they may  
Ever; even as no Act nor Art of man  
Can know when first that Monarchy began.  
When e'er it entered, then when that King's dead  
The next by nature shall that Crown succeed.  
Agesilaus, Zeno, Xenophon, and other,  
For your vast Virtues value you as Brother,  
I say for your, because I know not whom  
T' talk to truly till the true time come.  
Your, you, us, we, are words pertain to Plurals,  
Such as are Kings, not rendered unto Rurals.  
All add their strength, and stand in stately manners  
By Parliaments, for to display their Banners.  
So by my Ark, and every Act therein,  
This Crowning all, I humbly hope to win  
My mean desires, who bound by duty, do  
Pray for King Charles, and his Successors too.    

Postscript.  

Three Kingdoms now united are in one,  
To glorify King Charles on the Throne:  
But God and Grace, Law, Nature, now and all,  
The Scots Crown, they call Kings Crown Imperial.   

Now I'm afraid that I profane  
Such famous Names with words in vain,  
Wherefore to expiate my Pride,  
I pray, so throw my Pen aside.    


NOtable News (peruse now) from Parnassus,  
In which, to tell truth, not one point doth pass us:  
By one that did so much with Mars pass muster,  
His Muse was beat to tell the truth, then trust her.   
IN A POEM, Divided into Two Parts:  
First, To the King, Secondly, To the Subjects of the said three Kingdoms.  
Dedicated to the MAJESTY of Great Britain, France and Ireland.  
By William Mercer.  
LONDON, Printed in the Year 1682.   

An Epitome: OR, THE Abstract of Three CHRONICLES Which contains at large a true Catalogue of th● Passages, Parties and Persecutions within th● three Kingdoms of England, Scotland and Irelan●  
BEginning about 1638. about which time th● troubles arose in the said Kingdoms, with th● Names and Titles of the most potent people that were, and yet are the chief inventors and 〈◊〉 menters of the same; together with a true account of 〈◊〉 occurrences and contrivances of all sorts of persons an● employments from that time to the day of the date hereo● according to the best Informations, and under the hands 〈◊〉 the most judicious indifferent beholders thereof, together with my own personal presence, being an eye-witness thereunto, having had employment in good capacity, from the v●ry first, in England, a Native of Scotland, a long-liver in Ir●land; being bribed by no man to report partially, as wi●● appear upon publication of the principal piece, till whic● time let all men expect from my Pen as they find themselves free upon consultation in their own Consciences 〈◊〉 private, and no otherwise.   

The Preface or Prologue to this Epitome. In Two Parts.  

The effect of what is following you may find  
Lying upon this first page here confined.   

The First Part.  

First when we met, my Master Mars allows,  
●nd by his power proclaims a Rendezvouz:  
The Names are called, who as they answer, enter,  
And so receive their wages at a venture.  
〈◊〉 this Deluge, or dangerous shower of shot,  
〈◊〉 build a big Bark, and a smaller Boat,  
〈◊〉 save some by, but few will be found free,  
When they have no Certificate of me.  
〈◊〉 bring them all before my Sovereign's Throne,  
〈◊〉 subtle, sinful Convocation:  
assuring you too, that (in short) I think,  
●oats will not bear them, they must swim or sink.    

The Second Part.  

●or having pressed Celestial powers,  
And pierced the Sacred Throne,  
〈◊〉 to assist, perceiving showers  
To sink us every one.  
●all them all to come to me,  
Though some (to grant) do grudge,  
〈◊〉 you shall such on sudden see  
Drowned in a deep Deluge.  
〈◊〉 though I herein do devise  
Two things, I'll tell you what,  
One may find favour in your Eyes,  
Not▪ both, believe me that.  
Yet if but one my Prince doth please,  
With some at whom I hint,  
I shall be glad in some degrees,  
I played the Fool in Print.     


To the King  

Perlege quodcunque est, quid Epistola lecta nocebit?  
Te quoque in hac aliquid quod juvat, esse potest.   

St. Mat. 24. 5. & 1 John 3. 26. Take heed,  
These things have I written unto you,  
Concerning them that deceive you.   

A Sonnet.  
May it please your Majesty.  
Here now you have (I humbly talk in time)  
Few pages following, which repeat in Rhyme;  
The sense of all I aim at in my Ark:  
Or shall I rather call it but a Bark?  
Because the burden which it bears, is but  
(Being weighed in value, worth a new cracked Nut:  
Now ne'er the less, may it like your Majesty,  
Peruse my Rhimes where it appears plainly  
Set forth at full, what doth the piece import,  
I call the Ark; but if the same seem short  
Then drown it, and to do so do not grudge,  
Such do do deserve a deep deluge.  
For I had rather been tried and tired tarrying,  
Than come with Cargazon were not worth the carrying   

Most Sacred Sir,  
●f all the Muses of the Mount were mine,  
Though they are noted for the Sacred nine)  
And could they make Maeonides▪ of me,  
All my Inventions were but vanity,  
Weighed with the Wisdom Solomon did rehearse,  
So often writing advice in every Verse,  
Urging, as 'twere, by Arguments to win  
men's welfare: So I humbly here begin,  
●eing prompted, or rather timely tempted to  
What (in obedience) I am bound to do;  
And that I would with eagle's Feathers fly  
To fetch fruition for your Majesty:  
All which (I say) assembled at the Throne,  
〈◊〉 to assist my Resolution,  
Were but to blame, me to make bold to bring  
●uch empty Emblems to encroach a King:  
Though in the close they come like claps of Thunder,  
Moving the Mountains both above and under:  
Then (seeing things in danger) do confess,  
Determined timely to make this address:  
So I in duty, and long date of days,  
●pprest my Pen, till it in part displays,  
Not sparing pains to put in rural Rhyme  
The passages since first that fatal time.  
There was a Cause cried up, whose pregnant Pride  
Aspired three Kingdoms, and three Crowns beside;  
A Cause, which Cause, had it but been so used,  
As some men meant (though more men it abused)  
It might done well; but O when power takes place,  
On pure pretence to spit God in the face,  
What fearful fall doth follow? Then let none  
Dare to invent works of Rebellion  
Against that God who gives so good a King  
To govern us, with healing under his Wing:  
Contrary causes produce effects conform,  
As we beheld the late destructive storm:  
So that I should not seek the Sacred nine,  
Though they're avoucht (through all the World) Divine,  
To help me here, nor scale Parnassus' Throne,  
To fill my Quill in Holy Helicon;  
Such glancing Glow-worm's glittering in the dark,  
By such Dark Lanterns I may miss my mark:  
Wherefore for aid, since I this day am driven,  
I'll scale the Skies, and have my help from Heaven,  
Then to Jehovah, not to Jove, in jest,  
I recommend my Muse to move at least:  
And (in a cause) such crosses doth afford,  
In prayer at length must invocate the Lord:  
My mighty maker then do thou inspire  
Such power in me, my Tongue may never tyre.  
To tell the truth; that Angel, Lord, allow  
Me that kept Eden; then when Adam flew  
Forth from thy presence, be thou present still,  
Assisting me, and work upon my will;  
Such Sacred sense, that equally to all  
Of whom I speak, I prove Impartial.  
Lord let thy Spirit penetrate by power,  
And melt my Soul in a celestial shower:  
To sing the secrets that concern the King,  
Wrapped up in Clouds of carnal covering:  
To which effect I humbly prostrate pray,  
To prosper me in all I think to say;  
And where a fault appears in my Expression,  
In such a case connive at my Confession,  
Which I will now in clear Characters raise  
Against myself, and those are only these:  
When of my Age I was but twelve and three,  
I fled from School, where few such followed me,  
And served an Emperor; and in much ado,  
I served in Denmark, and Gustavus too:  
●erv'd all the three, but each of them one year,  
●ook never pay, not sinning I may swear:  
〈◊〉 that it seems, amongst so many men,  
●oss'd a Pike more than I spoiled a Pen;  
●nd I may tell as truly too, indeed,  
ywrit much more by Millions than I read:  
●ot loving to get Learning, nor remain  
〈◊〉 School, and now not greedy to get gain;  
●ow should I then or render Verse or Rhyme,  
●roving so prodigal of my precious time?  
Wherefore I hope (albeit but bad excuses)  
●our Majesty hath meekness for such Muses.  
Whence (being but simple) this present profit springs;  
The perfect truth is taken from such things.  
And so I shall in some degree go on,  
To bring my Mite before my Monarch's Throne:  
Though I say Mite unto your Majesty,  
●ll make the Mite a Mountain in your Eye:  
And then again I shall some Mountains make  
Tremble, when I have tied them to the stake.  
Great Sir, than that Confusion may not fill  
This called the Abstract of my Chronicle,  
Allow me leave to moderate my Muse,  
So my constructions) be not too abstruse:  
That in a Method seeming meet to me,  
Your Majesty may many Secrets see.  
As in a Mirror moral Miscreants,  
Deeply dissembling as all such were Saints.  
But as at first when all was only Chaos,  
 man was made, God (in himself) foresaw us,  
That when we are, his Work would be in vain,  
Man would in such Confusion fall again:  
So also I, first when I undertook  
Of such shrewd matter for to make a Book,  
I did conjecture I the mark might miss,  
As much indeed as I have done in this:  
For I did in such sad confusion fall,  
My Muse may make a Chaos of us all:  
Yea, and assumed such zeal so on me too,  
I for their sakes Idolatry did do:  
And did as Saul once doubtless did in zeal,  
But now at last I must as Paul appeal,  
For even as Paul as Persecutor proved,  
Being blind, but then became the Lords beloved:  
So in blind zeal, I praised as men appeared,  
But when I found my fond conjectures jeered,  
Faithless Professors in their promise fail,  
As Balaam's Beast, than I began to rail  
Upon the Prophets; but to reprehend  
Was work in vain, and therefore in the end  
(Things to resent) said this, That they might see  
Habet & Musca splenem proved in me▪  
Neglecting those to whom they ne'er said no,  
An Enemy would not be served so.  
That when I viewed, they wickedly would venture  
To add such Items to a bad Debenture:  
Then I began a clear Account to cast,  
And in the Close concluded this at last,  
The persecutions not of all, but even  
Out of a dozen I might draw eleven:  
And so as Saul (who when he saw the sin)  
Prayed to convert them that would scrape his skin:  
So in my Book, albeit forbearing those,  
My Persecutors, and I pray for foes:  
Yet by so doing, as Divines do read,  
I may heap Coals of fire upon their head:  
Wherefore in all humility I here  
In this Catalogue shall come something near:  
To show by signs Wares at the Window vented,  
Proclaiming worse within, if not prevented.  
My Chronicles tells clearly when it comes,  
Of Webs that weaving, wanted they the Thrums.  
I say as did Diogenes in jest,  
Then when he saw the greater Thiefs in haste,  
Running to see the lesser hanged, he laughed,  
And said the great Thiefs should as Knaves be caught.  
Both Throats and Thrums cut, Webs then better would  
Fully unfolded, keep us from the cold.)  
These things applied now in Parenthesis,  
Much more make plain the meaning than of this:  
So I return, though in familiar stile,  
To put in order all that's in this Isle:  
But here I only do by tokens tell 'em,  
The Chronicle more Scholarlike can spell 'em:  
So I go on, as all are ranked there,  
(For lo that piece I to the Ark compare)  
Which Noah built, wherein I think to save  
Such Righteous persons as I shall receive  
Upon Repentance, finding of them free,  
And them admit within the Ark with me.  
But Noah had command to make the Ark  
Three hundred cubits long, albeed that Bark  
Must bear a burden only but of eight,  
And all not faithful neither, such a freight  
Might so be saved, and here it is even so,  
Just and unjust, all generally do go  
Within my Ark; which being opened once,  
And all called out, 'twill be but as a Sconce  
Composed of Paper, not of Planks and power;  
So slight a Ship might sink in such a shower:  
In cruel cases men may make conform  
Both Bark and Flyboat to withstand the storm:  
So as my Ark at Anchor doth prove nice,  
My Flyboat puts Fools in a Paradise:  
For if some few, when they are called, can stand  
By Faith as firm as they were on the Land,  
So that the Waters were not their reward;  
Yet when (at Court) they come to play their Card  
They may mistake, I do not say they shall,  
Though some's in danger for to fetch a fall;  
For when so many did my Bark abuse,  
I framed this Flyboat, and shall not refuse  
To save some in't, as I in duty stand,  
Though not presuming I can purge the Land.  
As did St, Patrick (who though purging Vermin)  
To put the spawn in people did not determine:  
Or not that all are ill, though many may,  
For in the general I have such to say,  
That as the Angels were created good,  
And so might in that Heavenly station stood,  
Yet fell, and for no other reason neither,  
But that they fell as they affected rather:  
Even so shall many in their place appear,  
Fallen from their first love too, too many here.  
Cathedral Saints I do not now single any, 
Chur●● men.   
But rich and poor, all men must answer when I  
Call by their Names, the Prophet and the Priest  
Both are in danger of one days arrest,  
Unless the people plainly make appear,  
That they read prayers precisely once a year.  
The big Book duly doth demonstrate all  
The famous Father's Apostolical.  
Whence one of twelve was once found false before,  
But out of twelve I now name half a score.  
Then for our Judges I go evenly on, 
Judge   
Comparing some to Homer's Sarpedon,  
And in the big Book I do clear the case,  
Compares with Pompey and Aristides.  
Some Judge's Justness here, I tell you that,  
Moses and Joshua's Justice imitate:  
Though they are dead, their deeds live nevertheless;  
Good men's perfections death doth not suppress:  
And in my Book, albeed he be removed,  
I point at one so for his Law beloved:  
Not only Law (but to disparage none)  
Equal in all things unto Sarpedon.  
●ustice in Judges, aught as they survive  
Each one th' other, t' appear superlative.  
Pindarus, Plato, Cicero did say  
Of Justice as good Judges do to day:  
And as Theog●nes gives it us in Greek,  
Take it in Latin, lest the thing you seek. ●ustitia in sese virtutes continet omnes.  
Even so as knowledge is on me conferred,  
(To tell the Truth my Tongue being not deterred)  
〈◊〉 do repeat the prudence then of those,  
Examining when parties do oppose  
Each one the other, and that make report 
Doctors.   
Impartially in presence of the Court:  
And all surrounding every Bench, a bit  
I lay before them, for to by't on it.  
Physicians that put poison in the Pill, 
Physicians, and such as profess.   
I pay them Fees according to their Skill;  
And those that have both skill and kindness too,  
As they deserve, accordingly I do.  
Hypocrates I challenge, not for cheats,  
He fills the Files with well advised Receipts.  
Galen hath gardeners gathering Herbs, I grant, 
Apothecaries.   
Pliny's supplying every place with Plants.  
Now those that plead, and such as play the Knave,  
If they themselves by Sophistry can save,  
Then be it so; much is made out by Art,  
Howe'er it is, my Pen must play its part:  
Some Clerks, and some the Terms tongue-turned Attorneys,  
Talking to them, makes merry on my Journeys.  
There is one well-covered with a Gown ingrained  
Of base black dye, with stinking Coffee stained: 
Anagram O Base Cret'r ' I.   
In these few words his Name's anatomised,  
And Answers to it, since he was Baptised.  
All in which big Book brightly will appear:  
In small Eclipses things are not seen clear.  
I try all Trades, though some past Prenticeship,  
Playing the Knave, such I severely whip.  
Some take up Trades, and some untaught Attorney  
Turns Lawyer; but by taking of a Journey: 
To Lon●●●   
I strive to take such untrained Tradesman's Tools,  
Send such Mock-Lawyers back again to Schools,  
Not cherishing of Cheaters; but at large  
My Chronicle cashiers them from their charge.  
But O alas! one thing's like to be lost,  
His Majesty's Omissioners almost;  
And yet I do not draw so deep a Debtor,  
My big Book bears them in a larger Letter.  
Though herein happens one mistake in me,  
I do neglect that great Character C;  
I should say Co when O came in the way;  
But now I think them both are best to say.  
Saint Paul, you know, he saith and sealeth it,  
The good, (he would) the ill (he will) commit;  
But they I see in both are Righteous rather,  
Omit and Commit fully for their Father.  
Do as the Scots said, rightly understood,  
The Soldiers swore they came for all their good:  
But here is no such daubing now adays,  
whate'er is called for, every one obeys;  
No man gets wrong but of the toys they bring,  
Take some themselves, the rest goes to the King;  
God's good unto them, therefore every hour  
Floods (on the Farmers) favours freely pour.  
Many poor Merchants travel every Tide,  
And give what they can rap and run beside:  
They're good to all, fetch when you can tell what,  
Be what it will they'll take it, what fault's that?  
They cannot all fair Promises perform,  
For fear their Fortunes fail them in a storm.  
〈◊〉 would not wrong the King's Omissioners,  
More than the Priests wrong poor Parishioners,  
Albeed I wrong them in one Letter, lo,  
〈◊〉 would not wrong them too much, no, no, no;  
〈◊〉 favour Farmers; they shall find so when  
They come my Three-crowned Chronicle to scan.  
This thing's so secret, few know what I do,  
The t' other tells both Name and Title too.  
Nor do I only those in Commission scan,  
Now there, but every individual man.  
Since first (in fashion) the King confirmed a Farm,  
To praise one, not another, may do harm;  
Wherefore, at best, I'll throw this Bauble by,  
Because the big Book brings Authority;  
And press no more, great Sir, but let you see,  
So many Authors are assisting me,  
To make things out, both Heathenish and Heavenly,  
All their inventions every one as ev'nly  
As all the Arts and Sciences, I think,  
Can write, were all the Purple Ocean Ink;  
Here are their Names, no man knows more than I,  
And I'll repeat them to your Majesty:  
Divine and Moral, some that knew not God,  
But gave good Counsel, was not that then odd?  
Aristotle and Plato, I have Cato too,  
Socrates, and all Diogenes could do;  
Themistocles and Solon, I have even so  
The Romans General, Generous Scipio:  
Demosthenes his Answer to Epimites,  
I spoke with Plutarch and Aristides;  
I tell you also of Emelius;  
Apelles Painting, what will that avail us:  
And I have catched Counsel too of Titus,  
I also saw Egesilaus meet us:  
Anaxagoras, Periander, I saw Zeno,  
Pythagoras' opinion spoke with pain, O,  
Menander and Caligula, and lo  
Domitian and Hypocrates also:  
Lycurgus and Xenocrates, and such,  
And talked to Epictetus as much:  
Xenophanes called Coward, scarcely knocked;  
Perseve lending his Money, he was mocked:  
Hesiodus his Precepts understood,  
Agathocles, a Potter's Son, not proud. 
A King.   
Darius and Artaxerxes with one score,  
I yet could count, but I will name no more,  
But only three, who I report for Pride,  
Though here are thousands such as they beside;  
Dioclesian the Emperor, he was one,  
Herod Agrippa another, now I'm gone;  
But Titus Flaminius takes it as a wonder  
That I omit him, therefore comes he under.  
All these are Authors in my Chronicle,  
Comparing men unto them, good or ill;  
I stay not now their Virtues to rehearse,  
Nor will I put their praises here in Verse;  
But every Subject (let them fawn or frown)  
As they deserve, lo I have set them down.  
By wise advice, and by whose cunning skill,  
Your Majesty may know my Chronicle  
Is composed; now on another task I intrude,  
Comparing some to Tutors too, as rude.  
Twelve famous Fathers, Sovereign Sir, consider  
What pains I passed, comparing them together:  
Who to (themselves) can best the attribute  
Apply, as to their knowledge they them suit.  
But I allege when in the Scales they come  
They will down-weigh, I well may wager, some;  
Because they do their base debauch'dness bear  
Almost as much as any named now here;  
Who though they be here only but eleven,  
I do not doubt to draw the dozen even;  
So I begin, and in their greatness greet 'em,  
But in the big Book like a man I meet 'um.  
1. Caligula is common in the case,  
2. Tiberius comes in with a flaming face,  
3. Nero is never very far to find,  
4. Heliogabalus hath a vicious mind:  
5. As Alexander, men are most malicious,  
And I aver all men almost are vicious.  
6. Cyrus is sly at Court, and catching still,  
7. Ulysses likewise with his Wit doth ill;  
8. Midas is mighty covetous you know▪  
9 Hannibal's a crafty Knave even so:  
10. Zopyrus hath in base dissembling skill,  
11. And Aristippus will be flattering still:  
Now doubtless I dare out the dozen do,  
12. For I am sure here is a Judas too.  
But I forbear until my big Book come,  
Where on the Margin I have marked some.  
I help the Heralds, when I'm brisk about 'em,  
Blazing their Arms; but better be without 'em:  
Yet it were ill all were alike, for lo,  
Parcite paucorum Diffundere crimen, you know▪  
But since I in my Arithmetic move,  
My Pen must more upon the point improve.  
I search in Secrets, which unlooked on lie,  
Impeaching persons that aspire too high;  
I speak of Pride, the only evil even  
Why Angels were so hurled out of Heaven.  
Envy I own the justest ill of all,  
It kills itself to cause its father fall.  
Of Straits and Trenches, whom some call contriver,  
The Chronicle that Doctrine doth deliver.  
I talk of Traitors, and I touch the Treason;  
But Solomon for things assigns a season:  
And I forbear, allowing you to look  
Where you shall see abundance in the Book.  
Only I bring, albeit I be forbid,  
The thing in sight the Lacedaemons did;  
But I'm afraid my Muse may be abhorred,  
Or called a Fool for what she doth afford,  
Affecting to be found a Fool in Verse,  
Rather than call me Knave upon my Hearse.  
Of Government I grant I give a touch,  
But meddle not with Governors too much,  
Because St. Paul bids us that block forbear,  
And I must also seem so godly here;  
Lift Hands and Eyes, and bid the poor go pray:  
But of such things see what St. James doth say.  
And I do tell some tokens, time and place,  
How that the Romans ruled in such a Case;  
And they did rule, and overrule indeed,  
In all Dominions through the World we read.  
I scan the cause Great Britain bore abuse,  
How Ireland felt the effect who will refuse;  
I point at persons whom I fear foment,  
Make Memorandums how we may prevent;  
I could speak plain, but should I so appear,  
Though now I'm safe, it puts me in a fear.  
Whenever my big Book shall be seen abroad,  
I find such Friends as good Sir Edmund God—  
But of the Romans, what I said before  
Is true, and I can add too on the score,  
When Government to any one was given,  
All old adherents that same day were driven  
Hence at great distance, as was done of late  
At our Vice-gerents general debate.  
Which of the two would touch us to the quick,  
The Covenanter or Roman Catholic;  
What was concluded, must not with my will  
Come here, but hazards in my Chronicle.  
But, Royal Sir, by what is here I hope,  
Your Majesty may soon conceive the scope  
〈◊〉 this Complaint, and that it clearly comes,  
〈◊〉 those before the Battle beating Drums  
〈◊〉 bid alarms, albeed I be the man  
●hat fetches fuel and the fire do fan  
〈◊〉 warm myself: Sir, yet a King doth know  
When Coals are covered, one blast of Wind may blow;  
●eing as 'twere the Watchword to awaken  
●ecure men sleeping, thousands nigh forsaken;  
forgive me then, most Sacred Sir, to show,  
Without offence, things that I cannot know  
clearly concluded, because I'm none of them  
●●ployed in private for to play the game;  
〈◊〉 lookers on, though seeming in a Trance,  
〈◊〉 see as much as those that play perchance;  
especially a person not employed,  
When Tempests threaten, lest he be destroyed,  
●ooks to himself, and sees whereat they aim,  
●nd then in Conscience must the Cause proclaim.  
〈◊〉 Sentinel Perdu to defend the shot  
〈◊〉 such as sleep, but never get one Groat;  
●he Chronicle of all these Plots complain,  
〈◊〉 Prose and Verse; But and every word in vain;  
〈◊〉 have not had, no not in thirty years,  
●ore than Good morrow, as it plain appears;  
〈◊〉 all that's said, served, suffered, sure I think,  
〈◊〉 I lay sick, they'd give me Gall to drink.  
●ut though such things to our Creator cry,  
●he present issue's in your Majesty,  
〈◊〉 pain to ponder, and comparing it,  
●ive what my Sovereign finds for present fit;  
●nd for the future from such Sacred Throne,  
〈◊〉 end the Ark, appoint a Pension.  
●hould it be small, nine hundred sheets now nigh,  
〈◊〉 put to press, whenever th' Author die.  
〈◊〉 I am pleased this instant hour to Print  
●he Piece, wherein (though here I only hint)  
I publish all; I cannot Cheaters cherish,  
Fight for it too, and if I perish, perish.  
The Chronicle consisting, as I say,  
Of bulk so big, did make my Brain obey.  
Now eighteen times Twelvemonths, at least, and mo●  
Before my reckoning mounted to this score:  
And is composed, as it will appear,  
With great expense: I have two Patrons here  
Who will approve, though I their Names suppress,  
I never drew one Doit of broken Brass.  
But what is told I will for truth aver,  
And what's to come, none shall my Tongue deter:  
To tell that too, though it looks like a lie,  
I'll Paraphrase upon a Prophecy;  
So praying for a powerful Inspiration  
Of God, I'll venture on a new Narration.  
And yet before I on the task intrude,  
Because the course I am to run is rude,  
I'll move my Muse in meekness) modestly,  
With one word more unto your Majesty:  
Peter perceived a Vessel with provision,  
And Voice came down from Heaven, but no delusion,  
The voice said three times, Peter kill and eat;  
Peter replied, He must not meddle with meat  
Polluted; so then presently espies  
The sheet to vanish with the Sacrifice.  
So in this sheet your Majesty may see  
(I humbly hope this is no sin in me)  
Such things as you may Sacrifice, but sure  
They are so much polluted and impure,  
As if my Sovereign please to search, you shall  
Find few that's free, of twenty, one, that's all;  
Then Sir, for safety, satisfy the best,  
In mercy, but bid Sacrifice the rest:  
Till they are free from all those foul offences  
Whereof they're full, for all their fair pretences:  
Which do they not, God will their Pride display,  
●or demonstrations I have done to day.  
●nd though my King may all my deeds undo,  
● must say something to the Subject too.    

TO THE SUBJECTS.  behold I have told you before. Mat. 24. 25. ●vil pursueth sinners, but to the Righteous good shall be repaid. Prov. 13. 21. 
To the Reader.  

UPon this Paper are expressed  
Some lines which long enough may last:  
Or at the least, till they and I  
Appear before his Majesty;  
●nd with a Volume weighing more  
●han this I told you of before:  
●s the Prophet preached to Nineve,  
repent, or doubtless ye shall die:  
●nd now this quarrel I can pick,  
●peak like a Roman Catholic,  
repentance will not pay the Fine,  
●ou must in Purgatory pine  
●●ll you restore, and till you do  
perform what you have promised too.  
But since the Chronicle is coming,  
I'll say as to one sinking, swimming,  
Take hold of things that's shuffling by,  
Or you may duck your head and die.  
Which is the sum now of the thing  
I have composed for the King:  
To show itself I think not fit,  
But here's a little All of it.  
Then Reader, since I have to do,  
And talking too as many too,  
I'll cease, lest some say you and I  
Both had our fingers in the Pye.  
And so if things (as said before)  
May please my Prince, I press no more.  
What I exhibit at the Throne  
Being read with reverence, then go on In manner following.  
To all of whom I writ what I invent,  
I cannot promise every one content:  
However it be, let every man be mute  
Till he behold how I do distribute.  
Lighting of Lamps there where the Sun doth shine  
Were labour lost, such method is not mine;  
Or to waste Wafers where I set no Seal,  
I am not sure that secret to conceal:  
So paraphrasing on a point that's plain,  
Were but to prove a Prophecy profane:  
All which I bring but only by the by,  
'Cause to the purpose I do them apply.  
Of Chronicles composed of Compliments,  
Because my Book to such a thing assents,  
I shall say little: Yet I must something say,  
My Tongue must not a task in trust betray:  
But not to press the privilege of a Poet,  
Nor crave connivance, as in danger do it:  
I'll interpose in Poems, and repeat  
Old Prophecies, lest I be challenged, Cheat;  
And in the end, applying all to us,  
Must pray my Speech prove not superfluous,  
Nor perilous, since partly I compare  
By Prophecies, some famous persons there,  
Both good and bad, who when they come to scan,  
May take themselves in secret for the man.  
Then Reader, rudely pray you do not run  
To tear the Thrums before a part be spun,  
Spit in my face, and say the man is mad,  
Writ like a Fool first, then begin to gad,  
And tell such stories, which should some seem true,  
Then all our Pomp might perish with a whew;  
Not only Pomp, but Purse, Pride, Power and all,  
A Frozen Kitchen, and a Hungry Hall,  
And all the people pressing now so near us,  
Would then disdain us, proving poor as Irus:  
But why seem we so fearful till we see,  
Who knows but these past Prophecies agree  
With our designs? not doing us detect,  
As do Hounds, when they follow on the Tract:  
Therefore before his Dictates we condemn,  
Because he knows we never did contemn  
His Person nor his Poems, but so cloyed him  
With Promises, albeit we ne'er employed him:  
I wish we had his fair desires redoubled,  
So should we with his stories not been troubled:  
But as the Pigs upon the Paps will wamble  
Long  they suck; he makes such proud preamble  
That I suspect he doth some piece prepare  
Of purpose to pay every one a share:  
Wherefore let's pray the Poet to proceed,  
That we may know what knacks are in his head.  
I hear you speak, and what I do propone,  
Grudge not I pray, but let me prattle on.  
Considering what says Seneca to you, 
Ab alio expectes quod alteri feceris.   
Desiring as you would be done to, do;  
But that you laid this lesson long aside,  
Since some with such Postilions proudly ride.  
'Tis strange a famous man is not found fit  
To be preferred until he purchase it:  
When beardless Boys must be employed to play,  
Because there is no danger in the day:  
But if a Fight should follow, few do doubt,  
Stout men might strive for to lead on the rout.  
And yet there is no fear, though Fools profess,  
That all must fight and die, or go to Mass.  
But these are stories men may talk in jest;  
Before I perish I will play the Priest.  
But this expression from a prattling Scot,  
May make them think I am upon the Plot▪  
Then this were wiser in so plain a case,  
A Gift of Guinea's can procure a place.  
Though men must not take Bribes, by which neglect,  
From Moses' Chair may chance to break their Neck.  
But let this pass now, it appears no peril,  
Look to yourselves, Sirs, here comes on the quarrel:  
All Neighbour Nations sins we dare outdo,  
And I can count out four unto you too  
Whom we exceed; The Dutch we do out-drink,  
And we out-drabb the Italian too, I think;  
Yea, we outbrave the Frenchman very far,  
And to out-brag the Spanish too, we dare:  
These are the sins now in the Synagogues,  
Objects of Glory, and ungodly Rogues.  
Acts of Orlando few men can perform,  
Their hands being bound, they must stand in the storm.  
Who would refuse now, if he were so bid,  
As the worthy Cardinal of Toledo did:  
To whom the Spanish Monarchy made suit,  
Offering a Princely pension too to boot▪  
But as her Theologian, to assist  
Her Royal Council, which the Monarch mist;  
His Conscience could not give consent at all,  
And so, I say, missed to be Cardinal:  
For he did grant, that if he were to get  
All she could give, set in her Chair of State,  
But to betray the simpler people's Tusk,  
Make Assa foetida smell like sweetest Musk;  
He vowed he would not wrong the work of God:  
For those Temptations now I'll blaze abroad,  
Not as a portion of the Prophecy,  
Although, I think, it looks much like a lie:  
Such Promises, if proffered to us all,  
Might make a moderate man a Cardinal:  
And I suspect, would all as plainly speak,  
Some might become a Cardinal this week:  
But I forbear, because I can but tattle,  
And yet I vow for to abate the Battle,  
That our Division should not go to Gath,  
Our nakedness be published in the path,  
Or as they're termed, the streets of Askelon,  
I would be banished even to Babylon.  
The Prophecy spreads further, if it speed,  
Says that the Roman Catholics have a Creed.  
To which we will say Credo in the close.  
But Priests did pen this Prophecy, I suppose.  
But, O behold, how men do gape, and goes,  
Of Commonwealth's men, now called Common foes:  
Men who unto such projects did aspire,  
And for their own inordinate desire  
Would dash in pieces, saith the Prophecy,  
All that profess; nay, even you and I;  
But what profession you and I may be,  
I will not tell you more than you tell me:  
So our disorders only do appear,  
Most men are men, most irreligious here:  
For as the time by Minutes moves, we must  
Change so ourselves, we cannot Traitors trust,  
Albeed we be even so ourselves; and lo  
As you surname me, I shall not say no.  
One day with O yes, cry God save King Charles,  
Another day comes Covenanted Quarrels:  
Then comes a Clerk creating a Collector,  
Whom when you please can pray for our Protector.  
Than Papists must not name a Parish Priest,  
Or all must even be banished, every Beast.  
Quakers and Shakers', all men must profess,  
Preach when they please, the Law allows no less.  
Of all these Free-wills you with one may venture,  
Family of Affection, there a man may enter.  
I shall not now more Prophecies profess,  
To spend the time, nor tempt you more or less.  
But lest I hurl you over the head and ears;  
Myself subject to Jealousies and Fears:  
I will insist, seeing both by Rhyme and Verse,  
I tell the truth in most I here rehearse.  
But if I make the King's Heart with a Lie  
Merry, than you call that scurrility.  
Although these Lies lie not in secret hid,  
The Boys by jesting at Elisha did  
The like: I love not, nor affect offence,  
But would seem pleasant, that proves my pretence.  
Elias jested, jested justly too, 
1 King. 18. 2●   
When at the Idol he the jest did do,  
Here two extremes, one's called scurrility,  
Tother extreme is termed Rusticity.  
Such Nabal was, who was accounted Clown,  
I jest not now, when I set Scripture down.  
Desire of Honour is reputed proud,  
But pusillanimity is not granted good:  
Not too desirous, too averse not neither;  
A moderation for to rule them rather.  
He that desireth (his desire is good) 
1 Tim. 3. 1.   
〈◊〉 Bishopric, but not to make him proud:  
Nor must men neither do, as we do read  
The Monk Amonius did, out of his head  
Cut his Right Ear, rather than he would lie  
To be made choice of to the Ministry.  
These are extremes which wise men may amend,  
Rather than in such cases to contend;  
But who will be found such a Fool as that,  
Cut off his Ear, unless he know for what?  
Must not contend, nor shall he either thrive  
Who doth by Bribes the Priesthoods place derive:  
But I believe none such as those are here,  
To get by Bribes, or want it with an Ear.  
Indifferent moral matters best to be  
Procured by means of most indifferency:  
But if it be a matter more divine,  
Than you must to Divinity incline;  
And if you doubt, than I desire you further,  
By this Just Rule you do lay down your Order,  
Being comprehended in this very Verse,  
Consisting of eight words, I will rehearse:   Quis, quid, ubi, quibus, & cur, quomodo, quando, quibuscum: 

Try all your actions by these as they come,  
Who, what and why, by what means, and by whose;  
How, when and where, do divers doubts disclose.  
If all these words work not, now wrote I th' Evangel,  
Than you will never alter for an Angel.  
So all is ended, only this remains,  
Would any of you patiently take pains,  
And suffer such? Pray weigh this warning then,  
Repent and mend, or perish by a Pen.  
And if you find my Speeches are provoked,  
You know how Philip railing Nicanor choked.  
I'll move no more now, earnest nor in jest,  
But cease and say, Farewell, Sirs, So I rest.    
Thus end the Contents of my Three Crowned Chronicle, what follows, I humbly hope, moves your 〈◊〉 to laugh, and shall serve to some as a forewarning to low a Friend's advice.   

An Apologue in an Epilogue: OR, THE Pismire Displayed.  

SCotland and England both are bound in Paper,  
Ready for reading, and the charge is cheaper,  
Than Print a piece so big, whence I forbear,  
Being burdened with such scandalous questions here▪  
And must let Ireland lie a while, not end it,  
Before I find a fault to discommend it.  
Men must malign that have packed up the plunder  
Of Ireland, and still strive to keep it under.  
That I dare not now challenge such a cheat,  
Until the Chaff be winnowed from the Wheat.  
England and Ireland both receive my sense,  
But I gave Scotland the pre-eminence  
When I began, my Birthright bade me do it,  
And know the Laws of Nations will allow it.  
But having entered Ireland after all,  
And, as I said, compared myself to Saul,  
Who when a voice once entered in his Ear,  
Confounding him, and bade him to forbear▪  
To Persecute, being hard for him to kick  
Against his God, which touched him to the quick;  
Converting Saul, who soon became a suitor  
For those to whom he proved a Persecuter;  
And for whose sakes whom cruelly he crossed,  
For their Salvation wished himself were lost.  
〈◊〉 which same sense, lo I as Paul do pray  
All in my Ark may be redeemed to day  
From what's determined, though indeed few do  
Deserve; but I shall play the Pismire now,  
And as I do this Apologue display,  
〈◊〉 pray you read, than censure what I say.  
The Lion sleeping, men laid Toils to take him,  
A Pismire spied, and vexed the Lion to wake him;  
Touching him with a Tandem resurges, till  
The Lion proudly would the Pismire kill  
For troubling him; to whom the Pismire prayed,  
●ord, look about you  you are dismayed:  
Which doing, saw them setting Snares and Bands  
To take him; broke them, so scaped the Hunter's hands.  
Thus though the Pismire pricked the Lion, yet  
The Pismire saved the Lion's life by it.  
Wherefore the Lion, though he is called a King,  
●aid Pismire sure I thank thee for the thing:  
●or had he not been by the Pismire pricked,  
●he Heart's blood of the Lion had been licked.  
●ut better causes might make Christian's calm,  
〈◊〉 are at length set down in David's Psalm;  
●nless they be such as Ulysses left,  
subject to Circe, with her Witch's craft,  
Whom Circe turned to Tigers, Swine and Dogs,  
●nd ever after loved to live like Hogs.  
●ray quarrel not now, nor call me a Knave,  
Which if? I can with other things receive)  
●ut this Apologue you'll apply it best  
Into yourselves, 'tis time to me to rest.  
howe'er take notice what the Lion said,  
When by the Warning he his freedom had:  
●uos perdere vult Jupiter (such he infatuates wholly)  
●uos tueri vult, suscitat, and them defends as fully.  
The Moral then, if men might not mistake,  
Well understood, this use may of it make:  
Look to yourselves, as Lions lying sleeps,  
Make me the Pismire that in private peeps,  
And sees the snare, as in my Monarch's mite  
I set it out, boasting before I by't.  
Look then about you, Lions lie in peril,  
First thank the Pismire, then conceal the quarrel.  
And since I do apply the point so plain,  
I hope my prattlings prove not words in vain.   

Praxiteles and Apelles with their Skill,  
One with his Carving, the other with his Quill,  
Can never paint your Pictures so perfect  
In Colours as I do, in black and white.  
This Abstract only owns you as a Glass,  
The big Book brings you in a better dress.    

Upon this Epitome of the Chronicle.  

This my Abstract looks just as Janus did,  
Two ways, albeit my big Book doth forbid  
Such double dealing, clearly doth discover  
Each person plainly these three Kingdoms over,  
And of the King thinks it not much amiss  
Unto his Councils clearly to tell this,  
That neither Envy, Pride, nor Power take place,  
As Rehoboam's Counselors in the case,  
Who were Beardless Boys, but prove as you appear,  
To put good Counsel in your Sovereign's Ear,  
And so as Wife and Valiant Captains keep  
Your King secure, yourselves in safety sleep.  
All which the big Book brings abroad indeed,  
Though this conveys you with a shorter thread. Pro Aris & Focis.    


NOw since my Muse my mind confines,  
Read only these ensuing Lines,  
●or nevertheless my weeping Verse,  
〈◊〉 may be you may hear me rehearse  
That of the Courser and the Ass  
〈◊〉 Aesop, you know how it was,  
To put such Latin Lines in Rhyme  
Turns to no Treason at this time:  
Then therefore take it as ye get it,  
●or nolens volens, I'll repeat it:  
〈◊〉 learned lines and skilful Scots,  
●ook-bred up Boys may borrow notes:  
〈◊〉 cannot miss in metre mix it,  
e'en qui latuit bene vixit.  
〈◊〉 love to lurk well, live well too;  
●oth Dives do so, what say you?  
My Lines are like myself, I'm sure,  
●oth bad, and both become obscure:  
And yet though both come by the by,  
So many make Tautology.  
Though since again I must make bold  
To bring in both to make you scold:  
For both these Lines whereon you look  
Are both the best that's in my Book.  
You have more learning too than I,  
Read them, and tell me if I lie.   

Contemnentur ab iis quos ipse  
Prius contempsere, with a whipse;  
Et irridentur ab iis quos ipse  
Prius irrisere, juggling Gipsy.  
Englished.   

Thou shalt be laughed at, and forlorn,  
By those thou first didst scoff and scorn.  
But now I should go seek a Surgeon.  
These Lines so cruelly do scourgeon:  
And yet yourself my Judge shall be,  
Many men merit as much of me,  
And when my big Book goes abroad,  
Too late to come to kiss the Rod. Mean time   

If Wealth doth vanish,  
Which Pride doth banish,  
Grieve never-ever then thereat.  
Irus & est subito, qui modo Croesus erat.  
As Irus he is poor to day,  
Who did with Croesus' Coffers play.   

Nequa quem  
Si fortune me torment,  
Esperance me content▪   

If Scotch and English will not do,  
Take Latin and Italian too;  
If four will neither do nor drive,  
I'll furnish French, to make them five.   

But lest by Lines I lay on loads,  
And puzzle you by Repeating,  
I'll only tell of two feigned Gods  
Charmed one another by Cheating: Thus.   

When Jupiter, for Juno's sake,  
Fell in a furious Shower,  
Low in her Lap, and nigh a Lake,  
The only way to woo her:  
Even when he in his Courage came,  
On full account to Court her,  
Though he ran rudely, like a Ram,  
He vowed he would not hurt her;  
〈◊〉 only tell some merry tales,  
No less than half a score,  
affirming whatsoever fails,  
He would have one word more.  
●hen Juno (though she loved the jest)  
Called Jupiter a Jew,  
●urning her T— to him in haste,  
She said, Great Sir, adieu.  
●nd so say I, for should my Muse  
Make Rhimes as I make room,  
●hen we should have enough of News,  
Until the Day of Doom.    

Epistle Dedicatory.  
Epistles come first, but this being Cursed, comes last.  

TO all I aim at, one and other,  
To Learned Bards, being born a Brother.   

1. At Juggling Jesters enter I,  
The subject of my Theme,  
And if I cannot such descry  
Let me then be by them.   

2. Thousands of such are summoned in,  
And in effect found faulty;  
●ejected so, dare not begin  
To plead one grain, Not Guilty.   

3. Of all the ills whereat my Pen  
Doth point, and I believe  
Amongst such multitudes of men  
Some prove superlative.   

4. In Envy, Avarice, and even  
That sin that shut the Gates  
Against the Angels; once in Heaven  
Destroying all Estates.   

5. Pride which my Pen cannot express,  
And malice with it mixed,  
Drowned in the depth by drunkenness,  
With Sodoms sins annexed.   

6. Base Pride that doth the Flock infect,  
For those that overlook  
The Sheep, do not the sore dissect,  
They want the Scriptures Crook.   

7. For when the Shepherd's self is so  
Puffed up with Pride, the people  
Must perish; haughty 
* Herds- 〈◊〉  Herds you know  
Do scorn to keep the Cripple.   

8. Such cursed faults confounding all,  
Of high and low degree,  
That when they come to me the names to call,  
Myself escapes not .   

9 For Pride surpassing in a man,  
Especially a Preacher,  
Whose Tongue was trained not to trepan,  
By being like a Lecher.   

10. And still to Paraphrase on Pride,  
(The Pulpit most polluting)  
On such when simple Flocks confide,  
The success must be suiting.   

11. But I'm informed you fret that I  
Preach in so poor a Pulpit,  
When I with Patience must comply,  
Because I cannot help it.   

12. And yet although you see me from  
Employment so suspended,  
I doubt not but the day shall come  
Perchance King Charles may mend it.   

13. However I'll now employ my powers  
To weigh your woes with mine,  
And every eight and forty hours  
One with the other Dine.   

14. But that you have too deep a Dish  
For me to dip into,  
Though always wallowing in your wish,  
May you indeed undo.   

15. I know the Act you're angry at,  
My Mote lies in your Eye;  
But if you will not wink at that,  
Cry out then, what care I?   

16. My Book's the bit whereat you by't,  
Though things lie therein locked:  
Have ye cast off your Courage quite,  
To cry before you're knocked?   

17. Will you be as the full-fed Fish,  
Snap at the shining Hook?  
And then content to have that Dish  
Called up for from the Cook.   

18. Will that within your mouth be meat,  
Or help your hungry maw,  
You cannot any of it eat,  
It is not from the raw.   

19 Fall how it will, or well or worse,  
I care not how it come;  
Since you for me had no remorse,  
I'll make you pay the sum.   

20. The only Anchor easing me,  
I'm not oppressed by pelf,  
Nor am I so incensed to see  
The Parliament itself.   

21. But having wasted all the Ware  
Which Ovid made to move her:  
Excuse me, overcome with care,  
The Crumbs for to recover.   

22. To show our Sovereign Lord at last  
In lines of Lamentation,  
The many passages that past,  
To's Majesty's admiration.   

23. But since I on no name now call,  
Nor clears it, though I can;  
Frown not, lest your own Pride spoil all,  
So make yourself the man.   

24. Which if? What can ye then expect,  
(Such works of darkness do) 
Dan. 5. 2●   
But when your Carcase is correct,  
A Mene Tekel too.   

25. A finger writing on the Wall,  
O Fool, for all thy Feast, 
Luke 12. 20, 2●   
This night thyself thy Soul and all,  
Shall troth to Hell in haste.   

26. These say are united now,  
To give the more contents,  
It is not that I talks to you,  
But both the Testaments.   

27. Who then can get those great degrees  
To him due, do you think?  
When Princes creeping on their knees,  
Brought Baltshazzer Bowls to drink:   

28. Though now he's on another score,  
So soon such mercies miss,  
To day his Dignities adore,  
Then at his honours hiss.   

●9. But better born a lower Sail,  
When Boreas blew so high,  
●or Fortune's frown can cast the Scale  
On others, as on I   

●0. Now he that thinks me too severe,  
Or too censorious either,  
〈◊〉 tell him as a friend, what's fair,  
Let him say nothing rather.   

No spite (to speak plain) prompts my Muse  
(Though on no change they choose me)  
●ut to tell truth in Terms abstruse,  
My Conscience could accuse me,  
And make my Friends refuse me.   
St. Augustine said,  

Hiems Horrens, Aestas torrens  
Virent prata, vernant Sata.   

●hese Notes now that are here annexed,  
(More Moral than Divine)  
〈◊〉 only take them for my Text,  
Words of St. Augustine.    

A Paraphrase upon the Words.  

●●ght Souls were once within the Ark,  
And all not righteous neither,  
●●ght thousand Bodies in this Bark,  
Which I have raised rather.  
●hough all (whence I have busied been)  
Within the same, I say,  
〈◊〉 Sympathy shall not be seen,  
As in these Lines I lay.  
〈◊〉 eight or four emphatic words  
(The seasons of the Year)  
In which such Concordance accords,  
As hereby doth appear.  
The cold concurs with scorching heat,  
Meadows grow green you see,  
Corn carried home, made up to eat,  
All things but men agree.  
Wherefore my Muse shall move no more,  
Such sores expect no Plasters,  
But say (as I have thought before)  
I serve unthankful Masters.   

Throughout three Kingdoms, even to all,  
I send my Jests in general.    

Sonnet.  

My foresaid fancies, in effect,  
Must suffer censure, I suspect,  
Though at no Innocents' I aim,  
My Chronicle can Knaves proclaim,  
So Friends may my Reflections fear,  
As much as Foes, where faults appear.  
And if you say my Books abuse you,  
And fight with me, I'll not refuse you  
For lines do link conceits so on it,  
They constitute a serious Sonnet.  
Nothing ill spoken, if not ill taken,  
The words themselves will you awaken;  
Whose Emblems blazon my defence,  
Honi soit qui Mal y pense.   

The piece whereof I so much speak  
At Anchor lies by London,  
Where Passengers (by Sea) fell sick,  
Of sixty not a sound one.  
●ut in this same Epitome  
(As safe as on the shore)  
Though thousands drown, some shall go dry,  
Or never trust me more.    

The Argument.  

〈◊〉 the Author of the Ark,  
●all I rather say the Bark?  
〈◊〉 this Flyboat; one or another,  
〈◊〉 you were my firstborn Brother?  
●nd so faithless, not befriend me,  
●hese fancies following will defend me.   

〈◊〉 this strict Abstract moves you less or more,  
〈◊〉 is a token something touched the sore,  
●nd that assoon as e'er the Book that bears  
●he Burdens out, we will be by the Ears,  
●nless the Lesson Ovid's Art doth urge,  
●rincipiis obsta, prove a perfect purge:  
●ill than the Epitome of that good man's life, 
Sustine and Abstine.   
epictetus, can only end the strife.  
●ear and forbear, first bear a bit with me,  
●nd then forbear, so bad a Friend to be;  
howe'er, could malice tie my Tongue in Tophet,  
●nce more I tell you, I may prove a Prophet.  
〈◊〉 tell much truth, though under waves I write,  
●ut my Creator can my Cause requite.  
〈◊〉 blow on me, but better buffet them,  
●hat Pen lampoons for publishing your shame:  
lampoons put Bells upon the Lady's Beagles.  
●aid in their Laps; then with the Wings of eagle's  
●hey range abroad, but these are not as those,  
My Rhimes as yet remain under the Rose:  
●hough Beagles black spots will neither wash nor whither,  
〈◊〉 modest Muse may many secrets smother.  
Volumes of Verses wasted all in vain  
On persons so polluted and profane,  
Who though they are not mentioned in these Verses,  
Dye when they will, that day I'll deck their Hearses.  
Their sins are such, most part indeed outdo  
Both Sodom and Gomorrha's motions too.  
I have recorded, as I could collect,  
But failed in my performance, I suspect.  
I enter Item, you are owing that,  
And Item also you remember what:  
Then waving words, I cast my Ciphers so,  
That I can make up Millions with an O:  
Add O to O, and yet with all the O's,  
Cannot the half of all the Debts disclose  
They own; and so shall leave them in Arrear,  
Until my Chronicle all Accounts make clear.  
Their Gold's their God they trust, but I trust to  
The God of Shadrach, Meshech and Abednego.    

Seria mixta Jocis.  
Scotland and Ireland's Constitutions, Dispositions and Resolutions.  

SCotland keeps all within itself, and say  
They're bound in Conscience for the King to pray,  
But give no money; Ireland's even as ill,  
For there the King gets as much with their will.  
Scotland's an ancient Kingdom that's well known,  
The King, and all that's in it, is their own,  
And yet gets nothing. But the Generous Jester, 
Lord Forbes in Scotland his Fiddler.   
●enkins, you know being merry with his Master,  
Said, if your own must fast when others feast,  
Devil be your own, said Jenkins in a Jest.  
But in the big Book I disburse things better,  
Which till it comes, the King knows not his debtor.  
And extant once, his Majesty makes bold  
By new Collectors to call off the old.  
Seeing none that's in it (that's a a certain thing)  
For nothing will serve neither God nor King.  
But keeping Ireland for themselves, I'll swear't,  
They will be faithful Subjects, never feared.  
As for myself, I shall expect no place,  
There are such curious questions in the case:  
One is, I no more must be called a Scot,  
Or else eight hundred golden Guinea's got:  
But then the third thing far exceedeth those,  
What need we Fighters when we fear no foes?  
Old Germane Justlers were at beating best,  
Now Boys are better, Papists being suppressed.  
Before my sight four times six years had seen,  
Throughout six Kingdoms had my body been,  
Bore Arms in each; where seeing all that's there,  
I viewed one vice much made of every where,  
Ingratitude, marked by that deep Divine,  
And pious Penman, wise St. Augustine,  
Who surely saith Ingratitude's engrossed  
Next to the Sin against the Holy Ghost;  
Which odious Ills innate in high ones here;  
Where I have purchased my Experience dear.  
How far they then that do that Vice so woo,  
For which my Muse doth make so much ado?  
Shall they not drown in that Deluge so deep,  
Destroying Christians, and all things that creep?  
Surely they shall, unless they draw advice  
From what I writ, for I have told them twice  
I have an Ark where all things are, whence I  
Sent out a Dove above the Floods to fly:  
Which Dove indeed, as Doves delight to do,  
Returned, and turned round with a Cutry Cooe:  
And in her Bill an Olive Leaf did bring,  
Whence I observed the spending of the Spring.  
So called all out, where finding few but free,  
I did Record them in a high degree.  
But for the rest whose Tarts upon their Tables  
Taste not like trifles feigned in Aesop's Fables:  
On which I fed not, nor got Golden grains,  
Nor parings of a Pudding for my pains.  
If e'er I had one Chip or Chaff to chew,  
Whence I presume such to incense to show,  
And those are these, because I would conclude,  
To whom the Saint assigns Ingratitude:  
That take so much, would fain for shame get off,  
And then the giver they begin to scoff,  
Says Augustine. Q●i quo plus debent, magis oderunt.    


The Argument.  

One comes, whom I Iscariot call,  
(Which name denotes a Knave)  
By questions to discover all,  
But I the Thief deceive.   

Iscariot came my feigned Friend at least,  
For faithful Friends are now not in request,  
And talked so much till his Discourse grew scarce,  
Wooing me then to put his words in Verse:  
Some Questions asked; I answered that, That's true;  
And what that was, the words themselves ensue:  
Reading some things, he shaked his head, and says,  
How many Pamphlets have you penned in praise  
Of powerful persons, and must now proclaim  
The cold requitals you received of them.  
He also urged, might he be bold to ask,  
Were those I mentioned muffled with a Mask?  
Or did I court them with a Compliment,  
Not daring to repay the punishment  
I had endured? To which I answered thus,  
The very words of wise Epictetus:  
Him not to hurt that hurt me, but to do  
In that even as says Cicero to me too:  
When in thy hands thy foes to whip do lie,  
Show thou them then most magnanimity.  
Says he: but lest I should myself deceive,  
By trusting of a Counterfeited Knave,  
I said what's said is in my Chronicle,  
And it may choke you, if it chances ill;  
Adding but this, which construe if you can,  
Your feigned profession shall not me Trepan.  
It were not fair if for such faults as what  
They do to me I should retalliate;  
But in a matter, though of moral trust,  
To give to all in general what is just.   

Let Critical men and Momus,  
Take this resolute reckoning from us.   

The Critic can cry out perchance  
Upon my Muse and Momus,  
May do so, but one day they'll dance,  
Receiving something from us.  
The bigger Book may bring a blush  
For their abusing these:  
In it the cunning Knave I crush,  
In more emphatic phrase.  
For there almost in every Leaf,  
By help of Homer's head,  
I something have to hang a Thief,  
In dainty draughts indeed.   

To Ireland's Partners of its pelf,  
(Whereof though I am none myself)  
Yet I leave them a Legacy,  
In these ensuing lines you see.    

The First Part.  

All Ireland is the King's, and there  
He keeps a multitude with care  
Called Subjects, not much Revenue  
To entertain such Retinue.  
Subjects rightly understood,  
In mind and manners that were good:  
But when our wills are wavering, we  
Are not such as we seem to be.  
Our King is as Kings are in Play,  
And Plays are altered every day.  
Mistake me not now, search your thought,  
And there the alteration's wrought:  
For though our thoughts may seem to vanish,  
Rebellious deeds we hardly banish.  
Our thoughts and wishes weigh the same  
As they were done, endeavouring them.  
Of Ireland too, this story stands,  
The Riches are in Hucksters hands.  
Though none of Ireland's mine, I mean  
How Ireland's ordered that is seen.  
But speaking much makes Parrots prate,  
And that's an ill I imitate:  
Yea, speaking spoils men, some allege,  
Though Poets prate per Privilege.  
For my part, my Speech spreads so far,  
Some think me not fit for the War,  
But they do spare me to employ;  
For if? they should no jests enjoy:  
Nor is there fight where we are,  
Young men are meetest for such War:  
All old men must sit still and sleep,  
Being only apt to catch and keep.  
Their actions are accordingly,  
As Bacchus' bib abundantly.  
And yet they have not heard nor seen  
Me catch one Cup two Meals between.  
As for our feats in War, I'm sure  
I fought one night near Elshoneur,  
Hard work one day beside Stateene,  
Trailsound, Gripswall, have you those seen?  
In Pomerland, at Walagast,  
I fully fourteen days did fast:  
Nor Bread nor Beef, but one dead Horse,  
Green Furs to fry him, that was worse:  
We boiled his Buttocks into Bags,  
From top to tail, tore all in tags.  
The Germane Ditches were so dry,  
Can get no drink if I should die.  
At Wallagast was so aghast,  
I fought and run away as fast:  
For feet whereon a stout man stands,  
He hath to help him as his hands.  
Then we marched on I know not where,  
Hunger enough had to my share.  
Through Sweedland, Poland, many places,  
Saw thousands there with withered faces;  
Sea-sick, Ship-broke, nigh drowned one day  
Upon the Nose of Noraway.  
For there the Sea did swell, I say,  
With Froth and Cold; a cruel day:  
Three hundred men that day were drowned,  
All cast away within the Sound.  
Fish on our Flesh fed as a prey,  
And Neptune fled himself away.  
Our roaring from the Rocks redound,  
The Devil that day was well-nigh drowned.  
But you may say truth will not hold,  
Of all, the truth must not be told:  
Yet I tell truth, if you will try,  
Though I am privileged to lie.  
Elsenburg, Vstate, Landscrowne, and Malme,  
By them foul Fortunes did befall me;  
But quickly got good recompense,  
By Young Fro-Sophia Rosincrance.  
But what? unless you can compel,  
'Twere Treason in my Tongue to tell.  
Mistake not now my talking this,  
The Danish Dames no man dare kiss  
In Compliment, before another:  
Ladies only embrace their Brother.  
But that being passed, should I been drowned,  
I swum in Shallops on the Sound,  
Till I arrived at Copenhagen,  
Where I did venture in a Wagon,  
Though soon began to go afoot,  
For want of one thing made me do't.  
I travelled still from Town to Town,  
Two days together, ne'er sat down.  
Where Pompey passed in pomp and pride,  
I ran, could have no Horse to ride;  
Armenia, Media and Cilicia;  
Came capering to Cappadocia:  
A hundred houses (I would wonder)  
So poor I could pick up no plunder,  
I wandered where, I knew not how,  
But where I saw much more than you.  
And through all Germany did justle,  
Sometimes so wanton I would whistle.  
Then I resolved I would go over,  
If I should swim, and drink in Dover.  
So I came capering to Kent,  
Next day lo I to London went,  
Where I had much Command, being horsed,  
A Captain first 
* 1642. , that was the worst;  
Then how I prospered, if you please  
To prove: I passed through all degrees.  
In Ireland, now I'll write one wonder,  
How I have passed the Pikes by plunder,  
Bore never Arms there, nevertheless  
Yet you shall see how Devils me dress;  
Though I in Ireland never won aught,  
Four hundred Knaves came out of Connaught,  
And in my absence, in an hour  
Stripped Wife and Children, did devour  
All things I had without, within,  
Left nothing but the naked skin:  
My Trunks, and all therein extorted,  
And in an instant all transported.  
A punishment perpetual,  
Came home unto a hungry Hall:  
My Wife and Children all did die,  
And left me in extremity:  
Nor was it in a time of War,  
But quietness, as now we are.  
Think you then, since I was destroyed  
So here, I should be here employed:  
But being not, lo I perceived  
How wickedly the World was waved:  
And for the King composed a Book,  
Wherein his Majesty may look,  
And see things never seen before,  
I hope I need not name them more:  
But all such sorrows suffered I,  
Then turned my Pen to Poetry,  
Till I could tell you this and that,  
In words that you would wonder at:  
But if you please I shall suspend  
My prattling now, and make an end:  
For Rhyming proves not worth a Rush,  
But Wind that's blowing in a Bush:  
Though, as they say, if things so fall,  
Some blows may blow us over the Wall.  
By such Oppressions I may speed,  
So said the Prodigal indeed,  
Periissem nisi periissem now,  
No doubt, he knew then what to do:  
He also said, as I collect 'em,  
Vexatio dat Intellectum.  
And I may speed, as some suspect,  
For this same Distich, 'tis so direct;  
Remembering Ovid's well-read Rhyme,  
Principiis obsta, now is the time.  
But I speak humbly to my Prince,  
For words few others will convince.  
Envy with Ease, Pride, Power and Pelf,  
Make men take most upon themselves.  
But all that's here is but by wording,  
My big Book brings a better burden;  
There what I wrote, I vowed to do,  
In promise and performance too:  
But what remains, must rest upon  
A mental Reservation.  
But I again am gone amiss,  
(So prays you in Parenthesis,  
To pardon me till I have wrote,  
Some Towns by chance I have forgot,  
From Amsterdam to Rotterdam,  
I cannot tell well whence I came:  
But two Towns more I'll tell to you,  
And then I have not much to do;  
Hamburg is one, Antwerp another,  
Then I came home to meet my Mother.)    

The Second Part.  

Now if some things are here misplaced,  
Receive two reasons, Sick and Haste,  
Though not so sick nor hasty neither,  
To spoil my Foe, nor spare my Father:  
Be how it will, please you to read,  
I'll give you all these when I'm dead.  
For you deserve no less at least,  
Than feed a while upon my Feast:  
Proceed then, and consider why  
I leave you such a Legacy.  
Delivering likewise not stolen story,  
But very real Inventory,  
Of all my Goods and Chattels too,  
And every thing I thought to do.  
Where I have been, what I have seen,  
And what fell often out between.  
I tell my Crosses and my Losses,  
My to's and froes, and twenty tosses:  
At every bait I by't a bit,  
But all the holes I cannot hit:  
Some points I press as Prophecy,  
Which men may feel before they die:  
How these that boast now of their bravery  
Shall suffer, and be seen in slavery;  
For though what herein I have hinted,  
Appear as Dreams till they be Printed.  
But wise men's Wills are proved by Proby,  
If my necessity should so be;  
Be how it will, take notice now,  
By Pen or Print I'll punish you.  
Yourself shall judge, in Justice I  
Do deal with Knaves accordingly.  
All that I say and do indeed,  
May come to pass, I pray take heed:  
May prove a day of Doom to many,  
And to yourself assoon as any:  
I say yourself, whoever you be,  
But means of more than two or three:  
And so my Soul I give to God,  
I know my Carcase but a clod.  
Being sure my Dictates, if I die,  
Deserve thanks of his Majesty:  
For notwithstanding Testament,  
Words, wishes and a long complaint:  
That attribute that doth belong  
To God, I'll imitate, if not wrong?  
By it being bound to wait on God,  
Who's long before he brings the Rod:  
As by these following words I vow,  
Which may fall heavy upon you.  
Ad poenam tardus Deus est, & praemia velox,  
Sed pensare solet vi graviore Moram.  
I'm so manured, so ploughed and puzzled,  
Much worse than any one that's muzzled:  
My Crosses and my Melancholy,  
Make me write Rhimes religiously.  
As doth appear by these you read,  
Albeed they are not mine indeed.  
Perpetua impietas nec mensae tempore cessat,  
Exagitat vesana quies somnique furentes.  
Neither at Bed nor yet at Board,  
Will great despair small rest afford.  
Now those these touch not to the quick,  
With me will not a quarrel pick.  
Or if they do, I dare defend,  
And doubts not some may condescend.  
But lest you say I run in rage,  
I'll end this purpose on this page:  
And so shall put no more upon it,  
But end my sorrow with a Sonnet.     

A Sonnet.  

My Testament consists of two  
Parts, my false Friends I'll tell you how:  
First day I fell fast in a Fever,  
Sweeting as swimming in a River;  
Where all things not in order are,  
Though not from purpose very far:  
But then the next day you may find  
I had a well composed mind.  
My Tongue could tattle tales in Latin,  
As Priests can mumble morning's Mattin:  
For whatsoever's in the end,  
Both Rhyme and Reason I'll defend:  
Say what you will, or no or I,  
If you refuse, truth Friend you lie.  
Howe'er I'll add no more now on it,  
But give you time to sing this Sonnet.  
I'm sure now had you suffered such as I,  
And by bad carriage been constrained to cry,  
You would not stay to make the matter Metre,  
Though mine be bad, yours might be scarce compleat●●  
But you would scold, and pierce their Pride in Prose,  
Rather than see the game go as it goes.  
And to retalliate, not your strength restrain,  
Though I have wasted my fair words in vain.  
Now casts my cause (in Chronicles) between 'em,  
(My King and Courtiers) closing, Respice finem.   

Two Witnesses make every question clear,  
Then by that rule no man can call me Liar;  
My Muse and I did on these Secrets sit,  
And so gave Sentence as we found was fit:  
Though here are Millions meeting at the Bar,  
To two conditions all reduced are:  
Or Good or Guilty, no party hath appealed,  
The Verdict's past, so is the Sentence sealed.    

Reader,  

My Book is now no better than a Bird,  
Bound to the good behaviour of a Herd,  
That hath it fast between his hungry hands,  
As now my Book at your Tribunal stands,  
Waiting the Verdict of a dangerous dozen,  
Whose factious Foreman faithlesly undoes one:  
But I despair not, Virtue wins reward,  
I play above-board when I cast my Card.  
And though I do the Bargain dearly buy,  
The Mite belongs to millions more than I.  
Weigh then the words wherewith I waste my Wit,  
And you shall see yourself concerned in it.  
My main Mistake is in my method most,  
For of my matter I may boldly boast,  
But that I venture with a hand so high  
To put advice unto his Majesty  
Upon Record, things being so sublime,  
The King can scarcely cure it all this time,  
Unless my Sovereign in such moral matters  
Try by the Touchstone, as we all are Cheaters,  
To cure the Canker, which I do implore,  
My Monarch may, but I dare move no more;  
Because the fault wherein I dive, I do  
Repent, and yet repeats it to you too,  
For which on such, much, though I so insist,  
I'm pardoned when the King's hands I have kissed.    

The Conclusion.  

Now I'm persuaded I present  
A piece so poorly polished,  
That every Babbler will be bend  
To have my Book abolished:  
But since you see within the thing  
So many Authors are,  
And that it so concerns the King,  
If you be wise, beware.  
Besides, if all are subjects, sure  
I'm one amongst the rest:  
And would a Dunghill Dog endure  
to be by Pride suppressed:  
No, no, the basest Beast I'll bring  
That creeps, to scape your scorns;  
The Snail I say, that silly thing,  
Being hurt, shoots out his Horns.  
But to conclude with calmness now,  
(My Flesh was in a flame)  
I shall say soberly to you,  
Par pari referam.  
Navita de ventis, de tauris narrat Arator,  
Enumerat Miles vulnera, Pastor oves.  
Soldiers and Sailors, Shepherds, Ploughmen speak  
Of Sheep, of Oxen, Winds, Wounds, all the week;  
Cadgers talk too of Saddles, things to carry,  
So I would tell you, had I time to tarry;  
That in this Abstract I'd confess, but cannot,  
The four last ride, the first's a Soldier, sha'not.  
Better been Shepherd, Cadger, Sailer, Ploughman,  
Than Soldier through seven Kingdoms; that's for you m● And me too m●    

A Sonnet.  

These Abstracts are but as the Morningstar,  
Which goes before a larger light by far:  
So when the big Book goes abroad, be sure,  
I think you shall its dazzling not endure:  
For as a Cloud eclipse the clearest Sky,  
The Chronicle covers the Abstracts, that's no lie.  
Then happy is he whose Errors I omit,  
But who can say, he has deserved it?  
Let me lie at Bethesda's Pool, but not  
Come in for cure, Knaves can keep out a Scot  
Our Sovereign sees a Rhyme can render reason,  
And Solomon says, a thing that's said in season  
Is sweet and sure; according to my Skill,  
I say, I thank you, in my Chronicle.    

A Paraphrase upon these Abstracts.  

Abstracts are but the bits of good and ill,  
This is the Quintessence of my Chronicle.  
And Abstracts only show things but in shorts,  
Quintessence all within one word imports;  
Even so you can by Quintessence conceive  
The full effect, things can you not deceive.  
Abstracts of Abstracts may abstracted be,  
As by this Abstract you receive, you see:  
And since this Pamphlet plainly doth appear  
The Abstract of three Nations now so near;  
Although I thought the substance of the thing  
Was more than I in such a Book could bring.  
Now nevertheless I find I might forborn  
〈◊〉 have mentioned Ireland, and my Wits not worn  
On such a Subject, or the Subjects in it,  
Its Abstract grieves me that I did begin it:  
Because upon Experience I may spell  
men's Sur-names, and then in an Abstract tell  
Their Imperfections, and in effect afford  
Their faults, and fix their frailties on Record.  
As in a Prospect, things do seem, though far,  
As fair as when nigh to the Eye they are.  
And as in Maps a man may Mountains measure,  
And in few Figures cast up Croesus' Treasure:  
So in this Abstract though you think you see  
Motes in a mist, yet you may trust to me,  
To make each Mote much like a Mountain: All  
The Abstract is, as a Partition-wall,  
Which I'll remove, so shall you surely see,  
These few lines following, an Epitome  
Of all the pains my Prayers could not prevent,  
Till I proclaimed them by this Compliment.  
Seeing some here such sorrows never suffered  
As I, but when a fair occasion offered,  
Although one place them certain thousands paid;  
They plead for two, until they are arrayed  
In Robes that's rich, and till they really rise  
Puffed up with Pride, poor Souls to Sacrifice.  
Which when I saw their ways so vicious, I  
Employed my Pen these praises to display.  
1. Ignoble natures, nigh, innate in all,  
2. And who can me a wrong Accountant call?  
3. All are unthankful signs are seen in me:  
4. And though you fret, you find yourself not free.  
5. Wherefore for all your Pride, expect in Print,  
6. Largely laid out, but whereat here I hint.  
7. No Conscience, nor firm friendship find I neither,  
8. In many, most men are unrighteous rather.   

To spend more Paper, and to spoil my Pen,  
Falsely to flatter such unfaithful men:  
I'll not, but say, since most men me so urge:  
Pious St. Patrick could not such people purge.  
Wherefore some shall be forced, for what I say,  
From where they are, but better been away. Turpius ejicitur, quam non admittitur Hospes.    

To such (if any are) as censure my say.  

No man can act Acts humouring every ear,  
More than these humours I have acted here:  
If then you censure any Act at all  
That's in my Ark, or from my fancies fall:  
Then for that Act, lo I this Act allow,  
Amend my fault,  I will fall on you.  
The Act being easy, Verses to envy,  
Know I the man, I'll make the Critic cry,  
By heaping heavy burdens on his back,  
Unless he mend the main mistakes I make:  
And I believe, had you been baffled by  
Them so, yourself would write worse Verse than I:  
For failing not to turn up my Abstracts,  
You'll find that I was urged to all my Acts;  
And if the Act be easy too to try,  
If twenty years' acts in extremity,  
Might tempt a man to venture words (I vow)  
With mine, than all my labours I'll allow,  
Twenty years yet, for all I'm aiming at,  
Would tempt few Fools, unless they knew for what.  
But were the dictates desperate all I do,  
I'm tempted most extremely thereunto.  
St. Ambrose says of Temptation,  
Nemo diu fortis est, by me these words are wrong,  
〈◊〉 have stood out ●oo long at least against Temptation strong.    

The Abstracts Apologue, And to all, the Epilogue.  

Abstracts and extracts, twenty tricks I own,  
Three Kingdoms evil Instruments to make known:  
For just as Jonah preached to Ninevy,  
Pressing Repentance on them all, so I  
Have played the Prophet, but mistook my time,  
Must therefore rest, rehearsing of this Rhyme.  
At Chess, by chance, a pawn assumes the power  
To make the King a Captive for an hour:  
But then the Dwarf durst not that draught have drawn,  
Had not the King put power into the pawn.  
So Supreme Power precisely did employ  
My Muse, till I almost became a coy  
To train all in, and bring them to the Bar  
To be condemned, as in your Arms they are:  
Of whom I tell what in effect's found true,  
Justice in general without doubt is due;  
Even in the Abstract should I censure all,  
I durst affirm it, whether I stand or fall:  
Only a few for fashion I forbear,  
Who will prove proud when my Epistles appear.  
As Peacocks spread their precious Feathers when  
They gaze upon their glory; so some men  
Admire themselves, as I admire their manners,  
And doubtless one day will display their banners.  
Opening my Ark, and sending forth the fraught,  
They'll think I reckon them Noah's righteous eight:  
That as I found them faithful men and free,  
I may requite their kindness unto me.  
But to my Prince at present I appeal,  
And humbly hereto set my Hand and Seal.   
William Mercer.   

Sonnet.  

What Furnius said unto Augustus, I  
Shall not the same to you say, lest I lie.  
He heaped such grateful gifts upon his head,  
Furnius affirmed, he damnified him indeed:  
Such say I not, but I allege at least,  
Res peremptoria ingratitudo est:  
Saith of myself, as Seneca said before,  
They own me so much, most men me abhor.  
So my good will is wasted all in vain,  
To give, not get, so much as thanks again.  
Donat in hamo, I have no such lot,  
But think some Hooks are hanging in your throat.  
This Sonnet bids you be ashamed to sing  
The same, or see it come before the King.    

To the Reader.  
Reader,  

Take notice on what ticklish terms,  
I wrap wise men up in my Arms:  
And, ask you why? I'll answer it,  
With ease, and in a phrase as fit:  
Should I some whom I speak of, peel,  
And cast in knots, even as an Eel,  
They are so slimy, though they slip  
Through all my fingers, with a whip  
Forth from this Flyboat that they're in,  
Out of my Ark, they will not win,  
Till I it open, than some there  
Whose ugly acts infect the air,  
Will say they're not (unless they lie)  
Of Noah's faithful Family:  
Who though some crosses they escape,  
In time may taste a tarter Grape.  
My Muse on most men may intrude,  
That grieved me with ingratitude.  
But I have warped a Vow I vow,  
More than can well be woven now.  
Howe'er as I'm a mortal man,  
To every Ell I'll add a span.   

Reader, my Rhimes sure are not so exact  
As I would wish, you know a strict Abstract  
Is still abstruse, ill to be understood,  
Albeit the matter must be granted good.  
And though this small Boat but appears a puff,  
My Ark's at Anchor; sure, and safe enough.  
Though ' u Laugh, and lay this bit below your bourn,  
Take care you cry not, when the big Books come.    

Postscript.  
In Answer to an Anser.  

Because you ask what's in my Ark,  
My Answer is, a man may mark  
Millions of Miscreants, and I  
Anatomize them merrily:  
First, counts the knacks of all the Knaves,  
Since thirty eight thats in their Graves:  
And then as truly tells the names  
Of Knaves alive, and them proclaims  
In clear Characters, than I come,  
With all the skill I can to some.  
Salutes them too, and then repeats  
The passages of three Estates:  
And yet for all the points I press,  
I spare some Knaves I must confess;  
Though I know the Acts they're aiming at,  
I take no notice now of that:  
But assoon as the game gins  
I'll make them laugh, at least that wins,  
And when the big Book's brought abroad,  
Creep on their knees to kiss the rod.   
So I have done. Adieu.  
Donat in hamo.  

Who gets a gift, he hath a hook at wish  
Within his Jaws, fast as he were a Fish.  
But none can say I am not fairly free,  
Donat in hamo hath no hold in me.    

The Argument: OR,  

The meaning of some things ensuing,  
And Rhimes already read, renewing,  
In a Sonnet.   

These fancies (Sir) your fault affords,  
If you rage's, reading of the words:  
Which words I venture to your view,  
The Ark and Abstract both being true.  
Seeing they a prosperous, pleasant gale  
Wish you; if friendly words avail,  
Read line by line, then as they lie,  
Apply the same impartially.  
Wherein I woo a foe as Father,  
Though I ill natures win not neither:  
My Muse in Rhimes must rather rail at  
Bad passengers, paying not the Pilot.  
Wherefore see how these lines alleges  
A proud complaint within few pages.  
The angry Authors strange distractions,  
Strange Stratagems, and strange transactions:  
His murdered Muse impartial praises  
Friendless, Faithless, fruitless phrases:  
With an impartial Paraphrase,  
By one that daily duly draws  
On Plutarch's precepts to intrude,  
At Ireland's ills too to allude.  
Of Plutarch's parallels in Prose,  
At Ireland's Errors, worse than those.  
Of Plutarch's proud ones write one day,  
Of Ireland's evermore I may.  
Of Plutarch's ills, if any are?  
Of Ireland's evils too, too far.  
In Ireland I find few that's free,  
Plutarch reproves but one, I see.  
In Ireland hundreds are that halt,  
In Plutarch only one in fault.  
Ireland hath thousands such as these are,  
Plutarch but speaks to one, as Caesar:  
Which person if you would perceive,  
His name now in this Rhyme receive,  
Not by the Author of the other,  
But made by one whom he calls Brother.  
Whoever it made, I'm sure you must  
Confess the fancy to be just.  
Compared in part, read then but that  
Which follows: What I'm aiming at.  
So shall you guests as you go on,  
The points are pressed at every one  
Even in my Ark; and all I do  
In it, and in these Abstracts too.  
Try when you will, you will not want  
Enough, though I of Coin am scant.   

Plutarch parallels Ireland's Animals, compared in part,  
Whatever follows, see how it falls in an illiterate Art.   

At Ireland's ignoble Animals here I hint,  
Weighs worth with persons Plutarch puts in Print:  
This I have done, and find but few with whom  
I can compare, which makes me almost dumb.  
Rather than press, as could my Quill prevail  
To praise pretenders, when their friendship fail.  
Nor know I one, whose evil actions either  
Rewarded were, but yours may rout them rather:  
Only Demetrius, though indeed I dare  
Affirm your faults his to exceed by far,  
Who suffered, and such sorrows so endures  
For one offence, which will not weigh with yours.  
Look Plutarch's Lives, Demetrius lived at least  
Full three years out a slave, eat as a Beast,  
But for one fault, which yours would weigh down now,  
Yet it Demetrius merits did undo.  
He broke his word but once with friends, when lo  
You broke with me from time to time, you know.  
I'll not apply, but this I may profess,  
God did that then, and now may do no less,  
If you repent not. Money make you, what,  
You cannot know, as blind as is a Bat:  
Come put your part then in the Scotch-man's Cap,  
Pull out your lot, look what you have by hap:  
And if this Flyboat press to put you to't,  
Prevent the Plot, before the Ark goes out. Mean time   

This is most meet to recommend to you,  
Since you desire no good at all to do,  
Be careful to become a Subject thrall,  
When lucre can as sure ensue withal:  
Which doing, doubtless whensoever you're dead,  
Upon your Urn this Rhyme than they shall read:  
This Wretch, I vow, was worth no words of Art  
At all, within his Epitaph to impart,  
But words to draw in draughts that are not dim,  
That men may run, read, and remember him.  
The words I vow shall be but short, however  
Such true words were not seen nor now nor never:  
Put to continue on Record, because  
I'm always careful for to keep the Laws.  
The words indeed are no less sweet than short;  
Themselves, I hope, will see me feasted for't,  
For whom I speak of; but I chew but chaff,  
Pray passenger peruse the Epitaph:  
Which I intent to tell in terms that's true,  
Or Sacrifice myself, I swear to you.   

Epitaph.  
Alas! lo here lies one, by Nature's Law,  
Whose Second; sure, or such, you never saw:  
He rather suffered faithful Friends to fail,  
Than spare the poorest pairing of his nail:  
And then those Bags, too big for him to bear,  
He left for them that laughed to lay him here:  
But here he lies, believe't, both Beef and Bone,  
Albeed I brag not where his Ghost is gone.   

Weigh what I writ, I to my Prince appeal,  
Who soon can see corrupt men cast the Scale.  
Traitors are true, that to themselves take all,  
But questioned can, from their profession fall.  
For when some Subjects find their tricks detect,  
The King will know my Chronicle, collect  
Their cunning Knav'ries, wherein when they are taken,  
As Bulrushes, they will with Wind be shaken:  
This Abstract needs employ no Oedipus,  
Things to interpret; itself renders thus,  
Truly to Readers; till with Hue and Cry  
My Chronicles come, that knows not how to lie. None do deny.    

Reader.  

Volumes in Verse; I with the World do venture,  
But you may think that I in anger enter,  
Because I come with Ovid's very Vae! O  
Ingenio perii, qui miser ipse meo.  
But I dare do so, for this furious why,  
Contest with you, whose carriage makes me cry.  
Ovid was made too for his gift no gainer,  
No more am I, whose Verses are not vainer:  
But to compare, I know proceeds of Pride,  
As Beggars be, when they are raised to ride.  
Ovid was also in prison put for verse,  
And so may I, because my skill is scarce:  
But I forbear, my Pen's plucked from an Owl,  
And I'm correct, because I crept from School,  
Where had I studied still, for all I know,  
My Verses would have weighed with Ovid's O.  
But I have promised not for to compare  
With Ovid, nor with any; but take care,  
For though I say I shall compare with none,  
I may with many that are dead and gone:  
I mean I may compare with men oppressed,  
In many points one grain is not transgressed.  
Most men compare, take therefore this of me,  
My Pen proclaims that very few are free,  
Especially Poets compare in Poverties,  
Though they disdain some in their Eminencies.  
More men than I are for their Wit envied,  
As by the Touchstone shall be truly tried.  
I never acted any ill to any,  
Though now my Muse is meddling with too many.  
My Chronicle doth these three Kingdoms scan  
With no more force but what my Feathers fan:  
But howsoever men must me correct,  
Not caring though my fancies they infect.  
They do postpone me, when preferments fall  
Keep officers off; Here are no Wars at all:  
Or if Mars march, and stout men should be chased,  
Hands helping not, quick Feet defend as fast.  
For my part, I my duties daily do:  
Being almost ended, I shall tell you too,  
Fellow what will, I am resolved to render  
Some Rhimes to Caesar, though they should seem slender:  
And if they do so, sure I shall not lie,  
They may seem serious in my Sovereign's Eye.  
Wherefore upon such ticklish terms I stand,  
Prevents my Prince it not, my Pate's trepanned.    

Memorandum.  

These Fortune's fall on those that most do merit,  
The bravest brains the basest lives inherit:  
As by these following four examples here,  
I show you how false Fortune doth appear.  
1. Bees suck the blossoms, but we have the Honey,  
2. Poor men dig Mines, rich men have the Money,  
3. Sheep furnish Fleeces, and we wear the Wool,  
4. Wisemen plant Vines, the Grapes go with the Fool.  
Now notwithstanding all these moral matters,  
Whereof my Rhimes are real right relaters:  
Which make men proud, the Female Sexes swell,  
And fail, even as those fatal fancies fall.  
The fair Rose fades, and so flies youth away:  
It grows and blows, it's Beauty in one day:  
So upstart honour, and from whence it flows,  
Ill purchased pelf, how soon pulled down, who knows:  
Take notice then, and eat not wise advice,  
Nor run too rashly on such slip'ry Ice,  
Bought by so dear a a price.    

I, the Author on myself, and to myself, In Sonnets.  

Because that no man praises me,  
I'll praise myself now you shall see  
Two ways; one is, by Comparing;  
Th' other Patience, being so sparing:  
And though men's praises first are Penned,  
I put my own praise at the end.   

First Sonnet.  

I, Mercer, though my skill be scarce,  
Compare with Maro making Verse:  
Tell too, my tattling is not Treason,  
Though it be not good Rhyme nor Reason:  
And says my News now from Parnass,  
Do let few faulty persons pass.    

Second Sonnet.  

Comparisons to bring abuse are bend,  
But these ensuing seem to give consent:  
For when wise Maro Penned Maecenas praise,  
He took not pains, as Mercer making these.  
Then Mercer's merits may with Maro's Muse  
Compare in this, few men may that refuse.  
Maro praised one, and for his praise was paid;  
Mercer to Millions praises hath displayed,  
In rich Encomiums, and hath undergone  
(Like Mars and Maro, both combined in one.)  
For to defend what he hath Penned by word,  
Affirming he will sign it with a Sword.  
So Mercer may to purchase modest praise,  
Compare with Maro in composing these.  
Then for which praise to make his Pen repine,  
Were not praiseworthy, saith Saint Augustine▪    

Third Sonnet.  

Having plainly spoke to every Paroch people,  
I'll Ring, and Sing, this Sonnet from the Steeple.  
Even as the Priest when he hath mentioned Mass  
Unto the people, proclaims and cries, alas!  
Remits all sins but one, which sin remains,  
And must, till they have paid him for his pains.  
So now, when I do most men's faults set forth,  
Cry out, and call their Consciences scarce worth  
One wink, because my Chronicle proclaims  
All men's unkindness, but conceals their names:  
Waiting with patience, till that they repay  
My pains, and then I pardon them that day.  
If not; themselves, and all the heaps they handle  
Are cruelly cursed, both with Bell, Book and Candle.   

As unto many I have Music made,  
So to myself these Sonnets now are said.   

As Martial says, so may my Muse in jest,  
Lasciva est nobis pagina, vita proba est.  
My fancy's free, for though I herein halt,  
I censure few but whom I find in fault.   

It always has been lawful, and will be,  
To speak of Vice, but let the name go free.  
Which Law my fancy for a while fulfils  
Within this abstract, but my Chronicles  
Set both the Title and the Surname too,  
Which I'm in pains both night and day to do.   

If any carping Critic now  
Should scoff in any School,  
One Verse that I have written, I vow,  
I'll Chronicle him a Fool:  
But I believe if he look at  
The point in every place,  
He'll view that I have vented what  
Will quash them in the case.     

A Farewell Sonnet.  

Twice twenty Terms, and almost every hour,  
I tired my Pen, employing of my power  
To prove these Poems; then in all I say  
No Learning lies, though on the points I play▪  
The Latin I do grant, by guess I got,  
Cannot well tell if it be true or not,  
I bruised my brains; dare not deny indeed,  
But in my haste, I have broke Priscian's head.  
I played my part, can now not labour longer,  
And am afraid, some hang themselves in anger.  
This Pamphlet I of purpose publish cheaper,  
My big Book's nigh nine hundred sheets of Paper.  
In short, beside so many motions made,  
This Sonnet says now, no more shall be said.   
FINIS.