[figure]

G. Glouer fecit.

Ingeniosa tibi VIVAM manus edidit VMBRAM
VERVM HOMINEM MOTVS te probat esse tuus
Sed tam motu agili, tanta vertiginis arte
Extempló spacium te per vtrum (que) rotas
Corpore sub ficto mihi SPIRITVS esse videris
Aut Corpus CHYMICÀ SPIRITVALE manu
Nullam sentit equus MOLEM tuus: impiger omnes
Pervolitas partes, nec mora pondus habet.
T. S.

THE VAULTING-MASTER: OR, THE ART OF VAƲLTING.

Reduced to a Method, comprized under certaine Rules, Illustrated by Examples, And Now primarily set forth By VVILL: STOKES.

Xenoph. de magisterio equitum.
Juniores persuadendi sunt, ut in equos insilire discant: Laudem verò jure mereberis, si quem adhibueris magistrum seu praeceptorem.

Printed for RICHARD DAVIS, in Oxon. 1652.

To the truly noble Gentleman, Mr. Henry Percy, Master of the Horse to the Prince his Highnesse, &c.

Honoured Sir:

IT is in me a boldnesse, I must confesse, that deserves not to be pardoned, on so small interest to present a Toy, a light and undigested Pamphlet to you that are so far above it: And yet mee thinks this boldnesse is much more answerable, when I consider that you were once pleased (during that time, in which you were both an Ornament and an Honour to the Uniuersitie) to make use of my meane skill, and humblest service in this kind: and like­wise that there is none more able, either to protect or judge of what I have written. From the first I draw encouragement proper to my selfe; in the other I make that encouragement mine, which is, or ought to be common to all that would [Page] make a fit choyce of patronage. And on these grounds I have presumed, among those many happier and more worthy la­bors which wait on your Name, to place this little one: which (although as it can never hope, so it can never have the hap­pinesse to enjoy that measure of your Sun-shine, and so boun­teous an eye as those more deserving) shall neverthelesse rest content in the conscience of that everlasting service which the Father of it owes. Be pleased then (most worthy Sir) to suffer your Name in the Front of this, otherwise poore and defencelesse Book. So that by that meanes it becomming ac­ceptable to the world, I may not doubt but afterwards it will prove as profitable. My last, but not my least hopes are, that as you loved this Art in your youth, and have honour'd it since, so you will still advance it, and continue your favours to him that is

Your most humble Servant, WILL. STOKES.

The Epistle to the Reader.

Courteous Reader:

ALthough now a dayes it be little better than paper cast away, to enter­taine the Reader in the entrance of a Book, though with never so ne­cessarie an eloquence; since men will not so lose the pleasure and Venerie of envious Censure, but hastily run on to banquet their gall with those faults which they will either find or make: And although (as one sayes well) a man had better never write than give an account to everie one of that hee has written: Neverthelesse, I am determined not to give eare to such a cowardly wisdome, lest I incur a double imputation; either as not daring to meet with the Detractour, or not caring to salute the Ingenious. There are some, I make no doubt (though in other matters sufficiently knowing, yet ignorant in this) who doe and will dislike the thing it selfe, nay the verie name of Vaulting, as accounting it an unnecessarie and dan­gerous exercise, a device to breake ones neck, or limbs, or the like: but such when they know more, will answer themselves; in the meane time, their ignorance is a sufficient punishment. Another sort there are, who are content to allow the thing, but will by no meanes have it an Art, but ra­ther the child of an accidentall and undigested experience, receiving the degrees of its excellencie, from blind custome only and difference of bo­dies: It were too long to confute these by reason, and likewise unnecessary in this place, seeing I have amply shewne it in the following leaves. A third sort there are, who grant it to be an Art, and this Art extraordinarily a­vailable in the practice; but they will say it is not so accurately handled, nor in so exact a method as it deserves. To such, since it concernes my selfe, I [Page] ingenuously confesse, I have done in it what I was able; nor am I such an enemy to the common good, as to envie, or not rather calmly to suffer my selfe to be cast out before him, that can and will performe it better. Yet let me comfort my selfe with this truth, that all Arts, if they bee so handled that they may teach, will not admit of that elegancie of word and phrase, which though they becommingly dresse, yet they dazle the eye of the Rea­der. A fourth sort there are yet behind, who I know will wonder, whence I amongst all the excellent Professours of this Art, both English and for­raine, should have the confidence to enter upon this Tract, which had been worthy of the best of them; and first of any (I thinke I may safely say so) dare expose my selfe under this title to the Presse and publike view. This indeed comes neerest me of any; but I shall answer (and as I thinke, beside their expectation) that what they account in me a fault, and a malapert un­dertaking, I esteeme as my greatest happinesse; nor would I change the glorie of being the first that have written, with that of having written: Since in all mens opinions, the first Founders of all Arts and Sciences, have beene as honourable as those that have built upon their foundations to the fairest height: but enough of this, lest I seeme to hug my good fortune e­ven to ostentation, which might have beene anothers, and perhaps more fit for such a burthen, and far more better deserving the honour of preceden­cie. Yet, Reader, this I will say, if happily it may adde any value to mee or this my work: although I had rather my work should praise both it selfe and me: Thou hast the fruit and observations of almost thirtie yeares, and Rules confirmed by daily practice during so long a time: if this may adde [Page] any thing to the esteeme of my labours, so be it: For the rest, examine the whole piece, and thou shalt find Reason embracing Experience thorowout: and among reasonable men then, how can it misse of its ends, viz. the pub­like good, and a just acceptance? Nor need the Practitioner complaine of obscuritie, as in many other, who doe so interlard their writings with the knottie tearmes of Art, that they may bee said both to teach and not to teach. I have labour'd to avoyd that vice, as having seene the uglinesse of it in them. Besides the plainnesse of the phrase too, wherein everie Passe is drest, I have added to each a lively and beautifull Cut; that so what is but dead as it were in words, may be there seene in motion and to the life, the rule and the example mutually illustrating one another. What is else requi­site for thy learning (gentle Reader) thou shalt find it there: only as I have freely and painfully opened my selfe to doe thee good, so doe thou stop the mouth of malice, and defend this child of mine in the fathers absence, and esteeme according to his merits of him that is,

Thine to command, WILL. STOKES.

The Preface.

AS in the greater world there is no one qualitie more noble and necessarie than motion and activitie, it being that whereby Aire excelleth the Earth, and Water and Fire the Aire, and the Heavens the Fire; and that whereby all these doe preserve themselves, and those creatures they containe: So neither in the little world, Man, whether in respect of the Soule, as being most neerly al­lied to the nature thereof, it being in it selfe a perpetuall Motion, as also the fountaine of all Activitie; or in respect of the body, as being that only where­by we are knowne to live, and which chiefly distinguisheth that Earth wee are made of, from the residue we tread on. Now although it be impossible for a man to attaine to that height of agility which is found in those greater bodies, it will be sufficient neverthelesse, if Art conspiring with an able Constitution, may and hath rendred men equall to the most active of the beasts. This no doubt will seeme a paradox to some, that are enamoured of the admirable speed of a Hart, or Horse, or the nimblenesse of a Cat, or have seene the Apes: but let such con­sider the wonderfull frame of a mans body, how it is the patterne (as it were) whereby both the world and all other creatures were made; how in his thighs the Horse, in his heart the Lion, in his hands the Ape, in his back the Elephant are (as it were) stored up, all making one, by so much more mightie than they all, by how much he is but one: and they shall find that Nature is not wanting to man, but man to himselfe, and that it is not lack of abilitie, but lack of use, that has shrunk mens sinews, and enfeebled them, even to the contempt of beasts. [Page] Is it not a shame then, that men should so forget that they live, and out of a base love of idlenesse, suffer their bones to gather rust, as it were, and the gout lockup their joynts; chusing rather a chaire than legs of their owne, and the perpe­tuall trouble and torment of Physick, than to need none: a man may not unfitly think, they practise to lye still all their life time, lest their grave being not used to it, should be too troublesome. Certainly, a shame it is in any, but especially in a Gentleman, as in a Gentleman likewise the contrary love of ingenious exercise is most praise-worthy: considering the meaner sort of people are called to it by their necessities, when as the Gentleman is, or should be stirred up to it by the desire he has to doe his Countrey good, and to heap honours on his name by his brave and heroick actions: which how can hee, when by a degenerous and un­active life, his body becomes utterly unserviceable, and his soule, when she would she w her selfe in action is in fetters, and set as they doe Horses in their triall, to draw at a tree. Well then doe those, and worthy are they of their Ancestours, as of the hearts and eyes of all men, who loathing the lazie and unmanly life, doe so accustome themselves by dayly use to exercises of all sorts, that they may bee no flower in their actions, than their intentions, and have bodies like the soules of the other. Equally blameable with those sons of idlenesse are those, who out of a having and parsimonious disposition, will not goe to the price of Art, Art that it as it were another creation, and gives those helps which Nature never meant, nor hop'd, which must alwayes sister Vse, and be in joynt commission with In­dustrie, or a man can never arrive at that excellencie and height, in this kind▪ which he is capable of: And this I speake as well in generall, in respect of all bodily exercises; since there it not one of them (though meere strength and Vse [Page] may performe things indifferently admirable) but must expect their finishings, and perfection from the hand of Art: as also more especially, in respect of the Art of Vaulting (the Subject of this present Treatise) as being as excellent and amiable as any of her sisters, if not more, and partaking in as high a degree of the favours of Art, and the advantageous helps of masterie and skill, as those that have their title Sub privilegio, and happily have gained the more early ap­probation of the world: Not that I doe herein chalenge the Science of De­fence, or by comparison provoke to the combat; since I know she is as suffici­ently arm'd as able to defend her selfe; but as considering they are sisters, and therefore in hope they will without grudging endure each others praises; so nei­ther that I would hereby detract from the facultie of Dancing, for what were it but for one hand to wound the other, since I professe both. No rather, let the ingenious that desire to be acquainted with this Art, suspend their judgements till by some triall they find it, though boldly, yet deservedly praised: in the mean time I shall have my ends, if what I have said may provoke men only to the love of it, and excite in the gentle brest a desire to see what he has read, not doubting then but the successe will warrant my confidence, and that the Art will com­mend it selfe to the shame of words. Neverthelesse, I must not omit those parts of its praises, which are yet behind, lest I betray the former, and if any thing can raise it to an equall glorie with its fellowes, what more authentically than its antiquitie; example in any thing being that which most readily procures mens assent to it, and the more ancient the example, the more assuredly ready the as­sent. There might be much probably alleaged to this purpose, but let this one suf­fice for all; it is Homers, the ancientest of the Greeke Poets, when describing [Page] Ajax leaping from the beake of one ship to another, he useth this Simile: Iliad. 15.

As when a man well knowing how to use
The vaulting Horse, of many a Steed doth chuse
Foure from the field, and to the Citie drives,
Whilst many a man and woman, thronging strives
To see, he safely, and nimbly leaps from one
To th'other horse▪ yet they still forward run:
So Ajax, &c.

Certainly a most ancient and infallible testimony. To its antiquite we may adde its use, which daily experience has found to be manifold, both in peace and war, for need and pleasure. In war, the nimble avoydance of a mans horse, if wounded or killed under him, and in like manner the ready ascent into his enemies saddle, if it be his hap to unhorse him, and much more, which the experi­enced Souldier shall find: In peace, a thousand graces to horse-manship, services to Ladies, and other courtly feats depend on it, besides infinite that practise will meet with, which cannot now be thought on. One thing more, the generally embraced esteeme and communitie thereof, it has been loved even of Princes, and now is: Doe not thou then (gentle Reader) distaste, or neglect an Art so honoured by its Fautors, so anciently worthy, and so generally necessarie; but give it entertainment and love, which is that I have endeavoured according to my abilitie to perswade, and then I shall thinke thou wantest nothing but a Teacher, and not repent that I have made those things publike, which were the peculiar rights of a private Schoole: And so let us descend to the practice.

To the Reader: On this now and excellent Book, called the Vaulting-Master.

YOu that in wanton silks diseases hide,
And weare your limbs so loose, they scarce can'bide
A friends embrace; you that are faine each day
To bribe your health, and keep your life in pay,
That of your generous youth and Ancestrie
Decoction make, only to feed lust high:
That take no paines, but on your cloaths or whore,
And only leap, ride, vault by metaphore:
If you yet live, can call your selves your owne,
And have not all i'th' sea of women sowne,
If when you heare (as now) the iron Car,
And brasse hoov'd Steeds of all-consuming war,
In horrid noyse, approach our threatned North;
You nobly rous'd, can re-assume that worth,
Which heapt-up ryots hide, and would assay
For man againe, would any shew the way:
Here's that will soone restore what e're hath bin
Impair'd by ease, or what more eating sin,
Here's that will set your nerves in tune againe,
And find for each forgotten string a straine:
[Page] Winde up your sickly muscles, and refine
Th'embased spirits to temper Masculine.
Here's that will make a stubbome armour weare
Gentle as Persian silks, and light as aire,
And will the way into the saddle find,
Though th'Horse be high as hils, wild as the wind.
The Easterne Conquerour, no doubt, had he
But knowne this Art, without Philosophie
Had back'd Bucephalus, and got his Crowne
By rules our age is blest with, then unknowne.
But why without Philosophie; yet all,
That fils the following leaves, so rationall?
When demonstrations build each page, when each
Period doth prove, and every letter teach?
When Aristotle (liv'd he) would adde this
To's thefts, and call the Vaulting Master, his?
And is not he well worthy an embrace
From time, from truth, from all the world, that has
Been fruitfull of an Art, that rare-borne thing,
A sister to the Seven, another string
T' Apollo's harp? and in this age too, when
Books drop from everie common, undipt pen,
And those too patcht, imperfect, blind and lame?
When all still write but diversly the same?
[Page] When only to dispatch Sermons and Playes,
The Printer's faine to work on Holy-dayes?
Yet Sermons but each others meaning shew,
And Playes are but reviv'd, when they are new.
How're the world determines, Oxford will
One sheet with his due, her due praises fill:
And would doe more; but now his booke's so neare,
Such beauties through this veile of praise appeare,
We busie wantons have before it drawne
(The fair'st may mask, but not be hid in Lawne.)
As when display'd to the discerning eye,
Will soone out-grow both praise and Poetrie.
Now turne the leafe o're, and expect no lesse
Nor longer; Only let my last hand dresse
My Friend in this becomming Elogie,
Men could but crawle or swim, h'as taught them flie.
N. H.

On the Art of Vaulting.

THou that hast still liv'd thy owne statue, and
Hast neither leg nor arme at thy command.
Being strangely monstrous, young and old, a man
And yet a carcasse, whose limbs only can
Move like the Dutch-mans Motion; everie part
Being its owne shackle from the want of Art.
Who cannot mount a Palfrey, unlesse you
Have a convenient block and stirrup too.
Where like a Cripple thou dost bend thy back,
Sitting upon a saddle as a sack.
Learne now to wing the body, seeme to see
Beasts the chiefe masters in activitie.
Thy soule is Quick-silver, while theirs is Lead;
Compar'd to thine, their verie life is dead.
Hence to be stiffe is to degenerate,
And wrong the Nobler Powers of thy Fate.
Thou, like the Heav'ns, hast an Intelligence;
Thy motions too, like theirs, should out-strip Sence.
What though thou yet hast stood fix'd like a rock:
As sailes adde swiftnesse to the heaviest block,
[Page] And engines make stones fly; so here are taught
Rules that can make each limb as quick as thought.
Thou mayst mount higher by this Authors quill;
Than Don Gonzado can with all his skill.
No wals can stop thy passage, thou mayst doe
More by this Book, than Love, Feare, Hunger too.
Thou shalt no more live Soloecisms, and see
A place, though lower, yet too high for thee.
This healthfull Art of Vaulting will proclaime
Thy body strong, though Doctors sweare th'art lame.
Ladies by this will know th'art none of those,
Whose tender flesh hangs looser than their cloaths.
Should some nice Dame hold out as long as Troy,
And after ten yeares courtship still be coy,
Unmov'd with Rings and Verses, yet her force
Can't stand the stratagems of the Wooden Horse.
[...]. W.

Upon a Book written by Mr. STOKES of the Art of Vaulting.

TO you we owe (skill'd Sir) that we now see
Endenniz'd here the French agilitie:
We may be eas'ly nimble now at home,
Oxford being Mistresse to all Christendome,
Nor need we take a leap to France, or ought
Strive to be expert i'th' venereall Vault,
We shall not over-heat our selves so much,
That we may straddling walk, or need a Crutch.
This woodden Horse, like Balaams learned Asse,
Can teach his Rider, yet not move a pace.
Nor shall we mount leane Rozinante's brood,
Though he's so dry he may be tane for wood.
We cannot our dull Courser running set,
Like the swift trav'lling Juggler, Pacolet:
Yet by this active Art Orlando can
Leap hedge and ditch without his Barbican;
And men henceforth ennimbled, may detest
To owe their journeyes to th'ignobler beast,
I hate those lumpish Solonists, who make
Their leaping Helicon, a standing Lake.
[Page] Which think't enough if they vault in their clay,
And make their Thought their sole Angelica:
As if you learn't not in your Spheares, the Schooles,
That heavie bodies harbour heavie soules;
Or that the flaming Fancies soare the higher,
And that wit pierces most, that's made of fire:
Nature's become an Art now, and each foole
May see the world is but one Vaulting Schoole.
The active bloud doth its Palaestra keep,
And nimble pulse continually doth leap.
So, issuing oft from crannies, wind hath taught
The stubborne earth against her will to vault,
And hath the lazie mountaines bowels rent,
Both for a precept and a punishment.
I'le now leave Plato, credit Mandevill,
When I see th'head so far below the heele.
What greater Sophistrie can th'Answ'rre feare,
Than to see Vaulters at once here and there.
And the dull Optick Senses scarce perceive,
When to this side they fly, or that they leave?
If then the strangest Science we most prize,
To make Even number, let's This canonize,
And chuse Him Christmasse Aristotle then,
Who made our hands be guided by his pen:
[Page] That this dead wood reviv'd by common praise,
May grow once more, and bring forth learned Bayes,
And may its fruits so to the world impart,
That each new yeare may find out a new Art.
Stephen Skinner.

To Mr. STOKES: Vpon his new and admirable Booke of the Art of Vaulting.

THis is no age for Apes: (although it can
Shew many a motley, frisking Gentleman)
False capers, and soft cringes, that betray
Who's a French Courtier, are quite laid away:
Our Gallants are growne sound, th'have learn'd a sport
For men of backs, and may be lik'd at Court.
He that can mount the woodden Palfrey best,
And sit him as Knights Errant doe their beast;
Descend so quick, that you would sweare he flies,
And were himselfe the Pegasus; can rise
All the Reverses; English, French Pomado's,
The Saddle-jumps, intricate Strappado's;
[Page] Hover so lightly the Angelica,
You'l think a reall spirit were i'th' play:
Can stretch his sinews so, to jump with ease
The Stags long leap, the Leap of Hercules:
Has mettle for each Terme, and were they more
Than Logick has, could doe them all thrice o're.
He, he's the Man! He shall applauded be
'Bove the gay sutes, and Tinsell-Poetrie:
Mark how the Ladies drink to Him alone!
He mans them out; He's talk'd on too at home.
All this your Book affoords, and your large skill
Lies not i'th' back alone, but in the Quill:
He writes best that does teach; I like the man
Will gaine the world his Scholler if he can.
Thus Art amends weak Nature: Tell me one
That e're grew strong by demonstration!
Nimble by rule before? What was good parts
Is now growne study, and makes up our Arts.
And you'll a deed of Benefactour doe,
To joyne your Schoole to Bodley's Buildings too.
Richard Godfrey.

To his friend the Author of this Book, and most expert Instructer in this Art.

NO view of former Tract hereof, thy pen
Doth guide, (a vaulter needs no stirrup) then
Take time, from th'ground of this your Art, and spring
Aboue a rivals aime, or envie; bring
Thy Pegasus in view, and let us see,
Though many vaunt, if any'll vault with thee.
Thy Art I manhood stile; for that, its use
Is man to's proper motion to reduce,
Which upward is: by stooping low, to rise,
It makes him know humilitie, to prize
Celestiall exercise: whereby men doe
Not in affection, but in body too,
Mount up above this earth, and triall make,
Which way their active soules would them betake,
If loosed from the body; so they doe
Now but prove practice in the way thereto.
Toyes scale away, and cannot scale so high,
Each Passe surpasses, let th'ambitious try
T'attaine this Art, he'll quickly find, and say,
That Vaulting is the only Rising way.
Jo. Shearman.

On the Author and his Book.

HEark hither, Gallants, you that set no price
On any games, but only Cards and Dice:
And think all exercise is course▪ and poore,
Except to empt the quart, and fill your whore:
I'le tell you how (if you desire to know)
Your recreation shall a vertue grow,
And all those houres you us'd to spend in vaine
Shall give you health, and bring your Countrey gaine.
Leave off your Carpet-games, they well become
The Needle or Distaffe, not the Sword or Drum:
And in their place receive this active sport,
Hatcht first in Mars his, not in Venus Court.
This to your weak'ned limbs will strength restore,
Making that Brawne that was but Veale before.
This to refine your bodies humorous bog,
'Twill prove the covering of your soule, not clog,
This makes you rise with such an even spring,
As if each heele were help'd with Hermes wing:
And on your house sit with as firme a grace,
As those that first sprang from the Centaures race.
Thank then his paines, who such a care hath took,
To make you now his Scholler by his book:
[Page] And grutch not though you at some charges bee,
You'l quickly save it in the Doctors fee.
He could be well content you all should come,
And practise o're your rules with him at home:
But since that may not be, he thus hath sent
(As objects use) his Species, to present
His Art aright: and if I oft can see,
They shew't to life, though he at distance bee.
The Horse which in his schoole ne're knew a life,
Nor other forme, than of the work-mans knife,
Lives in the picture, and would surely goe,
Did but the Souldier once the reines let flow:
Who with such nimble joynts seemes o're to come,
The lookers on can scarce refraine to hum.
This only blame can on the Graver fall,
He cut none by to catch him, should he fall.
Since then this work hath reach'd so faire an end,
That only he that made it can it mend,
I in my friends behalfe, 'gainst such as blame
His worthy paines, or think his Art but lame,
Thus far doe pray. May they a stirrup lack
Trav'lling, and got off from their horses back,
May they walk downe the steepest hils with paine,
And at their feet want stocks to rise againe.
S. G.

IN the first Figure you are shewne how to prepare your selfe to the Horse, which motion is equally necessarie in everie Passe: the Figure is speaking, and I in­terpret it thus. March forwards to the Horse, then lay your left hand on the fore pummell, the reines of the bridle under your hand, placing your left leg in a direct line answerable to that hand, your right leg behind the left in the fa­shion of a Roman ( T,) your body sidewise, this done, march forwards one pace with your right leg, advancing the left; then retreat one pace back with your left, advancing the right; so shall you find your selfe in the same posture this Fi­gure does present, and ready for the following Passe.

[Page]

The First Figure.

The Pass into the Sadle.

The first Passe.

BEing thus prepared, the first Passe brings you into the saddle, and is thus performed: by raising of your right arme, and extending your right leg, provoke your selfe to the spring, then at once sink your body, clap both feet to the ground, move your right hand back, and spring, clapping your right hand on the hinder pummell, and withall nimbly shifting it from thence to the fore pummell, equally poyze your body on the strength of your armes with a straight leg, and you shall gracefully sink into the saddle, then when you have occasion to alight, clap both hands on the fore pum­mell, raising your body to the strength of your armes, and reverse your right leg over the hind pummell, keeping it straight as before, and bowing when you touch the ground: the one will make your descent sightly, the other easie. If you chance to make use of the common riding or hunting saddle, holding your left hand as before on the pummell, clap your right hand in the middle of the saddle, so raising your body, remove not your hand, till you are in the seat.

The second Passe, called John O-Neale.

PRepare your Horse, then present your selfe to the head of the Horse, fix­ing your left hand on the top of it, then with the same motion as before, spring, and clapping your right hand on the fore pummell, guide your selfe into the saddle; this is the ordinarie way: But if you have such strength of arme, and so practis'd a spring, that you dare trust to it, you may enlarge it, and then it will prove verie difficult: thus having raised your body to the support of your armes, in the verie same motion without sinking your bo­dy, shift your left hand which you first placed on the head of the Horse, to the right on the fore pummell, so with the joyned force of both, you shall easily carrie your selfe the full length of the Horse over his buttock to the ground, and this latter only is exprest in the Figure.

John O-Neale.

Ouer The head of the Horse.

The third Passe.

OVer the head of the Horse you have the example before you, and it is thus done: march to the head of the Horse, as in the fore-going Passe, lay your left hand on the fore part of the maine, then rise with all your force, (for it will bee needfull) and clapping your right hand on the fore pummell, advance your body thereon; and being thus elevated, let goe your right hand, which you may safely doe, for the spring of your arme in the going off, will send you with much ease to the ground.

Another way there is to vault over the neck of the Horse, which is espe­cially in use amongst the French, and it is thus: Stand as before, then ta­king your time, rise; and whereas in the former the right led the way, now let the left, so doing you must needs force off your right arme on the fore pummell: but be carefull you quickly clap him in his place againe, for you will need the help of both hands to carrie off your body, in your descent bearing your back toward the head of the Horse.

The fourth Passe, called the Pomado at the taile.

STand in the same posture with leg and hand, as you did in the for­mer, then taking the taile of the Horse in your left hand, move according to the precedent directions, and in your rise clap your right hand on the buttock of the Horse, by that meanes you shall raise your body to the strength of your armes, viz. to the elbow, which unlesse you doe, you shall never be able to carrie your body perfectly round into the same place where you stood at first, which is indeed the verie life of the Passe, otherwise it is no Pomado, nor worth the looking on. And this rule is to be observed in all Pomado's.

The Pomado at the Taile.

The Millers Passe.

The fifth Passe, called the Miller.

TAke the Horse by the taile as before, and your rise at the hind leg on the further side of the Horse, then clap your right had on the hind pummell, carrying your right leg beyond your right arme, then loose your hold at the taile, and at the same instant turning your body, and your left leg withall over the fore pummell, and you shall easily fall into the saddle with your face towards the head of the Horse.

The sixth Passe, called the Pomado at the hinde leg of the Horse.

PLace your left hand on the hock of the hinder leg of the Horse on the neere side, your arme firmely stretched out at length, and your body moderately enclining, or relying on that arme, it will be convenient like­wise that you place both your legs together, omitting these motions, and time used in the other Passes, as preparatives to your spring, being in this no way gracefull, and of little use: Thus prepared, spring, and clapping your right hand on the buttock of the Horse, where it may perpendicu­larly answer to that hand on the hock, so shall the right hand carrie you, un­doubtedly round, whilest the lest supports the waight of your body. Now this (as all other Pomado's) the more readily and roundly it is done, the dan­ger is so much the lesse, and the greater the admiration of the beholders.

The Pomado at the hind legg.

The Hercules Leape.

The seventh Passe, called Hercules his Leap.

THis Passe is verie fitly so named; for it does require great strength, and is not done by an ordinarie man: The way of it is this, you shall stand on the further side of the Horse, with both your hands on both the pum­mels, your feet both together, then bowing your knees, with all your might raise your selfe, bearing your right leg over your right hand, and your left leg over your left arme, forcing both your hands off in on moti­on, that your legs may come together before your body descend to the ground, otherwise there is no possibilitie of comming off without danger to your selfe.

The eighth Passe, called the Pomado at the hinder Bow of the Saddle.

PLace your left hand on the hinder pummell on the neere side of the Horse, your body compos'd as in the first Passe, then in your rise clap your right hand on the buttock of the Horse: but the right hand must re­bound off with the body in the going; else that will prove a hinderance, which would be otherwise a furtherance: but provided alwayes, the right leg lead the way, so shall your body fly hollow as it were on the strength of your armes, and making a true circumference, arrive at the point where the motion first began.

y e Pomado at the hind bow of y e [...]

The Mistress Com̄and.

The ninth Passe, called The Mistresse Command.

YOur Horse ready, and your Gentle-woman seated, leave the raines of the bridle on the neck of the Horse, then fixing the left hand on the fore pummell mount, clapping the right hand on the hind pummell: but be sure the right leg move in the same time with the right hand, that so you may readily motion the right thigh towards the Gentle-womans lap, and then reverse the same leg over the fore pummell into the saddle, without mole­sting her.

If you will doe this Passe after another fashion, take the bridle in your left hand, and putting it over the head of the Horse, place your hand on the poll, then taking your time, spring, from the ground, clap your right hand on the fore pummell, thrust your right leg thorow betwixt both the pummels, and you are in the saddle, the woman not so much as touched.

The tenth Passe, called the Pegasus.

TAke your stand on the further side of the Horse, and lay hold on the hinder pummell with your left hand, then keeping the time in your motion prescribed, spring up, and withall clap your right hand on the fore pummell: but so inverted, that the body of your hand may lay hold on the inner side of the pummell, otherwise it is utterly impossible you should come round, then as you are going, shift the left hand nimbly from the hin­der pummell to the shoulder of the Horse, so shall you keeping your legs straight, your right leg leading the way, and maintaining your strength, fly round in a true compasse, till both your feet be brought to the same side againe, so downe.

The Pegasus.

The times whole Pomado.

The eleventh Passe, called the Times whole Pomado.

THis Pomado, as it surpasses all the fore-named Pomado's, so it is verie difficult, by reason your hands must be conveyed three times from pum­mell to pummell, before you can bring your body off round: but to the purpose. Place your selfe on the neere side of the Horse, laying your left hand on the fore pummell, then spring, and fasten on the hind pummell with your right hand, carrying your right thigh over that arme, that on it the body being equally poyzed, may rest till you can remove the left hand to the hinder pummell: for the right hand must fly off in the same time that the left hand comes, carrying both your legs over the fore pummell, the left leading the way, and so as soone as your body is come round on the neere side againe, clap the right hand behind you on the fore pummell, so bearing of your body with your face towards the head of the Horse.

The twelfth Passe, called the Poysado.

YOu see the Figure presents one lying with a straight body on his right arme, without the help of the other; a strange sight it is, and a thing not to be attained without great paines, and much practice: neverthelesse he that is willing to learne shall not want a Teacher. Advance to the Horse, laying your left hand on the fore pummell, then your ordinarie actions per­formed, spring up, settle your right hand strongly on the hind pummell, and raise your body equally in everie part from head to foot, your left hand extended like the pole they that dance on the rope use, helping to poyze it till it rest quietly and constantly on the right elbow: when you please to descend, clap downe your left hand againe on the fore pummell, and wheele your body off with both legs straight over the head of the Horse, to the ground on the far side; or if you will, you may reverse with the right leg over the fore pummell into the saddle.

The Poysado.

Ouer three Horses.

The thirteenth Passe.

OVer three Horses at once: Let your Horses stand abrest, and if there be any one higher than another, place the highest first; your Horses so or­dered, march forwards, and clapping your left hand on the fore pummell of the first Horse, then taking your time, making no more motions than two, as is before prescribed: for in making more, you shall over-stand your spring, and tire your arme with expectation of its burthen; as likewise if you make lesse than two, you cannot sufficiently stir up your spirits, nor winde up your sinews to their full bent: this observed, mount your right leg leading the way, as well in your rise as in your fall, and clapping your right hand to your best advantage on the hinde pummell of the first Horse, rise to the strength of your armes, and throw your selfe off as high and e­qually as you can, and in your passage clap both your hands on the farthest Horse, so deliver your body to the ground.

The fourteenth Passe, called the Pomado at the wall.

THis Pomado is the top of all the rest, and as the most excellent, so the most dan­gerous of any: Present your selfe therefore to the wall, at such a distance that you may have roome enough to march three paces forwards, then without any inter­mission, in the very heat of the motion, clap your left hand strongly stretched out against the wall, and with all the agility that may bee, raise your body with your face towards the wall, and the right leg foremost, making use of your right hand in your passage to hasten the motion, and to force your body the more swiftly round, neither taking your left hand from the wall (which is, as it were, the center and supporter in all Pomado's) till you feele it discharg'd of its burthen, and your selfe on the ground with both legs together, and in every respect postured as when you rose.

The fifteenth Passe.

THis Passe is of much use; for it will enable you to leap over raile, gate, or any other of the like kind, as high as your head, or lower, according to your strength: First then approach to the raile, or any of the fore-mentioned, then laying your left hand thereon, make your motions with right and left leg, so often before shewne unto you, and exprest in the first preparation to the Horse; then rise, clapping the right hand not above a foot distant from the other; so shall your body be equally poyzed, and you have strength enough to command it; otherwise it will so over­load and oppresse that arme, which else would easily carry your weight to the ground, that it is impossible you should escape without danger, if without hurt.

Ouer the Raile.

The Pomado at the wall.

ANd these are the chiefe, if not all that can be done from the ground, ei­ther on the Horse, or otherwise, which I have handled plainly and me­thodically: the one being a degree to the other thorowout, that so as the Learner increaseth in strength and agilitie, hee may still have difficulties an­swerable to that strength, and like Hercules be still opposed by succeeding monsters, the following alwayes more seemingly invincible than the for­mer: Tis true, there are many gracefull passages on the Horse, which never take their rise from the ground, as manifold in their varietie, as in number: but I chuse rather to confine my selfe within this compasse, as knowing these as they are more principally usefull, so they doe far more beseeme a man: Neverthelesse, if these my first fruits shall be favourably esteemed of, and passe the publike without wounds, I shall be encouraged at some other fit opportunitie to enlarge it with those, though not so substantiall parts, yet ornaments of the Art, and publish whatsoever can be said, or done in this kind.

FINIS.

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