A group of people sitting in a semicircle in a room, with an ornamental plaque inscribed with verse below. A handwritten note on the recto side of this leaf describes the notable features of the copy and mentions this figure as an extremely rare print of the Newcastle family by Clouet.

Thus in this Semy-Circle, where they Sitte

Telling of Tales of pleaſure & of witt

Heer you may read without a Sinn or Crime

And how more innocently paſs your tyme.


Drawn by
to the Life.

Written by the thrice Noble, Illuſtrious, and Excellent
Princeſs, the Lady Marchioneſs of

In this Volume there are ſeveral feigned Stories of
Natural Deſcriptions, as Comical, Tragical, and
Tragi-Comical, Poetical, Romancical, Philoſophical,
and Hiſtorical, both in Proſe and Verſe, ſome all
Verſe, ſome all Prose, ſome mixt, partly Proſe, and
partly Verſe. Alſo, there are ſome Morals, and
ſome Dialogues; but they are as the Advantage
Loaves of Bread to a Bakers dozen; and a true
Story at the latter end, wherein there is no Feignings.

Printed for J. Martin, and J. Alleſtrye, at
the Bell in Saint Paul’s Church-yard. 16561656.


The Dedication.

To Paſtime I do dedicate this Book,

When idle, then my Readers in’t may look,

And yet be idle ſtill; yet wiſh they may

Never miſspend their time, or waſt the day

Worſe or more idly; ſince it may concern

My Readers all, in every piece to learn

Something to lay up ſtill in mem’ries Treaſure;

Thus for your ſakes mix Profit with your Pleaſure.

I hope you’ll like it, if not, I’m ſtill the ſame,

Careleſs, ſince Truth will vindicate my Fame.


To the Lady Marchioneſs of Newcastle, on her Book of Tales.

Gallants and Ladies, what do ye lack? pray buy

Tales a la mode, new Faſhion’d here do lye:

So do Romancies, your grave ſtudies too,

Academies of Love, teaching to woo

And to be woo’d, corrupts more Virgins then

Hot Satyrs turn’d to Amorous Courtly Men:

But theſe are innocent; then be not nice,

Will you not buy, becauſe they teach not Vice?

Nature will teach you that; then do not look

To do’t by Art and Learning by the Book;

A Veſtal Nun may reade this, and avow it,

And a Carthuſian Confeſſor allow it.

Yet they are pleaſant, but on this ſide harm,

Witty expreſſions, yet no wanton charm,

But virtuous Love, bright ſhining as the Sun,

As innocent as Turtles, Vice to ſhun.

What do you lack? for here’s the Shop of Wit

With new ſpun finer Phancies, for to fit

Your curious Brains: do you lack Proſe or Verſe?

Which, when you want diſcourſe, you may rehearſe,

And goſsip too with Pleaſure and Delight,

So for to waſt a tedious Winters night.

b ’Twixt b1v

’Twixt every Tale’s Act, for your Muſick, think

Of melting Sweet-meats, diſſolv’d Wine your drink;

Unbraſing your Drums ears a while to ſtay,

Whil’ſt on your Tongues-ſtrings taſt doth ſweetly play:

Then to the pleaſure of your Tales again,

Thus feaſt your Senſes; when they’re wearied, then

To your ſoft Beds, Sleep ſeize you with delight,

So Noble Friends, I bid you all good night.

W.William Newcastle.


A Copy of Verſes to the Lady Marchioneſs of Newcastle, of all her Works, which are now all printed, except her Tragedies and Comedies, which will ſhortly come out.

You various Readers various judgements give,

And think Books are condemn’d, or ought to live

According to your cenſures, bad or good,

Before you read them, or they’re underſtood,

Laying aſperſions with a jeering brand;

But read them firſt, that is, to underſtand

On forfeit of your ſelves, like this that’s writ,

Or prejudice your judgements and your wit.

Now for your own ſakes, theſe Books like them then,

Have mercy on your ſelves you cenſuring Men;

For when you’re dead, and all your envious looks,

Theſe Writings they will live as long as Books.

O but a Woman writes them, ſhe doth ſtrive

T’intrench too much on Man’s Prerogative;

Then that’s the crime her learned Fame pulls down;

If you be Scholars, ſhe’s too of the Gown:

Therefore be civil to her, think it fit

She ſhould not be condemn’d, ’cauſe ſhe’s a Wit.

b2 If b2v

If you be Souldiers, Ladies you’ll defend,

And your ſheath’d Arguments, when drawn, will end

The ſmall male Goſsipings: but Gallants, pray

Be not you factious, though each Miſtris ſay

The Books are naught, but dance, & with them play,

Sweet pretty Ladies, and diſcourſe with thoſe

Of Ribbins, point de Jane, and finer Cloaths,

Their better reading, and let Books alone;

But theſe I will compare to every one

That here doth follow. Nay, old Homer writ

purer Not clearer Phancies, nor with clearer Wit;

And that Philoſophy ſhe doth diſpenſe,

Beyond old Ariſtotle’s hard non-ſenſe;

Her obſervations of Diſeaſes new,

More than Hippocrates the Grecian knew;

As eloquent as Roman Cicero,

And ſweeter flowers of Rhet’rick there do grow;

More lofty high deſcriptions ſhe hath ſtill

Than ſwell’d lines of th’Imitator Virgil;

As good Odes too as Horace, nay, I can

Compare her Dialogues to rare Lucian.

Lucan, the Battail of thy Civil War

Is loſt, this Lady doth exceed thee far;

More Fame by Morals than grave Plutarch gain’d,

Profitable Fables, as Eſop feign’d;

And as good Language as ev’r Terence writ,

Thy Comedies, poor Plautus, far leſs wit.

Thy rare Epiſtles all Epiſtles ſully,

Beyond the two Familiars of vain Tully;

And as wiſe Sentences thou ſtill doſt ſay

As the Apocrypha, or Seneca;

As b3r

As ſmooth and gentle Verſe as Ovid writ,

And may compare with ſweet Tibullus wit.

What takes the Soul more than a gentle vain?

Thou charm’ſt the charming Orpheus with thy ſtrain.

If all theſe Wits were praiſ’d for ſeveral wayes,

What deſerv’ſt thou that haſt them all? what praiſe?

W.William Newcaſtle.


To the Reader.

The deſign of theſe my feigned Stories is to preſent Virtue, the Muſes leading her, and the Graces attending her.

Likewiſe, to defend Innocency, to help the diſtreſſed, and lament the unfortunate.

Alſo, to ſhew that Vice is ſeldome crown’d with good Fortune; and in theſe Deſigns or Pieces I have deſcribed many ſorts of Paſsions, Humours, Behaviours, Actions, Accidents, Misfortunes, Governments, Laws, Cuſtomes, Peace, Wars, Climates, Situations, Arts and Sciences: but theſe Pieces are not limb’d alike, for ſome are done with Oil colours of Poetry, others in Watry colours of Proſe, ſome upon dark grounds of Tragedy, and ſome upon light grounds of Comedy. But the work of either is rough, being not done by a skilfull hand, ſo not ſo ſmooth as I could wiſh; yet I hope the proportions, exceed not their Symmetry, but that every part is made proportionable to the whole, and the whole to the diſtance of your view, and that the Colours are neither miſ-matcht, nor the Shadows miſplaced.


An Epistle To my Readers.

Perchance my feigned Stories are not ſo lively deſcribed as they might have been, for that my deſcriptions are not ſo lively expreſt by the pen, as Sir Anthony Vandick his Pictures by the pencill, by reaſon I have not copied them from true I meane true Originall from immediat action. Originalls, but juſt as phancy formes; for I have not read much Hiſtory to inform me of the paſt Ages, indeed I dare not examin the former times, for fear I ſhould meet with ſuch of my Sex, that have out-done all the glory I can aime at, or hope to attaine; for I confeſs my Ambition is reſtleſs, and not ordinary; becauſe it would have an extraordinary fame: And ſince all heroick Actions, publick Imployments, powerfull Governments, and eloquent Pleadings are denyed our Sex in this age, or at leaſt would be condemned for want of cuſtome, is the cauſe I write ſo much, for my ambition being reſtleſs, though rather buſie than induſtrious, yet it hath made that little wit I have to run upon c every c1v every ſubject I can think of, or is fit for me to write on; for after I have put out one Book more that I am writing, I cannot tell what more to write, unleſs I ſhould write of the like ſubjects again, which would be as tedious as endleſs.

M.Margaret Newcaſtle.


To the Reader.

As for thoſe Tales I name Romancicall, I would not have my Readers think I write them, either to pleaſe, or to make fooliſh whining Lovers, for it is a humor of all humors, I have an averſion to; but my endeavour is to expreſs the ſweetneſs of Vertue, and the Graces, and to dreſs and adorn them in the beſt expreſsions I can, as being one of their ſervants, that do unfeignedly, unweariedly, induſtriouſly, and faithfully wait upon them: Neither do I know the rule or method of Romancy Writing; for I never read a Romancy Book throughout in all my life, I mean ſuch as I take to be Romances, wherein little is writ which ought to be practiſed, but rather ſhunned as fooliſh Amoroſities, and deſperate Follies, not noble Loves diſcreetc2 ſcreet c2v ſcreet Vertues, and true Valour. The moſt I ever read of Romances was but part of three Books, as the three parts of one, and the half of the two others, otherwiſe I never read any; unleſs as I might by chance, as when I ſee a Book, not knowing of what it treats, I may take and read ſome half a dozen lines, where perceiving it a Romance, ſtraight throw it from me, as an unprofitable ſtudy, which neither inſtructs, directs, nor delights me: And if I thought thoſe Tales I call my Romancicall Tales, ſhould or could neither benefit the life, nor delight the minde of my Readers, no more than thoſe pieces of Romances I read, did me, I would never ſuffer them to be printed; but ſelf-partiality perſwades me otherwiſe, but if they ſhould not, I deſire thoſe that have my book to pull out thoſe tales and burn them: Likewiſe if I could think that any of my writings ſhould create Amorous thoughts in idle brains, I would make blotts inſteed of letters; but I hope this work of mine will rather quench Amorous paſsions, than inflame them, and beget chaſt Thoughts, nouriſh love of Vertue, kindle humane Pitty, warme Charity, increaſe Civillity, ſtrengthen fainting patience, encourage noble Induſtry, crown , Merit, inſtruct Life; and recreate Time, Alſo I hope, it will damn c3r damn vices, kill follies, prevent Errors, forwarne youth, and arme the life againſt misfortunes: Likewiſe to admoniſh, inſtruct, direct, and perſwade to that which is good and beſt, and in ſo doing, I the Authoreſs have my wiſhes and reward.

M.Margaret Newcastle.


To the Reader.

I Muſt intreat my Readers to underſtand, that though my Naturall Genius is to write fancy, yet in this Work, I have ſtrove, as much as I can, to lay fancy by in ſome out-corner of my brain, for lively deſcriptions to take place; for deſcriptions are to imitate, and fancy to create; for fancy is not an imitation of nature, but a naturall Creation, which I take to be the true Poetry: ſo that there is as much difference between fancy, and imitation as between a Creature, and a Creator: but ſome Poeticall tales or diſcourſes, both in verſe and proſe; but moſt in proſe, hath crowded in amongſt the reſt, I cannot ſay againſt my will, although my will was forced by my Naturall Inclinations and affections to fancy, but otherwiſe I have endeavoured to deſcribe, and imitate the ſeverall Actions of life, and changes of fortune, as well as my little Wit, weak obſervations, and leſſe learning can compoſe into c4r into ſeverall diſcourſes; Alſo I am to let my Readers to underſtand, that though my work is of Comicall, Tragicall, Poeticall, Philoſophicall, Romancicall, Hiſtoricall and Morall diſcourſes, yet I could not place them ſo exactly into ſeverall Books, or parts as I would, but am forced to mix them one amongſt another, but my Readers will find them in the volume, if they pleaſe to take notice of them, if not there is no harme done to my Book, nor me the Authoreſs.

M.Margaret Newcastle.


To my Readers.

Although I hope every piece or diſcourſe in my Book will delight my Readers, or at leaſt ſome one, and ſome another, according as they ſhall agree and ſimpathize with their humors, diſpoſitions and fancies, yet I do recommend two as the moſt ſolid and edifying, which are named, The Anchoret, and the Experienced Traveller, but eſpecially the ſhe Anchoret, they are the laſt of my feigned ſtories in my Book.


To My Readers.

I Muſt intreat my Readers to take notice, that in this firſt Book or part of this volume, I was forced to order my ſeverall Chapters, as Muſicians doe their tunes, when they play upon Muſicall Inſtruments, who for the moſt part do mix light Aires, with ſolemn Sounds: and by reaſon I thought this firſt part of my Book would be too ſhort, if I did divide them, I have mixed them altogether, and although in my opinion I have diſadvantaged it very much with imitating Muſicians, yet I could not conveniently avoid it, for the reaſon aforeſaid, although the light Aires and ſolemn Tunes, which are the Comicall & Tragicall diſcourſe mixt together, will ſo diſunite the thoughts and diſturb the paſſions, as my Readers will hardly fix their minds ſeriouſly on either, for my Readers will be like one that is intreatedtreated, c5v treated or rather pull’d by two Companions, one to accompanie him to a houſe of Mourning, the other to a houſe of Mirth, or rather to a ſhop of toyes, in which poſture, he can neither condole with the unfortunate, nor mourn with the afflicted, nor rejoyce with the happy, nor chat with the idle, and ſo may grow angry with them both, and fling them by as troubleſome: the like may my Readers with my diſcourſe; alſo I muſt tell my Readers, I do not ſtrive as many do, to put the choice pieces in the firſt place, to invite or rather to entice the Readers to read their following works, but endeavor to place my works properly and not ſubtilly.

Likewiſe, I have not endeavoured ſo much for the eloquence, and elegancy of ſpeech, as the naturall and moſt uſuall way of ſpeaking, in ſeverall Diſcourſes, and ordinary Phraſes; but perchance my Readers will ſay, or or at leaſt think I have dreſſed the ſeverall ſubjects of my Diſcourſes too vulgar, or that the Garments, which is the language, is thread-bare: ’tis true, they are not dreſt up in conſtraint faſhions, which are ſet phraſes, nor tied up with hard words, nor bumbaſt ſentences, but though they are careleſly, yet they are not looſely dreſt: but for fear my Reader ſhould not take notice, I muſt repeat once c6r once again to put them in remembrance that moſt of my diſcourſes or Tales, are naturall Deſcriptions & not Fancies; alſo I muſt tell my Readers, if they meet any words in my diſcourſe, that belongs to any other Language, pray let them not perſwade you I underſtand their native Originall, but pray remember, or if you do not know, inquire of Linguiſts, and they will inform you, that Engliſh is a compounded Language, as mithredated of many ingredients, or it is like a Cordiall water, whoſe ſpirits are extracted from many ſeverall ſimples; ſo, if I ſpeak the Engliſh that is ſpoken in this age, I muſt uſe ſuch words as belongs to other Nations, being mixed therein, unleſs I ſhould ſpeak the Engliſh that was ſpoken in former Ages, as that they call old Engliſh, of which I am almoſt as ignorant as of other Languages: I would not have written this, but that I am condemned as a diſſembler, for ſaying I do not underſtand any Language but Engliſh, which is my native Language, and the only reaſon is I uſe ſuch words, as are mixed therein; but in this as in all things elſe, I am a Speaker of Truth, that is, I never ſay any thing for a Truth, that is falſe, and I am ſo great a lover of Truth, as I am one of her order, and have taken the habit of ſincerity, in which I will live and dye.

M.Margaret Newcastle.


Her Excellencies Comical Tales in Proſe.

The firſt Part.

The ſtrict Aſſociate.

There was a Gentleman came to a Lady with a Meſſage from his Lord, which was to tell her his Lord would come and viſit her. Sir, ſaid ſhe, is your Lord a Poet? No, Lady, ſaid he. Said ſhe, then he hath no Divine Soul. Is he a Philoſopher, ſaid ſhe? No, Madam, ſaid he. Then, ſaid ſhe, he hath no Rational Soul. Is he an Hiſtorian, ſaid ſhe? Neither, ſaid he. Then, ſaid ſhe, he hath no Learned Soul. Is he an antient Man, ſaid ſhe? No, Lady, ſaid he. Then he hath no Experienced Soul. Is he an Orator, ſaid ſhe? No, Lady, ſaid he. Then he hath no Eloquent Soul.

And if he hath neither Poetical Wit, Philoſophical Wiſdome, Studious Learning, Experienced Knowledge, nor Eloquent Language, he cannot be converſible; and if he be not converſible, his Viſit can neither be profitable nor pleaſant, but troubleſome and tedious; therefore I ſhall intreat your Lord by the return of my Anſwer, that he will ſpare his pains, and my pain, in giving me a Viſit.

But, ſaid the man, though my Lord is neither a Poet, a Philoſopher, an Hiſtorian, Orator, or Aged, yet he is a young beautiful Man, which is more acceptable to a fair Lady.

Sir, ſaid ſhe, Youth and Beauty appears worſe in Men, than Age and Deformity in Women, wherefore, ſaid ſhe, if it were in my d power, d1v power, I would make a Law that all young Men ſhould be kept to their Studies, ſo long as their Effeminate Beauty doth laſt; and old Women ſhould be put into Cloyſters, when their Youth and Beauty is paſt: but, ſaid ſhe, the cuſtome of the World is otherwiſe, for old Women and young Men appear moſt to the publick view in the World, when young Women and aged Men often retire from it.

The Judgement.

There were two Gentlemen that had travelled both into England and France, and meeting another Gentleman, he aſked one of them which he liked beſt, England or France.

The other ſaid, he liked both well where they were like worthy, and diſliked them both in things that were not worthy of praiſe.

Said he to the ſecond Gentleman; and which like you beſt?

Which do you mean, ſaid the ſecond, the Countryes or Kingdomes?

Why, what difference is there betwixt ſaying a Country, and a Kingdome, ſaid he?

Great difference, ſaid the other; for to ſay a Country is ſuch a circumference of earth, and to ſay a Kingdome is to ſay ſuch a Countrey manured, inhabited, or rather populated with Men that dwell in Cities, Towns, and Villages, that are governed by Laws, either Natural or Artificial.

Well, which Kingdome do you like beſt, ſaid the other?

Truly, ſaid the ſecond, I cannot give a good judgement, unleſs I had travelled through every part in both Kingdomes, and had taken ſtrict ſurveys of their Forts, Havens, Woods, Plains, Hills, Dales, Meadows, Paſtures, Errable; alſo, their Architectures, as Cities, Towns, Villages, Palaces, Churches, Theaters; alſo, their Laws, Cuſtomes, and Ceremonies, their Commodities, Trafficks, and Tranſportations, their Climates and Situations, and the ſeveral humours of the ſeveral People in each Kingdome, which will not onely require a ſolid judgement, and a clear underſtanding, but a long life to judge thereon.

But, ſaid the other, judge of as much as you have ſeen.

To judge of parts, anſwered the other, is not to judge of the whole: but to judge of as much as I have ſeen: I will compare or ſimilize thoſe parts of thoſe two Kingdomes to two Ladies, whoſe faces I have onely ſeen, their bodies and conſtitutions unknown; the one hath a larger and fairer forehead than the other, and a more ſanguine complexion, the other hath better eyes, eye brows, and mouth, So France is a broader & plainer Countrey, and the climat is more cleer and ſomewhat hotter than England, and England hath better Sea-ports, Havens, and navigable Rivers, than France hath; d2r hath alſo the one hath a more haughty look or countenance than the other; and the other a more pleaſing and modeſt countenance; So France appeares more majeſticall; and England more amiable.

The Vulgar fights.

A young Gentleman, that had a good naturall wit, had a deſire to travell, but firſt, he would viſit Every Province in his own Countrey before he went into forraign Kingdoms, preferring the knowledge of his own native ſoyl, before theirs, wherein he was neither born, nor meant to dwell: ſo he went to the chief Metropolitan City, where he did intend to ſtay ſome time, for there he might inform himſelf beſt of the ſeverall Trades, Trafficks, Impoſts, Lawes, Cuſtomes, Offices, and the like: ſo when he was come to the City, he ſent his man to ſeek him out ſome Lodgings in ſome private houſe, becauſe Innes are both troubleſome, and not ſo convenient, beſides more chargeable: ſo his man had not gone far, but he ſaw a bill over a Tradesmans doore to let paſſengers know there were Lodgings to be let; the Miſtris ſitting at the door, he asked her if he might ſee their Lodgings that were to be let?

She anſwered no, ſhe would firſt ſee them that were to take them; but ſaid ſhe, who is it that would take them?

Said he, my Maſter?.

Hath he a Wife, ſaid ſhe?

Why aſke you that, ſaid he?

Becauſe ſaid ſhe, I will not let my lodgings to any man that brings a wife, for women to women are troubleſome gueſts, when men are very acceptable, and I thank the Gods, ſaid ſhe, I am not ſo poor as I care for the profit, but for company & converſation, for to have no other company but my husband is very dull and melancholy.

Said the man, my Maſter hath no wife.

Is he a young man, ſaid ſhe?

Yes, ſaid he.

Is he a handſome man, ſaid ſhe?

Yes, ſaid he;

Then ſaid ſhe, my lodging is at his ſervice;

At what rate are they, ſaid he?

Said ſhe, Your Maſter and I ſhall not fall out about the price.

So he returned to his Maſter and told him, he had found not onely lodgings, but as he thought, a fair bedfellow to accompany him, for the Miſtris would make no bargain but with himſelf.

So thither he went, where he found all things accommodated for his uſe; and his Landlady, who was a handſome Woman, and her husband a plain man, bid him very welcome, then taking their leave left him to himſelf; after which the good man ſeldome troubled him; but his wife was ſo officious; as he ſeldom miſt of her d2 Company, d2v Company, and ſo wondrous kinde as might be, making him white wine Caudles for his breakfaſt, and giving him very often collations; beſides, if he ſtayed out, ſhe would ſend her husband to bed but ſhe would wait for his coming home, for which Kindneſs he would return her Courtly Civillities: but he went often abroad to view the City, and to ſee the courſe of the People, and the ſeverall paſſages therein; And one day as he went through a large ſtreet, a Coach-man and Car-man fell out for the right ſide of the way, the Car-man ſaid he was loaded, and therefore would not give way; the Coach-man ſaid, it was not fit for a Coach to give way to a cart, and therefore he ſhould give way; ſo after words follow blowes, and their whips were there mettled blades, which they fought withall, with which they laſhed one another ſoundly.

The Gentleman ſeeing them laſhing one another ſo cruelly ſpake to his man to part the fray; introth Maſter, ſaid the man, if I ſhall go about to part all fooliſh frayes, or but one in a City, I may chance to go home with a broken pate, and get no reputation for the loſſe of my blood; ſo they went to the market place, and there were two women which had fallen out about their Marchandize, and their fight was much fiercer than the Coach-man and Carters, and their words more inveterated, and their nailes more wounding than their whips, in ſo much as they had ſcratched each other ſo as the blood trickled down their faces, whereupon the Gentleman being of a pitifull nature, commanded his man to part them; ſaid the man, I will adventure on the effeminate Sex; for I believe I can pacify them, at leaſt make my party good, ſo he went and ſpoke to them to forbear each other, but their eares were ſtopt with the ſound of their ſcolding tongues; but when he went to part them, it did ſo enrage their fury, as they left fighting with each other, and fell upon him, where to help himſelf he was forced to fight with them both, at laſt it grew to be a very hot battle, firſt off went his hat, then down fell his Cloake, he thruſt them from him, they preſt upon him, he cuft them, they laid on blows on him, they tore his band, he tore their kerchers, they pull’d his haire, he pull’d there Petticoats, they ſcratcht his face, he beat their fingers, he kickt them, they ſpurned him, at laſt with ſtrugling they all three fell in the kennell, and ſo cloſe they fought, as thoſe three bodyes ſeemed but one body, and that moved as a Whale on a ſhallow ſhore, which wants water to ſwim, even ſo they lay waving and rolling in the kennell; in this time a number of people were gathered about them to ſee them fight, for it is the nature of common people to view combats, but part none; They will make frayes, but not friends, but the people inveterated their ſpleenes, and inflamed their collars with their ſhooting noiſes which they made, but the Gentleman that was concerned for his man, deſired the people to part them, but they cried out, let them fight, let them fight; and they that had ſo much good nature as to offer to pull them aſunder, the reſt did hinder: them at laſt the Conſtable came, and did cauſe them all three to be put into the Stockes, whereas the man was placed betwixt the two d3r two Women, which almoſt made deafe both his eares, for though their leggs were faſt, their tongues were looſe, with which they rung him ſuch a ſcolding peal, as made his head dizzye; but he without ſpeaking one word ſate in a moſt lamentable poſture, with his clothes all rent and torne, his face all ſcratcht and bloody, and that haire they left on his head all ſnarled and rougled, and ſtood an end, as if he were affrighted; but at laſt his Maſter by bribing the Conſtable, got his man out of the ſtocks, and gave the Conſtable ſo much more to keep the women ſhakled a longer time; but when they ſaw the man let looſe, and they ſtill faſt, were ſtark madd; but the man was ſo dogged, that he would not ſpeak to his Maſter, becauſe it was by his command he came into that effeminat quarrell; but his maſter to pacify him, and to reward him for his obedience, gave him new clothes, and all things ſuteable, and money to be friends again, and though the money did quallify his paſſion, yet he was wonderfull angry for the diſgrace (as he thought it) to be beaten by women, and prayed his Maſter to give him leave to depart from him, that he might retire to ſome meaner mans ſervice, where he might hide his diſhonor; his Maſter told him he thought he never had much Honour to looſe, neither would any trouble their thoughts, and burthen their memory with ſuch fooliſh quarrells; but howſoever, ſaid his maſter, if you be a man of Honour, as you imagine your ſelf, you ſhould glory in this combat; for Honorable and gallant men will not refuſe to graſpe with the effeminate Sex, but take it as an honour to receive blows from them; a rent band is their victory, a ſcatched face there trophy; & their ſcolding ſpeech is their Chariot wherein they ride in triumph; Heaven, ſaid the man deliver me from that Honour, for I had rather graſpe a fury of Hell, than an angry woman; So home they went, and when they came to their lodging, they found the man and his wife together by the eares; the man curſing, the wife ſcolding, and there wares in their ſhop flung about: For they had hurled all they could lay hold on at each others head; whereat the Maſter and the man ſtood at the doore not daring to enter the houſe, for fear they ſhould partake of the quarrell. At laſt ſaid the man to his maſter Sir, ſaid he, now you may have thoſe honorable victories, as trophyes, and triumphs you ſpake of, if you will endeavour to part them; his Maſter anſwered, that one man was enough for one woman; and two would be too much: ſaid the man, I anſwer that I found two women too much for one man, and I dare lay a wager our Land-lady wil be too hard for our Land-lord; he had no ſooner ſpoke, but the wife had broke her husbands head with a meaſure that lay by, which as ſoone as ſhe had done, ſhe run into her Kitchin, and ſhut the door to ſecure herſelf, making it her Caſtle of defence, to which her husband followed with threatning language, then bounced & beat againſt the door to break it open, but ſhe had not only barred and lockt it, but had ſet all the potts, panns and ſpitts againſt it, as a baracadoe to make it ſtrong but at laſt the Gentleman went to his Land lord & perſwaded him to be friends with his wife, at firſt he would not hear d3 him; d3v him; but at laſt when he found he could not get in, and that his furie was waſted with the many aſſaults againſt the doore, he was contented to have a parley: then there was a truce agreed upon for two hours, in which time the Gentleman had managed the quarrell ſo well, as he made them friends, for the wife was contented to be friends with her husband, for the Gentlemans ſake, and the huſband for quiets ſake, and the man was contented to ſtay with his Maſter, when he ſaw he was not the only man, that was beaten by women; but triumphed that the Land-lord was beaten by one, when he had two againſt him, &c.


The Tobacconist.

There were two maides talking of Husbands, for that for the moſt part is the theame of their diſcourſe, and the ſubject of their thoughts;

Said the one to the other, I would not marry a man that takes Tobacco for any thing.

Said the ſecond, then it is likely you will have a fool for your husband, for Tobacco is able to make a fool a wiſe man: for though it doth not always work to wiſe effects, by reaſon ſome fools are beyond all improvement, yet it never failes where any improvement is to be made.

Why, ſaid the firſt, how doth it worke ſuch wiſe effects?

Said the ſecond, it compoſes the mind, it buſies the thoughts, it attracts all outward objects to the mindes view, it ſettles and retents the ſenſes; it cleeres the underſtanding; ſtrengthens the Judgement, ſpyes out Errors; it evaporates Follyes, it heates Ambition, it comforts ſorrow, it abates paſſions, it excites to Noble actions; it digeſts conceptions, it inlarges knowledge, it elevates imaginations, it creates phancies, it quickens wit, and it makes reaſon Pleader, and truth Judge in all diſputes or Controverſies betwixt Right and Wrong.

Said the firſt, it makes the breath ſtinke.

Said the ſecond, you miſtake, it will make a ſtinking breath ſweet.

It is a beaſtly ſmell, ſaid the firſt.

Said the ſecond, Civet is a beaſtly ſmell, and that you will thruſt your noſe to, although it be an excrement, and for any thing we know, ſo is Amber-Greece, when Tobacco is a ſweet and pleaſant, wholeſom and medicinable hearb.

B1r 1

Her Excellencies Tales in Verſe.

The firſt Book.

Readers, I find the Works which I have wrote,

Are not ſo bad, as you can find much fault;

For if you could, I doubt you would not ſpare

Me in your cenſures, but their faults declare;

For I perceive the World is evil bent,

Judging the worſt, although it good was meant;

And if a word to wantonneſs could wreſt,

They’ll be ſo pleas’d, and often at it jeſt;

When every fooliſh tongue can with words play,

And turn good ſenſe, with words, an evil way:

But at my Writings let them do their worſt,

And for their pains with Ignorance be curſt.

In Winter cold, a Company was met

Both Men and Women by the Fire ſet;

At laſt they did agree to paſs the time,

That every one ſhould tell a Tale in Rhime.

The Women ſaid, they could no Number keep,

Or could they run on ſmooth and even Feet.

Why, ſaid the Men, all Womens Tongues are free

To ſpeak both out of time, and nonſenſly

And drawing lots, the chance fell on a Man,

When he had ſpit and blow’d his Noſe, began:

B Of B1v 2

Of the faithfull Widow, or mournfull Wife.

Itravelling, it was my chance to ſee

A little Houſe hard by a Tombe to be;

My curioſity made me inquire

Who dwelt therein; to further my deſire,

I knocked at the door, at laſt came one,

Which told me ’twas a Lady liv’d alone:

I pray’d that I the Lady might but ſee,

She told me ſhe did ſhun all Company.

By her diſcourſe the Lady had been Wife,

But being a Widow, liv’d a lonely life.

I told her, I did travel all about,

If I could finde a Conſtant Woman out.

She told me, if the World had any where

A Conſtant Woman, ſure ſhe dwelled there.

I ſtayed there, in hopes my chance might be,

Some wayes or other, this Lady to ſee;

And lying underneath a Tombe at night,

At Curfue time, this Lady with a Light

Came forth the Houſe, all clothed in white,

And to the Tombe her walk ſhe bended right;

With a majeſtick grace ſhe walk’d along,

She ſeem’d to be both beautifull and young;

And when ſhe came, ſhe kneeled down to pray,

And thus unto her ſelf did ſoftly ſay.

Give leave, you Gods, this loſs for to lament,

Give my ſoul leave to ſeek which wayes his went;

O let my ſpirits with his run a Race,

Not to out-go, but to get next in place.

Amongſt the Sons of Men raiſe up his Fame,

Let not foul Envy Canker-fret the ſame;

And whil’ſt, great Gods, I in the World do live,

Grant I may Honour to my Husband give;

O grant that all fond love away may fly,

But let my Heart amongſt his Aſhes lye:

Here do I ſacrifice each vainer dreſs,

And idle words my ignorant youth expreſs.

Here, Dear, I cancel all Self-love, and make

A Bond thy loving Memory to take,

And B2r 3

And in my ſoul alwayes adore the ſame,

My Thoughts ſhall build up Altars to thy name;

Thy Image in my Heart ſhall fixed be,

My Tears from thence ſhall Copies take of thee;

And on my Cheeks thoſe Tears as Pictures plac’t,

Or like thy Carved Statue, ne’r ſhall waſte;

Thy praiſe my words, though Air, ſhall paint ſo deep,

By Repetition, ſhall for ever keep.

With that, Tears from her Eyes in ſhowers did flow.

Then I roſe up, to her my ſelf did ſhew.

She ſeem’d not to be moved at my ſight,

Becauſe her Grief was far above her Fright.

Said I, weep, weep no more, thou Beauteous Saint,

Nor over theſe dull Aſhes make complaint;

They feel not thy warm Tears which liquid flow,

Nor thy deep Sighs, which from thy Heart do go;

They hear thee not, nor thank thee for thy love,

Nor yet his Soul that’s with the Gods above:

Take comfort, Saint, ſince Life will not return,

And bury not your Joyes within this Urn.

She Anſwered.

I have no Joyes, in him they did reſide,

They fled away when that his Body dy’d;

Not that my Love unto his Shape was ty’d,

But to his Virtues which did in him bide.

He had a Generoſity beyond all merit,

A Noble Fortitude poſſeſt his ſpirit;

Foreſeeing Prudence, which his Life did guide,

And temperate Thoughts did in his Soul abide;

His ſpeech was ſweet, and gentle to the ear,

Delight ſate cloſe, as liſtning for to hear

His Counſel wiſe, and all his Actions good;

His Truth and Honeſty as Judges ſtood

For to direct, and give his Actions law;

His Piety to Gods was full of awe.

Wherefore return, your Counſels are in vain,

For I muſt grieve whil’ſt I in th’world remain;

For I have ſacrific’d all my Delights

Upon my Noble Husbands Grave, and ſlights

All Vanities, which Women young do prize,

Though they intangle them, as webs do Flyes.

B2 Lady, B2v 4

Lady, ſaid I, you being young and fair,

By Pleaſures to the World invited are,

Yet bury all your Youth and Beauty here,

When like the Sun, may to all eyes appear.

O Sir, ſaid ſhe, the Sun that gave me light,

Death hath eclips’d, and taken from my ſight;

In Melancholy Shades my Soul doth lye,

And grieves my Body will not quickly dye;

My Spirits long to wander in the Air,

Hoping to finde its loving Partner there:

Though Fates decree my life for to prolong,

No power hath my Conſtant Minde to turn.

But when I did perceive no Rhetorick could

Perſwade her to take Comfort, grieve ſhe would:

Then did I take my leave to go away,

With adoration thus to her did ſay.

Farewell you Angel of a Heavenly Breed,

For ſure thou com’ſt not from a Mortal Seed;

Thou art ſo conſtant unto Virtue, fair,

Which very few of either Sexes are.

And after in ſhort time I heard ſhe dy’d,

Her Tombe was built cloſe by her Husbands ſide:

After the Man, a Woman did begin

To tell her Tale, and thus ſhe entered in.

A Deſcription of diverted grief.

Aman that had a young and a fair Wife,

Whoſe Virtue was unſpotted all her life;

Her words were ſmooth which from her tongue did ſlide,

All her Diſcourſe was wittily apply’d;

Her Actions modeſt, her Behaviour ſo,

As when ſhe mov’d, the Graces ſeem’d to go.

Whatever ill ſhe chanc’d to hear or ſee,

Yet ſtill her Thoughts as pure as Angels be.

Her Husbands love ſeem’d ſuch, as no delight

Nor joy could take out of his dear Wives ſight.

It chanc’d this virtuous Wife fell ſick to death,

Thus to her Husband ſpake with dying breath,

Farewell, my deareſt Husband, dye I muſt,

Yet do not you forget me in the Duſt,

Becauſe B3r 5

Becauſe my ſpirit would grieve, if it ſhould ſee

Another in my room thy Love to be;

My Ghoſt would mourn, lament, that never dyes,

Though Bodies do pure Loves eternalize.

You Gods, ſaid he, that order Death and Life,

O ſtrike me dead, unleſs you ſpare my Wife.

If your Decree is fix’d, nor alter’d can,

But ſhe muſt dye, O miſerable man!

Here do I vow, great Gods all witneſs be,

That I will have no other Wife but thee;

No friendſhip will I make, converſe with none,

But live an Anchoret my ſelf alone;

Thy ſpirits ſweet my thoughts ſhall entertain,

And in my minde thy Memory remain.

Farewell, ſaid ſhe, for now my ſoul’s at peace,

And all the bleſſings of the Gods increaſe

Upon thy Soul, yet wiſh you would not give

Away that Love I had whil’ſt I did live.

Turning her head; as if to ſleep ſhe lay,

In a ſoft ſigh her Spirits flew away.

When ſhe was dead, great Mourning he did make,

Would neither eat, nor drink, nor reſt could take,

Kiſſing her cold pale lips, her cheeks, each eye,

Curſing his Fates he lives, and may not dye.

Tears fell ſo faſt, as if his Sorrows meant

To lay her in a watry Monument.

But when her Corps was laid upon the Hearſe,

No tongue can tell, nor his great grief expreſs.

Thus did he paſs his time a week or two,

In ſad complaints, and melancholy wo;

At laſt he was perſwaded for to take

Some Air abroad, ev’n for his own healths ſake.

But firſt, unto the Grave he went to pray,

Kiſſing that Earth wherein her Body lay.

After a month or two, his Grief to eaſe,

Some Recreations ſeeks himſelf to pleaſe;

And calling for his Horſes, and his Hounds,

He means to hunt upon the Champain grounds:

By theſe paſtimes his thoughts diverted are,

Goes by the Grave, and never drops a Tear.

At laſt he chanc’d a Company to meet

Of Virgins young, and freſh as Flowers ſweet;

B3 Their B3v 6

Their Clothing fine, their Humours pleaſant gay,

And with each other they did ſport and play:

Giving his Eyes a liberty to view,

With interchanging looks in Love he grew.

One Maid among the reſt, moſt fair and young,

Who had a ready wit, and pleaſant tongue,

He courtſhip made to her, he did addreſs,

Caſt off his Mourning, Love for to expreſs;

Rich Clothes he made, and wondrous fine they were,

He barb’d, and curl’d, and powder’d ſweet his Hair;

Rich Gifts unto his Miſtris did preſent,

And every day to viſit her he went.

They like each one ſo well, they both agree

That in all haſte they ſtraight muſt married be.

To Church they went, for joy the Bels did ring,

When married were, he home the Bride did bring;

But when he married was ſome half a year,

Then Curtain lectures from his Wife did hear;

And whatſo’er he did, ſhe did diſlike,

And all his kindneſs ſhe with ſcorns did ſlight,

Croſs every word ſhe would that he did ſay,

Seem’d very ſick, complaining every day

Unleſs ſhe went abroad, then ſhe would be

In humour good, in other Company.

Then he would ſigh, and call into his minde

His dear dead Wife that was ſo wondrous kinde;

He jealous grew, and was ſo diſcontent,

Soon of his later Marriage did repent;

With Melancholy Thoughts fell ſick and dy’d;

His Wife ſoon after was anothers Bride.

When ſhe had done, the Men aloud did cry,

Said, ſhe had quit her Tale moſt ſpitefully.

Another Man, to anſwer what ſhe told,

Began to tell, and did his Tale unfold.

The Effeminate Description.

A man a walking did a Lady ſpy;

To her he went, and when he came hard by;

Fair Lady, ſaid he, why walk you alone?

Becauſe, ſaid ſhe, my Thoughts are then my own;

For B4r 7

For in a company my Thoughts do throng,

And follow every fooliſh babbling Tongue.

Your Thoughts, ſaid he, were boldneſs for to ask.

To tell, ſaid ſhe, it were too great a taſk:

But yet to ſatiſfie your Minde, ſaid ſhe,

I’le tell you how our Thoughts run commonly.

Sometimes they mount up to the Heavens high,

Then ſtraight fall down, and on the Earth will lye;

Then circling runs to compaſs all they may,

And then ſometimes they all in heaps do ſtay;

At other times they run from place to place,

As if they had each other in a Chace;

Sometimes they run as Phanſie doth them guide,

And then they ſwim as in a flowing Tide:

But if the Minde be diſcontent, they flow

Againſt the Tide, their Motion’s dull and ſlow.

Said he,

I travel now to ſatiſfie my minde,

Whether I can a Conſtant Woman finde.

O Sir, ſaid ſhe, it’s Labour without end,

We cannot Conſtant be to any Friend;

We ſeem to love to death, but ’tis not ſo,

Becauſe our Paſſions moveth to and fro;

They are not fix’d, but do run all about;

Every new Object thruſts the former out:

Yet we are fond, and for a time ſo kinde,

As nothing in the World ſhould change our minde:

But if Misfortune come, we weary grow,

Then former Fondneſs we away ſtraight throw;

Although the Object alter not, yet may

Time alter our fond Minds another way;

We love, and like, and hate, and cry,

Without a Cauſe, or Reaſon why.

Wherefore go back, for you ſhall never finde

Any Woman to have a Conſtant Minde;

The beſt that is ſhall hold out for a time,

Wavering like Winde, which Women hold no Crime.

A Woman ſaid, this Tale I will requite,

To vindicate our Sex, which you did ſlight.

A B4v 8

A Man in love was with a Lady fair,

And for her ſake would curl, perfume his Hair;

Profeſſions thouſands unto her did make,

And ſwore for her a Pilgrimage would take.

I ſwear, ſaid he, Truth ſhall for me be bound,

Conſtant to be, whil’ſt Life in me is found.

With all his Rivals he would quarrels make,

In Duels fought he often for her ſake.

It chanc’d this Lady ſick was, like to dye

Of the ſmall Pox, Beauties great Enemy.

When ſhe was well, her Beauty decay’d quite,

He did forſake her, and her Friendſhip ſlight;

Excuſes makes, her cannot often ſee,

Then asketh leave a Traveller to be.

And thus, poor Lady, when her Beauty’s gone,

Without her Lover ſhe may ſit alone.

Then was the third Mans turn his Tale to tell,

Which to his Company he fitted well.

A Deſcription of Conſtancy.

There was a Noble Man that had a Wife,

Young, Fair, and Virtuous, yet ſo ſhort a life;

For after ſhe had married been a year,

A Daughter born, which Daughter coſt her dear:

No ſooner born, the Mother laid in Bed,

Before her Lord could come, his Wife was dead;

Where at the ſight he did not tear his Hair,

Nor beat his Breaſt, nor ſigh, nor ſhed a Tear;

Nor buried her in ſtate, as many do,

And with that Funeral Charge a new Wife wo:

But ſilently he laid her in a Tombe,

Where by her ſide he meant to have a Room;

For by no other ſide he meant to lye,

But as in Life, in Death keep Company

The whil’ſt he of his Daughter care did take,

And fond he was ev’n for his dear Wifes ſake:

But Grief upon his ſpirits had got hold

Conſum’d him more than Age that makes Men old;

His Fleſh did waſte, his Manly Strength grew weak;

His Face grew pale, and faintly did he ſpeak;

As C1r 9

As moſt that in a deep Conſumption are,

When Hective Feavers with Life makes a war;

And though he joy’d he had not long to live,

Yet for to leave his Daughter young did grieve;

For he no Kindred had to take a care

Of his young Child, and Strangers he did fear

They would neglect their Charge, not ſee her bred

According to her birth when he was dead,

Or rob her of her wealth, or elſe would ſell

Her to a Husband which might uſe her ill,

Or elſe by Servants brib’d, might her betray

With ſome mean Man, and ſo might run away.

Theſe thoughts of his his minde did much torment,

And her ill fortunes did his thoughts preſent.

At laſt he did conclude, if any be

True, Juſt, and full of Generoſity,

’Twas ſuch as like were to the Gods on high,

As powerfull Princes and dread Majeſtie.

The Kingdomes King was dead, but left to reign

His widowed Queen, who prudent did maintain

The Government, though forreign Wars ſhe had,

Which was a Charge and oft-times made her ſad.

This Noble Man ſent to the Queen to crave

That ſhe upon his Child would pity have,

To take her to the Court, there to be bred,

That none might wrong her after he was dead.

The Queen moſt willingly his ſuit did ſign,

And ſo in peace his Soul he did reſign.

This Lady young did to the Court repair,

Where ſhe was bred with tender love and care;

And Youth that’s bred in Courts may wiſeſt be,

Becauſe they more do hear, and more do ſee

Than other Children, that are bred obſcure,

Becauſe the Senſes are beſt Tutors ſure.

But Nature in this Maid had done her part,

And in her frame had ſhew’d her curious Art,

Compos’d her every way, Body and Minde,

Of beſt Extracts that were to form Mankinde;

All which ſhe gave to Time for to diſtill,

And of the ſubtil’ſt Spirits the Soul to fill

With Reaſon, Wit, and Judgement, and to take

The ſolid’ſt part the Body for to make.

C For C1v 10

For though that Nature all her works ſhapes out,

Yet Time doth give ſtrength, length and breadth about.

And as her Perſon grew in ſtature tall,

And that her Beauty did increaſe withall,

So did Affection in her Heart grow high,

Which there was planted in her Infancy.

There was a ſubject Prince within the Land,

Although but young, the Army did command;

He being choſe for Birth, Wealth, Valour, Wit,

And Prudence for to leade and martial it,

The whil’ſt his Father did the Queen aſſiſt

To manage State-affairs, as knowing beſt

The Kingdomes Conſtitutions, and Natures bad

Of Common People, who are ſometimes mad,

And wildly in diſtempers ruins brings,

For moſt Rebellions from the Commons ſprings.

But he ſo juſt and loyally did ſerve

His Queen and Country, as he did preſerve

Himſelf within her Favour, and her Love,

As great Reſpect, and honour’d Praiſe did prove;

And in the Wars his Son ſuch Fame did get,

As in her Chariot he triumphant ſate:

For he was Valiant, and of Nature free,

Courteous, and full of Generoſity;

His Wit was quick, yet ſo as to delight,

Not for to croſs, or in Diſputes to fight;

For gallant Sword-men that do fight in War,

Do never uſe their Tongues to make a jar.

He was exact in Body and in Minde,

For no defects in either could you finde.

The Queen, that had a Neece both young and fair,

Did ſtrive to match her to this Prince and Heir

Of all his Father’s Wealth, who had ſuch ſtore,

As all the Nobles elſe did ſeem but poor;

And the young Princeſs lik’d ſo well the choyce,

As thoughts of marrying him did her rejoyce;

And through her Eyes ſuch Meſſages Love ſent,

On ſmiling Rayes, and poſting Glances went.

The other Lady hearing the Report,

For every one did talk of it in Court;

Beſides, ſhe ſaw his Perſon ſtill attend

Upon the Princeſs, and did Preſents ſend;

And C2r 11

And every day to viſit her did go,

As being commanded by his Father ſo.

At which ſhe ſad and melancholy grew,

Yet her Diſeaſe not thorowly ſhe knew.

Like as a Plant that from the Earth doth ſpring,

Sprouts high, before a blown Flower doth bring:

So did her Love in bud obſcurely lye,

Not any one as yet did it deſcry,

Nor did the Prince the leaſt affection finde,

She being reſerv’d in action, and in minde.

Sober ſhe was, and of a baſhfull look,

Of but few words, but great obſervance took;

By which obſerv’d, for Love hath a quick Eye,

And often by the Countenance doth ſpye

The hidden Thoughts, that the Tongue dare not tell,

For in the Minde obſcurity doth dwell:

But yet ſhe did eſpy ſomething lay croſs

To his deſires, but gueſs’d not what it was:

But griev’d that any thing ſhould him diſpleaſe;

For thoſe that love, do wiſh their Lov’d much eaſe;

Nay ſo much eaſe, as torments would endure,

If their Love benefit receive could ſure.

But ſhe grew reſtleſs, and her Thoughts did run

About him, as about the World the Sun;

For he was her World, and wiſh’d her Love

Had influence, as Planets from above,

To order his affections, and to bring

From ſeveral Cauſes one Effect to ſpring;

And the Effect, that he might love her ſo

As love her beſt, or at leaſt he might know

How well ſhe lov’d him, for ſhe wiſh’d no more

Then love for love, as Saints which do adore

The Gods in Heaven, which love ſo pure,

Can nothing of the droſſy fleſh endure

At laſt ſhe and her Thoughts in Counſel ſate,

What beſt was to be done of this or that;

And they did all agree her Love to own,

Since innocent and pure, to make it known

By her Epiſtles, and her Pen, to write

What her pure heart did dictate and indite;

No forfeit of her Modeſty, becauſe

She had no ends, but onely Virtuous Laws.

C2 Then C2v 12

Then took ſhe Pen and Paper, and her wit

Did tell her Love the truth, and thus ſhe writ.

Sir, you may wonder much that I do ſend

This Letter, which by Love doth recommend

It ſelf and ſuit unto your judging ear,

And that it was not ſtopt by baſhfull fear.

But let me tell you, this pure Love of mine

Is built on virtue, not on baſe deſign;

It hath no droſs, nor high ambitions ſpire,

The flame is made by emaculate fire,

Which to the Altar of your merits bring,

From whence the flame to Heaven high may ſpring.

Your glorious Fame within my Heart, though young,

Did plant a Slip of Honour, from whence ſprung

Pure Love, and Chaſt Deſire, for I do crave

Onely within your Heart a place to have.

I do not plead, hoping to be your Wife,

Nor ’twixt you and your Miſtris to breed ſtrife;

Or wiſh I that her Love you ſhould forſake.

Or unto me a Courtly Friendſhip make;

But onely when I’m dead, you would inſhrine

Within your Memory this Love of mine;

Which Love to all the World I may proclaim

Without a bluſh, or check, or ſpotted fame.

’Tis not your Perſon I do ſo admire,

Nor yet your Wealth, or Titles I deſire;

But your Heroick Soul, and Generous Minde,

Your Affability, and Nature kinde;

Your honeſt Heart, where Juſtice ſtill doth reign,

Your prudent Thoughts, and a well temper’d Brain;

Your helping Hand, and your induſtrious Life,

Not to make broyls, but to decide all ſtrife;

And to advance all thoſe are in diſtreſs,

To help the weak, and thoſe are powerleſs;

For which my Heart and Life to Love is bound,

And every thought of you with Honour crown’d.

Theſe are not feigning Lines that here I write,

But Truths as clear and pure as Heavens light;

Nor is it Impudence to let you know,

Love of your Virtues in my Soul doth grow.

Her Love thus innocent ſhe did enrole,

Which was the pure Platonick of her Soul;

Though C3r 13

Though in black Characters the Envious may

Call the ſenſe clear, as is the mornings day,

And every word appear unto the ſight,

To make her ſmoother Paper yet more white.

Thus ſhe infolded Honour, and more Truth,

Than ever yet was known in female youth.

Bluſh colour’d Silk her Letter then did binde,

For to expreſs how modeſt was her Minde;

And Virgins Wax did cloſe it with her Seal,

Yet did that Letter all her Love reveal.

Then to her Nurſes Husband ſhe did truſt,

Theſe loving Lines, knowing him faithfull, juſt:

To all her Family, obey’d her will,

And would do ſo, I doubt, though t’had been ill:

For his Obedience never ask’d the cauſe,

Nor was he Caſuiſt in Divine Laws,

But faithfull and moſt truſty: ſo was ſent,

With this moſt ſacred Letter, then he went.

In the mean time that ſhe her Letter ſent,

The Prince to her a Letter did preſent

By a Servant, in whom he put much truſt,

As finding him both dextrous, prudent, juſt

In all imployments; he this Letter brought,

Which ’mongſt this Ladies thoughts much wonder wrought;

Even ſo much, as ſhe could not believe,

But thought he did miſtake, and did conceive

She was the Princeſs. Whereupon, ſaid ſhe,

I doubt this Letter was not writ to me.

But he confirm’d to her that it was writ:

Then to her Cloſet went, and open’d it;

With trembling hands the Waxen Seal ſhe broke,

And what he writ, with a faint voyce thus ſpoke.

Faireſt of your Sex, for ſo you are

Unto all others as a Blazing Star,

Which ſhews it ſelf, and to the World appears

As a great Wonder, once in many years;

And never comes, but doth portend on Earth

Either the fall of Princes, or their Birth.

O let your influence onely at me aim,

Not for to work my overthrow or fame,

But Love, to make me happy all my life;

Then yeild your ſelf to be my Virtuous Wife:

C3 But C3v 14

But if you (this requeſt) to me deny,

The Gods, I hope, will grant me ſoon to dye.

But when ſhe this had read, was in a daze,

As ſenſleſly did on the Letter gaze,

By which her Spirits diſcompoſed were,

In quarrelling diſputes, ’twixt Hope and Fear:

At laſt Hope got the better; then did they

Triumph with joy, and in her Heart did play.

For when the Spirits mutually agree,

Both in the Eye and Heart they dancing be.

Then to the Gentleman that came, ſhe went,

And told him civilly that ſhe had ſent

Unto the Prince, and that ſhe could not fit

So well an Anſwer to return as yet.

The Prince as melancholy ſate alone,

But all the while his Miſtris thought upon;

Staid for the Meſſenger’s return, for he,

Till Anſwer came, refus’d all Company.

At laſt one of his Pages to him came, than,

Told him without there was an antient Man,

That would not be deny’d, for ſpeak he muſt

Unto the Prince, or elſe muſt break his truſt

He was in charge with, and rather than ſo,

Would venture life before he back would go,

And not his Meſsage to the Prince to tell.

Whereat the Prince, liking his Courage well,

Sent for him, who came with humility,

The Letter gave upon his bended Knee.

The Prince the Letter read, and pleaſed ſo,

As by his ſmiling Countenance did ſhew;

Which made all cloudy thoughts diſperſe, and clears

His minde, as in dark dayes when Sun appears.

Sure, ſaid the Prince, the Gods our Loves decree,

And in our Unions they do all agree;

They joyn our Hearts in one, our Souls ſo mix,

As if eternally in Heaven would fix.

Then ſoon he all delayes for to prevent,

Another Letter writ, which to her ſent

In anſwer of her own; this Letter gave

Unto her Foſter Nurſe, who was as grave

As old bald Father Time, of Courage ſtout,

A ruſtick plainneſs, and not eas’ly out

Of C4r 15

Of countenance, ready to be imploy’d,

And in his Ladies ſervice would have dy’d:

The Prince commended his fidelity,

And pleas’d he was at his blunt quality:

But with the Letter quickly did return,

For he, though old, yet every ſtep did run;

And then the Letter which the Prince had ſent,

He to his Lady did in mirth preſent.

But ſhe the Letter broke with joyfull ſpeed,

And to her Foſter-Nurſe ſhe did it read.

Sweeteſt, you have expreſt your Love to me

With ſo much plainneſs and ſincerity;

And yet your ſtile ſeverely have you writ,

And rul’d your Lines with a Commanding Wit;

Heroick Flouriſhes your Pen doth draw

Or executes as in a Martial Law:

Then ſolemnly doth march in mourning trail,

And melancholy words all hopes do vail.

As golden duſt on written lines ſtrewn were,

Your written Lines ſeem ſprinkled with a Tear;

As by the heart of paſſion ſpread about,

For fear that Cruelty ſhould blot it out.

But let me tell you, that my love is ſuch

As never Lover loved half ſo much;

And with ſo fervent Zeal, and pureſt Flame,

Nay ſomething above Love, that wants a name;

For to expreſs it, like to Gods on high,

For who can comprehend a Deity?

And though I honour all your Sex, yet I,

Having another Miſtris, I deny,

Beſides your ſelf; and though I do obey

To viſit the fair Princeſs, nothing ſay

Concerning Love, nor yet profeſſions make,

As common Lovers, promiſe for her ſake

Wonders, and yet my Life to her will give

To do her ſervice: but whil’ſt I do live,

My Heart and Soul is yours, and when I dye,

Still will my Soul keep yours in company;

Though by Honour my active life is bound

Unto your Sex, you onely will be found

Within my Heart, and onely Love to be,

From whence my Brain doth Copies take of thee;

On C4v 16

On which my Soul doth view with much delight,

Becauſe the Soul ſees not with vulgar ſight.

For Souls do ſee, not as the Senſes do:

But as tranſparent Glaſs, the Minds quite through;

Or rather, as the Gods ſee all that’s paſt,

Preſent, or what’s to come, or the World vaſt,

Or what can be, to them is known,

And ſo are Souls to one another ſhewn;

And if our Souls do equally agree,

Our Thoughts and Paſſions to each known will be.

But after this Letter they both did get

An opportunity, by which they met:

No complemental wooing they did uſe,

True Love all flattering words it doth refuſe.

But they agreed, and both did think it fit,

Their love to hide, not to diſcover it.

At laſt the Queen and Father did agree,

The Prince and Princeſs ſtraight ſhould married be;

Nor made a queſtion, for they doubted not

But Youth and Beauty had each other ſhot

With amorous Loves. But when the Prince made known

How that his Heart was now none of his own,

His Father ſeem’d with trouble diſcontent:

But the inraged Queen, with malice bent,

Did ſtrive all wayes ſhe could for to diſgrace

The ſweet young Lady, oft diſprais’d her face;

Her Perſon, Dreſs, Behaviour, and her Wit,

And for to match with ſuch a Prince not fit.

The Princes Love ſo firm, no words could break,

Impatiently did hear, but little ſpeak:

But when the Princeſs heard the Prince to be

A Lover to another Lady, then did ſhe

Tear, rail, and rave, as if ſhe frantick were,

And of her Rival words ſhe would not ſpare.

One day a Company of Nobles met,

And in a Room they were together ſet;

The Prince and his fair Miſtris ſhe did ſpy,

And often at them caſt a ſpightfull eye.

At laſt her Malice ſet awork her Tongue,

And at the Prince ſhe evil words out flung;

Which he receiv’d with a ſubmiſſive face,

Turning thoſe ſcorns as favours of her grace.

But D1r 17

But when ſhe had with ſcorns his patience tried

She, for to vent her ſpleen, in paſſion cried;

Some of the company there jeſting by,

The other Lady ask’d if ſhe would cry;

She anſwer made, ſhe had not the like cauſe

Nor had ſhe broke the modeſt civill Laws;

But if her paſſion had miſled her tongue,

She ſhould have wept to water, or elſe flung

Her ſelf to duſt, for want of moiſture die,

Unleſs her life could iſſue through her eye.

But when the Prince perceiv’d ſuch ſtorms to riſe,

And ſhowring tears to fall from beauteous eyes

He did abſent himſelf, and ſhun’d to be

A trouble to the Princes company:

But when the Queen had tried all means ſhe could

To alter his affections, nothing would;

She then their Marriage ſtrove for to prevent,

And to the Army ſhe the Prince ſoon ſent;

Then order gave not to return again,

But with the Army there for to remain.

He to his Miſtris went, his leave to take,

Perſwading her a journey ſhe would make

Unto the Army, and there to agree,

When that they meet, ſtraight married for to be;

At laſt ſhe did reſolve to leave the Court,

And privately her ſelf for to tranſport

Her Perſon to the Prince where he was gone

For ne’r till then ſhe found her ſelf alone;

When the Army began for to retire

To winter-quarters, he did there deſire

His Miſtris company, and then did write

To thoſe he had intruſted, how they might

Convey her ſafely; but by ſome miſtake

The Queen did intercept, his Letter take,

Which when ſhe read, all in a rage ſhe grew

And then his Letter into fire threw.

When ſhe her Neice had told, they both did ſtrive,

And both in Councill ſate, for to contrive

To hinder her wiſh’d meeting; wherefore they

Did think it beſt, the Lady to convey

Unto ſome private place, and then give out

That ſhe was dead, which ſoon was ſpred about,

D And D1v 18

And every one in cenſuring ſpent ſome breath,

And moſt did judge ſhe died a violent death.

But the Queens anger only would deſtroy

Their loves, becauſe her Neice ſhe ſhould enjoy

The Prince, on whom her heart in love was ſet,

And us’d all means ſhe could, his Love to get:

And though at firſt they thought the Prince might mourn,

Yet when his grief had been, by time; out-worn,

He then might take the Princeſs for his Wife,

Concealing the young Lady all her life;

And though they did not murther her, yet they

Did ſtrive to grieve, and croſs her every way;

Wherefore they did agree that ſome ſhould tell

Her, that the Prince in Battell fell.

But her report of death, ſpread far and near,

At laſt it came unto the Prince his ear;

The news ſtrook him ſo hard, as it did make

His ſtrength grow weak, and manly limb, to ſhake,

But when his ſtrength return’d, his mind ſad grew,

And from all company himſelf withdrew;

No Orders he would give, but left the care

Of all the Army to an Officer.

From the Army without the Queens conſent

He did return, and to his Father went,

And told him he all worldly things did wave,

Had buri’d them all in his Miſtris Grave,

And the remainder of his daies would ſpend

In holy devotion, his Praiers would ſend

Unto the Gods, and my dear Saint, ſaid he,

Will be a Mediator there for me.

His Father did diſſwade him all he could,

But all in vain, a Hermit be he would;

Inſtead of Palaces he choſe a Cell,

Left Courts and Camps, did ſolitary dwell;

Inſtead of Clothes that rich and coſtly were,

He wore a Garment made of Camells hair,

Inſtead of Arms, a Hermits Habit took,

And for a Sword, he us’d a Praier book

Inſtead of treading Meaſures in a dance,

And wanton eyes that oft would ſide-waies glance;

His knees upon hard ſtone did bowing bend,

And his ſad eyes unto the Earth deſcend;

Inſtead D2r 19

Inſteed of flattering words to tempt Maids fair,

No words did ſpeak but what were us’d in Praier,

All wild and wandering Thoughts were now compos’d,

And the dead object of his Miſtris clos’d,

Like Multitudes that gather in a Ring

To view ſome curious or ſome wondrous thing;

Or like a devout Congregation met

Will ſtrive about the Altar neer to ſet;

So did his Thoughts neer her Idea get,

Where, as a Goddeſs, in his Soul did ſet;

Then he an Altar built of Marble white,

Which waxen Tapers round about did light;

Her Picture on this Altar plac’d was high,

As to be ſeen with an up-lifted eye.

She was his Saint, and he there every day

Did offer Tears, and Sighs, to her did pray,

And her implore, ſhe would the Gods requeſt

To take his Soul, his Body lay to reſt.

In the mean time, his Miſtris made believe

That he was kill’d, for which ſhe much did grieve;

For when ſhe at the firſt the news did heare,

Her face turn’d pale, like death it did appear.

Then gently ſinking, ſhe fell to the ground,

Grief ſeiz’d her heart and put her in a ſwound;

At laſt, life got the better, and then wept,

And wiſht to Heaven that ſhe in death had ſlept;

But Melancholy her whole Soul poſſeſt,

And of all pleaſing Thoughts it ſelf diveſt;

All Objects ſhun’s that Pleaſing were and fair,

And all ſuch ſounds as were of a light Air,

The ſplendrous Light and glorious Sun ſhut out,

And all her Chamber hung with black about,

No other light but blinking Lamps would have,

And Earth and Turf therein, like to a Grave;

The which ſhe often view’d, or ſate cloſe by,

Imagining the Prince therein did lye,

And on that Grave her tears, like ſhowrs of rain,

Keep freſh the Turfe, on the green graſſe remain

As pearled dew before the Sun doth riſe,

Or as refreſhing ſhowers from cloudy Skyes;

And often this ſuppoſed Grave doth dreſſe

With ſuch ſignificant flow’rs as did expreſſe

D2 His D2v 20

His Virtues and his Diſpoſition ſweet,

More than thoſe Flowers when in Poſies meet.

His various Virtues known to all ſo well,

More fragrant than thoſe Flowers were for ſmell,

But firſt ſhe ſet a Laurel Garland green,

To ſhew that he a Victor once had been;

cypreſe And in the midſt a copiousINTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that substJoin is unmatched. Branch did place,

For to expreſs he dyed in the chaſe

Of his fierce enemies; his Courage was ſo true,

That, after a long fight, away they flew.

Thus melancholly paſt her time away,

Beſides ſad ſolemn Muſick twice a day;

For every Senſe with melancholly fill’d,

And alwaies dropping tears from thence diſtill’d,

With which her melancholly Soul did feed,

And melancholly thoughts her mind did breed;

Then on the ground her head aſide-waies hung,

Would ly along whilſt theſe ſad ſongs were ſong.

Theſe songes following are my Lord marquiss

A Song.

Titan baniſh all thy joyes of light,

Turning thy glorious Rays, to darker Night,

Cloathing my Chamber with ſad black, each part,

Thus ſutable unto my mournfull heart;

Only a dimm wax Taper there ſhall wait

On me, to ſhew my ſad unhappy fate.

With mournfull thoughts my head ſhall furniſht be,

And all my breath ſad ſighs, for love of thee;

My groans to ſadder notes be ſet with skill,

And ſung in tears, and melancholly ſtill;

Languiſhing Muſick to fill up each voice

With palſied trembling ſtrings, is all my choice.

A Song.

Since he is gone, oh then ſalt tears

Drownd both mine Eyes and ſtop mine Ears

With grief; my grief it is ſo much,

It locks my Smell up, Taſte, and Touch:

In me remain but little breath,

Which quickly take away, oh Death.

A D3r 21

A Song.

Why ſhould I live, but who doth know

The way to him, or where to go?

Death’s ignorant, the dead they have

No ſence of grief, when in the Grave:

Forgetfull and unthankfull Death,

Haſt thou no love, when ſtopps the Breath,

No Gratitude, but there doſt lye

In dark oblivion for to dye?

No ſence of Love, or Honour, there!

Then Death I prethee me forbear,

Thouſands of years in ſorrow, I

Would live in Grief, and never dye.

A Song.

My Bed of Sorrow’s made, ſince no relief

And all my Pillows ſhall be ſtuff’d with Grief,

My Winding Sheets are thoſe wheron I lye

My Curtains drawn with ſad Melancholly.

Watching ſhall be my Food, Weeping my Drink,

Sighing my Breath, and Groaning what I think,

Trembling and ſhaking all my Exerciſe,

Diſquiet and diſorder’d Thoughts now riſe.

Wringing of hands, with folded arms lamenting

Is all the joy is left me of contenting,

For he is gone, that was my joy, my life,

Left me his Widdow, though was ne’r his Wife.

But all the while the Queen was angry bent

Againſt the Prince, becauſe away he went,

And left the Army without a General,

For which ſhe Rebell Traitor him did call;

But ſhe another General did make,

Which of the Army he a charge did take;

Yet his ſucceſs in Warrs proved but bad,

For afterward the Queen great loſſes had,

D3 And D3v 22

And all the Souldiers they were diſcontent;

Whereat the Queen another General ſent,

But he no better Fortune More could meet,

The Enemy did force him to retreat;

Then did the Enemy ſo pow’rful grow,

The Forces of the Queen they overthrow

In every Fight and Skirmiſh which they had;

For which the Queen and Kingdome all grew ſad;

At laſt the Queen the Prince did flatter, and

Intreated him again for to Command,

But he deny’d the Queen, would not obey,

Said, earthly Power to Gods they muſt give way:

At laſt ſhe ſent him word ſhe would not ſpare

His life, and therefore bid him to prepare

Himſelf for death, for dye he ſhould

For Diſobedience, and Revenge ſhe would

Have on him; Then his Father to him went

For to perſwade him, and there did preſent

Show’rs of tears, from ſorrow pouring fell

Upon his only Son his greif to tell:

For round about his Neck one Arm did wind,

The other arm embrac’d his Body kind,

His Cheeks his Sonn did joyn to his,

And often he his Lipps did kiſs.

O pitty me my Sonn, and thy life ſpare,

Thou art my onely Child, and onely Heir,

Th’ art my ſole Joy, in thee I pleaſure take,

And wiſh to live but onely for thy ſake.

The Prince his Father anſwer’d and ſaid he,

I am not worth thoſe tears you ſhed for me,

But why do you thus weep and thus lament

For my death now? When to the Warrs I went

You did encourage me to fight in field

For Victory, or elſe my life to yield;

I willingly obey’d, and joy’d to finde

My Father Sympathy unto my minde;

Beſides it ſhew’d a greater love to me

Than Parents ſelfe-lov’d fondneſs us’d to be,

For to preferr my Honour and my Fame

Before the perpetuity of your Name.

And as you priz’d my Honour and Renown,

So do a Heavenly ’fore an Earthly Crown,

And D4r 23

And give me leave the better choice to make;

To quit all troubles, and ſweet Peace to take;

I nere ſhall part more willingly, nor fitter be

For Heaven, and the Gods pure company.

For had I di’d in Wars, my ſoul had been

Stained With blood, and ſpotted o’re with ſin:

But now my Miſtris, is a Saint in Heaven,

Hath interceſſion made, my ſins forgiven,

And ſince ſhee’s gone, all Joyes with her are fled,

And I ſhall never happy be till dead;

She was my ſouls delight, in her I view’d

The pure and Celeſtial beatitude.

But were I ſure the ſoul that never dies,

Should never meet, nor Bodies never riſe

By Reſurrection, yet ſure thoſe were bleſt

That paſt this life, and in the Grave do reſt.

Then ſaid the Duke, his Father, to his Son,

What ever comes Son, Heavens will be done,

But ſince you are reſolv’d, and needs will dye,

I, in the Grave, will keep you company.

The young Prince ſaid, I cannot you diſſwade,

Since none are happy but thoſe Death hath made.

The day of execution drawing nigh

Of the young Prince, his Father too would dye.

Then the young Prince askt leave, and leave he had,

That he like to a Souldier might be clad,

When he was brought to dye, and on that day

Death he did meet in Souldierly Array;

Inſtead of mourning garments, he had on

A ſute of Buff, embroidered thick upon

And a rich Scarfe that was of watchet dye,

Set thick with Pearls, inſtead of ſtrings to tie

It cloſe together were Diamonds ſo

As like a Ring or Garter it did ſhow,

Of one entire Diamond, this did bind

The Scarf ſo firm as an united minde;

A ſcarlet Coat imbroidered thick with Gold,

And Hangers like to it his Sword did hold,

And in his hat a Plume of Fethers were;

In falling folds, which hung below his Hair;

Thus he being accouter’d death to meet

In gallantry, yet Gently, Friendly, Sweet,

He D4v 24

He ſhould imbrace him, and gladly yield,

Yet would he dye as Souldiers in the field;

For gallant valiant men do court Death ſo

As amorous courtly men a wooing go.

His Father all in mourning garments clad,

Not griev’d to dye, but for his Son was ſad;

Millions of people throng’d about to ſee

This gallant mourning Princes Tragedie;

But in the time theſe preparations were,

The Queen ſent to th’young Lady to prepare

Her ſelf to dy; when ſhe the news did hear,

Joy in her countenance did then appear;

Then ſhe her ſelf did dreſs like to a Bride,

And in a rich and gilded Coach did ride,

Thus triumphing as on her wedding day

To meet her Bridegroome Death; but in the way

The people all did weep that ſhe ſhould dye,

Such Youth and Beauty in Deaths arms ſhould lye.

But ſhe did ſmile, her countenance was glad,

And in her eyes ſuch lively ſpirits had

As the quick darting raies the Sun out-ſhin,

And all ſhe look’d on for a time were blind

But when the Queen and Nobles all were ſet,

And the condemned on the Scaffold met,

Where when the Lovers they each other ſpi’d

Their eyeſtrings ſeem’d as if together ti’d

So firmly were they fix’d, and did ſo gaze

And with each other ſtrook in ſuch amaze,

As if with wonder they were turn’d to ſtone,

And that their feet unto the ground were grown

(They could not ſtir) but at the laſt mov’d he

In a ſlow pace, amazed went to ſee

That Heavenly object, who thought it may

An Angel be, his Soul to take away.

Her limbs did ſhake like ſhivering Agues cold,

For fear upon her ſpirit had got hold:

When ſhe did ſee him move, for ſhe had thought

He was a Statue, and by Carvers wrought

And by the Queens command, was thither brought.

When he came neer, he kneeled down to pray,

And thus unto her ſoftly did he ſay,

My E1r 25

My ſenſe ſurpriſe my ſpirits, thy ſpirit my mind,

And great diſturbance in my thoughts I find,

My reaſon’s miſty, Underſtanding blind,

Tell me, whether thou art of mortal kind.

Said ſhe, that queſtion I would aſke of you,

For I doe doubt my Senſes are not true.

Intelligencer, are you the Prince I ſee

Or are you a ſpirit that thus ſpeaks to me.

With that the Queen did come their doubts to clear;

It was my plot, ſaid ſhe, to bring you here,

And why I croſt your loves, I will forbear

To tell as now, but afterwards declare;

Then did ſhe cauſe a Prieſt to joyn their hands,

Which he devoutly ty’d in wedlock bands.

Then did the Queen unto her Nobles ſay,

That ſhe a debt to Gratitude muſt pay,

And to the Princes Father ſtrait ſhe went,

Here Sir, ſaid ſhe I do my ſelfe preſent

To be your Wife, for by your counſell I

Have Rul’d and Raign’d in great felicity

He kneelling kiſt her hand, and both agree

That in few daies the Wedding kept ſhould be.

Such joyes of acclamation loud of wonder,

Echoed the Air lowder than is Joves Thunder.

Her Princely Niece ſo noble was, that then

For joy ſhe modeſtly threw up her Fann,

Since to a high-born Prince knew well that ſhe

Shortly in glorious Nuptialls ſhe ſhould be.

The Marriage Song.

1 wordflawed-reproduction the songſ following are my Lord Marquiſs

Were all the joyes that ever yet were known.

And all thoſe joyes met, and put into one,

Not like our Lovers joyes, but ſo much leſſe;

Our Lovers height of joyes none can expreſſe.

They’ve made another Cupid I am told,

And buried the blind Boy that was ſo old.

Hymen is proud, ſince Laurell crown’s his Brow,

He never made his Triumphs untill now

E The E1v 26

The Marriage Song for the old Duke and the old Queen’s Marriage.

Now the old Cupid he is fled

Unto the Queen, ſhe to her Bed

Brought the old Duke, ſo ends all harmes

In loves imbraces in their Arms.

This elder Wedlock more than ripe,

Was of the younger but a Type,

What wants of Cupid, Hymens Cup,

Ceres and Bacchus made it up.

A Marriage Song of the Queens Niece

Now the old Queens beloved Niece,

For Beauty, Favour, ſuch a peice

As Love could faign, not hope to ſee,

Juſt ſuch a miracle was ſhe.

She did congratulate, and eas’d

So Noble, when ſaw Lovers pleas’d

’Bove repining, and the Fates ſince

So juſt to give her a brave Prince.

A Song.

Hymen triumph in joy

Since overcom’d Loveſ Boy,

All Ages, Sex and place

The Wedlock Laws embrace

The looſer ſort can bind,

Monarch of whats Mankind

All things do fall ſo pat

In this Triumvirat,

Which now in Wedlock mix’t,

Now three, though once were fix’t

A Lady ſaid ſuch conſtant Love was dead,

And all Fidelity to Heaven fled.

Another Lady ſaid ſhe fain would know,

When married were, if continued ſo.

O E2r 27

O, ſaid a Man, ſuch Love (as this one) ſure

Doth never in a Married Pair endure;

But Lovers croſs’d uſe not to end ſo well;

Which for to ſhow, a Tale I mean to tell.

The Deſcription of the Violence of Love.

There was a Lady, Virtuous, Young, and Fair,

Unto her Father onely Child and Heir;

In her Behaviour modeſt, ſweet, and civil,

So innocent, knew onely Good from Evil;

Yet in her carriage had a Majeſtick Grace,

And affable and pleaſant was her Face.

Another Gentleman as neighbouring dwelt

Hard by her Father’s Houſe which there was built;

Who had a Son ſuch Beauty did adorn,

As ſome might think of Venus he was born;

His Spirit Noble, Generous, and Great,

By nature Valiant, Diſpoſitions ſweet;

His Wit ingenious, and his Breeding ſuch,

Arts, Sciences of Pedantry no touch.

This Noble Gentleman in Love did fall

With this fair Lady, who was pleas’d withall;

He courted her, his Service did addreſs,

His Love by Words and Letters did expreſs;

Though ſhe ſeem’d Coy, his Love ſhe did not ſlight,

But Civil Anſwers did in Letters write.

At laſt ſo well acquainted they did grow,

As but one Heart each others Thoughts did know.

Mean time their Parents did their Loves deſcry,

And ſought alwayes to break that Unity;

Forbid each others company frequent,

Did all they could Loves Meetings to prevent:

But Love regards not Parents, nor their Threats;

For Love, the more ’tis barr’d, more Strength begets.

Thus being croſs’d, by ſtealth they both did meet,

With privacy did make their Love more ſweet;

Although their Fears did oft affright their Minde,

Leſt that their Parents ſhould their walks out finde:

But in the Kingdome did Rebellion ſpring,

Moſt of the Commons fought againſt their King;

E2 And E2v 28

And all the Gentry that there Loyal were,

Did to the Standard of the King repair

Amongſt the reſt this Noble Youth was one,

Love bid him ſtay, but Honour ſpurr’d him on;

When he declar’d his Minde, her Heart it rent,

Rivers of Tears out of her Eyes grief ſent;

When every Tear like Bullets pierc’d his Breaſt,

Scatter’d his Thoughts, and did his Minde moleſt.

Silent long time they ſtood at laſt ſpake he,

Why doth my Love with Tears ſo torture me:

Why do you blame my Eyes, ſaid ſhe, to weep,

Since they perceive you Faith nor Promiſe keep?

For did you love but half ſo true as I,

Rather than part, would chooſe to ſtay and dye:

But you Excuſes make, and take delight;

Like cruel Thieves, to rob and ſpoyl by Night;

Now you have ſtole my Heart, away you run,

And leave a ſilly Virgin quite undone.

If I ſtay from the Wars, what will Men ſay:

They’ll ſay I make excuſe to be away;

By this Reproach a Coward I am thought,

And my Diſgrace will make you ſeem in fault,

To ſet your Love upon a Man ſo baſe,

Bring Infamy to us, and to our Race.

To ſacrifice my Life for your content

I would not ſpare; but (Dear) in this conſent,

’Tis for your ſake Honour I ſtrive to win,

That I ſome Merit to your Worth may bring.


If you will go, let me not ſtay behind,

But take ſuch Fortune with you as I finde;

I’ll be your Page, attend you in the Field,

When you are weary, I will hold your Shield.


Dear Love, that muſt not be, for Women are

Of tender Bodies, and Minds full of Fear;

Beſides, my Minde ſo full of Care will be,

For fear a Bullet ſhould once light on thee,

That I ſhall never fight, but ſtrengthleſs grow,

Through feeble Limbs be ſubject to my Foe.

When E3r 29

When thou art ſafe, my Spirits high ſhall raiſe,

Striving to get a Victory or Praiſe.

With ſad Laments theſe Lovers they did part,

Abſence as Arrows ſharp doth wound each Heart;

She ſpends her time, to Heaven high doth pray,

That Gods would bleſs, and ſafe conduct his way.

The whil’ſt he fights, and Fortunes favour had,

Fame brings his Honour to his Miſtris ſad;

All Cavaliers that in the Army were,

There was not one could with this Youth compare

By Love his Spirits all were ſet on Fire,

Love gave him Courage, made his Foes retire.

But O ambitious Lovers, how they run

Phaeton. Without a guidannce, like Apollo’s Sun;

Run out of Moderations line, ſo he

Into the thickeſt of the Army flee

Singly alone, amongſt the Squadrons deep

Fighting, ſent many one with Death to ſleep.

But Numbers, with united ſtrength, at laſt

This Noble Gallant Man from Horſe did caſt;

His Body all ſo thick of Wounds were ſet,

It ſeem’d in Fight his ſafety did forget,

But not his Miſtris, who in his Minde ſtill lyes,

And wiſh’d her now to cloſe his dying Eyes.

Soul, ſaid he, if thou wandreſt in the Air,

Thy ſervice to thy Miſtris; be thy care

Attend her cloſe, with her Soul friendſhip make,

Then ſhe perchance no other Love may take:

But if thou ſink down to the Shades below,

As being a Lover, to Elizium go;

Perchance my Miſtris Soul you there may meet,

So walk and talk in Loves Diſcourſes ſweet:

But if thou art like to a Light put out,

Thy Motions ceas’d, then all’s forgot no doubt.

With that a ſigh, which from his Heart did riſe,

Did mount his Soul up to the Aery Skies.

The whil’ſt his Miſtris being ſad with care,

Knees worn, Spirits ſpent, imploring Gods with prayer,

A drowſie Sleep did all her Senſes cloſe.

But in her Dreams Hermen her Lover ſhews

With all his Wounds, which made her loud to cry;

Help, help, you Gods, ſaid ſhe, that dwell on high.

E3 This E3v 30

Theſe fearfull Dreams her Senſes all did wake,

In a cold ſweat with fear each Limb did ſhake.

Then came a Meſſenger as pale as Death,

With panting ſides, ſwoln eyes, and ſhortned breath,

And by his looks his ſadder tale did tell;

Which when ſhe ſaw, ſtrait in a ſwoun ſhe fell;

At laſt her ſtifled Spirits had recourſe

Unto their uſual place, but of leſs force:

Then lifting up her Eyes, her Tongue gave way,

And thus unto the Gods, did mourning ſay:

Why pray we, and offer to high Heaven,

Since what we aſk, we ſeldome have us given?

If their Decrees are fix’d, what need we pray?

Nothing can alter Fates, nor croſs their way:

If they leave all to Chance, who can apply?

For every Chance is then a Deity:

But if a power they keep to work at will,

It ſhews them cruel to torment us ſtill.

When we are made, in pain we allwayes live,

Sick Bodyes, or griev’d Minds to us they give;

With Motions which run croſs, compos’d we are,

Which makes our Reaſon and our Senſe to jar;

When they are weary to torment us, muſt

We then return, and ſo diſſolve to Duſt.

But if I have my Fate in my own power,

I will not breath, nor live another hour:

Then with the Gods I ſhall not be at ſtrife,

If my Decree can take away my Life.

Then on her feeble Legs ſhe ſtraight did ſtand,

And took a Piſtol charg’d in either hand.

Here, Dear, ſaid ſhe, I give my Heart to thee,

And by my Death, divulg’d our Loves ſhall be;

Then Conſtant Lovers Mourners be, when dead,

They’ll ſtrew our Graves, which is our Marriage Bed;

Upon our Hearſes, weeping Poplar ſet,

Whoſe Moyſture drops our Death’s dry’d Cheeks may wet,

And at our Heads two Cypreſs Garlands ſtand,

That were made up by ſome fair Virgins hand;

And on our cold pale Corps ſuch Flowers ſtrew,

Which hang their Heads for grief, ſo downward grow;

Then layes us in a deep and quiet Grave,

Wherein our Bones long Reſt and Peace may have.

Let E4r 31

Let not our Friends a Marble Tombe erect

Upon our Graves, two Mirtle Trees there ſet

Thoſe may in time a ſhady Grove become,

Fit for ſad Lovers Walks, whoſe Thoughts are dumb;

For Melancholy Love ſeeks place obſcure;

No Noyſe or Company can it endure;

And when to ground they caſt their dull, ſad eyes,

Perchance may think on us that therein lyes,

Thus though w’are dead, our Memories remain,

And, like to Ghoſts, may walk in moving Brains;

And in each head Loves Altars for us build

To ſacrifice ſome Sighs, or Tears diſtill’d.

Then to her Heart the Piſtol ſet, and ſhot

A Bullet in, by which her Grief forgot;

Fame with her Trumpet blew in every ear,

The ſound of this great act ſpread every where;

Lovers from all parts came, by the report,

Unto her Urn, as Pilgrims did reſort;

There offered praiſes of her Conſtancy,

And vows the like unto Loves Deity.

A Woman ſaid, that Tale expreſt Love well,

And ſhew’d that Conſtancy in Death did dwell;

Friendſhip, they ſay, is ſo divine,

That Jove himſelf doth with himſelf ſo joyn,

Dividing himſelf into equal parts three,

Yet one pure Minde, and perfect Power agree;

So Loving Friendſhips having but one Will,

Their Bodyes two, one Soul doth govern ſtill;

Nor do their Bodyes ſever much,

Their Senſes equally do touch:

For what doth ſtrike the Eye, or other parts,

With Pain or Pleaſure, like to each converts:

So though in Subſtance, Form divided be,

Yet Soul and Senſes joyn, as one agree.

A Man that to the Lady plac’d was nigh,

Said, he would tell another Tragedy.

Humanity, E4v 32

Humanity, Deſpair, and Jealouſie, expreſs’d in three Perſons.

Walking along cloſe by a rivers ſide,

The Waters ſmooth ran with a flowing tide:

The Sunne did ſhine thereon darting his beams,

Which made it gliſter like to diamond Chains,

The purling ſtreams invited me to ſwimme,

Pull’d off my cloaths, then enter’d every limb:

But envious cold did dart, and me oppreſſe,

Its arrows ſharp, which did me backwards preſſe:

The river to imbrace me made great haſt:

Her moiſt ſoft arms incircled round my waſt:

Streams came ſo faſt would force me there to ſtay,

But that my arms did make my body way,

My hands did ſtrike the ſoft ſmooth waters face,

As flatt’ring them to give my body place:

But when I found them apt, and high to riſe,

Striving to ſtop my Breath, and blind my Eyes,

Then did I ſpread my Arms, and Circles make,

And the united Streams aſunder brake;

My Legs did kick away thoſe Waters clear,

To keep them back, leſt they ſhould croud too near;

And as I broke thoſe Streams, they run away,

Yet freſh ſupply’d their place to make me ſtay;

Long did I ſtruggle, and my ſtrength did try

At laſt got hold upon a Bank near by,

And on theſide a Hill where Trees were plac’d,

Which on the Waters did a ſhadow caſt,

Thither I went, and when I came cloſe by,

I ſaw a Woman there a weeping lye;

Which when I ſaw, began to ſlack my pace,

Straight did my Eyes view there a Lovely Face

Under a Tree, cloſe by the Root ſhe ſate,

Which with her Tears as falling Showers ſhe wet;

At laſt ſhe ſpake, and humbly thus did pray,

You Gods, ſaid ſhe, my Life ſoon take away

No ſlander on my innocency throw,

Let my pure Soul into Elizium go;

If I drown here within this watry Lake,

O let my Tears a murmuring River make,

Give F1r 33

Give it both Voice and Words my grief to tell,

My Innocency, and why therein I fell;

Then ſtrait ſhe roſe, the River leapt ſhe in,

Which when I ſaw, I after her did ſwim,

My hands as Ores did well my body row,

Though panting breath made waters rough to grow,

Yet was my breaſt a Keell for to divide,

And by that help my Body ſwift did glide;

My eies the Needle to direct the way,

Which from the North of grief did not eſtray,

She, as the Loadſtone, drew me to her help,

Though ſtorms of fear within my minde I felt.

Her Garments looſe did on the waters flow,

They puffing out like Sails when Winds do blow,

I catch’d thereat to draw her to the Brink,

But when I went to pull, ſhe down did ſink,

Yet did not I my hold thereof let go,

But drew her to the Shore, with much ado,

I panting with ſhort breath, as out of wind,

My Spirits ſpent, my Eyes were dimly blind,

My ſtrength ſo weak, was forc’d to ly down ſtraight,

Becauſe alas my life was over-fraught;

When life got ſtrength, my mind with thoughts did fill

Then to the Lady us’d all Art and Skill,

Bowing her forward t’let the waters out,

Which from her Noſe and Mouth guſht like a ſpout;

At laſt her Breath had liberty and ſcope,

Then thus unto me paſſionatly ſpoke,

O who are you that doth my Soul moleſt,

Gives me not leave in Death to take my reſt?

Is there no peace in Nature to be found?

Muſt Miſery and Fear attend us round?

O Gods, ſaid ſhe, here grant me my deſire,

Here end my life and let my breath expire.

I Anſwered,

Thus you ’gainſt Nature ſet your ſelfe at odds,

And by this wiſh you do diſpleaſe the Gods;

By violence you cut off their Decree,

No violence in Nature ought to be;

But what makes you thus ſtrive for to deſtroy

That life, which Gods did give you to enjoy.

F She F1v 34

She Anſwered,

O Sir If you did know the torments I do feel,

My Soul is wrapcktckt upon ill Fortunes wheel,

My inocency by aſperſion whipt,

My pure Chaſtity, of Fame is ſtript,

My love’s neglected, and forſaken quite,

Baniſht from that my Soul tooke moſt delight.

My heart was plac’d upon a valiant man,

Which in the Warrs much Honour had he wonne,

His actions all by Wiſdome placed were,

And his diſcourſe delighted every eare,

His bounty, like the Sun, gave life and light

To thoſe that Miſery had eclipſed quite;

This man my perſon ſeem’d for to admire,

My Love before the World he did deſire,

Told me the Gods might ſooner Heaven leave,

Than he forſake my love, or truth deceive;

But O vile Jelouſie, a Lovers Divell,

Torments the Thoughts with ſuſpitions evill,

Frighting the mind with falſe imaginations,

Burying all joies in deepeſt contemplations;

Long lay it ſmother’d, but at laſt broke out

With hate, in rage and ſpleen baſe words flung out;

Slander and Infamy in circles round,

My innocent youth ſharp tongues doth wound

But his inconſtancy did wound me more

Than all Spite, Slander, Malice did before;

For he another married and left me

Clouded in dark diſgrace, black infamy;

With that ſhe fetch’t a ſigh, Heaven bleſſe, ſaid ſhe,

This cruell unkind man where ere he be;

I faint, Death diggs my Grave, O lay me in

This watry Monument then may the Spring

In murmures ſoft, with blubbering words relate,

And dropping weep at my ill fortunes fate;

Then on a Groan, her Soul with wings did fly

Up to the Heavens, and the Gods on high;

Which when I ſaw, my eyes for grief did flow

Although her Soul, I thought to Heaven did go;

And muſing long, at laſt I chanc’d to ſee

A Gentleman, which handſome ſeem’d to be:

He F2r 35

He coming neer, ask’d me who there did lye,

I ſaid ’twas one for Love and Grief did dye;

Hearing my words, he ſtarted back, Brows bent,

With trembling leggs, he to the Body went,

Which when he view’d, his blood fell from his face,

His eyes were fix’d, and ſtanding in one place;

At laſt kneel’d down, and thus did ſay,

No hope is left, Life’s fled away.

Thou wandring Soul where ere thou art,

Hear my confeſſion from my Heart;

I lov’d thee better far than life,

Thought to be happy in a Wife;

But O Suſpition, that falſe Thiefe,

Seiz’d on my Thoughts, ruling as chiefe,

Suſpition, Malice, Spight commanded ſtill,

To carry falſe Reports thy Ears to fill;

My jealouſie did ſtrive thee to torment,

And glad to heare when thou waſt diſcontent.

I ſtrove alwaies my love for to diſguiſe

Report I married was; when all was lyes;

But Jealouſie begets all actions baſe,

And in the Court of Honour hath no place.

Forgive me, Soul, where ever thou doſt reſt,

For of all Women I did love thee beſt:

Here I do offer up my life to thee,

Both dead, we in one Grave may buried be.

Swifter than Lightning ſtraight his Sword he drew,

Upon the point himſelf he deſperate threw,

And to his panting Breaſt made ſuch diſpatch,

That I no help, nor hold thereat could catch;

Turning his pale and ghaſtly eyes to me,

Mix both our aſhes in one Urne, ſaid he;

With that he fell cloſe by his Miſtris ſide,

Imbrac’d, and kiſt, and groand, and there he died;

Which when I ſaw, I dreſt, my Clothes put on,

Then celebrate their Funerall Rites alone;

Firſt I did lay a heap of Cypreſs dry,

With ſtriking Flints, I made a fire thereby,

Laid both their Bodies thereupon to burn,

Which in ſhort time did into Aſhes turn,

And being mixt, I tooke them thence away,

And digg’d a Grave thoſe Aſhes in to lay;

F2 Then F2v 36

Then did I gather Cockle-ſhells, though ſmall,

With Art I ſtrove to build a Tomb withall,

Placing ſome on, others in even layes,

Others joyn’d cloſe, till I a Tomb did raiſe

And afterwards I planted Mirtle green,

Where Turtle Doves do come and build therein:

And there young Nightingales come every ſpring

To celebrate their Fames, do ſit and ſing.

A merry Laſs amongſt the reſt

Began her Tale and thus expreſt.

A Maſter was in love with his fair Maid,

But of his ſcolding Wife was ſore afraid,

For ſhe in every place would watch and pry

And peek through every key-hole to eſpy

And if ſhe found them out, aloud would call

And cry ſhe was undone, her Maid had all

Her Husband’s love, for ſhe had none ſhe was ſure,

Wherefore this life ſhe never would endure:

But he did woo his Maid ſtill by his eye,

She apprehenſive, underſtood thereby,

And oft would finde ſome worke to come in place,

Becauſe her Maſter ſhould behold her Face,

Makeing excuſes, as buſineſs ſhe had great,

Her buſineſs was her Maſter for to meet:

With pretty ſmiles ſhe trips it by,

And on him caſts a kind coy eye;

To all the houſe beſides would ſeeme demure,

Oft ſinging Pſalms, as if ſhe were right pure,

Repeating Scripture, ſigh, turn up her eyes,

As if her Soul ſtraight flew unto the Skies,

And that her Body were as chaſte cold Ice,

And ſhe were onely fit for Paradiſe;

But were her words preciſe, her thoughts were not,

For with her Maſter, Scripture quite forgot

She Venus then as Goddeſs pray’d unto,

Her Maſter as the Prieſt, with offering woo

Her Miſtris like to Juno fret and fround

When that her Husband and her Maid ſhe found,

And in the Clouds of Night would ſeek about,

Sometimes ſhe miſt them, ſometimes found them out;

But F3r 37

But when ſhe did, Lord what a noiſe was there,

How Jove and ſhe did thunder in the air;

Like IſhmaelSemele, ſhe with child was got, but ſent

Like unto Hagar, out of doores ſhe went,

Where he, like Abraham good, a bottle ty’d,

And gave her means the Child for to provide;

Whereat her Miſtris angry was, and cry’d,

And wiſh’t her Maid, like IſhmaelSemele, might have dy’d.

Another man amongſt the reſt

Said, they their Tales had well expreſt.

But they that ſtudy much and ſeldome ſpeake

For want of uſe of words are for to ſeeke;

Their tongue is like a ruſty key grown rough,

Hard to unlock, ſo do the words come forth:

Or like an Inſtrument that lies unſtrung,

Till it be tun’d cannot be plaid upon;

For cuſtome makes the tongue both ſmooth and quick,

And moving oft no words thereon will ſtick,

Like to a flowing Tide, makes its own way,

Runs ſmooth and clear, without a ſtop or ſtay;

That makes a Lawyer plead well at the Bar,

Becauſe he talkes there, foure parts of the year;

That makes Divines in Pulpits well to preach,

Becauſe ſo often they the People teach;

But thoſe that uſe to contemplate alone

May have fine thoughts, good words expreſſe they none;

Good language they expreſs in Black and White,

Although they ſpeak it not, yet well can write;

Much thoughts keep back the words from running out

The tongue’s ty’d up, the ſluce is ſtopt no doubt;

For Phancie’s quick and flies ſuch ſeveral waies,

For to be dreſt in words it ſeldome ſtaies;

Phancy is like an Eele; ſo ſlippery glides,

Before the tongue takes hold, away it ſlides.

Thus he that ſeldome ſpeaks is like to thoſe

That travell, their own languages do loſe.

Now ſaies a Lady which was ſitting by,

Pray let your ruſty tongue with ſilence lie,

And liſſen to the Tale that I ſhall tell,

Mark the misfortunes, that to them befell.

F3 A F3v 38

A deſcription of Love and Courage.

A Gentleman was riding all about,

As in a Progreſſe, he chanced to ſpie out

Upon a riſing Hill there grew a Wood,

And in the midſt a little houſe there ſtood;

It was but ſmall, yet was it wondrous fine,

As if ’twere builded for the Muſes Nine,

The Platforme was ſo well contriv’d, that there

Was ne’r a piece of ground lay waſte or ſpare;

This houſe was built of pure rich Marble ſtone,

And all of Marble Pillars ſtood it on;

So ſmooth twas polliſh’d, as like glaſs it ſhew’d,

Which gave reflection to the wood there grow’d;

Thoſe trees upon the Walls ſeem’d painted green,

Yet every Leaf thereon was ſhaking ſeen;

The Roofs therein were arch’d with artfull ſkill,

Which over head hung like a hanging Hill,

And there a man himſelf might entertain,

With his own words, rebounding back again.

The doors to every roome were very wide,

And men like Statues carved on either ſide:

And in ſuch lively poſtures made they were,

Seem’d like as Guards or Porters waiting there;

The winding Stairs riſing without account

Of any steps, up to the top did mount;

There on the head a Cap of Lead did wear,

Like to a Cardinals Cap, was made foure ſquare;

But flat it was, cloſe to the Crown did lye,

From Cold, and Heat, it keeps it warm and drye:

And in the midſt, a Tower plac’d on high,

Like to Ulyſſes Monſter, with one eye;

But ſtanding there, did view through windows out

On every ſide fine Proſpects all about.

When that his eyes were ſatisfied with ſight,

And that his mind was fill’d with ſuch delight,

He did deſcend back by another way,

Chance was his onely guide which did convey

Him to a Gallery both large and long,

Where Pictures by Apelles drawn, there hung,

And at the end a Doore half ope, half ſhut,

Where, in a Chamber did a Lady ſit.

To F4r 39

To him ſo beatifull ſhe did appear

She ſeem’d an Angell, not a Mortall here;

Cloth’d all in white ſhe was, and from her head

Her hair hung down, and on her ſhoulders ſpread,

And in a Chair ſhe ſate, a Table by,

Leaning thereon, her head did ſidewaies lie

Upon her hand, the Palm a Pillow made,

Which being ſoft, her roſie Cheeks ſhe laid,

And from her eyes the Tears in ſhowres did fall

Upon her Breaſt, ſparkling like Diamonds all;

At laſt ſhe fetcht a ſigh, heart break, ſaid ſhe,

Gods take my life, or give me liberty:

When that her words expreſt, ſhe was conſtrain’d;

He courage took on what ſhe there complain’d,

And boldly entering in, ſhe ſeem’d afraid,

He kneeling down, askt pardon and thus ſaid,

Celeſtial creature do not think me rude,

Or want of breeding made me thus intrude,

But Fortune me unto this houſe did bring,

Whereby a Curioſity did ſpring

From my deſires this Houſe to view throughout,

Seeing ſuch ſhady Groves to grow about,

And when I came nere to the Gate, not one

Was there to aſk or make oppoſition;

The Houſe ſeem’d empty, not a creature ſtirring;

But every Room I entred ſtill admiring

The Architect and Structure of each part,

Thoſe that deſigned were skilfull in that Art.

Wandring about at laſt, chance favouring me

Hath brought me to this place, where I do ſee

A beauty far beyond all Art, or any

That Nature heretofore hath made, though many

Of all the Sexe creates ſhe ſweet and fair,

Yet never any of your ſex ſo rare;

This made me ſtand and gaze, amaz’d to ſee

What wondrous glorious things in Nature be,

But when I heard your words for to expreſs

Some griefe of heart, and wiſht for a redreſs,

My ſoul flew to your ſervice, here I vow

To Heaven high, my life I give to you,

Not onely give my life, but for your ſake

Suffer all pains, Nature or Hell can make:

Nor F4v 40

Nor are my proffers for a baſe ſelf-end,

But to your Sex a ſervant, and a friend;

My zeale is pure, my fame being clear,

Chooſe me your Champion, and adopt me here;

If I cannot your enemy deſtroy,

Ile do my beſt, no reſt I will enjoy,

Becauſe my Fortune, Life, and Induſtry

I’ll ſacrifice unto thy liberty.

When that the Lady heard him ſpeak ſo free,

And with ſuch paſſion and ſo honeſtly;

I do accept your favour Sir, ſaid ſhe,

For no condition can be worſe to me

Than this I live in, nor can I

My Honour hazard in worſe company,

Wherefore to your protection I reſign,

Heaven, O Heaven proſper this deſign;

But how will you diſpoſe of me, pray tell,

I will, ſaid he, convey you to a Cell

Which is hard by, and there will counſel take

What way is beſt to make a clear eſcape;

With that his riding Coat, which he did wear,

He pull’d ſtrait off, which ſhe put on; her Hair

She ty’d up ſhort, and covered cloſe her face,

And in this poſture ſtole out of that place.

An old ill natur’d Baud, that tended on her,

She being aſleep, ſhe nere thought upon her;

But when ſleep fled, awak’d ſhe up did riſe,

Sitting upon her Bed, rubbing her Eyes

That were ſeal’d up with matter and with rhume,

When that was done, ſhe went into the Roome

Wherein the Lady us’d alone to be,

Strait miſſing her cry’d out moſt pitteouſly,

Calling the Servants to ſearch all about,

But they unto a Wake were all gone out.

The Peaſants Ball is that we call a Wake,

When Men and Maids do dance, and love do make,

And ſhe that danceth beſt is crown’d as Queen,

With Garlands made of flowres and Laurell green;

Thoſe men that dance the beſt, have Ribbans ty’d

By every Maid that hopes to be a Bride.

All Youth theſe kinde of Sports, likewiſe a Faire,

Will venture life, rather than not be there,

Which G1r 41

Which made the ſervants all, although not many,

To be abroad, and leave the houſe for any

To enter in, which cauſed this eſcape,

And to the Owner brought ſo much miſhap.

A Lord came galloping as from his Palace,

With pleaſing thoughts, thinking alone to ſolace

Himſelf with his fair Miſtris, who admired

Her beauty more than Heaven, and deſired

Her favour more than Joves; her angry words

Did wound him more than could the ſharpeſt Swords;

Her frowns would torture him as on a Wrack,

Muffling his ſpirits in melancholly black:

But if ſhe chanc’d to ſmile, his joyes did riſe

So high beyond the Sun that lights the Skies;

But riding on, the Caſtle coming nigh,

The woman running about he did diſcry,

His heart miſgave him, with doubts alighted,

Asking the reaſon ſhe was ſo affrighted;

She ſhak’d ſo much, no anſwer could ſhe make;

He being impatient unto her thus ſpake:

Divell, ſaid he, what is my Miſtris dead,

Or ſick, or ſtole away, or is ſhe fled.

She kneeling down cry’d out, O ſhe is gone

And I left to your mercy all alone,

With that he tore his hair, his breaſt did beat,

And all his body in a cold damp ſweat,

Which made his Nerves to ſlack, his Pulſe beat ſlow,

His ſtrength to fail, ſo weak he could not go

But fell upon the ground, ſeeming as dead

Untill his man did bear him to a bed,

For he, did onely with him one man bring,

Who prov’d himſelf truſty in every thing;

But when his diffus’d ſpirits did compoſe,

Into a deep ſad melancholly grows,

Could neither eat, nor drink, nor take his reſt,

His thoughts and paſſions being ſo oppreſt.

At laſt, this Lady and her noble Guide

Got to a place ſecure, yet forc’d to hide

Her ſelf a time, til ſhe ſuch friends could make

That would protect vertue for vertues ſake,

Becauſe her loving Foe, was great in power,

Which might a friendleſs Innocent devoure.

G This G1v 42

This noble Gentleman, deſir’d to know,

From what Misfortunes her reſtraint did grow.

Willing ſhe was to tell this Gentleman

The ſtory of her life, and thus began.

After my birth, my Mother ſoon did dye, Leaving my Father to a Sonn and I, My Father nor my Brother liv’d not long, Then I was left alone, and being young, My Aunt did take the charge to ſee me bred, To mannage my Eſtate; my brother dead, I was the only Child and Heire, but ſhe Was married to a Lord of high degree, Who had a Son, that Son a wife, They not agreeing liv’d an unhappy Life: When I was grown to ſixteen years of age My Aunt did die, her Husband did ingage To take the charge, and ſee me well beſtowed, And by his tender care great love he ſhewed: But ſuch was my misfortune, O ſad fate, He di’d and left me to his Son’s Wifes hate, Becauſe this younger Lord grew much in Love, Which when his Wife by circumſtance did prove, She ſought all means ſhe could to murther me: Yet ſhe would have it done with privacy, The whilſt her amourous Lord freſh courtſhips made, With his beſt Rhetorick for to perſwade My honeſt youth to yeild to his deſire, My beauty having ſet his heart on fire; At laſt, conſidering with my ſelf, that I Having a plentifull Eſtate whereby I might live honorable, ſafe and free, Not ſubject to be betrai’d to ſlavery. Then to the Lady and the Lord I went, As a reſpect I told them my intent. The Lady my deſign ſhe well approv’d, He nothing ſaid, but ſeem’d with pasſion mov’d; But afterwards when I my leave did take, He did rejoice as if ’twere for my ſake, And ſo it was, but not unto my good, For he with Treachery my waies withſtood; For as I travell’d, he beſet me round, And forc’d me from my ſervants, which he found To G2r 43 To be not many, when he had great ſtore For to aſſault, but my defence was poor. Yet were they all diſguiſed, no face was ſhown, Such unjuſt acts deſire to be unknown. When I was in their power, help, help, ſaid I, You Gods above, and heare a wretches cry; But from Heaven no aſſiſtance did I finde, All ſeem’d as cruel as the mad mankinde. At laſt unto the Caſtle me convey’d, The Lord diſcovering of himſelf, thus ſaid, Cruelleſt of thy ſex, ſince no remorſe Can ſoften thy hard heart, Ile uſe my force, Unleſs your heart doth burn with equall fire, Or condeſcend to what I ſhall deſire. I for my own defence, ’gainſt this abuſe, Soft flattering words, was forced for to uſe, Gently intreating his patience, that I A time might have my heavy heart to try That by perſwaſions it might entertain Not only love, but return love again; He ſeem’d well pleas’d, his temper calm did grow, Which by his ſmiling countenance did ſhew. Said he, if in your favour I may live, A greater bleſſing Heaven cannot give. Then to a woman old, he gave the charge For to attend, but not for to enlarge My liberty, with Rules my life did bind, Nothing was free but thoughts within my mind; Thus did I live ſome halfe a year and more, The whilſt to Gods on high I did implore; For ſtill he woo’d, and ſtill I did deny, At laſt impatient grew, and ſwore that I Deluded him, and that no longer would He be denied, but yield to him I ſhould: With much intreaty I pacified his minde With words and couuntenance that ſeemed kinde; But praiers to Heaven more earneſtly I ſent With tears and ſighs, that they would ſtill prevent, By their great power, his evill deſign, Or take away this loathed life of mine; Although at firſt they ſeem’d to be all deaf, Yet now at laſt they ſent me ſome relief. G2 The G2v 44

The whilſt the Champion Knight, with his fair prize,

Was ſtrook with Love by her quick darting eies,

Yet mov’d they ſo as modeſty did guide,

Not turning wantonly, or leird aſide;

Nor did they ſterne or proudly pierce,

But gentle, ſoft, with ſweet commerſe,

And when thoſe eyes were fill’d with watry ſtreams,

Seem’d like a Brook gilded with the Sun-beams;

At laſt perſwading love prevail’d ſo far

As to preſent his Sute unto her eare:

Faire Maid I love thee, and my love ſo pure

That no corrupted thoughts it can endure,

My love is honeſt, my requeſt is juſt,

For one mans fault do not all men miſtruſt;

I am a Batchelor and you a Maid,

For which we lawfully may love he ſaid,

Wherefore dear Saint caſt not my ſute aſide,

Chuſe me your Husband, and be you my Bride:

I am a Gentleman, and have been bred

As to my qualitie, my Father dead

Left me his Poſſeſſions, which are not ſmall,

Nor yet ſo great to make me vain withall;

My life is yet with an unſpotted fame,

Nor ſo obſcure, not to be known by name;

Amongſt the beſt and moſt within this Land

Favours receiv’d, yet none like your command.

She ſtood a time, as in a muſing thought,

At laſt ſhe ſpake, Sir, ſaid ſhe you have brought

My Honor out of danger, and civilly

Have entertain’d me with your company,

For which I owe my life, much more my love,

Should I refuſe I ſhould ingratfull prove;

Tis not great wealth that I would marry to,

Nor outward Honors that my love can wooe,

But it is vertue and a heroick minde,

A diſpoſition ſweet, noble, and kinde,

And ſuch a one I judge you for to be,

Wherefore I’le not refuſe if you chuſe me.

When they were thus agreed they did repaire

Unto his houſe, and went to marry there,

The whilſt the Lord, the Kingdome all about

He privatly had ſent to ſearch her out;

At G3r 45

At laſt newes came with whom, and where ſhe dwelt;

With that much grief within his heart he felt,

That any man ſhould have her in his power,

He, like a Divell could his ſoul devoure:

But when he heard the meſſenger to ſay

Was preparation ’gainſt her wedding day,

He grew outragious, curſed Heaven and Earth,

The marriage of his Parents, and his Birth:

At laſt he did reſolve what ere befell,

That he would have her though he ſank to Hell;

When he had got a Companie together,

Such as he fed, that would go any whether,

No act they would refuſe that he deſired,

Obeyed moſt deſperatly what he required.

Unto his houſe they went in a diſguiſe,

Intending then the Lady to ſurprize;

But being upon her wedding day, was there

A Company of Gueſts, that merry were,

This Lord deſir’d to part them if he might.

Cauſe lie together they ſhould not that night:

So in they went, the Servants all did think

Were Maskerades, and made them all to drink;

But when they went into an inward roome,

Where all were dancing, Bride and the Bridegroom,

The Bride acquainted with that Maskardſight,

She ran away as in an extream fright;

The Bridegeroome ſoon imagin’d what they were,

And though unarm’d, his courage knew no fear.

Their Swords they drew, aim’d onely at his life,

That done, they thought to get away his Wife:

His Hat and Cloak arms of defence did make,

The Tongs for to aſſault he up did take;

The women ſcriekt, murther, murther cried out.

The men flung all the Chairs and Stools about,

With which they did reſiſt, and did oppoſe,

For ſome ſhort time, the fury of his Foes.

It chanc’d a Sword out of a hand did fall,

The Bridegroom ſtrait took up and fought withall,

So well did manage it, and with ſuch ſkill,

That many of his Enemies did kill;

Yet he was wounded ſore, and out of breath,

But heat of Courage kept out dull cold death;

G3 At G3v 46

At laſt his Friends got Arms to take his part,

Who did the oppreſſion of his Foes divert.

The Vizard of the Lord fell off at length,

Which when the Bridegroome ſaw, with vigorous ſtrength

He ran uppon him with ſuch force, that he

Strook many down to make his paſſage free.

The trembling Bride was almoſt dead with fear,

Yet for her Husband had a liſſening ear;

At laſt the noiſe of murther did arrive,

O he is dead, ſaid ſhe, and I alive.

With that ſhe run with all her power and might

Into the roome, her Husband then in fight

With her great enemy, and where they ſtood

The Ground was like a foaming Sea of blood;

Wounded they were, yet was each others heart

So hot with paſſion, that they felt no ſmart.

The Bride did paſs and repaſs by their Swords

As quick as flaſhing Lightning, and her words,

Cried out, Deſiſt, Deſiſt, and let me die,

It is decreed by the great Gods on high,

Which nothing can prevent, then let my fall

Be an atonement to make friends withall;

But Death and Courage being long at ſtrife

About her Husbands Honour and his Life,

They both did fall, and on the ground did lie,

But honoured Courage receiv’d a fame thereby.

When Death turn’d out his life, it went

Into his fame, and built a Monument.

The Bride, when that ſhe ſaw her Husband faint,

She weeping mourn’d, and made a ſad complaint;

O Gods, ſaid ſhe, grant me but this requeſt,

That I might die here on my Husbands breaſt.

With that ſhe fell, and on his lipps did lie,

Suckt out each others breath, and ſo did die.

When that the Lover ſaw her ſoul was fled,

And that her body was cold, pale, and dead,

Then he impatient grew his life to hold,

With deſperat fury then both fierce and bold,

He gave himſelf a mortall wound, and ſo

Fell to the ground, and ſick did grow.

Then did he ſpeak to all the Company,

I do entreat you all for Charity,

To G4r 47

To lay me by my Miſtris in a Grave,

That my free ſoul may reſt and quiet have;

With that a Voice, heard in the Air to ſay

My noble friends, you ought to diſobey

His dying words, for if you do not ſo,

From our dead Aſhes a jealouſie will grow;

But howſoever, their friends did ſo agree

That they did put them in a Grave all three:

And ever ſince fierce jealouſie doth rage

Throughout the World, and ſhall from age to age.

A Batchelor that ſpightful was and old,

Unto the Company his Tale he told:

Women care not, nor ſeek for noble praiſe,

All their delight runns to Romancy ways,

To be in love and be belov’d again,

And to be fought for by the youngeſt men,

Not for their Vertue, but their Beauty fair,

Intangling men within their amorous ſnare,

And turning up their eyes, not for to pray,

Unleſs it be to ſee their Love that day,

With whining voice, and fooliſh words implore

The Gods, for what? unleſs to hold the dore.

And what is their deſire, if I ſhould gueſs,

I ſtraight ſhould judge it tends to wantonneſs;

Perchance they’l ſay tis for Converſation,

But thoſe Converſations bring Temptation.

What Youth’s in love with Age, where wiſdome dwells,

That all the follies of wild youth ſtill tells;

But youth will ſhun grave ages company,

And from them fly as from an Enemy.

Say they, their wit is all decay’d and gone,

And that their wit is out of faſhion grown,

Say they are peeviſh, froward and diſpleas’d,

And full of pain, and weak, and oft diſeas’d.

But that is fond excuſe, to plead for youth,

For age is valiant, prudent, full of truth;

And ſicknes oftner on the young takes hold,

Making them feeble, weak before they’r old.

If Women love, let it be for the ſake

Of noble vertue, and the wiſer take,

Elſe G4v 48

Elſe Vertue is depreſs’d, forſaken quite,

For ſhe allows no Revellers of Night.

This Sex doth ſtrive by all the art they can

To draw away each others courtly man,

And all the allurements that they can deviſe,

They put in execution for the priſe;

Their eyes are quick and ſparkling like the Sun,

Yet allwaies after mankind do they run;

Their words are ſmooth, their face in ſmiles are dreſt;

Their heart is by their countenance expreſt;

But in their older age they ſpightfull grow,

And then they ſcorns upon their youngers throw,

Induſtrious are a falſe report to make,

Lord, Lord, what poor imployments Women take

To carry tales on tongues from eare to eare,

Which faſter run than Dromedaries far:

In heat, with ſpeed and haſte, they run about

From houſe to houſe to find their Comrades out;

And when they meet, ſo earneſt they are bent,

As if the Fates Decrees they could prevent,

The beſt is Rubbiſh; they their minds do load

With ſeverall dreſſes and what is the mode;

But if they ſpightfull are, they ſtraight defame

Thoſe that moſt vertue have or honored name,

Or else about their carriage they find fault,

And ſay their dancing-Maſters were ſtark naught;

But for their ſeveral dreſſings thus will ſay,

How ſtrangely ſuch a one was dreſt to day,

And if a Lady dreſs, or chance to weare

A Gown to pleaſe her ſelf, or curle her hair,

If not according as the faſhion runns,

Lord how it ſets awork their eyes and tongues,

Strait ſhe’s fantaſticall they all do cry,

Yet they will imitate her preſently,

And what they laught at her in ſcorn,

Think well themſelves for to adorn:

Thus every one doth each another pry,

Not for to mend, but to find fault thereby.

With that the women roſe, and angry were,

And ſaid they would not ſtay ſuch tales to heare,

But all the men upon their knees did fall,

Begging his pardon, and their ſtay withall,

And H1r 49

And Womens natures being eaſy, free,

Soon perſwaded to keep them company.

The Tale to tell, unto a Womans turn befell.

And when their ruſſling twatling ſilks did ceaſe,

Their creaking chairs and whiſperings held their peace,

The Lady did a Tragick Tale unfold,

Forcing their eyes to weep whil’ſt ſhe it told.

The Deſcription of the Fondneſs of Parents, and the Credulity of Youth.

Agentleman that lived long, and old,

A Wife he had, which fifty years had told;

Their Love was ſuch, as Time could not decay,

Devout they were, and to the Gods did pray:

Yet Children they had none to bleſs their Life,

She happy in a Husband, he a Wife.

But Nature ſhe the World her power to ſhew,

From an old Stock caus’d a young Branch to grow,

Becauſe this aged Dame a Daughter bore,

Got by her Husband, threeſcore years and more;

They were ſo joy’d, they Natures Bounty praiſe,

And thank’d the Gods that did the Iſſue raiſe.

They were ſo fond, that none this Child muſt touch,

Onely themſelves, their pains they thought not much.

She gave it ſuck, and dreſs’d it on her Lap,

The whil’ſt he warm’d the Clouts, then coold the Pap;

And when it ſlept, did by the Child abide,

Both ſetting near the Cradle on each ſide.

But when it cry’d, he danc’d it on his Arm,

The whil’ſt ſhe ſung, its Paſſion for to charm.

Thus did they ſtrive to pleaſe it all they could,

And for its good, yield up their lives they would.

With pains and care they nurs’d their Daughter well,

And with her Years her Beauty did excell:

But when ſhe came to ſixteen years of age,

Her Youth and Life to Love ſhe did engage

Unto a Gentleman, that liv’d hard by

Unto her Father’s houſe, who ſeem’d to dye

If he enjoy’d her not, yet did he dread

His Fathers curſe to light upon his head;

H His H1v 50

His Father to his Paſſion being cruel,

Although he was his onely Son and Jewel,

Charging upon his bleſſing not to marry

This faireſt Maid, nor Servants for to carry

Letters or Tokens, Meſſages by ſtealth

Deſpiſing her, becauſe of no great Wealth:

Yet ſhe was nobly born, not very poor,

But had not Wealth to equal his great ſtore.

But he did woo his Love in ſecret guiſe,

Courting her privately for fear of Spyes

He ſtrove to win her unto his embraces,

Muffling the faults he would, and the diſgraces.

Said he,

Why may not we our Senſes all delight?

Heaven our Senſe and our Souls unite.

That we call Honour, onely Men creates,

For it was never deſtin’d by the Fates;

It is a word Nature not teaches, ſo

A precept Nature doth forbid to go

Then follow Nature, for that follows God,

And not the Arts of Men, that’s vain and odd;

Let every Senſe lye ſteep’d, not drown’d, in pleaſure,

For to keep up their height is balanc’d meaſure.

Firſt let our Eyes all Beauteous Objects view,

Our Ears all Sounds which Notes and Times keep true.

Then ſcent all Odours to refreſh the Brain,

The taſt delicious Tongue to entertain,

Our Touch ſo pleaſing, that all parts may feel

Expanſion of the Soul, from Head to Heel:

Thus we ſhall uſe what Nature to us gave,

For by reſtraint, in Life we dig our Grave;

For in the Grave our Senſes uſeleſs lye

Juſt ſo is Life, if Pleaſures we deny:

Thus Heaven that gave us Senſe, may take it ill,

If we refuſe what’s offered to us ſtill:

Then let our Senſe and Souls take all delight,

Though ſurfet not, yet feed each Appetite:

Come, Pleaſure, circle me within thy Arms,

Inchant my Soul with thy delightful Charms.

Said ſhe, it is not alwayes in our power

To feed Delight, nor Pleaſure to devour;

Man H2r 51

Man no free power hath of any thing,

Onely himſelf can to deſtruction bring,

To kill his Body, and his Soul to damn,

Although he cannot alienate the ſame,

Nor can he make them always to remain,

Nor turne them to what they were firſt again:

Thus can we croſſe and vex our ſelves with pain,

But being ſick, not to be well again:

We can diſturb great Natures work when will,

But to reſtore and make it, paſt our skill:

But he did plead ſo hard, ſuch Vows did make,

Such large profeſſions, and ſuch oaths did take,

That he would conſtant be, and for his Bride

He would her make, when that his Father dy’d:

She young and innocent knew no deceits,

Nor thought that Words and Vows were us’d as baits.

So yielded ſhe to all he did deſire,

Thinking his Vows as much as Laws require:

But they ſo oft did meet till it befell,

She ſick did grow, her body big did ſwell,

Which ſhe took care to hide, and would not be,

As ſhe was wont in other Company:

But to her Parents ſhe would often crie,

And ſaid ſhe ſwell’d ſo with a Timpany:

They did believe her, and did make great moan

Their onely child to be ſo ſickly growne:

But his old Father, the Marriage to prevent,

He, in all haſt, his Son to travel ſent;

Gave him no time, nor warning to be gone,

Nor till he ſaw him ſhipp’d, left him alone.

But he, to eaſe his Miſtris of her fear,

For to return he onely now took care.

But ſhe no ſooner heard that he was gone,

But in her Chamber lock’d her ſelf alone,

Complain’d againſt her Deſtiny and Fate,

And all her Love to him was now turn’d Hate.

You Gods, ſaid ſhe, my fault’s no wilfull ſin,

For I did think his Vows had Marriage been;

But by his ſtealth, privately for to leave me,

I finde my crime, and that he did deceive me;

For which, ſaid ſhe, you Gods torment him more

Than ever any Man on Earth before.

H2 With H2v 52

With that ſhe roſe, about her neck ſhe flung

A ſilken ſtring, and in that ſtring ſhe hung.

Her Parents to her Chamber did repair,

Calling her forth to take the freſh ſweet Air,

Suppoſing it might do her health ſome good,

And at her Chamber door long time they ſtood:

But when they call’d and knock’d, no anſwer made,

She being ſick, they ’gan to be afraid;

Their limbs that ſhake with age, nerves being ſlackt,

Thoſe nervous ſtrings with fear were now contract.

At laſt, though much ado they had to ſpeak,

Yet Servants call’d; to open or to break

The Lock; no ſooner done, but with great fear

They entred in, and when that they were there,

The horrid ſight no ſooner ſtrook their eyes,

But it congeal’d their hearts, and ſtrait both dyes.

The fame of their ſad Fates around was ſpread,

The Lover heard his Miſtris then was dead;

His cloaths, his hair he tore, his breaſt did beat,

His ſpirits iſſu’d out in a cold ſweat.

Said he, O curſed Death, come kill me quick,

And in my heart thy Spear or Arrow ſtick,

Becauſe my Love in thy cold Arms doth lye,

I now deſire, nay am reſolv’d to dye.

But O, Love is a powerleſs God, his flame

It is too weak to melt Death’s icy change;

For though with Love my Heart ſo hot doth burn,

Yet cannot melt, I fear, Death’s icy Urn.

Then he all in a rage to the Earth fell,

And there invoking up the Devils of Hell,

Saith he, ye powerfull Terrors me aſſiſt

For to command or force Death when I liſt,

That by your help and power my Love might riſe

From the dark Vault, or Grave wherein ſhe lyes,

Or elſe by Deaths cold hand alone

Convert me into Marble ſtone.

Then running as diſtracted in and out,

By Phanſies Viſions ſtrange, ſaw all about;

And crying loud, my Miſtris, ſhe is there,

And ſeem’d to catch, but graſp’d nought elſe but Air;

See, ſee her Ghoſt, how it doth ſlide away,

Her Soul is pure, and ſhines as Glorious Day;

But H3r 53

But my foul Soul, which is as black as Night,

Doth ſhadows caſt upon her Soul that’s bright,

Which makes her walk as in a gloomy ſhade,

Like Shadows which the Silver Moon hath made:

Hark how my Love ſings ſweetly in the Sky,

Her Soul is mounted up to Heavens high,

And there it ſhall be made a Deity,

And I a Devil in Hell tormented lye.

His ſpirit being ſpent, fell to the ground.

And lying there awhile as in a ſwound,

At laſt he roſe, and with a ſober pace

He bent his ſteps, as to her burying place;

And with his Cloak he muffled him about,

His Hat pull’d over his Brows, his Eyes look’d out

To guide his way, but far he had not gone,

But ſtraight he ſaw the Funerals coming on.

Three Hearſes all were born, as on a breaſt,

Black-cover’d two, the third with White was dreſt;

A Silver Crown upon that Hearſe did ſtand,

And Mirtle Bows young Virgins bore in hand;

The graver ſort did Cypreſs Branches bear,

The mournful Parents death for to declare;

With ſolemn Muſick to the Grave them brought,

With Tears in-urn’d their Aſhes in a Vault.

But he, before the People did return,

Did make great haſt to get cloſe to the Urn,

His Hat puls off, then bows, lets looſe his Cloak,

With dropping Eyes, and Countenance ſad, thus ſpoke.

You charitable Friends, who e’re you be

To ſee the Dead thus buryed ſolemnly,

The like to me your Favour I do crave,

Stay all, and ſee me buryed in this Grave.

Giving himſelf a private wound, there fell

Into the Grave, and dying, there did tell

Of his ſad Love; but now, ſaid he,

Our Souls nor Bodyes ne’r ſhall parted be.

With that he ſighs, and breathing out his laſt,

About his Miſtris Corps his Arms he caſt.

The Urn ſeal’d up, Men there a Tombe did build,

Famous it was, ſuch Love therein it held.

Moſt Parents do rejoyce, and Off-ſprings bring

Of thankfull Hearts or Prayers for their Off-ſpring.

H3 Theſe H3v 54

Theſe thought their Age was bleſt, but they were blind

With Ignorance, and great Affections kind,

More than with Age; but who knows Deſtiny?

Or thinks that Joy can prove a Miſery?

Some Parents love their Wealth more than their Breeds,

Hoording up more than Love or Nature needs;

And rather than poor Virtue they will take,

By croſſing Love, Childleſs themſelves will make.

A ſober Man, who had a thinking Brain,

Of Vice and Vanity did thus complain:

Tis ſtrange to ſee the Follyes of Mankinde,

How they for uſeleſs things do vex their Minde;

For what ſuperfluous is, ſerves them for nought,

And more than neceſſary is a fault;

Yet Man is not content with a juſt meaſure,

Unleſs he ſurfets with Delight and Pleaſure;

As if true Pleaſure onely liv’d in Pain,

For in Exceſs Pain onely doth remain;

Riches bring Cares to keep, Trouble to ſpend,

Beggars and Borrowers have ne’r a Friend;

And Hoſpitality is oft diſeaſed,

And ſeldome any of their Gueſts are pleaſed;

Great Feaſts, much Company diſturbs the reſt,

And with much noyſe it doth the life moleſt;

Much Wine and Women makes the Body ſick,

And doting Lovers they grow lunatick;

Playing at Cards and Dice, Men Bankrupts grow,

And with the Dice away their Time they throw;

Their Manly Strength, their Reaſon, and their Wit,

Which might in Wars be ſpent, or Letters writ;

All Generoſity ſeems buryed here,

Gameſters ſeem Covetous, as doth appear:

But when they ſpend, moſt prodigally waſt,

As if their Treaſures were the Indies vaſt;

Or elſe their Purſe an endleſs Mine of Gold,

But they’ll ſoon find it doth a Bottom hold;

Titles of Honour, Offices of State,

Brings Trouble, Envy, and Malicious Hate;

Ceremony reſtrains our Freedome, and

State-offices commands, Men tottering ſtand;

And H4r 55

And Vanity inchanters of the Minde,

Doth muffle Reaſon, and the Judgement blinde;

Doth leade the Life in ſtrange phantaſtick wayes,

To ſeek that Pleaſure which doth live in Praiſe;

Praiſe is no real thing, an empty name,

Onely a ſound which we do call a Fame;

Yet for this ſound Men alwayes are at ſtrife,

Do ſpend their Fortunes, and do hazard Life;

They give their Thoughts no reſt, but hunt about,

And never leave, untill the Life goes out.

Thus Men that ſeek in Life for more than Health,

For Reſt and Peace within his Commonwealth,

Which is his Family, ſure he’s unwiſe,

And knows not where true Happineſs ſtill lyes;

Nor doth he guess that Temperance doth give

The trueſt Pleaſures, makes it longeſt live.

You Gods, ſaid he, give me a Temperate Minde,

An Humble Cottage, a Chaſt Wife, and Kinde,

To keep me Company, to bear a part

Of all the Joys or Sorrows of my Heart;

And let our Labours, Recreations be,

To paſs our Time, and not a Miſery.

Baniſh all Cares, you Gods, let them not lye

As heavy Burthens; and when we muſt dye,

Let’s leave the World, as in a quiet Sleep,

Draw gently out our Souls, our Aſhes keep

Safely in Urns, not ſeparate our Duſt,

Or mix us ſo, if tranſmigrate we muſt,

That in one Body we may ſtill remain,

That when diſſolv’d, make us up new again.

A Lady ſaid, ſhe his Diſcourse would fit,

A Tale would tell that ſhould his Humour hit.

There was a Man and Woman marryed were,

They liv’d juſt ſo as ſhould a Marryed Pair;

Though their Bodyes divided were in twain,

Their Souls agreed, as one they did remain;

They did ſo mutually agree in all,

This Man and Wife we onely One may call.

They were not rich, nor were they very poor,

Not pinch’d with want, nor troubled with great ſtore.

They H4v 56

They did not labour for the Bread they eat,

Nor had they various or delicious Meat;

Nor many Servants had to vex their Minde,

Onely one Maid, that faithfull was, and kinde;

Whoſe work was juſt ſo much as to imploy

Her ſo, as Idleneſs her not annoy.

Thus decently and cleanly did they live,

And ſomething had for Charity to give.

Her paſtime was, to ſpin in Winter cold,

The whil’ſt he read, and to her ſtories told.

And in the pleaſant Spring, freſh Air to take,

To neighbouring Villages ſhort Journeys make.

In Summer Evenings they the Fields did round,

Or ſit on Flow’ry Banks upon the Ground;

And ſo the Autumn they their walks did keep,

To ſee Men gather Grapes, or ſheer their Sheep.

Nor did they miſs Jove’s Temple, once a day

Both kneeling down unto the Gods to pray

For gratious mercy, their poor Souls to ſave,

A healthfull Life, an eaſy Death might have.

Thus did they live full forty years, and more,

At laſt Death comes, and knocketh at the dore,

And with his Dart he ſtrook the Man full ſick,

For which the Wife was almoſt lunatick:

But ſhe with care did watch, great pains did take,

Broths, Julips, Jellyes, ſhe with skill did make;

She moſt induſtrious was his pains to eaſe,

Studying alwayes his humour for to pleaſe:

For oft the ſick are peeviſh, froward, croſs,

And with their pains do tumble, groan and toſs

On their ſad Couches; quietly he lay,

And ſoftly to himſelf to Heaven did pray.

Yet was he melancholy at the heart,

For nothing elſe, but from his Wife to part.

But when ſhe did perceive his Life decay,

Cloſe by his ſide upon a Bed ſhe lay,

Embrac’d and kiſs’d him oft, untill his Breath

And Soul did part, drawn forth by powerful Death.

Art gone, ſaid ſhe, then I will follow ſtraight,

For why, my Soul upon thy Soul ſhall wait:

Then turn’d her ſelf upon the other ſide,

In breathing ſighs and ſhow’ring tears ſhe dy’d.

A I1r 57

A Single Life beſt.

Aman ſaid, he liv’d a moſt happy Life,

Becauſe he was not ty’d unto a Wife;

Said he, Marriage at beſt obſtructs the Minde

With too much Love, or Wives that were unkinde;

Beſides, a Man is ſtill ty’d by the heel

Unto the Cradle, Bed, Table, and Wheel;

And cannot ſtir, but like a Bird in ſtring,

May hop a ſpace, but cannot uſe his wing.

But thoſe who’re free, and not to Wedlock bound,

They have the liberty the World to round;

And in their Thoughts ſuch Heavenly Peace doth dwell,

When Marriage makes their Thoughts like pains of Hell;

And when they dye, no Care doth grieve their Minde

For any thing that they ſhall leave behinde.

A Lady ſaid, if Women had but Wit,

Men neither Wives nor Miſtreſſes ſhould get;

No cauſe ſhould have to murmure and complain,

If Women their kinde Freedome would reſtrain.

But Marriage is to Women far more worſe

Than ’tis to Men, and proves the greater Curſe;

And I, ſaid ſhe, for proof a Tale will tell

What to a virtuous marryed Wife befell.

There once a Lord and Lady marryed were,

And for ſeven years did live a happy Pair;

He ſeem’d to love his Wife, as well he might,

For ſhe was Modeſt, Virtuous, Fair, and Bright;

A Diſpoſition ſuitable and kinde,

No more obedience Man in Wife could finde:

Shee did eſteem him ſo, and priz’d him ſuch,

Of merit ſhe thought no Man had ſo much;

And lov’d him more than Life lov’d perfect Health,

Or Princes for to rule a Commonwealth

But as the natures of moſt Husbands be

Delight in Change, and ſeek Variety,

Or elſe like Children, or Fools, eas’ly caught

With pleaſing looks, or flattering tongues are brought

From Virtues ſide, in wicked wayes to run,

And ſeldome back with Virtue doth return:

I But I1v 58

But Miſery may drive them back again,

Or elſe with Vices they do ſtill remain.

It chanc’d this Lord a Lady fair did meet,

Her Countenance was pleaſing, Speech was ſweet;

And from her Eyes ſuch wanton Glances went,

As from her Heart Love Meſſages had ſent,

Whereby this Lord was catch’d in Cupid’s ſnare

How to addreſs, he onely now takes care:

But he ſtraight had acceſs, and Courtſhips makes,

The Lady in his Courtſhips pleaſure takes;

And pride ſhe takes, that ſhe could ſo allure

A Husband from a Wife, that was ſo pure

As Heavens Light, and had the praiſe and fame

Of being the moſt Fair and Virtuous Dame.

At laſt this Lady by her wanton Charms

Inchanted had this Lord, till in his Arms

He might embrace her in an amorous way,

His Thoughts were reſtleſs, working Night and Day

To compaſs his Deſigns, nor did he care

To loſe his Wifes Affection, but did fear

His Miſtris to diſpleaſe, and as her Slave,

Obey’d her will in all that ſhe would have.

But ſhe was ſubtil and of Nature bad,

A crafty Wit in making Quarrels had,

For which ſhe ſeemed to be Coy and Nice,

And ſets her Beauty at ſo great a price,

That ſhe would never yeild, unleſs that he

From his chaſt Wife would ſoon divorced be:

Which he to pleaſe her, from his Wife did part,

For which his Wife was grieved at the Heart,

And ſought obſcurely her ſelf to hide,

And in a ſolitary houſe did bide,

As if ſhe had a grievous Criminal been,

Or Cauſer was of his Adulterous ſin,

And for a Penance ſhe ſo ſtrict did live

But ſhe was Chaſt, and no Offence did give:

Yet ſhe in Sorrow liv’d, no reſt could finde,

Sad Melancholy Thoughts mov’d in her Minde;

Moſt of her time in Prayers ſhe did ſpend,

Which as ſweet Incenſe did to Heav’ns aſcend;

Did often for her Husband mercy crave,

That they would pardon all his Faults, and ſave

Him I2r 59

Him from Deſtruction, and that they would give

Him happy Dayes as long as he ſhould live.

But after he his Miſtris had injoy’d,

And that his Amorous Appetite was cloy’d,

Then on his Virtuous Wife his Thoughts did run,

The later Lady he did ſtrive to ſhun;

For often they did quarrel and fall out,

He gladly would be rid of her no doubt.

At laſt he was reſolv’d his Wife to ſee,

And to be Friends, if that ſhe would agree,

But when he ſaw his Wife, his Heart did ake,

As being guilty, all his Limbs did ſhake;

The terrour of his Conſcience did preſent

To him her Wrongs, but yet to her he went.

She being ſet near to a Fountain low,

Her Tears did make the Stream to overflow;

Where, as he came, upon the Earth did kneel:

But in his Soul ſuch paſſions did he feel

Of Shame, Fear, Sorrow, as he could not ſpeak;

At laſt his Paſſion through his Lips did break,

Begging his pardon, and ſuch Vows did make

Of Reformation, and that for her ſake,

Would any Pain or Puniſhment endure,

And that no Husband ſhould to Wife be truer.

Which when ſhe heard, ſhe ſighing, did reply,

You come too late, my Deſtiny is nigh;

My Bark of Life with Grief is over-fraught,

And ready is to ſink with its own weight;

For Showers of Tears, and ſtormy Sighs do blow

Me to the Ports of Death, and Shades below:

He being affrighted at the word ſhe ſpake,

In haſt he roſe, her in his Arms did take;

Wherewith ſhe pleas’d, and ſmiling, turn’d her Eye

Upon his Face, ſo in his Arms did dye,

And being dead, he layd her on the ground,

He in the Fountain, and her Tears, was drown’d,

Impatiently in a high diſcontent

There dy’d, ſo had a Watry Monument.

Another Lady ſaid, ſuch Men I hate

That wrong their Wives, and then repent too late:

I2 But I2v 60

But all Adulterers I wiſh might have

A violent Death, and an untimely Grave.

The next Man’s turn to ſpeak was one that in

The Wars was bred, and thus he did begin.

A Deſcription of Natural Affection.

There were two potent Princes, whoſe great Fames

For Actions in the Wars got mighty Names:

Itchanc’d theſe potent Princes both did greet,

And were reſolv’d in open Wars to meet,

Their Courages to try, their Strengths and Power,

Their prudent Conducts, or their fatal hour;

In ſhort, theſe Armies meet, a Battle fight,

Where one ſide beaten was by Fortunes ſpight.

The Battle won, that Army routed, ran,

And for to ſave their life, ſtriv’d every one;

And their Artillery they left behinde,

Each for himſelf a ſhelter hop’d to finde;

Where from purſuit the Victors did come back,

The Souldiers for to plunder were not ſlack;

And every Tent they ſearch’d, and ſought about

To ſee if they could finde ſome Treaſure out.

To th’Princes Tent did ſome Commanders go,

Where they did finde an Object of much wo:

The Prince being dead, and on the ground was laid,

And by him ſate a fair and ſweet young Maid;

Her Beauty was ſo ſplendrous, and ſo bright,

Through clouds of Grief did ſhine like Heavens light.

Which the Commander ſaw, then ſtraight did go

To let their General of this Beauty know.

Who when he came, amazed was in minde,

Such Beauty for to ſee, and Grief to finde:

For this fair Princeſs by her Father ſet,

Her Eyes being fix’d, her Tears his Cheeks did wet;

For leaning ov’r his Head, his Eyes down bends,

From whence her Tears upon his Face deſcends;

Upon his Mouth ſuch deep-fetch’d ſighs did breath,

As if therein her Soul ſhe would bequeath;

For which this General did her admire;

Her Tears quench’d not, but kindled Loves Fire.

With I3r 61

With that he did command the Souldiers there

The Dead to take, the Body up to bear.

But then ſhe ſpake. For pity have remorſe,

Remove not from me my dead Father’s Courſe;

For had not Fortune, whom he never truſt

With any buſineſs, but when needs he muſt,

Conſpir’d with Death to work his overthrow,

His Wiſdome croſſing her, ſhe grew his Foe:

But all her ſpight could never do him harm,

For he with Prudence ſtill himſelf did arm:

But when that Death aſſiſted her deſign,

Did ſtrike him dead when Battles were to joyn

His Souldiers forc’d to fight, when that their minde

Was preſs’d with grief, which faſt the ſpirits did binde;

It was his Death that made him loſe the day,

And you the Victorers that wear the Bayes.

But look, ſaid ſhe, his Hands now ſtrengthleſs lye,

In Fight did make his Enemies to fly;

His Eyes, now ſhut by Death, in Life gave light

Unto his Souldiers in the Wars to fight;

His Tongue, that ſilenc’d is by Death’s cold hand,

In Life mov’d wiſely, and could well command,

It Knowledge gave to thoſe that little knew,

And did inſtruct what was the beſt to do;

His Heart lyes ſtill, no Motion doth remain,

Ceas’d are the Thoughts in his well-tempered Brain;

Where in his Heart all Virtues did abide,

And in his Brain ſtrong Reaſon did reſide:

But all is vanquiſh’d now, and Life doth ſeem

No better than a Shadow, or a Dream.

’Tis ſtrange in Nature to obſerve and ſee

The unproportion’d Links in Deſtiny;

For Man’s the wiſeſt Creature Nature makes,

And beſt Extracts to form his Figure takes;

And yet ſo ſhort a Life to him ſhe gives,

He’s almoſt dead e’re comes to know he lives:

Yet ſhe from Man receives the greateſt praiſe,

He doth admire all her curious wayes;

With Wonder he her ſeveral Works doth ſee,

And ſtudyes all her Laws, and each Decree,

And travels ſeveral wayes within his Minde,

His Thoughts are reſtleſs her Effects to finde:

I3 But I3v 62

But in his Travels, Death cuts him off ſhort,

And leads him into dark Oblivions Court;

As Nature is unjuſt, Heaven unkinde,

It ſtrikes the Beſt, the Worſt doth favour finde.

My Father’s Merits might have challeng’d ſtill

A longer Life, had it been Heavens will:

But he is dead, and I am left behinde,

Which is a torture to my troubled Minde.

If Souldiers pity have, grant my deſire,

Here ſtrike me dead, and let my Breath expire.

Said the Victorious Prince.

Heaven forbids all horrid Acts we ſhun,

For in the Field the pureſt Honour’s won;

We ſtake our Lives for Lives, and juſtly play

A Game of Honour on a Fighting Day;

Perchance ſome Cheats may be amongſt the Rout,

But if they’re found, the Nobleſt throws them out.

But ſince you cannot alter Deſtiny,

Nor none that live, but have ſome Miſery;

Raiſe up your ſpirits, to Heaven ſubmit,

And do not here in Grief and Sorrow ſit.

Your Father was a Souldier of great Fame,

His Valiant Deeds did get an Honoured Name;

And for his ſake judge us, which Souldiers be,

To have Humanity and Civility.

Your Father he ſhall ſafely be convey’d,

That he may be by his Anceſtors laid;

But you muſt ſtay yet not as Priſoner, for

You ſhall command and rule our Peace and War.

She anſwered not in Words, her Tears did plead,

That ſhe with her dead Father might be freed:

But her clear Advocates could not obtain

Their humble ſuit, but there ſhe muſt remain

With the Victorious Prince; but he deny’d

As Victor, in a Triumph for to ride;

For though the Battle I have won, he ſaid,

Yet I am Priſoner to this Beautious Maid,

She is the Conquereſs, therefore ’tis fit

I walk as Priſoner, ſhe Triumphant ſit.

Then all with great Reſpect to her did bow,

So doth the Prince and plead, proteſt, and vow,

To I4r 63

To be her Servant, and to yeild his Life

To Death’s fell ſtrokes, unleſs ſhe’ld be his Wife.

But ſhe ſtill weeps, his Suit no favour gains,

Of Fates and Deſtiny ſhe ſtill complains.

Why, ſaid the Prince, ſhould you my ſuit deny.

Since I was not your Father’s Enemy?

Souldiers are Friends, though they each Blood do ſpill,

’Tis not for Spight, or any Malice ill,

But Honour to maintain, and Power to get,

And that they may in Fames houſe higher ſet:

For thoſe of greateſt Power, to Gods draw near,

For nought but Power makes Men like Gods appear.

But had I kill’d your Father in the Field,

Unto my ſuit in Juſtice you might yeild:

But I was not the Cauſe your Father dy’d,

For Victory doth ſtill with him abide;

For though that Death did ſtrike him to the Heart,

Yet his great Name and Fame will never part.

Men will ſuppoſe the loſs is loſs of Life,

And had he liv’d, there would be greater ſtrife

Between our Armies; but if you’ll be mine,

Our Kingdomes in a Friendly Peace ſhall joyn.

Then ſhe began to liſten, and give ear,

She of her Country in diſtreſs took care.

And in ſhort time they were both Man and Wife,

Long did they live, and had a happy Life.

The next, a Virgins turn a Tale to tell,

For Youth and Modeſty, did fit it well.

The ſurprizal of Death.

A Company of Virgins young did meet,

Their paſtime was, to gather Flowers ſweet;

And white Straw hats upon their heads did wear,

And falling Feathers, which wav’d with the Air,

Fanning their Faces, like a Zephyrus winde,

Shadowing the Sun, that ſtrove their Eyes to blinde;

And in their Hands they each a Basket held,

Which Baskets they with Fruits or Flowers fill’d.

But one amongſt the reſt ſuch Beauty had,

That Venus for to change, might well be glad.

Her I4v 64

Her Shape exact, her Skin was ſmooth and fair,

Her Teeth white, even ſet, a long curl’d Hair;

Her Nature modeſt, her Behaviour ſo,

As when ſhe mov’d, the Graces ſeem’d to go.

Her Wit was quick, and pleaſing to the ear,

That all who heard her ſpeak, ſtraight Lovers were,

But yet her words ſuch Chaſt Love did create,

That all Impurity they did abate.

In every Heart or Head, where wilde Thoughts live,

She did convert, and wiſe Inſtructions give;

For her Diſcourſe ſuch Heavenly Seeds did ſow,

That where ’twas ſtrew’d, there Virtues up did grow.

Theſe Virgins all were in a Garden ſet,

And each did ſtrive the fineſt Flowers to get.

But this fair Lady on a Bank did lye

Of moſt choyce Flowers, which did court her Eye;

And every one did bend their Heads full low,

Bowing their Stalks, from off the Roots they grow;

And when her Hands did touch their tender Leaves,

They ſeem’d to kiſs, and to her Fingers cleaves.

But ſhe, as if in Nature ’twere a Crime,

Was loth to crop their Stalks in their full prime;

But with her Face cloſe to thoſe Flowers lay,

That through her Noſtrils might their ſweets convey.

Not for to rob them, for her Head was full

Of Flow’ry Phancies, which her Wit did pull:

And Poſies made, the World for to preſent,

More laſting were, and of a ſweeter ſcent.

But as ſhe lay upon this pleaſed Bank,

For which thoſe Flowers did great Nature thank,

Death envious grew they ſuch Delight did take,

And with his Dart a deadly Wound did make;

A ſudden Cold did ſeize her every Limb,

With which her Pulſe beat ſlow, and Eyes grew dim.

Some that ſate by, obſerv’d her pale to be,

But thought it ſome falſe light, but went to ſee;

And when they came ſhe turn’d her Eyes aſide,

Spread forth her Arms, then ſtretch’d, and ſigh’d, and dy’d.

These verses damaged damaged in are my lord marquiſs The frighted Virgins ran with panting breath,

To tell the ſadder ſtory of her death;

The whil’ſt the Flowers to her reſcue bend,

And all their Med’cinable Virtues ſend:

But K1r 65

But all in vain, their power’s too weak, each head

Then droop’d, when found they could not help the Dead;

Their freſher colour will no longer ſtay,

But faded ſtraight, and wither’d all away.

For Tears they dropp’d their Leaves, and thought it meet

To ſtrew her with them as her Winding Sheet.

The Aëry Choriſters hover’d above,

And ſung her laſt ſad Funeral Song of Love.

The Earth grew proud, now having ſo much Honour,

That Odoriferous Corps to lye upon her.

When that pure Virgins ſtuff diſſolved in Dew,

Was the firſt cauſe new births of Flowers grew,

And added Sweets to thoſe it did renew.

The groſſer parts the Curious ſoon did take,

Of it tranſparent Pursſlain they did make;

Her purer Duſt they keep for to refine

Beſt Poets Verſe, and gild there every Line;

And all Poetick Flames ſhe did inſpire,

So her Name lives in that Eternal Fire.

A Mock-Tale of the Lord Marquis of Newcastles.

Cupid Love-birding went, his Arrow laid,

Aiming to hit a young freſh Country Maid;

Being pore-blind, his Arrow it did glance,

And hit an old-old Woman there by chance:

She preſently with Love ſighs ſhorten breath,

Groan’d ſo, as all the Neighbours thought it Death.

Little ſhe had of feeling, nor no ground

To gueſs where Cupid us’d to make the Wound.

A long forgetfulneſs there was, no doubt,

Of what was Love, and all thoſe thoughts worn out.

At laſt, Love rubb’d her mem’ry up, and then

She thought ſome threeſcore years ago and ten

Was wounded ſo, but then was in her Prime,

The Surgeon cured her was Father Time:

But he’s not skilfull for Loves Wounds, all thoſe,

Though they ſeem cured, yet they’ll never cloſe,

But break out ſtill again; not Winters cold

Will freez them up, nor Age, though ne’er ſo old.

K She K1v 66

She, with Laborious Hands, and Idle Breech

Us’d to weed Gardens, and for her grown rich,

Some twenty Pounds ſhe’d got, which ſhe did hide

For her great, great, great Grandchild, when a Bride.

O powerfull Love to ſee thy fatal Curſe,

Now to forget her Noble Race and Purſe,

Inquires out the beſt Tailors in the Town

To make her Waſtcoats, Petticoats, and Gown,

New Shoes of Shoemakers ſhe did beſpeak,

And bids him put three pennyworth of Creak

Into the Soles, that Dew when them fils,

Like Hero’s Buskins, chirip through the Bils.

Hunts Pedlars out, and buyes freſh Ribbons blew,

To ſhew that ſhe is turn’d a Lover true.

And now thoſe hands, not white as Venus Doves,

Not to preſerve, but hide with Dog-skin Gloves,

Takes keener Nettles up, that by her ſtood

To rub her skin for Cheeks, but found no Blood.

No dangling Treſſes there could any finde,

Siſter to Time, no Locks before, behinde:

Yet ſmooth ſhe was, not as the Billiard Ball,

But bald as it all over you might call.

When met her Love, he thought ſhe ſmil’d to grace

Her ſelf, when ’twas but wrinkles in her face;

And all Loves Arts ſhe try’d, and oft ſhe met him,

The luſty young and labouring man, to get him.

His Poverty with her Purſe joyn’d their hands,

And ſo did enter in the Marriage Bands.

But to deſcribe their ſumptuous Marriage Feaſt,

Their richer Cloaths, and every honour’d Gueſt,

Their melting Love-ſongs, ſofter Muſicks touch,

Are not to be expreſs’d, not half ſo much

As you may now imagine all my skill,

And fainter Muſe; too weak; nay Virgil’s quill

With that deſcription, it would blunter grow,

And Homer’s too, with all his Furies; ſo

Then bluſh’d for ſhame, when ſaw this lovely Bride

Put them all down: Thus triumphs ſhe in Pride.

Now after Supper, when they were both fed

Your Thoughts muſt go along with them to Bed:

Them being laid, he mounted now Love’s Throne.

She sigh’d with Love, then fetch’d a deeper groan,

And K2r 67

And ſo expired there, in height of Pleaſure,

So left him to enjoy her long got Treaſure.

And ſo belov’d ſhe was, that now lyes low,

That all the Women wiſh’d for to dye ſo.

Then came a Lady young, that had not been

In that Society; and coming in,

They told her, ſhe a Tale muſt pay,

Or, as a Bankrupt, ſhe muſt go away.

Truly, ſaid ſhe, I am not rich in Wit,

Nor do I know what Tales your Humours fit:

Yet in my young and budding Muſe

Will draw the Seaſons of the Year,

Like ’Prentice Painters, which do uſe

The ſame to make their skill appear.

But Nature is the Hand to guide

The Pencil of the Brain, and place

The Shadows ſo, that it may hide

All the Defects, or giv’t a grace.

But Phanſie pictures in the Brain,

Not ſubject to the Outward Senſe;

They are Imaginations vain,

Yet are they the Lifes Quinteſſence:

For when Life’s gone, yet they will live,

And to the Life a Fame will give.

The Tale of the four Seaſons of the Year.

The Spring is dreſs’d in Buds and Bloſſoms ſweet,

And graſs-green Socks ſhe draws upon her Feet;

Of freſheſt Air a Garment ſhe cuts out,

With painted Tulips fringed round about,

And lines it all within with Violets blew,

And yellow Primroſe of the paleſt hue:

Then wears an Apron made of Lillyes white,

And lac’d about her with Rayes of Light:

Cuffs of Narciſſus about her hands ſhe tyes,

And pins them cloſe with ſtings of Bees that flyes

To gather Honey-dew that lyes thereon,

If prick their Leaves, they leave their Stings upon:

Ribbins of Pinks and Gilliflowers makes

Roſes both white and red, for Knots ſhe takes.

K2 And K2v 68

And when thus dreſs’d the Birds in Love do fall,

And chirping then do to each other call

To ſing, and hop, and merry make,

And joy’d they’re all for the ſweet Springs ſake.

But of all Birds, the Nightingale delights

To ſing the Spring to Bed in Evening Nights;

Becauſe the Spring at Night draws in her head

Into the Earth for that ſhe makes her Bed;

And in the Morning, when aſleep ſhe lyes,

The Nightingale doth ſing to make her riſe,

Annd calls the Sun to open her fair Eyes,

Who gallops faſt, that he might her ſurprize.

But when the Spring is paſt her Virgins prime,

And marryed is to old bald Father Time,

The Nightingale, for grief, doth ceaſe to ſing,

And ſilent is till comes another Spring.

The Summer’s cloath’d in glorious Sunſhine bright,

And with a obscuredone or two wordstrailing Veil of long Day light;

And Duſt as Powder on her Hair doth place,

And with the Mornings Dew doth waſh her Face;

A Zephyrus Winde ſhe for a Fan doth ſpread

To cool her Cheeks, which are hot burning red;

And with that Heat ſo thirſty ſhe doth grow,

As ſhe drinks all the freſh ſweet Springs that flow.

Then in a thundering Chariot ſhe doth ride

For to aſtoniſh Mortals with her pride;

Flaſhing Lightning before her Chariot flyes,

A fluid Fire that ſpreads about the Skyes;

Like Princes great that in dry wayes do travel,

Have Water thrown, t’allay the Duſt and Gravel.

This Fire allayes, clenſes all Vapours groſs,

Leſt thoſe aſcend, ſhould ſtop the Thunders force;

And when ſhe from her Chariot doth alight,

Then is ſhe waited on by Sun-beams bright;

Or elſe the Rayes that from the Moon do ſpread

As waxen Tapers, light her to her Bed,

And with refreſhing Sleepe awhile doth reſt,

There breathing ſweet Air from her panting Breaſt.

Yet Summer’s proud, ambitious, high and hot,

And full of Action, idle ſhe is not;

Cholerick ſhe is and oft-times Quarrels make,

But yet ſometimes ſhe doth her Pleaſure take;

At K3r 69

At high Noon with the Butter-flyes doth play,

In th’Evening with the Bats doth dance the Hay;

Or at the ſetting of the Sun doth fly

With Swallows ſwift, to keep them Company.

But if ſhe’s croſs’d, ſhe ſtraight malicious grows,

And in a fury Plagues on Men ſhe throws,

Or other Sickneſs, and makes Beaſts to dye,

And cauſe the Marrow in the Bones to fry.

But Creatures that with long time are grown old,

Or ſuch as are of Conſtitution cold,

She nouriſhes, and Life ſhe doth reſtore

In Flyes, Bats, Swallows, and many Creatures more:

For ſome do ſay, theſe Birds in Winter dye,

And in the Summer revive again to fly.

Of all the four Seaſons of the full Year,

This Seaſon doth moſt full and fat appear;

Her Blood is hot, and flowing as full Tide,

She’s onely fit to be Apollo’s Bride:

But ſhe, as all young Ladies in their prime,

Doth fade and wither with old Father Time;

And all their Beauty, which they much admire,

Doth vaniſh ſoon, and quickly doth expire.

The like the Summer dryes, withers away,

No powerfull Art can make ſweet Beauty ſtay.

The Autumn, though ſhe’s in her fading years,

And ſober, yet ſhe pleaſantly appears;

Her Garments are not deck’d with Flowers gay,

Nor are they green, like to the Month of May,

But of the colour are of dapple Deer,

Or Hares, that to a ſandy ground appear:

Yet ſhe is rich, with Plenty doth abound,

All the increaſe of Earth is with her found;

Moſt Creatures Nouriſhment to them doth give,

And by her Bounty, Men, Beaſts, Birds do live;

Beſides, the grieved Heart with Joy doth fill,

When from the plump Grapes Wine ſhe doth diſtill;

And gathers Fruits, which laſting are, and ſound,

Her Brows about with Sheaves of Corn is round;

Of which ſmall Seeds, Man makes thereof ſome Bread,

With which the Poor and Rich are nouriſhed.

Yet ’tis not Bounty can hinder Natures courſe,

For conſtantly ſhe changes in one ſource;

K3 For K3v 70

For though the Matter may be ſtill the ſame,

Yet ſhe doth change the figure of the frame;

And though in Principles ſhe conſtant be,

And keeps to certain Rules, which well agree

To a wiſe Government, yet doth not ſtay,

But as one comes, another glides away:

So doth the Autumn leave our Hemiſphear

To Winter cold, at which Trees ſhake for fear;

And in that paſſion all their Leaves do ſhed,

And all their Sap back to the Root is fled;

Like to the Blood, which from the Face doth run

To keep the Heart, leſt Death ſhould ſeize thereon.

Then comes the Winter, with a lowring brow,

No pleaſant Recreations doth allow;

Her Skin is wrinkled, and her Blood is cold,

Her Fleſh is numb, her Hands can nothing hold;

Her Face is ſwarthy, and her Eyes are red,

Her Lips are blew, with Palſie ſhakes her Head;

She often coughs, and’s very rheumatick,

Her Noſe doth drop, and often doth ſhe ſpit;

Her Humour’s melancholy, as cold and dry,

Yet often ſhe in ſhow’ring Rain doth cry,

And bluſtring Storms as in a paſſion ſent,

Which on the Earth and on the Water vent;

As Rheums congeal to Flegm, the Waters ſo,

By thickning Cold, congeals to Ice, Hail, Snow,

Which ſhe ſpits forth, upon the Earth doth lye

In lumps and heaps, which makes the Plants to dye;

She’s poor and barren, little hath to give,

For in this Seaſon all things hardly live:

But often thoſe who’re at the worſt eſtate,

By change of Times they grow more fortunate:

So when the Winter’s paſt, then comes the Spring,

And Plenty doth reſtore to everything.

A Poet in the Company

Said to this Lady.

Your Fingers are Minerva’s Loom, with which

You Senſe in Letters weave,

No knots or ſnarls you leave;

Work’s Fancyes Thread in Golden Numbers rich:

Your K4r 71

Your Breaſts are Helicon, which makes a Poet

For though they do not drink,

If thereon they do think,

Their Brain is fill’d with high and ſparkling Wit

Your Tongue is high Parnaſſus Hill, whereon

The Muſes ſit and ſing,

Or dance in Phanſie’s Rings,

Crown’d with your Roſie Lips, ſweet Garland

Your Eyes Diana’s Arrows, and no doubt

Your arched Brows her Bows,

Black Ebony it ſhews,

From whence ſweet gentle Modeſty ſhoots out.

Your Hairs are fatal Threads, Lovers hang by;

Your Brain is Vulcan’s Net,

Fine Fancies for to get,

Which like to winged Birds, aſpiring fly.

The next a Man of Scholarſhip profeſt,

He in his turn this Tale told to the reſt

The Expreſsion of the Doubts and Curioſity of Man’s Minde.

There was a Man which much deſired to know,

When he was dead, whether his Soul ſhould go;

Whether to Heaven high, or down to Hell,

Or the Elizium Fields, where Lovers dwell;

Or whether in the Air to flee about,

Or whether it like to a Light goes out.

At laſt the Thoughts, the Servants to the Minde,

Which dwell in Contemplation, yet to finde

The truth, they ſaid, no pains that we would ſpare

To travel every where, and thus prepare.

Each Thought did cloath it ſelf with Language fit

For to enquire, and to diſpute for it,

And Reaſon they did take to be their Guide:

Then ſtraight unto a Colledge they did ride,

Where K4v 72

Where Scholars dwell, and learned Books are read,

The living Works of the moſt Wiſe who’re dead.

There they enquired, the truth for to know,

And every one was ready for to ſhew

Through every ſeveral Work, and ſeveral Head,

And ſeveral tongues a ſeveral path ſtill leade,

Where all the thoughts were ſcattered ſeveral wayes,

Some tedious long, others like ſhort Eſſayes.

But Reaſon, which they took to be their Guide

With reſt and ſilence quietly did bide

Till their return, who ragged and all torn,

Came back as naked as when they were born;

For in their travels hard diſputes had paſt,

Yet all were forc’d for to return at laſt.

But when that Reaſon ſaw their poor condition,

Naked of ſenſe, and words, and expedition,

And expectation too, and ſeem’d all ſad,

But ſome were frantick, and deſpairing, mad.

He told them, they might wander all about,

But he did fear, the truth would ne’r finde out.

Which when they heard, with Rage they angry grew,

And ſtraight from Reaſon they themſelves withdrew.

Then all agreed they to the Court would go,

In hopes the Courtiers they the truth might know;

The Courtiers laugh’d, and ſaid they could not tell;

They thought the Soul in Senſual Pleaſures dwell,

And that it had no other Heaven or Hell;

The Soul they ſlight, but wiſh the Body well.

This anſwer made the Thoughts not long to ſtay

Among the Courtiers, but ſoon went their way.

Then to the Army ſtraight they did repair,

Hoping the truth of Souls they ſhould finde there;

And of the Chief Commander they enquire,

Who willing was to anſwer their deſire.

They ſaid for certain, that all Souls did dye

But thoſe that liv’d in Fame or Infamy.

Thoſe that Infamous were, without all doubt

Were damn’d, and from reproach ſhould n’er get out:

But ſuch whoſe Fame their Noble Deeds did raiſe,

Their Souls were bleſt with an Eternal Praiſe;

And thoſe that dy’d, and never mention’d were,

They thought their Souls breath’d out to nought but Air.

With L1r 73

With that, the Thoughts were very much perplext,

Then did reſolve, the Chymiſts ſhould be next

Which they would aſk; ſo unto them did go,

To be reſolved, if they of Souls did know.

They ſaid unto the Thoughts, when Bodyes dye,

Was Souls the Elixer, and pure Chymiſtry;

For Gold, ſaid they, can never waſted be.

Nor can it alter from its purity;

’Tis Eternal, and ſhall for ever laſt,

And as pure Gold, ſo Souls do never waſt.

Souls are the Eſſence, and pure ſpirits of Gold,

Which never change, but ſhall for ever hold;

And as the Fire the pure from droſs divides,

So Souls in death are clens’d and purifi’d

From groſſer parts, the Body, and no doubt

The Soul the ſpirits Death doth vapour out;

And is the eſſence of great Natures ſtore,

All Matter hath this eſſence, leſs or more.

After the Thoughts had muſed long, in fine,

Said they, we think the Soul is more divine

Then from a Metal’d Earth for to proceed,

Well known it is all Metals Earth doth breed;

And though the Gold the pureſt Earth it be,

Being refin’d by Heat to that degree

Of pureneſs, by which it long doth laſt,

Yet may long time and labour make it waſt,

To ſhew ’tis not eternal, and perchance

Some ſlight experience may that work advance

Which Man hath not yet found; but Time, ſaid they,

May Chymiſts teach, and ſo they went away.

But travelling about, they weary grew,

To reſt a while, they for a time withdrew.

The ſearch of truth into a Cottage went,

Where liv’d an aged Couple well content,

A Man and Wife, which pious were, and old,

To them the Thoughts their tedious Journeys told,

And what they went to ſeek, the truth to finde

Concerning Souls, to tell unto the Minde;

For we deſire, ſaid they, the truth to know,

From whence the Soul proceeds, or where ’twill go,

When parted from the Body, the Old Man ſaid,

Of ſuch imployment he ſhould be afraid,

L Leſt L1v 74

Leſt Nature or the Gods ſhould angry be

For his preſumption and curioſity.

If it be Natures works, there is no doubt

But ſhe doth tranſmigrate all things about,

And who can follow Natures ſteps and pace,

And all the ſubtil ways that ſhe doth trace?

Her various Forms, which curious Motions makes,

Or what Ingredients for thoſe Forms ſhe takes?

Who knows, ſaid he, firſt Cauſe of any thing,

Or what the Matter is whence all doth ſpring?

Or who at firſt did Matter make to move

So wiſely, and in order, none can prove;

Nor the Decreaſe, nor Deſtinies can finde.

Which are the Laws that every thing doth binde.

But who can tell that Nature is not Wife

For mighty Jove? and he begets the life

Of every Creature which ſhe breeds and brings

Forth ſevral Forms, each Figure from her Spring.

Thus Souls and Bodyes in one Figure joyn,

Though Bodyes mortal be, the Soul’s divine,

As being begot by Jove, and ſo

The pureſt part of Life is Souls, we know;

For the innated part from Jove proceeds,

The groſſer part from Natures ſelf proche breeds

And what is more innated than Mankinde,

Unleſs his Soul, which is of higher kinde.

Thus every Creature to Jove and Nature are

As Sons and Daughters, and their Off-spring fair;

And as their Parents of them taketh care,

So they, as Children, ought not for to fear

How they diſpoſe of them, but to ſubmit

Obediently to all that they think fit;

Not to diſpute, or queſtions making ſtill,

But ſhew obedience to their Makers will.

Man aſketh bleſſing of his Father Jove,

And Jove doth ſeem Mankinde the beſt to love

And Nature ſhe her bleſſing doth beſtow,

When ſhe gives Health, makes Plenty for to flow.

The bleſſings which Jove gives unto Mankinde

Are peacefull Thoughts, and a ſtill quiet Minde;

And Jove is pleaſ’d, when that we ſerve his Wife,

Our Mother Nature, with a Virtuous Life;

For L2r 75

For Moral Virtues are the Ground whereon

All Jove’s Commands and Laws are built upon.

Thoughts trouble not your ſelves, ſaid he which way,

The Soul ſhall go to Jove, and Nature pay:

For Temperance, wherein the Life is bleſt,

That Temperance doth pleaſe the Life the beſt;

Intemperance doth torture Life with pain,

And what is ſuperfluous to us is vain

Therefore return, and temper well the Minde,

For you the truth of Souls ſhall finde.

At laſt came Reaſon, which had been their Guide,

And brought them Faith, in her they did confide:

Taking their leave, away with Faith they ride,

And Faith ev’r ſince doth with the Minde reſide:

A Lady which all Vanities had left,

Since ſhe of Youth and Beauty was bereft;

She ſaid, that Pride in Youth was a great ſin,

Of which a Tale did tell, thus entring in.

A Deſcription of the Fall of fooliſh and ſelf-conceited Pride.

There was a Lady rich, that ſate in ſtate,

And round about her did her ſervants wait;

Where every tongue did walk ſtill in their turn,

But in the wayes of Flattery they run.

You are, ſaid one, the fineſt dreſt to day,

A Heavenly Creature, did another ſay;

Your Skin is purer far than Lillyes white,

And yet is clear and glaſſy as the Light;

And from your Eyes ſuch ſplendrous Rayes do ſpread,

As they ſeem like a Glory round your Head;

Your Wit is ſuch, ’tis ſupernatural,

And all that hear you ſpeak, ſtraight Lovers fall;

The ſound but of your Voyce charms every Ear,

And when you ſpeak, your Breath perfumes the Air.

Thus falſly flatt’ring her, ſhe ſo proud grew,

As ſcornfull looks on every Object threw;

All Men ſhe ſcorned that did to her addreſs,

And laught at thoſe that Lovers did profeſs.

L2 Her L2v 76

Her Senſes for to pleaſe, ſhe was ſo nice,

That nothing ſerv’d, but what was of great price.

Thus did ſhe live in Luxury, Pride, and Eaſe.

And all her thoughts were ſtill her ſelf to pleaſe.

She never pray’d unto the Gods on high,

For ſhe did think her ſelf a Deity,

That all Mankinde was made her to admire,

And ought her Favours moſt for to deſire,

That every knee that bow’d not to her low,

Or their demeanours did not reverence ſhew;

She thought them Beaſts that did not Merit know,

Or that her Frowns ſhould work their overthrow,

Her Smiles and Frowns ſhe thought ſuch power had

As Deſtiny, to work both good and bad.

At laſt the Gods, that allwayes have an eye

Upon the Earth, which all things do deſcry

Amongſt poor Mortals, they this Lady ſpy’d,

Whoſe Heart was ſwoll’d, and Thoughts were big with Pride,

Begot by Pluto’s Wealth, and Nature’s Paint,

Bred in the Soul, which makes it ſick and faint.

But Pride is nurs’d ſtill by the Senſes five,

From what each Senſe it ſucks, keeps it alive:

But if no Nouriſhment it gets from thoſe,

As neither touch, taſte, ſcent pleas’d, ſound, or ſhews,

It faints and pines away as ſtarv’d, ſo dyes,

And in a Grave of Melancholy lyes.

But, as I ſaid, when Gods poor Mortals view’d,

They for their ſins with puniſhment purſu’d.

Then with this Lady they did firſt begin,

Many ill accidents they at her fling.

Firſt, they did ſet her houſe and goods on fire,

Where her rich Furniture did ſoon expire:

Then Envy ſought all wayes to pull her down,

And tax’d her Land, as due unto the Crown;

And in that Suit great ſums of Money vaſt

Lawyers ingroſs’d, which made thoſe ſums to waſt;

And when thoſe Lawyers got all that ſhe had,

They caſt her Suit, as if her Cauſe was bad;

By which her Lands ſhe loſt, then onely left

Her rich with Beauty, but of Lands bereft;

In which ſhe pleaſure took, although but poor,

Of Fortunes Goods, of Natures Gifts had ſtore.

But L3r 77

But when the Gods did ſee her ſtill content,

At laſt unto her Body Sickneſs ſent;

She patient was, her Beauty ſtill did laſt:

But when that they their Judgements on that caſt,

Making a Grave to bury Beauty in,

Which Beauty once did tempt the Saints to ſin;

Becauſe her Face ſo full of Pock-holes were,

That none could judge that Beauty once dwelt there.

Then did ſhe ſit and weep, turn’d day to Night,

Aſham’d ſhe was to ſhew her Face the Light.

Time, an Ingraver, draws both age and youth;

His colours mix’d with Oil of Health, layes on,

The plump ſmooth Youth he pencils then upon;

Shadows of Age he placeth with much ſkill,

Making the hollow places darkeſt ſtill.

But Time is ſlow, and leiſure he doth take,

No price will haſten him his Works to make:

But accidental Chance, who oft doth jar

With aged Time, and then ſome Works doth mar.

But when her Wealth was gone, and ſtate was down,

Then did her friends and ſervants on her frown;

So far from flattering, or profeſſors be,

As they did uſe her moſt uncivilly;

Would rail againſt her, ſpightful words throw out,

Or had ſhe been but guilty, would no doubt

Betray her life, ſuch natures have mankinde,

That thoſe in miſery no friends can finde:

For Fortunes favour onely Friendſhips make,

But few are Friends onely for Virtues ſake,

In Fortunes frowns they will not onely be

A Neuter, but a deadly Enemy,

Nay Devils are for to torment the Minde,

Where no more miſchief ’gainſt the Body finde.

But after ſhe had mourn’d three hundred dayes,

Conſidering Natures Fortunes various wayes,

She did repent, weeping for what was paſt,

Imploring Gods to pity her at laſt.

Good Gods, forgive my Vanity and Pride,

Let not my Soul with ſinfull ſpots be dy’d;

Let thy great mercies skour thoſe ſpots off clean,

That by thy Juſtice may no ſpots be ſeen.

L3 Conſider, L3v 78

Conſider, Lord, the Works that Nature makes,

The Matter, Motion, and the Form ſhe take,

The Grounds and Principles on which ſhe builds,

The Life and Death into all things diſtils,

Is various ſtill, and what ſhe doth compoſe,

Nothing but wilde Inconſtancy ſtill ſhews.

Nor is it onely the ſubſtantial part

That is compos’d thus by her Curious Art,

But what we call Immortal as the Soul,

Doth various paſſions appetites controul;

And as all Bodyes that are young, want ſtrength,

And wait for time to give them bredth and length;

So doth the Soul want Underſtanding too,

And knows not what is beſt to think or do:

Wherefore, great Jove, I never ſhall deſpair

Of thy ſweet Mercy, nor yet Devils fear.

To puniſh the ignorant wayes Youth runs,

Which Age by long experienc’d Knowledge ſhuns:

But Age oft times as faulty as Youths be

Corrupted with bad principles they ſee;

And length of time and Cuſtome makes them ſhew

As if in Man they naturally grew.

But to conclude, the time ſhe had to live

Did dedicate, and to the Gods did give.

Though young, into a Nunnery ſhe went,

Her Vows unto the Gods ſhe did preſent.

Her Dayes not being long, ſhe ſoon there dy’d,

And now her Soul with Angels doth reſide

For with her Penance, Tears, and Contrite Spirit,

She waſh’d away her Sins, and Heaven did merit.

The next Tale when you reade, it will diſcover

The fortunate, or unfortunate Lover.

A L4r 79

A Mock-Tale of the Marquiſ of Newcastles, which ſerves but as Shadows to ſet off the reſt. And confeſſeth ingeniouſly, that he was never good at telling a Tale, for he loves Truths too well. But he ſayes, his Readers will believe him without ſwearing.

A young and luſty Cheſhire Lad did move

In Venus Sphear, and was ſo fill’d with Love

When firſt he ſaw a lovely Laſs at Cheſter,

Her Badge of Chriſtianity was Heſter.

So beautifull and fair ſhe did appear,

Freſh as the welcome Spring to the New Year,

And Odoriferous as Flowers Birth,

As fair as new-born Lillyes from the Earth.

This ſet the young Mans heart in Loves Flames Fire;

Struck dumb in Love, turn’d all now to admire,

At laſt Love found a Tongue, which did not fail

To burſt out violently, and thus to rail,

Curſing now partial Nature, that did give

More Beauty to her, than elſewhere doth live.

Bankrupt in Beauty, ſince her ſtore is gone,

Mankinde condemn’d to foul ones now, or none.

Was Nature laviſh, or elſe made the theft

Upon her ſelf, ſince ſhe had nothing left

Of what is handſome? ſo I now do finde,

He enjoys thee, enjoys all Woman-kinde,

For Beauty, Favour, and what’s height of Pleaſure,

Since thou art Natures Store-houſe, and her Treaſure.

O love me then, ſince all my hopes are croſt,

If I enjoy you not, I’m wholly loſt,

For what I can call happineſs, nay worſe,

My Life then to me’s but a fatal Curſe:

But if you yeild, I’ll bleſs Dame Natures gift,

And Bounty to you, ſince ’twas all her drift,

To make her Maſter-piece in you, and vex

The envious Females, angring all your Sex;

And if her Bounty to you, you give me,

I ſhall be Deified in Love by thee

Here L4v 80

Here on my knees I beg thy Love, thus low,

Untill I have it, my knees here ſhall grow:

Therefore be kinde. She anſwer’d with ſweet eyes,

Which ſpoke, not ſpeaking for to bid him riſe;

And then diſcourſ’d with modeſt bluſhes ſo,

As that did tell him all her Heart did know.

Trembling and ſhaking with Loves palſied tongue,

With broken ſighs, and half words it was ſtrung;

Love’s Commas, full Points, and Parentheſis,

And this Loves Rhetorick, Oratory is

With Loves pale difficulty then afraid,

She ſoftly ſaid, O I’m a tender Maid,

And never heard ſuch Language, you’ll deceive me,

And now I wiſh I could wiſh you would leave me.

Why d’ye inchant a ſilly Maid: alaſs,

I never ſaw ſuch Beauty in my Glaſs

And yet I’ve heard of flatt’ring Glaſſes too,

But nothing flatters like you Men that woo;

Your Tongues, Loves Conjuration, without doubt

Circles me here in love, cannot get out

By your Loves Magick, whiſpering: Then did yield,

And ſaid, you’ve conquer’d, and have won the Field.

Such Joy between them ſuch new Paſſions rais’d,

Which made the God of Love himſelf amaz’d;

Since by no Tongue or Pen can be expreſt,

Cupid and Hymen, ne’r hop’t ſuch a feaſt.

But ſee the fate of buſineſs, which doth move

So croſs, For Buſineſs hath no ſenſe of Love.

O thou dull Buſineſs, yet ſome Statſmen pry

Into Loves Secrets with a glancing Eye:

But here our Lover was arraign’d to ſtand

Condemn’d to Buſineſs, that in Ireland

Neceſſity doth urge him. That word, part,

So cruel was, it ſtrook each others heart,

Which inwardly did bleed with ſorrows grief,

Since nothing now but hopes were their relief.

Sadly he goes aboard Love fills his Sails,

And Cupid with his wings fans gentle Gales

To waft him over, he thus thought to pleaſe

His wounded Lover ov’r thoſe rocky Seas.

Love would not leave him, nor was he content

Unleſs this dangerous paſſage with him went:

In M1r 81

In the mean time, his Miſtris did commit

Her ſelf to ſorrow, and with her to ſit

As her cloſe Priſoner, this was all her end

And grieved more than Widows do pretend.

Safely is landed now our Lover ov’r,

And Cupid with him, on the Iriſh Shore.

Love is ſo various, which ſome Lovers ſee,

Now Love an Iriſh Cupid’s turned to be;

And takes all memory thus from our Lover

Of his firſt Miſtris, and doth now diſcover

Love’s new Plantation in the Iriſh pale,

In Love’s rich Iſland there, which doth not fail

To take our Lover, and inflame him more

Under an Iriſh Mantle, than what’s ſtore

Of Gowns of Cloth of Gold, Curls, painted Art

Cheats Love, when Simple Nature wounds Loves Heart.

This change of Love is blown ſo up and down,

By Fames loud Trumpet, through all Cheſter Town:

The Women goſſip’d it, and could not hold

Till to his former Miſtris they it told.

This was the firſt time that ſhe ſmil’d to ſee

Impoſſible reports of him to be;

They might as well ſay, Phœbus gives no light,

Or Stars to fall, or make a Day of Night,

As he inconſtant was; yet Love doth doubt

Not doubting, yet inquires all about,

And ſet her Love-ſpyes to inquire anew:

But thoſe reports each minute ſtronger grew;

So ſhe reſolv’d her ſelf to know the truth,

And was diſguis’d in Cloaths now like a Youth,

And went in Cavalier: The gentle Winde

Did favour her, and landed to her Minde.

The Port was Dublin, and could not forbear

To make inquiries for her Love, and there

She found him at an Inne. He then began

To take ſuch liking to his Countryman,

All his diſcourſe inquiring for his ends,

To know the welfare of his Engliſh Friends;

Which ſhe ſo fully ſatisfied, as he

Was now inamour’d of her company;

And was ſo fond, in her took ſuch delight,

As ſupp’d, and lay together too that night,

M Never M1v 82

Never ſuſpecting her his Miſtris, then

Blindly went on, and took her for a Man

So full of love and friendſhip, could not hold,

But to her all his Iriſh love he told,

Deſiring her to go along and ſee

This Miracle of Beauty, which was ſhe;

And ſo ſhe did. Her love turn’d now diſdain;

To ſee his falſhood, and no love remain;

So baſe, unworthy, and unconſtant too,

As now began to think what ſhe ſhould do,

And quenched her Paſſion, which is wiſe and better

Than Loves complaints: ſo writ to him a letter

Of her whole Voyage, and Loves conſtant Hiſtory

All her Deſigns, diſguiſes in Loves Myſt’ry;

And left this Letter in the Window, ſo

Three or four dayes it was ’fore he did know,

Or found it out. In the mean time ſhe’s gone,

And ſhipp’d for England leaving him alone.

When found her Letter, then ſuch Paſſions grew

Stronger upon him, than ev’r Lover knew;

Reſolv’d the foaming Billows to embrace,

Thoſe liquid ſteps of hers he meant to trace,

And lay him ſelf in pickled tears of Love

Now at her feet, to ſee what that would move:

But all in vain, he thought too long had tarry’d,

When landed, found the ſame day ſhe was marry’d;

Fell in ſuch ectaſies, curſing his Fate,

The Ship and Winds, that made him come ſo late.

With Loves new hopes his Sails he fill’d, and then

Invoked God Neptune to go back again;

And all the paſſage as he went along,

Challenged the Mermaids in a loving Song;

With Loves aſſurances ſo overjoy’d,

As now his loving Heart was not annoy’d,

But fill’d with Pleaſure, and with all Delight,

Thinking t’embrace his Iriſh Love that Night.

No ſooner landed ſo――he thought to woo

His Miſtris, but he found her marry’d too.

Curſing the Stars of his Nativity,

Thus ſhort of Wedlock at both ends to be,

Made him grow deſperate and, as they ſay,

Then in deſpair he made himſelf away

Upon M2r 83

Upon a Wench, and ſome ſwear without doubt,

That there he knock’d the Brains of’s Cupid out;

So murther’d Love, and there he did enroul

Each one a Fool, with a Platonick Soul;

And ſo deſpis’d and ſcorn’d the old God Hymen

That with ſo eaſy words ſo long did tye men,

To make them Galley-ſlaves in Marriage, ſo

Ty’d in his Chains, condemn’d for life to row

In Wedlocks Galley―― Give me freedome then,

Thy Godhead I invoke, whil’ſt fooliſh Men

To Love and Hymens Priſons there do ſit,

Juſtly committed for their want of Wit:

For he’s a Fool that’s ty’d when might be free;

And thus he rav’d, and talk’d nonſenſe you ſee.

As he that writ this ſtory, you may mend it,

So for his ſake, and yours, and mine, I’ll end it.

A Lady ſaid, his Tale of Love did tell,

And ſhe a Tale of Death would fit it well;

For Death, ſaid ſhe, untyes the Lovers knot,

And from his Bow he deadly Arrows ſhot.

Alady on her Death-bed panting lay,

She call’d her Friends, and thus to them did ſay;

Farewell my deareſt Friends, for I muſt go

Unto a place which you nor I yet know;

May be my Spirits will wander in the ſhade

Of glimmering light, which is by Moonſhine made

Or in my Tomb in peace may lye aſleep

So long as Aſhes in my Urn doth keep;

Or elſe my Soul, like Birds, it may have wings,

Or like to Hercules Flyes, that want their ſtings.

But howſoever, Friends, grieve not nor cry,

For fear my Soul ſhould be diſturb’d thereby;

Cloath not your Thoughts with Melancholy black,

Call not your Grief unto remembrance back;

But let your Joyes a Reſurrection have,

Call’d forth by Comfort from the ſorrowfull Grave;

Let not Delight intombed lye

In the ſad Heart, or weeping Eye;

Let no pale Grief my Soul affright,

Shrouded in Melancholy, as dark Night:

M2 But M2v 84

But Death, ſhe ſaid, I fear him not,

So turn’d her head, and Death her ſhot,

Then on a Cypreſs Hearſe was laid forth dead,

As if Death ſcorn’d, aſide was turn’d her head;

By cruel Death her arms were careleſs flung.

Her hands over the ſides as ſtrengthleſs hung;

Her eyes were clos’d as if ſhe lay aſleep,

Though ſhe was pale, her Countenance was ſweet.

Her Elogie was thus,

Tears rain apace, and ſo a River make,

To drown all Grief within a watry Lake;

Make Seas of Tears, for Winde of Sighs to blow

Salt Billows up, the Eyes to overflow;

Let Ships of Patience traffick on the Main,

To bring in Comfort to ſad Hearts again.

The next turn, a Man,

And he thus began.

The Silk-worm and the Spider houſes make.

All their Materials from their Bowels take;

They cut no Timber down, nor carve they ſtone,

Nor buy they Ground to build their Houſes on:

Yet they are Curious, made with Art and Care,

Like Lovers, who build Caſtles in the Air,

Which every puff of Winde is apt to break,

As Imaginations, when Reaſon’s weak.

They ſaid, his Tale was ſhort,

He anſwer Made, I’ll piece it out,

And thus he ſaid.

The Silk-worm digs her Grave as ſhe doth ſpin,

And makes her Winding-ſheet to lap her in;

And from her Bowels takes a heap of Silk,

Which on her Body as a Tomb is built;

Out of her Aſhes doth her young ones riſe,

Bequeaths her Life to them, and ſo ſhe dyes.

They onely take that Life to ſpin a Death,

For as they winde up Silk, they winde out Breath.

Thus, rather than do nought, or idle be,

They’ll work, and ſpin out Lifes ſmall Thread we ſee.

When M3r 85

When all their work is done, ready to dye,

Their Wings are grown, for Life away to fly.

The Silk-worm is firſt a ſmall Seed, then turns into a Worm, at laſt grows to have Wings like a Fly, but lives not to make uſe of them; as ſoon as ſhe receives Life, ſhe ſpins a Ball of Silk all about her ſelf; and when ſhe is grown to be a Fly, ſhe makes a hole to come out, and dyes in the paſſage; the ſeed ſhe leaves is the generation of her young; and like a Phœnix, they revive after her death.

The Women ſaid, the Men made ſuch diſpatch

In telling Tales, like Dogs that Bones do ſnatch.

But howſoev’r, a Woman did begin

To tell a Tale, and thus ſhe entred in:

A Deſcription of the Paſsion of Love miſ-placed.

A Lady on the Ground a mourning lay,

Complaining to the Gods, and thus did ſay:

You Gods, ſaid ſhe, why do you me torment?

Why give you Life, without the Minds content?

Why do you Paſſions in a Minde create?

Then leave it all to Deſtiny and Fate;

With knots and ſnarls they ſpin the Thread of Life,

Then weave it croſs, and make a web of ſtrife.

Come Death, though Fates are croſs, yet thou’rt a Friend,

And in the Grave doſt peace and quiet ſend.

It chanc’d a Gentleman that way came by,

And ſeeing there a weeping Beauty lye;

Alas, dear Lady, why do you ſo weep,

Unleſs your Tears you mean the Gods ſhall keep?

Jove will preſent thoſe Tears to Juno fair,

For Pendants, and for Neck-laces to wear;

And ſo preſent that Breath to Juno fair,

That ſhe may allwayes move in perfum’d Air;

Forbear, forbear, make not the World ſo poor,

Send not ſuch Riches, for the Gods have ſtore.

M3 I M3v 86

I am, ſaid ſhe, to whom Fortunes a Foe;

Croſſing my Love, and works my overthrow,

A Man which to Narciſſus might compare

For Youth and Beauty, and the Graces fair

Doth him adorn, on him my love is plac’d,

But his neglect doth make my life to waſt;

My ſoul doth mourn, my thoughts no reſt can take,

And by his ſcorn doth me unhappy make.

With that ſhe cry’d, O Death, ſaid ſhe, come quick,

And in my heart thy leaden Arrow ſtick.

Take comfort, Lady green, nor weep no more,

For Nature handſome Men hath more in ſtore;

Beſides, dear Lady, Beauty will decay,

And with that Beauty, Love will flee away;

If you take time, this heat of Love will waſt,

Becauſe ’tis onely on a Beauty plac’d:

But if your Love did from his Virtue ſpring,

You might have lov’d, though not ſo fond have been.

The love of Virtue is for to admire

The Soul, and not the Body to deſire;

That’s a groſs Love, which onely dull Beaſts uſe,

But noble Man to love the Soul will chooſe;

Becauſe the Soul is like a Deity,

There pure Love will live eternally.

O Sir, but Nature hath the Soul ſo fix’d

Unto the Body, and ſuch Paſſions mix’d,

That nothing can divide or diſunite,

Unleſs that Death will ſeparate them quite;

For when the Senſes in Delights agree,

Binds faſt the Soul, makes it a Slave to be.

He anſwered.

If that the Soul ſhould give conſent

In every thing the Senſes to content,

No Peace, but War amongſt Mankinde will be,

Ruine and Deſolation would have Victory;

Few Men can call or challenge what’s his own,

For he would Maſter be that was moſt ſtrong.

Lady, love Virtue, and let Beauty dye,

And in the Grave of Ruins let it lye.

With that ſhe roſe, and with great joy, ſaid ſhe,

Farewell, fond Love, and fooliſh Vanity.

The M4r 87

The Men condemn’d the Tale, becauſe, ſaid they,

None but a Fool would preach ſo, Wiſe Men pray.

Ladyes, but hear me, did another ſay.

To love but one, is a great fault,

For Nature otherwiſe is taught;

She caus’d Varieties for us to taſte,

And other Appetites in us ſhe plac’d:

And caus’d diſlike in us to riſe,

To ſurfet when we gormandize;

For of one Diſh we glut our palat,

Although it be but of a Salat.

When Salomon the Wiſe did try

Of all things underneath the Skye,

Allthough he found it Vanity,

Yet by it Nature made us free;

For by the change, her Works do live

By ſeveral Forms that ſhe doth give:

So that Inconſtancy is Natures play,

And we, her various Works, muſt her obey.

A Woman ſaid, that Men were fooliſh Lovers,

And whining Paſſions often times diſcovers;

They’re full of thoughts, ſaid ſhe, yet never pleas’d,

Allwayes complaining, and yet never eas’d;

They sigh, they mourn, they groan, they make great moan,

They’ll ſit croſs legg’d, with folded arms alone.

Sometimes their dreſs is careleſs with deſpair,

With hopes rais’d up, as coſtly rich and rare,

Setting their looks and faces in a frame,

Their garb’s affected by their Miſtris name;

Flattering their loves, forſwear, or elſe they boaſts

What valiant deeds they’ve done in Forreign Coaſts;

What hard adventures, and through dangers run,

Such acts as Hercules had never done;

That every one that hears, doth fear their name

And every tongue that ſpeaks, ſounds forth their fame;

And thus their tongues extravagantly move,

Caus’d by vain-glorious fooliſh amorous love,

Which onely the maſculine Sex do prove.

But M4v 88

But when their Raillery was paſt,

The Tale upon a Man was caſt:

Then crying peace to all that talking were

To hold their tongues, and each to lend an ear

To liſſen to a Tale, their words forbear.

A Man amongſt the reſt was ſomewhat old,

They ſaid to him, your Tale you have not told;

Alas, ſaid he, my Memory is bad,

And I have none ſo good as you have had

Then muſing a ſhort time, thus did begin;

I hope, ſaid he, my Tale may credit win.

A Deſcription of Civil Wars.

Akingdome which long time had live in Peace,

Her People rich with Plenty, fat with Eaſe,

With Pride were haughty grown, Pride Envy bred,

From Envy Factions grew, then Miſchief ſpread;

And Libels every where were ſtrew’d about,

Which after ſoon a Civil War broke out.

Some for the Commons fought, ſome for the King,

And great diſorder was ’mongſt every thing;

Battles were loſt and won on either ſide,

Where Fortune ebb’d and flow’d, like to a Tide;

At laſt the Commons won, and then aſtride

Fierce Tyrannie on Noble Necks did ride

All Monuments pull’d down, that ſtood long time,

All Ornaments were then thought a great Crime;

No Law did plead, unleſs the Martial Law,

The Sword did rule, and keep them all in aw;

No Prayers offer’d to the Gods on high,

All Ceremony in the Duſt did lye;

Nothing was done in Order, Truth, and Right,

Nought govern’d then but Malice, Spleen, and Spight.

But mark how juſtly Gods do puniſh Men

To make them humble, and to bow to them:

Though they had Plenty, and thereof did eat,

They reliſh’d not that good and ſavoury Meat;

Becauſe their Conſcience did them ſo torment,

For all their Plenty they were diſcontent;

They took no reſt, Cares ſo oppreſs’d their Minde,

No Joy nor Comfort in the World could finde.

When N1r 89

When drowſie ſleep upon their eyes did ſet,

Then fearful Viſions in their dreams they met;

In Life no pleaſure take, yet fear to dye,

No mercy can they hope from Gods on high.

O ſerve the Gods, and then the Minde will be

Allwayes in peace, and ſweet tranquillity.

A Woman ſaid, a Tale I mean to tell,

That in theſe Wars unto a Croſs befell.

An antient Croſs liv’d in our Fathers time,

With as much Fame, as did the Worthyes nine;

No harm it did, nor injury to none,

But dwelt in peace, and quietly alone;

On Times nor Government did not complain,

But ſtood ſtone-ſtill, not ſtirr’d in no Kings reign;

Both Winters Snow, and Summers ſcorching Sun

He did endure, and urin’d was upon:

Yet peacefull Nature, nor yet humble Minde

Shall not avoyd rude Ignorance that’s blinde

That ſuperſtitiously bears down all things

Which ſmell but of Antiquity, or ſprings

From Noble Deeds, nor love, nor take delight

In Laws, or Juſtice, hating Truth and Right;

But Innovations love, for that ſeems fine,

And what is new, adore they as divine;

That makes them ſo neglect the Gods above,

For time doth waſte both their reſpect and love.

And ſo this Croſs, poor Croſs, all in a rage

They pull’d down quite, the fault was onely Age.

Had it been gilded gloriouſly and brave,

Then Vanity for an excuſe might have:

But he was poor, his Morter all off worn,

Which time had eaten off, as Dogs had torn

The fleſh from bones of Hares, or harmleſs Sheep,

Or like to Skeletons, that Scholars keep:

If they had pious been, it might have ſtood

To mollifie the Minds of Men to good:

But they were wicked, hating everything

That by example might to goodneſs bring:

Then down they pull’d it, leaving not one ſtone

Upon another, for it to be known

N To N1v 90

To after Ages, for the Ground lyes bare,

That none can know once Antient Croſs ſtood there.

Then ſaid a Man, I can this Tale well fit,

For I a Tale can tell that’s like to it.

In former times, when falſe Devotion reign’d,

A Church was built, although to uſe profan’d,

Was Conſecrated as Diana’s right,

Who was their Goddeſs of the Moon-ſhine bright.

But afterwards when Truth with Zeal did flame,

It Chriſtned was, and bore Jove’s mighty name,

And dedicated to the Sun above,

Then marryed was, became his Spouſe and Love.

Long did ſhe live in duty, peace, and zeal,

Became an Honour to the Common-weal;

Was curiouſly adorn’d, within, without,

The Choire all hung with Hangings rich about;

With Marble Tombs and Statues carv’d and cut,

Wherein the Bodyes of good Saints were put.

There poliſh’d Pillars ’long the Iles did ſtand,

And arched Roofs built by a skilfull hand;

With painted Windows plac’d on either ſide,

At every end were Gates, large, open, wide;

And all the inſide was moſt bravely gilt,

And all the outſide with Free ſtone was built:

There Choriſters did ſing each ſeveral note,

And Organs loud did anſwer every throat;

And Prieſts there taught Men how to pray and live,

Rewards and Puniſhments which Jove did give.

But mark, this Temple was deſtroy’d by ſin,

Since they did leave to worſhip Jove therein;

Becauſe this Church profan’d by ſinfull Men.

Then made a Stable, and for Thieves a Den.

No ſurer mark the Gods on Men do frown,

As to give leave to pull their Temples down.

Alady ſaid, theſe Wars her Soul did ſhake,

And the remembrance made her Heart to ake.

My Brother then was murther’d in cold Blood,

Incircled round with Enemies he ſtood;

Where N2r 91

Where he, like to a fixed Star, ſhin’d bright,

They like to black and pitchy Clouds of Night;

He like the Sun, his Courage like that heat;

Their envy, like bad Vapours, ſtrove to beat

His Light of Honour out, but pow’rfull Fame

Did throw their ſpight back on their heads with ſhame;

And though they ſtruck his Body, not his Minde,

For that in Death through all their Malice ſhin’d;

He Valiant was, his Spirits knew no fear,

They never chil’d, when in a Battle were,

And ſtrove to give more blows than ſafety ſought,

His Limbs moſt vigour had when that he fought;

He ſpoke not loud, nor ſung, his fear to hide,

With ſilence march’d, and quietly did ride,

Viewing the Armyes with a watchfull eye,

And carefull was, Advantages to ſpye.

If that his Souldiers chanc’d to run away,

He ran not after, as to make them ſtay,

As ſome Commanders, which will call and run

After the Souldiers, for them to return:

But when once gone, ſeldome returne again,

But with their Souldiers they will ſafe remain.

But he amongſt his Foes like Earth was fix’d,

Or like to Fire, himſelf was intermix’d,

Within their ſolid Bodyes did divide,

Pulling their Fabrick down on either ſide;

Untill his Mercy did for Favour pray

Unto his Courage, ſo to run away.

He made them know he was a Souldier good,

Train’d up in Wars, the Art he underſtood;

Beſides, his Genius was prompt thereunto,

Wit, skill, Invention, knew the beſt to do;

Which made the Foe more one wordobscuredfierce his life to take,

For fear that he their ruine ſoon would make:

For they, as ſoon as had them in their power,

Like greedy Vultures, did his Life devour;

He ſtood their Rage, his Courage knew no fear,

Nor on grim Death with Terrour did he ſtare,

But did embrace him with a Generous Minde,

With Noble Thoughts, and Kiſſes that were kinde;

Vollyes of Shot did all his Body tear,

Where his Blood’s ſpilt, the Earth no Graſs will bear.

N2 As N2v 92

As if for to revenge his Death, the Earthe

Was curs’d with Barrenneſs even from her Birth.

And though his Body in the Grave doth lye,

His Fame doth live, and will eternally.

His Soul’s Immortal, and ſo is his Fame,

His Soul in Heaven doth live, and here his Name.

The next time was a Man his turn to ſpeak,

Who ſaid, that Civil Wars made Rich Men break;

Populate Kingdomes, that do flouriſh well

In Peace and Plenty, they to ruine fell.

When I, with grief, unto remembrance bring

The bleſſed time Men liv’d with a good King;

To think at firſt how happy ſuch do reign,

And in ſweet Peace ſuch Kingdomes do remain;

Where Magiſtrates do ſit in Juſtice Throne,

Few Crimes committed, Puniſhments ſcarce known;

The Nobles liv’d in ſtate, and high degree,

All happy, even to the Peaſantry;

Where eaſy Laws, no Tax to make them poor,

All live with Plenty, full in every Store;

They Cuſtomes have to recreate the Minde,

Not barbarous, but civil, gentle, kinde;

And thoſe where Chance and Fortune bad do fall

Have means ſtraight given to be kept withall;

Their Lands are fertil, and their Barns are full,

Orchards thick planted, from whence Fruit may pull;

Store of Cattle feeding in Meadows green,

Where Chryſtal Brooks run every Field between;

Where Cowſlips growing, which makes Butter yellow,

And fatted Beaſts, two inches thick with Tallow;

And many Parks for fallow Deer to run,

Shadow’d with Woods, to keep them from the Sun

And in ſuch Kingdomes, Beaſts, Fowl, Fiſh, have ſtore.

Thoſe that induſtrious are, can nev’r be poor.

But O ſad Fate and Fortune, if it chance

The Sword of Civil War for to advance;

As when Rebellions, like a watry Flood,

Ov’rflows all Monarchy in Royal Blood,

Builds Ariſtocracy with cruel hands,

On unjuſt grounds of Tyrannie it ſtands.

Then N3r 93

Then into wicked States ſuch Kingdomes go,

Where Virtue’s beaten out, no truth they know;

And all Religion flyes away for fear,

And Atheiſm is preached every where.

Their Magiſtrates by Bribes do govern all,

No Suit is heard, but what Injuſtice call;

For Covetousneſs and Malice plead at Bar

Againſt poor Honeſty, with whom they jar;

Calamity doth finde no Pity, for

All Pity’s buried in a Civil War.

A Ladyes turn was next,

Which told this Tale perplext.

She ſaid, I over Sea to happ’ and went,

My Husband being then in Baniſhment;

His eſtate gone, and being very poor,

I thought ſome means Compaſſion might reſtore:

But when I ask’d, no pity could I finde,

Hard were their Hearts, and cruel every Minde.

Fye, ſaith a Man, you do all orders break,

So long on Melancholy ſubjects ſpeak.

The Prologue to the Beggars Marriage.

I’ve ſerv’d two Prenticeſhips, and now am made

Free of the Beggars Company to trade;

My Stock, in ſecret to your Ear I ſpeak,

Is ſuch, as I am ſure I ſhall not break:

Let Boreas burſt his Cheeks, and the Sea roar,

The Beggars Bark can nev’r be tumbled ov’r.

What fitter ſubject for my Muſe can be,

Than make Deſcriptions of our Company?

The Beggars Theme too well my Fortunes fit,

My Begg’rly Phanſie too, and ſo my Wit.

N3 The N3v 94

The Marquis of Newcastles Deſcription of The Beggars Marriage.

Whileome there was an aged Beggar old,

Who in his time full fourſcore Winters told;

His head all frozen, beard long, white as ſnow,

With a ſtaffs prop, unneath elſe might he go;

With bleared eyne, all parched, dry, and cold;

With ſhaking Palſey, little could he hold;

His cloaths ſo tatter’d, for they were ſo worn,

Older than he, in many pieces torn;

The ſubtill’ſt Brain, and pryingſt Eye, thoſe ſeen,

Both could not gueſs what ſtuff they’d ever been;

On’s Cloak more ſeveral patches there did ſtick

Then labour’d Algebraſe Arithmetick

Could once tell how to number, and was fuller

Than was the Rainbow of each various colour,

But not ſo freſh, ſo faded when th’were ſeen

That none could gueſs which red, which blue, which green;

His Turf-houſe lean’d to an old ſtump of Oak,

A hole at top there for to voyd the Smoak

Of ſtolen ſcatter’d Boughs, could not be fed,

But by his daily begging daily bread:

There on his little bench I’ll leave him, then

Within a while I’ll ſpeak of him again.

A wither’d Beggar-woman, little ſunder’d

From him, who all the Town ſaid, was a hundred;

Toothleſs ſhe was, nay more, worn all her Gums,

And all her Fingers too were worn to Thumbs;

Wrinkles, deep Graves to bury all Delight,

Eyes no ſunk holes, little ſhe had of ſight,

Little could ſpeak, as little ſenſe could tell,

Seldome ſhe heard, ſometimes the great Towns Bell;

A long forgetfulneſs her legs had ſeiz’d,

For many years her Crutches them had eas’d;

Cloaths, thouſand rags torn with the Winde and Weather.

Her houswifry long ſince had ſew’d together;

No livelyhood, but Charity grown cold,

As ſhe was, this more than her years made old.

In a hot Summers day they out did creep,

Enliven’ juſt like Flyes, for elſe they ſleep;

Creeping N4r 95

Creeping at laſt, each one to other get,

Louſing each other, kindly thus they met;

Apollo’s Maſter-piece ſhining, did aim

To light dead Aſhes ſparks, not make a flame

To ſtir up Nature in them, now ſo cold,

And whether Cupid dwelt in them who’re old;

Now heat and kindneſs made him try to kiſs her

Her palſy’d head ſo ſhaked, he ſtill did miſs her;

He thought it Modeſty; ſhe ’gainſt her will,

Striving to pleaſe him, could not hold it ſtill;

She mumbl’d, but he could not underſtand her,

He cry’d, ſweet Hero, I’ll be thy Leander;

She ſaid, before we met, cold as a ſtone is,

I was, but now am Venus, thou Adonis.

Such heights of Paſſions love utter’d theſe two,

As youngeſt Lovers, when they ’gin to woo;

For Cupid’s reign ov’r Mankinde ſtill will have,

He governs from the Cradle to the Grave.

Their Virtues ſuch, not ſin, yet would not tarry,

So heated, vow’d a Contract, then to marry.

This Marriage now divulg’d was every where

To neighbour Beggars, Beggars far and near;

The Day appointed, and the Marriage ſet,

The Lame, the Blinde, the Deaf, they all were met;

Such throngs of Beggars, Women, Children ſeen

Muſter’d all on the Towns, fair Graſſy green;

The Bridegroom led between two Lame Men, ſo

Becauſe our Bridegroom faſt he could not go;

The Bride was led by Blinde Men, him behinde,

Becauſe you know that Love is allwayes blinde:

The Hedge-Prieſt then was call’d for, did him bring,

Marry’d them both with an old Curtain-Ring;

No Father there was found, nor could be ever,

She was ſo old, that there was none to give her.

With Acclamations now of louder joy,

Pray’d Hymen Priapus to ſend a Boy,

To ſhew a Miracle; in Vows moſt deep,

The Pariſh ſwore their Children all to keep.

Then Tom a Bedlam wound his Horn, at beſt,

Their Trumpet now, to bring away the Feaſt;

Pick’d Marrow-bones they had found in the Street,

Carrots kick’d out of Kennels with their feet;

Cruſts N4v 96

Cruſts gather’d up, for Bisket twas ſo dry’d;

Alms-tubs Olio pudridoes, had beſide;

Many ſuch Diſhes had, but it would cumber

Any to name them, more than I can number.

Then came the Banquet, that muſt never fail,

Which the Town gave, that’s white Bread, and ſtrong Ale;

Each was ſo tipſy, that they could not go,

And yet would dance, and cry’d for Muſick, ho;

Gridirons, and Tongs, with Keys, they play’d on too,

And blinde Men ſung to them, as uſe to do;

Some whiſtled then, and hollow ſticks did ſound,

And thus melodiouſly they play’d a Round;

Lame Men, lame Women mingled, cry’d advance,

And ſo all limping, jovially did dance;

The deaf Men too, for they could not forbear

When they ſaw this, although they did not hear,

Which was their happineſs, now to the Houſe

Of Bridegroom brought the Bride, each drunk as Mouſe;

No room for any but them two, they ſaw,

So laid them both in Bed of freſher Strawe:

Then took their leave, put out their ruſhen light

But they themſelves did revel all the night:

The Bridegroom ruſſles now, kiſs’d, and ſaid, Friend,

But when he kiſs’d, thought ’twas at the other end,

And cry’d her mercy, ſaid he could not look,

It was ſo dark, and thought he had miſtook;

No, ſaid the Bride moſt ſweetly, you are right

And if our Taper here was ſhining bright.

Now Loves Heſperides would touch the ſame,

That place, O place, which place, no tongue ſhould name:

She, gentle Dame, with roving hand indeed,

Inſtead of Crutches, found a broken Reed.

They both now fill’d with Ale, Brains in’t did ſteep,

So, arms in arms, our Lovers fell aſleep.

So for the Will, though nothing elſe indeed,

To Love the Beggars built a Pyramid.

A O1r 97

A Tale of my Lord Marquis of Newcastles, called the Philoſophers Complaint.

I through a Cranny there did ſpye

A grave Philoſopher all ſad,

With a dim Taper burning by,

His Study was in Mourning clad.

He ſigh’d, and did lament his ſtate,

Curſing Dame Nature, for ’twas ſhe,

For to allot him ſuch a Fate,

To make him of Mankinde to be.

All other Animals, their mould

Of thouſand Paſſions makes them free

Since they’re not ſubject unto Gold,

Which doth corrupt Mankinde we ſee.

The buſy Merchant plows the Main,

The pleading Lawyer for his Fee,

Pious Divines for Lawfull Gain,

Mechanicks all ſtill Coſeners be.

With Plow-ſhares, Farmers wound the Earth,

Look to their Cattle, Swine, and Sheep,

To multiply their Seed, Corns birth,

And all for Money which they keep.

The Sun-burnt Dame prevents the Day,

As her laborious Bees for Honey,

Doth milk her Kine, and ſpins away

Her fatal thread of Life for Money.

Mankinde doth on God Pluto call,

To ſerve him ſtill, is all their pleaſure,

Love here doth little, Money all,

For of this World it is the meaſure.

O Beaſts O1v 98

Beaſts do deſpiſe this orient mettle,

Each freely grazing fills his maw,

After Love’s procreating, ſettle

To ſofter ſleep, wiſe Natures Law.

They’re not Litigious, but are mute,

Falſe Propoſitions never make,

Nor of unknown things do diſpute

Follyes, for wiſe things do not take.

Or flow’ry Rhet’rick to deceive,

Nor Logick to enforce the wrong,

Or tedious Hiſtory to weave,

Troubling the hearers all along.

Nor ſtudy the inamell’d Skye,

Thinking they’re govern’d by each Star;

But ſcorn Mans falſe Aſtrology,

And think themſelves juſt as they are.

Their Pride not being ſo ſupream,

Celeſtial Bodyes moving thus,

Poor Mortals each awaking dream,

To think thoſe Lights were made for us.

Nor are they troubled where they run,

What the Suns matter it might be,

Whether the Earth moves, or the Sun,

And yet they know as well as we.

Nor do they with grave troubled looks,

By ſtudious Learning for to ſtay

Or multiplicity of Books

To put them out of Truths right way.

Nor Policyes, Beaſts never weaves,

Or ſubt’ler traps they ever lay

With falſe diſſembling, which deceives

Their kinde to ruine, or betray.

No O2r 99

No hot ambition in them are,

Trumpets are ſilent, Drums do ceaſe,

No troublers in their kinde in War

For to deſtroy, but all for Peace.

The Stranger valu’d Jems that dreſs

Our beauteous Ladies like the day,

A Parrots feathers are no leſs,

And goſſips too as well as they.

Man’s ever troubled ’bout his Fame,

For Glory and Ambition hot,

When Beaſts are conſtantly the ſame,

In them thoſe follies enter not;

Nor hope of Worlds to come that’s higher,

With ſeveral Sects diviſions make,

Or fear an everlaſting Fire,

But quiet ſleep, and ſo awake.

Man ſtill with thoughts himſelf torments,

Various deſires, what ſhall be,

And in his life hath ſmall contents,

Beaſts pleaſ’d with what they have, not we.

Repining Man, for what is paſt,

Hating the preſent what they ſee,

Frighted with what’s to come at laſt,

Beaſts pleas’d with what is, and muſt be.

Eaſe Man doth hate, and buſineſs ſtore,

A burthen to himſelf he is,

Weary of time, yet wiſhes more,

Beaſts all theſe Vanities they miſs.

Self-loving Man ſo proud a durt

Vain ’bove all things, when underſtood,

Studies alwayes himſelf a hurt,

Where Beaſts are wiſe to their own good.

O2 Man O2v 100

Man makes himſelf a troubled way,

Runs into ſeveral dangers ſtill,

When in thoſe thoughts Beaſts never ſtray,

But do avoyd them with their will.

Man’s troubled head with brain ſtill ſwelling

Beyond the power of Senſes five,

Not capable of thoſe things telling,

Beaſts beyond ſenſes do not ſtrive.

Natures juſt meaſure Senſes are,

And no Impoſſibles deſire,

Beaſts ſeek not after things that’s far,

Or Toyes or Bables ſtill admire.

Beaſts ſlander not, or falſhoods raiſe,

But full of truth, as Nature taught,

And wiſely ſhun diſſembling wayes,

Follow Dame Nature as they ought.

Nor to falſe Gods do ſacrifice,

Or promiſe Vows to break them, no,

No Doctrine to delude with lyes,

Or worſhip Gods they do not know.

Nor envy any that do riſe,

Or joyfull ſeem at thoſe that fall,

Or crooked wayes ’gainſt others tries,

But love their kinde, themſelves and all.

Hard labour ſuffer when they muſt,

When over-aw’d, they wiſely bend,

In onely Patience then they truſt,

As miſeries and afflictions Friend.

They ſeek not after Beauties blaſe

To tempt their appetite when dull,

But drink the Stream that Tempeſts raiſe,

And grumble not when they are full.

O3 They O3r 101

They take no Phyſick to deſtroy

That health which Nature to them gave,

Nor rul’d by Tyrants Laws,

Yet happy ſeem with what they have.

With cares Men break their ſweet repoſe,

Like Wheels that wear with turning round;

Beaſts quiet thoughts their eye lids cloſe,

And in ſoft ſleep all cares they drown’d.

No Rattles, Fairins, Ribbins, Strings,

Fiddles, Pipes, Minſtrelſes them move,

Or Bugle Bracelets, or fine Rings,

And without Cupid, maketh Love.

O happy Beaſts, that ſpend the day

In pleaſure with their neareſt Kin,

And all is lawful in their way;

And live and dye without a ſin.

Their Conſcience nev’r troubled is,

We made ſo, yet forbid it too,

For Nature here is not amiſs,

We ſtrive ’gainſt what w’are made to do.

Beaſts need not Language, they deſpiſe

Unuſefull things, all Mens delight,

Thoſe marks which Language from doth riſe,

If pleas’d with them, diſcourſe they might.

And out of words they argue not,

But Reaſon out of things they do,

When we vain goſſipings have got,

They quiet ſilent lives have too.

Complain’d of Scholars, that they ſought

With envious watching, and with ſpight,

To have the goode to finde a fault

In any Author that doth write.

O3 O O3v 102

O vain Philoſophy! their Laws

With hard words ſtill for matter brings,

Which is nothing, nor knows the cauſe

Of any thing; unuſefull things.

Why are our Learned then ſo proud,

Thinking to bring us to their bow,

And Ignorance, Wiſdome allow’d,

And know not that they do not know.

Motions ceſſation is the end

Of Animals, both Beaſts and Men,

The longeſt lives to that do tend,

And to Deaths Palace, his dark Den.

Or that Beaſts breath doth downwards go,

And that Mens ſouls do upward riſe;

No Poſt from that World comes you know,

It puzzled Salomon the Wiſe.

Thus he complain’d, and was annoy’d

Our grave Philoſopher for’s birth,

That he was made to be deſtroy’d,

Or turn’d to ſad or colder Earth.

I pity’d him, and his ſad caſe

Wiſhing our Vicar him to teach,

For to infuſe a ſaving Grace,

By his tongues rhet’rick for to preach.

A O4r 103

An Epiſtle to my Readers.

Ideſire my Readers to judge this Book of mine according to the harmleſs Recreation of my idle time, and not as a laborious, learned, ſtudious, or a methodical Work. I did not pencil them ſo much for ſale, as pleaſure; not but that I ſhould be well pleaſed to receive Fame for my ſeveral Pieces and Copies of nature, or natural Copies. But I ſhall not exact high Praiſes, nor expect great Renown for this Work: but if I can get an indifferent Commendation, I ſhall think I have enough for theſe Pieces, if not, yet the pleaſure of writing them is a ſufficient reward to me the Authoreſs.

Margaret Newcastle.

Her O4v P1r 105

Her Excellencies Comical Tales in Prose.

The ſecond Book.

The Schools Quarrels, or Scholars Battles.

Aman travelling, and being very weary, ſeeing a large Houſe, alighted, and went to the Gates, which he found open for any to paſs without oppoſition; and entring therein, he came into a large paved Court; and walking about it, he heard a noyſe or ſound like a great Wind; whereat he looked up towards the Clouds, and ſeeing the Air not much agitated, he wondred at it; at laſt he looked in at a Door that was open, but there was ſuch a miſt, that he could ſee no further than the entrance: yet going in, he perceived a long Gallery, wherein were Books placed in long rows, and Men in old tatter’d Gowns reading therein, and turning the leaves thereof; which ſhewed him his errour in thinking he heard a Winde, for it was the ſhuffling of the numberleſs leaves of the numerous Books that were turned over by thoſe many men. But deſiring to inſtruct himſelf of their ſeveral ſtudyes, he went ſoftly to peruſe them.

Where the firſt Man he took notice of, was one, that as he read, did beat his hands upon the Desk whereon his Book lay; and looking over his ſhoulder, perceived he was ſtudying the Laws; and acted, againſt ſo he pleaded at the Bar.

Then he went to the next, and he was counting on his fingers; and looking in his Book, ſaw he was ſtudying Arithmetick.

A third was with a Celeſtial Globe, and a pair of Compaſſes, very buſy ſtudying of Aſtronomy, meaſuring of the Planets, and their diſtance.

The fourth was with a Terreſtial Globe before his Book; and one while he would reade, then view the Globe, and then reade again; and he was ſtudying Geography.

P On P1v 106

On the other ſide he ſaw one very ſerious in his ſtudy, and he was reading Moral Philoſophy.

Another he ſaw reading, and he would often lay his hand upon his breaſt, and caſt up the black of his eyes; and he was ſtudying Theology.

Then there were others, as they read, would often ſcratch their heads; and they were Natural Philoſophers.

But one amongſt the reſt looked very merrily, and he was ſtudying the old Poets.

Likewiſe there were very many more, as Hiſtorians, Grammarians, Logicians, Geometricians, Phyſicians, and the like.

At laſt there was a little Bell which rung; whereupon they all left off their ſtudying, and began to walk about, diſourſing to each other, applying themſelves according to their ſeveral ſtudyes. So the Grammarians and the Logicians began to diſpute, one for the words, or rather for the letters the other, for the ſenſe, ſubject, and matter of diſcourſe; the one troubling himſelf with Derivations, the other about Quantities and Qualities.

Then fell into diſpute two Divines about Controverſies; but they grew ſo hot with zeal, that their diſcourſe flamed up high, and their fiery words flew above all reſpect or civility, calling one another Heretick, and Beelzebub, and the Whore of Babylon, and the like terms, that the reſt of the Scholars had much ado to apeaſe them. But amongſt the reſt there were two Hiſtorians, the one a Grecian, the other a Roman: theſe two talking of Cæſar and Alexander, the Roman Hiſtorian ſaid, there was no compariſon between thoſe two Worthyes; for, ſaid he, Alexander was onely a Darling of Fortune, whoſe favour gave him a free paſſage without oppoſition, in which he had no occaſion to ſhew his Courage, Skill, Conduct, or Induſtry and, ſaid he, Fools, Cowards, and Slothfull perſons have had good fortune ſometimes. At this diſcourse the Grecian grew very angry, ſaying, that Alexander was born from a Warrier, and bred a Souldier, and was a valiant, wiſe Commander; and that Cæſar was onely a Man of Fortune, Traiterous, Deſperate, and whatſoever he got was all by Chance: But one in the defence of Alexander, the other of Ceſar, they fell from words to blows, and like two School-boyes, to cuffs they went; and ſuch notable thumping blows they gave each other, that either had a bloody noſe; whereupon the reſt of the Scholars began to ſide in Factions, ſome taking one part, ſome another, that at laſt they were all together by the ears; and ſo fierce in fight they were, that the Drums of their Heads, and the Trumpets of their Tongues, arrived to the Maſter of the Colledge’s hearing; at which noyſe he went running up to inform himſelf of the Cauſe; but when he came, his queſtions could not be heard, nor his commands obeyed, for all the Scholars were divided ſo equally, as if it had been a pitched Battle; for all the Septicks were againſt the Mathematicians, the Natural Philoſophers againſt the Divines, the ſevere Moraliſts againſt the Poets, and in the like oppoſition were all the reſt: but at laſt they grew out of all order, and there became ſuch a confuſion, that they P2r 107 they cared not who they did ſtrike, ſo they did fight, although ’twere their own parties: Whereupon the Maſter of the Colledge hollowed ſo loud, and beſtirr’d himſelf ſo prudently, that he appeaſed them; and after their fury was quenched, at leaſt abated, they began to conſider; and finding their quarrels needleſs, they were aſhamed, and feeling their received blows painfull, they did repent. But howſoever, it was a ſtrange ſight to behold them, ſome having black and blew eyes, others ſwelled foreheads like Camels backs, others ſcratched faces, ſome blowing blood out of their noſtrils, others ſpitting blood out of their mouths, and ſome their teeth alſo; and all the hair both of their heads and beards was in a ruffled, ſnarled, affrighted poſture; and the poor Library was like a Ship after a ſtorm at Sea, in great diſorder; for there was ſtrewed about pieces of papers rent from Books, and old patches of cloth and ſtuff torn from Gowns; Slippers kick’d from their feet, Caps flown from their heads, handfuls of hairs pulled from their crowns, and pen and ink, ſans number. But the man that came by chance, crept into a hole, and was in ſuch an agony of fear to ſee this diſtraction, that he had not power to come forth, but at laſt, when they were all gone out of the Library to ſupper, or prayers, he took courage, and came out of the corner, ſtealing forth the ſame way he came in. But when he was clearly got from the Colledge, full glad he was, and then began to call into his minde their Quarrels; and when he had conſidered, Well, ſaid he to himſelf, if there be no more tranquillity and order amongſt Scholars, I will keep the company of my merry, harmleſs, ignorant neighbours, and ſo returned home.

The Obſerver.

Agentleman deſirous to travel to ſee the Varieties of ſevral Countryes and Governments, at laſt he arrived in a Kingdome, where he went to the chief City; and there wandring about, came to the Kings Palace; and though there was a Guard, yet there was a Porter ſitting at the outward Gate of the Palace; ſo he went to the Porter. Sir, ſaid he, I am a Stranger that travels to ſee ſeveral Kingdomes, and alſo Courts; and I have heard great praiſes and fame of your King for his peaceable and wiſe Government, wherefore I deſire you would pleaſe to aſſiſt me if you can, to ſee the King. So putting two or three pieces of Gold into his hand, that the Porter might as well feel his bounty, as hear his deſire, to help make his paſſage free, the Porter making legs without thanks, for Bribes have onely civil Congies, he told him there was a Gentleman at Court that was his very good Friend, and that he uſed to come and go through the Gate late at night, and early in the morning; which he need not have told, but he thought he ſhould have as much knowledge for his money as he could give: but, ſaid he, I will P2 go P2v 108 go and try if I can finde this Gentleman, my good Friend, and he will ſhew you the King for my ſake.

No ſooner had he ſpoke, but the Gentleman came by, which at the Porters intreaty, conducts this Stranger to the ſight of the King and Queen; for Courtiers will oblige one another for intereſt ſake, although they have neither kindneſs, nor civility, where they have or rather cannot have ends or deſigns. So he guided this Gentleman through a great Court-yard, wherein were many walking and talking, like Merchants in an Exchange, or as a Court of Judicature; and ſo up a pair of ſtairs into a large Room, where was a Guard of Souldiers with Halberts, which were more for ſhew than for danger, for the Halberts lay by, and great Jacks of Beer and Wine were in their hands and ſome at their mouths, drinking to one another; and by their ſtrong large ſtature, and ſwell’d bulk, they ſeemed as if they did uſe to eat to the ſame proportion of their drinking. From thence he was guided into a long Gallery, where at the end was the Preſence, where were many young Gallants, and fair Ladyes, the young Men courting their fair Miſtriſſes, in repeating of Loveverſes and Sonnets, ſome dancing, others ſinging, ſome congeying, and ſome complementing, and thus diverting themſelves in pleaſant paſtimes. From thence he was guided into the Privy Chamber, where the King and Queen were ſet, with many of their Nobles about them, diſcourſing of Plays, Maſques; Balls, Huntings, Progreſſes, and the like. After he had been there a little while, the King and Queen roſe to go to Supper, and the Gentleman invited the Stranger to ſup at the Waiters Table, which offer he civilly received; where when he was there, he found good ſtore of Company, which Company were full of diſcourſe; where, amongſt much talk, they complained of their long Peace, ſaying, that Peace was good for nothing but to breed lazineſs, and that the Youth of the Kingdome were degenerated, and become effeminate, concluding, that there ought to be a War, were it for no other Reaſon, but to exerciſe their Youth in Arms, which would breed Courage, and inflame their Spirits to Action. But after Supper, the Stranger was guided into the Preſence again, where there were a great Company of Lords and Ladyes waiting for the King and Queen coming forth, which gave the Stranger ſome time of obſervation.

Where by chance he ſtood by a Lord, that had many of his Friends, or rather Flatterers, about him; where he, ſpeaking to him of another Lord at the other ſide of the Room, which ſtood with his Friends or Flatterers; ſaid he to his Company, Do you think that Lord worthy of thoſe Favours the King throws on him, having neither Merit nor Worth to deſerve them; when Men of Noble Qualities, and great Deſerts, are neither regarded nor rewarded: But Gentleman, ſaid he, this muſt not be, for we are born free Subjects to the King, not Slaves to his Favourite, making our eſtates the Exchequer to ſupply his Vanities by the way of large Taxes, which are intollerable, and not to be suffered; for P3r 109 for though the King commands by his advice, yet he receives the Summes.

But the Stranger, that had but a time to ſtay, removed from that ſide to the other, where the other Lord was talking to his Faction; ſaid he, Do you ſee that formal Lord, who loves and affects Popularity, who would be the abſolute Man in the Kingdome to rule and govern all? Let me tell you, Gentlemen, ſaid he, he is a dangerous Man, whom the King ſhould be aware of: but alas, ſaid he, the King is ſo facile, that whoſoever comes with a clear brow, and a ſmooth tongue, he believes all he ſayes is truth; beſides, he is ſo cockred up with a long Peace, that he cannot believe any body dares be Traitors; and thus he lives in ſecure credulity; or elſe he is ſo timerous, that he dares not diſpleaſe any one; for thoſe that are againſt him, he prefers; and thoſe that are faithfull to him, he cares not for, at leaſt rejects them.

From that Company the Stranger removed to the Womens ſide, where was a Lady, with others by her; ſaid ſhe to one of them, Prithee look on yonder Lady, how ſhe is painted and curled to allure the Youth of the Court, but ifaith, ſaid ſhe, it will not do, for if one comes near, ſhe is as withered and dry as a leaf in Autumn. So he, deſiring to hear all parts, removed to the other Ladyes, where was one that ſaid to ſome others, Do you ſee, ſaith ſhe, the Wit of the Court, meaning the other Lady that was oppoſite; ifaith, ſaid ſhe, if I were her, I would rather conceal my Wit, than diſcover my breath; and ſhe is ſo full of talk that ſhe will ſuffer none to ſpeak but her ſelf. And every Lady of each Company flung ſpightfull words upon each others back: but the Muſick began to play, ſo that every one unrooſted, and flock’d together; where meeting, they did all embrace, kiſs, profeſs, and proteſt ſuch affections, and vowed ſuch friendſhips, as neither their lives nor fortunes ſhould be wanting in one anothers ſervice; which the Stranger hearing, went out of the Court as faſt as he could, for fear of the Courts infection; and when he came to the Gate, the Porter that he firſt ſpoke to, ask’d him, why he went away ſo ſoon, for, ſaid he, the Company ſelldome part untill one or two a clock in the morning, nay, ſaid he ſome not all the night long, if their Miſtriſſes favour them, or at leaſt take pity of them.

The Stranger ſaid, he ſaw ſo much as did affright him; what, ſaid the Porter, ſome Devils in the Play, or Maſques, or ſo: Yes, ſaid the Gentleman, they could change into as many ſhapes as they would; that is onely in their Cloaths, anſwered the Porter; no, ſaid the ſtranger, it was their tongues and faces, and ſo God give you good night, &c.

The Diſcreet Virgin.

There was a grave Matron who came to viſit a young Virgin, whom ſhe ask’d why ſhe did not marry, ſince ſhe was of mar riageableP3 riageable P3v 110 riageable years. Truly, ſaid ſhe, I am beſt pleaſed with a ſingle life.

What! anſwered the Matron, will you lead Apes in Hell? The young Lady ſaid, it was better to lead Apes in Hell, than live like Devils on Earth, for, ſaid ſhe, I have heard that a married Couple ſeldome or never agree, the Husband roars in his drink, and the Wife ſcolds in her Choler, the Servants quarrell, the Children cry, and all ſet in more diſorder, than tis thought Hell is, and a more confuſed noiſe.

Said the Matron, ſuch are onely the poor meaner ſort of people, that live ſo, but the noble and rich men and their wives live otherwiſe, for the better ſort, as the noble and rich, when they are drunk are carried ſtraight to bed, and laid to ſleep, and their wives dance untill their husbands are ſober.

Said the Lady, if they dance until their Husbands are ſober, they will dance untill they are weary; So they do, replied the Matron.

Why ſaid the Lady, the Husbands are for the moſt part drunk: And the other anſwered, and the Ladies are for the moſt part dancing.

But by your favour, ſaid the Matron, men are not ſo often nor ſo conſtantly drunk as you report them.

Anſwered the young Lady, you ſhall be Judge if I ſlander them, for they drink drunk at dinner, and before; they are thoroughly ſober, they go to ſupper; and they drink ſo as they go drunk to bed; And in the morning they will have their refreſhing draughts: But, ſaid ſhe, I perceive you think none are drunk but thoſe that drink in a Tavern; but they, let me tell you, are ſober men to home Drunkards; and Taverns are quiet orderly Houſes, to great, noble, and rich Mens Houſes; for Palaces are oftentimes but hoſpitable Taverns, Inns, and Baudy Houſes, onely their Gueſts pay nothing for their fare: but when they are Gaming Houſes, then they pay the Box:

Fye, Lady, fye, ſaid the Matron, why do you abuſe Noble Perſons.

I do not abuſe them, anſwered ſhe, they abuſe themſelves.

We will leave off this diſcourſe, ſaid the Matron, and talk of Huſbands.

We have talk’d, ſaid the young Lady, of Husbands already; beſides, the Theme is ſo bad, that the diſcourſe thereon cannot be good.

I am come, ſaid the Matron, to offer you a Husband.

She replyed, ſhe was offered Husbands enough, but there were none worth the taking; for, ſaid ſhe, Men in this Age are far worſe, than Women, and more ridiculous in their behaviours, diſcourſes, dreſſings, vanities, and idleneſs; as for their humours, ſaid ſhe, they are either apiſh, conſtrained, or rude; if they be apiſh, they put themſelves into a hundred ſeveral poſtures in an hour; and ſo full of apiſh actions, as ſcratching their heads, or some other parts, when they do not itch, or ſorting their hair, or goggling P4r 111 goggling their hats, with jogging their heads, the while backwards, as to the noddle of their heads, and then forwards, as to their brows; or fumbling with their buttons, band-ſtrings, or boot-hose; or pulling their cloaks the one while upon one shoulder, and then on another, and then back again; or elſe pull their cloak with one hand, and hold it faſt with the other; this pulling motion being a mode-motion: but thoſe that are very much in the mode, lap it about their waſte all in a crumple like a ſcarf; or elſe like malecontents, muffle themſelves therein. As for their behaviour; thoſe that are phantaſtical, their bodyes are in a perpetual motion, winding, or turning, or wreathing about, or dancing affectedly, ſinging fa, fa, la; or whiſtling like a Carter, or lye careleſs upon the ground kicking back their heels, or with the end of their feet lye kicking the ground. But when they affect a careleſs behaviour, as thinking it dignifies them (as all thoſe that have been meanly born or bred, and have had ſome advancement either by riches, offices, royal favours, or by fortune) then they will ſit lolling upon their breech, or lean on their elbows, gaping or ſtretching them ſelves, or elſe laying the ancle of one leg upon the knee of the other, heaving their feet up towards the noſtrils of their company, eſpecially when Ladyes are by.

Methinks, ſaid the Matron, that is an ill behaviour, to thruſt their feet towards a fair Ladyes noſe.

They do ſo, anſwered ſhe; alſo they have a reſtleſs mode, to ſtand up one minute, the next ſit down, dividing the time of viſiting, as neither in going, nor ſtaying, but between both; for they neither quietly ſtay, nor civilly take their leave; and in Winter, where there is Fire, as ſoon as they come into a room they ſtraight go the fire, and there turn their backs to warm their breeches with their hands turned back upon them: but if it be in Summer, then they lean their breech upon the chimney ſide, or againſt a wall, ſtanding croſs legg’d, or elſe they ſtand bowing over a chairs back, or ſet their ſtomacks againſt the edge of a table, and lay the upper part of the body thereon; and ſometimes they reſt their elbows thereon, and hold up their chins with the palm of their hands, or wriſt, and in all theſe actions their tongues run with nonſenſe. But the rudeſt behaviour is to pull out the Ladyes fans, or muffs out of their hands, to fling their cloaks or coats on their Beds, couches, or tables, or to lye rudely upon their beds or couches, or to come unawares and kiſs their necks, or embrace their waſte, and twenty ſuch like tricks, which no Woman of Honour can like, but will be very angry: yet they know not how to be revenged, unleſs they engage their neareſt Friends, as Fathers, Brothers, Uncles, or Husbands in a Quarrel, for they cannot fight with Men themſelves, their ſtrength is too weak, although their will is good. And as for Mens diſcourſe, for the moſt part, it is ſwearing, bragging, ranting, rallery, railling, or laſcivious; and in their dreſſings and faſhions they are more phantaſtical, various and unconſtant than Women are; for they P4v 112 they change their blocks for their hats, although they cannot their block-heads, forty times oftner than Women change the ſhapes of their bags or hoods for their heads; and Mens bands, cuffs, and boot-hoſe-tops are changed into more ſeveral ſhapes than Womens gorgets, handkerchiefs, or any linnen they wear; and for their doublets, breeches, cloaks, coats, and caſſocks, they change their faſhions oftner than the winds change their corners, where Women will keep to the faſhion of their gowns, petticoats, and waſtcoats, two or three years, before they alter their ſhapes. Neither do Men change for convenience, grace, or behaviour, but out of a phantaſtical vanity. And are not Men more perfumed, curled and powdred than Women? and more various colours, and greater quantities of ribbins ty’d and ſet upon their hats, cloaths, gloves, boots, ſhoes, and belts, than Women on their heads and gowns? And have not Men richer and more gayer cloaths than Women have? and where Women make cloaths once, Men make cloaths three times; and Men exclaim againſt the vanities of Women, when they are a hundred times vainer than Women, and are more unneceſſary expenſive than Women are; when Women may be allowed by the ſevereſt judgements to be a little vain, as being Women, when it ought to be condemned in Men as an effeminacy, and effeminacy in Men is a vice. The laſt is their idleneſs; for do not Men ſpend their time far more idly, beſides, wickeder than Women? And do not Men run viſiting from houſe to houſe for no other purpoſe, but to twattle, ſpending their time in idle and fruitleſs diſcourſe? And do not Men meet every day in Taverns and Ordinaryes, to ſit and goſſip over a cup of wine, when Women are condemned for goſſiping, once in a quarter of a year, at a Labour, or a Chriſtning, or at the Upſitting of a Childbed Woman? And do not Men run and hunt about for news, and then meet to goſſip on it with their cenſuring verdicts? beſides, they are ſo greedy of twattle, that rather than want idle matter to prate of, they will invent news, and then falſly repeat it: but ſuch are accounted Wits that can make the moſt probable lyes, which they call gulling.

Alſo have not Men more fooliſh quarrels than Women have? and are not Men more apt to take exceptions at each other than Women are? and will not Men diſſemble, lye and flatter with each other more than Women do? and will not Men rail and backbite each other more than Women will? and are not Men more ſpightfull, envious, and malicious at each other than Women? and will not Men imitate each others phantaſtical garbs, dreſs, and the like, more than Women? and will not Men ride from place to place to no purpoſe, more than Women? and do not Men take more delight in idle paſtimes, and fooliſh ſports, than Women? and in all this time of their viſiting, club, goſſiping, news, travelling, news venting, news making, vain ſpending, mode faſhioning, fooliſh quarrelling, and unprofitable journeying, what advantage do they bring to the Commonwealth, or honour Q1r 113 nonour to their Poſterity, or profit to themſelves; none but are like Flyes bred out of a dunghill, buzzing idly about, and then dye; when Women are like induſtrious Ants, and prudent Bees, alwayes imployed to the benefit of their families; and unleſs I can have a Husband that is ſo wiſe that he can entertain himſelf with his own thoughts, to dwell quietly in his own houſe, governing prudently his own family, alſo to behave himſelf civilly, to ſpeak rationally, to accoutre himſelf manfully, to defend himſelf and maintain his honour valiantly, to do nobly, to judge charitably, to live honeſtly, as to temper his appetites, rule his paſſions, or be induſtrious thereunto, I will never marry; for it is not onely a Good Husband, but a Wiſe Man, that makes a Woman happy in Marriage,&c.

Of three Travellers.

There were three Travellers that inquired of each other about their travels; and after they had recounted their tedious journeys, dangerous paſſages, and their many inconveniencies, they diſcourſed of the climates of each Country they had been in, their ſituations, commodity, trade and traffick, the cuſtomes, faſhions and humours of the People, the laws and government of their Princes, the peace and wars of neighbour Nations, at laſt they became to queſtion one another, who had ſeen the greateſt Wonders in their Travels.

Said one, I have ſeen the greateſt wonder, for I have ſeen a mean man become an Emperour.

Piſh, ſaid the ſecond, that is nothing, for I have ſeen a mean fellow, without merit, a powerful Emperours boſome friend, and chief Ruler; for though the power of Fortune can inthrone Slaves, and unthrone Kings, yet Fortune hath no power over the Souls of Kings; for although Fortune hath power over the Body, ſhe hath none over the Minde.

Why, ſaid the third, that is no more wonder for Nature to put a Subjects Soul, fill’d with mean Thoughts, into an Emperours Body, than for Fortune, to ſet an Emperours Crown on a Slaves Head: but I can tell you, ſaid he, a Wonder indeed; for where I travelled, there was an Emperour the Wiſeſt Man in the World.

That is no wonder, anſwered the other, for all great Monarchs, as Emperours, ought to be the wiſeſt, becauſe they rule all others.

But though they ought to be ſo, ſaid the other, yet they are not allwayes ſo; for were not many of the Roman Emperours called the Fooliſh Emperours? and when there are ſo few Wiſe Men in the World, that there is ſcarce a Wiſe Man to be found in an Age, it is a wonder when Wiſdome lights in the right line, as in a Royal Line.

No, anſwered the third, it is no wonder, for the Gods take a particular care to indue a Royal Head with Underſtanding, and Q a Q1v 114 a Royal Heart with Juſtice; for inhereditary Royalty is ſacred, ſince the Gods anoint thoſe Lines to that Dignity.

But thoſe that have not a right by inheritance, the Gods take no care of, nay many times do the Gods puniſh with plagues and other miſeries, thoſe People that make a King of their own chooſing, and juſtly, ſince Royalties are God Vicegerents, or Deputies on Earth; for as the Gods are chief in Heaven, and rule the Works of Nature as they will, ſo Royalties are chief on Earth, and rule the reſt of Mankinde as they pleaſe.

But, ſaid the other, if they rule not well, they are to give an account.

Yes, anſwered the other, but not unto thoſe Men they rule, but to the Gods that placed them in their Thrones.

The Loving Cuckold.

There was a Gentleman that had marryed a Wife, beautifull, modeſt, chaſte, and of a milde and ſweet diſpoſition; and after he had been marryed ſome time, he began to neglect her, and make courſhip to other Women; which ſhe perceiving, grew very melancholy; and ſitting one day very penſive alone, in comes one of her Husbands acquaintance to ſee him; but this Lady told him, her Husband was abroad.

Said he, I have been to viſit him many times, and ſtill he is gone abroad.

Said ſhe, my Husband finds better Company abroad than he hath at home, or at leaſt thinks ſo, which makes him go ſo often forth.

So he, diſcourſing with the Lady, told her, he thought ſhe was of a very melancholy diſpoſition.

She ſaid, ſhe was not naturally ſo, but what her miſfortunes cauſed.

Said he, can Fortune be cruel to a Beautifull Lady?

’Tis a sign, ſaid ſhe, I am not Beautifull, to match me to an unkinde Husband.

Said he, to my thinking it is as impoſſible for your Husband to be unkinde, as Fortune to be cruel

Said ſhe, you ſhall be Judge whether he be not ſo; for firſt, ſaid ſhe, I have been an obedient Wife, obſerved his humours, and obeyed his will in every thing; next, I have been a thrifty, cleanly, patient and chaſte Wife; thirdly, I brought him a great Portion; and laſtly, my Neighbours ſay I am handſome, and yet my Husband doth neglect me, and deſpiſe me, making courtſhips to other Women, and ſometimes, to vex me the more, before my face.

Said he, your Husband is not worthy of you; therefore if I may adviſe you, I would caſt aſide the affection I had placed upon him, and beſtow it upon a Perſon that will worſhip you Q2r 115 you with an Idolatrous Zeal; and if you pleaſe to beſtow it on me, I will offer my Heart on the Altar of your Favours, and ſacrifice my Services thereon; and my Love ſhall be as the Veſtal Fire that never goeth out, but perpetually burn with a Religious Flame.

Thus ſpeaking and pleading, made courtſhip to her, but ſhe at firſt did not receive it; but he having opportunity by reaſon her Husband was much from home, and uſing importunity, at laſt corrupted her, and ſhe making a friendſhip with this Gentleman, began to neglect her Husband as much as he had done her; which he perceiving, began to pull in the bridle of his looſe carriage: But when he perceived his Acquaintance was her courtly Admirer, he began to wooe her anew to gain her from him; but it would not be; for ſhe became from a meek, modeſt, obedient, and thrifty Wife, to be a ranting, flanting, bold, imperious Wife.

But her Husband grew ſo fond of her, that he ſought all the wayes he could to pleaſe her, and was the obſervants Creature to her that might be, ſtriving to pleaſe her in all things or wayes he could deviſe; inſomuch as obſerving ſhe was never pleaſed but when ſhe had Gallants to court her, he would invite Gentlemen to his Houſe, and make Entertainments for them; and thoſe ſhe ſeemed moſt to favour, he would make dear Friendſhips with; and would often be abſent, to give them opportunities to be with his Wife alone, hoping to get a favourable look, or a kiſs for his good ſervices, which ſhe would craftily give him to encourage him.

But the other Gentleman that made the firſt addreſſes to her, being a marryed Man, his Wife hearing her Husband was ſo great a Lover of that Lady, and that that Ladyes Husband was reformed from his incontinent life, and was become a doting fond Wittal, loving and admiring her for being courted and made love to, eſteeming that moſt that others ſeemed to like well of; ſhe began to imitate her; which her Husband perceiving, gave her warning not to do ſo, but ſhe would take no warning, but entertained thoſe that would addreſs themſelves; whereupon her Huſband threatned her: but at laſt ſhe was ſo delighted with variety, that ſhe regarded not his threats; whereupon he uſed her cruelly, but nothing would reclaim her, onely ſhe would make more ſecret meetings, wherewith ſhe was better pleaſed; for ſecret meetings, as I have heard, give an edge to Adultery; for it is the nature of Mankinde to be moſt delighted with that which is moſt unlawfull. But her Husband finding no reformation could be made, he parted with her, for he thought it a greater dishonour to be a Wittal than a Cuckold, although he was very much troubled to be either for though he was willing to make a Cuckold, yet he was not willing to be one himſelf. Thus you may ſee the different natures of Men.

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The Converts in Marriage.

There were four young Gentlewomen whoſe Fathers were near Neighbours each to other, whereupon there grew an acquaintance, and ſo a ſociety.

The firſt was reſerved and coy.

The ſecond was bold and ranting.

The third was merry and gay.

The fourth was peeviſh and ſpightfull.

She that was reſerved and coy, was generous and ambitious.

She that was bold and ranting, was covetous and wanton.

She that was merry and gay, was vain and phantaſtical.

She that was peeviſh and ſpightfull, was croſs and unconſtant.

It chanced the four Fathers were offered four Husbands for their four Daughters all at one time, who by reaſon they had good eſtates, they cauſed their Daughters to marry.

The Husband that was to marry the firſt Lady, was covetous, miſerable, and timerous, as all miſerable covetous perſons for the moſt part are fearfull; but being very rich, the Father to this Lady forced her to marry him.

And he that was to marry the ſecond Lady, was temperate, prudent, and chaſte.

And he that was to marry the third Lady, was melancholy, ſolitary, and ſtudious.

And he that was to marry the fourth Lady, was cholerick and impatient.

And after they had been marryed ſome time, the covetous and timerous man became hoſpitable, bountifull, valiant, and aſpiring, doing high and noble deeds.

And ſhe that was bold and wanton, became chaſt, ſober, and obedient.

And he that was melancholy, became ſociable, converſible, and pleaſant, and ſhe thrifty and ſtaid.

But he that was cholerick and impatient, who marryed her that was peeviſh and ſpightfull, did live like Dogs and Cats, ſpit, ſcrawl, ſcratch and bite, inſomuch as they were forced to part; for being both faulty, they could not live happily, becauſe they could never agree; for errours and faults multiply, being joyned together,&c.

Ages Folly.

There was a Man and his Wife that had been marryed many years together, and had agreed and lived happily, loving each other wondrous well: but at laſt, after they were ſtricken in years, the Husband was catch’d with a crafty young Wench, like a Woodcock in a Nooze, or Net, Q3r 117 Net, where he was intangled in Loves fetters; and though he fluttred and fluttred to get looſe, yet ſhe kept him faſt, not that ſhe loved Age, but Wealth, for Amorous Age is prodigal, and yet more ſelf-conceited than thoſe that are young, or in their prime of years, but eaſily catched, which is ſtrange; for moſt commonly thoſe that are ſelf-conceited, are proud, diſdainfull, deſpiſing, thinking few or none worthy of their love: but Amorous Age, though they are ſelf-conceited, take a pride, as bragging that they can have a Love as well as thoſe that are Young; which makes each ſmile, and every amorous glance from youthfull eyes, a ſnare, or rather baits, which Age doth nibble on.

But his Wife obſerving her Husband to prank and prune, to jet and ſet himſelf in ſeveral poſtures, to be extravagant in his actions, phantaſtical in his dreſs, looſe in his diſcourse, wondred to ſee him on a ſudden tranſformed from a ſober, grave, ſtaid, wiſe Man, to a Jackanapes. At laſt concluded with her ſelf, for certain he was mad; with which opinion ſhe became wondrous melancholy. But by chance finding him making amorous addreſſes to a young Woman, ſhe then perceived the cauſe was Love, and nothing but Love, I mean, Amorous Love, and powerfull Amorous Love, that blindfolds long and wiſe experience with a foul, falſe appetite, making not onely young, but old Men fools.

But his Wife, like a diſcreet Woman, moderated her paſſion for a while, hoping it was but a ſudden flaſh, or faint blaſt, that would ſoon dye: But when ſhe perceived his Amorous Humour not to quench, but rather to burn, though ſmotheredly, and no perſwaſions could reform him, but rather make him worſe, as Cordials hot Feavers, ſhe parted from him, after that they had been, and as ſhe thought, happily marryed many years; and ſo reſigned that part of the command and government of his Family that was left, for the Maid had incroach’d by her Maſters favour, and had ingroſs’d the chiefeſt power of rule in the Houſhold affairs, as well as in the hearts affections.

Thus his Wife left him, and his dotage; but Death in a ſhort time did come and revenge her Quarrel; and that Tinder-fire Cupid had made, Death put out.

By this we ſee, there is no certainty of conſtancy, nor no cure in time, nor no ſettlement in life, &c.

The three Wooers.

There were three Knights went awooing.

A Covetous Knight.

An Amorous Knight.

And a Judicious Knight.

The Covetous Knight ſought a rich Wife, not caring for her birth, breeding, or beauty.

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The Amorous ſought for a beautifull Wife, not caring for her wealth or birth.

The Judicious ſought for a Wife virtuous, well bred, and honourably born, not caring for the wealth or beauty.

And having all three good eſtates every Man that had Daughters invited and feaſted them.

So they went to viſit all Noble, Hoſpitable Houſe-keepers, as Gentlemen, Honourable Perſons, that live in the Country.

Where the Amorous Knight made love to all thoſe Ladyes and Gentlewomen that were handſome; but as ſoon as he was to treat with their Parents or friends about marriage, or to appoint a Wedding-day, he would finde ſome excuſe or other to break off.

The Covetous Knight would be ſo far from wooing, that he would not ſpeak to any of the young Ladyes, nor often look on them, for fear they ſhould claim marriage: but he ſtill would treat with their Parents or Friends, to know what Portions they had, or what Eſtates were likely to befall them by the death of their Friends.

The Judicious Knight would neither wooe the Ladyes, nor treat with their Parents or Friends, but diſcourſed with them civilly, obſerving ſtrictly of what capacities, wits and behaviours the Women were of; alſo imploying Agents ſecretly to inquire of their Servants, Neighbours, and Acquaintance, of what natures, diſpoſitions and humours they were of, not truſting to their ſober outſides, and formalities they uſed to Strangers. And after they had viſited all Noble Entertainers, they went to the City.

For, ſaid the Covetous Knight, I will not chooſe a Wife in theſe Families; for theſe Daughters, Siſters, and Nieces, are too prodigally bred to make thrifty Wives. So they went to viſit the City.

But the Amorous Knight ſaid, he would not chooſe a Wife out of the City; for, ſaid he, I ſhall never love my Wife but on Holydayes or Sundayes, for they then appear indifferent handſome when they have their beſt cloaths; but on working-dayes they ſmell of the Shop, and appear like their Fathers faded, mouldy, withered Wares. Beſides, ſaid he, they diſcourſing to none but their Journey-men, and ’Prentice boyes, cannot tell how to entertain a Gentleman, or a Lover, with Romancical Speeches, or pieces or parts of Plays, or copies of Verſes, or the like.

Said the Covetous Knight, you condemn that I ſhall commend, and diſlike that which I ſhall like, and love that which I ſhall hate, for I hate whining love; and I ſhall be unwilling to marry a Woman, although ſhe ſhould bring me a great Portion, that would be reading in Romancy-books, and the like, and be entertaining with repeating Verſes, ſinging Love-ſonnets, and the like, when ſhe ſhould be looking to my Servants, ordering my Family, and giving directions therein. Or ſuch a one that would be half the day dreſs’d ſo fine ſhe cannot ſtir about her houſe, or will not for fear of dirtying or crumpling her cloaths, beſides the infinitefinite Q4r 119 finite expence their Bravery will put me to. But when they dreſs fine but on Sundayes and Holydayes, I mean onely at ſuch good times as Chriſtmas, Eaſter, Whitſuntide, or ſo, a Silk Gown will laſt ſome ſeven years. And he is a good Husband that will or can love his Wife ſometimes, as on Holydayes, although I ſhall love my Wife beſt thoſe dayes ſhe is moſt in her houſwifry, which is in her Sluttery, and not on Holydayes, when ſhe is in her Bravery. But he that loves his Wife every day; as at all times, is luxurious, and ought to be baniſhed a Commonwealth; for fond Husbands make proud, vain, idle, and expenſive Wives, who ſpoyl Servants, kill induſtry, and all good houſwifry, which is the ruine to Noble and Antient Familyes.

But after they had traverſed the City, they went to the Court.

And when the Covetous Man ſaw the bravery of the Court, he would by any means be gone from thence; the other two aſked him the reaſon; he ſaid he was afraid that they would cheat him, or bring ſome falſe witneſs to accuſe him of Treaſon, ſo get his eſtate, or at leaſt to bring him into ſome Court to get a Fine; for, ſaid he, I verily believe they have no Money, having no Lands but what they get by ſuch ſhifting, ſharking, flattery, bribing, betraying, accuſing wayes; and, ſaid he; poor Courtiers are like ſtarved Priſoners, devour all they can get, and ſometimes they devour one another. But the Amorous Knight was ſo raviſhed with the glistering ſhews, and was more inamoured with the gay cloaths than with the fair Ladyes, and did long to embrace their Silver lace, which made him uſe all his Rhetorick to the Covetous Knight to ſtay.

As for the Judicious Knight, he was neither moved with fear, as the Covetous Knight, nor ſtruck with admiration, as the Amorous Knight; ſaid little, but obſerved much, and was willing to go, or ſtay, as either could agree.

But when the Covetous Knight heard them to talk of nothing but Faſhions, Gowns, Gorgets, Fans, Feathers, and Love- ſervants, he fell into a cold ſweat, for fear he ſhould be forced by the King and Queen to marry one of thoſe Maids of Honour. And when he heard them talk of Love, Juſtice, and juſtifying loving Frienſhips, he was forced to go out of the room, or otherwiſe he ſhould have ſounded with an Appoplexy, or Lethargy, or the like Diſeaſe, for he did imagine himſelf marryed to one of them, and all his eſtate ſpent, and he onely left with a pair of Horns, or like a Horned Beaſt, in the wild Foreſt of Poverty.

But theſe ſorts of diſcourſe did inſlave the Amorous Knight, binding him in Loves Fetters, inſomuch as he became a Servant to them all: but then finding it was impoſſible to pleaſe them all, he onely applyed, and at laſt yeilded himſelf to one, whereafter a ſhort time they were marryed.

The Covetous Knight being afraid of being forced to marry a Courtier, took a Wife out of the City.

The Judicious Knight, ſeeing his wooing Travellers marryed, thought it would ſhew an unconſtant humour not to marry, ſince he Q4v 120 he travelled about with them to get a Wife, or elſe it would ſeem as if he thought no Woman virtuous, or at leaſt diſcreet. So he went to a Noble Gentleman, who had a fair well-bred virtuous Lady to his Daughter, although but a ſmall Portion; and having the Fathers conſent, and the Ladyes affection, at leaſt good will marryed.

And when theſe three Knights were marryed, each carryed his Wife to his dwelling houſe.

Where the Covetous Knight did ſpare from his back and belly, riſe early, and go to Bed late; yet his Wife and Servants did agree, at leaſt wink at each other, to coſen him, let him do what he could to ſpare, they out-witted him with craft to get.

The Amorous Knight, when he had lived at home a little while to himſelf, and his Wives gay cloaths were faded, and ſhe appeared in her natural complexion, and become like her Neighbours, he courted others, and deſpiſed his Wife: then ſhe ſtrives to ſpruce up, to get others to court her, theſe courtſhips cauſe expenses, in dancing, and meetings, and revelling, and feaſting.

The Judicious Knight and his Lady lived happily, loved dearly, governed orderly, thrived moderately, and became very rich, when the other two were Bankrupts; the one being coſen’d by his Wife and Servants, he not allowing them ſufficiently; the other being impoveriſhed with Miſtriſſes and Vanities.

Ambition preferr’d before Love.

There was a Noble Gallant Man made love to a virtuous fair Lady, and after he had expreſsd his affection, and deſired a return, and ſo agree to marry, ſhe told him, if ſhe would marry, and had her liberty to chooſe a Husband through all the World, it ſhould be him; for, ſaid ſhe, the fame of your Worth, and praiſe of your Merits, hath planted a Root of Affection in my Infant Years, which hath grown up with my time but, ſaid ſhe, there was another Root alſo planted therein by encouragement which is Ambition, which Ambition, ſayes ſhe, hath out grown that; ſo that the Tree of Love is like an Oak to a Cedar, for though it may be more laſting, yet it will never be ſo high. On this high Tree of Ambition, ſaid ſhe, my Life is induſtrious to climbe to Fames high Tower, for the top reaches thereto; which if I marry, I ſhall never do.

Why, ſaid her Lover, Marriage can be no hindrance.

O yes, ſaid the Lady, Husbands will never ſuffer them to climbe, but keep them faſt lock’d in their arms, or tye them to houſhold imployments, or through a fooliſh obſtinacy bar up their Liberty: but did they not onely give them Liberty, but aſſiſt them all they could, yet the unavoydable troubles of Marriage would be like great ſtorms, which would ſhake them off, or throw them down, before they had climbed half the way; wherefore, ſaid R1r 121 ſaid ſhe, I will never marry, unleſs you can aſsure me that Marriage ſhall not hinder my climbing, nor cauſe me to fall therefrom.

Said her Lover, I will give you all the aſſurance I can; but, ſaid he, you cannot be ignorant, but know, that Fortune, Fates, and Deſtiny, have power in the wayes to Fame, as much as in the wayes to Death; and Fates, ſaid he, do ſpin the Thread of Fame as unevenly as they do Threads of Life.

Yes, ſaid ſhe, but there is a Deſtiny belongs to Induſtry, and Prudence is a good Decree in Nature; wherfore, ſaid ſhe, I will be ſo prudent, as not to marry; and ſo induſtrious, that all the actions of my life, and ſtudious contemplations, ſhall be buſily imployed to my Ambitious Deſigns; for I will omit nothing towards the life of my Memory.

The Matrimonial Agreement.

A handſome young Man fell in love with a fair young Lady, inſomuch that if he had her not, he was reſolved to dye, for live without her he could not: ſo wooing her long, at laſt, allthough ſhe had no great nor good opinion of marryed life, being afraid to enter into ſo ſtrict bonds, obſerving the diſcords therein that trouble a quiet life, being raiſed by a diſagreement of humours, and jealouſie of Rivals: but conſidering withall, that Marriage gave a reſpect to Women, although Beauty were gone; and ſeeing the Man perſonable, and knowing him to have a good Fortune, which would help to counterpoyze the inconveniencies and troubles that go along with Marriage, ſhe was reſolved to conſent to his requeſt.

The Gentleman coming as he was uſed to do, and perſwading her to chooſe him for her Huſband; ſhe told him ſhe would, but that ſhe found herſelf of that humour that ſhe could not endure a Rival in Wedlock; and the fear of having one, would cauſe Jealouſie, which would make her very unhappy; and the more, becauſe ſhe muſt be bound to live with her Enemy, for ſo ſhe ſhould account of her Husband when he had broken his faith and promiſe to her.

He ſmiling, told her, ſhe need not fear; and that Death was not more certain to Man, than he would be conſtant to her, ſealing it with many oaths and ſolemn proteſtations; nay, ſaid he, when I am falſe, I wiſh you may be ſo, which is the worſt of ills.

She told him, words would not ſerve her turn, but that he ſhould be bound in Bond, that not onely whenſoever ſhe could give a proof, but when ſhe had cauſe of ſuſpicion, ſhe might depart from him, with ſuch an allowance out of his eſtate as ſhe thought fit to maintain her.

He told her, he was ſo confident, and knew himſelf ſo well, that he would unmaſter himſelf of all his eſtate, and make her onely Miſtris.

R She R1v 122

She anſwered, a part ſhould ſerve her turn, ſo the agreement was made and ſealed, they marryed, and lived together as if they had but one ſoul; for whatſoever the one did or ſaid, the other diſliked not; nor had they reaſon, for their ſtudy was onely to pleaſe each other.

After two years, the Wife had a great fit of ſickneſs, which made her pale and wan, and not ſo full of lively ſpirits as ſhe was wont to be, but yet as kinde and loving to her Husband as could be; and the Husband at her firſt ſickneſs, wept, watched, and tormented himſelf beyond all meaſure: but the continuance made him ſo dull and heavy, that he could take no delight in himſelf, or any thing elſe.

His occaſions calling him abroad, he found himſelf ſo refreſhed, that his ſpirits revived again; but returning home, and finding not that mirth in the ſick as in the healthy, it grew wearyſome to him, inſomuch that he allwayes would have occaſions to be abroad, and thought home his onely Priſon. His Wife mourning for his abſence, complained to him at his return, and ſaid ſhe was not onely unhappy for her ſickneſs, but miſerable, in that his occaſions were more urgent to call him from her when ſhe had moſt need of his company to comfort her in the losſs, of the abſence of her health, than in all the time they had been marryed before; and therefore pray Huſband, ſaid ſhe, what is this unfortunate buſineſs that imploys you ſo much, that makes me ſee you ſo ſeldome. He told her, the worldly affairs of Men, Women did not underſtand, and therefore, it were a folly to recite them. Beſides, ſaid he, I am ſo weary in following them, that I hate to repeat them. She, like a good Wife, ſubmitted to her Husbands affairs, and was content to ſit without him.

The Husband returning home one day from jolly Company, whoſe diſcourſe was merry and wanton, he met with his Wifes Maid at the door, and aſk’d her, how her Miſtris did; ſhe ſaid not very well; thou lookeſt well, ſaid he, and chucks her under the chin, ſhe, proud of her Maſters kindneſs, ſmerks and ſmiles upon him, inſomuch that the next time he met her, he kiſs’d her. Now, ſhe begins to deſpiſe her Miſtris, and onely admires her ſelf, and is allwayes the firſt perſon or ſervant that opens her Maſter the door; and through the diligence of the Maid, the Maſters great affairs abroad were ended, and his onely imployment and buſy care is now at home, that whenſoever he was abroad, he was in ſuch haſte that he could ſcarce ſalute any body by the way; and when his Friends ſpake to him, his head was ſo full of thoughts, that he would anſwer quite from the queſtion, inſomuch that he was thought one of the beſt and carefulleſt Husbands in the World.

In the mean time his Wife grew well, and his Maid grew pert and bold toward her Miſtris; and the Miſtris wondred at it; began to obſerve more ſtrictly what made her ſo; for perceiving the Wench came oftner than accuſtomed where her Husband and ſhe were; alſo ſhe found her Husband had allwayes ſome excuſecuſe R2r 123 cuſe to turn his head and eyes to that place where ſhe was, and whenſoever the Wench came where they were, he would alter his diſcourſe, talking extravagantly.

Whereupon not liking it, examined her Husband whether his affections were as ſtrong to her as ever they were; He anſwered, he was the perfecteſt good Husband in the World, and ſo he ſhould be until he dyed.

It chanc’d he was imployed by the State into another Country; where, at the parting, his Wife and he lamented moſt ſadly, and many tears were ſhed. But when he was abroad, he being in much Company who took their Liberty, and had many Miſtriſſes, he then conſidered with himſelf, he was a moſt miſerable Man that muſt be bound onely to one; and begins to conſider what promiſes he made his Wife, and what advantages ſhe had on him in his Eſtate, which kept him in good order for a time.

But being perſwaded by his Companions to fling off all care, and take his pleaſure whil’ſt he might; for, ſaid they, what do our Wives know what we do? Beſides, ſaid they, Wives are onely to keep our Houſe, to bring us Children, not to give us Laws. Thus preaching to him, at laſt he followed their Dotrine, and improved ſo well, that he became the greateſt Libertine of them all; like a Horſe that hath broken his reins, when he finds himſelf looſe, skips over Hedges, Ditches, Pales, or whatſoever is in his way: ſo wildly he runs about untill he hath wearied himſelf.

But his Wife having ſome intelligence, as moſt commonly they want none, or may be out of pure love, comes to ſee him; he receives her with the greateſt joy, and makes ſo much of her, carrying her to ſee all the Country and Towns thereabouts, and all the Varieties, Curioſities, and Sights that were to be ſeen. But when ſhe had been there a month, or ſuch a time, he tells her how dangerous it is to leave his Houſe to Servants who are negligent, and his Eſtate to be intruſted he knows not to whom, ſo that there is no way but to return, both for her and his good, eſpecially if they had Children, although, ſaid he, I had rather part with my life than be abſent from you; but Neceſſity hath no Law. So ſhe, good Woman, goeth home to care and ſpare, whil’ſt he ſpends; for in the mean time he follows his humours; and Cuſtome making Confidence, and Confidence Careleſneſs, begins to be leſs ſhy, and more free; inſomuch as when he returned home, his Maid, whom he did but eye, and friendly kiſs, now he courts in every room; and were it not for his Eſtate he made over, even before his Wives face; but that made him fawn and flatter, and ſomewhat for quietneſs ſake.

But his Wife one day being in his Cloſet, by chance opened a Cabinet, where ſhe found a Letter from a Miſtris of his; whereat ſhe was much amazed; and being ſtartled at it, at laſt calling her ſelf to her ſelf again, ſhewed it to her Husband; he fain would have excuſed it, but that the plainneſs of truth would R2 not R2v 124 not give him leave; whereupon he craved pardon, promiſing amendment, and ſwearing he never would do ſo again; no, ſaid ſhe, I never will truſt a broken Wheel; do you know what is in my power, ſaid ſhe? yes, ſaid he, a great part of my Eſtate. O how I adore Dame Nature, ſaid ſhe, that gave me thoſe two Eyes, Prudence to foreſee, and Providence to provide; but I have not onely your Eſtate, but your Honour and Fame in my power; ſo that if I pleaſe, all that ſee you ſhall hiſs at you, and condemn whatſoever you do.

For if you had the Beauty of Paris, they would ſay you were but a fair Cuckold.

If you had the Courage of Hector, they would ſay you were but a deſperate Cuckold.

Had you the Wiſdome of Ulyſſes, or Salomon, they would laugh, and ſay, there goes he that is not yet ſo wiſe as to keep his Wife honeſt.

If you had the Tongue of Tully, and made as Eloquent Orations, they would ſay, there is the prating Cuckold.

If you were as fine a Poet as Virgil, or as ſweet as Ovid, yet they would laugh, and ſcorn, and ſay, he makes Verſes whil’ſt his Wife makes him a Cuckold.

Now Jealouſie and Rage are her two Bawds to corrupt her Chaſtity; the one perſwading her to be revenged, to ſhew her Husband ſhe could take delight, and have Lovers as well as he. This makes her curl, paint, prune, dreſs, make Feaſts, Plays, Balls, Maſques, and the like, have merry Meetings abroad; whereupon ſhe began to finde as much pleaſure as her Husband, in Variety; and now begins to flatter him, and to diſſemble with him, that ſhe may play the Whore more privately, finding a delight in obſcurity, thinking that moſt ſweet which is ſtolne; ſo they play like Children at bo-peep in Adultery; and face it out with fair looks, and ſmooth it over with ſweet words, and live with falſe hearts, and dye with large Consciences. But theſe repenting when they dyed, made a fair end. &c.

Of two Ladyes different Humours.

There were two young Ladyes bred together; the one proved a Stoick, living a retired life; the other proved a Goſſip, her head being full of vain deſigns, her tongue full of idle diſcourſes, her body buſily, reſtleſs, running from place to place, ſpending her life in fruitleſs viſits, and expenſive entertainments, gleaning up all the news of the Town; and when ſhe had gathered up a bundle, or ſheaf of this unprofitable grain, her cuſtome was to come and thraſh it out with the flail of her tongue, at the doors of the other Ladyes ears; which ſhe, although with great inconvenience, ſuffered, by reaſon of their long acquaintance, which many times breeds a kinde of friendſhip, although between different humours, natures, R3r 125 natures, and diſpoſitions; for cuſtoms of acquaintance begets ſome ſmall affections even in the moſt obdurate hearts.

But this Stoical Lady did comply ſo much with her Friends humour, as to give her the hearing, allthough ſhe would often adviſe and perſwade her to that courſe of life ſhe lived; which courſe of life the other Lady would often diſlike, and ſpeak againſt, ſaying, that Solitarinesſs was a Grave that buryed the Life; and that a Contemplatory Minde was a Tomb, wherein lay nothing but inſipit thoughts.

The other Lady ſaid, that Solitarineſs was a Paradice of true Happineſs, and that Contemplation was a Heaven of Fruition; for in Imagination, ſaid ſhe, we enjoy all things with eaſe, and as we will, where in Action we finde great diſturbance and oppoſition, croſs’d in every thing, and enjoy nothing. At laſt, the Lady Goſſip marryed, whereat the Stoick Lady rejoyced, imagining her Friend would become grave, and ſtaid, and that her thoughts would be more compoſed and ſetled to a retired life, being marryed, than when ſhe was a Maid, by reaſon marryed Wives have more imployment than Maids, as in ordering their Familyes, directing and overſeeing their Servants, nurſing their Children, and the like.

But after ſhe had been marryed ſome time, ſhe came with her Eyes full of Tears, and her Mouth full of Complaints; one while for the debaucheries of her Husband, and other times for careleſneſs and coſenage of her Servants.

Other times ſhe would come in a cholerick humour, with railling, ſpeeches, telling her Friend what quarrels ſhe hath had with ſuch a Lady, and ſuch a Neighbour, and what abuſes ſhe had received; which the Stoick Lady would endeavour to pacifie, and perſwade her to patience as much as ſhe could. But at laſt the Stoick Lady marryed to a Gallant Heroick Man.

But ſoon after, a Civil War broke out; where theſe two Ladies Husbands being for the Emperour, after great Dangers, and many Wounds got in their Royal Maſters Services, with the loſs of their Eſtates, and baniſhment of their Perſons, were forced to wander into other Nations to live with Strangers upon cold Charity; where theſe two Ladies were forced to take up their croſſes, and travel with their Husbands; where the Stoick Lady did bear her part patiently.

The other Lady was impatient with her Misfortunes, which made her quarrel with every thing, even with herſelf; and yet ſometimes would take delight with the leaſt hopes of a repair, and would lend a credulous ear to every hopefull report, allthough never ſo improbable.

But the Stoick Lady, as ſhe bare her Miſfortunes patiently, ſo ſhe lived quietly, making her Neceſſities a School of Wiſdome, where Truth taught, and Judgement corrected, wherein ſhe learned neither to be credulous, nor obſtinate; not to believe every report, nor to reject all reports, but ſetled herſelf, if good R3 came, R3v 126 came ſo; if not, ſhe knew how to ſuffer without repining at that which could not be avoyded or amended.

But one day the Lady Goſſip came to the Stoick Lady with a pleaſed humour, and merry countenance, and told her that her Husband had been with the Emperour, and that the Emperour uſed him very kindly, and had ſpoke to him very affectionately.

The other Lady ſaid, that Princes would do ſo to them that had deſerved no favour.

Nay, ſaid the Lady Goſſip, he told my Husband, that when he had his power, he would reward his ſervice.

O, ſaid the other Lady, Princes forget to reward when they have power, although they never forget to promiſe rewards when they have no power.

Nay, ſaid the Lady Goſſip, the Emperours Favourite ſaid, the Emperour had a great eſteem of my Husband; and that he takes an occaſion in all his diſcourſe to commend my Husband, and to expreſs his love and kindneſs to him.

The Stoick Lady ſaid, that was but a petty Favourites policy to keep off envy from himſelf, and to feed half ſtarved Sufferers; for it is not to your Husband onely, who is a Gallant Man and deſerves much, but to every one, he ſayes the like to; even to Grooms, Trumpeters, Cooks, and Skullions, making no difference in promiſes nor commendations. The like in Letters; for one kinde of ſtile ſerves for all qualities and degrees; which is as one Deed of Gift to ſeveral Friends, which in effect proves nothing; and though they think it is not perceived, yet it is as publick as a Proclamation, which begins, May’t be known to all People.

But, ſaid ſhe, although this kinde of Policy may deceive unpracticed Men, and pleaſe young Men, and fooliſh Women, with vain hopes, cauſing them to build Caſtles in the Air; yet they that are wiſe, and experienced, are not muffled nor blinded therewith, nor build any deſign thereon, by reaſon their politick foundation is rotten and weak; and that ſuch poor, ſmooth, ſmiling diſſembling policyes will ſooner pull down Monarchy than defend it, much leſs ſet up one that hath been caſt down by Rebellion.

No, ſaid ſhe, Wiſe Men know, that the beſt Policy is true and plain dealing.

And, ſaid ſhe, let me forewarn you not to feed upon Courtpromiſes, Smiles, Comendations, and Letters, for they will breed in you Vain Crudities, and fill you with Hypodropſical Spleen, and Spightfull Vapours, and hot Malicious Humours, which are apt to turn Honeſt Men Knaves.

Said the Lady Goſſip, If I thought my Husbands great loſſes, and faithfull ſervices, ſhould not be rewarded, I ſhould hate the Favourite for playing the Politician with my Husband; and, for revenge, I will work up a Faction of Women againſt him, and ifaith, ſaid ſhe, they will not fail to pull him down.

Indeed, R4r 127

Indeed, ſaid the Stoick Lady, our Sex is prevalent and prompt in any revengefull Deſign; and thoſe in Authority might ſafer diſpleaſe ten Men than one Woman; for though they can do no good (ſaid ſhe) in State affairs, yet we can do hurt.

Yes, ſaid the Lady Goſſip, and ſo ſecretly, that Men ſhall not perceive it.

But, ſaid the Stoick Lady, it is againſt the nature and temper of our Sex to do ſo.

No, ſaid the Lady Goſſip, we were born to do it; and ſo went out in choler.

R4v 128

The third Book.

The Drunken Poets.

There were a Company of Men met at a Well called Helicon, which place of Society is the cauſe many times of good Fellowſhip, and drinking they take for their paſtime. But here at firſt they drank ſoberly, diſcourſing orderly: but at laſt they began to drink Healths, and ſo many, that they grew ſo drunk that they could not ſtand, and ſo drowſie that they all fell aſleep. But in their ſleep, this Drink did work ſuch effects, that when they awaked from being drunk, they became all mad in Poetry, ſome merry, ſome melancholy, others envious, ſome amorous, ſome divinely poetically mad.

Thoſe that were mad merry, were Lyrick Poets, who did nothing but ſing Sonnets.

The Melancholy were Tragedians.

The Envious were Satyrs, who deſcribe the World a Hell, and the Men therein Devils.

The Amorous run all into blank Verſes, putting them into ſuch numbers as to raiſe the Voyce to a paſſionate whining, folding their Arms, fixing their Eyes.

But a grave Moral Philoſopher walking that way, ſeeing a Company together, out of a curioſity went to them; where the firſt that he ſaw, was blinde Homer, acting of Paris, and he hearing one come towards him, imagined ſtraight it was a Woman, becauſe his deſire would have it ſo, and would have him act the part of Helen. The Philoſpher told him, he was not fit to make a Courtezan. Why, ſaid Homer, Pythagoras was one in his Transmigrations. Whereat the Philoſopher was very angry, and left him, and went to ſee who the reſt were.

The next he met, was Virgil acting of Aeneas; where as ſoon as S1r 129 as he ſaw the Philoſopher, would needs take him up for his Father Augenes.. The Philoſopher deſired to be excuſed; for though, ſaid he, I am old enough to be thy Father, yet I love not the few remainder of my dayes ſo well as to have them be a cauſe to burthen my Son, nor ſo uncharitable as he was to his Daughter in-law, to expoſe her to danger, and ſo to be loſt, whil’ſt he rid lazily upon his Sons shoulders.

The third Perſon he ſaw, was Ovid, transforming Gods, Men, and Beaſts, mingling them all together. As ſoon as he ſaw the Philoſopher, he would needs have him Europa, and himſelf Jupiter, and lay tumbling upon the Graſs, feigning himſelf like a Bull, and would have him get upon him, as Europa did, and bid him lay hold upon his Horns. The Philoſopher ſaid, he thought them all horn’d-mad, and ſo left him.

The fourth he met, was Lucan, deſcribing the Battles between Cæſar and Pompey; and when he ſaw the Philoſopher, he would have him ſtand for Pompey, whil’ſt he repreſented Cæeſar, and ſo would have had them fought. But the Philoſopher told him, he was a Man of Peace, and not for War; my ſtudy, ſaid he, is to conquer unſatiable Ambition, and not to fight and kill for Power and Authority by Uſurpation.

The fifth he met, was Martial, who was writing Epigrams, and would needs write one of the Philoſopher. But he prayed him to forbear; for, ſaid he, my wayes are ſo dull and ſober, that they will not produce ſuch phancyes as muſt go to the making of jeſting Epigrams.

The ſixth he met, was Horace, who was deſcribing in his diſcourſe a Country Life, and would needs have the Philoſopher a Country Laſs; and would have had him ſit down upon a Bank by him, that he might make love to him by repeating of Amorous Poems. But after much ſtruggling, the Philoſopher got from him; and growing weary of their Company, left them to their vain Phantaſms, and Phantiſtical Humours.

Loves Cure.

There was a Man which was Amorous by nature, and of a Courtly Behaviour, made love to a young Lady, who returned him Affection for his kinde Profeſſions: but after a while he forſook her, and made love to another; where he had the good fortune as oft times Amorous Men have, to be beloved by reaſon they addreſs their ſuits to Credulous Women, who are ſelf-conceited and opinionated, who eaſily believe, and ſoon perſwade themſelves, that Mens Praiſes and Promiſes, their Vows and Proteſtations are real; and that their Affections are unalterably fix’d when they addreſs themſelves as Suiters and Servants: but this Gallant left her as he did the other, and made love to a third; for it is the nature of Amorous Perſons to love Variety, and ſeek for change, being ſoon weary of one and the ſame.

S Whereupon S1v 130

Whereupon theſe two forſaken Ladyes became very melancholy; and though they were Enemies whil’ſt he made love to either, yet now became dear Friends ſince he made love to neither. And every day they would viſit one another, to condole and bewail their misfortunate loves.

But the ſecond forſaken Lady having been ſome time in the Country, and returning thence, went to viſit her Friend, with a Face cloathed in a ſad Countenance, and veiled with dull Eyes: but ſeeing her Friend, who had wont to have as mourning a Face as ſhe, to have now a merry Countenance, and a lively Behaviour, and a healthfull Complexion, began to be jealous, thinking her unconſtant Lover had renewed his Love-ſuit to her; for Friendſhips made by loſs, diſſolve, when either get what they before did loſe, and think they had a right thereto, at leaſt a ſhare therein.

But to be reſolved, ſhe asked her the reaſon ſhe ſeemed ſo well diſpoſed to be ſo pleaſant; when that ſhe parted from her laſt, ſhe ſeemed to be like one newly raiſed from the dead, or like a Statue, made of Stone, that had no Life nor Motion.

Truly, ſaid ſhe, my Minde is in ſuch peace, that my Thoughts take a harmleſs freedome to ſport and play; beſides, it gives my Body leave to nouriſh Life.

Said the ſecond Lady, would my Minde could finde the ſame tranquillity.

Said the firſt, truly if your Minde be troubled ſtill, and finds no reſt, I pity you, by what I have felt my ſelf; for when my Minde was troubled, there was a Civil War amongſt my Paſſions, ſuch Factions, Side-takings, and Diſputations, with Anger, Spight, Spleen, and Malice, againſt Love, Hope, and Jealouſie; which cauſed many Tears to be ſhed, and Groans to be ſent forth.

But how came you to be cured? ſaid ſhe.

I tell you, ſaid ſhe; after a long Civil War amongſt my Paſſions, my Body being allmoſt waſted to skin and bone for want of reſt and nouriſhment, for my Paſſions had devoured Sleep and baniſhed Appetite, whereupon my Minde began to be infected with a feaveriſh diſtemper; which Reaſon perceiving came to the reſcue, bringing an Army of Arguments, making Underſtanding and Truth chief Commanders; where, after many Skirmiſhes, thoſe Paſſions being often foyled, and put to a rout they grew weak, and ſo diſperſed ſeveral wayes. But after theſe Wars, a dark Melancholy cover’d my Minde like a Cloud, which eclipſ’d all the light of Comfort; whereupon it murmured againſt the Gods Decree, and complained againſt Natures Works and curſed Fortunes Inſtabillity. At which, poor Virtue, whom Education had put to be my Governeſs, was very angry, and ſaid, the Gods had been too merciful, Nature too bountifull, and Fortune too favourable, unleſs I were more thankfull. Yet ſhe commanded Patience and Charity, who were two of her Handmaids, to ſtand by me. But as my Minde was muſing, in came S2r 131 came my grave and ſober Companions the Sciences, and ſeeing me in that poſture, began to counſel me, perſwading me to follow their ſtudies; for, ſaid they, there are none compoſe and ſettle the Minde more than we.

My Minde bowing to them, gave them thanks for their advice; but as ſoon as they were gone, in came my Domeſtick Acquaintance the Arts, who offered me all their Induſtry and Ingenuity to do me ſervice, but I told them, I was paſt the cure of any Art, whereupon they very ſorrowfully departed.

No ſooner were they gone, but in came my Play-fellows the Muſes, who ſeeing me ſit ſo dejected, began to ſport with me; one pulled me out to dance, another would have me ſing, another repeated Love-verſes, another deſcribed Battles and Wars; another, like a Mimmick, imitated ſeveral humours; and ſo every one in their turns. But the Tragedian Muſe ſaid, that ſhe liked my humour very well, and ſaid, I was the onely fit Company for her that was: but my Moral Governeſs chid them away, and ſaid, ſhe would order me better than to ſuffer ſuch wanton Wenches and idle Houſwifes to keep me Company, ſaying, they were able to ſpoyl and corrupt a whole Nation with their wildneſs, and impoveriſh a Kingdome with their lazineſs; whereupon ſome went laughing away, but others went weeping. So after I had been ſome time chaſtiſed by Virtue, the Sciences returned in a Chariot which the Arts had made, being finely carved, neatly cut, and lively painted; alſo joyned with curious Scrues, and ſubtil Engins, the Wheels being in a Mathematical Compaſs; which Chariot was drawn by ſix new, ſound, ſtrong, and well-breath’d Opinions, harneſsed with Speculations, ſhod with Diſputations, wherewith they often ſtumble upon the ridge of Ignorance, or plunging into holes of Nonſenſe. The Charioteer that drives the Chariot, was Ambition; the Poſtilion was Curioſity; the Sciences ſitting therein, and Doubts and Hopes running as Lacquais by; which Lacquais did bear me upon their ſhoulders, and placed me in the midſt of the Chariot, the Sciences round about me. Where I was no ſooner ſet, but Rhetorick preſented me with a Poſie of ſweet Eloquence; and the Mathematiques crown’d me with Truth. But they all in their turns encouraged me, telling me, they would carry me to Fames Palace, and there I ſhould remain.

No ſooner had the Charioteer, Ambition, given a laſh to make the Opinions run, but the Muſes came in a Chariot made by Contemplation, cut out of Imagination, lined with ſeveral colour’d Phancyes, imbroydered with Rhymes, trowling upon the Wheels of Numbers, drawn by Diſtinguiſhments; whoſe Trappings were Similizing, plumed with Delight, ſhod with Pleaſure, which makes them run ſmooth, ſwift, and eaſy; the Charioteer was Judgement; and the Poſtilion, Wit.

But when the Muſes who were therein ſaw I was in the Chariot of the Sciences, they began to quarrel, drawing out their Satyrical Swords.

The Sciences, being more grave and temperate, receive their S2 Aſſaults S2v 132 Aſſaults very civilly, as coming from fair Ladyes. But after ſome diſpute, they did agree to take turns to carry me to Fames Palace. And after I had travelled ſome time with the Sciences, I was received into the Chariot of the Muſes, where I was received with great Joy, and crowned with a Wreath of Flame. And thus I am travelling with very wiſe and pleaſant Company, but as yet I have no ſight of the Palace: but howſoever, my Minde is ſo pleaſed with the Journey, and ſo delighted with the Society, and ſo proud of the Favours and Gifts it receives from them every day, that it deſpiſes the Follyes, hates the Falſhood of Mankinde, and ſcorns the proffers of Fortune, not regarding the Vanities of the World.

Would you could bring me into that Society, ſaid the ſecond Lady.

Anſwered the firſt, I will do my endeavour.

But after a ſhort time ſhe pleaded ſo earneſtly in her Friends behalf, that ſhe was received into their Company, and alſo into their Chariots, where each Lady took their turns to ride in each Chariot, whereby the Muſes and Sciences were both pleaſed at one time, having allwayes one of them with each. And when at any time, they reſted from travelling, the Sciences and Muſes made Paſtimes for thoſe two Ladyes, like thoſe of the Olympick Games, the Sciences found out new places to play in; likewiſe took the Height, the Longitude and Latitude.

Alſo, by the help of the Arts, they fortified and made them ſtrong, and built thereon; and the Muſes invented Maſques, made Plays, and the like; for the Sciences, Arts, and Muſes, were ſo proud, and did ſo glory that they had gotten two of the Effeminate Sex, that they ſtrove with all their Induſtry to delight them, and to entertain them after the beſt manner.

The propagating Souls.

There was a handſome young Lord, and a young beautifull Lady, did love moſt paſſionately and entirely, that their Affections could never be diſſolved: but their Parents not agreeing, would by no means be perſwaded to let them marry, nor ſo much as converſe as Strangers, ſetting Spyes to watch them.

But when they found they would meet in deſpight of their Spyes, they incloſed them up from coming at each other; whereat they grew ſo diſcontent, and melancholy, that they both dyed, and juſt at one and the ſame time, to the great grief and repentance of their Parents, who now wiſh’d they had not been ſo cruel.

But when their Bodyes were dead, theſe Lovers Souls, leaving their Fleſhly Manſions, went towards the River of Styx, to paſs over to the Elyzium Fields, where in the way they met each other; at which meeting they were extreamly joyed, but know not S3r 133 not how to expreſs it, for they had no Lips to kiſs, nor Arms to embrace, being Bodyleſs, and onely Spirits. But the paſſion of Love being allwayes ingenuous, found out a way, as thus; their Souls, which are their Spirits, did mingle and intermix, as liquid Eſſences, whereby each others Soul became as one.

But after theſe gentle, ſmooth, ſoft Love-expreſſions, they began to remember each other of their croſſes and interpoſitions whilſt they lived in their Bodyes: but, at laſt, conſidering of the place they were moving to, where the Maſculine Soul was unwilling to go; for ſince he had his Beloved Soul, he cared not to live in the Elyzium. Then, ſpeaking in the Souls Language, perſwaded his Love not to go thither, for, ſaid he, I deſire no other Company but yours, nor would I be troubled or diſturbed with other Lovers Souls. Beſides, I have heard, ſaid he, they that are there do nothing but walk and talk of their paſt life, which we may deſire to forget. Then let us, ſaid he, onely enjoy ourſelves by intermixing thus.

She anſwered, ſhe did approve of his deſire, and that her Minde did joyn in all conſents. But where, ſaid ſhe, ſhall be our habitation? He anſwered, he would build a Manſion in the Air, of Poets Phancyes, and Philoſophers Imaginations, and make Gardens of Oratory:

Wherein ſhould Flowers of Rhetorick grow,

By which, Rivers of Divine Faith ſhould flow.

Said ſhe, that place a Paradice would be,

But I no ſtrong Foundation there can ſee;

For it will ſhake with every puff of Winde,

No certainty nor ſurance will you finde.

My Soul, ſaid he, then we will higher fly,

And there another Manſion we will try.

And after they had argued ſome time, at laſt they did agree to dwell in one of the Planets; but before ſuch time as they could arrive to the loweſt Planet, theſe two Noble Souls by Conjunction produced ſeveral Flames, which were called Meteors: theſe being not able to travel ſo high, lived in the lower Region; and by intermixing together, as their Parents did, produced more of their kinde.

But after thoſe productions of theſe Souls, they went to the Planets, where they found ſome of their Climates too cold, others too moyſt, others too cold and moyſt, others hot, and others hot and moyſt, others hot and dry, others cold and dry; with which they did not agree, being not equally temper’d.

But yet on every Planet theſe Souls being fruitfull, they left many of their iſſues, called Meteors, which are ſhining Lights like Stars: but being produced from the mortal temper of the Souls, are ſubject to Mortality; for Amorous Thoughts are the bodily Dregs of Mortality, which made theſe Meteors ſubject to dye, as other Generations, being the mortal effects of their S3 Immortality; S3v 134 Immortality, otherwiſe they would be Stars; for whatſoever is Mortal, may beget their like, or kinde, which other things that are Immortal never do.

But when theſe two Souls had travelled above the Planets, they became one fix’d Star, as being eternal, and not ſubject to dye.

But when they were thus, they did produce no more Iſſues; for what Mortality the Body left,

Whoſe Souls to Earth and Planets did reſign,

Which in a Generation of Meteors ſhine.

Phancyes Monarchy in the Land of Poetry.

In the Land of Poetry, Reaſon was King; a Gallant Prince he was, and of a Heroick Spirit, a Majeſtical Preſence, and of a ſober and grave Countenance; he was tall of Stature, and ſtrong of Limbs. His Queen was the Lady Wit, a Lady of a quick Spirit, of a pleaſant Converſation, an amiable Countenance, a free Behaviour, and of a ſweet Diſpoſition; ſhe was neatly ſhap’d, fair complexion’d, and finely, but variouſly, attired.

This King and Queen loved with an extraordinary Affection, and lived very happily and peaceably, for he governed wiſely. His Kingdome was large, and fully populated, well manured, and of great Traffick. He made profitable Laws, ſet ſtrict Rules, and kept good Orders both in the Church and State.

As for the Church, Faith and Zeal were the two Archbiſhops; which Biſhops were ſworn to conſecrate none but Moral Virtues, to preach Good Life, deveſting all ſeveral Sects, Opinions, Superſtitious Idolatry, and the like. Neither were they ſuffered to make Lectures of Learning, becauſe they allwayes preach Controverſie, puzzling Belief with nice Diſtinctions, vain Phantaſms, and empty Words, without ſenſe.

The Cathedral Church was the Conſcience, the two Univerſities were Study and Practice, wherein all the Maſculine Youth of the Kingdome were bred.

As for the State, there were Superintendent Officers and Magiſtrates made of all degrees. The Senſes were the five Ports to this Kingdome; the Head and the Heart were the two Magazines.

There were two Governours made to every Port, to command and rule. Judgement and Underſtanding allwayes ſit at the Ports called the Ears, to examine all that enter through, having a ſtrict Command from the King to let in no Sound, but Harmony; no Reports, but Truth; no Diſcourſes, but Rational or Witty; and that they ſhould ſhut the Gates againſt Flattery, Falſhood, Diſcord, harſh loud Strains, Scraping, Creaking, Squealing Noyſes.

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And Love and Skill were the two Commanders to the Port, Eyes; who were commanded that they ſhould let none in, but Uniformity, Cimmetry, Beauty, gracefull Motions, pleaſing Aſpects, light and well mix’d Colours; and to ſhut the Gates againſt Deformity or Monſtroſity, rude Actions, cruel Actions, glaring Lights, ill mix’d Colours, falſe Shadows and Darkneſs and to ſet up the light of Dreams when they were ſhut. Alſo to let no Tears paſs through the Eyes, but thoſe that have a Paſs-port from the Governour of the Heart.

At the Port of the Noſtrils ſate Like and Diſlike, who were commanded to let in none but ſweet Smels, ſuch as reſteth the Brain, as the ſcent of ſweet Flowers, ſavoury Herbs, Earth new plough’d, new bak’d Bread, alſo ſweet Gums, ſweet Eſſences, and the like: But to ſhut the Gates of the Noſtrils againſt ſnuffs of Candles, ſtinking Breaths, corrupted Fleſh, ſtale Fiſh, old Apples, ſtrong Cheeſe, ſpilt Drink, foul Gutters, eſpecially the Pump or Sink in a Ship; alſo no ſmells of Suet or Greaſe, and from many more ſtinking Scents, which would be too tedious to mention. But in caſes of neceſſity they were to be allowed, or rather commanded to let in ſome ſorts of Stinks, as Ace fertita, and burnt Feathers, to cure the Fits of the Mother.

Then the two Commanders of the Mouth were Truth and Pleaſure; one was to govern the Words, the other the Taſte.

Pleaſure was commanded to let nothing into the Mouth that was either too ſharp, too bitter, too ſalt, or too deliciouſly ſweet.

Truth was commanded to ſuffer no Lyes, Curſing, Slandering, Railings, Flattering, nor Amorous, Laſcivious, nor Factious Diſcourſes.

Likewiſe, never to let paſs an Oath, but to confirm a Truth; not threatning, nor terrifie or reclaim the Wicked, or croſs natur’d; no Pleading, but for Right; no Commands, but for Good, no Praiſes, but for Worth.

Alſo, to let no Sighs nor Groans paſs, nor no Profeſſions, except they have a Paſs-port from the Heart.

Nor no Promiſes, but when they have a Paſſ-port from the King, which is Reaſon.

The two Commanders of Touch, were Pain and Pleaſure; who were commanded to keep out all ſharp Colds, burning Heats, Bruiſes, Pinches, Smartings, Cuttings, Prickings, Nippings, Preſſing, Razing; and to let in none but nouriſhing Warmth, ſoft Rubbing, gentle Scratching, refreſhing Colds, and the like. And upon pain of Death, or at leaſt high Diſpleaſure, theſe Rules were to be kept. Yet ſometimes Bribery corrupted the Commanders.

The Privy Council was the Breaſt, the Privy Couſellors were Secrecy, Conſtancy, Fidelity, Unity, Truth, Juſtice, Fortitude, Prudence, and Temperance. Theſe Privy Counſellors helped the King to manage the Affairs of the Kingdome.

The Secretaries of State were Intelligence and Diſpatch.

The Treaſurer was Memory.

The Lord Keeper was Remembrance.

The S4v 136

The Mayors of every City were Authority.

The Conſtables were Care.

The Judges were Communitive and Diſtributive. Honeſty was the Commander of all the Forces of the Actions and Thoughts.

The Heroick Actions are the chief Commanders, as Captains and Colonels, and the like;

The Common Souldiers are the ordinary and neceſſary Actions, which are imployed in offenſive and defenſive Wars.

The Merchants are the Imaginations, which traffick and trade damagedover the World.

The Inventions are the Handicraftſmen, and Labourers.

The Appetites are the Citizens, that are ſo covetous as to ingroſs all Commodities, and the Wealth of the Kingdome; and they are the moſt Luxurious People in the Land.

But, as I ſaid, the King was a Wiſe Prince, and to divert his Subjects from ſerious Studyes, dull Contemplations, and laborious Dictatings, he had Maſques, Plays, Paſtrols, and the like; being attended by his Nobles, the Sciences; and the Gentry of the Kingdome, which were the ſeveral Languages.

The Queen, by the Muſes and Graces.

The Marriage of Life and Death

Death went a wooing to Life: but his grim and terrible Aſpect did ſo affright Life, that ſhe ran away, and would by no means hearken unto his ſuit.

Then Death ſent Age and Weakneſs, as two Embaſſadors, to preſent his Affection: but Life would not give them Audience.

Whereupon Death ſent Pain, who had ſuch a perſwaſive power, or power of perſwaſion, that made Life yeild to Deaths embracements. And after they were agreed, the Wedding-day was ſet, and Gueſts invited.

Life invited the five Senſes, and all the Paſſions and Affections, and Beauty, Pleaſure, Youth, Wit, Proſperity, and alſo Virtue, and the Graces.

But Health, Strength, Cordials, and Charms, refuſe to come; which troubled Life much.

But none that Death invited refuſed to come, as being old Father Time, Weakneſs, Sickneſs, allſo all ſorts of Pains, and all ſorts of Diſeaſes, and killing Inſtruments; beſides, Sighs, Tears, and Groans, and Numneſs and Paleneſs.

But when Life and Death met, Death took Life by the Hand, then Peace marryed them, and Reſt made their Bed of Oblivion, wherein Life lay in the cold Arms of Death. Yet Death got numerous Iſsues; and ever ſince, whatſoever is produced from Life, dyes. Where, before this Marriage, there was no ſuch thing as dying, for Death and Life were ſingle, Death being a Batchelor, T1r 137 Batchelor, and Life a Maid. But Life proved not ſo good a Wife as Death a Husband; for Death is ſober, ſtayed, grave, diſcreet, patient, dwelling ſilently and ſolitary, where Life is wilde, various, unconſtant, and runs about, ſhunning her Husband Deaths company.

But he, as a loving and fond Husband, follows her; and when he embraces her, ſhe grows big, and ſoon produces young Lives. But all the Off-ſpring of Death and Life are divided, half dwelling with Life, and half with Death.

But at this Wedding, old Father Time, which looked the youngeſt, although he was the oldeſt in the Company, and danced the nimbleſt and beſt, making ſeveral changes in his Dances; beſides, he trod ſo gently, and moved ſo ſmoothly, that none could perceive how he did turn, and winde, and leade about. And being wiſer than all the reſt with long Experience, he behaved himſelf ſo handſomely, inſinuated ſo ſubtilly, courted ſo civilly, that he got all the Ladyes Affections; and being dextrous, got Favours from every one of them, and ſome extraordinary ones; for he devirginated Youth, Beauty, Pleaſure, Proſperity, and all the five Senſes, but could not corrupt Wit, Virtue, nor the Graces.

But Nature, hearing of the abuſe of her Maids, was very angry, and forced him to marry them all: But they, although they were inamoured of him before they were marryed, yet now they do as moſt other Wives do, not care for him; nay they hate him, rail and exclaim againſt him; that what with his peeviſh, froward, and croſs Wives, and with the Jealouſie he hath of Sickneſs, Pains and Miſchances that often raviſh them, he is become ſo full of Wrinkles, and his Hair is turned all grey.

But Virtue and Wit, which are his ſworn Friends, and ſweet Companions, he recreates himſelf with their pleaſant, free, honeſt, and honourable Societies.

Of the Indiſpoſitions of the Minde.

The Minde was very ſick, and ſent for Phyſicians, whereupon there came ſome Divines; but they diſputed ſo long, and contradicted one another ſo much, that they could conclude of nothing. One adviſing the Minde to take a Scruple of Calvin’s Inſtitutions; others, a Dram of Luther’s Doctrine; ſome, two Drams of the Romiſh Treacle, or Opinions; ſome, of the Anabaptiſts Water; others, to take ſome of the Browniſts Spirits. But there were ſome quite from theſe Opinions, and would adviſe the Minde to lay ſome of Mahomet’s Pigeons at the feet, cutting them with the Turkiſh Scimitar, then binde it up with his Alkaron; others would have the Minde binde the head with the Talmud of the Jews.

But the Minde grew ſicker and ſicker, inſomuch that it was allmoſt at the laſt gaſp; whereupon the Minde deſired them to depart, for, ſaid he, your Controverſies will kill me ſooner than T your T1v 138 your Doctrine will cure me. But the Minde being very ſick, ſent for other Sects of Phyſicians, who were Moral Philoſophers. So when they were come, they ſet round a Table, and there began to diſcourſe and diſpute of the Diſeaſes of the Minde.

Sayes one, Grief is a Lethargy.

No, ſaid another, Stupidity is a Lethargie; for Grief rather weeps than ſleeps.

O, but ſaid another, there are dry Griefs that ſweat no Tears.

Pray, Gentleman, diſpatch, ſaid the Minde, for I am in great pain.

Sayes one, Hate is an Apoplexy.

No, ſayes another, Love is an Appoplexy; for it is dead to it ſelf, though it lives to the Beloved.

No, ſaid he, but Hate is a dead Palſey.

No, ſaid the other, Ignorance is a dead Palſey, but Hate is an Appoplexy, cauſed by the ſtopping of the Spirits, either the Animal or Vital Spirits; the Vital Spirits being Compaſſion; the Animal Spirits, Generoſity.

You are moſt ſtrangely miſtaken, ſaid another, for all the Spirits are compoſed of Fortitude; the Vital Spirits are actual, the Animal are paſſive.

But they diſputed ſo long upon this Point, that they had allmoſt fallen out. But the Minde prayed them not to quarrel, for wrangling noyſe did diſturb him much.

Then one ſaid, Spight and Envy were Cancers; the one cauſed by ſharp humours, the other by ſalt.

Another ſaid that Spight was not a Cancer, but a Fiſtula, that broke out in many ſeveral places; and that Envy was the Scurvy, that ſpeckled the whole Body of the Minde like Flea-bite.

But the Minde prayed them to go no further in that diſpute.

Then one of them ſaid, that Anger was a hot burning Feaver.

Nay, by your favour, ſaid another, Anger is an Epilepſy, that foams at the Mouth and beats its Breaſt, ſtruggling and ſtriving; and will be often in cold Sweats, and as pale as Death.

Then another ſaid, that an Ague in the Minde was Doubt and Hope; the cold Fit being Doubt, and the hot Fit, Hope.

A ſecond anſwered, that Agues were Fear, which cauſed ſhaking Fits.

A third ſaid, that Jealouſie was an Ague, that had cold and hot Fits.

Nay, ſaid a fourth, Jealouſie is an Hective Feaver, that is, an extraordinary Heat got into the Arteries, which inflames the Spirit of Action, drinks up the Blood of Tranquillity, and at laſt waſts and conſumes the Body of Love.

A fith ſaid, Jealouſie is the Gout, which is a burning, beating, throbbing, pulſive pain, never letting the Minde be at reſt.

Said a ſixth, Jealouſie is a Head-ake, cauſed from an ill-affected Friend. But there grew ſuch a Diſpute upon this, as whether it was the Head, Heart, or Arteries, that the Minde was forced to threaten them they ſhould have no Fees if they did diſpute ſo much.

As T2r 139

As for the Winde-collick in the Minde, ſome ſaid, it was an overflow of Imaginations and Conceptions; others, that it was ſtrange Opinions; others ſaid, it was wilde Phancye; others, that it was the over-dilating of the Thoughts; and many more ſeveral Judgements were given; whereupon they were ready to fight.

To which the Minde replyed, that it is impoſſible you ſhould preſcribe effectual Medicines, if you cannot agree about the Diſease.

Then another ſaid, Slander was the ſpotted Feaver.

Another ſaid, a ſpotted Feaver was Malice.

Sayes another, a ſpotted Feaver and the Plague have near relation; but the Plague, ſaid he, is Diſcontent, that is cauſed by Envy, Slander, Malice, and the like. This Plague of Diſcontent breaks out into Factions, Soars, and great Spots of Rebellion, which cauſeth Death and Deſtruction.

But one of the former Doctors was about contradicting him: but the Minde forbid him.

Then one ſaid, Melancholy was the Stone, cauſed by a cold congealment of the Spirits.

Another ſaid, Cruelty was the Stone, cauſed by hot Revenge, or covetous Contractings, which bakes all the tender and ſoft Humours into a hard confirmed Body, as Stone.

Then one ſaid, that Rage and Fury were Convulſions.

No, ſaid another, Inconſtancies are Convulſions.

Then one ſaid, Pity was a Conſumption, pining and waſting by degrees.

Nay, by your favour, ſaid a ſecond, Forgetfulneſs is a Conſumption, which fades as Light or Colours, or moulders as Duſt.

Then another ſaid, Deſire was a Dropſie, which was allwayes dry.

Nay, ſaid a ſecond, Deſire is that Diſeaſe which is called a Dog-like Appetite; which cauſes the Appetite of the Minde to be allwayes hungry; and the Stomack of the Minde ſeeming allwayes empty, which makes the Thoughts hunt after Food: But a Dropſie, ſaid he, is a Reluctancy, which allwayes ſwells out with Averſions.

O, ſaid a third, a Dropſie in the Minde is Voluptuousneſs.

Nay, ſaid a fourth, a Dropſie is Pride, which ſwells out with Vain-glory.

But they diſputed ſo much, whether a Dropſie, or a Dog-like Appetite, or a Reluctancy, or Voluptuouſneſs, or Pride, that they fell together by the Ears.

And the Minde was well content to let them fight. But for fear the Minde ſhould be diſturbed, his Friends parted them; and pray’d the Doctors, that they would preſcribe the Minde ſomething to take. Then they began their Preſcriptions.

For the Lethargy of Grief, ſaid one, you muſt take ſome Crums of Comfort mix’d with the Juice of Patience, the Spirits T2 of T2v 140 of Grace, and Sprigs of Time, and lay it to the Heart of the Minde, and it will prove a perfect Cure.

Said another, a Lethargy is Stupidity; and therefore you muſt take hot and reviving Drinks, as the Vapour of Wine, or the like Drinks, variety of Objects, pleaſant Converſation; mix theſe together: then put this Liquor into a Serenge of Muſick, and ſquirt it into the Ear of the Minde, and this will bring a perfect Cure.

The Doctor that ſaid, an Appoplexy was Hate, ſaid, the Minde muſt take a few Obligations, and mix them with a mollifying Oil of good Nature, and Spirits of Gratitude, and binde them upon the grieved part, and that would cure it.

No, ſaid the Doctor that ſaid, Appoplexies were Love, you muſt take the Drug of Misfortunes, and the Sirrop of Miſery; and when you have mix’d them together, you muſt ſet them a ſtewing on the Fire of Trial, then drink it off warm; and allthough it will make the Minde ſick with Unkindneſs for the preſent, yet it will purge all the doting Humours out of the Minde.

But he that ſaid Hate was a dead Palſey, preſcribed the ſame Medicine as he that ſaid it was an Appoplexy; for he ſaid, an Appoplexy is a kinde of a dead Palſey.

But he that ſaid, Ignorance was a dead Palſey, ſaid, the Minde muſt take ſome good Books, whoſe Authors were Learned Perſons, and ſqueez them hard through a Strainer of Study, and mix ſome practiced Experience thereto, and make a Salve of Induſtry, then ſpread it upon a ſtrong Canvaſs of Time, and lay it upon the Malady, and it will be a perfect Cure.

And he that ſaid, Spight and Envy were Cancers, bid the Minde take the Honey of Self-conceit once in two or three hours, and it would abate that ſharp or ſalt humours.

But the other, that ſaid that Spight and Envy were Fiſtola’s, bid the Minde get ſome of the Powder of Inferiors, or the Tears of the Diſtreſſed, and mix them well together, and lay it to the Soar, and it will be a perfect Cure.

But he that ſaid, that Envy was the Scurvy, bid him bath in Solitarineſs and drink of the Water of Meditation, wherein run thoughts of Death, like Mineral Veins, and it will cure him.

And the Doctor that ſaid, Anger was a Feaver, bid the Minde drink cold Julips of Patience.

And he that ſaid, Anger was an Epilepſy, bid the Minde take the Powder of Diſcretion.

And the Doctor that ſaid, an Ague was Doubts and Hopes, bid him take the Powder of Watchfulneſs and mix it with a Draught of Courage, and drink it in his cold Fit; and that he take the Powder of Induſtry in the Liquor of Judgement in his hot Fit, and it will cure him.

And he that ſaid, an Ague in the Minde was Fear, his Preſcription was the ſame of the former Medicine for that cold Fit.

But T3r 141

But he that ſaid, Jealouſie was an Ague, bid the Minde take of ſome of the Spirits of Confidence.

And he that ſaid, Jealouſie was a Conſumption, bid the Minde take nouriſhing Broths of Variety, and bath in the River of Oblivion, which could cool the Feaver of Suſpicion.

But he that ſaid that Jealouſie was the Gout in the Minde, bid the Minde lay a Plaſter of Abſence ſpread on the Canvaſs of Time, and it would cure him.

As for the Winde-collick, he that ſaid it was the overflow of the Imaginations and Conceptions, bid the Minde take ſome ſeveral Noyſes, both Verbal and Vocal, and mix them with much Company, and lay them to the Ears of the Minde, and it would cure. Probatum eſt.

And thoſe that ſaid, that Winde-collick was ſtrange Opinions, or wilde Phancyes, bid the Minde take ſome Pills of Imployment to purge out thoſe crude Flateous, and undigeſted Humours.

But he that ſaid, it was cauſed by a dilation of the Thoughts, bid him take the Eyes of Dice, and the Spots of Cards, and the Chequers of Cheſs boards, and the Points of Table men, and put thoſe together, and when they are thoroughly mix’d, and diſſolved into an Oil, anoint the Fingers ends, the Palms of the Hands, the Wriſt, the Elbows, and the Eyes of the Minde; this, ſayes he, will contract the Thoughts to the compaſs of a ſingle Penny, which will cure that Diſeaſe.

As for the Diſeaſe called the ſpotted Feaver, which is Slander, they bid the Minde take a good quantity of Repentance, and diſtil it, from whence will drop Tears, and take a Draught of that ditilled Water every morning faſting.

But he that ſaid, that Malice was the ſpotted Feaver, bid the Minde diſtil Merits, from whence will drop Praiſes; and bid the Minde take a draught of that Water every evening.

But he that ſaid, Diſcontent was the Plague, being a part of all the Diſeaſes, bid the Minde take Humility, Magnanimity, Obedience, Loyalty, Fidelity, and Temper, and put all theſe together, and make a Pultis, and lay it upon the Swelling, it will keep it from breaking; aſſwage the pain, and cure the Patient. But if they come out in Spots of Rebellion, there is no Remedy to avoyd Death.

As for Melancholy, he that ſaid that it was the Stone in the Minde, cauſed by a cold congealment in the Spirits, which ſtupifies the Senſes of the Minde into Stone, bid him take Beauty, Wit, fine Landſkaps, Proſpects, Muſick, freſh Air; put this into the Liquor of Mirth, and drink of it every day, it would prove a perfect Cure.

But he that ſaid, the Stone in the Minde was Cruelty, cauſed by the ſharpneſs of Envy, the bitterneſs of Hate, and greedy Covetouſneſs, to drink a draught of Prodigality once a week, and it would cure him.

And he that ſaid, Cruelty was the Stone, that baked the tender and ſoft Humours into a hard confirmed Body of Stone, bid him T3 take T3v 142 take an Ounce of Compaſſion, two Ounces of Charity, two Ounces of Generoſity, as much Clemency, and bray them all together, then divide them into two parts, and lay one half to the Heart, and another to the Reins of the Minde; and thoſe Medicines will ſoon diſſolve the Stone.

As for Convulſions of the Minde, he that ſaid it was Fury, bid the Minde take an Ounce of Diſcretion, half an Ounce of Judgement, a Scruple of Gravity; mix them all together, as in an Electuary, and take it faſting, and it will cure him.

And he that ſaid, that Inconſtancy was the Convulſion in the Minde, bid him take an Ounce of Temperance, and an Ounce of Judgement, one of Underſtanding, two Ounces of Reſolution; mix theſe into an Electuary, and take a good quantity of it every morning, and this would cure him.

As for a Conſumption, he that ſaid, Pity was a Conſumption, bid the Minde take a Heart, and bake it dry, and when it was dryed to Powder, mix it in his ordinary Drink, and it would cure him.

But he that ſaid, Forgetfulneſs was a Conſumption, bid him onely take a draught of Remembrance every day.

As for Dropſies, he that ſaid Deſires were Dropſies, bid the Minde take a Bunch of Reaſon, that grows in a well temper’d Brain; and as much Humility, that grows in a good Heart; boyl them in the Water of Content, and drink a draught three times a day; this ſaid he, will dry up the ſuperfluous matter.

But he that ſaid, that Deſire was that Diſeaſe which was called the Dog-like Appetite, bid the Minde make a Bisk of Vanity, and Oil of Curioſity, a Hodgepodge of Variety; and eat ſo long, till he did vomit it up again; and if he could ſurfet thereof, it would prove a Cure, otherwiſe there was no remedy, unleſs the Minde could get ſome Fruition, which is ſeldome to be had, yet ſometimes is found, ſaid he.

But he that ſaid, a Dropſie was a Reluctancy, that ſwelled out with an adverſion, bid the Minde onely uſe Abſtinence, and it would cure him.

And he that ſaid it was Voluptuouſneſs, ſaid, that the ſame Medicine was to be preſcribed.

And he that ſaid it was Pride that ſwelled out with Vain-glory, bid the Minde take a great quantity of Humility: but if you take it from the hand of Misfortunes, ſaid he, it will make you ſick.

But the Minde perceiving that they agreed not in any one Medicine or Diſeaſe, deſired that they would depart from him;. For ſaid he, Gentlemen, it is impoſſible you ſhould preſcribe an effectual Medicine, or Remedy, ſince you cannot agree about the Diſeaſe. So he paid them their Fees, and they departed; and the Minde became his own Phyſician, and Apothecary, and Chyrurgion.

Firſt, he let himſelf Blood, opening the wilfull Vein, taking out the obſtinate Blood.

Then T4r 143

Then he did take Pills made of Society and Mirth, and thoſe purged all ſtrange and vain Conceits.

Alſo the Minde eat every morning a Meſs of Broth, wherein was Herbs of Grace, Fruits of Juſtice, Spice of Prudence, Bread of Fortitude; theſe were boyled with the Fleſh of Judgement, in the Water of Temperance. This Breakfaſt was a ſovereign Remedy againſt the malignant Paſſions; for it did temper the Heat, qualifie the Sharpneſs, allay their Vapours, and mollifie the ob durate Paſſions, and the fooliſh Affections.

Likewiſe, he did take to his ſervice the ſtrongeſt, ſoundeſt, and quickeſt Senſes, which were five; theſe waited on him; and each in their turn gave him intelligence of every thing, and brought him all the news in the Country, which was a Recreation and Paſtime for him. And in thus doing, he became the healthfulleſt and jollyeſt Man in the Pariſh.

The Thoughts feaſted.

There were two Men that were Companions; one of them told the other, that he had made a particular ſearch, and a ſtrict enquiry for him three dayes together, and could not hear of him, inſomuch that he had thought ſome unfortunate Accident, or violent Death had befallen him.

He anſwered, his Senſes had been to viſit the Soul, which was the cauſe of his Bodyes retirement.

Said the other, I have heard the Soul did uſe to viſit the Senſes, but never heard that the Senſes did uſe to viſit the Soul.

He anſwered, that the Senſitive Spirits did as often, in ſome men, viſit the Rational, as the Rational did the Senſitive.

Well, ſaid he; and how doth the Soul live?

Said he, as a great Prince ſhould do; for the Manſion of the Soul is nobly ſituated upon a high Hill of Ambition, which aſcends by ſteps of Deſires, whereon ſtands a very curious Caſtle of Imaginations; and all about are ſolitary Walks of Contemplations, and dark Groves of Melancholy, wherein run Rivers of Tears.

The Caſtle is walled with Vain-glory, and built upon Pillars of Hope. Within the Walls are fine Gardens of Eloquence, ſet full of Flowers of Rhetorick; and Orchards of Invention, wherein grow fruitfull Arts. In this Orchard, many Birds of Fancyes, which flee from Tree to Tree, from Branch to Branch, from Bow to Bow, ſinging fine Notes of Poetry in ſweet ſtrain of Verſe, in chirping Rhymes, building their Neſts in Arbours of Love, wherein they hatched Conceits.

Said he, Likewiſe the Soul hath another Houſe, which is a moſt ſtately Palace; it ſtands in the midſt of a large Plain of good Nature, wherein run Rivers of Generoſity: This Palace is walled about with Fortitude, and ſtands upon Pillars of Juſtice. There T4v 144 There are long, ſtraight, level Walks of Temperance, where is freſh Air of Health.

This Palace is built very convenient; for on the outſide are Stables of Diſcretion, wherein are tyed up wilde Opinions, Phantaſms, and all skittiſh Humours; and a large riding Room of Judgement, where all Opinions are managed.

Alſo, there are Granges of thrifty Contrivance, where are Cattle of Prudence, that give the Milk of Profit. Beſides, there are Kitchins of Appetite, Dining Rooms of Luxury, Galleries of Memory, Cellars of Forgetfullneſs, Chambers of Reſt, Cloſets of Peace.

But, ſaid he, after my Senſes had viewed every place, they took their leave of the Soul: but the Soul anſwered, that they ſhould ſtay and feaſt with him. So the Soul invited all his Subjects, the Thoughts. For firſt, there were the Generous Thoughts invited, who are the Nobles; then the Gentry, who are the Obliging and Gratefull Thoughts; the Heroick Thoughts were Commanders of War; the Factious Thoughts were the Commons, the Mercinary were of Trades; the plodding Thoughts were the Yeomanry; the ordinary Thoughts were Labourers and Servants. Then there were the Politick Thoughts, which were Statiſts; the Proud Thoughts, Magiſtrates; and the Pious Thoughts were Prieſts; the Cenſuring Thoughts were the Judges; the Wrangling and Pleading Thoughts were Lawyers; the Terrifying Thoughts were Sergeants; the Arguing Thoughts were Logicians; the Doubting Thoughts were Scepticks; Hoping Thoughts were Phyſicians; the Inquiſitive Thoughts were Natural Philoſophers; the Humble Thoughts were Moral Philoſophers; the Phantaſtical Thoughts were Poets; the Modeſt Thoughts, Virgins; the Jealous Thoughts, Wives; the Incontinent Thoughts, Courtezans; the Amorous Thoughts, Lovers; the Vain Thoughts, Courtiers; the Bragging or Lying Thoughts, Travellers.

And when all theſe Thoughts were met, the Soul feaſted them with Delight, and the Senſes with Pleaſure, preſenting them with Reaſon and Truth.

The Traveling Spirit.

There was a Man went to a Witch, whom he intreated to aid his Deſires; for, ſaid he, I have a curioſity to travel, but I would go into thoſe Countryes, which, without your power to aſſiſt me, I cannot do.

The Witch aſked him, what thoſe Countryes were.

He ſaid, he would go to the Moon.

Why, ſaid ſhe, the Natural Philoſophers are the onely Men for that Journey, for they travel all the Planets over; and indeed, ſtudy Nature ſo much, and are ſo diligent and devout in her ſervices, that they deſpiſe our great Maſter the Devil, and would hinder V1r 145 hinder our wayes very much, but that they travel moſt by Speculation.

Then, ſaid he, I would go to Heaven.

Truly, ſaid ſhe, I cannot carry you thither, for I am as unpracticed in thoſe wayes, and have as little acquaintance there, as the Natural Philoſophers have, for they believe there is no ſuch Kingdome.

But if you deſire to travel to that Kingdome, you muſt go to the Divines, who are the onely Guides; yet you muſt have a care in the choyce; for ſome will carry you a great way about, and through very troubleſome and painfull places; others, a ſhorter, but a very ſtrait, narrow way; others, through wayes that are pleaſant and eaſy; and you will finde, not onely in the Natural Philoſophers, but alſo Divines, ſuch Combats and Diſſentions amongſt them, that it is both a great hindrance and a trouble to the Paſſengers, which ſhews they are not very perfect in their wayes; for many Travellers go, ſome a quarter, and ſome half, and ſome three parts of the way, and then are forced to turn back again, and take another Guide; and ſo from Guide to Guide, untill they have run them all over, or out of breath, and yet be as far to ſeek of their way as when they firſt ſet out.

Why then, ſaid the Man, carry me to Hell.

Truly, ſaid the Witch, I am but a Servant extraordinary, and have no power to go to my Maſters Kingdome untill I dye; allthough the Way be broad and plain, and the Guides ſure; ſo that I am but his Factor to do him ſervice on the Earth: but yet I can call forth any from thence, allthough it were the King himſelf.

Why then, pray, ſaid he, carry me to the Center of the Earth.

That I can do, ſaid ſhe, and ſo obſcurely, that the Natural Philoſophers ſhall never ſpye us. So ſhe prayed him to come into her Houſe; for, ſaid ſhe, it is a great Journey, therefore you muſt take ſome repaſt before you go. Beſides, ſaid ſhe, your Body will be too cumberſome, wherefore we will leave that behinde, that you may go the lighter, as being all Spirit. So ſhe went out, and came and brought a Diſh of Opium, and prayed him to eat well thereof; ſo he eat very heartily; and when he had done, his Senſes grew very heavy, inſomuch as his Body fell down, as in a ſwound, remaining without ſenſe; in the mean while, his Spirit ſtole out, and left the Body aſleep.

So the Witch and he took their Journey; and as they went, he found the Climate very untemperate, ſometimes very hot, and ſometimes very cold: but there were great Varieties in the way; and in ſome places, monſtrous great and high Mountains of the Bones of Men and Beaſts, which lay alltogether with one another. Then he ſaw a very large Sea of Blood, which had iſſued from ſlain Bodyes, but thoſe Seas ſeemed very rough; whereupon he aſked what was the reaſon; ſhe anſwered, becauſe their V Deaths V1v 146 Deaths were violent. And there were other Seas of Blood which ſeemed ſo ſmooth, that there was not a wave to be ſeen; ſaid he, how comes this to be ſo ſmooth and calm? ſhe ſaid, it was the Blood of thoſe that dyed in peace. Then he aſked her, where was the Blood of other Creatures, as Beaſts, Birds, Fiſh, and the like. She ſaid, amongſt the Blood of Men; for, ſaid ſhe, the Earth knows no difference. And as they went along, they came through a moſt pleaſant place, which ſhe ſaid was the Storehouſe of Nature, where were the ſhapes and ſubſtances of all kinds of Fruits and Flowers, Trees, or any other Vegetables, but all were of a dusky colour. Then he gathered ſome Fruit to eat, but it had no taſt; and he gathered ſome Flowers, and they had no smell; whereupon he aſked the reaſon, ſhe ſaid, that the Earth gave onely the form and ſubſtance, but the Sun was the onely cauſe of the taſt, ſmells and colours. And as they went, they ſaw great Mines, Quarries, and Pits; but ſhe, being verſ’d, and knew the way well, did avoyd them, ſo that they were no hindrance in their Journey, which otherwiſe would have been. But going down further, it began to grow very dark, being far from the face of the Earth, inſomuch that they could hardly ſee the plaine way, whereupon he told the Witch, that the Hill was ſo hideouſly ſteep, and the place began to grow ſo dark, that it was very dangerous.

No, ſaid ſhe, there is no danger, ſince our Bodyes are not here; for our Spirits are ſo light, that they bear up themſelves. So they went; and they went a great length, untill the place grew ſo ſtrait, as began to be a pain even to their Spirits; whereof he told the Witch, his Spirit was in pain; ſhe ſaid, he muſt endure it, for the Center of the Earth was a Point in a ſmall Circle. So when he came to the Center of the Earth, he ſaw a Light like Moonſhine: but when he came near, he ſaw the Circle about the Center was Glow-worms Tails, which gave that Light; and in the Center was an old Man, who neither ſtood nor ſit, for there was nothing to ſtand or ſit on; but he hung as it were in the Air, nor never ſtirred out of his place, and had been there ever ſince the World was made, for he having never had a Woman to tempt him to ſin, never dyed; and although he could never reſhy move out of that place, yet he had the power to call all things on the Earth unto him by degrees, and to diſpoſe of them as he would.

But when they were near the old Man, the Witch excuſed her coming, and prayed him not to be offended with them; for there was a Man deſired Knowledge, and would not ſpare any pains or induſtry thereunto; for which he praiſed the Man, and ſaid, he was welcome; and any thing he could inform him of, he would.

But the old Man asked him about the Chymiſts that lived upon the face of the Earth.

The Man anſwered, they made much noyſe in talk, and took great pains, and beſtowed great coſts, to finde the Philoſophers Stone, which is to make the Elixar, but could never come to any perfection.

Alas, V2r 147

Alas, ſaid the old Man, they are firſt too unconſtant to bring any thing to perfection; for they never keep to one certain ground or track, but are allwayes trying of new Experiments; ſo that they are allwayes beginning, but never go on towards an end. Beſides, ſaid he, they live not long enough to finde the Philoſophers Stone, for, ſaid he, ’tis not one nor two Ages will do it, but there muſt be many Ages to bring it to perfection: but I, ſaid he, living long, and obſerving the courſe of Nature ſtrictly, and much, I am arrived to the height of that Art; for all the Gold that is digged out of the Mines was converted by me; for in the beginning of the World there was very little Gold to be found; for my Brother Adam ſaid, he nor his Poſterity after him for many Ages knew no ſuch thing: but ſince I have attained to the perfection of that Art, I have cauſed ſo many Mines, that it hath cauſed all the outward part of the World to go together by the ears for it: but I will not make ſo much as to have it depiſed.

As for my Stills, ſaid he, they are the Pores of the Earth; and the Waters I diſtill, ſaid he, are the ſweet Dews which iſſue out of the Earth; the Oily part is the Amber-greece that is caſt upon the Earth; and they know not how, or from whence, or from what it comes; for ſome ſay, from Trees; others, that it is the ſpawn of ſome kinds of Fiſh; ſo ſome think it one thing, ſome another.

And alſo, the ſaltneſs of the Sea comes from Chymiſtry; and the Vapour that ariſes from the Earth, is the Smoke that ſteems from my Stills. But, ſaid he, the World is not to continue long as it is, for, ſaid he, I by my Art intend to turn it all into Glaſs; for as my Brother Adam tranſplanted Men from Earth by his ſin, as ſome to Heaven, ſome to Hell, ſo I will tranſplant the World from Earth to Glaſs, for that is the laſt act of Chymiſtry.

Then the Man obſerving a great concourſe of Waters that went with a violent force cloſe by the Center, he aſked the old Man how came that Water there; he anſwered , it was the Gutter and Sink of the Earth; for whatſoever Water the Sun drank from the Sea, and ſpued upon the Earth, run through the Veins into the Sea again by the Center, all little Pipe-veins meeting there, or elſe, ſaid he, the World would be drowned again; for at Noah’s Flood thoſe Pipe-veins were commanded by Jove to be ſtopp’d, and after ſuch a time to be opened again. I wonder, ſaid the Man, that all the weighty Materials in the World do not fall upon your head, and ſo kill you. why, ſo they would, ſaid he, if they lay alltogether on a heap; but as every thing hath a ſeveral motion, ſo every thing hath a proper place; for Gold and Iron never dwell together in the Earth; neither are all kinds of Stones found in one Quarrie, nor do all the Mines or Quarries joyn together, but ſome are in one place, and ſome in another, which poyſes the weight of the Earth equal, and keeps it from falling.

Said the Man, you have but a melancholy life, being none but your ſelf.

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O, ſaid the old Man, the Riches of the Earth, and all the Varieties thereof, come into my Compaſs; this place is the Heart or Soul of Plenty; here have I ſweet Dormice, fat Moals, nouriſhing Worms, induſtrious Ants, and many other things for Food; here are no Storms to trouble me, nor Tempeſts to diſorder me, but Warmth to cheriſh me, and Peace and Quiet to comfort and joy me; the drilling Waters are my Muſick, the Glow-worms my Lights, and my Art of Chymiſtry my paſtime. So when he had done ſpeaking, they took their leaves, craving pardon for their abrupt viſit, giving him thanks for his gentle entertainment. But the old Man very kindly prayed them to have a care of themſelves as they returned; for, ſaid he, you muſt go through cold, crude, aguiſh, and hot burning and peſtilent places: for there are great damps in the Earth; allſo, a great Heat and Fire in the Earth, allthough it gives not Light like the Sun; for the heat of the Earth, ſaid he, is like the Fire in a Coal; but the heat of the Sun is like that of a Flame, which is a thinner part or ſubſtance ſet on fire, which is a weaker or fainter Heat: but the Sun, ſaid he, gives Heat more by his quick motion, than that the Light gives motion; and though, ſaid he, the Fire be the ſubtilleſt of all Elements, yet it is made ſlower and more active, by the ſubſtance it works upon; for Fire is not ſo active upon ſolid Bodyes, as it is upon lighter and thinner Bodyes.

So the Witch and the young Mans Spirits gave him thanks, and departed.

But going back, they found not the wayes ſo pleaſant as when they went; for ſome wayes were deep and dirty, others heavy and clayie, ſome boggy and ſandy, ſome dry and duſty; and great Waters, high Mountains, ſtony and craggy Hills, ſome chalky and limy.

But at laſt arriving where they ſet out, he found his Body where he left it, ſo putting on the Body as a Garment, gave thanks to the Witch, and then went home to reſt his weary Spirits,&c.

The Tale of the Lady in the Elyzium.

There was a Lord that made love to a Lady upon very honourable terms, for the end was Marriage. This Lady received his Love with great Affection. It chanced, that upon the hearing of a Report that he was marryed to another, ſhe fell into a ſwound for above an hour, inſomuch that they all thought her to be dead: but at laſt, returning to her ſelf again, one told her, that he thought her Soul had utterly forſaken her Manſion the Body. No, ſaid ſhe, ’twas onely the ſudden and violent paſſion which had hurried my Soul to Charon’s Boat in a diſtracted Whirlwinde of Sighs, where in the Croud I was ferryed over to the Elyzium Fields.

They ask’d her, what manner of place it was.

She V3r 149

She anſwered, juſt ſuch a place the Poets had deſcribed, pleaſant green Fields, but as dark as a ſhady Grove, or the dawning of the Day, or like a ſweet Summers evening when the Nightingale begins to ſing, that’s at the ſhutting up of the day. But when I was there, ſaid ſhe, I met with ſuch Company as I expected not; who were thoſe, ſaid they? the firſt was Lot and his two Daughters, ſaid ſhe; and a little further I ſaw David and Beerſheba. After theſe, I met Tamar, and Hamon her Brother, and Salomon with a Seraglia of Miſtriſses after him, that he was allmoſt ſmothered with the multitude of them. The next were Daniel and Sampſon, who are now reconciled. After theſe, came Julius Cæſar, and the Veſtal Nun; and Nero and his Mother; Agrippa and Catiline, and his Daughter Cornelia; and ſuch as Anthony and Cleopatra, Dido and Æneas, ſans number. But I obſerved ſome things that, ſaid ſhe, ſeemed ſtrange; the one was Beerſheba’s Soul, that looked nakeder than the reſt; and Lot and his Daughters were more merrily diſpoſed than the reſt: I asked the reaſon; and it was anſwered me, that as they fell in love in the World, ſo they ſhould there continue for ever.

But I finding not my chaſt Lover there, ſaid ſhe, I went to Charon, and told him, the Fates had neither ſpun out my Thread, nor cut it in ſunder; but they being careleſs in the ſpinning, it was not ſo hard twiſted as it ſhould have been; inſomuch that the report of my Lovers Marriage had given it ſuch a pull, that if the Fates had not had great care in ſlacking it, it had broke from the Spindle. So I told Charon, he muſt carry me back again, where, with much intreaty, he ſet my Soul where he had taken it up, and from thence it returned into my Body to be alive again.

The Speculators.

A Man having occaſion to travel, being in the heat of Summer, for more eaſe took his Journey when Night was running from Day, for fear the glorious Sun ſhould overtake her. And looking earneſtly to obſerve how her darker Clouds retired, or were illuminated; at laſt, in the dawning, before the Sun appeared in glory, he thought he ſaw ſomething appear in the Air more than uſual; which phancy of his cauſed him to alight from his Horſe; and faſtning his Bridle to a Buſh, himſelf went and lay upon his back on the Ground, that he might fix his eyes the more ſtedfaſtly: But his deſires were croſs’d with the dullneſs and dimneſs of his ſight, which by over earneſtneſs could view nothing at all.

But there coming to him a grave old Man, who aſked him why he lay in that poſture.

He anſwered, it was to look up to ſee more perfectly that which in the Air he had but a glimpſe of; but, ſaid he, ſtriving to ſee more, I ſaw leſs; for I have not onely loſt the Viſion, but allmoſt my ſight.

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That may well be, ſaid the old Man, for the Body is like the Minde; for if you take in more Learning into the Minde than the Underſtanding can diſcuſs, it overwhelms it, and knocks Reaſon on the head: ſo if you take more Meat into the Stomack than it can digeſt, it ſurfets; if the Ear receives too ſwift or hard a ſound, it makes it deaf, as ſmoothering the diſtinct notes.

Likewiſe, if you draw more Species than can paſs through the Eye in order to the Optick Nerve, it’s like a Croud of People at a narrow Paſs, every one ſtriving to get in firſt, wedging themſelves ſo cloſe, ſticking ſo faſt, one binding in the other, that they can neither paſs backward nor forward, but ſtop up the place; juſt ſo come the Eyes to be dimmed or obſtructed. Beſides, ſaid the old Man, Nature is not onely curious in her Workings, but ſecret in her Works, for none of her Works know themſelves perfectly; nor Man, who ſeems to have the beſt Underſtanding; for Nature governs her Creatures by Ignorance; for if any had perfect Knowledge, they would be as great as ſhe.

Sayes the other Man, Doth ſhe know her ſelf?

Anſwered he, It is a queſtion not to be reſolved: but ſurely, if her Creatures knew her, ſhe would be ſlighted, for what they know, they deſpiſe; for Ignorance begets Fear; Fear, Superſtition; Superſtition, Admiration; Admiration, Adoration. Yet by that we perceive Nature takes delight that her Creatures ſhould ſearch her wayes, and obſerve her ſeveral motions; and thosſe are eſteemed her perfecteſt and beſt Works that do ſo. And becauſe your Deſires fly high, I will give you ſuch Glaſſes as ſhall ſatiſfy your Minde concerning the Celeſtial Globe. Here be three Glaſſes: the firſt ſhews you the lower Region; the next, the ſecond Region, and the third Glaſs ſhews you the upper Region, that is as high as can be obſerved: ſo taking leave of the Gentleman, left him to his obſervation. Where ſoon after, the Gentleman takes the firſt Glaſs, and laying his Eye near to it, he ſaw a Vapour ariſe from the Earth ſtrait upward in ſmall Lines or Streams, ſtreaming through every Pore of the Earth, which Pores were like a Sieve full of ſmall holes: this was a fine ſight to ſee how ſmall, ſtrait and thick thoſe Streams were, for it ſeemed as an aſcending Rain; and thoſe Streams at a certain height gathered together, and became ſpongie Clouds; which Clouds were of the faſhion of Honey-combs, where in every hole lye drops of Water, which are ſqueezed by the agitation of the Air, or by the heat of the Sun made to bubble out; or when thoſe Holes are overfull, they fall down with their own weight, or, as one may ſay, they overflow.

Then turning his Glaſs to the two Poles firſt to the North, then to the South, ſaw they were like to Cryſtal Squirts, which ſome call Serenges; thoſe ſuck and draw in a certain quantity of Water from thoſe Honey-comb Clouds; and when they are full, they ſpout that Water with ſuch a force back, that it goeth a great length; and the ſmallneſs of the paſſage wire-draws it, as it were; and by the agitation it becomes ſo powerfull, that it drives all before V4r 151 before it, if they be not very firmly fix’d; and it enters all Porous Bodyes; and thoſe that are ſenſible, it puts to pain, as if it were ſharp; ſo the ſmallneſs, thinneſs, and quickneſs, makes it cut and divide, and the force makes it break and caſt down all that doth oppoſe it. Theſe are called the South and North Winds.

Then directing his Perſpective to the midſt, between the Eaſt and the Weſt, which is called the Torrid Zone, he perceivd it was like a Symbole of Fire which had three holes, the one in the midſt, by which it drinks in Water; the other two holes of each ſide, which are called the Eaſt and Weſt; for the Water that is drawn in. When it is in this hollow Ball, the Heat rarifies it ſo thin, that it breaths forth at the leſſer holes; for as the Water is rarified into Air by the Heat, ſo the Air is rarified into Winde and thoſe two ſmall holes let out the thinner part, and keep the groſſer in untill it be more rarified into Winde. And thoſe Winds that are made thus, are much gentler and ſofter than thoſe that proceed from the Squirts, becauſe this is onely a voluntary Motion, which breaths out, and ſpreads gently; the other is forced, and goeth out with Violence.

Now the hole that is in the midſt of this Symbole, which ſerves as the Mouth, drinking perpetually, being very dry by reaſon of the Heat within, cannot digeſt it all at once, but by degrees. Now if that part of the Water be rarified ſooneſt which is of that ſide we call the Eaſt, that blows out firſt: but it if be rarified of that ſide firſt that we call the Weſt; that blowes ſooneſt: but if it blows from ſeveral places or parts, then that predominates that is moſt powerfull.

After he had perceived how the Winds were made, he laid by that Glaſs, and took up the ſecond, and looked into the middle Region, then ſaw curling, folding, and rowling Waver of Air, every Wave as thin as the thinneſt and ſhereſt Cypreſs; and through thoſe Waves he ſaw many Cities, and they had great Champains of Air, and thoſe were full of Flowers, Fruits, and ſweet Herbs; which Champain of Air the Winds plough or dig; and the Sun plants, ſows, and ſets thoſe Incorporeal Vegetables with his Inſtrumental Beams; for they draw the Vapours or Scents of all Herbs, Flowers, and Fruits, and the like, from the Earth, and plants them there; ſo there grows nothing but the ſweet and delicious Scents, and not the groſs Corporeal part.

As for the People in that Region, they are of upright ſhapes, and very ſlender, but their ſubſtance is of the ſame of Fiſh, and they ſwim in the Air as Fiſhes in the Sea, which do not admit of a firm footing, ſo that they ſwim or ride upon Waves of Clouds every where.

As for their Houſes, they are made of the Azure Skye, which are ſo clear, that the Inhabitants are ſeen in them when the Sun ſhines, and are onely obſcured when the Sun is from them; their Houſes are covered with flakes of Snow, and all their Streets are pitch’d with Hail-ſtones.

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But when the Chariot of the Sun runs through their Streets in the Winter time, their furious Horſes are more heady in Winter, I Near, or the further the Sun is to ſuch a Continent, I call ſwifter or ſlower. which is, to run in ſuch a Line, for in Summer they are lazy and faint with Heat; but with the trampling, they looſen the Stones, and then they fall to Earth, and there melt to Water. Neither are their Tiles or Slats ſafe, for the Wheels of the Chariot do ſo ſhake their Houſes, that the flakes of Snow fall many times from their Houſes upon the Earth: But they being of a nature as induſtrious as little Ants, do ſtraight pitch their Streets anew, and repair their Houſes, having enough Materials; for there are great Rocks of Hail-ſtones, and huge Mountains of Snow.

But when the Chariot runs in Summertime, the Streets being dryed and hard, or, as I may ſay, cryſtalined, which makes ſuch a rattling noyſe, which noyſe we call Thunder, and the Horſes being very hot, ſuch flaſhes of Fire proceeds out of their Noſtrils, which we call Lightning; and many times their Breath is ſo exceeding hot, and being moyſt withall, ſoftens their Streets, which melting, their Hail-ſtones cauſe great overflows, thoſe falling down in pouring ſhowers of Rain, as wee oft ſee in Thunders there are. Now Snow and Hail do as naturally engender here by Cold, as Minerals in the Earth by Heat, both being wrought by Contraction; onely the one is more diſſolvable than the others, becauſe the Matter contracted is different in ſolidity, but the Manner is the ſame, although by different Wayes, yet they meet at one End.

Thus, when he had obſerved the middle Region, he takes the third Glaſs to view the higheſt Region. There he ſaw ſix moving Cityes, which we call Planets; every City had a governing Prince therein; their Compaſs was very large, their Form round moving in a Circular Motion. The midſt of thoſe Cityes was Center City, as I may ſay, a Metropolitan City, the which we call the Sun the King thereof; and all his People are of the nature of Salamanders, for they live allwayes in Fire, as Fiſhes in Water; for it is not ſo hot as is imagined, becauſe that which feeds the Flame is not a groſs combuſtible and ſolid Matter, to burn like Coals, but a thin voluble, and Oily ſubſtance, which makes onely a Flame clear and bright, having no Droſs mix’d in it; and whatſoever is waſted by the Flame, is ſupplyed by the ſix Cityes, which is the Tribute they pay to the ſeventh City, which is the Monarchical City, to whom all the reſt are ſome wayes or other ſubject unto.

But indeed, theſe Cityes are forced by neceſſity to ſend Oily Matter, or the like, or elſe they ſhould be in perpetual Darkneſs, wanting Light; ſo that this Oily Matter comes into the Metropolitan City, and Flame goeth out like the Water in the Sea; for the Water of the Sea goeth out ſalt, and returns freſh, being clarified by the Earth: ſo this Oil, when it runs to the Center City, is refined, and made more thin and pure, and is ſent back in Streams and Beams of Light.

But though the King and People be of the nature of Salamanders,ders X1r 153 ders, yet their ſhapes are like thoſe we deſcribe Angels to be, and fly about through Beams of Light; though our groſser Senſe cannot ſee them without the help of ſome miraculous Glaſs, as theſe were.

But ſome of them perceiving this Man ſaw them, went to the King, and complained thereof; which when he heard, was very angry, and roſe in a great Rage, caſting a Blaze of Light, which dazled his Eyes, blinded his Sight, and in this heat melted his Glaſſes.

The Body, Time, and Minde, diſputed for Preheminency.

Which Diſpute was begun by Time. Said Time, if it were not for me, the Body would neither have Growth nor Strength, nor the Minde Knowledge or Underſtanding.

The Minde anſwered, That though the Body had a fix’d time to arrive to a perfect growth, and mature ſtrength, yet the Minde had not; for I, ſaid the Minde, can never know and underſtand ſo much, as I might not know and underſtand more; neither hath Time ſuch a Tyrannical power over the Minde to bring it to ruine, as it hath over the Body.

Why, ſaid the Body, Time hath not an abſolute power over me, for Chance and evil Accidents prevents Times ruins; and Sickneſs and evil Diets obſtruct and hinder Times Buildings. Neither is it onely Time that nouriſhes the Body, but Food; for without Food the Body would waſt to nothing; for the Stomach is as the Pot, and the Heart as the Fire to boyl the Food, to make it fit for Nouriſhment, making a Broth for Blood, a Jelly for Sinews, a Gravie for Fleſh, an Oil for Fat, from which a Vapour ſteems forth to make Spirits; and the ſeveral parts of the Body are the ſeveral Veſſels, wherein and by which is the Body nouriſhed, and Life maintained. Neither doth Time give the Minde Knowledge and Underſtanding, but the Senſes, which are the Porters that carry them in, and furniſh the Minde therewith; for the Eyes bring in ſeveral Lights, Colours, Figures, and Forms; and the Ear ſeveral Sounds, both Verbal and Vocal; the Noſe ſeveral Scents; the Tongue ſeveral Taſts, and the Body ſeveral Touches; without which, the Minde would be as an empty, poor, thatch’d Houſe with bare Walls, did not the Senſes furniſh it.

And I ſay, Time to build upon it.

Beſides, ſaid the Body, the Minde could have no pleaſure nor delight, were it not by my Senſes.

But, the Minde anſwered, that Delight belonged onely to the Soul, and Pleaſure onely to the Body. ’Tis true, ſayes the Minde, they often make a Friendſhip, as the Soul and the Body do, yet they conſiſt by, and of themſelves. And for Time, ſaid the Minde, he is onely like a Page or Lacquay, which brings X Meſſages, X1v 154 Meſſages, runs of Errants, and preſent Neceſſaries for the Minds uſe; but, ſaid the Minde, had Time no Imployment, or the Senſes no Goods to bring in, and neither would or could do the Minde any ſervice, yet the Minde would not be like a thatch’d Houſe, empty and unfurniſhed, for Delight would be there as Queen without Diſcontent, who is begot in the Body, but born in the Minde; which if he lives, he becomes a Tyrant, unthroning Delight, who is the natural Queen thereof, as Pleaſure is in the Body; and if it were not for this Tyrannical Uſurper, Delight would have more perfect fruition than Pleaſure hath, by reaſon Perfection lives more in the Minde than in the Senſes. And let me tell you, ſaid the Minde, that Nature builds ſome Minds like a curious and ſtately Palace, and furniſhes ſo richly, that it needs neither Time nor the Senſes; laying Reaſon as the Foundation, and Judgement the Building thereof, wherein are firm and ſtrait Pillars of Fortitude, Juſtice, Prudence, and Temperance; paved with Underſtanding, which is ſolid and hard; walled with Faith, which is roofed with Love, which bows like an Arch; as to embrace all towards a round Compaſs or Center; leadded with Diſcretion, which ſticks cloſe, keeping out watry Errours, and windy Vanities; it hath paſſages of Memory and Remembrance to let Objects in, and doors of Forgetfulneſs to ſhut them out; likewiſe, it hath windows of Hopes, that let in the light of Joy, and Shuts of Doubts to keep it out; alſo, it hath large Stairs of Deſire, which ariſe by ſteps or windings up by degrees, to the Towers of Ambition.

Beſides, in the Architecture of the Minde, there are wide Rooms of Conception, furniſh’d richly with Invention; and long Galleries of Contemplation, which are carved and wrought with Imagination, and hung with the Pictures of Phancy.

Likewiſe, there are large Gardens of Varieties, wherein flow Rivers of Poetry, with full Streams of Numbers, making a purling Noyſe with Rhymes; on each ſide are Banks of Oratory, whereon grow Flowers of Rhetorick; and high Trees of Perſwaſion, upon which a Credulous Fool, helped by the Senſes, will climbe, and from the top falls on the Ground of Repentance, from whence old Father Time takes him up, and puts him into the Arms of Experience, who carryes him in to the Chyrurgeon of Expence, and is healed with the Plaſter of Warning, or elſe dyes of the Apoplexical Diſeaſe called Stupidity. But Wiſdome will onely look up to the top, viewing the growth, and obſerving what kinde they are of, and the difference therein, but never adventures to climbe; he will ſit ſometimes under the Branches for Pleaſure, but never hang on the Boughs of Inſinuation.

But while they were diſputing, in comes grim Death, whoſe terrible Aſpect did ſo affright the Minde, that the very fear put out the Light therein, and quenched out the Flame thereof; and the Body being ſtruck by Death, became ſenſeleſs, and diſſolved into Duſt. But old Father Time run away from Death as nimble as a light heel’d Boy, or like thoſe that ſlide upon the Ice; but never X2r 155 never turned to ſee whether Death followed or no: Death called him; but he made himſelf as it were deaf with Age, and could not hear.

A Triennial Government, of Nature, Education, and Experience.

Nature, Education, and Experience, did agree to make a Juncto to govern the Monarchy of Mans Life, every one ruling by turns, or rather in parts, being a Triangular Government, the Soul, the Senſes, and the Brain; where Nature creates Reaſon as the chief Magiſtrate, to govern the Soul.

Education creates Virtue to govern the Appetites; for Virtue is bred, not born, in Man.

And Experience creates Wit to govern the Brain; for Wit, though native, without Experience is defective.

As for the Soul, which Natural Reaſon governs, it hath large Territories of Capacity and Underſtanding, and many Nobles living therein, as heroick Paſſions, and generous Affections, ſubtil Inquiries, ſtrong Arguments, and plain Proofs.

And the Senſes, which virtuous Education governs, are five great Cityes, and the various Appetites are the ſeveral Citizens dwelling therein; which Citizens are apt to rebel, and turn Traitors, if that Virtue, the Governeſs, be not ſevere and ſtrict in executing Juſtice with Courage, cutting off the Heads of Curioſity, Nicety, Variety, Luxury, and Exceſs; and though Temperance muſt weigh, meaſure; and ſet Limits, yet Prudence muſt diſtribute to Neceſſity and Conveniency, the ſeveral gifts of Nature, Fortune, and Art.

The third is the Brain, wherein experienc’d Wit governs; it is the pleaſanteſt part, and hath the largeſt Compaſs, wherein are built many Towers of Conceptions, and Caſtles of Imaginations; Grounds ploughed with Numbers, and ſowed with Phancyes; Gardens planted with Study, ſet with Practice, from whence Flowers of Rhetorick grow, and Rivers of Elegancy through this Garden flow.

This part of the Kingdome hath the greateſt Traffick and Commerce of any of the three parts, and flouriſhes moſt, being populated with the Graces and Muſes; and Wit being popular, hath great power on the Paſſions and Affections; and in the Senſes makes civil Entertainments of Pleaſure and Delight, feeding the Appetites with delicious Banquets, &c.

X2 Natures
X2v 156

Natures Houſe.

The whole Globe is Natures Houſe, and the ſeveral Planets are Natures ſeveral Rooms; the Earth is her Bed-chamber; the Floor is Gold and Silver; and the Walls Marble and Purfry; the Portals and Doors are Lapo-Lazarus; in ſtead of Tapiſtry-Hangings, it is hung with all ſorts of Plants; her Bed is of ſeveral Pretious Stones; the Bedpoſts are of Rocks of Diamonds; the Beads-head of Rubyes, Saphires, Topus, and Emeralds; in ſtead of a Feather-bed, there is a Bed of ſweet Flowers laid therein; and the Sheets are freſh Air; her Table is of Agats, and the like; yet the Roof of the Chamber is Earth, but ſo curiouſly vaulted, and ſo finely wrought, that no Duſt falls down; it is built much like unto a Martin’s Neſt; the Windows are the Pores of the Earth.

Saturn is her Gallery; a long, but a dark Room, and ſtands the highteſt Story of her Houſe.

Sol is her Dining Room; which is a round Room built with Heat, and lined with Light.

Venus is her Dreſſing Room.

Cynthia is her Supping Room; which is divided into four Quarters, wherein ſtand four Tables; one being round, at which ſhe ſits, being furniſhed with all Plenty; the others are ſideboard Tables.

Mercury is her Room of Entertainment.

The Rational Creatures are her Nobles.

The Senſitive Creatures are her Gentry.

The Inſenſible Creatures are her Commons.

Life is her Gentleman-uſher.

Time is her Steward.

And Death is her Treaſurer.

A Diſpute.

The Soul cauſed Reaſon and Love to diſpute with the Senſes and Appetites.

Reaſon brought Religion, for whatſoever Reaſon could not make good, Faith did.

Love brought Will; for whatſoever Love ſaid, Will confirmed.

The Senſes brought Pleaſure and Pain, which were as two Witneſſes. Pleaſure was a falſe Witneſs: but Pain would not, nor could not be bribed.

Appetite brought Opinion; which in ſome things would be obſtinate, in others very facile.

But they had not diſputed long, but they were ſo intangled in their Arguments, and ſo invective in their Words, as moſt Diſputers X3r 157 Diſputers are, that they began to quarrel, as moſt Diſputers do.

Whereupon the Soul diſmiſs’d them, allthough with much difficulty; for Diſputers are Captains or Colonels of ragged Regiments of Arguments; and when a Multitude are gathered together in a Rout, they ſeldome diſperſe untill ſome Miſchief is done; and then they are well pleaſed and fully ſatisfied.

Ihad a Deſign to put my Opinions of my Atomes in Proſe, as thinking Verſe not ſo proper for Philoſophy: but finding it would put me to charge of labour and ſtudy, and not likely to be well done, I deſiſted: but thoſe few Lines which I did write to try, I preſent to my Readers View. I began with my firſt Chapter of Nature.

Nature, when ſhe made the World, thought it beſt to call a Councel; for though ſhe had power to Command, yet there muſt be thoſe that muſt execute her Authority. Her Counſellors were four, Matter, Form, Motion, and Life.

Matter was grave, and ſolid, and of a ſound Judgement.

Form or Figure had a clear Underſtanding, but was unconſtant and facile, complying ſtill to the laſt Councel, though it were the worſt.

Motion had a ſubtil, ingenious, and quick Wit; and was moſt dextrous in all his diſpatches of Affairs.

Life would give very ſtrong and ſound reaſon in the height and heat of his diſcourſe, but at firſt would ſeem weak, and at latter end dull, as if his Underſtanding wanted either maturity, or were tired. But this Councel was not without Faction or Side-taking, as all other Councels are, which is the cauſe there is ſuch a Sympathy and Antipathy in all Natures Works; for betwixt Matter and Form there was allwayes a League and Friendſhip, which made them allwayes agree to one anothers Proportions, and ſo likewiſe between Motion and Life.

Which two Factions many times disagreeing, their Councels did antipathize; and often croſſing and thwarting each other, cauſed ſo many Obſtructions, and Contradictions, and Imperperfections in Natures Works as are which cauſed great Troubles in Natures Government. But when they were ſet, then Nature roſe up, and thus ſpake.

A Deſcription begun of the ſeveral Figures of my Atomes.

Of The Earth, as flat in the interiour Figure, although round in the exteriour ſhape. all Figures, a flat ſquare Figure is unapt to move; one reaſon is, becauſe it is ſolid, by the flatneſs; for what is flat, is as a preſs’d Subſtance; and what is preſs’d cloſe, is confirmed,med; X3v 158 med, and what is confirmed; is ſolid; and what is ſolid, is unactive.

The other reaſon is, being ſquare; for what is ſquare, hath four Corners; and what hath equal corners, poyzes as a balanced Earth is rugged, rought, and courſe, as I may ſay. and equal weight. Beſides, the Circumference being not in an equal and ſmooth Line, makes the Figure rough, or rugged, as being uneven, by reaſon the Points jet out from the ſtrait Lines.

The Figure of water is ſmooth. But the round Figure is more apt for motion, by reaſon the Circumference Lines are ſmooth and even, having no Parts nor Points to make it uneven, or rugged, which would hinder its motion. Beſides, the round Figure having no Baſis, or bottom, to reſt on, being all alike, as in an entire Figure without ends; ſo that it moves all together, being a ſhape which cannot be fix’d, having no Points to fix it ſelf, or ſtick to any thing, unleſs ſome other Subſtances which have a more ſtronger reſtraining power than that hath a voluble motion, do hold it. But, yet a round Figure is not apt to move upward, unleſs it be forced by a ſtronger aſcent than that hath a deſcent; or pulled or drawn up by a ſtronger hold than that hath weight to ſink: for though a round Figure may be porous and hollow, which makes the ſubſtance ſofter and lighter than thoſe that are compact by Contraction, yet as being an united Figure, as in one Body or Circle, it makes it more weighty than thoſe Spungie Subſtances that are in parts, or ſeveral lines or points. That is the reaſon that Snow falls lighter and ſlower than Hail, becauſe Snow is drawn into triangular Lines: ſo Points, which cauſe odde number; and being odde, it is not ſo united; and being not united, it is lighter; and being lighter, it is ſlower in the deſcent; where Hail falls forceable, being contracted into an united Lump.

The like doth Rain, fall more forcible than Snow, allthough it be more ſpungie and hollow, being not contracted by Cold into a ſolid Body; for Hail and Snow we ſee are onely contracted Water. But by reaſon, as I ſaid, Water hath a more unite Figure, it is heavier than Snow, which is an uneven Figure. Thus when the exteriour parts of Water are drawn into a triangular Form or Figure, it is lighter, allthough the Subſtance be one and the ſame, as onely Water. Thus we ſee the outward ſhape cauſes Figures to be lighter and heavyer, in deſpite of the interiour form Water, the interiour and exteriour, is Circle. of Nature; for it is not allwayes the interiour Form, Nature, but the outward ſhape, that makes ſeveral alterations in one and the ſame thing.

As for the Figure which makes Air, which is a long hollow pipe Figure; which Figure is light, being hollow or porous; and is lighter than Water, by reaſon it is not compacted into an united Circle, as Water is; This makes it more apt to aſcend, being lighter, and more unapt to deſcend, being not united; and to ſtream about every way, being not compoſed; but is as a ſtrait parallel Line, which hath no Byas or Center; for ſtrait Lines run allwayes outward, which is a ſtretching or drawing outward. This is the reaſon Air is of a ſpreading Nature.

As X4r 159

As for the Figure which makes Fire, which are ſharp Points, their agileneſs is cauſed by their Points, which cauſeth a ſelf- paſſage; unleſs it be over-power’d by numbers of other Figures; and being agil, as making their own way, ſo they are apt to mount higheſt, as having no obſtruction; and to be light, as having no poyze.

For Earth is more poyzed than Fire, having four equal Lines, and an even number of Points, as four, which give it ballance.

And Water is more poyzed than Fire, being contracted into a Circle, and ſo hath a Center.

And Air is more poyzed than Fire, being equally ballanced at both ends; the Figure being as a long ſtrait Pipe.

But the Figure of Fire hath neither Poyze nor Center to ballance it; yet it can hold or ſtay it ſelf on other Figures, ſticking itſelf therein like Anchors.

The Preaching Lady.

Dearly beloved Brethren,

Ihave called you together, to inſtruct, exhort, and admoniſh you. My Text I take out of Nature, the third Chapter in Nature, at the beginning of the fourth verſe; mark it, dear Beloved, the third Chapter, beginning at the fourth verſe; (the Text) In the Land of Poetry there ſtands a ſteep high Mount, named Parnaſſus; at the top iſſues out a Flame, which aſcends unto Fames Manſion.

This Text, dearly Beloved, I will divide into ſeven parts.

At firſt, In the Land of Poetry.

Secondly, there ſtands a Mount.

Thirdly, a ſteep Mount.

Fourthly, a high Mount.

Fifthly, the name is Parnaſſus

Sixthly, there iſſues from the top a Flame.

Seventhly and Laſtly, the Flame aſcends to Fames Manſion.

Firſt, in the Land of Poetry.

Which Land, dearly Beloved, is both large, ſweet, pleaſant, and fertil, and hath been poſſeſſed by our Fore-fathers ever ſince the time of our Father Adam in Poetry, which was Homer, from whom all Poets are deſcended, (as the Antients ſay.) This our very great Grandfather, named Homer, did excell all other Men; for he did not onely give ſome names to Creatures on Earth, but he gave names to all the Gods in Jove’s Manſion, and to all the Devils in the Infernals. Nay, he did more; for he made Heavens and Hells, Gods and Devils, and inſcribed them for his Poſterity to know them in after-Ages. In this Land of Poetry he lived, which Land flowed with Wit and Phancy; and is ſo large that it doth not onely reach to all parts and places of, or in the World, ſpreading it ſelf like Air, about, and into every nook and corner in this World, but beyond it, as into many other Worlds.

In X4v 160

In this moſt ſpatious Land runs a clear Stream, called Helicon; it is a moſt pleaſant Spring, and refreſhes, not onely the Life of the Senſes, but the Senſe of Life. In this Spring did our very great Grandfather bathe himſelf in; alſo, with this Spring he watered numerous and ſeveral Roots growing in this Land, that the ſweet Flowers of Rhetorick might ſprout forth in due ſeaſon, and that the Trees of Invention might bear their fruitfull Arts for the nouriſhment of Common-weals.

Secondly, In the midſt of this Land there is a Mount. A Mount, dearly Beloved, is a ſwell’d, contracted, and elevated Body or Form: but you muſt not conceive this Mount to be of Earth, but of Thoughts; it is a ſwell’d, contracted, and elevated Form in the Minde.

Thirdly, It is a ſteep Mount. that is, dearly Beloved, it is not ſlope or ſhelving, but ſo ſtrait as to be perpendicular, inſomuch that thoſe that have not ſure and ſinnewy Feet, can never walk up this Mount; indeed it requires Mercurie’s Feet, which have Wings, that when they are in danger to ſlip, their Wings might bear them up.

Fourthly, It is a high Mount; that is, dearly Beloved, when there is a great ſpace, or long Line from the bottom to the top; unto which top all that have light and empty Heads can never attain, for the height will ſoon make them dizzy, and cauſe them to fall into the Gulph of Oblivion.

Fifthly, The name of this Mount is Parnaſſus; a name, dearly Beloved, is a word, not a thing, but the marks of things, as to diſtinguiſh ſeveral things, or conceptions of things, whereby to know and underſtand them.

Sixthly, From the top of this Mount Parnaſſus iſſues out a Flame; a Flame, dearly Beloved, is the fluid part of Fire. But, Beloved, you muſt know, there are two ſorts of Fire; the one, a bright ſhining Fire, which is viſible to the vulgar ſenſe; the other is ſo pure and ſubtil a Fire, that it is not ſubject to the outward Senſe, but is onely perceived by the Underſtanding; indeed it is a Spiritual Fire, which cauſes a ſpritely and pure Flame; the other, a Corporeal Fire which cauſeth, a groſs and ſmoaking Flame.

Seventhly and Laſtly, This inſenſible Flame aſcends to Fames Manſion; and though, dearly Beloved, Fames Manſion is but an old Library, wherein lyes antient Records of Actions, Accidents, Chronologies, Moulds, Medals, Coyns, and the like; yet Fame her ſelf is a Goddeſs, and the Siſter to Fortune; and ſhe is not onely a Goddeſs, but a powerfull Goddeſs; and not onely a powerfull Goddeſs, but a terrible Goddeſs; for ſhe can both damn and glorifie: but her Sentence of Damnation is moſt commonly of more force than her Sentence of Glorification; for thoſe that ſhe damns, ſhe damns without redemption; but thoſe ſhe glorifies, many times ſhe ſets a period to.

Thus, beloved Brethren, I have interpreted to you the Text, now I am to exhort you, that none ſhould venture up to this Mount but thoſe that can fly with Phancyes Wings, or walk with a Y1r 161 a meaſured pace on Velvet Feet, or Comick Socks, or Tragique Buskins, nor to venture if you finde any infirmity or weakneſs in the Head, or Brain, or other parts; for the Flame which iſſues out of the Mount called Parnaſſus, is not onely a Flame, but a wondrous hot, ſindging, ſcorching, burning Flame; inſomuch that many times, it is inſufferable, and oft times burns the Brains into Sinders, and conſumes the rational Underſtanding, at leaſt it ſindges the Health, and indangers the Life of the Body.

But to conclude, beloved Brethren, in Poetry; Let me admoniſh you to be devout in the name of great Fame, who is able to ſave or damn you: wherefore be induſtrious in your Actions; let no opportunity ſlip you, neither in Schools, Courts, Cityes, Camps, or ſeveral Climates, to gain the favour of great Fame; offer up your ſeveral Conceptions upon the White Paper. white Altars, ſprinkling Golden Letters thereon: and let the Senſe be as ſweet Incenſe to her Deity; that the Perfumes of your Renown may be ſmelt in after Ages, and your Noble Actions recorded in her antient Manſion.

And ſo the Love of Fame be with you,

And the Bleſſing of Fortune light upon you.

Y Her
Y1v 162

Her Excellencies Moral Tales in Proſe.

The fourth Book.

A Moral Tale of the Ant and the Bee.

In the midſt of a pleaſant Wood ſtood a large Oak, in its prime and ſtrength of years, which by long time was brought to maturity. A Company of Ants meeting together, choſe the root or bottom thereof to build a City: but whereſoever any of them build, they build after one faſhion, which is like a Hill, or a half Globe, the outſide being Convex, the inſide Concave; a Figure, it ſeems, they think moſt laſting, and leaſt ſubject to ruine, having no Corners, Points, or Joints to break off; and every one of the little Creatures, induſtrious to the Common good, in which they never loyter nor laze, but labour and take pains; and not onely labouriouſly, but prudently; for thoſe that bring the Materials to build, lay thoſe Materials in their Architecture form, not hindring one another by any retardments; as one Man brings the Brick, another the Morter, and a third builds them together; and if any come to a miſchance, the work is not onely hindred, and time loſt, but the Builder is forced to be idle for want of Materials; and if the Builder comes to any miſchance, the Materials are uſeleſs for want of a Worker. But they being wiſer than Man, know Time is pretious, and therefore judiciouſly order it, forecaſting while they work, and not forecaſt, and be idle, taking up the whole time with Contrivance, leaving none for Practice; neither do they prefer Curioſity before Convenience. Likewiſe, they are carefull of repairs, leſt ruine ſhould grow upon them; inſomuch that if the leaſt Grain of Duſt is miſplaced, they ſtop, or cloſe it up again. Allſo, they are as prudent for their Proviſions, having a Magazine of Meat in their City, as Men have Arms: but this Magazine is like a Farmers Cupboard, Y2r 163 Cupboard, which is never without Bread and Cheeſe, wholſome, allthough not delicious Fare; ſo is theirs. Neither do they ſhut their Door, for all is open and free; they need not beg for Victuals, ſince every one labours and takes pains for what they eat: neither are they factious and mutinous, through Envy, by reaſon there is no ſuperiority amongſt them, for their Commonwealth is compoſed of Labourers. They have no impertinent commanding Magiſtrates, nor unjuſt Judges, nor wrangling Lawyers; for as their Commonwealth is as one Body, or rather, all thoſe little Bodyes are as one great Head, or rather, as one wiſe Brain, ſo are they united by a general Agreement, as one Minde; and their Induſtryes are united, as to the general Good, which makes the Profit thereof return equally to each particular; for as their Induſtry, ſo Power and Riches are levelled amongſt them, which makes them free from thoſe Inconveniencies and Troubles, and oft times Ruins, that are ſubject to thoſe Commonwealths, that make Diſtinctions and Degrees, which beget Pride, Ambition, Envy, Covetouſneſs, Treachery and Treaſon, cauſing Civil Wars, Tyrannical Laws, unjuſt Judgements, faſe Accuſations, cruel Executions, faint Friendſhips, diſſembling Affections, Luxury, Bribery, Beggery, Slavery, heavy Taxes, and unconſcionable Extortions: but theſe Citizens, Ants, have little Heads, and great Wiſdome, which ſhews it is not the quantity of Brain that makes any particular Creature wiſe, for then an Oxe would be wiſer than a Man. Nor is it the bigneſs of the Heart that makes a Creature good natured; for theſe little Creatures, allthough they have little Hearts, yet they have great Generoſity, Compaſſion and Charity to each other; for as their aſſiſtance is allwayes ready and free to bear a part of a Burthen, ſo their care and affection is not leſs to bury their dead. I know not whether they have the paſſion of Sorrow, or rather I may ſay the moyſture of Tears, to weep at their Funerals; but they do lay them into the Earth, and cover them over with Earth with great Solemnity. But they have as all other Creatures have, that Nature hath made Enemies; for though they are Friends among themſelves, yet they cannot make Friendſhips of all Natures Works, by reaſon ſome Creatures live upon other Creatures, by which theſe Creatures are often devoured; for they have many Forreign Enemies, as Swallows, and the like Birds, which come with their ſharp and digging Bills, and pull down their City, devour their Eggs, and make a Maſſacre of their Citizens, which Cruelty makes them fearfull and carefull in concealing themſelves, creeping allwayes out at little Holes, leſt they ſhould be diſcovered.

It happened upon a hot Summers day, a Company of Bees flying to that Tree to ſwarm on a Bough or Branch thereof, they thinking it might be ſome of their Enemies, Birds, were in an extraordinary fright; whereupon they withdrew all into the City, ſhutting up the Gates thereof, onely ſending out a few Spyes at Poſtern doors, and ſetting Centinels to view their approaches. Y2 At Y2v 164 At laſt, they obſerved theſe Birds, which Man calls Bees, gathered in a round Figure or Globe, like the World; which ſhews, the round Figure is not onely the moſt profitable, having the leaſt waſte, and largeſt compaſs, but the ſecureſt Figure, being the moſt united, not onely by drawing in all looſe and wandring parts, but combines them all together with a round Circle Line. But when theſe Bees were ſwarmed, which ſwarming is a general Meeting to make up one Councel, there was ſuch a humming noyſe, as did more affright the Ants than they were before; for Bees do not as Men in publick Councels, ſpeak by turns, but they ſpeak all at once, after the leading Bee hath ſpoke; I ſuppoſe either all conſenting or not conſenting to the chief Bee, which is called the Humble-Bees propoſition. Neither can I perceive they ſpeak ſtudyed Speeches, as Men do, taking more care and pains therein than for the Common Good. Neither do they as Man doth, which is, to ſpeak as Paſſion perſwades them, not as Reaſon adviſes, or Truth diſcovers, or Honeſty commands them; but as Self-love, or Self-will draws them, driving their own particular Intereſt, following their own Appetites, preferring their own Luxuriouſneſs and Pleaſure before the public Felicity or Safety, venturing the publick Ruine for a titled Honour, or Bribe, or Office, or Envy, or Hate, or Revenge, or Love, or the like; nay, for a vain and affected Speech; But Bees are wiſer; for they know, that if the Commonwealth be ruinated, no particular Perſon can be free. Alſo, Bees do like thoſe that ſend out Colonies out of over populated Kingdomes to make new Plantations; for if there ſhould be more Mouths than Meat, and more Men than Buſineſs, they would devour one another in Civil Wars, and pull down the Fabrick of the Commonwealth, by breaking the Laws and civil Cuſtomes thereof.

But this Colony of Bees ſwarming together, agreed where to ſettle, and ſo to meet all at the appointed place; whereupon the Councel broke up, and every one took their flight ſeveral wayes to gather Honey and Wax, wiſely providing for Food and Storehouſes to lay their Proviſions in, building them a City in ſome hollow Tree, or cleaved part of the Earth, or the like places; and their ſeveral Partiments are built ſo cloſe together, and in ſuch a ſtrange Mathematical Figure, that there is not the leaſt waſte or loſs; and they are ſo induſtriouſly wiſe, that they carry their Proviſions of Victuals, and their Materials to build withall, at one time, as one burthen; for they have a natural Bag, like a Budget or Wallet, which they fill with Honey; and they carry their Wax on their Thighs, a ſmall Reſt for ſo heavy a Load. But when the Ants had heard their wiſe Propoſitions, their general Agreements, their firm Concluſions, their quick Executions, their methodical Orders, their prudent Managements, or Comportments, & their laborious Induſtry they did admire, commend and approve of their Commonwealth; andthe more, becauſe it was ſomewhat like to theirs. But the truth is, the Ant and the Bee reſemble more in their wiſe Induſtry, than in their Government Y3r 165 Government of the Commonwealth; for the Bees are a Monarchial Government, as any may obſerve, and the Ants are a Republick.

But by this we may perceive, it is not ſuch or ſuch kinds of Governments, but ſuch and ſuch wayes of governing, that make a Commonwealth flouriſh with Plenty, Conveniency, Curioſity, Peace, and Tranquillity; for the Monarchical Government of the Bees is as wiſe and happy as the Republick Commonwealth of the Ants, &c

The ſecond Moral Tale of the Ant and the Bee.

An Ant and a Bee meeting together upon a Gilly-flower, condemned each other for doing wrong to the Flower; for ſaid the Ant to the Bee, you luxuriouſly and covetouſly come and ſuck out the ſweet and nouriſhing Juice therein.

You are deceived, ſaid the Bee, for I onely gather off the ſweet Dew that lyes thereon; I neither draw out the Juice nor Scent, nor fade the Colour, nor wither the Leaves, nor ſhorten the Life, for it may live as long as Nature pleaſes, for all me; but you eat out the Seeds, which are their young Off-ſprings; and the Earwigs eat off the Leaves, and the Worms devour the Roots; when I bear nothingg away, but what is free for all, which is that which falls from the Heavens.

But I perceive it is the nature of moſt Creatures to be the firſt Accuſers, that are guilty and do the greateſt Wrongs.

The third Moral Tale of the Ant and the Bee.

It chanced, an Ant and a Bee wandring about, met in a Honey-pot; the Honey being very clammy, ſtuck ſo cloſe to the Ant, and weighed ſo heavy, that it could not get out; but like a Horſe in a Quagmire, the more pains it took to get out, the deeper it ſunk in; whereupon he intreated the Bee to help him.

The Bee denyed him, ſaying, he ſhould become guilty of Theft in aſſiſting a Thief.

Why, ſaid the Ant, I do not intreat you to aſſiſt my Stealth, but my Life; but for all your pretended Honeſty, and nicety of Conſcience, you endeavour to ſteal Honey as much as I.

No, ſaid the Bee, this Honey was ſtollen by Man out of our Commonwealth; and it is lawfull not onely to challenge our own, but to take it whereſoever we finde it. Beſides, Man moſt commonly doth cruelly murther us, by ſmothering us with Y3 Smoke, Y3v 166 Smoke, then deſtroyes our City, and carries away the Spoyles therein. But men are not onely the wickedeſt of Creatures in making the greateſt Spoyls, and diſturbance of Nature, but they are the ſubtilleſt of all Creatures to compaſs their Deſigns, and the moſt invective for ſeveral deſtructive and inſlaving Arts. But Nature, knowing the Ingenuity of Man to Evil, and the proneneſs of his Nature to Cruelty, gave us Stings for Weapons to oppoſe and defend our ſelves againſt them; which they finding by experience, invented the way of ſmothering us with Smoke.

Said the Ant, I hope that Cruelty you condemn, and have found by experience in Man, will cauſe you to be ſo charitable as to help me out of my Miſery.

There is no reaſon for that, anſwered the Bee; for if Man doth unjuſtly ſtrive to deſtroy me, it doth not follow I muſt unjuſtly ſtrive to help you.

But whil’ſt the Bee was thus talking, the Honey had clammed the Bees Wings cloſe to his Sides, ſo that he could not looſen them to fly; and in ſtruggling to get liberty for flight, plunged his whole Body in the Honey.

O, ſaid the Bee, I ſhall be ſwallowed up, and choaked immediately.

What, ſaid the Ant, with your own Honey

O, ſaid the Bee, the quantity devours me; for Water refreſhes Life, and drowns Life; Meat feeds the Body, and deſtroys the Body by Surfeits; beſides, a Creature may choak with that which might nouriſh him. O unhappy Creature that I am, ſaid the Bee, that my Labour and Induſtry ſhould prove my ruine: but the Honey riſing above his head, ſtopped his ſpeech, and kill’d him.

The Ant, after a ſhort languiſhing, dyed alſo.

Thus we ſee, the ſame Mercy and Aſſiſtance we refuſed to others, are refuſed to us in the like Diſtreſs.

And many times, in the midſt of Abundancy, are our Lives taken away.

And when we are to greedily earneſt in keeping or taking what we can juſtly call our own, we ſeldome injoy them, either by the loſs of them, or our ſelves.

Which ſhews, there is no ſecure Safety, nor perfect Felicity, nor conſtant Continuance in the Works of Nature.

A Tale of the Woodcock and the Cow.

A cow, ſeeing a Woodcock ſitting cloſe to a green Turf, and obſerving him not to ſtir, asked him why he ſate ſo lazily there, having ſo ſtrong a Wing as he had to fly.

O, ſaid the Woodcock, it is a laborious action to fly; but ſitting here, I take my eaſe and reſt.

Said the Cow: if I had Wings to fly, I would never lye upon the Y4r 167 the cold Earth, but I would mount up near to the warm Sun, whoſe Heat clarifies the Air to a Chryſtalline Skye; where the Earth is onely a groſs Body, ſending forth thick and ſtinking Fogs, which many times give us the Rot, and other Diſeaſes, by the unwholſome Vapours that ariſe from it, and cold Dews that lye upon the Ground; when the Air is ſweet and refreſhing, warm and comfortable.

’Tis true, ſaid the Woodcock, the Sun is a glorious and powerful Planet; his Heat is our Comfort, and his Light is our Joy, and the Air is a thin and fine Element. But alas, ſaid he, though we be Birds that can fly therein, yet we cannot reſt therein, and every Creature requires Reſt ſometimes; neither can we live onely by the Sun, for the Sun cannot fill us, though he warms us; his Light fills not our Crops, although it doth our Eyes, nor is the Seed ſown in the Air; and though the Winds furrow and plough the Clouds, yet the Air is too ſoft an Element to bear Corn, or any other Vegetable; nor doth there grow ſweet Berries on the Sun-beams as on the Buſhes; beſides, great Winds beat down our failing Wings; and when the Air is thick, and full of Water, it wets or cleaves our Feathers ſo cloſe, they will not ſpread, which cauſeth difficulty of flight, which tires us, and puts our Limbs to pain, when you ſit lazily here all day long chewing the Cud, having your Meat brought by Man to increaſe your Milk; and in the Summer you are put to rich Paſture, or lye in green Meadows growing thick with Cowſlips and Daſies; or elſe for change, you walk up to the Mountains tops to brouſe on wilde Time, or ſweet Marjerum; and yet you rail againſt our good Mother, Earth, from whoſe Bowels we receive Life, and Food to maintain that Life ſhe gives us; ſhe is our kinde Nurſe, from whence we ſuck out of ſpringing Breaſts freſh Water, and are fed by her Hand of Bounty, ſhaded under her ſpreading Boughs, and ſheltered from Storms in her thick Groves.

Beſides, ſaid the Woodcock, you are ſafe from Dangers, when we have many Aery Enemies, as the Tyrant Eagle, and murderous Hawk: But, ſaid the Cow, we that onely live upon the Earth, are dull and melancholy Creatures in compariſon of thoſe that fly in the Air; for all Birds are Ingenious, and ſeem to have more Wit than Beaſts; beſides, they are of Chearfuller Diſpoſitions, and have clearer Voyces, by reaſon their Spirits are more refined, whereof the ſerene Air, and the hot Sun is the Cauſe, by agitating the Spirits to that degree, that they ſeem to have more Life than we Beaſts have, or any other Creature; for thoſe Bodies that are moſt active, and thoſe Minds that are more chearfull, have moſt, although not longeſt Life, having more of the innated Matter, which is, ſelf-motion, in them, than duller Creatures have. And ſince Nature hath given you a greater proportion of Life, that is, more lively Spirits, ſlight not her Benefits, but make uſe of them, for to that purpoſe ſhe gives them.

Wherefore Y4v 168

Wherefore get up, and ſit not idly here,

Mount up on high, above the Clouds appear,

The Woodcock ſaid, when we are up on high,

We rather ſwim like Fiſhes, and not fly.

The Air is like the Ocean, liquid plain;

The Clouds are Water, and the Proof is Rain;

Where, like a Ship, our Bodies ſwift do glide;

Our Wings, as Sails, are ſpread on either ſide;

Our Head’s the Card, our Eyes the Needles be

For to direct us in our Aery Sea;

Our Tail’s the Rudder, moves from ſide to ſide,

And by that motion we our Bodies guide;

Our Feet’s the Anchors, when to Ground them ſet,

We mend our Sails; that’s prune our Feathers wet;

I mean, for all ſorts of Birds.

And every Buſh like ſeveral Ports they be,

But, a large Haven is a broad ſpread Tree.

O, ſaid the Cow, this Voyage to the Skye

I fain would ſee, whil’ſt on the Ground I lye:

To ſatiſfie you, ſaid the Woodcock, I

Will mount, ſo roſe, and ſhak’d his Wings to fly.

But the Woodcock had not flown above a caſt high, but a Faulcon, who had ſoared above for a Prey, ſeeing the Woodcock underneath him, came down with ſuch force, that knocked him on the Head with his Pounces.

Which when the Cow ſaw, ſhe lowed out with Sorrow, and made a moſt lamenting Voyce, bewailing the Woodcock’s miſfortune; and out of a ſad, melancholy, and diſcontented Grief, for the Woodcock his Death, and for the unfortunate counſel ſhe gave him, ſhe mourned and lamented, putting on a black Hide; which Hide ſhe wore to her dying day, and all her Poſterity after her; and not onely her Poſterity, but many of her acquaintance.

The Moral. Some are ſo buſily good, or goodly buſy, that they will perſwade and councel, not onely all thoſe they have relation or intereſt to, or all they know or have acquaintance with, but all they meet, although they be meer Strangers to them. But although ſome do it out of a meer buſy nature, and intermedling humour and diſpoſition, yet queſtionleſs ſome do it out of a deſire and natural inclination they have for a general fruition of Happineſs, putting themſelves in the laſt place.

But theſe ſort of Men have more good nature than judgement; for their Councels oft times bring ruine, at leaſt ſorrow to themſelves and others, as thoſe that take it, and thoſe that give it, through a blinde ignorance of either Party.

But thoſe that are prudently wiſe, never give Councel, but when it’s asked, and then not without great Caution, chooſing the ſafeſt wayes, and the likelyeſt means, joyning his own reputation with the Parties good, fearing to loſe the one, or hurt the other by his raſh advice.

Of Z1r 169

Of a Butcher and a Fly.

In Shamble-Row a Butcher walking in his Shop, where Meat was lying upon his Shopboard; and being in the heat of Summer, a number of Flyes were buſily working thereupon; which the Butcher ſeeing, was very angry, and ſaid, that Flyes were good for nothing but to corrupt dead Fleſh. At which words, the Flyes murmured againſt the Butcher, making a humming Noyſe to expreſs their Paſſion.

But one of the antienteſt and graveſt Flyes amongſt them, which Fly living long, and obſerving much, had ſtudyed Natural and Moral Philoſophy, having obſerved the humours, and all actions of all Creatures, eſpecially Man, and more eſpecially Butchers, by reaſon they moſt commonly frequent the Shambles, he anſwered the Butcher thus.

Why, ſaid the Fly, do you rail and exclaim againſt us, when we do nothing againſt Nature, but to the one wordobscuredcontrary we do good ſervices, for we create living Creatures out of that you deſtroy, whereby we keep Nature from ruine, and thoſe that deſtroy Life, are Natures Enemies; when thoſe that maintain or create Life, are Natures Friends, thus we are Friends, and you are Enemies to Nature; for you are cruel, ſtriving to deſtroy Nature, not onely by taking the Life of barren Creatures, ſuch as never will bear, or are paſt producing, but young Creatures ſuch as would increaſe, had they been kept or let to live, as not killing them before their natural time to dye. Beſides, ſaid the Fly to the Butcher, you are a Cheat and Robber, as well as a Murtherer, for you coſen and rob Time of the Goods he is intruſted to keep untill ſuch time as Nature requires them, to whom he carefully, eaſily, peaceably delivers them to the right Owner. Alſo, you do not rob him of thoſe Goods he hath in charge, but you maliciouſly or covetouſly ſpoyl his work; for thoſe Creatures that he hath but newly made and ſhaped, and ſome before they are quite finiſhed; nay ſome, which he hath but moulded into a lump together, you deſtroy, which not onely ſpoyls old Father Times Labours, but defaces his Architecture, diſgracing his Skill. Likewiſe, you do not onely endeavour to deſtroy Nature, and rob and diſgrace Time, but you take away Divine Worſhip from the Gods, for the Gods receive onely Worſhip from Life, which Life you deſtroy that ſhould adore the Gods, for which they may juſtly puniſh you in Death.

After the Fly had made an end of this diſcourſe, now, ſaith the Butcher to the Fly, you think you have ſpoke wiſely, honeſtly, and piouſly; but your Speeches ſhew you to be a formal prating Coxcomb; for firſt, Nature creates more Creatures from Death than from Life, from the Grave than from the Womb, for thoſe Creatures ſhe creates from the Womb, ſhe creates for the moſt part by ſingle ones, or couples, as witneſs Mankinde, and moſt Z ſorts Z1v 170 ſorts of Beaſts: but thoſe that ſhe creates from Death and the Grave, as from dead Carcaſſes, and rotten Corruption, ſhe produceth by numbers, as witneſs Maggots, Worms, and the like Creatures; and moſt commonly your impertinent Worſhips are created by that kinde of manner. And if the Gods are onely ſerv’d by Life, we ſerve the Gods beſt, for we by killing of ſingle Creatures, are the cauſe of creating Millions of living Creatures. Neither have you reaſon to brag; for it is not you that are the onely cauſe that thoſe Creatures are produced from thoſe Carcaſſes, but Corruption, for Corruption is the Mother of Life; but onely by your ſucking thereon, the dead Fleſh is corrupted ſooner than otherwiſe it would be, by which you take Times work out of his hands, and ſo you do uſurp on Times prerogative, for which I will whisk you out of my Shop as a Company of buſy, prating, idle, fooliſh Creatures you are.:Whereat they being affrighted, flew away.

The Tale of a Man and a Spider.

Aman whoſe Thoughts were not buſily imployed upon potent Affairs, but lazily ſitting in his Chair, leaning his Head on his Hand, with his Face towards the Window, viewing the crafty Spider, and marking what pains ſhe took in ſpinning a Web to intangle the innocent Flyes; her Work no ſooner done, but a Fly was catch’d therein. He ſeeing this poor Fly dragg’d along, and ready to be murthered by the cruel Spider, who had watched her coming that way, thus ſpoke:

Miſchievous Spider, ſayes he, who are onely induſtrious to an evil Deſign, ſpinning out thy own Bowels onely to intrap a Creature that never did not meant thee harm; hadſt thou ſpun out of a charitable intention, as to cloath the Naked, thou hadſt been worthy of a Commendation, but now thy Malice falls juſtly under my Wrath; and taking the Tongs, intended to kill her: but the Spider perceiving his intentions, thus ſpake.

Sir, you that pretend to Juſtice, be juſt to me, and hear me firſt ſpeak; for what is more unjuſt than to cenſure, ſtrike, or kill, before you know whether your doom be deſervedly given; next, you muſt be clear from the ſame Faults, before you can juſtly puniſh another of the like Crime; next, you muſt be from Partiality, leſt you become cruel to one through your tender pity to the other. But to anſwer for my ſelf; I do not onely ſpin thus to catch the Flyes, but it is my Houſe in which I dwell; where no ſooner have I built it up, but the Flyes ſtrive to break it down; for if you would but obſerve, that when I have ſpun my Web, they ſtraight fly into it; which I no ſooner ſee, but I run upon my Threads to aſſault them, and ſo catch them if I can; for ſince I cannot keep my Houſe from being aſſaulted, I ſtrive to make it a Snare to intangle my Foes therein, and by that means I make it Z2r 171 it a Miſchief to fall on their own Heads; and what Creature hath Nature made, but if they had power would not defend themſelves; but ſay, I ſpun this Web onely to catch the Flyes to feed upon, it were no crime in Nature; for what Creature is there that will ſpare the life of another, if it be to maintain his own, ſince Self-preſervation is the chief of Natures Works; and of all her Workds, Man ſeeks it moſt, and not onely ſo, but they delight in Spoyl, which is againſt nature; for doth not Man take Delight, and account it as one of his chiefeſt Recreations to kill thoſe Creatures that he refuſes to eat? Nay Man will deſtroy his own kinde; for what Wars and Slaughters do they make out a covetous Ambition for Power and Authority? But if you be ſo juſt as you pretend, then firſt caſt out all intemperate Deſires, make Peace among your ſelves, then may you be fit Judges to decide the Quarrels of other Creatures, and to puniſh Offenders, when you are innocent; otherwiſe you will but ſhew your ſelf an Uſurper, wreſting that Power that belongs not to you; and a Tyrant, to execute with the Sword of Cruelty, deſtroying the Truth and the Right. The Man, when he had heard the Spiders diſcourſe, turned his Back, and went his wayes.

Z2 Her Z2v 172

Her Excellencies Dialogues in Proſe.

The fifth Book.

A Dialogue betwixt a great Lady, and her Maid of Honour.

There was a great titled rich Lady talking to one of her Maids of Honour of ſeveral things; at laſt, ſhe began to ſpeak of the falſe Reports, Envy and Malice had raiſed in the World.

Her Maid told her, if ſhe would not be angry, ſhe would tell her what they ſaid.

Do ſo, ſaid ſhe, for I do not cenſure my ſelf according as the World reports, for moſt commonly Reports are falſe: but I judge my ſelf according to my Life, which are my Thoughts and Actions, wherefore they cannot move my Anger at any thing they ſay, wherefore you may relate without offence.

Maid They ſay, you are Proud.

Lady I am ſo, in ſcorning what is baſe.

Maid They ſay, you prize your titled Honour at too high a rate.

Lady That’s falſe, ſaid ſhe,

I onely prize ſuch Titles as the marks of Merits; for onely Merit dignifies a Man, and not thoſe Honours: for titled Honour gains a Luſter from the Worth of thoſe they are placed upon.

Maid They ſay, you are vain in making Shews of State, or Stately Shews.

Lady Why, anſwered ſhe, the Gods in Shews delight, as witneſs devout Ceremonial Shews; beſides, this World which they did make, is like a Pageant, or Maſquing Scenes; and when Great Kings neglect their Ceremonies, their State goes down; And with their State they loſe their Kingly Crown.

Maid. Z3r 173

Maid They ſay, you are ſo proud that you will not ſit, becauſe all other by ſhould ſtand.

Lady they are deceived, ſaid ſhe, for I would ſtand whil’ſt others ſit; for as they ſit, they bow lower towards the Earth; By which my Slaves and Vaſſals they do ſhew.

Maid They ſay, you will not eat your Meat but by your ſelf alone, which proves you Proud, or Covetous.

Lady It proves me neither; for why ſhould I diſgust my Palate in hearing a confuſed Noyſe; for when good Meat and Wife fumes to their Brains, their Tongues become unruly.

Neither is it out of Covetousneſs; for I do not onely keep one furniſhed table, but many, and do allow to entertain all civil Gueſts.

Maid They ſay, you are proud, becauſe you will receive no Viſits, but at ſet and certain times.

Lady Why ſhould I ſpend my time in idle talk, ſince Life is ſhort; or to diſturb my ſolitary hours; which is the beſt and happieſt time of Life, wherein Man onely doth enjoy himſelf.

Maid They ſay, you are not ſociable, in carrying not abroad your Neighbours or your Friends, as other Ladies of great Titles do, which ſend about to other Ladies to accompany them abroad to fill their Train, and make a Shew.

Lady I hate to be attended upon courteſy, or make a Shew on borrowed Favours, or fill my Train with bare Acquaintance, or humble Companions, to have my Eſtate none of my own, onely to make a ſeeming Shew; and when they are gone, my Eſtate is gone, and I left alone naked and bare, having none can command about me. No, when I appear abroad, I will onely be attended and waited upon by ſuch as live upon my Bounty, or by my Favours raiſed. I will have no patch’d Train made up of Strangers, it ſhall be all my own, although it be the shorter; otherwiſe, what Shews ſoever it makes, it is but mean and poor, expreſſing more Vain-glory than it doth State. Beſides it cheats and coſens Noble Honour, for ſhould a King be attended and ſerved in State with other Subjects than his own upon another Kings charge or courteſy, he would not ſeem, to thoſe that are wiſe, of potent Power. But he is Great whoſe Kingdome is fully populated, and all do bow with an obedient Knee, and ready to ſerve his Will. So, like as potent Kings, in my Degree, will I be ſerved and waited on by my own Family with Duty and Obedience; and not by Strangers, who are like Forreigners, who are apt to mutiny, and make a War, or think they do me Honour. No, I will have none but ſuch as I think I honour them; and if I merit have, I do, as though of equal rank, if by my Worth or Fortune I do grace or aſſiſt them any way; for it is an Honour to receive a Bounty or Favour from the Meritorious.

Maid They ſay, you do diſlike when any Man ſalutes you, although of Quality.

Z3 Lady. Z3v 174

Lady How! ſalutes me?

Maid Why, as to kiſs you.

Lady Why ought not every honeſt Woman ſo to do? for Kiſſes are Cupid’s Gentlemen-uſhers, and Venus Waiting maids, which oft betray the Men to wilde Deſires, and kindles in their Hearts unlawfull Fire; wherefore I would have that Cuſtome baniſhed quite, eſpecially by Husbands that do prize their Honour. But Envy doth miſimploy the Tongue, and leads Mankinde to Actions baſe, making their Life like leaking Veſſels, where pretious Time doth idly drop away.

Maid I have heard, that all the World was pictured in a Fool’s Cap.

Lady ’Tis ſtrange it ſhould be ſo; for Nature that did make it, and Gods that rule it, are wiſe; but Men are bad, which makes me not care what they ſay; for of Mankinde, I divide them into four parts, whereof three are naught.

One part I hate, as being wicked; the ſecond I ſcorn, as being baſe, and the third I pity, as being ignorantly fooliſh.

Maid What is the fourth part, Madam?

Lady The fourth part I may divide into four parts more.

One part I admire, as being Wiſe; the ſecond part I honour, as being Noble; the third part I love, as being Good; the fourth part I rely on, as being Valiant.

Maid There would be little Security if onely the fourth part of the fourth part were Valiant, for the other parts might overpower them.

Lady O no, Cowards know not their own ſtrength, becauſe they dare not try it; and one Valiant Man, if Fortune ſits but idle, will beat at leaſt twenty Cowards: But Fortune for the moſt part is a Friend to Cowards and to Fools, more than to the Valiant and the Wiſe; yet oft-times the Valiant and the Wiſe do make a Paſſage through, though Fortune do obſtuct.

Maid But Madam, if there were ſo few Valiant, there would not be ſo much War amongſt Mankinde as is.

Lady O yes, for Cowards fight for fear, and Valiant Men do ſet them on; and were it not for thoſe that are Valiant and Wiſe, there would be neither Juſtice nor Propriety.

Maid Indeed, Juſtice is pictured with a Sword in one hand, and a pair of Ballances in the other.

Lady That ſhews, that Wiſdome doth juſtly weigh Truth, and Valour doth maintain the Right.

Maid I have heard a Proverb, Madam, that he that is wiſe is honeſt.

Lady And thoſe that are not Valiant, could never be conſtantly Honeſt; for, ſaid ſhe, Fear would put them out of Honeſt wayes. And ſo ſhe left off diſcourſing.

Z4r 175

A Dialogue betwixt a Contemplatory Lady and a Poet.

Poet Pray, Madam, think me not rude to intrude upon your Contemplation.


A Poets Wit, Companion’s

Fit for vain Imagination.

Poet That is not vainly done which gives Delight to the Minde, without indangering the Soul, or diſtempering the Body, for Vanity lives onely in that which is uſeleſs or unprofitable.

Lady Indeed, to delight the Minde is more neceſſary than to feed the Body, for a diſcontented Minde is worſe than Death, but the moſt part of the World think nothing uſefull to the Life, but what is Subſtantial.

Poet If they do ſo, they muſt account Thoughts vain; for Thoughts are onely an Incorporeal Motion, or at leaſt believed to be ſo.

Lady But without the Incorporeal Motion, the World would onely be a dead Carcaſs, for were it not for Contemplation, there would be no Invention; if no Invention, no Conveniency; if no Conveniency, no Eaſe, if no Eaſe, no Pleaſure; if no Pleaſure, no Happineſs, and to be unhappy, is worſe than Death: but Contemplation is the Mother of Invention.

Poet But one wordobscuredLanguage is the Midwife, and Practice the Nurſe. Beſides, if there were no Practice or Converſation, all Invention and Induſtry would be Abortive;

And Language utterly unknown, The Trumpet loud of Fame unblown, No Ladder ſet upon her Throne, The Hill untrod ſhe ſits upon.

Wherefore we ought not to bury our ſelves in Contemplation, nor to baniſh our ſelves from Converſation; for Converſation gives the Minde breath, and makes the Imagination the ſtronger, the Conception larger, the Invention apter, and Phancy livelier; otherwiſe we ſhall ſmother the Thoughts for want of vent, and put out their Light for want of Oil, and then the Life would ſtifle in Darkneſs.

Lady Certainly the greateſt Delight that Life gives, is Contemplation; and the Life of Contemplation is ſilent Solitarineſs.

Poet ’Tis true; but the Minde, as the Body, may feed ſo long of Pleaſure, that they may prove tormenting Pain; ſo that the Minde muſ t be exerciſed with diſcourſe, cleanſed with writing, otherwiſe the Streams of Phancie, which ariſe in ſeveral Springs Z4v 176 Springs from the Imagination, may overflow the Minde, cauſing it to be flatuous and hydropical, or the ſeveral and ſingular Opinions, which are moſt commonly tough and hard, may obſtruct the Minde, cauſing it to be purſy and ſhort breath’d; and the cold and hot Paſſions, for want of purging words, may either ſtupifie or inflame the Minde, and too much Solitarineſs will bed-rid the Minde, making it faint and weak. Beſides, if the Minde do not travel to ſeveral Objects and Subjects, and traffick with the Senſes and Diſcourses, it would have no acquaintance of the World, no knowledge of Men, nor Monumental Fame. And give me leave, Lady, to tell you, Extreams in Nature are an Enemy to Life and Lifes delight; wherefore let me adviſe you to intermingle with your harmleſs Contemplations, rational Diſcourſes, knowing Societies, and worthy Actions; and to imploy your Senſes on profitable Labours, and not ſuffer them to live idly and uſeleſs to the Minde.

Lady Let me tell you, Sir, the Minde needs them not, for the Minde is ſo well attended, ſo richly furniſhed, ſuch witty Companions, ſuch wiſe Acquaintance, ſuch numbers of Strangers, ſuch faithfull Friends, ſuch induſtrious Servants, ſuch various Pleaſures, ſuch ſweet Delights, ſuch ſpatious Walks, ſuch ſafe Habitations, and ſuch a peaceable Life, that it neither needs to converſe or commerce either with the Senſes, Mankinde, or the World; for it is a World within itſelf.

For the Minde a vaſter World it ſelf doth prove;

Where ſeveral Paſsions like the Planets move;

Poetick Phancyes like fix’d Stars ſhine bright

Upon the Brain, which makes a Day of Night;

As flux of things produceth from the Earth,

As ſome decayes, to others gives new birth.

Nature and Time are equal in their ends,

As ſome decay, to others new Life ſends.

The Circulation of Times World, we ſee,

May prove Immortal, the Minde Eternal be.

But the Material World hath Compaſs round,

But in the Minde no Compaſs can be found;

’Tis infinite, like Nature can create

Thoughts, ſeveral Creatures, Deſtiny and Fate;

And Life and Death do in the Minde ſtill lye,

Death to forget, and Life is Memory.

Poet But, Lady, in juſtice the Body as well as the Minde muſt ſhare in the Pleaſures of Life; for it were unjuſt that onely the Body ſhould endure Reſtraint and Pain, and take no Delight; wherefore you ought not to impriſon it to dark and ſolitary places, to chain it up with Contemplation, and to ſtarve it with Abſtinency, but let it take a moderate pleaſure.

Lady Well, I will try to be more sociable, and not ſtarve the Life of my Body with over-feeding my Minde.

But Aa1r 177

But hard ’twill be for me for to abſtain,

And leave the Banquet of a thinking Brain;

Where all delicious Pleaſures and Delights

Are there ſet forth to feed each Appetites.

The Dialogue of the Wiſe Lady, the Learned Lady, and the Witty Lady.

Learning Some are of opinion, that the World is a living Creature, and the Sun is the Soul.

The wiſe and learned Philoſopher held opinion, that the World was made of Atomes, the Chaos being nothing but ſmall Febers.

Wit I think, the Chaos was a great Lump of Wit, which run it ſelf into ſeveral Figures, creating ſeveral Forms. Thus the Chaos being Wit, and the Wit being Motion, hath invented this World, and many more, for all we know; for Wit is never idle, but is ſtill producing ſomething either of Delight or Profit.

Wiſ The beſt is not to diſpute of what Matter it is, or how it was made, or when it was made, but to enjoy the Pleaſures thereof, to make uſe of the Profits it hath, and to avoid as much as we can the Inconveniencies and Troubles therein; for Diſputes carry more out of the wayes of Truth, and leads us further into the wayes of Ignorance, than all the reaſon Nature hath given can adde to our Knowledge; and there is no Reaſon ſo ſtrong, but may be contradicted by another.

Wit If our Reaſon be ſo falſe a Guide, as not onely the Creation, but the Tract of the World is ſo hard to be found out, how ſhall we finde a direct way to Jove’s Manſion?

Wiſdome I will tell you; the way to walk is by the Line of a good Life, and to take hold of Faith, and to climb up to Heaven by the Ladder of Prayers.

Enter the three Siſters.

Learning Nature is a Chymiſt, and Water is the Mercury, Fire is the Sulphur, Air is the volatil Salt, Earth is the fixed Salt, the fixed Stars are the chryſtalline part, Life is the Spirits or Eſſences,―― Death is the Diadem――Nature――

Wit Wit, which is the Scholar of Nature, is as good a Chymiſt; for Wit doth extract ſomething out of every thing.

Wiſdome And Wiſdome knows how to apply the Extractions to the beſt uſe.

Learning As the agitation of the Air makes us draw our Breath, ſo the agitation of the World makes it continue.

Wit The agitation of the Brain makes a ſharp, ready Wit.

Wiſdome The agitation of Virtue makes a peaceable Common-wealth.

Learning Some Moral Philoſophers hold; that no Creature hath Reaſon but Man.

Aa Wiſdome. Aa1v 178

Wiſdome Men onely talk of Reaſon, but live like Beaſts, following their Appetites without Rules.

Wit Men may as ſoon ſet Rules to Eternity as to themſelves; for their Deſires are ſo infinite and ſo intricate, that we may as ſoon meaſure Eternity as them; for Deſires are like Time, ſtill run foward; and what is paſt, is as it had never been.

Wiſdome But Man may ſet Rules to himſelf, not to his Deſires; and as wiſe Laws govern the Life, ſo that Reaſon, which Men ſay they have, ſhould govern their inſatiable Deſires.

Learning ’Tis ſaid, Hiſtorie inſtructs the Life, it regiſters Time, it inthrones Virtue, it proclaims Noble Natures, it crowns Heroick Actions, it divulges Baſeneſs, and hangs up Wickedneſs; it is a Torch, that gives light to dark Ignorance; it is a Monument to the ad, and a Fame to the Meritorious.

Wit In Poetry is included Muſick and Rhetorick, which is Number and Meaſure, Judgement and Phancy, Imitation and Invention; it is the fineſt Art in Nature, for it animates the Spirits to Devotion, it fires the Spirits to Action, it begets Love, it abates Hate, it tempers Anger, it aſſwages Grief, it eaſes Pain, it increaſes Joy, allayes Fears, and ſweetens the whole Life of Man, by playing ſo well upon the Brain, that it ſtrikes the ſtrings of the Heart with Delight, which makes the Spirits to dance, and keeps the Minde in tune, whereby the Thoughts move equally in a round Circle, where Love ſits in the Center as Miſtris and Judge.

Learning Some Philoſophers hold opinion, that all the changes in the World are onely cauſed by dilation and contraction.

Wit I am ſure, too much dilation of the Spirits cauſeth a weakneſs, by diſ-uniting their Forces, and contracting of Humours, cauſeth Diſeaſes. Yet a dilating Wit is beſt, ſpreading it ſelf, ſmoothly flowing, and eaſily; which if it be contracted, it makes it conſtraint, hard, and unpleaſant, and becomes difficult to the Underſtanding.

Wiſdome Let us contract our Vanities, and moderate our Appetites with ſober Temperance, and dilate our Virtues and good Graces by Noble Actions, and Pious Endeavours.

Learning The Minde, ſome ſay, is nothing but Local Motion in the Brain, which we call Spirits in Animals, that is, Vapour, indeed Vapour of Vapours, that is, the thin and ſharp Vapours; it is an extract of Vapour, from Vapours like Eſſences, or Smoke that ariſes from the porous and liquid parts of the Body, eſpecially the Blood. This Eſſence hath an innated Motion ariſing from the acuteneſs thereof, yet their ſtrength is often allayed by the dullneſs and coldneſs of groſſer Vapours, or obſtructed or hindred by the thickneſs of that dull Matter; and oft times it evaporates out of the Body by too much rarification, cauſed by too quick a Motion.

Wit The Minde is like a God, an Incorporeal thing; and ſo infinite, that it is as impoſſible to meaſure the Minde, as Eternity. Indeed Aa2r 179 Indeed Vapour is a great Inſtrument to the Wit; for groſs Vapour ſtops up the Wit, cold Vapour congeals it, hot Vapour inflames it, thin and ſharp Vapour quickens it. Thus all ſorts of Vapours makes variety of Wit; and the ſeveral Figures, and Works, and Forms, that the vaporous Smoke ariſeth in, cauſeth ſeveral Phancyes, by giving ſeveral Motions to the Brain.

Wiſdome Well, Siſter Wit, and Siſter Learning, to conclude your Diſpute; the beſt Ingredient of the Minde is Honeſty, and the beſt Motion of the Brain is Reaſon, otherwiſe the Brain would be mad, and the Minde wicked; wherefore moderate the one, and temper the other.

Learning Learning increaſes Knowledge, begets Underſtanding, imploys Time, and enriches the Minde.

Wit Wit invents profitable Arts, it creates Sciences, it delights the Minde, it recreates the Life, and entertains Time.

Wiſdome Wiſdome guides the Life ſafe, gives honeſt Laws to the Will, ſets noble Rules to the Actions; it governs Miſfortunes eaſily, it prevents Miſfortunes prudently, it imploys Time thriftily, it makes Peace, it gets Victory, it tempers thoſe Paſſions that would diſturb the Soul, it moderates thoſe Appetites that would cauſe Pain to the Body; it endures Sickneſs patiently, and ſuffers Death valiantly.

Learning There are many ſeveral kinds of Arts, as well as ſeveral ſorts, as Arts of Pleaſure, enticing Arts, vain-glorious Arts, vain Arts, ſuperfluous Arts, ſuperſtitious Arts, ambitious Arts, covetous Arts, profitable Arts, deſtructive Arts.

Arts of Pleaſure are Gardens, Groves, Bowers, Arbours, Grots, Fountains, Proſpects, Landskips, Gilding, Painting, Sculpture; likewiſe Muſick of all ſorts; likewiſe, Confectionary, and Cookery, and Perfumes.

Enticing Arts are Artificial Singing, Artificial Speaking, Artificial Dreſſing, Dancing, Powdring, Curling, Perfuming, Rich Cloathing, Luxurious Entertainments.

Vain Arts are Feathers, Fancyes, Ribbins, black Patches, Bobes, and Side glaſſes.

Amorous Arts are flattering Complements, falſe Profeſſions, affected Garbs, affected Speeches, affected Countenances, affected Actions, Sonnets, Poems, Frolicks, Queſtions and Commads, Purpoſes and Riddles, Preſents, private Meetings, and Confidence.

Expenſive Arts are Feaſting, Maſquing, Balling, Carding, Dicing, Racing, Betting, Wager-laying and the like.

Ill natur’d Arts are Bull-baiting, Cock fighting, Dog fighting, Cudgel-playing.

Exerciſing Arts are Bowling, Shooting, Hunting, Wreſtling, pitching the Bar, Racket, or Tennis-court-play.

Vain-glorious Arts are Oratory, Pleading, Diſputing, Propoſing, Objecting, magnificent Entertainments, great Revenues, ſumptuous Palaces, and coſtly Furnitures.

Covetous Arts are Bribery, Monopolies, Taxes, Exciſes, and Compoſitions.

Aa2 Am- Aa2v 180

Ambitious Arts are Time-ſerving, Obſerving, Inſinuating.

Malicious Arts are Attachings, Appeachings, Back-bitings, and Libels.

Superſtitious Arts are Interpretations, falſe Viſions, Impoſtures, Imprecations, Ceremonies, Poſtures, Garbs, Countenances, and Paces, and particular Cuſtomes, Habits, and Diets.

Idolatrous Arts are Groves, Altars, Images, and Sacrifices.

Dangerous Arts, though neceſſary Arts for the ſafety of Honour, are Fencing, Riding, Tilting, Vaulting, Wreſtling, and Swimming.

Murthering Arts are Swords, Knives, Hatchets, Saws, Sithes, Pick-axes, Pikes, Darts, Granadoes, Guns, Bullets, Shot, Powder.

Arts of Safety are Trenches, Moats, Bridges, Walls, Arms, Chyrurgery, Drugſtery.

Profitable Arts are Geometry, Geography, Coſmography, Arithmetick, Navigation, Fortification, Architecture, Fireworks, Water-works, Winde-works, Cultivating, Manuring, Diſtilling, Extracting, Pounding, Mixing, Sifting, Grinding, as Maulting, Brewing, Baking, Cooking, Granging, Carding, Spinning, Weaving, Colouring, Tanning, Writing, Printing.

As for Tailery, Shoemakery, Knittery, and Semſtry, they may be reckoned amongſt the Architectures.

Wit Why, Siſter Learning, all theſe Arts, and innumerable more, are produced from the Forge of the Brain, being all invented by Wit; and the Inventer is to be more valued than the Art, the Cauſe more than the Effect; for without a Cauſe there would be no Effect, ſo without an Inventive Brain there could be no Ingenious Arts.

Wiſdome Dear Siſter Wit, do not ingroſs more than what is juſtly your own; for there are more Arts produced from Accidents and Experiments, than from Ingenious Wit.

Wiſdome Some Learned Opinions hold, that the Motion of the Sun makes the heat; others, that Heat makes Motion.

Wit Then it is like the Brain; for a hot Brain makes a quick Wit, and a quick Wit makes the Brain hot.

Wiſdome We ought not to ſpend our time in ſtudying of the Motions and Heat of the Sun, as the Motions and Paſſions of the Heart.

Learning Some are of opinion, that Light hath no Body; others, that it hath a Body; and that the Light of the Sun enlightens the Air, as one Candle doth another.

Wit Light is like Imagination, an Incorporeal Thing, or an Accidental Proceeding from a Subſtance; and as one Candle doth light another, ſo one Phancy produceth another.

Wiſdome Pray diſcourſe of Virtue, which is the Light of the Soul, and Generoſity an Effect thereof, which diſtributes to Neceſſity, producing comfortable Reliefs therewith.

Learning And ſome ſay, Colours are no Colours in the dark, being produced by light on ſuch and ſuch Bodies.

Wit. Aa3r 181

Wit We may as well ſay, Wit is no Wit, or Thoughts no Thoughts in the Brain, being produced by ſuch and ſuch Objects; nor Paſſion is no Paſſion in the Heart, being raiſed by ſuch and ſuch Cauſes.

Wiſdome I pray diſpute not how Colours are produced, whether from the Light, or from their own Natures, or Natural Subſtances: but conſider from whence Good Works are produced, as from a Soul that is pure and bright.

Learning The Learned ſay, that Numbers are without ſound, and Opticks are Lines with Light.

Wit Wit ſets the Number, and Motion draws the Lines.

Wiſdome There is no Muſick ſo harmonious as honeſt Profeſſions, nor no Light ſo pure as Truth.

Learn And they ſay, Diſcord in Muſick well applyed, makes the Harmony the delightfuller.

Wit So Satyr in Wit makes it more quick and pleaſant.

Wiſdome So Truths mix’d with Falſhood, make Flattery more plauſible and acceptable.

Learning Time, which is the Diſſolver of all Corporeal Things, yet it is the Mother, Midwife, and Nurſe to Knowledge; whereby we finde all modern Romancy Writers, although they ſeem to laugh and make a ſcorn of Amadys de Gall, yet he is the Original Table, or Ground from whence they draw their Draughts, and take out Copies, although covertly. Indeed Amadys de Gall is the Romancy-writers Homer.

Wit Although Wit is not a Diſſolver, yet ’tis a Creator. Wit doth deſcry and divulge more Knowledge than Time; for that which Time could never finde out, Wit will diſcover.

Wit is like a Goddeſs in Nature; for though it cannot diſſolve, yet it can produce, not onely ſomething out of ſomething, but ſomething out of nothing, as from the Imaginations, which are nothing; and Wit needs no other Table or Ground to draw its Draughts, or take Copy from, but its own Brain, which creates and invents, ſimilizes and diſtinguiſhes.

Wiſdome But Time and Wit would ſoon produce a Chaos of Diſorder, if it were not for Wiſdome, which is compoſed of Judgement, Juſtice, Prudence, Fortitude, and Temperance. For Judgement diſtinguiſhes Times and Wits; Juſtice governs Times and Wits; Prudence orders Times and Wits; Fortitude marſhals Times and Wits; and Temperance meaſures Times and Wits.

Learning. Scholars ſay, that one Man can ſee higher and further when he is ſet upon another Mans Shoulders, than when he ſtands or ſits on the Ground by himſelf: ſo when one is raiſed by another Mans Opinion, he can deſcry more into hidden Myſteries.

Wit But if a Man ſee a Lark tour in the Skye, which another Man doth not, having weaker Eyes, yet he is no wiſer than the other that onely ſaw the Lark picking Corn on the Ground. But he that ſees him not in the Skye, knows he is in the Skye, as well Aa3 as Aa3v 182 as the other, becauſe he ſaw from whence he took his flight.

But if the other, that is raiſed, can ſee a Bird in the Skye that was never ſeen before, it were ſomething to adde to his Knowledge. Beſides, a ſharp quick Eye will ſee further on his own Legs than on the Shoulder of another; for moſt grow dizzy if ſet on high, which caſts a miſt on the Eyes of the Underſtanding.

Wiſdome Leave the Shoulders of your Neighbours, and let your Eye of Faith reach to Heaven. As ſome Meats nouriſh the Body, ſo ſome deſtroy the Body: ſo ſome Thoughts nouriſh the Soul, and deſtroy it. The Senſes are the working Labourers to bring Lifes Materials in. As Nature is the beſt Tutor to inſtruct the Minde, ſo the Minde is the beſt Tutor to inſtruct the Senſes. And my Minde inſtructs my Senſes to leave you, &c.

There are learned Arts and Sciences; a Poetical and Satryrical Wit; a Comical and Tragical Wit; a Hiſtorical and Romancical Wit; an Ingenious and Inventive Wit; a Scholaſtical Wit; a Sociable Wit; a Philoſophical Wit.

There is Moral, Humane, and Divine Wiſdome.

The Aa4r 183

The ſixth Book.

The Contract.

A Noble Gentleman that had been married many years, but his Wife being barren, did bear him no Children; at laſt ſhe dyed, and his Friends did adviſe him to marry again, becauſe his Brothers Children were dead, and his Wife was likely to have no more: ſo he took to Wife a virtuous young Lady, and after one year ſhe conceived with Childe, and great Joy there was on all ſides: but in her Childe-bed ſhe dyed, leaving onely one Daughter to her ſorrowfull Husband, who in a ſhort time, oppreſſed with Melancholy, dyed, and left his young Daughter, who was not a year old, to the care and breeding of his Brother, and withall left her a great Eſtate, for he was very Rich. After the Ceremonies of the Funeral, his Brother carried the Childe home, which was nurſed up very carefully by his Wife; and being all that was likely to ſucceed in their Family, the Uncle grew extream fond and tender of his Neece, inſomuch that ſhe grew all the comfort and delight of his life.

A great Duke which commanded that Province, would often come and eat a Breakfaſt with this Gentleman as he rid a Hunting; and ſo often they met after this manner, that there grew a great Friendſhip; for this Gentleman was well bred, knowing the World by his Travels in his younger dayes; and though he had ſerved in the Wars, and had fought in many Battles, yet was not ignorant of courtly Entertainment. Beſides, he was very converſible, for he had a voluble Tongue, and a ready Underſtanding, and in his retired life was a great Studient, whereby he became an excellent Scholar; ſo that the Duke took great delight in his Company. Beſides, the Duke had a deſire to match the Neece of this Gentleman, his Friend, to his younger Son, having onely two Sons, and knowing this Childe had a great Eſtate left by her Father, and was likely to have her Uncles Eſtate joyned thereto, Aa4v 184 therto, was earneſt upon it: but her Uncle was unwilling to marry her to a younger Brother, although he was of a great Family; but with much perſwaſion, he agreed, and gave his conſent, when ſhe was old enough to marry, for ſhe was then not ſeven years old. But the Duke fell very ſick; and when the Phyſicians told him, he could not live, he ſent for the Gentleman and his Neece, to take his laſt farewell; and when they came, the Duke deſired his Friend that he would agree to joyn his Neece and his Son in Marriage; he anſwered, that he was very willing, if ſhe were of years to conſent.

Said the Duke, I deſire we may do our parts, which is, to joyn them as faſt as we can; for Youth is wilde, various, and unconſtant; and when I am dead, I know not how my Son may diſpoſe of himſelf when he is left to his own choyce, for he privately found his Son very unwilling thereto, he being a man grown, and ſhe a Childe. The Gentleman ſeeing him ſo deſirous, agreed thereto.

Then the Duke called his Son privately to him, and told him his intentions were to ſee him beſtowed in Marriage before he dyed.

His Son deſired him, not to marry him againſt his Affections, in marrying him to a Childe.

His Father told him, ſhe had a great Eſtate, and it was like to be greater, by reaſon all the Revenue was laid up to increaſe it; and beſides, ſhe was likely to be Heir to her Uncle, who loved her as his own Childe; and her Riches may draw ſo many Suiters when ſhe is a Woman, ſaid he, that you may be refuſed.

He told his Father, her Riches could not make him happy, if he could not affect her. Whereupon the Duke grew ſo angry, that he ſaid, that his Diſobedience would diſturb his Death, leaving the World with an unſatisfied Minde.

Whereupon he ſeemed to conſent, to pleaſe his Father. Then were they as firmly contracted as the Prieſt could make them, and two or three Witneſſes to avow it.

But after his Father was dead, he being diſcontented, went to the Wars; but in ſhort time he was called from thence, by reaſon his elder Brother dyed, and ſo the Dukedome and all the Eſtate came to him, being then the onely Heir: But he never came near the young Lady, nor ſo much as ſent to her, for he was at that time extreamly in love with a great Lady, who was young and handſome, being Wife to a Grandy which was very rich, but was very old, whoſe Age made her more facile to young Lovers, eſpecially to this young Duke, who returned him equal Affections, he being a Man that was favoured by Nature, Fortune, and Breeding, for he was very handſome, and of a ready Wit, Active, Valiant, full of Generoſity, Affable, well faſhion’d; and had he not been ſullied with ſome Debaucheries, he had been the compleateſt Man in that Age.

But the old Gentleman, perceiving his neglect towards his Neece, and hearing of his Affections to that Lady, ſtrove by all the Bb1r 185 the Care and Induſtry he could to give her ſuch Breeding as might win his Love; not that he was negligent before ſhe was contracted to him; for from the time of four years old, ſhe was taught all that her Age was capable of, as to ſing, and to dance; for he would have this Artificial Motion become as natural, and to grow in perfection, as ſhe grew in years. When ſhe was ſeven years of Age he choſe her ſuch Books to reade in as might make her wiſe, not amorous, for he never ſuffered her to reade in Romancies, nor ſuch light Books; but Moral Philoſophy was the firſt of her Studies, to lay a Ground and Foundation of Virtue, and to teach her to moderate her Paſſions, and to rule her Affections. The next, her ſtudy was in Hiſtorie, to learn her Experience by the ſecond hand, reading the good Fortunes and Miſfortunes of former Times, the Errours that were committed, the Advantages that were loſt, the Humour and Diſpoſitions of Men, the Laws and Cuſtomes of Nations, their riſe, and their fallings, of their Wars and Agreements, and the like.

The next ſtudy was in the beſt of Poets, to delight in their Phancies, and to recreate in their Wit; and this ſhe did not onely reade, but to repeat what ſhe had read every Evening before ſhe went to Bed. Beſides, he taught her to underſtand what ſhe read, by explaining that which was hard and obſcure. Thus ſhe was alwayes buſily imployed, for ſhe had little time allowed her for Childiſh Recreations.

Thus did he make her Breeding his onely buſineſs and imployment; for he lived obſcurely and privately, keeping but a little Family, and having little or no Acquaintance, but lived a kinde of a Monaſtical Life.

But when the Neece was about thirteen years of age, he heard the Duke was married to the Lady with which he was enamoured; for her Husband dying, leaving her a Widow, and rich, claim’d a Promiſe from him that he made her whil’ſt her Husband was living, that when he dyed, being an old Man, and not likely to live long, to marry her, although he was loth; for Men that love the Pleaſures of the World, care not to be incumbred and obſtructed with a Wife, but did not at all reflect upon his Contract; for after his Father dyed, he reſolved not to take her to Wife; for ſhe being ſo young, he thought the Contract of no Validity: but ſhe ſeeming more coy when ſhe was a Widow, than in her Husbands time, ſeeking thereby to draw him to marry her, and being overcome by ſeveral wayes of Subtilty, married her. Whereupon the Uncle was mightily troubled, and was very melancholy; which his Neece perceived, and deſired him to know the cauſe.

Whereupon he told her. Is this the onely reaſon, ſaid ſhe? Yes, ſaid he; and doth it not trouble you, ſaid he? No, ſaid ſhe, unleſs I had been forſaken for ſome ſinfull Crime I had committed againſt Heaven, or had infringed the Laws of Honour, or had broken the Rules of Modeſty, or ſome Miſdemeanour againſt him, or ſome defect in Nature, then I ſhould have lamented, but Bb not Bb1v 186 not for the loſs of the Man, but for the cauſe of the loſs, for then all the World might have juſtly defamed me with a diſhonourable Reproach: but now I can look the World in the Face with a confident Brow, as Innocence can arm it. Beſides, it was likely I might have been unhappy in a Man that could not affect me, wherefore, good Uncle, be not melancholy, but think that Fortune hath befriended me, or that Deſtiny had decreed it ſo to be; if ſo, we are to thank the one, and it was impoſſible to avoyd the other; and if the Fates ſpin a long Thread of your Life, I ſhall never murmure for that loſs, but give thanks to the Gods for that Bleſſing.

O, but Childe, ſaid he, the Duke was the greateſt and richeſt Match, ſince his Brother dyed, in the Kingdome; and I would not have thy Virtue, Beauty, Youth, Wealth, and Breeding, ſtoop to a low Fortune, when thou mayſt be a match fit for the Emperour of the whole World in a few years, if you grow up, and go on as you have begun.

O, Uncle, ſaid ſhe, let not your Natural Affection make you an impartial Judge, to give the Sentence of more Deſert than I can own; if I have Virtue, it is a reward ſufficient in it ſelf; if I have Beauty, it is but one of Natures fading Favourers, and thoſe that loved me for it, may hate me when it is gone, and if I be rich, as you ſay I am like to be, who are happier than thoſe that are Miſtriſſes of their own Fortunes? And if you have bred me well, I ſhall be happy in what Condition ſoever I am in, being Content, for that is the end and felicity of the Minde.

But if thou hadſt been in Love with him, ſaid her Uncle, where had been your Content then? for no Education can keep out that Paſſion.

I hope, ſaid ſhe, the Gods will be more mercifull than to ſuffer ſuch Paſſions I cannot rule. What manner of Man is he, ſaid ſhe? for I was too young to remember him.

His Perſon, ſaid he, is handſome enough.

That is his outſide, ſaid ſhe; but what is his inſide? what is his Nature and Diſpoſition?

Debauch’d, ſaid he, and loves his Luxuries.

Said ſhe, Heavens have bleſsed me from him.

Well, ſaid her Uncle, ſince I am croſs’d in thy Marriage, I will ſtrive to makes thee a Meteor of the Time, wherefore I will carry thee to the Metropolitan City for thy better Education; for here thou art bred obſcurely, and canſt learn little, becuaſe thou heareſt nor ſeeſt little; but you ſhall not appear to the World this two or three years: but go alwayes veiled, for the ſight of thy Face will divulge thee; neither will we have acquaintance or commerce with any, but obſerve, hear, and ſee ſo much as we can, not to be known.

Sir, ſaid ſhe, I will be ruled by your Direction, for I know my ſmall Bark will ſwim the better and ſafer for your ſterage; wherefore I ſhall not fear to launch it into the deepeſt or dangerous places of the World, which I ſuppoſe are the great and populous Cities, Bb2r 187 Cities. So making but ſmall Preparations, onely what was for meer neceſſity, they took their Journey ſpeedily, carrying no other Servants but thoſe that knew and uſed to obey their Maſters will; and when they came to the City, they tooke private Lodging; where after they had reſted ſome few dayes, he carried her every day, once or twice a day, after her exerciſe of Dancing and Muſick was done; for he was carefull ſhe ſhould not onely keep what ſhe had learn’d, but to learn what ſhe knew not: but after thoſe hours, he carried her to Lectures, according as he heard where any were read, as Lectures of Natural Philoſophy, for this ſhe had ſtudyed leaſt: but taking much Delight therein, ſhe had various Speculations thereof; alſo Lectures of Phyſick, and Lectures of Chymiſtry, and Lectures of Muſick, and ſo divers others, on ſuch dayes as they were read. Alſo, he carried her to places of Judicature to hear great Cauſes decided; and to the ſeveral Courts, to hear the ſeveral Pleadings, or rather Wranglings of ſeveral Lawyers: but never to Courts, Maſques, Plays, nor Balls; and ſhe alwayes went to theſe places maſqu’d, muffl’d and ſcarf’d; and her Uncle would make ſuch means to get a private Corner to ſit in, where they might hear well; and when he came home, he would inſtruct her of all that was read, and tell her where they differed from the old Authors; and then would give his opinion, and take her opinion of their ſeveral Doctrines; and thus they continued for two years.

In the mean time, her Beauty increaſed according to her Breeding, but was not made known to any as yet: but now being come to the age of ſixteen years, her Uncle did reſolve to preſent her to the World, for he knew, Youth was admired in it ſelf: but when Beauty and Virtue were joyned to it, it was the greater Miracle. So he began to examine her; for he was jealous ſhe might be catch’d with vain Gallants, although he had obſerved her humour to be ſerious, and not apt to be catch’d with every toy; yet he knew Youth to be ſo various, that there was no truſting it to it ſelf.

So he aſk’d her, how ſhe was taken with the Riches and Gallantry of the City, for ſhe could not chooſe but ſee Lords and Ladies riding in their brave gilt Coaches, and themſelves dreſs’d in rich Apparel, and the young Gallants riding on praunſing Horſes upon imbroydered foot cloaths as ſhe paſs’d along the Streets.

She anſwered, they pleaſed her Eyes for a time, and that their Dreſſings were like Bridal Houſes, garniſhed and hung by ſome Ingenious Wit, and their Beauties were like fine Flowers drawn by the Pencil of Nature; but being not gathered by Acquaintance, ſaid ſhe, I know not whether they are vertuouſly ſweet, or no; but as I paſs by, I pleaſe my Eye, yet no other wayes than as ſenſeleſs Objects; they entice me not to ſtay, and a ſhort view ſatisfies the Appetite of the Senſes, unleſs the rational and underſtanding part ſhould be abſent, but to me they ſeem but moving Statues.

Bb2 Well, Bb2v 188

Well, ſaid he, I hear there is a Maſque to be at Court, and I am reſolved you ſhall go, if we can get in, to ſee it; for though I am old, and not fit to go, ſince my dancing dayes are done, yet I muſt get into ſome Corner to ſee how you behave your ſelf.

Pray, ſaid ſhe, what is a Maſque?

Said he, it is painted Scenes to repreſent the Poets Heavens and Hells, their Gods and Devils, and Clouds, Sun, Moon, and Stars, beſides, they repreſent Cities, Caſtles, Seas, Fiſhes, Rocks, Mountains, Beaſts, Birds, and what pleaſeth the Poet, Painter, and Surveyour. Then there are Actors, and Speeches ſpoke, and Muſick; and then Lords or Ladies come down in a Scene, as from the Clouds; and after that, they begin to dance, and every one takes out according as they phancy. If a Man takes out a Woman, if ſhe cannot dance, or will not dance, then ſhe makes a Curtſey to the King, or Queen, or chief Grandee, if there be any one, if not, to the upper end of the Room, then turn to the Man, and make another to him; then he leaves, or leads her to them ſhe will take out; and ſhe doth the like to him, and goeth to her place again. And ſo the Men do the ſame, if they will not dance; and if they do dance, they do juſt ſo, when the Dance is ended, and the all the chief of the Youth of the City come to ſee it, or to ſhew themſelves, or all thoſe that have youthfull Minde, and love Sights, and fine Cloaths; then the Room is made as Light with Candles, as if the Sun ſhined; and their glittering Bravery makes as glorious a Shew as his gilded Beams.

Sir, ſaid ſhe, if there be ſuch an Aſſembly of Nobles, Beauty, and Bravery, I ſhall appear ſo dull, that I ſhall be onely fit to ſit in the Corner with you; beſides, I ſhall be ſo out of Countenance, that I ſhall not know how to behave my ſelf, for private Breeding looks mean and ridiculous, I ſuppoſe, in publick Aſſembyes of that nature, where none but the Glories of the Kingdome meet.

Aſhamed,ſaid he, for what? You have ſtollen no Bodies Goods, nor Good Names, nor have you committed Adultery, for on my Conſcience you gueſs not what Adultery is, nor have you murthered any, nor have you betrayed any Truſt, or concealed a Treaſon; and then why ſhould you be aſhamed?

Sir, ſaid ſhe, although I have committed none of thoſe horrid Sins, yet I may commit Errours through my Ignorance, and ſo I may be taken notice of onely for my Follyes.

Come, come, ſaid he, all the Errours you may commit, allthough I hope you will commit none, will be laid upon your Youth, but arm your ſelf with Confidence, for go you ſhall, and I will have you have ſome fine Cloaths, and ſend for Dreſſers to put you in the beſt faſhion.

Sir, ſaid ſhe, I have obſerved how Ladies are dreſs’d when I paſs the Streets; and if you pleaſe to give me leave, I will dreſs my ſelf according to my judgement; and if you intend I ſhall go more than once, let me not be extraordinary brave, leſt liking me at firſt, and ſeeing me again, they ſhould condemn their former judgement, Bb3r 189 judgement, and I ſhall loſe what was gained, ſo I ſhall be like thoſe that made a good Aſſault, and a bad Retreat.

But Sir, ſaid ſhe, if you are pleaſed I ſhall ſhew my ſelf to the moſt view, let me be ordered ſo, that I may gain more and more upon their good opinions.

Well, ſaid her Uncle, order your ſelf as you pleaſe, for I am unskilled in that matter; beſides, thou needſt no Adornments, for Nature hath adorned thee with a ſplendrous Beauty. Another thing is, ſaid he, we muſt remove our Lodgings, for theſe are too mean to be known in; wherefore my Steward ſhall go take a large Houſe, and furniſh it Nobly, and I will make you a fine Coach, and take more Servants, and Women to wait upon you; for ſince you have a good Eſtate, you ſhall live and take pleaſure; but I will have no Men-viſitors but what are brought by my ſelf: wherefore entertain no Maſculine Acquaintance, nor give them the leaſt encouragement.

Sir, ſaid ſhe, my Duty ſhall obſerve all your Commands.

When her Uncle was gone, Lord, ſaid ſhe, what doth my Uncle mean to ſet me out to ſhew? ſure he means to traffick for a Husband; but Heaven forbid thoſe intentions, for I have no minde to marry: but my Uncle is wiſe, and kinde, and ſtudies for my good, wherefore I ſubmit, and could now chide my ſelf for theſe queſtioning Thoughts. Now. ſaid ſhe, I am to conſider how I ſhall be dreſs’d; my Uncle ſaith, I am handſome, I will now try whether others think ſo as well as he, for I fear my Uncle is partial on my ſide; wherefore I will dreſs me all in Black, and have no Colours about me; for if I be gay, I may be taken notice of for my Cloaths, and ſo be deceived, thinking it was for my Perſon; and I would gladly know the truth, whether I am handſome or no, for I have no ſkill in Phyſiognomy; ſo that I muſt judge of my ſelf by the approbation of others Eyes, and not by my own. But if I be, ſaid ſhe, thought handſome, what then? why then, anſwered ſhe her ſelf, I ſhall be cryed up to be a Beauty; and what then? then I ſhall have all Eyes ſtare upon me, and what am I the better, unleſs their Eyes could infuſe in my Brain Wit and Underſtanding? their Eyes cannot enrich me with Knowledge, nor give me the light of Truth; for I cannot ſee with their Eyes, nor hear with their Ears, no more than their Meat can nouriſh me which they do eat, or reſt when they do ſleep. Beſides, I neither deſire to make nor catch Lovers, for I have an Enmity againſt Mankinde, and hold them as my Enemies; which if it be a ſin, Heaven forgive, that I ſhould for one Man’s neglect and perjury, condemn all that Sex.

But I finde I have a little Emulation, which breeds a deſire to appear more Beautifull than the Duke’s Wife, who is reported to be very handſome; for I would not have the World ſay, he had an advantage by the Change, thus I do not envy her, nor covet what ſhe enjoys, for I wiſh her all Happineſs, yet I would not have her Happineſs raiſed by my Misfortunes; for Charity ſhould begin at home; for thoſe that are unjuſt, or cruel to themſelves,Bb3 ſelves, Bb3v 190 ſelves, will never be mercifull and juſt to others. But, O my Contemplations, whither do you run? I fear, not in an even path; for though Emulation is not Envy, yet the Byas leans to that ſide.

But, ſaid ſhe, to this Maſque I muſt go, my Uncle hath preſs’d me to the Wars of Vanity, where Cupid is General, and leads up the Train: but I doubt I ſhall hang down my Head, through shamefaſtneſs, like a young Souldier, when he hears the Bullets fly about his Ears: but, O Confidence, thou God of good Behaviour, aſſiſt me. Well, ſaid ſhe, I will practice againſt the day, and be in a ready poſture. So after two or three days, was the Maſque; and when ſhe was ready to go, her Uncle comes to her, and ſees her dreſs’d all in Black.

Said he, why have you put your ſelf all in Black?

Sir, ſaid ſhe, I mourn like a young Widow, for I have loſt my Husband.

Now by my troth, ſaid he, and it becomes thee, for you appear like the Sun when he breaks through a dark Cloud. Sayes he, I would have you go veiled, for I would have you appear to ſight onely when you come into the Maſquing Room; and after the Maſque is done, all the Company will riſe as it were together, and joyn into a Croud: then throw your Hood over your Face, and paſs through them as ſoon as you can, and as obſcure, for I will not have you known untill we are in a more Courtly Equipage. So away they went, onely he and ſhe, without any attendance; and when they came to enter through the Door to the Maſquing Room, there was ſuch a Croud, and ſuch a Noyſe, the Officers beating the People back, the Women ſqueaking, and the Men curſing, the Officers threatning, and the Enterers praying; which Confuſion made her afraid.

Lord, Uncle, ſaid ſhe, what a horrid Noyſe is here: pray let us go back, and let us not put our ſelves unto this unneceſſary trouble.

O Childe, ſaid he, Camps and Courts are never ſilent, beſides, where great Perſons are, there ſhould be a thundring Noyſe to ſtrike their Inferiours with a kinde of Terrour and Amazement; for Poets ſay, Fear and Wonder makes Gods.

Certainly, ſaid ſhe, there muſt be great Felicity in the ſight of this Maſque, or elſe they would never take ſo much pains, and endure ſo great affronts to obtain it: but, pray Uncle, ſaid ſhe, ſtay while they are all paſs’d in.

Why then, ſaid he, we muſt ſtay untill the Maſque is done, for there will be ſtriving to get in untill ſuch time as thoſe within are coming out.

But when they came near the Door, her Uncle ſpoke to the Officer thereof; Pray Sir, ſaid he, let this young Lady in to ſee the Maſque.

There is no room, ſaid he, there are more young Ladies allready than the Viceroy and all his Courtiers can tell what to do with.

This Bb4r 191

This is a dogged Fellow, ſaid her Uncle; whereupon he told her, ſhe muſt put up her Scarf, and ſpeak your ſelf; for every one domineers in their Office, though it doth not laſt two hours; and are proud of their Authority, though it be but to crack a Louſe, wherefore you muſt ſpeak.

Pray Sir, ſaid ſhe to the Door-keeper, if it be no injury to your Authority, you will be ſo civil as to let us paſs by.

Now by my troth, ſaid he, thou haſt ſuch a pleaſing Face, none can deny thee; but now I look upon you better, you ſhall not go in.

Why Sir? ſaid ſhe.

Why, ſaid he, you will make the Painter and the Poet loſe their deſign, for one expects to enter in at the Ears of the Aſſembly, the other at their Eyes, and your Beauty will blinde the one, and ſtop the other; beſides, ſaid he, all the Ladies will curſe me.

Heaven forbid, ſaid ſhe, I ſhould be the cauſe of Curſes; and to prevent that, I will return back again.

Nay Lady, ſaid he, I have not the power to let you go back, wherefore pray paſs.

Sir, ſaid ſhe, I muſt have this Gentleman along with me.

Even who you pleaſe, ſaid ſhe, I can deny you nothing, Angels muſt be obeyed.

When they came into the Maſquing Room, the Houſe was full; now, ſaid her Uncle, I leave you to ſhift for your ſelf: then he went and crouded himſelf into a Corner at the lower end.

When the Company was called to ſit down, that the Maſque might be repreſented, every one was placed by their Friends, or elſe they placed themſelves. But ſhe, being unaccuſtomed to thoſe Meetings, knew not how to diſpoſe of her ſelf, obſerving there was much juſtling and thruſting one another to get places, when ſhe conſidered ſhe had not ſtrength to ſcamble amongſt them, ſhe ſtood ſtill. When they were all ſet, it was as if a Curtian was drawn from before her, and ſhe appeared like a glorious Light; whereat all were ſtruck with ſuch amaze, that they forgot a great while the civility in offering her a place. At laſt, all the Men, which at ſuch times ſit oppoſite to the Women to view them the better, roſe up, ſtriving every one to ſerve her: But the Viceroy bid them all ſit down again, and called for a Chair for her. But few looked on the Maſque for looking on her, eſpecially the Viceroy and the Duke, whoſe Eyes were rivetted to her Face.

When the Maſquers were come down to dance, who were all Women, the chief of them being the Daughter of the Viceroy, who was a Widower, and ſhe was his onely Childe, they took out the Men ſuch as their Phancy pleaſed, and then they ſate down and then one of the chief of the Men choſe out a Lady, and ſo began to dance in ſingle Couples, the Duke being the chief that did dance, choſe out this Beauty, not knowing who ſhe was, nor ſhe him: But when ſhe danced, it was ſo becoming; for ſhe hahavingving Bb4v 192 having naturally a Majeſtical Preſence, although her Behaviour was eaſy and free, and a ſevere Countenance, yet modeſt and pleaſing, and great skill in the Art, keeping her Meaſures juſt to the Notes of Muſick, moving ſmoothly, evenly, eaſily, made her aſtoniſh all the Company.

The Viceroy ſent to enquire who ſhe was, and what ſhe was and from whence ſhe cam, and where ſhe lived, but the Enquirer could learn nothing. But as ſoon as the Maſque was done, ſhe was ſought about for, and enquired after, but ſhe was gone not to be heard of: whereupon many did think ſhe was a Viſion, or ſome Angel which appear’d, and then vaniſhed away, for ſhe had done as her Uncle had commanded her, what was, to convey her ſelf as ſoon away as ſhe could, covering her ſelf cloſe. So home they went, and her Uncle was very much pleaſed to ſee the Sparks of her Beauty had ſet their Tinder Hearts on Fire. But as they went home, ſhe enquired of her Uncle of the Company; Pray Sir, ſaid ſhe, was the Duke or Dutcheſs there?

I cannot tell, ſaid he, for my Eyes were wholly taken up in obſerving your Behaviour, that I never conſidered nor took notice who was there.

Who was he that firſt took me out to dance? ſaid ſhe.

I cannot tell that neither, ſaid he, for I onely took the length of your meaſure, and what through fear you ſhould be out, and dance wrong, and with joy to ſee you dance well, I never conſidered whether the Man you danced with moved or no, nor what he was, but now I am ſo confident of you, that the next Aſſembly I will look about, and inform you as much as I can: ſo home they went. But her Beauty had left ſuch Stings behinde it, eſpecially in the Breaſt of the Viceroy, and the Duke, that they could not reſt. Neither was ſhe free, for ſhe had received a Wound, but knew not of it; her Sleeps were unſound, for they indeed were Slumbers rather than Sleeps; her Dreams were many, and various. but her Lovers, that could neither ſlumber nor ſleep, began to ſearch, and to make an enquiry; but none could bring Tidings, where ſhe dwelt, nor who ſhe was. But the Viceroy caſt about, to attain the ſight of her once again; ſo he made a great Ball, and provided a great Banquet, to draw an Aſſembly of all young Ladies to the Court. Whereupon her Uncle underſtanding, told his Neece, ſhe muſt prepare to ſhew her ſelf once again; for I will, ſaid he, the next day after this Ball, remove to our new Houſe.

Sir, ſaid ſhe, I muſt have another new Gown.

As many as thou wilt, ſaid he, and as rich; beſides, I will buy you Jewels.

No Sir, ſaid ſhe, pray ſpare that coſt, for they are onely to be worn at ſuch times of Aſſemblyes which I ſhall not viſit often for fear I tire the Courtly Spectators, which delight in new Faces, as they do new Scenes. So her uncle left her to order her ſelf; who dreſ’d her ſelf this time all in white Sattin, all imbroydered with Silver.

When Cc1r 193

When her Uncle ſaw her ſo dreſ’d, now, by my troth, thou lookeſt like a Heaven ſtruck with Stars, but thy Beauty takes off the gloſs of thy Bravery; now, ſaid he, you ſhall not go veiled, for thy Beauty ſhall make thy way; beſides, we will not go too ſoon, nor while they are in diſorder, but when they are all placed, you will be the more proſpectious.

But the Cavaliers, eſpecially the Duke and the Viceroy, began to be melancholy for fear ſhe ſhould not come; their Eyes were alwayes placed at the Doors like Centinels, to watch her entrance; and when they came to the court, all the Crouds of People, as in a fright, ſtarted back, as if they were ſurprized with ſome Divine Object, making a Lane, in which ſhe paſs’d through; and the Keepers of the Doors were ſtruck mute, there was no reſiſtance, all was open and free to enter. But when ſhe came in into the preſence of the Lords and Ladies, all the Men roſe up, and bowed themſelves to her, as if they had given her Divine Worſhip; onely the Duke, who trembled ſo much, occaſioned by the paſſion of Love, that he could not ſtir: but the Viceroy went to her.

Lady, ſaid he, will you give me leave to place you?

Your Highneſs, ſaid ſhe, will do me too much Honour.

So he called for a Chair, and placed her next himſelf; and when ſhe was ſet, ſhe produced the ſame effects as a Burning-glaſs; for the Beams of all Eyes were drawn together, as one Point placed in her Face, and by reflection ſhe ſent a burning heat, and fired every Heart. But he could not keep her; for as ſoon as they began to dance, ſhe was taken out, but not by the Duke, for he had not recovered as yet Loves ſhaking Fit. But the young Gallants choſe her too often to dance, for every one took it for a Digrace, as not to have the Honour to dance with her, inſomuch that few of the other Ladies danced at all, as being Creatures not worthy to be regarded whil’ſt ſhe was there.

But the Viceroy, for fear they ſhould tire her, and ſhe not daring to deny them, by reaſon it would be thought an affront, and rude, or want of Breeding, made the Viceroy call ſooner for the Banquet than otherwiſe he would have done. Beſides, he perceived the reſt of the Ladies begin to be angry, expreſſing it by their Frowns; and knowing nothing will ſo ſoon pacifie that Bitter humour in Ladies as Sweet-Meats, he had them brought in. But when the Banquet came in, he preſented her the firſt with ſome of thoſe Sweet-Meats, and ſtill filling her Ears with Complements, or rather choſen Words, for no Complements could paſs on her Beauty, it was beyond all expreſſions.

At laſt, he asked her where her Lodging was, and whether ſhe would give him leave to wait upon her.

She anſwered him, it would be a great grace and favour to receive a Viſit from him; but, ſaid ſhe, I am not at my own diſpoſing, wherefore I can neither give nor receive without leave.

Pray, ſaid he, may I know who is this happy Perſon you ſo humbly obey.

Cc Said Cc1v 194

Said ſhe, it is my Uncle, with whom I live.

Where does he live? ſaid he.

Truly, ſaid ſhe, I cannot tell the name of the Street.

He is not here, Lady? ſaid he.

Yes, ſaid ſhe, and pointed to him. And though he was loth, yet he was forced to leave her ſo long, as to ſpeak with her Uncle: but the whil’ſt he was from her, all the young Gallants, which were gatherd round about her, preſented her with Sweet Meats, as Offerings to a Goddeſs, and ſhe making them Curteſies, as returning them thanks for that ſhe was not able to receive, as being too great a Burthen; for ſhe was offered more Sweet-Meats than one of the Viceroy’s Guards could carry.

But all the while the Duke ſtood as a Statue, onely his Eyes were fix’d upon her, nor had he power to ſpeak; and ſhe perceiving where he was, for her Eye had ſecretly hunted him out, would as often look upon him as her Modeſty would give her leave, and deſired much to know who he was, but was aſhamed to aſk.

At laſt, the Duke being a little incouraged by her Eye, came to her.

Lady, ſaid he, I am afraid to ſpeak, leſt I ſhould ſeem rude by my harſh Diſcourſe; for there is not in the Alphabet, words gentle nor ſmooth enough for your ſoft Ears, but what your Tongue doth poliſh: yet I hope you will do as the reſt of the Gods and Goddeſſes, deſcend to Mortals ſince they cannot reach to you.

Sir, ſaid ſhe, but that I know it is the Courtly Cuſtome for Men to expreſs their Civilities to our Sex in the higheſt Words, otherwiſe I ſhould take it as an affront and ſcorn, to be called by thoſe names I underſtand not, and to be likened to that which cannot be comprehended.

Said the Duke, you cannot be comprehended; nor do your Lovers know what Deſtiny you have decreed them.

But the Viceroy came back with her Uncle, who deſired to have his Neece home, the Banquet being ended.

But when the Duke ſaw her Uncle, he then apprehending who ſhe was, was ſo ſtruck, that what with guilt of Conſcience, and with repenting Sorrow, he was ready to fall down dead.

Her Uncle, ſeeing him talking to her, thus ſpoke to the Duke.

Sir, ſaid he, you may ſpare your Words, for you cannot juſtifie your unworthy Deeds.

Whereat ſhe turned as pale as Death, her Spirits being gathered to guard the Heart, being in diſtreſs, as overwhelmed with Paſſion. But the buſtle of the Croud helped to obſcure her Change, as well as it did ſmother her Uncles words, which peirced none but the Dukes ears, and hers.

The Viceroy taking her by the Hand, led her to the Coach, and all the Gallants attended; whereat the Ladies, that were left behinde in the Room, were ſo angry, ſhooting forth Words like Bullets with the Fire of Anger, wounding every Man with Reproach:proach Cc2r 195 proach: but at the Viceroy they ſent out whole Volleys, which battered his Reputation: but as for the Young Lady, they did appoint a place of purpoſe to diſſect her, reading Satyrical Lectures upon every part with the hard terms of Diſpraiſe. So all being diſperſed, the Viceroy long’d for that ſeaſonable hour to viſit her.

But the Duke wiſh’d there were neither Time nor Life; I cannot hope, ſaid he, for Mercy, my Fault is too great, nor can I live or dye in quiet without it; but the Miſeries and Torments of deſpairing Lovers will be my puniſhment.

But the old Gentleman was ſo pleaſed to ſee his Neece admired, that as he went home, he did nothing but ſing after a humming way; and was ſo frollick, as if he were returned to twenty years of age; and after he came home, he began to examine his Neece.

Said he, how do you like the Duke? for that was he that was ſpeaking to you when I came.

She anſwered, that ſhe ſaw nothing to be diſliked in his Perſon.

And how, ſaid he, do you like the Viceroy?

As well, ſaid ſhe, as I can like a Thing that Time hath worn out of faſhion.

So, ſaid he, I perceive you deſpiſe Age: but let me tell you, that what Beauty and Favour Time takes from the Body, he gives double proportions of Knowledge and Underſtanding to the Minde; and you uſe to preach to me, the outſide is not to be regarded; and I hope you will not preach that Doctrine to others you will not follow your ſelf.

Sir, ſaid ſhe, I ſhall be ruled by your Doctrine, and not by my own.

Then, ſaid he, I take my Text out of Virtue, which is divided into four parts, Prudence, Fortitude, Temperance, and Juſtice. Prudence is to foreſee the worſt, and provide the beſt we can for our ſelves, by ſhunning the dangerous wayes, and chooſing the beſt; and my Application is, that you muſt ſhun the dangerous wayes of Beauty, and chooſe Riches and Honour, as the beſt for your ſelf.

Fortitude is to arm our ſelves againſt Misfortunes, and to ſtrengthen our Forts with Patience, and to fight with Induſtry. My Application of this part is, you muſt barricade your Ears, and not ſuffer, by liſtning after the enticing perſwaſions of Rhetorick to enter; for if it once get into the Brain, it will eaſily make a paſſage to the Heart, or blow up the Tower of Reaſon with the Fire of fooliſh Love.

Temperance is to moderate the Appetites, and qualifie the unruly Paſſions. My third Application is, you muſt marry a diſcreet and ſober Man, a wiſe and underſtanding Man, a rich and honourable Man, a grave and aged Man, and not, led by your Appetites, to marry a vain phantaſtical Man, a proud conceited Cc2 Man, Cc2v 196 Man, a wilde debauched Man, a fooliſh Prodigal, a poor Shark, or a young unconſtant Man.

And fourthly and laſtly, is Juſtice, which is to be divided according to Right and Truth, to reward and puniſh according to deſert, to deal with others as we would be dealt unto.

My laſt Application is, that you ſhould take ſuch counſel, and follow ſuch advice from your Friends, as you would honeſtly give to a faithfull Friend as the beſt for him, without any ends to your ſelf; and ſo good night, for you cannot chooſe but be very ſleepy.

When he was gone, Lord, ſaid ſhe, this Doctrine, although it was full of Morality, yet in this melancholy Humour I am in, it ſounds like a Funeral Sermon to me; I am ſure it is a Preamble to ſome Deſign he hath, pray God it is not to marry me to the Viceroy; of all the Men I ever ſaw, I could not affect him, I ſhould more willingly wed Death than him, he is an Antipathy to my Nature; good Jupiter, ſaid ſhe, deliver me from him. So ſhe went to Bed, not to ſleep, for ſhe could take little reſt, for her Thoughts worked as faſt as a Feaveriſh Pulſe.

But the Viceroy came the next day, and treated with her Uncle, deſiring her for his Wife.

Her Uncle told him, it would be a great Fortune for his Neece, but he could not force her Affection; but, ſaid he, you ſhall have all the aſſiſtance, as the power and authority of an Uncle, and the perſwaſions as a Friend can give, to get her conſent to marry you.

Pray, ſaid the Viceroy, let me ſee her, and diſcourſe with her.

He deſired to excuſe him, if he ſuffered him not to viſit her; for, ſaid he, young Women that are diſpoſed by their Friends, muſt wed without wooing. But he was very loth to go without a ſight of her: yet pacifying himſelf with the hopes of having her to his Wife, preſented his Service to her, and took his leave.

Then her Uncle ſate in Councel with his Thoughts how he ſhould work her Affection, and draw her conſent to marry this Viceroy, for he found ſhe had no Stomack towards him; at laſt, he thought it beſt to let her alone for a week, or ſuch a time, that the ſmooth Faces of the young Gallants, that ſhe ſaw at the Maſque and Ball, might be worn out of her Minde. In the mean time, ſhe grew melancholy, her Countenance was ſad, her Spirits ſeemed dejected, her Colour faded, for ſhe could eat no Meat, nor take no reſt; neither could ſhe ſtudy nor practice her Exerciſes, as Dancing, &c. her Muſick was laid by: Neither could ſhe raiſe her Voyce to any Note, but walk’d from one end of the Room to the other, with her Eyes fix’d upon the Ground, would ſigh and weep, and knew not for what; at laſt, ſpoke thus to her ſelf; Surely an evil Fate hangs over me, for I am ſo dull, as if I were a piece of Earth, without ſenſe; yet I am not ſick, I do not finde Cc3r 197 finde my Body diſtempered, then ſurely it is in my Minde; and what ſhould diſturb that? my Uncle loves me, and is as fond of me as ever he was; I live in Plenty, I have as much Pleaſure and Delight as my Minde can deſire. O but the Viceroy affrights it, there is the Cauſe; and yet methinks that cannot be, becauſe I do verily believe my Uncle will not force me to marry againſt my Affections; beſides, the remembrance of him ſeldome comes into my Minde; for my Minde is ſo full of thoughts of the Duke, that there is no other room left for any other; my Phancy orders places, and dreſſes him a thouſand ſeveral wayes: thus have I a thouſand ſeveral Figures of him in my Head; Heaven grant I be not in Love; I dare not ask any one that hath been in Love, what Humours that Paſſions hath. But why ſhould I be in Love with him? I have ſeen as handſome Men as he, that I would not take the pains to look on twice: But now I call him better to minde, he is the handſomeſt I ever ſaw: But what is a handſome Body, unleſs he hath a noble Soul? he is perjured and inconſtant; alas, it was the fault of his Father to force him to ſwear againſt his Affections But whil’ſt ſhe was thus reaſoning to her ſelf, in came her Uncle; he told her, he had provided her a good Husband.

Sir, ſaid ſhe, are you weary of me? or am I become a Burthen, you ſo deſire to part with me, in giving me to a Husband?

Nay, ſaid he, I will never part, for I will end the few remainder of my dayes with thee.

Said ſhe, you give your Power, Authority, and Commands, with my Obedience, away; for if my Husband and your Commands are contrary, I can obey but one, which muſt be my Husband.

Good reaſon, ſaid he, and for thy ſake I will be commanded to; but in the mean time, I hope you will be ruled by me; and here is a great Match propounded to me for you, the like I could not have hoped for, which is the Viceroy, he is rich.

Yet, ſaid ſhe, he may be a Fool.

O, he is wiſe and diſcreet, ſaid he.

Said ſhe, I have heard he is ill natured, and froward.

Anſwered her Uncle, he is in great Power and Authority.

He may be, ſaid ſhe, never the honeſter for that.

He is, ſaid he, in great Favour with the King.

Sir, ſaid ſhe, Princes and Monarchs do not alwayes favour the moſt deſerving, nor do they alwayes advance Men for Merit, but moſt commonly otherwiſe, the Unworthieſt are advanced higheſt; beſides, Bribery, Partiality, and Flattery, rule Princes and States.

Said her Uncle, let me adviſe you not to uſe Rhetorick againſt your ſelf, and overthrow a good Fortune, in refuſing ſuch a Husband as ſhall advance your place above that falſe Dukes Dutcheſs; and his Eſtate, with yours joyned to it, it will be a greater than his, with which you ſhall be ſerved nobly, attended numerouſly, live plentifully, adorned richly, have all the DelightsCc3 lights Cc3v 198 lights and Pleaſures your Soul can deſire; and he being in years, will dote on you; beſides, he having had experience of vain debaucheries, is become ſtaid and ſage.

Sir, ſaid ſhe, his Age will be the means to bar me of all theſe Braveries, Pleaſures, and Delights you propound; for he being old, and I young, he will become ſo Jealous, that I ſhall be in reſtraint like a Priſoner; nay, he will be Jealous of the Light, and my own Thoughts, and will encloſe me in Darkneſs, and diſturb the peace of my Minde with his Diſcontents; for Jealouſie, I have heard, is never at quiet with it ſelf, nor to thoſe that live near it.

Come, come, ſaid he, you talk I know not what; I perceive you would marry ſome young, phantaſtical, prodigal Fellow, who would give you onely Diſeaſes, and ſpend your Eſtate, and his own to, amongſt his Whores, Bauds, and Sycophants; whil’ſt you ſit mourning at home, he will be revelling abroad, and then diſturb your reſt, coming home at unſeaſonable times; and if you muſt ſuffer, you had better ſuffer by thoſe that love, than thoſe that care not for you, for Jealouſie is onely an overflow of Love; wherefore be ruled, and let not all my pains, care, and coſt, and the comfort of my labour, be loſt through your diſobedience.

Sir, ſaid ſhe, I am bound in Gratitude and Duty to obey your Will, were it to ſacrifice my Life, or the Tranquillity of my Minde, on the Altar of your Commands.

In the mean time, the Duke was ſo diſcontented and melancholy, that he excluded himſelf from all Company, ſuffering neither his Dutcheſs, nor any Friend to viſit him, nor come near him, onely one old Servant to wait upon him; all former Delights, Pleaſures, and Recreations were hatefull to him, even in the remembrance, as if his Soul and Body had taken a Surfet thereof. At laſt, he reſolved ſhe ſhould know what Torment he ſuffered for her ſake; and ſince he could not ſee nor ſpeak to her, he would ſend her a Letter: then he called for Pen, Ink, and Paper, and wrote after this manner,


The Wrath of the Gods is not onely pacified, and pardons the greateſt ſins that can be committed againſt them, taking to mercy the Contrite Heart, but gives Bleſſings for Repentent Tears; and I hope you will not be more ſevere than they: let not your Juſtice be too rigid, leſt you become cruel. I confeſs, the ſins committed againſt you were great, and deſerve great puniſhment: but if all your mercies did fly from me, yet if you did but know the torments I ſuffer, you could not chooſe but pity me; and my ſorrows are of that weight, that they will preſs out my life, unleſs your favours take off the heavy Burthen: but howſoever, pray let your Charity give me a line or two of your own writing, though they ſtrangle me with Death: then will my Soul be quiet in the Grave, becauſe I dyed by your hand; and when I am Cc4r 199 am dead, let not the worſt of my Actions live in your Memory, but caſt them into Oblivion, where I wiſh they may for ever remain. The Gods protect you.

Sealing the Letter, he gave it to his Man to carry with all the ſecrecy he could, bidding him to enquire which of the Women was moſt in her favour, praying her to deliver it to her Miſtris when ſhe was all alone, and tootell the Maid he would be in the Street to wait her Command. The Man found ſuch acceſs as he could wiſh, the Letter being delivered to the Lady; which, when ſhe had read, and found from whom it came, her Paſſions were ſo mix’d, that ſhe knew not whether to joy or grieve; ſhe joy’d to live in his Thoughts, yet griev’d to live without him, having no hopes to make him lawfully hers, nor ſo much as to ſet or ſpeak to him, her Uncle was ſo averſe againſt him, and the greateſt grief was, to think ſhe muſt be forced to become anothers; when ſhe had rather be his, though forſaken, than by another to be beloved with Conſtancy. Then muſing with her ſelf for ſome time, conſidering whether it was fit to anſwer his Letter, or no; If my Uncle ſhould come to know, ſaid ſhe, I write to him without his leave (which I am ſure he will never give) I ſhall utterly loſe his Affection, and I had rather loſe Life than loſe his Love; and if I do not write, I ſhall ſeem as if I were of a malicious nature, which will beget an evil conſtruction of my diſpoſition, in that Minde I deſire to live with a good opinion. And if I believe, as Charity and Love perſwades me, that he ſpeaks truth, I ſhall endanger his Life; and I would be loth to murther him with nice ſcruples, when I am neither forbid by Honour nor Modeſty, Religion nor Laws; Well, I will adventure, and ask my Uncle Pardon when I have done; my Uncle is not of a Tyger’s nature, he is gentle, and will forgive, and a Pardon may be gotten: but Life, when once it is gone, will return no more. Then taking Pen, Ink, and Paper, writ to him after this manner.


I Am obedient, as being once tyed to you, until you did cut me off, and throw me away as a worthleſs piece, onely fit to be trodden under the feet of diſgrace, and certainly had periſhed with ſhame; had not my Uncle owned me, I had been left deſtitute. And though you are pleaſed to caſt ſome thoughts back upon me, yet it is difficult for me to believe, you, that did once ſcorn me, ſhould humbly come to ſue to me: but I rather fear you do this for ſport, angling with the Bait of Deceit to catch my Innocent Youth. But I am not the firſt of my Sex, nor I fear ſhall not be the laſt, that has been, and will be deceived by Men, who glory in their treacherous ſpoyls; and if you beſet me with Stratagems, kill me outright, and do not leade me Priſoner, to ſet out your Triumph: but if you have Wars with your Conſcience; or Phancy, or both, interrupting the peace of your Minde, as your Letter expreſſes, I ſhould willingly turn to your ſide, and be an Arbitrator; yet the Fates have deſtin’d otherwiſe. But Cc4r 200 But what unhappy fortune ſoever befals me, I wiſh yours may be good. Heavens keep you.

Here, ſaid ſhe, give the Man, that brought me the Letter, this. The Man returning to his Lord ſo ſoon, made him believe he had not delivered her that Letter.

Well, ſaid the Duke, you have not delivered my Letter.

Yes, but I have, ſaid he, and brought you an Anſwer.

Why, ſaid the Duke, it is impoſſible, you ſtaid ſo ſhort a time.

Then, ſaid he, I have wrought a Miracle; but, ſaid he, you did lengthen my Journey in your Conceits, with the foul wayes of Difficulties.

I hope, ſaid the Duke, thou art ſo bleſſed as to make as proſperous a Journey, as a quick Diſpatch; leave me awhile, ſaid he, while I call you. But when he went to open the Letter, Time brings not more weakneſs, ſaid he, than Fear doth to me, for my Hands ſhake as if I had the Palſey; and my Eyes are ſo dim, that Spectacles will hardly enlarge my ſight. But when he had read the Letter, Joy gave him a new Life: Here, ſaid he, ſhe plainly tels me, ſhe would be mine; ſhe ſaith, ſhe would return to my ſide, if the Fates had not deſtin’d againſt it, by which ſhe means, her Uncle is againſt me: well, if I can but once get acceſs, I ſhall be happy for ever. So after he had bleſſed himſelf in reading the Letter many times over, I will ſaid he, ſtrengthen my ſelf to enable my ſelf to go abroad, for as yet I am but weak; and calling to his Man, he bid him get him ſomething to eat.

Did your Grace, ſaid the Man, talk of eating?

Yes, anſwered the Duke, for I am hungry.

By my troth, ſaid the Man, I had thought your Hands, Mouth, Appetite and Stomack had made a Bargain; the one, that it never would deſire Meat nor Drink; the other, that it would digeſt none; the third, that it would receive none; and the fourth, that it would offer none; for on my conſcience you have not eat the quantity of a peſtle of a Lark this week; and you are become ſo weak, that if a Boy ſhould wreſtle with you, he would have the better.

You are deceived, ſaid the Duke, I am ſo ſtrong, and my Spirits ſo active, that I would beat two or three ſuch old Fellows as thou art, and to prove it, I will beat thee with one hand.

No pray, ſaid he, I will believe your Graces report, and leave your active Grace for a time, to fetch you ſome Food.

When his Man came in with the Meat, he found the Duke a dancing.

I believe, ſaid he, you carry your Body very light, having no heavy Burthens of Meat in your Stomack.

I am ſo Aëry, ſaid the Duke, as I will caper over thy Head.

By my troth, ſaid he, then I ſhall let fall your Meat out of my hands, for fear of your heels.

Whil’ſt Dd1r 201

Whilſt the Duke was at his meat, he talkt to his man; Why haſt thou lived an old Batchelour, and never marryed.

O Sir, ſaid he, wives are too chargeable.

Why, ſaid the Duke, are you ſo poor?

No Sir, anſwered he, Women are ſo vain, beſides they do not only ſpend their husbands eſtates, but makes his eſtate a bawd to procure Love ſervants, ſo as his wealth ſerves onely to buy him a pair of horns.

Pray thee, let me perſwade thee to marry, and I will direct thee to whom thou ſhalt go a wooing.

Troth Sir, I would venture, if there had been any example to encourage me.

Why, what do you think of my Marriage, do not I live happily?

Yes, ſaid he, when your Dutches and you are aſunder, but when you meet, it is like Jupiter and Juno, you make ſuch a thundring noiſe, as it frights your mortall ſervants, thinking you will diſſolve our world, your Family, conſuming our hoſpitallity by the fire of your Worth; Rowling up the clouds of ſmoaky vapour from boyld Beef, as a ſheet of Parchment; When you were a Batchelor we lived in the Golden Age, but now it is the Iron Age, and Doomeſday draws near.

I hope, ſaith the Duke, thou art a Prophet, but when Doomesday is paſt, you ſhall live in Paradice.

In my conſcience, Sir, ſaid he, fortune hath miſmatcht you; for ſurely nature did never intend to joyne you as Man and Wife; you are of ſuch different humors.

Well, ſaid the Duke, for all your rayling againſt women, you ſhall go a wooing, if not for your ſelf, yet for me.

Sir, ſaid he, I ſhall refuſe no office that your Grace imploys me in.

Go your ways, ſaid the Duke, to that Ladyes maid you gave the letter to, and preſent her with a hundred pounds, and tell her, if ſhe can help me to the ſpeech of her Lady; you will bring her a hundred pounds more; and if you finde her nice, and that ſhe ſayes ſhe dare not, offer her five hundred pounds or more, or ſo much, untill you have out-bribed her cautious fears.

Sir, ſaid the man, if you ſend her many of theſe preſents, I will wooe for my ſelf, as well as for your Grace, wherefore by your Graces leave, I will ſpruce up my ſelf before I go, and trim my beard, and waſh my face, and who knows but I may ſpeed, for I perceive it is a fortunate year for old men to winne young mayds affections, for they ſay the Vice-Roy is to be married to the ſweeteſt young beautifulleſt Lady in the world, and he is very old, and in my opinion, not ſo handſome as I am: with that the Duke turned pale.

Nay, ſaid the man, your Grace hath no cauſe to be troubled, for tis a Lady you have refuſed, wherefore he hath but your leavings.

With that the Duke up with his hand, and gave him a box on the eare: Thou lyeſt ſaid he, he muſt not marry her.

Nay, ſaid the man, that is as your Grace can order the Dd buſineſs; Dd1v 202 buſineſs; but your Grace is a juſt performer of your Word, for you have tryed your ſtrength, and hath beaten me with one hand.

The Duke walked about the room, and after he had pacified himſelf, at laſt ſpoke to his man; Well ſaid he, if you be proſperous, and can winn the maid to direct me the way to ſpeak to her Lady, I will cure the Blow with Crowns.

Sir, ſaid he, I will turn you my other cheek to box that, if you pleaſe.

Go away, ſaid the Duke, and return as ſoon as you can.

Sir, ſaid he, I will return as ſoon as my buſineſs is done, or els I ſhall loſe both paines and gaines, good fortune be my guide, ſaid he, and then I am ſure of the Worlds favour, for they that are proſperous ſhall never want friends, although he were a Coward, a Knave, or a Fool, the World ſhall ſay nay, think him valliant, honeſt, and wiſe.

Sir, ſaid he to the Duke, pray flatter fortune, and offer ſome prayers and praiſes to her Deity in my behalf, though it be but for your own ſake; for he, that hath not a feeling intereſt in the buſineſs, can never pray with a ſtrong devotion for a good ſuccſs, but their prayers will be ſo ſickly and weak as they can never travell up far, but fall back as it were in a ſwoon, without ſenſe; in the mean time the Vice-Roy and the Uncle had drawn up articles, and had concluded of the match without the young Ladyes conſent; but the Uncle told her afterwards, ſhe muſt prepare herſelf to be the Vice-Roys bride: And ſaid he, if you conſent not, never come neer me more, for I will diſclaime all the intereſt of an Uncle, and become your enemy: his words were like ſo many daggers, that were ſtruck to her heart: for her grief was too great for tears: but her maid, who had ventured her Ladies Anger, for gold had conveyed the Duke into ſuch a place, as to go into her Chamber, when he pleaſed, and ſeeing her ſtand as it were, without life or ſence, but as a ſtatue carved in ſtone, went to her, which object brought her out of a muſe, but ſtruck her with ſuch Amaze, as ſhe fixt her eyes upon him, as on ſome wonder, and ſtanding both ſilent for a time, at laſt ſhe ſpake.

Sir, ſaid ſhe, this is not civilly done, to come without my leave, or my Uncles knowledge: nor honorably done, to come like a theef in the night to surpriſe me.

Madame, ſaid he, Love, that is in danger to looſe what he moſt adores, will never conſider perſons, time, place, or difficulty, but runns to ſtrengthen and ſecure his ſide, fights and aſſaults all that doth oppoſe him, and I hear you are to be married to the Vice-Roy: but if you do marry him, I will ſtrive to make you a Widow the firſt houre, cutting your Vowes aſunder: and your Husband, inſteed of his bride, ſhall imbrace death, and his Grave ſhall become his Wedding bed, or I will lye there my ſelf ſhrowded in my winding ſheet from the hated ſight of ſeeing, or knowing you to be anothers: but if knowledge lives in the grave, think not your ſelf ſecure when I am dead; for if Ghoſts as Dd2r 203 as ſome imagines, they can riſe from the Earth, mine ſhall viſit you and fright you from delights, and never leave you untill you become a ſubject in deaths Kingdom; but if you are cruell and take delight to have your bridal health drunk in blood, marry him, where perchance we may be both dead drunk with that warme red liquor.

Sir, anſwered ſhe, it is an unheard of malice to me, or an Impudent and vaine-glorious pride in you, neither to own me your ſelf, nor let another, but would have me wander out of my ſingle life, that the World may take notice and ſay, this is your forſaken maid; and I live to be ſcorned and become friendleſs, for my Uncle will never own me, which will prove as a proclamation to proclaime me a traitor to gratitude, and naturall affection, by committing the treaſon of diſobedience.

Said the Duke, you cannot want an owner whilſt I live, for I had, nor have no more power to reſign the Intereſt I have in you, than Kings to reſign their Crowns that comes by ſucceſ ſion, for the right lyes in the Crown, not in the man, and though I have played the tyrant, and deſerved to be uncrowned, yet none ought to take it off my head, but death, nor have I power to throw it from my ſelf, death onely muſt make way for a ſucceſſor.

Then ſaid ſhe, I muſt dye, that your Dutches may have right, and a free poſſeſſion.

Nay, ſaid he, you muſt claime your own juſt intereſt and place your ſelf.

What is that, ſaid ſhe, go to Law for you.

Yes, ſaid he.

Where if I be caſt, ſaid ſhe, it will be a double ſhame.

You cannot plead and be condemned, ſaid he, if Juſtice hears your Cauſe: and though moſt of the Actions of my life have been irregular, yet they were not ſo much corrupted or miſruled by nature, as for want of a good education, and through the ignorance of my youth, which time ſince hath made me ſee my errors; and though your beautie is very excellent, and is able to enamour the moſt dulleſt ſenſe, yet it is not that alone that diſturbs the peace of my mind, but the conſcientiouſneſs of my fault, which unleſs you pardon and reſtore me to your favour, I ſhall never be at reſt.

I wiſh there were no greater obſtacle, ſaid ſhe, than my pardon to your reſt: For I ſhould abſolve you ſoon, and ſleep ſhould not be more gentle, and ſoft on your eyes, than the peace to your minde, if I could give it, but my Uncles diſlike may prove as fearfull dreams to diſturbe it: but indeed if his anger were like dreams, it would vaniſh away, but I doubt it is of too thick a body for a Viſion.

Sayes the Duke, we will both kneel to your Uncle, and plead at the bar of either eare, I will confeſs my fault at one eare, whilſt you aske pardon for me at the other; And though his heart were Dd2 ſteele Dd2v 204 ſteele, your words will diſolve it into compaſſion, whilſt my tears mix the ingredients.

My Uncle ſaid ſhe, hath agreed with the Vice-Roy: and his word hath ſealed the bond, which he will never break.

Sayes the Duke, I will make the Vice-Roy to break the bargain himſelf, and then your Uncle is ſet free: Beſides, you are mine and not your Uncles; Unleſs you prove my enemy to deny me, and I will plead for my right: Heaven direct you for the beſt, ſaid ſhe, it is late, good night.

You will give me leave, ſaid he, to kiſs your hands.

I cannot deny my hand, ſaid ſhe, to him that hath my heart.

The next day the Duke went to the Vice-Roys, and deſired to have a private hearing, about a buſineſs that concerned him; And when he had him alone, he ſhut the door, and drew his ſword; which when the Vice-Roy ſaw, he began to call for help.

Call not, nor make a noiſe, if you doe, hell take me ſaid the Duke, I’le run you thorough.

What mean you, ſaid the Vice-Roy, to make me ſuch a dreadfull viſit?

I come, ſaid the Duke, to aske you a queſtion, to forbid you an Act, and to have you grant me my demand.

Said the Vice-Roy, the queſtion muſt be reſolvable, the Act juſt, the demands poſſible.

They are ſo, ſaid the Duke, My queſtion is, whether you reſolve to be married to the Lady Delitia.

Yes, anſwered he.

The Act forbidden, is, you muſt not marry her.

Why, ſaid the Vice-Roy?

Becauſe, ſaid he, ſhe is my Wife, and I have been married to her almoſt nine years.

Why, ſaid he, you cannot have two wives?

No, ſaid he, I will have but one, and that ſhall be ſhe.

And what is your demand? My demand is, that you will never marry her.

How, ſayes the Vice-Roy? put the caſe you ſhould die, you will then give me leave to marrie her?

No, ſaid the Duke, I love her too well, to leave a poſſibility of her marrying you: I will ſooner die, than ſet my hand to this, ſaid the Vice Roy.

If you do not, you ſhall die a violent death, by heaven, anſwered he, and more than that, you ſhall ſet your hand never to complain againſt me to the King; will you do it, or will you not? for I am deſperate, ſaid the Duke.

Said the Vice Roy, you ſtrike the King in ſtriking me.

No diſputing, ſays he, ſet your hand preſently, or I will kill you.

Do you ſay, you are deſperate?

Yes, anſwered he.

Then I muſt do a deſperate Act to ſet my hand to a bond I mean to break.

Uſe your own diſcretion, to that;

Come Dd3r 205

Come, ſaid he, I will ſet my hand before I read it; for whatever it is, it muſt be done; after he ſet his hand he read.

Here I do vow to Heaven, never to Wooe the Lady Delitia, not to take her to wife, whereunto I ſet my hand. To this paper too, ſaid the Duke.

Here I do vow to Heaven, never to take revenge, nor to complain of the Duke to my King and maſter, whereunto I ſet my hand.

Saith the Duke, I take my leave, reſt you in peace, Sir.

And the Devill torment you, ſaid the Vice Roy! O fortune, I could curſe thee with thy Companions, the fates, not only in cutting off my happineſs, in the injoying of ſo rare a beauty, but in ſtopping the paſſage to a ſweet revenge: And though I were ſure, there were both Gods and Devills, yet I would break my Vow, for the one is pacified with Prayers and praiſes, and the other terrified with threats; but, O the diſgrace from our fellow-creatures, mankind, ſets cloſer to the life, than the skin to the fleſh. For if the skin be flead off, a new one will grow again, making the body appear younger than before; but if a man be flead once of his reputation, he ſhall never regain it, and his life will be alwaies bare and raw, and malice and envy will torment it with the ſtings of ill tongues; which to avoid, I muſt cloſe with this Duke in a ſeeming friendſhip, and not defy him as an open enemy, leſt he ſhould divulge my baſe acts done by my Cowardly fear; but they are fools that would not venture their Reputations, to ſave their life, rather than to dye an honorable death, as they call it; which is to dye, to gain a good Opinion, and what ſhall they gain by it? a few praiſes, as to ſay, he was a valiant man; and What doth the valiant get, is he ever the better? No, he is tumbled into the grave, and his bodie rottes, and bturnes to duſt; All the clear diſtinguiſhing ſenſes, the bright flaming appetites are quenched out; but if they were not, there is no fuell in the grave to feed their fire; for, death is cold, and the grave barren; beſides, there is no Remembrance in the grave, all is forgotten, they cannot rejoyce at their paſt gallant actions, or remember their glorious Triumphs, but the onely happineſs is, that though there is no pleaſure in the grave, ſo there is no paines; but to give up life before nature requires it, is to pay a Subſidy before we are taxt, or to yield up our liberties before we are priſoners. And who are wiſe) that ſhall do ſo, No, Let fools run head-long to death; I will live as long as I can, and not only live, but live eaſily, freely, and as pleaſant as I can; wherefore to avoid this mans miſchiefs, which lies to intrap my life, I will agree with him; and I had rather looſe the pleaſures of one Woman, than all other pleaſures with my life; but to do him a ſecret miſchief he ſhall not eſcape, if I can prevaile; but I perceive this Duke, ſince he can have but one Wife, intends to ſet up a Saraglia of young wenches, and by my troth, he begins with a fair one, and whilſt he courts his miſtris, I mean to wooe his wife, for he hath not ſworn me from that. So that my revenge ſhall be to make him a Cuckold, ſo the Viceroy Dd3 went Dd3v 206 went to the Dutcheſs; and after he had made his Complemental Addreſſes, they began to talk more ſerious.

Madam, ſaid he, how do you like the rare Beauty which your Husband doth admire ſo much, that he is jealous of all that look on her, and would extinguiſh the ſight of all Mens Eyes but his own, and challenges all that make Love to her, threatens ruine and murther to thoſe that pretend to marry her.

Anſwered ſhe, if he be ſo enamoured, I ſhall not wonder now that my Beauty is thought dead, my Embraces cold, my Diſcourſe dull, my Company troubleſome to him, ſince his Delight is abroad: but, ſaid ſhe, I am well ſerved, I was weary of my old Husband, and wiſhed him dead, that I might marry a young one; I abhorred his old age, that was wiſe and experienced; deſpiſed his gray hairs, that ſhould be reverenced with reſpect; O the happineſs I rejected, that I might have enjoyed! for he admired my Beauty, praiſed my Wit, gave me my Will, obſerved my Humour, ſought me Pleaſures, took care of my Health, deſired my Love, proud of my Favours; my Mirth was his Musick, my Smiles were his Heaven, my Frowns were his Hell; when this Man thinks me a Chain that inſlaves him, a Shipwrack wherein all his Happineſs is drown’d, a Famine to his Hopes, a Plague to his Deſires, a Hell to his Deſigns, a Devil to damn his Fruitions.

Nay certainly, ſaid he, that Woman is the happieſt that marries an antient Man; for he adores her Virtue more than her Beauty, and his Love continues; though her Beauty is gone; he ſets a price of Worth upon the Honour and Reputation of his Wife, uſes her civilly, and gives her Reſpect, as Gallant Men ought to do to a tender Sex, which makes others to do the like; when a Young Man thinks it a Gallantry, and a Manly Action, to uſe his Wife rudely, and worſe than his Lacquay, to command imperiouſly, to neglect deſpiſingly, making her the Drudge in his Family, flinging words of diſgrace upon her, making her with ſcorn the mirth and paſtime in his idle and fooliſh diſcourſe amongſt his vain and baſe Companions; when an Antient Man makes his Wife the Queen of his Family, his Miſtris in his Courtſhip, his Goddeſs in his Diſcourſe, giving her Praiſe, applauding her Actions, magnifying her Nature; her Safety is the God of his Courage, her Honour the World to his Ambition, her Pleaſure his onely Induſtry, her Maintenance the mark for his Prudence, her Delights are the Compaſſ by which he ſails, her Love is the Voyage, her Advice his Oracle; and doing this, he doth Honour to himſelf, by ſetting a conſiderable value upon what is his own; when Youth regards not the temper of her Diſpoſition, ſlights her Noble Nature, grows weary of her Perſon, condemns her Counſels, and is afraid his Neighbours ſhould think his Wife wiſer than himſelf, which is the mark of a Fool, and a Diſeaſe moſt Men have (being married young.) But a Man in years is ſolid in his Counſels, ſober in his Actions, gracefull in his Behaviour, wiſe in his Diſcourſe, temperate in his Life, and ſeems as Nature hath made him, Maſculine. When a young Man is raſh in his Counſels, deſperate Dd4r 207 deſperate in his Actions, wilde in his Behaviour, vain in his Diſſcourſes, debauch’d in his Life, and appears not like his Sex, but Effeminate.

A fair Forehead, and a ſmooth Skin, a roſie Cheek, and a ruby Lip, wanton Eyes, a flattering Tongue are unmanly, appearing like Woman or Boyes, let them be never ſo Valiant; and that appears, as if they would ſooner ſuffer the Whip, than handle the Sword.

Where an antient Man, every Wrinkle is a Trench made by Time, wherein lyes Experience to ſecure the Life from Errours; and there Eyes are like active Souldiers, who bow and ſink down by the over-heavy Burthens of their Spoyls, which are ſeveral Objects that the Sight carries into the Brain, and delivers to the Underſtanding, as Trophyes, to hand up in the Magazine of the Memory. His white Hairs are the Flags of Peace, that Time hangs out on the Walls of Wiſdome, that Advice and Counſel may come from and to ſafely. Nay, the very Infirmities of Age ſeem manly; his feeble Legs look as if they had been overtired with long Marches, in ſeeking out his Foes; and his PalſeyHands, or Head, the one ſeems as if they had been ſo often uſed in beating of their Enemies, and the other in watching them, as they knew not what Reſt meant.

Sir, ſaid the Dutcheſs, you commend aged Husbands, and diſpraiſe young ones, with ſuch Rhetorick, as I wiſh the one, and hate the other; and in purſuit of my Hate, I will croſs my Huſband’s Amours as much as I can.

In the mean time, the Duke was gone to the old Gentleman, the young Ladies Uncle.

Which when the old Man ſaw him enter, he ſtarted, as if he had ſeen an Evil he deſired to ſhun.

Sir, ſaid he, what unlucky occaſion brought you into my Houſe?

Firſt, Repentance, anſwered the Duke, and then Love; and laſtly, my Reſpect which I owe as a Duty. My Repentance begs a Forgiveneſs, my Love offers you my Advice and good Counſel, my Reſpect forewarns you of Dangers and Troubles that may come by the marriage of your Neece to the Vice-roy.

Why? what danger, ſaid he, can come in marrying my Neece to a wiſe, honourable, rich, and powerfull Man, and a Man that loves and admires her, that honours and reſpects me?

But, ſaid the Duke, put the caſe he be a covetous, jealous, froward, ill natured, and baſe cowardly Man, ſhall ſhe be happy with him?

But he is not ſo, ſaid he.

But, anſwered the Duke, if I can prove him ſo, will you marry her to him?

Pray, ſaid he, ſpare your proofs of him, ſince you cannot prove your ſelf an honeſt Man.

Sir, ſaid the Duke, Love makes me endure a Reproach patiently, when it concerns the Beloved: but though it endures a Reproach, it cannot endure a Rival.

Why, Dd4v 208

Why, ſaid the old Gentleman, I hope you do not challenge an intereſt in my Neece.

Yes, ſaid the Duke, but I do, and will maintain that intereſt with the power of my Life, and never will quit it till Death; and if my Ghoſt could fight for her, it ſhould.

Heaven bleſs my Neece, ſaid the old Gentleman: What is your Deſign againſt her? Is it not enough to fling a Diſgrace of Neglect on her, but you muſt ruine all her good Fortunes? Is your Malice ſo inveterate againſt my Family, that you ſtrive to pull it up by the Roots, to caſt it into the Ditch of Oblivion, or to fling it on the Dunghill of Scorn?

Said the Duke, my Deſign is to make her happy, if I can, to oppoſe all thoſe that hinder her Felicity, diſturbing the content and peace of her Minde, for ſhe cannot love this Man; beſides, he diſclaims her, and vows never to marry her.

Sir, ſaid the Gentleman, I deſire you to depart from my Houſe, for you are a Plague to me, and bring an evil Infection.

Sir, ſaid the Duke, I will not go out of your Houſe, nor depart from you, untill you have granted my Requeſt.

Why, ſaid the Gentleman, you will not threaten me?

No, ſaid the Duke, I do petition you.

Said the Gentleman, if you have any Quarrel to me, I ſhall anſwer it with my Sword in my Hand; for though I have loſt ſome Strength with my years, yet I have not loſt my Courage; and when my Limbs can fight no longer, the heat of my Spirits ſhall conſume you; beſides, an Honourable Death I far prefer before a baffled Life.

Sir, ſaid he, I come not to move your Anger, but your Pity, for the Sorrows I am in, for the Injuries I have done you; and if you will be pleaſed to take me into your Favour, and aſſiſt me, by giving my Wife, your Neece, leave to claim the Laws of Marriage and Right to me, all my Life ſhall be ſtudious to return Gratitude, Duty, and Service.

Yes, anſwered he, to divulge her Diſgrace, declaring your neglect in an open Court, and to make my ſelf a Knave to break my Promiſe.

Sir, ſaid the Duke, your Diſgrace by me is not ſo much as you apprehend; but it will be a great Diſgrace when it is known the Vice-roy refuſes her, as I can ſhew you his Hand to it; and if he deſerts your Neece, you are abſolved of your Promiſe made to him; and to let you know this is a Truth, I ſay here is his Hand.

The whilſt the old Gentleman was reading the Papers, the Vice-roy comes in.

O Sir, ſaid he, you are timely come; is this your Hand, ſayes he?

Yes, anſwered the Vice-roy.

And do you think this honourably done, ſaid the Gentleman.

Why, ſaid the Vice-roy, would you have me marry another Man’s Wife.

Well, Ee1r 209

Well, ſaid the old Gentleman, when your Viceroy-ſhip is out, as it is almoſt, I will give you an anſwer; till then, fare you well.

But the Duke went to the young Lady, and told her the progreſs he had had with her Uncle, and his anger to the Viceroy.

But after the old Gentleman’s paſſion was abated towards the Duke, by his humble ſubmiſſion, and the paſſion inflamed towards the Viceroy, he hearkned to the Law-ſuit, being moſt perſwaded by his Neeces affection, which he perceived was unalterably placed upon the Duke. And at laſt, adviſing all three together, they thought it fit, ſince the Parties muſt plead their own Cauſe, to conceal their Agreements, and to cover it by the Duke’s ſeeming diſſent, leſt he ſhould be convicted as a Breaker of the known Laws, and ſo be liable to puniſhment, either by the hazard of his Life, or the price of a great Fine.

But after Friends were made of all ſides, the Law-ſuit was declared, which was a buſineſs of diſcourſe to all the Kingdome, and the place of Judicature a meeting for all curious, inquiſitive, and buſileſs People.

When the day of hearing was come, there was a Bar ſet out, where the Duke and the two Ladies ſtood; and after all the Judges were ſet, the young Lady thus ſpake.

Grave Fathers, and moſt equal Judges,

I come here to plead for Right, undeck’d with Eloquence, but Truth needs no Rhetorick, ſo that my Cauſe will juſtifie it ſelf: but if my Cauſe were foul, it were not pencill’d words could make it ſeem ſo fair, as to delude your Underſtanding Eye.

Beſides, your Juſtice is ſo wiſe, as to fortifie her Forts with Fortitude, to fill her Magazine with Temperance, to victual it with Patience, to ſet Centinels of Prudence, that Falſhood might not ſurprize it, nor Bribery corrupt it, nor Fear ſtarve it, nor Pity undermine it, nor Partiality blow it up; ſo that all Right Cauſes here are ſafe and ſecured from the Enemies of Injury and Wrong. Wherefore, moſt Reverend Fathers, if you will but hear my Cauſe, you cannot but grant my Suit.

Whereupon the Judges bid her declare her Cauſe. Then thus it is.

I was married to this Prince; ’tis true, I was but young in years when I did knit that Wedlock knot; and although a Child, yet ſince my Vows were holy, which I made by Virtue and Religion, I am bound to ſeal that ſacred Bond with Conſtancy, now I am come to years of knowing of Good from Evil.

I am not onely bound, moſt Pious Judges, to keep my Vow, in being chaſtly his, as long as he ſhall live, but to require him by the Law, as a Right of Inheritance belonging to me, and onely me, ſo long as I ſhall live, without a Sharer or Co-partner: ſo that this Lady, which Ee layes Ee1v 210 layes a claim, and challenges him as being hers, can have no right to him, and therefore no Law can plead for her; for ſhould I now caſt aſide your Canon Law, moſt Pious Judges, and judge it by the Common Law, my Suit muſt needs be granted, if Juſtice deals but right, and gives to Truth her own; for ſhould an Heir, young, before he comes to years, run on the Lenders ſcore, though the Lender had no Law to plead againſt nonage, yet if his nature be ſo juſt to ſeal the bonds he made nonage, when he comes to full years, he makes his former Act good, and fixes the Law to a juſt Grant, giving no room for Coſenage to play a part, nor Falſhood to appear. The like is my Cauſe, moſt Grave Fathers, for my Friends choſe me a Husband, made a Bond of Matrimony, ſealed it with a Ceremony of the Church, onely they wanted my years of conſent, which I, by an Approvement, now ſet as my Handwriting.

Sayes the Judges; what ſayes the Duke? Then the Duke thus ſpake

I confeſs, I was contracted to this Lady by all the ſacred and moſt binding Ceremonies of the Church, but not with a free conſent of Minde; but being forced by the duty to my Father, who did not onely command, but threatned me with his Curſe, he being then upon his Death-bed, and I being afraid of a dying Fathers Curſes, yielded to thoſe Actions which my Affections and Freewill renounced; and after my Father was dead, placing my Affections upon another Lady, married her, thinking my ſelf not liable to the former Contract, by reaſon the former Contract was but of ſix years of age, whoſe nonage I thought was a warrantable Cancel from the Engagement.

Moſt Upright Judges,

My nonage of years is not a ſufficient Bail to ſet him free, he being then of full Age; nor can his fear of offending his Parents, or his loving Duty towards them, be a caſting Plea againſt me; his Duty will not diſcharge his Perjury: nor his Fear could be no Warrant to do a Wrong; and if a Fool by promiſe binds his Life to Inconveneiencies, the Laws that Wiſe Men made, muſt force him to keep it. And if a Knave, by private and ſelf-ends, doth make a Promiſe, Juſt Laws muſt make him keep it.

And if a Coward make a Promiſe through diſtracted Fear, Laws, that carry more Terrours, than the broken Promiſe, Profit, will make him keep it.

But a wiſe, juſt, generous Spirit will make no Promiſe, but what he can, and durſt, and will perform.

But ſay a Promiſe paſs through an ignorant Zeal, and ſeeming Good, yet a Right Honourable and Noble Minde will ſtick ſo faſt to its Engagements, that nothing ſhall hew them aſunder: for a Promiſe muſt neither be broken upon Suſpicion, nor falſe Conſtruction, nor enticing Perſwaſions, nor threatning Ruins, but it muſt be maintainedtained Ee2r 211 tained with Life, and kept by Death, unleſs the Promiſe carry more malignity in the keeping them, than the breaking of them.

I ſay not this to condemn the Duke, though I cannot applaud his ſecondary Action concerning Marriage; I know he is too Noble to cancel that Bond his Conſcience ſealed before high Heaven, where Angels ſtood as Witneſſes; nor can he make another Contract untill he is free from me; ſo that his Vows to this Lady were rather Complemental, and Loves Feignings, than really true, or ſo Authentical to laſt; he built Affections on a wrong Foundation, or rather Caſtles in the Air, as Lovers uſe to do, which vaniſh ſoon away; for where Right is not, Truth cannot be; wherefore ſhe can claim no lawfull Marriage, unleſs he were a Free-man, not bound before; and he cannot be free, unleſs he hath my conſent, which I will never give.

Then the other Lady ſpake.

Noble Judges,

This crafty, flattering, diſſembling Child layes a claim to my Husband, who no way deſerves him, ſhe being of a low Birth, and of too mean a Breeding to be his Wife; neither hath ſhe any right to him in the Law, ſhe being too young to make a free Choyce, and to give a free conſent. Beſides, he doth diſavow the Act, by confeſſing the diſagreeing thereto in his Minde; and if ſhe was to give a Lawfull Conſent, and his Conſent was ſeeming, not real, as being forced thereunto, it could not be a firm Contract; wherefore, I beſeech you, caſt her Suit from the Bar, ſince it is of no validity.

Juſt Judges, anſwered ſhe.

What though he ſecretly diſliked of the Act he made? yet Humane Juſtice ſentences not the Thoughts, but Acts; wherefore thoſe Words that plead his Thoughts, ought to be waived as uſeleſs, and from the Bar of Juſtice caſt aſide.

And now, moſt Upright Judges, I muſt intreat your favour and your leave to anſwer this Lady, whoſe Paſſions have flung Diſgraces on me, which I, without the breach of Incivility, may throw them off with ſcorn, if you allow me ſo to do.

Said the Judges, we ſhall not countenance any Diſgrace, unleſs we knew it were a puniſhment for Crimes; wherefore ſpeak freely.

Why then, to anſwer to this Lady, that I am meanly born, ’Tis true, I came not from Nobility, but I can draw a Line of Pedegree five hundred years in length from the root of Merit, from whence Gentility doth ſpring. This Honour cannot be degraded by the Diſpleaſure of Princes, it holds not the Fee-ſimple from the Crown, Ee2 for Ee2v 212 for Time is the Patron of Gentility, and the older it groweth, the more beautifull it appears; and having ſuch a Father and Mother as Merit and Time, Gentry is a fit and equal Match for any, were they the Rulers of the whole World.

And whereas ſhe ſayes, moſt Patient Judges, I am a falſe diſſembling Child.

I anſwer, as to my Childhood, it is true, I am young, and unexperienced, a Child in Underſtanding, as in Years; but to be Young, I hope it is no Crime: but if it be, ’twas made by Nature, not by me. And for diſſembling, I have not had time enough to practice much Deceit; my Youth will witneſs, for one, it is an Art, not an inbred Nature, and muſt be ſtudied with Paines, and watch’d with Obſervation, before any can be Maſters thereof. And I hope this Aſſembly is ſo juſt, as not to impute my Innocent Simplicity to a ſubtil, crafty, or a deceiving Glaſs, to ſhew the Minds falſe Face, making that fair, which in it ſelf is foul. And whereas ſhe ſayes, I have been meanly bred, ’tis true, Honoured Judges, I have been humbly bred, taught to obey Superiours, and to reverence old Age; to receive Reproofs with thanks: to liſten to wiſe Inſtructions, to learn honeſt Principles, to huſwife Time, making uſe of every minute; to be thrifty of my Words, to be carefull of my Actions, to be modeſt in my Behaviour, to be chaſt in my Thoughts, to be pious in my Devotions, to be charitable to the Diſtreſſed, to be courteous to Inferiours, to be civil to Strangers, for the truth is, I was not bred with Splendrous Vanities, nor learnt the Pomp and Pride of Courts; I am ignorant of their Factions, Envies, and Backbitings, I know not the ſound of their flattering Tongues, I am unacquainted with their ſmiling Faces, I have not Wit to perceive their falſe Hearts, my Judgement is too young and weak to fathom their deep and dangerous Deſigns.

Neither have I lived ſo long in populous Cities as to ſhare of the Luxuriouſneſs therein; I never have frequented their private nor publick Meetings, nor turned the Day into Night by Diſorders; I can play at none of their Games, nor can I tread their Meaſures: but I was bred a private Country Life, where the crowing of the Cocks ſerved as Waights of the Town; and the bleating of the Sheep, and lowing of the Cows, are the Minſtrels we dance after; and the ſinging of the Birds are the Harmonious Notes by which we ſet our Innocent Thoughts, playing upon the Heart ſtrings of Content, where Nature there perſents us a Maſque with various Scenes, of ſeveral Seaſons of the Year.

But neither low Birth, nor mean Breeding, nor bad Qualities, nay, were I as Wicked as I am Young, yet it will not take away the truth of my Cauſe, nor the juſtneſs of my Plea; wherefore I deſire you to give my Suit a patient Trial, and not to caſt me from the Bar, as ſhe deſires; for I hope you will not caſt out my Suit by an unjuſt Partiality, nor miſtake the right meaſure, and ſo cut the truth of my Cauſe too ſhort: but I beſeech you to give it length by your ſerious Conſiderations, and make it fit by your juſt Favour; for though Ee3r 213 though Truth it ſelf goeth naked, yet her Servant muſt be cloathed with Right, and dreſs’d by Propriety, or they will dye with the cold of Uſurpation, and then be flung into the Ditch of Sorrow, there eaten up with the Ravens of Sin, having no burial of Reſpect, nor Tombe of Tranquility, nor Pyramid of Felicity, which by your Juſtice may raiſe them as high as Heaven, when your Injuſtice may caſt them as low as Hell. Thus you become to Truth, Gods or Devils.

Madam, ſaid the Judges to the young Lady, the juſtice of your Cauſe judges it ſelf; for the ſevereſt Judge, or ſtricteſt rules in Law, would admit of no debate.

And truly, Madam, it is happy for us that ſit upon the Bench, that your Cauſe is ſo clear and good, otherwiſe your Beauty and your Wit might have proved Bribes to our Vote: but yet there will be a Fine on the Duke for the breach of the Laws.

With that the Duke ſpake.

Moſt Carefull, Learned, and Juſt Judges, and Fathers of the Common-wealth.

IConfeſs my Fault, and yield my ſelf a Priſoner to Juſtice, to whom ſhe may either uſe Puniſhment or Mercy: but had I known the Laws of Cuſtome, Religion or Honour, then, as well as I do now, I had not run ſo faſt, nor plunged my ſelf ſo deep in the foul erroneous wayes: but wilde Youth, ſurrounded with Eaſe, and fed with Plenty, born up with Freedome, and led by Self-will, ſought Pleaſure more than Virtue, but Experience hath learn’d me ſtricter Rules, and nobler Precepts, inſomuch as the reflection of my former Actions, clouds all my ſun of Happineſs, wounds my Conſcience, and torments my Life: but I ſhall ſubmit to what your wiſe Judgements ſhall think fit.

My Lord, anſwered the Judges, your Grace being a great Peer of the Realm, we are not to condemn you to any Fine, it muſt be the King, onely we judge the Lady to be your lawfull Wife, and forbid you the Company of the other.

Said the Duke, I ſhall willingly ſubmit.

With that, the young Lady ſpake. Heaven, ſaid ſhe, ſend you juſt Rewards for your upright Actions: But I deſire this Aſſembly to excuſe the Faults of the Duke in this, ſince he was forced by Tyrant Love to run in uncouth wayes, and do not wound him with ſharp Cenſures. For where is he, or ſhe, though ne’r ſo cold,But ſometimes Love doth take, and faſt in Fetters hold.

The Vice-roy being by, ſaid to the other Lady; Madam, ſaid he, ſince the Law hath given away your Husband, I will ſupply Ee3 his Ee3v 214 his place, if you think me worthy, with whom perchance you may be more happy than you were with him.

I accept of your Love, ſaid ſhe, and make no queſtion but Fortune hath favoured me in the change.

With that, the Court roſe, and much Rejoycings there were of all ſides.

The Ee4r 215

The ſeventh Book.

The Ambitious Traytor.

There was a Noble man in Fairy Land, which was in great favour with King Oberon; but the favour of the King made him ſo proud, and haughty, as his ambition grew ſo high, that he ſought to uſurpe the Crown to himſelf; his deſign was to kill the King, and then to marry Queen Mabb, and to bring his evill deſignes to paſs, he feaſted the Nobilitie, deviſed ſports for the Commonality, preſented the old Ladies with gifts, flattered the young ones, in praiſing their beauties, made balls, playes, Masks, to entertain them; bribed the Courtiers, corrupted the Souldiers with promiſes of donatives, fired the youth with thoughts of Chevalry, and expectations of honors, and was induſtrious to preſent the petitions of ſuiters, followed the Cauſes of the diſtreſſed; pleaded for Clients; and all to get a popular eſteem and love; but there is none ſo wiſe and craftie, as can keep out envy from ſearching into their wayes with the Eyes of Spight; for his popular applauſe begot in him private enemies, which advertiſed the King to look to himſelf, and to cut off his growing power, not out of Loyaltie to the King, but out of hate to the favorite; and Kings being jealous, are apt to ſuſpect the worſt, which made him obſerve with a ſtricter Eye, ſetting ſpies and watches on all his actions, untill he catcht him in the trap of his Rebellion, for ſpeaking ſome dangerous and ſeditious words was caſt into priſon, untill further triall; a day being appointed for his hearing, a Councell was called of all the Peers of the land: which were his Judges; witneſs was brought whereby he was caſt and condemned to die; great preparations was made againſt the day of execution. Scaffolds were ſet up, windows were pulled down, that people might behold him, Guards were ſet at each corner of the ſtreets the multitude thronging to ſee him) this Noble man pasſing along, where every Eye ſtrove to Ee4v 216 to out-ſtare each other, and every neck ſtretch’d to out-reach his foreſtanders head; and every Ear liſtened to hear if he did ſpeak, and every tongue moved with Inquiries; every minde was fill’d with expectation of the event, and every one as buſie as a Judge to condemn him, or a Hangman to execute him, and thoſe that profeſt moſt friendſhip to him in his proſperity, were his greateſt enemies, upbraiding him with the name of Traytor, though truly, yet not ſeemly, from former profeſt friends, but he with a ſloe pace, and a ſad countenance habited in black went on, untill he came to the ſcaffold, then turning his face to the people, he thus ſpake.

I do not wonder to ſee ſo great a multitude, to be gathered together, to view the death of a ſingle perſon; although death is common to every one, by which is as many ſeverall ways to die, as Eyes to look thereat; yet beaſts do not gather in troops, to ſee the execution of their kinde, but wonder, men ſhould change their opinion with the change of fortune, as if they did applaud her inconſtancie, hating what ſhe ſeemed to hate; and loving what ſhe ſeemed to love; Calling them fools which ſhe caſts down, and thoſe wiſe which ſhe raiſes up, although it be without deſert, for had I been proſperous in my Evil Intention, I ſhould have had as many acclamations, as now I have accuſations, called Wiſe, Valiant, Generous, Juſt, and all that prayſe could honour me with. And not only called me ſo, but have thought me to have been ſo. But, O odd man, how ſingular art thou made, to have ſo much Ambition, as to deſire the power of Gods, yet more fooliſh than beaſts, and as ill natured, as Devills of Hell; for beaſts follow the Lawes of Nature, but men followes their own Lawes, which make them more miſerable than nature intended them to be. Beaſts do not deſtroy themſelves, nor make they Lawes to ſtrangle themſelves in the netts of long, and ſtrong ſuites, but follow that which pleaſeth them moſt. Unleſs men vex them, they weary not themſelves, in unprofitable labours, nor vex their brain with vain phantaſmes; they have no ſuperſtitious fear, nor vain curioſitie, to ſeek after that, which when they have found, are never the better; nor ſtrange opinions, to carry them from the truth; nor Rhetorick to perſwade them out of the right way. And when beaſts prey upon one another, it is out of meer hunger; not to make ſpoil, as man, who is ſo diſorderly as that he ſtrive; to deſtroy nature herſelf, and if they could pull Jupiter out of Heaven; But when we come to be deſtroyed by death, then we have a ſeeming Repentance, and flatter the Gods to have pittie on us; and though my nature is ſo bad, as being of mankinde, as that I may diſſemble ſo nicely, as not to perceive it in my ſelf, yet I hope, the Gods will have as much mercy on me, as I think I am truly ſorrowfull for my fault. And then kneeling, thus ſaid O Jupiter! how ſhould weak and evil men amongſt themſelves agree, When there have been quarrells in thy heavenly manſions? envying thy glorie, and ambitious of thy power, conſpiring againſt thee; and ſince ambition hath been in Heaven, pardon it on Earth; for Ff1r 217 for it was not againſt thee, thou Maker; but againſt my fellow creature.

O Jupiter! Check thy Vice-gerent nature, for making me of ſuch an aſpiring quality; coveting to be the chiefeſt on earth, for ſhe might have made me Humble & Lowly, and not of ſo proud and haughty diſpoſition; for it was in her power to have made me, in what temper ſhe had pleaſed; I do not expoſtulate this out of a murmuring diſcontent, but to draw down thy pittie for my unhappie nature, that in a manner inforced me thereunto, but I ſubmit, as thou haſt commanded me; And am content to obey thy will; which content thou giveſt me, either to undergoe Plutoe’s puniſhments, or to be anihilated, but if thy judgement may be diverted, ſend me to the bleſſed Elizium.

Then turning to the block, was executed; no ſooner was his head off but all his acquaintance, friends, and kindred forgot him; as the living uſually doth to any that dye. And although moſt rejoice at the fall of thoſe that are moſt eminent, as if the chiefeſt ingredient of man were malice and ſpight, which produceth crueltie (yet when the multitude ſaw all was done, and that their greedy appetite was ſatisfied with blood, then a laſie and ſleepie pitie ſeized on them, and with yawning wiſhes, would have him alive againe.

but King Oberon and Queen Maab, after the execution, giving order for his Quarters to be ſet up on the gates of the City, rid to their Palaces in ſtate, hoping they ſhould have no more ſuch traiterous Subjects to diſturbe their peace.

Ff The Ff1v 218

The eight Book.

In the following tale or diſcourſe, my endeavor was to ſhew young Women the danger of travelling without their Parents, Husbands or particular friends to guard them; for though Vertue is a good guard: yet it doth not always protect their perſons, without human aſſiſtance: for though Vertue guardes, yet youth and beauty betrayes, and the treachery of the one, is more than the ſafety of the other: for ofttimes young beautifull and vertuous Women, if they wander alone, find but rude entertainment from the Maſculine ſex: as witneſs Jacobs daughter Dinah, which Shechem forced. And others, whoſe inforcement mentioned in holy Scripture, and in hiſtories of leſs Authority (ſans number) which ſhews, that heaven doth not alwayes protect the perſons of vertuous ſouls from rude violences: neither doth it always leave vertue deſtitute, but ſometimes ſends a human help, yet ſo, as never,ver, Ff2r 219 ver, but where neceſſity was the cauſe of their dangers, and not ignorance, indiſcretion, or curioſity: for Heaven never helpes but thoſe that could not avoid the danger: beſides, if they do avoid the dangers, they ſeldom avoid a ſcandall. For the world in many Cauſes judges according to what may be, and not according to what is, for they judge not according to truth, but ſhew; no not the heart, but the countenance, which is the cauſe that many a chaſt women hath a ſpotted reputation: but to conclude, I ſay, thoſe are in particular favoured with Heaven, that are protected from violence and ſcandall, in a wandring life, or a travelling condition.

Fomitted2 Aſſaulted Ff2v 220

Aſſaulted and purſued Chaſtity.

In the Kingdom of Riches, after a long and ſleepy Peace, over-grown with plenty and eaſe; Luxury broke out into factious ſores, and feavoriſh ambition, into a plaguy Rebellion; killing numbers with the ſword of unjuſt War, which made many fly from that peſtilent deſtruction into other Countryes, and thoſe that ſtayed, ſent their daughters and wives, from the fury of that inhumane multitude, choſing to venture their lives with the hazards of travells, rather than their Honours and Chaſties, by ſtaying at home, amongſt rough and rude Souldiers; but in ten years Warrs, the ignorant vulgar, in the Schools of experience, being often whipt with miſery, had learnt the leſſon of Obedience, and peace that laid all the time in a ſwound, revived to life, and Love, as the vitall ſpirits thereof, reſtored to their orderly motions, and Zeal, the fire of the publick heart, flamed anew; concocting the undigeſted multitudes to a pure good government: And all thoſe that fear, or care had baniſhed, were invited and called home, by their naturall affections to their Country; a Lady amongſt the reſt inricht by nature; with vertue, Wit and Beauty: in her returning voyage, felt the ſpight of fortune, being caſt by a ſtorm, from the place ſhe ſteered to: upon the Kingdom of ſenſuality, a place and people ſtrange unto her; no ſooner landed, but treacherie beſet her; thoſe ſhe intruſted, left her: And her years being but few, had not gathered enough experience, to give her the beſt direction, thus knowing not how to diſpoſe of herſelf, wanting means for ſupport: Calling her young and tender thoughts to Counſell; at laſt they did agree, ſhe ſhould ſeek a ſervice, and going to the chief City, which was not far from the Haven-town, with a Skipper whom ſhe had intreated to go along with her, who left her in a poor and mean houſe, to Chance, Time, and Fortune; where her Hoſteſs ſeeing her handſome, was tempted by her poverty and covetouſneſs, to conſider her own profit more than her gueſt’s ſafely; ſelling her to a Bawd, which uſed to marchandize; and trafficked to the Land of youth, for the riches of beauty. This old Bawd, having commerce with moſt Nations, could ſpeak many Languages; And this Ladyes amongſt the reſt, That what with her Languages and her flattering words, ſhe inticed this young Lady to live with her, and this old bawd (her ſuppoſed vertuous miſtris) uſed her kindly, fed her daintily, clothed her finely; in ſo much as ſhe began to think ſhe was become the darling of fortune, yet ſhe keeps her cloſely from the view of any, untill her beſt Cuſtomers came to the town, who were at that time in the Country.

The mean time her Miſtris began to read her Lectures of Nature, telling her ſhe ſhould uſe her beauty whilſt ſhe had it, and not to waſt her youth idly, but to make the beſt profit of both, to purchaſe pleaſure and delight; beſides, ſaid ſhe, nature hath made Ff3r 221 made nothing vainly, but to ſome uſefull end; and nothing meerly for its ſelf, but for a Common benefit and generall good, as Earth, Water, Aire and Fire, Sun, Moon, Starrs, Light, Heat, Cold and the like. So beauty with ſtrength and appetites, either to delight her Creatures that are in being; or to the end, or ways to procure more by procreation; for nature only lives by ſurvivors, and that cannot be without communication and ſociety. Wherefore it is a ſin againſt nature to be reſerved and coy, and take heed, ſaid ſhe, of offending Nature, for ſhe is a great and powerfull Goddeſs, transforming all things out of one ſhape into another, and thoſe that ſerve her faithfully and according as ſhe commandes, ſhe puts them in an eaſie and delightfull forme; but thoſe that diſpleaſe her, ſhe makes them to be a trouble, and torment to themſelves; wherefore ſerve Nature, for ſhe is the only and true Goddeſſe; And not thoſe that men call upon, as Jupiter, Juno, and a hundred more, that living men vainly offers unto; being only men and women which were Deified for Invention, and Heroick Actions: for theſe dead, though not forgotten Gods, and Goddeſs, as they are called through a ſuperſtitious feare, and an Idolatrous Love to Ceremony, and an ignorant zeale to Antiquity, men fruitleſs pray unto; but nature is the only true Goddeſs and no other, Wherefore follow her diretions, and you ſhall never do amiſs, for we that are old ſaid ſhe, are Natures Prieſt’s, and being long acquainted with her Lawes and Cuſtomes, do teach youth the beſt manner of ways to ſerve her in.

The young Lady being of a quick apprehenſion began to ſupect ſome deſigne and treachery againſt her; and though her doubts begot great fears; yet her confidence of the Gods protection of Vertue gave her courage, and diſſembling her diſcovery as well as ſhe could for the preſent, gave her thanks for her counſell; but when ſhe was gone, conſidering in what a dangerous condition ſhe ſtood in; And that the Gods would not hear her, if ſhe laſily called for help and watch’d for Miracles neglecting Naturall means; Whereupon ſhe thought the beſt ways was ſecretly to convey herſelf out of that place, and truſt herſelf againe to chance; by reaſon there could not be more danger than where ſhe was in; but thoſe thoughts being quickly cut off; by reaſon ſhe could find no poſſibility of an eſcape being ſtrictly kept by the care of the old Baud, for fear ſhe ſhould give away that by inticement, which ſhe meant to ſell at a high rate, wherefore ſhe was forced to content her ſelf; And to ſatisfy her fears, with hopes of finding ſome meanes to be delivered from thoſe dangers, praying to the Gods for their aſſiſtance to guarde her from cruell Invaders of Chaſtity: But after two or three dayes, a ſubject Prince of that Country, which was a grand Monopolizer of young Virgins came to the town, which was the Metropolitan City of that Country, where as ſoone as he came, he ſent for his Chief Officer the old Bawd to know of her how his Cuſtomers increaſed, which when ſhe came, ſhe told him ſhe had a rich prize, Ff3 which Ff3v 222 which ſhe had ſeized on, and kept only for his uſe, telling him ſhe was the rareſt piece of Natures works, only ſaith ſhe, ſhe wants mature confidence; but time and heat of affection would ripen her to the height of boldneſs: ſo home ſhe went to prepare for his coming, adorning her houſe with coſtly furniture, ſetting up a rich bed, as an Altar to Venus, burning pleaſant and ſweet perfumes, as Incenſe to her Deity, before the ſacrifice of Chaſtity, Youth and Beauty; And inſteed of Garlands, dreſs’d her with coſtly and rich Jewells, but the faire aſpect of her beauty, her lovely features, exact proportion, gracefull behavior, with a ſweet and modeſt countenance, was more adorned, thus by Natures dreſſe than thoſe of Arts, but theſe preparations turned to Miſerie, for ſo ſhe was called from doubts to a perfect beliefe of what ſhe feared before; And not knowing how to avoid the ſhipwrack, ſhe grew into a great paſſion, and one wordobscureddiſputing in Controverſies with her ſelf whether ſhe ſhould looſe her Honour and live, or ſave her Honour and dye; diſhonor ſhe hated, and death ſhe feared; the one ſhe bluſht at, the other ſhe trembled at: but at laſt with much ſtrugling, ſhe got out of that Conflict, reſolving to dye; for in death, ſaid ſhe, there is no paine; nor in a diſhonorable life no content: but though death, ſayes ſhe, is Common to all; yet when it comes not in the ordinary wayes of Nature, there muſt be uſed violence by artificiall inſtruments: and in my condition there muſt be uſed Expedition; and conſidering what wayes to take, ſhe bethought of a maid ſervant that uſed to make clean the rooms, and ſuch kinde of works, to whom ſhe had often talked as ſhe was about her imployments, and had gotten much of her affections, her ſhe called and told her, that a wiſe Wizard had adviſed her, that ever on her birthday, ſhe ſhould ſhoot off a piſtoll, and in ſo doing ſhe ſhould be happy, ſo long as ſhe uſed the ſame cuſtome; but if ſhe neglected, ſhe ſhould be unfortunate, for by the ſhooting thereof, ſaid ſhe, I ſhall kill a whole year of evill from doing me hurt, but ſhe told her withall, that it muſt be that day, and it muſt be a ſmall one for fear of making a great noiſe, and done privatly for fear her miſtris ſhould know of it or any body els, for it will be of no effect, if above one know of it beſides my ſelf, The ſimple Wench eaſily believing what ſhe ſaid, was induſtrious to ſupply her wants, and in a ſhort time brought her deſires, which when ſhe had got, her dejected ſpirits roſe, with an overflowing joy. And ſetting down with a quiet minde, ſince before ſhe could not ſtand nor ſet ſtill; for her troubled, and rough thoughts drove her from one end of the roome to the other, like a Ship at Sea, that is not anchored nor ballaſted, or with ſtorme, toſt from point to point, ſo Was ſhe, but now with a conſtant wind of Reſolution, ſhe ſailed evenly, although ſhe knew not to what Coaſt ſhe ſhould be driven to: but after ſome expectation, in came the old Bawd and the Prince, who was ſo ſtruck with her beauty, as he ſtood ſometime to behold her: at laſt coming near her, earneſtly viewing her and asking her ſome light queſtions to which ſhe anſwered briefly and wittily; which Ff4r 223 which took him ſo much as he had ſcarce patience to bargaine with the old Bawd for her; but when they were agreed, the wicked Bawd left them to themſelves; where he turning to the young Lady, told her that of all the Women that ever he met with, his ſenſes were never ſo much delighted, for they had wedded his ſoul to admirations.

She anſwered, that if his Senſes or her Perſon did betray her to his Luſt, ſhe wiſhed them all annihilated, or at leaſt buried in Duſt: but I hope, ſaid ſhe, by your noble and civil uſage, you will give me cauſe to pray for you, and not to wiſh you Evil; for why ſhould you rob me of that which Nature freely gave? and it is an Injuſtice to take the Goods from the right Owners without their conſents; and an Injuſtice is an Act that all Noble Minds hate; and all Noble Minds uſually dwell in Honourable Perſons, ſuch as you ſeem to be; and none but baſe or cruel Tyrants will lay unreaſonable Commands, or require wicked Demands to the powerleſſe, or vertuous.

Wherefore moſt Noble Sir, ſaid ſhe, ſhew your ſelf a maſter of Paſſion, a King of Clemency, a God of Pity and Compaſſion, and prove not your ſelf a beaſt to Appetite, a Tirant to Innocents, a Devill to Chaſtity, Vertue and Piety; and with her tears flowing from her eyes, as humble petitioners to beg her releaſe frō his barbarous intention, but he, by thoſe teares, like drink, to thoſe that are poiſoned, growes more dry, ſo did his paſſions more violent, who told her no Rhetorick could alter his affections: which when ſhe heard and ſhe ready to seize on her, ſhe drew forth the piſtoll, which ſhe had concealed: bending her brows, with a reſolute ſpirit told him ſhe would ſtand upon her guarde: For why ſaid ſhe, it is no ſin to defend my ſelf againſt an Obſtinate and cruell enemy, and know, ſaid ſhe, I am no wayes to be found, by wicked perſons but in death; for whilſt I live I will live in Honour, or when I kill or be kill’d I will kill or dye for ſecurity.

He for a time ſtood in amaze to ſee her in that poſture, and to hear her high defiance, but conſidering with himſelf that her words might be more than her intentions, and that it was a ſhame to be out-dared by a woman, with a ſmiling countenance; ſaid he, you threaten more Evill than you dare performe; beſides in the grave honour will be buryed with you, when by your life you may build Palaces of pleaſure and felicity; with that he went towards her to take way the piſtoll from her. Stay, ſtay, ſaid ſhe, I will firſt build me a Temple of fame upon your grave, where all young Virgins ſhall come and offer at my Shrine, and in the midſt of theſe words ſhot him; with that he fell to the ground, and the old Bawd, hearing a piſtoll, came running in, where ſeeing the Prince lye all ſmeared in blood, and the young Lady as a marble Statue ſtanding by, as if ſhe had been fixt to that place, looking ſteadfaſtly upon her own Act, ſhe running about the roome called out murther, murther, help, help, not knowing what to do; fear had ſo poſſeſt her, at laſt drew her knife, thinking to ſtab her, but the Prince forbid her, ſaying, he hoped he ſhould live to give her, Ff4v 224 her, her due deſert, which if the Gods grant, ſaid he, I ſhall aske no more, ſo deſiring to be laid upon the bed, untill the Chirurgions came to dreſſe his wounds ſtenching the blood as well as they could, the meane time; but after the Chirurgion had ſearcht his wounds, he askt them whether they were mortall; they told him they were dangerous, and might prove ſo, but their hopes were not quite cut off with deſpaire of his recovery; but after his wounds were dreſt, he gave order for the young Lady to be lock’t up cloſe that none might know there was ſuch a creature in the houſe, or to diſcloſe how, or by what means he came hurt, then being put in his Litter, he was carryed into his own houſe, which was a ſtately Palace in the City: the noiſe of his being wounded, was ſpread abroad, & every one inquiring how he came ſo, making ſeverall tales and reports, as they fancyed; but none knew the truth thereof; after ſome dayes his wounds began to mend, but his mind grew more diſtemper’d with the love of the fair Lady; yet loath he was to force that from her, ſhe ſo valiantly had guarded, and kept: and to enjoy her lawfully he could not, becauſe he was a marryed man, and had been ſo five years, for at the age of twenty by his parents perſwaſion, being a younger brother at the that time, although afterwards he was left the firſt of his family by the death of his eldeſt brother: he married a widow, being noble and rich: but well ſtricken in years, never bearing child, and thus being wedded more to intereſt than Love, was the cauſe of ſeeking thoſe ſocieties, which beſt pleaſed him, but after long conflicts and doubts; fears, hopes and jelouſies, he reſolved to remove her from that houſe, and to try to win her by gifts, and perſwaſions; and ſending for a reverent Lady his Ant, whom he knew loved him, and told her the paſſage of all that had happened, and alſo his affection, praying her to take her privately from that place, and to conceale her ſecretly untill he was well recovered, intreating her alſo to uſe her with all civillity, and reſpect that could be, and going from him, ſhe did all that he had deſired her, removing her to a houſe of hers a mile from the City, and there kept her; The young Lady in the mean time, expecting nothing leſſe than death, and was reſolved to ſuffer as valiantly as ſhe had acted; ſo caſting off all care, only troubled ſhe lived ſo idly; but the old Lady coming to ſee her, ſhe prayed her to give her ſomething to imploy her time on, for ſaid ſhe, my brain hath not a ſufficient ſtock to work upon it ſelf; whereupon the old Lady asked her, if ſhe would have ſome books to read in; ſhe anſwered, yes, if they were good ones, or els, ſaid ſhe, they are like impertinent perſons, that diſpleaſe more by their vaine talke, than they delight with their company. Will you have ſome Romances, ſaid the old Lady? She anſwered no, for they extoll vertue ſo much as begets an envy, in thoſe that have it not, and know, they cannot attain unto that perfection: and they beat infirmities ſo cruelly, as it begets pitty, and by that a kind of love; beſides their impoſſibilities makes them ridiculous to reaſon; and in youth they beget wanton deſires, and amorous affections. What ſay you to naturall Phyloſophyſophy? Gg1r 225 ſophy, ſaid ſhe, ſhe anſwered, they were meer opinions, and if there be any truthes ſaid ſhe, they are ſo buried under falſhood, as they cannot be found out; will you have Morall Philoſophy? no ſaid ſhe, for they divide the paſſions ſo nicely, and command with ſuch ſeverity as it is againſt nature, to follow them, and impoſſible to performe them. What think you of Logick? ſaid ſhe anſwered ſhe, they are nothing but Sophiſtry, making famous diſputes, but concludes of nothing. Will you have Hiſtory? no ſaid ſhe, for they are ſeldome writ in the time of Action, but a long time after, when truth is forgotten; but if they be writ at preſent yet Partiality or Ambition, or fear bears too much ſway, (ſaid ſhe) you ſhall have Divine books, no, ſaid ſhe, they raiſe up ſuch controverſie, as they cannot be allayd againe, tormenting the minde about that they cannot know whil’ſt they live and frights their conſcienceſ ſo as makes man afraid to dye; but ſaid the young Lady, pray give me play-books, or Mathematicall ones, the firſt, ſaid ſhe, diſcovers and expreſſes the humors and manners of men, by which I ſhall know my ſelf and others the better, and in ſhorter time experience can teach me, and in the latter, ſaid ſhe, I ſhall learn to demonſtrate truth by reaſon and to meaſure out my life by the rule of good actions, to ſet Ciphers and Figures on thoſe perſons to whom I ought to be grateful, to number my dayes by pious devotions, that I may be found weighty, when I am put in the ſcales of Gods Juſtice; beſides ſaid ſhe, I learn all arts uſefull & pleaſant for the life of man, as Muſic, Architecture, Navigation, Fortification, Water-works, Fire-works, all engines, inſtruments, wheeles and many ſuch like, which are uſefull, beſides, I ſhall learne to meaſure the earth, to reach the heavens, to number the Starrs; to know the Motions of the Planets, to divide time and to compaſs the whole world, the Mathematicks is a candle of truth, whereby, I may peepe into the works of nature to imitate her in little therein, it compriſes all that truth can challenge, all other books diſturbe the life of man, this only ſettles it and compoſes it in ſweet delight.

Said the old Lady, by your beauty and diſcourſe you ſeem to be of greater birth, and better breeding, than uſually ordinary young maids have, and if it may not be offenſive to you, pray give me leave to aske you from whence you came, and what you are, and how you came here, ſhe ſighing ſaid, I was by an unfortunate war ſent out of my Country with my Mother for ſafety, I being very young and the onely childe, my parents had; my Father being one of the greateſt and nobleſt ſubjects in the Kingdome, and being imployed in the Chief Command in that War, ſent my Mother, not knowing what the iſſue would be, to the Kingdom of ſecurity, where he had been formerly ſent as an Ambaſſador, ſo my mother and I went to remain there, untill the trouble was over; but my father being killed in the Wars, my Mother dyed for grief, and left me deſtitute of friends in a ſtrange Country only ſome few ſervants; But I hearing a Peace was concluded in the Kingdome, I was reſolved to returne to my own native ſoil, to Gg ſeek Gg1v 226 ſeek after my Eſtate which my Father left me as his onely heir, and when I imbarked, I onely took two ſervants, a maide and a man, but by an unfortunate ſtorme I was caſt upon a ſhore belonging to this Kingdom, where after I was landed, my two ſervants moſt treacherouſly robb’d me of all my Jewells, and thoſe moneys I had, and then moſt barbarouſly left me alone, where afterwards my Hoſt ſold me to an old Bawd, and ſhe to one of her Cuſtomers, who ſought to inforce me, where I to defend my ſelf ſhot him, but whether he be dead or alive I know not; afterwards I was brought hither, but by whoſe directions you I ſuppoſe can give a better account to your ſelf than I; yet I cannot ſay, but ſince I came hither I have been civilly uſed, and courteouſly entertained by your ſelf who ſeemes to be a perſon of worth, which makes my feares leſſe, for I hope you will ſecure me from injuryes, though not from death; And ſince you are pleaſed to inquire, what I am, and from whence I came, I ſhall intreat the ſame return, to inſtruct me in the knowledge of your ſelf, and why I was brought hither, and by whoſe order.

The old Lady ſaid, ſhe was ſiſter to the Prince’s Mother, and a tender lover of her Nephew; and to comply with his deſires, ſhe was brought there to be kept, untill he ſhould diſpoſe of her, then ſhe told her what he was, but never mentioned the affection he had for her, but rather ſpoke as if her life were in danger. So taking her leave ſhe left her, telling her ſhe would ſend her ſuch books as ſhe deſired. And thus paſſing ſome weeks, in the meane time the Prince recovered, reſolving to viſit this young Lady who had heard by his Aunt the relation of what ſhe was, whoſe birth made him doubt ſhe would not be ſo eaſily corrupted, as he hoped before, and ſhe knowing his birth gave her more hopes of honourable uſge, yet ſitting in a ſtudious poſture with a ſad countenance and heavy fixt eyes, accompanied with melacholy thoughts contemplating of her misfortunes paſt, with a ſerious conſideration of the condition ſhe ſtood in, adviſing with her Judgement for the future; In comes the Prince, ſhe no ſooner ſaw him, but ſhe trembled for fear remembring her paſt danger, and the trouble ſhe was like to run through; but he with an humble behavior and civill reſpect, craved pardon for his former faults, promiſing her, that if ſhe would be pleaſed to allow him her converſation, he would never inforce that on her which ſhe was not willing to grant for there was nothing in this world he held deerer than her company, and ſetting down by her, began to queſtion her of Love, as whether ſhe had ingaged her affection to any perſon of her own Country, or any where els, ſhe told him no; which anſwer, being jealous before, imagining ſhe might be ſo valliant as to wound him more for the ſake of her Lover than out of a love to honour or reputation, received great content and joy, eſteeming it the next happineſs, that ſince ſhe loved not him to love no other.

I wonder at your courage, ſaid he, for uſually your ſex are ſo tender and fearfull, and ſo far from uſing inſtruments of death, as Gg2r 227 as ſwords, guns, or the like, as they dare not look at them, but turn their head aſide.

She anſwered, that neceſſity was a great Commandreſs, and thus diſcourſing ſome time, at laſt he took his leave untill the next day: but when he was gone, glad ſhe was. O what a torment will this be, ſaid ſhe, to be affrighted every day with this ravenous Lion! but ſaid ſhe, I muſt get a ſpell againſt his fury, and not only againſt him but againſt all ſuch like, which by her induſtry ſhe got a ſubtill poiſon, which ſhe put in a very ſmall bladder, then ſhe put that bladder of poiſon in a lock, which ſhe faſtened to her Arme, that when any occaſion ſerved, ſhe might have ready to put in her mouth, which in great extremity ſhe would uſe: for cruſhing it but betwixt her teeth, it would expell life ſuddenly.

The next morning the Prince ſent her a preſent of all kindes of rich Perſian ſilks, and tiſhues, fine linnen and laces, and all manner of toyes which young Ladyes uſe to make them fine and gay. But ſhe returned them with great thanks, bidding the bringer tell the Prince, that ſhe did never receive a preſent, but what ſhe was able to return with advantage, unleſs it were from thoſe ſhe had a neer relation, as parents and kindred, or the like; but when he ſaw them returned, thought it was, becauſe they were not rich enough, and ſent her another preſent of Jewells of great value; which when ſhe had viewed, ſhe ſaid, they were very rich, and coſtly: but returning them back, ſaid ſhe, I dare not truſt my youth with the riches and vanities of the world, leaſt they may prove bribes to corrupt my free and honeſt minde; wherefore tell the Prince, ſaid ſhe; I am not to be catcht with glorious baits, and ſo returned them back.

The Prince, when he ſaw he could faſten no gifts on her, was much troubled, yet hoped that time might work her to his deſire; ſo went to viſit her, where when he ſaw her, he told her he was very unfortunate, that not onely himſelf, but even his preſents were hatefull; for he could gueſs at no other reaſon why ſhe ſhould refuſe them, ſince they were neither unlawfull nor diſhonourable to receive.

She anſwered, that the principles ſhe was taught, were, that gifts were both dangerous to give and take, from deſigning or covetous perſons. He ſaid he was unhappy, for by that, ſhe would not receive Love, nor give Love; thus daily he viſited her, and hourely courted her, ſtriving to inſinuate himſelf into her favour by his perſon and ſervices, as poudring, perfuming and rich clothing, although he was ſo perſonable and well favoured, with ſuch ſtore of eloquence, as might have perſwaded both Ears and Eyes to have been advocates to a young heart and an unexperienced braine, his ſervice was in obſerving her humour, his courtſhip was in praiſing her diſpoſition, admiring her beauty, applauding her Wit, approoving her Judgement, inſomuch that at the laſt ſhe did not diſlike his company; and great to that paſs, as to be melancholy when he was gone, bluſh when he was Gg2 named Gg2v 228 named, ſtart at his approaching, ſigh, weep, grew pale and diſtempered, yet perceived not, nor knew her diſeaſe; beſides, ſhe would look often in the glaſs, curle her haire finely; waſh her face cleanly, ſet her clothes handſomely, mask her ſelf from the Sun, not conſidering why ſhe did ſo; but he, as all Lovers have Watchfull eyes, obſerved ſhe regarded her ſelf more than ſhe uſed to do, which made him more earneſt for fear her paſſion ſhould coole; proteſting his Love, vowing his fidelity and ſecrecy, ſwearing his conſtancy to death; ſhe ſaid, that he might make all that good, but not the lawfulneſs; can you ſaid ſhe, make it no ſin to God, no diſhonour to my family, no infamy to my Sex, no breach in vertue, no wrong to honeſty, no immodeſty to my ſelf?

He anſwered, it was lawfull by Nature.

Sir, ſaid ſhe, it is as impoſſible to corrupt me, as to corrupt Heaven; but were you free, I ſhould willingly imbrace your love, in lawfull marriage;

He told here they were both young, and his wife old, almoſt ripe enough for death, ſith a little time more would cut her down; Wherefore, ſaid he, let us enjoy our ſelves in the mean time, and when ſhe is dead, we will marrie.

No, ſaid ſhe, I will not buy a husband at that deere rate, nor am I ſo evill, as to wish the death of the living for any advantage, unleſs they were enemies to vertue, innocence, or Religion; but he was ſo importunate, as she ſeemed diſpleaſed, which he perceiving, left off perſiſting, leſt he might nip off the young and tender budds of her affection. But it chanced, not long after, there was a meeting of many Nobles at that feaſt, where healths to their miſtriſſes were drank round: where the Prince, who thought it a ſin to love to neglect that inſtitution, offered with great ceremony and devotion, for his miſtriſſes health, ſprinkling the Altar of the brain with fume, burning the incenſe of reaſon therein; after the feaſt was ended, he went to ſee his miſtriſs, whoſe beauty like Oyle ſet his ſpirits in a flame, which made his affection grow to an intemperate heat; whereat ſhe became ſo afraid, as ſhe puts the poiſon into her mouth, the Antidote of all evill, as ſhe thought, then told him her intention; but he having more paſſion than doubt, would not believe her; which ſhe perceiving broke the bladder aſunder between her teeth, and immediately fell down as dead; whereat he was ſo amazed as he had not power to ſtir for a time, but at laſt calling for help, the old Lady came to them, he telling her what ſhe had done, as well as his fear would give him leave; the Lady having skill in Phyſick, as moſt old Ladyes have, reading in her Herballs, and ſuch kinde of Books, gave her ſomething to make her vomit up the poyſon, whereat ſhe weakly revived to life againe; but ſhe was ſo very ſicke, as almoſt cut off of all hopes of keeping that life; whereat he lamented, tearing his haire, beating his breaſt; curſing himſelf, praying & imploring his pardon and her forgiveneſs, promiſing & proteſting never the like again, ſhe returning no anſwer, but grones and ſighs: But he being Gg3r 229 being a diligent ſervant, and much afflicted, watch’d by her, untill ſhe mended by the Ladyes care and skill; when ſhe was indifferent well recovered, ſhe began to lament her ill condition and the danger ſhe was in, imploying her thoughts how ſhe might eſcape the ſnares of ſpightfull fortune, and gaine her friendſhip; where after ſome ſhort time, finding opportunity to take Time by the fore-lock; the Prince being ſent for to Court, and the old Lady being not well, whereby ſhe had more liberty, and ſearching about the roome found a ſute of clothes of the old Ladyes Pages, which ſute ſhe carried into her chamber, and privately hid it, then taking pen and ink, writ two letters; the one to the Prince, the other to the old Lady; ſo ſealing the letters up, and writing their direction, left them upon the table; then ſhe ſtraight ſtripped her ſelf of her own clothes, which ſhe flung in a black place with her haire that ſhe had cut off; And putting the Pages clothes on, in this diſguiſe she went towards the chief City, to which came an arme of the Sea up, making a large Haven for many Ships to lye at anchor in; but as ſoon as ſhe came to the Sea ſide, there was a Ship juſt going off; which ſhe ſeeing, got into it; her fears being ſo great, as not to conſider, nor examine, whither they were bound; and they were ſo imployed, hoiſting their ſailes, and fitting their tacklings, as they took no notice when she came in: but being gone three or four leagues from the shore, and all quiet, and free from labour; the maſter waking upon the Deck, ſeeing a handſome youth ſtand there in Pages clothes, askt him who he was, and how he came there. Said ſhe, I do ſuppoſe, you are bound for the Kingdom of Riches, where I deſire to go; but coming late, ſeeing every one ſo buſily imployed, I had no time to bargain for my paſſage; but I ſhall content you in what reaſon, you can require.

Said the maſter, we are not bound for that Kingdom; but are ſent for new diſcoveries towards the South, neither have we proviſion for any more than thoſe that are appointed to go; which when ſhe heard, the tears flowed from her eyes, which became her ſo well, as moved the Maſter to pity and affection, then asking him what he was; ſhe anſwered him, that ſhe was a Gentlemans ſon, whom by the reaſon of Civill Warrs, was carried out of his own country very young by his mother, and ſo related the truth of his being caſt into that Kingdom, only ſhe fained ſhe was a youth, and had ſerved a Lady as her Page; but deſiring to return into his own Country, had miſtaken and put himſelf into a wrong Veſſell; but, ſaid ſhe, I perceive the fates are not willing I ſhould ſee my Native Country, and friends; but I being young, travell, ſaid ſhe, may better my knowledge; and I ſhall not neglect any ſervice I am able to do, or you are pleaſed to imploy me in, if you will accept thereof; at laſt her gracefull and humble demeanor, her modeſt countenance, and her well favoured face preferr’d her to this maſters ſervice, who was a grace and a diſcreet man, who told her, as ſuppoſing her a boy, that ſince ſhe was there, he would not caſt him out, although, ſaid he, it will be hard for me to keep you, yet you ſhall partake of what I have allowed for my ſelf;

Gg3 ſhe Gg3v 230

She giving him many thanks, ſaid ſhe would ſtrive to deſerve it. But after ſome weeks, the Maſter fell very ſick; in which ſickneſs ſhe was ſo induſtrious to recover his health by her diligent attendance and care, as begot ſuch affection in the old man, that he adopted him his ſon, having no children of his own, nor like to have, he being in years. But having ſailed five or ſix months without any tempeſtuous winds, yet not without danger of rocks and ſhelves of ſand, which they avoyded by their skill, and many times refreſhed themſelves in thoſe Harbours they might put into, which made them hope a pleaſant and proſperous Voyage.

But Fortune playing her uſual tricks, to ſet men up on high hopes, and then caſt them downe to ruine, irritated the Gods againſt them, for their curioſity in ſearching too far into their works, which cauſed them to raiſe a great ſtorm, making the Clouds and Seas to meet, Showers to beat them, Winds to toſs them, Thunder to affright them, Lightning to amaze them, inſomuch as they had neither ſtrength to help themſelves, nor ſight to guide them, nor memory to direct them, nor courage to ſupport them; the Anchor was loſt, the Rudder was broke, the Maſts were ſplit, the Sails all torn, the Ship did leak, their hopes were gone;

Nothing was left but black deſpair,

And grim Death on their face to ſtare;

for every guſt of wind blew Death into their face,

And every Billow digg’d their burial place.

In this time of confuſion, the Travelltwo or three lettersobscuredia (for ſo now ſhe called her ſelf) followed cloſe her old new Father, who had as many carefull thoughts, and as great a regard for her ſafety, as ſhe of her ſelf; and giving order to the Pilate that had loſt his ſteerage, to caſt over the Cock-boat, which no ſooner done, but a guſt of wind drave them on a Rock that ſplit the Ship; which as ſoon as he perceived, he took his beloved and ſuppoſed Boy, and put him in with himſelf and the Pilate into the Boat, cutting that Cable, and imploring the favour of the Gods, committing themſelves to the Fates, ſetting up a little Sail for the wind to carry them which way it pleaſed. No ſooner put off, but the Ship and all therein ſunk: but the Gods favouring the young Lady for her virtue, tyed up the ſtrong winds again into their ſeveral corners: After which they ſailing for ſix dayes, at laſt were thruſt through a Point into a large River, which for the greatneſs might be called a large Sea; for though it was freſh water, yet it was of that longitude and latitude that they could not perceive land for four dayes together; but at the laſt they eſpyed land, and coming nigh, they perceived a multitude of people, which when they came to the ſhore affrighted each other, for thoſe on the land never ſaw any Bark or the like ſwim upon the water, for they had that propriety to ſwim naturally like Fiſhes; Nor they in the Boat never ſaw ſuch Gg4r 231 ſuch complection’d men, for they were not black like Negroes, nor tauny, nor olive, nor aſh-colour’d, as many are, but of a deep purple, their hair as white as milk, and like wool; their lips thin, their ears long, their noſes flat, yet ſharp, their teeth and nails as black as jet, and as ſhining; their ſtature tall, and their proportion big; their bodies were all naked, onely from their waſte down to their twiſt was there brought through their legs up to the waſt again, and tyed with a knot; ’twas a thin kinde of ſtuff, which was made of the barks of trees, yet looked as fine as ſilk, and as ſoft; the men carried long darts in their hands, ſpear-faſhion, ſo hard and ſmooth, as it ſeemed like metal, but made of Whales bones. But when they landed, the people came ſo thick about them, as almoſt ſmothered them. But the grave and chief of them, which ſeemed like their Prieſts, ſent them ſtraight to their chief Governors of thoſe parts, as their cuſtome was, as it ſeemed to them afterwards; for all that was ſtrange or rare was uſually preſented to their Chiefs, ſo that they ſtaid not ſo long as to ſee the Ceremony of that Sacrifice they were offering, onely they perceived it was a Sacrifice of Fiſh to ſome Sea-god; and then ſetting them on a Creature half fiſh, half fleſh, for it was in ſhape like a Calf, but a tail like a Fiſh, a horn like a Unicorn which lives in the River, but yet would lye upon the Sands in great herds or ſhoals, as Seils do, ſo as they might take for their uſe at any time, without the trouble of keeping them up, for they were tame and gentle of themſelves.

But thus riding along the Sand two or three Leagues to the Governours Houſe, for all along thoſe Sands onely upon a bank were houſes all in a row built with Fiſhes bones, which bones were laid with great art, and in fine works, and ſo cloſe as ſtone or brick; the tops of theſe houſes were ſcales of Fiſhes laid like tile or flag; theſe ſcales glittred ſo in the Sun, and they looked ſome wayes like Silver, other wayes like Rain-bows, in all manner of colours.

When the Governour had viewed them, he ſent them with other Meſſengers, but on the ſame Beaſts, to the next Governour; and thus they riding upon the Sands for ſome dayes, their food being broiled Fiſh, but broiled upon the hot Sands, for there was no other food but Fiſh and Water-Fowls, whereof they had great ſtore, but yet of ſtrange kinds to thoſe ſtrangers view, for there was no paſture, nor any thing like green.

At laſt they came to a place, which ſeemed like a Forreſt, for there were a number of bodies of trees, but having neither branches nor leaves, and yet the bodies of theſe trees, if one may call them ſo, having no branches, were ſo big as to hold a Family of twenty, or more of the Governours houſe, for ſo they ſerve, for their houſe was as big as four other; and the back of thoſe trees, or indeed the wood of the tree quite through, were as all manner of flowers both for colour, ſhape, and ſcent, painted and ſet by nature in the wood; as when the wood was cut one way, flowers were all perfect in ſhape, but cut another way, and they ſeemed Gg4v 232 ſeemed like flowers ſhedded from the ſtalks; and this wood was ſo ſweet as all the Forreſt ſmelt thereof.

After the Governour of this place had viewed them, he ſet them on other Beaſts and ſent them by other Meſſengers; where leaving their fleſhy fiſhy Beaſts which run back again to the place they were taken from: But thoſe they rid after were like a Stag in the body, which was as big as a Horſe, black as coal; a tail like a Dog, horns like a Ram, tipt with green like buds of trees, as ſwift as a Roe: And thus riding untill they came to another Forreſt, where all the Trees were very high and broad, whoſe leaves were ſhadowed with ſeveral greens, lighter and darker, as if they were painted, and many Birds of ſtrange colours and ſhapes; ſome Birds had wings like Flyes; beaks, bodies and legs like other Birds, ſome the bodies like Squerils, but had feather’d wings; there was one, a very fine kinde of Bird in ſhape, both for beak, head, body and legs, like a Parrot, but in ſtead of feathers, it was covered with hair like Beaſts, which hairs were of the colour of Parrots feathers, and the wings like Bats wings, ſtreakt like a Rainbow; the eyes looked as yellow as the Sun, and ſent forth a kinde of a light like to ſmall rayes of the Sun; in the midſt of the forehead it had a ſmall horn, which grew winding and ſharp at the end like a needle: this Bird did mount like a Hawk in Circle and after would fly down at other Birds as they do; but in ſtead of tallons, that horn ſtruck them dead, for with its horn it would thruſt them into their bodies, and ſo bear their bodies upon their horn, and fly ſome certain lengths as in triumphs, and then would light and eat it.

Some Birds no bigger than the ſmalleſt Flyes there were, yet all feather’d; beſides, there were many ſorts of Beaſts, for ſome had beaks like Birds, and feathers inſtead of hair, but no wings, and their bodies like a Sheep. There was one kinde of Beaſt in the ſhape of a Camel, and the neck as white as a Swan, and all the head and face white, onely a lock of hair on the top of his crown of all manner of colours; the hair of his body was of a perfect gold yellow, his tail like his fore-top, but it would often turn up like a Peacocks tail, and ſpread it as broad; and the hairs being of all ſeveral colours; made a moſt glorious ſhew, the legs and feet of the colour of the body, but the hoofs as black as jet.

At laſt, they were carried to another Govenour who lived in a Town, whoſe Houſe was built with Spices; the roof and beams as big as any houſe need to have, made of Cynamon, and the walls were plaſtered with the flakes of Mace, which flakes were a foot ſquare; the planches were cut thick, like bricks, or ſquare marble pieces, out of nutmegs; the long planches out of Ginger, for their nutmegs and races of Ginger were as great as men could carry; the Houſe was covered on the top, ſome with Pomegranats rines, others of Oranges and Citrons, but the Pomegranats laſt the longer, but the other ſmelt the ſweeter and looked the more pleaſanter to the eye; they never have rain there, nor in any part of the Kingdome, for the air is alwayes ſerene and clear; nor Hh1r 233 nor no higher winds than what fans the heat; their exerciſe was hunting, where the women hunted the females, the men the males.

But as they went to the Governour, all the people run about to ſee them, wondring at them, viewing them round: But the Govenour ſeemed to admire the Youth much, but durſt not keep him, being againſt the Cuſtome, but ſent them ſtraight towards their chief City where their King was; whereafter ſome dayes riding, came out of the Forreſt into great Plains and Champains, which were cover’d with a ſea green and willow-colour’d graſs, and ſome meadows were covered with perfect ſhadows of all manner of ſorts of greens. But as they drew near the City, there were great quarries of Chryſtal, as we have of Stone. But when they came up to the City, all about without the walls were Orchards, and Root-gardens, where there grew Roots as ſweet, as if they had been preſerved, and ſome all juicy; moſt of their Fruits grew in ſhels like Nuts, but moſt delicious to the taſt; but their ſhels were like a Net or Caule, that all the Fruit was ſeen through, and ſome kinde of Fruits as big as ones head, but ſome were no bigger than ours, others very ſmall; there never fell rain, but dews to refreſh them, which dews fell upon the earth, every night they fell like flakes of ſnow; and when they were upon the earth, they melted; and thoſe flakes to the taſt were like double refined ſugar.

At laſt, they entred the City, which City was walled about with Chryſtal, and all their houſes thereof, which houſes were built both high and large, and before the houſe were arched walks ſet upon great pillars of Chryſtal; through the midſt of the ſtreet run a ſtream of golden ſands, and croſs the ſtream were little ſilver bridges to paſs and repaſs over to each side of the ſtreet; on each ſide of this ſtream grows rows of trees, which trees were about the height of Cypreſſ trees, but inſtead of green leaves, upon every ſtalk grew a ſeveral ſweet flower, which ſmelt ſo ſweet, that when Zephyrus blew, for they never had high winds, they gave ſo ſtrong a ſcent, that to thoſe that were not uſed to them, did almoſt ſuffocate their ſpirits.

The Kings Palace ſtood in the midſt of the City, higher than all the other houſes; the outward wall was Chryſtal, cut all in triangulars, which preſented millions of forms from one object; and all the ridge of the wall was all pointed Chryſtals, which points cutting and dividing the beams of the Sun ſo ſmall, as the wall did not only look ſparkling, but like a flaming hoop or ring of fire, by reaſon the wall went round. To this wall were four open paſſages, arched like gates; from thoſe paſſages went walks, and on each ſide of theſe walks were trees, the barks thereof ſhadowed with fair colour, and as ſmooth as glaſs, the leaves of a perfect graſs-green, for that is very rare to have in that Country, Nature hath there ſo intermix’d ſeveral colours made by light on ſeveral grounds, or bodies of things; and on thoſe trees birds do ſo delight therein, that they are alwayes full of birds, every tree Hh having Hh1v 234 having a ſeveral Choir by it ſelf, which Birds do ſing ſuch perfect notes, and keep ſo juſt a time, that they do make a moſt raviſhing melody; beſides, the variety of their tunes are ſuch, that one would think Nature did ſet them new every day. Theſe walks leade to another Court, which was walled about with Agate carved with all Imagery, and upon the ridge of the wall were ſuch Agats choſe as moſt reſemble the eyes, for in ſome Agats their coulours are naturally mix’d and lye in ſuch circles as eyes, theſe ſeem as if ſo many Centinels lay looking and watching round about. From this wall went a walk, where on each ſides were Beaſts cut artifically to the life, out of ſeveral colour’d ſtones, according as thoſe Beaſts were they were to reſemble. This walk leads to another Court, which was not walled, but rather railed with white and red Cornelians, theſe rails were cut ſpear-faſhion. From the rails went onely a plain walk paved with gold, which went ſtraight to the Palace; this Palace ſtanding on a little Mount, whereto went up a pair of ſtairs; the ſtairs went round about the houſe, aſcending by degrees on ſteps, which ſteps were of Amber, leading up to a large and wide door, the frontiſpiece therof was Turky ſtones curiouſly carved in ſo ſmall works, as if it had been engraven; the Palace wals were all pure Porcelline, and very thick and ſtrong, yet very clear; it was all roofed or covered with Jet, & alſo paved with the ſame, ſo that the black Jet was ſet forth by the white Porcelline; and the white Porcelline ſeemed whiter by the blackneſs of the Jet; their windows were onely arched holes to let in Air. Then in the midſt of the Palace was a large room like a little encloſed meadow, where in the midſt of that room ran a ſpring of clear water, where the King waſhed himſelf therein. Alſo, there were brave Gardens of all ſorts of Flowers, where in the midſt was a Rock of Ammittiſis, and artifical Nymphs cut out to the life of mother Pearl, and little Brooks winding and ſtreaming out of golden ſands; the wonder was, that although there were many Mines in that Kingdome, yet it was very fertile.

At laſt, they were brought to the Kings preſence, who was laid upon a Carpet made of Thiſtledoun, with great attendance about him: but he, and all thoſe of the Royal Blood, were of a different colour from the reſt of the people, they were of a perfect Orange colour, their hair coal black, their teeth and nails as white as milk, of a very great height, yet well ſhaped.

But when the King ſaw them, he wondred at them; firſt, at the old Mans beard, for they have none; the next, at their habit, which were Seamans cloaths; but above all, at the Youth, who looked handſome in deſpight of his poor and dirty garments; at laſt, he would have their cloaths pull’d off: But no ſooner did they come to execute their command: but Travelia was ſo affrighted, that he fell down in a ſwound; thoſe that touched him ſtarted back when they ſaw him dead; but the old Man bending him forward, brought him to life again: whereupon they ſtraight thought that their touching him killed him, and that the old Man had Hh2r 235 had power to reſtore a life, which made them afraid to touch them any more; for that diſeaſe of ſwounding was not known to them; then were their Prieſts and Wizards called for, to know from whence they came and what ſhould be done with them, which Prieſts were only known from the reſt of the people, by a tuft of hair growing juſt on the crown of the head, and all the head els had no hair, where other Prieſts are onely balde upon the crown, two or three wordsobscured; the King and they fell into great diſpute.

The King pleaded hard to keep the youth, but at laſt the prieſt had the better, as moſt commonly they have in all Religions, and ſo carried them away, and kept them a twelve month, but never dared touch them, for fear they ſhould dye, becauſe Travelia, but they beckned and pointed to them, they gave them eaſe, not imploying them to any labour, and fed them daintily of what they could eat; for ſome meats they could not eat, as mans fleſh, for they had a cuſtome in that Country, to keep great ſtore of ſlaves, both males and females, to breed in, as we do breed flocks of ſheepe, and other cattle; the children were eaten as we do Lambes or Veal, for young and tender meat; the elder for Beef or Mutton, as ſtronger meat; they kill five males for one female, for fear of deſtroying the breed, although they were ſo fruitfull; they never bear leſs than two at a birth, and many times three, and they ſeldome leave Child-bearing, untill they are threeſcore years old, for they uſually live there untill they are eight ſcore and ſometimes 200. years, but the ordinary age is a hundred, unleſs plagues come; but not out of ſluttery, or evill, or corrupt aire, but with too much nouriſhment, by reaſon of their delicious diet, which breeds ſuch a ſuperfluity of humors, that it corrupts their blood; as for their houſes, they are kept very cleanly, by reaſon they never eat in them, for their cuſtome was to eat altogether in common Halls, as the Lacedemonians did, onely they had better cheere and more libertie; likewiſe their women were common to every ones uſe, unleſs it were thoſe women of the Royall blood, which is a ſort by themſelves, as was deſcribed before, and therefore never mixt with the reſt; but if they did, and were known, it was death; theſe of the Royall blood all their skins were wrought, like the Britons. As for their government, it was Tyrannical, for all the common people were ſlaves to the Royall.

But to returne to the old man, obſerving how carefull and choice they keep him, he told his ſon what he thought was their intentions, which was to ſacrifice them, and ſaid he, there is no way to eſcape, unleſs we had their language, and could make them believe we came from the Gods; and that the Gods would puniſh them, if they put them to death, and you are young, ſaid he, and apt to learn; but I am old, and my memory decayed; wherefore now ſtudy for your life or never.

Well, ſaid he, since my life lyes in my learning, I will learn for my life, which he did ſo well, that he got in that twelve month their language, ſo perfect as he underſtood, and could Hh2 ſpeak Hh2v 236 ſpeak moſt of it, in which time he underſtood all that I have delivered to the Reader, and beſides underſtood that they had many Gods, and Goddeſſes.

The Sunne was their chief God, and the Earth the chief Goddeſſes; their next God was the Sea, and their Goddeſſe the Moon, and they prayed to the Starrs, as ſome do to Saints, to ſpeak in their behalf, and to preſent their prayer to the Sun and Moon, which they thought to be as man and wife, and the Starrs their children; to their Gods, they offered none but the males, and thoſe offerings were offered by men; and the men prayed only to the Gods; and to their Goddeſſes none, but the women; nor none but female offerings were offered unto them: at laſt by their diſcourſe and preparation they perceiv’d they were to be ſacrificed to the Sun, as being both males, as they thought, and with great ceremony, as being ſtrangers, and ſuch one wordobscuredRarities, yet they did not touch Travelia as ſuppoſing, if they ſhould, he would dye before he was brought to the place of Sacrifices; yet in all this time he never diſcloſed that he could ſpeak their language, nor to underſtand them; but in this time the old man had got ſome Saltpeeter, and burnt wood into Charcole, ſo made Gun-powder, for they had the liberty to go where they would about their Temples, and after he had made the Gun-powder, he made two things like piſtolls, although not ſo curious and neat, yet well enough to ſerve his turn, and directed his ſon what he ſhould do and ſay; Whereupon againſt that day he made himſelf a garment of a graſs which was like to green ſilke, and with the ſame he had woven it ſo finely, as it look’d like Satin, alſo the calfes of his legges like buskins were ſeverall coloured flowers, and a garland of flowers on his head, the ſoals of his Sandales were of that green; but the ſtripe atop was of flowers like his buskins; In each hand he held the two piſtolls, his hair which was grown in that time, for he never diſcovered it, keeping it tyed up, untyed it and that day let it down, which ſpread upon his back, but when the Prieſt which came to fetch him forth, ſaw him thus dreſt, never ſeeing hair before, for they had none but wooll, and very ſhort as Nigers have, was amazed at the ſight; and not daring to touch him, went by him as guarding him, as the chief ſacrifice to the place, where the King and all his Tribe, and all his people waiting for their coming, the King being placed at the head of the Altar with a dart in his right hand, the ſpear of the dart being an entire Diamond, cut with a ſharp point, to ſignify the piercing beams of the Sun, which ſpear, he uſually ſtrook into the heart of the ſacrificed; which heart the Prieſt uſed to cut out, and gave the King to eat raw the whilſt the Prieſt ſong ſongs in the praiſe of the Sun, as the Father of all things; Thus after ſome expectations the Prieſt came with their Sacrifices, which when the King and people ſaw, they were all amazed, as well they might for he appear’d moſt beautifull; but at laſt they all ſhouted, and cryed out, their Gods had beautified and adorned their Sacrifices, as being well pleaſed therewith, making great ſhouts and noiſes of joy; Hh3r 237 joy; but when he came to the Altar he called to them, in their own language, at which they grew mute with wonder, and being all ſilent, he thus ſpake.

The Speech.

OKing, and you Spectators, why do you offend the Gods, in deſtroying their Meſſengers; which comes to bring you life, and to make you happy; had I brought you plagues, then you might have ſacrificed me unto your God of Lights, as coming from Death and Darkneſs, his enemies, but for this your falſe devotion, the great Sun, ſaith he, will deſtroy you with one of his ſmall Thunder-bolts, killing firſt your Prieſt and then the reſt.

With that ſhot off his piſtoll into the breaſt of the chief Prieſt, wherewith he ſtraight fell down dead; the noiſe of the piſtoll, and the flaſh of the fire, which they never ſaw before, and the effect of it upon the Prieſt, ſtrooke them with ſuch a horror, and did ſo terrify them, as they all kneeled down imploring mercy, and forgiveneſs; with trembling limbs, and weeping eyes, whereupon he told them, there was no ways to avoid puniſhment, but firſt to faſt two dayes from any kinde of nouriſhment; Next, not to open their lipps to ſpeak, and then to obey whatſoever he ſhall teach them, as being ſent from the Gods; biding them go home untill their time of faſting were out; and then to return to the Temple again, commanding none to remain there, but to leave it to the old man, and he. Which Temple was moſt rich and curiouſly built, having in that Countrey great Art and Skill, in Architecture.

Whereupon, the King and all the people, riſing up, bowing their heads down low, as in humble obedience to commands, praying to him as a God to divert the puniſhments intended to them and in ſorrow, as lamenting their fault went home, each to his houſe, ſealing up their lipps for ſuch a time, from receiving meat, or ſending forth Words; in the mean time the old man and he had leaſure, to bethink themſelves what to do, having at that time the Temple as a Palace to live in, none to diſturbe them, nor to hinder their thoughts from working out their advantage, and ſitting in Councell a long time, diſputing with each other, what was left to do; at laſt reſolved the old man ſhould go to the King as ſent from the Gods, to bid him ſend a command to all his people to eat ſuch hearbs, as a ſallet, drinking their water without mixture juſt before they came, for els, ſaid the old man, their hunger will make them impatient, or ſo dull, as it may ſtop their ears, by the faintneſs of their ſpirits, cauſed by their empty ſtomacks, and too much ſaid he, makes them furious, ſending up malignant vapours to their braines, which may cauſe our ruins, but after he had been with the King, he returned back to the Temple again, and the King obeyed his deſire, as a Command from the Gods, and brought the people all to the Temple, where after they were all gathered together, Travelia advanced himſelf ſo much higher than the reſt, as they might hear him round about.

Hh3 Then Hh3v 238

Then thus ſpake.

Pious friends, for ſo I may call you, being willing to pleaſe the Gods; but your ignorance hath lead ⁁ you wrong wayes yet the Gods ſeeing your zeal, though through a falſe devotion, pitying your ignorance did by their wiſedom find means to appeaſe the wrath of their Juſtice; for every Attribute of the Gods muſt have a ſatisfaction; for Right is their Kingdom, and Truth is their Scepter, wherewith they governe all their Works; but the Gods hath ſtrowed Lotts amongſt mankinde of moveable things which Chance gathers up, and Chance being blind miſtakes both in the gathering and diſtributing: now the Gods made this chance by their providence when they made man, for man hath no more knowledge of the tranſitory things of the world than what chance gives them, who is an unjuſt diſtributer, For all externall gifts comes from her hand, which for want of ſight, ſhe gives oft times the beggers lot to the King, the ſervants to the maſters, the maſters to the ſervants: and for the internall gifts which the Gods have beſtowed on men, are different, as the externall are tranſitory; for ſome are neerer to perfection, ſome farther off: yet none have perfect knowledge, for the Gods mix mans nature with ſuch an aſpiring ambition; that if they had a perfect knowledge of the glory of the Gods, and a perfect knowledge of the firſt cauſe; and the effects produced there from, they would have warr’d with the Gods, and ſtrove to uſurp their authority, ſo buſie and vain-glorious hath the Gods made the minds of men. Wherefore the Gods governe the world by ignorance: and though the goodneſs of the Gods are great, yet their goodneſs is bound in with their Juſtice, whch is attended with one wordobscuredterrours, to puniſh the Crimes of men: And even to puniſh the innocent errors that proceed from that ignorance, which they have muzzled man withall; but as their power made the World; their Wiſedom rules the World; their Juſtice puniſhes the World: ſo their Mercy keeps the World from deſtruction, and their love, not only ſaves man; but prefers man to a glorious happineſs. And ſome of this Love the Gods have ſent to you, although by your ignorance you had almoſt caſt it from you. And ſince the Gods have ſent you knowledge by us, take hold of it: and not willingly fall into your ſuperſtitious Errors, although it is a difficult paines, even for the Gods themſelves to perſwade man, who is of a croſſe, ſuſpitious, inquiſitive, and murmuring nature, accuſing the Gods for partiality, ſaying, they prefer or caſt out whom they pleaſe, not as man deſerves; thus they Judge of the Gods, by their own paſſions, but the Gods by variations are pleaſed to continue the World, and by contradiction do govern it, by ſimpathy delights it, For delight lives not altogether with the power of Chance; being created in the Eſſence and Soul of man, for though Chance can preſent thoſe things which Antipathies or ſimpathies, to the ſenſes which preſents them to the ſoul; yet it hath not the power to rule it: For the Soul is a kind of God in it ſelf, to direct and guide thoſe things that are inferior to it; to perceive and deſcry into thoſe things that are far Hh4r 239 far above it, to create by invention, to delight in contemplations; and though it hath not an abſolute power over it ſelf, yet it is a harmonious and abſolute king in it ſelf; and though it is not a God from all eternity, yet it is a kinde of Deity to all eternity, for it ſhall never dye; and ſo though the body hath a relation to it, yet no otherwiſe than the manſion of Jove hath unto Jove; the Body is onely the reſiding place, and the Senſitive Spirits are as the Souls Angels, or Meſſengers and Intelligencers; ſo the Souls of Men are to the Gods as the Senſitive Spirits to the Soul; and will you diſlodge the Senſitive Spirits of the Gods, by the deſtroying and unbuilding each others Body by violent deaths, before it be the Gods pleaſure to diſſolve that Body, and ſo to remove the Soul to a new Manſion? And though it is not every Creature that hath that Soul, but onely Man, for Beaſts have none, nor every Man, for moſt Men are Beaſts; onely the Senſitive ſpirits and the Shape may be, but not the Soul, yet none know when the Soul is out or in, but the Gods; and not onely other Bodies may not know it, but the ſame Body be ignorant thereof.

For the Soul is as viſible to the Senſitive Spirits, as the Gods to Men; for though the Soul knows and hath intelligence by the Senſitive Spritis, yet the Senſitive have none from the Soul; for as Gods know Men, but Men know not Gods, ſo the Soul knoweth the Senſes, but the Senſes know not the Soul; wherefore you muſt ſeek all the wayes to preſerve one another, as Temples of the Gods; not to deſtroy and pull them down; for whoſoever doth ſo; commits ſacriledge againſt the Gods; wherefore none muſt dye, but thoſe that kill; or would kill others, Death muſt be paid with death, ſaith Jove, and onely death is in the power of man to call when they pleaſe, but life is in the power of the Gods, and thoſe that diſpleaſe the Gods ſhall have a miſerable life, not onely in the bodily part, which is ſenſible of pain, and may be tormented out of one ſhape into another, and be perpetually dying or killing with all manner of torments, and yet never yet, as in the ſhape of a Man; feels ſtabs in the ſides, or the like; in the ſhape of a Bull, knocks on his head, or the like; in the ſhape of a Hart, Arrows in the haunch, or the like; in the ſhape of a Fiſh, Hooks tearing the jaws, beſides all manner of diſeaſes and infirmities; thus burning, hanging, drowning, ſmothering, preſſing, freezing, rotting, and thouſands of theſe kinds, nay, more than can be reckoned, may ſuffer: thus ſeveral Bodies, though but one Minde, may be troubled in every Shape.

But thoſe that pleaſe the Gods, live eaſy in every Shape, and dye quietly and peaceably; or when the Gods do change their Shapes or Manſions, ’tis for the better, either for eaſe or newneſs.

Thus have the Gods ſent us to inſtruct you, and to ſtay ſo long amongſt you as you can learn and know their commands; then to return unto them.

With that, the King and People bowed their faces to the ground, adoring him as a God, and would have built Altars, and offered Sacrifices unto him; but he forbade them, telling them they muſt build Altars in their hearts of repenting, humbling, and amending Hh4v 240 amending thoughts, and offer Sacrifices of prayer, and thanksgiving to the great and incomprehenſible Jove, and not Altars built with Hands unto Men, nor to offer unhumane Sacrifices to Gods, of their own making:

Thus preaching every day for ſome time, forbidding vain and barbarous Cuſtomes, and inhumane Ceremonies, teaching and perſwading them to believe the Gods were not to be known nor comprehended, and that all that they have diſcovered of themſelves to their Creatures, was onely by their Works, in which they ſhould praiſe them: for and by which Doctrine they were brought to be a civilized People, and approved of their Teacher ſo well, that they would do nothing concerning Religion, or any other Affairs of Government without them; and being diſmiſt for that time departed, leaving them to themſelves in the Temple. But at certain and ſet times the King and People repaired thither to hear him preach, who taught them according to his belief; and whenſoever they moved out of the Temple, all the People flocked about them with acclamations of joy; and whenſoever the King ſent for them, as he often did for their counſels, all the Princes attended, and People waited upon them, and thus they lived with great splendour, love and admiration amongſt them; their perſons were thought divine, their words were laws, and their actions examples, which they kept, and the People followed.

Thus for a while we leave them, and return to the old Lady and the Prince.

The old Lady ſending into Affectionata’s Chamber (as then called) for ſo ſhe named her ſelf there, to intreat her company, for therein ſhe took ſo great delight, ſhe being witty in her converſation, and pleaſing in her humour: But the Meſſenger bringing his errand, miſs’d of the mark, looking about, and calling aloud, cou