A THEATRE OF WITS, Ancient and Modern.  
Attended with several other ingenious Pieces from the same PEN.  
Viz. 

I. Foenestra in Pectore, or a Century of Familiar LETTERS.  
II. Love's Labyrinth: A Tragi-comedy.  
III. Fragmenta Poetica: Or Poetical Diversions.  
iv Virtus Rediviva, A Panegyric on our late King CHARLES of ever blessed Memory.    
Concluding, with A PANEGYRIC on His Sacred Majesties most happy Return.  
By T. F.  
Varietas delectat.  
LONDON Printed by R. & W. Leybourn, for Thomas Basset, in St. Dunstan's Churchyard in Fleetstreet. 1661.   

VIRTUS REDIVIVA: OR, A PANEGYRIC On the late K. Charles the I. Second Monarch OF GREAT BRITAIN.  
By THO. FORD.  Honoris, Amoris, Doloris ergo, Propositum est mihi Principem Laudare non Principis facta, nam laudabilia multa etiam mali faciunt. Plin. Panegyric, in Trajan. 
LONDON, Printed by R. and W. Leybourn, for William Grantham at the Black Bear in St. Paul's Churchyard, near the little North Door. 1660.   

The Preface.  
XEnophon charactered his Cyrus, not as he was but as he ought to have been: making him rather the subject of a brave Romance, than a true History.  
But such is the advantage of our Charles his Virtue, that when I have said all I can say, it will be infinitely beneath what I should say, I shall do truth no injury to confess the weakness of Art to represent a person so admirable, without diminishing his glories, whose Fame surmounts the most daring Hyperboles of Rhetoric; and to praise faintly (in Seneca's opinion) is a piece of slander.  
I must be forced to imitate the Cos●●graphers, who describe a large Kingdom by a little point, and confine the whole world in a small circle: whereto when I have done all, I must subscribe this Motto, Intelligitur, plus quam pingitur.  
Alexander the Great gave strait commands, that no Painter should dare to make his Picture, but Apelles: I know no Penfill fit to draw great Charles, his Picture, but his own, Ipse, ipse quem loquar, loquatur. And well it is he hath done it in his divine Portraiture, that Aureum flumen orationis: a piece wherein Learning and Language, Reason and Religion, speak him at once a Solomon for knowledge, and a David for piety and devotion.  
Timanthes that rare and ingenious Artist (as Pliny tells the Story) divising in a little Table to represent a Cyclops sleeping, because he would seem in that little Compass to show his Giantlike bigness, he painted little Satyrs hard by, taking measure of one of his thumbs with long perches. Our insufficiency to represent his sacred Majesty to the full, may perhaps be none of the least Arguments to evince the greatness of his merit, who (as Pindar said Elegantly of Heiro) cropped the tops and summities of all virtues, which dispersed among all others, met in Him, as in their proper Centre.  
The Coloss at Rhodes, one of the wonders of the World, was no less admired being beaten down, than when it stood, when as they saw that with one of the fingers they might make many great Statues: Nor can Great Charles his Fall, lessen our Admiration of Him, when it shall be considered that from His incomparable Actions may be drawn perfect Images, and assured Examples of the greatest and most noble Virtues.  
It is the privilege of Virtue to give a new Life after Death. 
Chi Semina virtu, racoglie fame,  
e vera Fama supera la morte,  Says the Italian Proverb; He that sows virtuous Deeds, reaps Renown, and true Fame outlives death.  
How many have we read of who have been buried with ignominy and obscurity; yet in a short time, the Sun of their virtue hath risen out of the dark grave of prejudice and slander, and shined with more lustre than before! Benedetto Alberti was banished by the Florentines, and yet after his death, they confessed their error, and fetched home his bones, burying him with solemn pomp and honour, whom being alive they had persecuted with slanders and reproaches.  
It is said of our English Edward the 2d, that they who despised him being alive, so much honoured him being dead, that they could have found in their hearts to make him a Saint.  
The grave which buries a man should also bury all his enemies, it being unnatural to hate the dead, whom we cannot hurt, for the utmost that malice can do is to kill; and therefore it is noted a prodigious and unexampled hatred between the two brothers of Thebes, Etocles and Polynices, as Statius tells us, 
Nec furiis post fata modus, flammaeque rebels  
Seditione rogi, etc.  
Their furies were not bounded by their fate,  
One's Funeral flame the others flame did hate.   
Solon made a Law that none should speak evil of the dead, and his reason was, for fear of immortal enemies.  
Livor post fata quiescit. Envy sleeps after death; says the Poet, as confidently as if it were not to be questioned. Only our Charles hath found it false, and the men of our Age alone have made an exception to this general rule of charity. There have been found those who have persecuted his Ghost, and committed Treason against his Memory; like those chief Priests in the Gospel, who consulted to put Lazarus to death, after his resurrection. But his Virtue hath survived their malice, and he Lives in spite of Fate or envy.  
Haec est CAROLI gloria, ut nullius landibus crescat, nullius vituperatione minuatur; as Macrobius says of Virgil. This is CHARLES his Glory, that as the praises of his friends can add nothing to him, so the slanders of his enemies can detract nothing from Him. His Virtue needeth not our Encomiums, His Memory contemneth their scandals, and his Merits Surpass all Discourses.  Vivit post funera Virtus.  

VIRTUS REDIVIVA: OR, A PANEGYRIC On the late K. Charles the I. Second Monarch of Great BRITAIN.  
TO praise the living, although never so deserving, is not seldom suspected of flattery, and design: Therefore say the wise Italians, La load nascer deve quando è morto chi si ha' da lodar; Praises ought not to be born, till the party praised be dead: when both envy in the Reader, and flattery in the Writer are useless: when the Writers Pen is neither bribed by favours to a mercenary, and sordid adulation, nor frighted by the frowns of greatness into a Paraletick, and shaking cowardice.  
I have undertaken a Subject which will secure me from the guilt of fawning flattery, as being so far above all praises that I fear not to be guilty of saying too much, but too little in his commendation. The richest colours of Rhetoric are too dark to represent a life so transparent, so full of worth, so full of wonder. The brightest language will prove but a dark shadow, to that shining merit, which exceeds all apprehension, much less expression; well it is if it do not spoil, what I confess I am not able to adorn. Materies tamen ipsa juvat. Charles the First, whom but to name is to cast a cloud upon all former Ages, and to benight Posterity; In taking of whose Picture, I shall not need to do as that Painter did, who drew Antigonus, imagine luscâ, half faced, that so he might hid his want of an eye from the view of the beholder. There is nothing in Charles, but what is lovely, and admirable, no deformity, or imperfection. I shall rather choose to imitate the famous Apelles, who to express his art to the full in the picture of Venus rising naked out of the Sea, assembled together all the most beautiful women of the Island of Coos (his native place) uniting in that piece all their divided perfections. There is nothing eminent, or excellent in all the deservedly admired ancients, that is not only met, but outdone in Charles. It is affirmed by the learned Raleigh, that if all the pictures and patterns of a merciless Prince were lost in the world, they might all again be painted to the life out of the Story of Hen. 8. But I shall with as much truth, and perhaps more Charity, maintain, that if all the Pictures, and Patterns of a merciful Prince, of a courageous and constant King, of a virtuous, and brave Man, were lost, they might be repaired, if not infinitely excelled in the Story of Charles the First whose life needs no Advocate, whom detraction itself cannot mention without commendation. I find not any man in all the Records of the ancients, or the Writings of the more modern authors, over whom he hath not some advantage; nor any one's life, taken altogether, so admirable as His: nor any thing admirable in any, that was not in Him: Quae simul omnia uno isto nomine continentur. In Him alone are to be found all the virtuous qualities of the best Princes in the world, without the vices of any of them: for he only hath made it appear, that great virtues may be without the attendance of great vices.  
It was said of our Hen. the 5th. that he had something in him of Caesar, which Alexander the Great had not, that he would not be drunk, and something of Alexander the Great, which Caesar had not, that he would not be flattered. But Charles had the virtues of all; without the vices of any, tam extra vicia, quam cum summis virtutibus. He as much exceeded all other Kings, as other Kings do all other men. In a word, he was what ever a good Prince ought to be, and what others should be, yet was this Lily born in the land of thorns and briers, this Rose sprang up amidst a field of thistles; I presume the description hath prevented me saying it was Scotland. 
A Land that calls in question, and suspense  
God's Omni-presence, but that Charles came thence.  In quo, nihil praeter unum Carolum est, quod commendemus. A Nation famous for the birth of Charles, but infamous for their treachery and disloyalty to so brave a Prince. But the happiness of a brave and incomparable Father, did sufficiently recompense for the place of his birth: So that I may say of him what is said of Lewis the 8th of France, father to St. Lewis, that he was Son to an excellent Father, and Father. to an excellent Son; a Son only worthy of such a Father, a Father only worthy of such a Son. A Father so admirable that Sir W. Raleigh hath left it upon Record to all Posterity, that if all the malice of the world were infused into one eye, yet could it not discern in his life, any one of those foul spots, by which the consciences of all foreign Princes (in effect) have been defiled; nor any drop of that innocent blood on the Sword of his justice, with which the most that forwent him have stained both their hands and fame. This Encomium of the Father, may justly descend to the Son as Heir apparent to his virtues, as well as his Crowns.  
In his Childhood, the weakness of his lower parts which made him unapt for exercises and feats of activity, rendered him more retired, and studious, and more intent upon his Book then perhaps he had been otherwise. So great a Student was he in his younger days that his Father would say, he must make him a Bishop: Providence then seeming to design him, rather to the Crosier than the Crown. By his great study he became a great Historian, an excellent Poet, a great lover and Master of Music, and indeed a general Scholar. This rare Cien was not grafted upon a wilding or crab-stock, but an innocent and studious youth, was the prologue to a more active and vigorous manhood. For being grown in years, and state, he shook off his former retiredness, and betook himself to all manner of manlike exercises, as vaulting, riding the great Horse, running at the Ring, shooting in Crossbows, Muskets, and great Ordinance, in which he became so expert, that he was said to be the best Marksman, and the most comely Manager of a great Horse, of any one in his three Kingdoms. Nor were these excellency's ill-housed, but his fair Soul was tenant to a lovely and well proportioned body. His stature of a just proportion, his body erect and active, of a delicate constitution, yet so strong withal, as if nature had designed him to be the strife of Mars, and Venus. His countenance amiable and beautiful, wherein the White Rose of York, and the Red of Lancaster were united: his hair inclining to a brown, till cares and grief changed them into a white, at once the Emblem of his innocence, and his fortune; clear and shining eyes, a brow proclaiming fidelity, his whole frame of face and favour, a most perfect mixture and composition of Majesty, and Sweetness.  
Thus long have we beheld him as a Man: Let us now view him as a Husband, as a Father, as a King; and we shall find him alike admirable in all relations.  
As an Husband, he is a rare Example o 〈…〉 and chastity; at his first receiving of his 〈◊〉 he professed, that he would be no longer 〈◊〉 of himself, then whilst he was a Servant t 〈…〉 and so well did he make his words good, t 〈…〉 the day before his death he command 〈…〉 Daughter, the excellent Princess Elizabe 〈…〉 tell her Mother that his thoughts had 〈◊〉 strayed from her, and that his love should 〈◊〉 same to the last. And indeed no man m … ved, or less doted upon a wife.  
As a father, how tender was he of his chi … without a too remiss indulgence! how c … of their education in the true Protestant R 〈…〉 which he always professed, and learnedly … ded, advising the Lady Elizabeth (and in h … rest) to read Bishop Andrews Sermons, Hooke … clesiaistcall Polity, and Bishop Laud's book 〈◊〉 Fisher, to ground them against Popery.  
Let us now view him as a King, and w … see him as the Soul of the Common-weal … cting vigorously, and regularly every p … lar member in its several place and office … hold him in his royal Throne, and then pencing his sacred Oracles of Law and Just … the admiration of all that had the happin … see and hear him. Witness Mr. Speakers 〈◊〉 to his Majesty on the 5th of Novem. 1640 〈◊〉 before my eyes with admiration (says th' … eloquent Orator, as the mouth of all the … mons of England) the Majesty of Great 〈◊〉 the glory of times, the history of honour, 〈◊〉 the First, in his forefront placed by descent … tiquity, King, settled by a long succession … nued unto us by a pious & peaceful government; concluding with this serious and loyal promise; And all our Votes shall pass, that your sacred Majesty may Long, Long, Long reign over us. To which, no doubt, all that heard him said, Amen. Such was his pious and paternal care over his people, that the most sullen ingratitude could not but acknowledge him the Father of his Country: teaching his people obedience to his Laws, not so much by Proclamation, as Example; as he was Imperio Maximus, so he was Exemplo Major, as Paterculus says of Tiberius: or as it is said of Lycurgus, that famous Lawgiver, he never ordained any thing to others, which he did not first exactly observe himself.  
So chaste was he in his embraces, so pious in his devotions, so just in all his actions, that the Law-maxime of Rex non peccat, was never more true of any King, than of Him. Behold him at the Council Table, and there we shall find him (by the testimony of one of his greatest enemies) principal in all transactions of State, and the wisest about him but Accessaries: for he never acted by any implicit faith in State matters; He had more learning and dexterity in State affairs, undoubtedly (says that Cook ruffian) than all the Kings in Christendom. And herein, if ever, the good words of an enemy are true.  
It is reported of our Henry 4th. that he stood more upon his own legs than any of his Predecessors had done, in cases of difficulty; not refusing, but not needing the advice of others, which might confirm, but not better his own judgement. But this is far greater and truer commendation in Charles, who succeeded so wise a Prince as James the first, the greatest Master of Kingcraft (as he used to call it) that ever swayed the English Sceptre.  
But as our Charles his wisdom was great, in that he was able to advise, yet was it greater in that he was willing to be advised: being never so wedded to his own opinions but that on good grounds he might be divorced from them; for though some of his enemies have reported him wilful, and too tenacious to his own resolves; one who knew him bettet then all of them (though perhaps their malice was greater than their ignorance) affirms, and that without suspicion of falsehood, that though in his childhood he was noted to be very wilful, which might proceed from that retiredness, which the imperfection of his Speech, not fitting him for public discourse, and the weakness of his limbs and joints (as unfit for action) made him most delight in; yet afterwards, as he shaked off his retiredness, so he corrected in himself the peccancy of that humour, which had grown up with it, there being no man to be found (says my Author, and it is verbum Sacerdotis) of an evener temper, more pliant to good counsel, or less wedded than he was to his own opinion. Indeed as he was long and serious in deliberating, so was he just and true to his resolves, and resolute in the execution of them.  
Let us attend him to the Chapel, and there we shall see him, so pious and dovout in prayer, so reverend and attentive in hearing, that we may justly conclude his piety to be as a rich Diamond in the Ring of his royal virtues. Constantine always heard Sermons standing, acknowledging thereby what reverence is due to the Word of God, the irreverence that hath since crept into our Churches, may well make us bewail the loss of that laudable Example of our English Constantine, who always bore a great regard to the Church and Church men; whom he reverenced for their function, and loved for their fidelity; so much a friend was he to all Church men, that had any thing in them beseeming that sacred Function, that he hazarded (as he says himself) his own interest, chief upon conscience & constancy to maintain their rights, whom the more he looked upon as Orphans, & under the sacrilegious eyes of many cruel & rapacious reformers, so he thought it his duty the more to appear as a father, and patron for them and the Church.  
He was at once a dutiful Son, and an indulgent father of the Church, esteeming it (with that good Emperor) a greater honour to be a member of the Church, than Head of an Empire. Nor was he only a gracious Patron of the Church, but also a resolute Champion in behalf of the Hierarchy, as well remembering that Prophetic Apothegm of the King his father, No Bishop, no King; his own experience being too great a Comment upon that truth to be by him neglected, or by us forgotten.  
Bassianus the Emperor refusing the name of Pius, would be called Foelix: on the contrary our Charles chose rat her to be informiatly Pious, than irreligiously prosperous, well knowing that piety shall not want its reward in a better place. A King so religious, so devout, that if all his subjects had been like the King, we might then indeed have had a Kingdom of Saints.  
If we enter his Courts of Judicature, thereshall we behold Justice with her sword and balance, equally dividing, and impartially weighing out the rewards of virtue, and punishments of vice: poverty never excluding the Innocent, nor power absolving the nocent; and though the Asylum of his mercy was never shut to the meanest supplicant, whom the rigour of the Law had cast, yet was he always inexorable to the supplications of the greatest offender, if found guilty of wilful murder. Agesilaus wrote to a Judge in behalf of his Favourite. Si causa bona, pro justitia, sin mala pro amicitia absolve. But hath not our Charles delivered up the greatest of his favourites to the sentence of the Law? did his power ever shield the most powerful offenders from the stroke of justice, though himself were wounded through their sides? As his justice was blind to all relations, his hands were continually open to receive the Petitions of his meanest subject: not like Demetrius who threw the Petitions of his people into the water; He was always ready and expectant to receive them, and never better pleased than when he took them from the hands of the poorest Petitioner; justly meriting the style of James the fifth of Scotland, who was called, The poor man's King.  
Worthy was the Speech of that Goth, a King of Italy, who speaking of his Subjects said, Messis nostra, cunctorum quies: Our harvest is their rest. Such was the vigilancy of Charles, whose waking eyes secured all his flock from being a prey to any subtle Mercury: No foreign invasion daring to land upon our coasts; no homebred broils frighting the Husbandman from his Plough, or the Tradesman from his Shop: but peace and plenty crowned all their endeavours, they being married in our Kingdom, as nearly as in the French Proverb. Every man sat under his own Vine and Figtree, eating the fruit of his own labours. No loading taxes made their trade move slowly, or clogged the wheels of their honest industry. No polings, no plunderings, no spies to catch at every whisper, and make a man an offendor for a word; but Law was duly administered, Religion maintained, Learning encouraged, the arts liberally professed and rewarded. Our Merchants trafficked with safety and honour wheresoever the necessity of their employments lead them; and no corner of the world so barbarous, but the name of an Englishman was welcome and pleasant.  
It is reported that Henry the 8th confessed on his death bed, that he had never spared man in his wrath, nor woman in his lust: But of Charles let me ask, whose house did he plunder? whose wife did he abuse? whose right did he wrong? may it not be more truly affirmed of him, what the Historian flatteringly spoke of Livia, the wife of Augustus, Ejus potentiam nemo sensit, nisi aut levatione periculi, aut accessione dignitatis? No man felt his hand, unless in raising the oppressed from the pit of misery, or advancing the deserving to the hill of honour. To such a pitch of felicity were we then arrived, by the virtues and indulgence of a gracious Sovereign, that nothing could render us more happy, but a continuance of our happiness. Never was Prince more beloved, or better obeyed by loyal Subjects. Nothing but the want of him could render him more glorious, or desired.  
But the greatest felicities are shortest lived, and the most glorious summer is followed by the sharpest winter; the clearest sky is not without its clouds, the longest day must have a night. The sun of our glory was arrived to the Meridian and Vertical point, it must now decline, labour under a sad and almost total Eclipse; and at last set in a cloud of blood, darkness, and confusion. O nulla longi temporis foelicit as!  
But as the sun is no less glorious in itself, when labouring under the darkest Eclipse, nor leaves his wont course, for all the clouds and vapours that fly in his face: So neither was our Charles less great and admirable under the most fatal Eclipses of his glory, nor less constant, and unwearied in all the royal Offices of a King, when the clouds and vapours of calumny and sedition endeavoured most to obscure and darken his brightness.  
As he was a lover of Peace, he was no less valiant in War, if we confess at least valour consists not only in doing, but also in suffering. As he was moderate in prosperity, so was he courageous and patiented in adversity: his virtue, courage and Christian patience having carried him with an unwearied course through both the Hemispheres of prosperity and adversity, compassing (as I may say) the whole globe of both fortunes, and rendering him an unparallelled pattern of such virtues, as were formerly undiscovered to the world, and had still remained as a Terra incognita to all other Princes, had not his admirable example taught them, and all others, that no Cross is too heavy for a Christian resolution, nor any difficulty too hard for virtue to conquer.  
On the Sepulchre of Possenius Niger was placed this Epitaph, Here lieth Poss. Niger, an ancient Roman, who in merit was equal with the virtuous, but in misfortune exceeded the most unfortunate. We may affix the same with very little alteration to the Statue of Charles the first, second Monarch of Great Britain, That he was equal in merit with the most virtuous, but in misfortunes exceeding the most unfortunate: yet did the brightness of his virtue shine through, and his piety gild and enamel the darkest clouds of his afflictions, baffling all the daring mists of malice and envy, and converting them into well-placed shadows, which rendered his Picture more lively and admirable.  
Naturalists writ of a precious stone called Caraunias, that it is found only in a day of thunder, glistering when the Sky is overcast with darkness: such are the virtues of faith, hope, charity, patience, and magnanimity of Charles, which perhaps had never so gloriously appeared, had not the darkness of his fortune brought them to light: and being like winter flowers produced between storms and tempests, and grown up like the noble Palm under the pressures of weights and burdens.  
Prolixum est enumerare omnes, cognoscite aliquas, as St, Ambrose said of judith's virtues; I shall only cull out some few of those many rich jewels, to adorn his Panegyric, and leave the rest to be collected by his Historians, and thredded by their more diligent hands upon the string of their more lasting stories.  
The eye of mine observation fixeth first upon the orient gem of his Patience in affliction, which made him so ductile and pliant to the will of Heaven, that he willingly exchanged his Crown for the Cross, and made his Sceptre stoop to the Rod of affliction.  
In his March after Essex to the West, it happened that one of the carriages broke in a long narrow Lane, which they were to pass, and gave his Majesty a stop, at a time of an intolerable shower of rain which fell upon him, some of his Courtiers and others which were near about him, offered to hue him out a way through the hedges with their Swords, that he might get shelter in some of the villages adjoining; but he resolved not to forsake his Canon upon any occasion: At which when some about him seemed to admire and marvel at the patience which he shown in that extremity; his Majesty lifting up his Hat made answer, That as God had given him afflictions to exercise his patience, so he had given him patience to bear his afflictions. A Speech so heavenly and divine (says my Author) that it is hardly to be paralleled by any of the men of God in all the Scripture. We may observe him in his divine Meditations, like the industrious Bee, sucking the Honey of comfort and consolation, out of the bitter flowers of his unequal fortune.  
An Ancient said, he that can bear an injury, is worthy an Empire; But if we consider with how even and equal a temper, with how constant and Christian a fortitude his Majesty bore all the injurious insolences, and insolent injuries which the tongues and pens of his malicious adversaries continually loaded him withal, we must be forced to confess, that if merit herein might have won, or justice have been Elector, he had not been King of an inconsiderable Island, but Emperor of the whole world. So far was He from repining at his afflictions, or being angry at the injuries of his ignorant and insolent enemies, that he never esteemed himself more glorious, than when dressed up in the robe of their scorn and mockery: always fencing himself with that royal Maxim as with a shield, Bona agere, & mala patiregium est. Nor could the injuries and affronts of some, force him to a retaliation, being often angry at, but never pleased with those satirical invectives against his enemies which a just indignation sometimes forced from the sharper Pens of some of his friends.  
As his losses could not make him despond, his victories never made him insolent; though the one rendered him more humble, the other could not make him proud; He was rather like Fenugreek, which (says Pliny) the worse it is handled the better it proves.  
It is said of that mother in the Maccabees, who saw her seven children slain before her eyes, and last of all was herself slain; Octies passus est Martyries, that she suffered Eight times over: and can we think that so indulgent a Father of his people, did not suffer as many several martyrdoms, as his subjects suffered miseries and destructions.  
Non placet vindicta, sed victoria, was the applauded speech of the conquering Caesar; but we may hear our victorious Charts profess, He never had any victory which was without his sorrow, because it was on his own subjects, who like Absalon, died many of them in their sin: and yet (says he) I never suffered any defeat which made me despair of God's mercy and defence. And that he might convince the world that he loved not war, nor delighted in the ruin of his subjects, he ever sought for peace, after his greatest victories; The highest tide of success (as he saith himself, who could best tell) set him not above a Treaty, nor did any success he had, ever enhance with him the price of peace, though he was like to pay dearer for it than any man.  
It is Recorded to the honour of the Roman Scipio Africanus, and will be to the glory of our English Charles, that he had rather save one friend, than kill a thousand enemies. But to such a height were our sins, and the guilty malice of some particular men amounted, that rendered all his Royal endeavours and tenders of Peace unfortunate and fruitless; So true is that observation of the grave Tacitus, Inviso semel principe, seu malè, seu benè facta praemiunt: A Prince once distasted is ever suspected, and his actions misconstrued; it then appearing plainly, that whatever pretensions palliated the designs of some, yet their intentions terminated in a Nolumus hunc regnare; nor was it hard to prophesy that such Recusants than would in time appear Ravilliac's: and some there were, who though they could not but admire Charles, yet they hated the King.  
Others there were who too well knew the Maxim of their Countryman Machiavelli, that a succession of two or three virtuous Princes worketh strange effects, and therefore feared to be at the cost of the experiment, lest it might have proved to have been at no cheaper rate than the ruin of their design, the erecting of their Babel of confusion, thereby to make way for their Catholic Monarch. But to their wonder and their envy, when all his forces were defeated, and his sword fallen out of his hands, Charles alone maintains the Combat, and singly duels (like another Athanasius) the whole world, in defence of his Conscience and Religion, which were all the wealth his shipwrackt fortune had left him, and which, maugre the malice of his fate, he carried safe to shore.  
The victories he then gained will remain as Eternal Trophies of his honour, and undeniable arguments of his vast abilities in matters of Controversy: Let his Conference with the Marquis of Worcester, the papers which passed betwixt his S. Majesty and Mr. Henderson, and those other with the Ministers in the Iste of Wight, testify how great a Master he was of reason, how well read in the Fathers, the Councils, Ecclesiastical History, and the customs of the Church in all Ages. By all which it will plainly appear that he was as well the scholar, as the Son of K. James, by whom he was so well instructed in the controversies of Religion, that when he was in Spain, D. Maw, and D. Wren, two of his Chaplains being appointed to follow after, came to K. James to know his pleasure and commands: the King advised them not to put themselves upon any unnecessary Disputations, but to be only on the defensive part, if they should be challenged; and when it was answered that there could be no reason to engage in such disputations, where there could be no Moderator, the King replied, that Charles should moderate between them and the opposite party. At which, when one of them seemed to smile on the other, the King proceeded, and told them, that Charles should manage a point in Controversy with the best Studied Divine of them all. He was without question Master of an Imperial pen; His eagle's feathers (upon all occasions) devoured his adversaries goose-quills, and infinitely recompensed the impediment of his speech, with the advantage of an inimitable style.  
Spartianus reports of Trajan, that after his death he triumphed openly in the City of Rome, In imagine, in a lively Statue, or Representation, invented by Adrian for that purpose. But Charles triumphs more nobly in his Royal Portraiture, drawn by himself, with such curious lines, and lively colours, as no hand but his own could draw. There is he seated more gloriously than ever he was on his Royal Throne, or in his Royal Robes; there shall he live and reign, and be as immortal as his enemy's malice. Never was devotion clad in a more rich, or more modest dress. There doth he make it appear that his soul was free and unconfined, though his body were a prisoner, and that he could exercise the office of a Priest, when he was deprived of that of a King. Such was the power of his noble and commanding Soul, even then, that he made his Conquerors his captives, and subdued the hearts of those to love him, who had deprived him of all other weapons.  
Such was the Princely carriage of Francis the First, King of France, that he thereby so won upon the hearts of Bourbon, and the rest of his enemies, to whom he was a prisoner, that they honoured him with no less observance, than if he had been on the top of his prosperity: and Homer much commends his Ulysses, that when by shipwreck he was cast on shore, he had nothing to commend him but his carriage. Had Homer had Charles for his subject, or Charles Homer for his Historian, what an admirable strife would there have been betwixt the workman and the matter, and yet the matter would have exceeded the workman's art.  
Paterculus saith of Tiberius, Quod visus praetulerit principem, his Countenance proclaimed him King: So Majestic was the Countenance, and so winning the carriage of Charles, that his enemies became his converts, and his very Gaolers his Confessors: some of them having ever since exchanged their former Masters and Estates, for a prison, and banishment, to expiate their former injuries to so good a King.  
And now we have brought him to the last, and most glorious act of his life, wherein we shall see him outdo himself, as he had done all others in his former actions; God fitting him with a Courageous and Christian patience, as much above all other men, as his case and condition was transcending all former examples.  
Trees that grow on the tops of rocks (they say) have stronger roots than other trees, because they are more exposed to the boisterousness of the winds and weather. His Sacred Majesty was now to act a part beyond all precedent, and God fitted him with a virtue and constancy beyond all parallel.  
En horret animus, & pavor membra excutit.  
— refugit loqui  
mens aegra, tantis atque inhorrescit malis.  
My thoughts are distracted, and my pen falls out of my hand with amazement, I must there-therefore draw a veil of silence over, and Comment upon this Tragical Scene with tears instead of words. I will only adventure to draw the curtain so far, as may let in the Readers eye to discover the King singly maintaining his own Innocence, his Successors Rights, and his people's Liberty, against a Legion of his adversaries, who were at once his Judges and Accusers. Scipio being one day accused before the Roman people of a capital offence, instead of excusing himself, or flattering the Judges, turning to them, he said, It will well beseem you to judge of his head by whose means you have authority to judge of all the world. Private persons have many Judges, Kings none but God, said M. Antonius. But our King had to do with people of another principle, who too well knew that politic maxim of Monsieur de Foy, That a man must not trust a reconciled enemy, especially his King, against whom, when he draws his sword, he must throw the scabbard into the river.  
It was not enough that he had granted whatever they desired, which his conscience and the safety of his subjects would permit, or that his Royal Concessions went beyond the foremost of their hopes and wishes, or that his reasons were unanswerable, and that they had no greater plea against him, but that of the rapacious wolf to the innocent lamb, Thou hast the better cause, but I have the better teeth. Though Charles was innocent, it was crime enough that he was King, and stood in the place that ambition aimed at.  
Semiramis (as Aelian tells the Story) was an humble Petitioner to the King of the Assyrians, whose Concubine she was, that she might take upon her the government of Asia, and command the King's servants, but for the transitory space of five days; it was granted, she came forth with a Princely robe, and her first words were (ingrateful wretch!) Go take the King, and kill him: and so by one venturous step climbed up to a settled state of Imperial Government. I leave the parallel to the reader's thoughts, and go on to observe what is truly observable, that notwithstanding the natural impediment of the King's Speech, God at this time of his extremity so loosed his tongue, that he delivered his thoughts without the least stammering or haesitation; enough to have convinced any but a Pilate, and a Jury of Jews, that by that miracle God seemed to say to them, in the language of that dumb man, Rex est, ne occide. But it was argument enough to them to cut off that head, that it wore three Crowns. A thing so strange and unheard of before our times, that though they made a Precedent, they could never find an Example for it in all the Histories of the world. So sacred and inviolable was the Person of the Prince amongst the Romans, that when Nero (made valiant by his own fear) ran himself through, Epaphroditus his Secretary, at his request, helping to dispatch him the sooner, for that service was afterwards put to death by Domitian, who thought it not meet to suffer any man to live, who had in any sort lent his hand to the death of a Prince.  
The Kings of Peru were so reverenced by their subjects, and so faithfully served, that never any of their subjects were found guilty of Treason. Indeed the people of Niceragua in America, had no law for the killer of a King, but it was for the same reason that Solon appointed none for a man's killing of his Father; both of them conceiting that men were not so unnatural, as to commit such crimes. But such is the miserable condition of Princes, as the Emperor Domitian complained, that they cannot be credited touching a Conspiracy, plainly detected, until they be first slain. More strange and sad it is, that men should commit murder with the sword of Justice, and treason execute justice as a malefactor. Such actions seldom want their reward, and many times receive it from the Actors own hands.  
It is the observation of Causabon in his Annotations upon Suetonius, that all they who conspired against Caesar, slew themselves with the same poniards wherewith they had stabbed the Emperor. Such a death (saith he) may all have who so wickedly and disloyally enterprise upon the lives of Princes. For a man to attempt upon the life of a foreign or neighbour Prince, may perhaps pass with the guilt of simple murder; but for a subject to assassinate his own native King, is no less than Parricide in the superlative degree.  
At the Solemn Coronation of the Prince, every Peer of the Realm hath his station about the Throne, and with the touch of his hand upon the Royal Crown, declareth the personal duty of that honour which he is called unto, namely, to hold on the Crown on the Head of his Sovereign, to make it the main end of his greatness, to endeavour the establishment of his Prince's Throne. Justly may those branches whither, that contrive the ruin of the Stock that feeds them: and well may they prove falling stars, who endeavour the eclipsing of that Sun from whom they have received their light and lustre.  
Rodolphus D. of Suevia, having usurped the Empire of the Romans, in a Conflict with Henry the right Emperor, his right hand was struck off in battle, which being brought to him lying upon his deathbed, in the horror of his guilt he cried out, This is the hand wherewith I confirmed my promised loyalty to the Emperor. Such as repay hatred where they own love, and return disloyalty where they own allegiance, may expect a payment in their own coin from the hand of Divine Justice.  
But to disguise Majesty into an habit of treason, and to dress up treason in a robe of justice; to place guilt on the bench, and set innocence at the bar, and by a mockery of Law to condemn the Fountain of Law, is like the Italian Physician, who boasted he had killed a man with the fairest method in the world, è morto (said he) canonicament, è con tutti gli ordini; He is dead (says he) regularly, and with all the rules of art.  
To dwell no longer on this unpleasant subject we had sinned, and Charles must suffer. Dilirant Archivi, plectuntur Reges. He who had worn a Crown of Gold, must now admit a crown of thorns, that might fit him for the Crown of Glory.  
They had promised to make him a glorious King, and now was the time come; Sat divus, modo non sit vivus, say they. His Kingdom was not to be any longer of his world, and therefore he prepares himself with humility, piety, charity, and magnanimity, to bear this earthly cross; that be might attein his heavenly crown: His enemies curse him, he prays for them; they slander him, he forgives them; they load him with affronts, he carries them with patience. And now his pious soul is on the wing, and makes many a sally to the place where she longed to be at rest: and in the fire of an ardent devotion, he offers up himself an Holocaust, being kindled with the flames of Divine Love, and is filled with a large measure of celestial joy, and holy confidence; witness that admirable Anagram made by himself on the day before his death,  Carolus Rex: Cras ero Lux. 
Hermigildus' Son of Levigildus King of the Visogoths, forsaking the Arrian Heresy, which his Father maintained, and embracing the Catholic truth, was threatened by his Father with death, unless he returned to his former errors: To whom the pious Son, Poteris (saith he) in me statuere pater quod lubet; regno privas? sed periturae tantum: immortal illud eripere non potes. In vincula me rapis? ad coelum certè patet via; ibimus, illuc ibimus. Vitam eripitis? restat melior & aeterna. Such were the pious resolves of the most Christian Charles: You may do with me what you will, ye may deprive me of my Kingdoms, alas! these are perishing things; but mine immortal Crown ye cannot reach. If ye confine me to the narrow walls of a prison, my soul will mount to Heaven; thither, thither will we go. If ye take away this life, I shall but exchange it for a better and eternal one.  
Thus prepared, he with all humility and Christian resignation, offers up himself the people's Martyr; to the grief of his friends, the shame of his enemies, and the amazement of all the world.  Quis talia fando temperet à lachrymis! 
Many wiped up his blood with their handkercheifs, which experience proved afterwards an admirable Collirium to restore the sight even to those (I could name some of the recovered patients; from whom I received the relation) who were almost blind: this wants not truth so much as a Roman pen, to make it a miracle. Sure I am his death opened thousands of eyes, which passion and prejudice had blinded: and those who whilst he lived, wished him dead, now he was dead wished him alive again.  
That so great a Prince (who yet chose rather to be good than great, to be holy rather than happy) might not die unattended, many loyal subjects left this life with the very news of His death: as it is reported of Hugh Scrimiger, servant to S. W. Spotswood, beheaded by the Covenanters of Scotland, passing by the Scaffold before it was taken down, fell into a swound, and being carried home, died at his own door. The truth of this Relation I leave to the credit of the Historian; the former I attest upon mine own knowledge, myself being assistant at the Funeral of a Kinsman, who (with divers others) died of no other disease than the news of the King's death; on whom, as I then bestowed, I here deposit this Epitaph.  
Here lies a loyal member dead,  
Who scorned to survive his Head.  
Thus died Charles, Aliorum majori damno, quam suo: It being hard to determine, whether the Church and State were more happy to have had, or more miserable to lose so incomparable a King; who wanted nothing but to have lived in an Age when it was in fashion to Deify their Worthies, or in a Country where it is a trade to be Sainted. But alas! He lived in an Age when vices were in fashion, and virtues accounted vices. Of whom, his worst enemies (says one who was none of his best friends) cannot but give this civil, yet true Character, That he was a Prince of most excellent natural parts, an universal Gentleman, very few men of any rank or quality exceeding him in his natural endowments, and the most accomplished King this Nation had ever since the Conquest.  
FINIS Doloris nullus.   

Oweni Epigr. in Regicidas.  

Si manus offendat te dextra, abscindito dextram,  
Offendat si pes, abjice, Christus ait.  
Corpus in errorem dexter si ducat ocellus,  
Ipse oculus peccans, effodiendus erit.  
Quaelibet abscindi pars corporis aegra jubetur,  
Excipiunt medici, Theologique Caput.    

An Elegy on Charles the First, etc.  

COme saddest Muse, tragic Melpomene,  
Help me to weep, or sigh an Elegy;  
And from dumb grief recover so much breath,  
As may serve to express my Sovereign's death.  
But that's not all; had Natures oil been spent,  
And all the treasury of life she lent  
Exhausted: had his latest sand been run,  
And the three fatal Sister's thread been spun;  
Or laden with years, and mellow had he dropped  
Into our mother's bosom; not thus lopped,  
We could have born it. But thus hewed from life  
B'an Axe, more hasty than the cruel knife  
Of grisly Atropos; thus to be torn  
From us, whom loyal death would have forborn,  
This strikes us dead. Hence Nero shall be kind  
Accounted, he but wished, and that wish confined  
Within the walls of Rome; but here we see  
Three Kingdoms at one blow beheaded be:  
And instead of the one head of a King,  
Hundreds of Hydra- headed Monsters spring.  
Scarce can I think of this, and not engage  
My Muse to muster her Poetic rage,  
To scourge those Giants, whose bold hands ha●e ren●  
This glorious Sun from out our Firmament,  
Put out the light of Israel, that they might  
Act their black deeds securely in the night:  
When none but new and foolish lights appear,  
Not to direct, but cheat the traveller.  
But biting births are monstrous, Ours must be  
(My Midwife Muse) a weeping Elegy.  
Well may we, like some of whom Stories writ,  
From this Sunset in mourning spend our night:  
Until we see a second Sun arise,  
That may exhale those vapours from our eyes.  
Since the breath of our nostrils we have lost,  
We are but moaning statues at the most,  
Our wisdom, reason, justice, all are dead,  
As parts that lived, and died with our Head.  
How can we speak him praise, or our loss, when  
Our tongue of language silenced is with him.  
Or can our fainter pencils hope to paint  
Those rays of Majesty, which spoke him Saint?  
In mortal weeds, not man; As great a King  
Of virtues, as of men; A sacred thing,  
To such an height of eminency raised,  
Easier by far to be admired than praised.  
'Twould puzzle the sage Plutarch now to tell,  
Or find on earth our Charles 's parallel.  
Let Rome and Greece of Heroes boast no more,  
To make our One, would beggar all their store.  
Weep ye three Orphan Kingdoms, weep, for He  
To you was truly Pater Patriae.  
Mourn too Religion, Liberty, and Laws,  
He was your Martyr, and died in your cause.  
Levy a tax of grief, for who'll deny,  
For this so general loss, a general cry.  
Though to bear arms be, yet I know no reason  
That loyal tears should be accounted treason.  
Let not thy grief be small, I thee entreat,  
Britain, for him who only made thee Great.    

An Anniversary on Charles the First, etc. 1657.  

PArdon, great Soul, the slowness of my verse,  
Who after eight years sing thine Anniverse:  
Since he who well would write thine Elegy,  
Must take an Age's time to study thee.  
Nay must be you, for none but you can tell,  
Or measure the just height from whence you fell.  
We know not how to estimate thy loss,  
Nor can we feel the weight of thy sad cross.  
If we should rack our fancies, to invent  
Mischiefs, & plots far worse than hell e'er meant  
To best of men (when men with hell combine)  
They all would prove faint Metaphors of thine.  
He who once sold his Kingdom for a draught  
Of running water, and then perished straight,  
Had much the better bargain; thou didst lose  
All men could wish, for miseries and woes.  
Saints (like their Saviour) when for drink they call,  
The world presents them vinegar & gall.  
What monstrous sins of ours made Heaven to frown,  
When Virtue met an Axe, and Vice a Crown!  
Thrones, Sceptres, Crowns, and all the gaudy things,  
That use to deck and load the heads of Kings;  
Who now will value you, since you have been  
Rewards of vice, and recompense of sin!  
Thou better knewest (blessed Martyry) to slight those  
And leave them as revenges to thy foes.  
These, like the Prophet's mantle fell from thee,  
When thou, like him, didst climb t'Eternity.  
Poor Princes thus to others leave their own  
Small states, when called to a richer Crown.  
As when a jewel's taken out the case,  
Atoms and air usurped the jewels place;  
Or as the Sun leaving one Hemisphere,  
Darkness and night presume to revel there.  
So is thy place supplied, the Sphere which thou  
Wert wont to fill, we see invaded now  
By a wild Comet, whose blaze doth portend,  
If not a sudden, yet a certain end.  
Though dead, thou still upon our hearts dost gain,  
And so more nobly and more truly reign.  
Those blessings which we prise not, whilst possessed,  
Their worth our want of them discovers best.  
Night makes the day, & darkness gilds the Sun,  
Thus things grow greater by comparison.  
We envy not thy glory, nor bemoan  
With tears thy sad misfortunes, but our own.  
Whilst thou with an immortal Crown dost shine,  
The woe is ours, the happiness is thine.  
Thou hast attainded the Haven, we are tossed  
Upon a sea of woes; our Pilot lost;  
Driven by th'winds and waves, distressed, forlorn,  
Our lading shipwrackt, and our tackling torn.  
Clothed with a long white robe of innocence,  
Thou walkest; in blackest mourning ever since  
Our hearts are clad. To rid us of our pain,  
we'll die, so be thy subjects once again.    

Second Anniversary on Charles the First, 1658.  

THe year's returned, and with the year my task,  
Which to perform no other aid I ask,  
No Muse invoke, but what my grief affords,  
Grief that would fill a dumb man's mouth with words.  
A King's my subject, and a King whose name  
Alone, speaks more than all the tongues of fame.  
Charles, good as great, whose virtues were his crimes,  
The best of men duelled the worst of times.  
But by his sad example we may know,  
Excess of goodness is not safe below.  
'Twas too much worth just Aristides sent,  
(By a wild ostracism) to's banishment.  
Oh! hadst thou lived when virtue was in fashion,  
And men were ruled by reason, not by passion,  
How hadst thou been adored! Thy actions had  
Been the just Standard of what's good or bad.  
Thy life had passed for law, and the whole Nation  
Might have been virtuous by imitation.  
To have been good, and in the best degree,  
Had been no more but to be like to thee.  
Thou art all wonder, and thy brighter Story,  
Casts an Eclipse upon the blazing glory  
Of former ages; all their Worthies, now  
(By thee outdone) do blush, and wonder how  
They lost the day, beclouded with a night  
Of silence, rising from thy greater light.  
Their moral deeds are of too faint a dye,  
If once compared with thy piety.  
Be dumb ye lying Legends, here's a Reign,  
Full of more miracles than ye can feign.  
Here is a a saint, more great, more true than e'er  
Came from the triple crown, or holy chair.  
We need no farther for Example look,  
Than unto thee, thou art the only book;  
Thou art the best of Texts, hereafter we  
Expect no more, but Comments upon thee:  
Thou art the great Original, and he  
Who will be famous now, must transcribe thee;  
Spite of the Sword and Axe, you found a way  
To win the field, although you lost the day.  
In thy rare Portraiture thou livest still,  
And triumphest more by thine all-conquering quill;  
There shalt thou reign, and as immortal be,  
As was the malice of thine enemy.  
Thou hast out-witted all thy foes, and by  
Thy Book thou gainest the greatest victory.  
That hath enlarged thine Empire, and all men  
Stoop to the Sceptre of thy Royal Pen.  
Thy Virtues crowd so fast, I cannot tell  
How to speak all, or which doth most excel.  
All I can say is but Epitome,  
A life's too little for thy History.  
I can but write thee in Stenography,  
The whole of others is but part of thee.  
But thou hast spoke thyself in such a strain,  
Our wits are useless, and endeavours vain,  
Silence and admiration fit me best,  
Let others try to write, I'll weep the rest.   
FINIS.   

A THEATRE OF WITS, Ancient and Modern. Represented in a Collection of Apothegms. Pleasant and Profitable.  
By THO. FORD.  
Omne tulit punctum, qui miscuit utile dulci.  
Habent enim Apothegmata peculiarem quandam rationem, & indolem suam, ut breviter, argutè, salsè, & urbanè cujusque ingenium exprimant. Erasmus  
LONDON, Printed by R. and W. Leybourn, for William Grantham at the Black Bear in St. Paul's Churchyard, near the little North Door. 1660.   

To the Reader.  
Reader,  
I Here present thee with a dish of Apothegms, pulled from the leaves of many Authors; if they please thee in the tasting, but as much as they did me in the gathering, I shall not doubt their entertainment. Amongst those swarms of books which our age is daily glutted with, there is not one Author hath traveled in this road, nor any one book of this nature (that I know) in our Language, except a Manual of that great Advancer of Learning, Sir Francis Bacon, which hath long since been out of print. I had therefore some temptation to have added mine as a Supplement to his; but upon second thoughts, considering none ever attempted to add a line to that piece Apelles left imperfect, I have chosen rather to erect a new frame by his model, than to build upon another's foundation.  
That the Volume is small, my diligence hath been the greater, for I have laboured to subtract, rather than multiply them; not putting in every one I met with, but what was best, at least in my opinion. These are but the fi st fruits, your acceptance may ripen them into a larger harvest, if God shall lend me time and opportunity.  
I have waved any particular Dedication, as not willing to entitle any man to the Patronage of my weaknesses; nor am I of that vain humour of Appian the Grammarian, who promised immortality to those to whom he dedicated any of his Works. 
And they who writ to Lords rewards to get. 
Donnes Sat.   
Are they not like singers at doors for meat?  There is a Vine in Asia, that brings forth Burnt-wine, 
Johnston Hist. Nat,  so excellent (saith mine Author) that none exceeds it. Such is the nature of these short sentences, they are ready dressed and dished out to thy hand; like some Diamonds, which grow smoothand polished, and need no farther labour to fit them for use, but using. As it is said of Isidore the Philosopher, that he spoke not words, but the very substance and essence of things. They contain magnum in parvo, much matter in a few words. Significant potius quam exprimunt. You have here much gold in a little ore, easy for carriage, ready for use. We have many things to learn, and but little time to live; I know not therefore any kind of Learning more pleasant, or more profitable than this, which teacheth us many lessons in a few lines. But I will not waste thy time (Reader) whilst I study to improve it, and to approve myself  
Thy servant, T. F.   

Apothegms,  
AN old Mass-Priest in the days of Hen. 8. reading in English after the Translation of the Bible, the mircale of the five loaves and two fishes, when he came to the verse that reckoneth the number of the guests, he paused a little, and at last said, they were about 500; the Clerk whispered into the Priest's ears, that it was 5000; but the Priest turned back, and replied with indignation, Hold your peace, sirrah, we shall never make them believe they were 500  
Aristides said, concerning the Elegance of the City of Smyrna, that no man, except he which shall see it, will be drawn to believe it.  
The Savages, an English Family, held Ardes (in Ireland) long in possession, amongst whom there goeth a great name of Him, who said no less stoutly than pleasantly, when he was moved to o build a Castle for his defence, that he would not trust to a castle of stones, but rather to a castle of bones. Meaning his own body.  
Columbane, a Monk of Ireland, when Sigebert King of the Frankners, dealt very earnstly with him, and that by way of many fair and large promises, that he should not departed out of his Kingdom: Answered him, That it became not them to embrace other men's riches, who for Christ's sake had forsaken their own.  
porphery, in regard of the many tyrants rising up in his days in Britain, cried out in these terms, Britain a foolish Province of tyrants.  
St. Ambrose in his Funeral Sermon of Theodosius, cryeth out in these terms: that Eugenius and Maximus (who had five years usurped the Empire) by their woeful example, do testify in hell what a heavy thing it is to bear arms against their Natural Prince.  
Of this Maximus it is said, that he was a valiant man, victorious, and worthy the title of Augustus, but that against his allegiance he had by way of tyranny and usurpation attained the place.  
Homer saith of one that had a misfortune, It was because he did not honour his Parents.  
Upon a triumph, all the Emperor Severus' Soldiers, for the greater pomp, were to put on Crowns of Bays; but one Christian there was amongst them which wore it on his arm; and being demanded the reason, boldly answered: It becomes not a Christian to be crowned in this life.  
Arnobius was wont to say, that persecution brings death in one hand, and life in the other; for while it kills the body, it crowns the soul.  
The Empress Eudoxia, sending a threatening message to Chrysostom, (for boldly reproving her) He answered, Go tell her I fear nothing but sin.  
Justus Ionas said of Luther, that he could have of God what he pleased.  
Epaminondas being asked what was the greatest joy he ever had in the world, He said Leutrica Victoria, the Battle of Leutrick.  
Rocardus, King of Friesland, being by Wolfranius persuaded to be Baptised, having one foot in the Font, the other out, asked Wolfranius where went the most part of his Predecessors that were not Baptised? To hell, said Wolfranius; then Rocardus drew his foot out of the Font, saying, It was best following of the greatest company.  
The Devil meeting with a devout Hermit, asked him three questions: First, what should be the strangest thing that God made in a little frame? He answered, a man's face. The second, Where was the Earth higher than all the Heavens? Where Christ's body, born of the Virgin Mary, was adored of Angels and Archangels. The third, What space was between Heaven and Earth? Thou knowest best (said the Hermit) which waist from Heaven thrown down to the Earth.  
L. Silla finding his soldiers timorous, and fearful to fight with Archelaus, 〈◊〉 General, drew out his sword, and said, You soldiers that mean to fly to Rome, tell them at Rome, that you left Silla your General, fight in the midst of the Battle, with the enemies in Boetia.  
Philipides the Poet, refused to be of King Lysimachus Counsel, that when the King said to him, What wilt thou that I give unto thee? Nothing (said the poor Poet) but only this, that I may not be of thy Council.  
In a public meeting with all the Princes of Germany, at Wormatia; where the Duke of Saxon first preferring his metals, and rich veins of earth: the Duke of Bavaria much commending his strong and brave Cities and Towns: and the Duke Palatine of his wines, and fertility of his lands: the Duke of Wittenbergh said, I can lay my head, and sleep upon the lap of any of my subjects I have abroad in the field, every where. Huic facile concedite palmam (said Maximilian the Emperor) Give him the palm.  
Themistocles being asked whose Oration he would hear? Even him (said Themistocles) that can best set forth my praise, and advance my fame.  
Isocrates repeating an Oration of Demosthenes his adversary, at Rhodes, they of Rhodes much delighting therein, and much commending the Oration that Isocrates made, though he was enemy to Demosthenes, was forced against his will to say to the people, What if you had heard the beast himself pronouncing his own Oration?  
Julius Caesar seeing certain men of Apulia, in Rome, carrying Apes upon their arms, playing, asked the men, If they had no women in Apulia to get children to play withal.  
Diogenes, when he saw mice creeping for some crumbs to his table, would say, Behold, Diogenes also hath his parasites.  
Lewis the ●th. was wont to brag of his own Kingdom of France, that it far exceeded all other Kingdoms, wanting but one thing; and being requested to know what that was, he answered, Truth.  
The great Antiochus brought Hannibal to his treasures, and shown him his gold, his silver, his wealth and treasures, and asked him if all that would not please the Romans? Yea, said Hannibal, it would please the Romans, but not satisfy the Romans.  
A Councillor of State, said to his Master the King of Spain, that now is, upon occasion: Sir, I will tell your Majesty thus much for your comfort, your Majesty hath but two enemies; whereof the one is all the World, and the other is your own Ministers.  
Domitian perceiving many of his Predecessors in the Empire to be hated, asked one, how he might so rule, as not to be hated? the party answered, Tu fac contra: By not doing what they did.  
When M. Cicero stood for the Consulship of Rome, Q. Cicero wished him to meditate on this, Novus sum, Consulatam peto, Roma est.  
Alexander having a soldier of his name, that was a coward, He bade him either leave off the name of Alexander, or be a soldier.  
A brave Roman Captain told his soldiers, That if they could not conquer Britain, yet they would get possession of it, by laying their bones in it.  
It was a smart answer which Mr. Durant, a witty and learned Minister of the Reformed Church of Paris, gave a Lady of suspected chastity, (and since revolted) when she pretended the hadness of the Scripture: Why, said he, Madam, What can be more plain, then, Thou shalt not commit adultery.  
It was the saying of the dying Emperor Julian, He that would not die when he must, and he that would die when he must not, are both of them cowards alike.  
Aristippus told the Sailors, that wondered why he was not, as well as they, afraid in the storms, that the odds was much; For they feared the torments due to a wicked life, and he expected the rewards of a good one.  
It was cold comfort Diogenes gave a lewd liver, that banished, complained he should die in a foreign soil. Be of good cheer man, wheresoever thou art, the way to hell is the same.  
It was the admonition of dying Otho to Cocceius, Neither too much to remember, nor altogether to forget, that Caesar was his Uncle.  
Isocrates, of a Scholar full of words, asked a double Fee, One, he said, to learn him to speak well, another to teach him to hold his peace.  
Euripides, when he brings in any woman in his tragedies, makes them always bad: Sophocles in his tragedies maketh them always good: whereof when Sophocles was asked the reason; he made this answer, Euripides, saith he, represents women as they be, I represent them as they ought to be.  
Sir Henry Wotton was wont to say of Sir Philip Sydney's wit, that it was the very measure of congruity.  
Having in Italy acquaintance with a pleasant Priest, who invited him one evening to hear their Vesper music at Church; the Priest seeing Sir Henry standing obscurely in a corner, sends to him by a boy this question writ in a small piece of paper: Where was your Religion to be found before Luther? To which Sir Henry Wotton presently underwit, My Religion was to be found then, where yours is not to be found now, in the written word of God.  
To another that asked him whether a Papist may be saved? He replied, You may be saved without knowing that; look to yourself.  
To another that was still railing against the Papists, he gave this advice, Pray Sir forbear, till you have studied the points better: for the wise Italians have this Proverb, He that understands amiss, concludes worse.  
To one being designed for the office of an Ambassador, requesting from him some experimental rules for his prudent and safe carriage in his Negotiation, Sir Henry Wotton gave this for an infallible Aphorism; That to be in safety himself, and serviceable to his Country, he should always, and upon all occasions speak the truth; for, said he, you shall never be believed, and by this means your truth will secure yourself, if you shall ever be called to any account, and it will also put your adversaries (who will still hunt counter) to a loss, in all their disquisitions and undertake.  
He directed this sentence only to be inscribed on his Tombstone; Hic jacet hujus sententiae Author. Disputandi pruritus fit Ecclesiarum scabies.  
Bolislaus the 4th. King of Poland, who bearing the picture of his Father, hanged about his neck in a plate of gold, when he was to speak, or do any thing of importance, he took his picture, and kissing it, said, Dear Father, I wish I may not do any thing remissly, unworthy of thy name.  
A gentile spirit said to an old man, who caused his grisly hairs to be painted with the lustre of green youth: Poor fool, although thou couldst deceive the whole world with thy hair, yet death well knoweth they are grey. Sit te Proserpina canem.  
It is said, a French King enquiring one day of a Wiseman, after divers instructions to govern himself, and guide his Kingdom, this Wiseman took a fair large sheet of paper, and for an infinite number of precepts, which others use to produce upon this subject, he only wrote this word: Modus, measure, or mean.  
One who having lived free from the bonds of marriage, caused to be set on his Tomb, Vixit sine impedimento, He lived without hindrance.  
A mother grieving for the death of her son, said, That all her evil came from loving too much what she might lose. Amabam misera periturum, etc.  
An old humourist vapouring once that women had no souls, was answered by a modest Lady: Sure, Sir, you are deceived, for I can produce a good text to the contrary, My soul doth magnify the Lord: and it was a woman that spoke it.  
Isocrates had an excellent wit, notwithstanding finding himself destitute of countenance, gesture, and confidence, he never durst to speak in public, contenting himself to teach, even to his decrepit days, and commonly saying, He taught Rhetoric for a 1000 Rials, but would give more than 10000 to him who would teach him confidence.  
It was the saying of Lewis the French King, to Henry the third of England, who ask him (in those times of implicit faith) whether he would go sooner, to the Eucharist, or to a Sermon? He answered, I had rather see my friend, than hear him only spoken of.  
One said that Aristotle's School was a great Scold.  
It was not said improperly of him, who having passed his grand Climacterique, That he was got lose from his unruly passions, as from so many lions and wolves.  
A French Baron, not long since, meeting two Capuchins going barefoot in cold frosty weather, with their scrips upon their backs a begging, and knowing them to be Gentlemen of a good Family, he said, How grossly are these men cozened if there be no heaven.  
An Italian Prince being upon his deathbed, and comforted by his friends, touching the joys of the other world, whereunto he was going, he fetched a deep sigh, and said, Oh! I know what's past, but I know not what's to come.  
There is a saying fathered upon Paul 3d. when he lay upon his deathbed, that shortly he should be resolved of two things, Whether there be a God and Devil, or whether there be a heaven and hell?  
When a rare Italian Statuary offered Rh. 2d. of Spain, that without expense to the King, he would set up his Majesty's arms and portraiture over the gates of every City in Lombardy, the King commending the man's good will, answered, He had rather have a workman, that with any expense whatsoever, could set up his image in Heaven.  
When the soldiers demanded a donative of Galba, he answered, That he used to choose, not to bu● soldiers.  
Vespasian was not moved with the scoffs of Demetrius Cynicus, but slighted them, saying, I use not to kill barking dogs.  
Domitian punished Informers, saying, That not to punish such, was to encourage them.  
Trajan delivered his sword to the Captain of the Guard, willing him to use it for him, if he did well, but against him, if otherwise.  
Antonius Pius, Emperor, coming to see Omulus his house, he enquired whence he had his marble pillars? Omulus' answered, that in another man's house he should be both deaf and dumb.  
When Julia, Mother-in-law to Caracalla (whom he married) told him he was too prodigal, he laid his hand on his sword, saying, I shall never lack money, so long as this is with me.  
Julian rob the Church of her Revenues, telling the Clergy that they should be the fit for Heaven, because it is written, Blessed be the poor.  
Tiberius' Constantinus, Co-Emperor with Justin, when Sophia the Empress reproved him, as being too prodigal in his bounty to the poor: He answered, that he should never want wealth on earth, as long as he had laid up treasures on earth, by relieving the poor.  
Maximilian the Emperor, was wont to say, to compel the conscience, is to force heaven.  
It was not ill answered of Merope, to King Polyphontes, who therefore killed his brother, because he had entertained a purpose to have killed him: You should only have done the same injury to him, which he did to you; you should still have had a purpose to kill him.  
Aquinas was once asked, with what compendium a man might best become learned? He answered, By reading one Book.  
A great Italian General, seeing the sudden death of Alphonsus Duke of Ferrara, kneeled down instantly, saying, And shall not this sight make me religious?  
When the Duke of Candia had voluntarily entered into the incommodities of a Religious life, and poverty, he was one day spied, and pitied by a Lord of Italy, who, out of tenderness, wished him to be more careful, and nutritive of his person. The good Duke answered, Sir, be not troubled, and think not that I am ill provided of conveniencies; for I send a harbinger before, who makes my lodgings ready, and takes care that I be royally entertained: The Lord asked him, who was his harbinger? He answered, the knowledge of myself, and the consideration of what I deserve for my sins, which is eternal torments; and when with this knowledge I arrive at my lodging, how unprovided soever I find it, me thinks it is ever better than I deserve.  
'Twas a reasonable answer of Pericles to one that asked him, Why he being a severe and Philosophical person, came to a Wedding trimmed and adorned like a Paranymph? I come adorned to an adorned person, trimmed to a Bridegroom.  
The Emperor Ferdinand the 2d. had wont to say to those that brought him any ill news, 'tis good, 'tis God's pleasure, I am contented.  
Sir Thomas Moor, somewhat before he was made Lord Chancellor, built a Chapel in his Parish at Chelsey, where the Parish had all ornaments belonging thereunto abundantly supplied at his charge; and he bestowed thereon much plate, often using these words, Good men give it, and bad men take it away.  
The King of Sweden, to the Dutch Ambassador, persuading him to a care of his person, answered, that his hour was written in heaven, and could not be altered on earth.  
Sir Jervis Ellwis, when executed on Tower-hill for Overbury's death, left these two Items to Posterity: 1. Not to vow any thing, but to perform it. 2. Not to take a pride in any parts, though never so excellent.  
A Lord Mayor of London (in K. James his time) stopping the King's carriages as they were going through the streets with a great noise in time of Divine Service, and the King being told of it, he, in a rage, swore he thought there had been no more Kings in England but himself, & sent a warrant to the Lord Mayor to let them pass, which he then obeyed with this answer, While it was in my power, I did my duty; but that being taken away by a higher power, it is my duty to obey.  
Demodocus said of the Milesians, they were no fools, but they did the same things that fools did.  
Vincentius Lyrenensis saith of St. Cyprian, who had before the Council of Carthage defended rebaptising, the Author of this error (saith he) is, no doubt, in heaven, the followers and practisers of it now go to hell.  
A Gentleman having by fatherly indulgence tolerated the humour of gaming and wenching in his son, disinherited him for drinking, saying of the first, If he had wit, he would not lose much by it; and of the second, that in time for his own ease he would leave it; but of the third, he said, he would prove, the elder, the viler, and hardly ever amend it.  
A certain man coming to Athens, meeting one of his friends in the street, desired him to show him the rarities of the City: His friend carried him to Solon; but the man having viewed him some time, would have gone farther: no, said his friend, You have seen all. Vidisti Solon, vidisti omnia.  
It is said of the Germans, that they understand more than they can utter, and drink more than they can carry.  
A certain old man, being asked why he wore his beard so large and long? that beholding those grey hairs (said he) I may do nothing unbeseeming them.  
Cyrus was wont to say, that a good Prince was like a good Shepherd, who can by no other means grow rich, than by making his flock to thrive under him.  
A maid (in Plutarch) being to be sold in the Market, when a Chapman asked her, Wilt thou be faithful if I buy thee? Yes (said she) etiamsi non emeris, whether you buy me or no.  
Demosthenes' said to him that objected that his Speech smelled of the candle; I know my candle stands in your light: The man being suspected for a thief.  
Melansthon was used to say, He that dealeth with some men, had need to bring a Divine, a Lawyer, and a Soldier with him to get his right.  
St. Bernard coming to the great Church of Spire in Germany, he was no sooner come into the Church, but the Image of the Virgin saluted him, and bade him, Good morrow Bernard: whereat, he well knowing the juggling of the Friars, made answer again out of St. Paul, Oh (said he) your Ladyship hath forgot yourself, it is not lawful for women to speak in the Church.  
John King of England, being wished by a Courtier to untomb the bones of one, who whilst he was living, had been his great enemy: Oh no (said the King) would all mine enemies were as honour ably buried.  
The Egyptian Calyph, offering an English Ambassador his hand in his glove, the Ambassador answered, Sir, we come not to treat with your glove, but yourself.  
When a Pirate said to one of his fellows, Woe to us if we be known: an honest man in the same ship replied: And woe to me if I be not known.  
Luther was wont to say, He would be unwilling to be a soldier in that army where Priests were Captains, because the Church, not the Camp, was their proper place.  
Plato being demanded how he knew a wise man, answered, When being rebuked he would not be angry, and being praised, he would not be proud.  
Marquess Pawlet, there being divers factions at Court in his time, yet was he beloved of all parties; and being asked, how he stood so right in the judgement of all? He answered, By being a willow, and not an oak.  
Diogenes was wont to say, when the people mocked him, They deride me, yet I am not derided: I am not the man they take me for.  
Rather than want exercise of his patience, he would crave alms of dead men's Statues; and being demanded why he did so? He answered, That I may learn to take denial from others the more patiently.  
Marius was never offended with any report went of him, because he said, If it were true, it would sound to his praise; if false, his life and manners should prove it contrary.  
A Steward once replied to his passionate Lord, when he called him knave, etc. Your Honour may speak as you please, but I believe not a word that you say, for I know myself an honest man.  
Philip of Macedon professed himself much beholden to his enemies (the Athenians) for speaking evil of him; For (said he) they made me an honest man, to prove them liars.  
When Diogenes was told by a base fellow, that he once had been a Coiner of money, He answered, 'Tis true, such as thou art now, I once was, but such as I am now, thou wilt never be.  
Socrates, when one asked him why he took such a ones bitter railing so patiently? Answered, It is enough for one to be angry at a time.  
Dion of Syracuse, being banished, came to Theodorus Court suppliant, where not presently admitted, he turned to his companion, with these words, I remember I did the like, when I was in like dignity.  
Socrates, being persuaded to revenge himself of a fellow that kicked him, answered, If an ass had kicked me, should I have set my wit to his, and kicked him again?  
Another time, being told that one spoke evil of him, He replied, Alas! the man hath not as yet learned to speak well, but I have learned to contemn what he speaks.  
Diogenes, being told that many despised him, answered, It is the wise man's portion to suffer of fools.  
When Dionysius the Tyrant had plotted the death of his Master Plato, and was defeated by Plato's escape out of his Dominions; when the Tyrant desired him in writing not to speak evil of him, the Philosopher replied, That he had not so much idle time as once to think of him, knowing there was a just God would one day call him to a reckoning.  
When once an hotspur was persuaded to be patiented as Job was, He replied, What do ye tell me of Job? Job never had any suits in the Chancery.  
Mr. Bradford was wont to say, that in Chricts cause to suffer death, was the way to heaven on horseback.  
Jugo, an ancient King, set all his Nobles, being Pagans, in his Hall below, and certain poor Christians in his Presence-chamber with himself; at which all wondering, he told them, this he did, not as King of the Drones, but as King of another world, wherein these were his fellow-Princes.  
It was the saying of a merry fellow, That in Christendom there were neither Scholars enough, Gentlemen enough, nor Jews enough: because if there were Scholars enough, so many would not be double and triple beneficed; if Gentlemen enough, so many peasants would not be ranked among the Gentry; and if Jews enough, so many Christians would not profess usury.  
Socrates was wont to say to Alcibiades, when he met him among gallants like himself, I fear not thee, but thy company.  
Alexander, when a Commander of his in the Wars, spoke loudly, but did little, told him, I entertained you into my service, not to rail, but to fight.  
Illyricus, when one asked him why the old Translations (of the Bible) had no vowels? I think (saith he) that they had no consonants, for they could not agree among themselves.  
Doctor Reynolds his Lecture in Oxford ceasing, by reason of his sickness, some desired him to read before he was well recovered: The Doctor said, He desired so to serve God, that he might serve him long.  
Erasmus was wont to say in his time, That to Preach, with many Ministers, was but Perfricare frontem, & linguam voluere.  
Epiphanius, having stayed long at Constantinople, and being to take ship to return home again, said, He was leaving three great things, a great City, a great Palace, and great Hypocrisy.  
Charles the Great, when he was showed by a Duke a Royal Palace, and all the rings, and sumptuous ornaments and jewels, said, Haec sunt qui nos invitos faciunt mori. These are the things that make us unwilling to die.  
Erasmus was used to say, That the dunsery and idleness of the Monks of his time, made him a Student.  
The Athenian Commander, being asked what God was, said, He was neither bowman, nor pikeman, nor hors-man, nor footman, but one that did know, istis omnibus imperare.  
A noble Commander, in the Wars having taken great spoils, said to a soldier behind him, Tolle istos, Ego Christianus.  
When Cajetan told Luther he should be banished, Luther answered, Si non capiat terra, capiat coelum,  
A great man coming to Aquinas, and offering him a Bishopric, he leaning on his elbow in his Study, replied, Mallem Chrysostomam in Matthaeum.  
The same Aquinas, when he was entreated to take a Cardinal's place, answered, Sepulchrum cogito, non gradum sublimiorem.  
Luther and his Wife, with four children, were in a boat, and being in a great storm, were like to be cast away, Luther laughing aloud, said, Oh how the Devil would rejoice, if we were all drowned.  
Plato, discoursing unto one of the contempt of death, and speaking strangely upon it, was answered, That he spoke more courageously than he lived: To whom Plato replied, that he spoke not as he lived; but as he should live.  
Caesar Borgia, being sick to death, said, When I lived, I provided for every thing but death; now I must die, I am unprovided to die.  
Gerson brings in an Englishman, ask a Frenchman, Quot annos habes? His answer was, Annos non habeo, I am of no years at all, but death hath for born me this 50 years.  
A man (said Luther) lives forty years before he knows himself to be a fool; and by that time he sees his folly, his life is finished.  
Anaxamander said of the Athenians, That they had good Laws, but used ill.  
Augustus' lamented for Varus death; being asked why? He said, Now I have none in my Country to tell me truth.  
A certain King of Tartary writ to the Polonians, then wanting a King, that if they would choose him their King, he would accept of it upon these terms, Vester Pontifex, meus Pontifex esto, vester Lutherus meus Lutherus esto. But the Polonians rejected him with this wise answer, Ecce hominem paratum omni à sacra, & deos deserere regnandi causa.  
Marius, being accused by the Senate of treason, tears open his garments, and in the sight of them all shows them his wounds received in the service and defence of his Country, saying, Quid opus est verbis, ubi vulner a clamant?  
Sir William Stanley, railing against his native Country, a Spanish Verdugo gave him this answer, Though you have offended your Country, your Country never offended you.  
It is storied of a wicked City, which fearing the invasion of a potent enemy, sought relief of a neighbouring Prince, charging their Ambassadors to relate unto him what forces they were able to levy of their own: The Prince replying to the Message, demanded of them what coverture they had to defend their heads from the wrath of heaven? telling them withal, That unless they could award God's anger, he durst not join with them, God being against them.  
The Mother of peter Lombard, when having transgressed her vow of Continency, she told her Confessor plainly, that when she saw what a Son she had brought forth, she could not repent that she had sinned in having him: But her Confessor sadly answered her, Dole saltem, quod dolere non possis.  
Caracalla said to them that desired that some honours might be spent upon his brother Geta, now dead out of his way; Sat divus (saith he) modo non sit vivus.  
Edward the Third of England, having sent to France, to demand the Crown by Maternal Right, the Council there sent him word, That the Crown of France was not tied to a distaff: which scoffing answer he replied, That then he would tie it to his sword.  
Scaliger said, He had rather have been the Author and Composer of one Ode in Horace, than King of all Arragon.  
Cato would say, He wondered how one of their aruspices could forbear to laugh, when he met with any of his fellows, to see how they deceived men, and made a great number of simple ones in the City.  
King Lewis the 11th. looking upon a Tapestry, wherein a certain Nobleman (who from a mean Clerk of the Exchequer, was advanced to be Lord Treasurer of France) had portrayed the steps and degrees whereby he had ascended, himself represented sitting on the top of Fortune's wheel: Whereupon King Lewis told him, He might do well to fasten it with a good strong nail, for fear lest turning about, it brought him to his former estate again. Which proved a true Prophecy of him.  
One who before he was Pope, was the most crouching submiss Cardinal that ever was: His manner was to eat upon a net, as it were in a way of devout humility; but after he had obtained the Popedom, he commanded them to take away the net, saying, He had caught that which he fished for.  
When a French King, seeing the Persian pomp of the Pope's Court, and pride of the Cardinals, asked a Cardinal of Avinion, Whether the Apostles ever went with such a Train after them? He answered, No verily: but you must consider, Sir, that they were Apostles the same time that Kings were shepherds.  
It was the saying of Rabbi Gamaliel, He that multiply servants, multiplies thiefs.  
Melancthon said, when he furthered the Edition of the Koran, that he would have it printed,  videamus quale poema sit: That the World might see what a piece of poetry the Koran was.  
Artabazus, a Courtier, received from King Cyrus a cup of gold: At the same time Chrysantas, the beloved Favourite, received a kiss from him; which the other observing, said, The cup which you gave me, was not so good gold as the kiss you gave Chrysantes.  
It was the Speech of an ancient Rabbi; I learned much of my Rabbis, or Masters, more of my companions, most of my Scholars.  
The Emperor Sigismond, demanding of Theodoricus, Archbishop of Collen, the directest course to happiness: Perform (saith he) when thou art well, what thou promisedst when thou wert sick.  
A certain King of the Lacedæmonians being one day private in his garden, was teaching one of his children, of five years old, to ride on a stick; and unawares a great Ambassador came to speak with him in that manner, at which, both the King, and the Ambassador in the King's behalf, began to blush at first; but soon after, the King putting away the blush and the hobby-horse together, and with a pretty smile, asked the Ambassador, if he had any children of his own? He answered, No. Then (said he) I pray you tell not what you found me doing, till you have some little ones of your own, and then tell it, and spare not.  
The Scouts of Antigonus, relating unto him the multitude of his enemies, and advising by way of information the danger of a Conflict that should be undertaken with so great an inequality, He replied, And at how many do ye value me?  
A West-Indian King, having been well wrought upon towards his conversion to the Christian Religion; and having digested the former Articles, when he came to that, He was crucified, dead, and buried, had no longer patience, but said, If your God be dead and buried, leave me to my old god the Sun, for the Sun will not die.  
Pythagoras' said, He that knoweth not what he ought to know, is a brute beast among men; he that knoweth no more than he hath need of, is a man among brute beasts; he that knoweth all that is to be known, is a god among men.  
The Lord Treasurer Burleigh was wont to say, That he used to overcome envy and ill will more by patience than pertinacy.  
The Ambassadors of the Council of Constance, being sent to Pope Benedict the 11th. when he, laying his hand upon his heart, said, Hic est arca Noae, they tartly and truly replied, In Noah's ark were few men, but many beasts.  
When one seemed to pity an one eyed man, He told him he had lost one of his enemies, a very thief, that would have stolen away his heart.  
The King of Navarre told Beza, He would launch no farther into the Sea, than he might be sure to return safe to the Haven.  
A clown said to the Bishop of Collen, praying in the Church like a Bishop, but as he was Duke, going guarded like a Tyrant, Whither thinkest thou the Bishop shall go, when the Duke shall be damned?  
King Edward the 3d. having the King of France prisoner here in England, and feasting him one time most sumptuously, pressed him to be merry. The French King answered, How can we sing songs in a strange Land?  
Calvin answered his friends with some indignation, when they admonished him, for his health's sake, to forbear studying so hard. What? said he, would you that my Master, when he comes, should find me idle?  
Spiridion, a godly Bishop in Cyprus, having not what else to set before a guest that came to him in Lent, set him a piece of pork to feed on; and when the stranger made a scruple of eating flesh in Lent, saying, I am a Christian, and may not do it: Nay, therefore thou mayst do it, said he, because to the pure all things are pure.  
Dr. Preston on his deathbed, said, He should change his place, not his company.  
A certain stranger coming on Embassage to Rome, and colouring his hair and pale cheeks with vermilion hue, a grave Senator espying the deceit, stood up, and said, What sincerity are we to expect at this man's hands, whose locks, and looks, and lips do lie.  
Sir Horaetio Vere, when in the Palatinate a Council of War was called, and debated whether they should fight or not? Some Dutch Lords said, That the enemy had many pieces of Ordnance in such a place, and therefore it was dangerous to fight: That Nobleman replied, My Lords, if you fear the mouth of the Cannon, you must never come into the field.  
Sir John Burroughs, receiving a mortal wound in the Island of Rhees, and being advised not to fear death, but to provide for another world. He answered, I thank God I fear not death, and these thirty years together, I never arose in the morning, that ever I made account to live while night.  
A learned Friar, at a Council, complaining of the abuse of the Clergy, Preaching before the Emperor, wished him to begin a reformation of the Clergy à minoribus: The Emperor thanked him for his Sermon, and said, He had rather begin à majoribus, from the better sort of the Clergy.  
Aristippus being told that Lais loved him not; No more (saith he) doth wine, nor fish, yet I cannot be without them.  
The Lord Burleigh being at Cambridge with Queen Elizabeth, viewing the several Schools, said, Here I find one School wanting, and that is the School of Discretion.  
Henry the 4th. told the Prince his Son, Getting is a chance, but keeping is a wit.  
A Philosopher, that hearing his creditor was dead, kept the money which he had borrowed without witnesses, a night or two; but after some struggling with his conscience, he carried it to his Executor, saying, Mihi vivit, qui aliis mortuus est; though he be ded to others, he's still alive to me.  
Severus the Emperor, having passed through many adventures, at last died in our land, overladen with troubles: weighing with himself what his life had been, he broke forth into these speeches, I have been all that might be, and now am nothing the better.  
Scipio viewing his army, said, There was not one who would not throw himself from the top of a tower, for love of him.  
Hildebert, Bishop of Mentz, said of the Roman Courtiers, Employ them not, and they hinder you: Employ them in your causes, and they delay them; if you solicit them, they scorn you; if you every them, they forget you.  
When Antonius had made away his brother Geta, after the first year of their joint Empire, he entreated Papinianus (a famous Lawyer) to plead his excuses: Who answered, It is easier Paricidium facere, quam excusare; thou mayst (said he) command my neck to the block, but not my tongue to the bar; I prise not my life, to the pleading of an evil cause.  
Simonides, being asked what did soon grow old among men? Made answer, A benefit.  
Apollonius ●hianaeus, having traveled over all Asia, afric, and Europe, said, There were two things whereat he marvelled most in all the world: the first was, that he always saw the proud man command the humble, the quarrelous the quiet, the tyrant the just, the cruel the pitiful, the coward the hardy, the ignorant the skilful, and the greatest thiefs hang the innocent.  
A Philosopher being asked, how he could endure so ill a Wife as he had? The answer which he gave, was, I have hereby a School of Philosophy in my house, and learning daily to suffer patiently, I am made the more milder with others.  
Alexander seeing Diogenes tumbling among dead bones, he asked him what he sought? To whom the other answered, That which I cannot find, the difference between the rich and the poor.  
Demonax asked one a question, who answered him in old obsolete affected words. Prithee fellow, said he, where are thy wits? I ask thee a question now, and thou answerest 400 years ago.  
Albertus' Duke of Saxony, was wont to say, that he had three wonders in one City, viz. three Monasteries: For the Fries of the first had children, and yet no wives; the Friars of the second had a great deal of corn, and yet no land; the Friars of the third abounded with moneys, and yet had no rents.  
A Captain sent from Caesar unto the Senators of Rome, to sue for the prolonging of his government abroad, understanding (as he stood at the Council-chamber-door) that they would not condescend to his desire, clapping his hand upon the pummel of his sword: Well, said he, seeing you will not grant it him, this shall give it him.  
When Anne Bolen, that virtuous Lady, had received a message from Henry the 8th. that she must instantly prepare herself for death, answered, That she gave him humble thanks for all his favours bestowed upon her; as for making her of a mean woman a Marchioness, of a Marchioness a Queen, but especially, seeing he could not on earth advance her to any greater dignity, that he would now send her to rest, and reign upon God's high and holy throne.  
When Tully was asked, which Oration of Demosthenes he liked best? He answered, The longest.  
Diogenes said of one, That he cast his house so long out at the window, that at last his house cast him out of the door, having left nothing rich, except a nose.  
There are two saying fathered on two great Counsellors, Secretary Walsingham, and Secretary Cecil, one used to say at the Council-Table, My Lords, stay a little, and we shall make an end the seoner. The other would ofttimes speak of himself, It shall never be said of me, that I will defer till to morrow, what I can do to day.  
Adrian the sixth said, A Physician is very necessary to a populous Country; for were it not for the Physician, men would live so long, and grow so thick, that one could not live for the other.  
It was a bold answer Captain Talbot returned Henry the 8th. from Calais, who having received special command from the King to erect a new work at the Water-gate, and to see the Town well fortified, sent him word, That he could neither fortify, nor fiftifie without money.  
An Italian Vineyard-man, after a long drought, and an extreme hot Summer, which had parched up all his grapes, complained, For want of water, I am forced to drink water; if I had had water, I would drink wine.  
Andrea Doria, being asked by Philip the 2d. which were his best harbours? He answered, June, July, and Carthagena; meaning, that any Port is good in those two months, but Carthagena was good any time of the year.  
A Gallego in Spain, in the Civil Wars of Arragon, being in the Field, he was shot in the forehead, and being carried away to a Tent, the Surgeon searched his wound, and found it mortal; so he advised him to send for his Confessor, for he was no man for this world, in regard the brain was touched; the Soldiers wished him to search it again, which he did, and told him, that he found he was hurt in the brain, and could not possibly escape; whereupon the Gallego fell into a chafe, and said, he lied, for he had no brain at all: If I had had any brain, I would never have come to this war.  
A Spaniard having got a fall by a stumble, and broke his nose, rise up, and in a disdainful manner, said, This 'tis to walk upon earth.  
Alexander quintus, Pope of Rome, said of himself, That when he was a Bishop, he was rich; when he was a Cardinal, he was poor; and when he was a Pope, he was a beggar.  
King Darius, by chance opening a great pomegranate, and being demanded, of what he would wish to have as many as there were grains in that pomegranate? answered in one word, Of Zopiruses.  
It was the answer of an undaunted captive, who slighting the insulting braves of him who took him: Thou holdest thy conquest great in overcoming me, but mine is far greater in overcoming myself.  
It was the saying of a judicious Statesman, he that knoweth to speak well, knoweth also where he must hold his peace: Wisely concluding, think an hour before you speak, and a day before you promise.  
It was an excellent speech of a famous Historian, who being demanded by one who had reduced his Empire to a mere Tyranny, why he remembered not him in his Writings? Because (said he) I read nothing in you worth remembering. Why dost thou not then (replied he) record my vices? Lest others (said he) should err by your example, and so imitate you.  
It was the saying of a famous Orator, I never knew any Poet (yet was I well acquainted with many) who did not think his own do better than all others.  
Zeno's servant Bruson, being taken in theft, and alleging for himself, that it was his destiny to steal. His Master answered, and thy destiny to be beaten.  
Antigonus observing a sickly soldier to be very valiant, procured his Physician to heal him who afterwards began to keep himself out of danger, not venturing as formerly; which Antigonus noting, demanded the reason: The soldier answered, O Antigonus, thou art the reason; before I ventured nothing but a diseased corpse, and then I chose rather to die quickly, than to live sickly: I invited death to do me a courtesy, now it is otherwise with me, for now I have somewhat to lose.  
The Lydian Croesus, enthroned in his Chair of State, asked a wise Sage, if ever he beheld a more beautiful, or graceful Spectacle? Yes, said he, dunghil-cocks, pheasants, and peacocks; for those are clothed with native beauty, but yours is but borrowed glory.  
Carfitides being asked his opinion, what he thought of the Sea, and Seamen? Answered, That there was nothing more treacherous than the first, and that the others were its comrades.  
It was a wise answer, that is reported of the best and last Cardinal of this Island, who, when a skilful ginger, upon the Calculation of his Nativity, had told him some specialties concerning his future estate, answered, Such perhaps I was born; but since that time I have been born again, and my second Nativity hath crossed my first.  
Valentinian, when his soldiers had chosen him to be Emperor, they were consulting to have another joined with him: No (said he) It was in your power to give me the Empire while I had it not; but now when I have it, it is not in your power to give me a partner.  
Epaminondas, the Theban Ruler, when the people made merry with banquets and dances on a Solemn Feast-day, went up and down the City in his worst array, and sadly (as it were) mourning: And being demanded why he did so? His answer was, That therefore was he sad, because they should with more security be merry.  
The grave Cato, when one asked counsel of him in sober earnest, what harm he thought aboded him, because rats had gnawn his hose? He merrily answered, That it was a strange thing to see that, but it had been much more strange if his hose had devoured the rats.  
Tully likewise, when one to enforce the verity of Divination, said, that a Victory which fell to the Thebans, was fore-shewed by an extraordinary crowing of cocks: He replied, that it was no miracle cocks should crow; but if fishes had so done, that had been wonderful indeed.  
Apollonius being very early at Vespasian's gate, and finding him stirring, from thence he conjectured that he was worthy to govern an Empire; and said to his companion, this man surely will be Emperor, he is so early.  
One being demanded what Caesar whispered in his ear? Made answer, That Caesar told him he would invent a very strange punishment for such as pried into his words and actions.  
Ferdinand the Emperor, making a Speech in a public Assembly, by chance gave Priscian a fillip or two, which a Bishop hearing, started up, and said, Caesar, You have forgotten your Grammar: To whom Caesar, and you have forgotten your Ethics, Bishop.  
Alexander, being desired to see Darius' daughters, who were fair and young, made answer, I will have a care not to be vanquished by women, seeing I have vanquished men.  
Some entreated Cyrus to see Panthea, which he refused to do; and being told that she was very fair, It is for that reason (said he) I may not see her; for if I do visit her now that I have leisure, she will bind me another time, when I shall be full of affairs.  
Priscus Helvidius was advised not to come unto the Senate: He answered, It is in the Emperor's power not to make me of the Senate, but while I am a Senator, he shall not let me from going to the palace. You shall be suffered to go, said the other, so you speak not: Helvidius answers, I will not speak a word, if they demand nothing of me; but if they ask me, I will answer what I think fit. If you speak, said the other, they will put you to death. He replies, And when did I brag that I was immortal? You shall do your duty, and I mine; it is in you to kill me, and in me to die without fear; it is in you to banish me, and in me to go to it cheerfully.  
When Athanasius was banished by the Emperor Julian, he said unto his friends that came to sorrow with him in his disgrace: Courage, my children, this is but a little cloud, which will vanish presently.  
Fabius Maximus having spoiled Tarentum, and made it desolate, with all kinds of cruelties; when his Secretary came to ask him, What shall we do with the enemy's gods? He answered, Let us leave the angry gods unto the Tarentines.  
Scanderbag had it in particular in all his encounters and military actions, always to begin his first Stratagems of Victory with the death of the head, saying, That the head should be first cut off, and the rest of the body will fall alone; and that he knew no kind of living creature that could survive, the head being taken off.  
It was a witty speech of him that said, That men's actions were like notes of music, sometimes in spaces, and sometimes in lines, sometimes above, and sometimes beneath, and never or seldom strait for any long continuance.  
Rubrius Flavius, being condemned by Nero to lose his head; when as the Executioner said unto him, that he should stretch forth his neck boldly, he answered, Thou shalt not strike more boldly, than I will present my head.  
Croesus, King of Lydia, seeing Cyrus' soldiers running up and down the Town of Sardis, he demanded whither they did run? They go to the spoil of the Town, answered Cyrus. They take nothing from me (replied Croesus, all they carry away is thine, and not mine. Signifying, that the spoils of soldiers are the losses of the Conqueror, rather than the conquered.  
One demanded of Simonides, why he was so sparing in the extremity of his age? For that, said he, I had rather leave my goods after my death to my enemies, than in my life-time to have need of my friends.  
When Antisthenes the Philosopher was in extreme pain, he cried out, Who shall deliver me from these miseries? Diogenes presenting a knife unto him, said, This, if thou wilt, and that soon. I do not say of my life (replied the Philosopher) but of my pain.  
One demanded of Cercidas the Megalapolitane, if he died willingly? Why not (said he) for after my death I shall see those great men, Pythagoras among the Philosophers, Hecateus among the Historians, Homer among the Poets, and Olympus among the Musicians.  
A Babbler demanding of Aristole, if his discourse were not strange? No, answered he, but yet a man having feet, should not give himself so long patience to hear thee.  
The Ambassadors of Lacedaemon being come to the King Lygdomnus, he making difficulty to hear them, and feigning himself sick, the Ambassadors said, We are not come to wrestle with him, but to speak with him.  
Lewis the 11th. of France, one day went into the kitchen, whereas he found a young lad turning the spit, he demanded his name, of whence he was, and what he did earn? This turn-spit, who knew him not told his name, and that though he were in the King's service, yet he got as much as the King: For the King (said he) hath but his life, and so have I; God feeds the King, and the King feeds me.  
The Emperor Maximilian answered a Merchant, who besought him to make him a Gentleman: I can make thee much richer than thou art, but it is not in my power to make thee a Gentleman.  
Pope Julius the 2d. having had a long feud with the Emperor Frederick (against whom he had fought 12 Battles) being one day gently admonished by the Archbishop of Ostia, how St. Peter his Predecessor was commanded to put up his sword. 'Tis true, said Julius, our Saviour gave the prime Apostle such a command, but 'twas after he had given the blow, and cut off Malchus ear.  
Diogenes said, That Troy was lost by horses, and the Commonwealth of Athens by asses.  
Alvero de Luna, whom John King of Castille advanced, and loved above all men of his Realm, said to them that admired his fortunes: Judge not of the building before it be finished. He died by the hands of Justice.  
Lewis the 13th. King of France, being but a child when crowned, tired with being ●o long (eight hours) in the Church, and bearing the Crown on his head, with divers other heavy vests upon his body, was asked, what he would take to take the like pains again? He answered, For another Crown I would take double the pains.  
Those of the Religion, petitioning Lewis 13. for a continuance of holding their cautionary Towns, as Hen. 3. and Hen. the great had done: He told them, What grace the first did show you, was out of fear; what my Father did, was out of love; but I would have you know that I neither fear you nor love you.  
The Marshal de Saint 〈◊〉, coming to Sir Edward Herbert (than Ambassador from the King of England for the Rochellers) after a counterbuff with Luynes the Constable, and told him in a friendly manner, you have offended the Constable, and you are not in a place of security here: Whereunto he answered, That he held himself to be in a place of security wheresoever he had his sword by him.  
The Duke of Suilli was a Favourite to Henry the 4th. whom he had reduced from a Roman, to be a Reformist, when he was King of Navarre only; and persuading him to become Roman again, the Duke bluntly answered, Sir, you have given me one turn already, you have good luck if you give me any more.  
Lewis the 13th. when but a youth, he went to the Country of Bearn, at his entrance to Pan, the Inhabitants bringing a Canopy to carry over his Head, He asked, whether there was ever a Church in the Town? And being answered, No: He said, he would receive no honour in that place, where God himself had no house to be honoured in.  
William, Prince of Orange, to content those that reproved his too much humanity, said, That man is well bought, who costs but a salutation.  
A Precedent of a Parliament in France, whose friends came to see him at his new house, began exceedingly to commend it for the rareness of the Workmanship, and the goodness of the stone, timber, marble, and such like: You mistake (said he) the stuff whereof it is made; the house is only b●● de testes les fols, of foolsheads.  
Bias, one of the seven wise men of Greece, sailing in a ship where some fellows were that had given themselves over to lewdness, and yet in a storm were calling unto their gods for help, He said unto them, Hold your peace, for fear lest the gods should know you be here.  
Alexander Severus was wont to say, That a Soldier is never afraid, but when he seethe himself well apparelled, and his Belt furnished with money.  
Dionysius the Tyrant, said, We should deceive children with dice and cockalls, and men with Oaths.  
Alexander the Great, when one wondered, why he not only not killed his enemies, but took them to be his friends: It seems (says he) to thee profitable to kill an enemy, and I kill an enemy while I spare him, and make him my friend while I advance him.  
The Philosopher Anacharsis, said of Solon's Commonwealth, That in the Consultations and Deliberations of the Greeks, Wisemen propounded the matters, and fools decided them.  
Darius was wont to say of himself, In a pinch and extremity of peril he was always wisest.  
Favourinus told Adrian the Emperor, who had censured him in his own profession of Grammar, That he durst not be learneder than he, who commanded 30. Legions.  
Thou art an Heretic, said Woodrofe the Sheriff to Mr. Roger's the Proto Martyr in Queen Mary's days: That shall be known (quoth he) at the day of Judgement.  
General Vere told the King of Denmark, that Kings cared not for soldiers, until such time as their Crowns hung on one side of their heads.  
Tamburlaine having overthrown Bajazet, asked him, Whether ever he had given God thanks for making him so great an Emperor; who confessing he never thought of it; Tamburlaine replied, that it was no wonder so ingrateful a man should be made a spectacle of misery: For you (saith he) being blind of one eye, and I lame of one leg, was there any worth in us, why God should set us over two such great Empires?  
Luther was wont to say, that three things make a Preacher, reading, prayer, and temptation; reading a full man, prayer an holy man, temptation an experienced man.  
One having made a long, tedious, and idle discouse before Aristotle, concluded it thus, Sir, I doubt, I have been too tedious to you with my many words: In good sooth, said Aristotle, you have not been tedious to me, for I gave no heedto any thing you said.  
Aigoland King of Arragon, coming to the French Court to be Baptised, and ask who those lazars and poor people were, that waited for alms from the Emperor Charlemain's table? When one answered him, that they were the servants of God: I will never serve that God said he, that keeps his servants no better.  
One being ready to die, clapped a 20 s. piece into his mouth, and said, Some wiser than some, if I must leave all the rest, yet this I'll take with me.  
Sabina, a Roman Martyr, crying out in her travail, and being asked by her Keeper, how she would endure the fire the next day? Oh well enough, said she; for now I suffer in childbirth for my sin; but then Christ shall suffer in me, and support me.  
Cardinal Columnus, when the Pope threatened to take away his Cardinal's Hat, That then he would put on an Helmet to pull him out of his throne.  
King James, after he had moderated as Dr. of the Chair at Oxford in all Faculties; when in the public Library there, he beheld the little chains wherewith the several Books were fastened to their places: I could wish (saith he) (if ever it be my lot to be carried captive) to be shut up in this prison, to be bound with these chains, and to spend my life with these fellow-captives that stand here chained.  
Aesop being set to sale with two other slaves, a Chapman enquired of the first, what he could do? He, to endear himself, answered, mountains, and wonders, and what not? For he knew, and could doall things. The second answered even so for himself, and more too. But when he came to Aesop, and demanded of him what he could do? Nothing, said he, for these two have forestalled all, and have left nothing for me.  
The Philosopher Byon, when a certain King for grief tore his hair: Doth this man (said he) think that baldness will assuage his grief?  
One being demanded what his studies would stead him in his decrepit age? answered, That he might the better, and with more ease leave the world.  
The Ambassadors of Samos, being come to King Cleomenes of Sparta, prepared with a long prolix Oration, to stir him up to war against the tyrant Polycrates, after he had listened a good while unto them, his Answer was: Touching your Exordium, I have forgotten it, the middle I remember not, and for the conclusion, I will do nothing in it.  
Scipio being one day accused before the Roman people of an urgent and capital offence, in stead of excusing himself, or flattering the Judges, turning to them, he said, It will well beseem you to judge of his head, by whose means you have authority to judge of all the world.  
Atisthenes was wont to say to his disciples; Come on my Masters, let you and me go to hear Socrates, there shall I be fellow-disciple with you.  
Julius Drusius, to those Workmen which for 3000 crowns offered so to reform his house, that his neighbours should no more overlook into it: I will give you 6000 (said he) and contrive it so, that on all sides every man may look into it.  
The Stanhop said merrily, That not he, but his stately house was guilty of high treason.  
Eleazar, a Jew, being demanded when it would be time to repent & amend? Answered, One day before death. And when the other replied, that no man knew the day of his death: He said, Begin then even to day, for fear of failing.  
Apollidorus was wont to say of Chrysippus his Books, That if other men's sentences were left out, the pages would be void.  
Gato said, He had rather men should ask why he had no Statues erected for him, than why he had.  
A certain Sultan, who died at the Siege of Zigetum, being persuaded by the Muphti not to suffer so many Religions as were in his Dominions: He answered, That a nosegay of many flowers smelled far more sweet than one flower only.  
Pope Sixtus said, That a Pope could never want money, while he held a pen in his hand.  
One said of Erasmus his Enchyridion, That there was more devotion in the Book, than in the Writer.  
A Frenchman being asked by one of his Neighbours, if the Sermon were done? No, saith he, it is said, but it is not done, neither will be, I fear, in haste.  
When one asked the Duke of Alva, whether he had not observed the great Eclipse of the Sun? No truly, said he, I have so much business on earth, that I have no time to look up to heaven.  
A Physician was wont to say pleasantly to delicate Dames, when they complained they were they could not tell how, but yet they could not endure to take any Physic: Your only way is to be sick indeed, and then you will be glad to take any medicine.  
Diogenes being asked what time is best for meals? He answered, For the rich man when he had a stomach, and for a poor man when he could get meat.  
Jovinian said to the Orthodox and Arrian Bishops, contending about Faith: Of your learning I cannot so well judge, nor of your subtle disputations; but I can observe which of you have the better behaviour.  
An Arrian Bishop entreating the Emperor Constantine to give them a Church: He answered, If your cause be good, one is too few; but if bad, one is too many.  
The Philosopher Theodorus was wont to say, That he gave his scholars instructions and lessons with the right hand, but that they received them with the left.  
Luther would often say, That if he thought the reading of his Books would hinder the reading of the Scriptures, he would burn them all before he died.  
When one accused a Comical Poet, that he brought a lewd debauched Ruffian on the Stage, and so gave bad example to young men. True, said he, I brought such a man on, but I hanged him before he went off, and so I gave them a good example.  
One being asked what exploits he had done in the Low-countries? Answered, That he had cut off a Spaniards legs: Reply being made, that it had been something if he had cut off his head: Oh, said he, you must consider his head was off before.  
A gallant sometime said to a reverend Prelate, If there be no judgement to come, are not you a very fool to bar yourself from the pleasures of this life? To whom the Prelate: And what if there be a judgement to come, are not you then a very fool, for the short pleasures of this present life, to bar yourself from those eternal joys of your life to come?  
Charles the 5th. Emperor was wont to say, That the King of Spain ruled over asses, doing nothing without violence or blows; the King of France over men; and the Emperor over Kings. And when one of the standers by said, that the Polonians also had their King: I grant, said he, that he is their King. Meaning, that his power was limited by them.  
When Marshal Byron bid Sir Roger Williams bring up his Companies faster, taxing the slow march of the English. Sir, saith he, with this march our Forefathers conquered your Country of France, and I mean not to alter it.  
The same Sir Roger Williams, to an idle Spaniard, boasting of his Country-citrons, Oranges, Olives, and such like: Why, saith he, we, in England, have good Sirloins of Beef, fat Muttons, and dainty Capons, to eat your sauce withal.  
One demanding of an Italian, why their Muttons and  were so small and lean? Because (quoth he) we Italians eat the grass in salads, and by robbing the pastures, deceive the .  
A Portugal Captain once told King Sebastian, providing for his journey into Barbary, That wars should be accompanied with three streams, the first, of men; the second, of victuals; the third, of silver.  
Another being demanded how many things were necessary hereunto, answered, Money, money, money.  
Sigismond, the first King of Poland, moved by Leo the 10th. to war against the Turk, answered, Few words shall serve, first, make firm peace among the Christian Princes, then will I be not behind the forwardest.  
When Ferdinando Cortes had conquered Mexico, the King of Mexico drawing his dagger, gave it to him, saying, Hitherto I have done the best for the defence of my people; now I am no farther bound, but to give thee this dagger to kill me with.  
Hannibal having sent his Brother Mago to discover the Romans Camp, and returning, he asked him, What news, and what work they were like to have with the enemies? Work enough (answered Mago) for they are an horrible many. As horrible a many as they are (replied Hannibal) I tell thee brother, that among them all, search them never so diligently, thou shalt not find one man whose name is Mago.  
Captain Gam, before the Battle of Agincourt, being sent to make the like Discovery, told King Henry the 5th. That of the Frenchmen, there were enough to be killed, enough to be taken prisoners, and enough to run away.  
At a Solemn Convention of many Philosophers, before the Ambassadors of a Foreign Prince, and that every one, according to his several abilities, made demonstration of their wisdom, that so the Ambassador might have matter to report of the admired wisdom of the Grecians: Amongst those, one there was that stood still, and uttered nothing in the Assembly, insomuch that the Ambassador turning to him, said, And what is your gift, that I may report it? To whom the Philosopher, Report unto your King, that you found one amongst the Grecians, that knew how to hold his peace.  
A Barber going to the Court, and being at his return asked what he saw? He answered, the King was neatly trimmed.  
Themistocles, being invited to touch a Lute, said arrogantly, He could not fiddle, but he knew how to make a small town a great City.  
Plutarch tells of two men that were hired at Athens for some public work, whereof the one was full of tongue, but slow at hand, but the other, blunt in speech, yet an excellent Workman: Being called upon by the Magistrates to express themselves, and to declare at large how they would proceed; when the first had made a long harrange, and described it from point to point, the other seconded him with this short speech: Ye men of Athens, what this man hath said in words, that will I make good true performance.  
King Porus, when Alexander asked him how he would be used? answered in one word, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Like a King. Alexander replying, do you desire nothing else? No, said he, all things are in 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Solon being demanded how a Commonwealth might best be preserved in peace? Answered, that the Commonwealth is in good estate, where the people obey the Magistrates, and the Magistrates obey the Law.  
Pelican, a Germane Divine, said, concerning his Learning, When I appear before God, I shall not appear as a Doctor, but as an ordinary Christian.  
When Plato saw one indulgent to his flesh in high diet, he asked him, What do ye mean to make your prison so strong?  
Augustus' said, that Petitions should not be given to Princes, as meat to an Elephant, that one is afraid of.  
Vespasian asked Apollonius, what was Nero's overthrow? He answered, Nero could touch and tune the harp well; but in Government, he used sometimes to wind the pins too high, and sometimes to let them down too low.  
A fat man in Rome, riding always upon a very lean horse, being asked the reason thereof? Answered. That he fed himself, but trusted others to feed his horse.  
Philip of Macedon was wont to say, That an ass laden with gold would enter the gates of any City.  
At the Treaty between the English, and the King of Spain, the Commissioners being met in a French Town, the first question was, what Tongue they should Treat in? One of the Spaniards, thinking to give our English a sore gird, said, In French, and these Gentlemen cannot be ignorant of the language of their fellow-subjects: No, faith my Masters (said Doctor Dale, Master of the Requests) French is too common, especially in a French Town, We'll treat in the Mother-tongue, Hebrew, the language of Jerusalem, of which your Master is King.  
One being exiled his native Country, and one day asked why he looked so heavily? replied, I bear the Emblem of this place in my front.  
When Ennius sought his friend at his house, and asked his servant where his Master was? Who hearing, said to his servant, Tell him I am not at home; which Ennius overheard, but took the answer from the servant. The next day the same man, coming to Enuius his house, and demanded of his servant where his Master was? Eunius spoke aloud, Tell him I am not at home. What, said he, will you deny yourself with your own tongue? Why, said Ennius, I believed when but your man told me you were at home, and will you not believe me which say so myself?  
Erasmus being asked by Frederick Duke of Saxony, what he thought of Luther, so much earnestly seeking Reformation? Erasmus answered, Luther had committed two great errors: One was, that he touched too near the Crown of the Pope; another, too much the bellies of the Monks.  
A certain boldfaced fellow, came one day to an Emperor, and desired his Majesty to bestow some reward upon a poor kinsman of his: I am your kinsman, quoth he, both by father and mother, for we come all of Adam and Eve. Indeed, thou sayest true (quoth the Emperor) and, gave him a penny. A penny (quoth the other) shall I have no more but a penny? A simple reward for an Emperor. Hold thyself content, said the Emperor, If I should give to every one of my kinsmen a penny, I should soon become a poor Emperor.  
Alphonsus' King of Arragon, answered an Orator, who had cited a long Panegerycal Oration of his praises: If that thou hast said, consenteth with truth, I thank God for it; if not, I pray God grant me grace, that I may do it.  
A Painter being blamed by a Cardinal for colouring the visages of Peter and Paul too red, tartly replied, That he painted them so, as blushing at the lives of those men who style themselves, their successors.  
When Alexander received any Letters from any of his Commanders in Greece, of some small Skirmish, or taking some Fort (He being used to great Victories) was wont to say, They seemed to him but as the battles of frogs and mice in Homer.  
Some saying it was a strange resolution in L. Scylla to resign his Dictatorship. Caesar scoffing at him, said, That Silla could not skill of Letters, and therefore knew not how to Dictate.  
Aristippus, having a Petition to Dionysius, and no ear given him, he fell down at his feet, in manner of a worshipper: Whereupon Dionysius stayed, and gave him the hearing, and granted it. And being reproved, that he would offer that indignity to Philosophy, as for a private suit to fall at a Tyrant's feet; He replied, That it was not his fault, but it was the fault of Dionysius, who had his ears in his feet.  
It is a notable speech reported of one Nemon, that was General of Darius his Army, when he was fight against Alexander, one of his Soldiers reproached Alexander: The General came to him, and smote him, saying, I did not hire you to reproach Alexander, but to fight against him.  
A great man, who himself was very plain in apparel, checked a Gentleman for being over-fine: Who modestly answered, Your Lordship hath better  at home, and I have worse.  
Themistocles, when an Ambassador in a set Speech boasted great matters of a small Village, took him up thus: Friend, your words require a City.  
It was the saying of a noble Venetian Duke That it is sufficient for a discreet Prince to have power to revenge, that his enemies may have cause to fear him.  
An Ambassador of Athens, answered King Philip of Macedon, threatening that he would cause his head to be cut off: If thou take this head from me, my Country will give me another that shall be immortal. Statuam pro capite, pro morte immortalitatem.  
Diogenes seeing a certain man dressing and decking himself for a festival day, said unto him thus: Why dost thou take such pains to trim thyself to day, seeing that every day is a festival day to a virtuous man?  
There was a certain rich wretch, who had in his house great store of wine, but was so niggardly, that he sold the best, and kept the worst for his own use. A servant of his, observing the pinching and preposterous niggardliness of his Master, fled away from him; and being asked afterwards why he had left his Lord? answered thus: Because I could not endure to stay with a man, who having that which was good, made choice of that which was evil.  
The Philosopher Aristippus, having lost one of his three Farms, said thus unto his friends; That it was babishness to be sorry for one Farm lost, and not to be merry for the other two that did rest in his hands, seeing that all of them had lain open to the same adventure.  
Secundus the Philosopher being demanded, What is a wife? Replied, She is contrary to an husband.  
Richard Nevil, Earl of Warwick, when the people would have made him King, refused it, saying, That he had rather make Kings, than be one.  
Pompey, when his soldiers, would needs leave the Camp, threw himself down at a narrow passage, and bid them go, But they should first trample on their General.  
Diogenes said to one that had perfumed his locks: Be careful your odoriferous head procure you not a stinking life.  
Themistocles to Symmachus, to whom, being desirous to teach him the art of memory; He answered, He had rather learn the art of forgetfulness.  
Vespasian seeing at once two fatal presages of his end, a blazing Comet, and a gaping Sepulchre, turned them both from himself, with this pleasant scoff; saying, The Sepulchre gaped for the old Empress Julia; and the blazing Star portended the death of the King of Persia, who at that time wore long hair.  
When Mr. Sam. Hieron lay on his deathbed (rich only in goodness and children) his wife made much womanish lamentation, what should become of her little ones. Peace Sweetheart (said he) that God who feedeth the Ravens, will not starve the Herns.  
Mr. Fox (the Author of the Martyrology) being once asked at a friends table, what dish he desired to be set up to him to begin his meal with? He answered, The last. Which word was pleasantly taken, as if he had meant a choicer dish, such as usually are brought at the second Course; whereas he rather signified the desire he had to see dinner ended, that he might departed home.  
Going abroad (by chance) he met a woman that he knew, who pulling a book from under her arm, and saying, See you not that I am going to a Sermon? Mr. Fox replied, But if you will be ruled by me, go home rather; for to day you will do little good at Church. And when she asked, at what time therefore he would counsel her to go? Then (answered he) when you tell no body beforehand.  
When a young man, a little too forward, had, in presence of many, said, that he could not conceive any reason in the reading of old Authors, why men should so greatly admire them. No marvel, indeed, (quoth Mr. Fox) for if you could conceive the reason, you would then admire them yourself.  
One told a Grecian Statist, who had excellently deserved of the City he lived in, that the City had chosen 24 Officers, and yet left him out. I am glad, saith he, the City affords 24 abler than myself.  
When one of Antipater's friends (who was an imperious and tyrannous Governor) commended him to Alexander for his moderation, that he did not degenerate into the Persian pride in the use of Purple, but kept the ancient habit of Macedon, of black. Trus, (saith Alexander) but Antipater is all purple within.  
Alexander, when he gave large gifts to his friends and servants, and one asked him what he did reserve for himself? He answered, Hope.  
One asked a grave Gentlewoman how her maids came by so good husbands, and yet seldom went abroad? Oh (said she) good husbands come home to them.  
One having a shrewd wife, yet loath to use her hardly, awed her by telling her, That he would beat her when he was dead. Meaning, that he would leave her no maintenance.  
One complaining that never had father so undutiful a child as he had. Yes, said his son, (with less grace than truth) my Grandfather had.  
A Farmer rent a grange, generally reported to be haunted with Fairies, and paid a shrewd rent for the same at each half-years end. Now a Gentleman asked him how he durst be so hardy as to live in the house? and whether no Spirits did trouble him? Truth (said the farmer) there be two Saints in heaven, vex me more than all the Devils in hell; namely, the Virgin Mary, and Michael the Archangel; on which days he paid his rent.  
When a Professor pressed an Answerer (a better Christian than a Clerk) with an hard argument: Reverend Profeffor, said he, ingenuè confiteor, me non posse respondere huic argumento. To whom the Professor, Rectè respondes.  
When one told Latimer that the Cutler had cozened him, in making him pay two pence for a knife not (in those days) worth a penny: No, quoth Latimer, he cozened not me, but his own Conscience.  
When Buchanan lay on his deathbed, King James sent to know how he did? He returned this answer, That he was going whither few Kings came.  
Q. Metellus Pius, to one wondering at what he intended to do, and demanding of him what he meant? Let alone, saith he, farther to inquire; for if my shirt knew what I meant to do, I would burn it.  
Pericles being requested by his soldiers to fight, and that with vile reproachful terms, replied thus: That if he could repair losses, and recover life, he would as gladly adventure as they. But you see (said he) tree being cut, they grow again; but men once slain, revive no more.  
Henry the 4th. King of France, seeing the Chapel which the family of Bassom Pierre had builded, and reading this verse of the Psalm, which was set down for an Emblem: Quid retribuam Domino, pro omnibus quae retribuit mihi? He said, Bassom Pierre as a Germane should have added, Calicem accipiam.  
To one, telling him that there is nothing doth sooner make those who are out of their wits to become temperate, than the punishment which is inflicted upon them, the King interrupted his speech, and told him, Mercy pardoneth those who have not deserved it; and the juster that wrath is, the more commendable is mercy.  
When men spoke of the insolences and riots of the City, during the troubles, etc. He said, The people of Paris are good, it goeth as it is led; mischief cometh from those which go before, and not from their simplicity which follow after, and grow bad by infection.  
Considering on a time that Taxes were excessive in sundry places of the Kingdom: He said, My people are made to pay a double tax, one to me, and another to my Officers. The second makes the first insupportable; for the expense of the Officers amount to more than the tax: It is a hard matter to keep myself unrobed, and almost impossible but that my people should be so.  
He was wont to say, That he would not see them suffer harm, which were not in case to do any.  
Some one besought him to give him leave to carry the Cannon against some that held his house: The King demanded of him what he would do when he had forced them? His choler made him answer, That he would hang them all: Whereupon the King sent him away with this mild reply, I have no Cannon to that use.  
A maker of Anagrams, presenting something unto him upon his name, and telling him that he was very poor: I believe it, said the King, for they that use this trade, cannot grow very rich.  
He was wont to say, That it was an offence to God, to give credit to those Prognostics: and that, having God for his guard, He feared not man.  
The same Henry, being at the Siege of Amiens, amongst others of the Nobles which he summoned for that service, he sent also to the Count Soissons, a Prince of the Blood to whom the King gives 5000 crowns pension. The Count, at that time discontented, returned the King answer, That he was a poor Gentleman, and wanted means to come to that service, as became one of his birth and place, being a Prince of the Blood, and Peer of France: He therefore most humbly craved pardon, and that he would most humbly pray for his Majesty's prosperous success, which was all he could do. Well (saith the King) seeing prayer is not acceptable without fasting, my Cousin shall hereafter fast from his pension of 5000 crowns.  
He used much this noble Speceh, When I was born, there were a thousand other souls more born; what have I done unto God, to be more than they? It is his mere grace and mercy which doth often bind me more unto his justice; for the faults of great men are never small.  
When certain Romans practised by secret counsel to kill the Emperor Domitian, and gave part thereof to Trajane: He did answer; I do well see that Domitian deserved not to be elected Emperor, and much less to be sustained in the same; yet never the more shall I consent unto his death, for that I will rather endure a tyrant, than procure the renown of a traitor.  
The Emperor Adrian said, That he remembered not since the age of ten years, whether he stood still, or walked by the way, that he had not either a book to read in, or some weapon to fight with.  
Being demanded why he was so bountiful unto his Ministers of Justice? He answered, I make the Ministers of Justice rich, because by robbery of Justice they shall nos make other men poor.  
When Favorinus, having an old house, at the entry thereof he had raised a stately porch, painted with white: The Emperor said unto him, This house of thine seemeth a gilded pill, which outwardly giveth pleasure, but within is full of bitterness.  
Another friend of Adrian's, named Silvius, very black of face, and of evil shape of body, coming one day unto the Palace, all clad in white, Adrian said unto those that were present, That black face, with that white garment, seemeth no other, but a fly drowned in a spoonful of milk.  
There was in Rome a certain man named Enatius, somewhat entered in age, and of natural condition mutinous, ambitious, importune, intermeddling, quarrelous, and full of garboyl. The Emperor Adrian being advertised that Enatius was dead, He fell into a great laughter, and swore, That he could not a little marvel how he could intent to die, considering his great business both night and day.  
There was a Senator named Fabius Cato, a man of a small stature, which would soon be offended, and as soon be pleased; unto whom Adrian said, Since your chimney is so small, you must beware to lay much wood upon the fire, for otherwise it will be always smoky.  
When a certain cunning man made offer to Emperor Antonius Pius, to place him teeth wherewith to eat or speak; Antonius made answer: Since never from my heart proceeded feigned or double words, there shall never enter into my mouth feigned teeth.  
Antonius always, for the most part, went bareheaded; and one advising him the air of Rome to be very hurtful, and therefore necessary to have his head covered, answered, assure me from troubles of men on earth, and I am assured that nothing shall trouble me which the gods shall send me from heaven.  
He sent Fulvius Tusculanus as Praetor into the Province of Mauritania, whom within half a year he deprived of his Office, for that he was both impatient and covetous; who complaining of the injury, said, that in times past he had been a friend unto Antonius, but now it was forgotten: Whereunto Antonius answered, Thou hast no reason thus unjustly to blame me, because the office was given thee by the Emperor, and not by Antonius; and since, thou didst not offend as Fulvius, but as Praetor; so I discharge thee of thy Office, not as Antonius thy old friend, but as Emperor of the Roman Empire.  
Some speaking in his presence of Wars and Battles, that Julius Caesar, Scipio & Hannibal had fought and overcame in the field: Antonius Pius answered, Let every man hold opinion what he thinketh good, and praise what it pleaseth him; but for my own part, I do more glory in conserving peace many years, than with wars to conquer many battles.  
Before he gave any government unto Praetors, Censors, or Questors, he caused them to give an Inventory of their own proper goods, that when their charges were finished, the increase of their wealth might be considered: Saying unto them, That he sent them to administer Justice, and not by fraud to rob Country's.  
The Emperor Pertinax used to say, That, of Princes charging their Kingdoms with unjust tribute, there succeedeth a wilful denial of due and most just payments.  
He had a Son whom the Romans would have Created Augustus; which he would never like of, or consent unto; saying, The gods never grant that with the hopes of the Empire, my son should be nourished unto vice and idleness.  
The Emperor Bassianus would often say, I know not what man, having bread to eat, or garments to wear, and cover himself on land, would (to become an Emperor) go to Sea.  
The Emperor Alexander Severus was wont to say, Princes are not to be known by their vassals by their rich robes, but by their good works performed in their Commonwealths.  
Lewis the 12th. King of France, when he heard that the Pope had extremely cursed him; He said, That this was a Pope made to curse, but not to pray.  
He had in King Charles his time been evilly used by divers, of whom he was advised to take revenge at his coming to the Crown: Whereunto he answered, That it became not a King of France to revenge the injuries done to a Duke of Orleans.  
Looking upon the Roll of King Charles his servants, he found two that had been his dead enemies, upon each of whose names he made a cross; wherewith they being in great perplexity, supposed the gallows to be prepared for them: Which their fear being discovered to the King, He sent them word, To be of good cheer, for he had crossed all their evil deeds out of his remembrance.  
When a certain Courtier complained grievously of his wife's unchastness, The King bade him be of good cheer, for he that respected his wife's incontinency, or the Pope's curse, should never sleep quiet night.  
Charles of Bourbon had often in his mouth the Apothegme of a Gascoigne Gentleman, who being demanded by Charles the 7th. what reward might win him to break his faith with him, whereof he had made trial in so many important affairs? I could not be drawn thereunto (answered he) though I might have your Kingdom given me, or the Empire of the Earth, and all the treasures of the world; but I might be moved to do it by an outrage that might be offered me, and for some injury that might touch mine Honour.  
Plancus being told that Asinius Pollio had written certain Invective Orations against him, which should not be published till after Plancus his death, to the end they might not be answered by him. There is none (saith he) but Ghosts and Goblins that fight with the dead.  
Peter Earl of Savoy, who to do his Liegehomage to the Emperor Otho the 4th. came before him in a twofold attire; for he had on the one half of his body, on the right side, from the top downward, set out with cloth of gold: and the other half on the left side, covered with shining armour. The Emperor ask him what such a divers furniture meant? Sir, answered he, the attire of the right side is to honour your Imperial Majesty; this of the left, showeth me ready to fight until the last gasp, against those that wish you ill, and speak ill of you.  
Pope John the third, being asked what thing was farthest from the truth? The opinion of the common people (answered he) for all that they praise deserve blame; all that they think is nothing but vanity, all that they say is nothing but lying; they condemn the good, they approve the evil, they magnify nothing but infamy.  
Lewis the 11th. used this Apothegme, Where pride and presumption go before, shame and loss follow after.  
Dionysius having taken the City Reggio, and in it the Captain Phyton, he told him, how the day before he had caused his son and his kinsfolks to be drowned: To whom Phyton answered nothing, But that they were more happy than himself by the space of one day.  
Thales being asked how a man might be cheerful, and bear up in afflictions: Answered, If he can see his enemies in worse case than himself.  
A soldier being demanded by Nero, why he hated him: Answered him thus: I loved thee whilst thou wert worthy of love; but since thou becamest a parricide, a juggler, a player, and a coachman, I hate thee as thou deservest.  
Another being asked why he sought to kill him? answered, Because I find no other course to hinder thy uncessant outrages, and impious deeds.  
Francis Duke of Britanny, Son to John the 5th, when he was spoken unto for a marriage between him and Isabel a Daughter of Scotland, and some told him she was but meanly brought up, and without any instruction of learning, answered, He loved her the better for it; and that a woman was wise enough, if she could but make difference between the shirt and doublet of her husband.  
Demosthenes' companions in their Embassage to Philip, praised their Prince to be fair, eloquent, and a good quaffer: Demosthenes said. They were commendations rather fitting a woman, an advocate, and a sponge, than a King.  
Theodorus answered Lysimachus, who threatened to kill him: Thou shalt do a great exploit to come to the strength of a cantharides.  
Aristotle being upbraided by some of his friends, that he had been over-merciful to a wicked man: I have indeed (quoth he) been merciful towards the man, but not towards his wickedness.  
When an Epigrammatist read his Epigrams in an Auditory, one of the hearers stopped him, and said, Did not I hear an Epigram to this purpose from you last year? Yes, says he, it's like you did: But is not that vice still in you this year, which last years Epigram reprehended?  
Some came and told Philopoemen, the enemies are with us: To whom he answered, and why say you not that we are with them?  
When Sicily did curse Dionysius, by reason of his cruelty, there was only one old woman that prayed God to lengthen his life: Whereat Dionysius wondering asked her for what good turn she should do that? She Answered, That it was not love, but fear; for (said she) I knew your Grandfather a great tyrant, and the people desired his death; then succeeded your Father, more cruel than he, and now yourself worse far than them both; so that I think if you die, the Devil must come next.  
Pompey being in Sicily, pressing the Mammertines to acknowledge his authority, they sought to avoid it, pretending that they had Privileges and ancient Decrees of the people of Rome. To whom Pompey answered in choler, Will you plead Law unto us, who have our swords by our sides?  
When Lewis the 11th. demanded of Brezay Senescall of Normandy, the reason why he said that his horse was great and strong, being but little, and of a weak stature: For that, answered Brezay, he carries you and all your counsel.  
He said. That if he had entered his Reign otherwise than with fear and severity, he had served for an example in the last Chapter of Boccace his book of unfortunate Noblemen.  
Considering that Secrecy was the Soul and Spirit of all Designs: He said sometimes, I would burn my Hat, if it knew what was in my Head.  
He remembering to have heard King Charles his Father say, that Truth was sick: He added, I believe that since she is dead, and hath not found any Confessor.  
Mocking at one that had many Books, and little learning: He said, That he was like unto a crook-backed man, who carries a great bunch at his back, and never sees it.  
Seeing a Gentleman which carried a goodly chain of gold, He said unto him that did accompany him; You must not touch it, for it is Holy: Showing that it came from the spoil of Churches.  
On a time seeing the Bishop of Chartre mounted on a Mule, with a golden bridle, He said unto him, that in times past Bishops were contented with an Ass, and a plain halter: The Bishop answered him, That it was at such times as Kings were shepherds, and did keep sheep.  
Abdolominus, a poor man, rich in plenty except plenty of riches; to whom Alexander of Macedon proffering the Kingdom of Sydon, who before was but a gardener, was by him refused, saying, That he would take no care to lose that which he cared not to enjoy.  
When one told a Reverend Bishop of a young man that Preached twice every Lord's day, besides some Exercising in the Weekdays: It may be (said he) he doth talk so often, but I doubt he doth not Preach.  
To the like effect Queen Elizabeth said to the same Bishop, when She had on the Friday heard one of those talking Preachers, much commended by somebody; and the Sunday after heard a well-laboured Sermon, that smelled of the candle: I pray (said she) let me have your bosome-Sermons, rather than your lip-Sermons; for when the Preacher takes pains, the auditory takes profit.  
When Dr. Day was Dean of Windsor, there was a Singing-man in the Choir, one Wolner, a pleasant fellow, famous for his eating, rather than his singing: Mr. Dean sent a man to him to reprove him, for not singing with his fellows; the messenger (that thought all worshipful that wore white Surplices) told him Mr. Dean would pray his worship to sing: Thank Mr. Dean (quoth Wolner) and tell him, I am as merry as they that sing.  
A Husbandman dwelling near a Judge that was a great builder, and coming one day among divers of other neighbours, some of stone, some of tinn, the Steward, as the manner of the Country was, provided two tables for their dinners; for those that came upon request, powdered beef, and perhaps venison; for those that came for hire, poor-John and apple-pyes: And having invited them in his Lordship's name to sit down, telling them one board was for them that came in love, the other was for those that came for money; this husbandman and his hind sat down at neither, the which the Steward imputing to simplicity, repeated his former words again, praying them to sit down accordingly: But he answered, He saw no table for him, for he came neither for love nor money, but for very fear.  
Scipio being made General of the Roman Army, was to name his Quaestor, or Treasurer for the Wars, whom he thought fit, being a place in those days (as is now) of great importance. One that took himself to have a special interest in Scipio's favour, was an earnest suitor for it; but by the delay, mistrusting he should have a denial, he importuned him one day for an answer. Think not unkindness in me, (said Scipio) that I delay you thus; for I have been as earnest with a friend of mine to take it, and yet cannot prevail with him.  
A pleasant Courtier and Servitor of King Henry the 8ths. to whom the King had promised some good turn, came, and prayed the King to bestow a living on him, that he had found out, worth 100 l. by the year, more than enough: Why, said the King, we have no such in England. Yes Sir (said he) the Provostship of Eton; for, said he, he is allowed his diet, his lodging, his horse-meat, his servants wages, his riding-charge, and 100 l. per annum besides.  
Ellmar Bishop of London dealing with one Maddox, about some matters concerning Puritanisme, and he had answered the Bishop somewhat untowardly and thwartly, the Bishop said to him. Thy very name expresseth thy nature; for Maddox is thy name, and thou art as mad a beast as ever I talked with. The other not long to seek of an answer: By your favour, Sir, said he, your deeds answer your name righter than mine; for your name is Elmar, and you have marred all the Elms in Fulham, by lopping them.  
In the days of Edward the 6th. the Lord Protector marched with a powerful Army into Scotland to demand their young Queen Mary in marriage to our King, according to their promises. The Scots refusing to do it, were beaten by the English in Musleborough-fight. One demanding of a Scotch Lord, taken prisoner, Now Sir, how do you like our King's marriage with your Queen? I always (quoth he) did like the marriage, but I do not like the wooing, that you should fetch a Bride with fire and sword.  
Theocritus, to an ill Poet, repeating many of his verses, and ask which he liked best? Answered, Those which he had omitted.  
Castruccio of Luca, saying to one that professed himself a Philosopher, You are of the condition of dogs, that always go about those who can best give them meat. No (says the party) we are like Physicians, who visit their houses that have most need of them.  
Castruccio going from Pisa to Ligorn by water, and a dangerous storm there arising, and thereupon being much perplexed, was reprehended by one of his followers as pusillanimous, saying himself was not afraid of any thing: To whom Castruccio replied, That he nothing marveled thereat; for every one valued his life according to its worth.  
Being asked by one, what he should do to gain a good esteem? He answered him: See when thou goest to a Feast, that a block sit not upon a block.  
When one boasted that he had read many things: Said Castruccio, It were better thou couldst brag thou hast remembered much.  
Another bragging, Though he had appled much, he was not drunk: Replied, An Ox do the same.  
Castruccio kept a young Lass, which he lay with ordinarily; and thereupon being reproved by a friend, telling him that it was a great wrong to him, that he had suffered himself to be so taken by a wench: Thou art mistaken, said he, I took her, not she me.  
Being one night in a house of one of his Gentlemen, where there were divers Ladies invited to a Feast; and he dancing and sporting with them, more than befitted his condition, was reproved by a friend: Answered, He that is held a wise man in the daytime, will never be thought a fool in the night.  
When one asked him a favour with many and superfluous words; Castruccio said to him, Hereafter, when thou wouldst any thing with me, send another.  
Having caused a Citizen of Luca to die, who had helped him in his rising to his greatness; when it was said to him, he had ill done to put to death one of his old friends: He replied, You are deceived, I have put to death a new enemy.  
He said, He wondered much at men, that when they bought any vessel of earth or glass, they sound it first whether it be good; but in taking a wife, they are content only to see her.  
Seeing that one had written upon his house in latin, God keep the wicked hence; Said, The Master then must not enter here.  
Treating with an Ambassador of the King of Naples, touching some goods of the Borderers, whereat he was somewhat angry, when then the Ambassador said, Fear you not the King then? Castruccio said, Is this your King good or bad? And he answering, That he was good, Castruccio replied, Wherefore then should I be afraid of those that are good?  
The Lord Tinteville said to a great Personage of France, that none could write the life of his deceased Master (Lewis the 11th) so well as he. To whom he answered wisely: I am too much bound to him to speak the truth.  
King James, being invited in a hunting journey, to dine with Sir Tho. J. of Berkshire; turning short at the corner of a Common, happened near to a Country man, sitting by the heels in the stocks, who cried Hosanna unto his Majesty, which invited him to ask the reason of his restraint? Sir Tho. said, It was for stealing a goose from the Common. The fellow replied, I beseech your Majesty be Judge who is the greater thief. I for stealing geese from the Common, or his Worship for robbing the Common from the geese? By my sale, Sir (said the King to Sir Tho.) Ise not dine to day on your dishes, till you restore the Common for the poor to feed their flocks. Which was forthwith granted to them, and the witty fellow set free.  
Prince Henry was never heard to swear an oath: And it was remembered at his Funeral-Sermon by the Archbishop; That he being commended by one for not replying with passion in play, or swearing to the truth: He should answer, That he knew to game or value to be won or lost, could be worth an Oath.  
There was a Duel between two eminent Persons of the Turks, and one slain: The Council of Bashaws reprehended the other thus: How durst you undertake to fight one with the other? Are there not Christians enough to kill? Did you not know, that whether of you were slain, the loss would be the Great Signors.  
King James having made a large and learned Speech to the Parliament, the Lord Keeper, as Speaker to the Peers, whose place there usually adds to the King's mind and meaning, thus excuses himself: After the King's Eloquence to be silent; not to enamel a gold ring with studs of iron. As one says of Nerva, That having adopted Trajane, he was immediately taken away: Ne post divinum & immortal factum, aliquid mortale faceret; So he durst not after his Majesties divinum & immortal dictum, mortale aliquid addere.  
Alphonsus' King of Arragon, seeing a young Lady dance with a Gentleman who made love to her, said to him, Comfort yourself, this Sibyl will quickly render the Oracle you ask: Because the Sibyls gave no answers but in motion.  
The Monk, who ambitious of martyrdom, told the Sultan, That he was was come into his Court, to die for Preaching of the Truth; was answered, He needed not to have rambled so far for death, for he might easily find it among his Princes at home.  
Antigonus being asked by his own son, what time he would remove his Camp? He said, The sound of the trumpet should give them notice.  
The Conspirator had learned the lesson of silence well; who being asked his knowledge, answered, If I had known it, you had never known it.  
Pyrrhus' King of the Epirotes, having in two set battles, with great loss of men, put the Romans to the worst, and hearing by a Favourite of his, this his so great good fortune smoothingly congratulated: He said unto him, That two Victories indeed he had gotten of them, but them so dear, that should he at the same rate buy a third, the purchase would no less than undo him.  
A soldier of Augustus, when his enemy's throat was in his power, hearing the Retreat sounded, gave over his violence, with these words; Malo obedire Duci, quàm occidere hostem.  
The Janissaries are very true to a man that trusts himself with them, and patiented in bearing abuses. One of them being strucken by an Englishman, as they traveled through Morea, did not only not revenge it, nor abandon him to the pillage and outrage of others, but conducted him unto Zant in safety: Saying, God forbidden, that the vill any of another should make him betray the charge that was committed to his trust.  
A great Courtier of the great Moguls, noted to be a great neglecter of God, a soldier of approved valour; but being in dalliance with one of his women, she plucked an hair from his breast, which grew about his nipple, which presently began to fester, and in short time after became a canker incurable: Seeing he must die, he uttered these words: Who would have thought but that I, who have been so long bred a Soldier, should have died in the face of my enemy, by some instrument of war, & c? But now (though too late) I am forced to confess, that there is a great God above, whose Majesty I have ever despised, that needs no bigger lance than an hair to kill an Atheist, or a despiser of his Majesty.  
King Henry the 7th. having pressed Doctor Fisher to the Bishopric of Rochester, all men thinking it to proceed from the request of the Lady Margaret, the King's Mother, and his Mistress: The King said; Indeed the modesty of the man, together with my Mother's silence, spoke in his behalf.  
He refused the Bishoprics of Lincoln and Ely, proffered him by Henry the 8th. contenting himself with his former, though less: Saying, Others have larger pastures, but I have lesser charge of souls; so that when I shall be called to an account for both, I shall be the better able to give an account of either.  
Bishop Fisher, having all his plate stolen in one night, his servant pursuing the thiefs, found some pieces that they had let fall by the way; the Bishop observing the next day the sad countenances of his servants, when knowing the cause, said: If this be all, we have more cause to rejoice, that God hath restored us to some, than to be discontented that wicked men have taken away any; for the least favour of God Almighty, is more to be esteemed, than all the evil (which the Devil and all his wicked instruments can do unto us) therefore let us sit down and be merry, thank God it is no worse, and look ye better to the rest.  
Sir Thomas Moor, meeting the Bishop going before the King's Commissioners at Lambeth, saluted him in these terms: Well met my Lord, I hope we shall meet in heaven. To which the Bishop replied: This should be the way, Sir Thomas, for it is a very straight gate we are in. They both suffered for refusing the Oath of Supremacy.  
The Bishop would always say, That the remembrance of death came never out of season.  
The Bishop's man being clapped up a close prisoner, and threatened to be hanged (for carrying letters from his Master to Sir Thomas Moor) they then being both prisoners in the Tower) asked the Keeper, If there were another Act of Parliament come forth, whereby a man should be hanged for serving his Master.  
When Henry the 8th. was told the Bishops resolve, to accept of the Cardinal's Hat, if the Pope sent it to him: The King said; Yea, is he yet so lusty? Well, let the Pope send him a Hat when he will, Mother of God, he shall wear it on his shoulders then, for I will leave him never a head to set it on.  
Cardinal Poole saith of Bishop Fisher (in an Epistle Dedicatory to Henry the 8th.) That if an Ambassador had been to be sent from earth to heaven, there could not among all the Bishops and Clergy so fit a man be chosen as he.  
A foreign Ambassador, some 200 years since, coming to Durham, addressed himself first to the high and sumptuous Shrine of St. Cuthbert, If thou be'st a Saint, pray for me. Then coming to the plain, low, and little Tomb of St. Bede, Because, said he, thou art a Saint, good Bede pray for me.  
Richard the 3d. said no less spitefully than falsely of the Woodvills (brethren to the Wife of his brother King Edward the 4th. by whom they were advanced) That many were made noble, who formerly were not worth a noble.  
One asked which was the best Edition of St. Augustine? To whom this answer was given (generally true of all ancient Authors) Even that Augustine which is least corrected.  
There is a tradition of King Henry the 8ths. fool, coming into the Court, and finding the King transported with an unusual joy, boldly asked of him the cause thereof: To whom the King answered; It was because the Pope had honoured him with a style more eminent than any of his Ancestors. O good Harry (quoth the fool) let thou and I defend one another, and let the faith alone to defend itself  
The Lady Katherine, King Henry the 8ths. divorced Wife, was wont to say, She accounted no time lost, but what was laid out in dressing of her.  
Once an Eloquent Orator, free only of words, being otherwise extremely covetous, made a large and elegant Oration in Latin, to persuade others bountifully to contribute to a proper object of charity, whilst he himself would not part with one penny to that purpose. To whom one of his Audience (though far his inferior in Eloquence) made this sharp but short return: Qui suadet, sua det. Let him who seeks to persuade others, give something of his own.  
Henry the 5th, having born away the Crown, supposing his Father had been dead; when his Father used these words, How I came by it, and what right I have unto it, God knows: He said, I am to receive it from you, as your next heir; and howsoever you came by it, I will keep the possession of it by the sword, against all mine enemies.  
When Gowry was led to the Tower, a friend of his told him, Ah, my Lord, I am sorry you had no more wit. Tush (quoth he) thou knowst not what thou sayest, when sawest thou a fool come hither?  
When the Romans had nominated Titus Manlius Torquatus to be Consul, he alleging the infirmity of his eyes, refused the honour, and said, He should bring in a very ill and pernicious example, if he should undertake to govern the Commonwealth with other men's eyes.  
Charles the 9th. King of France, offered to the Prince of Conde his choice, whether he would go to Mass, or choose perpetual banishment, or imprisonment? What, replied he? to go to Mass, is simply a sin, therefore I will never choose that; but to choose either perpetual banishment, or imprisonment, that I cannot do, for than I should imply a certain guiltiness in myself; but it is in your power, O King, to inflict which you please, and I am ready to suffer.  
When Dionysius presented three whores before Aristippus, bidding him make choice of them: He said, That Paris had such bad success for choosing one of that kind, that he would never make choice of one of the three.  
A certain Scholar amongst the Jews, asked one of the Rabbis, his Master, Whether he might read any of the humane Writers, or not? He gave him this Answer: You may read them, provided you read them neither day nor night.  
Apelles, when his boy showed him a painted Table, and told him that it was done in haste: He answered, He might have spared to tell him so, for the work sufficiently showed it.  
Luther said, The Cardinals were like Foxes, sweeping the house with their tails, raising more dust than they cleansed.  
Mr. Greenham answered one that spoke somewhat in his own disparagement: Oh (said he) why do you praise yourself so much?  
Espenceus saith of the Bishops in the Council of Trent; They were learned in their assistants.  
Du Mouline said of Boniface his Extravagants, They will do well with a sword in hand.  
The Roman General said of a recruited Army of Enemies, That those African Nations, mustered under several names, were but the same men whom they had formerly beaten under the notion of Carthaginians.  
When a Roman Senator asked the Carthaginian Ambassador, How long the Peace should last? That (saith he) will depend on the Conditions you give us, If Just and Honourable, they will hold for ever; but if otherwise, no longer than till we have power to break them.  
Batton Desidiale, who moved the people of Dalmatia to rebel against the Romans (seeing them oppressed too much with tributes and exactions) making such sharp war against them, as Tiberius the Emperor asked him on a time, why he had caused the people to take Arms? To whom he answered bodily, That the Romans were the cause thereof; for they, in sending them shepherds with good dogs to preserve them, they had sent them wolves which devoured them.  
The Emperor Maximilian the 2d. could not endure that War should be made for Religion; and was wont to say, That it was a deadly sin to seek to force men's consciences, the which belongs to God only.  
At the Treaty for delivery of the Town of Antwerp, the Hollanders insisting upon explaining the word, scandal, etc. the Duke of Parma said: Can you not do as the Countryman did at Rome, who passing along the streets before an Ecce homo (which is the figure of the representation which Pilate made of our Saviour Jesus Christ unto the people) having made reverence, and passing on, he bethought himself that  might attribute this honour unto himself; wherefore turning and putting off his hat again, He said, It is to the Christ, not to the Pilate.  
Piereskius, the famous Frenchman, was wont to say, That whosoever seeks after the uncertain good things of this world, should think and resolve, that he gathers as well for thiefs, as for himself.  
Plato saith, That the Laws of Necessity are so inevitable, that the gods themselves cannot alter them.  
Caracalla having miserably impoverished the people, his Mother reproved him: To whom he showing his naked sword, replied, As long as I have this, I will not want.  
Aurelian demanding how he might govern well? Was answered by a great Personage: You must be provided with iron and gold; iron to use against your enemies, and gold to reward your friends.  
The Caliph of Babylon demurring to give the Ambassador of Almerick (King of Jerusalem) his hand bare, but gave it him in his glove. To whom the resolute Earl of Caesarea said: Sir, truth seeks no holes to hid itself; Princes that will hold Covenants, must deal openly and nakedly; give us therefore your bare hand, we will make no bargain with your glove.  
Lewis King of France, going the second time to the Holy Land, passing by Avignon, some of the City wronged his Soldiers; wherefore his Nobles desired him to besiege the City, the rather, because it was suspected that therein his Father was poisoned. To whom Lewis most Christianly: I come not out of France to revenge my own quarrels, or those of my Father or Mother, but injuries offered to Jesus Christ.  
Lewis severely punished blasphemies, searing their lips with an hot iron. And because by his command it was executed upon a great rich Citizen of Paris, some said, He was a Tyrant. He hearing it, said before many: I would to God, that with searing my own lips, I could banish out of my Realm all abuse of Oaths.  
It was the Speech of Gustavus Adolphus, but three days before his death: Our affairs (saith he) answer our desires; but I doubt God will punish me for the folly of the people, who attribute too much unto me, and esteem me as it were their God; and therefore he will make them shortly know and see I am but a man. He be my witness, it is a thing distasteful unto me: And whatever befall me, I receive it as from his divine will; only in this I rest fully satisfied that he will not leave this great enterprise of mine imperfect.  
Hormisda being asked what he thought of Rome? Said, He took contentment in this only, that he had now learned, how even there also men are mortal.  
Socrates, appointed to suffer death, would learn to sing: And being asked what good it would do him, seeing he was to die the next day? He answered thus: Even that I may departed out of this life, learning more than I knew before.  
Themistocles, after a Battle fought with the Persians, espying a pair of bracelets, and a collar of gold, lying on the ground, Take up those things (quoth he, speaking to one of his company that stood near unto him) thou art not Themistocles.  
A Jew being turned Turk, soon after, buying of grapes of another Turk, fell at variance with him about weighing the grapes; from words they fell to blows, and the Jew-Turk beat the other, which he endured very patiently, to encourage him (as it seemed) in his new Religion. Soon after another Jew came to the Turk who had been beaten, and demanded of him why he suffered himself to be so abused? Who answered, You shall beat me as much, if you will turn Musulman. So zealous are they to win Proselytes.  
Philip the 2d. King of Spain was devoted to his Religion in so intense a degree, that he would often say, If the Prince his Son were an Heretic, or Schismatic, he would himself find fuel to burn him.  
The Surgeons being lancing his knee one day, the Prince his Son asked him, Whether it did not pain him much? He answered, My sins pain me much more.  
Reading a letter that brought him the news of the loss of his Fleet in 88 He said (without the least motion, or change of countenance) Welcome be the will of God; I sent my Cousin, the Duke of Medina, to fight with men, not with the Elements.  
He used to have a saying often in his mouth. Time and I will challenge any two in the world.  
Bias being demanded by a wicked man, what was piety? He was silent: The other ask the reason of his silence: I answer not (saith he) because you inquire after that which nothing concerns you.  
It was the sentence of Cleobo●us: Do good to your friend, that he may be more your friend; to your enemy, that he may become your friend.  
To one who reproved Anaxagoras, for not taking care of his Country: Wrong me not, said he, my greatest care is my Country. Pointing to the Heavens.  
Portugal being revolted, the Conde D'Olivares came smiling to the King (Philip the 4th.) saying, Sir, I pray you give me las albricias to handsel the good news; for now you are more absolute King of Portugal than ever, for the people have forfeited all their privileges by this Rebellion: Besides, the Estate of the Duke of Briganza, with all his Complices, are yours by right of Confiscation; so that you have enough to distribute among your old loyal servants by way of reward.  
Attabalipa, a wild Pagan King when he heard that his Kingdom was given by the Pope to the King of Spain: Surely (said he) that Pope must be an egregious fool, or some unjust and impudent tyrant, that will undertake to bestow other men's possessions so freely.  
An Indian being to die, was persuaded by a Franciscan Friar to turn Christian, and then he should go to heaven. he asked, Whether there were any Spaniards in heaven? Yes, said the Friar, 'tis full of them. Nay, then (said he) I had rather go to hell, than have their company.  
It was an excellent saying of Herod the Sophist, when he was pained with the Gout in his hands and feet: When I would eat (said he) I have no hands; when I would go, I have no feet; but when I must be pained, I have both hands and feet.  
John, King of Hungary, used oftentimes to say, That the favour and love of valiant men, gotten by bounty and courtesy, was the best treasures of a Prince, for that courteous and thankful men did oftentimes, in some one worthy piece of service, plentifully repay whatsoever had been bestowed upon them; as for such as were unthankeful, they did, to their shame, bear the testimony of another man's virtue.  
After the Victory of Lepanto, one of the chief of the Turkish prisoners, hearing it compared to the loss of Cyprus, said: That the Battle lost, was unto Selimus, as if a man should shave his beard, which would ere long grow again; but the loss of Cyprus was unto the Venetians as the loss of an arm, which once cut off, could never be again recevered.  
A Countryman in Spain, coming to an Image enshrined, the extraction and first making whereof he could well remember; and not finding from the same that respectful usage which he expected: You need not (quoth he) be so proud, for I have known you from a Plum-tree.  
A Persian in England attending on the Ambassador, anno 1626. who perceiving wealthy people in London, in the time of the plague, tumultuously posting to their Country-houses: What (saith he) have the Englishmen two Gods, the one for the City, and the other for the Country?  
Frederick, Burgrave of Noremberg (which he obtained of the Emperor Sigismond, for his many good Services) making his Will, he intended to give that charge to his second Son Frederick; and acquainting his eldest Son John, (who was a contemplative man) answered: I did always think that Frederick had been more dear to you than myself, which did somewhat grieve me; but now, dear Father, I will change my opinion, and love and honour you, who by your last Will bequeath rest to me, and cares to him.  
Caesar was counselled to have a guard always about him. Whereto he answered: That he would have none; for he would rather die once, than live continually in jealousy and fear.  
After his Victory in Spain, against Pompey's Sons (considering the danger he had been in) he used to say, That only that day he fought for his life, and in all other Battles, ever for honour and victory.  
When the Captains and Soldiers would have given Valentinian a companion and equal in the Empire, He told them: It was in your hands, and in your pleasure, when I was not Emperor, to give me the government and command of the Empire; but now, that I have the government, and am in possession thereof, it is no part of your charge, neither ought you to intermeddle therein, for that it is my charge only.  
Valentinian the 2d. caused Ecius his General against Atila to be slain, having some suspicion of him; but demanding of Proximus, a discreet and noble Roman, Whether he had not followed the best and most profitable Counsel, by putting Ecius to death? He answered: Whether the Emperor hath put Ecius to death with, or without reason, I dare not determine; but this I dare affirm, that by killing him, thou hast with thy own left hand cut off thy right.  
The Emperor Henry the 4th. having slain his Competitor Rodulph, whose servants going about to bury the body of their deceased Lord, with the Ensigns and Ornaments of the Emperor, some asked of the Emperor Henry, Wherefore he suffered Rodulph to be buried with such honour, seeing he was a Tyrant, and his enemy? Whereto he answered: I would to God that all mine enemies were like Rodulph, buried with the Ornaments and Ensigns if Emperors.  
David Game, one of the bravest and most judicious Soldier of his time, being sent by Henry the 5th. to make an estimate of the number of the French Army (which infinitely exceeded the number of the English) went to the top of an hill, and seeing all the Champion covered with Tents, and blazing with fires, brought word back, That there were enough of them to be slain, enough to be taken prisoners, and enough to be made run away.  
A Kentish Knight, having spent a great Estate at Court, and brought himself to one Park, and a fine house in it, was yet ambitious to entertain the Queen at it; and to that purpose had new painted his gates, with a Coat of Arms, and Motto, overwritten thus, OIAVANIT AS in great golden letters, the Treasurer Burleigh offering to read it, desired to know of the Knight what he meant by OIA? who told him it stood for Omnia: The Lord replied: Sir, I wonder, having made your Omnia so little as you have, you notwithstanding make your Vanitas so large.  
The Philosopher, when he saw a vain proud Gull, He wished (he said) that all his friends were but such as that man thought himself, and all his enemies such as he was.  
Epiphanius having stayed long at Constantinople, and being to take ship to return home again, he said: He was leaving three great things, a great City, a great Palace, and great hypocrisy.  
Bishop Andrews, whom no man will envy the reputation of one of the greatest Clerks in his Age, when a plain man came seriously to him, and asked his opinion concerning an obscure passage in the Revelation: Answered: My friend, I am not come so far.  
Henry the 4th. King of France, used to say; That in his Kingdom he observed there was a double tribute used to be paid: One to the King, the other to his Officers; but the first was made intolerable by the second.  
Tierceline, a Knight of very ancient Extraction, observing in his time, the sale of Honours and Offices, nay, the highest Dignity of all, which is St. Michael's Order, was prostant for money: He said; The Order of St. Michael was become a Collar now for every Ass.  
Robert, Duke of Normandy, when he was going to the Holy Sepulchre, being met by one of his own Subjects, as he was mounted upon a great Saracens back; and being much tired, he said: Commend me to all in Normandy, and tell them, I am going to heaven upon the Devils back.  
It was a witty saying of King James, when he was only King of Scotland, when he received a Caveat from his Godmother Queen Elizabeth of England, to take heed of the Spanish Fleet; He answered: For his part he desired but one request of the Spaniard, such a one as that Polyphemus had promised Ulysses, that when he had devoured others, he would swallow him last of all.  
After the loss of Calais, an English Captain, having trussed up his bag and baggage, to go for England, as he was going out of the gates, in a jeering way, was asked, O Englishmen, when will ye back again to France? The Captain, with a sad and serious countenance, answered: When the sins of France are greater than the sins of England, then will the English return to France.  
When one told Tiberius the Emperor, of some aspersions that were cast abroad upon him; He answered: We are not angry that there are some who speak ill of us; it is enough that we are in such a condition, that no body can do us any ill.  
Two Persian Ambassadors were employed to Pope Vrban the 5th. who being admitted, and desired to deliver their Embassage as succinctly as they could, in regard of the Pope's indisposition; yet they made a long tedious Oration, which did disquiet his Holiness, as it was observed by the Auditors; the first Ambassador having at last concluded, the second subjoined very wittily, saying: We have this moreover given to us in charge, that if you will not condescend to our demands, this my Colleague must repeat his Speech again, and make some additions to it. The Pope was so much taken with this, that he presently dismissed both of them very well satisfied for the business they came about.  
A Gentleman, who in a Duel was rather scratched than wounded, sent for a Chirurgeon, who having opened the wound, charged his man with all speed to fetch such a salve from such a place in his Study. Why (said the Gentleman) is the hurt so dangerous? Oh yes (answered the Chirurgeon) if he returns not in post-haste, the wound will cure itself, and so I shall lose my Fee.  
A notable fellow, and a soldier to Alexander, finding his first admission to be the greatest difficulty, put feathers into his nose and ears, and danced about the Court in an Antique fashion, till the strangeness of the Show brought the King himself to be a Spectator. Then this mimic throwing off his disguise; Sir (said he to the King) thus I first arrive at your Majesty's notice in the fashion of a Fool, but can do you service in the place of a wise man, if you please to employ me.  
A man full of words, who took himself to be a grand wit, made his brag that he was the leader of the discourse in what company soever he came; and none, said he, dare speak in my presence, if I hold my peace. No wonder, answered one, for they are all struck dumb at the miracle of your silence.  
When once a Gentleman admired how so pithy, learned, and witty a Dedication was matched to a flat, dull, foolish Book: In truth, said another, they may be well matched together, for I profess they are nothing a kin.  
A Gentleman travelling in a misty morning, asked of a shepherd what weather it would be? It will be (saith the shepherd) what weather shall please me: And being requested to express his meaning: Sir, saith he, it shall be what weather pleaseth God, and what weather pleaseth God, pleaseth me.  
A rich man told a poor man, that he walked to get a stomach for his meat: And I, (said the poor man) walk to get meat for my stomach.  
A rich landed Fool, whom a Courtier had begged, and carried about to wait on him, coming with his Master to a Gentleman's house, where the picture of a fool was wrought in a fair suit of Arras, cut the picture out with a penknife; and being chidden for so doing. You have more cause, said he, to thank me; for if my Master had seen the picture of the fool, he would have begged the hang of the King, as he did my lands.  
When the standers by comforted a natural which lay on his deathbed, and told him that four proper fellows should carry his body to the Church: Yea (quoth he) but I had rather by half go thither myself.  
One braved a Gentleman to his face, that in skill and valour he came far behind him: 'Tis true (said the other) for when I fought with you, you ran away before me.  
Sir Francis Drake, riding within the Road of Port-Rico, a shot from the Castle entered the Steerage of the Ship, took away the stool from under him as he sat at supper, wounded Sir Nicholas Clifford and Brute Brown to death. Ah! dear Brute (said Drake) I could grieve for thee, but now is no time for me to let down my spirits.  
One walking in London-streets, met a gallant, who cried to him a pretty distance beforehand, I will have the wall. Yea (answered he) and take the house too, if you can but agree with the Landlord.  
It was a mannerly answer which a young Gentleman gave to King James, when he asked him what kin he was to such a Lord of his name? Please your Majesty, said he, my elder brother is his Cousin-german.  
When one, being an Husbandman, challenged kindred of Robert Grosthead Bishop of Lincoln, and thereupon requested the favour of him to bestow an Office on him. Cousin, (quoth the Bishop) if your Cart be broken, i'll mend it, if your Plough old, i'll give you a new one, and Seed to sow your Land; but an Husbandman I found you, and an Husbandman I'll leave you.  
Arminius meeting Baudius one day disguised with drink, he told him, Tu Baudi dedecoras nostram Academiam: Et tu Armini (answered he) nostram Religionem: Thou Baudius disgracest our University; and thou Arminius our Religion.  
Henry the 4th. of France, being troubled with a fit of the Gout, and the Spanish Ambassador coming then to visit him, and saying he was sorry to see his Majesty so lame, He answered: As lame as I am, if there were occasion, your Master the King of Spain, should no sooner have his foot in the stirrup, but he should find me on horseback.  
King James ask the Lord Keeper Bacon, what he thought of a French Ambassador, who had then lately had his Audience? He answered, That he was a tall proper man. His Majesty replied, but what think you of his head-piece? Is he a proper man for the Office of an Ambassador? Sir, said Baoon: Tall men are like high houses of four or five stories, wherein commonly the uppermost room is worst furnished.  
Lewis the 9th. who, in the Catalogue of the French Kings, is called St. Lewis, was Baptised in the little Town of Poyssy; and after his return from Egypt, and other places against the Saracens, being asked by what Title he would be distinguished from the rest of his Predecessors after his death? He answered, That he desired to be called Lewis of Poyssy. Reply being made, That there were divers other places and Cities of Renown, where he had performed brave Exploits, and obtained famous Victories, therefore it was more fitting that some of those places should denominate him. No, said he, I desire to be called Lewis of Poyssy, because there I got the most glorious Victory that ever. I had; for there I overcame the Devil: Meaning that he was Christened there.  
Don Beltran de Rosa, being to marry a rich Labradors (a Yeoman's) daughter, which was much importuned by her Parents to the match, because their Family should be thereby ennobled, he being a Cavalier of St. Jago: The young Maid having understood that Don Beltran had been in Naples, and had that disease about him, answered wittily: Truly, Sir, To better my blood, I will not hurt my flesh.  
It was the answer of Vespasian to Apollonius, desiring entrance and access for Dion and Euphrates, two Philosophers: My gates are always open to Philosophers, but my very breast is open unto thee.  
It is reported of Cosmo de Medici, that having built a goodly Church, with a Monastery thereunto annexed, and two Hospitals, with other monuments of Piety, and endowed them with large Revenues, as one did much magnify him for these extraordinary works; he answered: 'Tis true, I employed much treasure that way; yet when I look over my Leiger-book of accounts, I do not find that God Almighty is indebted to me one penny, but I am still in the arrear to him.  
It was a brave generous saying of a great Armenian-Merchant, who having understood how a vessel of his was cast away, wherein there was laden a rich Cargazon upon his sole account, he struck his hand upon his breast, and said: My heart, I thank God, is still afloat, my spirits shall not sink with my ship, nor go an inch lower.  
Sir Edward Herbert being Ambassador in France, there happened some classing between him and the great French Favourite Luynes; whereupon he was told that Luynes was his enemy, and that he was not in a place of security there: Sir Edward gallantly answered, That he held himself to be in a place of Security wheresoever he had his sword by him.  
FINIS.   

Faenestra in Pector. OR, FAMILIAR LETTERS.  
By THO. FORD.  
Quid melius desidiosus agam!—   depiction of man under tree ALTUM 〈…〉 
LONDON, Printed by R. and W. Leybourn, for William Grantham at the Black Bear in St. Paul's Churchyard, near the little North Door, 1660.   

To the Reader.  
Reader,  
THe witty Lucian brings in Momus, quarrelling at the Masterpieces which the gods had made; and the only fault he found with Man, was, That he had not a window to look into his breast. For this reason, I call this Packet of Letters Fenestra in Pectore; Letters being the best Casements, whereby men disclose themselves. Judicium fit per Brachium, say the Physicians; and I know no better Interpreter of the Heart, than the hand; especially in Familiar Letters, whereby friends mingle souls, and make mutual discoveries of, and to one another. The pen, like the pulse, discovers our inward condition; if it become faint, or intermitting, like the passing-bell, it gives notice of the decay, if not the departure of friendship; which is the soul of humane Society.  
For these, I have no better Apology than their publication; their impudence (if it be so) bespeaking their innocence. They desire to please all, to injure none. If you find some things in them that appear not calculated for the Meridian of the present times, know, that they are left but to show what the whole piece might have been, had my time and the times accorded; they might then perhaps have given you some remarks of the miracles of our age, But the Dutch Proverb tells me, Who bringeth himself into needless dangers, dieth the Devil's martyr.  Nulli tacuisse nocet, nocet esse locutum. 
And I very well remember that notable Apothegme of the famous (though unfortunate) Sir W. Raleigh: Whosoever shall tell any great man, or Magistrate, that he is not just; the General of an Army, that he is not valiant; and great Ladies, that they are not fair; shall never be made a Counsellor, a Captain, or a Courtier.  
Thou wilt say, it may be, I had little to do to publish my follies to the world, and I am contented thou shouldst think so, if it may pass for my Apology, That I had little else to do. If it be a crime, the number of offenders in this kind, is enough to authorise the fact, and turn the guilt into a pardon, if not a passport.  
For they who writ, because all writ, have still,  
That excuse for writing, and for writing ill.  
At this time I shall use no other, nor trouble thee any farther (Reader) when I have subscribed the Author,  
Thy Friend and Servant, T. F.   

Familiar Letters.  

To Mr. T. C.  
Sir,  
AT my arrival here, I find all out of order, though abounding with orders. The King and Queen are departed, which makes us all dead; for what cause I cannot tell you, unless it were for fear of the arrival of a stranger to this Kingdom, and one that hath been long since banished from hence: Nor durst she appear now, but that 'tis Parliament-time. She was landed at Westminster by the rout of Watermens, when they frighted away the Bishops commig to the House of Commons door, it was put to the Vote, Whether she should come in or no? The better part suspecting by her habit it was Rebellion (they having seen her before in foreign parts) would not admit her: But the Major part carried it in the Affirmative, and the five Members were appointed to entertain her; which they, did, and some say, she was placed in the Speakers Chair. She came not in the Lord's House, they could not Brook it; but I dare Say she had a Conference with some of them in the Painted Chamber. Her Lodgings are provided in the City, where she goes attired (as necessary) with a fair new cloak of Religion, a Scotch Bonnet, a French Doublet, and Coats like Dutchman's Slops; her hair red, like an Irishmans; neither Bands nor Cuffs, for she endures no Linen for spite of Lawn Sleeves, unless a two or three Nightcaps, because they are of Holland. You would wonder to see in what droves our Citizens flock after her, did you not know it is their nature, after strargers. But I'll follow her no farther, lest you suspect me for one of her followers, who am, Sir,  
Your Loyal Friend.   

To Mr. T. C.  
Sir.  
THe Fire is now broken out of the house and the sparks of sedition fly about the City, being blown by the longwinded lungs of some Pulpeteers. Here want not seditious Sheba's to blow the Trumpet, and as a Praeludium, here is an hot skirmish of Pens, but the Kings seems to excel them, as much as an eagle's wing a Goose quill. The Women and Maids to espouse the quarrel, bring in their Thimbles, Rings, and Bodkins, with as much zeal as the Israelites did their Jewels to making of their Golden Calf. Such a tide of Plate every day ebbs and flows at Guild-Hall, that the Roman Emperor who swum in wine, had he enjoyed this, might have sailed in an Ocean of Gold and Silver. They have exercised their hands and Pens so long, till their Arms begin to be engaged, and 'tis thought it may prove a General Engagement. I can go no farther for the Press, but must here remain, Sir,  
Wholly at your disposal,   

To Mr. R. R.  
My worthy friend,  
I Received your Letter, wherein Love and Friendship seem to our-vie each other; and which is predominant, were not easy to determine. Whereat how I was transported with joy, you may easier guests than I express. For those unmerited Encomiums you so liberally put upon me. I conceive you rather thereby instruct me what I should be, than tell me what I am. Or else, you looked on those poor mites with the Multiplying-glass of friendship. Your offer to continue this Literal correspondence, I willingly accept, and was never so ill bred as to neglect such a benefit, when proffered. Willingly shall I exchange my glass for your Gold: yet how mean soever my expressions may be; you shall find them richly quilted with Love, which hath long since knit my affections to your virtues; 

Nec si surgat centimanus Gygas,  
— divellet unquam.   

The Giant with his hundred hands,  
Shall not untie those silken bands,  
Which bind me fast to your commands,   Concerning the Books you wrote for, I cannot but admire you should not have received them, since I delivered them to the same Carrier that brought you my Letter. They set out together, however my letter outstripped them in speed, but I wonder not, that being winged with love and desire to visit that breast, which the Muses and Graces emulate to make their Habitation. I may not forget to remember my respects to your Brother, and Mr. P. and to assure you, that a letter from either of them would be very acceptable; and the rather, though you tell me my friends are all lame, that they are not lame friends. This is the desire of  
Sir, your and their Friend and Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. J. A.  
Sir,  
I know you will much wonder at this seeming Solecism, and I wonder as much at the cause thereof. Having found the truth of the former part of the verse, that vox audita perit— I am bold to make an experiment of the latter, and try— Si litera scripta manebit. Since words, like running messengers, have the fate to have their errand forgot as soon as they are gone, may this serve as a more constant Leaguer, to whisper in your ears, that he who was so bold to request that small courtesy of you, was emboldened thereto by a consideration, that he was still, as you were once pleased to style him, your Friend. I protest, Sir, in that confidence I so long importuned you, that I was ashamed to appear to you again with the like request. And yet, desirous to see that poor brat of my own brain, I resolved to make use of this Proxy, the rather, because (you know) Literae non erubescunt. Sir, I readily believe that your occasions are great; yet, if you please to make truce with your time, but so long as you may look that poor paper, I will engage the utmost of my abilities to make you a requital; and if you doubt of my ability, 'twill be a work of charity in you to forgive me.  
In Solomon's Temple there was an outer Court, into which strangers were admitted; and an inner Court, where only Jews were to assemble; and the Sanctum Sanctorum, where only the High Priest might enter. Give me leave to tell you, that though you shut me out of the Sanctum Sanctorum of your Friendship, nor will admit me into the inner Court of your Familiars, you shall not exclude me from the outward Court of your acquaintance. And in this resolve he rests, that is Sir,  
What, or how you please to call him beside T. F.   

To Mr. C. F.  
My Real Friend,  
I Received your welcome Letter, and as welcome Token: For the one I send you an Answer, though not answerable; but to the other, I forbear to retaliate, lest I should thereby turn your Gift into a Bargain.  
Sir, I am very glad to hear that you receive your due money for your spiritual bread, although, I fear, it is not the Tenth of your desert, knowing that you cannot feed them but with fine Flour. And although I would not rob your Family of their Dimensum, yet shall I hope you will not deny me a continuance of those witty crumbs that fall from their Table. Nor can I be so far mine own enemy, as not to think of yours, as Tully did of Atticus his Epistles, that the longest are the best. And assure yourself, as Cato said, He never knew an old man forget where his gold was. My Fancy often turns Forester, and walks the round, till I meet with you, when I am infinitely transported with that but imaginary enjoyment of that person I so much delight in; the conceit of which, has driven me into a serious consideration and search, after the wonderful force of the Imagination. And I find, some have been killed, others preserved, merely by the strength of their imagination. Here could I be tediously copious in as facetious as strange stories to this purpose; but I will not, with Phormio, read a Lecture to Hannibal. It shall suffice me, to hope that such Imagies of the brain, are no breach of the second Commandment: Nor yet am I of the belief of that Priest, that was fully persuaded, That nothing was false that was printed. Whatever be, I am sure this is not, that I am  
Sir, your affectionate Friend, T. F.   

To Mrs. B.  
Mistress,  
ALthough unknown (but by your courtesy) I am bold hereby to salute you, and have sent this poor paper to kiss your hands, who have so kindly provided for mine; not doubting but you will as much admire at these rude lines, as I did at your kinder token. I call it yours, and therefore hold myself obliged by the laws of Gratitude, to return you thanks. And, lest that should be too poor a requital for so great a favour, be pleased to accept of this small token; for I hate to be ingrateful, and am loath to be in debt, either in coin or courtesy. And, that I may not part those whom Godhath united, I must not forget to return like thanks to your loving Companion, as knowing it was from your Conjunction this Influence proceeded. May your Lives be as Lines parallel, knowing no date till they both meet in our common Centre of happiness. But I fear to be tedious, time and opportunity may so propitiously befriend me, as in some kind or other, at least, to endeavour you a larger requital: In the interim acknowledge me  
Your ready, though unknown Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. B. R.  
Sir,  
BEing informed by our common friend N. H. that your intentions are for— next week, I thought it unmannerly, or rather unfriendly, not to bid you Farewell: And I know not better how, than in the words of the Lyric Poet to his Florus, I bone quo virtus tua te vocat, I pede Fausto. And this not being present in person, I am forced to do by Proxy, and with Io in the Poet, Litera pro verbis. I dare believe, though you go farther off, yet your affection will be never the less; for I may justly confer on you, what one once did on Augustus, Rarus tu quidem ad recipiendas amicitias, ad retinendas verò constantissimus.  
Story tells us of two Palm-trees, growing on the two opposite banks of a River which notwithstanding the distance of the roots, and despite of the intervening water, did lovingly infoliate and twine their branches. So, notwithstanding the distance of place, our bodies are planted in, maugre all opposition we may entwine our branches (Letters I mean) neither (I hope) shall any envious Caterpillar (or false friend) eat away those leaves, so long as life remains in the root of  
Sir, your unfeigned Friend, T. F.   

To M. A. E.  
Worthy Sir,  
THe opportunity of this Bearer is sufficient importunity to me of troubling you at this time, and your wont ingenuity, I hope, will be my sufficient warrant: Nay. I should be very much wanting to myself, and that respect I own you, if I should not. To let you know, that you have not sown the seed of your favours in an altogether barren soil, as doth he that confers a benefit on an ingrateful person. But it is my grief, that the crop of my abilities falls so much short of your desert, and my desire. To tell you any News, were but to put you in mind of those miseries which you are already too sensible of; yet, lest you should expect it, be pleased to understand, there was another message came lately from the K. to the H. H. who have voted an answer to it; God grant it may be for Peace, the only Aquavitae to restore this fainting Kingdom. I hope it is not yet with us, as it was once in Persia, when there was a Law made against Peace; though I know subjects seldom draw the sword against their Sovereign, but they throw away the scabbard. I forbear to say more, because I know not whose hands my letter may go through; such is the misery of our Times. that Burglary in this kind was never more practised. nor less punished: Nay, Lies are more tolerable now in Print, than loyal Truth in Writing: Yet fear I not who sees and knows that I profess myself (as I am)  
Sir, your devoted Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. T. F.  
Sir,  
NOt having had the happiness to see you of late, and hearing that you intent to let the Country engross your company, I thought good to visit you by this silent, yet (to make it a Paradox) speaking messenger, and I had rather you should imagine the cause; yet, if you will not, I must be bold to tell you, that I much wonder I should all this while hear no noise of my Viol. Seriously, Sir, I had such a confidence of your reality to your friends (in which number I esteem myself one) that I could not believe the contrary, though it were strongly instigated to me. And Sir, whether your usage of me hath been answerable to my expectation of you, I leave yourself to judge. I cannot imagine that you should think I would sell my— for the mending or lend it, with an intention to lose it. I should be very sorry, that that which was made for Harmony, should be an Instrument of Discord between friends; it lies in your power to prevent it: I am willing to believe you will; give not, I pray, my good opinion of you the lie, because I desire to remain,  
Sir, your Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. J. A.  
Sir,  
SInce your departure, the cruel Fates, intending thereby to make me truly miserable, have robbed me of a very friend, and that by the irrecoverable hand of Death; and, as if they intended me the sole object of their envy, have protracted, if not put off the performance of your promised courtesy; so that now I am left alone, solitarily pondering the complaint of old Erasmus: Amicorum meorum, alii moriuntur, alii mutant aenimum. Me thinks I am deprived of all my Senses, since I can neither see you, nor hear, either of, or from you. Knowing not the reason, I am ready to believe the best, and have Charity (which Erasmus in his time compared to a Friars Cowle, because it covers a multitude of sins) enough to hid all surmises, till Time, the son of Truth, shall discover all things in their perfect colours. Me thinks I have the fortune of some children, who having lost one arrow, shoot another after it, hoping thereby to find it, and not seldom lose both: However you shall not Him, that will resolve to continue  
Your entire Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. N. C.  
Sir,  
I Have sent you as many Letters, as there are Graces, and now, I hope, I may lawfully desist, and I have the old rule for my warrant: Si ter pulsanti nemo respondit, abito. I have long looked, and attentively listened for that happy word, which should at once put a period to your silence, and mine expectation. Happily you may thereby tacitly instruct me of the unwelcomness of my too forward scribbling; but I shall end with this, lest I fall under the lash of the Italiau Proverb: Chi scrive à chi non respond, ò è matto, ò hà di bisognia: He that writes to one that answers not, either he is a fool, or has need of him. Your silent action makes me remember the conceit of one, that going in the street, and seeing the Sign of the Golden Cross, would lay a wager with him that went with him, that he would make the Master of the shop (whom I very well know) to pull down his Sign without speaking a word to him: The wager being laid, he pulls off his his hat, and drops half a dozen legs to the Sign; first, on one side, and then on the other; which the Master of the shop seeing, thinking to prevent his future Superstition, suddenly pulls down his Sign, which is now supplied with the badge of the Gilded Trumpet. Enough this time, when I have subscribed  
Yours, T. F.   

To Mr. R. R.  
Sir,  
I Am so ambitious of continuing our ancient friendship, almost as old as ourselves, that I cannot omit the least occasion, that may eiincrease or preserve it. And although, me thinks, I hear you tell me, that my sounding on so slight a knock, doth but argue me the empter vessel, whilst you who are more full fraught, give no answer, though with much importunity; I have no other excuse, but to tell you, that I do it, to let you see, I had rather seem to be a troublesome, than a forgetful friend. Truly says our English Proverb: He loves not at all, that knows when to make an end. And the Italians are not amiss, who say, L'amore senza fine, non ha' fine. Love that has no by-end, will know no end.  
For my part, I profess no other end in my affections, but your service, for which I once gave you my Heart, and now my Hand, that the World may see whose servant is  
T. F.   

To Mr. C. H.  
Mr. Ch.  
AS I was going to Church, to keep the Fast, your Letter encountered me, and (as good reason) turned my Fast into a Feast; but such a one, as my Senses were more employed on, than my : It rejoiced me exceedingly to hear of that ingenious Fl. though I expected to have heard from him before this: But I see Non factis sequimur omnia qua loquimur, I am sure, Non passibus aequis.  
To those Poesies you tell me of, I shall only answer them with expectation, since the Instructor of the Art of Poetry tells me; Nec verbum verbo, curabis reddere.  
And to return you something for your News, I can only tell you this, that our streets abound with Grasshoppers silenced by our great Hercules; and others, that look like horses thrown into a certain River in Italy, which are consumed to the bare bones. For your desire to be made merry, I must confess, Laeta decet laetis pascere corda jocis. But for you to desire it of me, seems to be a jest itself. I doubt to be tedious, and well know Seneca's rule, That an Epistle should not Manum legentis implere. I only take time to subscribe myself  
Your true Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. S. M. at Barbados.  
Friend,  
I Received your as welcome, as unexpected Letter; of which I will say, in the words of Seneca that famous Moralist, in an Epistle to his friend Lucilius, Exulto quoties lego Epistolam tuam, implet me bonâ spe: jam non promittit de te, sed spondet. And God forbidden that I should be so uncharitable as not to believe it: Yet, let me tell you, that without the reality of the actions, it is but a dead letter; nay, 'twill prove a deadly, for, should you neglect to do, what you there promise, or speak there, more than you do, that very letter will one day rise up in judgement against you. Pardon my plainness, and think never the worse of the Truth for my bad language; Truth may many times have bad , yet has she always a good face. It is a good mark of the moral Philosopher, that sheep do not come to their shepherd, and show him how much they eat, but make it appear by the fleece that they wear on their backs, and the milk which they give. I will not wrong the sharpness of your judgement by applying the Moral. I have read of two famous Painters, who, to show their skill, the one drew a bunch of grapes so lively, that he cozened the Birds; the other drew a veil so perfectly over his grapes, that he deceived the Artificer himself: Can we draw the colour of our good works never so lively, as to cousin every mortal eye, and draw so fine a veil over our evil deeds, as to conceit ourselves into a conceit we had none, yet is there an Allseeing eye, to whom the darkest secret is most apparent. Did we but truly consider this, it could not choose but hinder us from committing those things we would be ashamed to do in the sight of Man, which we daily do in the sight of an Omniscient God. Therefore the advice of the Heathen Philosopher, may be made good Christian practice, who advised to set the conceit of Cato, or like Grave man, always before us, to keep us from doing what might mis-befit their presence. It is a Character of the wicked man, drawn by the Divine hand, that in all his ways he sets not God before his eyes: There is also another witness within us, that can neither be bribed, nor blinded. O te miserum, si contemnis hunc testem! O have a care to offend that Bird in the breast, that must one day sing, either your joyful Elegy, or more doleful Dirge. Camden our English Historiographer, tells us of a place in Stafordshire, called Wotton, in so doleful a place, under the barren Hill Weaver, that it is a common Proverb of the neighbours, 
Wotton under Weaver,  
Where God came never.  But alas! there's no such place on Earth to be found; yet can I tell a place where his pure Spirit abhors to enter, namely, into a person contaminated and defiled with sin, and thereby made the harbour of Satan, and hatred of the most High.  
Whereas you tell me you are fallen to labour, let me comfort you with this, that it is as universal as unavoidable a Fate laid on us by the mouth of Truth. Man is born to labour, as the sparks to fly upward: As if Man and Labour were Termini Convertibiles. But that you take more pleasure now in Labour, than you did before in your Pleasure, it much comforts me, assuring me that you are now sensible of that which the Romans taught by placing Angina, the goddess of sorrow and pain, in the Temple of Volu peia, the goddess of Pleasure; as if that pain and sorrow, were the necessary consequences of pleasure: Whereas on the contrary, Goodness is like the Image of Diana, Pliny speaks of: Intrantes, tristem; Euntes, exhilerantem. How wretched therefore is their condition, that have their portion in this life! Well may we be strangers in this worldly Egypt, so we may be inhabitants hareafter of the Heavenly Canaan. And you, and I may say in the words of Seine ca, Satis multam temporis sparsimus, incipiamus nune in vasa colligere: We have spent time enough already, and 'tis high time now to save the rest and to make the best of the remnant of our life, because we know not how short it is. It was a wise caution of Eleazar, a Jew, who being demanded, When it would be time to repent, and amend? Answered, One day before death. And when the other replied, That no man knew the day of his death. Begin then (said he) even to day, for fear of failing. Hoc proprium inter caetera mala, hoc quoque habet, stultitia proprium, semper incipit vivere, quid est enim turpius, quam senex vivere insipieus. Give me leave, not to instruct you, but to tell you what counsel I desire to practise; for it was an envious disposition of that Musician, that would play so soltly on his Harp, that none could hear but himself. First, 'Tis my care not too much to indulge my body, as knowing that those things the body inclines to most, are of the world, which is enmity with God; and what the Spirit prompts to most, must needs be best, because the Spirit is heavenly, and more of kin to the Deity. Honestum ei vile est, cui corpus nimis charum est; said one that knew well what he said: 'Tis not for nothing that our inward spirit is always most sad, when our outward man is most merry. In the second place, 'Tis my desire to avoid ill company, because, as 'tis said of the Tyrant Mezantius, Corpora corporibus jungebat mortua vivis. In that the Living rather putrefied by reason of the Dead, but the Dead did not revive by the Living. Such is the nature of man, saith St. Gregory,  quoties bonus malo conjungitur, non ex bono malus meliocriter, sed ex malo bon● contaminetur. It is a good caution therefore St. Bernard gives (in his 48th. Serm. in Cantic.) writing upon these words, As the Lily among thorns, etc. Vide (saith he) quomodo cautè a●●bulas inter spinas. I speak this the rather, because I presume you walk there among thorns, and I know not whether there be a place there like the street in Rome, that was called vicus sobrius, because there was never an Alehouse in't. And, as Socrates said of Alcibiades (that miracle of his time) when he saw him among Gallants, I fear not Him, but his Company. Now the number of this Company, should not be a means to make us run with them, but rather to run from them. And to this end, 'tis necessary for a man to be ever resident on his Calling, lest he be turned out of his Living, or at least of his well living, for nonresidency. Out of a man's Calling, out of God's Protection. 'Tis an Apothegme of a late Wit, That he who counts his Calling a Prison, shall at length make a Prison his Calling. But whither do I straggle? Me thinks I hear you say, as Queen Elizabeth once did to an Ambassador, who made a long Oration before her in high terms, She answered him; Expectavi Legatum, Inveni Heraldum; I expected an Ambassador, but find an Herald: So, me thinks, I hear you say, Expectavi Epistolam, Inveni concionem. I must confess, I might have learned so much modesty from Roscius the Roman Orator, who was ever mute when he dined with Cato; and the Thrush never sings, if the Nightingale be by. I might very well have spared this labour, it being performed so well by— yet if I have done amiss, it shall satisfy me, that I did it to satisfy mine own conscience. Now might I relaxare animum, recreate your mind, by making you some mirth with the discords of our Times; but truly they appear to me a fit subject for our tears of sorrow, than of mirth. Assure yourself, I had not thus far transgressed upon your patience, did you not know me to be  
Perfectly your Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. A. E.  
Sir,  
THough I have not had the happiness of late to be so propitiously be-friended by occasion as to write to you,; yet am I so confident of your wont ingenuity, that you will not attribute it to any neglect of mine; which if I were conscious to myself were so, I should judge it a crime so great, that I should not forgive myself. But the truth is, I find more danger in the conveying of News, than in the hearing of it: Nay, my misery is, I cannot, or dare not at least, inform you of more than every Pamphlet can; to such a height of suspicion are we now arrived. Besides so barren is each day of News, that 'tis not worth doing penance in a sheet: yet, because you are desirous to know (and I as willing to satisfy your desire) what's done in the Assembly and P. I will venture to tell you in an old story. 'Tis this: Mr. Popham, when he was Speaker, and the lower House had sat long, and done, in effect, nothing, coming one day to Queen Elizabeth, She said to him, Now, Mr. Speaker, what hath passed in the lower House? He answered, If it please your Majesty, seven weeks. You need fear no danger in this, for 'tis Nothing; and the Treaty is come to as much, both Parties being not like to meet, standing still at their former distance. This was prettily Emblem'd by two Spherical bodies, touching only in Puncto with this Motto, Pungere possunt, pacificari non possunt.  
Thus, Sir, you see, amidst these dusky clouds, Friendship dares mingle flames in a Convex, though not in a direct line. Ascertain yourself of this, That as it shall ever rejoice me to hear of your health; so it shall be my endeavour always to be  
Your unfeigned Friend, T. F.   

To my Father.  
Sir,  
AFter the remembrance of my duty, which at all times wants not in my will, though sometimes in my power. I lately saw Mr. M. but cannot tell you whether with greater joy, or grief. It rejoiced me exceedingly to hear of your health, but grieved me more to hear of my Mother's grief, for a false information, that I was a Sectary, and a Malignant. Give me leave therefore to say something, whereby I may at once recover her right opinion, and my reputation. And first for the Sectary, Should I say nothing, my practice were enough to testify, that I do as much shun their Companies, as hate their Tenants. I count them as moles and warts, nay, wens in the face of the Body Politic, which, if not timely lanced, will in time not only deface, but destroy our Common Mother the Church: Neither do I love to run into those byways of Sects and Schisms, but rather keep the safer road of the Church's practice. There is but one Way, one Truth; and I account all those (not one better than another, but) all out of that one Way, all opposites to that one Truth. I esteem them but as wild beasts broken into the Vineyard of the Church, the hedge of our Government being pulled up; but as nettles and weeds, (sown and watered by that envious man) grown up to such an height, that will in time, not only overtop, but overturn the good corn. They are true vipers, a beast, whereof Naturalists report, that first the she-viper biteth off the he-vipers head, and so she conceives with young, and those young gnaw a passage through their dams belly; so that their life is the death of both Father and Mother, as I may so speak. This story I only relate, not apply, the Time and Times will not permit me. But that these Vermin do daily increase, is as true as lamentable; and they go on with that impudence, that they dare to quote Authority for their false actions. If this be not enough to evince my integrity in this particular, I here protest, that I am so far from falling, or leaning after any of these ways, that I utterly abhor and detest them. I come now, to wipe off that other aspersion of a Malignant; a term that hath as much simplicity as malice in't: For indeed, it is a name fit for the Devil, than a Christian; nay, the Devil, in French, is called The Malignant Spirit: And, according to the true signification of the word in our language, it signifies one that bears malice, or grudge to another. Now, if this be the thing is meant, I thank God, I bear no man in the world the least grudge or spite; therefore, in that regard, I am no Malignant: But, if this be not their meaning, for my part, I doubt of knowing it, whilst they are ignorant of it themselves. Well, I see I must, like children, frame a Baby of clouts to shoot at, fancy a conceit in my brain, which I must confute. If then, by a Malignant, is meant one that opposeth the Parliament; be it known, that I never, in the least word or action, did, or will do any thing to adopt me to be a Malignant: Or, if by it is intended such a one, as will not run with the giddy multitude, that run before they are sent, and are for that (with less simplicity though as much malice, termed Roundheads) that is, one that in ever turning, is never settled. And, indeed, I know not how they should otherwise but wander in the Labyrinth of Errors, not following the Cloud of the Church's practice: whereas, it is the Character of a good man, to be like the Timber of Noah's Ark, which was (not round, but) foursquare, and would, therefore, not turn, but abide firm: If to be so, be to be a Malignant, I care not to profess myself one. It is with men in these Times, as I have observed in a Company of Soldiers, upon any motion, those that are skilful and tried Soldiers, it is but taking a step with one foot, whilst the other stands fast, and the motion is performed; whereas such as are ignorant, run to and fro, perplexing themselves, and putting the whole company out of order, before they get into theirs. So it is with us, we move not without the word of Command, and then we shall, without molestation, face about, if our Leaders think fit: Holding in this particular, the Politicians rule; However we admire what's past, to submit to what's present. It were easy to be infinite in this discourse. To shut up all, when I know better what it is to be a Malignant, I shall be ready to give an account of my judgement and practice. In the mean time, I beseech you to believe, that I am neither Sectary, nor Malignant: But  
Sir, your dutiful Son, T. F.   

To Mr. E. B.  
Ned,  
GIve me leave to tell thee a truth in the words of that witty Marshal, to his Friend Priseus. 
Cum te non nossem, dominum, regemque voeabam,  
Cum bene te novi, tam mihi Priscus eris.  I will not venture at a Translation, lest it should lose by't. But let me tell thee, I suppose more friendship in that Monosyllable, than all the swelling colours of abused Rhetoric. 'Twere a needless Tautology, to tell thee thy Letter was welcome to me; Diu desiderata dulcius veniunt. Thou dost enhance my value of them by their scarcity. But, for mine, alas, poor ex tempore things! I make them as common, as they are easy; and yet am careless of my credit, that I may not seem careless of my friend. Thou needst not beg such a trouble, that is as certain as the Moon's course. I am glad thou hast got a witty Companion there, for 'twas long since (here) turned out of the Line of Communication. Commend me to L C.L. and tell him, his name should speak him my friend; for, really, I am more beholding to that name, than any one I know. But I need not go so far about, 'tis sufficient he is thy friend, and then he cannot choose but be mine; for, among friends, all things are common, and why not friends too? Really, I am so taken with that witty companion (and I know thou wilt not belie him) that if he will honour me with his name in a piece of paper, I will keep it as a Relic. And if I have run into an absurdity, let my fault be excusable, in that it is in relation to that thou callest Wit; and 
If Cloris  upon her face,  
The fault is in her Looking-glass.  But for News, I know your eyes outstrip my pen, and, me thinks, I see thee first look for the News at the latter end; that thou readst my Letters, like Hebrew, backward. Yet, this time, thou wilt only find, what's no News, that I am  
Thine, T. F.   

To Mr. C. F.  
Sir,  
REsolving, not always to act the Echo only in single Answers, to your welcome Letters. No longer ago than the last night (my thoughts were wholly employed upon a more pleasing object than sleep itself) in a serious contemplation of you, my Second-self: The result of my thought, after a full consultation, were, to visit you by a more real Proxy than my rambling fancy: For, though I have read of a Gentleman, who, going to the Spittle, to hear one of those annual Sermons, it seems his slowness had shut him out of all hope of hearing, and almost seeing the Preacher; till, remembering he had a Perspective glass in his pocket, thereby drawing the Preacher nearer to his sight (to prove a community of the Senses) the story tells me, he heard him audibly. I never tried the experiment, but I dare affirm, that by the Perspective-glass of Fancy, I have both visibly and audibly enjoyed your wished presence. You know the old maxim is, Ubi amat, ibi animat: 'Tis therefore no Paradox to affirm, that I have often been in the New Forest, (which your sweet presence converts into a Paradise) although I was never there. But I fear, this is no better than Crambe his cocta, and so nauseous, I quit it therefore, and return to my first purpose, which was to tell you, that your last letter really prevented my resolved intentions, which yet I am (and ever shall be) glad of, to be thus intercepted, as professing it to be more proper to my weak pen to be Respondent; which you will not doubt of, if you consider, that Trumpeters love to sound near Fordy places, where the Echo uses to be most solvibly Respondent: But I talk of an Answer, and return none.  
In brief then, thus: I begin where you end, and here desire to erect an Altar of thanks to the protecting providence, that shielded you (and in you myself) from that first imminent, then eminent danger; as knowing the truth of that saying, That Blessings often ravel out, for want of hemming by thankfulness. I cannot speak my mind fuller, than he has done to my hand: Now, to your desire, I cannot yet return you other answer, than that the utmost of my endeavours were long since devoted to your commands: And for— I expect him daily in Town; when he is, I shall acquaint him with your intentions to him. I hear that he is already turned Predicant; me thinks 'tis something too soon, to spend his small stock of parts, which, I fear, will make him Mendicant. But I had forgot to tell you, that I cannot but apprehend, that Providence in your late delivery, hath plainly given you a Caveat, that you, at least your Credit, will be most safe in your own house. Prithee pardon me if my affection make me thus (if not too) bold, to tell thee, that you betray that precious jewel of your credit to the rape of every felonious tongue, which would be far more safe in your own House. I could say more, but verbum sat, etc. Take it as the counsel of  
Your really endeared Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. E. B.  
Honest Ned,  
IF there be one, whom the necessity of my Stars compel me to love, 'tis thee: But besides this, I find myself entangled with a double tye; first, of thine unparallelled Love, as the tree; and now a gift, as the fruit of that: And, how willingly am I imprisoned with these fetters! which, certainly if I could, I would not break; a threefold cord is not easily cracked. Well, I acknowledge myself, not only thy Debtor, but thy Prisoner, and count it my only Liberty. Expect no such golden-mouthed Letter from me, as yours was, nor any silver-tongued Compliments: Believe me, where I see most compliment, I suppose least friendship. Let me only affirm, that though our bodies are severed, our souls still meet; though we are divided, we are not divorced; but like this Virgin-widow, still flourish, though in the All deflowering Winter. Take it therefore, not as a Token. but an Emblem of our Love. I presume it cannot be unwelcome; if not for the Senders, yet for the Author, and the Subjects sake: And for the other, if there be a Sympathy in Friendship (as I believe there is) then cannot that be unpleasing to you, which was so superlative pleasing unto me. However, I have aimed only at a supplying you with what (I conceive) your Country is defective in. Sure I am, the offence cannot be great (if it be so) the gift itself being so small; especially from  
Your fast Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. R. R.  
Worthy Friend,  
WIth how much joy I received your exquisite Epistle, is easier for you to imagine, than me to relate. You know me too well to expect the like Return from me; yet shall I desire to follow you, Tamen non passibus aequis. And to pay you your Golden Royals (if the comparison be not too mean) with my farthing language: Yet, hoping it may be Current among friends; for, I dare assure you, they carry the stamp of the Heart. 
My Tongue's not tiped with Compliments, which be  
But like green leaves to screen Hypocrisy,  
With words as false as fair. Who Fucus lays  
Upon her face, It's homeliness betrays.  
Nor skill I of the powerful charms of Art.  
But I can speak the Language of the Heart.  I admire others Neatness, but practice Reality, which I esteem so much the more, as I find it less used. I think the Public Faith has devoured all fidelity, and the Sword cut that (supposed) indissoluble knot of friendship, cancelled the Bond of all Obligations. Henceforth, shall they be only Names, and succeedings Ages not know what they meant. But to your Letter, and my Answer; which when I consider I cannot but apply that proper Speech of the deep Putean to his Friend; Scribere ego poene impudentiam, silere tu delictum censeas. Yet know I not of any letter that lies by me unanswered; for, I hold it a breach of the Articles of Friendship, not to be punctual in Returns of this Nature. If you accuse me of breach of promise, I cannot but tax you of delay in yours; though I count this but Billingsgate policy. Proceed, then, my Friend, and let our friendship be a Particular Exception from the General Rule of the world's falsehood. Our sweet Flower is transplanted to a remote soil, near the Isle of Wight. Pardon me, if I be covetous of your learned lines, to supply the vacuum of his absence: Nor is this covetousness unlawful; for I dare pronounce it (in Seneca's style) Avaritia Honesta. And, hoping your fair Cham will not disdain the silent whispers of a shallow Ford, assure yourself, you shall not hereafter complain for want of this kind of trouble: Although, to deal ingeniously with you (as I would have my friends to deal with me) I have so long discontinued this practice, that my pen is grown blunt, and my ink thick: But some of your Academic Flames, may contribute much to the sublimating of my settled fancy, which shall wholly run in Channels of your commands: For I am  
Sir, your ready Servitor, T. F.   

To L. C. L  
Sir,  
YOu are pleased to style me your Honoured Friend, which I must confess to be too high a style for my low deserts to climb, did I not consider, that my Honour consists only in your Honouring me with so unmerited a Title. 'Tis a Maxim, Honour non est in honoranti, non in honorato. Sir, I protest I intended nothing that might occasion a blush; if it were, it was more proper for myself: yet, having such a mirror, I was bold, against the rules of Maiden-modesty, to look a stranger in the face. And truly, though I have no skill in Palmistry, yet, by those fair lines of your Hand, I dare, without fear of flattery, tell you, that Ned nothing wronged you; for, I assure you, I discover in them a great deal of ingenuity. But, to cast off all terms of distance, that we may meet in a closer conjunction, believe it, Sir, in plain English, that I love you with an implicit love; and shall count myself not a little happy, if those seeds of friendship, sown in Winter, may flourish in the Spring, and outdate time itself. This shall not be wanting, either in the desires, or endeavours of  
Sir, your as real as unknown Friend and Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. E. B.  
Dear Ned,  
I Should scarce believe there were such a thing in rerum naturâ, as what we call a Friend, did not you come in, and convince me that you are one; and, what's more, Mine. Go on, and let the world see, there is yet living that flame of antique friendship, which the Ancients boast, and we despair of. I hearty thank thee for thy last letter, though by the hand of a lefthanded man-midwife it miscarried in the delivery; and (as bearing the fate of the Author) is gone on Pilgrimage as far as Exeter. I much lament the loss, and should more did I not think the kinder Fates did it out of love to me, lest I should have perished with too much joy. Hast thou not heard? I am sure I have read of many, that have been smothered with too much Happiness. Alexander, when hearing that he was at once made Father of a Son, and Conqueror of his Enemies, desired the gods to qualify it with some cross. It were easy to be copious in this subject, did I not write to one, that may read to me in History: And, truly, my last letter had the fate to be out-dated long before I could get conveyance for it; wherein it much resembled the worm (in Pliny) called Multipoda, or many feet, and yet hath a very slow pace. Ned, I wish thee often here, yet am I never absent from thee: For, since that friendship incorporated us, it is no Paradox to affirm, Hoc memorabile est, ego tu sum, tu es ego, unanimi sumus. Neither master thou think, that distance, or cold can sunder me, but I shall burn in friendship by an Anteperistesis. Things are now at the Height, that we expect a sudden crack: I will not make my paper guilty of relating any of it, you will see it in Print. What effects 'twill produce, I will not Prophesy: But you know, The Philosopher that looked too high, fell into the ditch. Farewell, and continue to Love  
Thy constant Friend, T. F.   

To M. C. F.  
My Alter Ego,  
MY last was in answer to yours of the 18th of September; since when, I have been forced to recreate my fancy, with thoughts of thee my second self, as Dido, in the Poet, did her Aeneas: Illum absens absentem auditque, viditque. Which I find well paraphrased to my hand, thus: 
Whilst absence severed them apart,  
She saw, and heard him in her heart.   
If my thoughts were so satiated with a mere conceit, what would your real Letters do? which I know to be fraught with profitable pleasure, the perquisites of a true Epistle: And though mine be not equal to balance yours, yet I shall endeavour to recompense in number, what they want in weight. 
Yours are rich wares, mine poor baggatels,  
Yours Orient Gems, mine rugged oyster-shels.  
Yet Tokens, with the true stamp, may  
Be currant, though of base allay.  Sir, flattery is no part of friendship; Non amo quemquam nisi offendant, said a wise Heathen. Give me therefore leave to tell you, that you are too careless of your credit: I hear you have thereby lost much ground in your P. affections, which I could wish by Mr. Is. example, you would be careful of; for I can assure you, in these times, the people's affections are but a fickle foundation to build one's hopes on: 'Tis a thousand pities, that the best ground should be the dirtiest, and the best workmen the worst husbands; especially one of your colour, who ought to walk not only cast, but cautê. You know who says, A Minister's Doctrine is like a candle, if not guarded by the lantern of a cautious life, will soon be blown out by the wind of detraction. The Egyptians Hieroglyphic God by an open eye: He is totus oculus; and I am persuaded, there is no colour so much in his eye as black. Enough of this: I am not willing to run into the common error of the Times, to usurp Moses Chair. If my zeal to your welfare has already committed a trespass, let it be sufficient, that it was out of perfect friendship. It is said of Gerson (that famous Frenchman) that he took not content in any thing so much, as in a plain and faithful reproof of his friend: And, it is the note of that venerable Bede, that Semper optimos sapientum ut dictum majorum auscultent, aliquando minorum. And I will not only suffer, but thank you, to deal so with me. Concerning News, I am of the Italians mind, That nulla nuova, is bona nuova; the least news is the best news. Take it briefly thus: His Majesty doth lay aside his own Interest wholly, that He may (if possible) comply with his Conquerors; that I may truly apply to him that saying of an undaunted Captain, slighting the insulting braves of him that took him, thus: Thou holdest thy Conquest great, in overcoming me, but mine is far greater, in overcoming myself. 2. Death is grown as insatiable a Country C. M. for he hath of late swallowed all the living creatures, men, women, dogs, cats, etc. in a whole City in Spain, not leaving one alive to relate it. But I forgot your business. I mentioned it to Sir Ch. who is no Orderly man, nor willing to receive it: I have mentioned it to others, with as much earnestness as you can imagine, but the great distance of place, makes them not meet my desires. Though I have used this (as I thought persuasive) argument, The farther out of sight, the more safe: For I am confident, many a man's Good Living, and not his bad life, has entitled him to a Prison. Therefore count I you wise, in sequestering yourself, toavoid a Sequestration. Sir, I hope you will not judge of my endeavours by the success, but believe me to be  
Yours as real as obliged Friend and Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. E. B. Bad, wicked war. Anagr.  
Honesty,  

NOw must my wearied fancy undertake  
A tedious task: to seek I know not where,  
Whom I shall find, alas! I know not when:  
Yet on I must, bound by a thread of love,  
Which happily may prove a clew to guide  
Me in this wide Maeandring Labyrinth.  
So have I seen (as groping in the dark)  
An arrow shot at random, hit the mark.  
On then, my Pilgrim-pen, masked in the weeds  
Of blackest sorrow; and with big swollen eyes,  
Seek him thou canst not see: make hills & dales  
Resound with thy loud voicing of that name,  
Whose Echo stands in competition with,  
And far outvies the music of the Spheres:  
At whose sole sound my duller senses dance  
A Galliard; but that failing, lifeless stand.  
Like that strange Lake, that whilst the music sounds,  
Doth flow in measures; and then ebb as fast,  
When that doth cease. Or like the stones & trees  
That danced attendance on Orpheus Harp.  
Strike thou blest Lyre, and with thy music call  
My sorrow-fettered senses from the grave  
Of lumpish grief; which Resurrection must  
Only be wrought by thine all-charming pen:  
Or else, as great Augustus, in a kiss,  
Surrendered up his latest breath unto  
His dearest Livia; thereby making her  
Sole Heir to that surviving part, which long,  
By transmigration, lived in her breast.  
So must my starved Hopes surrender to  
Those long and fierce assailants, which besiege  
Me, with their troops of fears, and pale despair,  
If not relieved by thy timely quill.  
But fear, like to a cunning enemy,  
Doth labour to persuade my jealous thoughts,  
That thou art not in a capacity.  
Now, therefore quickly, my Terpander, come  
With thy Harmonious lays, alloy these stirs,  
And civil broils, in my perplexed thoughts,  
For fear they mutiny, and me betray.  
Delay not, now, to give my fears the lie:  
For, spinning out the thread of time, will make  
But a sad woof to  my sorrows with,  
And turn my Tragic verse to Elegies.  
And thus my many feet have almost run  
My fancy out of breath: Here I must rest,  
And Tantalise with weary expectation,  
Till mother-time (that's gravidated with  
A dubious issue) be delivered of  
A masculine, white boy of mirth, or with  
A female Negro of grief; which will be  
Strange welcome to   
Your Servant, Allégre.   

To Mr. S. M.  
Sir,  
IT is reported by Pliny, that Apelles, that famous Painter, was wont, when he had finished any piece of work, or painted table, to set it forth in some open place, or thoroughfare, to be seen of Passengers; and himself would lie close behind it, to hearken what faults were found in it; in that, preferring the judgement of the vulgar, before his own, imagining they would spy more narrowly, and censure his faults more severely than himself could. Having exposed this homely piece to public view, I have, with Apelles, lain unseen, and to that purpose, unknown, that thereby I might the better learn what others opinions were thereof: Not trusting to my own, as knowing that Ely was not the only indulgent Father to his own Offspring. And, as it was his aim to rely upon the judgement of the most judicious (of which number, I esteem yourself none of the least) it had been presented to you in the first place, had I not been deterred, as not daring to approach the scorching rays of your severer censure: Like him, that being in the presence of Augustus the Roman Emperor (who had a piercing Eagle-eye) turned away his face; the Emperor demanding the reason why he did so? He replied, Quia fulmen oculorum tuorum ferre non possum. The like may I affirm: Ter limen tetigi, terque recedi. Oft have I been about it, and as oft repulsed by the consciousness of mine own unworthiness: Yet have I, at length, adventured, in confidence that you have, as well charity to pardon, as judgement to find out errors. With such a hope therefore, that you will screen your severer censure with a veil of charity, I have, at length, presumed this into your presence: The rather, because I do hereby but return you the Honey, made from the various flowers of your own garden; where, I hope, I have not (as some that do, Spinds librorum colligere) weeded books; but cropped their blossoms, and yet left never the less behind me. Naturalists (those Clerks of Nature's closet) report of the Peach-tree, that it receives the quality of the soil where it is planted. In Persia it is poisonous, elsewhere nutrimental: Such is the condition of our nature, that it ever retains the savour of that liquor wherewith it was seasoned in its youth. It hath been my care, and is my hope, that I may one day affirm that of the Philosopher's scholar, Me mihi melior reddidit, qudm accepit. Another obligation there is also, which hath occasioned in me this present boldness, and to you this present trouble: That you are one that do not scandm servire, but are truly sensible of the irregular actions of chose, who would be thought the line of Truth I think the Poet Prophesied of our age, when he complained, 
Victa jacet pietas, & cedit viribus aequum.  
Non met●unt leges, stat pro ratione voluntas.  
Omnia pro tempore, nihil pro veritate.   
Comines complains, that many men's Offices and Lands were taken from them for running away (in the Battle between Lewis the 11th. and the Burgundians) and given to those that ran nine miles farther. But I have made too long a Parenthesis in your more serious occasions; and, me thinks, I hear Apelles his Ne suitor ultra crepidam, rounded in my ear. I here cease, though not from being  
Your faithful Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. C. F.  
Sir,  
YOur Letter of the 2d. of November, came safe; and though late, yet at last I return you an answer: For, though the Apostle saith, it is the duty of a good servant 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, not answering again: yet I think, it is no part of a good friend. Whereas you tell me, it is no News to hear of the theft of felonious tongues, but that it were a greater wonder, if they should turn honest, it puts me in mind of a facetious speech of the grave Cato: When one asked counsel of him soberly, what harm he thought boded him, because Rats had gnawn his Hose? He answered with this jest: That it was a strange thing to see that; but it had been much more strange, If his Hose had devoured the Rats. Now, to be serious. If you will needs know from whence that smoke came, I must tell you, it arose from the New Forest, but I discovered it at London; and finding it might forerun a storm, I was bold to fore-warn you of it, because, you know, Praemonitus, praemunitus. Neither ought you (I suppose) to despise it, (especially coming from a hand aimed only at your safety. Great ships have been cast away by a little leak unlooked to. I remember the Fable that the Butterfly asked the Owl, How she should deal with the fire that had scorched her wings? Who counselled her, not to behold so much as its smoke And, because you will know of me where this vapour did beat in; Truly, I was informed, you were like to ruin your fortune, and that by one whom I know you esteem your friend. Therefore was I bold to advise you to provide an Ark against the Deluge: Not like the merry Scholar in Chaucer, that he might lie with the Carpenter's wife. But I talk idle. Really, I had not said any thing, had I not been confident, you would take it with the right hand, as I gave it; and the rather, that I might thereby engage you to deal with me in the same manner: For, Hoc officium (as I take it) is Maximum beneficium. And now, would not my very excuse increase my fault, I would Apologise for my (I fear) too tedious prolixity. I will only add, that I shall be very glad your more urgent business would permit you to punish me in the same kind: Who am, not quaint, nor quick now, but still  
Your entire Friend, T. F.  
Post.  
The Fratres Gladiferi are still predominant. People were never so poor, nor never so brave, as if they would be proud by an Antiperistasis.   

To Mr. J. W.  
Sir,  
THat you accost me with the name of Friend, I am not a little joyful, but more to be yours. It is a term used by all, understood by few, but practised by none, that I can find. But I will not build my credit upon the ruins of others: It is sufficient, that I can boast of this, that I am yours; and I hope you will still deign to be mine. And now Sir, I shall return an answer to the several particulars of my Letter, Ordine quisque suo. First, You tell me you are solitary and Hermetical. I could hardly forbear envying of your Happiness: 'Tis a life I as much desire, as I little hope for. But, Sive pluit Jupiter, aut non pluit, non omnibus placet. And so I quit that, and am arrived at your desire, which to me is a sufficient command. 'Tis News you desire, and it would have been News indeed, if you had not. In brief then, Kent is, for the general, quiet, only some excepted places: But, to make you laugh, Prophet, Hunt, the other day, at a full Exchange, came crowding into the middle, with a joynt-stool upon his head; which, when he had set down, he stood up on, and cried, O yes, if any man in the Town, or Country, can tell me what good the Parliament hath done these eight years, let him come, and speak, and I'll sit down and hear him: and, that you may know the truth of it, he is in Bridewell for his labour. And now I meet with your Cordial, which is Cordiality, well may we invent new terms to signify reality by; for I think, hereafter the old will not be understood. I have remembered you to as many as I suppose your friends, and have only in return, Mr. Th. Is service. The rest, not concluding you aimed at them in particular, since you only shot at Rovers in the general. The second part of your commands, I have performed only upon your welcome Letter, and have sent this to kiss your hands. If this may contribute any thing to the delivery of your expectation, I shall count your acceptance a sufficient reward. But I will not add feathers to the wings of time, which I know you put to lawful usury. Here than I take my Rest, and resolve to remain,  
Sir, yours ready to serve you, T. F.   

To Mr. W. L.  
Will.  
LEt my Hand now speak for my Heart, and know that the lines of the one, is the language of the other. But I will not tyre thee with a preamble, lest it might be suspected for a piece of Rhetorical insinuation; but abruptly tell my errand, without respect so much as to a civil Compliment. Will. How really I am obliged to thee in my affections, my engagements thereto, by thy many multiplied courtesies, may sufficiently testify: And for that reason (to make short work) I am resolved to give thee that, for which, from another I should have expected, and happily have had a price. You cannot imagine me so little Man, or that to cost me so little pains, but that I must conceive it worth as much as every puny Pamphlet; or (grant it were not) think me so simple, as to run the Gantelope of the world's censure● for Nothing. Yet is not any, or all of these strong enough to draw me from dispensing with mine own profit, or credit, when they stand in competition with a friend. In brief therefore, if you can imagine it worth your acceptance, or but enough to strike off the least notch from the tally of mine engagements, 'tis yours. I refer it, and myself, wholly to your dispose. Some (you cannot but think) I must bestow on some friends; and I should be loath to buy, what I did not sell, or have and must give away. My short stay here, will not admit any long delay. Let thy answer be like my time, and my departure, short and shortly. I am still  
Your long-lasting Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. J. W.  
My friend,  
FOr so I presume to call you, because, if your Tongue and Heart were Relatives when you wrote your last kind Letter, you were pleased to dishonour yourself with that Title. To lay aside all terms of distance, that we may close, and mingle souls in the flame of friendship, pardon me hereafter, if I lay aside the name of Mr. as incompatible with that of friendship. But let me tell you, that I can scarce think your invective against Compliments to be real, since you cannot complete your Letter without them. Tully once told a Lawyer, pleading a bad cause: Tu nisi fingeres ne sic ageres. For your Compliments you bestow on me and mine, I shall only assure you, you struck the ball to an ill hand, if you look for a rebound. Your quibble upon my name, would have pleased me exceedingly, had you not married (and so marred) it with so dis-agreeing an Epithet, as to call that deep, whose very name speaks it but shallow: So that by styling me deep, you have taken away my name of Ford. But if you will have my Etymology, it is this; Vadum à vadendo, from going; and so it tells you, that I shall never be weary of travelling in your service. Or, if you will, it is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, trajicere, to pass over, and so I pass it by. That that poor draught has satisfied your thirst, I am not a little glad; but it seems, it was of the nature of salt water, which makes the drinker but the drier. And, truly, I question not but you are, if you keep your promise, and not drink till the return of this, which I wish may be answerable to your expectation. For your complaint of want of Books, I conceive it needless in you, who are a walking Library. Now will I relate what they here tell for truth. One Rolph, (something near Ravillac) a Shoemaker, had plotted to have brought his Majesty to his Last; but (as Heaven would have it) he proved but a Cobbler at it, and so was discovered. Your Letter which mine was big with, is safely delivered, by  
Your Friend and Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. E. B.  
My best of Friends,  
FInding friendship to be as cold as the weather, we thought to repel it, by celebrating this present time with the remembrance of thee; when we turned thy Aurum Palpabile into Aurum Potabile; and I dare affirm it was Cordial. We did remember thee Plenis poculis; and because two make no music, we engaged two or three other Consorts, to complete our Harmony. And that thou mayst see, we did not only drink like irrational animals, I will tell thee (if my memory fail me not) the Original of Healths. When the Danes Lorded it over our Kingdom, (whence by corruption they were termed Lurdanes) they were quartered in several Houses, (a word, I must confess, I understood not when I read it first; but since, the Times have instructed me with a witness.) They were so imperious, that no man thought himself secure in their presence: and knowing the advantage men have of one that is lifting his hand to his mouth in drinking, they used (which after was a custom) to drink to one at the Table, who was thereby engaged to be their pledge, or surety for their safety, whilst they were drinking; and some of our Countries do still retain the original, in answering, Sir, I pledge for you. To this I doubt not but the witty Waller alludes in his Poems, where he sings, 
Wine fills the veins, and Healths are understood,  
To give our friends a title to our blood:  
Who naming me, doth warm his courage so,  
Shows for my sake what his bold hand would do.   
News is so confused, that I know not where to begin; yet where should I, but at home: and that's in the Churchyard, that you may know, In nomine Domini incipit omne malum. Our yard is a place of Rendezvouz, a Bridewell, an Execution-place, etc. Here the gallant Pitcher went to Pot: I mean, was broken, by the merciless blind bullets; or (if thou wilt have it in plain terms) was shot to death. I could not name him without an Elegy, but that I think my Muse is run away, to seek a better Master in these hard times. And indeed, the Muses may well be Maids, for they are commonly farthest off, when most entreated. Marry was once the hate and burden of the City, and the name's but Anagrammatized; but they are as weary of their Physicians, as they were before of their disease. I cannot resemble our rich Citizens better, than to some Hogs I have read of, that were so fat, that Mice made nests in their buttocks, and they felt them not. But now they have pretty well eaten through their fat, and are come to the quick, and now they begin to be sensiblè of them. Here are some desperate Members, that gape wide to devour their Head, and there is nothing can rescue him but a miracle. And now, I hope, the largeness of my Letter will excuse me from adding any more. No wonder my Letters are so big, being so old before they come to hand. Let me only add that I am still  
Dear Ned, Thine, usque ad arras, T. F.   

To Mr. C. F.  
Friend, or Brother, choose you whether,  
Nature's bonds are strong in either.  
THough I never knew the happiness of a Brother, I count that want infinitely supplied, if not outgone, by the adoption of some friends: of which number, I need not now tell you, you hold a chief place. You may easily imagine how welcome your last was to me, the rather, because it assured me of your, not only receiving, but accepting mine; which (seriously) I doubted, when afterward I read Seneca's Caveat: Vide, non tantum an verumsit quod dicis, sed an ille cui dicitur veri patiens sit. But, believe me, it was pure friendship that precipitated my pen; and in friendship, those are great faults, that are not venial. And now it lies in your power only, to make those poor papers a true glass (as you are pleased to call them) in a reflection of my own face, without partiality; and indeed, this was the chief intent of my design at first: and you cannot think how I will hug it, nay, out-dote Narcissus himself. I hope, though you have entertained the Graces, you have not quite cashiered the Muses: For, though the Times be hard, yet they are no chargeable retinue. But, I know you expect some News: and truly, here is Nova, & inaudita rerum facies. Here, they that count Stables as good as Churches, have made our Church's Stables. But enough of this, and for this time, when I have styled myself  
Your diligent Observer, T. F.   

To Mr. L. C. L.  
Noble Sir,  
THe last clause of your last ingenious Letter, has proved a Prophecy: For, you are pleased to tell me, that you long for my answer, and truly I have made it a long answer, though a short letter: and that, till it come, every day's a month; and I am sure, it will be a month every day  you have it: yet be confident, it was not for want of love, but want of leisure. You know, Parvus amor loquitur, ingens stupet. Great love (like great grief) must move gradatim. Sir, that you tell me, since you saw my lines, you are grown womanish, and long for a view. I dare not think it flattery, because from a friend; yet am I not a little proud on't. Thus have we the happiness (like Princes) to woo by Picture, and wed by Proxy. For though I have hitherto been an Atheist to female love, yet have I thus often wooed, and as often won a second-self; for so's a friend, as well as a wife, and the marriage of the minds, is no less firm and honourable, than that of the body. And I will assure you, Sir, I am more ambitiousof that happy visit you are pleased to promise me, than some Amoretto would be of his Mistress. In the meantime, I shall hope to see you in those lively Images of your ingenious self. To those unmerited Encomiums you are pleased to bestow on my unworthy Poerne, I will answer nothing, save that I will make it an argument of your love to me; for 'tis a Symptom.  
Quae minimè pulchra sunt, ea  
Pulchra videntur Amanti.  
If now you expect any News, I must deceive your expectation; for here is none, save what you will see by the Printed Papers: and truly, I am afraid this cold weather will usher in a hotter Summer. You'll spell my meaning, though in a mystery; because, Plura literis committere, nec vacat, nec tutum est. But that I am  
Your most affectionate Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. C. F.  
Sir,  
I Received your late (I think last) Letter, fraught with Flowers: and, credit me, with as welcome a countenance, as we behold those early violets, the first fruits of the Spring, after a long and tedious Winter. I hearty congratulate your entrance into the Bond of Wedlock, for 'tis a bond, though a sweet-one, and question not but you have a fit yoke-fellow. Now are you a Complete Man, which the Rabbins say no man is, till he have his female Rib restored him, which before he wanted. That you have matched one of my name, I cannot account any other than an act of the Divine Providence, to make our Friendship grow up into a Brotherhood: So that now it shall be no longer as you say, 
Friend and Brother, choose you whether,  
But Friend and Brother both together.   
Hereafter shall I be not a little proud of my name, that it may be serviceable to the production of such sweet Flowers as yourself. Wonder not now, that in stead of greeting you with an Epithalamium, I grace you with an Elegy. Indeed, I must acknowledge, that mourning is not fit for a Wedding garment, yet most fit for me at this present, being really sensible of the death of the general Father of our Country, and fearful of the death of my own dear Father in particular. And to express myself in the words of the Poet, 
Hei mihi difficile est imitari gaudia falsa,  
Difficile est tristi fingere ment jocum.   
Give me leave only to present your Wife, my Sister, with my as hearty, as invisible salutes; and so I take my leave of you both, with that of the witty Catullus: 
— Boni  
Conjuges bône vivite, &  
munere assiduo valentem  
exercite juventam.  This is the hearty wish of him that is proud to be accounted  
Your glad (though sorrowful Friend and Brother, T. F.   

T. Mr. E. B.  
Ned, dear N. my N.  
AS I was going to write a Letter to thee, came thine to me; and, believe me, with no little welcome. I thank thee for thy Letter, more for thy Verses, but most of all, for thy constant perseverance in friendship. Go on, and let us (if possibe) draw the knot of our love yet faster. I dare presume thou wilt, and for me, may the Muses, or what's more, the Graces hate me, when I cease to love thee: For thy superlative wishes, may they rebound a thousand, times multiplied upon thine own head. But for the particular of Trading, truly, I shall choose (in these (times) to sit down, rather than set up; not daring to put to Sea, while this Tempest lasts. Me thinks, we wander still as in a night of miseries, and yet see no Hesperus of any comfort appear, that might be the welcome Harbinger of a more wished for, than expected Sun: We still like (the Andabates) fight blindfolded. No sooner has two Parties conquered one, but they oppose each other: and yet, as if the Tragedy were ended, the Soldiers have routed the Players. They have beaten them out of their Cockpit, baited them at the Bull, and overthrown their Fortune. For these exploits, the Alderman (the Anagram of whose name makes A Stink) moved in the House, that the Soldiers might have the Player's  given them. H. M. stood up, and told the Speaker, that he liked the Gentleman's motion very well, but that he feared they would fall out for the Fool's Coat. But you know who has Acted that part, and may very well merit that, among the rest of his gifts. Ask me no more for News, for now I am careless how things pass, as setting down this resolution, that nothing can happen well, nor worse than has. Being stun'd with that fatal blow, I am not sensible of any thing else: only that I am still  
Really thine, T. F.   

To L. C. L.  
Sir,  
LEaving the enclosed to speak for itself, and indeed the muteness of grief is Eloquence. I am sorry that our infant-friendship should find so sudden a grave of forgetfulness; but I hope it is not dead, though sleeping: Let this be as the Trump to awaken it to a Resurrection: For, assure yourself, it will be as welcome to me, as a dead debt to an Usurer. We are fallen into Times (like those the Father spoke of) In quibus non erat quandum vivere. And truly, these speaking pictures of my friends, are the only Scene of mirth to me in this deep Tragedy. Pardon me Sir, if I now claim a debt of you; for a promise is a debt, I mean an Elegy: I'll assure you I have expected it long, and I know it will not come short of mine expectation: I know you have delayed it all this while but to enhance its value; but there needs no art to make me prise a wel-writ Poem, and such I dare not but think yours to be, Forts creantur fortibus, etc. I dare not flatter myself into so high a presumption, as to merit it by any thing of mine, yet may this serve as a challenge; and though I lose my credit, I shall account myself a gainer by the bargain.  
The last, though not the least of those that honour you, T. F.   

To Mr. C. F.  
Sir,  
SO willingly could I have born the Bearer company, in so pleasant a Pilgrimage, that I cannot but at once complain of my hard hap, and envy this papers Happiness. 
But though my body be confined  
To time and place, so's not my mind.  For with my nimble fancy I outrun both this and them, and salute you, as the Food Nessus did Pythagoras, and called him by his name, as one admired for his flood of wisdom, if we credit the faith of Aelian. And I dare not suspect but you feed your friendship with equal flames, that it may be like the Vestal fire, perpetual. Nor can I think your pleasant Ford will prove a Lethe of forgetfulness, to drench the remembrance of our friendship. I have read of a mountain so high, that what was written in the ashes of one years' Sacrifice, was found legible in the next: So, hope I, the Characters of our friendship indelible by aught but Death. I am now changing the air, but not my mind of being  
The admirer of your worth, T. F.   

To Mr. J. P.  
Sir,  
I Received your Letter, and that with as much welcome as Penelope did her Ulysses, after an Age's absence. Seriously, that I have not hitherto writ to you, was not either for want of Love or Leisure, but blindfolded by ignorance of the place you make happy with your presence, I knew not how to find you out. Believe me, Sir, you, with my honest Lightfoot, are so deeply fixed in the fastest of my affections, that I shall sooner forget myself to be, than you to be my friends, or myself your servant: And think not this a compliment, but a lively Image of my thoughts; which, though I want your Art to give it colours, yet is as really deciphered in this poor black and white, as in the richest tincture. Sir, I pray let the shortness of my time (at present) excuse the shortness of my Letter, and be confident, that my next Answer shall be more answerable to your desert, and my desire; the height of whose ambition is but to continue  
Your Th. Ford.   

To L. C. L.  
True Philanax,  
NOw have I found a way to try thy yet unquestioned friendship; 'tis this. See here a poor Pamphlet shrouding itself under the patronising wings of all that dare style themselves the Author's friends. My absence from the Press, has filled it with an innumerable company of unpardonable Erratas: So that, besides the principal of pardoning the irregularity of the thing itself, there arises an unexpected score, for unlooked for Erratas. Well, it cannot now be helped: 'Tis the Image of thine unknown friend; and, though much disfigured in the limning, if thou canst but discern a Real Heart, 'tis all I wish for. Read it over, tell the errors, and tell me of them, so shalt thou truly approve thyself, what I would be loath not to believe thee. You know, Caecus amor proli. Parent's eyes are blind to their own, they read with the multiplying glass of self-love, which sees a spark of fire through an heap of ashes. Do me therefore that real part of friendship, as to send thy most rigid censure of it: And in so doing, thou shalt (if possible) yet farther oblige  
Thy T. F.   

To Mr. E. B.  
Ned,  
BEing now reduced to my primitive condition, I have for the present shaken hands with the world, and retired myself into my Cell: there will I lie perdu, and laugh at the madness of the Times, without envying their State. May they have as much as I contemn; 'tis riches enough for me, to lose as little as I can, which whatsoever it be, I am able to make up with thoughts of you my real friends. Excuse my present shortness, and measure not my love by my lines; but ascertain thyself I honour thee as an unparallelled piece of real friendship. I cannot question my farther distance will any whit turn the edge of thy quondam constancy, for what need words among friends. Ned, This unworthy piece will adventure upon thy charity, seriously, not without the shame of the Sender; For, besides the Errors of the thing, the Printer has filled it so full of gross Erratas, that I cannot give one without an Apology; and I cannot devise one good enough to equal the badness of the Press. However, draw the veil of thy friendship over the errors, and where thou findest them, pardon them. But one thing more, send me thy severest judgement of it; lay friendship aside, and tell me truth, without respect of person: Then shall I boast to have been  
Thine Eternal Friend, T. F.   

To M. C. F.  
My double Flower,  
AT length have I found a way, whereby this poor brat may bless the Author with the happiness of kissing your hands. 'Tis Freeborn, though begot in servitude. But I dare not venture upon your more judicious brow, without an Apology; not so much for the Printing, as the misprinting. I must needs say, whilst I was at the press to overlook it, I durst own it; but as soon as I was gone, the Printers so disfigured it, that I knew it not again, when I saw it. Had I been with them, I should have served them as the Philosopher did the Potter, reading and mis-reading his verses, he broke all his earthen ware: The Potter demanding his reason, he answered; You break my head, and I break your Pots. Seriously, I think I should break their pates as miserably as ever was poor Prisscians' by any Pedantic. But, prithee exercise thy friendship so far, as to send me a perfect Anatomy of it: I mean, thy judgement, without hands or eyes. Shut out the name of friend, whilst thou censurest it, and send me that censure, as to one that is no whit indulgent to his own. Then shall I boast to have vowed myself  
Thine absolute Friend, T. F.  
One thing I forgot to tell thee, the Printer has robbed it of its Letters of Credence: But you must put that upon his score.   

To Mr. J. W.  
Grace.  
ANd now I dare promise my Letter a welcome, marching under, and with so good a Grace. But I long to hear whether thou hast given thy Grace a Surname yet, for I cannot find it among all the Catalogue of Virtues. Perhaps I mistook the Index, and should have looked for W. but I could not so readily hear of my Gloves. Thou seest I have found a way to whisper my yet unparched friendship, though at a distance. I have read of a place called the Hall of Giants, in Mantua, which hath this strange and unusual Art, that how low soever one speak, at the Corners 'tis intelligible to be heard, whilst those in the Midst hear nothing. Me thinks, it fitly resembles our intercourse by Letters: Hereby shall we be able to conquer distance, and live together, though far asunder: Friendship hereby works like weapon-salve, at a distance, and undiscernible. But I intended a Letter, not a Character of Letters. Now having in part paid my debt promised, it will not be unmannerly to demand yours; for promises are debts: and I love as little to be indebted in courtesy, as in coin. If thou searchest the File of thy promises, among other particulars, thou wilt find this, Item, A Letter to  
The expecter of that Happiness, T. F.   

To Mr. E. B.  
Dear Ned,  
WIth thy Letter I received an Answer to my Search. 'Tis too long, and my time too short, and my wit too weak to return a Reply. Be contented only with an acquittance for the receipt of it; the rather, because I would not fail your expectation; for I hate abortives of that nature. But before I give you a discharge, I must quarrel with you, for some bad coin. Tell me of History, Quotations, and Comments! What Galilaean-glass didst thou use for Spectacles, when thou readest my letter? Your Comment has belied my Text: And what argument hast thou to prove me a Poet, except poverty; and perhaps, an ill face, with Hipponax, who was no Painter, as you make him, but a Poet, with so ugly a face, that two Gravers in stone set out his Statue to the world, and him to the derision of the beholders: At which he was so enraged, that whetting his Pen with anger, he did so thick discharge his Porcupine-quils, and his Badger- Iambics so bit, that (as the Stories say) for very anger made the two Gravers hang themselves. News I can tell thee none, but that Trading, which before was wounded, is now dead. That the Army have now done what the King all this while fought for, namely, put a point, if not a period to the perpetual Parliament. And having seized the King in Hurst-Castle, have possessed themselves of the major part of their Masters, and thrown them into Hell. But now I begin to grow as tedious to thee, as the time of thy absence will be to me: In detaining thee too long from that name  
So much obliged to you, T. F.   

To Mr. W. L.  
Honest Will.  
THe Romans had a custom, that after any one was dead, one hollowed three times in their ear, and after the third call, pronounced, Conclamatum est, He's passed recovery. I have called three times without an answer, yet I dare not pronounce a conclamatum est of our friendship, I know it is not dead. Thy last was in answer but to a part of mine. Dost thou mean to Comment upon my Letters in Tomes and Volumes? Certainly we shall make excellent Harmony with the several notes of Music, in Longs-Briefs, Sembriefs, Minims, Quavers, and Crotchets. But J. H. acts a part, (or rather no part) which, I think, is beyond the Musicians Ela: I find no name for it; but let not them overhear me, and I'll call it a Pause. Well, this conceit is neither Mean nor Base, but, if you will, Triple, because we are three. Send me word what fortune my poor brat finds in the world. how it goes off, and is relished: And do it as forgetting me to be the Author, or  
Thy Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. J. H.  
My best of friends,  
LIttle less than infinite will number mine engagements to thee; and when I shall quit scores with thee, I know not; yet may it show a willingness to pay in him that confesses the debt. I am glad of such an argument of something good in that worthless piece, as the dislike of the world will draw for a Conclusion. Really, I never intended they should like it, and should have suspected it, if they had: For he that will please the Times, must go attired in a Fool's coat, not a Scholars habit. Didst thou never hear of the Philosopher, that when (in an Oration) the people applauded him, turned about to some of his friends, and asked, What he had said amiss? Thy News of the Hangman's so untimely death, when he was at the full game of one and thirty, drew this ex tempore Epitaph from me. 
Here lies the Royal Headsman, who in's time,  
Of the Court-cards hath cut & drawn the Prime:  
But oh sad fate! death thus should Trump about,  
And now at one and thirty put him out.  But I haste to subscribe myself  
Thy much engaged Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. T. P.  
Sir,  
I Had hitherto fully resolved, that the name of Maecenas now lived only in Horace lines; but your late Largess has made me recant my humour, and believe that there are yet some that dare patronise the Muses when grown poor: But as the scarcity increases your honour, so would it my shame, if I should be so ingrateful as not to acknowledge it; though I must confess, my retribution will be as bad, as my mind is good, to erect a Pyramid to your singular example in this Age. Not that I intent any Panygericks of your praises, that were fit for the Pen of Pliny, or the Mouth of Cicero, Give me leave only (without a blush) to acknowledge my many engagements to your merit, lest I should meet with the obloquy of the French, who (the Historian says) remember good turns no longer than they are in doing. Sir, when I seriously consider your large reward of so short a desert, me thinks (had I Plutarch's art) I could parallel it with the bounty of Artaxerxes, who returned precious gifts to poor Sinaetas for his handful of water: Or, if that be too small, to Alexander the Great, who returned doubly to Anaxarchus, for a small gift he received of him. Thus rich grounds yield double flowers, for single seeds. Or yet, if these be too low, to Streton, who studied to excel all other men in Liberality. And might it not be thought flattery (to praise a man to his face) I would tell others, that your Generous disposition is a miracle in this Age) equalled, if not excelled one, of whom the Ancients boast, that was readier to give, than others to receive. But I fear to offend your modesty, & will therefore silently admire, what I cannot safely speak, knowing there is also an eloquence in silence. Yet would I not altogether have my thankfulness (like men near the River Ganges) without a Tongue. Alas Sir! what worth was there in that plain piece, that should cause so rich a recompense! Truly, Sir, besides the reverence (which as a dictate to nature's law) I always bore you, your many favours, but especially the last, will exact from me (without a compliment) the speech of Furnius to Caesar, Efficisti●ut viverem & morer ingratus. Excuse the relating it in its proper Idiom: For, though it be said, that the Tuscan Speech sounds better in the mouth of Stranger●, than of the Natives, I think not so of the Latin. You have so obliged me, that (to use the expression of a Father to his friend) I own you, Et quae possum, & quae non possum. So that, did I not hope to meet with a merciful Creditor, I must break without hope of compounding: However, though you have cast your gift into a shallow Ford, yet it is so transparent, that you may see it, without fear of being covered with any Lethe of forgetfulness. Nor have you cast your coin on so soft a nature, that you should not hear it jingle, at least in an Echo of Thanks: Although, when I have done all, my Thankfulness must be like Timantes his Pictures, wherein was more to be understood, than there was expressed. Thus, Sir, assuring you here is nothing, but what is the immediate Transcript of my Heart, I crave leave to boast myself,  
Sir, your solely engaged Servant, T.F.   

To Mr. J.H.  
Honesty,  
THy Letter was as welcome to me, as ever was rain to the parched earth. I thank thee thee infinitely, but that's no payment. Well, set all upon the Tally, and 'tis possible we may one day cross scores. Excuse my shortness at this time, and let this Country News supply the defect. 'Tis this: That Phoebus (now) courts the Lady Flora as rudely as he did his Mother, that bitten off her ear, when he should have kissed her.  
That the Quadrupled Animals far deliciously for they feed on Roast-meat every day.  
That the Sun hath saved the Husbandmen a labour of mowing and making their Hay; for it now grows Hay, like him that sowed Ma●●, to avoid the charge & trouble of making it of Barley.  
That the world being turned Round, our Climate is exchanged for Spain, or some more sweeting Country: That we here know no reason of this unparallelled Heat, unless it be because we have now so many ruling Suns in the Sphere where there used to be but One.  
That, if this weather hold, we are like to have no raw fish, but all ready boiled before taken, and all our drink burnt-wine, or vinegar.  
That the poor Ephemer is suffer Martyrdom every day.  
That, at night, when Sol is with our Antipodes, we feel his heat through the cracks of the earth.  
That this extreme heat makes the Heavens sweat a little sometimes, in stead of rain.  
Item, That my Ink is converted to Jet.  
Item, That there's no more News.  
For 'tis none that I am  
Your T. F.   

To Mr. R. R.  
Sir,  
I Dare not pretend to so much philology, as to criticise upon your term of Infinitiores gratias; your adopting (by your using) it, is sufficient to patronise it, and pass it through the guards of the strictest enquiry. Here could I well cease, and, in stead of answering (which I shall never) admire at your Elegant Letter you were pleased to honour me with: wherein, what streams of Eloquence! what flames of Love! what Rhetoric! what Reality! nay, what not! So that, were all Epistles like yours, I would not wonder that Learning and Letters are terms convertible. I honour the presence of my friends; but may it ever be supplied by such Letters, and I shall never complain of their absence. Before, I loved you as a friend, but now, I honour you as a wit. But how easily do passions exalted transport us! And how willingly do we yield the cloak of our resolutions to the flatttering Sun of praise! But I am too conscious of mine own unworthiness, to admit those large Encomiums your flourishing pen hath adorned me with. 'Tis a Posy of rare beauty; but I dare not accept it, lest there should lie a snake of flattery, under those fairer Flowers: And I wish you have not shown your Wit, and hazarded your Judgement. When I read your neat lines, really I cannot but love them for their gallantness, and pity them that, they had no better a Subject. Me thinks, they seem like rich  upon a poor man (that do not suit) or like the King's Saddle upon the Miller's horse. Who will not suspect your eyes blindfolded with love, that have made Paris choice, and extolled a homely face, for an Heavenly beauty. Well, since my deserts are too short to scale them, I shall (I'll assure you) keep it by me, as too rich a cloth for my meanness, and shall lay it before me, as a pattern of what would I be, rather than a picture of what I am. Now, to your Why, let me return a Wherefore I have (to use your expression, and who can use better) masked myself under the single letters of T. F. that being unknown, I might more freely hear the world's censure. I remember a facetious tale of a Frenchman, that had printed much, concealing his own name: One ask a man that brought his Copies to the press, Who the Author was? He said, 'Twas one that desired to serve God invisibly. My humbler ambition flies no such pitch; 'tis enough for me, if it may but reach to the service of my friends, of which number, I know you to be so intensely one, that, as 'tis said, that Plutarch once being named, the Echo answered, Philosophy; so, should I call R. (I doubt not but) it would return friendship. This is the Happiness of him that cares not to sacrifice his credit to your worth,  
T. F.   

To Mr. R. R.  
Sir,  
THat my late lines have produced your later Letter, I am not a little glad; but that they should occasion a quarrel, I should be more sorry. If the exception be my fear of flattery, know, that it was not the Height of your expressions, but my own lowness, that frighted me into such a fear. Would not a little David think himself mocked, to be proffered a Goliah's armour? But, for my part, your merits are caveat sufficient to keep my words from the least suspicion: And the construction of my words will be best made by the Grammar-rule of friendship; for I was never guilty of so much Rhetoric, as to tell a learned lie. My tongue and my pen (if I deceive not myself) are always Relatives: Because Favorinus praised the Peaver, should not we praise Health? And because some Romans sacrifice to that, might not others to Aesculapius? 'Twere more shame to deny praises where they are due, than to admit them where they are not. Why therefore are you so bashful? as if those parts (something above the degree of admiration) had crept into your bosom unawares? And though your modesty is such, (as may silently shame my forwardness) that you will not show yourself to the world, like that plant in Pliny, which buds inwardly, and shooteth out no bud, blossom, or leaf outwardly; yet give us leave to admire it, though you bury your worth in the ore of obscurity. We count him a rich man, that has his wealth in his chest, not on his back; yet excuse me, if I think it an envious disposition, in him, that would play so softly on his Lute, that none should hear but himself. But whether is my pen straggled? Surely as far from the matter of my first intentions, as the answers of the two deaf persons were from one another, that pleaded before a deaf Judge in the Greek Epigram. To return therefore from my digression to your Letter. How shall I interpret those expressions, of exact, ingenious, and learned Comment? rare, transcendent, and incomparable Answer, not to say of flattery, but of very large Hyperboles!  
But you have made me amends for them, when in the next sentence you handsomely call me fool under the name of the Indians: where you tell me, I look on myself afar off, through a perspective, and upon you near hand, etc. Me thinks, I cannot obtain of myself to believe, that I am farther from myself, than I am from you; and therefore the multiplying glass must go with the greater distance: But I am afraid I have turned the wrong end, and rather overseen than overvalued your crescent parts. To your desire of seeing some other pieces of mine, I must only answer, that I am very much unprovided of any, for my store lies in a Chaos, as yet unformed, in mould unmelted, or unminted; but such as I have will be proud of your Sight and Censure. And for a continuance of this literal correspondency, know that I cannot be so much an enemy to myself, as not to desire it; and with as much affection as I am  
Your humble Admirer, T. F.   

To M. J. H.  
Honest Jack,  
THe ancient Romans, who made a Deity of every thing, yet sacrificed not to death, because from death are no Returns. For the same reason, should I not write to London, and by consequence, not to yourself. Trumpeters love to sound where there is an Echo, and I love to write whence I can hear an answer. Seeing once a Weaver at work, I observed, that by casting his shuttle from one side to the other, he finished his web: Therein I saw a lively Emblem of friends correspondency by letters; if either fail, the web's imperfect. I make it now my employment, that the ball should not fall on my side. I must confess I have been from home of late, but now I am returned to that, and to my custom. Letters unanswered, like meat undigested, breed no sweet breath. Well, I shall expect an answer as long as the time I have waited for one, till when I shall resolve to be  
Your most assured Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. S. M.  
Sir,  
OBliged by your courtesies, your command, and my duty, that ingratitude must be more than Herculean, that could break this threefold tie. I have resolved therefore now, to be rather presumptuous, than ingrateful; that I may tender you thanks for the engagements you have laid upon me, though the very act increase them; and to assure you, that I am nothing of the nature of that beast, that is so forgetful, that though he be feeding never so hard and hungrily, if he cast but back his head, forgets immediately the meat he was eating, and runs to look after new. And if my silence seems to accuse me, believe me, Sir, it was merely out to selfconsciousness of my own unworthiness to present you with any thing worth the reading; yet also remembering, that the great Alexander would admit a return of Epistles between himself and Publius his Bit-maker. I am a little encouraged you will at least pardon my poor scribbling; if not for itself, or the sender, yet because it carries thanks in the front, and they are currant coin, and in which the poorest may be rich, without fear of a Sequestration. That word that hamstrings all industry, and makes men embrace the Stoical saying for a Maxim, Benè qui latuit, benè vixit. And truly, for my part, I think we are fallen into Nero's age, in which Tacitus saith (Inertia, sapientia fuit.) Sloth was a virtue. When the Ship of the Commonwealth is steered by a Tempest, 'tis best lying still in the Harbour: But I intent an Epistle, no Satire. I am  
Sir (without a compliment) your very humble servant T. F.   

To Mr. J. A.  
James,  
PArdon the familiarity of the Title, I use no compliments to my friends; nor do I think them my friends that use them to me. The Italians speak out of experience, The more tongue, the less heart; and you know their Proverb, La penna della Lingua si dove tingere nel inchiostro del cuore. I could wish that all the letters of friends were like Tully's, Epistolae Familiares; and the Polite Politician tells me, that the greatest ornament of all Epistles is to be without any. James, I love thee, I honour thee, and that sine fuco, sine fallaciis. I would have my letters like the Herb Persica, which the Egyptians offered to their god Isis, whose fruit was like an heart, and the leaf like a tongue. Hereby do I talk with thee, now absent, and if thou wilt vouchsafe me the like, thereby shall I see thee. Pardon me, if I challenge, nay, expect your your promise, which if you perform not, I shall suspect your humour something of kin to that of an excellent Archer, that would rather lose his life, than show a trial of his skill. Letters are like those mutual pawns the Grecians gave as Symbols of their friendship; like Dido's little Aeneas, to supply their absence. Hereby are they present in England, Spain, or France, all in an instant, and at once. Let it not be thought a Paradox, for Love goes beyond Art. But what do I talk of love and friendship in this Age, wherein fast friends are gone on pilgrimage, and their returns uncertain. But I grow tedious: 'Tis the fault of parting friends; and now, like one in that ecstasy, I know not what to say next: whether to commend thy diligence, in outvying Ulysses, in that which the Poet says made him wise. Whilst I am like the silly Grasshopper, that lives and dies in the same ground: Or shall I fear thy danger, and with Charonidas, wonder not at those that go to Sea once, but at those that go again: Or shall I dare to assume the presumption, for me, who am no Traveller, to counsel thee, that art; no, I dare not. Yet let me remember thee of the Speech of one that was; That a Traveller must have Eagles eyes, Ass' ears, the tongue of a Merchant, a Camel's feet, a Hog's mouth, and an Ass' back. In a word, mayst thou measure, thy happiness by the Ell of thine own desires, which shall not exceed the wishes of.  
T. F.   

To Mr. J. H.  
Sir,  
YOur Letter was as welcome to me, as your absence is tedious. Compliments suit not the reality of my intentions; but imagine all the mere complimental expressions of flattering Courtship put into truth, and all fall short of my affections. To obey your command, if your patience will pardon the tediousness, I will give you as brief an account as I can of my present estate. I have read, that one Philostratus lived seven years in his Tomb, to acquaint himself with Death. Truly, I have conversed above two seven years among the Dead, for so are our Authors esteemed; and indeed, our Shops may not unfitly be resembled to a Charnel-house: and there, and thus, have I gotten such a familiarity with those faithful and unflattering Counselors, that I rather chose to lie in the valley of obscurity, than to climb the dangerous Alps of aspiring greatness, so long as the wind blows so high, and the stream runs so swift. Rather had I sit still (by their persuasion) than rise to fall; or to far hardly, than feed on others bread: And, me thinks, I find myself very well deciphered by the Emblems, which represented certain Grasshoppers, that suck the dew, and pass their time singing, with this Motto; Di questo mi contento, è megilio spero. With this I am content, and hope better, when God shall so order the tide of occasions, and the blasts of my friend's favour, to launch me from the poor harbour, where I now lie wind-bound. Thus, Sir, I hope I have made you reparation for my late silence, not doubting but you will make it but a Parenthesis, which shall break no sense in our friendship: And this I shall esteem a very great addition to your former Engagements; to all which, I shall without scruple Subscribe  
T. F.   

To E. W. Esquire.  
Sir,  
COuld my messenger have delivered his errand in but intelligible nonsense, I should willingly have spared you this trouble: But since it must be so, I shall endeavour to make a virtue of necessity, and from hence take occasion to tell you, that so many have been your favours, and so few the returns of my thanks hitherto, that they have rendered mine ingratitude as superlative as your goodness. Though you writ your courtesies in running water (to which a Ford is of very near kin) I desire to write my thanks in marble; and had I so advantageous an occasion, I would make the whole world the Witness of mine Obligations. To this purpose, I could wish this poor paper immortal, that my gratitude, at least, might rival your bounty. But, Sir, you have endeavoured to make me live and die in your debt, which I shall rather resolve to suffer, than to slander your nobleness with a thought of my slender requital. Now, Sir, if you please to honour me with the additional courtesy of your Cambden, you shall hereby infinitely add (if they surmount not that piece of Arithmetic already) to your former favours and my engagements. And may this serve for my Surety, that I will keep it carefully, use it warily, and return it speedily. Thus, Sir, kissing the hands of your fair Venus, and her three Graces, I humbly take my leave, who am proud to wear the livery of  
Sir, your and their most obliged Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. E. H.  
Sir,  
HAving armed myself cap à pe, with patience to receive as you promised, your most rigid censure, I find, in stead of arms, you encounter me with flowers, and, like Paris, make me stoop to your golden ball. Nor do I less wonder at it, than the poor Norvegian did, the first time he saw roses, who durst not touch them for fear of burning his fingers, being much amazed to see (as he supposed) trees to bear fire. With little less wonder, do I behold your learned lines, nor with less amazement, to see flames of love, and streams of eloquence so Homogenial.  
To your Letter, I shall return nothing, but only tell you, that what I understand is excellent, and so I believe, and admire the rest. Your Allegory of the Cook is neatly dressed, but except you be pleased to tind one of his lights, I shall fear to remain in darkness, and discover no farther than his superficies. The censures of those blind-minded Jews you speak of, I shall account my greatest commendations: Like Crates the Philosopher, who, having received a blow on the face by one Nicodromus, a man full of base condition (and as base conditions) was contented, for revenge, to set these words on his wound, Nicodromus faciebat. To those large Encomiastics you bestow on my poor Pamphlets, I shall only say I am sorry they had no fit subjects; yet am I glad I was so happy to afford you any ground for your nimble fancy to work on, and shall here promise you, that if you please to continue this literal commerce, you shall not want a whetstone to sharpen your sith, as you are pleased to desire; and this property I may have (like the whetstone) though blunt myself to sharpen another. Nor need you fear that you can use too much ingenuity to me; for I am no whit affected with the heresy of the Times, which count learning and wit (as you say) the scum of the bottomless pit; but know how to honour it as much as I want it. In a word, Sir, I thank you for your Letter, more for your Verses, but most that you please to style me  
Sir, your very Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. R. R.  
Sir,  
I Return you your New-Forrest, with as many thanks as it merits, and that's infinite; which submission to your better judgement (from which I would not sooner descent, than from truth itself) I conceive this not at all behind the first part, but in time; it appearing to me of as fine a thread, and no less curious workmanship. Happily the others, being chequered with foreign flowers, may render it more delectable. But why should we think a foreign garden of flowers, and perhaps some weeds, better than an English Forest? Well may it be more sightly, but, I'm sure, 'tis not so serviceable. Scarce can I hold my pen from glutting in his praises, who is far above its highest flight, did not the Italian proverb check me, and tell me truly, La Lode nascer deve, quando è morto chi si ha' da Lodar: That praises should not be born, till the praised be dead. I will therefore content my seff to say, that I hope such pleasant groves are not superstitious; and could wish, that the whole Kingdom were so turned to a Forest, and the Author the Ranger General.  
That's body might not be confined,  
Who's a free Monarch in his mind;  
One who with's Majestic Pen,  
May give the Law to other men.  
Sir, I have sent you a Clavis to it, not that I think you need any, but that, if you invite any friend to those pleasant walks, they may have an entry of understanding, without picking the lock by a false construction. It was done at a heat, and I have not time to file it over, but such as it is, 'tis yours. If you please to send me the last Edition of the King's learned pieces, I shall keep it carefully, return it speedily, and remain continually  
Sir, yours to command, T. F.   

To Mr. W. L.  
Sir,  
I Must esteem it an happiness to hear of you, though I cannot hear from you: and that I heard nothing of your sickness, till I heard also of your recovery; so that now to tell you I am sad or sorrowful for your sickness, were as preposterous, as to grieve for your death after your resurrection, or to bid you good-night in the morning when you are risen. But like the trembling needle between two equally attractive Lodestones, so am I between the two different passions of joy and sorrow: Joy for a friends recovery, and sorrow for a friends restraint. Not to be joyful for your recovery, were to envy a public good, and I might justly be accused for an enemy to the State, in not rejoicing at a happiness so common, that deserves a day of Public Thanksgiving. Then, not to be affected with the sorrows and sufferings of a friend, and such a friend as E. B. were as great a crime as his whom the Romans condemned to death, For wearing a Crown of Roses in a time of common calamity. I long to hear how our honest friend stands, since the High Court sits; which if I do not now from thee, I shall think, that whilst thy body suffered under the fire of a Fever, thy friendship was sick of an Ague; that though the Dog-star reigned in thy blood, thy affections laboured under Capricorn. But, since thy sickness is in its Declension, I shall expect thy friendship to be again Ascendant, that before did Culminate. And for my part, think not that thirty mile's distance, cold reins, or your silence, can make me forget you, or that I am  
As much as ever Sir, your Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. J. H.  
Sir,  
HAving hitherto waited with silence, to hear of your receipt of my Letter, and finding none, makes me fearful that it miscarried in the delivery; and I am not ignorant, or insensible of the many abortives of the Carrier's Midwifery. But I hope your candour is sufficient to dispel all clouds of suspicion that might seem to eclipse my reality, or to think that I am so much foe to myself, as not to desire, or at least not to endeavour the gainful commerce of your letters. I am not ignorant that all kind of Learning hath been wrapped up in Letters: And I assure you, Sir, I shall, in the enjoyment of yours, think myself little less honoured, than I do lucilius by Seneca's. Nor shall I be a little proud, that I may be any ways (though but occasionally) instrumental to you, to exercise your excellency in this way: Neither do I altogether doubt of the pardon of my rude scribbling, because I am  
Sir (without Compliment) your very humble Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. E. H.  
Sir,  
THough I have paid the Principal, in returning your books, I am still indebted for the Interest you were pleased to lay on them, in giving you my account of them. For your Caussin, I return you thanks, in stead of censures, wishing that he were now alive, that our late Tragedies might be acted over again by his highflying quill, and be thereby committed to incredulous posterity. The Novum Lumen Chymicum, I understand, is lately Translated; and indeed it were a wonder, if there were any New Lights, that we should not have in English in these Times. But, because you told me you lent me that only to laugh at, I shall only tell you, it no whit failed your intention, or my expectation. Now for your Vaughan, be pleased to take notice, that he is since answered by one Moor learned and better famed than He; and therefore I shall let that Answer be mine: Yet withal, that I serve such Books as the good Bishop served Persius, when he threw him on the ground with a Si nonvis intelligi, debes negligi. Thus, as the Hollanders sometime made money of pasteboard, I make my payment in Paper, and in this coin I shall pay you liberally for your Arithmetic. Believe me, Sir, 'tis Homer's Iliads in a Nutshell, and so handsomely compacted, that the doggedest Critic cannot fasten on it; only let me tell you, it is deficient in one thing, and that is, that it is not able to help me to number the Engagements you have lain upon  
Sir, your unmeriting Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. R. R.  
Sir,  
HE's a bad debtor that pays by halfs; but he's a worse that never pays. That I may not be guilty of that superlative ingratitude, I have sent you two Books of your three. And for Bacon, I pray think it not long, if I should keep it till Lent; for I mean, to all his Experiments, to add one more of your friendship. If you expect an account of your 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: know, it is far above my censure, as my praise; I go to that, as to my Bible, yet something in Allegiance. Certainly, that Portraiture was drawn by a Divine hand, and wrote with a pen pulled from some Angel's wing. If there be one that wrote by divine inspiration since the Apostles times, 'twas He, when He penned those Meditations. Henceforth his Pen shall be his Sceptre, His Book his Throne, and the whole World his Empire: There shall he live and reign, and be as immortal, as some of his enemy's malice.  
Take a more particular account of your Balzack thus: I undertook the reading of him, rather for penance, than profit; but having read him once, that induced me to read him again, and the second time drew on a third, and the third a fourth; and now I send it you home, lest if I should keep it a little longer, I should transcribe the whole Book. A better Character cannot be given of him, than he gives of himself, take it therefore in his own words, That his Writings smell more of musk and amber, than of oil and sweat. But to save time, I have sent you a Pamphlet, that may serve as a foil to set off Balzack the better: Wherein expect neither Cicero nor Seneca; neither Howel nor Balzack; neither Learning nor Language; nor any Letters beginning with the ambitious title of My Lord, or Madam, they are more proud of the name of Friend, and, carrying that stamp, they presume to be currant, though they be but brass. Not that I intent to make my private Letters public, but only to advance a community in friendship, and to fulfil a command of yours in a letter (in that particular) yet unanswered, of seeing some pieces of mine. And truly, these are no other than pieces; yet, as in the several pieces of a broken Looking-glass, you shall in every one see the perfect reflection of  
Sir, yours in all Offices of Friendship, T. F.   

To Mr. E. B.  
Honest Ned,  
RAther had I accuse the Carrier with negligence, than thee with forgetfulness: Nor can I think the requesting of a friendly courtesy, could scare thee into an unfriendly silence. Sure ye are all struck dumb at London, or your ink, if not your affections, is frozen. The serious thought of which, hath made me almost believe, that the name of friend is but the fabulous birth of some Philosophical Poets, or Poetical Philosophers, and fitted for Sir Thomas moor's Utopia, or Plato's Commonwealth; not for an Iron Age, or the dregs of Time. If thou art silent because thou hast no News to write, writ that thou hast none: However, let the world see there is one dares call himself a friend, though in such an Age as this. And believe it, that the all-self-devouring teeth of time shall never eradicate the name of B. from out the heart of him, whose only pride is to tell the world who is  
Ned, thine inseparable Friend, T. F.  
Postscript.  
You may, if you please, communicate this to all those that call themselves my friends, and tell them, that till I hear the contrary, I shall suppose their practice of silence intended for my pattern.  
Vale.   

To Mr. W. L.  
Will.  
NOr will I accuse your silence, nor excuse my own; 'tis sufficient I have broken the Ice, and adventured to tell thee, 'tis possible to be a friend, and silent; nor do I despair to hear the same from you: In confidence of which, I say no more now, but tell you, I expect it. To your Father thus much. Concerning the reprinting of my Characters, and augmenting them, I have had some serious thoughts, and the result is this. I find them, upon perusal, not suitable to the present State, being Calculated for the Meridian of a Kingdom, not a Commonwealth, they are now like old Almanacs out of date. And to go to them with the Arithmetic of Addition and Substraction, with the Pencil and the Sponge, were to make myself guilty of what I there condemn. Besides, they were then my resolved (and not yet retracted) thought: So that I hold it not safe for you to print, or me to enlarge them, nor this, farther than to tell thee, I long to hear from thee, and of our dearest Ned. I have a Letter hath been designed for him a long time, did I but hope there were a crevise in his close prison, that I might peep through to assure him that I am his (as thine)  
Still constant Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. E. H.  
Sir,  
YOur last Letter I met on the way, as drawn thither perhaps by Sympathy, like the Magnetic steel, to meet her loved Loadstone. I know love and friendship work miracles, and act in Paradoxes: It makes the enjoyers thereof flame without consuming, present and distant (if that word may be admitted in friendship) all at once. By this I see my friend, when invisible, and hear him, though silent. Like the Philosopher's Stone, of which the Chemists so much boast, Contraria operatur, sed semper in beneficium natura. This is (if any thing) the true Sympathetick powder, that works truer, and at a greater distance, than weapon-salve. Willingly could I lose myself in this pleasing Maeander; but I will rather commend the Theory to your more active Pen, and resolve to act the practic part myself. For your Verses, I will rather remain in your debt, than pay you with bad coin. I assure you Sir, 
I have no vein in verse; but if I could,  
Inclose each word a Mine, believe't I would:  
I only Court her that drops Elegies,  
Whilst others Muses sing, mine only cries.  Yet shall I not refuse what your injunction shall lay upon me, because I am  
As really your Friend, as T. F.   

To Mr. T. P.  
Sir,  
FOr me to attempt an Answer to your Letter, were to venture at the flights of an Eagle, with a Sparrows wing. The Italians tell me in a Proverb, The higher the Ape climbs, the more he shows his nakedness. And truly, should I endeavour to reach the pitch you have set me for a pattern, I should rather imitate Icarus in his fall, than you in your flight. It is enough for me to admire and applaud the happiness of your undertake, that can at once captive Apollo and the Muses, and make the Triumphs of former Ages, the Trophies of your Pen's victories. Where you profess yourself Davus, I must confess myself no Oedipus: Giving you therefore the liberty the Civil Law allows (and I should be uncivil if I should not) to interpret your own words, I will guess at your meaning, and return you, not only an Answer to your Riddle, but the reason of it. Sir, if my less comprehensive Genius deceive me not, you like not Latin lace to an English suit; and herein you have light upon an humour, that I have long since retracted, and esteem now as too pedantical. But you may perceive they savour of the ferula, and imagine my then regnant humour; like young stomaches, that like raw fruit, better than reasted food: Yet must I farther confess, I have been so conscious of mine own inabilities, and so confident of the Ancients worth, that I have preferred to use their more refined lines, than my unfiled language: So that I discover in myself the fancy of the Painter's boy, who thinking to supply the defect of his skill, by the richness of his colours, had loaden Venus' picture with gold and silver, in stead of native beauty: For which he met with this censure from his Master, that he had made her rich, whom he could not make fair. So have I embroidered my courser cloth with others ends of gold and silver. It only remains that I tell you, that I cannot tell you how much you have won me by that one act of dealing freely with me; and to assure you, that you could not have studied a way to oblige me more. And that you may believe my reality herein, be pleased to inform me of the Author of your Utinam nescire Literas; and if it prove the speech of that Negro-black Tyrant, you shall find my submission as humble, as your conquest noble. If you think the Frontispiece discrepant to the following leaves, I shall conform the printed Title to the written Book, not the written Book to the printed Title: For I resolve not to change their name, nor alter their property of Familiar Letters, for my private friends. But I hinder you too long, from what I only intended, to acknowledge myself  
Sir, your conquered Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. T. P.  
Sir,  
THat that poor grain of mine hath produced me so sudden, and yet so large a return, argues the fruitfulness of the Soil wherein 'twas cast, not the goodness of the seed, or of the Sowers less skilful hand. Hereafter shall I believe, what before I took for a fable, That there is some ground so fruitful, that the husbandman reaps at night, what he sowed in the morning. Your Christening my fancy with the name of a Thrush, might very well teach me the modesty of that volatile, who is said to be silent, whilst the Nightingale (chief chanter of the airy choir) produceth her more clear and tuneful note, did I not hope by my plain Song to gain your more artificial descant. Your proclaiming my attempt rather Pheatontick than Icarian, is no more (pardon the boldness of my ignorance) than for a man to be killed with a silver sword, rather than an iron dagger, the only pre-eminence being in this, that he perished like the other, but with this addition of honour (if it be so) of falling under the burden of more bold attempts. Where before I but confessed, I now profess myself no Oedipus, nor made I any riddles, but guessed only at the meaning of yours, and therefore am not apprehensive of your Analogy of the Cobbler (whom I leave to maintain his more ambitious title of a Translator) unless you intended your picture of your friend, like Horace's monster, which gins with a fair woman's face, and ends in a foul fishes tail at last. But it was your Phaeton's fate, to meet with so dangerous a fall, from the Chariot of the Sun to a Shop-window. Nor need we any Sphinx, to unriddle this repugnancy in terms, whose part it was to make them. At what words of mine you admire, I know not, 'tis my endeavour to avoid that Solecism Augustus found fault with in M. Antony, of writing such things as men should rather wonder at, than understand. I applaud the happiness of your Genius, who can coin words with your own stamp; only I suppose, that of unoepodize, would be no whit less currant, were it shorter by the first syllable. Of that Socratic vice you speak of, I have not so much in me, as to defend it: Far be it from me, to adopt the quarrel of those great Clerks; it is enough for me, if I may boast myself their, and Learning's unworthiest servant. To your confirmation of Nero's utinam, I now yield my full belief, and should do so, you affirming it, though all Historians denied it, and withal, my promised submission: Only give me leave to cleave the hair, and tell you, that it was the speech of Nero, though not then a barbarous tyrant, having then but newly entered his Quinquennium, so much by all extolled, whilst retaining his Master Seneca's more than Philosophical instructions. And so I leave him, when I have told you, I shall accept those unmerited Encomiums you impose upon me (with that then good Emperor's speech to the Senate giving him thanks) Cum meruero. Sir, I do, and shall (I think) persist in confining those poor papers from the eye of the world, not daring to let them go abroad in this super-fine Age in so homely a dress; nor herein can I apprehend myself guilty of that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, you Prophesy me guilty of, unless it be, in that I have answered your letter before I had returned you the due thanks & praises the worth of that would justly exact from the most sullen ingratitude. Believe me, Sir, you are Master of an Imperial pen, and would you once break through the veil of derogating silence, your beams would be sufficient to create a day, even in the nightie Chaos of my duller intellect, to cast a cloud upon all former names, and benight posterity. But I shall rather choose an admiring silence, than an undervaluing commendation, because I desire to make good to a tittle the title of  
Sir, your faithful Servant, and not unfaithful friend, T. F.   

To Mr. T. L.  
Sir,  
THat you may see how willing I am to comply with every occasion that may put me in a capacity of serving you, I shall now answer your command, with my opinion of Speed, and his History. For the History, it is a work of deserved commendations, and without any exception. For the Author, I cannot so well assure you; but if Speed be not too much wronged in the relation, he was but the Journeyman-Taylor in the business: It was (say some) cut out by abler workmen, he only made it up, and in that hath merited the commendations of a very good workman, besides what we are indebted to him for the fashion, the lining, facing, and pressing; but for the last, I believe we are more beholden to the Printers press, than to his goose. This presents me with a fair occasion of presenting you with a Copy of Verses, not unworthy your reading, upon Speeds Chronicle, sent from a Son to his Father. 
God be my Speed, so I began, 'tis true,  
And now 'tis time to wish a Speed to you:  
Then briefly thus, as long as life endures,  
God be my Speed, and let my Speed be yours.  
If great books be great evils, lo a shift,  
To turn this Speed into a lesser gift.  Take but some vowels out, and then 'twill be but an Epistles Preface, S. P. D.  
Excuse me, for once, if I make it the Epilogue, and with it conclude myself  
Sir, your real, though remote Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. C. F. Parvus amor loquitur, ingens stupet.  
Sir,  
WOuld you measure my love by my silence, you could not pronounce it short. Oft hath my pen been on the paper to write to you, and as oft been taken off, with a consideration of the rudeness of my rustic scribbling, which is now worn into such an habit, that you will willingly retract whatever suspicion you have formerly had of any ingenuity in me. However, lest a continued silence should cast me in (and out of) your affection I am resolved to say something though it be but to confess myself guilty of that most unpardonable offence in friendship, Ingratitude. Yet am I not without some excuses, which would be ready to plead in my behalf, did I not rather wish to receive a new life, of happiness by your pronouncing my pardon. I am your prisoner, deal with me as you please, only grant me my liberty, without which, I cannot make good, as I desire, the title of  
Sir, your though rude, yet real Friend and Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. D. P.  
Sir,  
PResuming your goodness will pardon the rudeness of the address, I have sent a brace of Pamphlets to kiss your hands. Being conscient to themselves of their own unworthiness, like truant Scholars, they durst not appear without an Apology; neither should they, or this, but that I know you daily meet with such Exercises of your patience, and that I know you have indulgent charity enough to cover the faults of those you love. Please you to suspend your severer thoughts, and to make a small truce with your nobler employments, I shall humbly beg their pardon in a very few words. That they came no sooner, was out of necessity; that I shall crave you will vouchsafe to indulge; that they come now, is out of duty, and that I shall promise myself, you will deign to accept. Sir, I hate to be officiously injurious to my friends, and therefore I will not increase my fault, in excusing theirs: only let me impetrate one thing more, which, I conceive, will deceive your expectation. It is not that you will correct their faults, that the world knows you can do; nor that you will forgive them, that your wont candour flatters me you will do; but, that having atteined your hands (which are the bounds of their ambition) they believe they have obtained their end, and they desire not to outlive that happiness; but that you will condescend, as I have made them an offering, to make them a sacrifice, be you the Priest, your hearth the Altar, and their Urn; and besides the courtesy you shall do yourself, in saving the reading of such nugacities, you shall thereby answer their desert, and my desire, who am so far from craving their reprieve, I would myself be the hastener of their punishment. Here would I cease, but I am loath to lessen the noble office of your mercy; by what impulse of spirit I know not, but such is the tendency of my desires, to express the reality of their professions to your service, that to say I love you, is beneath the ardour of my affection: I am ready to profess, with that old Roman, who proclaimed, he was not only in love with Cato, but enchanted with him. Only here is the defect, that, as the Italians say, He that paints the flower, cannot paint the smell: So, in professing my service to you, I cannot discover the reality farther than you will please to give me credit, and believe that I am  
Sir, your most real Friend, and Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. T. J.  
Sir,  
WHat in Superiors is counted gift and bounty, in Inferiors amounts to no more than homage and gratitude: And well it is, if, in stead of abating, it increase not the audit of their Obligations. Such is the nature of the present; and though it pretend not to acquit the least part of that debt your civility hath involved me in, yet shall I hope it may arrive at the tender of a grateful acknowledgement; and I wish my thanks may prove but as large, as you were liberal. Think it not strange that I have been thus long silent, nor account me an unclean beak, if I still chew the chud in a thankful remembrance. Sir, the noble entertainment you vouchsafed to me, a stranger hath cherished the enclosed pamphlets into a confidence, that you will deign them not only a favourable acceptance, but that your goodness will also grant them the benefit of the late Act of Pardon, without which, they will seem as much strangers to our Commonwealth, as their Author was to yourself, who should now too much wrong your noble nature, if he should not profess himself,  
Sir, your most indebted Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. C. A.  
Sir,  
I Being of late arrested at the suit of some importunate occasions, which would willingly be called necessary, I have been so much their prisoner, that till I had satisfied the utmost minute, I was so far from a possibility of being your servant, that I was not my own Master. Now must I compound with you, and entreat, that if my so long silence deserve not to be answered with a repeated act of that dormant pardon you long since pleased to grant me, yet, that you will at least, accept of this as Interest, till opportunity shall enable me to discharge the whole. I shall now begin to turn the weekly hourglass of our Commerce, and hereafter measure my life by my letters: For, though I have intermitted my constant course, you are in no more likelihood to be rid of this trouble, than you have hopes of losing your Ague by the alteration of the fits. If friendship be the incorporating of two bodies, by an union of souls making but one of two: Me thinks, this constant correspondence fitly answers to that deservedly applauded notion of the Circulation of the Blood. It shall be my care, that no stop be made on my side, that we may preserve the life of our Friendship, during the life of  
Sir, your Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. T. P.  
Sir,  
BEsides the natural Antipathy of my Genius to Controversies, I have been of late so divorced from myself and my own thoughts, by the motion of an higher wheel than my own occasions, that I am altogether discouraged to give you any account of this piece, upon so transient a view, that I fear I shall give you as ill an account of it, as he did of Venice to King James, that told him, He knew nothing of it, for he road post through it: Yet, to satisfy your command, against all these discouragements, I shall adventure a few hasty lines to your more settled judgement. Sir, did not the Author's worth out-poize those petty exceptions that might be taken in advantage, as the scarce sense of the title, and some other inconsiderate expressions in the whole, that seem to clash one against another, I shall only commend to your consideration these few thoughts. The Proverb is common (wherein wit and experience club, to say much in a little) That marriages are made on Earth, but matches are made in Heaven. I am easily induced to believe, that the omniscient providence, which descends to take care of the falling of a sparrow, and the number of our hairs, should much more take care of that grand Climacterical Action of a man's life, the restoraration of his lost rib: I shall therefore not fear to affirm, that a man hits not upon his mate by chance or casualty, but by the undeclinable fate of God's praedetermination: And having laid down this for a ground, I shall adventure this Superstructure, that it is not in the power of a man to disjoin himself from the companion which providence hath joined him to, in so indissoluble a link of amity, that one member is not more truly a part of a man's body than his Wife; and therefore he ought rather to undergo with patience what God hath ordained him, perhaps for other reasons than he can understand, than to forgo it with wilfulness. I remember it was the resolution of a complete man, That he took the untowardness of his wife as a School of patience. Yet, to pursue the Allegory, though I would not have a man to cut off a limb for a curable disease, yet if it outface art and nature in a remedy, than Ense rescidendumest. And having done so, I cannot suppose it lawful (though I should grant all his assertions for indisputable truth) that such a man should admit another member, like a wooden leg; and, if I mistake not (to help him a little) the weight of our Saviour's argument, lies in the last clause, that whosoever puts away his wife for other cause than adultery, commits fornication, If he marry another. To come as near therefore as I can, to comply with your Author, I shall lay down this Position, that it is altogether unlawful for a man or wife to divorce, If both parties be not equally agreeing to it, and if either of them marry again. And to this I shall add this inconvenience, that being parted, they must not expect that the Devil, who is the Father and Factor of divisions, will be less active in so wide a breach, that is so ready to widen the least cranny of discontent into his advantage: He that will creep in when the doors are shut, shall we imagine him to be less willing to enter when they are wide open? This farther, I must confess, there are some natures so Hetrogenious, that the straightest, and most gordian knot of Wedlock is not able to twist, of which the Epigrammatist speaks my mind better than I can myself: 
Non amo te Sabide, nec possum dicere quare,  
Hoc tantum possum dicere, non amo te.  Take the English, is the words of a Gentleman to his wife. 
I love thee not Nell,  
But why, I can't tell:  
But this I can tell,  
I love thee not Nel.  So that I must confess I cannot but afford them my pity, that are thus joined in you know whose phrase, like a Spread-Eagle, with one body, but two heads: But whether this division ought to make a Divorce, I had rather subscribe to your judgement than tell you my own, who am  
Sir, wholly at your dispose, T. F.   

To Dr. S.  
Sir,  
NOt to confess your favours, were a sullenness beyond the sin of ingratitude; they were too late to be forgotten, and too large to be requited: Civilities, that might very well constitute a Turkish Paradise: A debt beyond my meanness to discharge, so that you have paid me beforehand for all the services I shall ever be able to do you: And it shall be my endeavour, that my performances of your commands, may be as swift as Lightning, or the flights of that Bird, which is happy to make his nest in your Arms. My thanks will bear the better weight (for they are too light of themselves) if you please to tender them to Mr. L. whom it were a Solecism to put last: To yourself varied, and yourself multiplied: And give me leave to kiss your hands, as I give you mine, that I am  
Sir, your much obliged Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. C. A.  
Sir,  
IT was once my misery, and your good fortune, that I have had, of late, no leisure to discharge my weekly tribute, which indeed amounts to no more, upon your audit, than the product of a constant trouble. Assure yourself, I take no pleasure in being my own enemy: For how many rate fish might my course bait happily have taken! But truly, I have been so cramped, or rather crippled with some not unnecessary diversions, that my pen hath been forced to wander from the direct road of your service. Now, having retrived an opportunity of inhappying myself, by this literal exchange, I shall take leave to tell you, that I will not forgive myself, till you pronounce my pardon. And I cannot but indulge my hopes, with confidence that you will once more exercise that noble virtue, from the many repeated acts of which goodness, I am apt to plead praescription. Though, having dealt so unworthily with you, I am something suspicious you will retract that title of worth, your friendship hath formerly fastened on my unworthiness, and no longer vote those lines for jewels, which in the midst of Summer, present you with conceits as cold as ice, or our modern charity. However, in obedience to the Sovereignty of your Judgement I shall resolve to estimate myself by your valuation of me, and make your opinion the Standard, whereby to measure my abilities to your Service. And, as we measure our hours by minutes, and those by the minuter atoms of sand, may my several Letters but run into Syllables, by which together you may read me (though imperfectly)  
Sir, your very faithful Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. C. F.  
Sir,  
PArdon the bashfulness of my Pen, that hath been hardly drawn to the presumption of endeavouring an answer to your ingenious lines. Had my fancy been better, or yours worse, you had long before this time received an Answer. But such is the unequal fate of the greatest merits, that they always meet with the least returns; stupendious worth exacting from our surprised senses, but admiration (at best) in stead of praise; and admiration is never so well dressed, as when 'tis clothed in silence. Sorry I am that you should waste your so great respects upon one that deserves so little, and that hath nothing to return you, but the protests of a most real affection. The Gentleman you speak of, I have not yet seen, nor heard of, but in your relation: Whenever he comes, assure yourself he shall be as welcome as his own worth and your commends can render him: But he shall pardon me, if I wish rather it had been yourself. It is an Age, me thinks, since I enjoyed you, and I grow old in my unhappiness: 'Tis in your power to create a Spring in my soul, and to make those faculties live again, that have hitherto been buried in a silent grave of negligence. One line of yours will be strong enough to draw me from that depth of dulness into which some late melancholy thoughts have thrown me, though it were as profound as the pit wherein Truth lieth hidden. The fire that shines in your expressions is only able to call forth that quondam ingenuity you accuse me of: If ever I enjoyed any such thing, 'twas when I enjoyed you; and that left me, when I left London: Like infects in Winter, retired to their first nothing, as resolving to enjoy no life, in the absence of the Sun their Father. Since I cannot encircle you in person, let me embrace your picture, and let your pen supply the silence of your tongue. If you will sometimes vouchsafe me this happiness, I shall quit scores with my wishes, and resolve to be no happier in this unhappy Age. Thus, because you have expected it long, I have at length returned you a long Letter, to assure you that I am, and most sincerely  
Sir, your Friend and Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. C. A.  
Sir,  
THis Letter must begin, where yours ended ' because, what you commend to me as an object of my pity, hath been the subject of my thoughts; for it is impossible my friends should suffer any loss, and myself not be sensible of, and sorrowful for it. If the stream of your grief may be substracted by division, I refuse not, and that willingly, to take my part, that yours may be the less. The cause that challengeth our grief (for now 'tis mine as well as yours) speaks itself in the loss of a Friend, of a Mother. To begin with that ends all, Death, me thinks, I can find as little cause to lament, as to wonder at it, it being so general a necessity, that none ever did, or ever shall avoid it. We were born to live, and live to die. It is the only thing we can here expect, without a fortasse, the only certainty of which we cannot be deprived. Epictetus' wondered no more to see a mortal man dead, than to see an earthen pitcher broken. And as wise a Philosopher as the former, entertained the news of his Sons deaths, with no more but a Scivi eos mortales esse natos: As being a greater wonder that they should have so long, than that they died so soon. Why should we wonder, or grieve, to see one go before us, the same way that we ourselves must follow. Vale, vale, nos te sequemur, was the solemn leave the Ancients took of their deceased friends; and, if we believe the Grammarians, from thence we call a Funeral Exequiae, the same being noted not without a silent lesson in our common custom, of the Coarse's going before, and the attendants following after. It is Seneca's observation, Nature hath ordained that to be common, which we account so heavy, that the cruelty of the fate may be lessened by the equality. But 'tis the death of a Mother, and here nature and affection will put in a plea, and plead prescription for our grief; yet may we entertain our fortune with dry eyes. We know she was mortal, and so liable to the common fate; a mother, and so by the order of nature to go before her children: She was before them, that they might be after her. It was thought ominous among the Jews, and not without the re-mark of a punishment, for the Father to bury the Son, as if it were an inversion of the course of nature, and not to be seen without a Prodigy. But I remember what the Schools teach: That an Angel of an inferior, cannot enlighten a superior Hierarchy: Yet I presume you will excuse the rashness of the attempt, since it proceeds from the affection of one devoted to be in all relations  
Sir, your ready servant, T. F.   

To Mr. C. A.  
Sir,  
THat a discourse of death from a sick person, and firm arguments from an infirm and shaking brain, should have the good hap to rout, or, at least, to prevent the triumph of your sorrows, was certainly to be ascribed to the benevolent Planet that co-operated in their production; or rather, to your own more favourable Aspect. I shall not pursue a flying enemy, nor torture that argument to a martyrdom, that is already a willing Confessor. Your quoted Author hath expressed himself Fuller, than the smallness of my reserve pretends to. That the death of one, breaks another's heart, is not safe to contradict, since it hath obtained the general vote of a Proverb. But I shall humbly adventure to lay the Scene at a greater distance, and date it from that Golden Age, when hearts were so entwined, they could not part without breaking, when that Gordian knot of amity was not to be untied, till it were cut by the Sith of him that out-conquers Alexander's sword. Were it not to upbraid the present Age by the comparison, I could willingly venture at a Character or Encomium of that venerable Friendship, the Imitation of former, and Despiar of later Ages. But I shall do the subject more right to commend it to your more commanding Pen, and study always to make good the precise value you are pleased to put upon  
Sir, the meanest of your servants, T. F.   

To Mr. D. P.  
Sir,  
WHether this should be an Apology for my former, perhaps too frequent visits, or my later, as uncivil forbearance, I know not, since both have been equally liable to the piquant censures of detracting tongue's; and in so loud an accent, that I question not but they have long since arrived your ears. It is not my intention to make this paper guilty, by relating those stories which would be tedious for me to write, and troublesome for you to read. Had they been vented with as much innocence as falsehood, I could have looked upon them as some pretty Romances, and at once both laughed at the Relation, and pitied the Relator. But finding them so loaded with the over-weight of scandal, as well as slander, I should belie my own thoughts, if I should not say they have touched the most sensible part of my soul. That I have hitherto been silent, and contented myself to be an auditor only, was, that so, if it had been possible, they might have found a grave in their birth: And it is a common saying among the Jews, That lies have their feet cut off; they cannot stand long to what they say. But since I see (by what design I know not) that they have already outlived the common age of a wonder, though I know you are too wise to take up any ware upon trust from such walking-pedlers (for so I am informed the original speaks a Tale-bearer) I am not altogether diffident of your pardon if I shall enter my protests (which is all the re-action I shall endeavour) that whatever some have fancied, or others reported, I never propounded any other end to myself (either in a direct or collateral line) in my approaches, than to make myself happy by the enjoyment of your society. This was the cause that inducted me into your acquaintance, and I am not conscient to myself of any Apostasy from my first resolutions, or that those real intentions have suffered any dilapidations. I must confess, 'twas my ambition to rival your goodness, and to make my respects (if it had been possible) as infinite as your merit; and I have read, that excesses in friendship are not only tolerable, but laudable. But that what I thought obedience, should be interpreted impudence, is a false construction of the Syntaxis of my intentions. 'Twas not your fortune, but your favour, that I have courted; were you as poor as Codrus, I should love you no less than I do; and were you as rich as Croesus, I could love you no more. I conceived myself obliged by my Profession to wait upon you as a Scholar, and by your courtesies, engaged to love you as a friend; and if this be a crime, I blush not to confess myself guilty in a very high measure: But if any of my words have been wracked by others, to make them depose any thing contrary to what I here profess, believe them not. I list not to enter the pitched field of a dispute; nor will I retreat to the common intrenchments of excuses, I lay down my Arms at your feet: And, as I can have no other witness, I will have no other Judge but yourself; resolving to be either innocent, or guilty, as you shall pronounce me. It was no small commendation Paterculus gives of Pompey the Great, where he affirms, that he was Amicitiarum tenax, in offensis exorabilis, in recipiendâ satisfactione facilimus: Of this I believe your continual practice an exact Translation. What though the Comical Speech of Florence be Canonical, Mulier aut amat, aut odit nihil est tertium; it would be as falsely applied to you, as truly to the Sex 'tis spoken of. And for my part you shall do me but right to believe that I ever was, am, and will be  
Sir, your Friend and Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. C.  
Sir,  
NOt out of any uncivil disrespect to your commands, nor any unwillingness to serve you (so far as the too short line of my abilities will stretch) have I hitherto been silent. Can I have wrought myself to that height of presumption, as to think any thing of mine of merit enough to arrest your sight, you had long since had an answer, and perhaps as long as your expectation. It was not that I thought a letter lost to me, but because I knew it would be loss to you; and hereof this is too sufficient a witness. Yet, Sir, lest you should think I am either too full of business, that I cannot, or of idleness, that I will not write to you, I have sent these lines to kiss your hands, and to assure you, that you have infinitely obliged me by your late letters you vouchsafed to honour me with: So full fraught were they of your wont ingenuity, that (to tell you the truth) I could spare no time from reading of them, to return any answer to them. But now, since you are pleased to descend so far below yourself, as to entreat for what you might command, I shall no longer dispute, but obey: Yet will I not tyre myself with troubling you, farther than to re-assure you that I am  
Sir, your very humble Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. C.  
Noble Sir,  
HAving already confessed the debt, your late ingenious Letters have engaged me in, I shall take leave to pay you (since you are pleased to grant me that favour) as unsolvent debtors do their patiented creditors, by small sums weekly. I would willingly speak my gratitude in as loud an accent as you have done your goodness: But, as you have honoured me beyond the utmost of my wishes, and placed my meanness on so high a pinnacle of happiness, as my most ambitious thoughts durst never aspire to; so you have only left me modesty enough to blush at my own unworthiness, and to promise you, that I shall hereafter lay hold on every handle of time, and court all opportunities to serve you. But, Sir, I wish you have not undervalved your judgement, by over-valuing those lose lines you undertake to call most choice jewels; which ('tis my fear) will prove but pebbles, or Bristow-stones at best: If they carry any thing of jewels in them, it is only this, that they have nothing of worth, but what your valuation puts upon them. However, since it cannot be admitted as History of what I am, may it prove a Prophecy of what I may be, and that my endeavours may overtake the mark your charity hath already anticipated, that you may not repent that you have owned me for  
Sir, your very Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. I S.  
Sir,  
SO long it is since I received your Letter, that I should be ashamed to confess it, did I not believe that I have hitherto done you a conrtesie, by not troubling you with my rude lines: yet dare I no longer maintain that opinion, lest you should vote that for a neglect, which I have thought a favour. You would pardon, if not pity me, did you know how I have been racked with diversions, neither pleasant, nor profitable, but as vexatious as the tediousness of the law, and the much business of the Lawyers could render them. But, I am now in hope that my Cause will hang in suspense no longer than till the next Assizes. The old rule was, Inter arma silent leges: I shall alter it, and say as truly, Inter leges silent literae. I must hope my friends will forgive me the Lawyer's faults, since they have robbed me of the most necessary functions of my life: nay, I am in doubt whether I may put this last year into the account of my life, since I have not had time to tender you the services and respects due from  
Sir, your humble servant T. F.   

To Mr. C. M.  
Sir,  
YOur civil reception of the tender of my endeavours to your service, hath made me presume, that your goodness will maintain your first favour with a second; and, if occasion serve, to mention my desires to those noble Gentlemen in conjunction with you; from whom I cannot despair of a favourable Aspect, being represented by so happy a Medium as yourself. But I should be too injurious to the public good, to detain you longer from your more noble employments. I shall only beg the happiness of a room in your memory, in quality of  
Sir, your most humble Servant, T.F.   

To Mr. T. P.  
Sir,  
HAving long since received your Letter and not receiving any answer, you might justly think I either not received, or slighted your command. But, when you have read this, you will believe that my silence was neither out of sloth, nor slighting; it being much against my will that I have deprived myself of the pleasure I take in serving you. The reasons that obliged me this delay, were more just than I wish they had been: For, this vagrant Pamphlet that now attends you, was straggled from me, and much time passed before I could procure a Pass to send it home to the place of its birth. Since when, I understood that your occasions called you to a greater distance, which rendered me uncapable of serving you. Thus, Sir, you see it was not out of any covetous or envious humour, or a fear of the expense of a few lines; which when you have them, are so worthless, that I might have done you a greater courtesy to have forborn them now. Only this rudeness may serve to let you see how much I esteem you my friend, in that I have taken no more care to entertain you with that studied respect which I should, to any but my Familiar. I shall not Apologise for the rudeness of this undressed Pamphlet, which now waits upon you in obedience to your call; nor tell you, that I desire you would read it to your own ears only; nor that I shall long to see it again: But only desire you to remember what place you hold in the number of his first friends, who is  
Sir, your old Friend and Servant, T. F.   

To M. C. F.  
Sir,  
I Have heard of those men-moles, that Nero-like, rip up the entrails of their Mother Earth, to plunder her of her hidden Excrements (who many times dig so long under ground, that they meet with their own graves before they are willing) though none of the best men, yet have they this good quality, that they are continually calling and talking to one another, that if a sudden damp should surprise any of them, the rest may speedily be ready to help and assist them. It is no shame for the best to learn what's good, though from the worst of men. Considering therefore the many clouds and vapours that continually are ready to overwhelm and stifle us in this vault of earth (where we are but day-labourers) it is a necessary duty of friends to be frequent in these Offices of friendship. How unhappy had I been, had that boisterous wind blown down your earthly tabernacle, and deprived me of a friend without any warning! And though my eyes and ears were lately the happy witnesses of your recovery: Yet, me thinks, I know not how to credit them, till you vouchsafe to give it me under your hand and seal, and confirm to me the continuance of my health and happiness in yours. Certainly, there is more intended in these visits, than common custom and compliment. Letters are the lawful Spies and Intelligencers of amity; the honourable Leigers to continue a good correspondency amongst friends. And, if, as our late Physicians hold, most diseases and distempers of the body are occasioned by the stopping of the blood's circulation, surely, the omitting of these correspondencies, breed no good blood, but, like the intermitting pulse, proclaim the decay, if not the death of friendship. It is not enough that you are alive and well, unless you tell me so, and communicate your happiness to me, by the information. I cannot safely say I am well, unless I know my friends are so, who are myself. Let your Letters sometimes tell me how I do, and be at once my physic and Physician; and I shall duly pay you the Fee of being  
Sir, your officious servant, T. F.   

To Mr. S. S.  
Sir,  
HAving sounded a retreat to myself from my former, perhaps too familiar converse with the world; being able by experience to confirm the wise man's censure, that it is not only vanity, but vexation of spirit. I have confined myself to my own home: Yet, because man is Animal sociale, and God himself thought it not fit for Him to be alone, I have undertaken (that lawful negromancy) to converse with the dead; the best and most impartial instructors. I shall make bold (in obedience to your command) from your well-furnished Market, to borrow some supply: For knowledge is truly pabulum Animae, and Books the best Caterers of that entertainment. Had I time, I would venture at an Encomium of those best of Companions. But the messenger stays, and I cannot. Let me therefore (without a Preface) crave the privilege of your Fuller; from whose Pisgath, I am ambitious to take a view of that Holy Land. for which, and your many former favours, I must subscribe myself  
Sir, yours obliged, T. F.   

To Mr. T. L.  
Sir,  
AMongst the ill turns of my cross fortune, it was not the least, that I could not attein the happiness of seeing you, when last in London; though your goodness often endeavoured it, and I was not idle in the like returns. If you will pardon me my City-misfortune, in recompense, I will enjoin myself the penance, or rather the happiness of a twelve mile's pilgrimage, to kiss your hands, at your own home, when the weather and the way shall so far befriend me. In pursuance of that service I own you, I have now sent, etc.— I suppose you expect, and I presume, as good and as cheap as you could have bought them: For I would willingly obtain your belief, that my service to my friends is not mercenary; and that I look not to be paid again for those acts of duty which your courtesies have paid me for beforehand. This is no compliment, but the real, though ex tempore dictates of my Heart.  
Sir, your humble servant, T. F.   

To Dr. S.  
Noble Dr.  
THe ingenious Italians have three significant phrases whereby they character a work exactly done. They say, it was performed, Con diligenza, constudio, & con amore. Without any ambition, I must crave leave to tell you, that in order to the content I take in serving my friends, and especially yourself (to whom I am bound by so many repeated acts of friendship) I have not failed in any of those particulars in my search for—. For, to have enjoyed the pleasure of satisfying your expectations, I used all the diligence and care that could be thought on: For I think I left not a shop unvisited, though yours were my only errand, and, but for one place, I must have returned with a non est inventus. Sir, your goodness makes me apt to believe, that you will not censure the Act by the Issue; and I shall live in hope, that some other command may render me more happy in the performance Let the shortness of my time and paper excuse this abrupt tender of my thanks and service to yourself, your good bed fellow, and the rest of your happy Family; and do me the favour, or rather the justice, to believe me to be  
Sir, your very ready and real servant, T. F.   

To Mr. S. S.  
Sir,  
AS needy debtors pay one sum, but with an intent to borrow a bigger; so I send you home three Books, with a request to borrow a fourth. Thus do I link your courtesies, and my engagements together; and knowing the undoubted fertility of your friendship, I shall make every former favour the Parent of another. So that, if it be a fable that Pliny tells of some Mice in Caria, that are so fruitful, that the young ones are with young in their Dam's belly: The pregnant acts of your Friendship may be the Moral. I shall therefore request the use of your Plutarch's Morals, which (I doubt not) will instruct me how to return you due thanks for your many courtesies, whereby you have so many times bound me to be  
Sir, your thankful Friend and Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. C. F.  
Sir,  
OF all pleasures, reading is the best: of all readings, those Antelucanas Lectiones are to me the most pleasant and profitable. And surely there is something in it, that Lectus and Lectio are of near affinity. These are the only Curtain-Lectures. Not long since I fastened upon Sir Richard Bakers soliloquy, or, as he calls it, Pillar of thoughts; deservedly so styled, for the solidity of the composition, the rareness of the materials, and height of the fancy. There, amongst other choice notions, he falls upon the immortality of the Soul, and hath so well discharged himself in it, that he hath left no place for a Sceptic to rest in: Only I could not see (for indeed my candle is not of the largest size) how he doth clearly evince the Original of the rational soul, but (with St. Augustine) refuseth to determine whether it be propagated, or infused. I dare not resolve, where so great men doubt, and wherein the soul itself is ignorant, or silent; as if it had drank of Virgil's Lethe, before it came into the body, forgetting how it came there. Weighing the arguments of both sides, my reason holding the balance with an equal hand, the arguments for the Traduction, in my eye seem to be most weighty. Perhaps because I know not how to answer them. When I consider the births of bastards, and other such like irregular productions (the Anomalies of nature) I cannot (me thinks) salve God's justice, who, if the soul be not ex traduce, must favour those irregularities, so much against his Holiness: And what hath the poor innocent soul done, to be imprisoned in a sinful polluting body? For, if the soul be not propagated, than the bodies of Infants only have sinned, and are only liable to the punishment of Original sin. Now certainly, it cannot be properly said that the body sinneth, for the body is but the souls instrument, and what evil hath the soul of a young dying Infant committed, if his soul were not derived from Adam? And if the soul be infused, who doubts but that it comes pure and unspotted from the hands of God? It was an error reckoned upon the score of the Arrians, that our Saviour took only flesh of the Virgin, but not the soul: But it is the opinion of the Church of England, that Christ took man's nature upon him in the Virgin's womb; whence it must necessarily follow, that he took both body and soul, since either, without the other, make not perfect man. Yet, if this be evaded, as extraordinary, in the History of the Creation, when God took Eve out of Adam's side, it is not said, that He breathed into her the breath of life, as before He did to Adam: Perhaps (and if silence may be interpreted consent) to intimate that her soul was derived with her body from the man. But, that the soul, which Philosophers call Anima, composed of the vegetative and sensitive faculties, is ex traduce, is yielded; the only question being about the Spiritus, which, they say, is the breath of God, infused in the third, or fourth, or sixth month; or, to say truth, they know not when. Now, if this Spirit be infused before the birth, why see we not the effects and workings of this Spirit? But it seems as dull as the body is feeble; whereas, experience tells us, Chickens as soon as hatched, fall to pecking, ducklings to paddling, the colt falls to sucking as soon as foald, the lamb as soon as fallen; whereas this Spirit in man is not seen, till almost the third part of his life be spent, and perhaps; not at all. Let a child be brought up in a wood, or a wilderness, what difference will appear between him and a beast? So that this Spirit seems to be increased by, if not derived from civil society, and liberal education; whereas, if the soul be infused by God, that it must come perfect from his hands, who makes a question? These things my faith can easily leap over, and turn these mountains into molehills; but my reason is at a stand, and craves the favourable assistance of your courteous hand, because I know you will do it, and that dexterously. If you have the good fortune to rout these light arguments, which I send out as my forlorn hope, I have yet a reserve left, which may tell you, that a man may be victus in praelio, and yet victor in bello. But I leave you to your good fortune, with assurance that your enemy is no other than  
Sir, your Friend and Servant, T.F.   

D.P.B.  
INfandum (Philippe) jubis renovare dolorem. Dolorem sub sigillo silentii signandum esse, vel lachrymis potius quam verbis exprimendum Nefandâ illâ nocte, flagranti amicitiâ, fluenti eloquentiâ, medio de fonte leporum, surgit amari aliquid. A Cacumine montium sum dejectus, è Paradiso ejectus; in orbem iturus, rediturus nunquam: foemininae linguae gladius versatilis regressum prohibet.  
Heu! quae nunc tellus, quae me aequora possunt accipere, aut quid jam misero mihi denique restat? Silentium olim pendidit Amyclas, jam vana loquacitas perdidit Amicos. Nunc seriò, ah nimis sera! illud Comici, Mulier aut amat, aut odit, nihil est tertium. Tu tamen vale & constanter Ama.  
Constantissimum tuum Amicum, T. F.   

To Mr. S. S.  
Sir,  
CHristian moderation is the best reconciler of all controversies; for it hath been too often found by sad experience, that in the heats of disputations, men have sought victory, rather than verity, Truth being often lost by an overhot and hasty search: Witness the many, and too eager Disputes concerning Admission to the Lords Supper; to which some men, by a too hasty, and less charitable zeal, have excluded all, though never so worthy, lest they should lose the authority of Examination, which the Scripture no where commands, nor hardly anywhere allows; it being not possible for any man to know what is in man, but the Spirit of man which is within him. The Apostle St. Paul therefore lays the injunction upon every man to examine himself, not sending him to another to usurp the power of Auricular Confession, which they condemn in the Papists, yet would exercise themselves. I deny (under submission) that any man can show any one direct place of Scripture that commands or enjoins the Minister to examine his Parishioners; it being his Office to teach them their duties, to reprove them for, and convince them of their errors, and it is left to the people to examine and reform themselves by that glass which the Minister holds out unto them. We accuse the Romanists (and justly) of grand Sacrilege, for denying the Cup unto the people, whilst we are deprived not only of part, but of all. How justly, let the Scripture, and the practice of all Ages (till ours) show. It is denied that Judas received the Sacrament with the other disciples, though three Evangelists absolutely relate it, and the fourth doth not deny it. It is also denied, that the Sacrament is a converting Ordinance, because the Scripture doth not say so in express terms: By better reason we say it is, because the Scripture no where denies it, and reason itself speaks the use of it to be verbum visibile, it setting forth Christ and his Passion to our eyes, as the Word preached doth to our ears; and we have always been taught, that the Fie is the aptest Scholar. If it be not a Preaching action now, it is because we have it not to see; else to what purpose did our Saviour command us to use it in remembrance of him? That all should receive the Sacrament of the Supper, because all have been Baptised, is an argument framed only by the Confuters thereof; for none (that I know) who plead for a free admission, but make some exception from this general rule, as infants, fools, and excommunicate persons; for that all have a right to eat, is an argument never maintained, the only question being who have this right, and who have not? That Infidels, Idiots, and Children have not, all agree, for reasons too plain to be questioned. That scandalous persons have no right, we deny not neither, only say, they are not to be accounted so, till excommunicated: Nor can that man be lawfully accounted guilty in the sense of the Law, till proofs have convicted, and sentence determined him to be so: For to deny a man the privileges his birth allows him, till the Law determine that he hath forfeited them, is an injustice, and no command of Christ or Scripture. Sure I am, the Master in the Parable reproved not his servant for admitting him without the wedding garment, it was their part to invite all, and if any would presume to come unfit, it lay upon himself to bear the sentence of their Lord; the Apostle telling us, as it is a duty upon every one to examine himself, so he comes upon his own peril, to eat and drink his own damnation. And because he that eats and drinks unworthily, eats and drinks his own damnation; yet it followeth not that the Sacrament should be denied them: For who knows not, that though a man have been lose and careless in his conversation, yet God may work a change in him in an instant, even in the very act of Administration: And certainly, no means ought to be denied any man, that may conduce to, if happily not produce that good end for which all the Ordinances of the Gospel are ordained. But I forget, I intended a Letter, not a Dispute, since without controversy I am  
Sir, your Friend and Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. S. S.  
Sir,  
I Am not at all infected with that itch of Disputation; how contrary it is to my more peaceable temper, all that know me can witness. But having routed the main body of your arguments, I shall now scatter your reserve. It is said the Church of Ephesus is commended for trying and judging of men: But it is clear by the next words, that this trial was of their doctrine, not of their lives; and that they were found false Apostles. Neither can this (if it were as is pretended) authorise a particular Minister to that, which may be lawful to the Church, it being too tender a thing to be trusted with one man alone to determine; for what inconveniences would thence follow, may easily be imagined. The Priests indeed (as you say) were commanded to make a separation between the clean and the unclean, but it was of beasts for the sacrifices, as the Texts express themselves. And St. Peter saith God had shown him, that he should not call any man common and unclean: And St. Paul tells the Corinthians, that he had no power to judge them without. That Christ gave the Supper only to his Apostles, is plain, but it is as plain that one of them was a Judas; and what select company was ever in this world, wherein was not some close hypocrite? and no Devil to the white Devil. I have done with your arguments, and shall now sound a retreat to myself, and resolve to draw my pen no more in this quarrel: For I know not whether this kind of duelling be not forbidden by the late Act; if it be not, I wish it were, for I love not to contend with my friends with any other weapons than love and service. When you conquer me at those weapons, I must forget your merit or that I am  
Sir, your friend and servant, T. F.   

To Mr. T. F.  
Sir,  
HAving lately (not without pleasure and profit) read your Church-History; by which, you have not only indebted our Church in particular, but the whole Commonwealth of Learning in general; my memory continually upbraided me with ingratitude, till I found out this way to convey my resentments. For, though our Returns of thanks ought to be large and universal, as your merit, yet your goodness (I hope) will not refuse the single gratitude of private persons. In that number (though the last, and the least) I am bold to tender my mite. A task indeed better befitting a more equal pen, since none is able to do it but your own. But I know your modesty is as great as your merit, the highest worths being always accompanied with the lowest humility. May your name ever live, who have raised so many to life, and rescued their memories from the tyranny of oblivion. Amongst many others, I am particularly obliged to your courtesy, in the remembrance of that good man Mr. Udal, whom by kindred I am something related. One, of whom we have this tradition, that he was the first man King James asked for when he came into England; and being answered, that he was dead, the King (whose judgement was an exact standard of learning & learned men) replied, By my sal, than the greatest Scholar in Europe's dead. And certainly, by his own party (if they may be admitted for competent Judges) it is not yet resolved, whether his Learning or his Zeal were greatest; and they think they justly boast him a Confessor, if not a Martyr for that Cause, which since hath paid those scores with Interest. Now, though I am no heir to his opinions, yet a small affinity to his Person, makes me embrace the opportunity of proffering you that Intelligence you complain to want the rather, because (perhaps) no man can now do it but myself; and I have a Relation of all his Trials, Censures, and Sentence, written by himself; which (I doubt not) may give you a satisfactory account in what you desire. If you please to command it, I shall be ambitious to serve you, and the truth therewith. But I could wish you would review that passage in the 31 Sect. After the Execution of Udal, etc. for he died at the White Lion (just as his pardon was procured) and was buried at St. George's Southwark. And so I leave him to his Rest, wishing his good name and doctrines may survive his discipline. Sir, you have not only engaged Learning, but Religion, to perpetuate your labours. Fame is much in arrears to your Desert, and therefore cannot in justice but continue that veneration in length to your memory, which it yet wants in breadth. Those Religious Houses, erected by a better devotion, than that which destroyed them, are more beholding to your Pen, than to their Founders, or Materials; you having made them a task for the remembrance and admiration of future Ages, so long as Time shall hold a Sith, or Fame a Trumpet. I would say more, if the universal applause of all knowing men had not saved me a labour. And (to pay you in some of your own coin) It is no flattery to affirm, what envy cannot deny. Did I not foresee that the relation would swell my discourse beyond the limits of a Letter, or the length of your patience, I should assume the liberty to inform you, that my neighbourhood to the place, acquaints me with some Relics of Religious Houses, at and near Mardon, bearing still the name of an Abbey, a Friary, and a Nunnery. And, if we may judge of Hercules by his foot, of the whole piece by the remnant, and of them by their Remaines, I should suppose them not behind many in England. As yet, I know little of them, but their ruins; but, if you vote it convenient, I shall endeavour to improve my present ignorance into a discovery of them. I suppose it will be no hard task; I am sure it shall not, when in relation to your command. I must now take pity of your patience, which had not run this hazard of abuse, did I not know I have to do with so great a Candour, from which I can expect no less than pardon. And in that presumption I crave your leave to be, as I subscribe myself  
Sir, your most assured servamnt, T. F.   

To M.—  
Madam,  
WEre I sure of the cause of your malady, I could easily hope the Cure; but, being to guests at the one, it will be no wonder, if I miss the other. Of all diseases, those of the mind are worst, of those, that of melancholy: of melancholies, the religious. I know not by what unhappy wit, the the badge of melancholy hath been fastened upon the spirit of Calvin, that Patriarch of Presbytery. This I know, since that unhappy Planet hath reigned over us, we have too sensibly felt all those unlucky effects that an ill-boding Comet could produce. What wars, what bloodshed, what ruins have we seen in the State? What factions, what fractions in the Church? What envy, what hatred, what divisions amongst private persons? What doubts, what fears, what distractions in all men's minds? In a word, what not?  
Gladly do I remember those happy days (now happy only in the remembrance) that Golden Age, wherein we had but one Truth, but one Way, wherein men walked lovingly together, without contentious justling one another. When those Silver Trumpets of the Sanctuary gave no uncertain sound; when the way to Heaven was, though a narrow, yet a plain and direct path; not blocked up by envious censures, by distracting clamours. But now I sadly see, and sigh to say, our Rents are like to prove our Ruin, and our distractions our destruction. I remember a Story of a knavish Painter (so my Author calls him) who, being to make the Picture of some goddess for a City to worship, drew the Counterfeit of his own Mistress, and so caused her to be courted, that (perhaps) better deserved to be carted. I wish this tale were not too true of our times. It is too obvious to conceal the Parallel. Do we not daily see Religion dressed up in the several shapes of every one's fancy, and obtruded upon the easy multitude, as the only Deity for their adoration and observance? our faith made as changeable as our fashions? And, what's the misery of our miseries, none are so easily deluded, as the well-meaning, simple-hearted, honest Christians; who, out of an excess of Charity, are ready to believe all men mean truly, because they do so themselves.  
If this be your case (and I am to seek if it be not) let me give you this Caution, Beware of that evil which cometh near to the show of good; none can so easily deceive you, as those Hyaena's, who have learned your voice, to draw you out of the way. Take heed of those serpents of the colour of the ground. Let St. Paul beseech you to mark them which cause divisions and offences: Contrary to the Doctrine which you have learned, and avoid them. I am misinformed, if the same word which we read Contrary, doth not also import near. There are no opinions so dangerously contrary to the truth, as they that seem very near it.  
Let me assure you, it is the old way, which is the good way, wherein you shall find rest. There shall you find a direct road, without any turn and wind of private interest or faction: No briers and thorns of quarrelling disputes; no soul-destroying doctrines, under the ostentious titles of soulsaving truths. It is no such long and melancholy way, as we see now chalked out by those who have found out new paths to heaven, that our Fathers never dreamt of. There shall you find gravity without morosity and mirth without madness; Christian cheerfulness as well commanded, as commended. Religion is no such frowning fury: Psalms and Hymns are her daily practice, as well as prayers and tears. The same Holy Spirit that commands us to pray always, enjoins us also to rejoice evermore. We sin, if we rejoice not: There is not more error in false mirth, than in unjust heaviness. Can they be sad, who have a God to defend, a Christ to save, and an Holy Ghost to comfort them. It is for those that know not God, or know him displeased, to droop, as men without hope.  
An humble practice of those Common truths, alone necessary to salvation, is far more safe, more happy, than all the towering and lofty speculations of unquiet Heads, and too busy Brains. There is some reason in the old Scotch Rhythm.  
Rob. Will. and Davy,  
Keep well thy Pater noster, and Ave,  
And if thou wilt the better speed,  
Gang no farther than thy Creed:  
Say well, and do none ill,  
And keep thyself in safety still.  
Our way is not tedious, nor our burden heavy; why then should we add length to the one, and weight to the other, by an un-necessariesadness? Whilst hypocrisy lies under the clouded brow of a Pharisee; a cheerful countenance is the badge of innocence. It is a disparagement to our Master, and his service, to follow him sighing, I have done. Pardon me this (perhaps un-necessary) length, and believe me, however the Physic chance to work, it is tendered with an hand aiming only at your happiness; and that would gladly wish no better employment, than to strew your way to heaven with Roses. This is the height of his ambition, who is  
Madam, your most humble Servant, T. F.   

To M. D. P.  
Sir,  
THe Italians say in a Proverb, That words are but females, deeds are males. I can allow them to be females, so they be fruitful in these masculine productions, and not subject to miscarry of those fruits, with which they often seem so big. I have endeavoured my promises should not prove abortive; but it hath stayed so long by the Carrier's Midwifery, that what you expected as a gift, will amount to a purchase; for, a courtesy delayed, is dearly bought. Besides, I cannot expect it should arise to the merit of a gift, since it will hardly amount to the least mite that I own you. Your courtesies have been so many, your favours so large, and the continuance so long, that I despair of discharging the Interest, should your goodness abate me the Principal. But if a thousand thanks, and ten thousand good wishes may pass for pay, you shall never have cause to call me ingrateful; for herein I can be as liberal as yourself. I remember the Dutch History tells us, that at the Siege of Alcmar, the soldiers within, being without pay, the Magistrates caused dollars of tin to be coined, of three shillings a piece, with promise, that the Town being delivered, they would redeem them for good silver at the rate. I will wrap up this poor present with a faithful promise, that when propitious Heaven shall transmute my tin and copper into gold and silver, payments shall be more proportionate to your merits, and my obligations, by which I stand firmly bound to profess myself  
Sir, your Servant, T. F.   

To M. J. W.  
Madam,  
NEither out of sloth, nor slighting; not out of forgetfulness, nor unwillingness, have I hitherto delayed this debt of duty, which you may justly have expected sooner. Believe me, I have not yet forgot those many, many favours whereby you have perpetually bound me to serve you. My silence thus long, hath been not out of negligence, but design. I was not willing to meet your sorrow in its full career, resolving rather to await the turning of the tide, and expect an ebb of your passion; lest in stead of a lenitive, I had brought a corrosive; and in stead of abating, increased your grief. By this time, I hope, your Reason hath subdued your Passion, and natural affection given place to Religion; which, as it allows a moderate sorrow for the death of our friends and relations, so it appoints bounds to our tears, and commands us, Not to weep as those without hope. When my thoughts reflect upon your loss of so dutiful a daughter, so good a wife, so pleasant a companion, so true a friend, in the fair flower of her youth, in the pleasant Spring of her age; me thinks, I could mingle my tears with yours, and forget what I intended. But when again I consider the miseries of this life, the troubles of this world, the losses and crosses, the corroding cares, the doubtful fears that attend us here: when I balance our loss with her gains, the miseries she is past, with the happinesses she enjoys, I can find so little cause to mourn, that I must confess we have infinitely more reason to rejoice. Alas! what is our life but a sea of troubles, a pilgrimage of dangers, a race, a warfare, a banishment; the world a prisonfull of chains and captives, at best an Inn, no habitation? Death is our quiet harbour, an end of our journey, a conclusion of our warfare; that brings us from exile to our native home; that gives us a Kingdom for a prison, crowns for chains, and for this poor baiting-place of earth, an everlasting habitation in Heaven. Shall we then grieve for those are gone before us, who are released from the evils present, and secured against those to come, who are taken from labour to rest, from expectation to fruition, from death to life. Is it not unjust? Is it not envious? The Philosopher, who was asked, Which was the best ship? wisely answered, That which is safely arrived. Shall we weep for those, who have already made their voyage, or rather for ourselves, who are still tossed upon the waters of strife, who are still subject to those storms and tempests, which they have happily passed? They are not lost, but gone before; not perished, but perfected; not dead, but departed. A long-sick man commanded this Epitaph to be written upon his grave, Here I am well. Fortune (they say) most hurts, whom she seems to favour; Death most favours those he seems to hurt. Nor may we account an early death untimely: The fruit which to our apprehension is blown down green and untimely, is gathered full ripe in God's providence. The fairest flowers soon fade. The Sun and Moon, the most bright and glorious of these heavenly bodies, fulfil their courses in a short season, whilst the dimmer and duller Planets are longer time wheeling about. It is sometimes the happiness of young John, to outrun old Peter to the Sepulchre. This is God's will, and therefore not to be resisted, not to be repined at. It is their happiness, therefore not to be lamented. Can our tears profit them where they are, or bring them back to us? I could allow you to be lavish of your sighs, to be prodigal of your tears, were they not unfruitful, were they not unlawful. I can easily believe your loss of her, to be as great as your love to her; but your meeting again will be more joyous, than your parting was grievous. But what do I do? I forget that I writ to one, whose Christian carriage hath (I doubt not) already prevented me this office; and whose excellent parts are able to anticipate whatsoever I am able to say. Give me leave only to kiss your hands, and once more to assure you, that I am still as much as ever,  
Madam, the most humble, and the most real of your Friends and Servants, T. F.   

To Mr. T. C.  
Sir,  
IT is informed from several parts, that the Butchers have knocked down the Excise-men, and cut the throat of the Excise upon meat: And they have so generally thrown off that yoke, that it is believed they will hardly be brought to admit the putting of it on again. Whither do these confusions tend! Where will they end! We are like the poor Ass in the Fable, who often changed his Master, but always for the worse. Will not all these miseries yet open the eyes of the blinded multitude! I would be-speak them in the words of Ananus, one of the Jewish Priests, inciting the people against the factious Zealots; amongst other passages (which you may find in Josephus) he thus questions them,— But why should I exclaim against the tyrants? Did not you yourselves make them great, and nourish their power and authority by your patience? Did not you, by despising those who before were in authority, being but a few, make all these, who are many in number, tyrants over yourselves?  
When Consuls succeeded the Roman Kings, the Historian says, they changed gold for brass, and loathing one King, suffered many tyrants, scourging their folly with their fall, and curing a festered sore with a poisoned plaster. Do we not plainly see the Fable moralised by ourselves? The Serpent's Tail would needs one day fall a quarrelling with the Head, saying, that she would by turns go before, and not always come lagging behind; which the Head having yielded unto, was the first that repent it, not knowing how, or whither she should go; and besides, was all rent and bruised, being forced, against nature, to follow a member that had neither seeing nor hearing to conduct it. Our factions, fractions, and lawless liberty, render us like the poor Bactrans, of whom it is said, that they are Sine Fide, sine Rege, sine Lege. But whither is my pen running? Since I began with the Excise in England, I will waft you over into Holland, where it first began, and was invented; there you shall see how ill the Dutchmen at first relished this Tax upon their drink: It occasioned this Libel in Dutch, which you shall read in English: 
I wish long life may him befall,  
And not one good day therewithal;  
And Hell-fire after this life here,  
Who first did raise this Tax on Beer.  With this Postscript, The Word of God, and the Tax on Beer, last for ever and ever.  
But it is no wonder the Dutchman should be so angry with this charge upon his drink, since you know it is said, Germanorum vivere, est bibere. And they account the turning of water into wine, the greatest Miracle that ever Christ did; which miracle only made one of them wish that Christ had lived in their Country. No more now, but that I am still as always,  
Sir, your Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. T. C.  
Sir,  
WE have now (thanks to our Preserver) lived to see those men confuted to their faces, who would needs determine the end of the world, before the end of the year; and upon no better ground, that I could hear from any of them, than this, because (say they) the old world was drowned in the year from the Creation, 1657. And I find the Learned Alstedius fathering of this fancy, because he found the same number of years in the Chronogram of Conflagratio Mundi. How miserably, and yet how often have the too credulous vulgar been deluded by the vain Predictions of such idle Astrologasters! I remember Hollingshed tells a story of the Prior of St. bartholomew's London, who built him an house on Harrow-hill, to secure himself from a supposed flood foretold by an ginger: But at last, he, with the rest of his seduced company, came down again as wise as they went up. Such is the fate and folly of those false prophets, that they often live to see themselves confuted. It is a witty jeer the Cambro-Britannian Epigrammatist puts upon the Scotch Napier, who more wisely had determined the end of the world at a farther distance.   

Cor mundi finem propiorem non facis? ut ne ante obitum mendax arguerere: Sapis.  
Thus, as is well observed, by a late and Learned Author, Astrologers have told of a sad and discontented day, which would weep its eyes out in showers, which when 'twas born proved a Democritus, and did nothing but laugh at their ignorance and folly.  
Infinite are the Stories upon Record of the madness of those men, and the vanity and credulity of the easy multitude: Strange, that they should be so grossly, and yet so often cheated with the same bait! But I conclude with a more serious observation of Ludolphus, of the two destructions of the world: As the first, says he, was by water, for the heat of their lust; so the second shall be by fire, for the coldness of their love. In hopes that ours is not yet grown cold, I subscribe myself,  
Sir, your loving Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. E. M.  
Sir,  
BOdin the Frenchman, in his Method of History, accounts Englishmen barbarous for their Civil Wars: But his Countrymen, at this time, have no great reason to cast dirt in our faces, till they have washed their own. They who have hitherto set us on fire, and warmed their hands by it, are now in the like flames themselves. It hath been one of their Cardinal Policies to divide us, lest our union should prove their ruin. It was the saying of the D. of Rohan, a great Statesman, That England was a mighty Animal, and could never die, unless it killed itself. Certainly we have no worse enemies than ourselves, as if we had conspired our own ruin: For Plutarch calls the ardent desire of the Grecians to make Civil Wars in Greece, a Conspiracy against themselves. But well may the winds and waves be Pilots to that ship whose inferior Mariners have thrown their Pilot overboard. Dum ille regnabat, tranquillè vivebamus, & neminem metuebamus, said the people of the Emperor Pertinax. We remember the time when we lived in peace and plenty, till we surfeited of our happiness; and as our peace begat plenty, so our plenty begat pride, and pride brought forth animosities and factions, and they, if not prevented, will be delivered of our ruin and destruction.  
In times past (says Cornelius Tacitus of our Countrymen) they lived under a Monarchy; now, that they are subject to divers Masters, one can see nothing but faction and divisions amongst them. This was spoken of our forefathers; and our Posterity will think it meant only of us. The God of union reunite us, and out of this Chaos of confusion, create an happy concord amongst us, before our rents prove our ruin, and our distractions our destruction. This is the constant and hearty prayer of  
Sir, your assured Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. T. C.  
Sir,  
I Must tell you, you are not justly troubled at the injustice of our new Judges, since they have thereby rendered those brave men Martyrs, which otherwise had died as Criminals. Socrates' his wife exasperated her grief by this circumstance, Good Lord, said she, how unjustly do these bad Judges put him to death! What, wouldst thou rather they should execute me justly? replied he to her. The injustice of the Judge's sentence, declare the justness of the condemned's cause. It is not the being a Judge that makes his sentence just, or the prisoner guilty: There have been those, and we have seen them, who have committed murder with the Sword of Justice, and executed Justice as a malefactor. Nor have the friends of those happy Martyrs any cause to be ashamed of, or grieved for their death, or manner of it: Damnari, dissecari, suspendi, decolari, piis cum impiis sunt communia: (says Erasmus) Varia sunt hominum judicia, Ille foelix qui judice Deo absolvitur. The old Martyrs have accounted martyrdom the way to heaven on horseback. The first man that died to heaven, but the first man that went to heaven died a Martyr, suffered a violent death by the hands of a cruel and unmerciful brother. We have lived to see that politic principle of Periander put in practice, who being consulted with how to preserve a tyranny, bid the messenger stand still, whilst he, walking in a garden, topped all the highest flowers, thereby signifying the cutting off, and bringing low of the Nobility. Yet will not this do with us; it is but like Cadmus his sowing of serpent's teeth, which will raise up armed men to revenge the quarrel of those brave spirits: For though our Curfeu-bell hath been rung out, and the fire of our zeal raked up in the ashes of Acts and Orders, yet it is not extinguished: Witness those Sparks who have revenged the death of their Sovereign with the hazard of their own lives.  
By this time, I doubt not, but they who most endeavoured his Majesty's death, have seen cause enough to wish him alive again, and are ready to engrave that Motto upon his Statue (which they threw down with contempt) which was set upon the Statue of the Roman Brutus, utinam viveres. It is yet some comfort that we can mingle sighs, and assist one another with mutual counsels and courtesies, which shall never be wanting from  
Sir, your assured Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. T. L.  
Sir,  
BEing lately at our New Court, there I saw his Highnose, so environed with his guard, as if he had been their prisoner, and wondered how he durst venture himself amongst so many dangerous weapons. I was ready to have said unto him, as Plato did to Dionysius the tyrant, when he saw him compassed about with many soldiers of his guard, What, hast thou committed so many evils, that thou standest in need of such a guard of armed fellows? To see the difference betwixt fearless innocence, and fearful guilt! M. Aurelius, that good Prince, never had any guard; for (says my Author) he stood not in fear of his subjects. Innocence is the surest guard, as Pliny told Trajan the Emperor: Haec arx inaccessa, hoc inexpugnabile munimentum, munimento non egere. Frustra se terrore succinxeret, qui septus charitate non fuerit. Armis enim arma irritantur.  
Whitehall is now become Black-hall, with the smoke of coals and matches: But it would make one sad and sigh to see what havoc is made of his Majesty's goods and householdstuff, and to whose using his house & furniture is fallen. It minded me of a story in Q. Curtius, who says, Alexander (that great robber, as the petty Pirate called him) sitting in Darius' Seat, which was not fit for him, but higher than served for his stature, his feet could not touch the ground; one of his Pages put a board underneath for him to tread upon; whereat one of the Eunuches that belonged to Darius, looked heavily, and fetched a deep sigh, whose sadness when Alexander perceived, he enquired of him the cause? He answered: That when he beheld the board whereon Darius was wont to eat, employed to so base an use, he could not behold it without grief. Who can see those brave horses which used to draw his Majesty's Coach, now drag in enemy's cart, without pity & indignation? But enough of this, and for this time I am,  
Sir, your very Friend, Servant, T. F.   

To Mr. E. H.  
Sir,  
HAving now retrived my rude draught of that excellent, but lost virtue of friendship, I send the picture to you the pattern, that it may be corrected by the comparison. It cannot be expected that it should be an exact piece, or that I should draw it to the life, which hath been dead to us poor mortals; especially having had so little light, and at so great a distance as we are removed from that golden age wherein friendship flourished. I cannot but admire, that so noble a subject hath found so few friends: For, except that Triumvirate of Eloquence, the Roman Cicero, our English Seneca, and that great Dictator of Learning Sir Fra. Bacon. I have found few or none, who have written any just discourse of it: From their trine Aspect hath my discourse received some light and augmentation. Yet have I not altogether trod in their steps, nor made any better use of them, than admire those I could not imitate; neither have I used any gay or painted language, but plain and simple, like the subject I handle. I have laboured to make it like, rather than handsome. An Ambassador coming to Treat with the Roman Senate, having his head powdered, and his face painted, Cato told them, they could not expect any truth from him, whose very locks and looks did lie. I have therefore studied to represent this Lady, sine fuco, sine fallaciis, without the dress of any artificial handsomeness, or auxiliary beauty. If you like it, love it; if not, draw the curtain of your charity over it, and let it lie, till some abler workman shall take the pencil in hand. It is enough for me, if it can but speak the Author  
Sir, your true Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. J. A.  
Sir,  
DId not the same peremptory business that pressed me down, still keep me here, I should (at least) have prevented the Office of this Paper, and not been beholding to a mute proxy for the delivery of a message I should rather, if not better, have done in person. Since fate will have it thus, let me crave your credence, that what you shall here read, is not so much the dictate, as the transcript of my heart. Sir, I left not my careful thoughts with your line of Communication; they have been, and will be my constant companions. Haeret lateri lethalis arundo; and I despair of any other cure, than the dictamen of your friendly counsel. I am confident your goodness will do me not only the courtesy, but the justice to believe that my recess was rather retreat, than a flight from the negotiation we had in hand, A business (if my thoughts deceive me not) too weighty to be carried to the end without a rest. Pardon me, if I am willing to look before I leap.— But after the verdict of my most considerate and serious thoughts, I must profess I have a large and long experience of the skill and fidelity of you my leader: Nor do I fear a miscarriage where you are pleased to be my guide. To say nothing of other circumstances I am not forgetful of, though silent in, allow me the liberty to tell you, Spem de futuris foveo: principium liquet; and it shall not only be my wish, but the most earnest of my endeavours, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. I have hitherto but tythed my thoughts, which should I allow my pen the liberty to write, would be too tedious for you to read. In a word therefore (to do you the courtesy of concluding) I shall promise, that one line from— (if he please to maintain his first favour with a second) will easily and quickly draw me from the most earnest of my engagements to tell him Vis à vis, that I am what I ever was, and still hope to be accounted  
Sir, your very very Friend, T. F.   

To Mr. R. H.  
Sir,  
IN my addreresses to my friends, I do always intent too much reality, to be beholding to a Compliment, in this to you, if an excess of affection should unawares transport my pen to an extravagant flight, your merits to me, and my obliged respects to you, may sufficiently secure me from the guilt of a suspicious hyperbole. When I have said all I can, I shall be so far from thinking it too much, that I must confess it to be too little. I could rather have contented myself to have been still your silent debtor, than by the adventure of a few hasty lines to stand in need of your pardon. To think to quit scores with you, by any thing I can say or do, is beyond the most confident of my hopes; and had not your command exacted it, I should not now have put you upon a new exercise of that goodness, to which I am already so much indebted. In the large Catalogue of those whom your repeated civilities, and constant courtesies have purchased to be your friends, I dare affirm, you have none more seriously sensible of your favours, or that doth more really wish your welfare, than myself. May success and prosperity wait upon all your undertake; may health and happiness be your constant attendants; and may the same good Angel that carries you from us, guide you in your journeys, and return you in safety.  
Let not your dear Consort (the best of wives and women) think that I have all this while forgotten Her: She is too much yourself to be divided from you in our good wishes. Sir, I am equally, and at once her and your  
Most obliged Friend, T. F.   
FINIS.   

LOVE'S LABYRINTH OR, The Royal Shepherdess: A TRAGICOMEDY.  
By THO. FORD, Philothal.  

Quid Melius desidiosus agam?   

Fata viam invenient.  
Comica festina gaudet sermone Thalia.   
LONDON, Printed by R. and W. Leybourn, for William Grantham, and are to sold at the Sign of the Black Bear in St. Paul's Churchyard. 1660.   

To his Worthy Friend Mr. Thomas Ford on his LOVES LABYRINTH.  

TRue Friend, while others me outvie, and grace the●e  
(As thou dost them far more) I scarce can trace thee  
I many thousand miles do wander  
Of Pilgrimage in thy Maeander,  
Till by the golden thread,  
Of Love I'm safe through led.   

Thy Wit is far beyond the Serpentine;  
Thy wreathe chequerwork and warp divine;  
Thy curious inter-woven Plots,  
Rich twine, tied all in Lovers-knots:  
Thy Skill is exquisite,  
To untie and unite.   

Thy Tent-works inlet pleases me so well,  
I'd have none outlet: I'd rather dwell.  
I love thy labyrinth, and approve,  
That thou shouldst labyrinth my love:  
There I poor well-housed elf  
Might safely lose myself.   

I see, work-women a'ned above workmen,  
How far short comes the needle of the pen!  
Those Damosels, who are so devouts  
In pricking little holes in clouts,  
Thy lively Tapestry-story  
Outstrips their painted glory.   

Let spleen itself judge either's manu-tract:  
Their female works can't speak, thy male-words Act.  
A drop of this your art (Sr.) passes  
Beyond an Ocean of 
† allusiuè ad gr. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  the Lasses  
Their byas-stitch doth squint,  
But thine's downright in print.   

Nay all thou dost would be such nevertheless,  
Though it ne'er saw the light, nor felt the press.  
Thy last impression comes behind,  
The first and chief is in thy mind:  
Thou art beyond the rest,  
Thy first Edition's best.   

None living can (I probably conjecture)  
No not thy self) repair this Architecture.  
Each line's right perpendicular,  
Reason thy Pium, and Truth thy Square:  
Each full-point may be seed,  
A nail driven to the Head.   

But I could wish there were no period,  
That (though all's even) yet something still were odd;  
That after all Exits might begin  
Still more fresh Intrats to come in.  
The whole frame so divine is,  
Nought vexes me but FINIS.   
N. C.   

To my ingenious Friend, Mr. Thomas Ford, on His LOVES LABYRINTH.  

WHo truly will thy Labyrinth commend,  
Shall find it hard, both to begin, and end:  
Yet thou hast spun a thread, with which t'untwine  
The wand'ring Lover, though all things combine  
To stop his passage: Such a flowing Style  
Thou usest too, as did my sense beguile:  
For whilst I read, I neither Scene nor Stage,  
" Can think were feigned: I saw an Active Rage  
" Appear in Damocles, which to my eye  
" Not Acted seemed, but real Tyranny.  
" Sephestia's love and doom; the better fate  
" Of Pleusidippus, not more fortunate:  
" For he Loves Labyrinth did also tread,  
" And Court incestuously his Mothers Bed.  
" And so her father, husband too (none known)  
" Yet he by sympathy did claim his own,  
" And had a grant, which moved the Tyrant's spleen,  
" (Since he could not enjoy her for his Queen)  
" To kill 'em both; their destinies prevent,  
" As loath to have destroyed the innocent.  
" Yet at the last each thing succeeds with good:  
" Though the foundation seemed t'be laid in blood.  
" And than the harmless shepherds rural sport,  
" Whose innocence makes every place a Court.  
And all things in so consonanat a dress,  
Makes more the seeming, not the being less.  
That (credit me) there is not in't a line,  
('Tis all so rare) but I could wish were mine.  
And as before, so I say now of this,  
Thou hast thy skill by Metempsychosis.  
Proceed then Worthy Friend, and may thy Fame,  
Like Laureate Johnson, ever speak thy Name.   
Edw. Barwick.   

Persons Personated.  

DAmocles, King of Arcadia. Father of Sephestia.  
Agenor, King of Thessaly. Father of Euriphyla.  
Maximus or Melecertus, Prince of Cyprus, who married Sephestia.  
Plusidippus, Son of Sephestia and Maximus.  
Menaphon, the King's Shepherd.  
Doron, a silly Shepherd.  
Lamedon, Brother to King Damocles.  
a Lords of Arcadia.  
Romanio, Eurilechus, 2 Pirates of Thessaly, who found Plusidippus.  
Artaxia, Queen of Arcadia, mother of Sephestia.  
Sephestia, or Samela, wife to Maximus, and mother of Plusidippus.  
Euriphyla, daughter to Agenor, who loved Plusidippus.  
Pesana, sister to Doron, in love with Menaphon.  
Carmila, sister to Menaphon, in love with Deron.   
The Scene Arcadia.   

Love's Labyrinth.  

Act. 1.  

Scene 1.  Enter King Damocles with two Lords, and Lamedon. King. 
CAn this be true?  1 Lo. 
My Liege, as truth itself.  King. 
And will neither the power of a King,  
Nor precepts of a father oversway  
Her fond affections; but that thus she will  
Run headlong to her ruin? Let her go.  1 Lo. 
Yet shot she not at rovers, but a Prince  
He is, young and deserving; therefore since  
Sh'has hit the mark, it will now be in vain  
To give her aim, or make her shoot again.  Kin. 
Was she so hasty, that she could not stay  
To take our Fatherly advice with her?  
No wonder if she wander in the Labyrinth  
Of love, without the clew of our counsel.  La. 
Come brother, come, she's not the first has  
Amiss; her own affections were the surest guide  
Unto her own content: she chose to please  
Herself, not you; come, let this anger cease.  1 Lo. 
'Tis now too late for to recall what's past,  
The match is made, and that so surely fast,  
'Tis past dissolving now; a Grandfather  
You are already: From their conjunction hath  
This influence proceeded, a fair boy  
Hath given them earnest of succeeding joy.  Kin. 
How! a boy! and shall that base brat enjoy  
My crown? no, no, I'll take a course for that.  La. 
Why brother, 'tis a Prince by birth, & why  
Not born to Reign?  Kin. 
Ay, mischief's on my head,  
But I'll prevent the plot and storm, we'll send  
Them far enough from troubling of our state:  
Distance and danger shall they first subdue,  
Before they gain our Crown; the slavish waves  
Shall be their subjects: let them go and and win  
The trydent of great Neptune, waters King.  
I mean to set them forth.  1 Lo. 
What means my Liege?  Kin. 
Nay, I'm resolved, since that they do no more  
Regard my favour, they shall feel my frowns.  
O ye Celestial Deities! where are  
Your power and wont justice now become?  
All things run headlong, and the feet forget  
Their duty to their Head, and traitors turn,  
Breaking the bonds of government; that now  
A Prince's power, or Fathers cares contemned,  
And only recompensed with slight and scorn.  Lam. 
But Sir, though she her duty do forget  
To you, yet is she still your child, and may  
Be easily reclaimed. Shall one misdeed  
Forfeit all former loyalty? She used  
To be more ready to give, than you  
Can be to ask. Come, let the weight of that  
O'repoize your anger, and this light offence.  Kin. 
I'll hear no more, all pity now is gone,  
And anger hath the castle of my breast  
So strongly fortified, whole valleys of  
Requests can never move; cease then your suit,  
To which my ears are deaf, and tongue is mute.  1 Lo. 
Heaven is not so impregnable, but that  
Entreaties may both siege and conquer it:  
If that your daughter hath run on the score  
Of one offence, will nothing cancel it?  Kin. 
My resolution's writ in Adamant.  1 Lo. 
Dread Sir, and may not tears than blot it out?  Kin. 
Nor all the liquid drop the sea contains  
Shall quench my rage; for now I have forgot  
All pity of a father, and that wretch  
Shall feel what 'tis to lose a father's love.—  
Since she will needs slight and contemn our care,  
I'll have a Bark provided, without oar,  
Or sail, or pilot, but the wilful wind,  
And ways, true emblems of their giddy act,  
And therein with her brat, and matc embarked,  
Shall seek their fortunes: And see you it done  
Without delay, our Will admits no time,  
T'expostulate no more than alteration.  1 Lo. 
O good my Lord command my service in  
Some nobler act than this and do not try  
My faith in that, for which I'd rather die,  
Than do't. What heir shall succeed yourself  
In the Arcadian Diadem, if thus you drown  
The Sun of all our hopes, which must  
Supply your place, when as your Sun shall set  
In darkest clouds of death, must night ensue,  
And seize upon our Horizon?— O let  
Some pity of our drooping state prevail.  Kin. 
All will not do. I'll have it done; then go  
Or stay and pull my vengeance on thy head.  
Will you turn traitor too, to our commands?  
As you tender our favour, or your safety,  
Go execute my will without delay.  1 Lo. 
And must my safety prove their ruin? can  
They not live, but I must die? I'll do't.  
Perhaps the tyrant-waves may prove more kind  
Than is their King My Liege I'll ease your mind.  Lam. 
And must they, & they only prove (poor hearts)  
A sacrifice to fury for their love?  
I'll be companion of their fortune. We  
Will leave this cursed land, which is nought else  
But a dry sea of miseries, in which  
We daily float; the sea can never be  
More merciless. O what a maze of woe  
Do lovers tread (dire fate) that for their love,  
Are recompensed with hatred. Farewell world,  
Thou ball of fortune banded to and fro,  
And never quiet; we will try what fate  
A waits us in the sea, it can't be worse  
Than here we suffer by our dearest friends.  Kin. 
Well brother, since you are so weary of  
The world, pray take your share with them, and care  
Of her: I leave her unto you, and to  
The mercies of the waves, and so adicu.  Exit.  

Scaen. 2.  2 Lo. 
Was ever man so resolute to undo,  
What an whole age can't recompense again?  
To cast away a Lady of that worth,  
That bankrupt nature cannot furnish forth  
Her Parallel: A beauty that would tempt  
The gods to lust: But guarded with an eye  
So modestly severe, it would strike dead  
All lustful hopes of the hot ravisher.  
See where she comes, like Phoebus newly risen  
From Thetis bed: Little doth she suppose  
The cruelty of her once happy Father,  
In having such a daughter, now not fit  
T'enjoy a blessing which he values not.  Seph. 
What news my Lord? Is the ice of my father's  
Anger broken? Hath the sun of counsel  
Thawed his frozen breast?  1 Lo. 
Ay, into a flood—  Seph. 
What means this passion? Speak man, for I am  
Prepared; it can't be worse than I expect.  1 Lo. 
Why then it is—  
Let me first drown myself  
In mine own tears, and vent my mind in sighs:  
Madam, you may guests sooner than I can tell.  Seph. 
Prithee torment me not thus with delays,  
More tedious than the thing can be, what e'er  
It is. Come, I am armed with the shield  
Of patience, my breast is mischief-proof.  1 Lo 
'Tis easier far to tell than execute:  
I wish my task were done with telling it.  
Madam, He hath made me the sad Overseer  
Of that dire act, which he so fears to speak.  
Silence will not relieve, it may protract  
The doing of that horrid fact, which who  
Shall hear, will loathe the name of father, for  
Your father's sake, who when perhaps y'are gone  
By's want will prise your worth the more, and, love  
You better than he ever did before.  
Thus are we taught to value of the light,  
By the dull silence of the darker night.  Sep. 
But to your story, and my doom, which sure  
Must needs be great, that it can find no vent.  
Come ease your shoulders of this burden, lay  
It on mine, who have deserved it.  1 Lo. 
Lady, wonder not at our unwillingness  
To tell what we had rather wish our tongues  
Out, than to be th'unhappy messengers  
Of such sad news, the truth whereof must rob  
Arcadia of its richest, choicest Gem,  
That doth adorn her Princely Diadem:  
By venturing all our hopes to the mercy  
Of the cruel waves, He hath pressed to be  
Your only Pilot; being shipped alone,  
With your dear babe and husband, without sail,  
Or oar, to contradict the lawless seas,  
In their unbounded raging tyranny:  
Whose heedless rigour yet may hap to prove  
More kind unto you than your father's love.  Sep. 
Heaven's will be done: But had another hand  
Inflicted this, it would have lighter seemed:—  
Yet is there comfort in his cruelty,  
That hath not parted me from him, for whom  
All this will be but light; his company  
Will sweeten all my sorrows, and convert  
My mourning into mirth: Can I be sad,  
Enjoying him will only make me glad?  Enter Lamedon. Lam. 
I cannot win my brother to reverse  
His cruel sentence, but it must be done.—  
Dear Niece, I'm thy companion; misery  
Shall never make my friendship to turn edge,  
But at the lowest ebb of fortune shall  
My love still flow: the sea shall never quench  
That flame which virtue once hath kindled in  
My breast, nor shall it meet, or be put out  
With any cold extinguisher but death.  
If many shoulders make griefs burden light,  
Then so shall ours: and may mine cease to be,  
When they shall cease to bear their equal part,  
And sympathise with thee, as doth my heart.  Seph. 
Uncle, my thanks. How rare it is to find  
A friend in misery! Men run from such,  
Like Deer from him is hunted with the dogs,  
As if that misery infectious were.  
Men fly with eagle's wings away,  
But creep like snails, when they should secure lend.  
I cannot therefore choose but prise your love,  
Who dare be true unto your friend; a name  
Nearer than that of kindred, or of blood:  
This is th'effect of noblest virtue, which  
Ties firmer knots than age can e'er undo:  
Such is the knot my Maximus and I  
Have tied, spite of my father's anger, it  
Shall hold, when envy's tired to invent  
Mischiefs, in vain, to cut the knot in two,  
Which heaven hath knit too fast to lose again.  
Alas fond man! who thinks to unravel what  
The gods have wove together.— 'Tis in vain.   

Scaen. 3.  1 Lo. 
Lady, time calls upon you not to stay,  
Lest by a fond delay you call upon  
His fury to convert into some worse,  
And sudden punishment, which may deny  
All hopes of future safety; of all ills  
The least is always wisely to be chosen.  Seph. 
Go and prepare that floating grave, which must  
Devours alive, I will attend you here.  
Before when will my dearest find his grief,  
In finding me thus lost without relief. Exeunt.  

Manet Sephestia.  
Why doth my Love thus tarry? surely he  
Forgotten hath the place, or time, or else  
He would not stay thus long; but can I blame  
Him, to be slow to meet his ruin? I  
Can wish he would not come at all, that so  
He yet might live, although I perish; but  
How fond do I wish to be without  
Him, without whom alas! I cannot live.  
'Twere as impossible as without air:  
He 'tis for whom I suffer, and with him,  
All places are alike to me.— See where  
He comes, who is sole keeper of my heart.   Enter Maximus. Max. 
My dear!  Seph. 
Ah, dear indeed, for whom thy life  
Must pay the shot of cruelty enraged.—  Max. 
What means my love? is't she, or do I dream?  
Sure this cannot be she, whose words were wont  
To be more sweet than honey, soft as oil:  
These words, more sharp than daggers points, ne'er came  
From her I know— What sayest thou my sweet?  Seph. 
The same— truth will not suffer me to speak  
Other, lest I should injure her.— O that  
'Twere possible so to dispense with truth,  
Not to betray ourselves— I know not what to say.—  Max. 
Heavens bless us, what a sudden change is here!  
Love, who hath wronged thee? tell me, that I may  
third their lives upon my sword, & make their  
Dead trunks float in their own blood, till they blush  
At their own shame: Tell me my heart, who is't?  Seph. 
Alas poor soul! thou little dreamest what sad  
News does await thine ears; my tongue doth fail,  
Not daring once to name the thing must be  
Our loves sad end, and dire Catastrophe.  
My father's fury— Oh that that name  
I once delighted in, should odious be  
To mine affrighted senses!— But for thee  
Alone, it is I grieve, not for myself.—  Max. 
Be't what it will, so that it be but in  
Relation to thy love, I will embrace,  
And hug, and thank that malice too, that so  
Invented hath a means whereby I may  
But testify my loyalty to thee:  
For whose sweet sake I would encounter with  
Legions of armed furies; sacrifice  
My dearest blood unto thy service, which  
I more esteem, than all the wealth the world  
Can boast of: 'Tis thee alone I value,  
Above whatever men's ambitious thoughts  
Can fathom with their boundless appetites.  Seph. 
This flame of love must now be quenched in  
The foaming sea; we are designed a prey  
Unto the fury of winds and waves.—  
The deadly Barque's providing, which must be  
Our moving habitation; the sea  
Must be our Kingdom, and the scaly fry  
Our subjects:— This, this, the portion is  
Of fortunes frowns, and father's fiercer hate.  
Fly, fly, my dearest Maximus, and save  
My life in thine; oh stay no longer here. weeps  Max. 
Why dost thou torment thyself before  
Thy time? wilt thou anticipate the sea?  
And drown thyself in tears? Deny me not  
To share with thee in suffering, as well  
As I have done in pleasure; 'tis for me  
This storm is raised, were I once cast away,  
His rage would cease. I, I have wronged thee,  
And I'll be just to thee, and to my word. draws  
I'll open the sluices of my fullest veins,  
And set them running, till they make a flood,  
Wherein I'll drown myself—  He offers to kill himself. She stays his hand. Seph. 
Thine heart lies here;  
'Tis here, locked up securely in my breast:  
First open that, and take it out; for death  
Shall ne'er divorce me from thy company:  
I will attend thee through those shady vaults  
Of death, or thou shalt live with me.— Dost think  
This body possible to live without  
A soul? or without thee? Have pity on  
Thy tender babe, whose life depends on thine,  
And make not me widow, and him orphan,  
With unadvised rashness.— Sheath thy sword.  Max. 
Mine eyes will ne'er endure it, to behold.  
Thee miserable, no, no, death first shall draw  
A sable veil of darkness over them.—  
Pardon my rashuess, I will live with thee,  
And tyre thy father's rage with suffering,  
So he'll but suffer thee to live in mirth,  
The greatest sorrow shall not make me sad.  Seph. 
Here comes my father, cerainly his rage  
Will know no bounds: I fear it will  
Break forth into some desperate act on me.  Max. 
Although he be a King, which sacred name  
I reverence, and as a mortal god  
Adore; he shall not dare to injure you  
Before my face: first shall he wear my life  
Upon his sword, if he but dare to touch  
Thy sacred self.—   

Scaen. 4. Enter Damocles.  Kin. 
How now light-skirts? have you got your Champion  
To shield you from our anger? know I have  
Not yet forgot the name of father, though  
You thus have slighted it; but as a King,  
We must be just to punish your contempt.  
Did you so well know your beauty to be  
Proud of it, and yet so little value it,  
As thus to throw it all away at once?  
Well, get you gone.— Since that you have esteemed  
A stranger's love before your lovalty  
To me, or my care to you, a stranger shall  
Inherit what you were born to, had not  
Your fond affections forced this vile exchange.  Max. 
Sir— for your fury will not suffer me  
To call you father; think not your daughter  
Undervalved by her love to me:  
Her love ran not so low, as to be stooped  
To meet with crime, who am a Prince no less  
Than is yourself: Cyprus my Kingdom is.  Kin. 
What drew you hither then? you must needs know  
It is no less than treason for to steal  
An heir to our crown: what drew you hither?  Max. 
Hither I came, drawn by that forcible  
Attractive, for to offer up myself  
A sacrifice at th'altar of her love.  
Tossed with a sea of miseries, I came  
To anchor in the haven of her heart:  
And if this be treason, I shall not blush  
To be esteemed a traitor. But if not,  
Then pardon me, if bolder innocence  
Doth force me tell you, 'tis not just in you  
Thus to oppose what Heavens have decreed.  
Believe me, Sir, it's neither safe nor just,  
For you to violate the laws of fate.  Kin. 
Let not your pride so far transport you, that  
You tax our justice. I shall scourge your haste  
Into a leisurely repentance, when  
The sea shall teach you that your tears, and th' wind  
That sighs become your headlong rash attempts.  Max. 
Great Sir, lay what you will on me, I scorn  
To crave your favour for myself; but yet  
Let Nature prompt you to be merciful  
To her who is a chief part of yourself.  Kin. 
No, as ye have joined yourselves in mirth, so  
Will I join ye too in mourning; and because  
Two not good consort make, my brother shall  
Bear a third part in your grave harmony.  Seph. 
Father, let me the heavy burden bear  
Of this sad song alone: let all your fierce  
Justice centre in my breast.—  Kin. 
No more,  
Our sentence is irrevocable, nought  
Shall satisfy me else: I'll have it done.  1 Lo. 
My Liege, the barque is ready, and attends  
Your pleasure; the commands of Kings are not  
To be gainsaid, or broken; for the will  
Of heaven is obeyed in doing them.  Seph. 
We do obey it then, and willingly,  
Father, for yet I can't forget that name,  
Although these injuries would raze it out  
My memory; I will not now dispute,  
But readily obey your will: and know  
The pleasures of your Court should not entice  
Me shun this coming terror, which will be,  
More welcome to me by my company.  
And thus I take my leave. Here may you find She knelt.  
That happiness you wish, and we shall want  
Whilst that we prove ourselves loves Confessors,  
If not his Martyrs.—  Kin. 
I will hear no more.  
Away with them, my Lord, you know the place,  
Our sentence and the time, I long to see  
Me, and my Kingdom from these monsters free.  Max. 
Arcadia adieu! Thou hast before  
Been famous for the happiness of loves:  
Now mischief hath usurped the seat, and may  
It be the object of the gods hatred.  
Since Love's the subject of their cruelty.  
Come dearest, let us wind ourselves so close,  
That envy may admire, and so despair  
To enter here, where love possession keeps.  Exe in't. Scaen. 5. Kin. 
Now shall I live secure, for now there is  
None left, whose nearness to our blood might edge  
Their hopes, by killing us to gain our Crown.  
King's lives are never safe from those that wish  
Their ends, which must initiate them into  
Th'enjoyment of a Kingdom; this same crown  
Is such a bait unto ambitious spirits,  
'Tis never safe upon the wearers head. Enter Artaxia weeping.  
Why weeps my dear?  Art. 
Ask why I do not weep.  
(Poor Artaxia) are my tears denied me!  
Ask why I do not rave, tear my hair thus,  
Why such a weight of sorrow doth not rob  
So much of woman from me, as complaints!  
Or rather, why do I not cloud the sky  
With sighs; till at the last with one bold stab  
My own hand take from insulting fortune,  
This miserable object of her sport.  
Ask why I do not this, not why I weep!  Kin. 
Or stint thy tears, or mingle mine with them,  
By a relation of their cause; these eyes  
Trust me Artaxia, are not yet drawn dry,  
Nor hath strong sorrow e'er exhausted them,  
To make them bankrupt of a friendly tear,  
But not a fond one. Why Artaxia!  
Why dost thou hasten those that come too fast,  
Sorrow and age, clear up thy clouded brow.  Art. 
Ah Damocles! how hast thou lost thyself!  
And art become a monster, not a man,  
Thus to deprive me of my only joy,  
The only stay and comfort of mine age,  
Which now must fall. Break heart, and give  
My sorrows vent. Ah! my Sephestia's gone,  
For ever lost unto the world and me.  Kin. 
Content thyself, not I, but justice hath  
Deprived us of her: Justice, that is blind  
To all relations, and deaf to entreats  
Of fond nature, or fonder affection.  Art. 
Ah cruel justice! Justice! no tyranny,  
This is: Death, be my friend, & join once more  
My dear Sephestia and me— I come  Stab herself. 
Sephestia I come; cursed world farewel.  Kin. 
Help, help, Artaxia, my dear, help, help,  
Sephestia doth live, she is not dead.  Art. 
Oh, 'tis too late— oh-oh-oh— She dies.  Enter 2 Lords. 2 Lor. 
Heavens! what a sight is here?  
The Queen, she's dead, stark dead, what shall we do?  
This wretched land is fruitful grown of late,  
Of nothing else but miseries and woes.  
Jove sends his darts like hailshot, no place free:  Kin. 
Ah miserable man I am, a wretch,  
Who thus have lost two jewels that the world  
Can't recompense: I know not what to do.—  
Now could I tear myself in pieces, that I have  
Thus parted friends, & left myself alone. Offers to kill himself  
I am resolved, I will no longer live.  2 Lo. 
Stay, good my Liege, live, & repent of what  
 done, you have killed enough already.  Kin. 
If I should kill myself, and lose my crown.  
I were better live.— Call us a Council quickly.  
But my wife, my dearest Artaxia!  
That I could breathe life into thee again,  
Or else were with thee!  2 Lo. 
He's not yet so mad.  Kin. 
O ye powers above! what mean ye thus  
To wrack us mortals with such blacker deeds  
Than hell itself! or remove them, or take  
All senses from us. Bear the body in,  
And summon all our Lords with speed t'attend  
Upon us, that we may find out from whence  
It is we suffer this sad influence.  Exit. 2 Lo. 
Unhappy King! he hath undone himself,  
And all the Land. His sublimated rage  
Hath sown a crop of mischiefs, which no age  
Can parallel; great-bellied time is big  
With sorrows; and our next succeeding times,  
Must reap the harvest of his bloody crimes.  Exit. 
Finis Actus primi.    

Act. 2.  

Scaen. 1.  Enter Menaphon, and Doron. Men. 
HOw mad a thing is Love? Is makes us lose  
Our senses; whilst we wander in a maze  
Of endless torments: sometime with his smiles  
The cunning thief doth flatter us with hopes  
And tantalise our expectations, when  
Straight our winged joys are gone, and we  
Do wrack ourselves with future coming fears:  
A mistress frowns doth cloud our clearer sky.  

1.  
Fond love no more,  
Will I adore  
Thy feigned Deity.  
Go throw thy darts,  
At simple hearts,  
And prove thy victory.   

2.  
Whilst I do keep  
My harmless sheep,  
Love hath no power on me:  
'Tis idle souls,  
Which he controls,  
The busy man is free.   Enter Doron. Dor. 
Ah Menaphon, my Sister Pesana, a pies  
On her, I had almost forgot her name, with come.  
Thinking on her business.  Men. 
Why what's thy business, Doron? tell me,  Dor. 
My business, 'tis none of my business, I tell you,  
'Tis my sister Pesana's business.  Men. 
Well, what's her business then? I prithee tell.  Dor. 
Ah Sir! she's sick.  Men. 
What is she sick of Doron? let me know.  Dor. 
Why, truly Sir, she's sick of you.  Men. 
She sick of me? why, am I a disease?  Dor. 
I mean— I mean— she is sick for you.  Men. 
That's kindly done of her, Doron, that she  
Will be sick for me: I'll make her amends.  Dor. 
Will you make her amend, said you? I am  
Afraid you'll make her end first; but truly  
Menaphon I have a suit for you.  Men. 
Hast thou a suit for me? Is it a new one?  Dor. 
I say I have a suit to you.  Men. 
To me? well, and what is your suit made of?  Dor. 
In good sooth, Sir, I must entreat you will  
Love my sister as well as you have done.  Men. 
No, Doron, love and I are fallen out, and he  
Will not let me love thy sister, or thee either.  Dor. 
Not my sister, nor me neither. Out thou  
Caterpillar, thou weasel, thou hedgehog,  
I will make you love me, and my sister too.  Men, 
You are out of your suit now Doron, and  
I fear you will catch cold, now you are hot.  Exeunt.  

Scaen. 2.  Enter Maximus shipwrecked. Max. 
Where am I now? Sure 'tis Arcadia.  
A land happy in giving birth to my  
Sephestia: Ah my Sephestia!—  
But now not my Sephestia, since the waves  
Have ravished her from me, and all my hopes  
Are proved abortive; why do I now live!  
Since she is gone, whose life & mine were both  
Twisted on one thread! Ye fatal Sisters!  
Why did not your cruel knife cut my life  
In twain, when hers was broken off by the  
Rude waves & blustering wind, who strove which should  
Gain her from each? But both from me have robbed  
Her; now may the sea well boast, and outvie  
The beggared earth; since it hath her who was  
The earth's whole sum of riches. O ye gods!  
Why did ye once make me so happy  
To enjoy her, and now snatched her again  
To make me thereby the more miserable?  
Yet is she not quite drowned; for her heart  
Is here: 'tis mine the sea doth prey upon.  
Well, my Sephestia, oh that name doth ravish  
Me: This body shall a monument be,  
And my whole life a continued Elegy,  
Both consecrated to thy memory.  
I'll drown thee once more in my tears,  
Which I will daily pay, as tribute to thee.  
Cyprus adieu, greatness also farewell.  
I see, those who are lifted highest on  
The hill of honour, are nearest to the  
Blasts of envious fortune, whilst the low  
And valley fortunes are far more secure.  
Humble valleys thrive with their bosoms full  
Of flowers, when hills melt with lightning, and rough  
Anger of the clouds. I will retire from  
The front of honour, to the rear of a  
Shepherd's life: where whilst I do daily tend  
The harmless sheep, will I sing forth sad notes  
Of their blessed happiness, and my misfortune.  
I will no longer keep this miserable name  
Of Maximus, but clad in sorrows weeds,  
Will I wear the name of Melecertus.  
No more Maximus Prince of Cyprus, but  
A poor shepherd will I be: when you see  
Those weeds, and hear Melecertus' name,  
I am that wretched he, who, like the snake,  
Have cast my former coat by creeping through  
The hole of misery, and got a new.  Exit.  

Scaen. 3.  Enter Doron. Dor. 
My Carmela is coming, and I'm provided to cast  
A sheep's eye at her.  He flings at her. Enter Carmela. Car. 
Now I see how Love came blind, he fling  
His eyes at me in stead of a love-dart.  Dor. 
Ha', my Carmela, let me kiss thy honeysuckle lips.  Car. 
You kiss so hard, you'll leave your beard behind.  Dor. 
By my troth, Carmela, swains cannot swear,  
But— I do love thee— by our great god Pan  
I love thee.  Car. 
You said you could not swear, and yet you  
Swear you love me.  Dor. 
Love, I have stared so long at thee, that I  
Am now grown blind.  Car. 
Then shall you be led, like blind beggars  
With a dog and a bell, or else be beholding  
To the glazier for a new pair of eyes.  Dor. 
I know not what you mean eyes, but I am  
Sure that I am off the hooks. You tell me of  
Eyes, eyes, but 'tis your no's that torments me.  
This blind god, that the Poets call Cupid, has seen  
To hit me with his dart, I know not how,  
But as the blind man killed the crow.  Car. 
Then you are one of the wanderers in Love's  
Labyrinth, I prithee let me lead thee.  Dor. 
Ay, so we may both fall; but no matter,  
For if you fall first, I'll fall on thee.  Car. 
Fie, Doron, fie, are you not ashamed?  Dor. 
Ashamed? of what? marry better falling in, than  
Falling out.  Car. 
You're very merry Doron, where's your music?  Dor. 
Let me play on thee, my pretty bagpipe,  
And I know thou wilt sing, loath to departed.—  Car. 
And I'll try that, now follow me. Exit.  Dor. 
Nay, when you came to the snuff once, I thought  
You would quickly go out.   

Scaen. 4.  Enter Menaphon. 
Oh Menaphon, hark, I am undone, as a man  
Should undo an oyster.  Men. 
Why Doron, what's to do with thee now?  Dor. 
Why man, thy sister Carmela is grown proud,  
And is just such another as thyself, she slights  
And scorns poor Doron; and yet because I love her,  
As my sister doth thee, she laughs at me. Well,  
I will be even with her; for if she won't love  
Me with a good will, I'll love her against her  
Will; and I think I shall be even with her there.  Men. 
Come, Doron, come, count love a toy,  
As I do, who take far more joy to view  
My flocks; here's my content; when heavens frown,  
I think upon my faults; and a clear sky  
Puts me in mind of the gods gracious love:  
Envy o're-looketh me, nor do I gaze  
So high as tall ambition; and for love,  
I feed myself with fancies, such as these.  
Venus (the Poets say) sprang from the sea,  
Which notes to me th' inconstancy of love,  
Changing each day with various ebbs & tides,  
Sometimes o'erflowing the banks of fortune  
With a gracious look from a lover's eyes,  
Ebbing at other times to th' dangerous shelf  
Of cold despair, from a Mistress frowns.  
Your Cupid must be young to show  
He is a boy, his wings inconstance tell:  
He's blind, to note his aim is without rule,  
Or reasons guide; such is the god ye serve.  Dor. 
Treason, treason against the god of love:  
Menaphon, though you be my friend, I will  
Have you articled against at the next meeting well  
Of the Shepherds.  Men. 
Lover's sorrows be like to the restless  
Labours of Sisyphus.  Dor. 
Like thy tongue then.  Men. 
Your Mistress favour's honey mixed with gall  
A bitter sweet, a folly worst of all,  
That forceth reason to be fancies thrall.  
Then love who list for me, if beauty be  
So sour, then give me labour still.  Exit. Dor. 
How I would laugh to see Menaphon once  
Manacled with love's fetters, that he might repent  
His blasphemy against the shepherd's deity.  Exit.  

Scaen. 3.  Enter Sephestia shipwrecked, with her Uncle Lamedon. Seph. 
Ah cruel fortune, but more cruel father,  
Most wretched I, who thus am robbed of all  
My pregnant hopes, my springing joys blasted  
With winter frowns. Jove send a flaming dart  
Into my breast, to melt my frozen heart  
Into a flood of tears, that I may drown  
Myself in them, since that the waves have proved  
Unkindly courteous to preserve my life,  
But to prolong my misery, and he  
Is drowned who was my life's preserver.  
Ah ye enraged deities! could ye  
Be so unkind to draw my life's thread out  
Thus long, to survive him who was my life?  
Why did ye not, or save his life with mine,  
Or destroy mine with his, that so I might  
Enjoy his company in life or death?  Lam. 
Ay, in the god's time, Niece, but not before.  Seph. 
And oh! my dearest Plusidippus! could  
The waves be so hardhearted, as to crop  
Thy blooming youth, to send thee to thy grave  
Before thou wert a man? Had they but left  
Me thee, it would have eased thy father's loss,  
If I had had his transcript to have viewed  
In thee, who wert his perfect Image. Now  
In stead of heir to the Cyprus crown,  
The cypress grove shall be Jointure, where  
I'll sadly spend the remnant of my life,  
To weep my losses, and my own sad fate,  
Which thus I will revenge; my Maximus  
Shall live still fresh within my memory,  
There fixed too sure for all the briny waves  
To wash away. Nor shall I  forget  
My son, my Plusidippus. I could feed,  
Myself unto eternity with these  
Sweet names, which do as far outvie  
The Nectar and Ambrosia of the gods,  
As pearls do pebbles. I can hold no more,  
My heart's so full, 'twill break, or overrun  
The sluices of mine eyes.— I'll weep the rest.  Lam. 
Why dost thou thus torment thyself in vain?  
Thy tears will not recover them again.  
Fate's dart is shot, and cannot be recalled,  
Nor is there any salve for fortunes wounds,  
But patience; therefore seeing me  
Partaker of thy sorrows, now lean all  
Thy cares on me, it is some relief,  
In sorrow to have fellows of our grief.  Seph. 
My husband and my son are gone, and I  
Survive alone unto their misery.  Lam. 
Chance is like Janus, double-faced; sometimes  
With smiles she comforts us, sometimes  
With frowns she casts us down again: A calm  
Succeeds a storm, and a sharp winter doth  
Precede a pleasant spring.  Seph. 
Oft turn tyre  
The weary traveller; and love doth lose  
His followers, in a wild Labyrinth  
Of woes. How am I fallen from all my hopes!  
(An exile in my native Country:) and  
The crown hope seemed to place upon my head:  
Banished from the pleasures of the Court,  
Parted for love from him I could not choose  
But love, from Maximus, who hath for me  
Suffered as many mischiefs as malice  
Can invent, and now all summed up in death.  Lam. 
What of all this? after the storm that rend  
Our ship, we found a calm that brought us safe  
To th' shore, whilst Neptune's mercy was beyond  
The envious blasts of Aeolus; and thus  
The gods do recompense us with their favour,  
For the dis-courtesies of your father.  Seph. 
Sweet Lamedon, once partner of my joys,  
Though now partaker of my wants; I see  
You are as constant in my sad distress,  
As you were faithful in my richer fortunes:  
Though friends seldom prove friends in poverty  
Misfortune hath not changed your mind, but you  
Temper my exile with your banishment:  
Your aged years shall be my sole directors,  
Your will the ruler of my actions.  
If you persuade me to content, Portia  
Shall not exceed Sephestia's patience:  
If you will have me strike my sails, I will,  
And steer my course by th'compass of your care.  Lam. 
Since hope is all the portion we have left,  
Let's thank the gods that saved our lives, and rest  
Our cares on them, they can return us more  
Than we have lost, or fit our minds to bear  
Our present state. Contentment gives a crown,  
Where fortune hath denied it: patience  
Makes all things easy to an humble mind.  
Cares are companions of the Crown, the Court  
Is full of busy thoughts, and envious strife,  
Whilst peaceful sleeps attend a Country life.  Seph. 
Then Lamedon will I disguise myself,  
And with my  will change my former thoughts,  
Measure my actions by my present state,  
Not by my former fortunes. Sephestia  
No more: Alas! I know not where, or how  
We shall bestow ourselves: Surely this is  
Some un-frequented place, no harmless sheep  
Do feed, nor shepherds tend their thriving flocks.  Enter to them Menaphon  

Scaen. 6.  Sephestia, Lamedon, Menaphon. Men. 
Heavens! what a sight is here! Such states appear  
But rarely in our Country Hemisphere,  
I am so Planetstruck with one short glance,  
I neither can retire, nor yet advance.  
What resolution is of proof against  
Such charms as these! Some goddess hath assumed  
An humane shape to tempt us weaker mortals.  
Cupid, I cry thee mercy now, although  
I were an Atheist unto thee before,  
Thou art the Deity I will adore.—  
Sure they are in distress, those pearly tears  
Furrow her cheeks with cruel strife  
Which shall run fastest, are no sooner dried,  
New sighs, like the warm southern wind proclaim  
A fresh approaching shower. I fear they are  
Some passengers late shipwrecked, for I saw,  
(When walking by the shore) some floating parts  
Of a torn ship, contending with the waves.  Lam. 
Courteous shepherd, if distressed persons  
Fortune hath robbed, and the sea favoured  
(If it be a favour to live and want)  
May crave your aid so far, as to direct  
Us to some place may rest our wearied bones,  
Our charges shall be paid, and you shall have  
For recompense, such blessings as the gods  
Use to bestow on hospitable men.  Men. 
Strangers, your quality I know not, nor  
Shall now dispute; but if a country cell  
May not too disparage you, here is  
Hard by my cottage, and your home.  Seph. 
Kind Sir, your courtesy is much beyond  
Our merit, and our present hopes below  
A suitable return; please you accept  
Our thanks, as earnest of that larger debt  
Future ability may see discharged.  Men. 
Lady, I have no curious hang to  
Adorn my walls, nor plate to show my wealth:  
Yet do I live content; and you shall find  
Such welcome as a cottage can afford.  Lam. 
Sir, blame not our wills, but present want, which now  
Makes us thus plentiful only in thanks. Exeunt.   

Scaen. 7.  Enter Doron, Carmela. Dor. 
Carmela, by my great bell-wether, Carmela,  
I'm over the tops of my high-shooes in love,  
And there shall I stick and starve, if thou dost  
Not pull me out.— Where hast thou been  
This livelong hour?  Car. 
What, does the mouth of your affections water?  Dor. 
Water? No, if fires. I'm so all afire, that I dare  
Not go amongst my flocks for fear, lest  
I should burn up all their pasture, if thou  
Dost not shower down some dew of  
Comfort to cool me.  Car. 
I shall soon cool your courage, Doron; for  
I cannot, may not, will not love thee.  Dor. 
Out you gossip, not love me? go, get  
You spin on Ixion's wheel.  Car. 
No, Lovers spin on that, and so must you.  Exeunt.  

Scaen. 8.  Enter Menaphon. Men. 
How fond was I, when I as vainly strove  
To keep my heart against the god of Love!  
I little thought his power; when I resolved  
To live, and not to love: Nature I see  
Cannot subsist without love's harmony.  
In vain I shut the door, and bolted it  
With resolution; straight the thief,  
Through the casements of mine eyes got in,  
And stole away my heart; as once of old  
He served the merry Greek Anacreon;  
Whose fancy fits my fortune: Here it is.  

Love's Duel.  
Cupid all his Arts did prove,  
To invite my heart to love;  
But I always did delay,  
His mild summons to obey;  
Being deaf to all his charms.  
Straight the god assumes his Arms.  
With his bow and quiver, he  
Takes the field to Duel me.  
Armed like Achilles, I,  
With my shield alone defy  
His bold challenge, as he cast  
His golden darts, I as fast  
Catched his Arrows in my shield,  
Till I made him leave the field.  
Fretting, and disarmed then,  
The angry god returns again,  
All in flames; stead of a dart,  
Throws himself into my heart.  
Useless, I my shield require,  
When the Fort is all on fire.  
I in vain the field did win,  
Now the Enemy's within.  
Thus betrayed, at last I cry,  
Love thou hast the victory.   

Alas! what heart's so fortified, to prove  
The several batteries of the god of love!  
What ear's not charmed with th'rhetoric of a voice,  
Whose single note would silence all the Choir  
Of the Aërial feathered Choristers!  
What eye would not be blinded to behold  
Those eyes which cast a cloud upon the Sun,  
And bring his light under disparagement.  Enter Sephestia. 
Witness that face, whose Shrine hath made me blind.  
How fares my fairest guest?   Seph. 
The better for  
Your courteous entertainment, may the gods  
Be favourable to your flocks, as you  
Have friendly been to us.  Men. 
May I presume  
To crave your name, and to inquire how  
Hardhearted fortune could be so unjust,  
To injure innocence? Sign she is blind.  Seph. 
My name is Samela, my parentage  
But mean, the wife of a poor Gentleman  
Of Cyprus, now deceased: How arrived here,  
Pray do not now inquire; time may reveal,  
What present sorrows force me to conceal.  Men. 
I will not press your yet fresh bleeding wounds,  
With a rude hand; 'tis time and patience  
Must work the cure; the gods allow a salve  
For every sore, but we must wait on them:  
Their time is best; for when we strive to heal  
Our wounds too fast, they do but fester more.  
Rest here content; a Country life is safe,  
Fortune overlooks our humble cottages  
We are not pained with wealth, nor pined with want,  
Our sheep do yield us milk for food, and wool  
To make us ; hunger & cold we slight:  
Envy hath here no place, we'll friendship keep,  
Free from all jars, and harmless as our sheep.  Sam. 
O happy life! would I had never known  
Other than this, which by comparison,  
Renders mine odious to my memory.  Exit weeping. Men. 
Sorrow sits heavy on her heart, but shows  
More lovely in her face; those tears appear  
Like crystal dew upon the blushing rose.  
Beauty thus veiled, is more inviting, than  
Shining out in its unclouded splendour.  
Fortune, I hate thee, for thy spite to her,  
But thank thee for thy courtesy to me,  
In sending her for shelter to my house.  
Kind love assist me now, and I will be  
Her constant servant, and thy votary.  Exit. 
Finis Act. 2.    

Act. 3.  

Scaen. 1.  Romanio and Eurylochus, with Plusidippus. Rom. 
THis present to the King of Thessaly  
Will gain us both reward and pardon too  
For all our former Piracies upon  
His seas and ships.  Eur. 
Ay, he hath ne'er a son,  
For to inherit the Thessalian Crown:  
Hereby this lad may gain a Kingdom, whilst  
We seek but our liberties and lives,  
For time to come, and pardon for what's past.  
This is the place the King doth oft frequent,  
When public cares oppress his Royal head,  
Here he unloads the burden of his thoughts,  
And changes cares for recreation.—  
See where he comes! God save your Majesty.  Rom. 
Long live Agenor, King of Thessaly.  Enter King. Kin. 
What means this bold intrusion? who are ye?  
That dare presume into our private walks?  Eur. 
Pardon, great Sir, we come not to offend  
Your sacred Majesty, but to present  Shows Plusidippus to the King. 
You with this living gift.  Kin. 
This is a gift  
Indeed; where had ye him, or what's his birth?  Rom. 
Please you, dread Sir, grant us your pardon then,  
We shall declare unto you what we know.  Kin. 
Take it, we freely pardon ye. Now speak.  Eur. 
Then be it known unto your Majesty,  
We the two famous Pirates are, you have  
So long laid wait to take, but all in vain.  
Roving upon the coasts of Arcady,  
We found this beauteous youth upon the shore,  
Whom (we suppose) the seas had wracked, but saved  
His life, which we have nourished ever since,  
And now bequeath unto your Majesty:  
For which we beg no recompense, but this,  
To seal our pardons for our former faults.  Kin. 
Look that for time to come ye honest be, lives  
And for what's past we freely pardon ye.  Rom. 
Thanks, Royal Sir, the remnant of our  
Will we spend in your service, and so give  
Again, our lives which you have given us,  
When they were forfeit to your laws and you.  Exeunt. Kin. 
This is a welcome gift. What a divine  
Beauty doth sparkle in his countenance!  
Surely he cannot be of mortal race  
Descended, but Jove himself hath sent him,  
To be the happy heir of my Kingdom.  
Immortal Jove! I thank thee for this gift.  
Thou couldst not have sent a welcomer.  
My pretty lad, where were't thou born? canst tell?  Plu. 
I know not, Sir,— my name is Plusidippus.  Kin. 
Come, follow me, now have I found at once  
An husband for my danghter, & an heir  
For the Thessalian Crown. Thrones are supplied forth,  
By Jove, who, when the root is withered,  
Can make more heavenly branches to sprout  
Which may in time grow mighty trees to shade,  
And shelter all their liege-subjects under. Exeunt.   

Scaen. 2.  Menaphon solus. 
Strike home, great Cupid, with thy flaming dart,  
As yet thou dost but dally with my heart:  
'Tis rather scratched than wounded; I do hate  
A lukewarm love: give me a love flames high,  
As it would reach the element of fire,  
From whence it came; a low and creeping flame  
Befits a chimney, not a lover's breast.  
Give me a love dare undertake a task  
Would fright an Hercules into an ague.  
A love dare tempt the boldest fate, and die  
An honoured captive, or bold conqueror.  
Give me a daring, not a whining love,  
A love grows great with opposition:  
A love that scorns an easy task, things great  
And noble always are most difficult.  
This is the love (blind Cupid) I would have,  
A love that brings home trophies, or a grave.  
I'll tempt his god-ship with a song, and see  
If verse, not sighs, will gain the victory.  

1.  
No more, no more,  
Fond Love give o'er,  
Dally no more withme;  
Strike home and bold,  
Be hot, or cold,  
Or leave thy deity.   

2.  
In love, lukewarm,  
Will do more harm,  
Than can fevers heat:  
Cold cannot kill  
So soon as will  
A fainting, dying sweat.   

3.  
I cannot tell,  
When sick, or well,  
Physic, or poison give;  
Still in anguish,  
I do languish,  
Or let me die, or live.   

4.  
If I must be,  
Thy Votary,  
Be thou my friend or foe:  
If thou wilt have  
Me be thy slave,  
Hold fast, or let me go.   

Sure Cupid hath resigned his place, and given  
His godhead unto Carmela, whose eyes  
Wound more than ever did his darts.  
But what is that, if she have power to hurt,  
And wanteth mercy for to heal those hurts.  
I fear whilst I make her my deity,  
I do but thereby make her proud,  
And with my own hands place her out of reach.  
Yet she is in distress, and that should make  Enter Doron. Listens and laughs. 
Her humble: I relieve her, therefore she  
Hath the more reason thus to relieve me;  
And certain, she will rather love than want.   Dor. 
Ha', ha', ha', etc. are you catched, Menaphon?  
I'faith, I think y'are fettered now, you're hanged  
Ith' brambles of love, as well as I. You laughed  
At me before, but now I'll laugh at you.  Men. 
Ah Doron! now I crave thy pity, for  
I never thought an earthly beauty could  
So soon have fettered me; what did I say?  
An earthly? No, Doron, she is heavenly,  
Brighter than Phoebus in his glittering pride:  
Venus herself was not so fair a Bride.  Do. 
How now Menaphon! I'm afraid thou wilt  
Be a beggar shortly, thou art a Poet already.  
One of the threadbare crew, that ragged regiment.  Enter Samela. Men. 
See Doron, see, see where she comes, who with  
Her brighter lustre can create a day  
At midnight, when the Sun is gone to sleep;  
Eclipse his noon-tide glory with her light:  
Her absence would benight the world, & clothed  
In blackest darkness, for to mourn its loss.  Sam. 
Good-morrow Host, how thrive your well-fed flocks?  Men. 
My flocks do thrive (Lady) and can't do less,  
Blest with the auspicious sunshine of your eyes;  
And I were too ingrateful, if I should  
Deny to give you back again, what I  
Enjoy but by your beauteous influence.  Sam. 
Y'are merry, Menaphon, if not profane,  
To rob the gods of what is due to them,  
To give it to the object of their scorn.  
Can I dispense good fortunes, I should not  
Forget myself, & choose the meanest lot.  Exeunt. Dor. 
This 'tis to be in love, how spruce is Menaphon  
Become of late, as he were always going  
To a feast? and talks as if he were some  
City Orator. Why can I not do so? I'm  
Sure I am in love as well as he. But  
I'll go hire some journeyman Poet, or other,  
And he shall make me some verses  
For my Carmela: And that will do as  
Well, as if I made them myself; I'll  
Set my brand upon them, and then no  
Body will question them to be mine, no  
More than they do my sheep that are marked.  Enter Melecertus.  

Scaen. 3.  
Ay, ay, it shall be so. Oh Melecertus,  
Yonder is the finest shepherdess that ever  
The moon held the candle of her light to; the  
Shepherd Menaphon has got her to him, as  
If because he is the King's shepherd, he  
Must have the Queen of Shepherdesses.  Mel. 
Hast seen her, Doron? and dost know her name?  Dor. 
Seen her? ay, and sigh to see her too; her name, I  
Think, is Stamela— no, no,— Samela, Samela,  
Ay, ay, that's her name, I have it now, I would  
I had her too.  Mel. 
What kind of woman is she, canst thou tell?  Dor. 
Ay, or else I were naught to keep sheep.  Mel. 
Can thy tongue paint her forth to mine car?  Dor. 
Ay, ay, legible, I warrant you.  
Her eyes are like two diamonds, I think, for  
I never saw any before; and her locks are  
All gold, like the golden fleece our shepherd's fleece,  
Tell of.  Mel. 
It were good venturing for that golden  
Doron, as Jason long since did for his  Dor. 
Her hands are all ivory, like the bone-haft  
Of my best knife, her alabaster, and her  
Eyes black as my blackest lamb, her cheeks  
Like roses red and white that grow together.  
What think you of her now? have I not made  
A fair picture on her?  Mel. 
Ay Doron, were this picture painted to  
The life, as thou hast here described it,  
It could not choose but make an absolute,  
Rare, and complete piece of deformity.  Dor. 
Nay, nay, if you done't like it, I don't  
Care, but I had it out of an old book of  
My brother Moron's, they call'm  
Rogue-mances, I think: my brother  
Has a whole tumbril full on'm, he's  
Such a Bookish blockhead—  Mel. 
Nay, be not angry, Doron, I believe  
Thou meanest a beauty beyond expression:  
And such an one I had, till envious fate  
Robbed me of her, and all my joys at once,  
Heavens envying at my happiness,  
Sent death to fetch her from me, and she's dead,  
Dead, Doron, dead,— she's dead to me, and to  
The world, and all but to my memory.  weeps. Dor. 
Fie, Melecortus, what dost mean to  
Weep? what, wilt thou make dirt of  
Her ashes with thy tears?  Mel. 
Well, Doron, we forget our flocks, and we  
Shall miss the shepherds merry meeting.  Dor. 
That's true, and there will be the shepherdesses  
Too, and Menaphon will bring his fine  
Mistress thither; there shalt thou see her,  
But first mask thine eyes, lest thou lose  
Them, and become love-blind, as I am.  
Good Melecertus take the pains to lead me.  Exeunt.  

Scan. 4.  Enter King Damocles melancholy, 2 Lords. Kin. 
How wretched am I grown, I hate myself,  
And care not now for my own company:  
I loathe thee light, and fain would hid myself  
From mine own eyes; I'm weary of my life.—  
Where shall I hid myself, that there I may  
Deceive th'approaches of discovering day?  
I'll seek some gloomy cave, where I may lie,  
Entombed alive in shades of secrecy.  Fxit. 1 Lo. 
His thoughts are much perplexed, & black despair,  
May push him on unto some  act,  
If not prevented by our vigilance.  2 Lo. 
This is th'effect of rash resolves, when haste  
And passion hurry men to do those things  
Reason would wish undone, at least delayed.  
Our wills spurred on by rage, ne'er stop, till we  
(Blinded with anger) headlong throw ourselves  
From dangers precipice, into a gulf  
Of black despairing thoughts; and then too late  
Repentance lends us so much light as may  
Show us our madness, and our misery.  1 Lo. 
Ill actions never go unpunished;  
They are their own tormentors, and do prove  
At last, furies to lash the guilty soul.  2 Lo. 
When reason is deposed, & passion reigns,  
Nothing but lawless actions do appear:  
When passion hath usurped the helm,  
And steers a wild uncertain course, not by  
The card and compass of advice, the ship  
Will never make good voyage, but be tossed  
Upon the waves, and all her lading lost.  
He by his wilful rage hath cast away  
Himself, and floats upon the waves of ruin:  
Let's try if we can waft him safe to shore,  
Lend him our helping hands, lest he do sink  
Into that deep and black gulf of despair.  1 Lo. 
Let's after him, and try what we can do,  
In saving him, we save our Kingdom too.  Exeunt.  

Scaen. 5.  Enter Menaphon, with Samela, and Pesana after them, Melecertus leading Doron. Pes. 
hay day, what's here, my brother Doron?  Mel. 
Doron conceits himself that he is blind.  Dor. 
Ay, Doron's as blind as any door: what  
Creep I here upon? Carmila, oh Carmila,  
The very sight of thee hath recovered mine  
Eyes again.  He stumbles on Samela in Carmila's . Men. 
Nay, now I see,  
Doron, thou'rt blind indeed,  
That dost not know Carmila from her .  
No, no, 'tis Samela, not Carmila.  Dor. 
Which is my Carmila? good Melecertus  
Show me where she is.  Mel. 
It seems, Doron, Carmila is not here.  Dor. 
Why, what do I do here then? I thought  
It was something I missed, only I  
Mistook; for I had thought it had  
Been my eyes were lost, but now I  
See it is my Carmila is missing, whom  
I had rather see than my own eyes.  Pes. 
This is my corrival in Menaphon's love.  Mel. 
She is a beauty indeed; and since my  
Sephestia is drowned, without compare.  
I cannot blame Menaphon, but envy  
Him rather, for his so happy choice.  
O happy! yet to me unhappy beauty!  
That doth (as in a glass) present unto  
My frighted senses the remembrance of  
My loss, which, unless by this fair piece,  
Cannot be recompensed by the world.—  
Mistress, y'are welcome to our company.  Dor. 
By my troth, Mistress, you are very welcome,  
As I may say, unto our meeting.  Sam. 
Thanks shepherds: I am a bold intruder  
Into your company; but that I am  
Brought by your friend, and my host Menaphon.  Mel. 
Mistress, your presence is Apology  
Sufficient; yet do we owe him thanks,  
That by his means we have the happiness  
T'enjoy your sweet society in this  
Our rural meeting, when shepherds use  
To cheer themselves with mirth & pleasant tales.  Sam. 
I hope my company shall not forbid  
The Banes between your meeting & your mirth.  Mel. 
Then by your leave, fair shepherdess, I will  
Begin with you. If the gods should decree  
To change your form, what shape would you desire?  Sam. 
I would be careful how to sail between  
The two rocks, of immodest boldness, or  
Of peevish coyness; therefore to answer  
Unto your question, I would be a sheep.  Men. 
A sheep? Mistress, why would you be a sheep?  Sam. 
Because that then my life should harmless be,  
My food the pleasant Plains of Arcady,  
My drink the curious streams, my walks  
Spacious, and my thoughts as free as innocent.  Dor. 
I would I were your Keeper.  Mel. 
But many times the fairest sheep are drawn  
Soon unto the shambles to be killed.  Sam. 
And sure a sheep would not repine at that,  
To feed them then, who fed her long before.  Pes. 
Then there's more love in beasts, than constancy  
In men, for they will die for love, but when?  
When they can live no longer, not before.  Men. 
If they're so wise, it is their mother-wit,  
For men have their inconstancies but from  
You women, as the sea its ebbs and tides  
Hath from the moon.— Your emblem to an hair.  Dor. 
Menaphon, if you hate my sister, I'll—  
Love yours for't in spite of your teeth.  Pes. 
Your mother surely was a weathercock,  
That brought forth such a changeling; for your love  
Is like the lightning, vanished as soon  
As it appears; a minute is an age  
In your affections. You once loved me—  Dor. 
Ay, I would you loved him no better.  Men. 
If that I be so changing in my love,  
It is because mine eye's so weak a Judge,  
It cannot please my heart upon trial.  Pes. 
If that your eye's so weak, then let your ears  
Be open to your love's appeals and plaints,  Sam. 
Come, for to end this strife, pray let us hear  
Th'opinion of good Doron, who's so mute,  
As if h'had lost his tongue too, with his eyes.  Dor. 
By my faith, fair Mistress, I was thinking  
All this while with myself, whether in being shape  
A sheep, you would be a ram, or an ewe?  Sam. 
An ewe, no doubt; if I should change my,  
I would not change my Sex; and horns are held  
The heaviest burden that the head can bear.  Dor. 
I think than I were best be an ewe too,  
So I might be sure to have no horns:  
But I would not greatly care to wear horns,  
Were I a ram, were it but where you were and gives  
An ewe.—  Men. 
Well, shepherds, come, the day declines,  
Us timely warning for to fold our flocks.  Exeunt.  

Scaen. 6.  Manet Melecertus. 
Were my Sephestia living, I should think  
This sheperdess were she: Such was her shape,  
Such was her countenance; her very voice  
Doth speak her my Sephestia. But alas!  
How fond do I dream! I do embrace  
A cloud in stead of Juno. Yet I love,  
And like her, 'cause she is so like my Love.  
We love the pictures of our absent friends:  
And she's the living picture of my dear,  
My dear Sephestia. Me thinks I feel  
A kind of sympathy within my breast,  
To like and love her of all women best.  
Forgive me, my Sephestia, if thou livest,  
If I do love another for thy sake:  
Thy likeness is the loadstone which doth draw  
My heart to her, that nothing else could move.  Exit.  

Scaen. 7.  Enter Pesana. 
Thou most impartial deity of Love!  
Can there be two Suns in Love's Hemisphere?  
Or more loves in one heart than one that's true  
Or can the stream of true love run in more  
Channels than one? Shall I be thus paid  
For my love to false Menaphon? Hereafter,  
Venus, never will I adore thee, nor  
Will I offer up so many Evening  
Prayers unto Cupid, as I have done.—  
Was ever poor maid so rewarded with  
An inconstant lover, as I daily am  
With this same fickle-headed Menaphon!  Enter Doron. 
How now Pesana! what's the news with thee?  Pes. 
News! marry 'tis the news I complain of;  
Were Menaphon the old Menaphon, that  
He was wont to be, I should not complain.  Dor. 
Come— plain Pesana must not grudge to give  
Way unto fine Samela, that hath turned his  
Heart, and if he do not turn again  
Quickly, he'll be burnt on that side; well,  
Be content a while, by that time he hath loved  
Her, as long as he did thee, he'll be as  
Weary of her, as he is now of thee.  Pes. 
But in the mean time, Doron, I must be  
A stolen to her usurps my right in him.  Dor. 
Ay, that's the reason he doth not care  
For thee, because thou art stolen.  
Thus do poor lovers run through  
The briers and the brambles of difficulties,  
And sometimes fall into the ditch of undoing.  Pes. 
Good Doron, be my friend to Menaphon.  
And mind him of his former love to me,  
Or I shall learn at last to slight him too.  Dor. 
Ay, ay, he has a sister, just such another  
As himself, I'm zure she has even broken  
My poor heart in twain; and if it be  
Pieced again, it will never be handsome. Exeunt.   

Scaen. 8.  Enter Lamedon. 
How happy are these shepherds! here they live  
Content, and know no other cares, but how  
To tend their flocks, and please their Mistress best,  
They know no strife, but that of love, they spend  
Their days in mirth; and when they end, sweet sleeps  
Repay, and ease the labours of the day.  
They need no Lawyers to decide their jars,  
Good herbs, and wholesome diet, is to them  
The only Aesculapius; their skill  
Is how to save, not how with art to kill.  
Pride and ambition are such strangers here,  
They are not known so much as by their names.  
Their sheep and they contend in innocence,  
Which shall excel, the Master or his flocks.  
With honest mirth, and merry tales, they pass strife,  
Their time, and sweeten all their cares:  
Whilst Courts are filled with waking thoughtful  
Peace and content do crown the shepherd's life.   
Finis Act. 3.   

Act. 4.  

Scene 1.  Enter King of Thessaly, and his daughter Euriphila. Kin. 
DAughter, it is enough, we will it, see  
You show your duty in obeying us;  
Since I have made choice of him for my Son,  
Accept him for your husband: He's a man  
Ancient in virtues, although young in years:  
He's one whose worth is far beyond his age.  Eur. 
Father, it grieves me that the cross Fates have  
Forced me to hate the man you so much love:  
Cupid hath struck me with his leaden dart, can he  
I cannot force my own affections.  Kin. 
How's this? you hate him whom I love!  
Be th'object of your hate, who is alone  
The subject of my love and reverence?  
He whom the gods in mercy have designed  
The happy Successor unto my crown,  
And to your love? Bethink yourself again.  Eur. 
Great Sir, the gods themselves are subject to  
That little deity of love, can I  
Withstand his power, or love against his will?  
Force cannot work on love, which must be free,  
And uncompelled, else can it not be true,  
Nor lasting. Sir, urge me no more in vain.  Kin. 
What a strange change is here! Your will was wont  
Freely to stoop to all my just desires;  
Is it now grown so stiff, 'twill not be bend  
By my commands? I know thou dost but feign.  Eur. 
I would obey your will, could I command  
Mine own affections, or choose my love.  Kin, 
Do it, or else by Jove, whom I present,  
I'll punish thy neglect.— I cannot think  
Thy words and thoughts agree. Surely to love,  
Is natural, why then not to love him,  
Whom nature made to be beloved? He hath  
Artillery enough about him to take in  
The stoutest heart at the first summons.— Well,  
Think on't Euriphila, when I am gone,  
I'll leave thee here, Lovers are best alone. Exit.   

Scaen. 2.  Eur. 
How rarely have I played this part, & hide  
My love under a mask of hate!— but now,  
Me thinks, I feel the fire of love to rage's  
More fiercely in my breast; for being kept  
So close, it will break out too soon: I must  
Invert the course of love, and woe him first.  Enter Plusidippus. 
He comes, and fitly: Cupid, instruct me now,  
To war and conquer in this bloodless fight,  
That wins the field by flight, and not by force.  
Yet must I veil my love still, and seem coy,  
Till by a false retreat I make him fall  
Into those snares I set, and wish him in.—  
What means this bold intrusion? dost befit  
You to intrude into my privacies?  Plu. 
Lady, the fault's not mine, fortune hath led  
Me to this place: mine ignorance (I hope)  
Will plead mine innocence. As I have found  
Your Royal Father's noble favours far  
Exceed my hopes, or my requital, let  
Not your frowns strike dead whom he hath raised  
To life; cruelty cannot lodge within  
That tender breast was only made for Love.  Eur. 
Dare you presume to talk of love to me?  
Am I a mate fit for your choice? Be gone,  
And seek some shrub may fit your lowness best.  Plu. 
Madam, this storm becomes you not. It is  
Degenerate from your noble Father's strain.  
I cannot think this should proceed from one,  
That is the Heir to his name and worth.  Eur. 
My father's ears shall ring with this, that he  
Hath warmed a viper, which would by't him now,  
And entertained a guest would rob his host.  Plu. 
Lady, my spirit tells me that my birth  
Is not so base as you conceit. I mean  
To try my spirit, and my fortunes in  
Mars his Camp, but not in Venus' Courts.  
Since nature's so unkind, as not to let  
Me know what honour I was born unto,  
I'll win some to my name, by actions, which  
Shall speak me noble; I had thought t'have made  
You the fair goddess at whose shrine I meant  
T'have offered up, and sacrificed myself,  
And all my services; but cause you prove  
So rough, I will not harbour here, but seek  
The world through, for an altar worthy of  
My labours. So, fair proud, farewell. Exit.  Eur. 
Art gone! I did not well to tempt a part  
I knew not how to act, to hid a flame  
I could not well conceal: for hereby have  
I drove him quite away.— Euriphila,  
Thou were't too blame.— Well, I will after him,  
And try if I can fetter him with gifts,  
Whom love cannot entangle: Mars is his god,  
Not Venus; once more will I try, and show  
Him plainly how I love him: Juno help,  
And thou, O little deity of Love!  
Besiege the castle of his stubborn breast,  
bend all thy batteries unto his heart,  
Make it the mark of all thy golden darts.  
Let him no more resist, but know thy power,  
That Mars with all his armour, nor his forts,  
Castles, or coats of mail, can fence him from  
Thy little piercing shafts, which wound unseen.  
And I will try what work a woman's arts  
Can make against these stubborn warriors hearts. Exit.   

Scaen. 3.  Enter Samela. 
I have but one heart to bestow, and that  
Must not be Menaphou's; mine eyes do fix  
On Melecertus, the best counterfeit  
Of my lost Maximus: I cannot yet  
Think on that name, but it doth seem to chide  
My hasty choice, and drown my love in tears.  She weeps. Enter Menaphon. Men. 
What mean these sudden passions, Samela?  
Hast thou not here all thou canst wish? what dost  
Thou want can make one happy, but content?  Sam. 
'Tis true, I nothing want, that a poor wretch  
Can wish for; but this happiness doth mind  
Me of my forepast happiness that's lost.  
Is't possible the vein of true love can  
Be broken, and the wound not bleed afresh  
At every thought! Alas! my heart's so full  
Of tears and grief, that some will overflow.  Men. 
Had thy tears power to raise the dead again,  
Then were they lawful and commendable:  
But since that tears are fruitless, and your friends  
(Like water spilt) now past recovery,  
It is but folly to weep for the dead.  
Pursue no more fled joys, turn and receive  
Those coming pleasures which do court your hand  
To take them. If thou wilt listen to my love—  Sam. 
I like my grief much better than thy love.  Men. 
Why so nice and coy fair Lady  
Prithee why so coy?  
If you deny your hand and lip  
Can I your heart enjoy?  
Prithee why so coy?  
For thy flitting joys are past,  
I will give thee joys at last.  
Joys that shall create each other,  
Make thee both a wife and mother.  Sam. 
you're merry, Menaphon, but I can't join  
In consort with you. Seek some other mate;  
I have no heart to give, nor hand to take  
Your gift. Another reaps what you have sown,  
And like t'enjoy what you have hoped in vain.  Men. 
Another reap what I have sown! Is this  
Your gratitude you so much boasted of?  
Have I supplied your wants with plenty, and  
With scorn do you repay my charity?  
Did I relieve you in distress for this?—  
By Pan, the god of shepherds, or return  
Love for my love, or be turned out of doors.  Sa. 
My heart ne'er knew what baseness meant, it's full  
Of thankful thoughts for your civilities;  
If those will satisfy, I'll employ all  
Th'exchequer of my breast; but as for love,  
Alas! that is not in my power to give.  Men. 
I saw your lose eyes at the shepherd's feast,  
Roved every where, but Melecertus was  
The mark they aimed at most. Well, get you gone,  
Expect no more from me, but slight and scorn.  Exit. Sam. 
My grief was ominous, and did presage  
This sad mishap; was I not crossed enough  
Before? when will my sufferings have an end!  
Well, I'll go seek my Uncle Lamedon,  
The comfort and companion of my woes. Exit.   

Scaen. 4.  Enter Euriphila. 
Love bids me go, but reason bids me stay;  
Reason ● thou hast no share in love; I'll on.  
Love is a passion passions know no laws,  
The gods themselves cannot be wise and love.  Enter Plusidippus passing by. 
Friend Plusidippus, hark, who would have thought  
You so faint-hearted, that a maiden's frowns,  
Can turn the edge of your affections?  Plu. 
No, madam, but your scorn hath whet the edge  
Of my resolves, to seek some other clime  
May prove more temperate: Arcadia is  
The place I aim at, where, I'm told, there dwells  
A Lady of that beauty, that the world  
Can't show her second; thither am I bound.  Eur. 
You do but jest, I hope, I'm sure I did  
No other; for I love thee with my heart,  Offers him gifts. 
And may these signs confirm it that I do.  Plu. 
I must not dwell at these signs, well I may  
Bait for a while, but cannot make a stay.  
Aroadia is the place I visit must,  
That is the centre whereunto I tend,  
And where my labours hope to find an end.  Eur. 
What, must a Lady woo you to accept  
Her favours? Come, what need hast thou to seek  Offers him her gifts again. 
Dangers, and love abroad, who hast at home  
The only daughter of a King, who courts  
Thee for thy love? what mean those silent looks?  
Hear me, my Plusidippus: what, still mute?  Plu. 
Th'attractive of that beauty I have seen  
But in a picture. will not let me rest,  
Until I see that creature so divine,  
Arcadia is blest withal, to be  
The happy casket of so rich a jewel.  Eur. 
By all the love thou ow'st my father's care,  
I do adjure thee to stay here with me,  
And in mine arms I'll lodge thee until time  
Shall make thee King of Thessaly; meanwhile  
Let me be happy in th'enjoyment of  
Thy company, and seek not toils and care,  
When thou mayst live more happy here, than thou  
Canst wish, or find in any other place.  Plu. 
My Genius prompts me, that I must not rest  
Here, for the gods do seem to call me hence,  
And their decrees I may not break, nor will.  Exit. Eur. 
This scorn tormenth me, yet can I not  
Repay his hate with hate; but I do love  
Him more. Love, this is tyranny in thee.  Enter Agenor King. 
Here comes my Father, may his news be good.  Kin. 
Now forward girl, did I for this provide  
An husband for you? do you thus reward  
My love to you, to slight him whom I love?  
Your scorns will force him from our Court to fly.  
And now I hear, he'll to Arcadia.  Eur. 
Believe it, Sir, 'tis far from me to wish,  
Or be the cause of his departure hence.  Kin. 
Yes, yes, your peevishness I here's the cause,  
Nay, I myself have heard, with shame to think  
You so much scorned a man, I so much loved.  
Did I grace him, that you should disgrace him?  Eur. 
Great Sir, the greatest loss is mine; & none  
Can tell with what an heavy heart I shall  
Be forced to part with him. And therefore, if  
You please to use your power to stay him here,  
You may so be my father the second  
Time, by preserving the life you gave me,  
Which, without his presence, is nothing worth.  
As you tender the life of a daughter,  
Or the welfare of a maid, endeavour  
His stay, or I shall follow him to death.—  Kin. 
I'll find him out, and try what power I have  
Upon him: I suppose my kindnesses  
To him, may well deserve his acceptance,  
They have not been such as should weary him,  
Nor is a Crown a thing to be slighted,  
Nor easily obtained; yet his stay  
May purchase mine, and 'tis an easy rate. Exeunt.   

Scaen. 5.  Enter Lamedon, Samela. Lam. 
What, Niece, still weeping! cannot curing time  
Invent a plaster for thy wounds, but that  
They still thus bleed afresh? what is the cause?  Sam. 
Dearest Uncle! who hitherto have been  
The only Partner and Physician  
Of all my griefs; unless your skill can fit  
A cure unto my present cares, I must  
Yield to their strength, for with continued  
Batteries they so assault me now, that  
I must be forced to sink under their weight.  Lam. 
Why, what new cross hath happened unto thee?  
That thus renews thy grief? Come, tell it me;  
And doubt not of my readiness to try  
All means for thy relief; but first 'tis fit  
I know the cause, the first step to the cure.  
Unbosom then thy grief, and give it vent;  
Is Menaphon as kind as he was wont?  Sam. 
That name it is that is my sorrows spring  
From whence these tears do flow, 'tis he alone—  
Unkind and false, baseminded Menaphon.—  Lam. 
Out with it all, and tell me how he hath  
Abused thee, and I will try to right  
Thee, and requite him for his injuries.  Sam. 
When as he saw I would not satisfy  
His foolish fancy, for which cause alone  
He hitherto hath entertained us,  
And not for to relieve our wants; he sees  
His hopes are frustrated, and I despise  
His clownish love, he turned me out of's doors:  
Where shall we lie? we are exposed unto  
The mercy of the kinder elements;  
The heavens must be our canopy, and th'earth  
Our bed, the poor flocks our companions.  Lam. 
Well, fear not, Samela, already I  
Have found a way to ease thy mind; I have  
A little money left, and therewithal  
Soon shall I purchase a small flock for thee:  
Where thou shalt live secure, and free from fear,  
Enjoy thy little with content; there is  
A shepherd lately dead, whose flock I'll buy,  
And thou shalt be its Mistress, Samela.  Sam. 
Uncle, my thanks shall ever ready be  
For you, as always is your care for me.  
But let your haste prevent my coming griefs,  
For griefs have wings, wherewith they fly to us,  
Comforts are leaden-heeled, and move but slow.  Lam. 
Fear not, I will dispatch it suddenly,  
The shepherd Doron's brother's lately dead,  
And he hath the disposal of the flock,  
As soon as I can find him, we will try  
If reasonable price will make them ours,  Enter Doron. 
See where he comes preventing me; Doron,  
The merry shepherd! whither away so fast?  Dor. 
I'm running for my life, Sir, my brother's  
Lately dead, and I'm afraid death will catch  
Me too, if I don't make haste. I'm sure  
Carmela has halt cut the thread of my  
Life in twain, with the hook of her cruelty;  
Besides, Moron's sheep are roving to find  
Their master, and they'll go till they lose  
Themselves, if I find them not the sooner.  Lam. 
Moron! what was he a kin to a fool?  Dor. 
Why he was my own brother, Sir.  Lam. 
I thought so.  Dor. 
I must be gone.  Lam. 
Nay, stay Doron, what wilt thou take, and we  
Will ease thee of the trouble of thy sheep.  Dor. 
By my troth Sir, and you shall have them, but  
What will you give me, and you shall have  
His flock,— ay and me too, if you will, for Gives him gold.  
I think Carmela wont.  Lam. 
Will these content thee for thy sheep?  Dor. 
Ay marry, this is something like— you  
Shall have them Sir, were there as many  
Of them as there are hairs on their  
Backs.— They talk of a golden fleece,  
But I think I have made their fleeces  
Gold now. Come Sir, I'll deliver you the sheep.  Exeunt.  

Scaen. 6.  Enter Menaphon. 
Forlorn, forsaken, and the object made  
Of all the shepherd's storms! what shall I do!  
Love is no god, Fortune is blind, and can  
Not help; sleep flies, and cares possess my head.  
Mirth makes me melancholy, company  
Yields me no comfort: when I am alone,  
A thousand fancies do distract my thoughts:  
And when I try to drown my cares in wine,  
They swim aloft, and will be uppermost.  
I'll try if I can sing my cares asleep.  
Ye restless cares, companions of the night,  
That wrap my joys in clouds of endless woes,  
Spare not my heart, but wound it with your spite,  
Since love and fortune prove my equal foes.  
Farewell my hopes, farewel my happy days,  
Welcome sweet grief, the subject of my lays.  Enter Pesana. Pes. 
Now will I take time by the forelock, and  
Creep into Menaphon's breast, through the cracks  
His minion Samela has made in it. Aside.  
Friend Menaphon, what is your courage cooled?  Men. 
Cold entertainment hath my courage cooled.  Pes. 
You know where you might have been let in, long  
 this, without assault or battery.  
But you're served in your kind, for being coy:  
Now you have met with your mate (friend) I hope.  Men. 
She set my heart on fire by her presence,  
That will not be put out by her absence.  Pes. 
Then I see you mean to follow her with  
Your suit and service still, for all her scorn.  Men, 
No, she hath wounded me too deep, to make  
Pursuit after her, therefore let her go.  Pes 
Now than you know what 'tis to be slighted;  
So once you slighted me, now I'll slight you. Exit.  Men. 
Ah cruel love! whose music is composed  
Of Lovers jars an discords, mixed with sighs!  
If I turn traitor once more unto love,  
I'll rob him of his deity, and pull  
His little Kingdom down; I'll pull his wings,  
And with the quills made into pens, and dipped  
In saddest lovers tears, in stead of ink,  
I'll Satyrs write against his tyranny. Exit.   

Scaen. 7.  Enter King Agenor, Plusidippus, and Euriphila. Kin. 
Why then, my Plusidippus, will you leave  
Us, and your fortunes? It is my resolve  
To make you heir to my crown, my Son  
And Successor.  Plu. 
Great Sir, I would not be  
Fond injurious to myself, or you,  
Or so profane unto the gods, to slight  
Their and your gifts, when proffered me so fair:  
I must obey their dictates, and my vows,  
Which call me to Arcadia, till when,  
I cannot rest. Give me your Royal leave  
To go, I will engage my hopes, and all  
My future happinesses, to return  
In so short a time as you shall limit me.  Kin. 
Then daughter, since it must be so, I can  
Not tell how to deny his just request:  
But see you part with him in friendship. And  
The like Sir, I require of you to her. Exit.  Plu. 
Far be it from me to deny so fair  
Requests. Lady, in sign hereof, I take  
This parting kiss, and may it cancel all  
Miscarriages, and seal Loves covenants.  
And thus I take my leave but for a while.  Eur. 
Then take thee this my dearest heart, and bear  
It with thee; may it be a charm to keep  
Thy chaste affections from a Stranger's love:  
May your return shorten my tedious hours,  
Since I neglect mine own content for yours.  Exeunt.  

Scaen. 8.  Enter 2 Lords. 1 Lo. 
It seems our Kink hath pretty well out-grown  
His griefs; and now he meditates new Loves.  2 Lo. 
The fire of love hath thawed his frozen breast,  
And turned his cold December into May:  
His sceptre's changed into a sheephook, He  
Is gone on pilgrimage to seek a wife  
Amongst the shepherdesses; there is one  
Whom I have seen, and he is gone to see,  
May vie with Juno for precedency:  
Who in the habit of a Country lass,  
Carries a Princelike countenance and grace.  
In th'Arcadian Plains she keeps a flock  
Of sheep, whose innocence and whiteness she  
Surpasseth, whilst the shepherds daily strive  
Who shall bid fairest for this fairer prize.  1 Lo. 
And he'll outbid them all, if that will do.  
But what a motley mixture will it be,  
To see his grey hairs joined with her green  
And springing youth? The strange effects of love!  
Well may she be his nurse, but not his wife:  
what's love in young, is dotage in old men.  2 Lo. 
Love can create an Autumn Spring, infuse  
New spirits in the old, and make them young  
Besides, Honour's a bait frail women know  
Not to resist: who would not be a Queen?  Exeunt.  

Scaen. 9  Enter Samela. 
Once more doth Fortune flatter me, with hopes  
Of a contented life: now am I free  
From jealous Menaphon's suspicions,  
And without fear enjoy my wished love.  Enter Melecertus. 
See where he comes, the picture drawn to th'life  
Of my dead Maximus, my former joy.  Mel. 
All hail unto the fairest Samela,  
And to her happy flock: I envy them  
She is their Mistress, I her servant am.  
Long since my heart was hers, may she but please  
To take that kindly, which I freely give.  Sam. 
But, Melecertus, can I hope to find  
You real unto me, whose worth I know  
Cannot but be engaged already to  
Some more deserving creature than poor I.  Mel. 
Lady, my services were never due  
To any, but to one, which bond harsh death  
Hath canceled to make me yours alone.  Sam. 
You call death harsh for freeing you from them,  
And would you be in the like bonds again?  Mel. 
Your heavenly likeness doth compel me to't  
You are the same, but in another dress.  
Let me no longer therefore strive to win  
That fort, I so much covet to be in.  Sam. 
Then Melecertus take thy Samela.  Mel. 
Oh happy word! oh happy fate! the gods  
If they would change with me, should give me odds.   
Finis Act. 4.   

Act. 5.  

Scaen. 1.  Enter King Damocles, like a Shepherd. 
THus Jove changed shapes to satisfy his love,  
He laid his godhead by; my Kingdom I  
Have for a time forsaken, and exchanged  
My royal robes for shepherds weeds. How light  
(Me thinks) I feel myself! having laid by  
My crown, with its companions heavy cares!  Enter Plusidippus. 
But who comes here? His paces to me tend.  Plu. 
Shepherd, well met, but why without a flock?  
What, hath the rot consumed thy sheep? or are  
They gone astray?  Kin. 
No, not my sheep, but I, Aside.  
So far, I almost know not where, or what  
I am;— to seek, as yet I know not whom.  Plu. 
This old man dotes, and knows not what he says;  
Where is thy bagpipe, and thy merry lays,  
That shepherds use to have in readiness?  
Surely thou art no shepherd, but some goat  
Crept lately into a sheep's habit.— Dost  
Thou know the field of the fair Samela?  Kin. 
This boy will be my Rival, for that name  Aside. 
Sounds like the creatures that I seek for.— No,  
Go seek your Stamela, I know no such.  Plu. 
This is intolerable,— I will scourge  Enter Samela passing by. Draws. 
Thee into better manners.— But that divine  
Appearance makes my spirits calm, and strikes  
An awful reverence into my breast.  
This is the beauty of th' Arcadian Plains,  
Sh'has shot her rays so home into my heart,  
But partial fame was niggardly and base,  
In giving but a glimpse of this rare beauty.  Sam. 
D'ye know me, Sir, or have you lost your way?  Plu. 
I cannot likely lose my way, where I  
Do find such glistering goddesses as you.  
Indeed the force of such a light, may rob  
Me of the office of mine eyes, and make  
Them dark with too much brightness; can I choose  
But gaze upon the Sun, when first I see't.  Sam. 
I think you lost your wits, or else your eyes,  
That you mistake a glow-worm for the sun,  
And make a goddess of a shepherdess.  Plu. 
Lady, if I have lost my wits or eyes,  
It was with seeking you, whose beauty drew  
Me hither; for your sake alone have I  
Shook hands with Thessaly, and all my friends,  
Only to join my hands and heart with you.  Sam. 
I should be loath to give my hand unto  
So sudden a conclusion, and my heart  
Is neither in my power or possession.  Plu. 
Fair Shepherdess, my errand is in love,  
To yield my heart into your hands; 'tis yours,  
By gift and conquest; I'm at your command.  Sam. 
If that you are at my command, be gone,  
I cannot, will not listen to your words. Exit:  Plu. 
And have I left my dear Euriphila  
For this! I see beauty makes women proud,  
I would I were at Thessaly again,  
There should I welcome be unto Euriphila,  
Whose heart I knows my fellow-traveller,  
Her salt tears, by this time, would make a sea,  
Wherein I might swim back again with ease.  Exit.  

Scaen. 2.  Kin. 
I see this youth's repulsed, and he is young  
And stout and well deserving, how shall I  
Hope to prevail with her? if lively youth  
She do despise, then much more cripling age:  
Nor do I know what arguments to use,  
Unless to tell her that I am a King,  
And lay my Crown and Sceptre at her feet,  
Which she will scarce believe: my shepherd's hook  
Will not be taken for a sceptre, nor  
This poor cap for th'usurper of a crown.—  
I have a way whereby to work my will,  
And this young man shall be my instrument:  
There stands a castle hard by, whither he  
Perforce shall carry her. I'll work my will  
Upon her, when I have her there confined.  Enter Plusidippus. Plu. 
I will revenge this scorn, if force or wit  
Will do, I'll make her pride come down.  Kin. 
Be wise,  
Young man, and valiant, and I will tell  
Thee how thou shalt obtain thy full desire.  Plu. 
But tell me how, and then let me alone  
To act, what e'er it be.  Kin. 
A Castle stands  
Near by, guarded with crows and negligence,  
Thither thou mayst by force convey her, and  
Then force her unto what entreaties can't.  Plu. 
Old man, if I do gain her by thy means,  
Thou shalt not want reward: I know the place  
Where she doth tend her flock, and I'll watch her,  
As she doth them; and when I see my time,  
I will convey her where you shall direct. Exit.  Kin. 
I will attend you here.— Now must I plot  
To get her in my power, and then I shall  
Advance her to a crown against her will.  
But yet, I cannot think Honour should need  
An Advocate; women's ambitious thoughts height  
Do swim aloft, they love to be above  
Their neighbours, envying every one whose  
Doth overlook, and seemeth to upbraid  
Their lowness by comparison; their minds  
Are always climbing up to honour's hill,  
And pride, and self-conceit, are the two wings  
Which elevate their thoughts to fly aloft.  Enter Plusidippus, with Samela. Plu. 
Now, Mistress Coy, y'are not in your own power;  
But mine. Old shepherd, take thee charge of her.  Exit. Kin. 
Lady, you see what folly 'tis for you  
To deny men what they can take without  
Your leave. Now must you yield unto the Knight  
Of Thessaly.— But if you will be wise,  
And see a good when proffered, you may be  
A Queen, by granting of my suit, who am  
King of Arcadia, although thus disguised.  Sam. 
My father Damocles! 'tis he now sues  aside. 
To me his dawghter: He's incestuous grown.  Kin. 
This is too woman-like, to turn away  
From your own happiness.— And it is strange,  
That honour doth not tempt her; thou shalt have  
A Crown and Kingdom at thy sole command,  
And change these rural weeds for princely robes,  
If thou wilt be my wife, pleasure for pain,  
And plenty for thy poverty. What sayest?  Sam. 
Your potent batteries, and golden baits  
Might win (perhaps) on some ambitious soul:  
They nothing move me, to remove my love  
Already placed on Melecertus, He,  
He only doth, and shall possess my heart.  Kin. 
A shepherd. Shall a shepherd's baseness stand  
In competition, and outweigh a King?  
A subject be before his Sovereign  
Preferred? Oh how preposterous are the minds  
Of these fond women! Come, be well advised,  
And change that petty pebble for a pearl.  
'Tis in my power to make thee happy, or  
With one breath to blast the flower of thy hopes.  
And to repay thy folly with thy shame.  
Do not go on to kindle such a fire  
Within my breast, as shall consume both thee,  
And all that cross the current of my will.  Sam. 
I have already sad experience of  
The wild effects of his enraged will,  aside. 
Yet such the crossness of my fortune is,  
I must again be made the subject of  
His furious tyranny; but I'm resolved.  
Know Sir, I value more my minds content,  
Than all the gaudy shows Courts can present:  
I am too well confirmed in the bliss,  
And sweet content attends a Country life,  
To leave it for the giddyheaded Court.  
Besides, my true affections are so riveted  
Unto my Melecertus, that nor frowns,  
Nor flatteries shall part my heart from him.  
Cease therefore farther to commence a suit  
Nature forbids me grant, and you to ask.  Kin. 
And have I with my Kingly robes laid by  
My Kingly mind? No, it shall ne'er be said  
A woman's will hath contradicted mine.  
But 'tis by policy that I must work,  
Since I have laid my Kingly power aside,  
I'll set my brains o'th'tenter hooks, and stretch  
Them to their uttermost abilities,  
To win this scornful beauty to my wife,  
Or else revenge it with her dearest life.  Exit.  

Scaen. 3.  Sam. 
My life hath hitherto been chequered with  
Variety of fortunes; sometimes with  
A white of happiness, and then a black  
Of misery; thus loves bright day of mirth,  
Is followed with a darker night of woe.  
How fair of late my fortune seemed to be,  
And now, alas! o'ercast with blackest clouds  
Of discontents, wherein I labour with  
Important suits, I cannot, may not grant.  
No, no, my Melecertus, I am firm  
To thee, nor shall the rain of tears,  
Or winds of threats remove me from thy love.  
Be thou but constant, nay, I know thou art,  
I will not wrong thee with so foul a thought,  
As once to doubt thou canst be otherwise.  Enter Plusidippus. Plu. 
You're from your shepherds now, or their defence,  
Presume not they can rescue you, 'tis past  
Their skill or power, to force you from mine arms.  Sam. 
Alas, fond boy! I scorn thy threats, as much  
As I hate thee, or slight thy boasted strength.  
Were but my Melecertus here, he would  
Whip thy rudeness into better manners.  Plu. 
'Tis well you are a woman (not a man,)  
And have no other weapon but your tongue,  
Which you are privileged to use, and we  
To laugh at. But in short, if you'll accept  
My love and service, then shall you be safe,  
And happy: Soldiers cannot talk, but with  
Their swords, and then they strike gainsayers dumb.  Sam. 
All this is nothing; for your words, nor swords  
Shall not remove me from my dearest friend,  
He hath my heart, and I have nothing left  
But hate, if you'll accept of that, 'tis all  
That I can give, or you receive from me.  Plu. 
You must be dealt with as we use to do  
With sullen birds I'll shut you up, and then  
Perhaps you'll sing another note, you are  
Not yet in tune, you are too high for me,  
But I will take you lower. I will plough  
Your heart with grief, and then (perhaps) it will  
Better receive the seed of my true love.  Sam. 
Sooner the turtle shall forget her mate,  
Than I my Melecertus; and when I  
Can't see him with mine eyes, my mind shall rove,  
Winged with desire, throughout the spacious world,  
And find no rest, until it meet with him.  
And though our bodies never meet, our souls  
Shall join, and love each other after death.  
Thus is true love immortal, and shall never  
Die, but with our souls shall live for ever.  Plu. 
Shepherd, who e'er thou art, I cannot choose  
But envy thee thy happiness, who hast  
So true a love: I cannot but admire  
This noble soul, and love her, though she hate  
Me for't; I'll treat her civilly, and it  
I can't obtain her for a wife, she shall  
My goddess be, and I'll adore her name,  
Though at a distance. Lady, will you walk?  Exeunt.  

Scaen. 4.  Enter King Damocles. 
It is an ill wind that blows no man good;  
Though the Thessalian lad have got the prize  
In his possession, it shall not be long,  
But I will have them both in mine, I have  
Dispatched a letter to my Lords, to send  
Me suddenly some servants to assist  Enter Menaphon. 
My plot. Now Menaphon, what is the news?  Men. 
Great Sir, the messenger's returned, and brought  
The men you sent for, they are here at hand.  Kin. 
'Tis well; direct them to the castle that  
I told you of, and give them charge to seize  
Upon the buzzard and his prey, and bring  
Them both to me: meantime go you, and find  
Out Melecertus, that I may be sure  
Of him, for he's my rival in my love.  Men. 
My Liege, all shall be done to your desire.  Exit. Kin. 
Blessed policy, thou far exceed'st dull strength,  
That wanders in the dark of ignorance,  
Wanting the eye of wisdom, both to guide,  
And to defend it from approaching harms.  
Thus art with ease doth move the ponderous load,  
Which strength could never master, or remove.  
The Fox's tail must piece the Lion's skin.  
Little Ulysses with his wit did more  
Against the foe, than Ajax with his strength.  Exit.  

Scaen. 5.  Enter Samela. 
It is some comfort yet that I can change  
My prison, though I am a prisoner still,  
Would I could change my company as soon.  
But ah! most wretched Samela, who wert  
Born to misfortunes, and to nothing else:  
As if that I alone were fortunes mark,  
At which she only aims her angry darts.  
The morning of mine age was clouded with  
Mishaps, and now my noon is like to be  
The fatal night unto my misery.—  
My Gaoler is so kind, as if he meant  
To bribe my love; but these are gilded pills  
I cannot swallow. Should my Father get  
Me into his possession once again,  
I were as bad, or worse: I know too well  
His passion, to hope any help from him.  
I'll tell him plainly who I am, and try  
If time have dulled the edge of's cruelty:  
Perhaps the kinder gods may move his heart  
To pity, and convert his rage to love.  
He is my father still, and though unkind  
To me, yet can I not forget I am  
His child, and own a duty to his name.  
He is my King, and so I must obey  
His will; if I must suffer, let it be  
From his, rather than from a stranger's hands.  Exit.  

Scaen. 6.  Enter Doron, reading. 
I think I am provided now, if Poetry  
Will do't, my Carmila is mine; these  
Witty knaves, what fine devices they  
Have got to fetter maiden's hearts?  
The Poet Orpheus made the Thracian  
Dames dance after his pipe, and Ovid  
Charmed the Emperor's daughter with  
His Poetry; there are some secret  
Charms in these same verses sure.  Enter Carmila. 
Let me see here what I have got.  
Ha' Carmila, look here, I think  
You'll love me now.  Reads. Carmila— A Miracle. Car. 
A miracle, for what, Doron?  Dor. 
Why, a miracle of beauty, and I think  
You'll be a miracle of folly, if you  
Don't love me now.  Car. 
What small Poet have you hired  
To make a miracle of my name.  Dor. 
Nay, I have more yet, and better,  
That I found in the Nichodemus  
Of Compliments, that's a sweet book,  
'Tis a very magazine of Poetry, a  
Storehouse of wit; do but hear  
Them Carmila.  Car. 
Let's hear them, Doron, are they  
Worth a laughing at? Let's hear.  Dor. 
Well, well, it is no laughing matter; but I'm  
Sure your laughing has made me cry.  
Now Carmila, you must imagine that 'tis  
I, and only I, say this to you, and none but you:  
For the unhappy wag has so fitted my  
Fancy, as if 'twere made for no body but me.  

Excellent Mistress, brighter than the Moon,  
Than scoured pewter, or the silver spoon:  
Fairer than Phoebus, or the morning Star,  
Dainty fine Mistress, by my troth you are.  
Thine eyes like Diamonds shine most clearly,  
As I'm an honest man, I love thee dearly.   
What think you now, Carmila, is not this  
Admirable? if these strong lines will  
Not draw your love, I know not what will.  Car. 
Had it been your own mother-wit,  
Doron, I could have likeed it well:  
But for you to father the brat of  
Another's brain, is too ridiculous.  
I like your love much better than your  
Hackney lines: but bought wits best.  Dor. 
If you like not my lines, because they are  
None of mine, you will not love my  
Heart neither, for that's not mine, but yours.  Car. 
Yes, Doron, if you have given me your  
Heart, I will not die in your debt, but  
Give you mine in exchange for yours.  Dor. 
Than welcome to me my new found heart,  
We'll live, and love, and never part.  Exeunt.  

Scaen. 7.  Enter Melecertus. 
Revenge shall soon o'ertake this proud boy, who  
Committed hath so bold a rape upon  
My Samela: He had been better to  
Have lodged snakes in his breast, than to steal  
This spark, that shall consume him and his nest.  
Samela! Samela! that name alone  
Infuseth spirits into me, inflames  
My soul with vengeance, till I recover  
My dearest love.  Enter Menaphon. Men. 
Now shall I be revenged on Samela,  
And on her Melecertus both at once:  
I'll make her know neglected love may turn  
To hate, and vengeance take the place of scorn.  
Well met friend Melecertus, what, alone?  Mel. 
I'm solitary since my mate is gone.  Men. 
Your mate has taken flight, she's on the wing,  
But I can tell thee where she nests, and bring  
Thee guickly where thou shalt retrieve the game.  Mel. 
If thou wilt do this, Menaphon, I shall  
Be studious to requite thy love with mine:  
I pay thee sterling thanks and services.  Men. 
I will not sell my favours to my friends,  
My work is all the wages I expect.  
Come, follow me, I'll lead thee to the place,  
Where the fresh gamesters have thy love in chase.  Exeunt.  

Scaen. 8.  Enter King Damocles in his Royal robes, Plusidippus and Samela, prisoners. Kin. 
Now Sir, you see the shepherd is become  
A King; and though you have deserved death,  
Yet since you have but acted our commands,  
We here release you, and not only so,  
But entertain you with all due respect,  
At once belonging to our neighbour-Prince,  
And near Ally, the King of Thessaly.—  
Some secret power doth force me love him so,  
That if I had a daughter to bestow,  
I'd wish no other Son-in-law, but him.  
Now my Sephestia, what would I give,  
Thou wert alive, I had thee, and thou him.  Sam. 
He little thinks I am so near, or that  
It is his daughter he would make his wife.  Kin. 
Thus, Gentlewoman, you are once more fallen  
Into my hands, I am th' Arcadian King:  
Be sudden therefore to give me your love,  
Or else forfeit your life for your contempt;  
Think on't, and choose which you'll rather do.  Sam. 
Sir, I am still the same I was before:  
My love, like to a mighty rock, stands fast,  
Disdaining the proud billows of your threats.  
Crowns cannot tempt, nor Kings command my love,  
My love is free, and cannot be compelled.  
True love admits no partners, is content  
With one, and Cupid's statute law forbids  
Pluralities of loves.  Kin. 
Since y'are so stiff,  
You will not bow, I'll make you bend, or break.  Enter Menaphon with Melecertus. Mel. 
I am betrayed by this base Menaphon.  Kin. 
Here comes my Rival; when I have dispatched  
Him to the other world, your plea is spoiled:  
My sword shall cut your gordian knot in two;  
Your ghosts may wed, your bodies never shall.  
I'll be his Executioner myself,  
I'll trust no other eyes to see it done.  Sam. 
Now is it time t'unmask, and let him know  
He wounds his daughter through her Lover's sides.  She knelt. 
Father, your fury once exposed me to  
The greedy jaws of death, which yet more kind,  
In pity saved my life, you sought to lose.  
I'm your Sephestia. Father, know your child.  Mel. 
And is it possible, Sephestia lives,  
Once more t'enjoy her truest Maximus?  Sam. 
My Maximus, I'm thy Sephestia:  
Oh that our Plusidippus too were here!  Plu. 
And I am he, my name is Plusidippus.  Seph. 
My dearest son! 'tis he; now were my joys  
Complete indeed, were but my Uncle here.  Mel. 
I am so wrapped with joy, I scarce can get  
Breath, to express my thanks unto the gods.  Men. 
What will become of me? I shall be hanged,  
Or lose my place at least; I'll get me home,  
Amidst their mirth they will not think on me.  Exit. Kin. 
My only daughter! Dear Sephestia,  
And you, kind Maximus, I ask  
Both of you pardon for your injuries,  
And for requital, thus I do create  
Thee King of Arcady; and may the gods  
Requite your sufferings, and forgive my crimes.  
Long may ye live, and happy; may your days  
Be sunshine all, and know no clouds nor night.  Enter Lamedon. 
And that we may not leave one string untuned,  
My brother comes to make our consort full;  
The best of brothers, and the best of friends,  
Thanks for your care of her, whom you have made  
Your daughter by a better claim than mine.  
Now let the whole land swim in mirth, and load  
The altars with their thankful sacrifice  
Unto the kinder deities, who through  
A sea of woes, have sent us happiness.  
Let's in, and hear the strange adventures have  
Befallen your heaven-protected persons; griefs  
Grow less by telling, joys are multiplied.  
Although against them all things seem to strive,  
At last just men and lovers always thrive.    
FINIS.   

Fragmenta Poetica: OR, Poetical Diversions. WITH A PANEGYRIC UPON HIS SACRED MAJESTIE'S Most happy Return, on the 29. May, 1660.  
By THO. FORD, Philothal.  
LONDON, Printed by R. and W. Leybourn, for William Grantham, and are to sold at the Sign of the Black Bear in St. Paul's Churchyard. 1660.   

Poetical Diversions.  

For Christmass-day.  1 Shepherd. 
WHat, have we slept! or doth the hasty Sun  
Bring back the day, before the night be done?  2 Shep. 
What melody is this that charms our ears?  
Is it the music of th'harmonious Spheres?  Angels. 
Peace shepherds, peace; glad tidings we ye bring,  
Your God hath got a Son, and ye a King:  
And he hath sent us with this news to tell,  
Who late was Ours, is your Immanuel.  
Up, up to Bethlehem, there shall you see  
An Human shape enclose the Deity.  
Behold, a cratch imprisons him, whose hands  
Have framed the earth, and curbs the sea with bands.  
He now gins to be, that no beginning knew,  
He now gins to live, who being gave to you.  
Go see th'Eternal God a child's become,  
The ever-speaking Word himself lies dumb,  
Who by his word feeds all is fed by meat,  
Th'Almighty King of Heaven hath left his seat,  
And now keeps Court on earth: haste ye and see  
The cratch his throne, beasts his attendance be.  
And all to be your Saviour, and to free  
Ye men from sin, and Satan's slavery.  Chorus of Angels. 
Glory to God on high, and peace on earth,  
Good will to men by this our God-mans' birth.  Shepherds. 
Come, let's go see these wonders which are told,  
Let what our ears have heard, our eyes behold.  soliloquy. 
Crowd in, my soul, and see amongst the rest,  
And by thy sight, oh be for ever blest!  
Hark how the Angels sing, the heaven's rebound,  
And earth with th'echo of th'angelic sound.  
Never till now were the well-tuned Spheres  
Herd to make melody to mortal ears.  
Now every pretty bird with's warbling throat,  
To's newborn Maker elevates a note.  
See how the earth, being big with pride to be  
Outgone by heaven, puts on her livery  
Of mirth, and laughs with joy to hear  
Her Maker now will please to dwell on her.  
The whole world was agreed to entertain  
The King of peace, who now began his reign:  
Mars shrunk for fear, Bellona hide her head,  
When peace was born, all discords lay for dead.  
Then why should bloody characters descry  
The blessed day of his Nativity?  
O let the purest white note out that morn  
From all the rest, when Innocence was born.   

On the Nativity.  

1.  
Hail holy tide,  
Wherein a Bride,  
A Virgin, and a Mother,  
Brought forth a Son,  
The like was done,  
Except her, by no other.   

2.  
A Virgin pure,  
She did endure  
After her Son, or rather.  
It may be said,  
Show as a maid,  
And this Son was her Father.   

3.  
Here riddles vex,  
And do perplex  
The eye of humane reason;  
Heaven did combine,  
With earth to join,  
To consecrate this season.   

4.  
Hail blessed Maid,  
For by thine aid,  
Eternal life is Ours,  
Thou didst lie in,  
And without sin,  
The son of God was yours.   

5.  
Hail happy birth,  
Wonder of Earth  
And heaven; the Angels sing  
Anthems to thee,  
As glad to see  
Their newborn heavenly King.   

6.  
Though thou art poor,  
Kings thee adore,  
And precious presents bring,  
They kneel to you,  
And humbly bow,  
As to some sacred thing.   

7.  
Thou that art able  
To turn a stable  
Into a Temple, come,  
Possess my heart,  
Cleanse every part,  
And take it for thy home.    

For Christmass-day,  

LEnd me a pen pulled from an Angel's wing,  
That I the news of this blessed day may sing;  
Or reach a feather of that holy Dove,  
Wherewith to show this miracle of love.  
Darkness is turned to light, midnight to morn;  
Who can be silent when the Word is born!  
Hark how the Angels sing, they bow, and more  
Than Persians they this rising Sun adore.  
The Court's removed, and the attendants fly  
To wait upon this humane Deity.  
He, who was clothed with glorious Majesty,  
Is veiled with flesh, the better to comply  
With mortal eyes; disrobes himself of light,  
Lays by his beams, stoops to our weaker sight:  
And with his other favours this doth give  
That man may see the face of God, and live.  
The Son of God becomes the son of man,  
That men may be the sons of God again!  
Here God is man, and man is God, he takes  
Our nature to him, not his own forsakes.  
A mortal God, Immortal man in one,  
Thus heaven and earth are in conjunction.  
See how the shepherd's flock, and Kings (as proud  
To be his subjects) to his presence crowd.  
Haste, haste my soul, there's danger in delay,  
Since thou hast nothing else to offer lay  
Thyself down at his feet; pray him to make  
His lodging in thee, as he deigned to take  
Thy nature on himself.— But stay fond soul,  
He's purity itself, thou art too foul  
To lodge so bright a guest, in whose pure eyes,  
Heavens and Angels are deformities.  
Yet see, he smiles, and beckons thee to come,  
As if he meant to take thee for his home,  
To wash thee with his blood; do not repine,  
Thy sins are His, His righteousness is thine.  
Hark, he invites himself to be thy guest,  
Whose presence is thy physic and thy feast.  
Behold he bows the heavens, and comes down,  
Takes up thy Cross, that thou mayst wear his Crown.  
And in exchange assumes thy poverty,  
Pays all thy debts, sets thee at liberty.  
He sues to serve thee, and expects no more,  
Thou shouldst give him, than he gave thee before.  
His work is all his wages, and his will  
Is all his hire; be thou obedient still:  
Love him, as he loves thee, and 'cause thou'rt poor,  
Give him thyself, thy all, He asks no more.  
Lord 'tis not fitting thou shouldst come  
Into so base a room  
First, with thy spirit cleanse my heart,  
And by thy powerful art,  
Thine and my enemies expel,  
Make an Heaven of my Hell,  
Then for ever in me dwell.  
But, Lord, if thou vouchsafe to dwell  
Within so dark a cell,  
Take thou charge of the family,  
And let me dwell with thee.  
Thine is the cost, be thine the care,  
That Satan have no share,  
For thou wilt find no room to spare.    

For Christmas-day.  Invocat. 
The Day, thy day is come,  
O thou most glorious Sun,  
When thou didst veil thyself, that we  
Mortals might thy glory see.  
Lend me a ray of light,  
That I may see to write,  
And Carol forth thy praise,  
In everliving lays.  Thyrsis. 
WHat made the Sun post hence away  
So fast, and make so short a day?  Damon. 
Seeing a brighter Sun appear,  
He ran and hid himself for fear:  
Ashamed to see himself outshined,  
(Leaving us, and night behind)  
He sneaked away to take a nap,  
And hid himself in Thetis' lap.  
When, lo, a brighter night succeeds,  
A night none of his lustre needs:  
A night so splendent, we may say,  
The day was night, and night was day.  Thyrsis. 
See, Damon, see, how he doth shroud  
His baffled glory in a cloud;  
From whence he peeps to see the Sun,  
That hath his lustres all outdone.  Damon. 
But venturing on he spies a star,  
More glorious than his Hesper far;  
Which with a fair and speaking ray,  
Told plainly where his Master lay.  
Ambitious then to steal a sight,  
He saw it was the God of light;  
Then straight he whips away his team,  
The well lost minutes to redeem;  
And flies through all the world, to tell  
The news of this great miracle.  
It was not long before he came  
Unto the lofty house of fame,  
Where every whisper, every sound  
Is taken at the first rebound,  
And like an aiëry bubble blown  
By vainer breath, till it be grown  
Too big to be concealed, it flies  
About a while, gazed at, then dies,  
Something he tells, and hasts away,  
He could not, and fame would not stay,  
To near the rest; for she well knew,  
By mixing of false tales with true,  
To make it more. To Rome she plies,  
Her greatest Mart of truths and lies;  
The gods (says she) will dwell on earth,  
And give themselves a mortal birth.  
But they of fame had got the odds,  
For they themselves made their own gods;  
And cared not to increase their store,  
For they had gods enough before.  
To Solyma she takes her flight,  
And puts the City in a fright:  
Unwelcome news fills Herod's ears,  
And then his head, with thoughts and fears.  
The King of whom the Sages told,  
And all the Prophecies of old,  
Is born, says fame; a King who shall  
Deliver Judah out of thrall:  
Kings shall his subjects be, and lay  
Their sceptres at his feet; his sway  
Shall know no bounds, nor end, but he  
Beyond all time, so fates decree.  
By this the Sun had crossed the seas,  
And told the news to th' Antipodes.  
The aiëry spirits packed hence away,  
Chased by the beams of this bright day.  
The fiends were in an uproar, hell  
Trembled with the dismal yell.  
The Prince of darkness was in doubt  
The Lord of light would find him out;  
And that the word of truth being come,  
His oracles must all be dumb.  
Pale death foresaw he was betrayed,  
That King of terrors was afraid.  
Glory be to God above,  
For this miracle of love:  
Ever blessed be the morn,  
When the God of Love was born.  
Love so charming that it can  
Contract a God into a Man.  
And by the magic of his birth,  
Make an Heaven of the Earth.  
Ever, ever sing we thus,  
Till Angels come and join with us.  
They rejoice with all their powers,  
Yet the Benefit is Ours.  
They with joy the tidings bring,  
Shall We be silint when They sing?   

The 25. Cap. of Job paraphrased.  
Then Bildad answers, dominion and fear  
(Which rule us mortals) lo his Inmates are.  
Can numbers shallow bounds confine his hosts?  
Or does his light balk any unknown coasts?  
Can man be God's Corrival to be just?  
Can he be clean that is defiled dust?  
The Moon in th'ocean of his light is drowned,  
The stars impure in his bright eyes are found.  
Then what is man? (alas!) poor worthless span,  
Or what's his son? a worm, less than a man.   

35. Cap. of Job.  
Then began Elihu speak, vileness dost dare  
Thy righteousness with Gods thus to compare?  
Thou sayest, what gain will righteousness bring in?  
Or shall I thrive by that more than by sin?  
I'll answer thee. Behold, the clouds that stand  
His surer guard against thy sinning hand.  
Legions of doubled sins cannot assault  
Thy God, or pierce his statry guarded vault.  
Nor can thy stock of good increase his store,  
Thy hand may hurt, or help (like thee) the poor. etc.   

On the Widows 2 Mites.  
How comes it that the widows mites are more  
Than the abundance the rich gave the poor?  
Whilst they their worldly goods liberally hurled  
She gave her heart, more worth than all the, world.   

On Christ's Cross.  
As from a Tree at first came all our woe,  
So on a tree our remedy did grow.  
One bore the fruit of death, the other life;  
This was a well of Salem, that of strife.   

On Christ's Death and Resurrection.  
What, can God die, or man live, being slain?  
He died as man, as God he risen again.   

Gen. 2.18.  
When man was made, God sent an helper to him,  
And so she proved, for she helped to undo him.   

On the miracle of the Loaves.  
This was a miracle indeed, when bread  
Was by substraction multiplied:  
Why wonder we at this strange feast,  
When Gods' both giver, and a guest?   

On Christ's Resurrection.  
The Lord of life lay in a tomb,  
as in the womb,  
His Resurrection was a second birth,  
from th'womb of th'earth.   

On M. M. weeping at Christ's death.  
What, weep to see thy Saviour die,  
Whereby thou liv'st eternally?  
But now I know, 'twas cause thy sins  
Were the sharp spears that wounded him.   

Mark 12. Give to God, etc. And to Caesar, etc.  
Give God and Caesar both, how shall I do?  
Give God's receiver, and thou giv'st him too.   

On the world.  
That the world's goods are so inconstant found,  
No wonder is, for that itself is Round.   

Similis simili gaudet.  
Wherefore doth Dives love his Money so?  
That's earth, So's He, Like will to like we know.   

On Calvus.  
Calvus of late extreme long locks doth wear:  
The reason is Calvus hath lost his Hair.   

On Malfido.  
Malfido on his neighbour looks so grim,  
Proximus is Postremus sure with him.   

On Will: who had run through all trades and was now a Cobbler.  
I prithee Will whither wilt thou so fast?  
Thou canst not farther, for thou'rt at thy Last.   

Better fortune.  
Whilst that the Huntsman stared, he became  
Unto his dogs their banquet and their game:  
But from Actaeon's fortune I am free,  
Because whilst I saw her, she could not me   

On Cornuto.  
Cornuto cries he's weary of his life,  
He cannot bear the Lightness of his wife,  
She wants so many Grains, she'll go with loss,  
Yet a Light Woman is an Heavy Cross.   

Mart. Ep. 24. lib. 2.  
If unjust fortune hale thee to the bar,  
In rags, paler than guilty prisoners are,  
I'll stick to thee; banished thy native soil,  
Through Seas and Rocks I will divide thy toil.   

On one who fell in love with Julia, throwing Snowballs at him.  
I'm all on fire; strange miracle of Love,  
These Watery Snowballs Hand-Granadoes prove?  
If from cold clouds thou dost thy lightning's dart,  
Julia, what Element will fence my heart?   

J. Cesaris Epigram.  
A Thracian lad on Ice-bound Heber plays,  
The glassy Pavement with his weight decays.  
Whilsts with his lower parts the river fled,  
The meeting Ice cut off his tender head,  
Which having found, the Son-less mother urnd,  
Those to be drowned were born, this to be burned.   

Hensii Epitaph.  
Trina mihi juncta est variis aetatibus uxor,  
Haec Juveni, illa viro, tertia nupta seni est:  
Prima est propter Opus, teneris sociata sub annis,  
Altera propter Opes, tertia propter Opem.   

Englished.  
Three wives I had in several ages Past,  
A Youth, a Man, an old man had the last;  
The first was for the Work, a tender maid,  
The second was for Wealth, the third for Aid.   

Out of Italian.  
My Mistress hath my heart in hold,  
But yet 'tis under locks of gold,  
In which the wind doth freely play,  
But my poor heart doth prisoner stay:  
What happier prison can there be?  
Confinement is my liberty.   

H. Grotius, S. Petri Querela.  
Quae me recondet, recondet regio? quâ moestum diem  
Fallam latebrâ? quaero nigrantem specum  
Quâ me sepeliem vivus: ubi nullum videns  
Nulli videndus, lachrymas foveam meas.   

Englished.  
What place will hid my guilt? that there I may  
Deceive th'approaches of discovering day.  
I'll seek some gloomy cave, where I may lie  
Entombed alive in shades of secrecy:  
There seeing none, nor any seeing me,  
I will indulge my tears with liberty.   

Out of Italian.  
I am a child, and cannot love,  
Ah me! that I my death must prove.  
Wilt thou that I thee adore,  
Cruel thou must be no more.  
Torments my heart cannot bear,  
Nor must any grief come there.   

To Henry the 4th. out of Bahusius.  
O mighty King! glory of Princely race,  
Thy Kingdom's safety, and it's chiefest grace:  
We wish our Muse worthy thy worth t'adorn,  
She nothing more desires, can nothing less perform.  
Thou grace of arms, makest war a sport to be,  
To labour's rest, to wake is sleep to thee.  
Thy call makes soldiers, whom thoust so in awe,  
Thy word is a decree, thy beck a law.  
Thou leadest them on, thy deeds serve for commands,  
They learn their duty from thy feet and hands.  
Thou conquer'st  thou fightest, fortune's decree  
Assures thee triumph, 'fore the victory.  
Thy helmet laurel, fights all trophies be,  
To fight and conquer is all one with thee.  
Thy mercy strives thy sword for to reprieve,  
And when thou strik'st thy foe, thyself doth grieve.  
Though forced to fight, to expiate their deed,  
Thine eyes do weep, fast as thy foes do bleed.  
Pardons are thy revenges, whilst thy sword  
Doth wounds dispense, thy hand doth help afford.  
Like dreadful lightning to the war thou comest,  
Conqueror, than conquered milder thou returnest.  
To conquer others were too small, but thou  
A nobler triumph o'er thyself dost show.   

Love's Duel, out of Anacreon.  
CUpid all his arts did prove,  
To invite my heart to love:  
But I always did delay,  
His mild summons to obey:  
Being deaf to all his charms,  
Straight the god assumes his arms.  
With his bow and quiver, he  
Takes the field to duel me.  
Armed like Achilles, I  
With my shield and spear defy  
His bold challenge: as he cast  
His golden darts, I as fast  
Catched his arrows in my shield,  
Till I made him leave the field.  
Fretting and dis-armed, than  
Th'angry god returns again,  
All in flames; 'stead of a dart,  
Throws himself into my heart,  
Useless, I my shield require,  
When the fort is all on fire;  
I in vain the field did win,  
Now the enemy's within.  
Thus betrayed, at last I cry,  
Love! thoust got the victory.   

With a Letter to Aglaia.  

Go happy paper, view those eyes,  
Where beauty's richest treasure lies;  
The quiver whence he takes his darts,  
Wherewith he wound's poor mortals hearts.   

But yet, fond paper, come not near  
Those all-consuming flames, for fear  
Thou perish by their cruel art,  
That have inflamed thy master's heart.   

Yet if thou wilt so hardy be,  
To venture on a battery,  
On that presuming Castle, say,  
Wonder not I have found the way;  
For (fairest Lady) hereby know,  
The dart came first from your own Bow.    

Excuse for absence.  
You need inflict no other banishment,  
The fault itself's my greatest punishment.  
Oft would I pardon crave; but still my Muse  
Prompts me, foul weather is a fair excuse.  
If that will not suffice; then let this be,  
That I have none, my best apology.  
Convict me of my crime, and as 'tis meet,  
I'll do you daily Penance in a sheet.  
But, prove me absent first, and then,  
I'll write apologies, or burn my Pen.  
Planets are where they work, not where they move,  
I am, not where I live, but where I Love.   

With Herbert's Poem.  
The Poet's now become a Priest, and lays  
His Poem at your feet, expects no Bays,  
But your acceptance; kind'le it with your eyes,  
And make this Offering prove a Sacrifice.  
The Vestal fire that's in your breast, will burn  
Up all his dross, and make it Incense turn;  
And than your smile a second life will give,  
he'll fear no death, if you but bid him live.  
Pardon this bold ambition, 'tis his drift,  
To make the Altar sanctify the Gift.  
Visit this Temple, at your vacant hours,  
'twas Herbert's Poem once, but now 'tis Yours.   

On the death of M. A. S.  

Fain would I pay my tribute to thy Hearse,  
And sigh thy death, in never dying verse.  
But I in vain invoke my Muse, for she  
(Alas!) is dead with him for company.  
Like to those Indian wives who count the thread  
Of their life ended when their Mate is dead.  
When souls thus linked divorce, one cannot part,  
Without the breaking of the others heart.  
To vent my sorrows yields me no relief,  
He grieves but little that can tell his grief.  
Let others less concerned this truth approve,  
And strive to show their Wit, more than their Love  
My grief confutes the Laws of Numbers, I  
Whilst others Writ, will Weep thine Elegy.  
Each line my tears a Colons charge defray,  
Verses have Periods, but no Period they.   

Reader since He my better half is gone,  
My heart is but his Monumental Stone,  
On which this Epitaph inscribed shall be:  
I died in him, and yet he lives in me.    

Laus & votum vitae Beatae. Out of Lipsius.  

Equal unto the Gods is he,  
And much above what Mortals be,  
Who the uncertain day of fate,  
Nor wisheth nor repineth at:  
T'whom impotent Ambition, nor  
The hope of gain's Solicitor.  
Whom Princes thundering threats can't move,  
No, nor the darts of angry Jove.  
But seated in Security,  
Laughs at the vulgars' vanity.  
Whose life's thread's spun so even, that there  
Can not be seen th' least knot of care.   

O might I but thus far aspire,  
To shape my life to my desire:  
Nor Offices, nor Wealth I'd crave,  
Nor with white Stee'ds in triumph brave,  
To lead along poor Captived Slaves.   

I in vast Solitude should dwell,  
A neighbour to the Muses Well:  
Orchards, and Gardens to frequent,  
There would I seat my sole content;  
So that when as full ripened Death,  
Shall put a period to my breath,  
Tedious to none, and without strife,  
Calmly to end my aged life.    

On T. Bastard, and his Epigrams.  

That thy names Bastard, friend, is thy hard fate,  
Thy Births I'm sure are Legitimate.  
Well may'st a Bastard be, all Common race  
To thy diviner wit must need give place:  
No, Jove himself begat thee, and thy Birth,  
Gets in us Wonderment as well as mirth.   

Momus to Bastard.  
The proverb says, Bastards (remember it)  
Must fling no stones; lest they their father hit.   

Answer.  
Momus stand off, galled backs will winch, 'tis true,  
Here's Salt, or we should never hear of you.   

Again to Bastard.  
Bastard, that is of best wit, say the Dutch,  
Then as thy name is, so's thy nature such:  
What if the multitude laugh at thy Name,  
Know, their dispraises do advance thy fame.   

To the Reader, Out of Faius.  
Who will read these? None. Why? nor mock, nor jeer.  
Nor Baudry (wished by many) comes not here,  
But one or other haply they may find,  
Preferring good, before Jests, he will mind.  
But if none read, grief doth not me assault,  
For if none read, than none can find a fault.     

Upon His Sacred Majesties most happy Return, on the 29 th'. of May 1660.  

Awake dull Muse, the Sun appears,  
Open thine eyes, and dry thy tears:  
The clouds disperse, and Sable night  
Resigns to Charles his conquering light  
Batts, Owls, and Night-birds fly away,  
Chased by the beams of this bright day.  
A day designed by Destiny,  
Famous to all Posterity.  
First for the birth of Charles, and now  
'Tis His Three Kingdoms Birthday too.  
We moved before, but knew not how,  
We could not say we lived, till now.  
Like Flies in Winter, so lay we,  
In a dull, senseless Lethargy.  
Touched by his healing beams, we live,  
His Presence a new life doth give.  
Each loyal heart struck by his Rays,  
Is filled with gratitude and praise.  
Those Phaëtons who had got the Rain,  
And needs would guide great Charles his Wain;  
Have found their Folly in their Fate;  
And Phoebus now assumes his State.  
The Trees who chose a wooden King,  
To be their shade and covering:  
Whilst they injuriously decline  
The fruitful Olive and the Vine  
Consuming fire from the Bramble came;  
They read their Folly by the Flame.  
True Emblems of our giddy age,  
Not ruled by Reason, but by Rage:  
The tail would quarrel with the Head,  
And no longer would be Led:  
Th' inferior Members soon give way,  
And the Tail must bear the sway,  
Blind as it was, ('to ur misery)  
With many a Sting, but never an Eye.  
Then were we dragged through mire & stones,  
Which bruised our flesh, and broke our bones,  
Our Feet and Legs foundered and lame,  
We saw our Folly in our Shame.  
We prayed, but no relief could find,  
The Tail was Deaf, as well as Blind:  
Drums, Trumpets, Pulpits with their sound,  
All our entreaties did confound;  
Till pitying Heaven heard our cry,  
And God vouchsafes, what men deny.  
After a twelve years suffering,  
Just Heaven Proclaims Great Charles our King:  
Free (like Ulysses) from the harms  
Of Foreign Siren's tempting charms.  
And now our Joyful Land doth ring,  
With Io Paean's too our King:  
All England seemed One bonfire, Night  
Seemed to contend with Day for light.  
For Bells our Kingdom hath been famed,  
And the Ringing-Jsland named:  
More truly now, when every Bell  
Aloud the joyful news doth tell.  
That Charles is landed once again,  
With Peace, and Plenty, in his Train.  
No more shall brother brother kill,  
Nor sons the blood of fathers spill:  
No more shall Mars & Madness rage,  
Peace shall bring back the Golden-age.  
No more shall Loyalty be Treason,  
Error truth, and nonsense reason;  
Nor will we sell our Liberty,  
For a too-dear bought Slavery.  
No more shall Sacrilege invade  
The Church, nor Faction make a trade  
Of Holy things; nor Gospel be  
Lost in a lawless liberty.  
No more hope we to see the time  
When to be innocent's a crime.  
No more, no more shall armed might  
Though Wronged, o'ercome the weaker Right.  
Now shall all jarring discords be  
Drowned in the pleasing Harmony  
Of peaceful laws, whose stiller voice  
Shall charm the Drum & Trumpets noise,  
The Church shall be Triumphant, more  
Than it was Militant before.  
The withered Laurel, and the Bays  
Revive to crown our happy days  
These, and all other blessings we  
Great and Good Charles, Expect from thee:  
Whose Virtues were enough alone,  
To give Thee Title to the Crown.  
You Conquered without Arms, Your Words  
Win hearts, better than others Swords.  
Pardons are Your revenges, we  
Jov in Your Boundless Victory.  
What others use to do with blows,  
You by Forgiving kill your foes:  
Your mercy doth your Sword reprieve,  
And for their faults, You most do grieve.  
Your Martyred Father's charity  
(His last and greatest Legacy)  
You most do prize. Can we but tread  
That pace of virtue which you lead,  
How quickly should we all agree,  
To live in Love and Loyalty!  
Whilst others their rich Presents bring,  
All I can give's, GOD SAVE THE KING.   
FINIS.   

Errata.  
In the Panegyrric.  
Page 9 Line 32 Read infortunately, In the first Elegy on K. C. l p, 2 l, 8 r, moving, l. 11, r, his,  
In Apothegms p, 40 l, 20 r, Lord Stanhop, p, 49 l, penult, r the contrary, p, 50 l, 12 r, one, p, 59 l, 2 r, deadly, p 64 l, 17 r, neighbours with carriages.  
In the Letters. p, 4 l, last r, lame, it may appear, p 3 l, 9 r, to the p, 24 r, clew, p, 44 l, 15 r, your, p, 54 l, 17 r or, l, 23 r, grate, p, 55 l, 11 r, been, p, 5● l 10 r, jucundum, p, 69 l, 21 deal thee, p, 82 l, 12 deal full, p. 90 l, 13 r, else, p, 94 l, 19 del● Negro, p, 102 l, 11 r, beast, p, 111 l, 18 r, live, p, 115 l, 31 r Terence, p, 130 l, 12 r, perdidit, p, 130 l, 14 r, Comici Cogit●● p. 154 l, 12 r, in his p, 155 l, 7 r, than to, p, 156 l 13 r, rather a p, 156 l. 28 r, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
In Love's Labyrinth, on the title, for festina r, festiva, in th● first copy of verses, after outlet r, there, p, 3 l, 4 r, ready in, p, 3 l 9 r, volleys l, 18 r, drops, p, 8 l, 30 r, thou now p, 10 l, 9 r, thou thus, l 15 r, wronged, p, 11, l, 1 r, rashness, l, the last, mine, p, 23 l, 12 r, be my, p, 26 l, 20 r, too much, p, 40 l 4 〈◊〉 shine, p, 32 l, 27 r, grown, p, 33 l, 9 r, can a, p, 36 l, 9 r, h●● neck, p, 48 l, last r, empty, p, 54 l, 9 r, scorns, p, 55, l, 12 r, and 〈◊〉 p 56 l, 16 r, King.