Angliae Speculum Morale;

THE Moral State OF ENGLAND, WITH The several Aspects it beareth TO VIRTUE and VICE. With the LIFE of THEODATƲS, And Three Novels, Viz.

  • The LAND-MARINERS,
  • FRIENDSHIP SUBLIMED,
  • The FRIENDLY RIVALS.
[...]!
Oh veré Phrygiae, neque enim Phryges!

LONDON, Printed for Henry Herringman, and are to be sold at the Blew Anchor in the lower Walk of the New Exchange, 1670.

TO THE READER.

IT may be thought that these ensueing Characters are meant for reflexions up­on particular persons: but I here assure the World that I onely strike at general practices. I do no more then what my self would willing­ly receive from any hand; and I shall always write his name with the first, in the Roll of my friends, who telleth me wherein I have transgress'd: for they are most hap­py who are most innocent; now [Page]since humanity is naturally prone to ill, it ought to be our care to avoid and hate it, and the way to do so, is first to know it. I think he who striveth to wound his Brother's ex­istimation, at the same time stab­beth his own; for thus he brandeth himself with the infamous name of a malicious person, and is avoided by all as noxious to civil Converse. Most ages have brought forth those publick spirits, those friends to their Country, who have dissected Vice, and shew'd it in it's ugliest colours: of most note amongst the Anci­ents were Juvenal, Persius, Ho­race; and almost every Age and e­very Nation since have been hap­py in such, and doubtless they wrought a greater Reformation with them down right blows then [...] Pyth [...]ras, Socrates, Plato, [Page]Aristotle, Theophrastus; nay, then that profess'd Master of E­thicks Zeno, or any of the nume­rous Schools of Moralists have, with their most perswasive reasons. Vice from the least of familiarity slipp­eth into an habit, and in the end infatuateth; and how it hath in­sinuated it self into the affections of the English, nay, how it is in­corporate with their Natures, their daily actions shew. The Nations obstinacy I fear is a sad presage of it's fate: for it turneth not from its wonted courses, though the will of Heaven hath been spoken in Plague, and War; nay, though't hath giv'n its commandment (like the Levitical Law) in a dreadful Fire. And we know that God hardened Pharaoh's heart before he drowned him, and his host in the red sea. In [Page]this juncture of time it resembleth Crispinus in the account which Ju­venal gives of him in these words;

Ecce iterum Crispinus, & est mihi saepe vocandus
Ad partes, monstrum nulla virtute redemptum
A vitijs, Aeger, solaque libidine fortis.

If I can by these Lines oblige my Country-men to better courses, I shall attain my end; if I cannot, I have done my duty as a free-born Subject, who ought to be sollicitous for his Countrys good. The expe­rienced may see farther then the ten­der Rays of my young Eyes will reach; for I pretend to set down no­thing here but what is obvious to the weakest sight.

MAN.

THe transactions of this World are the most unpleasant speculati­ons that ever enter­tain'd my mind. All affairs do resemble the great Ma­chines of Heaven and Earth, in their motion and volubility, but not in their regularity; for the Sun riseth from the East, at noon visiteth the South, and maketh the West his Bed; the Moon swer­veth not from her appointed li­mits, observeth her times of [Page 2]Change, and influenceth the Sea; that also keepeth its hours of flux and reflux; and generally the whole off-spring of Nature mo­veth as at first, but only Man, who was design'd Master of the whole, though he partaketh of the Heavenly soul, liveth in opposi­non to all Laws and Sanctions of God, and [...], runneth a course contrary to all Order; and in his Actions, if not in his Heart, saith, Tush, there is no all-seeing Providence, no God. Tis true, the whole progeny of Adam is obnox­ious to his original guilt: but Bap­tism is the Lavre of Regenerati­on; we have innate affections, and propensities to do evil, since our Mothers convers with the serpent; But Grace is in the World, which will resine our natures. Doubt­less [Page 3]no evil is in us, but the cure is in our own power: no poyson­ous Herb (as Naturalists observe) sprouteth out, but in the same field its Antidote is plac'd. 'Tis a prodigie that Men since they know they have a rational soul which is to measure out Eternity, and after, according to the habits and inclinations it serv'd most here, is to receive a Crown, or a Scorpion, should follow the di­ctates of Sence, wholly depo­sing Reason from her Empire o­ver the passions, and be as Kings, (though partaking of all the in­conveniencies of Humanity) for one hour, to be afterwards most miserable for Myriads of Myri­ads of ages, which like a Circle will never have an end. Did not Heaven oftner stretch out a staffe [Page 4]then a rod, apply Gileads Balme, then pursue revenge: the World had many Centuries of years since been past the frontiers where now it stands, and immersed in the very centre of the Valley of Tears and Death.

From Adam through the wide Organs of the depraved species, the sad effects of his fate are de­riv'd to all; but yet these Miseries by the mercy of Heaven being sal­ved; every heady appetite which we caress, and embrace, is the Ser­pent which betrayeth our souls anew into that infinity of incon­veniencies which attendeth the eating of forbidden fruit. These unhappy, and often repeated acti­ons, have created parallel habits in us, which have changed the whole Mass of our Nature, and [Page 5]have set us in a diametrical op­position to all that is called good: to prove this, if we examine the intrigues, and daily occurrences in the World, we shall find nothing, if apply'd to the Divine Rule, con­formable, nothing if laid in the ballance of the Sanctuary, of just weight; every rational Being, like the ambitious Angels, hath per­verted the intent of its creation; none but sensitive and vegetative Creatures pursue the primitive end of their institutions.

There is no Medium betwixt good and evil.
They admit of no mixture, or mu­tual commerce.

Whoever is not good, is its contrary; if a good Action be leaven'd with the least Vice, it is overcome by its powers, and [Page 6]degenerateth into bad: the least Sin stamps Ignominy on the fair­est Virtue; the Scripture says, He who breaketh but one Com­mandment, though he have invi­olably observed all the rest, is guilty of the breach of the whole Table.

If thus then; alas, what should we be if all our actions were put to the Test! how few do oblige without the hope of a threefold return? who loves without a sen­sual, or avaritious end? who will serve their King and Coun­try without the hope of Reward from him, or applause from her? in fine, we undertake nothing but we consider our selves first; and if we cannot work our own inte­rests, we will let the other fall, though of the most publick na­ture. [Page 7]We obey no Parent but the Flesh; we hugg no Brother but a son of Belial; we know no Friend but the unrighteous Mammon: but oh deceived Man! thy blind Parent will lead thee, as blind, in­to an ocean of Maladies, and Miseries, thy Brother to a Dun­geon, or a Gibbet, and thy Friend wil hinder thee from ever behold­ing the Heavenly mansions. Oh! where must distressed Virtue plant her feet, if thus incroach'd upon? where must she be found if her Antagonist thus in Triumph exalt her crowned head? sure like Astraea, no where but above the Starrs. To conclude with the co­rollarie of the whole, every acti­on of Man is impertinent; he draweth no Line to its true Cen­tre; he levelleth all his designs at [Page 8]a false end, and wandreth in those broad paths which conduct to the gates of Destruction.

The Noble-Man.

HE who is advanc'd to Title and Fortune, and is be­come an head of the people, either by his own merits or the atchieve­ments of his Ancestors, ought to be exemplary in virtue. Being set by Heaven on such a conspi­cuous place on purpose to guide the people into the paths of love, and obedience to their God, and King; and to shew them the ill effects of contrary performances: like Candles put at night in Pharos Towers, which at once give the Ma­tiners a view of their fruitful E. gypt, [Page 9]and lead them off those many and dangerous shelves of the Nile.

No Nation ever boasted a bra­ver, a more gallant, a more virtu­ous Nobility then England; who have rais'd eternal Monuments in forreign parts to their Country and themselves, witness their ad­ventures in the Holy wars, their conquest of France and Ireland, their many attempts upon the va­lourous Scott, before the happy union of the Crowns; of late times in the West-Indies, before we got footing there, on the Con­tinent, our exploits in Spain, and Portugal will speak; at Sea in the Spanish invasion; and several o­ther remarkable Encounters there and elsewhere. But yet, though they have gain'd Honour and a deathless Fame, why should it de­scend [Page 10]to an Adulterate and So­phisticate posterity? why should they inherit their Glories who do not their Virtues? who can boast onely of the empty name of a descent from Noble and gallant Loins? 'tis not fit that Tissue and Arras which have adorn'd Palaces should hang on the Clay-walls of a Cottage, because the Dust of the one would Eclipse the Beau­ty of the other; no more is it so, that they who are fallen from the Glories of virtuous Fathers, should bear those Escutcheons which they transmitted to them fair and white, least they cloud them with that black ignominy which results from vitious practices; Ho­nour, as well as Friendship requi­ring Virtue for a Basis.

I wish this discourse could [Page 11]not seem to appertain and be di­rected to the now English No­bless so much as it doth: (with the pardon of some few, to whose conduct and generous integrity, England must own much of her present happiness, and owe much of her future.) but this being no private concern, but one of so publick a Nature, that every free-born Subject seemeth to have a share in their carriage, they being the Pillars of the Go­vernment, as they are Councel­lors of the King; I must take notice of it. Tis now by the great ones thought putid pedan­tery, to be skill'd in Arts or Arms; they leave the practice of those to the plodding Students, of these, to the soldier who sights for pay; so putting at once their [Page 12]Nations Glories, and its fortunes into unexperienced and mercena­ry hands. They in their lives imitate the softness they tryed in their Cradles: they are pierc­ed with a Northern blast, blown down with the sound of a Trum­pet; nor did ever any Action of theirs speak them valiant, but the beating a Lacquey who dares not resist, or the kicking a poor Tradesman down the stairs whom they had undone before. These sure are virtues exceeding all those for which storie gives their Ancestors a Fame. Religion is a thing they explode conversa­tion, it merits not their thoughts, yet they build Groves to the Gods of this world in high places, and build Altars, and with a more then heathenish superstition pay [Page 13]sacrifice to the weakest of Crea­tures. Sure these are greater Ido­latries then the son's of Nebat, though he made Israel to sin. Luxury hath obtain'd above all; they eat, drink, and play, but think not to morrow they must die. Thus their manners are not onely become effeminate, but their bodies and their strengths are decayed. Their Fathers fed upon those corroborating meats the Island did afford, (which cer­tainly, if ever any was, is a most fortunate one) and they sympa­thizing with them, gave them the most natural force; but these not content with what in such abundance it offered, have suf­fered our Nation to be invaded with forreign softnesses, and to be cat up with what it self was [Page 14]intended for food, for nothing, it is sure, consumeth our bodies more then these; and our Estates must suffer if we entertain a com­merce for what turns to no profit, but ends in a loathsome excre­ment; then to consummate this happiness, a French Cook must prepare the viands; most of their other Menials being of that Na­tion; (who are the most nasty naturally, and the most false of all the Europeans,) terming their own Countrey-men not agreea­ble or adroit enough; thus they suffer their poor Natives to starve, whilst they seed a people whom God hath placed in a Clime which giveth them even a super­fluous maintenance: Fornication is no sin with them, and Adul­tery is the least; they not con­sidering [Page 15]in every such Act, that they invade their neighbours free­hold: These customes accompa­nied them home who were sent out so young that they could re­marque nothing but the vices of a Countrey, and sure it were a consi­deration worthy of the Parlia­ment, to enact, that either (with the Lacedemonian State) they should not travail at all, or not till they are come to some maturity. Is it not fine, that when the Na­tion calleth for their heads or hands, they should be employ­ing the one, in beholding the the imaginary beauties of an eye, and the other, in the worse Offi­ces of a mean, and loathsome, yet commanding Leachery; where will these follies end? doubtlesse no where but in their ruines who [Page 16]foment them; will it not by these practices come to pass, that no­thing shall be more despicable in the eyes and mouths of the Peo­ple then the Nobility? those who were their Countreys great­est Glory, and delight, will in time become its greatest ignomi­ny and hate; there is no return to lost Glories; the descent to Hell is easie, but the coming back impossible; the unhap­py Angels, (though they wrought their fates by Nobler means, by ambitioning higher honors) must now wear out eter­nity in everlasting Chains and Darkness.

The Courtier.

AS his Obligations are greater to his Prince; and his advan­tages more immediate from him, so ought his affections to be more fixed to, and centred in his con­cerns, and his services to be of greater volume then those of o­thers; for though the Great Mo­narch of Heven and Earth will be praised by us his mean sub­jects here, yet the Angels whom he honoureth with a nearer con­verse, with more close approach­es to his radiant Majesty, give him more magnifying praises, more elevated Halleluiahs. He who truly intends to make a Court the Scene of his life, ought above all to practice sincerity, [Page 18]and to value his faith; for the ad­dresses of the people to their Sovereign of all kinds being con­vey'd through him as a conduct, it should be his care that they ar­rive at the Royal Ear without addition or diminution; lest he wrong them in their affairs, and so alienate their affections from him to whom they are due, and purchase to himselfe in the end shame, if not death. He ought to appear in a garb not above his place, for so he may pro­cure envy to himself, nor below the dignity of his Master, lest he wrong him; He ought to use all means to advance him in the affections of the people, to indear his interest to them, to exercise an obliging mien to all; but e­specially to forreigners under [Page 19]what Character soever they re­main here, to shew himself in all splendor due to the Office he hold­eth, to them, that he may create a Reverence in them for the Au­thor of it. He must be seen in the intrigues and interests of trans­marine states, and know their benigne and malevolent Aspects one to the other; to be ready upon all emergencies to meet the maladies of the body poli­tick by his Head or Arm; to e­spouse its fortune onely, and to do his devoir to it by freely sacrifi­cing his life, and posterity, and by returning without regret, his goods to that service from whence he received them; imitating in that his Master who though he hath large incomes from the peo­ple, yet restoreth them by ex­pending [Page 20]them upon all exigencies for their good, as the Sun draw­eth off exhalations and vapors from the Earth, but sendeth them into her Lap again in gen­tle and fruitful showrs, which as­sist her nature, and make her bring forth in larger proporti­ons.

But 'tis wonderful to see how farr men are from what they real­ly ought to be, his moral parts seem to be subject to the same vi­cissitudes with the state he fear­eth; for now you shall behold him like the lazy Leviathan, ta­king his sport in the deepest A­bysses of pleasure, preying upon those smaller Fish whose strength cannot resist his power: he is drowsie and backwards to the ad­vantages of his Prince, but al­ways [Page 21]vigilant for his own; he runneth in ways excentrique to all Vertue, and knoweth no Friend or Divinity but Venus, Bacchus, and his Mammon; his motion is perpetually in bowing and cringing, but he is as constant in directing his Eye to the pole of his interests, as the magnetick Needle is to the North; he is that true Chymist who extracts by the calcining fire of his feigned-ar­dent affections, gold out of the bleeding estates of unhappy de­linquents, and of those whom the Law adjudgeth to punishment, and sometimes of innocent offen­ders, and pretended Criminals; But though these may be the principles of some, yet there are many whose integrity, and [Page 22]fidelity to their Prince renders them worthy of those advantages they enjoy: yet their carriage cannot excuse others. There is an impertinent thing called a young Courtier, whom I shall draw as near the life as I can.

His discourse is that which pro­faneth the ears of the Good, and the wise, and proveth trouble­some even to the most imperti­nent; his remarques are of the most inconsiderable encounters of the day, in which himself is always a principal Actor; either how many Women by his false vows he hath overcome; or where he hath made the greatest debauches in Burgundy or Cam­paigne, at Jero's, Shattelin's, or Lafroons; or if his happy inven­tion [Page 23]doth supply him with a di­storted Rebus, or an ugly dismem­bred Anagram, an unnatural An­tithesis, a forced quibble, or an uncivil repartie that bites ones re­putation, (which all are the dry scabs of a corrupted wit,) he must be admir'd for being Master of a greater ingenuity than Ben John­son; He is sure to have three or four verses of Love and Honour ready out of the latest Play, and the last new Song in his poc­ket, which he hath coppied in false English. 'Tis fit his dress should be gay, because Embroi­deries are for the Palaces of Kings; but it is not fit that many poor families, to supply his extra­vagancies, should want bread: 'tis miserable to think that a thousand curses should attend his steps and [Page 24]not one good wish should be sent up for him: but why should pray­ers be offered for him who never prays? who contemneth Religi­on as a vile thing? who never nameth God but in his Oaths or Burlesque.

The Gentleman

IN the frame of the State, is like the Tuscan Pillar in Ar­chitecture, which though it be not so Polite as the other Orders, nor can boast a well proportion'd neatness, like the Ionick, nor an handsomely adorn'd head, like the Corinthian Column, yet it is in building the foundation of all [Page 25]their Beauties; so though he be inferiour in Title, yet in Power and interest he is equal if not supe­rior to the Nobleman; for in all Re­cords we find the House of Com­mons to have been very conside­rable in the Government, though the Lords make a Court of Judi­cature; it is his Duty to serve his Countrey by his Presence there, to preserve her Peace, and to de­fend her Priviledges and Immu­nities; to be hospitable to his in­digent neighbours, to receive the stranger and way-faring-man with Chearfulness and Civility: In fine, to open his Napkin to all, and not to employ it in wrapping up his Talent. But alas! is it not mi­serable, that Vanity like Romes Eagles at the Meridian of her power, should carry Conquest on [Page 26]her Wings to all places where she is pleas'd to flee? who of the wi­sest? nay, what Diviner (if any such there be) could have fore­seen, that vice should have found out the once Sacred Groves, the quiet and innocent recesses of a Countrey? the Gentleman now hath chang'd the Plow and Cart, which did feed his Grandsire, and a brave Train of stout attendants in his great Hall, whose Labour well deserv'd their Hire, for a Gilded Coach, and a numerous Train of debauch'd and insigni­sicant Lacqueys, and now by an unhappy Thrift hath converted his long Table well covered, and well filled, into a little round one, which holds one Dish and three People, and hath turn'd his great Hall into a little Parlour: [Page 27]He once in a year arriveth at Lon­don with his Lady, a rich or hand­some Daughter, or a Neice, with whom they fail not daily to visit the Theatre, giving to her the ac­complishments of the Town, who ought rather to be seen in the mi­steries of a Countrey life. If her fortune be great, 'tis unfortunate­ly ship-wrack'd upon some Lord; who after the enjoyment of her revenue, loaths her person; He places his Son perhaps at the Inns of Court, who knoweth he is to heir an Estate, and thinketh it but washing the Ethiops, to injure his Brain with the sturdy Noti­ons, and knotty Maximes of the Law: he therefore girdeth him­self for other accomplishments, allotting the morning to dance or fence, at noon he dineth, in the [Page 28]afternoon he sees a Play, and to recreate his languishing spirits, he locketh up the day with fat va­porous Ale at Hercules's Pillars and maketh there his non ultra till 12 a clock! After two year, when he returneth to his Father and should give him the Harvest of the seed, which in such proporti­on he hath sown, he hath not Wit nor Law enough to keep his own Courts. The Gentleman commonly visits the Town at the expence of the poor Labourer's sweat, whom he hath now wrack'd to the utmost farthing; he liveth splendidly here for some moneths, he drinketh at all hours, he fitteth at the head of the Table, and for his honour disburseth for the reck­ning; if well heated, he may, hap­pily, be invited to sport with the [Page 29]frail Dye, and there he is certain­ly saluted with a high or low Ful­lam; or some other convenient instrument of execution; if his Genius leadeth not that way, he goeth to visit a Lady of Quality, an acquaintance of his Friends, who for that occasion is well dress'd in her borrowed weeds, and hath Lodgings in some mo­dish place, as the Piazza, South-hampton buildings, or Suffolk street; but is such a Creature, as will be at the beck of any Coachman, rather than he fallow; if he con­verse with her, he is either clap­ped, or payeth for his familiarity, with Silver, Gold, Watch or Ring, whatever moveable he hath about him, and when he is laid to sleep, his Landabrides and his dear friend divide the spoil: when [Page 30]his whole Cargo is spent, then he either abscondeth, or without rigging, or ballast, sneaketh pri­vately in a Stage-coach to his house in the Countrey, (his own being seised) and by the next Term is presented with an Exe­cution, from his Taylor, or Land­lord, and perhaps too from his Apothecary. These surely are great mistakes, and mighty im­pertinencies, and much dissonant from the nature of that Province with which Heaven hath endow­ed him. To conclude, if the Gen­tlemans fortunes Sympathize so much with the Peasants, that if the one faileth, the other falleth, much more must the States with his, who is her chief corner-stone.

The Gallant or Hector

IS he who maketh Vice his bu­siness; who recreates himself with dangerous follies; who feed­eth upon his greatest enjoyments with Heaven's sword of justice hanging over his head by a very slender hair of Mercy. It is his chief principle to espouse none, long­er then it indulgeth his unhappy designes. He apprehendeth Religi­on to be a thing dress'd up in va­rious Rites and Ceremonies, one­ly to terrify the ignorant vulgar in­to obedience; grant there be a God, saith he; doth he require greater performances of us than our Nature will bear? doth he give us affections to indulge, and must not we gratifie them? in [Page 32]making the true use of the Crea­ture, we adore the Creator; we praise the Cause by do­ing Honour to the Effect; but he who thus argueth, considereth not that all these Blessings are gi­ven with a limitation, lest we might be so wholly intent in ser­ving nature, that we might be forgetful of the Author of it; nor remembreth he that nothing is created perfect; that Adam was authoriz'd by his Maker to Treat his sence with any Tree of Pa­radice, but one; he cometh to Town innocent enough, but by often conversing with Pitch, he at last retaineth it upon his Hands and Cloaths; he is, for the most part a younger Brother, who hath spent what his Father left him to subsist by; or a Reform'd soldier, [Page 33]who having liv'd in the War, must when that Harvest is ended, pe­rish in the Autumne, if he use nor some pious fraud which will give him meat; in order to live, he procure an interest in the Groom-Porters, or an Ordinary, and ma­keth these the Scenes of his fu­ture atchievements: it is then his care to have intelligence of young Gentlemen of fortunes, who ar­rive at Town, that being known, he intrudeth into their company, and gaineth an interest, by obli­ging them by loosing some small summ at first, as Fishers bait the waters over night, with hopes of a large return for these charges in the morning; and thus taketh a severer use then the Jews do of those out of their own pale, if any of them do not play, (which is ve­ry [Page 34]seldom seen;) he procureth him a Mistress, who certainly clappeth him, then he shareth with the Chi­rurgeon, who maketh his Cure more dilatory, and at the same time fluxes his body and his purse. And now, upon the repu­tation of this good Office, his friend advances, (pretending his servant out of the way) to bor­row a trifling summ of 20 or 30 Guineys, which if asked for by the Creditor after the forbear­ance of 6 or 7 moneths, he is an­swer'd D' Dam-me Sir, you dis­oblige your friend, and you injure mine and your own honour; but when at last he findeth know­ledge groweth on him, he taketh a small occasion to quarrel with him, and so the League of Friend­ship is broken; Foresight and [Page 35]Conduct he throweth behind him; he is the first-born of for­tune; this hour he is fraught with Gold, as if the grand Elixir were his own: to morrow you shall meet him poorer then a Poet; then he is forced to take sanctu­ary in the good nature of his Taylor or Shooe-maker, who (though Jews enough) will yet give him Credit perhaps for a Guiney, because after a good hand he payeth well; with this he marcheth to the Ordinary, in hopes to make that two, he loos­eth it, and at twelve in the night, in great dispair he goeth home­wards, in his way meeteth with and quarrels the Watch, hath his head broken, and is laid in the Counter to repent till day; now if his Reputation ebbeth so, that [Page 36]he can have nothing upon Trust; and his fortune so bad, that his be­nefactress in the City (who is com­monly a Merchants wise) can­not help him, because her Hus­band hath the Key of the Cash­box; he then posteth to the place of Execution, throws at all up­on the Table, if his Cast be good he sweepeth it, if bad, he oweth them all; and if he be a very poor Rascal, his loving Creditors remit him the summ, and kick him down the stairs. Upon these disadvantages, do men play that have fortunes: them­selves may easily be ruin'd, (nay, it is forty to one if they are not,) but the others being already up­on the ground, can fall no low­er; he often, when he is idle, maketh his entry gratis at the 5th [Page 37]Act of a Play; and there either picketh up a loving Female whom he maketh drunk, and then abu­seth 2 or 3 Bullies, who drown their cares and sing the Sun down and up with impious Catch­es; Oaths are so frequent with him, that he can as well not move his Eyes, as leave them; they are Complements to his period, and they make them rounder: thus doth he murther his precious and immortal soul, which at last he expireth either from a bed of loathsome diseases and rotten­ness, or from a disgraceful Gib­bet with common Malefactors.

The Virtuoso

DId rise Gloriously, like light out of the Chaos, and daz­led the Eyes of the astonished world, triumphing with a Mas­culine Gallantry over the impra­cticable Notions of the Antients; but now he seemeth not to pur­sue his advantage with his primi­tive vigor, which hath diminish­ed his Fame a little; for whoe­ver treadeth the paths of Virtue, ought always to be in a forward motion, and by equal degrees, as he advanceth in the way, to dou­ble his pace till he cometh to the Goal. The Great Chancellor Ba­con was the Columbus, who led us to this unknown America of new Philsophy, since him Carte­sius [Page 39]and Gassendus have made the greatest discoveries in her Conti­nent, to whom we shall with all willingness yield the Bays, if we consider the advantages we now enjoy from their labour; for all Precepts, all Notions are given us from above to regulate and direct our Actions; and the best of speculations are buried in ob­livion, if they do not produce their due effects; now it is most certain, that most, or all of the principles of the Paripatetic Philosophy were meer Entia Rati­onis, in intellectu tantum, which now give place to Entia realia, to true and beneficial Experi­ments; doubtless it was the at­tempt of a most Heroick Virtue, to storm the whole Circle of an­cient Learning, so much reve­renced [Page 40]by Men, though for [...] other cause then its Antiquity and the perswasions they had their Fathers esteemed it, as [...] old times they honoured aged Oaks, because they thought some God had kept his residence un­der their shades. It is admira­ble how a body made up of [...] many jarring and disagreeing Ele­ments (I mean opposite opini­ons) should have obtain'd so much, and gain'd so mighty at Ascendant over the affections of men of parts enough refined, that they should pronounce him an He­retick, who should dare to con­tradict the meanest of its Mem­bers; bearing it up against ex­perience which ought to be out general Mistress.

The English Literati have pre­sented [Page 41]the World with Effects of Industry and Ingenuity most wor­thy of their causes; they have im­proved the Art of Grinding Glasses, which is a great advan­tage to Astronomy and Sea-af­fairs; by the study of Microgra­phy, and the Anatomy of insects, they have displaied a new Page of the Book of Nature; they have by more exact scrutiny into humane bodies, discovered the circulation and the source of many diseases, and have lately oblig'd us with an experiment of the transfusion of the blood of one Animal into another, which is never enough to be gratefully admired, though it hath the ill fortune to be little e­steemed of now, but in ensuing ages, it will certainly be crowned with its due applause; for it is [Page 42]always seen that great Actions are deny'd their Bay's in that age in which they are born, because Envy and prejudicate Malice, (the off-springs of the old Ser­pent) detract from them. The Hypothesis of Water, and Air, (the advance of the latter being — in the Air-pump, a Noble me­chanick invention) are very ratio­nal, and the inspection into the Nature of Vegetables, hath much advantaged Man in the support his body will receive from them. Their progress in all Physical Learning hath generally been great; but upon Chymistry par­ticularly they have spent much Labour, and Oyl. And here I must declare, that though I ho­nour all the ingenious and indu­strious, I cannot be reconcil'd to [Page 43]those who are in pursuit of that great Magistery of Nature (as they call it) the Philosophers stone; it is wonderful that they should consume so considerable a portion of their lives in the search of that which they know not really to be in the Created sub­stances: or if it should exist, which hath so mean an end as the bring­ing Gold into the World, which is the efficient cause of all strises, and evils; whose converse the good a­void, because it commonly turneth even the souls of its votaries in­to its own Hypostasis: how cru­elly do they macerate themselves who search for this! how they foment those scourges of our lives, Hope, and Fear! each mi­nute bringeth with it a promise of success which expiteth in Fumc; [Page 44]and at last when they are just up­on the Frontiers of bliss, and think the next minute to embrace their wish'd for Elixit, they find in their Arm onely a Caput mor­tuum, a Terra Damnata, in which they have buried perhaps their whole fortunes, and the greatest number of their most hopeful years, and all which at last ari­seth from the expence, is summed up in two, or three moral Corol­laries; and they end their days with this Prayer in their mouths, ‘O si praeteritos reparet mihi Jupiter annes.’

Now, to return to the Virtuoso; when I consider what small re­turns of civility we make to these ingenious persons who have ob­liged us so much, I can find our coldness to have no other cause [Page 45]then what themselves do give, they so readily admitting all per­sons into their Society, who will pay the Duties of the house, though they know not the terms of Philosophy, make the multi­tude, who never see the bottom of an affair, judge of all from their weakness; they common­ly entertain the company of a Coffee-house, with some refuse notions gleaned from the inge­nious, which they pronounce as Magisterially as if they had been secretary's to Nature, and discourse as confidently of the harmony of her parts, as a Countrey Musi­cian playeth who never learned his Gam-ut. From the imperti­nencies of these pretenders, this Royal Corporation suffereth, when it ought rather to be encou­raged, [Page 46]and caressed by all the Great and Learned for all the great advantages it promiseth in the future; for it is most true, that whosoever is a good Philo­sopher is a good man; because no one looketh into the recesses of Nature, who is not induced to extoll the Author of it, and so gratefully maketh his return for the immense favours in serving and honouring him who confer­red them. Thus out of a Physi­cal knowledge, a Moral one starts and we see Science and Virtue have the same Basis. It is certain, Learning hath no Enemies but the Envious, and Ignorant, and even from these evils she reapeth good; for from the detraction of the former, she raiseth repute, since nothing but Virtue is the [Page 47]subject of Envy, and from the in­veterateness of the latter, she hath a benefit too; since the praises of the unwise are reproaches, and whosoever delighteth in them, wrappeth himself in the better half of his Fools-coat; and E converso his reproaches must be praises.

The Divine

HAth the powers of cursing, and absolving upon Earth; and therefore ought to be reve­renc'd as Gods immediate instru­ment. Now, though his injuries be many from the disaffected, yet under these great pressures he ought with the Palme, to lift up [Page 48]his head highest; and to exalt his voice like a Trumpet to main­tain warre against all the Cham­pions of Vice; every one bendeth his bow to the head, and aims at the white of the Clergy's inno­cence, accusing them for cove­tous, and loos-livers, not consi­dering how many amongst them are neither: but grant they were so, we ought, as men, to pardon them their errors; and as the ser­vants of Heaven we ought to re­verence them: should we be struck so surely from above for every little sinne, as we do one another, our whole species had before this time been utterly de­stroyed, and had left the World to be possess'd by sensitive be­ings; but I fear the great con­cern of these pretenders will one­ly [Page 49]prove that which taketh not its source from a due principle, but a sensual end; the desire of possessing the Churches revenues; if so, oh how impious is their de­sign! surely they that serve at the Altar ought to live by it; if they who serve Earthly Kings, ought to live gloriously according to the dignity of their Lords; then à fortiori, they ought to be in all things above the rest, who at­tend upon the Monarch of Hea­ven, and Earth: but there is one thing which would in all like­lihood recover the Church, and that is, if the Nobility and Gen­try of the Nation could be per­swaded to enter into Orders; by their Alliance, and Interest, they might bulwark themselves against those who would break in upon [Page 50]them, through the mightiest fast­nesses of their Virtue: no one can be too good to attend at the Al­tar: David was King and Priest, and so were all his successors in Israel; and it was imputed to the Jews for sin, that they chose their Priests out of the meanest of the people; for their persons being held in contempt by those who were their equals before; their Office comes to be so too, and the best parts also suffer when clouded with poverty.

Raro in tenui facundia panno.

It is true, that Heaven lately shewed its displeasure to our Church, and seated Forreigners in its fattest Sees; yet it was said to them, as to the Israelites when [Page 51]they went to possess Canaan, I send you up to possess the Land of the Anakim, not for your own Righteousness, (for you are a stiffe-necked people) but to scourge the Nations which enjoy it. But now we may plainly see how great the concern of Hea­ven is for the Church, since the Ecclesiastical and politick Go­vernment are so united, that they both fall, and both rise together; Many now shoot at her founda­tions, but I hope she is built upon Zion which cannot be moved. The points of Toleration and Com­prehension have been so thorow­ly discuss'd, that here I need but mention their names, onely I must say, I should be very un­willing to see either of them ob­tain in this Kingdom. Now [Page 52]the Churchmen ought rather Magna vivere then Magna loqui, and to shew by their own practi­ces, that the Precepts which they give may be easily obeyed. The fat Bulls of Basan have prevail'd now; but the Almighty hath one­ly crowned them with success, to make them fall nobler Sacrifi­ces to his wrath.

The Physitian

IS to the body what the Divine is to the soul, though he doth not administer his province with a parallel integrity; since his Knowledge is increased, Diseases are so too; and our bodies by his applications are become less robust, and vigorous; for by re­lying [Page 53]on them, our natural heat and radical humours are impair­ed, which were our supports; and not seldome, the very remedy of one Malady is the cause of ano­ther; but not onely from this na­tural cause, but a more inhumane one, resulteth as great an evil; for to swell his own profit, he often prolongeth the Agonies, the Miseries of his poor Patient, making himself seem to him a greater distemper then that he is already travailed with. From those dry bones, which none who passe by, can think could live, he will extract a lively and sparkling Essence to himself, and he will draw sweetness from the most pu­trified Carcasse, his Recipe whose barbarous Character fully speak­eth his — manners) produ­ceth [Page 54]two Pieces to himself; then if you should recover, (which is more the effect of Providence then his Care,) the Apotheca­ry, or Chirurgeon giveth with a cruel Bill, the lately cicatrized wound, a new gash; he visiteth you as long as the pulse of your Purse beateth high; but when he findeth it to decline, then, he saith, you grow so well that you need not his Art; or your disease is so desperate, that it cannot assist you; his thoughts of God are not so as they ought to be; for by his so frequently view­ing the works of Nature, he is apt to misapply and attribute too much to second Causes. He adoreth that great principle of Nature, Self-preservation, but neglecteth that as great one of [Page 55]Christianity, to preserve his Bro­ther; nay rather like a Cannibal, he preyeth upon him: though I very much honour this profession, yet I must not the abuses of it; though it be very necessary, yet the neglects, and the ill ends of the professors of it, render it often dangerous: for it is most certain, that they not seldome by their Clothes do transferre the disease of one, to the other; and it is as sure that many suffer by their ap­plying Medicines to diseases, which plain Care, or Nature would work off. If his Fees were more moderate, the Patient would receive a greater advantage, and himselfe no detriment; for now, by the excess of them, the sick person cannot see him above once in a day, and there being so [Page 56]many critical minutes in a disease, it is impossible he should prescribe for them in his absence. Thus al­so the inferior sort of the Nation will enjoy a benefit; for many who are lost for want of advice, are able to give a Crown, who cannot afford a Guinny: it is in fine, a profession, which employ­eth the industry and study of its Professors, and chargeth them with the greatest duties and care, and therefore ought to be most coun­tenanced if it impose not too much upon the World.

The Lawyer.

FRom Adam to the Flood, the Law of Nature onely reign­ed; but, when wickednesses increas­ed upon the surface of the earth, God laid his commands against Murther and Bloud, and after­wards as the age degenerated Laws increased, and became an Asylum to the Good, and a ter­ror to the Bad. Since the con­cord of brethren is rare, because every man preferreth his own in­terest, Law is appointed for the preservation of the world; there­fore, the approaches to it, ought to be easie, for if a Sanctuary be locked, of what advantage is it to that miserable man who flieth to its protection: the Law which [Page 58]God gave to his peculiar people, which he often called stiff-neck'd and perverse, was comprised within the narrow compass of two Tables; and this he thought e­nough to bridle their greatest ex­orbitancies; the Twelve Tables, nay the Roman or Civil Law it self governed a Nation the most Great, most Glorious, and most Adventrous in the World; which without the impertinent, and in­digested glosses of Bartolus and Baldus, and others, is of very lit­tle volume; But we of this Nati­on are now exposed by what should be our refuge; devoured by what should be our guard; the Rules of our Law growing into so monstrous a body, that like the famed Dragon, they devour daily a considerable Member of [Page 59]the Virgin justice. Every Term bringeth forth a collection of new Reports; and every Judgement soweth the seed of a new strife; betwixt the Pleaders and the At­torneys, the Prize which the par­ties contend for is shared; the latter of which, is a generation of men so Magisterial where they live, and so oppressing, and with­al, so numerous, that at last, with the too much injur'd Client, they will devour the Lawyer too: who certainly hath the same ground to preferr a Bill in Parliament a­gainst them, for invading his pro­vince, as the Physician had against the Apothecary; how unhappy are since we under the wings of a pre­tended justice all enormities are committed! She now like a rich Heiress is bought and sold, and that [Page 60]which should oppose deceit, is it self now become the greatest, so that Photinus's principle in Lucan seemeth to be the Lawyer's.

Jus, & fas multos faciunt Ptolemae nocentes.

The poor Country-man when with his Hat in his hand, he hath intreated his Councellour to let him buy his misery, is after two or three years attendance, and the charge of witnesses and jour­neys, dismissed with the loss of his cause, (so that it may be said, the Law, like Rome in her gran­deur, suis ipsa viribus ruit,) and after a seeming trouble is told, that his own mistaken instructions were the ruine of his affair. But those who have long been tossed in these troublesome waters find that the safest way to an Haven [Page 61]is to Fee his Antagonist's Coun­sel, as well as his own; the con­veyances which we make now are scarce contained in many skins of Parchment; and often for the mistake of one word, the whole fabrique is ruin'd, though it be evidently contrary to the in­tent of the Conveyer. Though these days are more adorn'd with Gold; yet those nearer the Nor­man Conquest, and before it, more resembled the Golden ones. For then; a few Rhithmes com­posed by an honest well mean­ing Bard, served to pass away the greatest possessions: the hearts of men were sure more honest, and their designs more honour­able, when it was enough to write.

[Page 62]
I give this Lond from me, and mine,
To thee, and thine: —
Witness
Meg, Maud, and Margery,
And my young Son Harry.
And to shew this is in sooth,
I bite this green wax with my Tooth.

The ways to prevent suits were to appoint a Register in every County, where the Estates of e­very Lord and Freeholder should be entred, that so the Purchaser may understand for what he traf­siqueth.

It would also prove much more easie for all, if the Parliament would enact that a summ should be difaulked from the ordinary Fees of the Lawyer, and that no cause should depend in any [Page 63]Court above a time which they should praefix; this would very much remedy the dilatoriness of their Processes: It rouseth my spleen to see men so infatuated, and so prone to gratifie revenge, that they will ruine themselves to advance people, many of whom are so great strangers to fence, if diverted from the paths they run in, that if one desireth to be resolved of the reason of a judge­ment or decree, they tell you it is according to their Books; by which, doubtless, they are fre­quently very much imposed on. They receive the placita of their Sages with greater reverence then the Auncients did their Oracles, which they thought were inspi­red from Heaven; and attribute a greater infalibility to them then [Page 64]those of the Roman perswasion in Ecclesiastick affairs to the Pope; forgetting that as humane, they may err in their opinions; setting them up above experi­ence, from which Osbourne said truly, King Charles received bet­ter Precepts then his Father from Buchanan. In fine, we may know them to be the soul of dissenti­on, and rapine; because like the issue of the Dragon's teeth sown by Cadmus, they begin to bite and embroile the Nation as soon as they tread her Stage.

The Poet

VErse to the brave, is like the Trumpet to the War­riour: it animates them to greater exploits. Ode Pin­darique inscribed the resur­rection. Mr. Cowley declareth its great use in the following Stanza.

Not winds to Voyagers at Sea,
Not showers to Earth more necessary be,
(Heavens vital seed cast on the womb of earth
To give the fruitful year a birth)
Then Verse to Vertue, which can do
The Midwis's office, and the Nurses too;
It feedeth it strongly, and it cloaths it gay,
And when it dies, with comely pride
Embalmes it, and erects a Pyramid.
That never will decay
Till Heaven it self shall melt away,
And nought behind it stay.

[Page 66] It is reported of Alexander, that in all his expeditions he made Ho­mer his companion; and I verily suppose the Panegyricks of those dead Heroes inspired him with the briskest thoughts of emulation. Po­etry hath been Reverenced in all ages since the very first dawn of knowledge; which respect hath cer­tainly had its source from the O­racles delivering of their answers, and the ancient Philosophers set­ting forth their opinions in Mee­ter. The high sentiments which the Latines entertain for it, ap­pear by their giving the Professors of it the honourable Title of Vates. The Bards and Chroniclers in the Isles of Britain and Ireland have been in former times even ador'd for the Ballads in which they ex­toll'd the Deeds of their forefa­thers; [Page 67]and since the ages have been refined, doubtless, England hath produced those, who in this way have equall'd most of the Antients: and exceeded all the Moderns. Chaucer rose like the morning Starr of Wit, out of those black mists of ignorance; since him, Spencer may deserved­ly challenge the Crown; for though he may seem blameable in not observing decorum in some pla­ces enough, and in too much, in the whole, countenancing Knight­errantry; yet the easie similitudes, the natural Pourtraicts, the so re­fined and sublimated fancies with which he hath so bestudded every Canto of his subject will ea­sily reach him the Guerdon; and though fome may object to him that his Language is harsh and an­tiquated; [Page 68]yet his design was no­ble; to shew us that our language was expressive enough of our own sentiments; and to upbraid those who have indenizon'd such num­bers of forreign words; since in this way so many have excell'd, that we can give the Crown to no one, but the rest must be mani­festly injured: yet they must par­don me if I tell them that they seem to have degenerated by turning their stiles to light and insignificant Sonnets, and scur­rilous Burlesque, and offensive doggrel; which last way of Drol­lery hath so much obtain'd now, that they doubt not to abuse all se­rious things in it; nay even to make the lofty expressions of the Prince of Poets to seem ridiculous. They have not onely done this but some [Page 69]have turn'd that which us'd to charme our thoughtful heads, and to perswade our distemper'd spirits into gentle slumbers, by ea­sie and natural softness, into a rough Mistery and Art; they strive to bring wit, which is of so un­known a Nature, that like the wind no one knoweth whence it is, under logical Notions; ar­guing syllogistically and trou­bling the world with Volumes of what is impertinent to it; that they may advance their own names, so turning our delight in­to trouble. 'Tis a pity that men of these abilities should not en­noble some of those great sub­jects which our Nation yieldeth: but should spend their time in praising an Eye, or Feature, which they may see exceeded at [Page 70]any Countrey Wake. By this it is more evident that we have deviated from those paths which did lead our Ancestors to fame, and are become so effeminate, that like Sardanapalus, we spin amongst the Women, who by their Artifices have so wholly gain'd us, that we speak or think of nothing else; as commonly through our whole Malady those objects detain our thoughts most, which affected them at the begin­ning of it, and were its causes, since the stage which used to re­present general vices is come to reflect on particulars; it self, whilst it injureth the reputation of any one, becometh the greatest vice. Momus is not allowed to speak of all at all times. Since all men are naturally prone to ill, whoever [Page 71]is not purg'd himself, cannot ac­cuse another.

By these ways no Reformati­on is wrought, but great animo­sities arise. They who have fa­culties this way, ought to employ them in supporting the Pyramids of ancient virtue, or building new ones to it. Since the Sword defends the Pen, it ought to adorn the sword; since the Lawrels of the brave and valorous do defend the Muses from the Thunder of their Eenemies, and make them enjoy, in all tranquility, the sha­dy Groves, and refreshing Rills of their Parnassus; they ought in grateful layes to transmit the at­chievements of so great Benefa­ctors to all posterity.

Vivitur ingenio Caetera mortis erunt.

Woman,

THough Man was made Lord over all beings, and his Empire stretch'd it self over the whole Globe, though his Imperi­al redence was in a place which administred all things to his pleasure, and seem'd to be the a­bridgement and quintessence of the Universe; yet he thought his enjoyments imperfect, till he had an help correspondent to his affections, and a fit object for those faculties with which he was en­dowed. For this cause therefore, woman was Created out of him­self, who seemeth to have been his best part; and like that small essence which Chymists extract out of a large, and massive Sub­stance: [Page 74]therefore Man having by his converse with the causes of all things gathered knowledge, is sensible of what they of this Sex are capable; and fearing lest they should Rival him in his Govern­ment, imposeth on them, by per­swading them that their faculties are not receptive of Arts, and rough Virtues; and by this stra­tagem consineth them by the ad­ministration of a narrow Province, bounded by the walls of their Court, and Garden, whilst he is exercis'd in the Nobler affairs of the Court and Schools, when it is clear that their inclinations are better then his, and their resoluti­ons greater: for it is observ'd, they are generally more Virtuous and Devout then we; and when they do deviate to Vice, they are more [Page 75]hardned and persevering in it; the great actions in which they have born a part, speaketh the excellency of their Natures. The Amazons (if we believe story) have excell'd in Warr. To Sap­pho we owe the invention of the sweetest kind of Verse in Lirique Poetry. Lucretia by her resolution has rais'd her self a deathless Mo­nument. And Judith in Sacred Writ is remembred with great Glory. All these examples sh [...] the greatness of their parts; which while they do not employ, but are content to forgoe all the pleasures with which knowledge would pre­sent them; they seem to have made a Salique Law to bind them­selves. Did they but consider what an ascendant they have over the souls of men, and that though [Page 76]they were the source of all our mi­series, we should still adore them: as also those great advantages out­dull, and phlegmatique constitu­tions own from the purifying flames of Love: they would exert their powers, and launch out of those dark Regions of ignorance in which they sleep, into the bright and Sunny Countreys of Knowledge. I offer this, not [...] encourage them to rebel against Man, whom God hath made the [...] head; but to advise them to serve the World under some other No­ble Character, and not onely to devote themselves to the uses [...] Generation. In no Countrey so many of this fair Sex, as in England exceed in Beauty and Wit. The first of which, the Temperateness of our Climate does much ad­vance, [Page 77]which is in so just a propor­tion betwixt heat and cold, that it injoyeth the benefits of both, and feeleth the inconveniencies of neither. If we go towards the South, we find the People still a degree more swarthy; if towards the North, more brawny and gross; built to receive the rude assaults the winds breed there, though of a complexion general­ly clear enough; that they are in­genuous above those of other Countreys is evident from their prudent management of Oeco­nomical affairs, for on them with us they all relie; which is a great Trust, since the welfare of the State depends upon the health of its Members; the reason of this is, the so frequent and familiar converse they are allow'd with [Page 78]men within the bounds of Mode­sty, which, no people, the French excepted, admits of to such a de­gree. And certainly in their so great strictness to this Sex, the Italians (those grand Masters of Pollticks) do very much err. For besides the injustice they act in depriving them of that liberty which God, and Nature allow­eth them; it is impossible they should ever become more virtu­ous by being consin'd to the me­lancholly of a Cloyster which to deceive the idle hours, must in­dulge and administer loose thoughts, which with God are equivalent with [...]; when, it they conversed in the world, they might improve themselves in Knowledge; and the diversions they would receive from the com­pany [Page 79]of others, would keep them from thinking ill so frequently; and Modesty from acting it. And it is most sure, that if ever they can free themselves from those su­perstitious Fetters of mistaken Devotion; the Flames which have been so long smother'd, will burst out with such an impetuosi­ty, and violence, that they will devour all inclinations to Mode­sty and Virtue, and will never be extinguish'd in the deepest Abys­ses of carnal enjoyments.

The Maid

IS Natures Richest Cabinet lock'd; who yet ardently de­sires to display those Glories she containeth, and thinketh she hath not the perfect enjoyment of them, if not communicated; when she hath attain'd to the use of her Organs of Speech, the first word she uttereth after Dad, and Mam, is Husband; who from that time reigneth in her thoughts so much that she maketh it her chief end to captivate him; but if her Sta [...] have so little care of her as to let her pass her younger years single rather than to hang longer on the Tree, the too ripe fruit will fall to any man. She, like an expert General, chooseth rather to use [Page 81]stratagem in storming a Fort, then wholly to rely upon her strength, be it never so great; for I never saw that Woman, how fair soe­ver, that was not guilty of those innocent frauds of a patch, or wash, hoping from them for great­er accessions of Beauty. In her discourse she commonly traduces the rest of her Sex, and tacitely giveth a rise to applaud her self, which, (though she deserveth not) you must do with the greatest of your powers; for in the state of Love, as well as in the civil one, he is the best Politician who can best dissemble. You cannot ima­gine what near approaches you make to her affections by these ways, and how really she is taken with you, though you describe her by all the impossibilities of Poe­try: [Page 82]when she might soon be un­deceived; would she with an im­partial Eye consult her Glasses. But yet this Humour, ingraffed in her Nature (which certainly proceeds from the want of a true use of her reason,) if it seemeth to increase with her age; for even those whom many years have seen Virgins, are more vain then the younger ones; and are not to be convinc'd, but that the same lu­stre inhabiteth their eyes, which resided in them 30 years before. Hence it is that you see them so sollicitous to sill up those furrows which time hath plowed, and to supply the places of those Teeth which years have ruin'd, with sorreign ones, and to burnish those eyes which Sixty Suns have dim­med. Her discourse is replenish'd [Page 83]with the Histories of those she might have had; what proper men she refused, and upon what ac­count she slighted them; and in the conclusion, she will torment your ears with a doleful Sonnet, or heart-melting direful address, composed by some of her cross­arm'd Lovers, who flourish'd in Poetry above halfe a Century be­fore Ben Johnson. She now, (like the old worn Sinner when his powers have left him,) voweth practical Chastity, though her thoughts often transgress, and run into a speculative obscenity. She commonly is at enmity with her elder Brothers wife, who seemeth to grudge her her Annuity; but now she serveth for no other use but to caress those Babies to whom she is a great Aunt; and to [Page 84]give her young Neices instruction; for their behaviour when they are wooed. To mention all her im­pertinence, were a labour as end­less as her own discourse, and al­together as troublesome; I shall therefore Land you upon a new Scene, and present her to your view in the state of Matrimony.

The Wife.

SInce the impertinencies of the Maid alwayes continue, and grow up in the Wife, if she be not guided by a natural prudence, he who paints one of them giveth you the full draught of the other: I think it therefore not extrin­sique to my Province to lay down some rules for the choice of a [Page 85]Wife; in which great circumspe­ction ought to be used, since by this Union a man either builds his happiness, or misery during life. If my Friend prove false, I can strike a League with ano­ther; if my Servant be unfaith­full, I can change him; but though my Wife prove so, she must re­main mine. Matrimony is a Gor­dian Knot, which no Alexander can cut. He who intends to en­ter a double state ought not to choose a Woman only for her Pedigree; if other circumstances are wanting, especially Virtue, his Election is lame; for what was it at first that ennobled her Line but that? and if that Pillar fail, her Escucheon must needs fall. If her Relations are poor, nothing can fall more unhappily to him, [Page 86]for she will still draw them to be warmed at his fire: Like the Courtier who is not satisfied to beek himself only in the Sun-shine of his Soveraign's favour, but will also bring his Kindred within the warmth of his raies; so that who­soever matches here, espouseth not one, but a whole Family. When the Head of the house fals, his dependants by consequence partake of his fortune, and they certainly must be very numerous; the Setting-sun casts the longest shadow. Her pride also will make the blood of her Children run high, which will be their great unhappiness, when they must sub­mit to the universal allay of po­verty. What can be more des­picable than a Title without the support of an Estate? a mans ho­nour [Page 87]bids him soar to high things, his want forces him to the mean­est actions: he is, like a bird up­on the wing, to mount whilst a leaden Plummet tied to his Leg keeps him down.

2. Let not Beauty alone allure any man without internal, or ex­ternal endowments: She who can boast nothing but good outward features, is like an house adorned without with various Pillars, and Pillasters of several Orders, ex­quisite Cornices, and neat Car­vings; but within naked, and without either Orchard, Garden, or Wood: this may treat your eye a while, but it neither ad­ministers to the delight of your mind, nor the necessities of your body. She will be a Magnet to draw as well the noble Steel to [Page 74]your house as the ignobler Iron; most comers inquire for you, but be assured their visit is to my La­dy. No Woman's virtue in the World (if young) can be so strong a Fort to her, but it may be rendered to the perpetual showers of flatterie, and comple­ment, which play upon it. If she yield to a noble conquerour, you have the honour to march out with your horns in your pocket and flying colours, but never hope to be re-instated in the place you had in her breast.

3. Let not Riches alone draw any man; for thus he enslaves himself, first to the Gold, and then to the imperious humour of one he hates; who still plagues him with repeating that accession his fortunes received by her, [Page 89]though she commonly hath the chief hand in spending it: who­ever then stands thus, must con­fess himself to be a slave, though bound with a golden Chain, and that the fettered Captive in the deepest Dungeon is more free than he, because however his bo­dy is secured, he reserves the Em­pire of his mind to himself a­lone.

Aim not too much at an Hei­ress, for her defects are notable, and many, Nature commonly sending her into the world rude and unfinished, because she sees Fortune standing ready at her En­try, to polish and adorn her with her gifts; in which the Justice of Heaven in the distribution of blessings to men is evident, since all Graces never meet in one [Page 90]Creature, but every one hath something different which renders it agreeable to the rest: But if your starrs seem to direct you this way, you must not, (nor truly can you) address to her in the usual way; for would it not be very gross to assure one who is crooked, lame, thin-faced, il-eyed, that she is fair, beautifull and alluring, but you must bid fair for her to those who menage her (yet within compass, if you would be a saver by your Mer­chandise, for she is commonly a most extravagant spender) and then you are sure to succeed, e­specially if she be in the hands of a mercenary Father-in-law.

4. Nor a let a quick Wit, a good assurance, a good mien, nor the additions of singing, playing, [Page 91]dancing be motives to affection, for they enhance not her value more, but rather make her higher. Whoever hath one, or all of these, and wants Virtue, is like a body well shaped, yet without an arm, a leg, or eye. But since we may not hope to find all these acci­dents centred in one Subject, more than all Arts and Sciences in one Brain: Virtue is to be chosen naked, before all the other gaily dressed and embroidered. This fair creature is a portion of her sell; 'tis she who fastens a blessing to all her Husbands undertakings; 'tis she who though she brings not Riches, yet gathers them; 'tis she who presents him with fair and chast Children to adorn his Table, and support his age; 'tis she who giveth her King loyal Subjects, [Page 92]and her Country good and just Patriots; 'tis she who in her Be­loved's absence shuts her gates to all forreigners, and at his return recreates, and caresses him with chaste embraces, and heals him with balmy kisses; 'tis she who by her prudence sills his Granaries within, whilst he supplies her from without; 'tis she who feeds the Poor, and cloaths the Naked; 'tis she who loves his friends, and hates not, but prayes the conversion of his enemies; 'tis her breast which receives his cares, and her lips give him words of joy

Let no one choose one deform­ed (if he can avoid it) for it is observed the mind is alwayes of the same shape. A good Inn hath very seldome a bad Sign-post. Nature never impresses an ill mark [Page 93]upon her good pieces. This An­tiquity knew, when it said, Cave sis ex eo quam Natura sigillaverit. Lose not any other material cir­cumstance in one, for another that is fairer; for the first thing a man neglects in his Wife is her beau­ty. If it be thought convenient let her be past the Small-pox, for then one seeth the worst of her. Let her be well-shaped, for the neatest built Ship sails best. Above all let her be of the same faith with her Husband; for how can they concurr in the menage­ing of their affairs, who disagree in the way of worshiping their God? If to virtue Heaven will add externa bona, outward goods, be thankful: if it doth not, be not too sollicitous to obtain them.

The Widow,

EIther hoping for better for­tune, if her Husband hath been bad, or if good, desiring to repeat those pleasures he hath been author of to her, is alwaies ready to hold out her hand for new manacles. The Arts by which she menageth her designes are these: she giveth out her sums to be very great, her demeasns large, and her years few, well knowing that no man of fortunes will come on unless upon one of these accounts. The same of these draws perhaps a Lord to her, who protests by her eyes, an Oath with him most sacred, that he loves and honours her above all the world, that she alone disposeth his [Page 95]fate, that it is in her breast to pro­nounce him the happiest, or most miserable of men; he extols a Com­plexion which her washes gave, and swears he adores her eye as radiant, which perhaps is blood­shot; He tells her it sends forth darts, which like to the Pelian Spear, have the power of killing, but like it too, it ought to exercise that of reviving: How long! how long (Madam saith he) is it your pleasure I shall continue in these torments! I were happy might I fall a victim to your gra­ces, for the glorie of the action would sweeten the agonies, and convulsions of my death! But oh! let me not live only to yield my heart a prey to keen and tor­menting Vultures! But when by these false wayes he hath drawn [Page 96]the weak Creature to an assent, and finding the baggs not to be of that Volume which he expe­cted, his love vanisheth, and he leaves her in those real Extasies which before he feigned.

This amour is succeeded per­haps by that of the powdred Gal­lant, who professes and vows to the same degree, if not higher; He saith all that Oroondates could to Statira, or Celadon to Astrea, or Zanger to the Hungarian Queen, superadding, that if the World were his own, he should not have the confidence to ask her to be Empress of it, since it would be so far below her merit: but when he also like a valiant Chevalier hath gained the Castle, and finding the Outworks not worth the holding, he marcheth [Page 97]off with whole vollies of Oathes, cursing his hard fortunes.

Now after these Ambassadors of Love, and many more of the same Mould have had their Au­diences of Congee, she grows more subtle, and so less credu­lous, and now undeceived, she finds her Eyes have not half that lustre which her Gold hath, and that that, not she hath been their Diana. Being then thus deluded, she grows desperate, and is resol­ved to embrace the first who of­fers himself; Now he, (perhaps a younger brother) who before went no farther than the drawing-Room, or Antichamber, is ad­mitted into her Cabinet, and is a jewel she is sure no body will envy her, and therefore proceeds more freely; and it is a very plea­sant [Page 98]Scene to behold their carri­age. He resolves thus with him­self.

By Heavens I'll tell her boldly it is she:
Why should she sham'd or angry be,
To be belov'd of me?
Mr. Cowley.

His way is compendious, he tells her he cannot say much, but Dam­him he loveth her, and if she lo­veth him, why should they not make a match of it. And by this brisk address, (which is certainly more manly and becoming than the other) he carrieth the Prize, and maketh as good use of it. Thus the Widow imitates that Fisherman, who having baited his hook well, angles all day in hopes of a Salmon, but at last he catch­eth a Trout, which though it may [Page 99]not satisfie his avarice so well, yet it doth his appetite.

The Life of Theodatus.

I Shall not much illustrate my Subject in laying before you the large Table of Theodatus's An­cestors; Let it suffice to acquaint you that he was well descended; nor will I give you the time of his Birth, or any long relations of his Country (you may fancie him a Citizen of Ʋtopia, or Nova-At­lantis,) since the only design of this Essay is to present in his per­son the Idea of an exactly accom­plished Gentleman. I shall there­fore trace him through every Stage of his Life, and begin at his [Page 100]first years, when he laid the foun­dation of his future glories.

Know then, that at the accu­stomed years he was sent to School, and there proceeded in the same method with the rest of his Country, till he had attained to a good knowledge in the Latin and Greek Tongues; from whence about the fourteenth year of his age he was removed to the Uni­versity, where he with a great deal of pleasure, and no less seri­ous industry addressed himself to the Muses; well knowing, that their favours, as well as those of other Mistresses, were not to be obtained but by many and hard services. According to the Cu­stom of the place he began his studies in Philosophy, he soon knew the most knotty maximes, [Page 101]and unriddled the greatest So­phismes, and Subtleties of Logick; he had considered, and laid up all the precepts of the Moralists, he was acquainted with all the prin­ciples of Physicks, and had com­prehended all those notions of the Metaphysician, which he could adjust to the Rule of Right Rea­son. When he had throughly con­sidered the natures of all these, he found that they were sine Idea's, that they commended the inge­nuity of the ancient Schools and Porch; that perhaps they might frame his head to discourse or ar­gue plausibles, but that they were too speculative to be useful to him in the necessities and emer­gencies of life: therefore he left off to intend those studies as he was wont, (yet he did not whol­ly [Page 102]lay them aside) and applied himself to History, and the most useful parts of Mathematicks, as Geometry, and those two main Pillars of History, Chronologie and Geography; he knew that from these noble Records he might gain useful Rules of living, and not such as the Ethicks of the Philosophers give upon trust, but such as have been confirmed by many great examples; that he might here see the several ends of Virtue and Vice, the encourage­ments of the one, and the infamy of the other; he might here read the praises of heroick and just Cato's, and view the Monuments built to their Memories; and here behold the misfortunes and fates of ambitious Caesar's and Pom­pey's, the Panegyricks of chast and [Page 103]virtuous Lucretia's, and the infa­my of lacivious and wanton Ju­lia's; here the redoubted actions of those mighty souls who have fought in their Countries defence, and fallen victims in securing its Altars and Gods will make him emulous, and raise him to affect equal attempts, whilst the ill suc­cess of those who have invaded the rights of others, maketh him to detest their practices; here he might see that truth would exert her self, and that those who have suffered unjustly would be re­venged: In fine he might see Vir­tue crowned, and Vice punished. Now what greater argument or motive can there be than this, to embrace the one, and abhorr the other?

From Mathematicks he learnt [Page 104]that all bodies had longitude, la­titude, and profundity, that the two first qualities were obvious to every eye, but the latter was only to be seen by search, which he applied himself to, and would never be satisfied till he had learnt to value every thing as it really was, and not as what it seemed to be; he, like other men, was not contented with a Probleme which shewed him such a thing was, but looked for Theoremes, which told him how, and why: In sine, he found such demonstrations in this Learning, that he could never be satisfied till he had the same in every thing, which he gained by examining its privatest reces­ses, and corners; so by this means he became so acquainted with the constitution of all things, that [Page 105]only Nature her self could be more so. Having remained here till about the 18th year of his age, where his amiable mien and generous carriage had gained him the applause of all: he passes to the Colleges of the Law to ac­quaint himself with the sanctions and constitutions of his own Na­tion; being satisfied that no man could serve the Body Politick under any Character unless he fully understood its humours and complexions. He sixed himself closely to these studies, (though he did not neglect the healthful exercises of his body) and about the 22th year of his age he attain­ed to a full knowledge of them. At this time he left his Native Country, and passed into those forreign parts which were most [Page 106]famed for Civility, Arts and Arms; and here he did not, as the youth of his time, pass curso­rily through a Country, and gaze only upon its Steeples, and fine Houses, but like the Wise and Eloquent Ʋlysses.

[...], Hom. Odyss. [...].
He of each Country had the Cities seen,
And understood the Manners of her Men.

He made useful remarques upon their Laws and Customes, he in­quired to what studies they were most addicted, how they were provided and scituated for Warr and Peace, how they stood affe­cted to their Neighbours; he [Page 107]searched into their Military Disci­pline, their way of Training and Exercising their Souldiery, and their Arts of fortifying Towns, Citadels, and Castles; he got an acquaintance with the chief States­men, and the learnedst in all Pro­fessions in all Countries through which he travailed, and if he could, he made himself known to their several Princes, and when he thought fit, he settled a Cor­respondence with most of these; he made himself Master of all those Languages which his Coun­try affected; he marked the hu­mours of every Coast, and ob­served their way of Complement, and Address, their method in bu­siness, and their proceedings in Justice; there was nothing which [Page 108]could adorn his mind that he pass'd. Thus fraught with all manner of knowledge about his 25th year he returned, and re­ceived with their admiration, the love of all his Country-men.

He never enterprized any thing in which that excellent prudence did not shew it self, which had taught him to consult well, to de­liberate maturely, to judge and determine rightly, to conduct and execute resolutely. He knew this virtue was the square and rule of all affaires, and the only guide to living well: He used to say, she was with reason enthroned above all the other Virtues, and that the Scepter which she swayed as their Empress did of right belong to her: for without her govern­ment [Page 109]Justice her self might be misapplyed, and become dange­rous to her Clients; Fortitude would be no more then a brui­tish Valour, and the strong man would kill and slay without the consideration of a good Cause, and Temperance might degene­rate into a superstitious forbea­rance of all sustenance, and neces­sary support, and so make the practiser of it accessary to his own ruine, by her we know what, to choose as good, and conveni­ent for life, and what to reject as superfluous and hurtful to it; by her we have the pleasure to be assured that we have not failed in the right using of the means, however our business may succeed ill. He would never judge of [Page 110]any thing by its success, since he saw the best men unfortunate, and the worst rewarded: He would ne­ver trust too much to any world­ly power, since Fortune or Fate (use the words as you please) did maintain an Empire so soveraign and arbitrary over the best laid Counsels, and most cautiously contrived designes; and since her inconstancy is such, that that man whom she hath raised to such a height this day that he seemeth her Darling, to mor­row she maketh him so misera­ble, that he may seem to be her sport and scorn. It is she who sports her self with our most sage contrivances, and laughs in the face of the most serious-looking Councellor, and tells him his [Page 111]hopes are vain: It is she who tells the Chymist after the labour of many years he shall never gain his Elixir, and breaketh his Crucible before his face, even in that mo­ment when he thought her great­est Artillerie could not batter his designes: It she who advanceth an Achitophel or Machiavel to honour, to affront Virtue. In fine, she is an Ocean without limits, and will suffer none to be put to her but by Prudence, whose Cha­racter take in the words of Char­ron the Parisian, Toutesfois elle est de tel poids, & necessité, qu'elle seule peut beaucoup: & sans elle tout le reste n'est rien; non seule­ment les richesses, les moyens, la force. Vis consilii expers mole ruit sua. Mens una sapiens plurium [Page 112]vicit manus. Et multa, quae natura impedita sunt consilio expediuntur, &c. Charron en Liv. III. Dela sagesse.

He took not his Religion from his Father, or Country, (as most do) nor sucked it in with the milk of his Mother, but examined all Faiths throughly, and chose that which he thought most consonant to reason, and which gave the greatest Honors to the Divi­nity. He never sordidly gave his assent to any Opinion out of fear, or for any other considera­tion but Truth. He would not say a Piece was good because it was Titian's, or Tintarett's, unless he found something in it which convinced his judgment of its worth. In conversation he was al­wayes courteous and affable, not [Page 113]imposing his opinion upon a­ny Magisterially or Dogmatical­ly; but if it admitted of any dis­pute he calmly discoursed it, and was glad to be informed of truth from any mouth. When he saw any one not of equal experience with him he was pleased to in­form him, and side with him a­gainst those rougher natures who would play upon him, and hope to raise the repute of their own parts upon his simplicity. He was far from the pedantry of those who vaunt their knowledge and relate their Voyages in all Com­pany: He was not one who would make himself known at first, nor told them all he knew presently. He was long in making a friendship, but when it was [Page 114]once ratified, no body was more true than he, and he would be alwayes sure to make Virtue its Basis. Nothing he detested more than their humour who boast of their Vices, who tell when they are drunk, or when at a Bawdy-house, and said, since Nature com­manded those offices to be done in the dark, it is impudence above comparison to vaunt of them in publick. No one was juster than he both to himself, and to his Neighbour. He said, that the rise of all justice is from the subduing of a man's appetite, and unless he had made his reason Plenipoten­tiary over it to bring it to due o­bedience, he could not without blushing rebuke any man for his crime.

[Page 115] His constancy of Temper was great; he received all outward things with an even indifferency; his soul was never elevated by the caresses of prosperity above its genuine temper, nor dejected by the frowns of adversity below it. His valour (which is properly the strength of the soul, as fortitude is of the body) gave him an assu­rance to meet all difficulties (how­ever great) with a generous and severe gallantry, and made him alwayes ready to atchieve those things which others would have fled from. This Virtue is of proof against all accidents; it arms a man cap-a-pee against all, even the roughest assaults. Muni­mentum imbecilitatis humanae in­expugnable: quod qui circumdedit [Page 116]sibi, securus in hac vitae obsidione perdurat. Senec. This Virtue (as some fancie) is not only confined to the Military Professi­on; for however that may be more pompous and gaudie, yet it is not so genuine and perfect. For I pray tell me, is not he of a great­er courage who can with patience receive the sharpest accosts of a Chronical disease, who can open his breast, and uncover his head to the fiercest darts of misery without repining, only because his inward light tells him he ought not to spurn against the will of Heaven; then he who is led into an Army perhaps by a desire of re­venge, or of prey, and is forced to sight, because if he doth not, there are so many to witness his [Page 117]cowardise. This (if it be a Vir­tue) is common to all, to the King and Peasant, nay even to beasts too, and hath not the least prin­ciple or tincture of truly Moral Philosophical valour. The other is not an inconsiderate rashness, but before it enterpriseth any thing, it considereth the reason­ableness and justice of it; it run­neth not suddenly into danger, but only defends it self, and when it doth assault, it is upon a good and just account; nor yet doth it despise any, even the smallest danger, but hindereth it, (if it can) from growing greater. It al­so holds it self obliged to defend the injured and oppressed, and in their service will sacrifice it self freely. He alwayes said they [Page 118]much to blame, who gave way to the humor of an impudent vaunt­ing Thraso, who by an insolent deportment, and sierce counte­nance, or high expression think­eth to acquire the name of valiant and brave, and to be the Cock of all them with whom he converses; for by yielding to him one giveth him to believe he really is that, which a brisk cariage would assure him he is not; for he resembleth a fierce and swelled billow which cometh rowling down amain, as if it would overwhelm the rock which stands in its way, but by its firmness it is broken, and sub­missively glideth away at its feet.

As his Prudence, his Justice, his Valour were great; so also was his Temperance. He was afraid [Page 119]to drink too deep of pleasure lest he might surfeit and vitiate his Palate. He said he was most plea­sed when Heaven allayed his joyes with some sorrows, and that it would be the greatest affliction to have none. He knew those who eat greedily might be satiate, but not satisfied, and knew it was the curbing of his appetite which kept it at once in obedience and in health. He alwayes avoided ex­travagancie in apparel, and said the man should adorn that, not that him. He used severely to declare against drinking, and said that a Drunkard suffered many wayes; for besides his laying him­self open to the rogueries, and over-reachings of those with whom he conversed, every man [Page 120]that he met might discover his na­ture by the face, as when one sees a Bush he knows wine is there; He could not be reconciled to those who by wine thought to advance their natural fancies, and enrich their sentiments: He said in the heat of it a man might say extraordinary things, but yet he might have said those when he was sober better if his modesty would have given him leave, but in that condition one vents all, even the most extravagancies. It most certainly ruines all a man's parts as well as his body; for however he may have some fan­cies remain which may make him acceptable in ordinary converse, yet the main is gone: as when Palace is burnt, there may here [Page 121]and there perhaps remain a piece of a guilded roof, or an embroidered Canopy, they may serve to shew what Glories have been there, but they will neither defend the unfortunate owner from Rain or Snow. He said, eve­ry man, when he was allured by any pleasure, ought to consider not how far he desired to enjoy it, but how far he ought; and that he was sure it was a greater and more transcendent pleasure to subdue an inordinate affection then to gratifie it, that it took off the boylings of our fevourish blood, and rendered us more capable of more solid joyes in those calm and temperate Regions of eter­nal bliss, when our souls are di­vested of their grosser vehicles. [Page 122]He was alwayes more solicitous for his Countries good than his own, and alwayes preferred that to his own advantage. He alwaies looked upon the King as his head; between which and the mem­bers there ought to be a good cor­respondence, because one cannot subsist without the other. He was not of the mind of those Cour­tiers who serve their Prince only for reward, but he thought it re­ward enough to serve him. His counsels were alwaies wholsom, and healing, and he alwaies was against invading any man's right: He advised that his Country might be alwaies prepared, and ready to take up arms; for he said, that either hindred an Inva­sion or a Surprise; nay, he said [Page 123]they ought to make peace with swords in their hands, for so they might command good terms. He not only by these wayes gained the affections of his King (but what is seldom seen) of the Court also. He never censured nor judg­ed any man's actions unless upon very good grounds; for he knew he ought not to do it unless he was free from all those vices he accused him of; and he was sure that every one sets himself to ex­amine the actions of such a man, and makes every his least fault of greater bulk than really it is; for if Ishmael's hand was up against every man, it was but just that every mans hand should be up a­gainst him. He was not of those who extolled their own actions [Page 124]above justice, and think all fancie, ingenuity and judgment to be confined to them, or their relati­ons; for he knew they raised the expectations of all for greater things than they could performe; but he gave Virtue her due ap­plause where ever he found her, and was so far from traducing, or detracting from any man, that he sought to hide his faults, and con­ceal his infirmities: He knew the world too well either to confide in it, or love it: if he had any thing that we call a blessing conferred upon him he took it en passant, and valued it but as a little conve­nience which might support him in his way to Jerusalem above. He never affected Honour or Pre­serment, which he said were [Page 125]Mounts which indeed yielded a fair prospect, whilst the raies of the Kings favour played about them; but if they did shine once another way, a man would cer­tainly break his neck down. He never did any thing for applause, which he said no wise man would be delighted with, since it rose from the people who are Judges of nothing that is generous, or brave. When he grew aged, he could do that which few or none of his time could; he could take a prospect backward of his whole Life with a great deal of delight; he saw no vices in it which could render it hilly, or black, but all fair Lawns, spruce Meadows, and gentle Rivulets. It was his desire to have no costly Marble over his [Page 126]body but only a plain Stone with this Inscription.

Theodatus from Earth to Heaven's remov'd.
Who lov'd fair Virtue, and of her was lov'd.

He said the greatest Emperour ought to have no longer an Epi­taph, because if his Virtue would not build him a Monument which might transmit his name to poste­rity, he ought to desire to be for­gotten. Thus then he surrendred his fair Soul when he was full of fame and years, after he had long been the Joy of the Virtuous, the Delight of the Court, and the Oracle of the State.

Three Novels.

THe last Summer three or four Gentlemen of good quality went some few daies jour­ney out of the populous City of London to recreate themselves, and to breath the air of the Coun­try, and by the exercises of it, to dispel those gross humours which had gathered in their bo­dies arising from a full diet, and an unactive life: They passed a few dayes very pleasantly in hunt­ing, hawking, fishing; and because the night should have its plea­sure too, they resolved that every one in order should entertain the rest with a Novel, and they agreed (as being the most equal way) that fortune should point [Page 128]out him who should begin the course: the Lot fell to Cassander, and he, after he had with much modesty excused himself, and told the Company that he was sensible how unfit he was to ad­minister such a Province, bespake them thus.

The Land-Mariners.

IT is not long since in a consi­derable City of France the In­habitants did celebrate a great Festival with much jubilee, and mirth; and that the approach of the night might not give an end to it, after the solemnities of the Bon-fires, and Fire-works, some of the Youth (Sons to the chief Burgesses) in order to the prose­cution of their design resorted to [Page 129]a Tavern, and there that they might be farther from the ears of the people, they made choice of an higher room; here the Bowls were crowned with wine, their conceits with wit, and the night with all manner of jollity, but half of it was not spent when the brisker spirits of their wine began to mutiny in their heads, and to wage war against their reasons, so that at last the floods of it which they had powred in made them fancy themselves to be upon real ones at sea, and their Chamber to be a Ship cruelly tossed upon them, and their reel­ing and falling made them suppose themselves in a great deal of dan­ger, so that they thought the on­ly way to the Haven of security, was to disburthen their Vessel of [Page 130]all its Cargo, that it might with more agility play upon and com­ply with the billows before the Storm; they now begun to throw their Tables out of the Window, with their Stools and Doors, and all the House-hold-stuff; with these they had almost brained some of those who passed by; they immediately repair to the Magistrate, and acquaint him with the Riot, and desire his as­sistance to suppress it; he gives his Warrant to his Serjeant to search for, and apprehend them; he accompanied with other Offi­cers finds, and seizeth them: at his entrance some of the Compa­ny, (who had it is possible read the Poets when they were at School) with a great deal of joy imagine him (because he carried [Page 131]a great stick) to be Neptune, and those with him his Tritons come to their succour; one of them there­fore, who had all night had the head of the Table, and to whom the rest of the Board seemed to pay some reverence, stood up with the help of his Chair, and with a great deal of submission addres­sed himself to him in these words: Great Neptune! at this the Ser­jeant seemed much incensed, (as being a man not much understan­ding humor) and grew very brief with him, & would in that instant have carried him away, because he called him out of his name; but one who it seems was a wittier brother than the rest, desired Mr. Serjeant to forbear a while, be­cause he thought there might be something of conceit in this en­counter, [Page 132]so that he gave him li­berty, and he proceeded. Great Divinity of the Seas! thou art come most opportunely to the relief of the most miserable and distressed of all those whom the large Canopy of Heaven doth cover! for ever since we entered the Borders of thy Empire, we have been tossed with cross and impetuous Winds, (mean­ing the Weights of the Town who played upon Cornets and Haut-bois) which have so enraged thy subjects the waves against us, that they have sometimes mounted us above the greatest heights of Tenarif, and again have thrown us so low, that we might have plucked Coral, or have snatched thy Thetis from thy arms! In this condition we have been forced to cast over-board our richest Lading, and to send [Page 133]those pearls into those abysses again, from whence with so much hazard they have been taken; we have wan­dered through unknown and peril­lous Regions without a Pilot or a Rudder (meaning the door which before they had plucked off the hinges) and without having touch­ed upon any Land but Shelves or Sand-beds, and without the gui­dance of that Cynosure which shines out bright to the rest of the happy Countries of thy Empire! (mean­ing the Candle which before was extinguished) This makes us im­plore the mighty aid of thy arme and Trident,—and here he had almost saluted Mr. Serje­ants feet, but by help being reco­vered, he saith— and even now me-thinks the whole Ocean is but one great Whirlepool, and all the [Page 134]Earth like our Vessel in it— (with that one of the Company disembogueth) Behold, saith he, Great King, the Terrors of those Eddies! (with this another dis­chargeth) behold again those con­tinued Alpes, and Appennines of waves! Then by chance looking out of the Window he espies the Multitude, (who alwayes upon such an occasion enter consulta­tion) gathered about the doors; then saith he— Behold with terror (Oh my Companions in miserie) those scaly Citizens attending the motions of their Great King standing with open mouth to receive us!—all of them even from the Prince Levi­athan to the Peasant Crab! at these words the Orator's tongue as well as feet failed him, and he lay pro­strate, and speechless; another [Page 135]attempted to proceed, but he was found soon in the same predica­ment, so that now the Serjeant who in his nature was no great Judge or admirer of wit posted them (because it was too late to carry them before the chief Of­ficer) to the Cage which usually stands neer the Market-cross: when they arrived there, they thanked the great Divinity be­cause he had heard their prayers, and brought them to a safe Har­bor. He left them there like Ʋlysses's Companions under the Charms of the Witch Circe, dis­charging their stomachs as if they had been really sea-sick. You may imagine that in this condition, sleep (without saying Prayers, or using any formal Ceremonies) soon crowned their Temples, and [Page 136]bound them fast till the Sun through the wide slits and crannies of their Chamber played upon their eye-lids, and most of the Infantery of the Town, at the Window of their Anti-chamber, advised them that it was time to wake. Some of them had not yet recovered their reason, and those in whom it dawned by the illness of their lodging, and the over-charge of nature, were not able to hold up their aching heads. In a little time most of them re­covered, and guessed by the place where they were, (retaining some notion of it) at the nature of their offence; most of them were struck with a deep remorse for the crime, and all of them were deeply touched with the infamy of it; they therefore unanimously peti­tioned [Page 137]the Magistrate for enlarge­ment, and withall submitted to what punishment he thought good to inflict upon them. Upon this they were released, and car­ried before him, where after he had given them a full account of their riot, with all the aggravating circumstances he might, and told them the ill consequences of this example, because their qualities kept them from the usual punish­ment of this vice, he thought good to command the last night's Oratour to give the others in a sett Harangue the inconveniences of Drinking, which he did after some recollection, (as near as I can remember my Author's terms) in these words.

When we cloud our Reason, and envelope it in mists, what [Page 138]do we but turn our selves into those brute animals from which (as Heaven's great Characteri­stick) it distinguisheth us? Into what horrors of darkness do we throw our selves, when we ex­tinguish that light which should conduct us through the many in­tricate Passages and Maeanders of this world! How unhappy are we since we make that which by a moderate use would give us a glad countenance, by an excess make us sad! I suppose most of you before this time, Gentlemen, are sensible of the effects of our last night's voyage; and truly, whoever is a lover of this vice can be compared to nothing more fit­ly than a sea-faring man, who daily exposeth himself and his fortunes to the rage of the bil­lows [Page 139]and winds, whose conditi­on is often so desperate, that he despairs of a Port unless the hand of Providence steereth him to it: so he layeth his fortunes, his se­crets prostrate at the feet of any Rogue, and putteth himself into his mercy; which dangers, if he e­scape, it is by the care of Provi­dence, and the conduct of his kinder starrs. If we gravely re­flect upon this action, how many things shall we find we have to blush for! and how many lives we have endangered besides our own! How many dayes must we pass in pennance for these few hours pleasure! Think whatever extravagancies we have commit­ted we must dearly answer them, a man cannot plead he was not himself, since he laboured under a [Page 140]voluntary madness. What sad re­membrances doth this Morning bring to us? and what would we not give to expiate our crime? Alexander that Great Conqueror being once overcome with these spirits, killed his dearest friend Clytus, and when he understood it, would needs have sacrificed himself to his Manes. This one vice opens to us a deluge of o­thers; it prepares us to kill a King, or burn a City; to murther a Brother, or betray a Friend. But yet we see men contending with a strict vigor and earnestness, as if they were to gain an Olympick Prize, to conquer one another at this weapon, whilst he who car­ries the Palm is obliged to con­verse with those whom he hath transformed into Beasts, and at [Page 141]last is forced to submit himself to its powers. Seneca gives you the effects of Wine in the person of Mark Anthonie, of whom he speaketh thus. M. Antonium, Magnum virum, & ingeni [...] nobilis, quae alia res perdidit, & in exter­nos mores, & vitia non Romana rapuit quam Ebrietas, nec minor vino Cleopatrae amor? Haec illum res hostem Rei-publicae, haec hosti­bus suis imparem reddidit, haec crudelem fecit, cum capita Princi­pum civitatis coeanti referrentur, cum inter apparatissimas epulas lux­us (que) regales, ora ac manus proscrip­torum recognosceret, cum vino gra­vis sitiret tamen sanguinem, &c. Ep. Lxxxiii. Add to this, that it infeebleth the nerves, looseneth the limbs, infects the breath, vi­tiateth the complexion, and ren­ders [Page 142]the whole body, as well as mind, useless to ones Country, or Friend. I hope now your own experience, and my arguments (whatever they may be) have made you sensible enough of your crime, and will perswade you to applaud the care of providence, which hath brought you to an ha­ven where reason, or your Palinu­rus, was drowned; and I hope you will never again attempt such a voyage, though gales never so fair, or seas never so calm invite you.

NOVEL II. Friendship sublimed.
By Lot Theogenes was to entertain them the second night, who, after paying some civilities to Cassander's Relation, be­gan thus;

IF some of those beauteous Towns which crown the fer­tile Banks of the Loire exceed Tours in elegancy of structure, none of them come near it for commodiousness, and pleasant­ness of situation: ( Tourin, the Country about it being called by way of excellence, Le Jardin die France) The sweetness of the air, and the other conveniences of the place oft-times have brought peo­ple [Page 144]thither to enjoy them; and amongst many others a Gentle­man of that Country, of a noble Family, and ample fortunes, was resolved with his Wife and Fa­mily to reside there for a Summer-season. He had been blest with a fair and ingenious Offspring; but above the rest his eldest Daugh­ter, who was named Charlotte, was fair and chast, and as well for the beauties of body, as mind, had scarce an equal, but no supe­riour over all France: She had not continued here long before her eyes produced their usual ef­fects, and captivated all men in the place, and brought them to be either admirers, or lovers; and what is more, the women (who commonly like men of a Professi­on, envy and decry one another) [Page 145]became Proselytes to her Virtues, and owned, that not only them­selves, but all whom they had seen were much inferiour to her; and if she had not Adorers from all parts of the Nation, it was not be­cause her Graces could not charm them, but because her fame had not yet reached them.

This new Flame which inva­ded the Town, spurred on the Youth to little Gallantries, and Gentilesses more than before, and made them more earnest in their Tiltings, and Justs; and more splendid too, each striving to go beyond the other, as well in his Horses, his Habits, and Capari­sons, as in the dextrous and grace­ful menage of his Weapon: and every man endeavoured the best he could to make himself (ac­cording [Page 146]to the then modish term) the least unworthy of her; and whoever could but gain a smile, or a glance from her, wonne a Prize of greater value to him than the wealth of Peru, or Mexico.

Of all those who with so much earnestness courted her favours, no one had it or deserved it more than young Du Perrot, who re­moved from Paris thither some moneths before, for the sake of the air: he was a man well-born, and of good fortunes, and one who it is possible would not have been discouraged by her Parents, if he had by them addressed him­self to her. But though he look­ing through the glass of modesty could not see himself so well re­garded as he was, and wanted that assurance which he justly [Page 147]might have had; yet he did not fail to shew himself to her upon all occasions, in the best equipage he could, either at the running at the Ring, and those kind of sports armed en Cavalier, or upon the Mall, or at the Balls, where he constantly had the honour to dance with her; which Exercises he performed with an extraordi­nary mien; he embraced all op­portunities of discourse with her, and, in fine, he used all means by which he might endear himself to her: so that at last, she, though young, being not altogether in­sensible of love, and knowing that though she was so universal a Conquerour, she might, when closely besieged, yield to a noble Assailant upon good tearms with­out dishonour; began to cherish, [Page 148]and foment, and indeed to be pleased with her growing flame; and now she gave him liberty free­ly to entertain her publickly upon every occasion, and had pretty well learnt the language of the eyes, (for in love they speak much) so that now the fame of their affections was spread through the Town, which begot her Lover a great many Rivals: he notwithstanding these publick favours, in private had hitherto kept his distance; (though the truth is, those kindnesses which he received from her, which pro­ceeded from the wants of that cunning, and counterfeit reserv­edness of those, who bred at Courts, would have made men of less prudence and caution, to have more hastned their address) [Page 149]but now he was no longer able to dally with those flames which he so long had stood so near, and which now had scorched him so severely: he therefore resolves one day to go to her father's house, pretending a visit to him, but with an intention to open himself to her; when he arrived there, he found according to his desires, both him and her Mo­ther from home, and being advi­sed that she was alone in the Gar­den, he enters it, where after ha­ving received her pardon, which he ask'd for invading her privacy, and which she easily granted, to one for whom she had so great an esteem, she entertained him thus, perhaps to divert that discourse which she apprehended he would begin, Monsieur Du Perrot (said [Page 150]she) just as you appeared at the end of this Walk, I was putting away the hours with Cassandra, and I was just in that part of it where Statira dealt so cruelly with the brave Oroondates when he first discovered his love to her, and I was accusing her very much both of ingratitude, and incivility. Madam (replied he) this argues a great deal of compassion in your nature, to pitty the past afflicti­ons of those whom many Centu­ries of years have seen dead; and this may make him who hath the honour to wear your chains, hope a good return to his passion from so high agenerosity of mind: Cer­tainly (continued she) no body, without great injury to them­selves, can with severity repulse a man, who, like Oroondates, comes [Page 151]encircled with all the advantages of Birth, of Fortunes, of Educa­tion, whose head was crowned with all the honours, and wreaths of Peace, and whose Shield For­tune had hung thick with all the favours of warr; It is sure Ma­dam (returned he) that she was to blame, when she exercised so great a severity towards him; but yet it was not only upon the ac­count of his birth, and atchieve­ments, that he deserved her love; for if those must only weigh, no one but an Oroondates can ever pretend to a Mistresses affection: but her fault lay in not receiving his so great passion, his so true affection with an equal one; nor by saying this, do I disallow but Oroondates was as great an exam­ple of heroick gallantry, as the [Page 152]world ever produced; but yet I must say, if other men are not so famed as he, it is not because they want his parts or Courage, but because those opportunities which he had, are not offered them to exert them. There is no one who loves (answered she) who can want a subject for his Gallan­try; for he will range the world for adventures, by which he may render himself acceptable to her whom he adores. * Madam, (pressing her hand, and kissing it) if Love will require such services, no body shall go farther than Du Perrot to perform them, if his fair Charlotte command him; Sir (re­torted she) pulling away her hand with much indignation, I never understood that love was an effect of friendship before; if [Page 153]I admitted you to some familia­rity upon the account of the lat­ter, I did not expect it could have produced the former; but since you so grossly misconstrue my actions, know that Charlotte hath no thoughts which may not be arraigned before the strictest Tribunal of Virtue, and appear chast even though Lucretia her self sat Judge there. Having said this, she turned into another walk which led to a Grotta, where she continued most part of the day, leaving him in the highest agonies which slighted love (the great­est of misfortunes) could pro­duce. He stood long unmoved in very great disorders, till at last recovering his reason a little, and, considering where he was, he found it unsafe for his affairs, ei­ther [Page 154]to pursue her, or to stay lon­ger in that place, where he might soon be discovered by her Father or Mother, who used to pass the Evening there. He therefore re­tired to his Lodging, where he spent the night in very great in­quietudes. In the Morning De La Hire (one for whom he had en­tertained a very great affection, and whose accomplishments did indeed deserve it) according to his custome enters his Cham­ber, where he found him in an humour contrary to that he ex­pected; for whereas before un­asked he was wont to relate to him the adventures of the prece­ding day, he could now scarce pro­cure one answer to a great many questions; he then began to accuse him, and tell him, that by this [Page 155]reservedness he would at once both lose his friendship, and assi­stance: he told him on the con­trary, that if he would be free, nothing should be too hard for him to undertake to accommo­date him; that his fortune and his blood should weigh little with him, if at their expence he might procure his advantages: he con­jured him by all their sacred oathes, their mutual vows and pro­testations, after he had long thus pressed him, and found that the true source of his distemper was a Mistress, he thought to have driven it away by raillerie, telling him, he imagined that he had known better things than to de­sire to be teather'd in one place of the Common, when he might have the liberty of the whole, that [Page 156]he would soon be weary of his one dish, though a Bisque or an Oglio, if he fed of it every day. But he found these not at all spe­cifique, and that his pallat now so much out of temper disgusted all things which it desired before; he now perceived his Friend lan­guishing, and pining, and to his great grief, almost grown out of his knowledge in 24 hours; so that he saw he was now to apply himself seriously to his affairs, and to labour his recovery by the best means he could; but before he undertook any thing, he consult­ed Du Perrot, and desired his in­structions how he might serve him; he found him loth to give Charlotte any farther trouble; but upon consideration it was found, an application to her was requi­site. [Page 157] De La Hire resolves to wait upon her to know her resolution. It was not difficult for him to find an opportunity, for that very Af­ternoon upon a visit he made to her Father, with other Company, he took the occasion to divert her, where after a little discourse he told her, that that affection which his Friend had entertained for her he was sure was as true as ever any was, and as pure as the flames which ascend from Altars to those Heavens which behold and re­venge all injustice, and will see that it shall have those returns, and be crowned with that success which it merits: did you but see in him, Madam (continued he) the effects of your own severity, what a Skeleton he is as well in mind as body; how meagre and [Page 158]withered he is, who before was one of Natures choicest Pieces; and how dejected and mean that soul is now, which before breath­ed nothing but generous and mighty things, you would (if any pitty inhabit your breast) weep, and weep so incessantly, that your tears should never end till you be­came like him: Ah Madam (pro­ceeded he) if your love may not, let your generosity at least save a great Soul for whom all France will be beholden to you. Thus he laid open to her the height of his merit, omitting nothing that his friendship could dictate, or his own virtues could challenge. He found her words wary, and con­taining a whole resignation of her self to her Fathers will, which was only to lock or open her breast [Page 159]alone. Though these answers spoke indifferency, and seemed cold, yet any body might perceive a flame through them; and that by them she only hinted to Du Perrot what way to proceed. De La Hire pretty well pleased with this, hastens to his friends Lodg­ing to unload himself, where he found him very disconsolate, and wholly given up to thoughts: at his entrance he wore the most cheerful looks he could put on, which a little encouraged his Friend too; and then at once he satisfied his expectations and doubts, with the best constructi­on that her words would bear, and gave him so much comfort, that in a little time he began to recover his former condition, and at last he grew very well by the [Page 160]applications of his best Physician, Hope. In which state we will leave him, and turn our Pen to another more comical, but no less adventrous Amour.

NOVEL III. The Friendly Rivals.

AT this time a Germain and a Fleming were in the same Pension in the Town, and had struck a great Ligue of Friend­ship; the victorious darts of the God of Love, pointed with rayes taken from Charlotte's eyes, pierced at once the hearts of both of them (so united were their fates) even through those mighty ramparts of Fat which did defend [Page 161]them. They now refined, by these new kindled flames altered their customs and dress; they greased not their Cloathes so much, and appeared oftner in clean Linnen: but though they became more gay, yet there was a kind of tawdriness in their Ha­bits, which distinguished them from the rest of Mankind; for they would wear their Laces with deeper, their Swords longer, their Poynts bigger than the Mode; they would daub their heads with a whole pot of Jasmine at once, and then shew a pound of powder above it; and in fine, they would do every thing in excess, because they loved so; a day did not pass in which they walked not by her window three or four times, and when she took the air, her shadow [Page 162]did not more surely attend her than they; they were sure to gain an acquaintance with all those o­ver the Town, who kept the doors of the Ballets, and then would behold their Goddess from the foot of the room: this she observed at last, and seeing them Fellows so despicable, she thought without injury to her reputation, that she might make her advan­tage of the humour, and improve it to very good sport: In order to this, wheresoever she met them, she failed not to give some mark of her affection, either by unvail­ing, or a nod, or smile, which they both received with mighty ex­tasies, and each took to himself; for the German was sure she could never affect so ugly a fellow as the Fleming, and he on the o­ther [Page 163]side thought that such a rough-cast piece of Nature as the German could never gain her; so that they, though Rivals, continued very good friends, and would never part, for they car­ried one another about for foyls. Thus they were both extreamly pleased, but grew now very im­patient to have some nearer proofs of that affection which they were both already assured of: they could not imagine how they should introduce themselves, for though their follies had made them known enough to the Daughter, they were altogether strangers to the Father; (for in­deed they were fellows so incon­siderable, that no body of de­gree took notice of them) yet one of them at last discovered [Page 164]that a Maid who served in their Pension, was acquainted with Cleorin, Charlotte's Woman, one who had all the cunning and sub­tleties of her sex, and therefore the fittest in the world to cajole these fellows; and she was the fitter too, because she had heard something from her Mistress of their humour: They wonne by some small gift this Wench to their party, and ordered her to see if she could perswade her to meet two Gentlemen at a Tavern that afternoon, who though unknown to her, yet had something to disco­ver which might turn to her advan­tage: You may think this had been an uncouth proposition to her if the Messenger, who was privy to the whole design, had not discover­ed it to her; she then gave her [Page 165]promise, being assured of booty, and at the hour of three she failed not to meet at the place appoint­ed, and there she met the two Lovers who had expected her a while with some impatience. When they begun to open the affair to her, she seemed to won­der with what confidence they could propose to her to betray her Lady, she told them, offering to go away, that she expected an entertainment answering their message, something which might have been her advantage; but now on the contrary, they offered that which would not only ruin her fortune, but her reputation, which she valued much more: for all this, a little time being passed, and some few promises on their side made, she seemed to incline [Page 166]to them, and at last was wholly wonne. They then proceeded to discover themselves, but still one obstructed the other in his story: she demanded how it was possible she could serve them both? for her Lady had but one heart, and since that could not be divided, it could belong but to one of them: they, both assu­red of success, agreed of one an­swer, assuring her, that whensoe­ver Charlotte should declare for one, the other in that moment would desist. This seemed very satisfactory to all; they only now desired to know the time and place, when and where they might attend Charlotte's decisive sen­tence. She said she could not an­swer to that, till she knew her or­ders in it; she therefore at present [Page 167]begged their pardon, and assured them, that before the night of the next day she would send to their Consident at their Lodging her Ladies resolution. At her depart­ing each gave her five Pistols; but the German slips out after her, (which the other saw, and was much pleased with it, thinking he might spare his pains since she was surely his) and desires her in particular to represent his affecti­on to her Lady, and to give her that Letter, and if she could, to procure an answer to it; and withal he presented her a Dia­mond Ring, which she willingly accepted, and promised her en­deavours: The Fleming at his re­turn seemed to chide him, and told him, he feared he had done him ill offices, and then running out, [Page 168]gave her a Letter, and desired the same, giving her five Pistols more, and then gained the same promi­ses. But now you must imagine them something impatient till the arrival of the wish'd for hour; but though this time they could not see her, yet she remained a constant object to their minds. they employ'd the rest of the day, according to the custom of Ro­mantick Heroes, of whom they had read in Poetry, and composed many Sonnets & quaint Anagrams (as most agreeable to their capa­cities) which after the discovery of the Amour, made very good sport about the Town: but I shall omit to set them down here, be­cause their numbers are so Go­thick and Barbarous, that they were more fit to be sung to a [Page 169]Trumpet than a Lute. But now the time and the Letter at once arrived, directed to both, which contained these words,

AS soon as the Moon appears come to the back door of the Garden, opening to the River, which shall be unlocked to receive you, and there when her affection will force her to declare her self, you may behold the blushes of

CHARLOTTE.

You need not doubt but they observed their time to a moment; for they had been walking by the river near the place an hour or two before, and just as their for­tunate Planet began to shine out, they made their entrance there with as much joy as if it had been [Page 170]Paradise, and expected as great felicities as it could afford. The German (though it was disputed, because they believed the pre­sence of their Mistress) by the Priviledges of his Nation, as the Subject of an Emperour, took the door; but he had not walked many paces till he found himself in a pit above the middle, and a ring of iron close clasped about him with a lock, which he could by no means open, and held him so fast, that he could not move a­ny part downwards. He implo­red the assistance of his Compa­nion, who refused it him, and said he would not slight that oppor­tunity which his good Angel had presented him to make him known without a Rival to his Mi­stress, and so left his poor friend [Page 171]in great distress. But he had not gone six paces forward before he retracted his former unkindness, and made it yield to generosity, and resolved to rescue him; but in his return within two yards of the same place, to his great grief, he found himself in the same pre­dicament. Then it was that they imployed the whole force of their eloquence in abusing one-ano­ther; and because they were not near enough to strike, they bat­tered themselves with the wea­pons which the foil afforded, till they had spent all the gravel near them. Their rage now with their artillery ceased, and they thought it much better to unite their for­ces against those who had decei­ved them, than to contend be­twixt themselves. When they [Page 172]were in these thoughts, Charlotte and her Maid of a sudden issued out of a neighbouring Grove, clad like good spirits (though they pro­ved not so to them) all in white, with white rods in their hands, going round them, and waving them above their heads, but seeming to take no notice of them, and sung

We must make these Walks and Groves
Free from the dreggs of mortal Loves,
And clear them from th'un­clean abodes
Of croaking froggs, and creeping toads;
For Oberon the Fairie King
Fair Mab his Queen will hither bring,
[Page 173] And they must dance, and we must sing,
And they must, &c.
Then they stood still and cried,
Come! O come without delay,
Ye Goat Prancers of the Groves,
Leave your Embraces, leave your Loves,
And cleanse the mighty Monarchs way.

Then entred two Servants of the house dressed like Satyrs, with two great Buckets of water for a lustration, and emptied upon each of their heads; with that they both cried and begged they would release them, which Char­lotte and her Maid by laughing [Page 174]almost discover themselves; with that the Satyrs seemed angry, and said.

Bold Mortals, how durst you be here,
When Oberon was to appear,
To prie into the unknown Rites
Of Fairie Ladies and their Knights,
And search into the hidden sport
Of the happy Fairy Court?
Stay till the King himself doth come.

With this a company of Boyes dressed like Fairies come in dan­cing, and caper round them sing­ing, [Page 175]and pinching them severely; the Germain much surprised and affrighted, desired to know which was the King, who when he was shewed to him, told him that he served a mighty Emperour, and one who would revenge the inju­ries of his Subjects when they could not enjoy the Priviledges of the Law of Nations, which suffered all strangers, guilty of no offence to come and go freely: To whom the King said,

Thy Master, fool, doth but command,
Compar'd to mine, an inch of Land:
My spacious Empire is the Air,
And the lov'd Breast of Mab the fair.

[Page 176] With that they contracted their Circle, and only run about him, and pinched, till he almost a­wakned the house with his cries, which made them all run away, and leave the unfortunate Lovers as they found them, where they continued till the Sun bid the World Good-morrow, entertain­ing themselves with the strange­ness of the Adventure, and the many circumstances of their mis­fortune. At this time the Gard­ner enters the Garden, and seeing two men in this posture, growing half out of the earth, started back; and it is possible if he had been read in the Poets, he might have thought that Cadmus had killed another Dragon, and had made choice of that place to sow the teeth in: but he having no such [Page 177]sentiments, presently runs in and gives the alarum to the house, so that it came to the Master's ears, who going to the place, would have apprehended them for Theeves, till his Daughter ac­quainted him with the whole Ad­venture, which pleased them all as much as it displeased the un­happy Lovers, who were so abu­sed with it (for it was soon spread) that they were forced to remove to some more obscure place of France.

The next night after a little re­capitulating, Theogenes proceeded thus. During the time of Du Perrots recovery, his friend did him all the best offices he could, and by his importunity he brought her to consent to an ad­mittance of his visit, which he [Page 178]payed with much joy, but also with much submission to her for that boldness which had wrought her displeasure. She received him well, and excused her former severity, which, she said, proceed­ed from surprise, and assured him for the future of as much favour as might be consistent with the duty she was to pay her Father. He now renewed his discontinued visits, and daily meetings, hoping by his assiduous services to work a good end. In this state their love was, when a thing which al­tered the whole affair fell out. De La Hire, who had all this while laboured his friends quiet, was now unhappily concerned to do somewhat for his own; for by often treating to advance Du Per­rots, loves, he found flames kin­died [Page 179]in his own breast by the same eyes: Nor was Charlotte, though she carried it more secret­ly, less charmed with his graces than he with hers. This accident wrought his great discontent, and had almost carried him to that distemper out of which he had brought his friend, who also ob­served it with much grief, and still sollicited him, though with no success, to know its cause. His thoughts were, should I go to work mine own interest with her whom I adore, I should at once prove false to her, and treache­rous to my friend; and should I acquaint him, his generosity per­haps would give more than mine could receive; I will there­fore repair to some solitary place, and there amongst the Crags and [Page 180]and horrors of the thickest Groves will sigh away my life, and prove my self faithful to Charlotte, and true to Du Perrot. This said, he makes out of the Town, and took the way which led to a neigh­bouring Wood. His friend and Mistress observing this from their window, resolved to pursue him, and see if they could learn any thing. He had no sooner entered the place at one side, but Du Per­rot unseen was got in at another, and Charlotte and her Maid (who was her Confident) at another; and seated themselves under an hedge, by the advantage of which they could hear, and see him; and be undiscovered. Assoon as he was sat, he took up his lute, which his boy brought thither before, and striking the strings, sung these [Page 181]words, which answered to the Notes.

Tell me! oh tell me all ye Groves
Within whose sacred breasts do lie
The plaints and sighs of faithfull Loves,
Was ever one more griev'd than I?
Love over me a Conquest makes,
(Whose powers you know none can withstand)
Friendship again those Conquests shakes
And ruines with a mightier hand.
Love doth make th' assault again,
So that of a cruel warre
My breast must be th'unhappy Scene,
Whilst no side is a conquerour.
Therefore you powers who rule on high,
Direct me so that I may prove
Happy once more, and fate defie,
And true to friendship, and to love.
Let not Charlotte's victorious eyes
the just Du-Perrot's friendship wrong;
Nor let his charms make me despise
Those graces which from hers arise,
Which Bards so oft in deathless notes have sung.

[Page 182] At the end of this song his friends appear, which accident surprised him the more, because he feared they had over-heard him. But Du-Perrot comes up to him with a clear and assured countenance, and said, fear not my faithfullest friend, to make me miserable, if you may at the same time render your self happy; give Charlotte your love, so Du-Perrot may have your friendship. To you who have so long pos­sessed the best part of me I re­signe the last, but the noblest, my soul, for by Charlotte I live. But yet think it not mean in me so easily to part with a life which with so much solicitude hath hi­therto been preserved, and in a time when I should most of all desire to prolong it, since Char­lotte [Page 183]is pleased to bless me with her affections: for it is but just that I should sacrifice my self to my preserver, and I am sure Heaven thinks the virtues of De La Hire only fit to be joyned with those of Charlotte. He here takes both their hands, and said, go now happy Pair, go and enjoy the blessings of Cities, and of Courts! and leave here your at once un­happy and unfortunate Du-Perrot to the quiet and solitude of these Woods, that here expiring he may pay his vows, and offer his prayers and sacrifice for your eter­nal happiness! He here offered to joyn their hands, but they both went back, and De La Hire ad­dressed himself thus; Wrong not your friend Du-Perrot in thinking he fears more than you [Page 184]to die; or that, whilst he lives, you can over-come him in friendship or generosity, though in all other things he yields to you. Assure your self that you wrong her whom we both adore in believing she would receive him who could so dishonourably survive his friend. I love a glorious fall as well as you! and what could render my Funerals more illustrious than that at my Grave Charlotte should say here lyes the FAITHFULLEST OF LOVERS, and that Du-Perrot should weep out, here lies the TRUEST OF FRIENDS. Goe, and be happy then together! and en­joy your many blessings in some happy place, to which your stars shall point you; and if ever you think or speak of De La Hire, give him no other Character than that [Page 185]of a Faithful Lover, and a true Friend. Here was a profound si­lence till the fair Charlotte broak it in these words; Much is due from me (generous friends) to both your loves, and from each of you to the other's friendship; but since it is not in my power to crown the same merits with the same rewards, I must desire not to be pressed to a declaration of my affections, but that both of you will accept my friendship, and give me yours, which will afford more solid and scraphique joyes than love, which grows less if it doth not determine with en­joyment. To this, after some ci­vilities, they all consented, and then begun a friendship which no­thing but death could ever break.

[Page 186] And now perhaps some will ask to what end is all this from the beginning said? to what doth it conduce? He who demands this, must know, that it was enter­prised to shew Virtue and Vice in their true colours. He must also know, that the Author did not undertake this in hopes to be crowned with the Crown of Fame, but rather with that that was given by the Romans to a good Citizen, who did then sa­crifice his fortunes, and what he doth now, his reputation to de­liver his fellow-Citizens out of any imminent danger. But if any should now severely say, it is an impertinence, and should blame the design for the error of its me­nager; he must know that im­pertinences [Page 187]are to be driven out by impertinences, (as fire out of a burnt finger is by fire) that he who is guilty of them, seeing their inconveniences in another person, may in himself avoid them.

FINIS.

Emendanda.

PAge 20. l. 13. for feareth r. serveth. p. 21. l. 6 perpetually r. perpetual. p. 35. l. 15. for make that for two, r. make it two. p. 36. l. 2. r. is so bad. p. 37. l. 4. r. or 2, or 3. p. 52. l. 7. leave out now, and hath. p. 59. l. 4. after the word strife a Parenthesis in. p. 60. and l. 13. is to come in which was misplaced by the mi­stake of the Press. p. 61. l. 1. for his r. the. l. 2. for his r. their. p. 64. l. 10. for soul r. sons. p. 73. l. 5. for redence r. residence p. 74. l. 7. for by r. to. p. 76. l. 2. leave out should. p. 77. l. 10. r. of the winds. p. 82. l. 6. leave out if it [...] 1. l. 3. for higher r. lighter. p. 93. l. 3. for quam r. [...] [...]0. l. 15. leave out him. p. 115. l. 13. for severe r. [...]cure. p. 117. l. 21. insert were. p. 142. l. 10. for where r. when. ead. l. leave out or. p. 148. l. 19. r. who are bred. p. 152. l. 13. insert ( said he) p. 161. l. 11. leave out with. p. 173. r. G [...]at­s [...]ot-prancers. ead. pag. l. penult. leave out which. p. 183. l. 12. r. fertunate, pro unfortunate. The Rea­der is desired to excuse the mistake of the Printer, in putting the The Moral State, &c. over the Life of Theodatus, and the Novels. He is also desired to excuse the false pointings, and some other litteral errors.

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