Here on this Figure Cast a Glance,
But so as if it were by Chance,
Your eyes not fixt, they must not stay,
Since this like Shadowes to the Day
It only represent's; for Still,
Her Beuty's found beyond the Skill
Of the best Paynter, to Imbrace,
Those lovely Lines within her face,
View her Soul's Picture, Judgment, witt,
Then read those Lines which Shee hath writt,
By Phancy's Pencill drawne alone
Which Peece but Shee, Can justly owne.

NATURES PICTURE Drawn by FANCIES PENCIL To the Life.

Being several Feigned Stories, Comical, Tragical, Tragi-comical, Poetical, Romancical, Philosophi­cal, Historical, and Moral: Some in Verse, some in Prose; some Mixt, and some by Dialogues.

Written by the Thrice Noble, Illustrious, and most Excellent Princess, THE DUCHESS of NEWCASTLE.

The Second Edition.

LONDON, Printed by A. Maxwell, in the Year 1671.

THE DUKE of NEW CASTLE UPON ALL THE WORKS OF HIS DUCHESS.

YOU, Various Readers, various Judgments 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 these first; and, if you understand
What's to be lik'd, you'l like what here is writ;
Else you will forfeit your Judgment and Wit.
For your own sakes, dislike not these Books then,
Have mercy on your selves, you censuring Men:
For when you're dead, with all your envious looks,
These Writings will out-live all other Books.
O, but a Woman writes them! She does strive
T' intrench too much on Man's Prerogative.
Then that's the Crime, that her Fame pulls yours 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.
If you be Soldiers, Ladies you'l defend,
And your sheath'd Arguments, when drawn, will end
The small Male-Gossipings. But, Gallants, pray
Be not ye Factious, though your Mistris say,
The Books are naught; but do you talk with those,
Of Ribbans, Point de Gen's, and curious Clothes,
Their better reading; and let Books alone:
But these I will compare to every one
That here doth follow. Nay, old Homer writ
Not clearer Fancies, nor with clearer Wit:
And that Philosophy she doth dispense,
Is beyond Aristotle's hard Non-sense.
Her Observations of Diseases new,
Hippocrates the Grecian never knew.
As Eloquent she is as Cicero,
And sweeter Flowers of Rhet'rick here do grow.
Her lofty high Descriptions do shame still
The swell'd Lines of th' Imitator Virgil.
As good Odes too as Horace: nay, I can
Compate her Dialogues to rare Lucian.
Lucan, the Battel of thy Civil-War
Is lost; this Lady doth exceed thee far.
More Fame, by Morals, she, than Plutarch, gains.
As useful Fables she, as AEsop, feigns.
And as good Language as e're Terence writ.
Thy Comedies, poor Plautus, have less wit.
Her rare Epistles all Epistles sully,
Even the too-familiar of vain Tully.
And as wise Sentences she still doth say,
As Marcus Aurelius, or Seneca.
Verses as smooth and sweet as Ovid writ:
And may compare with sweet Tibullus Wit.
What takes the Soul more than a gentle vain,
That charms the charming Orpheus with its strain?
If all these Wits were prais'd for several ways,
What deserves this that hath them all? what praise?

THE PREFACE.

THE Design of these my Feigned Sto­ries, is, To present Virtue to your view, the Muses leading her, and the Graces attending on her: To de­fend Innocence, help the Distressed, lament the Unfortunate, and shew that Vice is seldom crown'd with good success.

I have described in this Work many sorts of Passions, Humours, Behaviours, Actions, Accidents, Governments, Laws, Customs, Peace, Warrs, Cli­mates, Arts and Sciences; but have not Painted them all alike, some being done with Oily-colours of Poetry, others with Water-colours of Prose: some upon dark Grounds of Tragedy, and others upon light Grounds of Comedy. Nor are those Descriptions so lively exprest by my Pen, as Sir Anthony Vandike's Pictures by his Pencil, being ra­ther [Page] form'd by Fancy, than copied from the true Originals of immediate Action; for I have not read much of History to inform my self of what was done in former times, where I might unhappily have found, to my grief, that some of my Sex have out-done all the glory I can aim at, or hope to attain to.

That my ambition of extraordinary Fame, is restless, and not ordinary, I cannot deny: and since all Heroick Actions, Publick Employments, as well Civil as Military, and Eloquent Pleadings, are de­ni'd my Sex in this Age, I may be excused for wri­ting so much; for that is the Reason I have run, more busily than industriously, upon every Subject I can think of.

Though some of these Stories be Romancical, I would not be thought to delight in Romances, ha­ving never read a whole one in my life; and if I did believe that these Tales should neither benefit the Life, nor please the Mind, more than what I have read in them, did either instruct or satisfie me; or that they could create Amorous thoughts in idle brains, as Romances do, I would never suffer them to be printed, and would make Blots instead of Letters. But Partiality perswades me otherwise; and I hope, that this Work will rather quench Passion, than en­flame it; will beget chast Thoughts, nourish the love of Virtue, kindle Human Pity, warm Charity, en­crease [Page] Civility, strengthen fainting Patience, encou­rage noble Industry, crown Merit, and instruct Life: will damn Vices, kill Follies, prevent Errors, forewarn Youth, and arm the Mind against Mis­fortunes; and in a word, will admonish, direct, and perswade to that which is best in all kinds, wherein I have my wishes and reward.

I have not dress'd these Discourses with constraint fashions, which are hard words, set-phrases, and bom­bast Sentences: but though it be done carelesly, yet not loosly; and when I use any forreign words, do not, I beseech you, attribute it to affectation, or to the vanity of being thought skilful in those Langua­ges from whence they are taken: for I have never learn'd any, besides my Mother-Tongue, which is (at this time) extreamly enrich'd with the wise and lawful Plunder of others; and is like Mithridate and Cordial-waters, which are much the better for being compounded of the choicest Ingredients.

For Method, I do neither understand perfectly what it is; nor, if I should, have I the patience to be ty'd to its exact Rules, which in my opinion fetters Nature more often than it helps it by its pretended Order. And therefore do not expect in this Book any artificial Contrivances, and be contented to find my Expressions clear, natural, and very intelligible, without the least Art in the World.

If I cannot be so happy to deserve your Com­mendations, [Page] let me deserve your Censure; which can­not be (in relation to you) till you have read the whole Work; and chiefly, the Stories of the An­choret, and of the Experienced Traveller; and then (I hope) the Prejudices you may have against an unlearned Woman, will be taken off.

AS I was writing, by a little fire,
These Feigned Histories; I did desire
To see my Native Countrey, Native Friends,
That lov'd me well, and had no other ends
Than harmless mirth to pass away dull time,
With telling Tales either in Prose or Rime.
But though Desire did then like a Wind blow
The Sails of Wishes on Love's Ship to go;
Yet Banishment to my dear Lord, was then
A dangerous Rock, made of hard-hearted men.
And hearing of such dangers in my way,
I was content in Antwerp for to stay;
And in the Circle of my Brain to raise
The Figures of my Friends crowned with Praise:
These Figures plac'd in company together,
All setting by a Fire in cold weather;
The Fire was of Fancy, which I made
Within the Glandule of a Chimney laid:
My Lord and I amongst our Friedns was set
In the midst of them that were thither met.
But afterwards perceiving I could make
As many Figures as my Thoughts could take.
Then I invited all the Learned men,
And best of Poets that the Age had then:
The poorest Guess, though they no birth inherit,
To entertain according to their merit.
Thus was my Mind as busie as a Bee,
To entertain this Noble Company.
Then my Imaginations a large Room built,
Furnish'd most curiously, and richly gilt:
I hired all the Arts for to provide
Choice of Provisions, and Pastime beside.
The Wit I had unto the Muses sent,
With Love's Request, which humbly did present
My Mind's Desire; which was, without delay,
To come and help to pass the time away.
Wit travell'd far, and search'd them all about,
At last in Nature's Court Wit found them out.
Then first to Nature, Wit did bow down low;
To Wit, Dame Nature did her Favours show;
And, with a pleasing-smile, she bid him say,
Whether be came to fetch her Maids away.
Wit answered, Yes. Then Nature bid them take
The Helicon Water, and with it make
The Company all Poets. Which they did,
Although they were but Pictures in my Head;
Their real persons at great distance were:
But on my Thoughts that did their Figures bear,
The marvellous Waters could not work well,
Which is the cause no better Tales I tell;
But hope those Friends my Fancy do present,
VVill take it well, and for a good intent:
For I did trouble much my poor weak Brain,
This worthy Company to entertain.
MARGARET NEWCASTLE.

SEVERAL Feigned Stories IN VERSE. The First BOOK.

READERS, my Works do not seem (in my Mind)
So bad as you make them, if Faults you find:
For if you find much Fault, you would not spare
Your ridgid Censures, but their Faults declare.
For I perceive the World is evil bent,
Judging the worst of that which was well meant.
When they a word to Wantonness can wrest,
They'l be well-pleas'd, and often at it jest:
When every foolish Tongue with words can 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 VVinter cold, a Company was met,
Both Men and VVomen by the Fire were set;
At last they did agree (to pass the time)
That every one should tell a Tale in Ryme.
The VVomen said, VVe no true Measures know;
Nor do our Rhymes in even Numbers go.
Why, said the Men, All Women's Tongues are free
To speak both out of time, and follishly.
And, drawing Lots, the Chance fell on a Man,
Who having spit and blown his Nose, began:

Of the Mournful Widow.

I Travelling, it was my chance to spy
A little House, which to a Tomb stood nigh.
My Curiosity made me inquire
VVho 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 lonesome life.
I told her, I did travel all about,
Only to find a Constant Woman out.
She answer'd, If the world had any where
A Constant Woman, surely she dwelt there.
I waited there, in hope my Fortune might
At length direct me to this Lady's sight:
And lying underneath a Tomb at night,
At Curfue-time, this Lady with a Light
Came forth out of the House all cloth'd in white,
And to the Tomb her walk she bended right;
With a Majestick-grace she walk'd along,
She seem'd to be both beautiful 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 way 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 whilst, Great Gods, I in the world do live,
Grant I may Honour to my Husband give:
O grant that all fond Love away may flye,
But let my Heart amongst his Ashes lye.
Here do I sacrifice each vainer dress,
And idle words, which my Youth did express.
Here, Dear, I cancel all Self-love, and make
A Bond, thy loving Memory to take,
And in my Soul always 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're shall waste.
Thy Praise my words (though air) shall print so deep,
By Repetition shall for ever keep.
With that, Tears from her Eyes in show'rs did flow:
Then I rose up, to her my self did show.
She seemed not to be mov'd 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 God's above.
Take comfort, Saint, since Life will not return;
And bury not thy Joys within this Urn.
She Answered.
I have no Joys, in him they did reside;
They fled away when as 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 Eat;
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 whilst I'n the world remain:
For I have sacrific'd all my Delight
Upon my Noble Husband's Grave, and slight
All Vanities, which Women young do prize,
Though they entangle them, as Webs do Flies.
Lady, said I, you being Young and Fair,
By Pleasures to the world invited are:
Bury not all your Youth and Beauty here,
Which 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 lie,
And grieves my Body which will not yet die.
My Spirits long to wander in the air,
Hoping to find its loving Partner there.
Though Fates my Life have power to prolong,
Yet they have none my constant Mind to wrong.
But when I did perceive no Rhetorick could
Perswade her to take comfort, grieve she would;
Then taking my leave for to go away,
With adoration thus to her did say:
Farewell thou 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 a short time I heard she dy'd;
Her Tomb was built close by her Husband's side.
After the Man, a Woman did begin
To tell her Tale; and thus she entred in.

A Description of Diverted Grief.

A Man had once a Young and Handsom Wife,
Whose Virtue was unspotted all her life.
Her words were smooth, which from her Tongue did slide;
All her Discourse was wittily appli'd.
Her Actions modest, her Behaviour so,
As when she mov'd, the Graces seem'd to go.
Whatever Ill she chanc'd to see or hear,
Yet still her Thoughts as pure as Angels were.
Her Husband's Love seem'd such, as no Delight
Nor Joy could take him out of his Wife's sight.
It chanc'd this virtuous Wife fell sick to death,
And to her Husband spake with dying-breath:
Farewell my dearest Husband, dye I must,
Yet do not you forget me in the Dust;
Because my Soul would grieve if it should see
Another in my room, your 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 be fix'd, nor alter 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 Mind thy Memory remain.
Farewell, said she, for now my Soul's at peace,
And all the Blessings of the Gods encrease
Upon thy Soul; but I pray do not give
Away that Love I had whilst I did live.
Turning her Head, as if to sleep she lay,
In a soft Sigh her Spirits flew away.
VVhen she was dead, great Mourning he did make,
VVould neither eat, nor drink, nor rest could take;
Kissing her cold pale Lips, her Cheeks, each Eye;
Cursing his Fate he lives, and cannot dye:
Tears fell so fast, as if his Sorrows meant,
To lay her in a watry Monument.
But when her Corps upon the Hearse was laid,
No Tongue can tell what mournful Cries he made.
Thus did he pass his time, a week or two,
In sad commplaints, 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 sought himself to please;
And calling for his Horses, and his Hounds,
He went to hunt upon the Champian grounds:
His Thoughts by these Pastimes diverted are,
Pass'd by the Grave, and never dropt a Tear.
At last he chanc'd a Company to meet
Of Virgins young, and fresh as Flowers sweet;
Their Cloathing fine, their Humours pleasant, gay,
And with each other they did sport and play,
Giving his Eyes a liberty to view;
VVith interchanging Looks, in Love he grew.
One Maid amongst the rest, most fair and young,
VVho 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 Mistress did present,
And every day to visit her he went.
They like each other well, they both agree,
That in all haste they straight must married be.
To Church they went, for joy the Bells did ring:
When married were, he home the Bride did bring.
But when he married was some half a year,
He Curtain-Lectures from his VVife did hear:
For whatsoe're he did, she did with spight
And scorn dislike, and all his kindness 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 Mind.
His dear dead Wife that was so wondrous kind.
He jealous grew, and was so discontent,
(And of his later Marriage did repent)
With Melancholy Thoughts fell sick and dy'd;
His VVife soon after was another's Bride.
VVhen 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 Feminine 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 in a Company my Thoughts do throng,
And follow every foolish babling Tongue.
Your Thoughts, said he, 'twere boldnessfor to ask.
To tell, said she, it were too great a task:
But yet to satisfie your Mind, 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 run 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 Mind be discontent, they flow
Against the Tide, their Motion's dull and slow.
Said he,
I travel now to satisfie my Mind,
Whether I can a Constant VVoman find.
O Sir, said she, it's Labour without end,
VVe cannot Constant be to any Friend:
VVe seem to love to death, but 'tis not so,
Because our Passions still move 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 kind,
As nothing in the world should change our Mind:
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,
VVithout a Cause, or Reason why.
Wherefore go back, for you shall never find
Any VVoman to have a Constant Mind:
The best that is, shall hold but for a time,
Wav'ring like wind, which Women hold no Crime.
A Woman said, This Tale I will requite,
To vindicate our Sex which you did slight.
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, whilst 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, Beauty's great Enemy.
When she was well, her Beauty decay'd quite,
He did forsake her, and her Friendship slight;
Excuses made, her did not often see,
Then asked 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 Man's turn, his Tale to tell,
Which to his Company he fitted well.

A Description of Constancy.

THere was a Noble Man that had a VVife
Young, Fair, and Virtuous; yet of so short life,
That after she had married been a year,
A Daughter's born, which Daughter cost her deer;
No sooner born, the Mother laid in bed,
Before her Lord could come, his VVife 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 Tomb,
Where, by her side, he meant to have a Room:
For by no other side he meant to lye,
In Life and Death to keep her company.
The whilst he of his Daughter care did take,
And fond he was ev'n for his dear VVife's 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 most that in a deep Consumption are,
Where Hectick-Fevers do with Life make warr:
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 might not use her well:
Or else (by Servants brib'd) might her betray
With some mean Man, and so to run away.
These cares of his, his Mind did much torment,
And her Ill Fortune to his Thoughts present.
At last he did conclude, If any be
True, Just, and full of Generosity,
They're such as are like to the Gods on high,
As Powerful Princes, and Dread Majesty.
The Soveraign was dead, but left to reign
His Widowed-Queen, whose Prudence did maintain
The Government, though Forreign Warrs 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 soon 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 Mind,
Of best Extracts that were to form Mankind:
All which she gave to Time for to distill,
And of the subtil'st Spirits the Soul to fill;
As Reason, Wit, and Judgment; and to take
The solid'st part the Body for to make.
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 encrease 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 lead and martial it;
The whilst his Father did the Queen assist
To manage State-affairs, as knowing best
The Kingdom's Constitutions, Natures bad
Of Common-People, who are sometimes mad,
And wildly in Distempers, Ruins bring;
For most Rebellions from the Commons spring.
But he so just and loyally did serve
His Queen and Countrey, as he did preserve
Himself within her Favour, and her Love,
As great Respect, and honour'd Praise did prove;
And in the Warrs his Son such Fame did get,
That in Fame's Chariot he triumphant set.
For he was Valiant, and of Nature free,
Courteous, and full of Generosity:
His VVit was quick, yet so as to delight,
Not for to cross, or in Disputes to fight:
For gallant Sword-men that do fight in warr,
Do never use with Tongues to brawl and jarr.
He was exact in Body and in Mind,
For no Defects in either could you find.
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 VVealth, who had such store,
As all the Nobles else did seem but poor:
And the young Princess lik'd so well the choice,
That thoughts of marrying him did her rejoice:
And through her Eyes such Messages Love sent,
On smiling-rays and posting-glances went.
The other Lady did hear 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 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 full-blown Flower it bring.
So did her Love in Bud obscurely lye,
Not any one as yet did it descry:
Nor did the Prince the least affection find,
She being reserv'd in action, and in mind.
Sober she was, and of a bashful look,
Of but few words; yet she good notice took,
And much observ'd, for Love hath a quick Eye,
And often by her Countenance doth spy
The hidden Thoughts, that the Tongue dare not tell:
For in the Mind 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, they Torments would endure,
If these, for those they love, might good procure.
But she grew restless, and her Thoughts did run
About him, as about the VVorld, the Sun:
For he was her sole VVorld, 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
Than love for love, as Saints which do adore
The Gods in Heaven, whose love is wholly pure,
And nothing can of drossy flesh endure.
At last she and her Thoughts in Councel sate,
What was best to be done, or this, or that:
They all agree, that she her Love should own,
Since innocent and pure, and 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 only Virtuous Laws.
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 bashful fear:
But let me tell you, This pure Love of mine
Is built on Virtue, not on base Design.
It hath no dross, nor proudly doth aspire;
A Flame inkindled by immac'late Fire,
Which I to th' 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 Desires; for I do crave,
Only within your Heart a place to have.
I do not plead, hoping to be your Wife,
Nor 'twixt you and your Mistress to breed strife;
Or wish I that her Love you should forsake,
Or unto me a Courtly Friendship make:
But only, when I'm dead, you would inshrine
Within your Memory, this Love of mine;
Which Love to all the World I may proclame
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 Mind,
Your Affability and Nature kind;
Your honest Heart, where Justice still doth raign;
Your prudent Thoughts, and a well-temper'd Brain;
Your helping Hand, and your industrious Life,
Not to make broils, 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 Heaven's Light.
Nor is it Impudence to let you know,
Love of your Virtues in my Soul doth grow.
Her Love thus innocent she did enroll,
Which was the pure Platonick of her Soul:
Though in black Characters the Envious may
Call the sense clear, as is the Morning's 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 bind,
For to express how modest was her Mind:
And Virgins Wax did close it with her Seal:
Yet did that Letter all her Love reveal.
Then to her Nurse's Husband she did trust
These loving Lines, knowing him faithful, just
To all her Family; he obey'd her will,
And would have done, no doubt, though't had been ill:
For his Obedience never ask'd the cause;
Nor was he Casuist in Divine Laws,
But faithful 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 Employments; he this Letter brought,
Which'mongst this Lady's 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.
She to her Closet went, and open'd it:
With trembling hands the VVaxen Seal she broke,
And what he writ, with a faint Voice thus spoke:
Fairest of all your Sex, for so you are
Unto all others; as a Blazing-Starr,
VVhich shews it self, and to the VVorld appears
As a great VVonder once in many years;
And never comes, but doth portend on Earth
Either the fall of Princes, or their Birth.
O let your influence only at me aim,
Not for to work my Overthrow, or Fame;
But Love, to make me happy all my life;
Then yeeld your self to be my Virtuous VVife.
But if you (this Request) to me deny,
The Gods, I hope, will grant me soon to dye.
She, when she this had read, was in a maze,
And 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 Eyes 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 Mistress 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 ran,
To tell him, Without was an ancient 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 show;
Which made all Cloudy Thoughts disperse, & clears
His Mind, as in dark days 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 delays 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 countenance; trusty to be employ'd,
And in her Lady's service would have dy'd.
The Prince commended her Fidelity,
And pleas'd he was at her blunt Quality:
But with the Letter quickly did return,
(For she, though old, yet every step did run)
And then the Letter which the Prince had sent,
She to her Lady did in mirth present;
Who then the Letter broke with joyful 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 Heat 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 my
Having another Mistress, 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 whilst 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 only will be found
Within my Heart, and only Love to be,
From whence my Brain doth Copies take of thee:
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, all unto them is known;
And so are Souls to one another shown:
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;
Ne're 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 enraged Queen, with malice bent,
Did strive all ways 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 Prince's love so firm, no words could break;
Impatiently did hear, but little speak.
But the Princess heard the Prince to be
A Lover to another; 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 Mistress she did spy,
And often at them cast a spightful Eye.
At last her Malice set a-work 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 when she had with Scorns his Patience try'd,
She (for to vent her Spleen) in Passion cry'd.
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 Civil Laws:
But if her Passion had misled her Tongue,
She would have wept to water, or else flung
Her self to dust, for want of moisture dye,
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 Princess Company.
But when the Queen had try'd 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 Mistress went, his leave to take,
Perswading her a Journey she would make
Unto the Army, and there to agree,
When they should meet, & straight-way married be.
At last she did resolve to leave the Court,
And privately with great speed to transport
Her Person to the Prince where he was gone,
For ne're till then she found her self alone.
When the Army began for to retire
To Winter-Quarters, he did there desire
His Mistress Company, and then did write
To those he had entrusted, how they might
Convey her safely: but by some mistake,
The Queen had means this his Letter to take;
Which when she read, all in a rage she grew,
And then his Letter into the fire she threw.
Which when sh' had told her Neece, they both did strive,
And both in Council 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 spread about,
And every one in censuring spent some breath,
And most did judg she dy'd a violent death.
But the Queen's anger only would destroy
Their Loves, because her Neece then should enjoy
The Prince, on whom her heart in love was set,
And us'd all means she could, his love to get.
But 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 Battel fell.
The report of her death spread far and near;
And at last came unto the Prince his ear:
The news struck him so hard, as it did make
His strength grow weak, and all his limbs 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:
And from th' Army, without the Queen's 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 Mistress Grave,
And the remainder of his days would spend
In holy Devotion, his Prayers 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 Camel's hair.
Instead of Arms, a Hermit's Habit took;
And for a Sword, he us'd a Prayer-book:
Instead of treading Measures in a dance,
And wanton Eyes that oft would side-ways glance;
His knees upon hard stone did bowing bend,
And his sad Eyes unto the Earth descend:
Instead of flattering words to tempt Maids fair,
No words did speak but what were us'd in Prayer.
All wild & wandring thoughts were now compos'd,
And the dead object of his Mistress 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 near to set:
So did his Thoughts near her Idea get,
Which, as a Goddess, in his Soul did set:
Then he an Altar built of Marble white,
And Waxen Tapers round about did light:
Her Picture on this Altar plac'd was high,
There 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 th' mean time his Mistress's made believe
That he was kill'd, for which she much did grieve:
For when she at the first the news did hear,
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 shuns, that pleasing were, and fair;
And all such sounds as were of a leight 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:
Some 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 show'rs of rain,
Keep fresh the Turf, on the green Grass remain
As pearled dew before the Sun doth rise;
Or as refreshing show'rs from Cloudy Skies:
And often this supposed Grave doth dress
With such significant Flow'rs as did express
His Virtues, and his Dispositions 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 Lawrel-Garland green,
To shew that he a Victor once had been;
And in the midst a copious Branch did place,
For to express he dyed in the chace
Of his fierce Enemies; his Courage was so true,
That, after a long fight, away they flew.
Thus Melancholy past her time away,
Besides sad solemn Musick 'twice a day:
For ev'ry Sense with Melancholy fill'd,
And always dropping-tears from thence distill'd,
With which her Melancholy Soul did feed,
And Melancholy Thoughts her Mind did breed:
Then on the ground her Head aside-ways hung,
Would lye along whilst these sad Songs were sung.
A SONG.
TITAN, I banish all thy joys of Light,
Turning thy glorious Rays, to darker Night;
Clothing my Chamber with sad Black, each part,
Thus suitable unto my mournful heart:
Only a dimn Wax Taper there shall wait
On me, to shew my sad unhappy Fate.
With mournful 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 Melancholy 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,
Drown 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 remains but little breath,
Which quickly take away, Oh Death.
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 sense of Grief, when in the Grave.
Forgetful and Unthankful Death,
Hast thou no love, when gone's our Breath?
No Gratitude, but there dost lye,
In dark Oblivion for to dye?
No sense 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 whereon I lye,
My Curtains drawn with sad Melancholy.
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;
I'm left his Widow, who ne'er was 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 Rebel, Traytor, him did call:
But she another General did make,
Which of the Army all the Charge did take:
Yet his Success in Warrs proved but bad,
For afterward the Queen great Losses had.
And all the Soldiers they were discontent:
Whereat the Queen another General sent;
But he no better Fortune there 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 Kingdom did grow sad.
At last the Queen the Prince did flatter, and
Entreated 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, which sadly pouring fell
Upon his only Son, his grief to tell.
He round about his Neck one arm did wind,
The other arm embrac'd his Body kind:
His Cheeks his Son did joyn to his,
And often he his Lips did kiss:
O pity me, my Son, and thy Life spare,
Thou art my only Child, and only Heir.
Th' art my sole Joy, in thee I pleasure take,
And wish to live but only 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 yeeld:
I willingly obey'd, and joy'd to find
My Father's Sympathy unto my Mind.
Besides, it shew'd a greater love to me,
Than Parents self-lov'd fondness us'd to be;
For to prefer my Honour, and my Fame,
Before the perpetu'ty of your Name:
And as you priz'd my Honour and Renown,
So I a Heavenly, not an Earthly Crown:
And give me leave the better choice to make,
To quit all troubles, and sweet Peace to take:
I ne'er more willing, nor more fit can dye,
For Heaven, and the Gods pure company:
For had I dy'd in Warrs, my Soul had been
Stained with Blood, and spotted o're with Sin.
But now, my Mistress is a Saint, in Heaven
Hath intercession made, my sins forgiven.
And since she's gone, all Joys with her are fled,
And I shall never happy be, till dead:
She was my Soul's delight, in her I view'd
The pure and Celestial Beatitude.
But were I sure the Soul that never dyes,
Should never meet, nor Bodies never rise
By Resurrection; yet sure those are blest
That pass this life, and in the Grave do rest.
Then said the Duke (his Father) to his Son,
What ever comes, Son, Heaven's 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 Soldier might be clad:
When he was brought to dye, and on that day
Death he did meet in Soldierly array:
Instead of Mourning-Garments, he had on
A Suit of Buff, embroidered thick upon;
And a Rich Scarf that was of Watchet-dye,
Set thick with Pearls; instead of strings to tye
It close together, were rich Diamonds, so
As like a Ring or Garter it did show,
Of but one entire Diamond; this did bind
The Scarf so firm as an united Mind:
A Scarlet Coat embroidered thick with Gold;
And Hangers like to it, his Sword did hold;
And in his Hat a Plume of Feathers were,
In falling-folds, which hung below his Hair.
He being thus accouter'd, Death to meet
In Gallantry, yet gently, friendly, sweet:
He would embrace it, and so gladly yeeld,
Yet would he dye as Soldiers 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 Prince's Tragedy.
But in the time these Preparations were,
The Queen sent to th' young Lady to prepare
Her self to dye: 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 Bridegroom Death; but in the way
The people all did weep that she should dye,
And Youth and Beauty in Death's arms should lye.
But she did smile, her Countenance was glad,
And in her Eyes such lively Spirits had,
As the quick-darting Rays the Sun out-shin'd,
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 spy'd,
Their Eye-strings seem'd as if together ty'd:
So firmly they were fix'd, and did so gaze,
And with each other struck in such a maze,
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 Heav'nly Object; for, thought he, it may
An Angel be, my Soul to take away.
Her Limbs did shake, like shiv'ring Agues cold,
For Fear upon her Spirits had got hold,
When she did see him move; for she had thought
He was a Statue, and by Carvers wrought,
And by the Queen's Command was thither brought.
When he came near, he kneeled down to pray,
And thus unto her sofrly he did say:
My Sense my Spirits surprise, 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 ask of you,
For I do doubt my Senses are not true
Intelligencers; 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 you now, but afterwards declare.
Then did she cause a Priest to join 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 Prince's Father straight she went;
Here, Sir, said she, I do my self present
To be your Wife; for by your Counsel I
Have Rul'd and Reign'd in great Felicity.
He, kneeling, kist her Hand; and both agree,
That in few days the Wedding kept should be.
Such joys of acclamation loud, of wonder,
Echo'd the air, louder than is Jove's Thunder.
Her Princely Neece so Noble was, that then
For joy she modestly threw up her Fan;
Since to a High-born Prince she well knew she
In glorions Nuptials soon should joined be.
The Marriage-Song.
WEre all the Joys that ever yet were known;
Were all those Joys met, and put into one,
They'd be, than these two Lovers Joys, far less;
Our Lovers height of Joys, none can express:
They've made another Cupid, I am told,
And buri'd the blind Boy that was so old.
Hymen is proud, since Laurel crowns his Brow,
He never made his Triumphs until now.
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 harms
In Love's Embraces, in their Arms.
This Elder Wedlock, more than ripe,
Was of the Younger but a Type:
What wants of Cupid, Hymen's Cup,
Ceres and Bacchus make it up.
A Marriage-Song of the Queen's Neece.
SEE the Old Queen's Beloved Neece,
For Beauty, Favour, such a Piece
As Love could feign, not hope to see;
Just such a Miracle was she.
She doth congratulate, and's eas'd
To see these Noble Lovers pleas'd
Above repining: The Fates since
Are just, and gave her a brave Prince.
A SONG.
HYMEN triumph in joy,
Since overcom'd Love's Boy:
Each Age, each Sex and Place,
The Wedlock-Laws embrace,
The looser sort can bind,
Monarch of what's Mankind.
All things do fall so pat
In this Triumvirat,
Which now in Wedlock mix;
Now Three, though once were Six.
A Lady said, Such Constant Love was dead,
And all Fidelity to Heaven fled.
Another Lady said, She fain would know,
When Marri'd, if they did continue so.
O, said a Man, such Love (as this was) sure
Doth never in a Married Pair endure:
But Lovers cross'd, use not to end so well:
Which, for to shew, a Tale I mean to tell.

The Description of the Violence of Love.

THere was a Lady, Virtuous, Young, and Fair,
Unto her Father only Child and Heir:
In her Behaviour modest, sweet, and civil;
So innocent, knew only Good from Evil:
Yet in her Garb had a Majestick Grace,
And affable and pleasant was her Face.
Another Gentleman (whose House did stand
Hard by her Father's, and was rich in Land)
He had a Son whom 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,
That his Sci'nces did not Pedantry t'uch.
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,
That but one Heart each other's Thoughts did know.
Mean time their Parents did their Love's descry,
And sought all ways to break that Unity:
Forbad each other's company frequent;
Did all they could Love's 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,
And Privacy did make their Love more sweet;
Although their Fears did oft affright their Mind,
Lest that their Parents should their Walks out-find.
Then in the Kingdom did Rebellion spring,
Most of the Commons fought against their King:
And all the Gentry that then Loyal were,
Did to the Standard of the King repair.
Amongst the rest, this Noble Youth was one;
Love bade him stay, but Honour spurr'd him on:
When he declar'd his Mind, her Heart it rent;
Rivers of Tears out of her Eyes grief sent;
And every Tear, like Bullets, pierc'd his Breast,
Scatter'd his Thoughts, and did his Mind 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, you'ld chuse to stay and dye:
But you Excuses make, and take delight,
Like cruel Thieves, to rob and spoil by Night.
Now you have stole my Heart, away you run,
And leave a silly Virgin quite undone.
If I stay from the Warrs, what will Men say?
They'l 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.
She.
If you will go, let me not stay behind,
But take such Fortune with you as I find:
I'le be your Page, attend you in the Field;
When you are weary, I will hold your Shield.
He.
Dear Love, that must not be; for Women are
Of tender Bodies, and Minds full of Fear:
Besides, my Mind 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 thou art safe, my Spirits high shall raise,
Striving to get a Victory of Praise.
With sad Laments these Lovers did depart;
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 whilst he fights, and Fortune's Favour had,
Fame brings this Honour to his Mistress 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
Without all guidance, like Apollo's Son *Phaeton,,
Run out of Moderation's Line; so he
Did through 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 was set,
Safety, it seems, in fight he did forget,
But not his Love, who in his Mind still lyes;
He wish'd her there, to close his dying-Eyes.
Soul, said he, if thou wandrest in the Air,
Thy Service to my Mistress by 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,
And (being a Lover) to Elyzium go;
Perchance my Mistress Soul you there may meet,
So walk and talk in Love's Discourses sweet:
But if thou art like to a Light put out,
Thy Motion's 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 Airy Skies.
The whilst his Mistress being sad with care;
Her Knees were worn, imploring Gods with Prayer.
A Drowsie Sleep did all her Senses close,
But in her Dreams Fancy her Lover shows
With all his Wounds; which made her loud to cry,
Help, help, you Gods, said she, that dwell on high.
These fearful 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, straight 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 do we pray, and offer to high Heaven,
Since what we ask, is seldom to 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 always live;
Sick Bodies, Grieved 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 breathe, 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'l strew our Graves, which is our Marriage-Bed:
Upon our Hearse a weeping-Poplar set,
Whose moistning-drops our Death's-dri'd Cheeks may wet.
Two Cypress Garlands at our Head shall stand,
That were made up by some fair Virgin's hand:
And on our cold pale Corps such Flowers strow,
As hang their Heads for grief, and downward grow.
Then shall they lay us deep in quiet Grave,
Wherein our Bones long Rest and Peace may have.
Let no Friends Marble-Tombs erect upon
Our Graves, but set young Mirtle-trees thereon:
Those may in time a shady Grove become,
Fit for sad Lovers Walks, whose Thoughts are dumb:
For Melancholy Love seeks place obscure,
No Noise nor Company it can endure:
And when to ground they cast a dull sad Eye,
Perhaps they'l think on us who therein lye:
Thus, though w'are dead, our Memory remains;
And, like a Ghost, may walk in moving-Brains;
And in each Head Love's Altars for us build,
To sacrifice some Sighs, or Tears distill'd.
Then to her Heart the Pistol set, she shot
A Bullet in, and so 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 offer'd Praises of her Constancy,
And vow'd the like unto Love's Deity.
A Woman said, That Tale exprest Love well,
And shew'd, that Constancy in Death did dwell.
Friendship, they say, a thing is so sublime,
That with the Gods there's nothing more Divine.
With wonder Lovers, having but one will,
Their two Bodies one Soul doth govern still:
And though they be always dis-joined much,
Yet all their Senses equally do t'uch:
For, what doth strike the Eye, or other part,
Begets in all like Pleasure, or like smart.
So though in Substance, Form divided be,
Yet Soul and Senses, join'd in one, agree.
A Man that to the Lady plac'd was nigh,
Said, He would tell another Tragedy.

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

WAlking along, close by a River's side,
The Waters smooth ran with a flowing-tide:
The Sun thereon did dart such shining-light,
As made it than a Diamond-Chain more bright.
The purling-streams invited me to swim,
Pull'd my Clothes off, then enter'd every Limb.
But envious Cold, alas, did me oppress,
And darting-arrows sharp me backwards press.
The River to embrace me, made great haste,
Her moist soft arms incircled round my waste.
Streams coming fast, strove there to force me 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 higher 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 suppli'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;
On whose side was 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;
VVhich seeing, I began to slack my pace:
Straight did my Eyes view there a lovely Face
Under a Tree; close by the Root she sate,
VVhich with her Tears as falling-show'rs 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 Elyzium go:
If I drown here within this watry Lake,
O let my Tears a murmuring River make:
Give it both Voice and VVords, my Grief to tell;
My Innocence, and why therein I fell.
Then straight she rose, the River leapt she in,
VVhich when I saw, I after her did swim:
My Hands, as Oars, did well my Body row,
Though panting-breath made waters rough to grow;
Yet was my Breast a Keel for to divide,
And by that help my Body swift did glide:
My Eyes the Needle to direct the way,
VVhich from the North of Grief did not estray;
She, as the Load-stone, drew me to her aid,
Though Storms within did make my Mind afraid.
Her Garments loose did on the Waters flow,
Which were puft up 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, forc'd me to lye down straight, did fill,
Because, alas, my Life was over-fraight.
VVhen life got strength, my mind with thoughts
Then to the Lady us'd all art and skill;
Bowing her forwardsth' waters to let out,
VVhich from her Nose & Mouth gusht like a spout:
At last her breath (before restrain'd) out-broke,
And thus to me she passionately spoke:
O who are you that do my Soul molest,
Not giving 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 with Nature set your self 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 God did give you to enjoy?
She Answered, O Sir
If you did know the torments I do feel;
My Soul is rackt upon Ill Fortune's Wheel:
My Innocency by aspersion whipt,
And my pure Chastity of Fame is stript:
My Love's neglected and forsaken quite,
Banisht from that my Soul took most delight.
My Heart was plac'd upon a Valiant Man,
Who in the Warrs much Honour bravely wan.
His actions all by wisdom placed were,
And his discourse delighted every Ear:
His Bounty, like the Sun, gave life and light
To those whom 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 Jealousie, a Lover's Devil!
Tormenting Thoughts with Suspitions evil;
Frighting the Mind with false Imaginations,
Burying all Joys in deepest Contemplations:
Long lay it smuther'd, but at last out-broke
VVith Hate; in Rage and Spleen base words it spoke.
Slander and Infamy in Circles round,
My innocent Youth with sharpest Tongues do wound:
But his Inconstancy did wound me more
Than Slander, Spite, or Malice did before:
For he another married, and left me
Clouded in dark Disgrace, black Infamy.
VVith that she fetch'd a Sigh; Heav'n bless, said she,
This cruel unkind Man, who e're he be.
I faint, Death digs 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 Fortune's Fate.
Then on a Groan her Soul with wings did flie
Up to the Heavens, and the Gods on high:
VVhich when I saw, my Eyes with 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 coming near, ask'd me who there did lie?
I said, 'Twas one for Love and Grief did die.
Hearing my words, he started back, Brows bent,
VVith trembling legs he to the Body went;
VVhich 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 e're thou art,
Hear my Confession from my heart:
I lov'd thee better far than life,
Thought to be happy in a VVife:
But O Suspition, that false Thief,
Seiz'd on my Thoughts, ruling as Chief.
Suspition, Malice, Spight, commanded still,
To carry false Reports thy Ears to fill.
My jealousie did strive thee to torment,
And glad to hear when thou wast discontent:
I strove always my love for to disguise;
'Twas. said I married was, when all were lies.
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 VVomen, 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 could bring, on hold could catch:
Turning his pale and ghastly eyes to me,
Mix both our ashes in one Urn, said he.
With that he fell close by his Mistress side,
Embrac'd, and kist, and groan'd, and there he dy'd:
Which when I saw, I drest, my Clothes put on,
To celebrate their Funeral-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 took them thence away,
And digg'd a Grave those ashes in to lay:
Then did I gather Cockle-shells, though small,
With art I strove to build a Tomb withall;
Placing some on, others in even Lays,
Others join'd close, till I a Tomb did raise.
And afterwards I planted Myrtle green,
Where Turtle-Doves are daily building seen:
And there young Nightingals 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 peep 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 sh' 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 find some work to come in place,
Because her Master should behold her Face;
Excuses make, that 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 seem 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 chast cold Ice,
And she were only fit for Paradice:
Though her words were precise, her thoughts were not;
She, with her Master, Scripture quite forgot:
She then a Goddess was, prayed unto;
Her Master did, as Priests, with Offering woo:
Her Mistress, like to Juno, fret and frown'd,
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 when she did, Lord, what a noise was there!
How Jove and she did thunder in the air!
She with an Ishmael big away was sent;
Like unto Hagar, out of doors she went;
Where he, like Abraham good, a Bottle ty'd,
And gave her Means for the Child to provide:
Whereat her Mistress angry was, and cry'd;
And wisht her Maid (like Ishma'l) might have dy'd.
Another man, amongst the rest,
Said, they their Tales bad well exprest.
BUT they that study much, and seldom speak,
For want of use of words, are far to seek:
Their Tongue is like a rusty Key grown rough,
Which hardly turns, so do their words come forth:
Or like an Instrument that lies unstrung,
Till it be tun'd, cannot be plaid upon:
For Custom makes the Tongue both smooth & quick,
And moving oft, no words thereon will stick;
Like to a flowing-Tide, makes its own way,
Runs smooth or clear, without a stop or stay:
That makes a Lawyer plead well at the barr,
Because he talks there four 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 t' express, they none:
Good language they express in black and white,
Although they speak it not, yet well they write:
Much thoughts keep back the words from running out;
The tongue's ti'd up, the sluce is stopt no doubt:
For Fancy's quick, and flies such several ways,
For to be drest in words it seldom stays.
Fancy is like an Eele, so slippery glides,
Before the tongue takes hold, away it slides.
Thus he that seldom speaks, is like to those
That travelling, their Mother-tongues do lose.
Now, says a Lady that was sitting by,
Pray let your rusty Tongue with silence lye,
And listen to the Tale that I shall tell;
Mark the Misfortunes that to them befell.

A Description of Love and Courage.

A Gentleman was riding all about,
As in a Progress, he chanc'd to spy out:
(Growing upon a rising-Hill) a Wood,
In midst whereof a little House there stood:
It was but small, yet was it wondrous fine,
As if 'twere builded for the Muses Nine:
The Platform was so well contriv'd, that there
Was ne're a piece of ground lay waste or spare.
This House was built of pure rich Marble-stone,
And Marble-Pillars wholly stood upon;
So smooth 'twas polish'd, as like Glass it show'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 artful 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 room were very wide,
And men, like Statues, carv'd on either side;
And in such lively postures made they were,
They seem'd like Guards or Porters waiting there.
The winding-Stairs rising without account
Of any steps, up to the top did mount:
It on the Head a Cap of Lead did wear,
Like to a Cardinal's Cap, 'twas made four-square;
But flat it was; close to the Crown did lye,
From Cold and Heat it kept it warm and dry:
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 satisfi'd with sight,
And that his mind was fill'd with such delight,
He did descend back by another way,
Chance was his only Guide, which did convey
Him to a Gallery both large and long,
Where Pictures, by Apelles drawn, there hung,
And at the end, a Door half ope, half shut,
Where, in a Chamber, did a Lady sit.
To him so beautiful she did appear,
She seem'd an Angel, not a Mortal 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 theron, her Head did side-ways lye
Upon her Hand, the Palm a Pillow made,
On which, being soft, her Rosie Cheeks she laid;
And from her Eyes the Tears in show'rs did fall
Upon her Breast, sparkling like Diamonds all:
At last she fetch'd a sigh, Heart break, said she;
Gods take my Life, or give me Liberty:
When those words were exprest, she was constrain'd;
He courage took on what she there complain'd,
And boldly entring 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 near 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 design'd, were skilful in that Art.
VVandring about, at last, Chance favouring me,
Hath brought me to this place, where I do see
ABeauty far beyond all Art, or any
That Nature heretofore hath made, though many
Of all the Sex 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 grief of heart, and wisht for a redress,
My Soul flew to your service, here I vow
To Heaven high, my life to give to you;
Not only give my life, but for your sake
Suffer all Pains Nature or Hell can make:
Nor are my Proffers for a base Self-end,
I'm to your Sex a Servant and a Friend:
Pure is my Zeal, and my Flame being clear,
Chuse me your Champion, and adopt me here.
If I cannot your Enemy destroy,
I'le do my best, no rest I will enjoy;
Because my Fortune, Life, and Industry,
I'le sacrifaice 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 now do live in; nor can I
My Honour hazzard in worse Company:
VVherefore, 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 straight 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 Bawd that did wait on her,
Being then asleep, did never think 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 Rheum;
When that was done, she went into the Room
VVherein the Lady us'd, alone to be:
Straight missing her, cry'd out most piteously,
Calling the Servants to search all about;
But they unto a VVake were all gone out.
The Peasant's Ball is that we call a VVake,
VVhen Men & Maids do dance, and love do make;
And she that danceth best, is crown'd as Queen,
VVith Garlands made of Flow'rs, & Laurel green:
Those Men that dance the best, have Ribbans ti'd
By every Maid that hopes to be a Bride.
Youth loves these kind of Sports, and to a Fayre,
'Twill venture life, rather than not be there.
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 Mistress, who admired
Her Beauty more than Heaven, and desired
Her Favour more than Jove's; her angry words
Did wound him more than could the sharpest swords.
Her Frowns would torture him as on a Rack,
Muffling his Spirits in melancholy black:
But if she chanc'd to smile, his joys did rise
Much higher than the Sun that lights the Skies.
But riding on, the Castle coming nigh,
The VVoman running 'bout he did descry:
His heart misgave him, with doubts he 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:
Devil, said he, what is my Mistress 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,
Until his Man did bear him to a bed:
For he did only with him one Man bring,
VVho prov'd himself trusty in every thing:
But when his diffus'd Spirits he did compose,
Into a deep sad Melancholy he 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, till such Friends could make
That would protect Vertue for Vertue's sake;
Because her loving Foe was great in Power,
Which might a Friendless Innocent devour.
This Noble Gentleman desir'd to know
From what Misfortunes her restraint did grow.
Willing she was to tell the Gentleman
The story of her Life, and thus began:
After my birth, my Mother soon did dye,
Unto my Father leaving a Son and I:
My Father nor my Brother liv'd not long,
Then was I left alone; and being young,
My Aunt did take the charge to see me bred,
To manage my Estate; my Brother dead,
I was the only Child and Heir; but she
Was married to a Lord of High Degree,
Who had a Son, and that Son had a VVife,
They disagreed, led an unhappy Life.
VVhen I was grown to sixteen years of age,
My Aunt did dye, her Husband did engage
To take the charge, and see me well bestow'd,
And by his tender care great love he show'd.
But such was my Misfortune, O sad Fate!
He dy'd, and left me to his Son's VVife's hate;
Because this younger Lord grew much in Love,
VVhich when his VVife by circumstance did prove,
She sought all means she could to murther me;
Yet she would have it done with privacy:
The whilst her amorous Lord fresh Courtships made,
VVith his best Rhetorick, for to perswade
My honest Youth to yeeld to his desire,
My Beauty having set his heart on fire:
At last, considering with my self, that I
Having a plentiful Estate whereby
I might live honourable, safe, and free,
Not subject to be betray'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 ways withstood;
For as I travell'd, he beset me round,
And forc'd me from my Servants, which he found
To be not many; when he had great store
For to assault, but my defence was poor.
Yet were they all disguis'd, no Face was shown,
(Such unjust acts desire to be unknown).
VVhen I was in their power, Help, help, said I,
You Gods above, and hear a VVretch's Cry:
But no assistance from Heav'n did I find,
All seem'd as Cruel as the mad Mankind.
Then he unto the Castle me convey'd;
The Lord, himself discovering, thus said:
Cruellest of thy Sex, since no remorse
Can soften thy hard heart, I'le use my force;
Unless your heart doth burn with equal 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 entreating 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,
VVhich by his smiling-countenance he did show:
He said, If in your Favour I may live,
A greater blessing Heaven cannot give.
Then to a VVoman 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 half a year, and more,
And all this while the Gods on high implore;
For still he woo'd, and still I did deny;
At last h'impatient grew, and swore that I
Deluded him, and that no longer would
He be denied, but yeeld to him I should.
With much entreaty I pacifi'd his Mind
With words and countenance that seemed kind;
But Prayers to Heav'n more earnestly I sent
With tears and sighs, that they would still prevent,
By their great power, his Evil 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.
The whilst the Champion Knight, with his fair Prize,
Was struck with Love by her quick-darting Eyes;
Yet mov'd they so as Modesty did guide,
Not turning wantonly, or leer'd aside:
Nor did they stern or proudly pierce,
But gentle, soft, with sweet commerce:
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 Suit unto her care:
Fair 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 Man's 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 Suit aside;
Chuse me your Husband, and be you my Bride.
I am a Gentleman, and have been bred
As to my Quality; my Father dead,
Me his Possessions left, 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 Honour 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 ungrateful prove.
'Tis not for Wealth that I would marry to,
Nor outward Honours that my Love can woo:
But it is Virtue, and a Heroick Mind,
A Disposition sweet, noble, and kind;
And such a one I judg you for to be,
Wherefore I'le not refuse, if you chuse me.
When they were thus agreed, they did repair
Unto his House, and went to marry there:
The whilst the Lord, the Kingdom all about,
He privately had sent to search her out.
At last news 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 Devil, could his Soul devour.
But when he heard the Messenger to say,
There's 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 e're befell,
That he would have her, though he sank to Hell.
When he had got a Company together,
Such as he fed, that would go any whither;
No act they would refuse, that he desired,
Obey'd most desperately what he required.
Unto his House they went in a disguise,
Intending then the Lady to surprise:
But be'ng upon her Wedding-day, were there
A Company of Guests that merry were;
This Lord desir'd to part them, if he might,
'Cause lye together they should not that Night.
So in they went: the Servants all did think
Them Maskerades, and made them all to drink:
But when they went into an inward Room
Where all were dancing, Bride and the Bridegroom;
The Bride acquainted with that Maskard-sight,
She ran away as in an extream fright:
The Bridegroom soon imagin'd what they were,
And, though unarm'd, his Courage knew no fear.
Their Swords they drew, aim'd only 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 scriecht, Murther, Murther, cry'd 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 straight took't up & fought withall;
So well did manage it, and with such skill,
He many of his Enemies did kill:
Yet he was wounded sore, and out of breath;
But heat of Courage kept out dull cold Death.
At last his Friends got Arms to take his part,
VVho did th' oppression of his Foes divert.
The Vizzard of the Lord fell off at length;
VVhich when the Bridegroom saw, with vigorous strength,
He ran upon him with such force, that he
Struck many down, to make his passage free.
The trembling Bride was almost dead with fear,
Yet for her Husband had a listening ear.
At last the noise of Murther did arrive:
O is he dead, said she, and I alive!
With that she run with all her power and might,
Into the Room, 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 other's heart
So hot with Passion, that they felt no smart.
The Bride did pass and re-pass by their Swords,
As quick as flashing Lightning, and her words
Cryed out, Desist, desist, and let me dye,
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 Husband's Honour and his Life,
They both did fall, and on the ground did lye;
But honoured Courage receiv'd Fame thereby.
When Death had turned 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 may dye here on my Husband's breast.
With that she fell, and on his Lips did lye,
Suckt out each other's breath, and so did dye.
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 desperate Fury then both fierce and bold,
He gave himself a mortal 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 lay me by my Mistress 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 jealousie will grow:
But howsoe're, 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 runs to Romantick ways;
To be in love, and be belov'd agen;
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 judg it tends to wantonness:
Perchance they'l say, It is for Conversation;
But those Conversations bring Temptation.
What Youth's in love with Age, where wisdom dwells,
That all the follies of wild Youth still tells?
But Youth will shun grave Age's Company,
And from them flye 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 Sickness often on the Young takes hold,
Making them feeble, weak, before they're old.
If Women love, let it be for the sake
Of Noble Virtue, and the wiser take;
Else Virtue 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 other's 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 always after Mankind do they run:
Their words are smooth, their faces in smiles drest;
Their heart is by their countenance exprest:
But in their older age they spightful grow,
And then they scorns upon their youngers throw;
Industrious are, a false Report to make:
Lord! Lord! what poor Employments Women take
To carry Tales on Tongues. from Ear to Ear,
VVhich 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 Fate's Decrees they could prevent:
The best is Rubbish; they their Minds do load
With several Dresses, and what is the Mode:
But if they spightful are, they straight defame
Those that most Virtue have, or honoured 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 wear
A Gown to please her self, or curl her Hair,
If not according as the Fashion runs,
Lord, how it sets a-work their Eyes and Tongues!
Straight she's fantastical, they all do cry,
Yet they will imitate her presently;
And for what they did laugh at her in scorn,
VVith it think good themselves for to adorn.
Thus each of them doth into other pry,
Not for to mend, but to find fault thereby.
VVith that the VVomen rose, and angry were,
And said, they would not stay such Tales to hear.
But all the Men upon their Knees did fall,
Begging his Pardon, and their stay withall.
And Women's Natures being easie, free,
Did soon consent to keep them company.
The Tale to tell,
Unto a Woman's turn befell:
And when their rusling twatling Silks did cease,
Their creaking Chairs, and Whisperings held their peace;
The Lady did a Tragick Tale unfold,
Forcing their Eyes to weep, whilst she it told.

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

A Gentleman had liv'd long, and was 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, h'in a Wife.
But Nature, in the World her Power to show,
From an old Stock caus'd a young Branch to grow:
At length this aged Dame a Daughter bore,
Got by her Husband when Threescore, and more.
They are so joy'd, they Nature's Bounty praise,
And thank the Gods that did the Issue raise.
They were so fond, that none this Child must t'uch,
Only themselves; their pains they thought not much.
She gave it suck, and dress'd it on her Lap,
The whilst he warm'd the Clouts, then cool'd the Pap.
They, when it slept, did by the Child abide,
Both sitting near the Cradle on each side.
But when it cry'd, he danc'd it on his Arm,
The whilst she sung, its Passion for to charm.
Thus did they strive to please it all they could,
And for its good yeeld up their Lives they would.
VVith pains and care they Nurs'd their Daughter well,
And with her Years her Beauty did excel.
But when she came to Sixteen years of age,
Her Youth and Life by Love she did engage
Unto a Gentleman that liv'd hard-by
Close to her Father's House, who seem'd to dye
If he enjoy'd her not; yet did he dread
His Father's Curse to light upon his Head;
His Father to his Passion being cruel,
Although he was his only 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 VVealth:
Yet she was Nobly born, not very poor,
But had not VVealth to equal his great store.
But he did woo his Love in secret guise,
Courting her privately for fear of Spies.
He strove to win her unto his embraces;
Muffle the Faults he would, and the Disgraces.
Said he,
Why may not we our Senses all delight?
Our Senses and our Souls Heaven unite
That we call Honour, only Man creates,
For it was never destin'd by the Fates.
It is a word Nature ne're taught us, nay
It is a Precept she forbids t'obey.
Then follow Nature, for that follows God,
And not the Arts of Men, they're vain and odd.
Let every Sense lye steep, not drown'd, in pleasure:
Let us keep up their height in 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;
With Tastes delicious Palates entertain.
Touch things most 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:
And in the Grave our Senses useless lye;
Just so is Life, if Pleasures we deny.
Thus Heav'n, 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,
Not to surfeit, but feed each Appetite.
Come Pleasure, Circle me within thy Arms,
Inchant my Soul with thy delightful Charms.
Said she, It is not always in our Power
To feed, Delight, nor Pleasure to devour.
Man no free Power hath of any thing;
Only himself can to destruction bring:
Can kill his Body, and his Soul can damn,
Although he cannot alienate the same;
Nor can he make them always to remain,
Nor turn them to what they were first again.
Thus can we cross and vex our selves with pain,
But being sick, cannot be well again:
We can Disturb great Nature's work at will;
But to Restore and Make, is 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 that 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 yeelded 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 cry,
And said she swell'd so, with a Tympany.
They did believe her, and did make great moan,
Their only Child was now so sickly grown.
His Father old, the Marriage to prevent,
Now, in all haste, his Son to travel sent;
Gave him no time nor warning to be gone;
Nor, till he saw him ship'd, left him alone.
But he, to ease his Mistress of her fear,
For to return, he only 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 turn'd to Hate.
You Gods, said she, my Fault's no wilful sin;
For I did think his Vows had Marriage been:
But by his stealth, so privately to leave me,
I find my Crime, and that he did deceive me:
For which, said she, you Gods torment him more
Than ever any Man on Earth before.
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 did shake with age, Nerves being slack't,
Those Nervous Strings with fear were now contract:
At last, though much a-do they had to speak,
They Servants call'd to open, or to break
The Lock: No sooner done, but with great fear
They entred in; and after they were there,
The horrid sight no sooner struck their Eyes,
But it congeal'd their Hearts, and straight both dyes.
The Fame of their sad Fates all round was spread,
The Lover heard his Mistress then was dead;
His Clothes, 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; in vain
He strives with's Flame to melt Death's Icy Chain:
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 Powerful Terrors me assist,
For to command or force Death when I list,
That by your help and pow'r my Love may rise
From the dark Vault or Grave wherein she lies;
Or else by Death's cold hand alone,
Convert me into Marble-stone.
Then running, as distracted, in and out,
By Fancies, Visions strange saw all about:
And crying loud, My Mistress, she is there;
He 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 my foul Soul, which is as black as Night,
Doth shadows cast upon the 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 Skye,
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 a while, 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 Hatpull'd o're his Brows, his Eyes look't out
To guide his way; but far he had not gone,
That straight he saw the Funerals coming on:
Three Hearses all were born, as on a breast,
Black cover'd two, with white the third was drest:
A Silver Crown upon that Hearse did stand,
And Myrtle-boughs 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 haste to get close to the Urn;
His Hat pulls off, then bows, lets loose his Cloak;
With dropping Eyes, & countenance sad, thus spoke:
You charitable Friends, whoe're you be,
To see the Dead thus buri'd solemnly;
The like to me your Favour I do crave,
Stay all, and see me buri'd 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 Bodies ne're shall parted be.
With that he sighs, and breathing out his last,
About his Mistress Corps his Arms he cast.
The Urn seal'd up, his Friends a Tomb did build;
Famous it was, such Love therein it held.
Most Parents do rejoyce, and Offerings bring
Of thankful Hearts, or Pray'rs for their Off-spring.
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 Follies of Mankind,
How they for useless things do vex their Mind:
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 surfeits with Delight and Pleasure;
As if true Pleasure only liv'd in Pain,
For in Excess Pain only doth remain:
Riches bring Care to keep, Trouble to spend;
Beggars and Borrowers have ne're a Friend:
And Hospitality is oft diseased,
And seldom any of their Guests are pleased:
In Feasts, much Company disturbs the rest,
And with much noise 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 Warrs be spent, or Letters writ.
All Generosity seems buried 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 Myne of Gold;
But they'l soon find it doth a bottom hold.
Titles of Honour, Offices of State,
Bring Trouble, Envy, and Malicious Hate.
Ceremony restrains our Freedom, and
State-Offices Commands, Men tott'ring stand.
And Vanities Inchanters of the Mind,
That muffle Reason, and the Judgment blind;
Do lead the life in strange fantastick ways,
To seek that Pleasure which doth live in Praise.
Praise is no real thing, an empty Name,
Only a Sound which we do call a Fame;
Yet for this Sound Men always are at strife,
Do spend their Fortunes, and do hazzard Life:
They give their Thoughts no rest, but hunt about,
And never leave until the Life goes out.
That Man that seeks in Life for more than Health,
For Rest and Peace within his Commonwealth,
(Which is his Family) sure is not wise,
And know not where true Happiness still lies.
Nor doth he guess that Temperance doth give
The truest Pleasure, makes it longest live.
You Gods, said he, give me a Temperate Mind,
An Humble Cottage, a Chast Wife and Kind,
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;
When that's dissolved, make us up new again.
A Lady said, She his Discourse would fit;
A Story tell that should his Humour hit.
THere was a Man and Woman married were,
They liv'd just so as should a Married Pair;
Though their Bodies divided were in twain,
Their Souls agreed, as one they did remain:
They did so mutually agree in all,
This Man and Wife we only One may call.
They were not rich, nor were they very poor;
Not pinch'd with want, nor troubled with great store.
They did not labour for the Bread they eat,
Nor had they various or delicious Meat;
Nor many Servants had to vex their Mind,
Only one Maid that faithful was, and kind;
Whose VVork was just so much as to employ
Her so, as Idleness might not her annoy.
Thus decently and cleanly did they live,
And something had for Charity to give.
Her Pastime was to spin in Winter cold,
The whilst 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, in 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 gracious Mercy, their poor Souls to save,
A healthful Life, an easie Death to have.
Thus did they live full forty years, and more;
At last Death comes, and knocketh at the dore,
And with his Dart he struck the Man full sick,
For which the Wife was almost Lunatick:
But she with care did watch, great pains did take;
Broths, Julips, Jellies, she with skill did make.
She most industrious was his pains to ease,
Studying always 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 VVife to part.
But when she did perceive his Life decay,
Close by his side, upon a Bed she lay,
Embrac'd and kist him oft, until 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 Single-Life best.

A Man said, He liv'd a most happy Life,
Because he was not ty'd unto a Wife:
Said he, Marriage at best obstructs the Mind.
With too much Love, or Wives that are unkind.
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 much Heav'nly Peace doth dwell,
When Marriage makes their Thoughts like pains of Hell.
And when they die, no Care doth grieve their Mind,
For any thing that they shall leave behind.
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 kind Freedom 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 Married Wife befell.
THere once a Lord and Lady married were,
And for Sev'n 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 kind;
No more Obedience Man in VVife could find:
She 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 such the Natures of most Husbands be,
That they love Change, and seek Variety;
Or else like Fools or Children, eas'ly caught
With pleasing looks, or flatt'ring tongues are brought
From Virtues side, in wicked ways to run,
And seldom back with Virtue do return.
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 only 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 Heaven's 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 Wife's affection, but did fear
His Mistress to desplease; 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 yeeld unless that he
From his Chast Wife would soon divorced be:
Straight he, to please her, from his Wife did part,
For which his VVife was grieved at the Heart,
And sought her self obscurely for 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 did strictly live;
But she was Chast, and no offence did give:
Yet she in sorrow liv'd, no rest could find,
Sad melancholy thoughts mov'd in her Mind:
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 from Destruction, and that they would give
Him Happy Days as long as he should live.
But after he his Mistress had enjoy'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 VVife to see,
And to be Friends, if that she would agree.
But when he saw his VVife, his Heart did ake,
As being guilty, all his Limbs did shake:
The terror 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.
Thither he came, and on 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 her Pardon, and great Vows did make
Of Reformation, and that for her sake
He would all 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 over-fraught,
My Bark of Life with Grief is over-fraught,
And ready is to sink with its own weight:
For show'rs 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 haste 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 laid 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.
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 Warrs was bred; and thus be did begin:

A Description of Natural Affection.

THere were two Potent Princes, whose great Fames
For Actions in the Warrs got mighty Names.
It chanc'd these Potent Princes both did greet,
And were resolv'd in open Warrs to meet,
Their Courages to try, their Strengths and Pow'r,
Their prudent Conducts, or their fatal Hour.
In short, these Armies meet, a Battel fight,
VVhere one Side beaten was by Fortune's spight.
The Battel won, that Army routed, ran,
And for to save his Life, strove every Man,
And their Artillery they left behind,
Each for himself a shelter hop'd to find.
VVhen from pursuit the Victors did come back,
The Solidiers for to plunder were not slack:
And every Tent they search'd, and sought about
To see if they some Treasure could find out.
To th'Prince's Tent did some Commanders go,
VVhere they did find an Object of much wo.
That Prince being dead, upon 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, it shone like Heavens light.
VVhich the Commanders saw, then straight did go
To let their General of this Beauty know.
VVho when he came, amazed was in mind,
Such Beauty for to see, and Grief to find.
For this fair Princess by her Father set,
Her Eyes being fixt, her Tears his Cheeks did wet;
She leaning o're his Head, her Eyes down bend,
From whence her Tears upon his Face descend.
Upon his Mouth such deep-fetch'd sighs did breathe,
As if therein her Soul she would bequeathe;
For which this General did her admire,
Her Tears quench'd not, but kindle did Love's Fire.
With that he did command the Solidiers 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 Corpse:
For had not Fortune (which he never trust
With any business, but what needs he must)
Conspir'd with Death to work his overthrow,
His wisdom 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,
She struck him dead when Battels were to join;
His Solidiers forc'd to fight, when that their Mind
Was press'd with grief, which fast th' Spirits did bind;
It was his Death that made him lose the Day,
And made you Victors that now wear the Bay.
But look, said she, his Hands now strengthless lye,
In fight which made his Enemies to flye:
His Eyes, now shut by Death, in Life gave light
Unto his Soldiers, in the Warrs to fight.
His Tongue, that silenc'd is by Death's cold Hand,
In Life mov'd wisely, and could well command:
It Knowledg 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-temper'd 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 Destinie.
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 before he knows he lives:
Yet she from Man receives the greatest praise,
He doth admire all her curious ways:
With wonder he her sev'ral VVorks doth see,
And studies all her Laws, and each Decree;
Doth travel sev'ral ways within his Mind,
His Thoughts are restless, her Effects to find.
But in his Travels Death cuts him off short,
And leads him into dark Oblivion's Court.
Thus Nature is unjust, Heaven unkind,
Which strikes the Best, the Worst do favour find.
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 behind,
Which is a torture to my troubled Mind.
If Soldiers pity have, grant my desire,
Here strike me dead, and let my Breath expire.
Said the Victorious Prince:
Heaven forbid! 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 among the Rout,
But if they're found, the Noblest throw them out.
But since you cannot alter Destiny,
Nor none that live, but have some Misery;
Raise up your Spirits, unto Heaven submit,
And do not here in Grief and Sorrow sit.
Your Father was a Soldier of great Fame,
His Valiant Deeds did get an Honoured Name:
And for his sake judg us, which Soldiers be,
To have Human'ty, 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;
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 Battel I have won, he said,
Yet I am Prisoner to this Beauteous Maid.
She is the Conqueress, therefore 'tis fit
I walk as Prisoner, she Triumphant sit.
Then all with great Respects to her did bow;
So doth the Prince, and plead, protest, and vow,
To be her Servant, and to yeeld his Life
To Death's sad 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?
Soldiers are Friends, though they each blood do spill,
'Tis not for Spight, nor any Malice ill;
But Honour to maintain, and Power to get,
And that they may in Fame's House higher set:
For those of greatest Pow'r, to Gods draw near;
For nought but Pow'r makes Men like Gods appear.
But had I kill'd your Father in the Field,
Unto my Suit in Justice you might yeeld.
But I was not the Cause your Father dy'd,
For Victory doth still with him abide:
And though that Death stid 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'l be mine,
Our Kingdoms in a Friendly Peace shall join.
Then she began to listen, and give ear;
She of her Countrey 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 Virgin's turn her Tale to tell;
Her Youth and Modesty did fit it well.

The Surprisal of DEATH.

A Company of Virgins young did meet,
Their Pastime was, to gather Flowers sweet:
They white Straw-Hats upon their Heads did wear,
And falling-Feathers, which wav'd with the air,
Fanning their Faces, like a Zephyrus Wind,
Shadowing the Sun, that strove their Eyes to blind;
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 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.
And every heart or head where wild Thoughts live,
She did convert, and wise Instructions give:
For her Discourse such heavenly Seeds did sow,
That where she 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 choice Flowers, which did court her Eye;
And every one did bend their heads full low,
Bowing their Stalks, which from the Roots did grow;
And when her hands did touch their tender Leaves,
Each seem'd to kiss, and to her Fingers cleaves.
But she, as if in Nature 'twere a Crime,
VVas loath to crop their Stalks in their full prime;
But with her Face close to those Flowers lay,
That through her Nostrils those Sweets might find way;
Not for to rob them, for her head was full
Of Flow'ry Phansies, which her wit did pull,
And Posies made, the World for to present
VVith a more lasting and a sweeter Sent.
But as she lay upon this pleasant Bank,
For which those Flowers did great Nature thank;
Death envious grew she 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; yet 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.
The frighted Virgins ran with panting-breath,
To tell the sadder story of her death:
The whilst the Flowers to her rescue bend,
And all their Med'cinable Virtues send:
But all in vain, their Power's too weak; each Head
Then droop'd, seeing they could not help the Dead.
Their fresher Colours did 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 a Winding-Sheet.
The Airy Choristers hover'd above,
And sung her last sad Funeral-Song of Love.
The Earth grew proud, now having so much honour,
That Odoriferous Corpse lying upon her.
When that pure Virgin's Stuff dissolv'd 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 Purslain they did make:
Her Purer Dust they keep for to refine
Best Poets Verse, and gild every Line;
And all Poetick Flames she did inspire:
So her Name lives in that Eternal Fire.

A Mock-Tale of his Grace the Duke of Newcastle.

CUPID Love-birding went, his Arrow laid,
Aiming to hit a young fresh Countrey-Maid:
Being pur-blind, his Arrow it did glance,
And hit an Old-old Woman there by chance.
She presently with Love sighs shorter breath,
Groan'd so, as all the Neighbours thought her 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 rub'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 skilful for Love's wounds; all those,
Though they seem cured, yet they'l never close,
But break out still again; not Winter's cold
Will freeze them up, nor Age, though ne're so old.
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 powerful Love! to see thy fatal Curse,
Now to forget her Noble Race and Purse;
Enquires out the best Taylors in the Town,
To make her Wastcoats, Petticoats, and Gown:
New Shooes of Shoo-maker she did bespeak,
And bids him put three-penny-worth of Creak
Into the Soles, that Dew when them it fills,
Like Hero's Buskins, chirrup through the Bills.
Hunts Pedlars out, and buys fresh Ribbans 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 and Cheeks, but found no Blood.
No dangling Tresses there could any find;
Sister to Time, no Locks before, behind.
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 Love's arts she try'd, and oft she met him,
This lusty young and labouring-man, to get him.
His Poverty with her Purse join'd their hands,
And so did enter in the Marriage-bands.
But to describe their sumptuous Marriage Feast,
Their richer Clothes, and every honour'd Guest;
Their melting Love-Songs, softer Musick's t'uch,
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
They 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:
There being laid, he mounted now Love's Throne;
She sigh'd with Love, then fetch'd a deeper groan:
And so expir'd there in height of Pleasure,
And left him to enjoy her long-got Treasure.
Nay, so belov'd she was, that now lies 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 they may hide
All the Defects, or giv't a grace.
Phansie Draws Pictures in the Brain,
Not subject to the outward Sense;
They are Imaginations vain,
Yet are they the Life's 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 & 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 hew:
Then wears an Apron made of Lillies white,
And lac'd about it is with Rays of Light.
Cuffs of Narcissus her fair hands do tye,
Pinn'd close with Stings of Bees which buzzing flye
To gather Honey-dew which thereto cleaves,
And leave their Stings when they do prick the leaves.
Ribbons of Pinks and Gilliflowers makes;
Roses both white and red, for Knots she takes.
When she's 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 are all for the Spring's sake.
But of all Birds, the Nightingal delights
To sing the Spring to bed in warmer 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 lies,
The Nightingal doth sing to make her rise;
And calls the Sun to open her fair Eyes,
Who gallops fast, that he might her surprise.
But when the Spring is past her Virgin's prime,
And married is to old bald-Father Time;
The Nightingal, for grief, doth cease to sing,
And silent is till comes another Spring.
The Summer's cloth'd in glorious Sun-shine bright,
And with a trailing-Veil of long-day-light:
Some Dust, as Powder, on her Hair doth place,
And with the Morning's Dew doth wash her Face.
A Zephyrus-Wind 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 Thundring-Chariot she doth ride,
For to astonish Mortals with her Pride:
Before her Chariot flashing-Lightning flyes,
A fluid Fire that spreads about the Skyes.
As Princes great, that in dry ways do travel,
Have Water thrown t' allay the Dust and Gravel.
This Fire allays, cleanses all Vapours gross,
Lest, rising, they should stop the Thunder's force:
And when she from her Chariot doth alight,
Then is she waited on by Sun-beams bright:
Or else the Rays that from the Moon do spread,
As Waxen Tapers, light her to her bed,
And with refreshing-sleeps a while doth rest;
There sweet air breathing from her panting breast.
Yet Summer's proud, ambitious, high, and hot,
And full of action, idle she is not:
Chol'rick she is, and oft doth Quarrels make;
But yet sometimes she doth her Pleasure take:
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 flye
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, many Creatures more:
For some do say, these Birds in Winter dye,
And in Summer revive again to flye.
Of all the Four Seasons of the Year,
This Season doth most full and fat appear.
Her blood is hot, and flowing as full Tide,
She's only 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.
Just so the Summer dries, withers away;
No powerful 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 encrease 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 are crown'd,
In those are Seeds, whereof Man makes some Bread,
With which the Poor and Rich are nourished.
Yet 'tis not Bounty can hinder Nature's course,
For constantly she change in one source:
For though the Matter may be still the same,
Yet she doth change the Figure and 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 Hemisphere
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, congeal to Ice, Hail, Snow,
Which she spits forth; upon the Earth they 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 do grow more fortunate:
So when the Winter's past, then comes the Spring,
And Plenty doth restore to every thing.

A Poet in the Company Said to his Lady:

YOur Fingers are Minerva's Loom, with which
Your Sense in Letters weave,
No knots or snarls you leave;
Work Fancy's Thread in Golden Numbers rich.
Your Breasts are Helicon, which Poets fits:
For though they do not drink,
If thereon they do think,
Their Brains are fill'd with high and sparkling Wits.
Your Tongue's Parnassus Hill, on high it stands;
Her Muses sit and sing,
Or dance in Fayrie's Ring,
Crown'd with your Rosie Lips, and sweet Garlands.
Your Eyes Diana's Arrows; and no doubt
Your arched Brow her Bow,
Like Ebony black doth show,
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 flye.
The next, a Man of Scholarship profest,
He in his turn this Tale told to the rest.

An Expression of the Doubts and Curiosity of Man's Mind.

THere was a Man which much desir'd to know,
When he was dead, whither his Soul should go;
Whether to Heaven high, or down to Hell,
Or the Elyzium Fields, where Lovers dwell;
Or whether in the air to flie about;
Or whether it, like to a Light, goes out.
At last the Thoughts, the Servants to the Mind,
Which dwell in Contemplation, to find
The truth; they said, No pains that they would spare
To travel every where, and thus prepare:
Each Thought did clothe 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 Colledg they did ride;
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 show;
Though every sev'ral Work, and sev'ral Head,
And sev'ral Tongue, a sev'ral path still lead;
Where the Thoughts were scattering several ways,
Some tedious long, others like short Essays.
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 Reason saw their poor condition,
Naked of Sense, their Words, and Expedition,
And Expectation too, and seeming sad,
(But some were frantick, and despairing, mad.)
She told them, They might wander all about,
But she did fear the Truth would ne're find 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 then 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 find 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 ne'r 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 that the Thoughts were very much perplext,
Then did resolve the Chymists should be next
Which they would ask: so unto them they go
To be resolv'd, If they of Souls did know.
They said unto the Thoughts, When Bodies dye,
Souls are th' Elixir, and pure Chymistry:
For Gold, said they, can never wasted be,
Nor can it alter from its purity.
Eternal 'tis, 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 Fire doth the pure from dross divide,
So Souls in Death are cleans'd and purifi'd
From grosser parts of Body; and no doubt
The Soul, as Spirits, Death exhaleth out:
It is the Essence of great Nature's 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,
Than from a Metal'd Earth for to proceed;
Well known it is, all Metals Earth doth breed:
And though of purest Earth the true Gold 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 Cottage, 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 find
Concerning Souls, to tell unto the Mind:
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 Employment he should be afraid,
Lest Nature or the Gods should angry be
For his Presumption and Curiosity.
If it be Nature's work, there is no doubt
But it doth transmigrate all things about:
And who can follow Nature's steps and pace,
And all the subtil ways that she doth trace?
Her various Forms, which curious Motion makes;
Or what Ingredients for those Forms she takes?
Who knows, said he, the 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 find,
VVhich are the Laws that every thing do bind.
But who can tell that Nature is not VVife
To mighty Jove? and he begets the life
Of every Creature which she breeds, and brings
Forth several Forms; each Figure from her springs.
Thus Souls and Bodies joined in one Gin,
Though Bodies mortal be, the Soul's divine,
As being first begot by Jove, and so
The purest part of Life's the Soul, we know;
For th' animated part from Jove proceeds,
The grosser part from Nature self she breeds.
And what's more Animated than Mankind,
Unless his Soul, which is of higher Kind?
Thus ev'ry Creature to Jove and Nature are,
As Sons and Daughters, and their Off-spring fair.
And as their Parents of them do take 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 on idle Questions still,
But shew obedience to their Maker's will.
Man asketh blessing of his Father Jove,
And Jove doth seem Mankind 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 Mankind,
Are peaceful Thoughts, and a still quiet Mind:
And Jove is pleas'd, when that we serve his VVife
(Our Mother Nature) with a Virtuous Life:
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's superfluous, to us is vain.
Therefore return, and temper well the Mind,
For you the truth of Souls shall never find.
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 e're since doth with the Mind 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 ways 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 Lillies white,
And yet is clear and glassy as the Light:
And from your Eyes such splendrous rays do spread,
That 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 Voice, charms every Ear,
And when you speak, your breath perfumes the air.
Thus by these flatteries most proud she grew,
And scornful looks on every Object threw:
All Men she scorn'd that did to her address;
And laugh'd at all did love to her profess.
Her Senses for to please, she was so nice,
That nothing serv'd but what was of great price.
Thus did she live in Lux'ry, 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 Mankind was made her to admire,
And ought her Favours most for to desire:
That every knee that bow'd not to her low,
Or whose demeanors did not reverence show.
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 always have an eye
Upon the Earth, who all things do descry
Amongst poor Mortals, they this Lady spy'd,
Whose heart was swell'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,
VVhat from each Sense it sucks, it keeps alive.
But if no Nourishment it gets from those,
As Touch, Taste, Sound, sweet pleasant scent orshows.
It faints and pines a way 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 at her they fling:
First, they did set her House and Goods on fire,
Where her rich Furniture did soon expire:
Then Envy sought all ways 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 only left
Her rich with Beauty, but of Lands bereft:
In which she pleasure took, although but poor
Of Fortune's Goods, of Nature's Giftssh' had store.
But when the Gods did see her still content,
At last they to her Body Sickness sent.
She patient was, her Beauty still did last:
But when that they their Judgment 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 judg 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, cuts the Seal of Truth;
And, as a Painter, draws both age and youth:
His Colours, mix'd with Oyl of Health, lays on;
The plump smooth Youth he pencils thereupon:
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 jarr
With aged Time, and then some Works doth marr.
But when her wealth was gon, and state was down,
Then did her Friends and Servants on her frown;
So far now from professing Slavery,
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 Mankind,
That those in Misery no Friends can find:
For Fortune's Favours only Friendships make.
But few are Friends only for Virtue's sake;
In Fortune's Frowns Man will not only be
A Neuter, but a deadly Enemy:
Nay, ev'n a Devil to torment the Mind,
If he no mischief' gainst the body find.
But after she had mourn'd Three hundred days,
Consid'ring Nature's, Fortune's various ways;
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 sinful spots be dy'd;
Let your great Mercies scour those spots off clean,
That by your Justice no spots may be seen.
Consider, Lord, the Works that Nature makes,
The Matter, Motion, and the Form she takes;
The Grounds and Principles on which she builds;
The Life and Death in all things she distills,
Is various still; in what she doth compose,
Nothing but wild Inconstancy she shows.
Nor is it only 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 bodies that are young, want strength,
And wait for Time to give them breadth 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 Ignorance, Youth rash ways runs,
Which Age by long-experienc'd knowledg shuns:
But Age oft time's as faulty, as Youths be
Corrupted with bad Principles: we see
That length of Time and Custom makes them shew
As if in Man they naturally grew.
But to conclude, the time she had to live,
She heartily unto the Gods did give:
Though young, into a Nunnery she went,
Her Vows unto the Gods she did present:
Her Days 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 Heav'n did merit.
The next Tale when you read, it will discover
The fortunate or the unfortunate Lover.

A Mock-Tale of the Lord Duke of Newcastle, which his Grace was pleased to say, out of his great Civility, That it would serve for Shadows to set off the rest; He loving Truth so well, that he was never good at telling Tales.

A Young and Lusty Cheshire-Lad did move
In Venus Sphere, and was so fill'd with Love
When first he saw a lovely Lass at Chester,
Whose badg of Christianity was Hester.
So beautiful and fair she did appear,
Fresh as the welcome Spring to the New Year;
And Odoriferous as Flower's birth;
As fair as new-born Lillies from the Earth.
This set the young Man's heart in Love's Flame 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,
Mankind condemn'd to foul ones now, or none.
Was Nature lavish? or else made the Thest
Upon her self, since she hath nothing left
Of what is handsom? so I now do find,
He enjoys thee, enjoys all Womankind:
For Beauty, Favour, and what's height of Pleasure,
Since thou art Nature's Store-house, & 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 yeeld, I'le bless Dame Nature's Gift,
And Bounty to you, since 'twas all her drist
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 Deifi'd in love by thee.
Here on my knees I beg thy Love thus low;
Until I have it, my Knees here shall grow:
Therefore be kind. 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 Love's Palsi'd Tung,
With broken Sighs, and half Words it was strung;
Love's Comma's, Full-Points, and Parenthesis,
And this Love's Rhetorick, Oratory is.
With Love's pale-difficulty then afraid,
She softly said, O I'm a tender Maid,
And never heard such language! you'l deceive me;
And now I wish, I could wish you would leave me.
Why d'ye inchant a silly Maid? alas,
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 Tongue's Love's Conjuration, without doubt;
Circles me here in Love, cannot get out,
By your Love's 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're hop'd such a Feast.
But see the Fate of business, which doth move
So cross, For Business hath no sense of Love.
O thou dull Bus'ness! Yet some States-men pry
Into Love's Secrets with a glancing Eye.
But here our Lover was arraign'd to stand
Condemn'd to Bus'ness, that in Ireland
Necessity doth urge him: That word Part,
So cruel was, it struck each other's heart,
Which inwardly did bleed with sorrow's grief,
Since nothing now but hopes were their relief.
Sadly he goes aboard, Love fills his Sails,
And Cupid with his wings fanns gentle Gales
To waft him over; he thus thought to please
His wounded Lover o're those Rocky Seas;
Love would not leave him: nor was he content,
Unless this dangerous passage with him went.
In the mean time, his Mistress 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 o're,
And Cupid with him, on the Irish shore.
Love is so various, which some Lovers see;
Now Love an Irish Cupid's turn'd to be:
And takes all memory thus from our Lover,
Of his first Mistress, 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 Love's Heart.
This change of Love is blown so up and down,
By Fame's loud Trumpet, through all Chester Town:
The Women gossip'd it, and could not hold
Till to his former Mistress 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, Phoebus gives no light,
Or Starrs to fall, or make a Day of Night,
As he inconstant was: yet Love doth doubt,
Not doubting, yet enquires all about,
And sets her Love-spies to enquire a-new:
But those reports each minute stronger grew:
So she resolv'd her self to know the truth,
And was disguis'd in Clothes now like a Youth,
And went in Cavalier: The gentle Wind
Did favour her, and landed to her mind.
The Port was Dublin, and could not forbear
To make enquiries for her Love, and there
She found him at an Inn. He then began
To take such liking to his Countrey-man,
All his Discourse enquiring for his Ends,
To know the welfare of his English Friends:
Which she so fully satisfied, as he
Was now enamour'd of her company;
And was so fond, in her took such delight,
As supp'd, and lay together too that night.
Never suspecting her, his Mistress, 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.
She quench'd her Passion, which is wise and better
Than Love's Complaints: so writ to him a Letter
Of her whole Voyage, and Love's constant Hist'ry,
All her Designs, disguises in Love's Myst'ry;
And left this Letter in the Window: so
Three or four days 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 was, such Passions grew
Stronger upon him than e're Lover knew;
Resolv'd the foaming Billows to embrace,
Those liquid steps of hers he meant to trace,
And lay himself in pickled tears of Love,
Now at her feet, to see what that would move:
But all in vain, he thought too long had tarri'd,
When landed, found the same day she was marri'd:
Fell in such extasies, cursing his Fate,
The Ship and Winds, that made him come so late.
With Love's new hopes, his Sails he fill'd, and then
Invok'd God Neptune to go back again:
And all the passage as he went along,
Challeng'd the Mermaids in a loving Song;
With Love's assurances so over-joy'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 Mistress, but he found her marri'd too.
Cursing the Starrs 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 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 easie words so long did tye men,
To make them Galley-slaves in Marriage, so
Ti'd in his Chains, condemn'd for life to row
In Wedlock's Galley — Give me freedom then,
Thy Godhead I invoke, whilst foolish Men
To Love and Hymen's Prisons there do sit,
Justly committed for their want of Wit:
For he's a Fool that's ti'd when might be free:
And thus he rav'd and talk'd Non-sense you see,
As he that writ this Story, you may mend it;
So for his sake, and yours, and mine, I'le end it.
A Lady said, His Tale of Love did tell;
She with a Tale of Death would fit it well:
For Death, said she, unties the Lover's knot,
When deadly Arrows from his Bow are shot.
A Lady on her Death-bed panting lay,
She call'd her Friends, and thus to them did say:
Farewel my dearest Friends, for I must go
Unto a place which you nor I yet know:
May be my Sp'rit will wander in the shade
Of glimmering light, which is by Moon-shine made:
Or in my Tomb in peace may lye asleep,
So long as Ashes in my Urn do keep.
Or else my Soul, like Birds, may have its wings,
Or like to Herc'les Flyes that want their stings.
But howsoever, Friends, grieve not, nor cry,
For fear my Soul should be disturb'd thereby:
Clothe not your selves with Melancholy black;
Call not your Grief unto remembrance back:
But let your Joys a Resurrection have,
Call'd forth by comfort from the sorrowful Grave.
Let not Delight intombed lye
In the sad Heart, or weeping Eye:
Let not pale Grief my Soul affright,
Shrouded in Melanch'ly's dark Night:
But Death, said she, I fear him not;
So turn'd her head, and Death her shot.
Then on a Cypress Hearse was laid forth dead;
As scorning Death, 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 face did sweetness keep.
Her Elogie was thus:
Tears rain a-pace, and so a River make,
To drown all Grief within a watry Lake.
Make Seas of Tears, for Wind 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, built with Art and Care,
Like Lovers, who build Castles in the Air,
Which ev'ry puff of Wind is apt to break,
As Imaginations, when Reason's weak.
They said, His Tale was short,
He Answer made, I'le 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 do her young ones rise;
Having bequeath'd her Life to them, she dyes.
They only take that Life to spin a Death;
For as they wind up Silk, they wind out Breath.
Thus, rather than do nought, or idle be,
They'l work, and spin out Life's small Thread we see.
When all their work is done, ready to dye,
Their Wings are grown, for Life away to flye.

The Silk-worm is first a small Seed; then turneth into a Worm; at last grows to have Wings like a Flye, but lives not to make use of them. As soon as she is big enough, she spins a Ball of Silk all about her self; where­in, being grown to be a Fly, she makes a hole to come out, to leave Seed for the generation of her young ones: Af­ter which she immediately dyes.

The Women said, the Men made quick dispatch
In telling Tales, like Dogs that Bones do snatch.
But howsoe're, a Woman did begin
To tell a Tale, and thus she entred in.

A Description of the Passion of Love misplaced.

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 Mind's content?
Why do you Passions in a Mind create,
Then leave it all to Destiny and Fate?
With knot 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 & 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 always move in perfum'd air.
Forbear, forbear, make not the World so poor;
Send not such Riches, for the Gods have store.
I'm one, said she, to whom Fortune's a Foe,
Crossing my Love, working my overthrow:
A Man which to Narcissus might compare:
For Youth and Beauty, and the Graces fair,
Do 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;
He, 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, grieve and 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 only 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 only dull Beasts use;
But Noble Man to love the Soul will chuse:
Because the Soul is like a Deity,
Therein 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 dis-unite,
Unless that Death will separate them quite:
For when the Senses in Delights agree,
They bind the Soul, make it a Slave to be.
He Answered,
If that the Soul in Man should give consent
In every thing the Senses to content,
No Peace, but War amongst Mankind would be,
And Desolation would have Victory:
No Man could tell or challenge what's his own;
He would be Master that is strongest grown.
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 Men condemn'd the Tale, because (said they)
None but a Fool would preach so, Wise men pray.
But Ladies 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 surfeit when we gormandise;
For of one Dish we glut our Palat,
Although it be but of a Salat.
When Solomon the Wise did try
Of all things underneath the Sky;
Although he found it Vanitie,
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 Nature's play;
And we, her various Works, must her obey.
A Woman said, that Men were foolish Lovers,
And whining Passions Love oft discovers:
They're full of Thoughts, said she, yet never pleas'd,
Always complaining, and yet never eas'd:
They'l sigh, they mourn, they groan, they make great moan,
They'l sit cross-legg'd, with folded arms alone.
Sometimes their Dress is careless, with despair,
With hopes rais'd up, 'tis costly, rich, and rare,
Setting their Looks and Faces in a frame;
Their Garb's affected by their Mistress Name,
Flattering their Loves, forswearing; then each boasts
What Valiant Deedsh' has done in Forreign Coasts;
Through what great dangers his adventures run;
Such acts as Hercules had never done:
That every one that hears, doth fear his Name;
And every Tongue that speaks, sounds forth his fame.
And thus their Tongues extravagantly move,
Caus'd by vain-glorious, foolish, amorous Love,
Which only those of his own Sex approve.
But when their Rallery was past,
The Tale upon a Man was cast:
Then crying peace to all that talking were,
They were bid hold their Tongues, and lend an Ear.
The Man, more than 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.
He, musing a short time, thus did begin;
I hope, said he, my Tale may credit win.

A Description of Civil-Warrs.

A Kingdom which long time had liv'd 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 into Civil-Warr broke out.
Some for the Commons fought, some for the King,
And great Disorder was in ev'ry thing:
Battels were won and lost on either side;
Where Fortune ebb'd and flow'd, like to a Tide.
At last the Commons won; and then astride
Fierce Tyranny on Noble Necks did ride:
All Monuments pull'd down, that stood long time;
And Ornaments were then thought a great Crime.
No Law was pleaded but 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, & 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 Mind,
No Joy nor Comfort in the World could find.
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 Mind will be
Always in peace and sweet tranquillity.
A Woman said, A Tale I mean to tell,
That in those Warrs unto a Cross befell.
AN ancient Cross liv'd in our Father's time,
With as much Fame as did the Worthies nine:
No harm it did, or injury to none,
But dwelt in peace, and quietly alone:
On Times or Government did not complain,
But stood Stone-still, not stirr'd in no King's Reign.
Both Winter's Snow, and Summer's scorching Sun,
It did endure, and Urin'd was upon.
Yet peaceful Nature, nor yet humble Mind,
Shall not avoid rude Ignorance that's blind:
That superstitiously beats 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 only Age.
Had it been gilded gloriously and brave,
They Vanity for an excuse might have:
But it was poor, its Mortar all off worn,
Which Time had eaten, as when Dogs have 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 every thing
That by example might to goodness bring.
Then down they pull'd it, leaving not one stone
Upon another, for it to be known
To after-ages; for the Ground lies bare,
And none can know that once the 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 old times, when Devotion false did reign,
A Church was built, although to use prophane,
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 married was, became his Spouse and Love.
Long did she live in Duty, Peace, and Zeal,
Became an Honour to the Commonweal;
Was curiously adorn'd within, without,
The Quoire all hung with Hangings rich about;
With Marble Tombs and Statues carv'd and cut,
Wherein the Bodies of good Saints were put.
There polish'd Pillars long the Iles did stand,
And Arched Roofs built by a skilful 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,
As all the outside with Free-stone were built:
There Choristers did sing each several Note,
And Organs loud did answer ev'ry 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 sinful Men,
Was made a Stable, and for Thieves a Den.
No surer mark of Wrath when Gods do frown,
Then to give leave to pull their Temples down.
A Lady said, these VVarrs 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 he, like to a fixed Starr 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'rful Fame
Did throw their spight back on their heads with shame.
And though they struck his Body, not his Mind,
(For that in Death through all their Malice shin'd.)
He valiant was, his Spirits knew no fear,
They never chill'd when they in Battel were;
And strove to give more blows than safety sought:
His Limbs most vigour had, when most he fought.
He spoke not loud, nor sung, his fear to hide;
With silence march'd, and quietly did ride,
Viewing the Armies with a watchful Eye;
And careful was, advantages to spye.
If that his Soldiers chanc'd to run away,
He ran not after them to make them stay,
As some Commanders, which will call and run
After the Soldiers, when the Flight's begun:
But when once gone, seldom return again,
But with their Soldiers they will safe remain.
But he amongst his Foes, like Earth, was fix'd;
Or, like to Fire, himself was intermix'd;
And their great solid Bodies did divide,
Pulling their Fabrick down on either side;
Until his Mercy did for Favour pray
Unto his Courage, so to run away.
He made them know he was a Soldier good,
Train'd up in Warrs, which Art he understood:
Besides, his Genius was prompt thereunto;
Wit, Skill, Invention, knew what best to do:
Which made the Foe more fierce his Life to take,
For fear that he their ruin soon would make.
For they, so soon as he was in their pow'r,
Like greedy Vulturs, did his Life devour.
He stood their Rage, his Courage knew no fear;
Nor on grim Death with terror did he stare;
But did embrace her with a Generous Mind,
VVith Noble Thoughts, and Kisses that were kind.
Vollies of Shot did all his Body tear;
VVhere his blood's spilt, the Earth no Grass will abear.
As if, for to revenge his Death, the Earth
VVas curs'd with barrenness ev'n 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 Heav'n doth live, and here his Name.
The next time had a Man his turn to speak;
Who said, That Civil-Warrs made Rich men break.
Populous Kingdoms, that do flourish well
In Peace and Plenty, then to ruin fell.
WHen I, with grief, unto remembrance bring
The blessed time men liv'd with a goodKing;
To think at first how happy such do raign,
And in what Peace such Kingdoms do remain;
VVhere 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 easie Laws, no Tax to make them poor,
All live Plenty, full is every Store:
They Customs have to recreate the Mind,
Not barbarous, but civil, gentle, kind:
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 to pull:
Of Cattel store feeding in Meadows green,
Where Crystal Brooks run every Field between;
With 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 Kingdoms, Beasts, Fowls, Fish, are store;
Those that industrious are, can ne're be poor.
But O sad Fate and Fortune, if it chance
The Sword of Civil-Warr for to advance;
As when Rebellions, like a watry Flood,
O'reflows a Monarchy; in Royal Blood
Builds Aristocracy with cruel hands,
On unjust grounds of Tyranny it stands.
Then into wicked States such Kingdoms go,
Where Virtue's beaten out, no truth they know:
And all Religion flies 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 pleads at barr
Against poor Honesty, with whom they jarr:
Calamity doth find no Pity; for
All Pity's buri'd in a Civil-Warr.
A Lady's turn was next,
Which told this Tale perplext:
SHE said, I over Sea to Lapland 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 find;
Hard were their Hearts, and cruel every Mind.
Fye, saith a Man, you do all Orders break,
So long on Melancholy Themes you speak.

The Prologue to the Beggars Marriage.

I'Ve serv'd two 'Prentiships, 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 rore,
The Beggars Bark can ne're be tumbled o're.
What fitter Subject for my Muse can be,
Than make Descriptions of our Company?
The Beggar's Theme too well my Fortunes fit,
My begg'rly Fancy too, and so my Wit.

The Duke of Newcastle's Description of the Beggars Marriage.

WHile'om, there was a Ragged Beggar old,
Who in his time full fourscore Winters told;
His Head all frozen, Beard long, white as Snow,
With a staff's prop, for else he could not go:
With bleared Eyes, all parched, dry, and cold;
With shaking-Palsie, little could he hold:
His Clothes so tatter'd, for they were so worn,
Older than he, in many pieces torn:
The subtill'st Brain, and prying'st Eye, those seen,
Both could not guess what stuff they'd ever been.
On's Cloak more several Patches there did stick,
Than labour'd Algebra's 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 blew, which green.
His Turf-house lean'd to an old stump of Oak;
A hole at top there for to void the Smoak
Of stollen scatter'd Boughs; could not be fed
But by his daily begging daily bread.
There on his little Bench I'le leave him, then
Within a while I'le speak of him again.
A wither'd Beggar-woman, little sundred
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 now sunk holes, little she had of sight,
Little could speak, as little sense could tell;
Seldom she heard, sometimes the great Towns-bell:
A long forgetfulness her Legs had seiz'd;
For many years her Crutches them had eas'd:
Clothes, thousand rags torn with the wind & weather,
Her Huswifry long since had sew'd together.
No Livelihood, but Charity grown cold
As she was, this more than her years made old.
In a hot Summer's day, they out did creep,
Enliven'd just like Flyes, for else they sleep;
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 Palsi'd Head so shak'd, 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'le be thy Leander:
She said, Before we met, cold as a stone is,
I was; but now am Venus, thou Adonis.
Such heights of Passion's-love utter'd these two,
As youngest Lovers, when they 'gin to woo:
For Cupid, reign o're Mankind still will have;
He governs from the Cradle to the Grave.
Their Virtue's such, they would not sin, nor 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 Blind, the Deaf, they all were met:
Such throngs of Beggars, Women, Children, seen,
Muster'd all on the Town's fair Grassy-Green:
The Bridegroom's led between two Lame men, so,
Because our Bridegroom fast he could not go.
The Bride was led by Blind-men; him behind,
Because you know that Love is always blind.
The Hedg-Priest then was call'd for, did him bring,
Marri'd them both with an old Curtain-Ring:
No Father there was found, or 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 gather'd up, for Bisket, 'twas so dri'd,
Alms-tubs Olio Podridoes 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, & strong Ale.
Each was so tipsie, 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 blind-men sung to them, as use to do:
Some whistled then, and hollow sticks did sound,
And thus melodiously they play'd a Round:
LameMen, lame Women, mingled, said, 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 his House
The Bridegroom brought the Bride, each drunk as Mouse.
No room for any but them two, they saw,
So laid them both in bed of good fresh Straw.
Then took their leave, put out their Rushen-light;
But they themselves did revel all the Night.
The Bridegroom ruffles now, kiss'd, and said, Friend;
But when he kiss'd, thought 'twas at t'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,
As if our Taper here was shining bright.
Now Love's 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, arm in arm, our Lovers fell asleep.
So for the Will, though nothing else indeed,
To Love the Beggars built a Pyramid.

A Tale of his Grace the Duke of Newcastle, called, The Philosopher's Complaint.

I Through a Cranny there did spy,
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,
That did allot him such a Fate,
To make him of Mankind to be.
All other Animals, their Mold
Of thousand Passions makes them free,
Since they're not subject unto Gold,
Which doth corrupt Mankind we see.
The busie Merchant plows the Main,
The Pleading-Lawyer for his Fee;
Pious Divines for Lawful Gain,
Mechanicks all still Coz'ners be.
With Plow-shares, Farmers wound the Earth,
Look to their Cattel, Swine, and Sheep,
To multiply their Seed, Corn's 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.
Mankind 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.
Beasts do despise this Orient Mettle;
Each freely grazing fills his Maw:
After Love's procreating, settle
To softer sleep, wise Nature's Law.
They're not Litigious, but are mute;
False Propositions never make:
Nor of unknown things do dispute;
Follies, 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 enamell'd Sky,
Thinking they're govern'd by each Starr;
But scorn Man's false Astrology,
And think themselves just as they are.
Their Pride not being so supream,
Celestial Bodies moving thus,
Poor Mortals each awaking dream,
To think those Lights were made for us.
Nor are they troubled where they run;
What the Sun's 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 Truth's right way.
For Policies, Beasts never weave,
Or subt'ler Traps do ever lay,
With false dissembling, which deceive,
Their Kind to ruin, or betray.
No hot ambitions in them are;
Trumpets are silent, Drums do cease:
No troublers in their Kind in Warr,
For to destroy, but all for Peace.
The Stranger valu'd Jemms that dress
Our beauteous Ladies like the day,
A Parrot's 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 always himself to hurt:
When Beasts are wise to their own good.
Man makes himself a troubled way,
Runs into several dangers still,
VVhen in those thoughts Beasts never stray,
But do avoid them with their will.
Man's troubled Head and Brain still swelling
Beyond the Power of Senses five,
Not capable of those things telling:
Beasts beyond Senses do not strive.
Nature's just measure, Senses are,
And no Impossibles desire:
Beasts seek not after things that's far,
Or Toys or Baubles still admire.
Beasts Slander not, or Falshoods raise,
But full of Truth, as Nature taught;
And wisely shun dissembling ways,
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 joyful seem at those that fall;
Or crooked ways 'gainst others tries;
But love their Kind, themselves, and all.
Hard labour suffer when they must;
When over-aw'd, they wisely bend;
Only in Patience then they trust,
As Misery's and Affliction's Friend.
They seek not after Beauty's blaze,
To tempt their appetite when dull;
But drink the Stream that Tempests raise,
And grumble not when they are full.
They take no Physick to destroy
That Health which Nature to them gave:
Nor rul'd by Tyrants Laws, annoy,
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, Fairings, Ribbons, 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 ne're 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
Unuseful things, all Men's 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 leave the good to find a fault
In any Author that doth write.
O vain Philosophy! their Laws
With hard words still for matter brings,
Which nothing is, nor knows the cause
Of any thing; unuseful things.
Why are our Learned then so proud,
Thinking to bring us to their bow?
And Ignorance, Wisdom allow'd,
And know not that they do not know?
Motion's cessation is the end
Of Animals, both Beasts and Men;
The longest Lives to that do tend,
And to Death's Palace, his dark Den.
Or that Beasts breath doth downwards go,
And that Men's Souls do upward rise;
No Post from that World comes you know:
It puzzled Solomon 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 piti'd him, and his sad case,
Wishing our Vicar him to teach;
For to infuse a Saving-grace,
By his Tongue's Rhet'rick for to preach.

SEVERAL Feigned Stories IN PROSE The Second BOOK.

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 to vi­sit her.

Sir, said she, Is your Lord a Poet?

No, Lady, said he.

Then he hath no Divine Soul, said she.

Is he a Philosopher?

No, Madam, said he.

Then, said she, he hath no Rational Soul.

Is he an Historian?

Neither, said he.

Then, said she, he hath no Learned Soul.

Is he an ancient Man?

No, Lady, said he.

Then he hath no Experienced Soul, said she.

Is he an Orator?

No, Lady, said he.

Then he hath no Eloquent Soul, said she.

And if he hath neither Poetical Wit, Philosophi­cal Wisdom, Studious Learning, Experienced Knowledg, nor Eloquent Language, he cannot be conversable; and if he be not conversable, his Visit can neither be profitable nor pleasant, but trouble­some and tedious; therefore I do entreat your Lord that he will spare his pains, and mine, in giving me a Visit.

But, said the Man, though my Lord is neither a Poet, a Philosopher, an Historian, an Orator, nor 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, if it were in my 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 [Page 155] old Women should be put into Cloysters when their Youth and Beauty is past: but I must con­fess, That the custom of the World is otherwise; for old Women and young Men appear most to publik view in the World; when young VVo­men and aged Men often retire from it.

The Judgment.

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? Who said, He liked both well where they were alike wor­thy; and disliked them both in things that were not worthy of praise.

Then he said to the second Gentleman, And which like you best?

VVhich do you mean, answer'd he? the Coun­treys or Kingdoms?

VVhy, what difference is there betwixt saying a Countrey and a Kingdom, was reply'd to him?

Great difference, said he: for, to say a Countrey, is but such a circumference of Earth; and to say a Kingdom, 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 Kingdom do you like best, then?

Truly, said he, I cannot give a good judgment unless I had travelled through every part in both Kingdoms, and had taken strict surveys of their Forts, Havens, Woods, Plains, Hills, Dales, Mea­dows, Pastures, Arrable; also of their Architectures, as Cities, Towns, Villages, Palaces, Churches, Thea­ters; of their Laws, Customs, and Ceremonies; of their Commodities, Trafficks, and Transportations; of their Climates and Situations; and of the seve­ral Humours of the several People in each Kingdom: which will not only require a solid Judgment, and a clear Understanding, but a long Life to judg of it all.

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

To judg of Parts (answered he), is not to judg of the Whole: but to judg of as much as I have seen, I will compare them, or similize the Parts of those two Kingdoms, to two Ladies, whose Faces I have only seen, their Bodies and Constitutions be­ing unknown; the one that 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 and plainer Countrey, and the Climate is more clear, and some­what hotter than England; and England hath better Sea-Ports, Heavens, and Navigable Rivers, than [Page 157] France hath; also, the one hath a more haughty Look than the other; and the other a more plea­sing and modest Countenance. So France appears more Majestical, and England more Amiable.

The Vulgar Fights.

A Young Gentleman, of a good Natural Wit, had a desire to travel: but first, he would vi­sit every Province in his own Countrey, before he went into Forreign Kingdoms; preferring the know­ledg of his own Native Soil, before those 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, that he might inform himself best of the several Trades, Trafficks, Im­posts, Laws, Customs, Offices, and the like. When he was come to it, he sent his Man to seek him out some Lodgings in some private House, because Inns are both troublesome, and more chargeable. His Man had not gone far, but he saw a Bill over a Trades-man's Door, to let Passengers know there were Lodgings to be Lett. The Mistress sitting at the Door, he asked her if he might see the Lodg­ings that were to be Lett?

She answered, No; she would first see them that were to take them: Who is it that would take them, said she?

My Master, said he.

Hath he a Wife, said she?

Why ask you that, said he?

Because (said she) I will not Lett my Lodgings to any Man that brings a Wife: for, Women to Women are troublesome Guests; whenas 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 and Conversation: for, to have no other Company but my Husband, is very dull and me­lancholy.

The man said, 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 the Man?

She said, Your Master and I shall not fall out about the Price.

So he returned to his Master, and told him, He had found not only Lodgings, but (as he thought) a fair Bed-fellow for him; for the Mistress 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 [Page 159] leave, left him to himself: after which, the good man seldom troubled him; but the Wife was so officious, as he seldom mist of her Company; and so wondrous kind as might be, making him White­wine-Caudles for his Break-fast, and giving him ve­ry oftern Collations: besides, if he stay'd out, she would send her Husband to bed, and wait for his coming home: for which Kindness he would return her Courtly Civilities.

He went often abroad to view the City, and to see the course of the People, and the several passa­ges that happen in such places: and one day, as he went through a large Street, a Coach-man and Car­man man fell out for out for the right side of the way; the Car­man 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'd blows; and their Whips were their Mettle-blades, where­with they fought and lashed one another soundly. The Gentleman, seeing them lashing one another so cruelly, spake to his Man to part the Fray. In troth, Master, said the Man, if I shall go about to part all foolish Frays, or but one in a City, I may chance to go home with a broken Pate, and get no Reputation for the loss of my blood.

Thence they went to the Market place, and there were two Women which had fallen out about their [Page 160] Merchandize, and their fight was much fiercer than the Coach-man and Carters, and their words more offensive, and their Nails more wounding than Whips, insomuch as they had scratched each other so, that the blood trickled down their faces: where­upon the Gentleman, being of a pitiful nature, com­manded his man to part them: The man said, I will adventure on the Feminine Sex, for I believe I can pacifie them, at least make my party good: so he went and spoke to them to forbear each other; but their ears were stopt with the sound of their scold­ing; and when he went to part them, it did so en­rage their fury, as they left fighting with each other, and fell upon him; who, to help himself, was for­ced to fight with them both: at last it grew to be a very hot Battel; first off went his Hat, then down fell his Cloak; 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 Hair, he pull'd their Petticoats; they scratch'd his Face, he beat their Fingers; he kick'd them, they spurned him: at last, with strugling, they all three fell into the Kennel; and so close they fought, as those three Bodies seemed but one Bo­dy, that moved as a Whale on a shallow shore, which wants water to swim; even so they lay wa­ving and rolling in the Kennel: in this time a num­ber of people were gathered about them to see them [Page 161] fight, (for it is the nature of common people to look on Combats, but part none; to make frays, but not friends) who enrag'd them the more, and enflam'd their angers with their shooting-noises: but the Gentleman, that was concerned for his Man, desired the people to part them; who cryed out, Let them fight, Let them fight; and they that had so much good nature as to offer to pull them asunder, were hindered by the rest. At last the Constable came, and did cause them all three to be put into the Stocks; the Man was placed be­twixt the two Women, which made him almost deaf of both his Ears; for though their Legs were fast, their Tongues were loose; with which they rung him such a Scolding-Peal, as made his Head dizzy; whereas he, without speaking one word, sate in a most lamentable posture, with his Clothes all rent and torn, his Face all scratch'd and bloody, and that Hair they left on his Head, all ruffled, and standing 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 shackled a longer time; who, when they saw the Man let loose, and they still fast, were stark mad. The Man was so dogged, that he would not speak to his Master, because it was by his command he came into that Womanish Quar­rel. His Master, to pacifie him, and to reward him for his obedience, gave him new Clothes, and all [Page 162] things suitable, and Money, to be Friends again. But though the Money did qualifie his Passion, yet he was wonderful 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 man's Service, where he might hide his Dishonour. His Master told him, He thought he never had much Honour to lose; neither would any trouble their thoughts, and burthen their memory, with such foolish Quar­rels: But howsoever (said his Master) if you be a Man of Honour, as you imagine your self, you should glory in this Combat; for Honourable and Gallant Men will not refuse to grasp with Women, and take it as an honour to receive blows from them; a rent Band is their Victory, and a scratcht Face their Trophy, and their scolding Speech is their Chariot, wherein they ride in triumph. Hea­ven (said the Man) deliver me from that Honour; for I had rather grasp 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 ears; the Man cursing, the Wife scolding, and the Wares in their Shop flung about; for they had hurled all they could lay hold on, at each other's head: Both Master and Man stood at the door, not daring to enter the House, for fear [Page 163] they should partake of the Quarrel. At last said the Man to his Master, Sir, now you may have those Honourable Victories, Trophies, 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. The Man said, I found two women too much for one man, and I dare lay a wager our Land­lady will be too hard for our Landlord. He had no sooner spoke, but the Wife had broke her Hus­band's Head with a Measure that lay by; which as soon as she had done, she run into the Kitchin, and shut the Door to secure her self, making it her Ca­stle of Defence; where her Husband followed with threatning-language, then bounced and beat against the Door to break it open; but she had not only barred and lock'd it, but set all the Pots, Pans, and Spits against it, as a Barricado to make it strong. At last the Gentleman went to his Landlord, and perswaded him to be friends with his Wife. At first he would not hear him; but at last, when he found he could not get in, and that his fury was wasted with the many assaults against the door, he was con­tented to have a Parley: Then there was a Truce agreed upon for two hours; in which time the Gen­tleman managed the Quarrel so well, as he made them Friends; the Wife being contented to be Friends with her Husband for the Gentleman's sake, [Page 164] and the Husband for Quiet's sake. The Man was also contented to stay with his Master, when he saw he was not the only man that was beaten by wo­men, but triumphed that the Landlord was beaten by one, when he had two against him.

The TOBACCONIST.

THERE were two Maids talking of Hus­bands, which is for the most part the Theam of their Discourse, and the subject of their Thoughts.

The one said, I would not marry a man that takes Tobacco, for any thing.

Then said the other, It is likely you will have a Fool for your Husband; for Tobacco is able to make a Fool a Wise man: And though it doth not always work wise Effects, by reason some Fools are beyond all improvement; yet it never fails, where any improvement is to be made.

Why, said the first, what wise Effects does it work?

The second said, it composes the mind, it busies the thoughts, represents several Objects to the mind's view, settles and stays the Senses, clears the Under­standing, strengthens the Judgment, spies out Er­rors, evaporates Follies, heats Ambition, comforts Sorrow, abates Passions, excites to Noble Actions, [Page 165] digests Conceptions, enlarges Knowledg, elevates Imaginations, creates Fancies, quickens Wit, and makes Reason Pleader, and Truth Judg, in all Disputes or Controversies betwixt Right and Wrong.

The first said, It makes the Breath stink.

You mistake, said the second, 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 Am­bergreece; when Tobacco is a sweet and pleasant, wholsome and medicinable Herb.

The School-Quarrels, or Scholars-Battels.

A MAN travelling, and being very weary, seeing a large House, a-lighted, and went to the Gates, which he found open for any to pass without opposition: Entring in, he came into a large paved Court; and walking about it, he heard a noise as of a great Wind, which made him look 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 [Page 166] Books placed in long rows, and Men in old tatter'd Gowns reading them, and turning their leaves; which shewed him his error to think he heard a Wind, for it was the shuffling of the Leaves of the numerous Books that were turned over by those many men. But desiring to instruct himself of their several Studies, he went softly to observe them.

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, he perceived he was studying the Laws, and acted, against he pleaded at the Barr.

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

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

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

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

Another he saw reading, who 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 who as they read, would [Page 167] 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 a little Bell rung, whereupon they all left off their studying, and began to walk about, dis­coursing to each other of their several Studies. 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 the Controversies of Theology: but they grew so hot with zeal, that their discourse flamed up high, and their fiery words flew above all Respects 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 appease them.

But amongst the rest, there were two Historians, the one a Grecian, the other a Roman; who talking of Caesar and Alexander, the Roman Historian said, There was no comparison between those two Wor­thies: for, said he, Alexander was only a Darling of [Page 168] Fortune, whose Favour gave him a free passage without opposition, and had no occasion to shew his Courage, Skill, Conduct, or Industry; and, said he, Fools, Cowards, and Slothful 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 Soldier, and was a Valiant, Wise Commander; and that Caesar was only a Man of Fortune, Traiterous, Desperate; and whatsoever he got, was all by Chance. In this Dispute, one defending Alexander, the other Caesar, they fell from words to blows; and, like two School boys, 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 and the Trumpets of their several Clamours, arri­ved to the Master of the Colledg's hearing; at which noise 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-Battel: for all the Scepticks were against the Mathematicians, the Natural Philoso­phers against the Divines, the severe Moralists against the Poets; and in the like opposition were all [Page 169] the rest: But at last they grew out of all order, and there became such a confusion, that they cared not whom they did strike, so they did fight, although 'twere their own Parties: Whereupon the Master of the Colledg hollow'd 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 painful, 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 and 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 Pens and Ink sans nombre.

The man that came by chance, was crept into a hole, and was in such an agony and 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 [Page 170] to Supper, or Prayers, he took courage, and came out of the corner, stealing forth the same way he came in: and being clearly got from the Col­ledg, full glad he was, and then began to call into his Mind their Quarrels; which 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, and ignorant Neighbours; and so returned home.

The Observer.

A Gentleman desirous to travel to see the Varie­ties of several Countreys and Governments, at last he arrived in a Kingdom, where he went to the chief City, and there wandring about, came to the King's Palace; and though there was a Guard, yet there was a Porter sitting at the outward Gate of the Palace, to whom he went and said to him, I am a Stranger that travel to see several Kingdoms and Courts, and 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 to make his passage free; the Porter making Legs without Thanks (for Bribes have only Civil [Page 171] 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 Gates late at night, and early in the morning (which he need not have told, but he thought he should have as much know­ledg for his Money as he could give); but, said he, I will try if I can find 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; who, at the Porter's entreaty, 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 cannot have Ends or Designs): He guided this Gentleman through a great Court­yard, 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 Soldiers with Hal­berts, which were more for shew than safety; 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: by their strong large sta­ture, and swell'd bulk, they seemed as if they did use to eat to the proportion of their drinking.

From thence he was guided into a Long-Gallery, at the end of which was the Presence, where were [Page 172] many young Gallants, and fair Ladies, the young Men courting their fair Mistresses, in repeating of Love-Verses and Sonnets, some dancing, others singing, some congie-ing, some complementing, and thus diverting themselves in pleasant pastimes. 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. When he was there, he found good store of Company full of discourse; and 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 Kingdom were degenerated, and become ef­feminate: concluding, That there ought to be a Warr, 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 was a great Company of Lords and Ladies waiting for the King and Queen's coming forth, which gave the Stranger some time for observation.

It was his chance to stand by a Lord that had [Page 173] many of his Friends, or rather flatterers, about him, speaking to him of another Lord at the other side of the Room, who stood also with his Friends or Flatterers; he said 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? Gentlemen, said he, this must not be; for we are born Free Subjects to the King, not Slaves to his Favourite, who makes our Estates the Exchequer to supply his Vanities by the way of large Taxes, which is not to be suffered: for, though the King commands by his Advice, yet he receives the Sums.

The Stranger (that had but a little time to stay) removed from that side to the other, where the other Lord was talking to his Faction, and said, Do you see that Formal Lord, who loves and affects Popularity, and would be the absolute Man in the Kingdom, to Rule and Govern all? Let me tell you Gentlemen, said he, He is a dangerous Man, whom the King should be ware of: but alas, said he, the King is so facil, that whosoever comes with a clear Brow, and a smooth Tongue, he believes all he says is truth. Besides, he is so cockered up with a long Peace, that he cannot believe any body dares be Traitors. And thus he lives in secure Credulity, [Page 174] and is so timorous, that he dares not displease any one: for, those that are against him, he preferrs; and those that are faithful to him, he cares not for, and rejects them.

From that Company, the Stranger removed to the Women's Side; where was a Lady, wity others by her; who said 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 Lady, where she said to some others, Do you see, said 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 Pratling: She is so full of talk, that she will suffer none to speak but her self. Every Lady of each Company, flung spightful words upon each other's back: But the Musick beginning to play, they all flock'd together, and did all embrace, kiss, profess, and protest such affections, and vowed such friend­ships, That neither their Lives nor Fortunes should be wanting in one another's Service: Which the Stranger hearing, went out of the Court as fast as he could, for fear of the Court's Infection. And when he came to the Gate, the Porter (to whom he first spoke) ask'd him, Why he went away so [Page 175] soon? for, said he, the Company seldom parts un­til one or two of the Clock in the morning, nay, said he, some not all the night long, if their Mi­stresses favour them, or at least take some pity of them.

The Stranger said, He had seen so much, that it did fright him: What, said the Porter, some De­vils in the Play, or in the Masque? Yes, said the Gentleman, they could change into as many shapes as they would. That is only in their Clothes, an­swered the Porter. No, said the Stranger, it was in their Tongues and Faces: And so God give you Good-night.

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 marriageable 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 sel­dom or never agree; the Husband roars in his Drink, [Page 176] and the Wife scolds in her Choler; the Servants quarrel, the Children cry, and all is in more disor­der than 'tis thought Hell is, and a more confused Noise.

The Matron said, Such are only the Meaner sort of people; but the Noble and Rich Men and their Wives live otherwise: for the Better sort (the Noble and Rich) when they are drunk, are carried straight to Bed, and laid to sleep; and their Wives dance until their Husbands are sober.

The Lady said, If they dance until their Hus­bands be sober, they will dance until they be weary.

So they do, replied the Matron.

Why, said the Lady, the Husbands are, for the most part, always drunk.

And the other answered, And the Ladies are, for the most part, continually dancing.

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

The young Lady answered, You shall be Judg if I slander them: They drink drunk at Dinner; and before they are throughly 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 Ta­vern; [Page 177] but they, let me tell you, are sober men to Home Drunkards; and Taverns are quiet orderly Houses, to Great, Noble, and Rich Men's Houses: for Palaces are oft-times but Hospitable Taverns, Inns, and Bawdy-houses, only their Guests pay nothing for their Fare: but when they are Gaming­houses, then they pay the Box sometimes to their grief.

Fie, Lady, fie, 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 of them cannot be good.

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

She replied, 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, combing [Page 178] their Perwicks, or gogling their Hats, with jogging their Heads, one while backwards to the Noddle of their Heads, and then forwards, to their Brows; or fumbling with their Buttons, Band-strings, or Boot­hose; or pulling their Cloaks 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, lay it about their Waste, all in a crum­ple, like a Scarf; or else (like Male-contents) muf­fle themselves therein. As for their Behaviour, those that are fantastical, their Bodies 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 with 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 themselves, or else laying the Ankle of one Leg upon the Knee of the other, heaving their Feet up towards the Nostrils of their Company, especially when Ladies are by.

Methinks (said the Matron) that is an ill behavi­our, to thrust their Feet towards a fair Lady's 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, in neither 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 Chair's back, or set their Stomacks against the edg of a Table, and lay the upper part of the Body upon it; 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 Ladies Fanns 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, [Page 180] unless they engage their nearest Friends, Fathers, Brothers, Uncles, or Husbands, in a Quarrel; for they cannot fight with Men themselves, their strength being too weak, although their will is good.

The Discourses of the most part of them, are, Swearing, Bragging, Ranting, Rallery, Railing, or Lascivious: and in their Dressings and Fashions they are more fantastical, various, and unconstant, than Women: for, 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 Women's 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: whereas 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 fantastical vani­ty. And are not Men more Perfumed, Curled, and Powdred, than VVomen? And have they not greater Quantities of Ribbons of several Co­lours ti'd and set upon their Hats, Clothes, Gloves, Boots, Shooes, and Belts, than VVomen on their Heads and Gowns? Have not Men richer and [Page 181] more gaye Clothes than Women have? And where Women make Clothes once, Men make Clothes three times; yet Men exclaim against the Vanities of Women, when they are a hundred times vainer, and are more unnecessarily expensive than Women are: Women may be allowed by the severest Judgments, to be a little vain, as being Women; when it ought to be condemned in Men as an Effeminacy, which is a great Vice.

The last is their Idleness: for, Do not Men spend their time far more idly (not to say wickedly) than Women? Do not Men run visiting from House to House, for no other purpose but to twattle, spend­ing their time in idle and fruitless discourse? Do not Men meet every day in Taverns and Ordinaries, 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 Up-sitting of a Child-bed 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 report it; and such are accounted Wits that can make the most probable Lyes, which they call Gulling.

Have not Men also more foolish Quarrels than VVomen have? Are not Men more apt to take ex­ceptions [Page 182] at each other, than Women are? Will not Men dissemble, lye, and flatter with each other, more than Women do? Will not Men rail and back-bite each other, more than VVomen will? Are not Men more spightful, envious, and malicious at each other, than VVomen? VVill not Men imi­tate each other's fantastical Garb, Dress, and the like, more than VVomen? VVill 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 VVomen? And in all this time of their Visiting, Club, Gossipping, 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 to their Posterity, or profit to themselves? None at all; but they are like Flyes bred out of a Dunghill, buzzing idly about, and then dye: when VVomen are like industrious Ants, and prudent Bees, always employed to the benefit of their Fa­milies. Therefore 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 judg chari­tably, [Page 183] to live honestly, to temper his Appetites, rule his Passions, and be very industrious; I will never marry: for it is not only a Good Husband, but a VVise Man, that makes a VVoman happy in Marriage.

Of Three TRAVELLERS.

THERE were three Travellers that enquired of each other about their Travels; and after they had recounted their tedious Journeys, danger­ous Passages, and their many Inconveniences; they discoursed of the Climates of each Countrey they had been in, their Scituations, Commodities, Trade, and Traffick; the Customs, Fashions, and Humours of the People, the Laws and Government of their Princes, the Peace and VVarrs of Neighbour-Na­tions; at last they became to question one another, VVho had seen the greatest VVonders in their Travels?

Said one, I have seen the greatest VVonder: for I have seen a Mean Man become an Em­peror.

Pish, said the Second, that is nothing; for I have seen a Mean Fellow, without Merit, a Pow­erful Emperor's Bosome-Friend, and Chief Ruler: for, though the Power of Fortune can enthrone Slaves, and unthrone Kings; yet Fortune hath no [Page 184] Power over the Souls of Kings: for, although Fortune hath Power over the Body, she hath none over the Mind.

VVhy, said the third, that is no more VVon­der for Nature to put a Subject's Soul (fill'd with mean Thoughts) into an Emperor's Body, than for Fortune to set an Emperor's Crown on a Slave's Head. But I can tell you, said he, a VVonder indeed, which is, That where I travelled, there was an Emperor, the wisest Man in the world.

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

But though they ought to be so, said the other yet they are not always so: for, were not many of the Roman Emperors called, The Foolish Emperors? 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 VVonder when VVisdom lights in the right Line, I mean in a Royal Line.

No, answered the Third, it is no Wonder; for the Gods take a particular care to endue a Royal Head with Understanding, and a Royal Heart with Justice: for, Hereditary Royalty is Sacred, since the Gods annoint those Lines to that Dignity.

But those that have not a Right by Inheritance, the Gods take no care of; nay, many times the Gods punish with Plagues, and other Miseries, [Page 185] those People that make a King of their own chusing, and justly; since Kings are God's Vicegerents, or De­puties on Earth: for, as the Gods are chief in Hea­ven, and rule the Works of Nature as they will; so Kings are chief on Earth, and rule the rest of Mankind 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 married a Wife, Beautiful, Modest, Chast, and of a mild and sweet Disposition; and after he had been married some time, he began to neglect her, and make Courtship to other Women: which she perceiving, grew very melancholy; and sitting one day very pensive alone, in comes one of her Husband's Ac­quaintance to see him, whom this Lady told, Her Husband was abroad.

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

She said, 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.

He said, Can Fortune be cruel to a Beautiful Lady?

'Tis a sign, said she, I am not Beautiful, that she would match me to an unkind Husband.

He said, To my thinking it is as impossible for your Husband to be unkind, as for Fortune to be cruel.

She said, You shall be Judg 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 Chast 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.

He said, 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 with an Ido­latrous Zeal; and if you please to bestow it on me, I will offer my Heart on the Altar of your Fa­vours, [Page 187] and sacrifice my Services thereupon; and my Love shall be as the Vestal Fire, that never go­eth out, but perpetually burns with a Religious Flame.

Thus speaking and pleading, he made courtship to her; which she at first did not receive: 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; and finding that his Acquaintant was her Courtly Ad­mirer, he began to woo her a-new 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, and Imperious one.

But her Husband grew so fond of her, that he sought all the ways he could to please her; and was the most observant Creature to her, that might be; striving to please her in all things or ways 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 his dear Friends; and would often be absent, to give them opportunities to be with his Wife alone; hoping to get a favou­rable [Page 188] 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 Married-man, his Wife hear­ing her Husband was so great a Lover of that La­dy, and that that Lady's 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, which others seemed to like best; she began to imi­tate her: which her Husband perceiving, gave her warning not to do so; which she would not take, but entertained those that would address themselves to her: Whereupon her Husband threatned her; but she was at last so delighted with variety, that she regarded not his Threats: whereupon he used her cruelly; but nothing would reclaim her; only she would make more secret meetings, wherewith she was the better pleased; for secret meetings, as I have heard, give an edg to Adultery; and it is the nature of Mankind to be most delighted with that which is most unlawful. But her Husband, finding no reformation could be made, he parted with her, because 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.

The Converts in Marriage.

THERE were four young Gentlewomen, whose Fathers were near Neighbours; where­upon there grew an Acquaintance, and so a So­ciety between them.

The first was Reserved and Coy.

The second was Bold and Ranting.

The third was Merry and Gay.

The fourth was Peevish and Spightful.

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 Fantastical.

She that was Peevish and Spightful, was Cross and Unconstant.

It chanced that the four Fathers (by reason they had good Estates) were offered four Husbands for their four Daughters, all at one time.

The Husband that was to marry the first Lady, was Covetous, Miserable, and Timorous; as all Mi­serable, Covetous Persons, for the most part, are: but being very Rich, the Father to this Lady for­ced her to marry him.

He that was to marry the second Lady, was Temperate, Prudent, and Chast.

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.

After they had been married some time, the Co­vetous and Timorous man became Hospitable, Bountiful, Valiant, and Aspiring; doing High and Noble Deeds.

And she that was Bold and Wanton, became Chast, Sober, and Obedient.

He that was Melancholy, became Sociable, Conversable, and Pleasant; and she, Thrifty and Staid.

But he that was Cholerick and Impatient, who married her that was Peevish and Spightful, they 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 Errors and Faults multiply, being joined together.

AGE's FOLLY.

THERE was a Man and his Wife that had been married 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 Noose or Net) wherein he was entangled in Love's 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 though more self-conceited than those that are young, or in their prime of years, yet are easily catched; which is strange: for, most commonly, those that are self­conceited, are proud, disdainful, despising, thinking few or none worthy of their love. But Amorous Age, although they are self-conceited, take a pride, and brag, that they can have a Love as well as those that are Young; which makes each smile and eve­ry amorous glance from youthful eyes, to be snares, or rather baits, which Age doth nibble at.

But his Wife observing her Husband to prank and prune, to jet and set himself in several postures, to be extravagant in his actions, fantastical in his dress, loose in his discourse; wondred to see him on a sudden transformed from a Sober, Grave, Staid, [Page 192] Wise Man, to a Jack an-apes: At last concluded with her self, That 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, that powerful Amorous Love, which blindfolds long and wise Experience, with a foul, false appetite; making not only Young, but Old Men Fools.

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 Humorou not to quench, but rather to burn, though smutheredly, and no per­swasions could reform him, but rather make him worse, as Cordials in hot Fevers; she parted from him, after that they had been, and as she thought, happily married many years; and so resigned that part of the Command and Government of his Fa­mily that was left her; for the Maid had encroach'd by her Master's favour, and had ingross'd the chief­est Power of Rule in the Houshold-affairs, as well as in the Affection of the Heart.

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.

The Three WOOERS.

THERE were three Knights went a woo­ing:

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.

The Amorous sought for a Beautiful 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, such as Gentlemen are, and Honou­rable Persons, that live in the Countrey.

The Amorous Knight made love to all those Ladies and Gentlewomen that were Handsome; but as soon as he was to treat with their Parents or Friends about Marriage, or to appoint a Wedding­day, he would find 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 Ladies, nor look on them oftenl, 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 woo the Ladies, nor treat with their Parents or Friends, but discoursed with them civilly, observing strictly what Capacities, Wits, and Behaviours, the Women had; also employing Agents secretly to enquire of their Servants, Neighbours, and Acquaintance, of what Natures, Dispositions, and Humours, they were; not trusting to their sober outsides, and for­malities they use to Strangers.

After they had visited all Noble Entertainers, they went to the City.

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

But the Amorous Knight said, He would not chuse a Wife out of the City; because (said he) I shall never love my Wife but on Holy-days, or Sundays; for they then appear indifferent Hand­som, when they have their best Clothes; but on VVorking days they smell of the Shop, and ap­pear [Page 195] like their Father's faded, mouldy, withered VVares. Besides, said he, they discoursing to none but their Journey-men and 'Prentice-boys, cannot tell how to entertain a Gentleman, or a Lover, with Romancical Speeches, or pieces of Plays, or Copies of Verses, or the like.

The Covetous Knight said, 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 Romances, and the like; and be entertaining with repeating Verses, and singing Love-Sonnets, when she should be looking to my Servants, ordering my Family, and giving directions: 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 Clothes; besides the infinite Expence their Bravery will put me to. But when they dress fine but on Sundays and Holy-days, (I mean, only at such Good-times as Christmas, Easter, Whitsuntide, or so) a Silk-Gown will last some Seven years. He is a good Husband that will or can love his Wife sometimes, as on Holy-days; although I shall love my VVife best those days she is most in her Hus­wifry (which is, in her Sluttery), and not on Holy­days, when she is in her Bravery. But he that loves [Page 196] his Wife every day, and at all times, is Luxurious, and ought to be banished a Commonwealth: for, Fond Husbands make Proud, Vain, Idle, and Ex­pensive Wives, who spoil Servants, kill Industry and all good Huswifry, which is the ruin to Noble and Ancient Families.

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, to get his Estate; or at least to bring him into some Court of Justice, 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, bribery, betraying, and accusing: for, said he, poor Courtiers are like starved Prisoners, devour all they can get, and sometimes they devour one another. But the Amorous Knight was ravish­ed with the glistering Shews; and was more ena­moured with the gay Clothes, than with the fair Ladies; 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; nor struck with [Page 197] admiration, as the Amorous Knight; said little, but observed much; and was willing to go or stay, as the others could agree.

But when the Covetous Knight heard them to talk of nothing but Fashions, Gowns, Gorgets, Fanns, 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-Friendships, he was forced to go out of the room, or otherwise he should have swooned with an Apoplexy, or Lethar­gie, or the like sudden Disease: for he did imagine himself married to one of them, and all his Estate spent, and he only left with a pair of Horns; and, like a Horned-Beast, in the wild Forest of Po­verty.

But these sorts of Discourse did enslave the A­morous Knight, binding him in Love's Fetters, in­somuch as he became a Servant to them all: but then finding it was impossible to please them all, he only applied, and at last yeelded himself to one; to whom, after a short time, he was married.

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 married, thought it would shew an uncon­stant [Page 198] Humour not to marry, since 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 Father's consent, and the Lady's affection, at least her good-will, married.

When these three Knights were married, each carried 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 did wink at each other, to cozen him: let him do what he could to spare, they outwitted him with craft, to get.

The Amorous Knight, when he had lived at home a little while to himself, and his Wive's gay Clothes were faded, and she appeared in her natural Complexion, and became like her Neighbours, he courted others, and despised his Wife; then she strives to spruce up, and to get others to court her, which Courtships did cause Expences, in Dancing, Meetings, 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 cozen'd by his Wife [Page 199] and Servants (he not allowing them sufficiently); the other being impoverished with Mistresses and Vanities.

Ambition preferr'd before Love.

THERE was a Noble Gallant Man, made love to a Virtuous Fair Lady; and after he had express'd his affection, and desired a return, and so agree to marry; she told him, If she would mar­ry, and had her liberty to chuse a Husband through all the VVorld, it should be him: for, said she, the same of your Worth, and praise of your Merits, hath planted a Root of Affection in my Infant­years, which hath grown up with time: but, said she, there was another Root also planted therein by Encouragement, which is Ambition; which Am­bition, says 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 climb to Fame's high Tower, for the top reaches to it; 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 their VVives to climb, but keep them fast [Page 200] lock'd in their Arms, or tye them to Houshold-Employments; or, through a foolish-obstinacy, barr up their Liberty: but did they not only give them Liberty, but assist them all they could; yet the unavoidable Troubles of Marriage would be like great storms, which would shake them off, or throw them down, before they had climbed half the way: VVherefore, said she, I will never mar­ry, unless you can assure me that Marriage shall not hinder my climbing, nor cause me to fall.

Her Lover said, 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 ways to Fame, as much as in the ways 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: VVherefore, 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 employed 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, although she had no great nor good opinion of a married life, being afraid to enter into so strict bonds, ob­serving the discords therein that trouble a married 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 counterpoise the Inconveniences and Troubles that go along with Marriage, she was re­solved to consent to his request.

The Gentleman coming as he used to do, and perswading her to chuse him for her Husband, she told him she would; but, that she found her self 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 a Bond, That not only whensoever she could give a proof, but when she had cause of suspition, 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 only Mistris.

She answered, A part should serve her turn. So the Agreement was made and sealed; they married, 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 only 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 kind and loving to her Husband, as she was afore: and her Husband, at her first sickness, wept, watch­ed, and tormented himself beyond all measure; but the continuance made him so dull and heavy, that [Page 203] he could take no delight in himself, nor in 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 was in the healthy Wife, it grew weari­some to him; insomuch that he always would have occasions to be abroad, and thought Home his only Prison. His Wife, mourning for his ab­sence, complained to him at his return, and said, she was not only 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 loss of her Health, than in all the time they had been married: And therefore, pray Husband, said she, what is this un­fortunate business that employs you so much, and makes me see you so seldom? 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 Husband's Affairs, and was content to sit without him.

The Husband returning home one day fromjolly Company, whose Discourse had been merry and wanton, he met with his Wife's Maid at the door, and ask'd her how her Mistris did; she said, Not [Page 204] very well: Thou lookest well, said he, and chucks her under the chin. She, proud of her Master's 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 only admires her self, and is always the first Person or Servant that opens the door to her Master; and, through the dilgence of the Maid, the Master's great Affairs abroad were ended; and his only employment and busie care is now so much at home, that whensoe­ver he was abroad, he was in such hast, 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 VVife grew well, and his Maid grew pert and bold towards her Mistris; and the Mistress, wondering at it, began to observe more strictly, what made her so: for she perceived the VVench came oftner than accustomed where her Husband and she were; and found also, that her Husband had always some excuse to turn his head and eyes to that place where she was; and that when­soever the Wench came where they were, he would alter his Discourse, talking extravagantly.

VVhereupon, not liking it, she examined her Husband, VVhether his Affections were as strong [Page 205] 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 employed by the State into another Countrey; where, at the parting, his Wife and he lamented most sadly, and many tears were shed. But when he was abroad (being in much Company who took their liberty, and had many Mistresses), he then considered with himself, he was a most miserable Man that must be bound only to one; but withall, did 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 at last he was perswaded by his Companions to fling off all Care, and take his pleasure whilst he might: for, said they, What do our Wives know what we do? Besides, said they, Wives are only to keep our House, to bring us Children, not to give us Laws. Thus preaching to him, he at last follow­ed their Doctrine, and improved it so well, that he became the greatest Libertine of them all; like a Horse that having broken his Reins, (when he finds himself loose) skips over Hedges, Ditches, Pales, or whatsoever is in his way; and runs wildly about, until he hath wearied himself.

But his Wife having some Intelligence (as most commonly they want none), or may be out of pure [Page 206] love, comes to see him: He receives her with the greatest joy, and makes the most of her in the World, carrying her to see all the Countrey 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 entrusted he knows not to whom; so that there is no way but to return both for his and her 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, whilst he spends; for in the mean time he follows his Humours: and Custom making Confidence, and Confidence Care­lesness, begins to be less shie, 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 having his Estate made over, even before his Wive's 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, wherein 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 [Page 207] fain would have excused it, but that the plainness of truth would 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 only your Estate, but your Honour and Fame in my Power; so that, if I please, all that see you, shall hiss at you, and contemn 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 Wisdom of Ulysses, or Solomon, 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, whilst his Wife makes him a Cuckold.

Now Jealousie and Rage are her two Bawds to [Page 208] 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 have Merry-meetings abroad: whereupon she began to find 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 stoln: 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.

Of Two Ladies different Humours.

THERE were two young Ladies 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 Cu­stom was to come and thresh it out with the Flail of [Page 209] her Tongue, at the Door of the other Lady's Ears; which she, although with great inconvenience, suffered, by reason of their long acquaintance, which many times breeds a kind of friendship, although between different Humours, Natures, and Dispositions: for Custom of Acquaintance begets some small affections even in the most obdurate hearts.

But this Stoical Lady did comply so much with her Friend's humour, as to give her the hearing, al­though 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 Solitariness was a Grave that buried the Life; and, that a Contemplatory Mind was a Tomb, wherein lay nothing but insipid 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; whereas iu Action we find great disturbance and opposition; are cross'd in every thing, and en­joy nothing. At last the Lady Gossip married, whereat the Stoick-Lady rejoiced, imagining her Friend would become grave and staid, and that her thoughts would be more composed and setled to a retired life, being married, than when she was a Maid, by reason married Wives have more em­ployment [Page 210] than Maids, in ordering their Families, di­recting and over-seeing their Servants, nursing their Children, and the like.

But after she had been married 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 the Care­lesness and Cozenage of her Servants.

Other times she would come in a cholerick hu­mour, with railing-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 married to a Gallant Heroick Man.

But soon after, a Civil-Warr broke out; where these two Ladies Husbands being for the Emperor, after great Dangers, and many Wounds got in their Royal Master's Service, with the loss of their E­states, and banishment of their Persons, they were forced to wander into other Nations, to live with Strangers upon cold Charity; and these two La­dies were forced also to take up their Crosses, and travel with their Husbands; wherein the Stoick Lady did bear her part patiently.

The other Lady was impatient with her Misfor­tunes, which made her quarrel with every thing, even [Page 211] vvith her self; and yet sometimes vvould take de­light with the least hopes of a repair, and would lend a credulous ear to every hopeful report, al­though never so improbable.

But the Stoick-Lady, as she bare her Misfor­tunes patiently, so she lived quietly, making her Necessities a School of Wisdom, where Truth taught, and Judgment corrected; wherein she learned neither to be credulous, nor obstinate; not to believe every report, nor to reject all reports; but setled her self, if good came, so; if not, she knew how to suffer without repining at that which could not be avoided nor 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 Emperor, and that the Emperor 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 hath 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 none.

Nay, said the Lady-Gossip, the Emperor's Fa­vourite said, The Emperor 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 Fa­vourite's Policy, to keep off Envy from himself, and to feed half-starved Sufferers: for it is not to your Husband only, who is a Gallant Man, and deserves much; but to every one he says the like; even to Grooms, Trumpeters, Cooks, and Sculli­ons, making no difference in Promises nor Com­mendations. The like they do in Letters; for one kind 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 it be known to all People.

But, said she, although this kind of Policy may deceive unpractised 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 that Politick Foundation is rotten and weak; and that such poor, smooth, smiling, dissembling Policies, will sooner pull down Monarchy, than defend it, [Page 213] 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 fore-warn you, Not to feed upon Court-Promises, Smiles, Commendations, and Letters; for they will breed in you Vain Cru­dities, and fill you with Hydropsical Spleen, and Spightful Vapours, and hot Malicious Humours, which are apt to make Honest Men turn Knaves.

The Lady-Gossip said, If I thought my Hus­band's great Losses and faithful Services should not be rewarded, I should hate the Favourite for play­ing the Politician with my Husband; and, for re­venge, I would work up a Faction of Women against him; and ifaith, said she, they would not fail to pull him down.

Indeed, said the Stoick-Lady, our Sex is preva­lent and prompt in any Revengeful-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.

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, and discoursed 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 waked, 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 Satyrists, 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 Voice to a passionate whining, folding their Arms, fixing their Eyes.

But a Grave Moral Philosopher walking that [Page 215] way, seeing a Company together, out of a Curio­sity went to them. The first that he saw, was blind Homer, acting of Paris; who 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 Philosopher 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; who as soon as saw the Philosopher, would needs take him up for his Father Anchises. 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 days so well, as to have them be a cause to burthen my Son; nor am I so uncharitable as he was to his Daughter-in-law, to expose her to danger, and so to be lost, whilst he rid lazily upon his Son's Shoulders.

The third Person he saw, was Ovid, transform­ing Gods, Men, and Beasts. 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 Battel between Caesar and Pompey: and when he saw the Philosopher, he would have him stand for Pompey, whilst he represented Caesar, and so would have had them fight. But the Philosopher told him, He was a Man of Peace, and not for Warr; 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 ways are so dull and sober, that they will not produce such Fancies as must go to the ma­king of Jestings-Epigrams.

The sixth he met, was Horace; who was descri­bing, in his Discourse, a Countrey-Life; and would needs have the Philosopher a Countrey-Lass; he 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 strugling, the Philosopher got from him; and growing weary of their Company, left them to their vain Fantasms, and Fantastical Humours.

LOVE's CURE.

THERE was a Man, Amorous by nature, and of a Courtly Behaviour, who made love to a young Lady, and she returned him Affection for his kind Professions: but after a while he forsook her, and made love to another; of whom he had also the good fortune to be beloved, as oft-times A­morous Men have, by reason they address their Suits to Credulous Women, who are self-con­ceited and opinionated, easily believe, and soon perswade themselves, That Men's Praises and Pro­mises, Vows and Protestations, are real; and, that their Affections are unalterably fix'd, when they ad­dress themselves as Suitors 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 Object.

Whereupon these two forsaken-Ladies became very melancholy; and though they were Enemies whilst 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 Countrey, and returning thence, went to [Page 218] visit her Friend, with a Face clothed in a sad Coun­tenance, and veiled with dull Eyes; and seeing her Friend (who had wont to have as mourning a Face as she) to have now a merry Countenance, a lively Behaviour, and a healthful 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 to, or at least a share in it.

But, to be resolved, she asked her the reason she seemed so well disposed to be pleasant; for when 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 Mind is in such peace, that my Thoughts take a harmless freedom to sport and play, and it gives also my Body leave to nourish Life.

The second Lady said, Would my Mind could find the same tranquillity.

The first said, Truly if your Mind be troubled still, and finds no rest, I pity you, by what I have felt my self; for when my Mind was troubled, there was a Civil-Warr amongst my Passions, such Factions, Side-takings, and Disputations, with An­ger, Spight, Spleen, and Malice, against Love, Hope, and Jealousie, that it caused many Tears [Page 219] to be shed, and Groans to be sent forth.

But how came you to be cured, said she?

I tell you (answered she); After a long Civil-Warr amongst my Passions, my Body became al­most wasted to skin and bone, for want of rest and nourishment; for my Passions had devoured Sleep, and banished Appetite, whereby my Mind began to be infected with a Feverish Distemper; which Reason perceiving, came to the rescue, bringing an Army of Arguments, of which Understanding and Truth were chief Commanders; and after many Skirmishes, those Passions being often foiled, and put to a rout, they grew weak, and so disper­sed several ways. But after these Warrs, a dark Me­lancholy cover'd my Mind like a Cloud, which eclipsed all the Light of Comfort, and made it murmur against the Gods Decree, and complain against Nature's Works, and curse Fortune's Insta­bility: 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 bountiful, and Fortune too favourable, unless I were more thankful. Yet she commanded Patience and Charity (who were two of her Handmaids) to stand by me. But as my Mind was musing, in 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, [Page 220] said they, nothing can compose and settle the Mind more than we do.

My Mind, 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 Play­fellows, 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 Battels and Warrs; another, like a Mimmick, imitated several Humours: and so every one endeavoured to please me in their turns. But the Tragedian Muse said, That she liked my Humour very well; and, that I was the only fit Company for her. But my Mo­ral Governess chid them away, and said, She would order me better, than to suffer such wanton Wen­ches, and idle Huswives, to keep me Company; for they were able to spoil and corrupt a whole Nation with their wildness, and impoverish a Kingdom 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 [Page 221] finely carved, neatly cut, and lively painted, join­ed with curious Screws, and subtil Engines, and the Wheels Mathematically Compassed: Which Cha­riot was drawn by Six new, sound, strong, and well­breath'd Opinions, Harnessed with Speculations, Shod with Disputations, wherewith they often stumble upon the ridg of Ignorance, or plunge in­to holes of Nonsense. He that drove the Chariot, was Ambition; the Postillion, was Curiosity; the Sciences sat in it, and Doubts and Hopes run by, as Lacquies; which Lacquies did bear me upon their Shoulders, and placed me in the midst of the Chariot, the Sciences being round about me. Where I was no sooner set, but Rhetorick present­ed me with a Posie of sweet Eloquence, and the Mathematicks crown'd me with Truth. But they all, in their turns, encouraged me with Promises, That they would carry me to Fame's Palace, and there I should remain.

No sooner had Ambition given a Lash, to make the Opinions run, but the Muses came in another Chariot made by Contemplation, cut out of Ima­gination, lined with several-colour'd Fancies, em­broidered with Rhymes, rowling upon the Wheels of Numbers, drawn by Distinguishings, whose Trappings were Similizing, Plumed with Delight, Shod with Pleasure, which makes them run smooth, swift, and easie: He that did drive the Chariot, [Page 222] was Judgment; and the Postillion, Wit.

But when the Muses, who were therein, saw I was in the Chariot of the Sciences, they began to quarrel, and draw out their Satyrical Swords.

The Sciences, being more Grave and Tempe­rate, received their Assaults very civilly, as com­ing from fair Ladies. But after some dispute, they did agree to take turns to carry me to Fame's Pa­lace. 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, though as yet I have no sight of the Palace; but howsoever, my Mind is so pleased with the Journey, so delighted with the Society, and so proud of the Favours and Gifts it receives from them eve­ry day, that it despises the Follies, and hates the Falshood of Mankind, 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.

The first answered, I will do my endeavour.

So, after a short time, She pleaded so earnestly in her Friend's behalf, that she was received into their Company, in their Chariots; where each Lady took their turns to ride in each Chariot, whereby [Page 223] the Muses and Sciences were both pleased, having always one of them with each. And when at any time they rested from travelling, the Sciences and Muses made Pastimes for those two Ladies, like those of the Olympick-Games; the Sciences found out new places to play in, and took the Height, the Longitude and Latitude of them.

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 Fe­minine 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 handsom young Lord, and a young beautiful Lady, who did love one another so passionately and entirely, that their Af­fections could never be dissolved: but their Parents not agreeing to it, would by no means be perswa­ded to let them Marry, nor so much as to let them converse like Strangers, Setting Spyes to watch them.

But when they found they would meet, in de­spight of their Spies, they enclosed them up from [Page 224] 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 of their Parents, who now wish'd they had not been so cruel.

But when their Bodies 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 knew not how to express it, for they had no Lips to kiss, nor Arms to embrace, being Bodiless, and only Spi­rits. But the Passion of Love being always ingeni­ous, found out a way, that their Souls (which are Spirits) did mingle and intermix, as liquid Essen­ces, whereby both their Souls became as one.

But after these gentle, smooth, soft Love­expres­sions, they began to remember each other of their Crosses and Oppositions whilst they lived in their Bodies: but, at last, considering of the place they were moving to, the Masculine Soul was unwilling to go to it; for, since he had his Beloved Soul, he cared not to live in the Elyzium: Then, speaking in the Soul's Language, he 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, that those that are there, do nothing but walk and [Page 225] talk of their past-life, which we may desire to for­get. Then let us, said he, only enjoy our selves by intermixing thus.

She answered, She did approve of his desire; and, that her Mind did join and consent. But where (said she) shall be our Habitation? He answered, He would build a Mansion in the Air, of Poets Fancies, and Philosophers Imaginations, and make Gardens of Oratory:

Wherein should Flow'rs of Rhetorick grow,
By which Rivers of Divine Faith should flow.
That place (said she) a Paradice would be;
But I no strong Foundation there can see;
For it will shake with every puff of Wind;
No certainty nor surance will you find.
My Soul, said be, 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 Kind.

But after those productions of these Souls, they went to the Planets, where they found some of their Climates too cold, others too moist, others too cold and moist; others hot, and others hot and moist; others hot and dry, others cold and dry; with which they did not agree, being not equally temper'd.

But yet in every Planet, these Souls being fruit­ful, they left many of their Issues, called Meteors, which are shining-lights, like Starrs; 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 Immortality; other­wise they would be Starrs: for, whatsoever is Mor­tal, may beget their Like, or Kind, which other things that are Immortal, never do.

But when these two Souls had travelled above the Planets, they became one fix'd Starr, as being Eternal, and not subject to dye.

And when they were thus, they did produce no more Issues; for what Mortality the Body left,

Those Souls to Earth and Planets did resign,
Which in a Generation of Meteors shine.

Fancy's 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, amiable Countenance, 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 one another with an extraordinary Affection, and lived very happily and peaceably, for he governed wisely. His Kingdom 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 Arch-bishops, who were sworn to consecrate none but Moral Virtues, to preach Good Life, and leave all Sects, Opinions, Superstitions, Idolatry, and the like. Neither were they suffered to make Lectures of Learning, because it is always about Controver­sies, puzling Belief with nice Distinctions, vain Fantasms, 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 Kingdom were bred.

As for the State, there were Superintendent Offi­cers and Magistrates made of all degrees. The Sen ces were the five Ports to this Kingdom; the Head and the Heart were the two Magazines.

There were two Governours made to every Port to Command and Rule, Judgment and Under­standing always sit at the Ports called the Ears, to ex­amine all that enter there, 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 Noises.

Love and Skill were the two Commanders to the Port, Eyes, who were commanded to let none in, but Uniformity, Cimmetry, Beauty, Graceful Motions, pleasing Aspects, light and well-mixt Co­lours; and to shut the Gates against Deformity or Monstrosity, rude or cruel Actions, glaring Lights, ill­mix'd Colours, false Shadows, and Darkness, and to set up the light of Dreams when they are 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 Smells, such as refresh 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 case of necessity they were to be allowed, or at least com­manded, to let in some sorts of Stinks, as Assafoetida, 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, Factious Discourses. Likewise, never to let pass an Oath, but to confirm a Truth; no Threat­ning, but to terrifie or reclaim the Wicked, or Cross­natur'd; no Pleading, but for Right; no Com­mands, but for Good; no Praises, but for Worth. [Page 230] 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-Chamber was the Breast; the Privy-Councellors were, Secrecy, Constancy, Fi­delity, Unity, Truth, Justice, Fortitude, Prudence, and Temperance. These Privy-Councellors helped the King to manage the Affairs of the Kingdom.

The Secretaries of State were Intelligence and Dispatch.

The Treasurer, was Memory.

The Lord Keeper, was Remembrance.

The Mayors of every City, were Authority.

The Constables were Care.

The Judges were, Commutative and Distribu­tive Justice. 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-Soldiers are the ordinary and ne­cessary Actions, which are employed in Offensive and Defensive Warrs.

The Merchants are the Imaginations, which traf­fick and trade all over the World.

The Inventions, are the Handicrafts-men and Labourers.

The Appetites are the Citizens, that are so co­vetous as to engross all Commodities, and the Wealth of the Kingdom; and are the most Luxu­rious People in the Land.

But, as I said, the King was a Wise Prince; and to divert his Subjects from too serious Studies, dull Contemplations, and laborious Dictatings, he had Masques, Plays, Pastorals, and the like; being attended by his Nobles, the Sciences; and the Gen­try of the Kingdom, 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 her grim and terrible Aspect did so affright Life, that she ran away, and would by no means hearken unto her Suit.

Then Death sent Age and Weakness, as two Ambassadors, to present her Affection: but Life would not give them audience.

Whereupon Death sent Pain; who had such a perswasive power, that made Life yeeld to Death's 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, with Beauty, Pleasure, Youth, Wit, Prosperity; and also, Virtue, and the Graces.

But Health, Strength, Cordials, and Charms, re­fused to come; which troubled Life much.

None that Death invited, refused to come; they were, Old Father Time, Weakness, Sickness, all sorts of Pains, and all sorts of Diseases, and killing-Instruments; as also, Sighs, Tears, and Groans; Numbness, and Paleness.

But when Life and Death met, Death took Life by the Hand; then Peace married 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. Whereas, before this Marriage, there was no such thing as dying; for Death and Life were sin­gle, like Batchelors and Maids. But Life proved not so good a Wife, as Death a Husband; for Death is sober, staid, grave, discreet, patient, dwelling silently and solitary; whereas Life is wild, various, [Page 233] unconstant, and runs about, shunning her Husband Death's 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.

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; he trod so gent­ly, and moved so smoothly, that none could perceive how he did turn, and wind, and lead 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 Ladies 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 Sences; 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 married, yet now they do, as most other Wives, 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 [Page 234] jealousie he hath of Sickness, Pains, and Mischances, that ofen ravish them, he is become full of wrinkles, and his Hair is turned all gray.

But Virtue and Wit, which are his sworn Friends, and sweet Companions, recreate him with their plea­sant, free, honest, and honourable Societies.

Of the Indispositions of the Mind.

THE Mind was very sick, and sent for Phy­sicians; and the first that came, were Divines; who disputed so long, and contradicted one another so much, that they could conclude of nothing. One advising the Mind 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 Mind to lay some of Mahomet's Pigeons at the feet, cutting them with the Turkish Scimitar, then bind it up with his Alcaron; others would have the Mind bind the Head with the Talmud of the Jews.

But the Mind grew sicker and sicker; insomuch that it was almost at the last gasp: whereupon the Mind desired them to depart; for, said he, your Controversies will kill me sooner than your Doctrine [Page 235] will cure me! The Mind being very sick, sent for other Sects of Physicians, who were Moral Philo­sophers; who being come, set round a Table, and there began to discourse and dispute of the Disea­ses of the Mind.

One said, Grief is a Lethargie.

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, Gentlemen, dispatch, said the Mind, for I am in great pain.

One says, Hate is an Apoplexy; for it is dead to it self, though it lives to the Beloved.

No, said he, but Hate is a Dead-Palsie,

No, said the other, Ignorance is a Dead-Palsie, but Hate is an Apoplexie, caused by the stopping of the Spirits, either Animal or Vital; 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 active, the Animal are passive.

But they disputed so long upon this point, that they had almost fallen out; and the Mind prayed them not to quarrel; for wrangling noise did disturb him much.

Then one said, That 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 Mind, like Flea-bites.

The Mind prayed them to go no further in that dispute.

Then one of them said, That Anger was a Hot Burning Fever.

Nay, by your favour, said another, Anger is an Epilepsie, that soams at the Mouth, and beats its Breast, strugling and striving, and will be often in Cold-Sweats, and as pale as Death.

Then another said, That an Ague in the Mind 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 Hectick Fever, 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 fifth said, Jealousie is the Gout; which is a [Page 237] burning, beating pain, never letting the Mind 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 Mind was forced to threaten them, they should have no Fees if they did dispute so much.

As for the Wind-cholick in the Mind, some said, It was an overflow of Imaginations and Concep­tions: others, That it was strange Opinions: others said, It was wild Fancies: others, That it was the over-dilating of the Thoughts: and many more se­veral Judgments were given; whereupon they were ready to fight.

To which the Mind replied, That it is impossible you should prescribe effectual Medicines, if you cannot agree about the Disease.

Then another said, Slander was the Spotted-Fever.

Another said, A Spotted-Fever was Malice.

Says another, A Spotted-Fever 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, Sores, and great Spots of Re­bellion, which causeth Death and Destruction.

But one of the former Doctors was about con­tradicting [Page 238] him; but the Mind forbid him.

Then one said, Melancholy was the Stone, cau­sed by a cold congealment of the Spirit.

Another said, Cruelty was the Stone, caused by hot Revenge, or covetous Contractings, which bakes all the tender and softer Humours in­to a hard confirmed Body, the 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 and Co­lours, or moulders as Dust.

Then another said, Desire was a Dropsie, which was always dry.

Nay, said a second, Desire is that Disease which is called a Dog-like-Appetite; which causes the Ap­petite of the Mind to be always hungry, and the Stomack of the Mind seeming always empty, which makes the Thoughts hunt after Food. But a Dropsie (said he) is a Reluctancy, which always swells out with Aversions.

O, said a third, a Dropsie in the Mind is Volup­tuousness.

Nay, said a fourth, a Dropsie is Pride, that 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 Mind was well content to let them fight. But for fear the Mind should be disturbed, his Friends parted them, and pray'd the Doctors that they would prescribe the Mind something to take. Then they began their Prescriptions.

For the Lethargie of Grief, said one, you must take some Crumbs of Comfort mix'd with the Juice of Patience, the Spirits of Grace, and Sprigs of Time, and lay it to the Heart of the Mind, and it will prove a perfect Cure.

Another said, A Lethargie 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 Syringe of Musick, and squirt it into the Ears of the Mind, and this will bring a perfect Cure.

The Doctor, who said an Apoplexy was Hate, said, The Mind must take a few Obligations, and mix them with a mollifying-Oyl of Good-nature, and Spirits of Gratitude, and bind them upon the grie­ved part, and that would cure it.

No (said the Doctor that said Apoplexies were Love), you must take the Drug of Misfortunes, and the Sirrup of Misery; and when you have [Page 240] mix'd them together, you must set them a stewing on the Fire of Trial, then drink it off warm; and although it will make the Mind sick with Unkind­ness for the present, yet it will purge all the doting Humours out of the Mind.

But he that said, Hate was a Dead-Palsie, pre­scribed the same Medicine as he that said it was an Apoplexy; for he said, an Apoplexy is a kind of a Dead-Palsie.

He that said, Ignorance was a Dead-Palsie, said, The Mind must take some good Books, whose Au­thors were Learned Persons, and squeeze them hard through a Strainer of Study, and mix some practi­sed Experience thereto, and make a Salve of Indu­stry, then spread it upon a strong Canvase 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 Mind take the Honey of Self-conceit once in two or three hours, and it would abate that sharp or salt Humour.

The other, that said that Spight and Envy were Fistula's, bid the Mind get some of the Powder of Inferiors, or the Tears of the Distressed, and mix them well together, and lay it to the Sore, and it will be a perfect Cure.

He that said, that Envy was the Scurvy, bid him bathe in Solitariness, and drink of the Water [Page 241] of Meditation, wherein run Thoughts of Death, like Mineral-Veins, and it will cure him.

And the Doctor that said, Anger was a Fever, bid the Mind drink cold Julips of Patience.

He that said, Anger was an Epilepsie, bid the Mind 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 take the Powder of Industry in the Liquor of Judgment, in his hot Fit, and it will cure him.

He that said, An Ague in the Mind was Fear, gave the same Prescription of the former Medicine for the Cold Fit.

But he that said, Jealousie was an Ague, bid the Mind take some of the Spirits of Confidence.

And he that said, Jealousie was a Consumption; bid the Mind take Nourishing-Broths of Variety, and bathe in the River of Oblivion, which would cool the Fever of Suspition.

But he who said, That Jealousie was the Gout in the Mind; bid the Mind lay a Plaster of Ab­sence, spread on the Canvase of Time, and it would cure him.

As for the Wind-Cholick, he that said it was the overflow of the Imaginations and Conceptions, bid the Mind take some several Noises, both Instrumental [Page 242] and Vocal, and mix them with much Company, and lay them to the Ears of the Mind, and it will cure. Probatum est.

And those that said, That Wind-cholick was strange Opinions, or wild Fancies; bid the Mind take some Pills of Employment to purge out those crude, flatulent, and undigested Humours.

But he that said, It was caused by a dilatation of the Thoughts, bid him take the Eyes of Dice, and the Spots of Cards, and the Chequers of Chess­boards, and the Points of Table-men, and put them together; and when they are throughly mix'd, and dissolved into an Oil, annoint the Fingers-ends, the Palms of the Hands, the Wrist, the Elbows, and the Eyes of the Mind; this, says he, will contract the Thoughts to the compass of a Single-penny, which will cure that Disease.

As for the Disease called the Spotted-Fever, which is Slander; they bid the Mind take a good quanti­ty of Repentance, and distil it, from whence will drop Tears; and take a Draught of that distilled Water every morning fasting.

But he that said, That Malice was the Spotted. Fever, bid the Mind distil Merits, from whence will drop Praises; and bid the Mind take a draught of that Water every Evening.

He that said, Discontent was the Plague, being a part of all the Diseases; bid the Mind take Humi­lity, [Page 243] 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 avoid Death.

As for Melancholy, he that said it was the Stone in the Mind, caused by a cold congealment in the Spirits, which stupifies the Senses of the Mind into Stone; bid him take Beauty, Wit, fine Landskips, 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 Mind was Cruelty, caused by the sharpness of Envy, the bitterness of Hate, and greedy Covetousness; bid 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 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 Mind; and those Medicines will soon dis­solve the Stone.

As for Convulsions of the Mind, he that said it [Page 244] was Fury, bid the Mind take an Ounce of Discre­tion, half an Ounce of Judgment, a Scruple of Gravity; mix them all together, as in an Electuary, and take it fasting, and it will cure him.

And he who said, That Inconstancy was the Convulsion in the Mind, bid him take an Ounce of Temperance, and an Ounce of Judgment; one Ounce of Understanding, two of Resolution; mix these into an Electuary, and take a good quantity of it every morning, and this will cure him.

As for a Consumption, he that said, Pity was a Consumption; bid the Mind take a Heart, and bake it dry; and when it was dried to Powder, mix it in his ordinary Drink, and it will cure him.

But he that said, Forgetfulness was a Consump­tion; bid him only take a Draught of Remem­brance every day.

As for Dropsies, he that said Desires were Drop­sies, bid the Mind take a Bunch of Reason, that grows in a well-temper'd Brain; and as much Hu­mility, that grows in a good Heart; boil 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 who said, That Desire was that Disease which was called the Dog-like-Appetite; bid the Mind make a Bisk of Vanity, an Oil of Curio­sity, and a Hodg-podg of Variety; and eat so long, [Page 245] till he did vomit it up again; and if he could sur­feit thereof, it would prove a Cure, otherwise there was no remedy, unless the Mind could get some Fruition, which is seldom to be had; yet sometimes it is found, said he.

But he that said, A Dropsie was a Reluctancy, that swelled out with an Aversion; bid the Mind only use Abstinence, and it would cure him.

And he that said, It was Voluptuousness, said, That the same Medicine was to be prescribed.

He that said, It was Pride that swelled out with Vain-glory; bid the Mind 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 Mind, 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 Mind became his own Phy­sician, Apothecary, and Chyrurgeon.

First, He let himself Blood, opening the wilful Vein, taking out the obstinate Blood.

Then he did take Pills made of Society and Mirth, and those purged all strange and vain Con­ceits.

Also, the Mind eat every morning a Mess of [Page 246] Broth, wherein was Herbs of Grace, Fruit of Ju­stice, Spice of Prudence, Bread of Fortitude; these were boiled with the Flesh of Judgment, in the Wa­ter of Temperance. This Breakfast was a Sove­raign Remedy against the malignant Passions; for it did temper Heat, qualifie Sharpness, allay Va­pours, and mollifie obdurate Passions, and 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 Countrey, which was a Recreation and a Pastime for him. And in thus doing, he be­came the healthfullest and jolliest man in the Parish.

The Thoughts feasted.

THERE were two men, great Companions; one of them told the other, That he had made a particular search, and a strict enquiry for him, three days 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 Body's retire­ment.

The other said, I have heard that the Soul did use [Page 247] 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?

He said, 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 with Flowers of Rhetorick, and Or­chards of Invention, wherein grow fruitful Arts. In this Orchard are many Birds of Fancies, which flie from Tree to Tree, from Branch to Branch, from Bough to Bough, singing fine Notes of Poetry in a sweet strain of Verse, and chirping Rhymes, and building their Nests in Arbours of Love, wherein they hatch Conceits.

Likewise, said he, 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. [Page 248] There are long, straight, level Walks of Temper­ance, where is fresh Air of Health. This Palace is built very convenient: for on the out-side are Stables of Discretion, wherein are tyed up wild O­pinions, Phantasms, and all skittish Humours, and a large Riding-Room of Judgment, where all Opi­nions are managed. Also, there are Granges of thrifty Contrivance, wherein are Cattel of Pru­dence, that give the Milk of Profit. Besides, there are Kitchins of Appetite, Dining-rooms of Luxu­ry, Galleries of Memory, Cellars of Forgetful­ness, Chambers of Rest, and Closets of Peace.

But, said he, after my Senses had viewed every place, they took their leave of the Soul, who told them, That they should stay and feast with her. So the Soul invited all his Subjects, the Thoughts. The first of all, were the Generous Thoughts, who are the Nobles; then the Gentry, who are the Obli­ging and Graceful Thoughts; the Heroick Thoughts were Commanders of Warr; the Factious Thoughts were the Commons; the Mercenary were Trades-men; the Plodding-Thoughts were the Yeomantry; the Ordinary Thoughts were Labourers and Servants. Then there were the Po­litick Thoughts, which were Statists; the Proud Thoughts, Magistrates; and the Pious Thoughts, Priests; the Censuring Thoughts, were the Judges; the Wrangling and Pleading Thoughts, Lawyers; [Page 249] and the Terrifying Thoughts, Sergeants; the Argu­ing Thoughts were Logicians; the Doubting Thoughts, Scepticks; the Hoping Thoughts Physi­cians; the Inquisitive Thoughts, Natural Philoso­phers; the Humble Thoughts, Moral Philoso­phers; the Phantastical Thoughts, Poets; the Mo­dest Thoughts, Virgins; the Jealous Thoughts, Wives; the Incontinent Thoughts, Courtesans; the Amorous Thoughts, Lovers; the Vain Thoughts, Courtiers; and 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 Travelling Spirits.

THERE was a Man went to a Witch, whom he entreated to aid his Desires: for, said he, I have a curiosity to travel; but I would go into such Countreys, which, without your power to assist me, I cannot do.

The Witch asked him, What those Countreys were?

He said, He would go to the Moon.

Why, said she, the Natural Philosophers are the only 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 [Page 250] they despise our great Master the Devil, and would hinder us in our ways 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 unpractised in those ways, and have as little acquaintance there, as the Natural Philosophers have; for they believe that there is no such Kingdom.

But if you desire to travel to that Kingdom, you must go to the Divines, who are the only Guides; yet you must have a care in the choice: for, some will carry you a great way about, and through ve­ry troublesome and painful places; others, a shor­ter, but a very strait, narrow way; others, through ways that are pleasant, and easie; and you will find, not only in Natural Philosophers, but also in 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 themselves in their ways: 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, until they have run them all over, or are 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, [Page 251] and have no power to go to my Ma­ster's Kingdom, until I dye; although the Way be broad and plain, and the Guides sure: yet, being the Devil's Factor to do him service on the Earth, I can call forth any from thence, although it were the King himself.

Well then, said he, carry me (I beseech you) 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 behind, that you may go the lighter, 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 intemperate, sometimes very hot, and sometimes very cold: great Varieties they found in the way; in some places, monstrous great and high Mountains of the Bones of Men and Beasts, which lay mixed with one another. [Page 252] Then he saw a very large Sea of Blood, which had issued from slain Bodies; but those Seas seemed very rough: whereupon he asked, What was the reason? She answered, Because their Deaths were violent. And there were other Seas of Blood, which seemed so smooth, that there was not a wave to be seen. Whereat he ask'd, 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 sub. stances of all kind of Fruits, Flowers, Trees, or any other Vegetables, but all were of a dusky colour. There he gathered some Fruit to eat, but it had no tast; and he gathered some Flowers, and they had no smell: Of which he asked the reason? She said, That the Earth gave only the Form and Substance; but the Sun was the only cause of the Tast, Smell, and Colours.

Going farther, they saw great Mines, Quarries, and Pits; but she, being vers'd, and knowing the way well, did avoid them, so that they were no hin­drance in their journey, as otherwise it 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 plainest 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 Bodies are not here: for our Spirits are so light, that they bear up themselves. So they went a great length, until the place grew so strait, that it began to be a pain even to their Spirits: and so he told the Witch, His Spirit was in pain. She said, He must endure it: for, the Center of the Earth was but a Point in a Circle. So when he came to the Center of the Earth, he saw a Light like Moon­shine; of which, when he came near, he saw that the first Circle about the Center, was Glow-worms Tails, which gave that Light; and in the Center was an old Man, who did neither stand nor sit, for there was nothing to stand or sit on; but he hung (as it were) in the Air; nor ever stirr'd 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 re­move out of his 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, being near the old Man, the Witch excused her coming, and prayed him not to be offended with [Page 254] them: for, there was a Man desired Knowledg, and would not spare any pains or industry to obtain it: For which he praised the Man, and said, He was wel­come; and any thing he could inform him of, he would.

The old Man asked him about the Chymists that lived upon the face of the Earth.

The Man answered, They made much noise in talk, and took great pains, and bestowed great costs, to find the Philosophers Stone, which is to make the Elixir, but could never come to any perfection.

Alas, said the old Man, they are too unconstant to bring any thing to perfection; for they never keep to one certain ground or track, but are always try­ing of new Experiments; so that they are always beginning, but never go on towards an end. Be­sides, said he, they live not long enough to find 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, am ar­rived to the height of that Art; and 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; and neither my Bro­ther Adam, nor his Posterity after him, for many Ages, knew any such thing: but since I have at­tained to the perfection of that Art, I have made [Page 255] so many Mines, that it hath caused all the outward parts of the World to go together by the ears for it: but I will not hereafter make so much as to have it despised.

As for my Stills, said he, they are the Pores of the Earth; and the Waters I distill, are the sweet Dews: the Oily part is the Ambergreece; and the Chymists know not how, or from whence, or from what it comes: for some say, from Trees; others, that it is the Spawn of some kind of Fish; so some think it one thing, some another.

The saltness of the Sea comes also from Chymi­stry; and the Vapour that arises from the Earth, is the Smoak that steems from my Stills. But, said he, the World is not to continue long as it is; for I will, by my Art, turn it all into Glass; that as my Brother Adam transplanted Men from Earth, by his sin, some to Heaven, some to Hell; so I will trans­plant the World from Earth to Glass, which 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) [Page 256] the World would be drowned again: for, at Noah's Flood, those Pipe-Veins were commanded by Jove to be stopt, 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 all together 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 Quarry; nor do all the Mines or Quarries join together; but some are in one place, and some in another; which poises the weight of the Earth equally, and keeps it from falling.

The Man said, You have but a melancholy life, being none here but your self.

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 Moles, 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 Pass­time.

When he had done speaking, they took their leaves, craving pardon for their abrupt Visit, and 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, Pestilent places; for there are great Damps in the Earth, as also a great Heat and Fire in the Earth; although it gives not Light like the Sun; for the Heat of the Earth, said he, is like the Fire in a Coal; and that of the Sun, like that of a Flame, which is a thinner part of Substance set on fire, and is a weaker or fainter Heat; but the Sun, said he, gives more Heat by his quick Motion, than the Heat gives Motion. And though, said he, the Fire be the subtillest of all Elements, yet it is made slower, or more active, by the substance it works upon: for, Fire is not so active upon solid Bodies, as it is upon leighter and thinner Bodies.

So the Witch and the young Man's Spirit, gave him thanks, and departed. But going back, they found not the ways so pleasant as when they went: for, some ways 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 of them very Chalky and Limy.

But at last, arriving where they set out, he found [Page 258] his Body there; and putting it on as a Garment, gave thanks to the Witch, and then went home to rest his weary Spirits.

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; and it chanced that upon the hearing of a report, That he was married 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 only the sudden and violent Passion, which had hurried my Soul to Cha­ron's Boat, in a distracted Whirlwind of Sighs; where, in the Croud, I was Ferried over to the Ely­zium-Fields.

They ask'd her, What manner of place it was?

She answered, Just such a place as the Poets have described; Pleasant green Fields, but as dark as a shady Grove, or the dawning of the Day; or like a sweet Summer's Evening, when the Nightingal be­gins to sing, which is 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? [Page 259] Julius Caesar and the Vestal Nunn, Nero and his Mother, Agrippa and Catiline, and his Daugh­ter Cornelia; and such as Anthony and Cleopatra, Dido and AEneas, sans nomber. But 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 Lover's 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 entreaty, 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 Fancy of his caused him to a-light from his Horse; [Page 270] and fastning his Bridle to a Bush, himself went and lay upon his back on the ground, that he might fix his Eyes on the strange Sight the more stedfastly. But his desires were cross'd with the dulness and dimness of his Eyes, which (by over-earnestness) could view nothing at all.

But a grave old man coming there, 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 only lost the Vision, but almost my Sight

That may well be, said the old man; for the Body is like the Mind, whereinto if you take more Learning than the Understanding can discuss, it overwhelms it, and knocks Reason on the head; as, if you take more Meat into the Stomack than it can digest, it surfeits; if the Ear receives too swift or harsh a Sound, it makes it deaf, smuthering 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 only curious in her work­ings, [Page 261] but secret in her Works: for, none of her Works know themselves perfectly; not Man, who seems to have the best Understanding; because Na­ture governs her Creatures by Ignorance; and if any had perfect knowledge, they would be as great as She.

The other Man says, Doth she know her self?

The Answer was, That 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: but Ignorance begets Fear; Fear, Supersti­tion; Superstition, Admiration; and Admiration, Adoration. By that we perceive, that Nature takes delight that her Creatures should search her ways, and observe her several motions; and those are esteemed her perfectest and best Works that do so. And because your Desires flye high, I will give you such Glasses as shall satisfie your Mind 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, he left him to his ob­servation.

Soon after, the Gentleman takes the first Glass, and laying his Eye to it, he saw a Vapour arise from the Earth, straight upward, in small Lines or Streams, streaming through every Pore of the Earth, [Page 262] which Pores were like a Sieve full of small holes: This was a fine sight, to see how small, straight, and thick, those Streams were: for it seemed as an ascending-Rain; and those Streams, at a certain height, gathered together, and became spongy 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, those holes being over-full, 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; he saw they were like two Crystal Squirts, which some call Syringes; 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 smalness of the passage, wire-draws it, as it were; and by the agitation it becomes so powerful, that it drives all before it, if they be not very firmly fix'd; it enters all Porous Bodies; and those that are sen­sible, it puts to pain, as if they were sharp; for the smalness, 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 perceived it was like a Cymbal 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, being in this hol­low Ball, the Heat rarifies it so thin, that it breathes forth at the lesser Holes: for, as the Water is ra­rified into Air by the Heat; so the Air is rarified into Wind; and those two small holes let out the thinner part, and keep the grosser in, until it be more rarified into Wind. Those Winds that are made thus, are much gentler and softer than those that proceed from the Squirts, because this is only a vo­luntary Motion, which breathes out, and spreads gently; the other is forced, and goeth out with Violence.

Now the hole that is in the midst of this Cym­bal, 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; if it be rarified of that side first, that we call the West, that blows soonest: but if it blows from several places or parts, then that predominates that is most powerful.

After he had perceived how the VVinds were made, he laid by that Glass, and took up the se­cond, and looked into the Middle-Region; then he saw curling, folding, and rowling VVaves of Air, every Wave as thin as the thinnest Cypress; and through those Waves he saw many Cities, which had great Champanes of Air, full of Flow­ers, Fruits, and sweet Herbs; which Champanes of Air the Winds plough or dig; and the Sun plants, sows, and sets Incorporeal Vegetables with his In­strumental Beams; for they draw the Vapours or Scents of all Herbs, Flowers, 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 sub. stance 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 Sky; and are so clear, that the Inhabitants are seen in them, when the Sun shines; being only obscured when the Sun is from them. These Houses are covered with Flakes of Snow, and all their Streets are pitch'd with Hail-stones.

But when the Chariot of the Sun runs through [Page 265] their Streets in the Winter time, their furious Hor­ses being more heady in Winter, run then the swifter; 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 a new, and repair their Houses, having enough Materials: for there are there great Rocks of Hail stones, and huge Mountains of Snow.

But when the Chariot runs in Summer-time, the Streets being dryed and hard, or, as I may say, Cry­stalined, it makes a ratling Noise, which we call Thunder; and the Horses being very hot, great flashes of Fire proceeds out of their Nostrils, which we call Lightning; and many times their Breath is so exceeding hot, and being moist withall, that it softens their Streets; and, melting their Hail-stones, cause great overflows, which fall down in pouring­showers of Rain, as we oft see when it Thunders. Now Snow and Hail are as naturally engendered there by Cold, as Minerals in the Earth by Heat, both being wrought by contraction; only the one is more dissolvable than the other, because the Matter contracted, is different in solidity; but they meet [Page 266] at one End at last, though by different ways.

When he had observed the Middle Region, he takes the third Glass to view the highest Region. There he saw Six moving-Cities, which we call Planets; every City had a Governing-Prince; their Com­pass was very large, their From round, and moving in a Circular Motion. The midst of those Cities, was a Center City, as I may say, a Metropolitan City, which we call the Sun, the King thereof; and all his People are of the nature of Salamanders, for they live always 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 only a Flame clear and bright, having no Dross mix'd in it; and whatsoever is wasted by the Flame, is supplied by the Six Cities, which is the Tribute they pay to the Seventh, the Monarchical City, whom all the rest are some ways or other subject unto.

But indeed, these Cities 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 the Flame goeth out like the Water into 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, [Page 267] 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, yet their shapes are like those we describe Angles to be, and flye about through Beams of Light, though our grosser Sense cannot see them without the help of some Miraculous Glasses, as these were.

Some of them perceiving this Man saw them, went to the King, and complained thereof; which when he heard, he was very angry, and rose in 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 Mind, disputed for Preheminency.

THE Dispute was begun by Time, who said, If it were not for me, the Body would neither have Growth nor Strength, nor the Mind Know­ledg or Understanding.

The Mind answered, That though the Body had a fix'd time to arrive to a perfect growth, and ma­ture strength, yet the Mind had not: for I, said the Mind, can never know and understand so much, but I might know and understand more; nor hath Time such a Tyrannical Power over the Mind, [Page 263] to bring it to ruin, as it hath over the Body.

Why, said the Body, Time hath not an absolute power over me neither: for Chance and evil Acci­dents prevent Time's Ruins; and Sickness and evil Diers obstruct and hinder Time's Buildings. Nei­ther is it only Time that nourishes the Body, but Food; for without Food the Body would waste to nothing: for, the Stomack is as the Pot, and the Heart as the Fire, to boil the Food, to make it fit for Nourishment, making a Broth for Blood, a Jelly for Sinews a Gravy for Flesh, and 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, the Body is nourished, and Life maintained. Neither doth Time give the Mind Knowledg and Understanding, but the Senses, which are the Porters that carry them in, and furnish the Mind therewith; for the Eyes bring in several Lights, Colours, Figures, and Forms; and the Ear several Sounds, both Instrumental and Vocal; the Nose, several Scents; the Tongue, se­veral Tasts; and every part of the Body, several Touches; without which, the Mind would be as an empty, poor, thatch'd House with bare Walls, did not the Senses furnish it. Besides, said the Body, the Mind could have no pleasure nor delight, were it not by my Senses.

But the Mind answered, That Delight belonged [Page 264] only to the Soul, and Pleasure only to the Body. 'Tis true, says the Mind, they often make a Friend­ship, as the Soul and the Body do; yet they consist by, and of themselves. And for Time, said the Mind, he is only like a Page or Lacquey, which brings Messages, runs of Errands, and presents Necessaries for the Mind's use: but, said the Mind, had Time no Employment, or the Senses no Goods to bring in, and neither would or could do the Mind any service; yet the Mind would not be like a thatch'd House, empty and unfurnished; for Delight would be there as Queen, were it not for Discontent, which is begot in the Body, but born in the Mind; and if he lives, becomes a Tyrant, unthroning De­light, which 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 Mind, than in the Senses. And let me tell you, said the Mind, Nature builds some Minds like a curious and stately Palace, and fur­nishes them so richly, that it needs neither Time nor the Senses, laying Reason as the Foundation, and Judgment for the Building; wherein are firm and straight Pillars of Fortitude, Justice, Prudence, and Temperance; is paved with Understanding, which is solid and hard; walled with Faith; which is roof­ed with Love, and bows like an Arch, to embrace [Page 270] all towards a round Compass; is Leaded with Dis­cretion, which sticks close, keeping out watry Er­rors, 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 Shutts 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 Architecture of the Mind, there are wide Rooms of Conception, furnish'd richly with Invention, and long Galleries of Contempla­tion, which are carved and wrought with Imagina­tions, and hung with the Pictures of Fancy.

Likewise, there are large Gardens of Varieties, wherein flow Rivers of Poetry, with full Streams of Numbers, making a purling Noise 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 climb; 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 Expence, who carries 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 Wisdom will only look up to the [Page 271] top, viewing the growth, and observing what kind they are of, but never adventures to climb: she will sit sometimes under the Branches, for Pleasure; but never hang on the Boughs of Insinuation.

While they were disputing, in comes grim Death, whose terrible Aspect did so affright the Mind, that the very fear put out its Light, and quenched out its Flame; and the Body, being struck by Death, became sensless, and dissolved into Dust. But old Father Time run away from Death as nimbly as a light-heel'd Boy, or like those that slide upon the Ice; but never turned to see whether Death follow­ed or no: Death called him; but he made him­self, as it were, deaf with Age, and would not hear.

A Tripartite Government of Nature, Education, and Experience.

NATURE, Education, and Experience, did agree to make a Juncto to govern the Mo­narchy of Man's Life, every one ruling by turns, or rather in parts, being a Tripartite 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 [Page 272] 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 Enquiries, Strong Arguments, and Plain Proofs.

The Senses (which Virtuous Education governs, are five great Cities; and the various Appetites, are the several Citizens dwelling therein; which Citi­zens are apt to rebel, and turn Traitors, if 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, which is the pleasantest part, and hath the larrgest Compass; wherein are built many Towers of Conceptions, and Castles of Imaginations; Grounds ploughed with Numbers, and sowed with Fancies; Gardens planted with Study, set with Pra­ctice; from whence Flowers of Rhetorick grow, and Rivers of Elegancy flow through it.

This part of the Kingdom hath the greatest Traf­fick and Commerce of any of the three parts, and [Page 273] flourishes most, being populated with the Graces and Muses; 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.

NATURE's HOUSE.

THE whole Globe is Nature's House; and the several Planets are Nature's several Rooms; the Earth is her Bed Chamber; the Floor is Gold and Silver; and the Walls Marble and Porphyrie; the Portals and Doors are Lapis-Lazarus; instead of Tapistry Hangings, it is hung with all sorts of Plants; her Bed is of several precious Stone; the Bed-posts are of Rocks of Diamonds; the Bed's­head, of Rubies, Saphires, Topasses, and Emeralds: Instead of a Feather-bed, there is a Bed of sweet Flowers; 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 at the highest Story of her House.

Sol is her Dining-Room, which is a round [Page 274] 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 other are Side-board 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 false Wit­ness; but Pain would not, nor could not be bri­bed.

Appetite brought Opinion, which in somethings would be obstinate, in others very facil.

But they had not disputed long, but they were so entangled in their Arguments, and so invective in their Words (as most Disputers are), that they be­gan to quarrel (as most Disputers do).

Whereupon the Soul dismist them, although 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 seldom disperse until some Mischief is done; and then they are well pleased, and fully satisfied.

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, dearly 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 Fame's Mansion.

This Text, dearly Beloved, I will divide into seven parts:

  • First, In the Land of Poetry.
  • Secondly, There stands a Mount.
  • [Page 276]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 Fame's Mansion.

First, In the Land of Poetry.

Which Land, dearly Beloved, is both large, sweet, pleasant, and fertile; 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 Ancients say). This our very great Grandfather, named Homer, did ex­cel all other Men; for he did not only 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 Infernal Parts. Nay, he did more; for he made Heavens and Hells, Gods and Devils; and described them, that his Posterity might know them in after-Ages. In this Land of Poetry he lived, which Land flowed with Wit and Fancy; and is so large, that it doth not only 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 this most spacious Land runs a clear Stream, called Helicon; it is a most pleasant Spring, [Page 277] and refreshes not only 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 numbers of 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 fruitful 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 Matter 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 Mind.

Thirdly, It is a steep Mount: That is, dearly Beloved, it is not slope, or shelving; but so straight, as to be perpendicular: insomuch, that those that have not sure and sinewy Feet, can never wald up this Mount: indeed, it requires Mercury'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, 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: [Page 278] A Name, dearly Beloved, is a Word; not a Thing, but the Mark of Things, to distinguish several Things, or conceptions of Things, 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 only 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 Fame's Mansion: And though, dearly Be­loved, Fame's Mansion is but an old Library, wherein lies ancient Records of Actions, Accidents, Chronologies, Moulds, Medals, Coins, and the like; yet Fame her self is a Goddess, and the Sister to Fortune; and she is not only a Goddess, but a powerful Goddess; and not only a powerful God­dess, but a terrible Goddess; for she can both damn and glorifie; and 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 she sets, many [Page 279] times, a period to those she Glorifies.

Thus, beloved Brethren, I have interpreted to you the Text. Now I am to exhort you, That none should venture up this Mount, but those that can flye with Fancy's Wings, or walk with a mea­sured pace, on Velvet Feet, or Comick Socks, or Tragick Buskins; not to venture, if you find 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 only a Flame, but a wondrous hot, sindging, scorching, burning Flame; insomuch, that (many times) it is insuffer­able, and oft-times burns the Brains into Cinders, and consumes the Rational Understanding; at least, it sindges the Health, and endangers the Life of the Body.

But to conclude, beloved Brethren in Poetry: Let me admonish you to be devout to 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, Cities, Camps, or several Climates, to gain the Favour of great Fame; offer up your several Conceptions upon her white Altars (I mean white Paper), sprinkling Golden Letters thereon; and let the Sense be as sweet Incense to her Deity, [Page 280] that the Perfumes of your Renown may be smelt in after-Ages, and your Noble Actions recorded in her ancient Mansion.

And so the Love of Fame be with you,
And the Blessing of Fortune light upon you.

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 a huge bigness. 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 half-Globe, the outside being Convex, the inside Concave; a Fi­gure, it seems, they think most lasting, and least sub­ject to ruin; having no Corners, Points, or Joints, to break off; and every one of the little Creatures industrious for the Common-good, in which they never loyter, but labour and take pains; and not only laboriously, but prudently; for those that bring the Materials to build, lay those Materials in such a manner, that they do not hinder one another by any retardments: Among Men, one brings the Brick, another the Mortar, and a third [Page 281] builds with them; and if any come to a mischance, the Work is not only 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 precious; and therefore judiciously order it, fore­casting while they work, and taking up the whole time with Contrivance, leaving none for Practice; neither do they prefer Curiosity before Conveni­ence. Likewise, they are careful of Repairs, lest Ruin should grow upon them; insomuch, that if the least Grain of Dust be misplaced, they stop, or close it up again. They are also as prudent for their Provisions, having a Magazine of Meat in their City, as Men have of Arms: but this Magazine is like a Farmer's Cupboard, which is never with­out Bread and Cheese; wholsome, although 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 [Page 282] those little Bodies are as one great Head; or rather, as one wise Brain; so are they united by a general Agreement, as one Mind; and their Industries 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 Inconveniences and Troubles, and oft-times Ruins, that are incident to those Commonwealths that make Distinctions and Degrees, which beget Pride, Ambition, Envy, Covetousness, Treachery, and Treason; causing Civil-Warrs, Tyrannical Laws, Unjust Judgments, False Accusations, Cruel Exe­cutions, Faint Friendships, Dissembling Affecti­ons, Luxury, Bribery, Beggery, Slavery, heavy Taxes, and unconscionable Extortions. But these Citizen-Ants, have little Heads, and great Wis­dom; which shews, it is not the quantity of Brains that makes any particular Creature wise; for then an Ox would be wiser than a Man: Nor is it the bigness of the Heart that makes a Creature good­natur'd; for these little Creatures, although they have little Hearts, yet they have great Generosity, Compassion, and Charity to each other: and as their assistance is always 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 [Page 283] say) the moisture of Tears, to weep at their Fune­rals; but they do lay the Dead into the Earth, and cover them with Earth, with great Solemnity. But they have, as all other Creatures that Nature hath made, Enemies: for, though they are Friends among themselves, yet they cannot make Friend­ships with all Nature's Works, by reason some Creatures live upon other Creatures; and they have many Forreign Enemies, as Swallows, and other 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 fearful, and careful in concealing themselves, crepping always out at little holes, lest they should be discovered.

It happened, upon a hot Summer's day, a com­pany of Bees flying to that Tree, to swarm on a Bough thereof; that they, thinking it might be some of their Enemy-Birds, were in an extraordinary fright: Whereupon they withdrew all into the City, shutting up the Gates thereof; only sending out a few Spies at Postern-doors, and setting Cen-tinels to view their approaches. At last they ob-served, these Birds (which Men call Bees) gathered in a round Figure, or Globe, like the World; which shews, the round Figure is not only the most profi­table (having the least waste, and largest compass), but the securest Figure, being the most united, not [Page 284] only by drawing in all loose and wandring parts, but it combines them all together with a round Line. But when these Bees were swarmed (which swarming is a general Meeting, to make up one Councel), there was such a humming-noise, as did more affright the Ants than it had 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's Proposition. Nei­ther can I perceive that they speak studied Speeches, as Men do, taking more care and pains therein, than for theCommon Good. Neither do they, as Men do, 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 publick Fe­licity or Safety; venturing the publick Ruin, for a Title of 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 Colonies out of over-po­pulous Kingdoms, to make new Plantations: for, if there should be more Mouths than Meat, and [Page 285] more Men than Business, they would devour one another in Civil-Warrs, and pull down the Fa­brick of the Commonwealth, by breaking the Laws and Civil Customs 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 ways, to ga­ther Honey and Wax, wisely providing for Food, and Store-houses 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 Apartments are built so close together, and in such a curious 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, which they fill with Honey; and they carry their Wax on their Thighs.

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, and their laborious Industry; they did ad­mire, commend, and approve of their Common­wealth; and the more, because it was somewhat like to theirs. But the truth is, the Ant and the Bee [Page 286] resemble one another more in their wise Industry, than in their Government of the Commonwealth; for the Bees are a Monarchical Government, as any may observe; and the Ants are a Republick.

But by this we may perceive, it is not such and such kinds of Government, but such and such ways of Governing, that make a Commonwealth flou­rish with Plenty, Conveniency, Peace, and Tran­quillity: for, the Monarchical Government of the Bees, is as wise and happy as the Republick of the Ants.

The Second Tale of the Ant and the Bee.

AN Ant and a Bee meeting together upon a Gilliflower, 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.

You are deceived, said the Bee; for I only ga­ther off the sweet Dew that lies 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 mee: but you eat out the Seeds, which are their young Off­springs; and the Earwigs eat off the Leaves, and the Worms devour the Roots; when I bear nothing away, but what is free for all, which is that which falls from the Heavens.

By this we may perceive, That it is the nature of most Creatures that are guilty, and do the great­est Wrongs, to be the first Accusers.

The Third Tale of the Ant and the Bee.

IT chanced, that 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 she could not get out, but (like a Horse in a Quagmire) the more pains she took to get out, the deeper she sunk in: Whereupon she entreated the Bee to help her.

The Bee denied her, saying, She should be­come guilty of Theft, in assisting a Thief.

Why, said the Ant, I do not entreat 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 stoln by Man out of our Commonwealth; and it is lawful not only to challenge our own, but to take it whereso­ver we find it. Besides, Man (most commonly) doth cruelly murther us, by smuthering us with Smoak, then destroys our City, and carries away the Spoils. But Men are not only the most wicked of Creatures, in making the greatest Spoils and Di­sturbances in Nature; but they are the subtillest of [Page 288] all Creatures, to compass their Designs; and the most inventive for several destructive and enslaving 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 smuthering us with Smoak.

The Ant said, I hope that the 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 whilst the Bee was thus talking, the Honey had clammed the Bee's Wings close to her sides, so that she could not loosen them to flye; and in strugling to get liberty for flight, plunged her 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 [Page 289] might nourish it. O unhappy Creature that I am, said the Bee, that my Labour and Industry should prove my ruin! but the Honey rising above her Head, stopped her speech, and kill'd her.

The Ant, after a short languishing, dyed also.

Thus we see, the same Mercy and Assistance we refused to others, is refused to us in the like Distress. And, many times, in the midst of Abundance, are our Lives taken away.

When we are too greedily earnest in keeping or taking what we can justly call our own, we seldom enjoy it, either by losing it, 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 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 flye.

O, said the Woodcock, it is a laborious action to flye; but sitting here, I take my ease and rest.

The Cow said, If I had Wings to flye, I would never lye upon the cold Earth, but I would mount up near to the warm Sun, whose Heat clarifies the Air to a Crystalline Skye; whereas the Earth is [Page 290] only 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 flye therein, yet we cannot rest therein; and every Creature requires rest sometimes: neither can we live only 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 plow 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 sailing-wings; and when the Air is thick, and full of Water, it wets and 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 en­crease your Milk; and in the Summer you are put to rich Pasture, or lye in green Meadows, grow­ing [Page 291] thick with Cowslips and Dazies; or else, for change, you walk up to the Mountains tops, to brouse on wild Thyme, or sweet Marjoram; 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 kind Nurse, from whence we suck (out of her springing breasts) fresh water; and are fed by her Hand of Bounty, shaded under her spreading-Boughs, and sheltred from Storms in her thick Groves.

Besides, said the Woodcock, you are safe from Dan­gers; whenas we have many Airy-Enemies, as the Tyrant-Eagle, and Murtherous Hawk: But, said the Cow, we that only live upon the Earth, are dull and melancholy Creatures, in comparison of those that flye in the Air: for, all Birds are ingenuous, and seem to have more Wit than Beasts: besides, they are of chearfuller Dispositions, and have clear­er Voices, 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 cheerful, 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 [Page 292] (that is, more lively Spirits), slight not her Bene­fits, but make use of them; for to that purpose she gives them.

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 flye:
The Air is like the Ocean, liquid, plain;
The Clouds are Water, and the Roof 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 Airy 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:
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 Skie
I fain would see, whilst on the Ground I lie.
To satisfie you, said the Woodcock, I
Will mount; so rose, and shak'd his Wings to flie.

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 [Page 293] down with such force, that he knocked him on the head with his Pounces.

Which when the Cow saw, she lowed out with sorrow, and made a most lamentable Voice, 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 only her Posterity, but many of her Acquain­tance.

The MORAL.

Some are so busily-good, that they will perswade and counsel not only all those they have relation to, or all they know and have acquaintance with, but all they meet, although they be meer strangers to them. But although some do it out of a meer busie 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 Judgment; for their Counsel oft-times brings Ruin, at least Sorrow, both to those that take it, and [Page 294] those that give it, through a blind ignorance of both Parties. But those that are prudently wise, never give Counsel but when it's asked; and then, not without great Caution; chusing the safest ways, and the likeliest means, joining their own Reputa­tion with the Party's Good; fearing to lose the one, or hurt the other by a rash Advice.

Of a Butcher and a Fly.

IN Shamble-Row, a Butcher walking in his Shop, where Meat was lying upon his Shop-board, and (being in the heat of Summer) a number of Flies were busily working thereupon; which the Butcher seeing, was very angry, and said, That Flies were good for nothing but to corrupt Dead Flesh. At which words, the Flies murmured against the Butcher, making a humming-noise, to express their Passion.

But one of the ancientest and gravest Flyes amongst them (which Fly living long, and obser­ving much, had studied Natural and Moral Phi­losophy), having observed the Humours and Acti­ons of all Creatures, especially of Man, and more especially of Butchers, by reason they most com­monly frequent the Shambles; she answered the Butcher thus:

Why (said the Fly) do you rail and exclaim [Page 295] against us, when we do nothing against Nature, but do good service to the Countrey? for, we cre­ate living Creatures out of that you destroy; where­by we keep Nature from ruin: and those only that destroy Life, are Nature's Enemies; but those that maintain or create Life, are Nature's Friends. Thus we are Friends, and you are Enemies to Nature: for you are cruel, striving to destroy Nature, not only by taking the Life of barren Creatures, that are past producing; but of young Creatures, that would encrease, had they been suffered to live, in not killing them before their natural time to dye. Besides (said the Fly to the Butcher) you are a Cheat and a Robber, as well as a Murtherer; for you co­zen and rob Time of the Goods he is intrusted to keep until such time as Nature requires them, to whom he carefully, easily, peaceably, delivers them to the right Owner. Also, you do not only rob him of those Goods he hath in charge; but you malici­ously or covetously spoil 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 in a lump together, you de­stroy; which not only spoils old Father Time's La­bours, but defaces his Architecture, disgracing his Skill. Likewise, you do not only endeavour to de­stroy Nature, and rob and disgrace Time; but you take away Divine Worship from the Gods, who [Page 296] receive their Worship from Life, which you de­stroy; for which, they may justly punish you to 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 Mankind, and most sorts of Beasts; but those that she creates from Death and the Grave, as from dead Carkasses, and Corruption, she produceth by numbers, as Mag­gots, Worms, and the like: and, most commonly, your impertinent Worships are created in that manner. And if the Gods are only served 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 only cause that those Creatures are produced from those Carkasses, but Corruption, which is the Mother of Life, and which (by your Bloth) you hasten, whereby you take Time's Work out of his hands, and so you do usurp on Time's Prerogative, for which I will whisk you out of my Shop as a Company of busie, pra­ting, [Page 297] idle, foolish Creatures you are. Whereat they, being frighted, flew away.

Of a Man and a Spider.

A MAN, whose Thoughts were not busily employed upon potent Affairs, but lazily sitting in his Chair, leaning his Head on his Hand, with his Face towards the Window, viewing a craf­ty Spider, and marking what pains she took in spinning a Web to entangle the innocent Flyes; saw, that her Work was 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 thither), thus spake:

Mischievous Spider (says he) who art only indu­strious to an Evil Design, spinning out thy own Bowels only to entrap a Creature that never did nor meant thee harm: Hadst thou spun out of a charitable intention to clothe the Naked, thou hadst been worthy of my Commendation; but now thy Malice falls justly under my Wrath: and taking the Tongs, intended to kill her. But the Spider, perceiving his intention, 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 [Page 298] whether your Doom be deservedly given; and you must be clear from the same Faults, before you can justly punish another for the like Crimes; as also, be free from Partiality, lest you become cruel to one, through your tender pity to the other. But to an­swer for my self: I do not only spin thus to catch the Flyes, but it is my House in which I dwell; which 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 flye 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 a Mischief to fall on their own Heads: and, What Creature hath Nature made, but (if they had power) would defend themselves. But say, I spun this Web only to catch 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 Nature's Works; and of all her Works, Man seeks it most: and not only so, but he delights in Spoil, which is against Nature: for, Doth not Man take delight, and account it as one of his Recreations, to kill those Crea­tures that he refuses to eat? Nay, Man will destroy [Page 299] his own Kind: for, What Warrs and Slaughter do they make, out of 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 Offendors, 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 Truth and Right.

The Man, when he had heard the Spider's Dis­course, turned his Back, and went his ways.

A Dialogue betwixt a great Lady, and her Maid of Honour.

THERE was a great 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 of her.

Do so, said she; for I do not censure my self ac­cording as the World's reports, which most com­monly are false; but I judg my self according to my Life, which is my Thoughts and Actions: [Page 300] Wherefore, they cannot move my Anger at any thing they say; and so 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 Title of Ho­nour at too high a rate.

Lady.

That's false, said she; I only prize such Titles, as being the Mark of Merit: for, only Me­rit dignifies a Man, and not those Titles of Honour, which gain a Luster from the Worth of those they are placed upon.

Maid.

They say, You are vain, in making Shews of State, and Stately Shews.

Lady.

Why, answered she, the Gods delight in Ceremonies, which are devout Shows; and this World which they have made, 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.

They say, You are so Proud, that you will not sit, because all others by you should stand.

Lady.

They are deceived, said she; for I would rather stand whilst 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 Palat, in hearing a confused Noise? For, when good Meat and Wine fumes to their Brains, their Tongues become unruly. Neither is it out of Covetousness: for, I do not only keep one well­furnished Table, but many; and do allow Enter­tainment to 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 only doth enjoy himself?

Maid.

They say, You are not Sociable, in not carrying 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 Courtesie, or make a Shew of Borrowed-Favours, or fill my Train with bare Acquaintance, or humble Compa­nions; to have my Estate none of my own, only to make a seeming-Shew; and when they are gone, my Estate is gone, and I left alone, naked and bare, having none that I can command about me. No, [Page 302] when I appear abroad, I will only be attended and waited upon by such as live upon my Bounty, or are raised by my Favours. 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 cozens Noble Honour: for, should a King be attended and served in State with other Subjects than his own, upon another King's Charge or Courtesie; he would not seem, to those that are wise, to have great Power. But he is Great, whose Kingdom is fully populated, and all do bow with an obedient Knee, and are ready to serve his Will. So, like 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, and are apt to mutiny, and make a Warr, or think they do me Honour. No, I will have none but such as think I honour them; and if I have Merit, I do so (although they be 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 a Favour from Persons of Merit.

Maid.

They say, You do dislike, when any Man falutes you, although of Quality.

Lady.

How! salutes me?

Maid.

Why, 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 wild Desires, and kindles in their Hearts unlawful Fire: Wherefore, I would have that Custom banished quite, especially by Husbands that do prize their Honour. But Envy doth mis­employ the Tongue, and leads Mankind to base Actions, making their Life like leaking-Vessels, where precious Time doth idly drop away.

Maid.

I have heard, That all the VVorld was pictured in 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, I divide Mankind 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.

VVhat is the fourth part, Madam?

Lady.

The fourth part I may divide into four parts more: One part I admire, as being VVise. 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 only 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 VVise; yet oft-times the Valiant and the VVise do make a passage through, though Fortune do obstruct.

Maid.

But, Madam, if there were so few Vali­ant, there would not be so much VVarr amongst Mankind, 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 VVise, there would neither be Justice nor Propriety.

Maid.

Indeed, Justice is pictured with a Sword in one hand, and a pair of Balances in the other.

Lady.

That shews, that VVisdom doth justly weigh Truth, and Valour doth maintain the Right.

Maid.

I have heard a Proverb, Madam, That be that is wise, is honest.

Lady.

And those that are not Valiant, can never be constantly Honest; for, said the, Fear would put them out of Honest ways. And so she left off dis­coursing.

A Dialogue betwixt a Contemplating Lady, and a Poet.

POET.

PRAY, Madam, think me not rude to intrude upon your Contemplation.

Lady.
A Poet's Wit is a Companion
Fit for a vain Imagination.
Poet.

That is not vainly done, which gives a De­light to the Mind, without endangering the Soul, or distempering the Body: for, Vanity lives only in that which is useless or unprofitable.

Lady.

Indeed, to delight the Mind is more ne­cessary than to feed the Body: for, a discontented Mind is worse than Death; but the most part of the World think nothing useful to the Life, but what is Substantial.

Poet.

If they do so, they must account Thoughts vain: for, Thoughts are only an Incorporeal Mo­tion, or at least believed to be so.

Lady.

But without the Incorporeal Motion, the World would be a dead Carkass only: 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, [Page 306] no Happiness; and to be unhappy, is worse than Death: but Contemplation is the Mother of Invention.

Poet.

But Language is the Midwife, and Pra­ctise the Nurse. Besides, if there were no Practise or Conversation, all Invention and Industry would be Abortive:

And Language utterly unknown,
The Trumpet loud of Fame unblown:
No Ladder set unto ber 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 Mind breath, and makes the Imagination the strong­er, the Conception larger, the Invention apter, and Fancy livelier; otherwise we shall smuther the Thoughts for want of vent, and put out their Light for want of Oil, and then the Life would sit 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 Mind, as the Body, may feed so long of Pleasures, that they may prove tormenting-Pain: so that the Mind must be exerci­sed with Discourse, cleansed with Writing, other­wise [Page 307] the Streams of Fancy, which arise in several Springs from the Imaginations, may overflow the Mind, causing it to be flatuous and hydropcal; or the several and singular Opinions, which are most commonly tough and hard, may obstruct the Mind, causing it to be pursie and short-breath'd; and the cold and hot Passions, for want of Purging­words, may either stupifie or inflame the Mind; and too much Solitariness will bed-rid the Mind, making it faint and weak. Besides, if the Mind do not travel to several Objects, and traffick with the Senses and Discourse, it would have no acquain­tance with the World, no knowledg of Men, nor Famous Monuments. And give me leave, Lady, to tell you, Extreams in Nature are an Enemy to Life, and to Life's delight: Wherefore, let me ad­vise you to intermingle with your harmless Con­templations, rational Discourses, knowing Socie­ties, and worthy Actions; and employ your Sen­ses on profitable Labours, and not suffer them to live idly and useless to the Mind.

Lady.

Let me tell you, Sir, the Mind needs them not; for the Mind is so well attended, so richly furnished, has such witty Companions, such wise Acquaintance, such numbers of Strangers, such faithful Friends, such industrious Servants, such va­rious Pleasures, such sweet Delights, such spacious Walks, such safe Habitations, and such a peaceable [Page 308] Life, that it neither needs to converse or have com­merce either with the Senses, Mankind, or the World; for it is a World within it self.

The Mind a vaster World it self doth prove;
Where several Passions, like the Planets, move:
Poetick Fancies, like fix'd Starrs, shine bright
Upon the Brain, mhich makes a Day of Night.
The flux of things produceth from the Earth;
As some decays, to others gives new birth.
Nature and Time are equal in their ends,
As some decay, to others new Life sends.
The Circulation of Time's World, we see,
May prove Eternal, the Mind Immortal be.
All the Material World hath Compass round,
But in the Mind no Compass can be found:
Tis infinite, like Nature can create
Thoughts, several Creatures, Destiny and Fate:
And Life and Death do in the Mind still lye;
Death to forget, and Life is Memory.
Poet.

But, Lady, in Justice the Body, as well as the Mind, must share in the Pleasures of Life: for it were unjust that only 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 Mind.

But hard 'twill be to me for to abstain,
And leave the Banquet of a thinking-Brain;
Where all delicious Pleasures and Delight
Are there set forth to feed each Appetite.

The Dialogue of the Wise Lady, the Learned Lady, and the Witty Lady.

Learned Lady.

SOME are of opinion, That the World is a living Creature, and the Sun is the Soul of it. A Wise and Learned Philosopher held, That the World was made of Atoms, the Chaos being nothing but an infinite confus'd quantity of them.

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 [Page 310] 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 Inconveniences and Troubles therein: for Disputes carry more out of the ways of Truth, and leads further into the ways of Ignorance, than all the Reason Nature hath given can add to our Know­ledg; and there is no Reason so strong, but may be contradicted by another.

Wit.

If our Reason be so false a Guide, and not only the Creation, but the Tract of the World, is so hard to be found out; How shall we find a direct way to Jove's Mansion?

Wis.

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.

Lear.

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 Starrs are the Crystalline part, Life is the Spirits or Essen­ces, Death is the Caput Mortuum.

Wit.

Wit, which is the Scholar of Nature, is as good a Chymist: for, Wit doth extract something out of every thing.

Wis.

And Wisdom knows how to apply the Extraction to the best use.

Learn.

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.

Wis.

The agitation of Virtue makes a peaceable Commonwealth.

Learn.

Some Moral Philosophers hold, That no Creature hath Reason, but Man.

Wis.

Men only 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 forward; and what is past, is as it had never been.

Wis.

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.

Learn.

'Tis said, History instructs the Life, it registers Time, it enthrones 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 Dead, and a Fame to Persons of Merit.

Wit.

In Poetry is included Musick and Rheto­rick, which is Number and Measure, Judgment and Fancy, 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 encreases Joy, allays Fear, 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 Mind in tune, whereby the Thoughts move equally in a round Circle, where Love sits in the Center as Mistress and Judg.

Learn.

Some Philosophers hold, That all the Changes in the World are only caused by Dilata­tion and Contraction.

Wit.

I am sure, too much Dilatation of the Spi­rits, causeth a weakness, by dis-uniting their Forces, and contracting of Humours, causeth Diseases. Yet a dilatating 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.

VVis.

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.

Learn.

The Mind, some say, is nothing but [Page 313] 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 Smoak, 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 its strength is often allayed by the dulness and coldness of grosser Vapours, or obstructed or hindred by the thickness of dull Mat­ter; and oft-times it evaporates out of the Body, by too much rarification, caused by too quick a Motion.

Wit.

The Mind is, like a God, an Incorporeal thing; and so infinite, that it is as impossible to mea­sure the Mind, as Eternity. 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 make Variety of Wit; and the several Figures, and Works, and Forms, that the Vaporous Smoak ariseth in, cau­seth several Fancies, by giving several Motions to the Brain.

VVis.

Well, Sisters, to conclude your Dispute, The best Ingredient of the Mind, is Honesty; and the best motion of the Brain, is Reason; otherwise the Brain would be mad, and the Mind wicked: [Page 314] wherefore moderate the one, and temper the other.

Learn.

Learning encreases Knowledg, begets Un­derstanding, employs Time, and enriches the Mind.

Wit.

Wit invents profitable Arts, it creates Sci­ences, it delights the Mind, it recreates the Life, and entertains Time.

VVis.

VVisdom guides the Life safe, gives ho­nest Laws to the VVill, sets noble Rules to the A­ctions; it governs Misfortunes easily, it prevents Misfortunes prudently, it employs Time thristily, 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.

Learn.

There are many several kinds of Arts, 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, Confectionary, Cookery, and Perfumes.

Enticing Arts are, Artificial Singing, Artificial Speaking, Artificial Dressing, Dancing, Powdring, Curling, Perfuming, Rich Clothing, Luxurious Entertainments.

[Page 315]

Vain Arts are, Feathers, Fancies, Ribbons, black-Patches, and Side-Glasses.

Amorous Arts are, flattering Complements, false Professions, affected Garbs, affected Speeches, affected Countenances, affected Actions; Sonnets, Poems, Frolicks, Questions and Commands, Pro­poses and Riddles, Presents, Private Meetings, and Conference.

Expensive Arts are, Feasting, Masquing, Ball­ing, Carding, Dicing, Racing, Betting, 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 Barr, and Tennis-Court Play.

Vain-glorious Arts are, Oratory, Pleading, Di­sputing, Proposing, Objecting, Magnisicent Enter­tainments, great Revenues, Sumptuous Palaces, and Costly Furnitures.

Covetous Arts are, Bribery, Monopolies, Taxes, Excises, and Compositions.

Ambitious Arts are, Time-serving, Observing, Insinuating.

Malicious Arts are, Impeachings, Back-bitings, and Libels.

Superstitious Arts are, Interpretations, false Visi­ons, Impostures, Imprecations, Ceremonies, Po­stures, [Page 316] Garbs, Countenances, and Paces; and parti­cular Customs, Habits, and Diets.

Idolatrous Arts are, Groves, Altars, Images, and Sacrifices.

Dangerous Arts (though necessary for the safety of Honour) are, Fencing, Riding, Tilting, Vault­ing, Wrestling, and Swimming.

Murthering Arts are, Swords, Knives, Hatchets, Saws, Sythes, Pick-axes, Pikes, Darts, Granadoes, Guns, Bullets, Shot, Powder.

Arts of Safety are, Trenches, Moats, Bridges, Walls, Arms, and Chyrurgery.

Profitable Arts, are, Geometry, Cosmography, Arithmetick, Navigation, Fortification, Archite­cture, Fire-works, Water-works, Wind-works, Cultivating, Manuring, Distilling, Extracting, Pounding, Mixing, Sifting, Grinding, as Malting, Brewing, Baking, Cooking, Granging, Carding, Spinning, Weaving, Colouring, Tanning, Wri­ting, Printing.

Wit.

Why, Learned Sister, all these Arts, and innumerbale 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 as without a Cause, there would be no Effect; so, without an Inventive Brain, there could be no Ingenuous Art.

Wis.

Dear Witty Sister, do not engross more [Page 317] than what is justly your own; for there are more Arts produced from Accidents and Experiments, than from Ingenious Wit.

Learn.

Some Learned Men 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.

Wis.

We ought not to spend our time in study­ing of the Motions and Heat of the Sun, but of the Motions and Passions of the Heart.

Learn.

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 Fancy produceth another.

VVis.

Pray discourse of Virtues, which is the Light of the Soul; and Generosity, an Effect thereof, which distributes to Necessity, producing comfortable Relicfs therewith.

Learn.

And some say, Colours are no Colours in the dark, being produced by Light on such and such Bodies.

Wit.

VVe may as well say, VVit is no Wit, [Page 318] 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.

VVis.

I pray dispute not how Colours are pro­duced, whether from the Light, or from their own Natures, or Natural Substances; but consider, that Good VVorks are produced from a Soul that is pure and bright.

Learn.

The Learned say, That Sounds are Num­bers, and Opticks are Lines of Light.

VVit.

VVit sets the Number, and Motion draws the Lines.

VVis.

There is no Musick so harmonious, as Honest Professions, nor no Light so pure as Truth.

Learn.

And they say, Discord in Musick well applied, makes the Harmony the delightfuller.

VVit.

So Satyr in VVit makes it more quick and pleasant.

VVis.

So Truths, mix'd with Falshood, make Flattery more plausible and acceptable.

Learn.

Time, which is the Dissolver of all Cor­poreal Things, yet it is the Mother, Midwife, and Nurse to Knowledg; whereby we find all Modern Romancy-VVriters, although they seem to laugh and make a scorn of Amadis de Gall, yet make him the Original-Table, or Ground, from whence they [Page 319] draw their Draughts, and take out covertly their Copies from thence. Indeed, Amadis de Gall is the Homer of Romancy-writers.

Wit.

Although Wit is not a Dissolver, yet 'tis a Creator. Wit doth descry and divulge more Knowledg than Time: for that which Time could never find out, Wit will discover.

Wit is like a Goddess in Nature: for, though it cannot dissolve, yet it can produce, not only some­thing out of something, but something out of no­thing (I mean, 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 distinguisheth.

Wis.

But Time and Wit would soon produce a Chaos of Disorder, if it were not for Wisdom, which is composed of Judgment, Justice, Prudence, Fortitude, and Temperance: for, Judgment 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.

Learn.

Scholars say, That one Man can see higher and further, when he is set upon another Man's Shoulders, than when he stands or sits on the Ground by himself: so, when one is raised by ano­ther Man's Opinion, he can descry more in hidden Mysteries.

Wit.

But if a Man see a Lark tow'r in the Sky, which another Man doth not, having weaker Eyes; yet he is no wiser than the other, that only saw the Lark picking Corn on the Ground. But he that sees her not in the Sky, knows she is in the Sky, as well as the other, because he saw from whence she took her flight.

But if the other, that is raised, can see a Bird in the Sky that was never seen before, it were something to add to his Knowledg. 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.

Wis.

Leave the Shoulders of your Neighbours, and let your Eye of Faith reach to Heaven. As some Meats nourish the Body, and some destroy the Body: so some Thoughts nourish the Soul, and some destroy it. The Senses are the working-La­bourers, to bring Life's Materials in. As Nature is the best Tutor to instruct the Mind, so the Mind is the best Tutor to instruct the Senses. And my Mind instructs my Senses to leave you.

There are learned Arts and Sciences; a Poeti­cal and Satyrical Wit; a Comical and Tragical Wit; an Historical and Romancical Wit; an In­genious and Inventive Wit; a Scholastical Wit; a Philosophical Wit. There is Moral, Human, and Divine Wisdom.

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 Brother's Children were dead, and his Wife was likely to have no more. So he took to VVife a vir­tuous young Lady; and after one year she concei­ved with Child, and great Joy there was of all sides: but in her Child-bed she dyed, leaving only one Daughter to her sorrowful Husband, who in a short time (oppressed with Melancholy) dyed, and left his 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 Child home, which was nursed up very care­fully by his VVife; and being all that was likely to succeed in their Family, the Unkle grew extream fond and tender of his Neece, insomuch that she was 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 betwixt them: for this Gentleman was well bred, [Page 322] knowing the VVorld by his Travels in his younger days; and though he had served in the warrs, and fought many Battels, yet was he not ignorant of Courtly Entertainments. Besides, he was of a very good conversation, for he had a voluble Tongue, and a ready Understanding; and in his retired life, was a great Student, 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 only two Sons; and know­ing this Child had a great Estate left by her Father; and was likely to have her Unkle's Estate joined thereto, he was earnest upon it: but her Unkle 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 join 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 join them as fast as we can: for Youth [Page 323] is wild, 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 choice: for he privately found his Son very unwilling, being a Man grown, to marry a Child.

The Gentleman seeing him so desirous to marry, agreed to what he desired.

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 mind, to a Child.

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 encrease it: and besides, she was likely to be Heir to her Unkle, who loved her as his own Child; 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, His Disobedience would disturb his Death, leaving the World with an unsatisfied Mind.

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 Warrs, and in short time was called from thence, by reason his Elder Brother dyed, and so the Dukedom and all the Estate came to him, being then the only 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 Grandee which was very rich, but was very old; whose Age made her more facil to young Lovers, especially to this young Duke, who was favoured by Nature, Fortune, and Breeding: for he was very handsom, and of a ready Wit; Active, Valiant, full of Generosity; Affable, well­fashion'd; and had he not been fullied with some Debaucheries, he had been the compleatest Man in that Age.

The old Gentleman perceiving his neglect towards his Neece, and hearing of his Affection to that La­dy, strove by all 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 that Artificial Motion become as Natural; and so to grow in Perfections, as she grew in years. When she was Seven years of age, he chose her such Books [Page 325] to read, as might make her Wise, not Amorous; for he never suffered her to read in Romances, nor such leight 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 stu­dy was History, to learn her Experience by the se­cond hand; reading the Good Fortunes and Mis­fortunes of former times; the Errors that were committed, the Advantages that were lost, the Hu­mours and Dispositions of Men, the Laws and Cu­stoms of Nations; their rise, and their fallings; of their Warrs and Agreements, and the like.

The next study to that, was the best of Poets, to delight in their Fancies, and in their Wit; and this she did not only read, but 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 always busily employed; for she had little time allowed her for Childish Recreations.

Thus did he make her Breeding his only Busi­ness and Employment: for he lived obscurely and privately, keeping but a little Family, and having little or no Acquaintance, but lived a kind of a Mo­nastical Life. But when the Neece was about Thirteen years of age, he heard the Duke was married to the Lady [Page 326] with which he was enamoured: for being by the death of her Husband left a rich Widow, she claimed from him a Promise that he made her whilst her Husband was living, That when he dyed (being an old man, and not likely to live long) to marry her: which he was loth to do; for Men that love the Pleasures of the world, care not to be encumbred and obstructed with a VVife; and so did not at all reflect neither upon his Contract with the young Lady; 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 the VVi­dow seeming more coy than in her Husband's time, seeking thereby to draw him to marry her; and, being overcome by several ways of subtilty, he mar­ried her. VVhereupon the Unkle was mightily troubled, and very melancholy; which his Neece perceived, and desired of him to know the cause; which he told her.

Is this the only reason, said she?

Yes, said he: and doth it not trouble you?

No, said she, unless I had been forsaken for some sinful 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 not for the loss of the Man, but for the cause of the loss; for then all the VVorld [Page 327] might have justly defamed me with a dishonoura­ble Reproach: but now I can look the World in the face with as confident a Brow as Innocence can arm. Besides, it is likely I might have been unhappy in a Man that could not affect me. Wherefore, good Unkle, 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 avoid the other: and if the Fates spin a long Thread of your Life, I shall never murmur for that loss, but give thanks to the Gods for this Blessing.

O, but Child, said he, the Duke was the great­est and richest Match, since his Brother dyed, in the Kingdom: and I would not have thy Virtue, Beau­ty, Youth, Wealth, and Breeding, stoop to a low Fortune, when thou mayest be a Match fit for the Emperor of the whole World, in a few years, if you grow up, and go on as you have begun.

O Unkle, said she, let not your Natural Affecti­on make you a Partial Judg, to give the Sentence of more Desert in me, 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 Nature's fading Favours; 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 Mistresses of their own Fortunes? Having bred me well, I [Page 328] shall be happy in what Condition soever I am in, being Content; for that is the End and Felicity of the Mind.

But if thou hadst been in Love with him (said her Unkle), Where had been your content then? For no Education can keep out that Passion.

I hope (said she) the Gods will be more merci­ful, than to suffer in me such Passions as I cannot rule. What manner of Man he, said she? For I was too young to remember him.

His Person (said he) is handsom 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.

Heavens have bless'd me from him, said she.

Well, said her Unkle, since I am cross'd in thy Marriage, I will strive to make thee a Mirror 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, because thou hearest and seest little. You shall not appear to the World this two or three years, but go always 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, without being known.

Sir, said she, I shall be ruled by your Direction; for I know my small Bark will swim the better and [Page 329] safer for your steerage: wherefore I shall not fear to launch it into the deepest or most dangerous pla­ces of the World, which I suppose are the great and populous Cities. So, making but small Prepa­rations, only what was for meer necessity, they took their Journey speedily, carrying no other Servants but those that knew and used to obey their Master's will. And when they came to the City, they took private Lodging; where, after they had rested some few days, he carried her every day (once or twice a day) abroad, after her Exercise of Dancing and Musick was done. For, being careful she should not only keep what she had learn'd, but learn what she knew not; after her Lessons at home, he carried her to Lectures, according as he heard where any were read, either of Natural Philosophy, (for this she had studied least: but taking much de­light therein, she had various Speculations thereof) or of Physick and Chymistry, of Musick, and of divers others, on such days as they were read. Al­so, he carried her to places of Judicature, to hear great Causes decided; and to hear the several Pleadings, or rather Wranglings, of several Law­yers; but never to Court, Masques, Plays, nor Balls: and she always went to the publick pla­ces aforementioned, masqu'd, muffl'd, or scarf'd: and her Unkle would make means to get a private Cor­ner to sit in, where they might hear well; and when [Page 330] 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 hers, of their several Doctrines. And thus they continued for two years.

In the mean time, her Beauty encreased with her Breeding, but was not made known to any, as yet; till being come to the age of sixteen years, her Un­kle did resolve to present her to the World: for he knew, Youth was admired in it self; but when Beauty and Virtue was joined 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 uncertain, that there was no trusting it to itself.

So he ask'd her, How she was taken with the Riches and Gallantry of the City; for she could not chuse 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 embroidered Foot-Clothes, as she pass'd along the Streets.

She answered, they pleased her Eyes for a time; and that Dressings were like Bridal-Houses, garnished and hung by some Ingenious Wit; and their Beauties like fine Flowers drawn by the Pencil [Page 331] of Nature; but being not gathered by Acquain­tance, said she, I know not whether they are vertu­onsly sweet, or no; as I pass by, I please my Eye, yet no other ways than as upon sensless 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.

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-days are done; yet I must get into some Corner, to see how you behave your self.

Pray, said she, What is a Masque?

He said, It is painted Scenes, to represent the Poets Heavens and Hells, their Gods and Devils, the Clouds, Sun, Moon, and Starrs: besides, they represent Cities, Castles, Seas, Fishes, Rocks, Moun­tains, Beasts, Birds, and what pleaseth the Poet, Painter, and Surveyor. 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 one or other, according as they fancy. If a Man takes out a Woman, if she cannot, or will not dance, then she makes a Curt'sie to the King, or Queen, or chief Grandee, if there be any one; if [Page 332] not, to the upper end of the Room; then turns to the Man, and makes another to him: then he leaves, or leads her to them she will take out; and she doth the like to him, and then goeth to her place again. And 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 all the chief of the Youths of the City (or all those that have youthful Minds, and love Sights and fine Clothes) come to see it, or to shew themselves. 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 only 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 Assemblies of that nature, where none but the Glories of the Kingdom meet.

Ashamed, said he, for what? You have stoln no Body's 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 Errors through my Ignorance, and so I may be taken notice of on­ly for my Follies.

Come, come, said he, all the Errors you may com­mit (although 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 Clothes, 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 judgment; and if you intend I shall go no more than once, let me not be extraordinary brave, lest liking me at first, and seeing me again they should condemn their former judgment, and I lose what was gained; so I shall be like those that make a good Assault, and a bad Retreat. But, Sir, said she, if you are pleased I shall shew my self to the most glorious, let me be ordered so, that I may gain more and more upon their good Opinions.

Well, said her Unkle, order your self as you please, for I am unskilled in that matter: besides, thou needest no Adornments; for Nature hath adorn'd thee with a splendid Beauty, Another thing, is (said he), we must remove our Lodgings, for these are too mean to be known in; wherefore, [Page 334] 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 on Masculine Acquaintance, nor give them the least encouragement.

Sir, said she, my Duty shall observe all your Commands.

When her Unkle was gone, Lord (said she), What doth my Unkle mean, to set me out to shew? sure he means to traffick for a Husband; but Hea­ven forbid those intentions, for I have no mind to marry. My Unkle is wise, and kind, 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 Unkle saith, I am handsome; I will now try whether others think so as well as he; for I fear my Unkle 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 Clothes, 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 Faces: so that I must judg of my self by the approbation of others Eyes, and not by my own. But if I be (said [Page 335] 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 into my Brain Wit and Understanding? Their Eyes cannot enrich me with Knowledg, nor give me the Light of Truth; for I cannot see with their Eyes, nor hear with their Ears, no more than the Meat which they do eat, can nourish me; or rest when they do sleep. Besides, I neither desire to make, nor catch Lovers; for I have an Enmity against Mankind, 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 find I have a little Emulation, which breeds a desire to appear more beautiful 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 begins at home; and those that are Unjust or Cruel to themselves, will never be Merciful 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 Bias leans to that side.

But, said she, to this Masque I must go; my Un­kle hath press'd me to the Warrs of Vanity, where Cupid is General, and leads up the Train: but I doubt I shall hang down my Head through shame­fac'dness, like a young Soldier when he hears the Bullets flye about his Ears: but, O Confidence, thou Goddess of good Behaviour, assist me! Well, said she, I will practise against the day, and be in a ready posture. So, after two or three days, the Masque was; and she being ready to go, her Un­kle comes to her, and sees her dress'd all in Black.

He said, Why have you put your self all in Black?

Sir, said she, I mourn like a young Widow, for I have lost my Husband.

By my troth, said he, and it becomes thee: for, you appear like the Sun when he breaks through a dark Cloud. I would have you go veiled, says he; for I would have you appear to sight only when you come into the Masquing-Room; and after the Masque is done, all the Company will rise, as it were, together, and join 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, until we are in a more Courtly Equipage. So away they went, only he and she, without any Attendants; and when they came to [Page 337] enter through the Door of the Masquing-Room, there was such a Croud, and such a Noise, the Of­ficers beating the People back, the Women squeak­ing, and the Men cursing; the Officers threatning, and the Enterers praying, that so great a Confu­sion made her afraid.

Lord, Unkle, said she, What a horrid Noise is here? Pray let us go back, and let us not put our selves unto this unnecessary trouble.

O Child, said he, Camps and Courts are never silent; besides, where great Persons are, there should be a Thundering-Noise, to strike their Inferiors with a kind of Terror and Amazement: for Po­ets say, Fear and Wonder makes Gods.

Certainly, said she, there must be a 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 Unkle, said she, stay while they are all pass'd in.

Why then, said he, we must stay until the Masque is done; for there will be striving to get in, until such time as those within are coming out.

But when they came near the Door, her Unkle spoke to the Officer; Pray Sir, said he, let this young Lady in to see the Masque.

There is no room, said he; there are more young Ladies already, than the Viceroy and all his Courti­ers can tell what to do with.

This is a dogged Fellow, said her Unkle: where­upon he told her, She must put up her Scarf, and speak her 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 Lowse: 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.

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 blind 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 he, I can deny you nothing: Angels must be obeyed.

When they came into the Masquing-Room, the House was full: Now (said her Unkle) I leave you to shift for your self; and 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; and observing there was much justling and thrusting one another to get places, she consider'd she had not strength to scamble amongst them, and therefore she stood still. When they were all set, it was as if a Cur­tain was drawn from before her, and she appeared like a glorious Light; whereat ali were struck with such a maze, 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 Vice-Roy 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 Vice-Roy and 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 Vice-Roy, who was a Wi­dower, and she was his only Child) they took out [Page 340] such Men as their Fancy pleased, and then they sate down; after which, 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 had naturally a Majestical Presence, although her Behaviour was easie 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; that it made her astonish all the Com­pany.

The Vice-Roy sent to enquire who she was, and what she was, and from whence she came, 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 Unkle had commanded her, which was, To convey her self as soon away as she could, cover­ing her self close: So home they went, and her Unkle was very much pleased to see the Sparks of her Beauty had set their Tinder-Hearts on fire. But as she went home, she enquired of her Unkle of the Company: [Page 341] Pray Sir, said she, was the Duke or Duchess there?

I cannot tell, said he; for my Eyes were wholly taken up in observing your Behaviour, that I never considered or 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 only took the length of your measures; and what through a 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 behind it, espe­cially in the Breast of the Vice-Roy 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. The Vice-Roy 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 his Court; which her Unkle understanding, told his Neece she must [Page 342] 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; I will also buy you Jewels.

No Sir, said she, pray spare that cost; for they are only to be worn at such times of Assemblies, which I shall not visit often, for fear I tire the Courtly Spectators, which delight in new Faces, as they do in new Scenes.

So her Unkle left her to order her self; who dres­sed her self this time all in white Sattin, embroider­ed all over with Silver.

When her Unkle saw her so dress'd; Now by my troth, thou lookest like a Heaven stuck with Starrs; 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 remarkable.

The Cavaliers (especially the Duke, and the Vice-Roy) began to be melancholy, for fear she should not come: their Eyes were always placed at the Doors, like Centinels, to watch her entrance; and when she came to the Court, all the Crouds of People, as in a fright, started back, as if they were [Page 343] surprised 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; only the Duke, who trembled so much (occasioned by the passion of Love) that he could not stir; but the Vice-Roy 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 to 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, not by the Duke, for he had not recovered as yet Love's shaking-sit. The young Gallants chose her but too often to dance; for eve­ry one took it for a Disgrace 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 whilst she was there.

The Vice-Roy, fearing they should tire her (for she durst not deny them, by reason it would be thought an affront, and rude, or want of Breed­ing) call'd sooner for the Banquet than otherwise he would have done. Besides, he perceived the rest of the Ladies began 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, still filling her Ears with Comple­ments, or rather chosen Words, for no Comple­ment could pass on her Beauty, it was so 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 reccive, without leave.

Pray, said he, may I know who is this happy Person you so humbly obey?

She said, It is my Unkle, with whom I live.

Where doth he live, said he?

Truly, said she, I cannot tell the name of the Street.

Is he not here, Lady, said he?

Yes, said she, and pointed to him. And though he was loath, yet he was forced to leave her so long, as to speak with her Unkle: but the whilst he was from her, all the young Gallants, which were ga­thered round about her, presented her with Sweet-Meats, as Offerings to a Goddess; and she, ma­king them Curt'sies, return'd them thanks for that she was not able to receive, as being too great a Burthen; for she was offer'd more Sweet-Meats than one of the Vice-Roy's Guard could carry.

But all the while the Duke stood as a Statue, his Eyes were fix'd only upon her; nor had he power to speak; and she perceiving where he was (for her Eyes had secretly hunted him out), did 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 encouraged 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-Custom for Men to express their Civilities to our [Page 346] 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.

The Duke said, You cannot be comprehended; nor do your Lovers know what Destiny you have decreed them.

The Vice-Roy came back with her Unkle, who desired to have his Neece home, the Banquet being ended.

But when the Duke saw her Unkle, he then ap­prehending who she was, was so struck, that what with guilt of Conscience, and with repenting-for­row, he was ready to fall down dead.

Her Unkle, seeing him talking to her, spoke thus 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 Bussle of the Croud helped to obscure her Change, as well as it did smuther her Unkle's Words, which pierced none but the Duke's Ears, and hers.

The Vice-Roy taking her by the Hand, led her to the Coach, and all the Gallants attended; whereat the Ladies, that were left behind in the Room, were so angry, that they shoot forth Words like Bullets, [Page 347] with the Fire of Anger, wounding every Man with Reproach; and at the Vice-Roy 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 Dispraises. So all being dispersed, the Vice-Roy 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; and the Miseries and Torments of de­spairing-Lovers, will be my Punishment.

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 frolick, as if he were returned to twenty years of age: and after he came home, he began to examine his Neece:

How do you like the Duke, said he? 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 Vice-Roy?

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 [Page 348] me tell you, That what Beauty and Favour Time takes from the Body, he gives double proportions of Knowledg and Understanding to the Mind. You use to preach to me, The outside is not to be regarded; and I hope you will not preach that Doctrine to others that 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 ways, and chu­sing the best. And my Application is, That you must shun the dangerous ways of Beauty, and chuse 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 Barricado your Ears, and not suffer, by listning, 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 [Page 349] 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 be led by your Appetites, to marry a vain fantastical Man, a proud conceited Man, a wild debauched Man, a foolish Prodigal, a poor Shark, or a young uncon­stant Man.

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. And my last Applica­tion is, That you should take such counsel, and follow such advice from your Friends, as you would honestly give to a faithful Friend, as the best for him, without any ends to your self; and so Good­night, for you cannot chuse 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 be not to marry me to the Vice-Roy: 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 Feverish Pulse.

But the Vice-Roy came the next day, and [Page 350] treated with her Unkle, desiring her for his Wife.

Her Unkle 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 that the Power and Authority of an Unkle, and the Perswasions as a Friend, can give, to get her consent to marry you.

Pray, said the Vice-Roy, 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, he presented his Service to her, and took his leave.

Then her Unkle sate in counsel with his Thoughts, how he should work her Affection, and draw her consent to marry this Vice Roy; 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 Mind. 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 any rest; neither could she study nor practise her Exercises, Dancing and Musick was laid by;and [Page 351] she could do nothing, but walk'd from one end of the Room to the other; where her Eyes fix'd upon the Ground, she would sigh and weep, and knew not for what; but 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 find my Body destem­pered: then surely it is in my Mind; and what should disturb that? My Unkle 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 Mind can desire. O but the Vice-Roy affrights it! there is the Cause: and yet methinks that cannot be, because I do verily believe my Unkle will not force me to marry against my Affections: besides, the remem­brance of him seldom comes into my Mind; for my Mind is so full of Thoughts of the Duke, that there is no other room left for any other: my Fancy orders, places, and dresses him a thousand several ways. And thus have I 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 Passion 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: and yet when I call him better to mind, he is the handsomest I ever saw. But what is a hand­some Body, unless he hath a noble Soul? He is per­jured [Page 352] and inconstant; alas, it was the fault of his Father to force him to swear against his Affections Whilst she was reasoning thus to her self, in came her Unkle, who 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 days with thee.

She said, 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 too: 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 Vice-Roy; he is rich.

Yet, said she, he may be a Fool.

O he is Wise and Discreet, said he.

I have heard, said she, he is ill-natured and froward.

Her Unkle answered, 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 al­ways favour the most deserving; nor do they al­ways advance Men for Merit; but most commonly otherwise, the unworthiest are advanced highest: besides, Bribery, Partiality, and Flattery, rule Prin­ces and States.

Her Unkle said, 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 Duke's Duchess; and his Estate, with yours joined to it, will be greater than his; with which you shall be served nobly, attend­ed with numbers of Servants, live plentifully, adorn­ed richly, have all the Delights 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 barr me of all these Braveries, Pleasures, and Delights, you propound; for he, being old, and I young, will become so jealous, that I shall be in restraint, like a Prisoner; nay, he will be jealous of the Light, and of my own Thoughts, and will enclose me in Darkness, and disturb the Peace of my Mind, 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 you know not what: I perceive you would marry some young, fan|'tastical, [Page 354] prodigal Fellow, who will give you only Diseases, and spend your Estate, and his own too, amongst his Whores, Bawds, and Sycophants: whilst 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 only 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 Mind, 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 Duchess, nor any Friend, to visit him, nor come near him; only one old Servant to wait upon him: all former De­lights, Pleasures, and Recreations, were hateful to him, even in the remembrance, as if his Soul and Body had taken a Surfeit 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. He called for Pen, Ink, and Paper, and wrote after this manner:

Madam,

THE Wrath of the Gods is not only pacified, and they do not only pardon the greatest sins that can be committed against them, taking to mercy the Contrite Heart; but give Blessings for Repentant 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 flye from me, yet if you did but know the Torments I suffer, you could not chuse but pity me; and my Sorrows are of that weight, that they will press away my Life, unless your Favours take off the heavy Burthen. But bomsoever, pray let your Charity give me a Line or two of your own writing, though they strangle me with Death; then will my Soul lye quiet in the Grave, be­cause I dyed by your hand; and when I 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 this Letter, he gave it to his Man to carry with all the secrefie he could; bidding him to en­quire which of her Women was most in her fa­vour, and to pray her to deliver it to her Mistress when she was all alone, and to tell the Maid, He would be in the Street to wait her Command.

The Man found such access as he could wish; and [Page 356] the Letter was 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 see or speak to him, her Unkle 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 once forsaken by him, than to be belo­ved by another with Constancy. Then musing with her self for some time, considering whether it was fit to answer his Letter or no; If my Unkle should come to know (said she) I write to him without his leave (which leave I am sure he will ne­ver give), I shall utterly lose his Affection; and I had rather lose my Life, than lose his Love: but 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 Mind, in whose good O­pinion I desire to live. 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, to save him. Well, I will adventure, and ask my Unkle pardon when I have done. My Unkle is not of a Tyger's nature, he is gentle, and a Pardon may [Page 357] 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:

SIR,

I Am obedient, as being once tied to you, until you did cut me off, and throw me away as a worthless piece, only fit to be trodden under the feet of Disgrace; and certainly had perished with shame, and been left desti­tute, had not my Unkle own'd me. And though you are pleased to cast some thoughts back upon me, yet it is dif­ficult for me to believe, that you that did once scorn me, should humbly come to sue to me: and I 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 Victo­ries; and if you beset me with Stratagems, kill me out­right, and lead me not a Prisoner, to set out your Tri­umph. If you have Warrs with your Conscience, or Fancy, or both, interrupting the peace of your Mind, as your Letter expresses; I should willingly return to your side, and be your Advocate: but the Fates have destin'd it otherwise. And yet what unhappy Fortune soever befalls 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 his 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, or you did lengthen my Journey in your Conceits with the foul ways of Dissiculties.

I hope, said the Duke, thou art so blessed, as to make as prosperous a Journey, as a quick Dispatch. Leave me a while, said he, till 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 Palsie; 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 tells 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 Unkle 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 be able to go abroad, for as yet I am but weak; and calling to hisMan, he bid him get him something to eat. [Page 359] 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 the 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 Grace, 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 helieve, said he, you carry your Body very leight, having no heavy Burthens of Meat in your Stomack.

I am so Airy, 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.

Whist the Duke was at his Meat, he talkt to his Man: Why hast thou lived an old Batchelor, and never married?

O Sir, said he, Wives are too chargeable.

Why, said the Duke, are you so poor?

No, Sir, answered he, Women are so vain; and do not only spend their Husbands Estates, but make his Estate a Bawd to procure Love servants; so as his Wealth serves only to buy him a pair of Horns.

Prithee 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 Duchess and you are asunder; but when you meet, it is like Jupiter and Juno; you make such a thundring noise, as it frights your Mortal Servants, thinking you will dissolve our World (your Family); consuming your Hospi­tality by the Fire of your Wrath; rouling up the Clouds of smoaky Vapour from Boil'd-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 Doomsday draws near.

I hope, saith the Duke, thou art a Prophet; but when Doomsday is past, you shall live in Paradice.

In my Conscience, Sir, said he, Fortune hath mis­match'd you; for surely Nature did never intend to join you as Man and Wife, you are of such different humours.

Well, said the Duke, for all your railing 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 shall employ me in.

Go your ways, said the Duke, to that Lady's 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 find her nice, and that she says, She dares not; offer her Five hundred pounds, or more; and so much, until you have out-bribed her cautious Fears.

Sir, said the Man, If you send her many of these presents, I will woo for my self, as well as for your Grace: Wherefore, by your Grace's 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 win young Maids 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 Ear; Thou lyest, said he, he must not marry her.

Nay, said the Man, that is as your Grace can or­der the business: But your Grace is a just performer of your Word; for you have tried your strength, and have 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 win 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 else I shall lose both Pains and Gains: Good Fortune be my Guide, said he, and then I am sure of the World's Favour: for they that are pro­sperous, shall never want Friends. Although he were a Coward, a Knave, or a Fool; the World shall call, nay, think him, Valiant, Honest, and Wife.

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 suc­cess; but their Prayers will be so sickly and weak, that they can never travel up far, but fall back, as it were, in a swoun, without sense.

In the mean time the Vice-Roy and the Unkle had drawn up Articles, and had concluded of the Match, without the young Lady's consent: but the Unkle told her afterwards, She must prepare her self to be the Vice-Roy's Bride: and, said he, if you consent not, never come near me more, for I will disclaim all the interest of an Unkle, 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 Lady's Anger for Gold, had conveyed the Duke into such a place, as to go into her Chamber when he pleased. He seeing her stand, as it were, without life or sense, but as a Statue carved in a Stone, went to her; which Object brought her out of a muse, but struck her with such a maze, 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 [Page 364] without my leave, or my Unkle's knowledg; nor honourably done, to come (like a Thief in the night) to surprise me.

Madam (said he), Love, that is in danger to lose what he most adores, will never consider Persons, Time, Place, nor Difficulty, but runs 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 hour, cutting your Vows asunder; and your Husband, instead of his Bride, shall embrace 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 Knowledg lives in the Grave, think not your self secure when I am dead; for if Ghosts (as some imagine) can rise from the Earth, mine shall visit you, and fright you from delights; and never leave you, until you become a Subject in Death's Kingdom. But if you are cruel, and take delight to have your Bridal-Health drunk in Blood, marry him, where perchance we may be both dead­drunk with that warm red Liquor.

Sir, answered she, It is an unheard-of malice to me, or an impudent and vain-glorious pride in you, neither to own me your self, nor let another; but would have me wander, that the World may take [Page 365] notice, and say, This is your forsaken Maid; and I live to be scorned, and become friendless: for my Unkle will never own me; which will prove as a Proclamation to proclaim me a Traitor to Grati­tude and Natural Affection, by committing the Treason of Disobedience.

The Duke said, You cannot want an Owner whilst I live; for I had, nor have, more power to re­sign the Interest I have in you, than Kings to re­sign their Crowns that come by Succession; for the Right lies 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 only must make way for a Successor.

Then said she, I must dye, that your Duchess may have Right, and a free Possession.

Nay, said he, You, must claim your own just In­terest, and place your self where you should be.

What is that, said she? Go to Law for you?

Yes, said he.

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 good Education, and through the Ignorance of my Youth: But Time hath made [Page 366] me see my Errors. And though your Beauty is very excellent, and is able to enamour the dullest Sense; yet it is not that alone disturbs the peace of my Mind, but the being conscious 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 Peace to your Mind, if I could give it; but my Unkle's dislike may prove as fearful Dreams to disturb it: though indeed, if his Anger were like Dreams, it would vanish away; but I doubt it is of too thick a Body for a Vision.

The Duke said, We will both kneel to your Unkle, and plead at the Barr of either Ear: I will confess my Fault at one Ear, whilst you ask Par­don for me at the other: And though his Heart were Steel, your Words will dissolve it into com­passion, whilst my Tears mix the Ingredients.

My Unkle, said she, hath agreed with the Vice-Roy; and his Word hath sealed the Bond, which he will never break.

The Duke said, I will make the Vice-Roy to break the Bargain himself, and then your Unkle is set free: besides, you are mine, and not your Unkle's; unless you will 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 Hand?

I cannot deny my Hand, said she, to him that hath my Heart.

The next day the Duke went to the Vice-Roy, 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 do, Hell take me, said the Duke, I'le run you through.

What mean you, said the Vice-Roy, to give me such a dreadful Visit?

I come, said the Duke, to ask you a Question, to forbid you an Act, and to have you grant me my Demand.

The Vice-Roy said, The Question must be re­solvable, the Act just, the Demand possible.

They are so, said the Duke: My Question is, Whether you resolve to be married to the Lady Delicia.

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, says 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.

The Vice-Roy said, 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, said he, I will set my hand before I read it; for whatsoever it is, it must be done. After he set his hand, he read.

Here I do vow to Heaven, Never to woo the Lady Delicia, nor 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 the King my Master: Whereunto I set my hand.

The Duke said, I take my leave; rest you in peace, Sir.

And the Devil 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 enjoying of so rare a Beauty; but in stopping the passages to a sweet Revenge. And though I were sure there were both Gods and Devils, yet I would break my Vow; for the one are pacified by 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 [Page 370] flea'd off, a new one will grow again, making the Body appear younger than before: But if a Man be flea'd once of his Reputation, he shall never re­gain it; and his Life will be always 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 defie 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 Honourable Death, as they call it; which is, to dye to gain a good Opinion; and what shall it avail them? A few Praises; it will be said, 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 Body rots, and turns to dust; all the clear distinguishing Senses, the bright flaming Appetites, are quenched out: but if they were not, there is no Fuel 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 rejoice at their past gallant Actions, or remember their glorious Triumphs; but the only happiness is, that as there is no Pleasure in the Grave, so there is no Pain: but, to give up Life be­fore Nature requires it, is to pay a Subsidy before we are tax'd; or to yeeld up our Liberties before [Page 371] 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 pleasantly as I can. Where­fore, to avoid this Man's Mischiefs (which lyes to entrap my Life), I will agree with him; and I had rather lose the Pleasures of one Woman, than all other Pleasures, with my Life: but from a secret Mischief he shall not escape, if I can prevail: for I perceive this Duke, since he can have but one Wife, intends to set up a Seraglio of young Wen­ches; and, by my troth, he begins with a fair one; and whilst he courts his Mistress, I mean to woo his Wife; for he hath not sworn me from that: So that my Revenge shall be, To make him a Cuckold.

So the Vice-Roy went to the Duchess; and af­ter he had made his Complemental-Addresses, they began to talk more seriously.

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; and threatens Ruin and Murther to those that pretend to marry her?

She answered, If he be so enamoured, I shall not wonder now that my Beauty is thought dead, [Page 372] 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 have been reverenced with respect. O what 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: whenas this Man thinks me a Chain that enslaves 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, and a Devil to damn his Frui­tions.

Nay certainly, said he, that Woman is the hap­piest that marries an ancient Man; for he adores her Virtue, more than her Beauty; and his Love continues, though her Beauty be 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 [Page 372] Action, to use his Wife rudely, and worse than his Lacquey; to command imperiously, to neglect despisingly, making her the Drudg 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 ancient Man makes his Wife the Queen of his Family, his Mistress 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 only Industry; her Maintenance the Mark for his Pru­dence; her Delights are the Compass by which he sails; her Love his 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 Dispo­tion, slights her Noble Nature, grows weary of her Person, condemns her Counsels, and is afraid his Neighbour 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, graceful in his Behaviour, wise in his Discourse, temperate in his Life, and appears (as Nature hath made him) Masculine. Whereas a young Man is rash in his Counsels, desperate in his Actions, wild [Page 374] in his Behaviour, vain in his Discourses, 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, and a flattering Tongue, are unmanly; appearing like Women or Boys, let them be never so Valiant; and as if they would sooner suffer the Whip, than handle the Sword.

In an ancient Man, every Wrinkle is a Trench made by Time, wherein lies Experience to secure the Life from Errors; and their Eyes are like active Soldiers, who bow and sink down by the over­heavy Burthens of their Spoils, which are several Objects that the Sight carries into the Brain, and delivers to the Understanding, as Trophies, to hang up in the Magazine of the Memory. His white Hairs are the Flage of Peace, that Time hangs out on the Walls of Wisdom, that Advice and Coun­sel may come to and fro safely. Nay, the very In­firmities of Age, seem manly; his seeble Legs look as if they had been over-tired with long Marches, in seeking out his Foes; and his Palsey-Hands, or Head, the one seems as if they had been often used in beating of their Enemies; and the other in watching, as if they knew not what Rest meant.

Sir, said the Duchess, you commend Aged Hus­bands, and dispraise young ones, with such Rhe­torick, [Page 375] torick, 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 Lady's Unkle; who when he 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 Powerful 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, 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 ruin 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?

The Duke said, My Design is, To make her happy, if I can; and will oppose all those that hin­der her Felicity, disturbing the content and peace of her Mind: 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, until you have granted my Request.

Why, said the Gentleman, you will not threaten me.

No, said the Duke, I do petition you.

The Gentleman said, 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; the Sorrows I am in (for the Injuries I have done you) being extream great; 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, to you.

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, 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, says he?

Yes, answered the Vice-Roy.

And do you think it is honourably done, said the Gentleman?

Why, said the Vice-Roy, Would you have me marry another Man's Wife?

Well, said the old Gentleman, when your Vice-Roy-ship is out (as it is almost), I will give you my Answer; till then, fare you well.

But the Duke went to the young Lady, and told her the progress he had had with her Unkle, and his Anger to the Vice-Roy.

After the old Gentleman's Passion was abated towards the Duke, by his humble submission, and the Passion enflamed towards the Vice-Roy, he hearkned to the Law Suit, being most perswaded by his Neece's Affection, which he perceived was unalterably placed upon the Duke. And at last, advising all three together, they thought it sit (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 hazzard of his Life, or the price of a great Fine.

Being thus agreed of all sides, the Law-suit was declared; which was a business of discourse to all the Kingdom; and the place of Judicature, a meet­ing for all curious, inquisitive, and idle People.

When the day of hearing was come, there was a Barr 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 pencil'd words could make it seem so fair, as to delude your understanding Eyes.

Besides, your Justice is so wise, as to fortisie her Forts with Fortitude, to fill her Magazine with Tem­perance, to victual it with Patience, to set Centinels of Prudence, that Falshood might not surprise it, nor Bribery corrupt it, nor Fear starve it, nor Pity under­mine it, nor Partiality blow it up; so that all all right Causes, here, are safe, and secured from their Enemies, 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.

I was married to this Prince, 'tis true; I was but young in years when I did knit that Wedlock-knot; and though 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 good from evil.

I am not only 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 laberitance be­longing to me, and only me, so long as I shall live, with­out a Sharer or Co-partner: so that this Lady, who lays a Claim, and challenges him as being hers, can have no right to him, and therefore no Law can plead for her: for, should you cast aside your Canon Law (most Pious Judges), and judg it by the Common-Law, my Suit must needs be granted, if Justice deals rightly, 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 in Non-age, when he comes to full years, he makes his former Act good, and fixes the Law to a just Grant, giving no room for Cozenage to play a part, nor Falshood to appear. The like is my Cause, most [Page 381] Grave Fathers; for my Friends chose me a Husband, made a Bond of Matrimony, sealed it with the Cere­mony of the Church; only they wanted my years of Consent, which I give now freely and heartily.

The Judges asked, What says 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 Mind: for, being for­ced by the Duty to my Father, who did not only com­mand, but threatned me with his Curse, he being then upon his Death-bed, and I being afraid of a dying-Fa­ther's Curses, yeelded to those Actions which my Affe­ctions and free-will 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 Lady was but Six years of age, whose Non-age I thought was a warrantable Cancel from the Engagement.

Most Upright Judges,

MY Non-age is not a sufficient Reason 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 [Page 382] warrant to do a Wrong: And if a Fool by Promise binds his Life to Inconveniences, the Laws that Wise Men have 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.

If a Coward makes a Promise through distracted Fear, Laws (that carry more Terrors, than the broken Promise, Profit) will make him keep it.

A Wise, Just, Generous Spirit, will make no Promise but what he can, and durst, and will perform.

But say, a Promise should pass through an ignorant Zeal, and seeming Good; yet a right Honourable and Noble Mind will stick so fast to its Engagements, that nothing shall hew them asunder: for, a Promise must nei­ther be broken upon Suspition, nor false Construction, nor upon enticing Perswasions, nor threatning Ruins; but it must be maintained with Life, and kept by Death, un­less the Promise carry more malignity in the keeping, than the breaking of it.

I say not this to condemn the Duke, though I cannot applaud his second 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, until he is free from me: so that his Vows to his Lady were rather Complemental, and Love's Feignings, than really true, or so Authentical as to last. He built Affections on a wrong Foundation, or rather Castles in the Air, as Lo­vers [Page 383] use to do, which vanish soon away: for, where Right is not, Truth cannot be. Wherefore, she can claim no lawful 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, lays 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 Choice, and to give a free Consent. Besides, he doth disa­vow the Act, by confessing the disagreeing thereto in his Mind; and if she was to give a Lawful Consent, and his Consent was seeming, not real, as being forced, it could not be a firm Contract. Wherefore, I beseech you, cast her Suit from the Barr, since it is of no validity.

Just Judges, answered she:

WHAT though he secretly disliked of that Act be made? Yet Human Justice sentences not the Thoughts, but Acts: Wherefore those Words that plead his Thoughts, ought to be waved as useless, and from the Barr of Justice cast aside.

And now, most Upright Judges, I must entreat 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.

The Judges said, We shall not countenance any Disgrace, unless we knew it were a punishment for Crimes: Wherefore speak freely.

Well then, to answer this Lady, who says, That I am meanly born: 'Tis true, I came not from Nobility, but I can draw a Line of Pedigree 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 in Fee-simple from the Crown, for Time is the Patron of Gentility, and the older it groweth, the more beautiful 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.

[Page 385]

And whereas she says, 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, 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 Decev my Youth will witness for me. It is an Art, not an In-bred Nature, and must be studied with Pains, 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 show the Mind's false Face, making that fair, which in it self is foul.

And whereas she says, I have been meanly bred, 'tis true, Honoured Judges, I have been humbly bred, taught to obey Superiors, 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 care­ful 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 In­feriors, and to be civil to Strangers: for the truth is, I was not bred with splendid Vanities, nor learnt the Pomp and Pride of Courts; I am ignorant of their Factions, Envies, and Back-bitings; I know not the sound of their stattering Tongues; I am unacquainted [Page 386] with their smiling Faces; I have not Wit to perceive their false Hearts; my Judgment is too young, and too weak, to fathom their deep and dangerous Designs.

Neither have I lived so long in populous Cities, as to share of their Luxuriousness: 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 Countrey-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 presents us a Masque with various Scenes of the 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 Barr, as she desires; for I hope you will not cast out my Suit by 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 Truth it self goeth naked, yet her Servants must be clothed with Right, and dress'd by Propriety, or they [Page 387] will dye with the Cold of Usurpation, and then be flung into the Ditch of Sorrow, there to be eaten up with the Ravens of Scorn, having no Burial of Respect, nor Tomb of Tranquility, nor Pyramids of Felicity, which your Justice may raise 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 Judg, or strictest Rules in Law, can 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 Careful, Learned, and Just Judges, and Fathers of the Com­mon-wealth:

I Confess my Fault, and yeeld my self a Prisoner to Justice, which may either use Punishment or Mercy: But, had I known the Laws of Custom, 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 ways of Error: But wild Youth, surrounded with Ease, and [Page 388] fed with Plenty; born up with Freedom, and led by Self will, sought Pleasure more than Virtue; and Ex­perience hath learn'd me stricter Rules, and nobler Prin­ciples; insomuch as the reflection of my former Actions, clouds all my future Happiness, wounds my Conscience, and torments my Life. But I shall submit to what your wise Judgments 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: only we judg the Lady to be your lawful Wife, and forbid you the Company of the other.

The Duke said, 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 ways; and do not wound him with sharp Censures:

For, Where is he, or she, though ne're so cold,
But sometimes Love doth take, and fast in Fetters hold?

The Vice-Roy being by, said to the other Lady, Madam, Since the Law hath given away your Hus­band, [Page 389] I will supply his Place, if you think me so 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 Rejoicings there were of all sides.

The Ambitious TRAITOR.

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, that he sought to usurp the Crown to himself. His Design was, To kill the King, and then to marry Queen Mabb; and to bring his Evil Designs to pass, he feasted the Nobility, devised sports for the Commonalty, presented the old La­dies with Gifts, flattered the young ones, in praising their Beauties; made Balls, Plays, Masques, to en­tertain them; bribed the Courtiers, corrupted the Soldiers with Promises of Donatives; fired the Youth with Thoughts of Chivalry, and expectati­ons of Honours; and was industrious to present the Petitions of Suitors, and to follow the Causes of the Distressed, and to plead for his Clients; and all to get a popular esteem and love. But there is [Page 390] none so wise and crafty, that can keep out Envy from searching into their ways with the Eyes of Spight. 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 Loyalty to the King, but out of hate to the Fa­vourite: 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, until he catcht him in the Trap of his Rebellion: for, speaking some dangerous and seditious words, he was cast into Prison until further trial. A day being appointed for his hearing, a Council was called of all the Peers of the Land, which were his Judges; and the Witnesses being brought, he was cast, and condemned to dye. Great Preparations were 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, and the multitude did so throng, that when this Noble-man passed along, every Eye strove to out-stare each other; and every Neck stretch'd to out reach his fore-standers head; and every Ear listned to hear if he did speak; and every Tongue moved with Enquiries; every Mind was filled with expectation of the Event; and every one as busie as a Judg, to condemn him, or a Hang man to execute him; and those that profest [Page 391] 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 slow pace, and a sad countenance, habited in Black) went on, until 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 ga­thered together, to view the Death of a single Person; although Death is common to every one, and that there is as many several ways to dye, as Eyes to look on: yet Beasts do not gather in Troops to see the Execution of their Kind. But I wonder Men should change their Opinion with the change of Fortune, as if they did applaud her Inconstancy, 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; had been called Wise, Valiant, Ge­nerous, Just, and all the Names that Praise could honour me with: and not only they would have called me so, but have thought me to have been so. But, O odd Man! how art thou made! To have so much Ambition as to desire the Power of Gods, [Page 392] and yet to be more foolish than Beasts, and as ill­natur'd as Devils of Hell! For, Beasts follow the Laws of Nature, but Men follow their own Laws, which make them more miserable than Nature in­tended them to be. Beasts do not destroy them­selves; nor make they Laws to entangle themselves in the Nets of long strong Suits; but follow that which pleaseth them most. Unless Men vex them, they weary not themselves in unprofitable Labours, nor vex their Brain with vain Phantasms; they have no superstitious Fear, nor vain Curio­sity, to seek after that which (being found) they 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 anothe, it is out of meer Hunger; not to make Spoil, Man, who is so dis­orderly, as that he strives to destroy Nature her self, and (if he could) pull Jupiter out of Hea­ven: But when we come near to be destroyed by Death, then we have a seeming-Repentance, and flatter the Gods to have pity on us. And though my Nature is so bad (as being of Mankind) 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 sorrowful for my Fault: and then kneeling, thus said:

O Jupiter! how should weak and frail Men [Page 393] agree amongst themselves, when there have been Quarrels in thy Heavenly Mansions, envying thy glory, and being ambitious of thy Power, conspi­ring against thee? And since Ambition hath been in Heaven, pardon it on Earth: for it was not against thee, my 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 and Lowly, and not of so proud and haughty a 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 pity for my unhappy Nature, which (in a manner) en­forced me thereunto. But I submit, as thou hast commanded me, and am content to obey thy will and either to undergo Pulto's Punishments, or to be annihilated: But if thy Judgment may be divert­ed, send me to the blessed Elyzium.

Then turning to the Block, he was executed.

No sooner was his Head off, but all his Acquaintants, Friends, and Kindred, forgot him, as the living usually do any the dye. And although most rejoyce at the fall of those that are most E­minent (as if the chiefest Ingredient of Man were [Page 394] Malice and Spight, which produceth Cruelty); yet when the Multitude saw all was done, and that their greedy Appetite was satisfied with Blood, then a lazy and sleepy Pity seized on them; and with yawning wishes, would have had him alive again.

But King Oberon and Queen Mabb, after the Execution, having given 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 disturb their Peace.

Assaulted and Pursued Chastity. PREAMBLE.

IN this following Tale or Discourse, my endeavour was, To shew young Women the danger of Tra­velling without their Parents, Husbands, or particular Friends, to guard them: for, though Virtue is a good Guard, yet it doth not always protect their Persons, without other Assistance: for, though Virtue guards, yet Youth and Beauty betrays; and the Treachery of the one, is more than the Safety of the other; for Young, Beautiful, and Virtuous Women, if they wan­der alone, find but very often rude entertainment from the Masculine Sex, witness Jacob's Daughter Dinah, [Page 395] which Shechem forced: and others, whose Force­ment is mentioned in holy Scripture, and in Histories of less Authority (sans nombre:) which shews, that Hea­ven doth not always protect the Persons of Virtuous Souls from rude Violences; neither doth it always leave Virtue destitute, but sometimes sends a Human Help; yet so, as never but where Necessity was the Cause of their Dangers, and not Ignorance, Indiscretion, or Cu­riosity: for, Heaven never helps, but those that could not avoid the Danger; nay, if they do avoid the Dan­ger, they seldom avoid a Scandal: for, the World in many Cause judges according to what may be, and not according to what is: they judg not according to Truth, but Shew; nor by the Heart, but by the Countenance; which is the cause that many a Chast Woman hath a spotted Reputation. But to conclude, I say, Those are in particular favoured by Heaven, that are protected from Violence and Scandal, in a Wandring-life, or a Travel­ling-condition.

IN the Kingdom of Riches, after a long and sleepy Peace, over-grown with Plenty and Ease, Luxury broke out into Factious Sores; and Feverish Ambition, into a Plaguy Rebellion, killing numbers with the Sword of Unjust Warr; which made many flye from that Pestilent Destruction, in­to other Countreys; and those that stayed, sent their Daughters and Wives from the Fury of the Inhu­man [Page 396] Multitude; chusing to venture their Lives with the hazzards of Travels, rather than their Ho­nours and Chastities, by staying at home amongst rough and rude Soldiers. But in ten years Warrs, the Ignorant-Vulgar, being often (in the Schools of Experience) whipt with Misery, had learnt the Lesson of Obedience; and Peace, that laid all that time in a Swound, was revived to life; and Love, the Vital Spirits thereof, being restored to their or­derly Motions; and Zeal, the Fire of the Publick Heart, flaming a-new, did concoct the undigested Multitudes to a pure good Government; and all those that Fear or Care had banished, were invited and called home, by their natural Affections to their Countrey. A Lady, amongst the rest, enricht by Nature, with Virtue, 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 was she landed, but Treachery beset her; and those she entrusted, left her: Her years, being but few, had not gathered Experience enough to give her the best direction. Thus, knowing not how to dispose of her self, want­ing means for support, and calling her young and tender Thoughts to counsel; at last they did agree, She should seek a service: And going to the chief City, which was not far from the Haven-Town, [Page 397] with a Skipper, whom she had entreated to go along with her; he 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 Safety, selling her to a Bawd which used to traffick to the Land of Youth, for the Ri­ches of Beauty. This old Bawd, having commerce with most Nations, could speak many Languages, and this Lady's amongst the rest; and what with her Languages, and her flattering Words, she in­ticed this young Lady to live with her; and this old Bawd (her supposed vertuous Mistress) used her kindly, fed her daintily, clothed her finely; in­somuch as she began to think she was become the Darling of Fortune; but yet she keeps her closely from the view of any, until her best Customers came to the Town, who were at that time in the Countrey.

In the mean time her Mistress began to read her Lectures of Nature, telling her, She should use her Beauty while she had it, and not to waste her Youth idly, but to make the best profit of both, to purchase Pleasure and Delight: besides, said she, Nature hath made nothing in vain, but to some use­ful End; and nothing meerly for its self, but for a common Benefit, and general Good; as you see by the Earth, Water, Air, and Fire; Sun, Moon, [Page 398] Starrs, Light, Heat, Cold, and the like. So is Beauty (with Strength and Appetites) either to delight her Creatures that are in being, or to procure more by Procreation; for Nature only lives by Survivers; 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 powerful Goddess, transforming all things out of one shape into another; and those that serve her faithfully, and according as she commands, she puts them in an easie and delightful Form; 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 Goddess, and not those that men call upon, as Jupiter, Juno, and a hundred more, that living-men vainly offer unto, being only Men and Women which were Deified for Invention, and Heroick Actions: for unto these dead, though not forgotten Gods and Goddesses (as they are called through a Superstitious Fear, and an Idolatrous Love to Ceremony, and an Ignorant Zeal to An­tiquity), Men fruitlesly pray: But Nature is the only true Goddess, and no other; wherefore follow her Directions, and you shall never do amiss: for, we that are old, said she, are Nature's Priests, and be­ing long acquainted with her Laws and Customs, do teach Youth the best ways to serve her in.

The young Lady, being of a quick apprehensi­on, began to suspect some Design and Treachery against her: and though her Doubts begot great Fears, yet her confidence of the Gods protection of Virtue, gave her Courage; and, dissembling her dis­covery as well as she could for the present, gave her thanks for her Counsel: But when she was gone, considering in what a dangerous condition she stood, and that the Gods would not hear her if she lazily called for help, and watch'd for Miracles, neglect­ing Natural Means: whereupon she thought the best way was, secretly to convey her self out of that place, and trust her self again to Chance, by rea­son there could not be more danger, than where she was. But those thoughts being quickly cut off, because she could find no possibility of an escape, being strictly kept by the care of the old Bawd, for fear she should give away that by enticement, which she meant to sell at a high rate: Wherefore she was forced to content her self, and to satisfie her Fears, with hopes of finding some means to be delivered from those dangers; praying to the Gods for their assistance, to guard her from cruel Invaders of Cha­stity. But after two or three days, a Subject Prince of that Countrey, which was a grand Monopoli­zer of young Virgins, came to the Town (which was the Metropolitan City of that Countrey); where as soon as he came, he sent for his chief [Page 400] Officer, the old Bawd, to know of her how his Customers encreased; who told him, she had a rich Prize, which she had seized on, and kept only for his use; telling him, She was the rarest Piece of Nature's Works, only (faith 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 instead of Garlands, dress'd her with costly and rich Jewels: But the fair Aspect of her Beauty, her lovely Fea­tures, exact Proportion, graceful Behaviour, with a sweet and modest Countenance, was more adorn­ed thus, by Nature's dress, than those of Art. But these Preparations turned Miseriae; for so she was called from Doubts, to a perfect belief of what she feared before; and not knowing how to avoid the Shipwrack, she grew into a great Passion, and great Controversies she had with her self, whether she should lose her Honour, and live; or save her Honour, and dye: Dishonour 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 Pain; nor in a disho­nourable [Page 401] Life, any Content: But though Death (says she) is common to all, yet when it comes not in the ordinary ways of Nature, there must be used violence by Artificial Instruments; and in my Condition, there must be used Expedition. And, considering what ways to take, she bethought of a Maid-servant that used to make clean the Rooms, and such kind of works; to whom she had often talked, as she was about her Employments, and had gotten much of her Affections: Her she called, and told her, that a Wife Wizard had advised her, That ever on her Birth-day, she should shoot off a Pi­stol; and in so doing, she should be happy, so long as she used the same Custom; but if she neglected, she should be unfortunate; for by the shooting thereof (said she), I shall kill a whole Year of Evil 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 privately, for fear her Mistress should know of it, or any Bo­dy else; 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 Mind, since before she could not stand nor set still: for her [Page 402] troubled and rough Thoughts, drove her from one end of the Room to the other, like a Ship at Sea that is not anchored nor ballasted, or with storm 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.

But after some expectation, in came the old Bawd and the Prince; who was so struck with her Beauty, as he stood some time to behold her: At last coming near her, earnestly viewing her, and asking her some leight Questions, to which she an­swered briefly and wittily; which took him so much, as he had scarce patience to bargain 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 his 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 [Page 403] 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 things, from the Powerless, 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 Tyrant to Inno­cents; a Devil to Chastity, Virtue, and Piety; and with that, Tears did flow from her Eyes, as hum­ble Petitioners, to beg her release from his Barba­rous Intention.

But he by those Tears (like Drink to those that are poyson'd) grows more dry, and his Passions more violent: He told her, No Rhetorick could alter his Affections. Which when she heard, and he ready to seize on her, she drew forth the Pistol which she had concealed, bending her Brows, with a resolute Spirit told him, She would stand upon her Guard: for why, said she, it is no sin to defend my self against an Obstinate and Cruel Enemy; and know, said she, I am no ways 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 a maze to see her in that [Page 404] 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, You threaten more Evil than you dare perform; besides, Honour will be buried with you in the Grave, when by your Life you may build Palaces of Pleasure and Felicity.

With that he went towards her, to take away the Pistol 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 Pistol, 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 sted­fastly upon her own Act; she, running about the Room, called out, Murther, Murther, Help, Help; not knowing what to do, fear had so possest her. At last she drew her Knife, thinking to stab her; but the Prince forbid her, saying, He hoped he should live to give her her due desert; which if the Gods grant, said he, I shall ask no more. So desi­ring to be laid upon the Bed until the Chirurge­ons came to dress his Wounds, stenching the blood as well as they could, the mean time. But after the [Page 405] Chirurgeons had search'd his Wounds, he ask'd them, Whether they were mortal? They told him, They were dangerous, and might prove so; but their hopes were not quite cut off with despair of his recovery. But after his Wounds were drest, he gave order for the young Lady to be lockt up close, that none might know there was such a Creature in the House; nor to disclose how or by what means he came hurt. Then being put in his Litter, he was carried into his own House, which was a stately Palace in the City. The noise of his being wounded, was spread abroad, and every one enqui­ring how he came so, making several Tales and Re­ports, as they fancied, but none knew the truth thereof. After some days, 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 married Man, and had been so five years: for as the years of Twenty, by his Parents Perswasi­on (being a younger Brother at that time, although afterwards he was lest 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 his seeking those Societies which best pleased him.

But after long Conflicts and Doubts, Fears, Hopes, and Jealousies, 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 Aunt (whom he knew loved him), he told her the passage of all that had hapned, and also his af­fection, praying her to take her privately from that place, and to conceal her secretly, until he was well recovered; entreating her also, to use her with all the Civility and Respect that could be.

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 less than Death, was resolved to suffer as valiantly as she had acted. So, casting off all care, she was only troubled she lived so idly. But the old Lady coming to see her, she prayed her to give her something to employ 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 else, said she, they are like impertinent persons, that displease more by their vain talk, than they delight with their Company.

Will you have Romances, said the old Lady?

She answered, No; for they extol Virtue 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 pity, 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 Natural Philosophy, said she?

She answered, They were meer Opinions; and if there be any Truths, said she, they are so buried under Falshood, as they cannot be found out.

Will you have Moral 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 perform them.

What think you of Logick?

She answered, It is nothing but Sophistry, ma­king Factious Disputes, but concludes nothing.

Will you have History?

No, said she; for they are seldom writ in the time of Action, but a long time after, when Truth is forgotten; but if they be writ at present, Partia­lity, Ambition, or Fear, bears too much sway?

Will you have Divine Books?

No, said she; they raise up such Controversies that cannot be allayed again, tormenting the Mind [Page 408] about that, they cannot know whilst they live; and frights their Consciences so, that it makes men afraid to dye. But, said the young Lady, Pray give me Play-Books, or Mathematical ones; the first, said she, discovers and expresses the Humours and Manners of Men, by which I shall know my self and others the better, and in shorter time than 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 Marks and Figures on those Persons to whom I ought to be grateful; to number my days by Pious Devotions, that I may be found weighty when I am put in the Scales of God's Justice. Be­sides, said she, I may learn all Arts useful and plea­sant for the Life of Man, as Musick, Architecture, Navigation, Fortification, Water-works, Fire­works; all Engines, Instruments, Wheels, and ma­ny such like, which are useful: besides, I shall learn 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 peep into the Works of Nature, to imitate her in little: It comprises all that Truth can challenge: All other Books disturb the Life of Man; this only settles it, and composes it in sweet Delight.

The old Lady said, 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 ask you, From whence you came? and, What you are? and, How you came here?

She (sighing) said, I was, by an unfortunate Warr, sent out of my Countrey, with my Mother, for safety, being very young, and the only Child my Parents had: My Father (who was one of the Greatest and Noblest Subjects in the Kingdom, and being employed in the Chief Command in that Warr) sent my Mother (not knowing what the Issue would be) to the Kingdom of Security. where he had been formerly sent Embassador. So my Mother and I went to remain there, until the troubles were over. But, my Father being killed in the Warrs, my Mother dyed for grief, and left me destitute of Friends, in a strange Countrey, only with some few Servants. I hearing a Peace was con­cluded in the Kingdom, was resolved to return to my own Native Soil, to seek after the Estate which my Father left me as his only Heir. When I em­barked, I only took two Servants, a Maid and a Man; but, by an unfortunate Storm, 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 Jewels, and those Mo­neys [Page 410] 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 force me; whereas 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 that since I came hither, I have been civilly used, and courteously entertained by your self, who seem to be a Person of Worth, which makes my fears less; for I hope you will secure me from Injuries, though not from Death. And since you are pleased to en­quire what I am, and from whence I came, I shall en­treat the same return, to instruct me in the know­ledg 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 until 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.

Thus passing some Weeks, in the mean time the Prince recovered, resolving to visit this young [Page 411] Lady, having 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, had more hopes of honourable usage: Yet sitting in a studious po­sture, with a sad Countenance, and heavy fixt Eyes, accompanied with melancholy Thoughts, contem­plating of her Misfortunes past, with a serious con­sideration of the condition she stood in, advising with her Judgment for the future; in comes the Prince, whom she no sooner saw, but she trem­bled for fear, remembring her past danger, and fore-seeing the trouble she was like to run through: But he, with an humble Behaviour, and civil Re­spect, craved pardon for his former Faults, promi­sing her, That if she would be pleased to allow him her Conversation, he would never force that from her, which she was not willing to grant: for there was nothing in this World he held dearer than her Company; and, sitting down by her, began to que­stion her of Love; as, Whether she had engaged her Affection to any person of her own Countrey, or any where else?

She told him, No.

By which Answer (he being jealous before, ima­gining she might be so valiant as to wound him more for the sake of her Lover, than out of a love to Honour or Reputation) received great content [Page 412] and joy; esteeming it the next happiness, that since she loved not him, she loved no other.

I wonder at your Courage, said he; for usually your Sex are so tender and fearful, and so far from using Instruments of Death, as Swords, Guns, or the like, that 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 until the next day. But when he was gone, how glad she was.

O what a torment will this be, said she, to be af­frighted every day with this ravenous Lyon! But (said she) I must get a spell against his Fury, and not only against him, but against all such like; and (by her industry) she got a subtil Poyson, which (being put in a very small Bladder) she fastned to her Arm, that when any occasion served, she might have it ready to put in her mouth, which in great extremity she might use, and crushing it but be­twixt her teeth, she was sure it would expel Life suddenly.

The next Morning the Prince sent her a Present of all kinds of rich Persian Silks and Tissues, fine Linnen and Laces, and all manner of Toys, where­with young Ladies use to make themselves fine and gay. But she returned them with great thanks, [Page 413] 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 to whom she had a near relation, as Parents and Kindred, or the like. But he, when he saw them re­turned, thought it was because they were not rich enough; and sent her another Present of Jewels of great value: which when she had viewed, she said, They were very rich and costly: but returning them back, she said, I dare not trust my Youth with the Riches and Vanities of the World, lest they may prove Bribes to corrupt my free and ho­nest Mind: wherefore tell the Prince, I am not to be catch'd 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 desires: so went to visit her; and when he saw her, he told her, He was very un­fortunate, that not only Himself, but even his Pre­sents, were hateful; for he could guess at no other reason why she should refuse them, since they were neither unlawful, nor dishonourable to receive.

She answered, That the Principles that she was taught, were, That Gifts were both dangerous to give, and to take, from Designing or Covetous Per­sons.

He said, He was unhappy; for by that he saw she would neither receive Love, nor give Love.

Thus he daily visited her, and hourly courted her, striving to insinuate himself into her favour, by his Person and Services; used Powdering, Per­fuming, and rich Clothing; though he was so per­sonable and well-favoured, and had such store of E­loquence, as might have perswaded both Ears and Eyes to have been Advocates to a young Heart, and an unexperienced Brain. His Service was, in observing her Humour; his Courtship, in praising her Disposition, admiring her Beauty, applauding her Wit, and approving her Judgment; insomuch that at the last she did not dislike his Company, and grew to that pass, as to be melancholy when he was gone, blush when he was named, start at his approaching; sigh, weep, and grow pale and distem­pered, yet perceived not, nor knew her Disease. Be­sides, she would look often in the Glass, curl heir Hair finely, wash her Face cleanly, set her Clothes handsomely, mask her self from the Sun; not con­fidering why she did so: But he (as all Lovers have watchful Eyes) observed, she regarded her self more than she used to do; which made him more earnest, for fear her Passion should cool; pro­testing his Love, vowing his Fidelity and Secresie, and swearing his Constancy to death.

She said, That he might make all that good, [Page 415] 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 to Virtue, no wrong to Honesty, no Immodesty to my self?

He answered, It was lawful by Nature.

Sir, said she, It is as impossible to corrupt me, as to corrupt Heaven. But, were you free, I should willingly embrace your Love in lawful Marriage.

He told her, They were both young; and his Wife old, almost ripe enough for Death, and 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 marry.

No, said she, I will not buy a Husband at that deer rate; nor am I so evil, as to wish the death of the living for any advantage, unless they were Ene­mies to Virtue, Innocency, 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 Buds of her Affection.

But it chanced, not long after, there was a Meet­ing of many Nobles at a Feast, where Healths to their Mistresses were drank round; and the Prince (who thought it a sin to Love, to neglect that Insti­tution) offered, with great Ceremony and Devo­tion, for his Mistress's Health, sprinkling the Altar of the Brain with Fume, and burning the Incense [Page 416] of Reason therein. After the Feast was ended, he went to see his Mistress, whose Beauty (like Oyl) set his Spirits in a flame; which made his Affection grow to an intemperate Heat. Whereat she became so afraid, as she puts the Poyson into her Mouth (the Antidote of all Evil, as she thought), and then told him her intention. But he, having more Passion then Doubt, would not believe her. Which she perceiving, broke the Bladder asunder betwixt 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 Ladies have, reading in Herbals, and such kind of Books) gave her something to make her vomit up the Poyson, wherewith she weakly revived to life again. But she was so very sick, as almost cut off all hopes of keeping that Life. Whereat he lamented, tearing his Hair, beating his Breast, cursing himself, pray­ing and imploring his Pardon, and her Forgiveness; promising and protesting, Never to do the like again. She returning no answer, but Groans and Sighs. But he, being a diligent Servant, and much afflicted, watch'd by her, until she mended by the Lady's Care and Skill. When she was indifferently well recovered, she began to lament her ill condition, [Page 417] and the danger she was in, employing her Thoughts how she might escape the Snares of Spightful For­tune, and gain her Friendship; where, soon after, 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 Room, found a Suit of Clothes of the old Lady's Page; which Suit 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 subscribing them, left them upon the Table. Then she straight stripped her self of her own Clothes, which she flung in a dark place, with her hair that she had cut off, and putting the Page's Clothes on, in this disguise she went towards the chief City, to which came up an Arm of the Sea, making a large Haven for many Ships to lye at Anchor in: But as soon as she came to the Sea­side, 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 employed, hoisting their Sails, and fitting their Tacklings, that 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, walking upon the Deck, seeing a handsome Youth stand there in Page's [Page 418] Clothes, ask'd him, Who he was? and, How he came there?

She said, I do suppose you are bound for the Kingdom of Riches, where I desire to go; but coming late, seeing every one busily employed, I had no time to bargain for my Passage; but I shall content you with what in reason you can require.

The Master said, We are not bound to 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, becoming her so well, that they moved the Master to pity and affection.

Then asking him, What he was?

She answered him, That she was a Gentleman's Son, who (by the reason of Civil-Warrs) was car­ried out of his own Countrey very young, by his Mother; and so related the very truth of his being cast into that Kingdom; only she feigned, that she was a Boy that had served a Lady as her Page; but (desiring to return into his own Countrey) had mistaken, and put himself into a wrong Vessel; but (said she) I perceive the Fates are not willing I should see my Native Countrey, and Friends, and (being young) Travel may better my knowledg; and I shall not neglect any service I am able to do, or you are pleased to employ me in, if you will ac­cept of it.

At last, her graceful and humble Demeanour, her modest Countenance, and her well-favoured Face, preferr'd her to this Master's Service, who was a grave and a discreet Man, and told her (as supposing her a Boy), That, since he was there, he would not cast him out; and although it will be hard for me to keep you, yet you shall parrake of what I have allowed for my self.

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, that it begot such affection in the old Man, that he adopted him his Son, having no Children of his own, nor none like to have, he being in years. They sailed five or six Months, without any tem­pestuous Winds, yet not without danger of Rocks and Shelves of Sand, which they avoided by their skill, and many times refreshed themselves in those Harbours they met with in their way; which made them hope a pleasant and prosperous Voyage.

But Fortune playing her usual tricks, to set Men on high hopes, and then to cast them down to ruin; 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 [Page 420] to toss them, Thunder to affright them, Lightning to amaze them; insomuch as they had neither strength to help, nor sight to guide, nor memory to direct, nor courage to support themselves; 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 Traveller (for so now she calleth her self) followed close her old new Father, who had as many careful 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; and as soon as he percei­ved it, he took his beloved and supposed Boy, and put him (with himself and the Pilate) into the Boat, cutting the Cable, emploring the favour of the Gods, committing themselves to the Fates, and 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 [Page 421] Lady for her Virtue, tied up the strong Winds again into their several corners; after which, sailing six days, at last they 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 days toge­ther: but at the last, they espied Land; and coming nigh, they perceived a Multitude of People, which when they came to the shore, were affrighted, ha­ving never seen any Bark (or the like) swim upon the water, for they had themselves the propriety to swim naturally like Fishes: Nor had they in the Boat ever seen such Complexion'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, only they had somewhat from their Waste, down to their Twist, which was brought through their Legs, up to the Waste again, and tyed with a knot; 'twas a thin kind 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, [Page 422] but made of Whale-bones. But when they landed, the People came so thick about them, as almost smuthered them; and the Grave and Chief of them (which seemed like their Priests) sent them straight to the chief Governours of those parts, according to their Custom (as it seemed to them afterwards); All that was strange or rare, was usually presented to their Chiefs: but they staid not so long as to see the Ceremony of the Sacrifice they were then offe­ring, only they perceived it was a Sacrifice of Fish to some Sea-God; then they were set on a Creature half Fish, half Flesh; for it was in shape like a Calf, but had a Tail like a Fish, a Horn like a Unicorn; that lives in the River, but yet would lye upon the Sands in great Herds or Sholes, as Seils do; so as they might take them for their use at any time, with­out the trouble of keeping them up, for they were tame and gentle of themselves.

Thus they rid along the Sands two or three Leagues, to the Governour's House; for all along those Sands only, 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 as close as Stone or Brick; the tops of these Houses were Scales of Fishes laid like Tile or Slat, which glistered so in the Sun, that they looked some ways like Silver, other ways 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 rid upon the Sands for some days, their Food being Fish broiled upon the hot Sands; for there was no other Food but Fish and Water-Fowl, whereof they had great store, but yet of strange Kinds to Strangers; for there was no Pasture, nor any thing like green.

At last they came to a place which seemed like a Forest, for there were a number of Bodies of Trees (if one may call them so, having no Branches) which were so big, as to hold a Family of Twenty, or more, of the Governour's House, as big as four other; and the Bark of those Trees, or indeed the Wood of the Tree quite through, was of all man­ner of Flowers, both for Colour, Shape, and Scent; painted, and set by Nature in the Wood: so that the Wood being cut one way, the Flowers were all perfect in shape; but cut another way, and they seemed like Flowers shedded from the Stalks: and this Wood was so sweet, that all the Forest smelt thereof.

After the Governour of this place had viewed them, he set them on other Beasts, and sent them by other Messengers; so leaving there their Fleshy-Fishy Beasts, they run back again to the place they were taken from. But those they rid after, were like [Page 424] a Stag in the Body; which was as big as a Horse, black as a Coal, a Tail like a Dog, Horns like a Ram, tipt with green, like Buds of Trees, and as swift as a Roe. And thus they rid until they came to another Forest, 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 there were of strange Colours and Shapes; some Birds had Wings like Flyes, Beaks, Bodies, and Legs, like other Birds; some the Bodies like Squirrels, but had Feather'd Wings: there was one (a very fine kind of Bird in shape) both for Beak, Head, Body, and Legs, like a Parrot; but instead of Feathers, it was covered with Hair, like Beasts, which Hairs were of the colour of Parrots Feathers, and the like Batts Wings, streak'd like a Rain-bow; the Eyes looked yellow, and sent forth a kind of a Light like to small Rays 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 flye down at other birds, as they do; but instead of Talons, that Horn struck them dead; for it would thrust its Horn into their bodies, and so bear their bodies upon their Horn, and flye some cer­tain lengths, as in triumphs, and then would light, and eat them.

There were some Birds no bigger than the smal­lest Flyes, yet all feather'd; besides, there were many sorts of Beasts, some had Beaks like Birds, and Feathers instead of Hair, but no Wings, and their Bodies like a Sheep. There was one kind of Beast in the shape of a Camel, and the Neck as white as a Swan, and all the Head and Face white; only 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 Pea-cock's Tail, and spread abroad; 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 Governour, 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 Cinnamon; and the Walls were plaistered with the flakes of Mace, which flakes were a foot square; the Planks were cut thick, like Bricks, or square Marble pieces, out of Nutmegs; the long Planks out of Ginger (for their Nutmegs and Races of Ginger, were as great as Men could carry): the Houses were covered on the top, some with Pomegranat-rines, others with Oranges and Ci­trons; but the Pomegranats last the longer, and the other smelt the sweeter, and looked the pleasanter to [Page 426] the Eye. They never have Rain there, nor in any part of the Kingdom; for the Air is always serene and clear: nor no higher Winds than what fanns the Heat: their exercise was Hunting; the Women hunted the Females, and the Men the Males.

As they went to the Governour, all the People run about to see them, wondering at them, and viewing them round. But the Governour seemed to admire the Youth much; yet durst not keep him, being against the Custom; but sent them straight towards their chief City, where their King was. After some days riding, they came out of the Forest into great Plains and Champains, which were co­ver'd with a Sea-green and Willow-colour'd Grass; and some Meadows were cover'd with perfect sha­dows of all manner of sorts of Greens. As they drew near the City, they saw great Quarries of Crystal, as we have of Stone; and 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 were Preserved, and some all Juicy: most of their Fruits grew in Shells like Nuts, most declicious to the tast; but their Shells were like a Net or Caul, that all the Fruit was seen through; and some kind of Fruits were as big as one's Head; but some were no big­ger than ours; others, very small. There never fell Rain, but Dews to refresh them, which fell upon [Page 427] the Earth every Night, like flakes of Snow, and be­ing upon the Earth, they melted, and did look and tast like double-refined Sugar.

At last they entred the City, which was walled about with Crystal; and so were the Houses, which were built both high and large, and before them were Arched Walks with great Pillars of Crystal; through the midst of the Street ran a Stream of Golden Sands; and cross the Stream were little Sil­ver Bridges to pass and re pass over to each side of the Street; on each side of this Stream grew rows of Trees, which were about the height of Cypress Trees; but instead of green Leaves, upon every Stalk grew a particular Flower, which smelt so sweet, that when Zephyrus blew (for they never had high Winds), they gave so strong a scent, that it did almost suffocate the Spirits of those that were not used to them.

The King's Palace stood in the midst of the City, higher than all the other Houses; the outward Wall was Crystal, cut all in Triangles, which pre­sented Millions of Forms from one Object; and all the ridg of the Wall was all pointed Crystals, which Points cut and divided the beams of the Sun so small, that the Wall did not only look sparkling, but like a flaming Hoop, or Ring of Fire, by rea­son the Wall went round. To this VVall were four open Passages, Arched like Gates; from those passa­ges [Page 428] went VValks, and on each side of these VValks were Trees: the Barks thereof were shadowed with Hair-colour, and as smooth as Glass; and the Leaves of a perfect Grass-green, which is very rare in that Countrey, because Nature hath every where inter­mix'd several Colours made by Light on several grounds or bodies of things; and Birds do so de­light on those Trees, that they are always full of Birds, every Tree having a several Quyer by it self, which 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 VValks lead to another Court, which was walled about with Agats, carved with all sorts of Imagery; and upon 'the ridg of the VVall such were chose out as most resemble the Eyes; for in some Agats their Colours are naturally mix'd, and lye in Circles, as Eyes; these seem as if so many Centinels lay looking and watching round about. From this VVall went a VValk, where on each side were Beasts cut artificially, to the life, out of several-colour'd Stones, according as those Beasts which they were to resemble. This VValk leads to another Court which was not walled, but rather railed vvith vvhite and red Cornelians, cut Spear­fashion. From the Rails went only a plain VValk paved vvith Gold, vvhich went straight to the Palace. [Page 429] this Palace stood on a little Mount, whereto went up a pair of Stairs; the Stairs went round about the House, ascending by degrees on steps of Am­ber, leading up to a large and wide Door; the Frontispiece thereof was Turky-stones curiously carved; the Palace-Walls were all pure Porcelline, and very thick and strong, yet very clear: It was all roofed or covered with Jett, and also paved with the same; so that the black Jett was set forth by the white Porcelline; and the white Porcelline seemed whiter, by the blackness of the Jet. The Windows were only arched holes to let in Air. In the midst of the Palace was a large Room, like a little enclosed Meadow; in the midst of which ran a Spring of clear Water, where the King bathed himself. Also, there were brave Gardens of all sorts of Flowers; in the midst of which, was a Rock of Amethists; and artificial Nymphs, cut out to the life, of Mother-Pearl; and little Brooks, winding and streaming about, of Golden Sands: The won­der was, that although there were many Mines in that Kingdom, yet the Soil was very fertile.

At last they were brought to the King's Pre­sence, who was laid upon a Carpet made of Thi­stle-down, with great attendance about him: 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, [Page 430] 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 Man's Beard, for they have none: The next, at their Habit, which were Sea­mens Clothes; but above all, at the Youth, who looked handsome in despight of his poor and dirty Garments. The King did command to have their Clothes pull'd off; but no sooner did they come to execute that 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 power to restore Life, which made them afraid to touch them any more; for that Disease of swouning was not known to them. Then their Priests and Wizzards were called for, to know from whence they came, and what should be done with them. The Priests were only known from the rest of the people, by a Tuft of Hair growing just upon the Crown of the Head, and all the Head else had no Hair; whereas other Priests are only bald upon the Crown. The King and they fell pre­sently into great dispute.

The King pleaded hard to keep the Youth; but at last the Priests had the better (as most commonly [Page 431] they have in all Religions), and so carried them away, and kept them a Twelve-month; but never dar'd to touch them, for fear they should dye, because Travelia swouned; but they beckned and pointed to them. They gave them ease, not employing them to any labour; and fed them daintily of what they could eat; for some Meats they could not eat, as Man's Flesh: for, they had a Custom in that Coun­trey, to keep great store of Slaves, both Males and Females, to breed on, as we do breed Flocks of Sheep, and other Cattel; the Children were eaten, as we do Lambs or Veal, for young and tender Meat; the elder for Beef and Mutton, as stronger Meat. They kill five Males for one Female, for fear of destroying the Breed; although they be so fruitful, that they never bear less than two at a birth, and many times three; and they seldom leave Child­bearing, until they are Threescore years old; for they usually live there until they are Eight score, and sometimes Two hundred years: but the ordi­nary Age is a Hundred, unless Plagues come; not out of Sluttery, or evil or corrupt Air, but with too much nourishment, by reason of their delicious Diet, which breeds such a superfluity of Humours, that it corrupts their blood. As for their Houses, they are kept very cleanly, by reason they never eat in them; for their custom was, to eat all toge­ther in common Halls, as the Lacedemonians did, [Page 432] only they had better Cheer, and more Liberty. Likewise, their Women were common to every one's use, unless it were those Women of the Royal 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 Royal Blood, had all their Skins wrought, like the Britans. As for their Govern­ment, it was Tyrannical; for all the common Peo­ple were slaves to the Royal Race.

But to return to the old Man, observing how careful and choice they were kept, he told his Son what he thought was their intention, which vvas, to sacri­fice them; and (said he) there is no vvay to escape, unless vve had their Language, and could make them believe vve came from the Gods; and that the Gods vvould punish them if they put us to death; and you are young (said he), and apt to learn; but I am old, and my Memory decayed; vvherefore, novv or never, study for your Life.

Well, said he, since my Life lyes in my Learn­ing, I vvill learn for my Life: Which he did so vvell, that he got (in that Tvvelve-month) their Language so perfect, as he understood, and could speak most of it: In vvhich time he understood all that I have delivered in this Relation; and be­sides, understood that they had many Gods and Goddesses.

The Sun was their chief God, and the Earth the chief Goddess; their next God was the Sea, and their Goddess the Moon; and they prayed to the Starrs (as some do to Saints) to speak in their be­half, and to present their Prayers 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 pray'd only to the Gods; and to their Goddesses none but the Women; nor none but Female-offering 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 Ra­rities; yet they did not touch Travelia, as suppo­sing (if they should)' he would dye before he was brought to the place of Sacrifices: In all this time, he never disclosed that he could speak their Lan­guage, nor understand them. But in this time the old Man had got some Salt-peeter and Brimstone, and burnt Wood into Charcoal, so made Gun­powder (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 Pistols, although not so curious and neat, yet well enough to serve his turn; and directed his Son what [Page 434] he should do and say. Against that day he made himself a Garment of a Grass, which was like to Green Silk; which he had woven so finely, as it look'd like Sattin: He had also upon the Calfs of his Legs like Buskins of several-colour'd Flowers, and a Garland of Flowers on his Head; the Soles of his Sandals were of that Green, but the stripes a-top was of Flowers like his Buskins; in each hand he held the two Pistols; his Hair (which was grown in that time, for he never discovered it, keep­ing it tyed up) untied, and let down, 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 Wool, and very short, as Negroes have), was amazed at the sight; and not daring to touch him, went by him, guard­ing him (as the chief Sacrifice) to the place; where the King and all his Tribe, and all his People, wait­ed for their coming: the King being placed at the head of the Altas, with a Dart in his right hand, the Spear of the Dart being an entire Diamond, cut with a sharp Point, to signifie the piercing beams of the Sun; which Spear he usually struck into the Heart of the Sacrificed; which Heart the Priest used tb cut out, and give the King to eat raw; the whilst the Priest sung Songs in the praise of the Sun, as the Father of all things.

Thus, after some expectation, the Priests came [Page 435] with their Sacrifices; which when the King and People saw, they were all amazed, as well they might; for the Youth appear'd most beautiful. 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. But when he came to the Altar, he call'd to them in their own Language; at which they grew mute with wonder: and, being silent, he thus spake:

OKING, and you Spectators! Why do you offend the Gods, in destroying their Messengers which come to bring you life, and to make you happy? Hed I brought you Plagues, then you might have sacri­fieed me to 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 Priests, and then the rest.

With that, shot off his Pistol into the breast of the Chief Priest, wherewith he straight fell down dead.

The noise of the Pistol, and the flash of the Fire, which they never saw before, and the effect of it upon the Priest, struck them with such a horror, and did so terrifie them, as they all kneeled down, [Page 436] imploring Mercy and Forgiveness, with trembling Limbs, and weeping Eyes.

Whereupon he told them, There was no way to avoid Punishment, but first, To fast two days from any kind of Nourishment: Next, Not to open their Lips to speak: And then, To obey whatsoever he shall teach them, as being sent from the Gods; bidding them go home, until 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 himself.

The Temple was most rich and curiously built, having (in that Countrey) great Art and Skill in Architecuture.

After which, the King and all the People, rising up, bowed their Heads down low, as in humble obe­dience to the Commands he had receiv'd; praying to him, as a God, to divert the Punishments inten­ded to them; and in sorrow lamenting their Fault, went home, each to his House, sealing up their Lips (for such a time) from receiving Meat, or sending forth Words: In the mean time, the old Man and he had leisure to bethink themselves what to do, ha­ving at that time the Temple, as a Palace, to live in; none to disturb them, nor to hinder their Thoughts from working out their advantage; and, sitting in Counsel a long time, disputing with each other what was best to do, at last resolved, That the old Man [Page 437] should go to the King, as sent from the Gods, to bid him send a Command to all his People, to eat such Herbs for Sallads, and drink their Water without mixture, just before they came: for else (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 Brains, 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 rest, as they might hear him round about.

Then thus spake:

PIOUS Friends, for so I may call you, be­ing willing to please the Gods; though your Ignorance hath led you wrong ways: But the Gods seeing your Zeal, though through a false Devotion, pitying your Ignorance, have by their Wisdom found means to appease the Wrath of their Ju­stice; for every Attribute of the Gods must have a satisfaction: for, Right is their Kingdom, and [Page 438] Truth is their Scepter, wherewith they govern all their Works: but the Gods have strowed Lots amongst Mankind, of movable 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 knowledg of the transitory things of the World, than what Fortune gives them, who is an unjust Distributer: for, all External Gifts come from her hand; and, for want of sight, she gives oft-times the Beggar's Lot to the King, the Servants to the Master, the Master's to the Servant: and for the Internal Gifts which the Gods have bestowed on Men, they are different, as the External are tran­sitory; for some are nearer to perfection, some far­ther off; yet none have perfect knowledg: for, the Gods mix Man's nature with such an aspiring Ambition, that if they had a perfect knowledg of the glory of the Gods, and a perfect knowledg of the first Cause, and of the Effects produced there­from, they would have warr'd with the Gods, and have strove to usurp their Authority: So busie and vain-glorious hath the Gods made the Minds of Men! Wherefore, the Gods govern the World by Ignorance; and though the goodness of the Gods is great, yet it is bound in with their Justice, which is attended with Terrors, to punish the [Page 439] Crimes of Men, and even to punish the innocent Errors that proceed from that Ignorance which they have muzled Man withall. But as their Power made the World, their Wisdom rules the World, their Justice punishes the World; so their Mercy keeps the World from destruction; and their Love not only saves Man, but preferrs 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 Knowledg by us, take hold of it, and do not wilfully fall in your superstitious Errors; although it is a difficult pains, even for the Gods themselves, to perswade Man, who is of a cross, suspitious, inquisitive, and murmuring nature, ac­cusing the Gods of Partiality; saying, They pre­fer or cast out whom they please, not as Man de­serves. Thus they judg of the Gods by their own Passions; but the Gods, by Variation, are pleased to continue the World; and by Contradiction to govern it; by Sympathy delight it: for, Delight lives not altogether in the power of Chance, be­ing created in the Essence and Soul of Man: for, though Chance can present those things (with An­tipathies or Sympathies) to the Senses, which pre­sent 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 [Page 440] it; to perceive and descry into those things that are far above it; to create by Invention, and to delight in Contemplations: and though it hath not an absolute power over it self, yet it is a har­monious and absolute thing in it self: and though it is not a God from all Eternity, yet it is a kind of Deity to all Eternity, for it shall never dye: and though the Body hath a relation to it, yet no otherwise than the Mansion of Jove hath unto Jove: The Body is only the residing-place, and the Sensitive Spirits are as the Soul's Angels or Messengers, and Intelligencers: So the Souls of Men are to the Gods, as the Sensitive Spirits to the Soul: And will you dislodg the Sensitive Spi­rits of the Gods, by destroying and unbuilding each other's Body by violent Deaths, before it be the Gods Pleasure to dissolve that Body, and so re­move the Soul to a new Mansion? And though it is not every Creature that hath that Soul, but only Man (for Beasts have none, nor every Man, for most Men are Beasts; only 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 only other Bodies may not know it, but the same Body is ignorant thereof.

The Soul is as invisible to the Sensitive Spirits, as the Gods to men: for, though the Soul knows, and hath intelligence by the Sensitive Spirits, yet [Page 441] 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 ways to preserve one another, as Temples of the Gods, not to destroy and pull them down; for whosoever doth so, commits Sacriledg against the Gods: Wherefore, none must dye, but those that kill, or would kill others; Death must be repaid with Death, saith Jove; and only 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 only 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 dye; in the shape of a Man, feels stabs in the Sides; in the shape of a Bull, knocks on his Head; in the shape of a Hart, Arrows in the Haunch; in the shape of a Fish, Hooks tearing the Jaws; besides all manner of Diseases and Infirmities; it may be, Burning, Hanging, Drowning, Smuthering, Pres­sing, Freezing, Rotting, and thousands of these kinds; nay, more than can be reckoned. Thus se­veral Bodies, though but one Mind, may be trou­bled in every Shape.

But those that please the Gods, live easie in [Page 442] 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, and 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 forbad them; telling them, They must build Altars in their Hearts of Repenting, Hum­bling, and 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 Inhuman Sacrifices to Gods, of their own making.

Thus Preaching every day for some time, forbid­ding Vain and Barbarous Customs, and Inhuman 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 only by their Works, in which they should praise them. 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 [Page 443] any other Affairs of Government, without him: and being dismist for that time, departed, leaving them to themselves in the Temple; where, at cer­tain and set-times, the King and People repaired 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 Splendor, Love, and Admiration, amongst them; their Per­sons were thought Divine, their Words were Laws, and their Actions Examples, which 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 entreat her Company, for therein she took great delight, she being witty in her Conversation, and pleasing in her Humour. But the Messenger miss'd of the Mark; for looking about, and calling aloud, he could neither hear nor see her. So return­ing, told the old Lady, She was not to be found. Whereat she grew into a great Passion, not only [Page 444] for her loss (which she thought great, since her love to her, and esteem of her, was not small); but that she apprehended the Prince would think that she had neglected that Charge he had entrusted her with.

Whilst she was in this Passion, the Prince came in, who had been in the young Lady's Chamber, but missing her, thought she had been there; but seeing her not, and the old Lady weeping, straight asked her for his Mistress; but she through Tears and Sobs could not answer. Whereupon some about her answered, She was gone none could tell where. At whose Words the Prince's Countenance and Complexion exprest his grief, the one being sad, the other pale; standing in a fix'd Posture, his Body seeming like a Statue without Soul, which was gone to seek after her. But at last, as if it had returned in despair, grew frantick with grief, tear­ing himself, cursing his Misfortunes; at length, goeth into her Chamber again, looking in every corner, even where she could not be, as much as where she might be: for, Lovers leave no place nor means un­sought, or untried. At last he espied a Letter upon the Table, directed to the Lady, which he opened, considering not the Incivility of breaking up the Seal without the Lady's leave (for Jealous Lovers break all such Ceremonies): and thus read:

Madam,

PRAY think me not ungrateful, after all your Noble Favours, that I go away without your leave or knowledg: for, could I have staid with security, no­thing but your Commands could have forced me from you; or could my Life have served you, I would have offered it as a Sacrifice to Obligation. But, Madam, it is too dangerous for a Lamb to live near a Lion: for, your Nephew is of so hungry an Appetite, that I dare not stay, which makes me seek safety in some other place. But when my Thoughts forget your Honourable Me­mory, let them cease to think. The Gods protect your Virtue, and send you Health. Fare you well.

Affectionata.

When he had read this Letter, and went to lay it on the Table again, he perceived another Let­ter directed to him, which he opened and read.

SIR,

YOU cannot condemn me for going away, since my stay might prove my Ruin, you having not power over your Passions. But had my Life been only in danger, I should have ventured it: not that I am so fond of Death, as to give my Life willingly away; but I am so true a Votress to Chastity, that I will never for­sake [Page 446] her Order, but will carry her Habit to my Grave: Nor will I give Virtue an occasion to weep over my Follies, nor Truth to revile me with Falshood; but Honour, as a Garland, shall crown my Hearse, whilst Innocency enshrines my Corps, that Fame may build me a Monument in Noble Minds. Had you been Master of your Passion, or bad the temperance of your Affecti­ons been equal to your other Virtues, I should have joyed to live near you, as Saints do to the Gods; and though my hard Fortune have driven me into many Dangers (and more I am like to run through, by the unknown ways you have forced me into) yet the blessing of Jupi­ter fall upon you, whatsoever Chance befalls me. Fare­well.

Affectionata.

When he had read his Letter, he sits down mu­sing with himself a long time; then rose, and with­out speaking any words, departed to his House in the City.

The old Lady, his Princess, seeing him so sad, asked him what was the Cause?

He answered, He was sick, and went to bed.

The next day, calling his Steward, he setled his Estate, and ordered every thing according to his Mind, and bid him provide so much Moneys: which done, he sent for his Wife, telling her, She must not take it ill, if he left her for a short time, for he was [Page 447] resolved to travel: for, said he, I have a quarrel to one that is stoln out of the Kingdom, and I cannot [...] at quiet until I have found the Party out, to be evenged for the Injury done me; which he bid her to conceal.

She, with Tears, entreated his stay; but no Per­swasions could prevail to alter his intention, or ra­ther resolution: for, Love is obstinate; and if it finds not a like return, but a neglect, grows spight­ful, rather wishing evil to what they love, than another should enjoy what they would have; and hate themselves, out of a displeasure, in not having what they desire: So did he, and was impatient un­til he was shipt and gone; who steered his course towards the Kingdom of Riches, as believing she was sailed towards her own Countrey; and resolved he was to find her out, or to end his days in the search; his Life being a burthen to him without her company.

Thus Love, sailing in the Ship of Imagination, on the Ocean of the Mind, toss'd on the troubled Waves of discontented Thoughts, whilst his Body sailed in the Ship on the Sea, cutting the salt Waves, they were set on by Pyrates, and taken Prisoners; so that he was doubly captivated, his Soul before, & now his Body. At first they used him but roughly, accor­ding to their barbarous natures; but, by degrees, his no­ble Disposition, and affable Behaviour, got indifferent entertainment.

It chanced some time after, in the sharing of those Prizes they got with him, and some others they had got before, they fell out, and from rude words they fell to ruder blows: The Prince apprehending the danger that might befall to himself, strove to pacifie them; giving them such Reasons in elegant words, that it charmed their Ears, and softned their Hearts, and ended the strife amongst them; and begot from them such love and respect, that they made him their Albitrator, and Divider of the Spoils; which he performed with that Justice and Discretion to each one, that they made him their Governour, and chief Ruler over them; which Power he used with that Clemency and Wisdom, that he was [...] father as their God, than their Captain, giving him all Ce­remonious Obedience.

And thus reigning in his Watry Kingdom with his three-forked Trident, we leave him for a time, and visit the old Man and adopted Son, who now began to grow weary of their Divine Honours, and (like wise Men, that seek a retired and secured life from the Pomp of dangerous Glories) bethought themselves how they might get away, and to return into their own Countreys again: for, an humble and mean Cottage is better beloved by the Owner, than the bravest and stateliest Palace, if it be another's.

Thus, putting their Designs in execution, they [Page 449] invited the King and People to a solemn Meeting in the Temple; where Travelia, standing in his usual place, thus spake:

THE Gods (said he) will have us to return from whence we came; and to you (Great King) their Command is, To love your People, and to distri­bute Justice amongst them; guarding the Innocent, punishing the Offendor; and not to use any cruel Cere­mony to destroy your own Kind; but to instruct them in the Right, and to lead them into the ways of Truth, as being their High-Priest amongst them: Also, To make as Warrs against your Neighbouring Kingdoms, but as a defence and guard to your own: for, in Peace lives Happiness, when Warrs bring Ruin and Destruction; and in doing this, Tranquillity shall be as a Bed of Ease for Life to sleep on; and Length of Days as a Chariot for Life to ride in to Heaven, where your Souls shall dwell in the height of Bliss: And, in this World, Fame shall Crown your Deeds, and your Posterity shall glory in your Name.

And to you, beloved People, the Gods command Piety in your Devotion, Obedience to your King, Love to your Neighbour, Mercy to your Enemies, Constancy to your Friends, Liberty to your Slaves, Care and Industry for your Children, Duty to your Parents: and in doing this, Plenty shall flow in amongst you, Mirth shall dance about you, Pleasures shall invite you, De­light [Page 450] shall entertain you, Peace shall keep you safe, till the Gods call you to partake of the Glories of Hea­ven; and my Prayers shall always be, That Jove may preserve you all.

Then going off from the place where he stood, they went to the King to take their leaves: whereat the King and People wept, and wish'd the Gods had given them leave to dwell amongst them. But since they could not have their desire therein, they tra­velled to the River-side in attendance on them, of­fering them great Riches to carry with them: But they desired, nor took they any more with them, than they thought would defray their charges in a time of necessity: Neither did they build a new Ship to sail in, but went in the same Boat they came, which had been kept, as a Relick, safe: for the old Man considered with himself, that a bigger Vessel would be more dangerous, without Sea-men, than the small Boat, which they could manage themselves. And so with great sorrow of either side, the one to lose their Angels (as they thought them to be), the others for the dangers they were to run through.

And thus they parted from the Kingdom of Fancy, putting forth their Boat from the shore; the old Man (who was very skilful at Sea) observing what Angle they came in, returned the same way: [Page 451] where, after six days, they were upon the Main Sea, the Winds being fair, and the Waters smooth, the Boat went as swift as an Arrow out of a Parthian's Bow; and as even, as if it meant to hit a Mark; but if by a fresh Gale the Waves did chance to rise, the Boat would as nimbly skip each ridg, as a young Kid over a green Hillock; being as leight as Mer­cury's winged Heels: So Joy filled their Hearts with Hopes, as Winds filled their Sails.

But various Fortune, causing several changes in the World, did raise such Storms of Fears, as drowned all their Joys: for a Ship fraughted with Pyrates, like a great Whale, seized on them. Pyrates let nothing escape which they can get to make ad­vantage of; so ravenous is their covetous Appe­tite: But finding not such a Prize as they did ex­pect, but such as might rather prove a burthen, consulted to put the old Man into the Boat again, and to keep only the young Youth, whom (being very handsom) they might sell for a Slave, and get a Sum of Money. But when the old Man was to depart, Travelia clasped about him so close, that his Tears, and the Tears of the old Man, mix'd and joined, and flowed as Waters through a Channel, swell'd with several Brooks. But when he was for­ced to leave his hold, down on his kness he fell, beg­ging he might go, or keep his Father there: Pity, said he, my Father's Age: Cast him not out alone [Page 452] to sail on the wide and dangerous Sea; for though my Help is weak, yet I am a Stay and Staff for his decayed Life to lean upon; and I hope the Gods have destin'd me to that end; but if no pity can move your Hearts for Him, O let it do it for Me:

Cut me not from the Root, though old and dry;
For then, poor Branch, I wither shall, and dye.

Nay, said he, I will dye when I can no longer help him; for Death is in my power, though Life is not.

But the Prince, who was their Commander, hearing a noise, came on the Deck; who no sooner saw him, but was struck with Compassion, raised by a resemblance of his Mistress appearing in the Face of the Youth; and going to him, bid him dry his Eyes, and cease his Sorrow, for they both should live together so long as he could keep them.

Heaven bless you, said he, and may you never part from that you most do love.

But when Travelia's Tears were stopped, and sight got a passage through her Eyes again, and looking up to view that Man from whom his Ob­ligations came, no sooner saw his Face, but Terror struck his Heart, and trembling seized her Limbs, as if she had seen some hideous and prodigious thing.

The Prince observing her in that Agony, ask­ing him (as supposing her a Boy), What made him shake and tremble so?

In quivering Words she answered, As Fear be­fore had shrunk his Sinews short, so now Joy had extended them too far.

The Prince then stroaking his Head, promised they should both be well used; and so returned into his Cabin.

Thus travelling on the Sea, as on a great Cham­pain; the Ship, like a Horse, went several paces, ac­cording as the Waves did rise and fall.

But at last this Ship became like a Horse diseased with Spavins, which broke out, and sprung a leak, which they stopt as well as they could for the time; but doubting it could not long hold out, grew very sad, some weeping, some praying, some murmuring, some raving, according as their Fear and Hopes were. But the Prince, who was valiant by nature, expected Death with as much patience, as they with fear did apprehend it; neither was he struck with ter­ror, but yeelded to the Fates, and was willing to dye. But, in the midst of their Afflictions, at last they espied an Island; at which sight they all shout­ed for joy.

Thus, in the life of Man, many several accidents pass about; and it chances, many times, that out of the midst of Grief and Sorrow, rises up Objects of [Page 454] Comfort; so was it here: and setting up all their Sails, made haste to it; but before they could come close to it, although they were not far from it, the Leak broke out again, and likewise their Fears; for the Ship grew sick of a lingring Disease, that it could swim no farther, but perished by little and little; which perceiving, they hoist out their Boat, where the Prince gave order, That those which were most afraid, should go first; he himself was the last that went therein, though the Boat did go and unload, and return'd many times; insomuch, that not only the Passengers were saved, but all their Goods, which no sooner were out, but the Ship sunk, and dyed of that Incurable Dropsie.

But in these Dangers the Prince forgot not Tra­velia; for why, the Prince was more fond of him, than Travelia was of himself; for her fears of be­ing known, gave her no rest. But being all safely ar­rived in the Island, they began to consider what to do; the Prince counselled them to chuse out some of the Company to build up Hutts to lay their Goods in; and also to cut down some Trees, there being great store of Wood, chusing that which was most proper and fit to build a new Ship; whilst the rest of the Company went to seek Food, and to discover the place.

This being agreed upon, they divided themselves; and those that travelled up into the Island, found it [Page 455] very small, as being not above thirty miles long, and twenty broad, and unpeopled; but great store of Fish and Fowl; few Beasts; but those that were, were of a gentle Kind; fine Meadows full of Grass and sweet Flowers; refreshing and shady Woods, wherein ran clear Springs, and bubling Brooks. Thus, though it were little, it was very pleasant; the greatest Inconvenience they found there, was want of Houses; for they found the ground some­what damp with Dews, which (being an Island) it was subject to: but the Air was ferene and clear, the Climate a little more than temperately hot. But the time that the Ship was a building, the Prince had a little House, or thing like an Arbour, built in the midst of the Island, to lodg in; and the rest made Hutts for themselves; and several Recreations they found to pass away the time.

Being in so solitary a place, the Prince (who was melancholy for the loss of his Mistress) grew full of Thoughts; and having her Picture in his Mind drawn to the life, comparing it to Travelia's Face, which he often looked upon, began to reason with himself why that might not be she, considering her private escape, and the little acquaintance she had in that Countrey; and seeming of a better breeding than a Ship-Master's Son could have, it did almost confirm his hopes. But discoursing one day with the old Man of several accidents, telling their Mis­fortunes [Page 456] and good hap of both sides, and being both of one Countrey; the old Man, thinking no harm, discovered by his talking, that Travelia was none of his Son, begotten from his Loins, but adopted through Compassion and Affection; and then tel­ling the Story how he came into his Ship unknown, or without his leave; by the circumstances of Time, Place, and Manner, found that it was she; whereat, being transported with joy, he could scarce conceal his Passion, but dissembled his knowledg as well as he could for the present, yet after that time sought an occasion to get her alone; where he did usually go a Birding, and did command Travelia to carry his Bags of Shot after him (who loved the Service, though she feared the Lord); and when they were gone some distance from the rest of the Company, and being in a shady Wood, the Prince feigned himself weary; and setting down to rest, comman­ded him to do the like; and at last discovered to him how he came to know her.

She finding her self discovered, turned as pale as Death; and in that passion of Fear, prayed him to kill her, or otherwise she should find a way to do it her self.

But the Prince told her, He would satisfie him­self first, unless she would consent to live with him as his Wife, in that Island, wherein (said he) we may live free and secure, without any Di­sturbance.

She musing with her self what to do, believing he was not grown the Chaster, with living amongst rude and barbarous People, thought it best to dis­semble, and give a seeming-consent.

Whereat the Prince's Thoughts being more eleva­ted, than if he had been Master of the whole World, they return'd to the rest of the Company; the one with an over-joyed Mind, the other sad, and full of perplexed Thoughts. But when she came to a place where she might be alone, sitting down in a melancholy posture, without uttering Words, or shedding Tears; for Grief and Amaze­ment had congealed the one, and stopt the other: yet at last her smuthered sorrow broke out into Com­plaint.

You Gods (said she)! Who will offer Sacrifice to your Deities, since you give Innocency no protection, nor let Chastity live undefiled? Cruel Fates! to spin my Thread of Life, to make me up a Web of Misery! Accurst Fortune, that brake not that Thread with an untimely Death! And you unjust Powers, to torment poor Virtue, making it a sin to free it self: for, bad I leave to dye, I would not live in shame: for to dwell bere, committing Acts dishonourable, although I am for­ced, yet shall I seem a Party guilty; and though no out­ward Accusers, yet my Conscience will condemn me. But, O you Gods of Light! Since you regard me not, nor [Page 458] will not hear me; You Powers of Darkness, hearken unto me, and wrap me up in your dark Mantles of perpetual Night, that no Eye may see me; and cast me into black Oblivion, where no remembrance is.

The old Man her Father (who was come from the Water-side, where he had been for the direct­ing and ordering the building of a new Ship) came to her in the midst of her Complaints, and asked her, What she lacked? or, If she were sick?

I would I were, said she; then might I hope Death would reprieve me: But I am worse; for I am miserable, having Torment (like to those of Hell) within my Mind: My Thoughts are Vultures, eat­ing on my Carrion-Infamy; or like the restless Stone, that cannot get up to the Hill of Peace, but rolleth back with fear and sad remembrance. Then she told him what she was, which he did ne­ver know before; and what had pass'd since the first of her Misfortunes, to that present; and how he had ignorantly discovered her.

Which, when he heard, he cursed his Tongue for telling how, and where he found her.

Father, said she, What is past, cannot be recal­led; wherefore, I must strive to help my self in what's to come: and since I have been dutiful, and you so loving and kind, as to save me from the Jaws of Death; help me now to protect my Ho­nour; [Page 459] convey me hence; let me not live here to please his Appetite, but cast me to some unknown place, where (like an Anchoret) I may live from all the World, and never more to see the face of Man; for, in that Name, all Horror strikes my Senses, and makes my Soul like to some furious thing; so much affrighted it hath been.

Her Father said, Heaven give you quiet, and me aid to help your Designs. But you must (said he) dissemble, to compass them: wherefore rise, and put on a smooth and pleasant face, and let your Dis­course be so compliant, that you may have a free li­berty; for if a Doubt should cross his Thoughts, you may chance to be restrained and kept by force, which will break that assistance I may give you.

Whilst they were thus discoursing, the Prince came to them (who had not patience to be long from her; for her Absence was his Hell, and her Presence his Heaven), flattering the old Man: My Father, said he, (for so I may call you now) let me entreat you I may be your Son, and she your Daugh­ter; since she, you thought a Boy, is proved a Girl: and since Fortune hath brought us so happily to meet, let us not despise her Favours, but make the best use of them, to our advantage.

Then telling the old Man, how that Island might be made a Paradice, and in what felicity they might live there, if their peevish Humours did not over­throw. [Page 460] their Pleasures. The old Man seemed to approve of all the Prince said; whereupon the Prince took him to be his dear Friend, and secret Councellor: for the old Man did not omit to give him Counsel concerning the setling and advancing of his new and small Monarchy; because he thought, in doing so, he might the better work out his own Design, by taking away those suspitions that other­wise he thought might be had of him.

Then the Prince bid the old Man to have a care, and to order his Maritime Affairs, in over-seeing his Ships and Boats built (for, said he, our chief Maintenance will be from the Sea); the whilst I will perswade these Men I have here, to make this place the Staple and Port of their Prizes, and Dwelling.

Then taking Travelia along with him (the old Man and he parted for that time), and going to the rest of the Company, he perswaded so well with his Rhetorick, that they resolved to stay, and build them Houses there to live, and also Ware-houses to lay their Prizes in, and from thence to traffick with them into safe and free places. Whereupon every one put himself in order thereunto; some cut down Wood, others digg'd up Stones; some carried Bur­thens, and some builded. Thus, like Bees, some ga­thered the Honey and Wax, whilst others made and wrought the Combs.

The mean time the old Man made himself busie, at the Coast side, about Ships and Boats, as being the chief Master employed in that Work. But oft-times he would go out a fishing in a Fisher-boat all alone, bringing several Draughts of Fish; and when he thought he should be least mistrusted, con­veyed Victuals therein, and then gave Travelia no­tice to steal to the Water-side; who, watching her opportunity when the Prince was busie in survey­ing, and in drawing the Platforms of the City he would have built, stole away; and as soon as she came, her old Father went as if he meant to go a fishing, carrying his Nets (and the like) with him to the Boat, his supposed Son busie in helping him; and so both being put out to Sea, and not gone very far, were taken by the Sympathetical Merchants, who trafficking into the Kingdom of Amity, sold them there to other Merchants; who carrying them to the chief City, the Queen of that Countrey (who was an Absolute Princess in the Rule and Government thereof) seeing Travelia, who was brought to her as a Rarity, took such a liking to him, that she received him into her Family, as also to attend near her Person; wherein he behaved him­self so well, that he became her Favourite, and the old Man was treated very well for his Son's sake.

In the mean time, the Prince was in a sad condi­tion for the loss of his Mistress, who searched about [Page 462] all the Island for her; but could hear nothing of her, until he sent to the Sea-side for the old Man, to enquire for her; and had answer back, That the old Man and the Youth went out a fishing, but were not as yet returned. Which he no sooner heard, but guesled a-right that they were fled away. Whereupon he grew so enraged, that he lost all Pa­tience; swearing, tearing, stamping, as if he had been distracted.

But when his Fury was abated, his Melancholy encreased, walking solitary, accompanied only with his sad Thoughts, casting about which way to leave that hated place (for all places seemed so to him where his Mistress was not): yet he knew not ve­ry well what to do, because he had perswaded the rest of the Company to abide there, and make it their home; and in order thereunto he knew they had taken great pains: besides, he thought they might despise him, as seeming unconstant; yet stay he could not: wherefore calling them together he spake in this manner:

My Friends, said he, We have here a pleasant Island, altogether unhabited, but what is possest by our selves; and certainly, we might become a famous People, had we Women to get Posterity, and make a Commonwealth: but as we are all men, we can only build us Houses to live and dye in, but not have Children to survive us. [Page 463] Wherefore my Counsel is, That some of us that are most employed, may take the new Ship, and go a Pyra­cing for Women, making some adventure on the next Kingdom, which may be done by a sudden surprisal; which Prizes, if we get any, will bring us more com­fort, pleasure, and profit, than any other Goods: for, what contentment can Riches bring us, if we have not Posterity to leave it to?

They all applauded so well of his Advice, that they were impatient of stay, striving who should go along with him; and so pleased they were with the imagination of the Female Sex, that those whose Lot was to stay (who seldom or never pray'd before) prayed for the others good success. But the Prince's intention was, only to find that Female he lost; caring not to seek for those he never saw. But setting out with great expedition, and hopes of a good return, sailed with a fair Wind three or four days, at last saw Land, part of the Kingdom of Amity. No sooner landed, but they were beset with Multitudes of Countrey-people, who flocked to­gether, being affrighted with the arrival of stran­gers; and being more in numbers than they were, over-power'd them, and took them Prisoners. They were examined, for what they came? They an­swered, For fresh Water. But they believed them not: for, said they, it is not likely you would come [Page 464] in a Troop so armed, for fresh Water. So they bound them, and sent them to the King, to exa­mine them farther: And being carried to the chief City, where the King was, who was advertised of all; sent for them into his Presence to view them: And being brought unto them, the Prince, who was of a comely and graceful Presence, and a hand­some man, bowing his Head down low, in a sub­missive stile thus spake:

Great King, We poor Watry-Pilgrims, travelling through the vast Ocean to search the Curiosities of Na­ture, that we may offer our Prayers of Admiration, on her Altar of New Discoveries; have met with cruel Fortune, who always strives to persecute, and hath forced us to your Coast for the relief of fresh Water: for we came not here to rob, nor to surprise; but to re­lieve our feeble Strength, that was almost lost with thirst; not that we were afraid to dye, but loath to live in Pain: nor would we willingly yeeld up our Lives, un­less great Honour lay at stake: but if the Fates decree our death, what way soever it comes, with patience we will submit.

But if, great King, your Generosity dares trust our Faiths, so far as to employ us in your Service, we may prove such by our Courage, that our Acts may beg a Pardon for those necessitated Faults we have commit­ted; and if we dye in Warrs, we dye like Gallant Men; [Page 465] but to dye shackled Prisoners, we dye like Slaves, which all Noble Natures abhor.

The King, when he had heard him speak, thus answered the Prince (as their accustomed manner was) in Verse:

Your Faith I'le trust, and Courages will try:
Then let us see how bravely you dare dye.

The Prince Poetically answered again, as he perceived it an usual Custom to speak:

Our Lives, said he, wee'l quit, before we yeeld:
Wee'l win your Battels, or dye in the field.

For the King, at that time, was newly entred in­to a Warr with the Queen of Amity; the chief cause was, for denying him Marriage, he being a Batchelor, and she a Maid, and their Kingdoms joining both together; but he nearer to her by his Affection, being much in Love with her: But she was averse and deaf to his Suit; and besides, her People was loath, for fear of being made a subordi­nate Kingdom. Wherefore, he sought to get her by force. And the King, liking the Prince's De­meanour, demanded who he was, and from whence he came. The Prince told him truly, who he was, [Page 466] from whence he came; how he was taken by the Pyrates; and how long he had lived with them (concealing the cause of his journey): But by his Discourse and Behaviour, he insinuated himself so far into the King's Favour, and got such Affecti­ons in his Court, that he became very powerful, insomuch as he was chosen the Chief Commander to lead out the Army; believing him (as he was) nobly born, and observing him to be honourably bred; and they (being a People given to ease, and delighting in Effeminate Pleasures) shunned the Warrs, sending out only the most Vulgar People, who were rather Slaves than Subjects: All meeting toge­ther, produced the chusing of the Prince, who or­dered and directed their setting out, so well, and pru­dently, as gave them great hopes of a good Suc­cess.

In the mean while, the Queen was not ignorant of their Intentions, nor slack in her Preparations, sending forth an Army to meet them: But the Queen her self had a Warr in her Mind, as great as that in the Field; where Love, as the General, lead her Thoughts; but fear and doubt of Times, made great disorder, and especially at that time; for Travelia, on whom she doted, was then sick; in which Sickness, she took more care to recover him, than to guard her self and Kingdom. But the Ar­my she sent out, was led by one of her Chief Noble [Page 467] Men, who marched on until he had a view of the other Army; and, being both met, they set their Armies in Battel-array.

When they were ready to fight, the Prince thus spake in the most general Language:

Noble Friends,

YOU being all Strangers to me, makes me igno­rant both of your Natures and Customs; and I, being a Stranger to you, may cause a mistrust both of my Fidelity and Conduct. As for my Experience, I am not altogether ignorant of the Discipline of Warr, having been a Commander in my own Countrey. Neither need you doubt of my Zeal and Loyalty to your King's Ser­vice, by reason I owe my Life to him; for it was in his power to have taken it away: Neither can I have more Honour bestowed on me from any Nation, than from this, were I never so ambitious, or basely covetous, to bribe out my Fidelity: Wherefore, if I lose (as I am perswaded I shall win the Day), yet it will not be out of my Neglect, Falshood, or want of Skill; but either it must be through Fortune's Displeasure, or by your Distracted Fears; which I cannot believe will possess any Spirit here, being so full of Alacrity, Chearfulness, and Readiness to meet the Enemy; and may the Thoughts of Honour maintain that Heat and Fire, not only until it hath consumed this Army you see, but all that shall ever oppose you.

After he had thus spoke to them, they began the Onset: Long was the Dispute; but at last, by the Prince's Courage, which animated the rest by his Example, and by his wise Conduct and diligent Care in rectifying the disordered Ranks, and sup­plying their broken Files by fresh Men, he got the day, and put the Enemy to a rout, killing many, and taking store of Prisoners.

The Prince, when he saw that Fortune was his Friend at that time, though at other times she had frown'd; yet now he thought to make his advan­tage whilst she was in a good Humour: wherefore he called to the Soldiers to follow their pursuit; but they were so busie in the dividing of the Spoils, as they were deaf to all Commands or Entreaties, gi­ving their Enemies leave to rally their scattered For­ces, and so to march away; and by that means they got so far before them, as they had time to get up their Spirits, and strengthen their Towns by Fortification; to Man their Forts, and to entrench themselves; whereas, if they had followed their Vi­ctory, they might have taken a great part of the Countrey: for, all Towns, Forts, and the like, sel­dom stand out, but yeeld to a Victorious Army; yet it must be whilst the terror and fright of their Losses, hath wholly possest their Minds, leaving no place for Hope. But when the Prince thought they had lost their opportunity, through the Covetous­ness [Page 469] of the Soldiers, he sent a Messenger to the King, of the Victory, and with the Reasons why he could not follow the same; but, if his Majesty would give permission, he would march on, and try out his Fortune. In the mean time, the Queen hear­ing of the loss of her Army, was much perplexed; Then musing with her self what way she were best to take, she straight went to Travelia, who was in­differently well recovered; to him she related the sad News; then asked his Counsel what she were best to do.

He told her, His Opinion was for her to call a Council of the Gravest and Noblest of her Sub­jects, and those whose Age had brought Experi­ence: for, if Worldly Wisdom dwells any where, it is in Aged Brains, which have been ploughed by various Accidents, and sowed with the Seed of Ob­servation, which Time hath ripened to a perfection; these are most likely, said he, to produce a plentiful and good Crop of Advice; but young Brains, said he, want both Manuring and Maturity, which makes their Counsels green and unwholsome. Whereupon they called a Council; where, after they had disputed long, at last they all agree in one consent, That the best was, For her to go her self in Person, to animate her Soldiers, and to give a new Life to their dejected Spirits.

Whereat she was much troubled, by reason Tra­velia [Page 470] was not so well as to travel with her; and to leave him, seemed worse to her than Death.

But after her Council was broken up, she retur­ned to him, and told him what her Council had de­creed. And this (said she angerly to him) was by your Advice: For, had I not called a Council, but had sent a General of my own choice, it would not have been put to a Vote for me to have gone in Person. But had you had that love for me, as I have for you, I should have had better Advice; and with that wept. Heaven knows, said she, the greatest Blow Fortune can give me, is to go and leave you behind me.

He seeing her weep, thus spake:

BEAUTY of your Sex, and Nature's rarest Piece; Why should you cast your Love so low upon a Slave so poor as I, when Kings hazzard their Kingdoms for your sake? And if your People knew, or did suspect your Love to me, they would rebel, and turn unto your Enemy; and besides, Conquerors are feared and followed; whereas Losing is a way to be despised, and trod into the Earth with scorn. Alas! I am a Crea­ture mean and poor, not worthy such a Queen as you; and 'twere not wise to hazzard all for me. Wherefore, go on great Queen; and may you shine as glorious in your Victories, as the brightest Starrs in Heaven: May Pallas be your Guide, and Mars the God of Warr [Page 471] fight your Battels out: May Cupid give you ease, and Venus give delight. May Hymen give such Nuptials as best befits your Dignity. May Fortune always smile, and Peace dwell in your Kingdom.

And in each Heart such Loyal Love may grow:
No Disobedience may this Kingdom know:
Age Crown your Life, and Honour close your Days:
Fame's Trumpet loud may blow about your Praise.

She, weeping, said:

No Sound will pierce my Ear, or please my Mind,
Like to those Words you utter, when they're kind.

But at last by his Perswasions, more than by her Councellor's Advice, she consented to go, upon that condion he would take upon him the Govern­ment of her Kingdom, until such time as she retur­ned again; and, said she, if I dye, be you Heir to my Crown, and Ruler of my People. And may the Gods keep you from all Opposers.

The People knowing her Commands and Plea­sure by her Proclamation, fell a murmuring, not only in that she left a Stranger, but a poor Slave, who was taken Prisoner and sold, and a Person who was of no higher Birth than a Ship-Master's Son, to govern the Kingdom, and rule the People. Where­upon [Page 472] they began to design his death, which was thought best to be put in execution when she was gone.

But he behaved himself with such an affable de­meanour, accompanied with such smooth, civil, and pleasing words, expressing also the sweetness of his Nature by his Actions of Clemency; distributing Justice with such even Weights; ordering every thing with that Prudence; governing with that Wisdom, that it begot such Love in every Heart, that their Mouths ran over with Praises, ringing out the Sound with the Clappers of their Tongues, into every Ear; and by their Obedience shewed their Duty and Zeal to all his Commands, or rather to his Perswasions, so gently did he govern.

Thus whilst he ruled in Peace at home, the Ar­mies met abroad; and being set ready to fight, the Trumpets sounded to Charge, and every one pre­pared to encounter his Enemy, striving for the ho­nour of Reputation, which is got by the ruin of one Side: So equally hath Nature distributed her Gifts, that every one would have a just Propor­tion, did not Fortune disorder and misplace her Works by its several Accidents.

But the terror of the former Blow was not quite extinguished in the Queen's Army, nor the insult­ing Spirits of the other Army laid, but rather a new Courage added to their old Victory, which did help [Page 473] them now to win that day, and with such victori­ous Fortune, that they took the Queen a Prisoner, and did destroy the whole Army.

The Prince thinking the Kingdom won, in ha­ving the Queen's Person, made him divide his Ar­my into two parts; the one half he sent to take possession of the Towns, Castles, and Forts; the other part he led himself to conduct the Queen, being much pleased that he had such a Gift to pre­sent to the King; which Present he knew his Royal Master would prize above all the World, which made him chuse to go with it: for had the Spoils been less, he had sent them with some Messengers; but being so Rich, he durst trust none to guard it but himself.

The King hearing of their coming, made all the Preparations of State that could be, sending the Prince a Triumphant Chariot, and his own Robes to wear; which Chariot coming as they were ready to enter the City, the Prince sets the Queen there­on, and walks on foot by the Chariot-side, as be­ing Mistress to the King his Master.

And the King, being attended by all his Nobles of the Kingdom, met the Queen, and with great re­spect led her to his Palace; where, when she came, the King kissed her Hand, and smiling, said,

The Gods had brought her thither: for certainly, said he, the Gods by their Fates have decreed and [Page 474] destin'd you to be my Queen; in which Gift the Gods have made me like themselves, to enjoy all Felicity.

She with a Face clothed in a sad Countenance, answered, Fortune was his Goddess; and if he were like her, he might prove unconstant; and then, said she, you may change from Love to Dislike; if so, I may chance to have liberty, either by Death, or to be sent into my own Kingdom again.

If you will accept of me, said he, you shall not only have your own Kingdom, but mine, wherein you shall be adored and worshipped as the only She in the World.

She answered, I had rather have what I adore, than to be adored my self.

Then was she conducted to a strong and safe, but a pleasant place, to be kept in, where the King vi­sited her often, treated her civilly, courted her earnestly, loving her with an extraordinary Pas­sion.

The Prince, in the mean time, was in high favour with the King, who asked and took his Counsel in every thing: And sending for him one day, when he came, hung about his Neck, as was his Custom so to do; saying to him,

O my Friend! (for that was his usual Name he gave him) my Cruel Prisoner (said he) you brought me, despises my Affection, slights my Addresses, [Page 475] condemns my Suit, scorns my Proffers, hates my Person: What shall I do to gain her Love?

Alas! said the Prince, I have had so ill success in Love, that what I doted on most, did hate me worst; which is the cause I have left my Countrey, Friends, and Estate, and lost the peace of Mind, the joy of Mirth, the sweets of Pleasures, the comfort of Life, hating my self because she doth not like nor love me: Jealous I am of Light, Darkness, Heat, Cold, because they come so near as to touch her. I wish her dead, because none should enjoy her but my self: yet I cannot live without her, and loath I am to dye and leave her here behind. Thus hang I on a tortur'd Life, and bear my Hell about me.

Whilst they were thus lamenting their hard For­tunes in Love, a Messenger brought News that their Forces were beaten that were sent into Amity.

How can that be, said the Prince? Most of the Nobles being here, and none but Peasants left be­hind, who have no skill in Warrs, and only fight like Beasts?

But the Alarms came so thick one after another, to tell that they had not only beat their Forces, but were entred into their Kingdom.

With that the King in haste dispatched the Prince with a fresh Supply added to those Forces he brought the Queen with, so march'd out to meet [Page 476] the Enemy. For Travelia hearing the Queen was taken Prisoner, was highly enraged; which Choler begot a Masculine and Couragious Spirit in her: for though she could not have those Affections in her for the Queen, as a Man; yet she admired her He­roick Virtues, and loved her as a kind and gracious Princess to her; which Obligations made her impa­tient of Revenge: Then calling all the chief of the Kingdom together, thus spake unto them:

Honourable, and most Noble,

You have heard the sad News of the Queen's being taken Prisoner, which cannot chuse but strike your Hearts through your Ears, and make them burn in flames of high Revenge; and may those Flames be never quenched, until you fetch her back, and set her in her Throne again. She went to keep you safe; and nothing can be more ungrateful, than to let her live amongst her Enemies. Nor can you here be free, whilst she is made a Slave; your Wives and Children will be bought and sold, and you be forced to do their Servile Work: What Goods you now possess, your Enemies will enjoy. Then let your Hands and Strength redeem your Coun­trey's Loss; or sacrifice your Lives in the Service.

After she had spoke, they proclaimed her with one Voice General; raising new Forces, making Vows they would never forsake their Queen; but dye, or be Conquerors.

Then sitting themselves in order thereunto, Tra­velia (as their General and chief Governour) cau­sed a solemn Fast and Procession, sacrificing to the Gods for good Success.

After that, she took a view of her Arms and Ammunition, selecting out the ablest and youngest Men to fight, making the better sort Comman­ders, that Envy might not breed Disobedience: The Aged she chose for her Councellors, her old Father being made one; the most Mechanicks, as Smiths, Farriers, Pioneers, Cannoneers, Sumpter-men, Wagoners, Cooks, Women, and the like, went with the Bag and Baggage. Neither did she omit to take good Chyrurgeons, Doctors, Apothecaries, and Druggists, to help the Sick and Wounded. At the Army's going out, she caused a Proclama­tion to be read, That all the Women and Chil­dren, and infirm persons, which were left behind, not being fit to go, should pray incessantly to the Gods for Victory and safe return: for, said she, Women and Children, and the Infirm, are the best Advocates, even to the Gods themselves, being the most shiftless Creatures they have made, wherefore the most aptest to move Compassion.

Thus setling the Kingdom in a devout and orderly posture, they marched on, re-taking their Towns, Forts, and Castles, lost; beating the Enemy out of every place; insomuch as they did not only clear [Page 478] their own Kingdom of their Enemies, but entred into theirs: And being gone some days journey, their Scouts brought them word there was an Ar­my coming to meet them; and, after a short time, the Armies were in view of each other: Where­upon she drew up her Forces; the right and left Wings she gave to be commanded by two of the Valiantest and Experienced Commanders; the Rear unto another; the Van she led her self; the Reserve she gave her old Father in charge to bring in, as he saw occasion; praying him he would not stand with it so far off, but that he might come soon enough to their aid; nor yet to stand so near, as to be annoy'd with their present Fight: Father, said she, I give you this part to command, because I dare trust your Faith, as well as your Judgment, Courage, and Skill.

Then she commanded every Captain of a Com­pany should place himself in the midst of their second Ranks; for if the chief Commander (said she) in a Company, be kill'd, the Spirits of the com­mon Soldiers soon dye, and their Nerves grow slack with fear; and all their strength will fail, unless it be to run away.

The Lieutenants, she ordered them to place themselves in their last Ranks, to keep the Soldiers from flying: for, said she, shame will cause Obedi­ence, to submit to Authority: wherefore, his Eyes [Page 479] will be as a Fort, and his Breast as a Bulwark, to keep them in. Then she gave order, that every Squa­dorn should be but five Ranks deep, and fifty on a breast; which number, said she, is enough to knit into a proportionable Body; more makes it un­weildy, and is like a man over-grown with Fat, whose bulk makes him unactive either to assault, or to defend himself: and Rands of Ten deep, said she, are not only unuseful and troublesome, but so many men are lost as to employment; for the hin­dermost Ranks come seldom or never to the Charge. In every Troop of Horse she placed some Foot, both Pikes and Muskets, to gall and hurt their E­nemy's Horse when they came to encounter: for, if once the Horse fails, the Man is down. After that, she commanded her Army to marchin such a slow pace, as not to break or loosen their Ranks, but commanded them to join so close, as if there were no Vacuum in their Troops, and so to move as one entire Body or Piece. Lastly, She commanded all the Cuirasiers should stand in the fore-front, to bear the shock, or break the Ranks. And thus she set the Battalia in order, form, and figure, as the ground and places would permit to their best advantage.

The Prince ordered his Battalia as he was used to do, making it thick, as believing it to be the stronger; which is questionless the best way, if it were only to stand still for a defence, but not to [Page 480] assault: for in Action, the half of those thick Bo­dies serve only as Cyphers without a Figure; but never help to multiply the Numeration of Blows. But the Armies, being both ready to joyn, the young General thus spake to his Soldiers:

Noble Friends, Brave Soldiers, and Wise Councellors,

WHO knows but this our meeting may pro­duce good and great Effects, and bring Peace to your Countrey, which is molested with Warrs, and Ruin to your Enemies, that have almost ruined you; Comfort to your sad Friends we have left behind, Li­berty to your imprisoned Friends? We fight for Fame hereafter, for Honour and Profit now presently: but if we let our Enemies become our Masters, they will give us restless Fears, unreasonable Taxes, unconsciona­ble Oaths, whereby we shall lose the Peace of our Mind, the Conversation of our Friends, the Traffick with our Neighbours, the Plenty of our Land, the Form of our Customs, the Order of our Ceremonies, the Liberty of the Subjects, the Royalty of your Government, and the Company and Rule of our Gracious, Vertuous, and Beautiful Queen. And shall they have Courage to spoil, and we none to right our Wrongs? Shall they live by our hard Labour? And shall we live by their hard Laws? All Noble Spirits hate Bondage, and will rather dye than endure Slavery. Wherefore, my Friends, be you constant to your just Resolutions, circumspect in [Page 481] your ways, patient in your Labours, Heroick in your Actions: for, What Man can remember such Injuries, and let their Courages be cold? Wherefore, for your own sakes, your Countrey's sake, your Royal Queen's sake, go on with valiant Hearts, and active Strengths; and may Apollo be your Friend, shooting his Darts, daz­ling your Enemies Eyes. May Mars, the God of Warr, direct you in your fight. May Fortune give you aid, and Pallas give you victory.

After she had thus spoke, the Trumpets sounded to Charge, and the young General sent some flying Horse to give the onset, and then seem to run away; which the other Army seeing, thought it was out of fear, and followed them as in pursuit, which disordered and broke all their Ranks: but the Queen's Army marched in good order to meet them; at which the Enemy, viewing their unex­pected posture, was so daunted, as they neither had Spirits to fight, nor power to run away; and so a great number being killed and taken Prisoners, the Queen's Army became absolute Masters of the Field.

The Prince with much difficulty retreated back about a days march, with some few, but with the prime of his Horse; where he heard of a fresh Ar­my coming to assist them: for the King, fearing they were not strong enough, being forced suddenly [Page 482] away, caused new men to be raised to follow them. The news of this Army rejoiced the Prince much, being at that time very melancholy for the great loss he received, and for the disgrace, as he thought, by reason he despised the Enemies to the King; and to be overcome by those he scorned, did wrack his Soul. But taking up fresh hopes with his new-come Army, returned back to the Queen's Army again; who, when they heard of a new Supply, were much amazed and dejected, by reason they were weary and tired with three Fights, and disordered with gathering up, and carrying away their Spoils. But the young General, perceiving them to hang down their Heads, thus spake:

Noble Friends,

I Perceive such a sadness in your Faces, as if fear had taken possession of your hearts; which if it hath, except Courage beats it out, it will betray your Lives unto your Enemies; and to be taken by a timorous thought, before your Strength hath grapled with your Foes, were base; and if Right and Truth be on your side, as sure it is; and Reason rules your Judgment, as I hope it doth; you have no cause to doubt: but if you fear the Conduct of my Youth, as wanting Experience to judg or direct the best, then here are Aged men who with Ulysses and Nestor may compare; their Counsel is your aid. Let no vain suspition therefore quench your [Page 483] hopes, but Courage set your Spirits on fire, and with their heat consume your Enemies to Ashes.

With that they all aloud did say, Go on, we will dye or conquer.

In the mean while the Prince was encouraging his new-come Army, who was struck with the news of the last Battel, hearing nothing of it until they met the Prince; the sudden Report (like Thunder) shook their Spirits; which to appease, the Prince thus spake:

Noble Friends,

You that have Humility to obey, Love to unite, Charity to redress, have Hopes to obtain: for, Hope is the Ground on which Courage is built. Let not the Enemy of Mistrust, vanquish your Faith; but per­form your Loyalty through your Industry: for obedient Thoughts are not sufficient, without obedient Actions. Wherefore take Courage to fight. Let not your Enemies kill your Spirits. Weep not, nor condole at our Losses; but let us regain our Honours either by Victory, or Death. And they that are sloathful or cowardly in this Army, may they neither enjoy the Lawrel, Olive, or Cypress; but go to the Grave unregarded, or forgotten; or live in shame, despised. But those that are industri­ous and valiant, may they sit high in Honour's Throne; [Page 484] and Fame blow their Praises so loud, and far, that no time can stop the Sound.

Then the two Armies being set in Battel-array, the Prince (to save the effusion of blood) finding his Army not full of alacrity, sent the young Ge­ral a Challenge; who, although he knew himself unfit for a single Duel, accepted it, being afraid of the dishonour of denying it: but the two Armies would not consent to look on whilst they fought; for, in the Encounter, both Armies joined in cruel fight.

But she having no skill in the art and use of the Sword, nor strength either to assault or resist, was wounded; and her Wound bled so fast, that she fain­ted and fell down to the ground. But the Prince, who was of a Noble nature, perceiving by her shape that she was but a Stripling, run to unty her Head­piece; and viewing her Face, straight knew her; and was so astonished thereat, that he had not power to stir for the present; but stopping the Wound as well as he could, brought life again; yet so faint she was, that she could not speak; neither had he pow­er to go away, but sate by until he was found in that posture.

In the mean time, the Army being left to chance, having not their General to direct them, Fortune play'd a part of Civility and Courtship, giving [Page 485] victory to the Ladies; so the Queen's Army had the day; and some of the common Soldiers, seeking for Spoil, found them, he sitting by, holding her in his Arms; from whence they took her, and put her in a Litter, and he also in the same, as a Prisoner, to carry them to the body of the Army; and as she went, having recovered her Spirits again, thus complaining, she said:

I have heard of Pleasure, ne're could it obtain;
For what we Pleasure call, still lives in Pain:
Then Life is Pain, and Pain is only Life,
Which is a Motion, Motion all is strife;
As forward, backward, up or down, or so
Side-ways, or in a Circle round doth go.
Then who would live, or would not wish to dye,
Since in the Grave there is no Misery?
O let me dye, strive not my Life to save;
Death happy is, and Peace lies in the Grave.

The Prince told her, She preached to her self a false Doctrine: for, said he,

Life is a blessing which the Gods do give;
And nothing shews them Gods, but that they live:
They're the Original of Life, the Spring;
Life the beginning is of every thing:
And Motion is from all Eternity;
Eternal Motions make the Gods to be.
To wish no Life, we wish no Gods, and then
No Resurrection to the Souls of Men:
In Resurrection we as Gods become;
To be — none would refuse a Martyrdome:
The very Being pleaseth Nature well,
Were she to live always in pains of Hell.
Nature, nothing is more horrid to her
Than Annibilation, that quite undoes her.
Thus Gods and Nature, you do wish to spoil,
Because a little pain endures a while.
Devils had rather Devils be, than nought at all;
But you like Angels that did never fall.

Thus they discoursed as they went; but he strove to conceal himself from her knowledg, until such time as he thought he might make his peace with her, for fear she should run away again out of hate and dislike to him.

But the Army, when they miss'd their young Ge­neral, grew so sad, that they took no pleasure in their Victory: for they were all as one dumb man, no noise was heard, all Eyes were full of Tears. But when they saw the Litter, as supposing she was dead, they raised a Cry that rent the Air, and made the thicker Clouds to move. Which when [Page 487] she heard, and saw them running to her, she shook her hand to shew them she did live.

Then sent they shouts of Joy to Heaven high;
And ev'ry Countenance sad, look'd merrily.

But when they came so near as to view her Face, and saw her pale and weak, they grew into such a rage, that they would have killed the Prince, hear­ing he wounded her: but she entreated for his life, and begg'd him for her Prisoner: No sooner ask'd, but granted; and she gave the charge of him to her Father.

Being brought into her Tent, the Army watch'd by turns whilst she was under the Chirurgeons hands for cure: Nor would they take any of the Spoils, but what she did divide unto them; nor any Direction but what she gave: Nor would they stir until her Health permitted her to travel: but, be­ing indifferently well, she gave order to march on.

But the King had raised another Army in the time of her sickness, and sent it out to meet them. She, although weak, went about to order and en­courage her Soldiers, who loved her better than their life; which Affections made them fight so well, that they overcame their Enemies; and before the King could raise another Army, they got unto the City. [Page 488] Where, as soon as she came near, she gave order to her Soldiers to entrench about it, and to cast at every corner of the City a Mount of Earth, on which she placed her Cannon to batter down the Walls: then she did build Forts about, to place her Men to shoot and cast Granadoes in; and by their several assaults they battered the City, and kil­led many of their Men by sundry and sudden as­saults: at last she resolved to storm it. But the King, perceiving his weakness, and that he could not hold out long, sent to the young General, de­siring a Treaty, and withall a Cessation of Arms.

In the mean time, the Queen, being weary of her Imprisonment, longing for the coming of her Beloved, in a melancholy Humour thus spake:

O what a Hell is it to love, and not be loved again! Nay, not only to love, but to love a Slave, and he re­gards me not: Do I say, Slave? No, he is none, that hath no Slavish Passion: Then he is free,

And I am only bound to Slavery,
First to my Passions, then to his Tyranny.
What shall I do, you Gods above?
You punish me, and yet you make me love.
Do you delight still in a tortur'd Mind?
Make you no sympathy in Human Kind?
Must all your Works consist in contradiction?
Or do we all enjoy nothing but Fiction?
The Mind is nothing but meer Apprehension;
'Tis not a Thing, unless it hath Dimension.
But O you Powerful Gods! by your Decree,
You can of Nothing, Something make to be:
Then make me Something, grant me my Delight;
Give me my Lover, or destroy me quite.

Thus leaving her in a Melancholy Posture and Humour, we return to the Armies.

The Cessation being near expired, the young General called a Council, and thus spake to them:

Right Noble and Valiant Heroes,

THE King hath sent to treat of Peace; but in my opinion there can be no honourable Agreement (next to the setting the Queen at liberty) but the re­signing of his Crown, and so his Kingdom, to her.

First, For raising Hostility, and disturbing the sweet Peace and happy Condition of a Kingdom that never molested them.

Then, for the dishonour, in taking the Queen Pri­soner, the ruin and spoil of your Countrey, the death of your Friends, and the loss of your gallant Men, killed in this Dissention, making many Widows and Father­less Children.

[Page 490]

Besides, Who can rely upon the Faith of an unjust Prince, who made Warr upon his Neighbours with­out a just offence, but only through an ambitious attempt upon your Queen and Kingdom? Have we not Victory? And yet shall we return with Loss? Shall we despise the Gift of the Gods, in making no use of what they give us? And shall the Trumpet of loud Fame report the Queen was taken Prisoner, and resigned upon a low Agreement? No, let Fame divulge unto the World, her Release came with the Ruin of his Kingdom.

After the General had spoken, one of the Coun­cil, who was like Nestor for Years and Experience, thus spake:

OUR General hath spoke a Speech so full of Cou­rage and Honour, as shews him to be of so true an Heroick Spirit, that he hath left no room for Policy to play a part. But States cannot subsist with Valiant Hands alone, unless they have a Politick Head, which is the Guide to great Designs; it burns more Cities than Granadoes do; it undermines strong Towns, pulls down great Works, wins Forts, sets Battels, takes Prisoners, makes Slaves, and conquers Kings and King­doms; and what we call Policy in a Publick State, is called Discretion in a private Family; and it is not, as the Vulgar think it, a Cheat, or meer Deceit, but a wise Prudence, to prevent the worst of ills, and to keep Peace, [Page 491] or get Tranquillity. 'Tis true, Valour is a daring Spirit, but Policy is the trusty Friend, and covers with skill all those Faults it cannot mend; it guides the Bark in which Man's Life swims, and keeps them from the shipwrack of the World, pulls down the ambitious Sails when blown too full with Pride, lest it should over­turn the Ship of Safety, to be drowned in Seas of Mise­ries: But Policy will rather chuse the Oars of Patience, and take the Tides of Time, than venture where the Doubts are more than Hopes, or Hazzards more than Gains. Then let us try to make a prudent Peace, not trusting to Fortune's Favour, unless she were more constant:

For in the Warrs such unknown Chance may fall,
Instead of Victory, we may be ruin'd all.

I speak not this to cross my General; for I shall be as ready to obey all his Commands, be they never so dan­gerous, as I have freely delivered my Opinion.

After he had spoke, the General rose up, and said, These Counsels are too solid to be contradicted by rash Youth.

Whereupon they all agreed to treat with the King, giving his Ambassadors Audience.

The King's Ambassadors coming into their As­sembly, thus spake: [Page 492]

You great Victorious Amitenians,

MY Master should not need to seek for Peace, be­fore it sought for him, had not the God of Love proved his Enemy, perswading Mars to be his Foe: for those that are cross'd in Love, have seldom Victory; for Mars doth take the part of Venus, Cupid's Mo­ther. Thus our great King and Master is by Love un­done. But since 'tis the Gods that work his Fate, he humbly doth submit: Wherefore he sends these Proffers unto you:

First, He will build your broken Forts again, and raise those Walls his Soldiers have pulled down.

Secondly, He will repay your Charges and Expen­ces in this Warr, although his own is great, and his Loss is more.

Thirdly, He will restore his Prisoners, if you will do the like to those you have taken: but for the Queen, she is no Prisoner:

For our Master is her Captive, and her Thrall,
Both to command Him, and his Kingdoms all.

After the Amitenians had consulted, they told the King's Ambassadors, That Words were not Acts; wherefore, they could conclude of nothing until the Queen was in her Army to make her atonement for her self; and if she were no Prisoner, they desired to wait on her out of the City; if not, they must use force. Whereupon the Ambassadors went back to their King to declare their Answer.

But to return to the Captive Prince, who was more fetter'd in his Mind, than in his Body; for the old Father treated him civilly, and used him kindly: but, perceiving him to be very melancholy, thought it might proceed from the Overthrow he received; which he strove to moderate, telling him, Nothing was more subject to Chance, than Warr; and that the Valiantest and Wisest Men, might fall by Fortune's hand: for, said he, She on Wheels, not on firm Ground doth stand.

She seeks not Worth and Merit to advance;
Her Scepter, which she governs by, is Chance.
Then said the Prince, O Fortune, most unkind!
I would she were as Powerless as Blind.

As he was speaking, in comes the young General; whom when he saw, Love's Passion shook his Manly Strength, and made his Visage pale. But [Page 494] she, being of an affable and sweet disposition, wish'd all content of Mind to every person, al­though she had little her self.

Noble Sir, said she, It was not for want of respect, I have not visited you; but my Engagements have so bu­sily employed me, that till the Cessation of Arms, I have not had so much time as to examine your welfare. But I know my Father hath not omitted any Service he could help you in; neither do believe, you (being a Commander) can be so ignorant, but to know, that Camps can afford but a rude Entertainment, having therein no necessary accommodations; and since my Wishes cannot make it better, you will be pleased to ac­cept of it as it is.

Worthy Sir (answered the Prince), I am only a Prisoner to your Favours, but am free by your Noble Entertainments.

So, after some discourse, telling him of the Agree­ment which was like to be, left him, or rather car­ried him with her; for his Soul went after her, al­though his Person stay'd behind.

But, to follow the Ambassadors, who were got to the King, and told him, the Demands of the A­mitenian Army was, To have their Queen, before they would treat any farther. The King being very [Page 495] much troubled thereat; for to keep her he durst not, knowing his own weakness, and their strength; and to let her go, he could not; for his Passion of Love would not give him leave: neither would he call a Council, knowing they would be for the de­parture of the Queen, for their own securities: then did he wish for his Friend and Servant, the Prince: but at last, being resolved, went to the Queen his Mistress, and taking the Crown from off his Head, laid it at her Feet:

Madam, said he, Here I deliver you my Crown, and with it my Kingdom; and yeeld my self your Pri­soner, dispose of it and me as you please: for it never shall be said, I make Conditions with her I do adore; for since my Soul is yours, there is nothing I can own that is not so. And since you must and will go from this place, let me go with you, to set your Triumphs out; and lead me as your Slave.

Sir, answered she, I have not been so ill treated, nor am I so ungrateful to go away, and leave no thanks behind me: Wherefore I will stay until there is such a Peace made, as you may receive as much Profit, and as little Losses thereby, as I. Wherefore, in order thereun­to, I desire, that the General of my Forces, and some of my Council, may come hither, and so confer both with my self and you.

The King gave order, that the Gates of the Ci­ty might be set open: but the Queen sent a Mes­senger to the Army, that none of the Forces should enter into it, but keep themselves where they were, without; only the General and the Council, and some of the chiefest Commanders, to come unto her. But when they were ready to wait upon the Queen, the old Man fell very sick, and sent to his Son (the young General) to come unto him to take his leave of him before he dyed; who went with a sorrowful heart, and sad countenance; and when he came close to his Bed, the old Man spake:

Son, said he, My Lease of Life is expired; and Death, the Landlord of my Body, knocks at my old and ruinated Cottage, sending out my Soul to seek another Habitation; which Soul intends to travel through the Airy Skies, unto the Mansion of the Gods, where it shall pray for your success and happy days on Earth.

O Father, said Travelia, Must you go, and leave me here behind?

Why will the Gods so cruelly oppress
An innocent Youth, to leave it in distress?

You were my good Angel, to guard me from those Evils that Fortune sets about me; you were [Page 497] my Guide, which did direct my simple Youth to just and honest ways: What will become of me when you are gone? Or who will rescue me from those that seek my ruin?

The old Man said, The Gods, the Gods, my Son, they will reward your Virtue. Farewel, fare­well; then turned his head, and dyed.

After he had lamented and mourned over his lifeless Corps, he sent to the Queen to give him leave to interr his Father's ashes. The King hearing there­of, sent to the General, inviting him to bring his Father's Body into the City, and there to be interr'd in his chief Temple; which Honour he accepted. Whereupon all the Army brought the Hearse un­to the Gates, and then returned unto their Tren­ches. But the Chief Commanders did bear it unto the Grave; the young General came into the Temple, being clad all in Mourning, only his Face seen (which appeared like the Sun when it breaks through a dark and spungy Cloud, whose Beams did shine on those watry drops that fell upon her Cheeks, as Banks where Roses and Lillies grow) and standing on a mounted Pillar, he said:

I come not here to flatter or be-lye the dead, but to speak the truth as far as my knowledg is in­formed: He was aged in years, not old; for those are only old, whose Memories and Understanding [Page 498] are grown defective by the length of time. He was Wise by Experience, not led with Self-opinion. He was learned in the Art of Navigation, and not ignorant of Land-Service, or Command; although few that dwell on Seas, and profess that Art, know more of Land, than the Ports where they take harbour to shelter themselves from furious storms, or to take fresh Victuals in, or to be deboist with Wine and Women. But he was most tem­perate, not only in moderating his Passions, but also his Appetites, with Reason, Honour, and Re­ligion. In his Behaviour he was affable and free, not formal nor constrain'd, by vain and self-con­ceit. His Disposition gentle, sweet, and kind. He was in his Nature compassionate to all that were in distress. He was Industrious to all good Effects, and had a nimble and ingenious Wit, and [...] a superfluity of Courage, as did not only banish fear in himself, but begot spirit in others. He was bred in the Schools of Honour, where he had learnt Vertuous Principles, and Heroick Actions. He had all the Ingredients that goeth to the ma­king of an Honest and Gallant Man. And he was not only Morally Honest, but most Pious and Devout. He offered not Sacrifice to the Gods for Worldly Prosperity, but out of Pure Love and Adoration to the Gods. He was a Pattern for all others to take Example by. His Soul was [Page 499] as the Breath of the Gods; and his Animal Part as the best of Nature's Extraction. But Nature makes nothing to last in one Form long; for what she creates, she dissolves again.

With that her Tears fell so fast from her Eyes, as stopt her mouth for a time: but at last, she sigh­ing, said:

Although my Tears are useless to him, since it is not in their power to alter the Decrees of Fate, nor can perswade the Gods to give perpetual Life here in this World; yet Natural Affections are forced through my Eyes.

Then bowing down her Head over the Corps, which was placed underneath, said:

These, as satisfaction, may asswage my grief, to think my new-born Fears, the issues of my Love, shall be buried and lye intombed with his cold Ashes; which is the only way to mingle Souls, when Death hath parted Bodies. But if Fate had had the power to twist the Thread of of my Life with his, then Death had struck me too, and so ea­sed my grief. But since it is not so, his Memory shall lye entombed in my Heart until I dye.

After he had spoke this Funeral-speech, he de­scended from the Pillar; and helping to lay the Corps upon the Funeral-Pile, did with a flaming-Torch set the Fuel on fire; and gathering up the Ashes, put them in the Urn, and placed it in a Tomb. Having thus executed those Ceremonies belonging to the dead, he changed his Mourning-Robes, and clothed himself fit for the Court or Camp again. Then he and the Council, and the chief Commanders, went unto the Palace of the King; where, after some discourse, he was brought to the Queen, who joyed more to see her Trave­lia, than for the Victories they had won: and after she had condoled with him for the loss of his Fa­ther, she congratulated with him for the good suc­cess he had in the Warrs; aud withal told him, She must set at liberty his Prisoner the Prince, for she had given him back unto the King. Whereupon he presently gave order for the Prince to repair to the Court; and after she had heard the relations of all their several Actions and Accidents, and plea­sed her self with the variety of other Discourses; she told them, She would sit in Council to consider what was to be done as concerning the Peace; and so dismist them for that time: only she stayed Tra­velia, loving his company so well, she could not so easily part with him. But the King perceiving her Affections, as being never pleased but when Travelia [Page 501] was with her, he grew so jealous, that had not Ho­nour forbid him, having past his word unto her, they should all there be safe, he should not have let him live to have been his Rival.

In the mean time, the Messenger had caused the Prince to repair to the Court; who was much trou­bled how to behave himself: for, said he in his thoughts, if I should make my self known unto my Mistress, she will straight convey away her self either by death, or stealth; and if I go disguised, although I may make the reason known unto the King, yet the Court will talk, and think it is for some ill design against the State, so bring an aspersion upon my Loyalty.

Thus musing a long time with himself, at last he thought it best for to take counsel of the King; and being come to him, the King with great joy em­braced him, saying, O my Friend! thy Company is a Kingdom to me. He humbly kissing his hand, said, He thought Fortune was so much his Enemy, as that she had shut him out of his Royal Favour. But Sir, said he, it was none of my fault I did not win; for the Gods, Jupiter, Mars, and the rest, are such Lovers of the fair Mortal-Females, that they will never be against them; for wheresoever they are, Victory is there also.

The King, thinking he meant it of the Queen, told him how unkindly she used him, and how he [Page 502] perceived she loved the young General even to a dotage; and withall, asking his counsels what he should do, he smiling, yet sighing, said:

O Sir, said he, there is no cause to fear; for that Person you do suspect, is a Woman, which I be­lieve the Queen knows not. Then he told him all the story of his Love, and all the several accidents thereupon, and ask'd his advice what he should do?

The King was overjoyed at his relations, discovering she was a Woman; and his joy gave so many several Advices, that the number confused the Counsel, and confounded the Choice.

But while they were thus talking, a Messenger came to the Prince, which brought him Letters from his own Countrey, by Merchants that were lately come in, that his Wife was dead (for although they knew not where he was, yet they sent Letters into several Countreys, in hope some might light into his hands): which when he heard, his Doubts were turned into Hopes. With that, the King and he em­braced with joy, making no question now but Cu­pid was turned their Friend, and that he would shoot two Golden Arrows into their Mistresses Hearts from the Forts of their Affections.

The time being come when the King and Queen, and the Councellors of both, should meet about the Peace, they being all set ready to treat, the King en­treated [Page 503] the Queen she would give him leave, that the Prince might be one of his Council; which (said he) without your own consent, he shall not be, since he hath been your Prisoner.

She told the King, He was not bound to her, since she had given him a Release; and your Councellors are to be chosen by your self, and not by me.

After her answer, he sent for him; who came, being not disguised, but as he was himself; and Tra­velia looking upon his face as he was coming in, and seeing the Man she most did fear, she fell into a swound: at which accident the Queen being ex­treamly afflicted, thinking it was done by some de­sign wrought from the jealousie of the King, broke up the Juncto for that time, taking all the care she could for his recovery. But Travelia being reco­vered out of her swound, was still sick in Mind, though not in Body; and kept her Bed as if she had been very ill.

Whereupon the Queen's suspition was more en­creased, and fear'd some Poyson had been given him; and with that conceit could not endure to see the King.

The King being much troubled that the Queen was more severe to him than she was used to be, and perceiving that it was Travelia that was the cause, complained unto the Prince, and (with seeming­anger) [Page 504] said merrily, Dispose of your Mistress some way; for I am jealous, said he, although she be a Woman.

Sir, said the Prince, I have as much reason to be jealous of the Queen, as you have of my Mistress, setting her Masculine Habit aside.

At last they did agree to discover her to the Queen. Whereupon the Prince went to the Queen, and desired her (by a Messenger) to grant him half an hours Conference.

She desired to be excused.

He sent her word, It was something concerning his own Affairs. Whereupon she gave him admit­tance.

When the Prince came to her, he said:

Madam, I should not press thus rudely on your thoughts, but that I think I am part of the cause that makes them melancholy.

Sir, said she, You take upon you to know much; for it is hard to know the Mind or Thoughts of our selves, much less of others.

Madam, said he, I will be so presumptuous to guess at them, if you will give me leave.

Take it, said she.

Then, Madam, said he, I must tell you, You are in love; and the Person you love, although most excellent, yet cannot return such love as you desire; for you have placed your Affection upon a Wo­man, [Page 505] who hath concealed her Sex, in taking the Habit of a Man; and hath more confirm'd your mistake, by the actions of a Soldier. I know not, said the Prince, how kind you have found her; but I have found her cruel. Then told her the story from the first time he saw her, until that present.

When the Queen had heard his relation, her Colour came and went, moved by her mix'd Passi­ons, Anger and Love; angry that she was deceived, yet still did love, and wish'd she had been a Man.

Then the Prince began to move unto her the Suit of the King. But she was so impatient and troubled in her Mind, being crost in her Love, that she would hear nothing concerning Love more at that time. Which he perceiving, took his leave for the present. But as soon as he was gone,

Tears from her Eyes flow'd out, as if they meant
To make her there a Watry Monument.
And her oppressed Heart such sighs sent forth,
Like Gusts of Wind that blow from South or North.
After this furious Storm, a Calm did rise,
Her Spirits, like a still smooth Water, lyes.
Then laying down her gentle Head to rest,
Thus to the God of Love her Prayers addrest.
Thou powerful God of Love, that shoots from high,
One Leadden Arrow in my Breast let flye,
To quench that scorching Heat thou mad'st to burn,
Unless a Woman to a Man can turn.
With that the God of Love did pity take,
Quench'd out the first, and did a new Fire make;
Yet was it weak, as being made but new;
But being kindled, it much hotter grew.
At last the Flame got hold upon the King,
Which did much Joy unto each Kingdom bring.

After a sweet and refreshing sleep, she rose, and went to Travelia's Chamber, and told her how she was discovered. Then chiding her gently for not making her self known unto her, said, that she had caused her many unquiet rests.

But Travelia begged her pardon; telling her, it was the cause of her misfortunes that concealed her, and not out of any evil design she had to deceive her. Then desired her assistance and help to secure her.

Whilst they were thus talking, the King and the Prince came to see the sick Person; to whom the Queen with a smiling-countenance said, She was courting her hard-hearted Lover.

The King answered, That he hoped she would take pity on him, by what she had felt her self.

The Queen told him, She was likelier to love him now, than if she had never been a Lover before: for, said she, there is something pleasing in Lovers [Page 507] Thoughts, be their Fortunes never so adverse; and I believe, said she, the Prince will say as much.

Madam, said he, It is a pleasing-pain, as being mix'd with Hopes and Fears; but if our Hopes do cease, all Pleasure is gone, and nothing doth remain but Pains of Hell.

Then, said the Queen, your Mistress should be in a sad condition, if she loved you as you seem to love her, you being a Married-Man.

No, said the Prince, I am now a Widower; but I doubt (said he) that doth not advantage me in my Mistress's affection.

But when Travelia heard he was a Widower, her Heart did beat, like a Feverish Pulse, being moved with several Passions, fearing it was not so, hoping it was so, joying if it were so, grieving that she ought not to wish it so.

But the Queen asked the Prince, How that he came to know of it.

Whereupon he told her.

She said, I have promised your Mistress to pro­tect her against your outragious Assaults: but since your Suit is just, and your Treaty civil, I will yeeld her to you, upon that condition you carry her not out of my Kingdom: for, since I cannot marry her, and so make her my Husband, I will keep her, if I can, and so make her my Friend.

With that, Travelia rises up in her Bed, and [Page 508] bowed her self with a pleased countenance, giving the Queen thanks.

The Prince said, You have given me as much as the Gods could give, which is, Felicity.

Madam, said the King, You have given me no­thing.

The Queen, with Blushes, answered, That if her Council would agree, she would give him her self.

The King, for joy, kneeled down, and kiss'd her Hand: Now, said he, I am like to the Gods, they can but have their wish.

Thus passing that day in pleasing-discourses, the next day they caused their Councils to meet, where they concluded the Marriage of the King and Queen; and that the Queen should live with their King in the Kingdom of Amours; and that her first Son should be Heir to the Crown, and her se­cond should be Heir to the Kingdom of Amity: but in case there were no Sons, or but one, then Daughters should inherit.

In the mean time, the Prince, and his Princess that was to be, should be Vice-Roy; or rather, that she should rule, who was so beloved of the Peo­ple, as if she had not only been a Native born, but as if she had been born from the Royal Stock. But they thought it fit she should make her self known unto the Army by word of mouth, that [Page 509] she was a Woman, otherwise they might think she was made away by a violent Death; and that the report of being a Woman, was only a trick to de­ceive them; and from thence arise such a Mutiny as might bring a ruin to both Kingdoms.

When all was agreed, they prepared for the Mar­riages.

In the mean time, Travelia goeth to the Army, attended by the Prince; where the King and Queen came soon after, that the Soldiers might see they were there, as Witnesses of what she told them. And, being all in a Circle round about her, she be­ing upon a place raised for that purpose, thus spake:

Noble Friends, and Valiant Soldiers,

I Am come here, at this present, to declare I am a Woman, although I am habited like a Man; and perchance you may think it immodesty: but they that will judg charitably, will enquire the Reason, before they give their Censure: for Upright Judges never give Sentence before they examine. Wherefore I be­lieve you will not condemn me because Necessity did enforce me to conceal my Sex, to protect my Honour: for, as the love of Soul and Body is inseparable, so should the love of Chastity, and the Feminine Sex; and who can love, and not share in danger? And since no danger ought to be avoided, nor Life considered, in re­spect [Page 510] of their Honours; and to guard that safe from E­nemies, no Habit is to be denied: for it is not the out­ward Garment that can corrupt the honest Mind; for Modesty may clothe the Soul of a naked Body; and a Sword becomes a Woman when it is used against the Enemies of her Honour: for though her strength be weak, yet she ought to shew her good will; and to dye in the defence of Honour, is to live with Noble Fame: and therefore neither Camp, nor Court, nor City, nor Countrey, nor Danger, nor Habit, nor any worldly Fe­licity, must separate the love of Chastity, and our Sex: for, as Love is the sweetest, so it is the strongest of all Passions; and true Love proceeds from Virtue, not from Vice: wherefore it is to be followed by Life, and to be maintained till Death: And if I have served my Queen honestly, condemn not my Modesty.

Then she bowed her Head down low, first to the King and Queen, then to the Army.

Whereupon the Army gave a shout, and cryed out, Heaven bless you, of what Sex soever you be.

After she had spoke this Speech, she went into her Tent, and drest her self in her Woman's Robes, and came out again; and standing in the same place, thus spake: [Page 511]

Noble Friends,

THUS with my Masculine Clothes I have laid by my Masculine Spirit; yet not so, but I shall take it up again, if it be to serve the Queen and King­dom, to whom I owe my Life for many Obligations.

First, To my Queen, who bought me as a Slave, yet used me as a Friend; and loved me with that Affection, as if Nature had linked us in one Line; for which, Heaven reward her with Glory and Renown. Besides, her Love did bestow upon me great Honour, made me Protector of her Kingdom in her absence; and you her Subjects (out of Loyalty) obeyed all my Commands, al­though I am young and unexperienced. And 'tis not only what your Loyalty enforces; but I have found your Af­fections of Love to be such, as it shewed they came freely from your Souts, expressing it self in grie­ving for my Sickness, taking care for my Health, joying in my Company, mourning for my Absence, glorying in my Fame; in so much, as you would lessen your own, to give it me. What shall I do to shew my Gratitude? Alas! my Life is too poor a Sacrifice: Had I the Man­sion of the Gods, I would resign it for your Felicity. But these are only Words, not Acts, to shew you my thanks. Yet here I do offer all that the Gods or Nature gave me, Life, Health, or Beauty; Peace, Pleasure, or Plenty; and these shall stand upon the Altar of a Thankful Heart, ready to be sacrificed to your Service.

Whereupon all the Army cryed out, An An­gel, an Angel, the Gods had sent unto them!

Then was there a Declaration read in the Army, of the Agreement of Peace: and when it was read, That the Prince should be Vice-Roy in the King­dom of Amity, all the Soldiers (as if they had but one Voice) cryed out, Travelia shall be Vice-Re­gent; which was granted to pacifie them.

Whereupon there were great Acclamations of Joy.

But the Prince told his Mistress, She should also govern him.

She answered, That he should govern her, and she would govern the Kingdom.

Then went the King and Queen, the Prince and Travelia, the Nobles and the chief Commanders, to celebrate their Nuptials; and on the Wedding­day, though the Queen was adorned with a Crown of Diamonds, hung about with rich Jewels; yet her Beauty did dim their Luster. But Travelia was only drest in a white Silk Garment, which hung loosly about her; and yet

Her Face did seem like to a Glory bright,
Where Gods and Goddesses did take delight:
And in her Eyes, new Worlds you there might see,
Love-flying Cupids there as Angels be:
And on her Lips Venus enthroned is,
Inviting duller Lovers there to kiss:
Wing'd Mercury upon her Tongue did sit,
Strewing out Flow'rs of Rhetorick and Wit:
Pallas did circle-in each Temple round,
Which she with Wisdom, as a Lawrel, crown'd:
And in her Cheeks sweet Flowers for Love's Posies,
There Fates spun Tbreads of Lillies and of Roses:
And every loving Smile, as if each were
A Palace for the Graces to dwell there:
And chast Diana on her Snow-white Breast
There lean'd her Head, with most pure thoughts to rest:
When view'd her Neck great Jove turn'd all to wonder,
In Love's soft Showers melting without Thunder.
The lesser Gods on her white Hands did lie,
Thinking each Vein to be their Azure Skie.
Her charming circling Arms, made Mars to cease
All his fierce Battels, for a Love's soft Peace;
And on our World's Globe sate triumphing high,
Heav'd there by Atlas up unto the Skie:
And sweet-breath'd Zephyrus did blow her Name
Into the glorious Trumpet of good Fame.

After they were married, to set out their Tri­umphs, they had Masques, Playes, Balls, Pageants, Shews, Processions, and the like.

And when they had kept the Festivals some days in the City, the Prince and Princess desired they might go and revel for some days with the Army that was without the City. The Queen being well pleased therewith, thither they went; where they had Tiltings, Running at the Ring, Fencing, Wrastling, Vaulting, Jumping, Running Ra­ces of Horse and Foot, Baiting of Beasts, and many the like Warlike Pastimes; and such Hospi­tality, that every Common Soldier was feasted: And after they were well satisfied with Sports and good Cheer, the Prince and Princess returned to the Court again: where, after they had remained some time, the King and Queen sent them with the Army into the Kingdom of Amity; and the Soldiers returned home not only with all the Spoils they got in the Warr, but the King did present all the Chief Commanders with Presents; and the two Kingdoms lived in Peace and Tranquillity du­ring the life of the King and Queen; and, for ought I can hear, do so to this day.

The Tale of a Traveller.

A Gentleman and his Wife being married some years, and having none but Daughters; at last was born unto them a Son, of whom they were very fond, and did strive to give him the best Breeding they could.

In the first place, he was to learn the Horn-book, from that his Primmer, and so the Bible, by his Mother's Chamber-Maid. But after he came to ten years old, or thereabouts, he was sent to a Free-School, where the noise of each Scholar's reading aloud, did drown the sense of what they read, bu­rying the Knowledg and Understanding in the con­susion of many Words, and several Languages, yet were whipt (for not learning) by their Tutors, whose ill teaching broke and weakned their Memo­ries with over-heavy burthens; and striving to thrust in more Learning than could be digested, or kept in the Brain, dulled their Senses, and opprest their Understanding; for, being afraid of whipping, they got their Lessions by rote, without understand­ing the sense. But this Youth, being ingenious by nature, learnt more by his own Capacity, than by his Tutor's dull Rules.

After some time, he was sent to the University; where continuing from the years of Fourteen, to [Page 516] the years of Eighteen, did at last consider with himself, that he was buried to the World and its Delights, conversing more with the Dead, than with the Living, in reading old Authors; for that little company he had, was only at Prayers and Meat; the time of the one being taken up in De­votion, the other in Eating, or rather Fasting; for their Prayers were so long, and their Commons so short, that it seemed rather an Humiliation and Fasting, than an Eating and a Thanksgiving. But their Conversation was yet a greater Penance then their spare Diet; for their Disputations (which are fed by Contradictions) did more wrack the Brain, than the other did gripe the Belly; the one with filling the Head with vain Opinions, and false Ima­ginations, for want of the light of Truth; as the other with Wind and Crude Humours, for want of sufficient nourishment.

Upon which Considerations, he left the Univer­sity, and fitted himself to travel into Forreign Countreys, to see their Varieties and Curiosities, and to learn the Customs and Laws thereof, going into all places and Companies of note and recourse: But when he had travelled some few years, he be­gan to sum up his Journeys, that he might know what advantagious Experiences he had gained by his Observations. Whereupon he recounted the several Forms and Fashions in Architecture, both [Page 517] in Churches and Palaces, Cities, Towns, and Vil­lages; their Longitudes and Latitudes, their Height and Thickness; their Forms, as Round, Square, Triangular, and the like; their Materials, as Stones, and what sorts of them, Wood, Brick, Tiles, Slat, or the like: what Pillars and Pillasters of all fashi­ons, Cuts, and Carvings; the Doors and Frontis­pieces, which are for grace and ornament, as Bell­views; or for Conveniency, to avoid the sharp Winds, shunning the Northern or Southern Points: And so for Windows; placing them obliquely from the Sun, to avoid the extremity of Heat. Then likewise Granishing; as Gilding, Fretting, and their Paint­ings, where the proportion of their Figures were made according to the distance of the Eyes. Then what Piles had been so built upon the least compass of Ground, that none was lost, but every foot employed, making no vacant corners, or useless pla­ces. Then their Situation and Accommodations for Water, and Fuel, and Healthsome Air. What Cities had Navigable Rivers, or conveniency of Ports and Havens for Traffick and Commerce. What Fortifications or Forts for its defence.

After he had recounted this to himself, and what those Sights had advantaged him; If I were able, said he, I would pick out all the Curiosities of these several Buildings, by imitation, and create me a Pa­lace. But, upon reflecting-thoughts, he said, Build­ing [Page 518] was very chargeable; for the very building of a mean House, will wasten an indifferent good E­state: so that I may build a House after mine own Humour, but I shall be so poor, as not be able to live in it when it is finished. No, said he, I will live in those House my Ancestors left me, who built by degrees, according as they were able, every Ge­neration adding something; and leave Great, Curi­ous, and Rare Buildings, to great Princes and Mo­narches, who build with their Subjects Puises; or to the Clergy, who build with Charity, raising great Colledges and Churches out of weak Consciences; or to unjust Magistrates, who create Palaces from Brides. Then what good hath these Observations done me, said he, unless I meanto to be a Surveyor? and then I would not study any other thing, be­cause then I would make it my Living, and so learn the curiosity of it for my Trade. But, since I can­not build for my Humour, Fancy, nor Fame; I will not trouble my self for the pleasure of others.

He recounted also to himself the several Courts of Judicature he had seen, and how Causes were determind; where he observed, That Riches and Power decides all Causes; and those that have neither, lose their Suits.

Afterward he considered what places of Socie­ties he had frequented, and what he had gained by conversations at Ordinaries, where all Strangers [Page 519] and Travellers meet; and that their Discourses were most commonly of News, many times false, being of what Designs one Prince hath against ano­ther; and of their Peace and Agreements, their Warrs, their Victories, and Overthrows; the Dis­advantages and Advantages of their Polities, Go­vernments, and Tyrannies; their Favourites, their Luxuries, and Vanities; but seldom in praise of their Wisdom or Justice. And what Advantages, said he, do I gain by this? Their Losses hurt not me; I gain nothing by their Victory: their Luxury draws nothing out of my Purse; nor doth their Clemency nor their Bounty extend so far as my Miseries or Necessities: GOD send me Health, said he, and Fortune give me good Luck, and let Forreign Kingdoms do what they will; for I can­not settle them when they are in disorder; Muti­nous Factions will not hear me; nor will Tyrant Princes take my Counsel: why should I then fill my Head with their Actions, or busie my Thoughts with their Quarrels or Agreements? Besides, the Reports are most commonly, or at least half of them, Lyes.

Then he took notice of his Recreations and Pastimes, as Playing at Cards and Dice, Mistresses, and the like: By this, said he, I do not only lose and waste time, idly sitting still, and only exerci­sing my self in shuffling and throwing; but I lose [Page 520] my Money: for, if I win once, I lose twice; and the Box eats up all the Gains: which doth so tor­ment my Mind, that it is never at rest: for, when I have won, I long to be at play again, to win more, with the hopes that I shall grow rich with it, and so fill my Head with such vain imaginations, build such Castles in the Air, do such Wonders with my imaginary Wealth, as Caesar and Alexander never did the like: and if I lose, I am never quiet until I am at play again, out of hopes to get what I have lost; and am as sullen all the while, as a Hare that is got in restraint; my Countenance so dejected and sad, as if I had newly buried my Father; and my Humour so cross, that I contradict all Discourse, let it be never so Rational; and am so cholerick, that I am ready to beat all I meet. Thus I disturb my Sleep, torment my Thoughts, vex my Mind, im­pair my Health in sitting up late, and all to no pur­pose.

If not at Play, then I go to a Bawdy-House, and there for a short Pleasure I get a lasting Dis­ease: for the Pox is seldom got out of the Bones; and when it is cured at the best, it leaves Pains and Aches to their dying-day.

Well, said he, by these courses I find I am ab­solutely a loser; and therefore I leave them to Whores, Bawds, Cheats, and Pick-pockets.

And as for those Exercises and Qualities (said [Page 521] he) which we call Virtuous, I could never get them by travelling about to see Sights and Rarities, as they are accounted: so that Vaulting, Riding, Fencing, which should maintain Honour, and de­fend my Life, is lost in the search of Novelties, which whirls a Man about as Dust in a Whirl­wind; and his Thoughts are so scattered about; that his Reason and Consideration can settle in no judicious place.

Well, said he, I will turn Courtier, and see what Preferment I can get at Court. Whereupon he made himself fine Clothes, taking many Pages, Lacqueys, and Grooms, giving Fantastical Live­ries: and thus being accoutred for a great Prince his Court, he addressed himself there to ushering the Ladies, kissing their hands, admiring their Beauties, cringing and congying, creeping and crouching to the Favourites; waiting and attending in the Privy-Chamber for the Presence of the King and Queen; and if he could at any time get a word from the King or Queen (although it were but to call such a one, or to speak to have a back-door ready opened to go into the Garden, or to take Coach privately), he thought himself raised from a Mole-hill to a Mountain. But after he found his Money was spent, and no Preferment was like to come, he con­sidered with himself what Advantages he had got, or rather lost.

Here, said he, I waste my time in hopes of Pre­ferment, which comes by Favour, not by Merit; and, many times, those that deserve least, have the greatest Honours cast upon them. Here I spend my Estate to grace the Court, and my self to flatter Authority, to maintain Knavery; siding in Facti­ons, to rail against honest Men, to bely my Consci­ence; and to what purpose is this? for when I am a Bankrupt, I shall be despised and scorned, or be their Anvil to knock Jests upon.

No, said he, I will spend my Estate where I shall have something for my Money, and be flattered by them that shall live upon my Bounty or Vain­glory.

Besides, said he, this is an idle and cowardly life; I will go to the Warrs, and there get me Honour and Reputation. So he fitted himself with Arms, Horses, Tents, Wagons, and the like; and after he had been received by the General very kindly, and with great Civility, he marched with the rest of the Cavalry; and having past two Summers in March­ing, Besiedging, Fighting, Wintering, Quartering, and Purloining, he began to consider the course of life he lived in.

Here, said he, I adventure my Life, running through great Dangers, endure great Miseries by Colds and Heats, and extream Hunger and Thirst, breaking my natural Rest, lying upon the cold and [Page 523] hard Ground, killing those that never did me harm, and offering my self to be killed by those that never did me good; and this I do to get an honourable Fame; whenas, ten thousand to one, I am cast into the Grave of Oblivion, amongst the common Sol­diers: for alas, Fame hath not many Puny-Clarks to record every several Action done by every par­ticular person in a great and numerous Army.

Besides, all the Honour of a Victory redounds to the General, and the Losses reflect upon the Common-Soldier and Under-Commanders; be­sides, Fortune gives the Triumph, and not Merit.

And what have I gained by all my Travels and Experience? Nay, what have I not lost? Have I not spent a great Sum of Money, endangered my Life both by Sea and Land, wasted my Youth, wearied my Limbs, exhausted my Spirits with te­dious Journeys, my Senses almost choaked with Dust, or drowned with Wet, lying in Lowsie Inns, eating stinking Meat; and suffered all the Inconve­niences that go along with Travellers; and when they return to their own Countrey, they are no wiser than when they went out; but oft-times be­come more compleat and absolute Fools, bringing vain Fashions, fantastical Garbs, lying Reports, In­fectious Diseases, rotten Bodies, Atheistical Opinions, feared Consciences, and spotted Souls.

Well, said he, I will now return to my Native [Page 524] Soil, leaving the flattering and dissembling Courts, the deboist Cities, the Cruel Warrs, and never take up Arms more, but when my King and Country calls me to it; nor will I travel more, but when my King and Countrey sends me forth. But I will lead a Countrey-life, study Husbandry, follow my Plows, sell my Cattel and Corn, my Butter and Cheese, at Markets and Fayres, kiss the Coun­trey Wenches, and carry my Neighbour's Wife to a Tavern when Market is done; live thriftily, and grow rich.

Then taking his leave of the General, he return­ed to his own Countrey, where after he had visited his Friends, who were joyed to see him, and did welcome him home; he put himself into one of his Farm-houses, stocking his Grounds, taking Men-ser­vants and Maid-servants to follow his Business; and he himself (clothed in a Frieze Jerkin, and a pair of Frieze Breeches, a Frieze pair of Mittins, and a Frieze Mountier-Cap, to keep out sharp-cold in Winter-mornings, when the Breath freezes between the Teeth) would over-see and direct; and was in­dustrious to call up his Servants before day-light, and the last a-bed when their VVork was done; for in the Summer-time he would be up with the Lark, to mow down his Hay, to reap down his Harvest, and to see his Carts loaded, riding from Cart to Cart; and at Noon would sit down on his Sheafs of [Page 525] Corn or Hay-cocks, eating Bread and Cheese, and young Onions, with his Regiment of Work-men, tossing the black-Leather Bottle, drinking the Healths of the Countrey-Lasses and Good-wives that dwelt thereabout; and after his Harvest was brought into his Barns, and his Sheep-shearing-time done, make merry (as the custom of the Countrey was) with good Cheer, although Countrey-fare; with Goose-Pyes, Pudding-Pyes, Furmity, Custards, Apples, and March-Beer; dancing to the Horn-Pipe with the lusty Lasses, and merry Good-wives, who were drest in all their Bravery, in their Stammel Petti­coats, and their gray Cloath-Wastcoats, or white wrought Wastcoats, with black Woolstead, and green Aprons; and the Men with Cloath Breeches, and Leather Doublets with Pewter Buttons.

These and the like Recreations the Countrey­people hath mix'd with their hard Labours: When their Stomacks were full, and their Legs weary with dancing, or rather with running and leaping (for their Dances have no nice and difficult Measures to tread), they disperse every one to their several Hou­ses, which are thatch'd, and only Holes cut for Win­dows; unless it be the rich Farmers, and they most commonly have a chief Room, which is glazed; yet the poorer sort are seldom without Bacon, Cheese, and Butter, to entertain a Friend at any time.

Then giving thanks to the Gentleman for their [Page 526] good Cheer, and he shaking them every one by the hand, they took their leaves; and the next day every one followed their own Labours, as they used to do; nor did the Gentleman omit any pains, care, and in­dustry in his Affairs, but plyed the Markets, selling his Corn, Straw, Hay, Cattle, Cheese, Butter, Ho­ney, &c.

And after he had followed this way of Husban­dry two or three years, casting up his Accounts, he found that he was rather behind than before-hand in his Estate, and that his Husbandry did not amount so high as the Rents he had from his Te­nants, when he did let them.

Alas, said he, Have I taken all this pains, rising early, following my business hard all day, making my self a Slave to the Muck of the Earth, to be­come poorer than I was! It's hard, when those that take my Lands, pay me great Rents, and not only live themselves and their Families thereon, but grow rich into the bargain; and I cannot make so much as my Rent, when I take as much pains, and am as industrious as they are. Then being in a cholerick Humour (as they are most commonly that thrive not), and vexing at the Servants round his House for their carelesness and idleness, in a melancholy humour he would walk out into his Fields; and go­ing once by a Neighbour's Cottage, where only lived an old Man, and his old Wife; he saw her [Page 527] standing at the door, fanning some Corn in a little Basket:

By your leave, Good-wife, said he; You are fan­ning your Gleanings?

God bless you, my good Master, said she, and all that belongs to you: Truly, said she, I am sifting a little Corn from the Husks, to boil for my good Man's Supper and mine, who will come home weary and hungry from his day's labour: We are old, Master, said she, and Labour goeth hard with us now; but in our younger days it was like a Recrea­tion, when our Bodies were young and strong, and our Spirits lively: but now, our Bodies being weak, and our Spirits faint, it is a toil and an affliction to us: but we must work whilst we live, for we have nothing but our Labours to feed us, and clothe us, God help us, said she.

Well, said he, I will be charitable, and see if that will make me thrive; and told her, he would allow her a Weekly-stipend.

Why, the blessing of God (said she) rain down plentifully on your Life, and Eternal Joys in Hea­ven, after you are dead.

But I wonder, said he, you could not get so much by your Labour in your younger days, to serve to maintain you when you were old.

O Master, said she, some have too little to thrive on, and some have too much; but those that have [Page 528] nothing but from hand to mouth, can never lay up, because they eat up what they get; and there can be no store without some savings: They that have more than they can manage themselves, are destroyed by those that help them; for many mouths eat them up, and many hands work them out: besides, they are ever cozened and cheated in every Office; their Reapers steal sheaves of Corn; for whilst the Ma­sters watch one end of the Field, there are sheaves flung over the Hedg at the other end; and their Sons, Daughters, Servants, Friends, or Partners, that help to share, convey it away; and if they miss it in the Field, they will have it when it goeth home in the Cart; for whilst the Master goeth home with one Cart, the other that goeth before, or com­eth behind, is purloined: when he is in the Barn, they rob him in the Field; when he is in the Field, they rob him in the Barn: besides, their Threshers carry home Corn in their Bottles and Bags, or hide it in some out-corner until they go home. They are cozened in their Garners: for though they do keep the Keys themselves, yet when it is fann'd, sifted, and turned, they must watch as a Cat doth a Mouse, or else they will lose it; and if they grind their Corn, the Miller steals his share, and when they go to sow the seed in the ploughed up ground, if the Master doth not follow the Plough and Har­row, and watch the hand that flings in the Corn, [Page 529] they will throw handfuls in heaps, to gather it up when he is gone home; and for their Kine and Sheep, their Maids will sell their Milk in the Fields; and when their Masters and Mistresses are gone to Bed, although they saw them go before, they will rise in the middle of the night when they are asleep, and skim their Bowls of the first Cream. In their Meadows and Pastures, the Neighbours will put their Cattel to feed on their Grass in the night, and take them out before the day. Besides, the Servants they send to Markets, will drink out the gains, and then complain to their Masters, that Provisions came so thick, and Buyers so few, that they were forced to sell at under-rates; and, that Plenty destroyed the Market; so that Robbin and Dick, Jone and Gill, make merry with what their Master loses: and so the like in all other Commodities. The Shepherd steals the Twin-Lambs; the Swineherd the tenth Pig; the Net-herd will mix strange Steers in amongst his Master's to grass, knowing his Master cannot have so much time as to count his own every day: and when the Barns, and the Ploughs, and the Carts want mending, and repairing, his Baylie cuts down two Trees, or more, when less than one will serve the turn; and the Carpenter makes more and greater Chips than he needs to do; or carries pieces of Wood home amongst his Tools: likewise, his Carters steal his Oats, and makes his Horses fast, [Page 530] and flings down more Trusses of Hay from the Lost, than they need to use: the Butchers steal the Tallow out of the Oxe's, the Sheep's, and Swine's Belly, whilst they rip them up, unless they be watch'd: Wherefore he that Husbands much, had need have Argus Eyes, to watch in every corner, and to spy into every action; and Briareus hands, to help at every turn; and more than one pair of Legs, to walk into every place, or else he shall ne­ver thrive.

But he that hath no more Ground than he can ride about every day, nor more Servants than what his two Eyes can observe, nor more Labourers than what he can diligently follow, nor more Cattel than what he can easily count, nor more Mouths than Business; this Man shall thrive so, as to be able to pay his Landlord's Rent, to maintaintain his Family, and have Money in his Purse to lay out upon a good Bargain, when many a good Wor­shipful Gentleman is fain to borrow, and find more wants in his Abundance, than the other in his hi­red Farm; and those are the happiest Masters (said she) that have not many nor high desires, and can be content with a little, and whose Wants are not above their Means.

The Gentleman said, I have travelled far, and have seen and heard much; yet I have learnt more experience from you, than I have done in all my [Page 531] tedious and expensive Travels: wherefore (said he) I find we go far about to seek for that which is at home; and for your Learned Discourse (said he) here is a Crown to make your Husband welcome when he comes home.

Heaven send you a good Wife, said she; and may you live together as old as Methuselah, and as loving as Isaac and Rebecca.

So home he went, and by the way he considered what the old Woman had told him. I find, said he, her words true; for I have taken more Business upon me than I can manage: wherefore I will sell off my Stock, and lett my Lands again, only keep so much as shall serve me for Provision for my pri­vate Expence; and I will get me a Wife, who shall not be so handsome as to be proud of her Beauty, seeking ways to shew it to the World; and whilst she strives to shew her self, out of a desire to have all Eyes gaze at her, and to incaptivate all Hearts, she may chance to be catch'd in Love's Net her self with some flattering Youth, or ignorant Cox­comb, who are only crafty to lay Lime-twigs to catch simple Women.

Neither will I have one with a great Portion, for she will so presume upon what she brought, and be so extravagant in her Expences and Vanities, (which are like Hydra's heads, where if one be struck off, two will rise in the room) and will not [Page 532] be contented to spend her own, but my Estate also.

Nor will I have one that is poor, for then her beggarly Kinred will lye upon my Estate like so many Caterpillars, and never leave until they have destroyed the Fruit, Tree, and all.

But I will have one that is Right Worshipful, born Honorably, bred Chast, and of a good Re­putation, has a competent Portion, is young, and indifferently handsom; and one that is cleanly, thrifty, and patient, with a sober behaviour, and a modest Countenance, has so much wit as to un­derstand my Discourse, and so much Discourse as to answer pertinently to my Questions, is with­out self-conceit, and of so much ingenuity as to learn the rules of my will; then I will live to my self, seeking all moderate Delights for my Senses, and not be as a Property to serve others, cram­ming a Company of idle People, as they do Ca­pons, with the fat of my Estate, and I their Host to provide their Meat and Drink, and their Servant to place their Dishes before them, and their Drudg to make my House clean after they are gone; and have nothing for my labour but their Satyrical Re­ports, saying I am vain-glorious and prodigal: and when my kind heart and courteous civility hath made me Bankrupt, they will laugh at my Person, condemn my Actions, scorn my Poverty, shun my [Page 533] Miseries, and will blot me out of their remembrance: for Ingratitude, or any other Vice or Wickedness, seldom hath, and hates returning-thoughts. Nei­ther will I spend my time in deciding my Neigh­bours foolish Quarrels; for Time is precious, being short, though it measures the full life of Man; and I shall have in recompence, only the honourable Name of Justice of Peace in Quorum, which is no­thing but a sound, and no real and substantial thing; neither would I have the trouble for all the Poultry in the Countrey: wherefore, I will have nothing to do in Court, City, or Countrey; but obey the Laws, though not to execute them as a subordinate Magistrate; I will submit to Autho­rity, but not sit in Authority.

At last, with these Contemplations and Discour­ses to himself, he arrived to his own House: so af­ter Supper, with musing thoughts, he went to Bed.

The next day he sent to an intimate Friend to come to dine with him; and after dinner he told him his intent of discharging himself of the trou­ble and loss of Husbandry: withall, he told him a design he had to marry, and desired him to seek him out a good Wife; relating what manner of Woman he would have her to be.

His Friend said, I will do my best to search out such a one as may sympathize with your Humour. But I do wonder, said he, you should think of Mar­riage [Page 534] now; for you should have wedded a Wife when you were in the prime and strength of your Age, about the years of four or five and twenty, and not stay until you are eight or nine and forty, when weakness and sickness is ready to seize on you.

He answered and said, That young Men, wanting the Experience of time, chose by Fancy, and not with judgment: besides, they knew not how to prize Chastity, nor honour the Virtues of their Wives, having no experience of the Falshood and Inconstancy which dwells in that Sex, or rather that was created with Women, as being the Es­sence of their Natural Dispositions; so that Cha­stity is to be accounted as supernatural; and if my Wife had been inclined to Honesty, yet the Vani­ties and Debaucheries of my Fantastical Youth, might have misled her Youth, and have corrupted her pure Mind, and innocent Life, by my ill Ex­ample.

Besides, If I had married whilst I was young, it is likely I should have been weary of my Wife before she had been old; and my Children might have been weary of me before I had been old: but now I am old enough to govern a young Wife by my sober Example, and my solid Instructions, and gentle Perswasions; and to prize her Chastity so, as to trust her without a jealous Spye, and to honour [Page 535] her Virtue, to love her Person, to maintain her Honour, to provide for her and her Family, to chuse her Delights, and to direct her Life: Thus I may be happy in my Age, by not marrying when I was young.

Well, said his Friend, I will travel all the Coun­trey over to chuse you a fit Wife.

Pray, said he, let me give you some certain Rules along with you.

First, I would not have her a meer Countrey-Gentlewoman; for she seldom seeing any other Men but her Father's Steward, Butler, or Carters, with their Frieze Jerkins, and Leather Breeches; if she should come to see a flanting young Gallant be­daub'd with Gold and Silver Lace (or say it were Copper) she will be so ravish'd in admiration, that she will yeeld upon the meanest condition he can make; nay, a Gentleman-Usher, with a pair of Silk Stockins, will beset her hard. Wherefore, let me have one that dwells in the Countrey, that hath seen the City, that hath seen the Court, Plays, and Masques; but not so well acquainted with them, as to know their enticing-Vanities, or tempting-Vices.

Then, I would have her such a one, whose Pa­rents have bred her rather to a Superfluity, than in pinching-Necessity; for Necessity teaches Youth to dissemble and shark; and when they come to com­mand [Page 536] Plenty, they have no stay of their Prodiga­lity and Luxury; but just like those that are al­most starved for want of Meat and Drink, throw so much into the Stomach, that many times it causeth a sudden death, or else a dangerous sickness. But those whose breedings have known no want, have no mean nor base desires; for plenty opens the door to generosity, and raises the mind to high and no­ble speculations, which produceth honourable acti­ons, despiseth unnecessary vanities, loves magnani­mity, and hates crouching flattery, or base dissem­bling actions, which Plenty seldom knows, having no use thereof.

Another thing, you must observe her humour, and have a care she be not of a peevish disposition, for they are pleased at no time, but fall out with every thing, even with themselves; and not only make their own unhappiness, but of all those that live near them; they will cross all discourse, be it never so rational; oppose all actions, be they never so just; delight in no place to live in, be it ne­ver so convenient; but all their Life is made up with crosses, and their mind is insnared with unne­cessary troubles.

Truly, said his Friend, your Rules by which I am to measure a Wife, are so strait, as all my in­dustry will never fit you.

So his Friend left him to court his Contempla­tions, whilst he went to search for a Fruition. Af­ter a short time, he sent him word in a Letter, thus:

SIR,

I Have found a young Lady, who has the Reputation of being Virtuous; born from an Ancient Stock, and Honoured Race; carefully bred, and well quali­fied; her Portion is small, her Friends are not poor; she has enough Beauty to delight a temperate Mind; she seems to be of a cheerful Disposition, and makes me be­lieve she can love an Ancient Man, if (says she) his Merit equals his years: but (said she) I will be wooed before I am wed. Wherefore, if you will marry, you must visit the Lady; and as you do both like, you may agree: Howsoever, I durst not strike up the Bargain before you see her, for fear you should dislike my Mar­ket, being the first Commodity of this kind, and of this nature, I ever cheapned. So good Fortune direct you.

After he had received this Letter, he put him­self into a Wooing-Equipage; and so compleat he was in Apparel and Attendants, that the same Eyes that had seen him when he followed his Hus­bandry, and should view him now, would forswear they had ever seen him before. Such alterations [Page 538] fine Clothes and many Followers make.

The young Lady, who expects his company, makes her self fine to entertain him; the whilst her Friends trim up the House, direct their Servants how to wait, and provide good Cheer to bid him welcome.

At last a Servant comes running in, to give no­tice the Noble Gentleman was come; which as soon as the young Lady heard, the report gave her the Palpitation of the Heart, which caused a trem­bling over the whole Body, and fear and bashful­ness made her Colour to rise and fall: but hem­ming up those Spirits that Fear had depress'd, set­ling her Countenance to the best advantage for her Face, she stood with as much resolution as her weak Confidence would give her leave, to receive his Addresses; whom he no sooner saw, but loved; liking her by report, before he came. After he had saluted her, he thus spake:

Lady, I come not to woo you as a wanton Lover; for neither my Years, nor your Modesty, will allow it: nei­ther do I come a Suiter to your Beauty, but your Vir­tue; and I wish I were such a one as might merit your Affection: but since I cannot promise you to be such as I wish to be; you will do a meritorious Action, to take me out of Charity, since I love you devoutly.

[Page 539]

Sir, answered she, I wish I were worth a valua­ble Affection, such as I prize yours to be: I am not yet acquainted with your Merit by Experience, but by Report: and though the Ears are the Doors that let in the truest Affections, yet I will not bar my Eyes, but they shall stand as open, as free, though not the only pas­sage to my Heart. And I wish Reason may rule the Ob­jects of my Affections, that are gathered together: for it is not safe to love a Man for one good Quality; but as many several Causes produce but one Effect; so, many several good Qualities, produce one entire Affection.

When they had discoursed themselves (after this manner) out of breath, the Gentleman was direct­ed to his Chamber, where he laid by his Riding-Cloak, shifted his Boots, brush'd his Hat, comb'd his Hair, and set himself in order, waited on by an old Servant, who was busie about him, and one that had been with him in all his Travels, and was his Favourite.

What think you, Jack, (said he) of a young Mistress to your old Master?

In troth, answered he, I think my Master thinks well of a young Mistress.

The Master saith, The young Lady hath a mo­dest Countenance, which is a sign she wil make a good Wife.

So is a Bush, said the Man, hung out of a Ta­vern, a Sign of good Wine, but it often deceives the Customers. But in troth, said he, I am like one that's dry, with seeing another drink thirstily; for I have a mind to a Wife, now I perceive your Worship resolves to marry.

Why, Jack, (said he) you may woo the Cham­ber-Maid.

He answered: But, Sir, the question is, Whether the Chamber-Maid is as discreet as her Mistress, to marry a Man in years; for I am as old as your Worship: besides, if she be not young, I shall not like her; for I would imitate your Worship in eve­ry thing: but the best of it is, if she be old, she will not like me; for an old Woman desires to marry a young Man; and when their Teeth are fallen out of their Head with Age, yet they will snicker upon a Beardless Boy.

Thus, whilst the Master was trimming himself up, his Man and he discoursed.

In the mean while, the young Lady was gone in­to her Chamber; and called her Maid to bring her the Glass, and to view if the Curls of her Hair were in order.

O Lord, said she, Joan, how red my Face is! I seem as if I were drunk, my Cheeks burn like fire; you told me the other day, I was in the Green-sickness; you cannot think so now.

She answered, By my troth, Mistress, the Gen­tleman's Discourse hath painted your Cheeks; pray Mistress, saith she, doth he talk finely?

He talks rationally, answered her Mistress?

Is he a handsome Man, said she?

The Mistress said, He has a Manly Garb, and a Wise Countenance, and then he cannot be ill-fa­voured.

I pray Mistress, said she, how doth he seem to like you?

Truly, Joan, said she, I cannot tell; he did not frown; he seemed well pleased: yet I believe I be­haved my self simply, for I was extreamly out of countenance; and shame-fac'dness restrains the Words, and disorders the Behaviour, and many times makes one fall into such ridiculous Errors, that it is hard to get out of them.

O Mistress, said she, Youth can commit no Er­rors to be condemned, for all their follies are cast on their few years, and their simplicity are Graces in the eyes of their Lovers.

In the time while they were discoursing, her Ser­vant had found out the way to her Chamber; whom when she saw him, she flung away her Glass.

He told her, she did ill to lay aside that which did present her the best Object, her self.

She answered, His Civility might prove Bribes to Self-conceit, and perswade her Eyes to be Im­partial [Page 542] Judges: but, said she, if I can make my Mind fair, I care not how my Face appears.

But, after a short time, growing more acquainted, they left their Complemental Wooing, and dis­cours'd more seriously concerning the course of life they did intend to settle in.

He said, I have heard by the Writing of Wise Solomon, That the only happiness in this life, is, to eat, and drink, and sleep in peace; and that all things else are wearisomness and vexation of spirit: and truly, said he, that little Experience I have, though I have travelled a great way, and into many places, proves if so to me: but, finding a good Wife must be ad­ded to compleat the happiness, I resolved to marry: but the danger is, if the Wife proves not according to the Man's desire, then his life is closed up in Mi­sery; yet I cannot believe my Fate so ill, since I saw you.

She said, I can only say this for my self, I shall be a very honest Woman: but for all other good qualities, which are the Ingredients to make up a good Wife, I cannot promise; but what Errors my ignorant simplicity may be apt to commit, it may be rectified by your wise Admonitions.

Then he told her, The quicker they did dispatch their Marriage, the sooner they should be happy; but, said he, I find your Friends desire a publick VVedding, great store of Company, Musick, and good Cheer.

I must confess, Company and Musick fits the Years of Youth; but they are not seemly Com­panions for the Gravity of Age: and to see a Man in years dance, is as if his Head and his Heels were mis-match'd, the one is too light for the other; and it is seldom known, that a wise Brain is propt with Dancing-Legs; and if I put my self where such Pastimes are exercised, I must run the hazzard of be­ing rude, in denying those that offer to take me out; or render my self ridiculous, which I would not willingly do, especially before you.

Besides, it is more Comely, Noble, and Majesti­cal, for Youth to follow the strict and severe Rules of Age, than for Age to follow the leight Mea­sures, Fantastical Garbs, and vain Rules of Youth.

Sir, said she, As I chuse Age for the best to lead my life withall, so I shall chuse Aged Counsel­lors to direct all my Actions; and though I am young, I do not approve of the ways of Youth; neither do I find any solid Mirth, or lasting Con­tentment, in their Recreations or Pastimes.

He said, You speak according to my own Soul, and I hope Nature did create us for one another, and Destiny will link our Affections so fast, that neither change of Time nor Fortune can alter them; and that our Loves will live in the Grave, when our Bodies be dead.

So in two or three days all Contracts were con­firmed, [Page 544] and the Match was concluded with the ap­probation of all Friends of either side; married they were, and in a short time after he carried her to his House, there made her Mistress of his Estate; and whilst he governed his outward Affairs, she go­verned the Family at home, where they lived plen­tifully, pleasantly, and peaceably; not extravagant­ly, vain-gloriously, and luxuriously; they lived neat and cleanly, they loved passionately, thrived mode­rately; and happily they lived, and piously dyed.

The She-Anchoret.

THERE was a Widower who had but one Child, and she a Daughter; which Daughter he bred with Pious Devotions, Moral Instructions, and Wise Advertisements; but he falling sick to death, called his Daugher unto him, and thus spake to her:

Farewell my dearest Child, for dye I must;
My Soul must flye, my Body turn to dust:
My only care is, that I leave thee young,
To wander in the World, Mankind among;
Few of them charitable are, or kind;
Nor bear they in their Breast a Noble Mind,
To help the Fatherless, or pity Youth,
Protect the Innocent, maintain the Truth:
But all their time's spent with laborious toil,
For to pervert, to ruin, and to spoil.
Flatter thy Beauty, and thy Youth betray,
To give thy Heart, and Virgin-flower away.
They will profess love, vow to be thy Friend,
Marriage will promise; yet they will pretend
Their Friends will angry be, or else they'l say,
Their Land's engag'd, they first their Debts must pay;
Or else that they during some time of life,
Have made a Vow, Not yet to take a Wife:
And twenty such Excuses they will find
For to deceive the simple Female-Kind.
And if you marry, Troubles you will find,
Pains, Griefs, and Cares, to vex a quiet Mind.
But here I charge you (lying in Death's Arms)
That you do stop your Ears against their Charms:
Live chast and holy, serve the Gods above,
They will protect thee for thy zealous Love.
Daughter.
I will obey whatever you command:
Although you dye, your will shall fixed stand.
Father.
Next, I do charge thee, Not to grieve nor mourn,
Since no redress will from the Grave return.
[Page 546]
Daughter.
O do not so, said she;
But give Grief leave to flow out of my Eyes;
For if it be supprest, the Body dyes:
Whilst now you live, great wrong y'uld think you have,
If I should sit and laugh upon your Grave;
Or with neglect should I your Grave pass by,
And ne're take notice where your Ashes lye.
Father.
You cannot hinder Destiny's Decree.
Daughter.
O no! but Nature, Nature still will be:
Nature created Love within the Mind;
The Object dead, the Passion still is kind.
Had I as many Lives as Nature make,
I'de lay them on Death's Altar for your sake.
That single one I have, O Heavens me hear!
Exchange it for my Father's Life so dear:
But when her Father found that Death drew on,
He bid her lay her Hand his Eyes upon.
Father.
Close up my Eyes, said he, and then receive
Upon thy Lips my last Breath, let me breathe.
When he was dead, sh' amaz'd, long time sate still;
At last bethought her of her Father's Will:
Then up she rose, his Body did entomb;
And how she spent her Life, rehearse I'le soon.

The Description of her Life in Prose.

AFTER she had interred her Father's Corps, although she had rich, honourable, and im­portunate Suiters; yet she resolved to live like a kind of an Anchoret's Life, living encloistered by her self alone, vowing Chastity, and a Single-life; but gave leave for any to speak to her through a Grate. When she went first into her solitary Habi­tation, she thus spake:

Virtues are several Pathes which lead to Heaven;
And they which tread these Pathes, have Graces given:
Repentant tears allay the Dust of Pride;
And pious Sighs doth blow vain Thoughts aside:
Sorrow and Grief, which in the Heart doth lye,
Doth cloud the Mind, as Thunder doth the Skie:
But when in Thundring-groans it breaketh out,
The Mind grows clear, the Sun of Joy peeps out.
This pious Life I now resolve to lead,
Will in my Soul both Joy and Comfort breed.

She had not been long enclosed, but she grew as famous as Diogenes in his Tub; all sorts of people resorted to her, to hear her speak; and not only to [Page 548] hear her speak, but to get knowledg, and to learn wisdom: for she argued rationally, instructed judi­ciously, admonished prudently, and perswaded pi­ously; applying and directing her Discourse accor­ding to the several Studies, Professions, Grandeurs, Ages, and Humours of her Auditory.

The first that came to her, were Natural Philoso­phers; who asked her Opinion of Man's Soul: of which she discoursed in this manner:

She said, Man hath three different Natures or Faculties; A Sensitive Body, Animal Spirits, and a Soul: This Soul is a kind of Deity in it self, to di­rect and guide those things that are far above it, and to create by Invention; and though it hath not an absolute Power over it self, yet it is an harmonious and absolute thing in it self: and though the Sen­sitive Body hath a relation to it, yet no other ways than Jove's Mansion hath unto Jove; for the Body is only the residing-place, and the Animal Spirits are as the Angels of the Soul, which are Messen­gers and Intelligencers: All Animal Creatures have not this Soul, but only Man; for Beasts have none; nor every Man: for most Men are Beasts, and have only a Sensitive Body, and Animal Spirits, as Beasts have: but none know when this Soul is out or in the Body, but the Gods: and not only other Bodies [Page 549] and Spirits cannot know; but the Body where it resides, and the attending-spirits, are ignorant thereof: for this Soul is as invisible to the Body and the Ani­mal Spirits, as the Gods to Men; for, though this kind of Soul knows, and hath intelligence by the Senses, and by the Animal Spirits; yet the Senses nor Animal Spirits have none from the Soul: for, as Gods know Men, but Men know not Gods; so this Soul knows the Senses and Animal Spirits, but the Senses nor Animal Spirits know not this Soul.

Then they asked her, Whether Souls were Immortal?

She answered, That only the Life was Immor­tal, from whence all Souls are derived.

Then they asked her, What Deities she thought there were?

She answered, She thought but one, which was the Father of all Creatures, and Nature the Mo­ther; he being the Life, and Nature the only Mat­ter; which Life and Matter produceth Motion; and Figure, various Successions, Creations, and Dissolutions.

Then they asked her, What she thought Time was?

She said, Time was only the Variation and Al­teration of Nature; for Time is only in respect to Creations, Alterations, and Dissolutions.

Then they asked her, What Eternal was?

She answered, An endless Succession.

Then they asked her, What Infinite was?

She said, A Numberless Succession: but, said she, Eternal is in respect to Infinite, as Infinite to E­ternal.

Then they asked her, Whether she thought there were fixt Decrees, or all were governed by Chance?

She answered, That doubtless there were fixt Decrees, as Light, Darkness, Growth, Decay; as Youth, Age, Pain, Pleasure, Life, Death, and so in every thing else, for ought my Reason can per­ceive. For, said she, as Nature creates by Dissolu­tion, and dissolves by Creation; so the Diattical Life (says she) decrees Rules, and ruleth by De­crees.

Then they asked her, What was Chance and Fortune?

Chances (said she) are visible Effects from hid­den Causes; and Fortune, a conjunction of many sufficient Causes to produce such an Effect; since that Effect could not be produced, did there want any one of those Causes, by reason all of them to­gether were but sufficient to produce; but that one Effect, many times, produces many Effects upon several Subjects; and that one Effect, like the Sun, streams out into several rays, darting upon several [Page 551] Subjects: and again, as the Sun scorches and burns some things, and warms and comforts others; so this Effect advances some, and casts down others; cures some, and kills others; and when the Causes vary, and the Effects alter, it is called Change of For­tune.

Then they asked her, Whether she thought Faith could naturally produce any Effect?

She answered, That in her opinion it might: for, said she, why may not Faith, which is an un­doubted Belief, joined to such a subject, produce or beget an Effect, as well as a Seed sown or set in the Earth, produceth a Flower, a Tree, or the like; or as one Creature begets another; especially if the Faith, and Subject whereon it is placed, have a sympathy; but by reason (said she) Faith is not so customary a way of producing, as other ways are, it causeth many Doubts, which Doubts are like cold Northern Winds, or sharp biting Frosts, which nip and kill the Buds of Faith, which seldom or never lets the Effects come to perfection.

Then they asked, VVhat the Sun was?

She answered, A Body of Fire.

Then they askedher, VVhat Light was?

She answered, Light was enflamed Air.

They said, That if Light was enflamed Air, it would burn all things, and so consume the World.

She answered, That in thin Bodies Fire had but little power to burn; for the thinness of the Mat­ter weakens the power of the Strength, which cau­seth Flame (said she) to be of no great Heat: for, the hot Flames do rather sindg than burn; and the thinner the substance is that is set on fire, the pu­rer the Flame is; and the purer the Flame is, the less Heat it gives; as the Flame of Aqua-vitae, that may be eaten with Sops.

Then they asked her, What Air was?

She answered, That Air was the Smoak produ­ced from Heat and Moisture: For Air, said she, is a thin Oyl, which is set on fire by the fiery Sun; or is like a fiery Substance, and fiery Motions, whose Flame is light.

Then they asked her what Darkness was?

She answered, Darkness was the absence of Light.

And then they asked, why it was dark imme­diately, when the passage of Light was stopped, and that if it were inflamed Air, it would burn and give Light, as long as that inflamed Air lasted.

She answered, that when the fiery Rays that issued from the Sun were cut off, the flame went out; for said she, it is not the Air, that feeds the Flame, but the fire that is in the Flame, and when that Fire is spent or taken away, the Flame dyes; this is the reason, said she, that as soon as the [Page 553] Rays of the Fire is cut off, or shut out, or taken away, it is dark; and when they are eclipsed, the Light is dull and dim: but, as I said before, Light is only Air, set on flame by the fiery Sun; and the Blewest Sky, is the thinnest Flame, being the purest Air; and just as if we should carry a Candle away, we carry the light also, which is the Flame; so doth the Sun: and as we bring a Candle, or the like, into a Room, we bring in the light; so doth the Sun: Where the Fire is, there is the greatest light; and when a Screen is set before it, the light is eclipsed: and when kindled Fire (as a Candle, or the like) is carried quite from the place, it leaves as great a dark­ness as if it were put out: just so doth the Sun, (which is the World's Candle) when it goeth down, draweth away the light, which is the Flame; and as it riseth, it bringeth in the Fire, which causeth the Flame; and when it is high-Noon, then is the brightest light, as casting no shadows, if nought Eclipses it; and when Clouds get before it, it is E­clipsed, as with a Screen; and when it is quite re­moved to another part of the World, it doth as if it went into another Room or Chamber, leaving no light behind it: for twi-light is caused from the Rays of the Sun: for, though the Body of the Sun is gone from off such a part of the Earth, yet the Rays (which are the spreading-part of Fire) are not quite drawn away as soon as the Sun; for [Page 554] as those Rays usher the Sun-rising, so they follow the Sun-setting: and though these Rays of Fire (which are the Beams of the Sun) enflame the Air; yet not so bright as the Body of the Sun doth: and where the Sun is gone so far as the Beams can­not reach, that part of it becomes dark. It is not the gross Clouds (as some think) make twi-light; for we see a cloudy day makes the twi-light seem shor­ter, though it be not; and it is by reason they eclipse the enflamed Air; for Clouds are rather Va­pour than Air: and though Vapour and Air have some relation, the like hath Vapour and Water; and Vapour, when it is gathered into the Clouds, doth rather eclipse than prolong light.

They said, That if the Light was Flame, the Vapoury Clouds might quench it out.

She answered, That although Vapour could eclipse the Light, it could not put out the light of the Sun: 'tis true, said she, it may and doth often allay the fiery heat in the Rays; for some days will be cooler than other days, although the Sun be higher; and some will be cooler than others, al­though in the same degree of the Sun, by reason of low Marish Grounds, or near great Rivers, from whence Vapours arise. But though the Vapour may abate the heat in the Rays, as the enflamed Air, and eclipse the light either of Mists or Fogs, or when they are gathered into Clouds, yet they [Page 555] can neither put out the light, nor quench out the heat of the Sun, which is the Fountain of both, no more than a drop of Water can quench a House on fire. The Sun is a World of bright shining Fire, from which other Worlds receive both light and heat. 'Tis true, if there could be such a quan­tity of Water as could equal the Sun's power, it might quench the Sun, unless the Sun be an eternal Fire. But as for Vapour, were there a greater quan­tity than what arises from the Earth, it could not change the natural property of the Sun: besides, Vapour is of a middle nature, as betwixt Water and Air; for by the rarifaction it is not so gross nor so wet as Water; nor rarified so much as to be as thin and dry as Air.

Then they asked her, What she thought of those that were of the opinion, That under the Line it was uninhabitable, through an extream heat.

She said, She thought they were like those that were blind of one eye, which saw perfectly on the one side, but not on the other: for their Reason dis­covered there was a great Heat, but it did not dis­cover the refreshing-Winds and moistning-Dews which are constantly in that place; which Winds and Dews quench the fiery heat, which makes it temperate; for, Heat and Cold make an equal tem­per, when they are equal in degrees: and because there is twelve hours night, and twelve day; there is [Page 556] as much Cold as Heat; for the Dews and the Winds join'd with the Night, makes it temperate; but if it were not for the equal hours, and those Dews and Winds, it would be, as they thought it was, insufferably hot; but they wanted informati­on concerning the Dews and the Wind, and did not throughly consider when they miss'd the Night.

Then they asked her the reason of the light of Clow-worms Tails?

She answered, That it was probable the purest, thinnest, and oilest extracted parts of the Body, were in the Tail, which the radical Fire enflamed, which Flame was Light; and (said she) the Worm having no solid Bones, tough Sinews, firm Flesh, gross Blood, or thick Skin in that part, to obstruct or eclipse the light, it visibly shines in the Night when the Sun is gone, whose greatest light drowns all other lesser lights: and the reason it shines some times, and not others, may be some outward cause that eclipses it from our sight, as a little Cloud will do the Sun; whereas a much smaller Vapour, or the like cause, will serve to obscure the light of the Glow-worms Tail: and certainly, said she, if we could see through the Bodies of Animals, and likewise throught their Skull, as easily as the Glow­worms Tail, we should see (said she) a much brighter flame in the Heart and the Brain; which flame is [Page 557] the light of Knowledg; and the several Objects that the Senses bring in, are there visibly perceived; these Lights Sickness eclipses, and Death puts out.

Then they asked her, What the Moon was?

She answered, A Body of Water; and the several Changes (said she) is the ebbing and flow­ing thereof, which makes it fuller sometimes in one part of the Circle, than in the other; and when it is High-tide, we say it is Full Moon; and when it is Low-tide, it is in the Wane; and as it encreases, or decreases, we say it is in the First, Second, or Third Quarter.

Then they asked her, What made it give light?

She said, The Sun's Reflexion thereon: for you may observe (said she), that as the Water shines with the Reflexions or Beams of the Sun, so doth the Moon, as we say, with a Watrish light; and (said she) it is more or less light, as that side next to the Sun is swelled fuller, or ebbed lower.

Then they asked her of the rest of the Pla­nets?

She said, She believed that Venus Starr was a Body of Water, as the Moon was; but for the other Planets (said she) I take them to be Earthly Bodies; but not such as our Globe is, but much finer, and of as great a difference (said she) as be­tween [Page 558] Porceline and Clay; which makes them shine so bright, the substance being so pure, that it is as it were transparent.

Then they asked, What the fix'd Starrs were?

She answered, Suns.

Then they asked her, What was the reason that the Breath was hot and cold all at one time, as it were? for when a Man breathed upon his hand, it would feel hot; and when he blows upon it, it would feel cold.

She said, There was a reason for that: for, (said she) a Dilatation causeth heat, and a Contraction causeth cold; and (said she) if one breathes on the hand, they open the Mouth and Lips wide, by which the Breath dilatates like a steam, or a vapour, which is hot; and when one blows upon the hand, then the Mouth and Lips are drawn into a narrow com­pass, and that contracts the Breath into a cold wind. These several Motions make one and the same thing, from one and same manner or passages, to work two several effects; and surely those Winds that are coldest, from whence soever they issue out, their passage is narrow; and those Winds that feel warm, as many times Winds will do, their passage is wider, and are rather a breathing Vapour, than a perfect Wind. There is nothing shews that VVind is made cold by Contraction, so much as to blow upon the hand; which shews, that VVind is contracted Air.

Then they asked her, VVhat was the reason wind could blow out flame, and in a flame it could kindle, and put out fire?

She said, That wind did strive to dissipate all things it did encounter; and where it hath not so much power to dissipate, it only dilatates; and when fire is set to any combustible Matter, as wood, or the like; the wind having not a forcible power to dissipate it into dust or ashes, it beats the heat of the fire into it; and fire having a nature to catch hold, and to dilatate, and so to feed it self upon all things, or at least upon most, when the Matter is too hard for the siery-points to enter, or at least to enter sud­denly; the wind, like a Hammer, strikes them in, and so lends the fire force; and helping the fire to ex­tend, by its dissipating-power, dilatates the Heat in­to the smoak or vapour of the Matter, and so into a flame: but when it puts out fire or flame, it is when it hath so much force, as to dissipate the Mat­ter the fire works on; and if the wind destroys or disperses the Matter, it must needs put out the fire, having nothing to work on; for fire dyes when it hath no Fuel to work or feed on. This is the rea­son a Man with his Breath can blow out the flame of a Candle, and with his Breath blow the flame in again, if the snuff of the Candle be full, and throughly fired, or else he cannot; but if it be full, and throughly fired, he may blow so hard as to dis­sipate [Page 560] the flame, yet not so hard as to dissipate the fiery snuff, or wieck of the Candle; so that the flame, by the dissipating, goeth out, being dilatated to a dissipation; and when the flame is out, and the fire remaining, with a gentle wind he may dilatate the fire into a flame again, and so many times, as long as the body of fire remains; but if they should blow so hard or strongly, as to dissipate the body of fire, they put out both fire and flame.

Then they asked her, VVhat Snow, Hail, Ice, and Frost, was?

She answered, That Snow was curded VVater, like curded Milk: for, saith she, cold doth curdle water as sower Vinegar doth Milk; and as curded parts will lye in clods, so VVater in flakes of Snow.

Hail (said she) is broken water, or rather crumb­bled water: for as a hand which nips a piece of Bread, crumbles it by rubbing it between their fingers; so doth some sort of cold Motions break and crumble water into a number of small parts; and as many crumbs' of Bread will stick together, through the moist clamminess, lying in little lumps; so doth the broken parts of water, which is Hail­stones: and though the Body is divided into abun­dance of little parts; yet every part is more com­pact, as being closer contracted, with being crusht and nipt together.

As for Frost, said she, that is candyed or crusted Vapour, which is rarified water: for as some sorts of hot Motions candy Sugar, so some sorts of cold Motions candy's Vapour. Likewise, said she, as Milk changes not the nature from being Milk, with curd­ing; nor Bread, with crumbling; nor Sugar, with candying; so Water changes not the nature with contractions or dividings into Snow, Hail, Ice, and Frost.

As for Ice, it is made by such a kind of cold Mo­tion, as hot Motions make Glass: for, as fire in a hot Furnace calcines some sorts of Earth, and the purest to Glass: so doth the strongest of such sorts of cold Motions congeal Water into Ice. And as some hot Motions strive to convert Earth into Wa­ter (as we may see, by making Earth into Glass); so some sorts of cold Motions do turn Water into Earth, as by condensing into Ice, Hail, Snow, and Frost: and as Snow and Ice is nothing but con­densed Water; so Glass is nothing but calcined or rarified Earth: for, that fine Earth which makes Glass, is so rarified by the hot fire in a Furnace, which blows and spreads it as thin, and clarified it as clear as Water; only it makes it not liquid and fluid; yet whilst it is in the fire, it is in a degree of being fluid, for it is soft and clammy. Thus Fire makes Earth so near like Water, as it is transparent, shining, and smooth, and brings it into the mid-way; but it [Page 562] wants the liquid, wet, and fluid Motions, which some will call Parts, to make it perfect Water. And I sup­pose, that Crystals, Diamonds, and the like, are only the purest part of Earth, turn'd (by the heat in the Earth, or in the Sun) to a Glassy substance, but stronger, as being wrought by a natural Heat, and not by an artificial Heat, or Fire; but as Glass is a rarified Earth, so Air is a rarified Water, and Smoak a rarified Oyl, and Oyl is a fluid Sulphur, and Flame is a fluid Fire, and Quick-silver is a fluid Metal.

Then they asked her, Whether there were Natural Elements, not subject to be Metamor­phosed?

She answered, Yes.

They asked, How she would prove it?

She said, She would prove there was a natural Fire, by the Sun, which never changes his heat, or [...]ffens his light, nor alters his natural Properties of attracting, contracting, and the like; and to prove a metamorphosed Fire, is Lightning, Meteors, Fevours, and the like; and to prove a natural Water, is the Sea; and to prove a metamorphosed Water, is Va­pour; and to prove a natural Air, is the Serene; and to prove a metamorphosed Air, is Wind: and (said she) the difference of natural Elements, and those that are called metamorphosed, is, that the na­tural Elements cannot lose their properties, as those [Page 563] that are metamorphosed do, by changing from one thing to another: For say the natural Elements be mixed, yet they quit not their natural properties; as for example, mix Wine, or Aqua-vitae, or the like, and VVater; and though they are mixt, yet they lose not their natural properties, as the VVater to cool, and VVine to heat; for put a drop of wine to a pint of water, or to an ocean, and it will be so much more hotter, as the quantity of a drop can heat; and so for a drop of water to so much wine, and it is so much colder, as the quantity of a drop can cool; for though they mix, yet they lose not their properties, neither doth their mixture take from their pure nature.

Then they asked her, If a natural or metamor­phosed Element, might not corrupt a pure Ele­ment?

She said, No, being not subject to change, more than a gross and malignant Vapour can corrupt the Sun: but (said she) natural Elements can and do often-times purifie corruption, if they be not ob­structed; for though they cannot be changed, they may be obstructed; as we see dark Clouds will ob­struct the natural light of the Sun, and many times the natural heat; yet they can neither quench out the one, nor put out the other: the like is the con­tinuance of the natural Elements. But perchance you will say, that you talk of an Element, and I [Page 564] speak of a Planet: I say that for example: But though the Sun is a Planet, yet it is an Elementary Fire; and though Earth may be called a Planet, yet it is an Elementary Earth; and for all we can know, the Moon may be an Elementary VVa­ter: but howsoever, there may be a natural Fire, which is an unalterable Fire, which you may call the Elementary Fire, as the Sun, and so the rest of the Elements, for any thing that Reason can prove against it.

Then they asked her, If Nature did work al­ways exactly?

She answered, No: for, Nature doth seldom work so exactly, as to bring often to perfection, not the Bodies of all Animals, especially Mankind, ei­ther in the Body or Mind; much less to make them both exactly answerable, or answerably exact.

As for their Bodies, for the most part they are neither in proportion nor lineaments answerable to each other: for, some have well-shap'd Hands, Legs, and Feet, and ill-shap'd Bodies: others well-shap'd Bodies, and ill-featured Faces, and ill-shap'd Legs and Feet: also, some have one Feature in the Face excellent, and all the rest ill-favour'd.

The like is the Mind: for, some have good Ca­pacities and Understandings to some things; and to others, are as dull, as sensless Blocks: some are [Page 565] witty upon some Subjects, and are meer fools to others; so some will be good-natured to some things, and bad or cruel to others, without cause. Likewise, Nature seldom makes a Body and Mind answerable; for some have an ill-favoured Body but a noble Soul, and rational Understanding: others, most beautiful Bodies, but base Souls, and depraved Understandings: which shews, as if Na­ture took so much pains and care in making the one, as she became weary before she began the other: and sometimes she seems lazy in the beginning of her Work, and sometimes as if she were idle in the midst of her Work, and sometimes as if she were quite tired at the finishing of her Work; as when she makes ill-favoured and weak Bodies, imperfect Sen­ses, and ill or foolish Minds, then she is lazy at the beginning; and when she makes some parts exact, and some defective, then she is idle, working by halfs; and when she makes all exact, but some little defect, then she is tired out before she hath quite made an end: But (said she) the most probable reason that I can give, why Nature (for the most part) works so imperfectly, is, She hath so much work to do, as we may say, that she hath not leisure to be exact; for the insinite Matter takes up the in­finite Time, so as she cannot stay about the curio­sity of her Works; and so we may say, that what was, or is wrought extraordinary, is rather done by [Page 566] Chance, than intended by Nature; for it were a kind of Miracle, if any thing should be so exact, as somewhat might not be mended, either in Pro­perty, Quality, Quantity, Formality, Symmetry, or the like.

Then they asked her, If a Man could have an Idea of Jove?

She said, She thought not: for (said she) if it were an Image printed or fixt to the Essence or Soul of Man, all Mankind would have one and the same Idea, which we find they have not: for, some have thought him a Corporeal Substance; others, an Incorporeal Thing: which shews his Idea was not created with Man; neither can we have an Idea from the Works of Jove, because we neither know the Matter he works on, nor the Moti­ons he works with, nor to what End he works for.

Besides, the various Figures are not to be drawn, nor his subtil ways to be traced, nor to be guess'd at: we may have various thoughts (said she) con­cerning the various works of Jove, but never draw his Idea therefrom, or thereby.

Then they asked her, What was an Idea?

She said, A Shadow: for, as all Shadows were Eclipsed-lights, so all Idea's were Eclipsed-thoughts; for Thoughts are the light of Knowledg, and Know­ledg is the Sun of the Animal World, which [Page 567] receives Aliment from outward Objects.

Then they asked her, Why Iron doth not move to Iron, being more like; than Iron to a Load-stone, being less like?

Because (said she) there is a sympathy in Con­trarieties, and not always like unto like: for we see, those that are cold, seek heat; and what is hot, seeks cold: so what is cold, is nourished by heat; and what is hot, is refreshed by cold. The same sympathy hath Iron to the Load-stone, and the Load-stone to Iron.

Then they asked her, Why in Nature there are certain Principles of different kinds?

Because (said she) there is but one principal Matter, from whence all Principles are derived; and the variety is only made by Motion, not Mat­ter; but the Principle keeps in the Matter, which is not subject to change from such Principles.

Then they asked her Opinion of the World?

She said, The World is like a Clock that is woun'd up to such a time as Ten, Twenty, or a Hundred thousand years; and the Planets, as its Wheels, go their natural course, turning round.

His Grace the Duke of Newcastle's Opinion, Whe­ther a Cat seeth in the Night, or no?

SOME say, Cats do not see in the night, but only do hunt Mice by the smell, as Dogs do Deer: but I dare say, if Dogs were stark blind, they would hardly kill any Deer, or any thing else; and how is it possible that a Cat (by the smell) should lay her foot so exactly upon a Mouse in the dark, and at the very first time, did she not see in the dark? We will wave unnecessary disputes, and fall to the truth, without the vexation of our Readers.

First, VVe are to take into consideration what things (besides fire) shine, or give light in the darkest night: Rotten VVood shines in the night, and the more if it be a little greenish and mouldy: so doth Fish-bones that are a little greenish. But that which shines the most of all in the night, is a Glow­worm, and especially the tail of it, which is a kind of a Sea-water-green.

Now let us take into consideration the Eyes of all Cats, which being of what colour sover (for my Curiosity in this point made me observe it with care), I find are thus:

That which we call the black of the Eye, which indeed is a round hole in most Animals, covered [Page 569] with a double Glass, which they call the Crystalline Humour, is convex, to draw all the Lines to a point, and the Glass double: for a single one would make every thing in appearance to us, to go upon their Heads; and a double Glass sets them all on their Feet again, because the Lines cut cross in the hole of the Eye; and because the Line that comes from the Head, cuts at the bottom of the hole; and the Lines that come from the Feet, cut at the top of the hole; so that all the species in a dark Cham­ber, coming in at a little hole, upon a white sheet of Paper, go on their Heads: but put another Glass over your former Glass, and then all the species are set right upon their Legs again, because the Lines are cut again cross in the hole, which sets them up right, though the species are weakned by their double jour­ney. And this is the reason that the Crystalline Hu­mour is double in all other Animals, but Cats; which have white about the black of the Eye.

Now you must understand, that the Eyes of all Cats are just as I have told you of other Animals, saving the round black, which in a Cat is a slit down­ward, which she can contract and dilatate at her pleasure; and that slit being extended to its utter­most, is a mighty Circle. Then you must conceive again, that the white that is about our Eyes, is a Sea­water-green about all Cats Eyes: so that in the day a Cat doth stretch and extend the narrow slits [Page 570] of her Eyes, which are dilatated to a mighty Cir­cle, hiding her Sea-water green that is about them, almost all over. But in the night she contracts her Eyes to a very narrow long slit, which very much enlarges the Sea-water-green all about them; which Sea-water-green gives the light. And thus she lights her Torches, or Flamboes, in the night, and carries them along with her to see by, as one doth a Can­dle in the hand; and puts out her Candles in the day, as having no use of them.

That this is probable, remember the several greens that I told you of before, that do shine and give light in the night; and besides, I have heard by a great many several credible Witnesses, that have seen the Eyes of Cats shine just like Candles in the dark night; which is so often and commonly seen, that it suffers no dispute.

But if you will put a Cat in some dark place, and she is not pleased to light her Torches, because she would not have you find her, do not rashly con­demn the Opinion for that; for I do assure you, very many confirm it as no strange thing, or mira­culous, and that never dream't of Philosophy.

If you do not like these Reasons, give better, or else pardon the meanness of the Subject, since the times give me leave to study the nature of all things, even from the Mouse to the Elephant.

The second sort that were to visit her, were PHYSICIANS.

And after a short time, they asked her what made a good Physician?

She answered, Practise and Observation.

Then they asked her, What made the difference between Pain and Sickness?

She said, Pain was caused by cross perturbed Motions; and Sickness by distempered Matter, and the overflow of Humours.

Then they asked her, Whether the Mind could be in pain, or be sick?

She answered, No; but (said she) the Mind is like the fire, it can put the Body to pain, but can feel none it self: likewise, the Motion is like fire; for the more Matter it hath to work on, the quicker it moves; and when the Mind is (as it were) empty, it grows dull, and the Head is filled with nothing but smoaky Vapours.

Then they asked her, What difference there is between the Soul and the Mind?

She answered, As much difference as there is be­twixt Flame, and the grosser part of Fire: for, said she, the Soul is only the pure part of the Mind.

Then they asked her the difference (if any was) betwixt the Soul, the Mind, and the Thoughts?

She answered, As the Mind was the Fire, the Soul the Flame; so the Thoughts were as the Smoak that issues from the several Subjects that the Mind works on: and as Smoak, so the several Thoughts many times vanish away, and are no more remem­bred; and sometimes they gather together as Clouds do; and as one Cloud lies above another, so the Thoughts many times lye in rows one above ano­ther, as from the first, to the second and third Re­gion.

Then they asked her, What was the best Medi­cine to prolong Life?

She answered, Temperance and good Diet.

Then they asked her, What Diet?

As for Diet, said she, to Healthful Bodies, Meats must be well and wisely matched: but to Diseased Bodies, such Diets must be prescribed as are proper to cure each several Disease. As for the mixing and matching Meats, said she, they must be after this de­scription following: All Flesh-meats are apt to breed Salt Rheums; and being roast, breeds Cho­lerick Humours; which Salt Rheums, and Chole­rick Humours, causeth (many times) Hectick Fevers, enflaming the Arterial Blood, and Vital Spirits, and drinking out the Radical Moisture; and Salt Rheums penetrating into the Vital parts, cause excoriations and ulcerations.

As for white Meats, as Milk-meats, and the like, [Page 573] they are apt to breed sharp Humours: also, the gross parts cause many times obstructions of the Noble parts; and the sharpness is apt to corrode, especially the Uretaries, Guts and Stomack; producing Bloody-waters from the one, and Cholicks in the other. Also sharp Humours cause Cankers, Fistu­la's, and the like, eating through several parts of the Body, making several holes, passages, or wounds, to pass through; and Obstructions cause ill digestion, ill digestion causes corruptions, corruptions cause se­veral Diseases, as Feavers, Small-Pox, Imposthumes, Boils, Scabs, and Leprosies, if the Corruption is salt or sowr.

As for Fish, and also all sorts of Pults, they breed Slime; and Slime in hot Bodies causeth the Stone, and Gout in cold Bodies; and all sorts of white Swellings, as the Kings-Evil, Wens, and the like; also the Brains, Feet, or any Sinewy part of any Meat, doth the like, as also Sweet-meats.

As for all sorts of Fruits, Roots, Herbs, they breed thin, crude Humours, which causes Wind; Wind causes Cholicks, Cramps, and Convulsions, by griping and twisting the Guts, Nerves, and Veins; as also, all swimming and dizzy Diseases in the Head; likewise, Head-akes, caused by a Vapour arising from the crude and raw Humours; also, in hot Bodies it causeth the Sciatica, the heat over-rari­fying the sharp Humours, caused by Fruit, makes it [Page 574] so subtil and searching, that it doth not only extend to the outmost parts of the Body, as betwixt the skin and flesh; but gets into the small Thread-Veins.

As for all Sweet-meats, and Comfits, they are in some Bodies very obstructive, and in all Bodies they breed both sharp and hot Rheums; and I have heard, said she, that Sugar makes the most sharp and acid Vitriol.

As for the matching of several Meats:

Fish-meats do well agree with Roots, Herbs, and Fruits, if they be stewed, roasted, boiled, baked, or the like; otherwise the rawness hinders the conco­ction of the Meat: but if they be drest as afore­said, they temper the saltness, and quench out the heat which the over-nourishing strength doth pro­duce.

Also, Fish may be mix'd with Flesh-meat, al­though all Physicians are against it: for certainly, the natural freshness and coldness of Fish, doth tem­per and allay the natural heat and saltness that is in Flesh-meat, mixing it into a good Chyle, and tem­pering it into a Juicy-Gravy, which encreases the radical moisture, and nourisheth the radical heat: also, it supplies the Arteries, fills the Veins, plumps the Flesh, smooths the skin: whenas strong drinks mix'd with strong meats, over-heats the Body, en­flames [Page 575] the Spirits, evaporates the radical moisture, burns the radical heat, scorches the Arteries, drinks up the Blood, sears the Veins, shrinks up the Nerves, dries the Flesh, and shrivels the Skin.

White Meats and Pults agree best, as being of one and the same degree (as it were) of heat: for all strong Meats curdle all sorts of Milk, which cau­ses obstructions and corruptions, and turns it sowr, being of a nature so to do; which makes such sharp­ness in the blood and body, as causes Tertians, Quartans, Quotidians, and the like Diseases.

Pults, and all sorts of Milk-meat, being of a spungy substance, digest (as it were) together; when Meats that are solid, mix'd with Meats that are more porous and spungy, do hinder each other.

Small drink is best with white Meat; but when Pults is eaten without Milk, it may agree better with stronger Liquor.

Roots and Milk-meats agree, as being both easily dissolv'd from the first forms, into Chyle.

Nor do Fruits and Pults disagree; for the sharp­ness of the Fruits, doth divide the clamming of the Pults; and the sliminess of the Pults doth temper the sharpness of the Fruits: but Fruits and Milk­meats are enemies, which when they meet, they do exasperate one another.

So that Fruits and Pults, and Milk and Roots, do [Page 576] best together; Roots having no sharpness in them: but there is of all sorts of Flesh, Fish, Milk, Roots, and Herbs; some being hotter than others, and gros­ser; as, the most watrish Fruits are the hottest, as having most Spirits in their acute Juices.

Likewise, all Roots or Herbs that bite, as it were, the tongue, or are bitter to the tast, are hot, although Druggists, Herbalists, and Physicians, are many times of the other opinion: but certainly all that is sharp, salt, or bitter, proceeds from a hot nature, and most commonly produces hot effects, having a fiery figure and motion: but because they find many things that are sharp or bitter, to qualifie Fea­vers, or the like hot Diseases, they think it is the na­tural temper of the Drugs, Herbs, Roots, Fruits, or the like; but a hot Cause may produce a cold Ef­fect: as for example, Obstructions cause heat in the Body; but sharp things do divide and dissolve those gross and tough Humours, and open Obstructi­ons.

Likewise, those that are salt and bitter, do purifie and cleanse the corruption in the Body; and when the cause of the Disease is taken or removed away, the Body becomes equally temper'd; for as the Dis­ease doth waste, the Body doth cool. Thus it is the sharpness, saltness, and bitterness, that cures the Dis­ease, and not a cold nature in the Simples; for when the Disease, as I said, is gone, the Body is well-tem­per'd and cooled.

Then they asked her, which was the best way to make the best temperament for Health.

She said, that way that was best towards Medio­crity, as neither to eat too gross meats, nor too watrish; nor to drink too strong drink, nor such as was very small; that is, neither too hot, nor too cold, either virtually, or actually.

As for gross Meats, they fill the Body with too much Melancholy Humours, and the Head with Malignant Vapours.

Very fine and tender Meat, makes the Stomack weak, by reason the substance is not sufficiently so­lid: for, as very gross meat over-powers the Sto­mack, by the laborious working thereon; so very fine and tender meat makes it lazy and weak for want of exercise.

Very small Drinks, being very watrish, quench the natural heat; and those that are very strong, burn it out: but, said she, Meats and Drinks must be wisely match'd; and not only Meats and Drinks, but the Nourishment, and the Nourished: for, al­though (in general) hot Constitutions should use cooling drinks and meats for their diets; and cold, hot diets; and moist, dry diets; and dry, moist di­ets: yet, if the Body be any ways diseased or di­stempered, they must order such a Body according to the Cause, and not to the Effects of their Dis­ease: As for example, To all Hydropical Bodies, [Page 578] must not be applied drying Medicines nor Diets: for if the Dropsie proceeds from a dry cause, dry Di­ets or Medicines are as bad as poyson; for though the Effect be watrish in such Diseases, yet the Cause was dry: So for heat or cold. And this example may serve for all other Diseases: wherefore Physi­cians must search out, and know the original cause, before they can cure the Disease: for, those that prescribe according to the Effect, may cure by chance, but kill with ignorance.

Then they asked her, If the Spirits were always affected with the Distemper of the Body, or the Body with the Distemper of the Spirits?

She answered, Not always: for sometimes the Spirits will be ill-affected, and the Body in health: other times the Body sick, and the Spirits lively and well-temper'd: But (said she) this is to be observed, that the Body may be cold, and the Spirits enfla­med; and the Body heated, and the Spirits quench­ched or stupified; for the Spirits are the thinnest and subtillest substances of the Creature: now this thin­nest and subtillest substance in the Creature, may be enflamed, when the solid'st is be-numb'd with cold: for a cold melancholy Body may have enflamed and distracted Spirits.

Likewise, a cold diseased Body may have Hectick Spirits: and thus both the Animal and Vital Spirits may be hot, and the more solid Parts or Humours of [Page 579] the Body cold. Also, the heat of the Spirits may be quenched, and the Body burning-hot; as the Stomack, Liver, or other parts, may be parched with heat, when both the Animal and Vital Spirits have not a sufficient heat to give them lively moti­ons. And it is to be observed, said she, that the A­nimal and Vital Spirits, as they are the thinnest and subtilest part of a Creature, so they are nourished by the thinnest substances or parts of Food, which di­late to the Spirits: for, though the Spirits can and do work upon the solid'st parts of the Body, or Nourishment; yet they only receive benefit by the thinnest. As also, the great annoyance: for it is the Vapour of Meats and Drinks that feeds the Spirits, and not the Substance: for, Vapour will choak, smuther, burn, or quench them out: But the Va­pours from Liquors work more suddenly upon the Spirits (either to good effect, or bad), than Vapours from a solid Substance, by reason all Liquors have a dilatating nature, which spreads it self amongst the Spirits with more facility. Also, the Vapour of Liquid Bodies is more facil than the Vapour of Solid Bodies: and, said she, some burn their Sto­macks with Drugs, and some quench their Spirits with Julips; others burn their Spirits with Cordials, and flat or dead the Stomack with Meats virtually cold: For it is to be observed, that there is a general Error amongst Mankind, about Rules concerning [Page 580] Health; some practising with a belief, that Drinks virtually cooling, temper hot Meats; and virtually cooling Meats, hot Drinks. In which they are de­ceived: for, though they may mix so, and temper; yet, for the most part, it is only as Water and Meal makes Dough; or as Earth and Water makes Mud; or as Sugar and Water makes Syrrup; but doth not temper that virtual heat or cold that works upon the substantial or the spiritual parts; for that which works upon the Spirits, hath a more sudden operation than that which works upon the solid parts of the Body; and that from the solider parts has a flower operation: so that the Stomack may be parched, and the heat of the Spirits quenched, and the Spirits burnt, and the Stomack weak by a heavy or dull coldness. But those Bodies that are in health, have not such defects as to fear such a sudden operation; for as defects are easily inveterated, so Health is not suddenly annoyed: wherefore they may temper their Meat and Drink by cooling and heating, yet not to a high degree; for all Extreams are naught.

Then they asked her, What was the reason that all Creatures look fuller and fatter in Summer than in Winter?

She answered, The reason was, Because then the Blood extends to the extream parts, which swells out the flesh, and puffs out the skin; and in the [Page 581] Winter the blood falls back, as the sap of Plants doth to the Roots, which causeth the flesh and skin to look withered and dry, as Branches and Leaves do, sear'd, faded, wither'd, and dry.

The like reason is, when Men have Pimples, Scabs, Swellings, Pocks, and the like, which is the fruit of corrupted blood.

Then they asked her opinion of Mineral Wa­ters; What Virtues and Vices they have, being drunk?

She answered, That all Mineral-waters were of a kind of a Brine, but not so much a salt Brine, as a sharp Brine (if I may call that which is sharp, Brine, said she); but whether it hath the effects upon the body, as Brine hath upon dead flesh, as to preserve or keep it from putrefaction, I cannot say; but cer­tainly it drinks up the natural moisture in healthful bodies, more often than it purifies the corrupted Hu­mours in diseased bodies. The Effects of Sharp and Salt, are oft-times alike, as a sharp Pickle will preserve from putrefaction, as well as Brine. But howsoever the Mineral-waters have much salt in them, the Ef­fects are hot and dry, and have a corroding quality; their corroding quality is caused by the sharpness; and their heat, by their corroding; and their driness, by their insipid nature: and though they are actu­ally cold, they are virtually hot; their virtues are only on cold and moist bodies, or diseases; as those [Page 582] that have obstructions caused by raw cold flegm; or swellings caused by cold clammy Humours; or Ul­cers caused by cold corrupted Humours; or Rheums, or Dropsies, caused by too many cold moist Hu­mours; or the like Diseases, caused by cold Humours; and in my opinion, said she, they would be excel­lently good for all outward Ulcers, or old Sores or Wounds, being washed and bathed therewith, by reason they have a cleansing, drying faculty, not only inwardly taken, but outwardly applied. Al­so, they may temper the inflamations that most com­monly attend all Ulcers, Sores, or Wounds, not only by cleansing and drying up the putrefactions, but being actually cold, especially outwardly ap­plied: for, though they are virtually hot, being in­wardly taken, and digested into the blood; or as I may say, the Mineral rubbed or wrought into the body; yet they are actually cold, that is, cold to touch. But to return to the interior Maladies: All those Diseases that are produced from hot, dry, and sharp causes, are as bad as poysons.

They are so: for such obstructions that proceed from hard-baked, dry Humours, or Dropsies cau­sed by hot dry Livers, Spleens, or other parts; or Consumptions that proceed from salt sharp Rheums, or hot dry Lungs, Livers, Spleens, or the like parts: or all Swellings caused by hot, dry, or sharp Hu­mours; or interior Ulcers, caused by hot, dry, or sharp [Page 583] Humours; or Apoplexies, caused by hard crusted flegm, or dry black melancholy, or burnt dry thick blood, which stops the natural passages of the spi­rits; or Epilepsies, or Convulsions, caused by sharp Humours, which shrivel and knit up the Nerves or Veins, or Joints of the Body; or hot Winds, which work and foam, and (as I may say) yeest the natural Humours in the body, distempering the body there­with. Likewise, it is an Enemy to all melancholy bodies, being full of sharp Humours, like Aqua-for­tis, which are bred in the body; or as a sharp green Humour, which is a poisonous Verdigrease bred in the body; which Humour is the cause most com­monly of the Disease called Epilepsis, or Falling­sickness; and oft-times is the cause of Convulsions: but this Humour is a certain cause of the Stomack-Cholick, that is to say, a Wind in the Stomack and Sides. Also, they are Enemies to the Gout, by reason that the Gout proceeds from a hot-baked, dry, salt, or sharp Humour. It is a bitter or sulphureous Humour, or a limy chalky Humour, that causeth the Gout; and indeed, it is a calcined Humour, which makes it incurable.

For the Stone, they may work good Effects, al­though my Reason cannot perceive, but that the Minerals may contract and confirm humours into stone, as well as dissolve stone: for, thought their acuteness is penetrating, and so may dissolve; yet [Page 584] their driness is Contracting, Uniting, Combining; and they are not only dry, by the insipidness of their nature, but by their sharpness; for all sharp­ness is drying, more or less: and though sharpness is actually dissolving by corroding; yet it is virtu­ally drying, by heating: for corroding is the cause of heat. For whatsoever is rubb'd, or grated hard or swiftly, grows hot; even Stones, or any Metal, which is the hardest Matter we know; but looser Matter, as Wood, will be set on fire. Wherefore if Wood, Stone, and Metal, will become actually hot, by rubbing or grating actually thereon; well may soft flesh, especially the inward parts, that are most tender. And as it is the nature of sharpness to corrode, and the nature of corroding or rubbing, to heat: so it is the nature of heat to drink up moi­sture, and make all things dry. And as sharp things may cleanse Ulcers, by eating the filth therein; or may be good to take off superfluous flesh, call'd proud-flesh, in Sores; or may dissolve some hard Humours, moderately taken or applied: so they may make Ulcers, Sores, and Wounds, and con­tract and confirm humours, if immoderately or un­necessarily, or wrongfully applied.

But, as I said, the Mineral-waters may as well cause the Stone in the Kidneys or Bladder, as dis­solve it; and may also ulcerate as soon as cleanse: but the Mineral-waters do rather make a passage, [Page 585] and send forth Gravel, by the quantity that is drunk, and passes through the Uretories, which like a stream doth wash and carry all loose Matter before it, and not so much by the virtue of dissolving.

But to conclude, concerning Mineral-waters (said she); I cannot perceive but they may breed more Diseases than they cure; and those Bodies they are most proper for, must be purged and empty before they take them, lest the weight and quantity of the Waters, should carry obstructions to the parts open and free, by carrying too suddenly or forcibly, or pressing or thrusting too hard.

Then they asked her about the nature of Purging-Drugs?

She said, All Purging-Drugs were full of Spi­rits, which was the cause they were so active and quick in operation: for, said she, whatsoever hath most Spirits, is most active; which shews, saith she, that Birds have more Spirits (which is innated Mat­ter) than any other sort of Animal-kind; for they are always hopping and flying about; also chirp­ing, whistling, and singing; which shews them not only to be more active, as having more vital or sensitive Spirits; but also more rational, as being fuller of Animal Spirits.

But to return to Drugs (said she); they seem to have more of the Sensitive spirits (vulgarly called Vital Spirits), which work upon the grossest Sub­stance, [Page 586] than the Rational Spirits (which are vul­garly called Animal spirits) do; with which spirits Cordials seem to be full, as working upon the finer parts; for Cordials do cheer, and do revive the Soul or Mind, making the thoughts more cheerful and pleasing; which alacrity doth help to abate and qualifie the disorders in the body.

Then they asked her, What was the best study for such as would practise Physick?

She said, Natural Philosophy: for, said she, those can never be good Physicians, that are not good Natural Philosophers; and if they would study Natural Philosophy more than they do, there would be more frequent Cures: for if they do not study Nature that makes the Body, they shall never know Remedies to cure the body; for those that do not understand the Works of Nature, cannot mend a fault, or prevent a danger to come: but they must study Nature's Creations, Dissolutions, Sympathies, Antipathies, in Matter, Motion, and Figure: but, said she, it is a difficult study, and requires a subtil, moving-brain to find out the several motions, al­though they be the plainest, vulgar, and grossest, much more the subtil and intricate ones.

And had Aristotle, said she, studied the motions in Nature, or Natural motions, as he did the parts of Nature, or Natural parts, he would have been a far more learned Man than he was; but his study [Page 587] was easie: for it is no great matter to conceive what the Senses present; but it is difficult to present to the Senses what the Brain conceives, making the Senses the Servants or Scouts, to seek and search, by indu­stry and experiments, and to find the truth of a Ra­tional Opinion: but (said she) the studies of ma­ny Physicians in these later times, are mixt, as partly of one Science, and partly of another; which makes them learned in neither.

As, if a Physician should study Theology, he will neither be a subtil Divine, or an Eloquent Prea­cher, nor a knowing Physician; one Study con­founding the other: for, though Natural Philoso­phy proves a God, yet it proves no particular Re­ligion.

Then they asked, What was that which was called the Sensitive and Rational Spirits?

She said, They were the highest Extracts of Na­ture, which are the Quintessence and Essence of Nature, and the innated parts of Nature, which in the knowledg and life, are Nature; which are the Soul and Actions of Nature.

Then they asked her, Whether those Spirits had several Figures or small Bodies? and, Whe­ther they were from all Eternity?

She answered, That their Degrees and innated Motions; and their Figurings, Acuteness, and Sub­tilties, were from all Eternity.

As for the rational innated parts, said she, they change and re-change into any figures or forms, ha­ving no particular figure or form inherent, but the form of that degree of Matter it is of: but as it can put its self into parts, so it can unite its self; and as it can divide and unite its self, so it can dilate and contract its self, and all by a self-motion, as moving innatedly, like Quick-silver, from an united body, into numbers of parts; and from parts, to an united body again. The Sensitive innated part moves, said she, after another manner, as Aqua-fortis, or the like, on Metal; for it moves, not figuring it self, but as it figures other parts of Matter that hath no in­nateness inherent therein, but (only as a dull lump) lies to be moved by the moving-part, which is the innated part, as Metal doth by Fire or Water, by Cold or Heat.

Thus this different way of moving, was from Eternity, as their degree was from Eternity; for the Rational innated Matter, is a degree above the Sen­sitive innated Matter: and though they move not always after one manner, yet they move always after one nature.

Many, said they, could not conceive what those Spirits were; some imagining them little Crea­tures.

No, said she, they are not Creatures, but Crea­tors, which creating-brains may easily understand; [Page 589] and those that cannot conceive, have a scarcity thereof. But, said she, because the Philosophy is new, therefore they do obstruct it with idle Questi­ons, ignorant Objections: but (said she) the Philo­sophy is good, in despight of their ignorance. I desire very much to know (said she) how the Learn­ed describe that which they name Vital and Ani­mal Spirits? Whether they think them little Crea­tures, or no?

To which they made no answer.

Then they asked her, What caused sleep in A­nimal Figures?

She said, The tiredness or weariness of the Sen­sitive innated Matter, called the Sensitive Spirits; which weariness causeth them to retire from the out­ward parts of Animal Figures: for, though the Sensitive spirits do not desist from moving in any part, as to the consistence or dissolution of the Figure; yet all the Sensitive spirits do not work one and the same way, or after the same manner; nor the same part of Innated Matter, or Sensitive Spirits, work not always one and the same way, or after the same manner, nor in the same parts: but, as some of that Innated Matter, or Spirits, work in several parts of a Figure, on the dull part of Matter, to the consi­stence or dissolution of the Figure; so others, and sometimes one and the same degree, work to the use, convenience, or necessity of the Figure; and those [Page 590] that work to the use of the Figure in the several senses, although they do not desist from moving, as being against Nature, being a perpetual Motion; yet they often desist from labouring (as I may say): for it is a greater labour to take patterns (as they do) from outward Objects, than to work by roat, or as they please (which they do), in sleep: But it is not always their labour, as being over-pow'rd with work; but sometimes their want of work; as many will sleep through idleness, having no outward ob­jects presented to them, to print or paint: other times it is their appetite to freedom and liberty from those outward labours or employments: for, though they may, and are oft-times as active when they work, as in sleep; yet it is easier, being voluntary: for the spirits work more easie, at least more freely, when they are not taskt, than when they are like Apprentices or Journey-men; and will be many times more active when they take or have liberty to play, or to follow their own Appetites, than when they work (as I said) by constraint, and for neces­sity; but many times the Sensitive spirits retire, when they work, not to sleep, as being perswaded or dis­swaded then from either, by the Rational innated Matter, which is called the Rational Spirits in the Figure; or by the Rational Spirits in another Fi­gure, to desist from the outward labour, as one would perswade another to rest; and to retire, and [Page 591] shut up the Shop-windows and Doors of the Sen­sitive Houses: for the Eyes, Ears, Nostrils, Mouth, or the pores of the Skin, are but the Working-hou­ses or Rooms of the Sensitive spirits.

To prove it: Doth not our Mind (which is the Rational part) perswade the Body (which is the Sen­sitive part, and that wherein works the Sensitive Matter or Spirits) to lye, to rest, or to withdraw from outward Employments, because it would not be disturbed with the labour of the Sensitive spi­rits? For the Rational, which is the Mind (said she), are not only the servants, to view and take notice of all the works and workings of the Sensi­tive; but are oftentimes, in many things, the Dire­ctors, Advisers, and sometimes Rulers and Oppo­sers; as when the Mind forces the Body to danger or trouble. But this Rational part, or the Ratio­nal spirits, are (for the most part) busily employed in figuring themselves by the Sensitive prints, which is the knowledg they take of the works and work­ings; being the more busie and exact, when the Sen­sitive spirits work outward works.

I will not say, they move always after the Sen­sitive prints, which is to view them; for sometimes they move after their own inventions: for many times the Mind views not what the Body doth; and many times they move partly after their own invention, and partly after the Sensitive prints. But [Page 592] when the Sensitive spirits do retire, or when the Ra­tional spirits perswade them to retire, then the Ra­tional spirits move after their own appetites or in­ventions, which are Conceptions, Imaginations, O­pinions, Fancies, or the like: But (said she) it is to be taken notice, that as the Rational spirits, for the most part, move after the Sensitive prints, which is, to put their own Matter into such Figures as the Sensitive spirits print upon the dull and unmoving parts of Matter: so many times the Sensitive spi­rits do print or engrave those Conceptions, Imagi­nations, Fancies, or the like, upon the dull part of Matter, as Patterns of the Rational Figures: for, as I said, the Rational spirits do cast, work, or move their own part of Matter, into Figures; and the Sensitive spirits do figure and print upon other parts of Matter, as that which is called the dull and unmoving part: but when the Rational Matter per­swades, or causes the Sensitive Matter to work and print from their figurings; or that the Sensitive spi­rits do it of their own free choice, they work (for the most part) irregularly; I will not say, always; for when the Rational spirits move to invention, the Sensitive spirits work those inventions regularly, if not at first, yet with a little practice; but when the Rational spirits move to any passion, especi­ally violent passions, the Sensitive spirits are apt to work irregularly, and to discompose the Ani­mal [Page 593] Figure with Irregularities; for oft-times, not only the irregular motions of the Rational spirits, but the violence of their motions, although regu­lar, doth disorder the Sensitive spirits, causing them to work irregularly; but violence is not always ir­regular or perturbed: also, the regularity of the Sensitive spirits, will cause a disorder amongst the Rational spirits; as we shall see the Mind will distem­per the Body, as the Body will disorder the Mind; but where the Rational innated Matter, or Spirits, move so irregularly, as to make unusual imaginati­ons, or imaginary fears, and other conceptions and passions, which are irregular; as much as violence causeth the Sensitive spirits also to work both irre­gularly and violently; whereby they print strange figures in the Animal Senses, as we may prove by those that are affrighted, or have imaginary fears, who see strange and unusual objects, which Men call Devils, Hobgoblins, Spirits, and the like; and with­out question, they do see such things as are strange and unusual to them; for such strange and unusual Figures, are printed by the irregularity of the Sen­sitive spirits, upon the Optick Nerve. And so for Hearing, Scent, Touch, and the like: for, when Men have such imaginary fears, they will say, they saw strange things, and that they heard strange noises, and smelt strange Scents, and that they were pin­ched and beaten black and blew, and that they were [Page 594] carried out of their way, and cast into Ditches, or the like; and it is not to be doubted, but that they did see such Sights, hear such Sounds, smell such Scents, and feel such Pains; for many times the black-and-blew marks will be seen in the flesh, and the flesh will be sore; and how should it be other­wise, when the Sensitive innated Matter, or Spirits, by moving in such motions, work in each Sense those Objects, Sounds, Scents, Touches, and the like? And I see no reason, but the whole Body may be carried violently from place to place by the strength of the Sensitive spirits: for certainly, the innated Matter, in every Animal Figure, doth not com­monly use its full strength: for, the Body will be more actually strong at some times, than at other times; and upon some occasion, more than when they have no occasion to use strength: for, though the several degrees of innated Matter cannot work beyond the strength of their degree, yet they can work in their strength, and not always work to their full power; and as we may observe, the power of strength is seldom used in Animal Figures; but cer­tainly it is amongst the Sensitive and Rational spi­rits, in every Animal Creature, as it is with the Governours or Citizens of every Kingdom; they know not their own power and strength, until they be put to it: for, every particular Part, knoweth not the strength of the Whole, until they join to­gether [Page 595] as one Part. This is the reason, Man, or any other Creature, is ignorant, not only each of other, but of themselves: for, How is it possible, Man should know himself, since Nature cannot know her self, being divided into several Parts and De­grees? But to return to the strength of the united­spirits of Mankind; which united-spirits, working irregularly, carry the Body forcibly into unneces­sary or dangerous places: for, the violence and irre­gularity, doth disorder the Rational spirits (if they were not disordered before) so much, that they can­not direct prudently, nor order methodically, not advise subtilly; but are all, as I may say, in a hurly­burly: for the Rational spirits, making imaginary fears, do as those that begin an Uproar: so the Ra­tional spirits are not only afraid of the Tumult amongst the Sensitive spirits, but are discomposed and hurried about themselves; and their Society, which is their own Matter, is dispersed abroad; that is, dis-united and disordered in their regular moti­ons: so as the Rational innated Matter, or spirits, although they were the first Cause of the extrava­gant Commotions amongst the Sensitive spirits, yet they are discomposed therewith, by reflexion, their own disorders returning in double lines of strength from the Sensitive Body.

Then they asked her, Why the Animal Figure did not always dream in sleep, since the Sensitive [Page 596] and Rational spirits, or innated Matter, did never desist from moving.

She said, That although the innated Matter did never desist from moving, yet they did not always figure or print, for they dissolve as well as create.

Besides, said she, they may work to the preser­vation or consistence of the Figure, and of every particular sense, and yet not always make use of the senses. Besides, said she, the Rational Matter doth not always figure it self by the Sensitive Print; and for proof, many times those that are in a serious Discourse, studious Contemplations, or violent Pas­sions, will take no notice of the Sensitive motions: for, in a violent passion, many will receive a deadly wound, and never take notice of the touch; and, many times, those in serious discourse receive a pinch on their Arm, or Finger, or any other part, and yet they at that time never take knowledg thereof; and yet when their violent passion or discourse is ended, then their Rational knowledg takes notice that their Finger, Arm, or other parts, ake; or their Wounds smart; which shews the sense of Touch was sometimes in their Finger, or in that part wounded, before the Rational knowledg took notice of it. So in a deep Contemplation, when they view Objects, hear Sounds, smell Scents, tast and touch, the Rational knowledg takes no [Page 597] notice of it, because the Rational spirits move not to the Sensitive Works; so that only the Eye sees, or the Ear hears, or the Nose smells, or the Tongue tasts, or any particular part feels, but the Rational takes no notice thereof: so that these are but par­ticular knowledges in every particular sense, or part of the Figure, and not a general knowledg: for the Sensitive knowledg, which are the Sensitive spi­rits, are bound to parts; but the Rational know­ledg, which are the Rational spirits, is free to all, as being free to it self, the other bound to the dull part of Matter.

But to return to Dreams; How shall we remem­ber figurative Dreams, since Memory is not made by the Rational motions? for, though the Sensitive innated Matter might print such figures; yet the Rational innated Matter hath not figured those prints; and then we say, we did not dream.

Then they asked, Why some Animal Crea­tures were almost dissolved for want of sleep?

She said, Want of sleep was caused by distem­per; which distemper was a disorder and irregula­rity amongst the innated Matter, sometimes from the Sensitive spirits, sometimes from the Rational spirits, and sometimes from both. The irregularity of the Sensitive spirits, was, when the Body was pained, or sick, or over-power'd: the irregularity amongst the Rational was, when the Mind was [Page 598] troubled: these disorders hinder the Sensitive spi­rits from shutting up Shop orderly; and when they sleep by halves, or unsoundly, those irregularities cause their windows and doors (which are the sen­ses) to open and shut unnecessarily and untimely, as I may say; and, many times, lack of sleep is cau­sed, when the spirits are so tired, that they cannot use a sufficient force to shut up shop, at least, not to lock or barr the Windows and Doors close. Some­times the Sensitive spirits are so earnest and (as I may say) greedy in working, that they labour both night and day, either for curiosity, or encrease, or pleasure: but, most commonly, the Rational spirits join or go halves with the Sensitive spirits, when they work for curiosity or pleasure, because they make a delight thereby.

Then they asked her, What was the reason that some sorts of Cordials or Drugs caused sleep?

She said, That that part of innated Matter that was taken in Cordials, or such Drugs, did either help the innated Matter in the Animal Body or Fi­gure (by adding strength to them), to shut up their Shops and Windows; or else helped to rectifie their disorders and irregularities.

But (said she) as some Drugs or Cordials do sympathize to the irregular part of innated Matter in the Figure; so other Drugs and Cordials do work antipathetically to their regularity, and sym­pathetically [Page 599] to their irregularities; and then the working to sleep is more hindred then helped.

Then they asked her, Whether one kind of Motion could give a perfect form at one instant?

She said, No, unless the Creature formed be without the varieties of parts; for every different part requires a different motion to the creating of each part, and a distance of time to form each part in; for some parts require more work and labour than others.

Then they asked her, If all Creatures were created by degrees?

She said, All Creatures that were composed of various parts, are: for, as there are degrees of inna­ted Matter, which innated Matter is the Creator of all Figures; so there are degrees of, and in Creati­on: for our senses (said she) shew us, that there is a season, a time, and a working in time, by degrees: and if we allow there be degrees of encreasing, as strengthning and enlarging, why should we think there are none in creating every particular Figure, and different parts in one and the same Creature? For as we see, seed must be first sown, and then re­main in the Earth for some time, before those seeds sprout up and encrease; so there is time and degrees in forming of the formed: for if there be degrees that we call Time, why not in the working of each part of each Figure in time? For in reason we can­not [Page 560] think, that the root, the blade, the stalk, the ears, the seed in the ears of Corn, are produced from one motion, made by the Seed sown, and the Earth, and so each different part to be created at one in­stant, into one created from or figure.

And as in Vegetables, so questionless in Animals, there are degrees in their creations: for it is against reason and sense, to think an Animal is formed at one instant, although the figure at first created, was no bigger than a hair, if the figure hath variety of parts, which require not only various motions, but degrees of motions, and distance of time to move in.

And thus as Vegetable require degrees and di­stance of time to create one figure; so in Animals there is not only space in time, and degrees of mo­tions, and several mixtures of temperaments, to en­large and strengthen that figure; but degrees in creating every particular part in one and the same figure, which is not formed at once: for common sense (said she) shews us, that there is nothing done but by degrees; and whosoever thinks otherwise, their thoughts move irregularly, and against sense and reason: for Nature works by degrees, and in order, and orders her Works by degrees.

Then they asked her, Whether a Creature might not be created by the effects of motion, without partaking of the substance of the Parents.

She said, No: for, said she, the Earth, and the seed sown (which are the Parents that produce an Off-spring), cannot produce any thing of its own nature, unless some part of the Producers goeth to the creating of the Produced: for it is not only such a motion made between the Producers, that creates the Produced; but part of their innated Matter (which are the Sensitive and Rational spi­rits), which goeth to the forming and creating of the Produced: for that innated Matter or Spirits that goeth from the Producers, meeting and inter­mixing together, creates or lays the foundation of the Produced, on which other innated Matter or Spirits (brought by the way of nourishment) do build: so that the foundation of every Creature, is of the Creator. But, said she, one and the same Matter doth not move always after one and the same manner; for it is not meerly such a motion, but such kind of motions, that create; and the va­riousness of the motions, or Creators, although of one and the same Matter, causeth a difference in the Created, in semblances, constitutions, humours, di­spositions, qualities, faculties, and the like: for, though the Producers be the same, and not only the Produced of the same Kind, but of the same Na­tures, as coming from such Producers; yet the Pro­duced are not always alike, but some vary more than others, not only the Produced, but those produced from their Producers.

But, said she, to shew that the Produced partake of the Producers, of each party, more or less, not only in effects, but in substance, is, that such a Crea­ture or Creatures could not be created, but by the same Creators; otherwise the same motions, made by such a kind of Matter, would produce the same Creature: which cannot be; for the same kind or degree of innated Matter which creates, hath the same kind of motions in general; but every par­ticular part is of it self: for that which is of one part, is not of another part, although it be of one and the same Kind, and hath one and the same Pro­perty. But the Rational spirits (said she) go to the creation of the Mind or Soul, the Sensitive to the Body. But, said she, Opinion creates one way, and Nature another way; which Opinions, except there be sense and reason in them, are the false Con­ceptions in Nature. But the learned Students stu­dy so much the Parts, that they never consider the Parties that work therein.

The Authoress of these Opinions of the Ra­tional and Sensitive spirits, says, she brings Sense and Reason to dispute for their truth, which no other Opinions do; and they that will not believe Sense and Reason, will believe nothing; but ex­press, by their incredulity, that they have but a small quantity of that innated Matter in their Brains.

Whatsoever treats of innated Matter, as the Sensitive and Rational spirits, is to be compared to my Philosophical Opinions.

Then they asked her, Whether she thought there could be Repetitions in Nature?

She said, Yes: for, said she, if anything in Na­ture cannot be so dissolved, as to be annihilated, it may be repeated. for if the same Matter and same Motions are in being, the same Figures may be re­peated; and if there can be in Creations, said she, a repetition, it is probable there are repetitions of one and the same Creature; only the time, and changes of time, makes a difference and obscurity; in which obscurity the Creature is ignorant of it self, and its former Being; whereby one and the same Creature may come to envy his own Renown, which was kept alive by Records from Age to Age; as if Homer should be created again, and envy his own Works, or at least strive to out-work them; or that Alexander and Caesar should be created again, and should envy their own Actions, Victories, and Powers, or (at least) grieve and repine they cannot do the like: for if they were created again, they might miss of the same Occasions, Opportu­nities or Powers, Birth or Fortunes: for though the Body and Soul may be the same, as also the Appe­tites and the Desires; yet the outward concurrence may not be the same that was in the former Being; [Page 604] for though the Concurrents (as well as the Crea­ture) may be repeated, yet perchance not repeated in one and the same Age or Time: but if they should fall out to be repeated in one Age, the same Actions would fall out to be as Caesar's or Alexan­der's were, to conquer the World again, as they did before; and there would be the same Warr betwixt the Grecians and Trojans, if the same Occasions were; but Homer would not write the same Poems, if they were on record: for, though it be an ho­nour to conquer what was conquered (although after the same manner); yet it is no honour to Wit to write what was writ before upon the same Subject, nor indeed upon any other Subject: for, both the Wit and the Subject must be new; at least the Wit, to gain as great and lasting Renown.

Then they asked her, What Fire was?

She said, That Fire was not only the quickest motion, but it is a perpetual quick motion, that hath no intermission, by which it hath a strange power over every thing; so that it hath a stronger power by the continuance, than by the quick­ness.

The Third sort that visited her, were Moral Philosophers.

The Moral Philosophers asked her, If it were possible to alter or abate the Passions?

No, said she; you may pacifie or imprison them, and enforce them to conceal themselves in the heart, not only from outward appearance, but from the very understanding in the head; but never alter or change their natures, to weaken their natural strength, or abate their natural vigour: for Passions (said she) are like the Sun; they may be eclipsed, or clouded, but never can be alter'd: and as the Sun (saith she) draws forth Vapour from the Earth; so do the Imaginations draw forth Passions from the Heart; and as a Bucket draws up Water from the bottom of a Well, so do outward Objects draw up Passions from the Heart.

Then they asked, What was the difference be­twixt the Passions and the Appetites?

She said, The Appetites were the Passions of the Body; and the Passions, the Appetites of the Mind; and the Mind is as apt to surfeit of the one, as the Body of the other.

Likewise, saith she, the Mind is as seldom pleased, as the Body is seldom at ease; being both restless, [Page 606] and never satisfied: for the height of sensitive Plea­sure, is the beginning of Pain; and the height of Passion, is the beginning of Desire; and Desire hath no Period, no Pleasure, no Center.

Then they asked her, What sort of Love was the perfectest?

She said, That Love that descended: for Love that descends, is more solid than that which ascends; and draws more towards perfection, as being most contracted: for that which ascends, is airy, and di­sperses soon, like smoak: but that which descends, is like falling showers of Rain, that join into a River or Sea of Love, running with force to perfection. This is the reason Parents love their Children bet­ter than Children can love their Parents. This is the reason Nature loves her Creatures better than the Creatures can love Nature. This is the reason, The Gods love Mankind better, and more perfectly, than Mankind loves the Gods. Thus the perfectest Love is from the Gods to Men; for the greater the descent is, the more force there is.

The like (said she) is Hate: for, that Hate which descends, is more inveterate and malignant than that which ascends; for we are easily perswaded to par­don the Injuries or Wrongs we receive from our Superiors; but seldom are pacified, without a high re­venge, for the Wrongs we have received from In­feriors; [Page 607] I mean, not only the Inferiors of Birth, or Fortunes, but Merit. This is the reason Noah could not forgive his Son Cham for the disgrace which he received; for no Hate is like to that of Dishonour. This is the reason that Heaven hates Hell more than Hell can hate Heaven.

Then they asked her, Why the Passions forced the Body to weep, to sigh, to groan, to laugh, to sing, to complain, to rail, to curse, to commend, to extoll, to implore, to profess, to protest, to look pale, to look red, to shake, to tremble, to strike, to embrace?

She said, That the causes, in the mind, did work their Effects upon the Bodies, as the Causes, in Jove, did work their Effects upon Nature. Or, in a lower Comparison, said she, the Mind is as the Sun, and the Body like the Earth; the Sun having several Fa­culties, as the Mind several Passions; it gives life and light, strength and growth; it comforts and warms, it weakens, corrupts, withers, and decays; it burns and destroys, it dilatates and contracts; it doth di­gest and expel; it sucks, it draws, and confirms: so doth the Mind; it gives the Light of Knowledg, and the Life of Understanding; it comforteth and warmeth by Invention; it strengthens by Judicious Advice; it encreases by Temperance; it weakens, [Page 608] withers and decayes by unsatiable Intemperance; it drys and parches it by grief; inflames it by anger; burns it by rage; confirms it by melancholy; de­stroys it by desperate fury, as self-murther.

Likewise, as the Sun doth not only contract and dilatate it self, but contracts and dilatates the seve­ral Creatures on and in the Earth; the same doth the Mind the several parts of the Body; it dilatates the Body into several actions, postures, and behavi­ours; to strike, to kick, to stretch out the Body, to spread out the Arms, to fling out the Legs; to stare, to call, or cry out; to hoop, to hollow; and it will contract the Body into a silent musing, close the lips, shut up the eyes, fold in the arms, bow or bend in the legs, and (as it were) wind up the Body by fear, grief, anger, melancholy, joy, wonder, admiration, and the like: and as the Sun doth suck and draw from the Earth, and dissolve and expel the Creatures therein; so do the Passions, the Humours of the Body: for, as some Sun-beams suck moisture from the several Springs that rise in the Earth; so divers Passions suck out moisture from the several Veins that run in the Body; or as such Beams which pierce the Earth, make the face thereof wither and pale; so will some sorts of Passions: and as some other sorts of Sunny-beams (for all work not the like effect) draw Sulphureous Vapours from the Bowels of the Earth, towards the Middle-Region, [Page 609] which flash out in Lightning; so do the Passions draw from the Heart a flushing-colour to the Face, which flushes in hot blushes. And as the Sun-beams draw Salt Vapours from the Sea, which fall in pour­ing showers; so do the Passions draw Salt Vapours from the Bowels, which fall in trickling tears: for the Passions are the beams of the Mind, and have as great an influence and power over the Body, as the Sun-beams have upon the Earth; and as the Sun's bright Rays cause the Elements to appear clear and light; so doth the Mind's tranquility cause the coun­tenance to look cheerful and fair.

Then they asked her of the Four Cardinal Vir­tues?

She said, That Prudence and Temperance were two Virtues, which belonged more to the Wise, than the Heroick Men: for Prudence barrs Gene­rosity and Magnanimity; and doth not only fore­warn dangers, but restrains from dangerous actions: when Heroick Honour is got in Danger, more than Safety; and Courage is made known thereby: like­wise, Temperance forbids Magnificence; but For­titude and Justice belongs most to Heroick Men.

Then they asked her, If she thought Beasts had a Rational Soul?

She answered, That if there could be no Sense [Page 610] without some Reason, nor Reason without the Sense, Beasts were as Rational as Men; unless, said she, Reason be a particular Gift, either from Na­ture, or the God of Nature, to Man, and not to other Creatures: if so, said she, Nature, or the God of Nature, would prove partial or finite. As for Nature in her self, she seems unconfined; and for the God of Nature, he can have no Biass, he ru­ling every thing by the straight Line of Justice; and what Justice, nay what Injustice would it not be, for Mankind to be supream over all other Animal-Kind; or some Animal-Kind over any other Kind?

Then they asked her, Why no Creature was so shiftless at his birth, as Man?

She answered, There were other Creatures as shiftless as Man; as for example, Birds are as shift­less before their Wings are fledged.

For, as Infants want strength in Arms to feed themselves, and Legs to go; so Birds want strength of Bills to feed themselves, and Feathers in Wings to flye.

Then they asked her, Whether she thought there were a Heaven and a Hell?

She answered, That in Nature there was a Hell and a Heaven, a God and a Devil, good Angels [Page 611] and bad, Salvation and Damnation; for, said she, Pain and Trouble is a Hell, the one to torment the Body, the other the Mind.

Likewise, said she, Health and Pleasure is a Hea­ven, which gives the body rest, and the mind Tran­quility; also, said she, the natural God is Truth; the natural Devil, Falshood; the one seeks to save, the other to deceive; the good Angels are Peace and Plenty; the evil are Warrs, and Famine; Light is the Beatifical Vision, Darkness the natural Dungeon, Death is the Damnation, Life the Sal­vation; and Moral Virtue is the natural Religion, and Moral Philosophers are Nature's Priests, which preach, and seem to practise a good life.

Then they asked, What Government for a Commonwealth was best?

She answered, Monarchical. for, as one Sun is sufficient to give Light and Heat to all the several Creatures in the World; so one Governour is suf­ficient to give Laws and Rules to the several Mem­bers of a Commonwealth. Besides, said she, no good Government can be without Union; and Union is in Singularity, not in Plurality; for Uni­on is drawn to a Point, when Numbers make Di­vision, Extraction, Substraction; which often-times brings Distraction; and Distraction, Confusions.

Then they asked her, Whether she was of that Opinion, That those that had good Understan­dings, had weak Imaginations?

She said, She was not of that Opinion; for, said she, from the pureness and cleerness of the Under­standing, proceeds the subtilty and the variety of their Imaginations; and the Understanding is the foundation of Imagination: for, as Faith is built upon Reason, so is Imagination upon Understand­ing.

Then they asked her, If the Faculties of the Mind or Soul had their uses, or proceeded from the temper of the Brain and Heart?

She answered, That the uses and faculties of the Mind, proceeded from the Motions of the Vital and Animal Spirits, which I call (said she) the Sen­sitive and Rational Spirits, which is the Life and Soul; and from the regular motions, and full quan­tity thereof, proceeds a perfect Memory, a clear Understanding, and a sound Judgment: from the quick motions proceed a ready Wit; and from the various and regular motions, proceed probable Ima­ginations or Opinions: from the scarcity, proceeds dulness and stupidity, or insensibility; from the ir­regularity, proceeds Extravagancies or Madness; and where the Scarcity and Irregularity meets, it produ­ceth a stupid, dull Madness.

The Fourth sort that visited her, were Scholars, that studied Theology; and they asked her, Whether she was of opinion that Man hath Free will?

She answered, That she was not so proud, nor so presumptuous, as to think that Man had Free­will: for, said she, if Jove had given Men Free-will, he had given the use of one of his Attributes to Man, as free Power; which, said she, Jove cannot do; for that were to lessen himself, To let any Creature have free power to do what he will: for, Free-will is an Absolute Power, although of the nar­rowest limits; and to have an Absolute Power, is to be a God; and to think Man had it only, and no other Creature, were to think Jove partial; but, said she, Man's Ambition hath bred this, and the like Opinions.

But, said they, Jove might permit Man, or suffer Man to do some things.

She said, That was as ill, or a worse Opinion: for, to think Jove permits Man to cross his will, and let him do that which he would not have him do, were to make Jove less than a God, as if his De­crees were to be alter'd by Man's Humour and Will; or, said she, to think that Jove requires of Man such things as his Nature suffers him not to do; and so, as it were, to force him to disobey him: [Page 614] or to think Jove suffers Man to do evil, when he could prevent it; or to think Jove permits Man to provoke his Justice, or to damn Man, when it is in Jove's power to save him, were to think Jove un­just and cruel; or to think Jove made Man, yet knew he would be damned; and might have saved him, in not making him; were make a malignity in the nature of Jove: for to make, and take de­light to punish, is to be malicious; which cannot be, said she; for Jove is a God in Goodness, as well as a God in Power; and a God in Justice, as well as a God of Wisdom: for Justice and Knowledg is the Basis of Wisdom; but, said she, the Opinions Men have of Jove, are according to their own na­tures, and not according to the nature of Jove, which makes such various Religions, and such ri­gorous Judgment in every Religion, as to condemn all but their own Opinion; which Opinions are so many and different, as scarce any two agree; and every Opinion judges all damned but their own: and most Opinions are, That the smallest Fault is able to damn; but the most Vertuous Life, and innocent Thoughts, not sufficient to save them.

Then they asked her, If she did believe Pre­destination?

She said, She believed that Jove did order all things by his Wisdom; and that his Wisdom knew [Page 615] how to dispose to the best; as also, that Jove's Will was the only fixt Decree; and that his Power esta­blishes all that his Will decrees.

Then they asked her, What she thought Jove required from Man?

She answered, She thought Jove required nothing from man, but what he required from Nature; as Love, Praises, Admiration, Adoration, and Wor­ship; to love his Goodness, praise his Justice, admire his Wisdom, adore his Power, and to worship all his Attributes; and Jove (said she) requires not only this in man, but of all the Creatures in Na­ture; for, said she, it were a sinful opinion to think none but man did love, praise, admire, adore, and worship Jove.

Then they asked her, If there were no Evil?

She said, there was; but, said she, all Evil lives in Nature, as all Good in Jove; for in Nature, said she, is Discord, in Jove Concord; by Nature Confusion, by Jove Method: and though, said she, Jove's Goodness and Power will not suffer Nature to run into a Confusion; yet Nature, faith she, struggles and strives, like an untoward Jade that would break loose to run wildly about; and her skittish tricks, said she, are the sins against Jove; but (said she) all things in Nature are guilty, as [Page 616] much as Man, in one kind or other.

Then they asked her, What were the sins in Na­ture against Jove?

She said, Many: but the greatest sins the Crea­tures in Nature commit against Jove, are, Not to be­lieve he is above Nature; or to think it is the Na­ture of Nature, and not the Knowledg and Power of Jove, that governs so wisely, that orders so pru­dently, that produceth so orderly, that composes so harmoniously; and all with a free Will, a pure Goodness, and Infinite Bounty: likewise, as not to believe that Jove hath an infinite Generosity to for­give and pardon all the Evils and Defects in Na­ture: Also, to dislike or murmur at the Govern­ment of Jove. And the Submission in Nature, is, to repent, to be humble, to agree, to be content, and to think all that cannot be avoided, is for the best: And as Nature is apt (said she) to commit sins against Jove, so Nature is apt to disorder, cross, and vex it self, by Excess, Mischief, and Cruelty; as, to strive to destroy to no use, to obstruct to no purpose, to hinder the Creations, to displace Crea­tions, to oppose Right, to defend Falshood, to con­ceal Truth, to obstruct Knowledg, to delude Igno­rance, to wrong Innocency, to hurt the Helpless, to destroy the Hurtless: likewise, to overcharge the Appetite, to exasperate the Passions, to deceive the Affections to abuse Time, to be unnecessarily busie, [Page 617] or lazy, or idle. And thus all the Creatures of every Kind, that are made in Nature, do, in one manner or other: but the Goodness and Power of Jove (said she) doth still hinder Nature from run­ning into Confusions, and rectifies the Disorders therein: for Warr lives in Nature, said she, and Peace in Jove.

Then they asked her, What natural Evils there were?

She said, Nature was an infinite Lump of Evil; but the natural Evils to Animals (said she) are, Pain, Sickness, Sorrow, Fear, Famine, Warrs, Dark­ness, and Infamy.

Then they asked her, If there were no natural Good?

She said, None in Nature: for all that is good, said she, is caused by Jove's wise ordering and com­posing harmoniously: for, said she, Health is an harmonious Composition; Pleasure and Delight is an Harmonious Composition; Rest, an harmoni­ous Composition; Peace, an harmonious Unity: As for Life, said she, it is an Evil, were it not or­dered wisely by Jove; and would be a perpetual torment, did not Jove by his Wisdom order Na­ture so, as to ease it with that we call Death; which is only as a change of Notes in Musick, or Har­monious [Page 618] Measures: and the several Measures Life danceth, are several Transmigrations, which Jove orders as it moves; and the Notes are the several Creatures that are made, which Jove's Wisdom sets; and Health is the Cords that Jove's Wisdom tunes; and the several Pleasures are the several Les­sons that Jove's Wisdom causeth Nature to play; and Peace is the Harmony that Jove's Wisdom makes. So that all that is thought Good in Na­ture, is but Good as it is ordered by Jove; Jove measures the Matter, marks out the Figures, and appoints the Motions what Work to do. Like­wise, Jove's Goodness and Wisdom qualifies and tempers, by several mixtures and temperaments, the vicious malignant Evil of Nature, or Natural Evil. Thus, said she, there would be a perpetual Warr in Nature, if Jove's Wisdom, Power, and Goodness, did not order Nature.

Then they asked her, If there were not Punish­ments and Rewards ordained by Jove?

She answered, Yes: for, said she, Jove hath or­dained, Virtue shall be a Reward to it self, and Vice a Punishment.

The Fifth sort that visited her, were the Fathers of the Church; who desired her to speak: which she did as follows:

You Holy Fathers (said she), you will pardon me for what I shall speak, since it is your desire I should speak.

The Preachers for Heaven, said she, ought not to preach Factions, nor to shew their Learning, nor to express their Wit; but to teach their Flock to pray rightly: for hard it is to know, whether we pray, or prate; since none can tell the purity of their own heart, or number the Follies thereof, or cleanse out the muddy Passions that by Nature are bred therein, or root out the Vices the World has sown thereon: for, if we do not leave out the World, the Flesh, and the Devil, in our humble Pe­titions, and earnest Desires, we offer to Heaven, it may be said, we rather talk than pray: for, it is not bended knees, or a sad countenance, can make our Prayers authentical or effectual; nor words, nor groans, nor sighs, nor tears, that can pierce Hea­ven; but a zealous Flame, raised from a holy Fire, kindled by a spark of Grace in a devout heart, which fills the soul with admiration and astonishment at Jove's incomprehensible Deity: for, nothing can enter Heaven, but Purity and Truth; all the gross [Page 620] and drossie parts fall back with greater force upon our Lives, and, instead of Blessings, prove Curses to us; and the Ignorant, not conceiving the differ­ence, may be lost for want of instruction therein, being most commonly taught the varieties of Opi­nions, the Sayings and Sentences of the Fathers of the Church; or exclaimed against natural Imper­fections, or threatned for slight Vanities; and ma­ny, by giving warning against Vices, raises those that have been dead and buried with former Ages, unaccustomed, and utterly unknown to the present Auditory. But one good Prayer that is directly sent to Heaven, buries a multitude of Errors and Imperfections, and blots out many a Sin. I speak not this to tax any one here; for I believe you are all Holy Men, and Reverend and Grave Fathers of the Church, who are blessed Messengers and Eloquent Orators for Heaven, the true Guides to Souls, and the Example of a good Life.

Then they asked, How they ought to pray?

Whereupon, in a Zealous Passion, thus she said:

O Gods! O Gods! Mankind is much too blame;
He commits faults when be but names his Name:
This Name, saith she, that Deity hath none;
His Works sussicient are to make him known.
His wondrous Glory is so great, how dare
Man similize, but to himself compare?
Or, how durst Men their Tongues or Lips to move
In argument, his mighty Power to prove?
As if Men's Words his Power could circle in,
Or trace his ways, from whence he did begin
His mighty Works to make, or to what end;
As proudly placing Man to be his Friend:
Yet poor, proud, ign'rant Man, knows not the cause
Of any Creature made, much less his Laws:
Man's knowledg so obscure, not so much light
As to perceive the glimmering of his Might.
Strive not this Deity to comprehend;
He no beginning had, nor can have end:
Nor can Mankind his Will or Pleasure know,
It strives to draw Him to expression low.
Let Words desist, let's strive our Souls to raise:
Let our Astonishments be Glory's praise:
Let trembling thoughts of fear, as prayers, be sent;
And not leight words, which are by Men invent:
Let Tongues be silent, Adoration pray:
And Love and Justice lead us the right way.

The Sixth sort that visited her, were Judges; who asked her about Justice.

I will divide Justice, said she, into three parts, Human, Moral, and Natural.

These three into six: Punishing, Deciding, Di­stributing; Censuring, Trafficking, and Suffering.

In Punishing Justice, there is Divine Piety, and Human Pity; and if a Judg leave out those two, it is no more Justice, but Cruelty: for, Temporal Judges ought to have as great a care of the Soul of the accused, as of executing Justice on the Body. For if a Judg threaten terribly a timorous nature, or cruelly torture a tender Body; the fear of Pain may make them be lye, forswear, or falsly accuse themselves; which endangers the Soul, not only by their Oaths, Lyes, and false Accusations, but by self-murther: for those that falsly accuse themselves, commit wilful-murther.

As for the punishing of the Body, they ought not to be condemned before they can positively prove them Criminals: for Probabilities, although they appear plain, yet are often-times deceitful.

The second is, Dividual Justice, or Common Justice, in deciding of Causes, and what is Right and Truth: as, put the case two Men claim equal right to one piece of ground, which piece of ground [Page 623] but one can have right to: The Judg, not know­ing how to distinguish the truth from the falshood, divides the ground, giving one half to the one, and the other half to the other; which is unjust: for he that hath right to all, hath as much injustice done unto him in that part that is given from him, as if he had lost all the whole: nay, one grain of dust wrongfully taken, or given away, makes the injustice the same; for it is not the weight of the Cause makes Justice more or less, but the truth of the Cause.

But Judges will say, It is not to be helped, by reason Truth lyes many times so obscure, that nei­ther Industry, Ingenuity, Subtilty, long Experience, nor solid Judgment, can find it out. So they think, that by dividing they do cut off some Branches of Injustice, although the Root will lye obscurely, do what they can. But I say, Injustice hath no Branches, but is all Root.

The last Act of Justice, is, in distributing Re­ward according to Worth or Merit; wherein there may be as much Injustice to deal beyond or above Worth or Merit, as to fall short of Worth and Merit: and though the Actions are the visible Ob­jects of Merit; yet Merit is often-times buried for want of opportunity; and many times good For­tune is mistaken, and taken for Merit. Now it is as great Injustice to give Rewards to Fortune, as un­fortunate [Page 624] for Merit not to be made known by some act: for, though Merit dwells in the actions, yet it was born in the Soul, and bred in the Thoughts.

The fourth is, Censuring-Justice, which lives meerly in Opinion: for, Who knows the heart of another, since no Man can give a true or a right account of his own? And though Misdemeanors ought to be punished in a Commonwealth, lest they should cause the ruin thereof; yet, to judg the heart, and condemn it for faults, by the Actions, Words, or Countenance, were very unjust: for many evil Actions are done through a good In­tention; for the Design might be honest, though the Effect prove evil; nay, the Design or Intention may not only be morally honest, but divinely pi­ous, yet the Effect prove wicked.

Likewise, many evil actions are produced by Chance or Misfortune; and it were an injustice to accuse the heart of dishonesty for Fortune's ma­lice, and Chance's carelesness.

Again, there are many evil actions produced from some infirmity of Nature, or from the igno­rance of Practice, or want of Experience; not from a dishonest nature; and though Infirmities ought to be corrected by Admonitions, and Igno­rance rectified by Instruction; yet it were an inju­stice to condemn Honesty for Infirmities, Faults, or ignorant Errors.

Also for Words; although there is an old say­ing, The Mouth speaketh what the Heart thinketh; yet Antiquity cannot verifie it for a truth: but, most commonly, the Tongue runs by rote and cu­stom, without the consent of the Heart, or know­ledg of the Thoughts: for, the Tongue doth oft­times like the Legs, which most commonly walk without the guidance of the sight, or the directi­ons of the knowledg; for few measure each stride, or count or look at every several step they take, nor think they how they go, nor (many times) where they go; and the Mind, many times, is so deep in Contemplations, that the Thoughts are so fix'd upon some particular Object, or so busily em­ployed on some Invention, or so delightfully taken with some Fantasm, that although the Legs walk themselves weary, yet the Mind and Thoughts do not consider or think whether the Body hath Legs or no.

How many, through extream fear, run into that they should shun, not considering whither they go? And if the Legs move so often without the Mind's knowledg, or Heart's consent, well may the Tongue, which is the agilest Member of the Body.

And to judg by the Countenance, were more unjust: for, a Man may have a Knavish Face, and an Honest Heart; a spightful Eye, yet a Generous Nature; a Frowning Brow, yet a Quiet Spi­rit; [Page 626] a Dull Cloudy Countenance, but a Bright Clear Mind.

The fifth is, a Chaffering or Trafficking Justice: for, though it is justice for a Man to buy and to fell in a Commonwealth, where all is not in com­mon; yet there may be great injustice in buying and selling.

As for example: A Man hath a Horse which he esteems, and hath a love or (as it were) an af­fection to; which Horse he is forced to sell, either for want, or otherwise; for which he asks a Price according to his Affection, not according as he is really worth: now this Man doth not cozen nor cheat, because he prizes him as he thinks he is worth; yet he is unjust through his partiality, not judging the Horse uprightly, nor weighing the Scales of Justice evenly, between his Affection, and the Horse's worth.

The sixth, Suffering.

As for Buying, it comes into Self-Justice: for example; A Man through perswasion buys a House, which House is no way convenient for him; or stands unhealthy, being in an ill Air; or unpleasantly, as in a dirty place; or in some place where many Travellers pass, which puts the Dwel­ler to great charges through Entertainments. Now this Man is unjust to himself through his facil na­ture, or courteous or kind disposition, in buying [Page 627] such a House as will impair his Health or Estate, or necessitate him through incommodiousness.

Or for a Man to keep a Servant that is no way ingenious or useful in his Offices; the Master may be said to be a Bountiful or Charitable Man to his Servant, but unjust to himself, to be ill served when he may be better served.

Likewise, for to be bound or engaged for a Man unto whom he is no ways obliged, or hopes to be so, is an injustice to himself, but to hazzard, if he doth never suffer imprisonment for the Engagment, not being able to make a satisfaction for which he gives up his Liberty; this Injustice is caused by a foolish pity.

Also, although it is Justice for a Man to adven­ture, offer, or lay down his Life for one that he knows by good proofs would do the like for him; yet for a Man to offer or give up his Life for a Man condemned, or otherwise, from whom he never re­ceived such Favours as to deserve or merit his Life, or had proof of his Friendship; although this Per­son was never so worthy, I say, it were a Heroick Act, and a huge Generosity, but a great injustice to himself, unless he had self-ends, in thinking he should get a Fame thereby: for, though there is a Human Justice, as well as a Grateful Justice, For Mankind to help and assist each other; yet surely it is Justice for a Man to love himself best, next [Page 628] to his Creator, Producer, Preserver, and Protector; as his God, his Parents, his Countrey, and his Friend; and he ought to offer up his Goods, Life, Liberty, and Fame, to Him from whom he re­ceived them; for it is an Injustice not to return (if need require) as much as he received.

Thus it is Justice to prefer a Man's own For­tunes, Life, and Fame, before all others but those before-mentioned; and an Injustice if he do other­wise.

Thus, Noble Hearers, said she, you may ob­serve and take notice, That although all dishonesty is Injustice, yet all Injustice is not Dishonest, be­cause the Intent is not evil.

Likewise, although Justice is Honest, yet Ho­nesty is not always Just; by reason, many times, the Knowledg is not perfect, or the Understanding clear, or the Truth visible, or the Will free, or the Power strong enough to do Justice, or justly.

The Seventh sort that visited her, were Barresters and Orators; to whom she thus spake.

The Root of Oratory is Logick, the Branches are Rhetorick, and the Fruit is Magick, which charms the Senses, and inchants the Soul: where­fore it ought to be banished from the Barr of Ju­stice, lest it should incircle Justice-Seat, excluding Right and Truth that comes to plead.

For Oratory chiefly is employ'd
For to prefer the Wrong, and Falshood hide.

They asked her, Whether an Orator or a Poet had most power over the Passions?

She answered, An Orator had power to betray the Passions, but could not make an absolute Con­quest of them.

As for Poetry, saith she, it hath a double power; for all Poetry hath Oratory, but all Oratory hath not Poetry.

Wherefore, said she, Poetry hath an absolute power over the Passions; for Poetry is like a pow­erful Monarch, can raise, rally, and imbattel them at his command; and, like a skilful Musician, can set, tune, and play upon them as he pleases.

Poetry is Nature's Landskip, and Life's Prospect; [Page 630] it is a Spring, where Noblest Souls do bathe them­selves:

Their Thoughts, like wanton Boys, dabble therein.

But those that are to make Orations, said she, either at the Barr, in Pulpits, upon Theaters, or in the Field, must first consider the ground and matter whereon and whereof they would speak, and to what End they would drive their speech; for when they have laid the ground, and have well considered the sub­ject of their Discourse, Words will follow easily and freely, without meditating thereupon; but those that consider only Words, and in what Phrases they shall speak, shall never speak well; but be out at every turn, because the foundation is not laid whereupon their Discourse should be built: for the Materials (which are Words) will serve them in small stead, or to little purpose, when they want the Ground, or mistake the Ground whereon they should work. But a Learned Orator's Head, said she, is like a Garden, wherein are set divers sorts of Flowers, fetch'd from several Soils both far and near; as some from Demosthenes, Thucydides, Tully, Seneca, Tacitus, and the like; and many Slips from more Modern Orators, and Seeds from so many se­veral Authors, which they strain about in their Ora­tions, as is sans nombre. Or, said she, a Learned O­rator is like a Crab tree-stock, whereon are grafted [Page 631] several sorts of sweet Fruits, but bears nothing of its own Fruit; and if it doth (said she), they will be but sowr Crabs: So their Speech would sound harsh to the Ear, as such sowr Fruit would be sharp to the Tast. Whereas a Natural Orator, said she, bears, nor brings forth any other Fruit but his own, which is sweet and pleasent, without pains-taking or ingrafting: but all things grow as Nature sets them, without the help of Art.

But I have observed, said she, that in Matches of Orations, the last hath ever the Victory (or for the most part) although not so Wise or Eloquent as the first; which shews, that the digesting part of the Brain (which is Judgment and Nutriment, and is Truth, which nourisheth the Rational Under­standing) is not like the Stomack, the digesting­place for Food, that is to nourish the sensitive Bo­dy; for when the Stomack is full, the Tast dis-re­lishes all Meat presented thereunto, be it never so delicious; it heaves against it, as being over-charged; neither doth variety tempt it.

Whereas the Head, although it be stuft, or over-gorged, as I may say, still covets more; and the Ears suck and draw in with an eager appetite, so it be variety; otherwise it grows dull, flat, and drowsie: for, the Brain will feed on gross Matter, or unwholsome Trash, with more pleasure, and a greater gust, than on that which is fine or wholsome, if once received before.

Also, said she, I perceive all those that make Ora­tions in the Field to their Soldiers, repeat their Vi­ctories from the first descent, of the foundation of their Cities, Kingdoms, and Commonwealths, and the Renown of their Ancestors; but never their Losses, their Treacheries, or their Follies; they strive to bury them in oblivion: for, though it be a good Policy, yet it is not a clear Honesty, to present a half-faced Glass for a whole. But this is not so great a fault, but it may be excused, when it is to a good End, as to defend what is rightly their own, or to gain back what unjustly they lost, or to revenge an unpardonable Wrong, or to punish a wicked Crime, or to take the part of the Helpless In­nocent; otherwise it is a Dishonesty not excusable, when it is used for Treason, Rapine, or the like.

But you Orators (said she) are like those that are skilful in playing on a Flute, or Cornet; where the Ears of the Auditors are the holes; and your Tongues, or Words, as the Fingers, do make the stops; your Breath gives the sound, and your Wit and your Learning, are the Ayres and Musical Dit­ties that move their Passions, or rather their Passion: for indeed, there is but one Passion in Nature, or at least in an Animal Figure; which Passion chan­ges into several Forms, according to the several subjects or objects it is placed upon; for upon some [Page 633] subjects, it is Love, upon others it is Hate, upon others it is Fear, upon others Anger; and so the like of all the rest of those they call several Passi­ons, which is but one natural Faculty, Property, Quality, or what you will name it, which is the Heart. That these severally alter and (Camelion-like) change, and sometimes seem all one colour, and sometimes of divers colours; or as a Triangular-Glass, which makes a Million of various colours from one light; so doth the Triangular-Heart (from the light of Life) seem to have many Passi­ons: But (said she) lest Orators should be the cause of unlawful Passions, there ought to be a Law, That the publick Assemblies that are drawn about an Oracle, either such as are to declare the Com­mand of the Gods, or for any other Instruction; Informations or Exhortations, either in the Church, or on Theaters, should not be mixed of several Sexes; but either the Assembly should be all Men, or all Women; otherwise a Consecrated Place may be pol­luted with wanton Eyes, and enticing Countenances; self-whisperings, and secret agreements to dangerous Meetings; evil Intentions, and wicked Actions; by which a Church would become a Bawdy-House, and the Priests the Pimps or Procurers to draw them together. And all Orations concerning the Commonwealth, or for any important matter, would be lost; for the Ears of the Assembly would [Page 634] be stopt by their Eyes; at least, the hearing of the Auditors would be imperfect, and their Under­standing confounded, and their Memory dazled with the splendor of light glances and fair Faces of each Sex.

The Eighth sort of Visiters were States-men, who ask'd her, What Government was best?

She answered, Monarchy: For (said she) a good King is the Center of a Commonwealth, as God is the Center of Nature, who orders and disposes all to the best, and unites and composes all differen­ces, which otherwise would run into a confusion: and Unity, said she, is sooner found, and easier made by one, than by more, or many: Neither, said she, can one Man make so many Faults, as more or many may. Besides, said she, there is less Justice, and more Injustice in a Multitude, than in one.

Then they asked her, Whether it were lawful for a King to lay down his Scepter and Crown?

She answered, That Princes that voluntarily lay down their Royal Dignity, do either express some infirmity in Power, or weakness of Under­standing, or imperfect Health of Body, or Effe­minacy [Page 635] of Spirits, or doting Affection, or Vain­glory: for Religion requires it not; nay, said she, it seems rather an Impiety for Jove's Annointed, being his chief Deputy on Earth, to leave, or be weary in governing the people, by which, and in which he serves Jove. And it was accounted (said she) a Blessing as well as an Honour, in the Anci­ent Writ, to go out and in before the People, most being inspired by Jove to that Dignity of Prophe­sying; and for the Great, Gallant, Heroick Heroes, as Alexander and Caesar, they left not their Crowns, nor parted with their Power, until Death uncrown­ed and divested them. Neither (said she) were there any that voluntarily laid down or yeelded up a Crown, but have had more Condemners and Dis­praisers, than Commenders or Admirers. Thus, said she, neither the Laws of Honour or Religion allow it; nor can I perceive Morality approves it.

Then they asked her, If a foolish King might not bring a Commonwealth to ruin sooner, than a Council of Many?

She said, No: for, said she, the plurality breeds Faction; which Faction causeth more evil than one foolish Head can make or bring about.

Then they asked, If a Tyrant-King were not worse than a Factious Assembly?

She said, No: for, said she, a Tyrant-King may make good Laws, and keep Peace, and main­tain Supreme Power and Authority; but a Facti­ous Assembly (said she) will break all Laws, do no Justice, keep no Peace, obstruct Authority, and overthrow Supreme Power; and, said she, that King­dom is happiest that lives under a Tyrant-Prince; for when the People are afraid of their Prince, there is Peace; but where the Prince is afraid of the People, there is Warr; and there is no Misery like a Civil-Warr: Nor is there a greater sign that a King is afraid of his People, than when he advan­ces those that are, or seem to be his Enemies. Thus Subjects in general live happiest under a Tyrant, but not particular Courtiers, or busie prating Fools, or Factious Knaves: and a facil King causeth more Trouble, Distraction, and Ruin, by his soft easie nature, than a Cruel Tyrant with Executions, se­vere Laws, or heavy Taxes: for the greatest Ty­rant that ever was, will not destroy all his Subjects, or take away all Substance, for his own sake; for if he did, he would destroy his Power, and ruin his Monarchy.

Then they asked her, What Men made the best Privy Councellors?

She said, Those that had most Experience, such [Page 637] as had seen the several changes of Fortune, and observed the several Humours of Men. Likewise, those that are rich; for those will be cautious in their Counsel, and careful for the Commonwealth for their own sakes; not daring to adventure their Estates in a Factious Party, or a rash Advice. But, said she, Princes should not have more Councellors than Business, for fear they should make Troubles to have Employments.

Likewise, A State should not have too many Magistrates: for, many Magistrates in a Common­wealth, are like many Masters in Family: Nor too great a number of Officers, lest the many Offi­cers should over-charge the State, spending more in ordering and commanding, than they would lose by some Disorders and Disobedience.

Then they asked her, What was apt to make Rebellion?

She answered, Poor Nobility and Rich Citi­zens or Burgers, being both Factious, and apt to raise Rebellion through Covetousness and Ambiti­on: for, the poor Nobility would have Wealth to maintain their Honour; and rich Burgers and Yeomantry would have Honour to dignifie their Wealth.

Then they asked her, Why those Kings that had Favourites, were most commonly unfortunate?

She said, One cause was, That the Subjects (in general) take it for a weakness in a Prince to beru­led or perswaded by one particular Man.

Secondly, They hate that particular Person, as an Usurper, ingrossing wholly the King's Favour; which makes them think their Prince unjust, to give to one Man that which ought to be distributed ac­cording to Merit and Worth.

Thirdly, The Favourite's Crimes are thought the King's Cruelty or Facility.

Fourthly, The Favourite's Vanity is thought to be their Taxes; all which, makes them apt to murmur and rebel: but they never fail to rebel, when the King interposes himself as a Buckler be­twixt the People and his Favourite; by which he endangers himself, but helps not the Favourite.

But a King who would reign long and peacea­bly, if he will have a Favourite, must have a Fa­vourite to be a Buckler between him and the rest of his Subjects: for he must not take his Favourite's Faults upon him, but lay his Faults on the Favourite; for when a People judg their King to have Faults, they will withdraw their reverences; for Princes must be thought as Gods that cannot err. But Fa­vourites, [Page 639] said she, are very dangerous and insinua­ting Parasites: for, those Princes must needs be ig­norant, that are much flattered; for every flatter­ing Tongue is as a Muffler, to blind the Eyes of the Understanding; and Self-conceit is the Mouth, that sucks the Milk of Vain-glory, which putrifies the Reasori, and breeds a corrupted Judgment; which causeth Crudities and Ulcers in the Sto­mack of the Commonwealth, and makes the Heart of the Kingdom sick; which distempers the whole Body, and brings the Plague of Rebellion, every Member being infected therewith; which is a cer­tain and sudden death to Monarchical Govern­ment.

Then they asked her, How Great Monarchs should use Petty Princes?

Great Monarchs or Princes should always keep lesser Princes in awe, lest in time they should go cheek-by-jowl, and may chance to thrust them out of their Power, either by Land, or Sea. Indeed, they should be kept like Spaniels, to crouch; and not like Mastiffs, to bite; otherwise they may chance to leap at their Throat, and tear out the Life of their Supremacy. Also, said she, Lesser Princes ought not to be suffered to encroach upon the Ceremonies of great Monarchs: for, if Cere­monies [Page 640] Deifie, those Ceremonies ought to be kept sacred. Nor upon their Orders or Dignifyings, as to make Nobility, or to give their Orders, or such as are like to them, as the George, the S. Esprit, or Golden Fleece, which Elective Princes are apt to do, if they be not kept in awe by the Hereditary Kings; and those Hereditary Kings that give way to them to do it, ought to lose their Magnisi­cency.

Then they asked her, How Kings and Mo­narchs should use their Officers of State, and Com­manders of Warr?

She said, Kindly, whilst they were in Employ­ments: for, their Employments either in the Civil Magistracy, or Martial Discipline, give them Power; and a small Power (said she) oft-times ruin a greater, especially when Malice and Opportunity are joined together: for though Ambition, said she, perswades; yet it is Opportunity and Malice which betrays and sets open the Gates to Rebellion; for many Pow­erful Princes, and Potent Monarchs, have been un­thrnned, and Kingdoms ruined, by mean Subjects, and small Beginnings. Wherefore, said she, Prin­ces and States should have a care of lessening the Power of their Officers, and to remove them from a better Office, or higher Degree, to a worse Of­fice, [Page 641] or lower Degree; but if they will remove them, or must (as being most convenient), then let them put them out of all Power and Authority, or advance them, either in Authority of Office or Honour, by which they will qualifie their Spleens, or prevent their Malice, or destroy their Abilities from doing any harm.

Then they asked her, If it were seemly or fit, that Kings should suffer any Subjects to be fami­liar in their Discourse or Actions, either to them­selves privately, or in the presence of a publick As­sembly?

She said, No: for, said she, a familiarity makes a pa­rity, for it advances a Subject to a greater respect; and draw