IF, Readers, to that same great difficulty of well doing what we certainly know, were not ad­ded in most men as great a carelessenes of know­ing what they, and others ought to do, we had bin long ere this, no doubt but all of us much farther on our way to some degree of peace and happinesse in this kingdome. But since our sinfull neglect of pra­ct [...]sing that which we know to be undoubtedly true and good, hath brought forth among us, through Gods just anger so great a difficulty now to know that which otherwise might be soone learnt, and hath divided us by a controversie of great impor­tance indeed, but of no hard solution, which is the more our pu­nishment, I resolv'd (of what small moment soever I might be thought) to stand on that side where I saw both the plain autori­ty of Scripture leading, and the reason of justice and equity per­swading; with this opinion which esteemes it more unlike a Christian to be a cold neuter in the cause of the Church, then the law of Solon made it punishable after a sedition in the State. And because I observe that feare and dull disposition, lukewarmenesse & sloth are not seldomer wont to cloak themselves under the affe­cted name of moderation, then true and lively zeale is customa­bly dispareg'd with the terme of indiscretion, bitternesse, and choler, I could not to my thinking honor a good cause more from the heart, then by defending it earnestly, as oft as I could judge it to behoove me, notwithstanding any false name that could be invented to wrong, or undervalue an honest meaning. Wherein although I have not doubted to single forth more then once, such of them as were thought the chiefe and most nominated oppo­sers [Page 2] on the other side, whom no man else undertooke: if I have done well either to be confident of the truth, whose force is best seene against the ablest resistance, or to be jealous and tender of the hurt that might be done among the weaker by the intrapping autority of great names titl'd to false opinions, or that it be law­full to attribute somewhat to guifts of Gods imparting, which I boast not, but thankfully acknowledge, and feare also left at my certaine account they be reckon'd to me many rather then few, or if lastly it be but justice not to defraud of due esteeme the weari­some labours and studious watchings, wherein I have spent and tir'd out almost a whole youth, I shall not distrust to be acquitted of presumption. Knowing that if heretofore all ages have receav'd with favour and good acceptance the earliest industry of him that hath beene hopefull, it were but hard measure now, if the free­dome of any timely spirit should be opprest meerely by the big and blunted fame of his elder adversary; and that his sufficiency must be now sentenc't, not by pondering the reason he shewes, but by calculating the yeares he brings. However, as my pur­pose is not, nor hath beene formerly, to looke on my adversary abroad, through the deceaving glasse of other mens great opini­on of him, but at home, where I may finde him in the proper light of his owne worth, so now against the rancor of an evill tongue, from which I never thought so absurdly, as that I of all men should be exempt, I must be forc't to proceed from the un­fained and diligent inquity of mine owne conscience at home (for better way I know not, Readers) to give a more true account of my selfe abroad then this modest Confuter, as he calls him­selfe, hath given of me. Albeit that in doing this I shall be sen­sible of two things which to me will be nothing pleasant; the one is, that not unlikely I shall be thought too much a party in mine owne cause, and therein to see least; the other, that I shall be put unwillingly to molest the publick view with the vindicati­on of a private name; as if it were worth the while that the peo­ple should care whether such a one were thus, or thus. Yet those I intreat who have found the leasure to reade that name, how­ever of small repute, unworthily defam'd, would be so good and so patient as to heare the same person not unneedfully defended. I will not deny but that the best apology against false accusers is silence and sufferance, and honest deeds set against dishonest words. And that I could at this time most easily, and securely, [Page 3] with the least losse of reputation use no other defence, I need not despaire to win beliefe. Whether I consider both the foolish con­triving, and ridiculous aiming of these his slanderous bolts, shot so wide of any suspicion to be fastn'd on me, that I have oft with inward contentment perceav'd my friends congratulating themselves in my innocence, and my enemies asham'd of their partners folly. Or whether I look at these present times wherein most men now scarce permitted the liberty to think over their owne concernments have remov'd the seat of their thoughts more outward to the expectation of publick events. Or whether the examples of men, either noble or religious, who have sat downe lately with a meeke silence and sufferance under many li­bellous endorsements, may be a rule to others, I might well ap­pease my self to put up any reproaches in such an honourable so­ciety of fellow-sufferers using no other defence. And were it that slander would be content to make an end where it first fixes, and not seek to cast out the like infamy upon each thing that hath but any relation to the person traduc't, I should have pleaded against this Confuter by no other advocates, then those which I first commended, Silence, and Sufferance, and speaking deeds against faltering words. But when I discern'd his intent was not so much to smite at me, as through me to render odious the truth which I had written, and to staine with ignominy that Evan­gelick doctrine which opposes the tradition of Prelaty, I con­ceav'd my selfe to be now not as mine own person, but as a mem­ber incorporate into that truth whereof I was perswaded, and whereof I had declar'd openly to be a partaker. Whereupon I thought it my duty, if not to my selfe, yet to the religious cause I had in hand, not to leave on my garment the least spot, or ble­mish in good name so long as God should give me to say that which might wipe it off. Lest those disgraces which I ought to suffer, if it so befall me, for my religion, through my default re­ligion be made liable to suffer for me. And, whether it might not something reflect upon those reverent men whose friend I may be thought in writing the Animadversions, was not my last care to consider, if I should rest under these reproaches having the same common adversary with them, it might be counted small credit for their cause to have found such an assistant, as this babler hath devis'd me. What other thing in his book there is of dispute, or question, in answering thereto I doubt not to be [Page 4] justifi'd; except there be who will condemne me to have wasted time in throwing downe that which could not keepe it selfe up. As for others who notwithstanding what I can allege have yet decreed to mis-interpret the intents of my reply. I suppose they would have found as many causes to have misconceav'd the rea­sons of my silence.

TO beginne therefore an Apology for those animadversions which I writ against the Remonstrant in defence of Smectym­nus, since the Preface, which was purposely set before them, is not thought apologeticall anough; it will be best to acquaint ye, Readers, before other things, what the meaning was to write them in that manner which I did. For I do not look to be askt wherefore I writ the book, it being no difficulty to answer that I did it to those ends which the best men propose to themselves when they write. But wherfore in that manner neglecting the maine bulk of all that specious antiquity, which might stunne children, but not men, I chose rather to observe some kinde of military advantages to await him at his forragings, at his wa­trings, and when ever he felt himselfe secure to solace his veine in derision of his more serious opponents. And here let me have pardon, Readers; if the remembrance of that which he hath li­cenc't himselfe to utter contemptuously of those reverend men provoke me to doe that over againe which some expect I should excuse as too freely done; since I have two provocations, his la­test insulting in his short answer, and their finall patience. I had no fear but that the authors of Smectymnus to all the shew of so­lidity which the Remonstrant could bring, were prepar'd both with skill and purpose to returne a suffizing answer, and were able anough to lay the dust and pudder in antiquity, which he and his, out of stratagem, are wont to raise; but when I saw his weake arguments headed with sharpe taunts, and that his designe was, if he could not refute them, yet at least with quips and snap­ping adagies to vapour them out, which they bent only upon the businesse were minded to let passe, by how much I saw them taking little thought for their own injuries, I must confesse I took it as my part the lesse to endure that my respected friends through their own unnecessary patience should thus lye at the mercy of a coy flurting stile; to be girded with frumps and curtall gibes, by one who makes sentences by the Statute, as if all above three [Page] inches long were confiscat. To me it seem'd an indignity, that whom his whole wisdome could not move from their place, them his impetuous folly should presume to ride over. And if I were more warme then was meet in any passage of that booke, which yet I do not yeild, I might use therein the patronage of no worse an author then Gregory Nyssen, who mentioning his sharpnesse against Eunomius in the defence of his brother Basil, holds himselfe irreprovable in that it was not for himselfe, but in the cause of his brother; and in such cases, saith he, perhaps it is wor­thier pardon to be angry, then to be cooler. And whereas this Con­futer taxes the whole discourse of levity, I shall shew ye, Readers, wheresoever it shall be objected in particular that I have answer'd with as little lightnesse as the Remoustrant hath given example. I have not beene so light as the palme of a Bishop which is the lightest thing in the world when he brings out his book of Ordi­nation: For then contrary to that which is wont in releasing out of prison, any one that will pay his fees is layd hands on. Ano­ther reason, it would not be amisse though the Remonstrant were told, wherefore he was in that unusuall manner beleaguer'd; and this was it, to pluck out of the heads of his admirers the con­ceit that all who are not Prelaticall, are grosse-headed, thick witted, illiterat, shallow. Can nothing then but Episcopacy teach men to speak good English, to pick & order a set of words judiciously? Must we learne from Canons and quaint Sermo­nings interlin'd with barbarous Latin to illumin a period, to wreath an Enthymema w ^th maistrous dexterity? I rather encline, as I have heard it observ'd, that a Jesuits Italian when he writes, is ever naught, though he be borne and bred a Florentine, so to thinke that from like causes we may go neere to observe the same in the stile of a Prelat. For doubtlesse that indeed according to art is most eloquent, which returnes and approaches neerest to nature from whence it came; and they expresse nature best, who in their lives least wander from her safe leading, which may be call'd regenerate reason. So that how he should be truly eloquent who is not withall a good man, I see not. Never the lesse as oft as is to be dealt with men who pride themselves in their suppo­sed art, to leave thē unexcusable wherin they will not be better'd there be of those that esteeme Prelaty a figment, who yet can pipe, if they can dance, nor will be unfurnisht to shew that what the Prelats admire and have not, others have and admire not. [Page 6] The knowledge whereof, and not of that only, but of what the Scripture teacheth us how we ought to withstand the perverters of the Gospell were those other motives which gave the animad­versions no leave to remit a continuall vehemence throughout the book. For as in teaching, doubtlesse the Spirit of meeknesse is most powerfull, so are the meeke only fit persons to be taught: as for the proud, the obstinate, and false Doctors of mens devi­ces, be taught they will not; but discover'd and laid open they must be. For how can they admit of teaching who have the con­demnation of God already upon them for refusing divine instru­ction; that is, to be fill'd with their own devices, as in the Pro­verbs we may reade; therefore we may safely imitate the me­thod that God uses; with the froward to be froward, and to throw scorne upon the scorner, whom if any thing, nothing else will heale. And if the righteous shall laugh at the destruction of the ungodly, they may also laugh at their pertinacious and incurable obstinacy, and at the same time be mov'd with detestation of their seducing malice, who imploy all their wits to defend a Pre­laty usurp [...], and to deprave that just government, which pride and ambition partly by fine fetches and pretences, partly by force, hath shoulder'd out of the Church. And against such kind of deceavers openly and earnestly to protest, lest any one should be inquisitive wherefore this or that man is forwarder then o­thers, let him know that this office goes not by age, or youth, but to whomsoever God shall give apparently the will, the Spi­rit, and the utterance. Ye have heard the reasons for which I thought not my selfe exempted from associating with good men in their labours toward the Churches wellfare: to which if any one brought opposition, I brought my best resistance. If in re­quitall of this and for that I have not been negligent toward the reputation of my friends, I have gain'd a name bestuck, or as I may say, bedeckt with the reproaches and reviles of this modest Confuter, it shall be to me neither strange, nor unwelcome; as that which could not come in a better time.

Having render'd an account, what induc't me to write those an­imadversions in that manner as I writ them, I come now to see what the confutatiō hath to say against thē; but so as the confuter shall hear first what I have to say against his confutation. And be­cause he pretends to be a great conjector at other men by their writings, I will not faile to give ye, Readers, a present taste of [Page 7] him from his own title; hung out like a toling signe-post to call passengers, not simply a confutation but a modest confutation with a laudatory of it selfe obtruded in the very first word. Whereas a modest title should only informe the buyer what the book con­taines without furder insinuation, this officious epithet so hastily assuming the modesty w ^ch others are to judge of by reading, not the author to anticipate to himself by forestalling, is a strong pre­sumption that his modesty set there to sale in the frontispice, is not much addicted to blush. A surer signe of his lost shame he could not have given, then seeking thus unseasonably to prepos­sesse men of his modesty. And seeing he hath neither kept his word in the sequel, not omitted any kinde of boldnesse in slan­dering, tis manifest his purpose was only to rub the forehead of his title with this word modest, that he might not want colour to be the more impudent throughout his whole confutation. Next what can equally savour of injustice, and plaine arrogance, as to prejudice and forecondemne his adversary in the title for slande­rous and scurrilous, and as the Remonstrants fashion is, for frivo­lous, tedious, and false, not staying till the Reader can hear him prov'd so in the following discourse; which is one cause of a su­spicion that in setting forth this pamplet the Remonstrant was not unconsulted with; thus his first addresse was an humble Re­monstrance by a dutifull son of the Church, almost as if he had said her white-boy. His next was a defence (a wonder how it scapt some praising adjunct) against the frivolous and false exceptions of Smectymnus, sitting in the chaire of his Title page upon his poore cast adversaries both as a Judge and Party, and that before the jury of Readers can be impannell'd. His last was A short answer to a tedious vindication; so little can he suffer a man to measure ei­ther with his eye or judgement, what is short or what tedious without his preoccupying direction: and from hence is begot­ten this modest confutation against a slanderous and scurrilous libell. I conceave, Readers, much may be guest at the man and his book, what depth there is, by the framing of his title, which being in this Remonstrant so rash, and unadvised as ye see, I conceit him to be neere a kin to him who set forth a Passion Sermon with a formall Dedicatory in great letters to our Saviour. Although I know that all we do ought to begin and end to his praise and glo­ry, yet to inscribe him in a void place with flourishes, as a man in complement uses to trick up the name of some Esquire, Gentle­man, [Page 8] or Lord Paramont at Common Law, to be his book-pa­tron with the appendan [...] form of a ce [...]emonious presentment, wil ever appeare among the judicious to be but a [...] an insuls and fri­gid affectation. As no lesse was that before his book against the Brownists to write a Letter to a prosopopoea a certain rhetoriz'd woman whom he calls mother, and complains of some that laid whoredome to her charge; and certainly had he folde [...] his Epi­stle with a superscription to be deliver'd to that female figure by any Post or Carrier who were not a Ubiquitary, it had beene a most miraculous greeting. We finde the Primitive Doctors as oft as they writ to Churches, speaking to them as to a number of faithfull brethren and sons, and not to make a cloudy trans­migration of sexes in such a familiar way of writing as an Epistle ought to be, leaving the track of common adresse, to runne up, and tread the aire in metaphoricall compellations, and many fond utterances better let alone. But I step againe to this embla­zoner of his Title page (whether it be the same man or no I leave it in the midst) and here I finde him pronouncing without re­prieve those animadversions to be a slanderous and scurrilous libell. To which I, Readers, that they are neither sl [...]nderous, nor scur­rilous, will answer in what place of his book he shall be found with reason, and not inke only in his mouth. Nor can it be a li­bell more then his owne, which is both namelesse, and full of slanders, and if in this that it freely speaks of things amisse in re­ligion, but establisht by act of State, I see not how Wickleffe and Luther, with all the first Martyrs, and reformers, could avoid the imputation of libelling. I never thought the humane frailty of erring in cases of religion infamy to a State, no more then to a Councell; it had therefore beene neither civill, nor Christianly, to derogate the honour of the State for that cause, especially when I saw the Parlament it selfe piously and magnanimously bent to supply and reforme the defects and oversights of their forefathers, which to the godly and repentant ages of the Jewes were often matter of humble confessing and bewailing, not of confident asserting and maintaining. Of the State therefore I found good reason to speak all honourable things, and to joyne in petition with good men that petition'd: but against the Pre­lats who were the only seducers and mis-leaders of the State to constitute the government of the Church not rightly, me thought I had not vehemence anough. And thus, Readers, by the exam­ple [Page 9] which hee hath set mee I have given yee two or three notes of him out of his Title page; by which his firstlings feare not to guesse boldly at his whole lumpe, for that guesse will not faile ye; and although I tell him keen truth, yet he may beare with me, since I am like to chafe him into some good knowledge, and others, I trust, shall not mis-spend their leasure. For this my aime is, if I am forc't to be unpleasing to him whose fault it is, I shall not forget at the same time to be usefull in some thing to the stander by.

As therefore he began in the Title, so in the next leafe he makes it his first businesse to tamper with his Reader by sycophanting and misnaming the worke of his adversary. He calls it a mime thrust forth upon the stage to make up the breaches of those solemne Scenes betweene the Prelats and the Smectymnuans. Wherein while he is so overgreedy to fix a name of ill sound upon another, note how stupid he is to expose himselfe, or his own friends to the same ignominy; likening those grave controversies to a piece of S [...]gery, or Scene-worke where his owne Remonstrant whether in Buskin or Sock must of all right be counted the chiefe Player, be it boasting Thraso, or Davus that troubles all things, or one who can shift into any shape, I meddle not; let him explicate who hath resembl'd the whole argument to a Comedy, for Tra­gicall, he sayes, were too ominous. Nor yet doth he tell us what a Mime is, whereof we have no pattern from ancient writers ex­cept some fragments, which containe many acute and wise sen­tences. And this we know in Laertius, that the Mimes of Sophron were of such reckning with Plato, as to take them nightly to read on and after make them his pillow. Scaliger describes a Mime to be a Poem imitating any action to stirre up laughter. But this being neither Poem, nor yet ridiculous, how is it but abu­sively taxt to be a Mime. For if every book which may by chance excite to laugh here and there, must be term'd thus, then may the Dialogues of Plato, who for those his writings hath obtain'd the surname of Divine, be esteem'd as they are by that detractor in Athenaeus, no better then Mimes. Because there is scarce one of them, especially wherein some notable Sophister lies sweating and turmoyling under the inevitable, and mercilesse dilemma's of Socrates, but that hee who reads, were it Saturne himselfe, would be often rob'd of more then a smile. And whereas he tels us that Scurrilous Mime was a personated grim lowring foole, his [Page 10] foolish language unwittingly writes foole upon his owne friend, for he who was there personated, was only the Remonstrant; the author is ever distinguisht from the person he introduces. But in an ill houre hath his unfortunate rashnesse stumbl'd upon the mention of miming. That hee might at length cease, which he hath not yet since he stept in, to gall and hurt him whom hee would aide. Could he not beware, could he not be think him, was he so uncircumspect, as not to foresee, that no sooner would that word Mime be set eye on in the paper, but it would bring to minde that wretched pilgrimage over Minshews Dictionary call'd Mundus alter & idem, the idlest and the paltriest Mime that ever mounted upon banke. Let him ask the Author of those toothlesse Satyrs who was the maker, or rather the anticreator of that u [...]iversall foolery, who he was, who like that other princi­ple of the Maniches the Arch evill one, when he had look't upon all that he had made and mapt out, could say no other but con­trary to the Divine Mouth, that it was all very foolish. That grave and noble invention which the greatest and sublimest wits in sundry ages, Plato in Critias, and our two famous countrey­men, the one in his Vtopia, the other in his new Atlantis chose, I may not say as a feild, but as a mighty Continent wherein to dis­play the largenesse of their spirits by teaching this our world better and exacter things, then were yet known, or us'd, this pet­ty prevanicator of America, the zanie of Columbus, (for so he must be till his worlds end) having rambl'd over the huge topogra­phy of his own vain thoughts, no marvell, if he brought us home nothing but a meer tankard drollery, a venereous parjetory for a stewes. Certainly he that could indure with a sober pen to sit and devise laws for drunkards to carouse by, I doubt me whether the very sobernesse of such a one, like an unlicour'd Silenus, were not stark drunk. Let him go now and brand another man injuriously with the name of Mime, being himselfe the loosest and most ex­travagant Mime, that hath been heard of; whom no lesse then almost halfe the world could serve for stage roome to play the Mime in. And let him advise againe with Sir Francis Bacon whom he cites to confute others, what it is to turn the sinnes of Christen­dome into a mimicall mockery, to rip up the saddest vices with a laugh­ing countenance, especially where neither reproofe nor better teaching is adjoynd. Nor is my meaning, Readers, to shift off a blame from my selfe, by charging the li [...]e upon my accuser, but [Page 11] shall only desire, that sentence may be respited, till I can come to some instance, whe [...]eto I may give answer.

Thus having spent his first onset not in confuting, but in a reasonlesse defaming of the book, the method of his malice hur­ries him to attempt the like against the Author: not by proofes and testimonies, but having no certaine notice of me, as he profes­ses, furder then what he gathers from the animadversions, blunders at me for the rest, and flings out stray crimes at a venture, which he could never, though he be a Serpent, suck from any thing that I have written; but from his own stuff magazin, and hoard of sl [...]nderous inventions, over and above that which he converted to venome in the drawing. To me Readers, it happens as a sin­gular contentment, and let it be to good men no slight satisfacti­on, that the sl [...]nderer here confesses, he has no furder notice of mee then his owne conj [...]cture. Although it had been honest to have in­quir'd, before he utter'd such infamous words, and I am credibly inform'd he did inquire, but finding small comfort from the in­telligence which he receav'd, whereon to ground the fals [...]ties which he had provided, thought it his likeliest course under a pretended ignorance to let drive at randome, lest he should lose his odde ends which from some penurious Book of Characters he had been culling out and would faine apply. Not caring to bur­den me with those vices, whereof, among whom my conversati­on hath been, I have been ever least suspected; perhaps not with­out some suttlety to cast me into envie, by bringing on me a ne­cessity to enter into mine own praises. In which argument I know every wise man is more unwillingly drawne to speak, then the most repining eare can be averse to heare. Neverthelesse since I dare not wish to passe this life unpersecuted of slanderous tongues; for God hath told us that to be generally prais'd is wo­full, I shall relye on his promise to free the innocent from cause­lesse aspersions: whereof nothing sooner can assure me, then if I shall feele him now assisting me in the just vindication of my selfe which yet I could deferre, it being more meet that to those other matters of publick debatement in this book I should give attendance first, but that I feare it would but harme the truth, for me to reason in her behalfe, so long as I should suffer my honest estimation to lye unpurg'd from these insolent suspicions. And if I shall be large, or unwonted in justifying my selfe to those who know me not, for else it would be needlesse, let them consi­der [Page 12] that a short slander will oft times reach farder then a long apology: and that he who will do justly to all men, must begin from knowing how, if it so happen, to be not unjust to him­selfe. I must be thought, if this libeller (for now he shewes him­selfe to be so) can finde beliefe, after an inordinat and riotous youth spent at the Vniversity, to have bin at length vomited out thence. For which commodious lye, that he may be incourag'd in the trade another time, I thank him; for it hath given me an apt occasion to acknowledge publickly with all gratefull minde, that more then ordinary favour and respect which I found above any of my equals at the hands of those curteous and learned men, the Fellowes of that Colledge wherein I spent some yeares: who at my parting, after I had taken two degrees, as the manner is, sig­nifi'd many wayes, how much better it would content them that I would stay; as by many Letters full of kindnesse and lo­ving respect both before that time, and long after I was assur'd of their singular good affection towards me. Which being like­wise propense to all such as were for their studious and civill life worthy of esteeme, I could not wrong their judgements, and upright intentions; so much as to think I had that regard from them for other cause then that I might be still encourag'd to pro­ceed in the honest and laudable courses, of which they appre­hended I had given good proofe. And to those ingenuous and friendly men who were ever the countnancers of vertuous and hopefull wits, I wish the best, and happiest things, that friends in absence wish one to another. As for the common approbation or dislike of that place, as now it is, that I should esteeme or disesteeme my selfe or any other the more for that, too simple and too credulous is the Confuter, if he thinke to obtaine with me, or any right discerner. Of small practize were that Physitian who could not judge by what both she or her sister, hath of long time vomited, that the worser stuffe she strongly keeps in her sto­mack, but the better she is ever kecking at, and is queasie. She vomits now out of sicknesse, but ere it be well with her, she must vomit by strong physick. In the meane while that Suburb sinke, as this rude Scavinger calls it, and more then scurrilously taunts it with the plague, having a worse plague, in his middle entraile, that suburb wherein I dwell, shall be in my account a more ho­nourable place then his University. Which as in the time of her better health, and mine owne younger judgement I never great­ly [Page 13] admir'd, so now much lesse. But he followes me to the City, still usurping and forging beyond his book notice, which only he affirmes to have had; and where my morning haunts are he wisses not. Tis wonder, that being so rare an Alchymist of slander, he could not extract that, as well as the University vomit, and the Suburb sinke which his art could distill so cunningly, but be­cause his Limbeck failes him, to give him and envie the more vexation, Ile tell him. Those morning haunts are where they should be, at home, not sleeping, or concocting the surfets of an irregular feast, but up, and stirring, in winter often ere the sound of any bell awake men to labour, or to devotion; in Summer as oft with the Bird that first rouses, or not much tardier, to reade good Authors, or cause them to be read, till the attention bee weary, or memory have his full fraught. Then with usefull and generous labours preserving the bodies health, and hardinesse; to render lightsome, cleare, and not lumpish obedience to the minde, to the cause of religion, and our Countries liberty, when it shall require firme hearts in sound bodies to stand and cover their stations, rather then to see the ruine of our Protestation, and the inforcement of a slavish life. These are the morning pra­ctises; proceed now to the afternoone; in Playhouses, he sayes, and the Bordelloes. Your intelligence, unfaithfull Spie of Canaan? he gives in his evidence, that there he hath trac't me. Take him at his word Readers, but let him bring good sureties, ere ye dis­misse him, that while he pretended to dogge others, he did not t [...]rne in for his owne pleasure; for so much in effect he con­cludes against himselfe, not contented to be caught in every o­ther gin, but he must be such a novice, as to be still hamper'd in his owne hempe. In the Animadversions, saith he, I finde the mention of old clokes, falsbeards, night-walkers, and salt lotion; therefore the Animadverter haunts Playhouses and Bordel­loes; for if hee did not, how could hee speake of such gear? Now that he may know what it is to be a childe, and yet to med­dle with edg'd tooles, I turne his Antistrophon upon his owne head; the Confuter knowes that these things are the furniture of Playhouses and Bordelloes, therefore by the same reason the Confuter himselfe hath beene trac't in those places. Was it such a dissolute speech telling of some Politicians who were wont to eavesdroppe in disguises, to say they were often lyable to a night-walking [...]dgeller, or the emptying of a Urinall? What if I [Page 14] had writ as your friend the author of the aforesaid Mime, Mu [...] ­dus alter & idem, to have bin ravisht like some young Cephalus or Hylas, by a troope of camping Huswives in Viraginia, and that he was there forc't to sweare himselfe an uxorious varlet, then after a long servitude to have come into Aphrodisia that plea­sant Count [...]ey that gave such a sweet smell to his nostrils among the shamelesse Courtezans of Desvergonia? surely he would have then concluded me as constant at the Bordello, as the gally-slave at his Oare. But since there is such necessity to the hear-say of a Tire, a Periwig, or a Vizard, that Playes must have bin seene, what difficulty was there in that? when in the Colleges so many of the young Divines, and those in next aptitude to Divinity have bin seene so oft upon the Stage writhing and unboning their Clergie limmes to all the antick and dishonest gestures of Trin­culo's, Buffons, and Bawds; prostituting the shame of that mi­nistery which either they had, or were nigh having, to the eyes of Courtiers and Court-Ladies, with their Groomes and Mada­moisellaes. There while they acted, and overacted, among o­ther young scholars, I was a spectator; they thought themselves gallant men, and I thought them fools, they made sport, and I laught, they mispronounc't and I mislik't, and to make up the at [...]icisme, they were out, and I hist. Judge now whether so many good text men were not sufficient to instruct me of false beard [...] and vizards without more expositors; and how can thi [...] Con­futer take the face to object to me the seeing of that which his ne­ve [...]ent Prelats allow, and incite their young disciples to act. For if it be unlawfull to sit and behold a mercenary Comedian perso­nating that which is least unseemely for a hireling to doe, how much more blamefull is it to indure the sight of as vile things a­cted by persons either enter'd, or presently to enter into the mi­nistery, and how much more foule and ignominious for them to be the actors.

But because a [...] well by this upraiding to me the Bordello's, as by other suspicious glancings in his book he would seem privily to point me out to his Readers, as one whose custome of life were not honest, but licentious; I shall intreat to be born with though I digresse; & in a way not often trod acquaint ye with the summe of my thoughts in this matter through the course of my yeares and studies. Although I am not ignorant how hazardous it will be to do this under the nose of the envious, as it were in skirmish [Page 15] to change the compact order, and instead of outward actions to bring inmost thoughts into front. And I must tell ye Readers, that by this sort of men I have bin already bitten at; yet shall they not for me know how slightly they are esteem'd, unlesse they have so much learning as to reade what in Greek [...] is, which together with envie is the common disease of those who censure books that are not for their reading. With me it fare [...] now, as with him whose outward garment hath bin injur'd and ill be [...]ighted; for having no other shift, what helpe but to turn the inside outwards, especially if the lining be of the same, or, as it is sometimes, much better. So if my name and outward de­meanour be not evident anough to defend me, I must make try all, if the discovery of my inmost thoughts can. Wherein of two pur­poses both honest, and both sincere, the one perhaps I shall not misse; although I faile to gaine beliefe with others of being such as my perpetuall thoughts shall heere disclose me, I may yet not faile of successe in perswading some, to be such really themselves, as they cannot believe me to be more then what I fain. I had my time Readers, as others have, who have good learning be­stow'd upon them, to be sent to those places, where the opinion was it might be soonest attain'd: and as the manner is, was not unstudied in those authors which are most commended; whereof some were grave Orators & Historians, whose matter me thought I lov'd indeed, but as my age then was, so I understood them; o­thers were the smooth Elegiack Poets, whereof the Schooles are not scarce. Whom both for the pleasing sound of their numerous writing, which in imitation I found most easie; and most agree­able to natures part in me, and for their matter which what it is, there be few who know not, I was so allur'd to read, that no recre­ation came to me better welcome. For that it was then those years with me which are excus'd though they be least severe, I may be sav'd the labour to remember ye. Whence having observ'd them to account it the chiefe glory of their wit, in that they were ablest to judge, to praise, and by that could esteeme themselves wor­thiest to love those high perfections which under one or other name they took to celebrate, I thought with my selfe by every instinct and presage of nature which is not wont to be false, that what imboldn'd them to this task might with such diligence as they us'd imbolden me, and that what judgement, wit, or elegance was my share, would herein best appeare, and best va­lue [Page 16] it selfe, by how much more wisely, and with more love of vertue I should choose (let rude eares be absent) the object of not unlike praises. For albeit these thoughts to some will seeme vertuous and commendable, to others only pardonable, to a third sort perhaps idle, yet the mentioning of them now will end in serious. Nor blame it Readers, in those yeares to pro­pose to themselves such a reward, as the noblest [...]ispositions a­bove other things in this life have sometimes preferr'd. Whereof not to be sensible, when good and faire in one person meet, ar­gues both a grosse and shallow judgement, and withall an ungen­tle, and swainish brest. For by the firme setling of these perswa­sions I became, to my best memory, so much a proficient, that if I found those authors any where speaking unworthy things of themselves; or unchaste of those names which before they had extoll'd, this effect it wrought with me, from that time for­ward their art I still applauded, but the men I deplor'd; and a­bove them all preferr'd the two famous renowners of Beatrice and Laura who never write but honour of them to whom they devote their verse, displaying sublime and pure thoughts, without transgression. And long it was not after, when I was confirm'd in this opinion, that he who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter in laudable things, ought him selfe to bee a true Poem, that is, a composition, and patterne of the best and honourablest things; not presuming to sing high praises o [...] heroick men, or famous Cities, unlesse he have in himselfe the experience and the practice of all that which is praise-worthy. These reasonings, together with a certaine nicenesse of nature, an honest haughtinesse, and self-esteem either of what I was, or what I might be, (which let envie call pride) and lastly that modesty, whereof though not in the Title page yet here I may be excus'd to make some beseeming profession, all these uniting the supply of their naturall aide together, kept me still above those low de­scents of minde, beneath which he must deject and plunge him­self, that can agree to salable and unlawfull prostitutions. Next, (for heare me out now Readers) that I may tell ye whether my younger feet wander'd; I betook me among those lofty Fables and Romances, which recount in solemne canto's the deeds of Knigh [...]hood founded by our victorious Kings; & from hence had in renowne over all Christendome. There I read it in the oath of every Knight, that he should defend to the expence of his [Page 17] best blood, or of his life, if it so befell him, the honour and cha­stity of Virgin or Matron. From whence even then I learnt what a noble ve [...]tue chastity sure must be, to the defence of which so many worthies by such a deare adventure of themselves had sworne. And if I found in the story afterward any of them by word or deed breaking that oath, I judg'd it the same fault of the Poet, as that which is attributed to Homer; to have written undecent things of the gods. Only this my minde gave me that every free [...]nd gentle spirit without that oath ought to be borne a Knight, nor needed to expect the guilt spurre, or the laying of a sword upon his shoulder to stirre him up both by his counsell, and his arme to secure and protect the weaknesse of any attempted chastity. So that even those books which to many others have bin the fuell of wantonnesse and loose living, I cannot thinke how unlesse by divine indulgence prov'd to me so many in­citements as you have heard, to the love and stedfast observation of that vertue which abhorres the society of Bordello's. Thus from the Laureat fraternity of Poets, riper yeares, and the ceaselesse round of study and reading led me to the shady spaces of philosophy, but chiefly to the divine volumes of Plato, and his equall Xenophon. Where if I should tell ye what I learnt, of cha­stity and love, I meane that which is truly so, whose charming cup is only vertue which she bears in her hand to those who are worthy. The rest are cheated with a thick intoxicating poti­on which a certaine Sorceresse the abuser of loves name carries about; and how the first and chiefest office of love, begins and ends in the soule, producing those happy twins of her divine ge­neration knowledge and vertue, with such abstracted sublimities as these, it might be worth your listning, Readers, as I may one day hope to have ye in a still time, when there shall be no chi­ding; not in these noises, the adversary as ye know, barking at the doore; or searching for me at the Burdello's where it may be he has lost himselfe, and raps up without pitty the sage and rheumatick old Prelatesse with all her young Corinthian Laity to inquire for such a one. Last of all not in time, but as perfection is last, that care was ever had of me, with my earliest capacity not to be negligently train'd in the precepts of Christian Religi­on: This that I have hitherto related, hath bin to shew, that though Christianity had bin but slightly taught me, yet a certain reserv'dnesse of naturall disposition, and morall discipline learn [...] [Page 18] out of the noblest Philosophy was anough to keep me in disdain of farre lesse incontinences then this of the Burdello. But having had the doctrine of holy Scripture unfolding those chaste and high mysteries with timeliest care infus'd, that the body is for the Lord and the Lord for the body, thus also I argu'd to my selfe; that if unchastity in a woman whom Saint Paul termes the glory of man, be such a scandall and dishonour, then certainly in a man who is both the image and glory of God, it must, though com­monly not so thought, be much more deflouring and dishonou­rable. In that he sins both against his owne body which is the perfeter sex, and his own glory which is in the woman, and that which is worst, against the image and glory of God which is in himselfe. Nor did I slumber over that place expressing such high rewards of ever accompanying the Lambe, with those celestiall songs to others inapprehensible, but not to those who were not defil'd with women, which doubtlesse meanes fornication: For mariage must not be call'd a defilement. Thus large I have pur­posely bin, that if I have bin justly taxt with this crime, it may come upon me after all this my confession, with a tenne-fold shame. But if I have hitherto deserv'd no such opprobrious word, or suspicion, I may hereby ingage my selfe now openly to the faithfull observation of what I have profest. I go on to shew you the unbridl'd impudence of this loose rayler, who having once begun his race regards not how farre he flyes out beyond all truth & shame; who from the single notice of the animadversions, as he protests, will undertake to tell ye the very cloaths I weare, though he be much mistaken in my wardrobe. And like a son of Belial without the hire of I [...]sabel charges me of blaspheming God and the King, as ordnarily as he imagines me to drink Sack and sweare, meerely because this was a shred in his common place-book, and seem'd to come off roundly, as if he were some Empirick of false accusations to try his poysons upon me whether they would work or no. Whom what should I endeavour to refute more, whenas that book which is his only testimony returnes the lye upon him; not giving him the least hint of the author to be ei­ther a swearer, or a Sack drinker. And for the readers if they can believe me, principally for those reasons which I have al­leg'd, to be of life & purpose neither dishonest, nor unchaste, they will be easily induc't to thinke me sober both of wine, and of word; but if I have bin already successelesse in perswading them, [Page 19] all that I can furder say will be but vaine; and it will be better thrift to save two tedious labours, mine of excusing, and theirs of needlesse hearing.

Proceeding furder I am met with a whole ging of words and phrases not mine, for he hath maim'd them, and like a slye de­praver mangl'd them in this his wicked Limbo, worse then the ghost of Deiphobus appear'd to his friend Aenaeas. Here I scarce know them, and he that would, let him repaire to the place in that booke where I set them. For certainly this tormenter of semicolons is as good at dismembring and slitting sentences, as his grave Fathers the Prelates have bin at stigmatizing & flitting noses. By such handy craft as this what might he not traduce? Only that odour which being his own must needs offend his sense of smelling, since he will needs bestow his foot among us, and not allow us to think he weares a Sock, I shall endeavour it may be offencelesse to other mens eares. The Remonstrant having to do with grave and reverend men his adversaries, thought it be­came him to tell them in scorne, that the Bishops foot had beene in their book and confuted it, which when I saw him arrogate, to have done that with his heeles that surpast the best consideration of his head, to spurn a confutation among respected men, I que­stion'd not the lawfulnesse of moving his jollity to bethink him, what odor a Sock would have in such a painfull businesse. And this may have chanc't to touch him more neerly then I was aware; for indeed a Bishops foot that hath all his toes maugre the gout, and a linnen Sock over it, is the aptest embleme of the Prelate himselfe. Who being a pluralist, may under one Surplice which is also linnen, hide foure benefices besides the metropo­litan toe, and sends a fouler stench to heaven, then that which this young queasinesse reches at. And this is the immediate reason here why our inrag'd Confuter, that he may be as perfet an hypocrite as Caiaphas, ere he be a High Priest, cries out, hor­rid blasphemy! and like a recreant Jew calls for stones. I beseech ye friends, ere the brick-bats flye, resolve me and your selves, is it blasphemy, or any whit disagreeing from Christian meeknesse, when as Christ himselfe speaking of unsavory traditions, scruples not to name the Dunghill and the Jakes, for me to answer a slo­venly wincer of a confutation, that, if he would needs put his foot to such a sweaty service, the odour of his Sock was like to be neither musk, nor benjamin? Thus did that foolish Monk [Page 20] in a barbarous Declamation accuse Petrarch of blasphemy for dispraising the French wines. But this which followes is plaine bedlam stuffe, this is the Demoniack legion indeed, which the Remonstrant feard had been against him, and now he may see is for him. You that love Christ, saith he, and know this miscreant wretch, stone him to death, lest you smart for his impunity. What thinks the Remonstrant? does he like that such words as these should come out of his shop, out of his Trojan horse? to give the watch word like a Guisian of Paris to a mutiny or massacre; to proclame a Crusada against his fellow Christian now in this troublous and divided time of the Kingdome? if he do, I shall say that to be the Remonstrant is no better then to be a Jesuit. And that if he and his accomplices could do as the rebels have done in Ireland to the Protestants, they would do in England the same to them that would no Prelats. For a more seditious and Butcherly Speech no Cell of Loyola could have belch't a­gainst one who in all his writing spake not, that any mans skin should be rais'd. And yet this cursing Shimei a hurler of stones, as well as a rayler, wants not the face instantly to make as though he despair'd of victory unlesse a modest defence would get it him. Did I erre at all, Readers, to foretell ye, when first I met with his title, that the epithet of modest there, was a certaine red por­tending signe, that he meant ere long to be most tempestuously bold, , and shamelesse? Neverthelesse he dares not say but there may be hid in his nature as much venemous Atheisme and profanati­on, as he thinks, hath broke out at his adversaries lips, but he hath not the soarerunning upon him, as he would intimate I have. Now trust me not, Readers, if I be not already weary of pluming and footing this Seagull, so open he lies to strokes; and never offers at another, but brings home the dorre upon himselfe. For if the sore be running upon me, in all judgement I have scapt the disease, but he who hath as much infection hid in him, as he hath voluntarily confest, and cannot expell it, because hee is dull, for venomous Atheisme were no treasure to be kept with­in him else, let him take the part hee hath chosen, which must needs follow, to swell and burst with his owne inward venome.

Sect. 1. But marke, Readers, there is a kind of justice observ'd among them that do evill, but this man loves injustice in the ve­ry order of his malice. For having all this while abus'd the good [Page 21] name of his adversary with all manner of licence in revenge of his Remonstrant, if they be not both one person, or as I am told, Father and Son, yet after all this he calls for satisfaction, when as he himselfe hath already taken the utmost fa [...]ding. Vio­lence hath been done, sayes he, to the person of a holy, and religious Prelat ▪ To which, something in effect to what S. Paul answer'd of Ananias, I answer, I wist not brethren that he was a holy and re­ligious Prelat; for evill is written of those who would be Prelats. And finding him thus in disguise without his superscription or Phylactery either of holy or Prelat, it were no sinne to serve him as Longchamp Bishop of Elie was serv'd in his disguise at Dover ▪ He hath begun the measure namelesse, and when he pleases we may all appeare as we are. And let him be then what he will, he shall be to me so as I finde him principl'd. For neither must Pre­lat or Arch-Prelat hope to exempt himselfe from being reckon'd as one of the vulgar; which is for him only to hope whom true wisdome and the contempt of vulgar opinions exempts, it being taught us in the Psalmes that he who is in honour and understan­deth not is as the beasts that perish. And now first the manner of handling that cause which I undertook, he thinks is suspicious, as if the wisest, and the best words were not ever to some or other suspicious. But where is the offence, the disagreement from Chri­stian meeknesse, or the precept of Solomon in answering folly? when the Remonstrant talks of froth and scum, I tell him there is none, and bid him spare his Ladle: when he brings in the messe with Keale, Beef, and Brewesse, what stomack in England could forbeare to call for flanks and briskets? Capon and whitebroth having beene likely sometimes in the same roome with Christ and his Apostles, why does it trouble him that it should be now in the same leafe, especially, where the discourse is not continu'd but interrupt? And let him tell me, is he wont to say grace, doth he not then name holiest names over the steame of costliest superfluities? Does he judge it foolish or dishonest to write that among religious things, which when he talks of religious things he can devoutly chew? is he afraid to name Christ where those things are written in the same leafe whom he fears not to name while the same things are in his mouth? Doth not Christ him­selfe teach the highest things by the similitude of old bottles and patcht cloaths? Doth he not illustrate best things by things most evill? his own comming to be as a thiefe in the night, and the righ­teous [Page 22] mans wisdome to that of a [...] unjust Steward? He might there­fore have done better to have kept in his canting beggars and [...]ea­then Altar to sacrifice his thredbare criticisme of Bomolochus to an unseasonable Goddesse fit for him call'd Importunity, and have reserv'd his Greek derivation till he lecture to his fresh men, for here his itching pedantry is but flouted.

But to the end that nothing may be omitted which may furder satisfie any conscionable man, who notwithstanding what I could explaine before the animadversions, remains yet unsatisfi'd concerning that way of writing which I there defended, but this confuter whom it pinches, utterly disapproves, I shall assay once againe, and perhaps with more successe. If therefore the question were in oratory, whether a vehement vein throwing out indignation, or scorn upon an object that merits it, were among the aptest Ideas of speech to be allow'd, it were my work, and that an easie one to make it cleare both by the rules of best rheto­ricians, and the famousest examples of the Greek and Roman Orations. But since the Religion of it is disputed, and not the art, I shall make use only of such reasons and autorities, as re­ligion cannot except against. It will be harder to gainsay, then for me to evince that in the teaching of men diversly temper'd different wayes are to be try'd. The Baptist we know was a strict man remarkable for austerity and set order of life. Our Saviour who had all gifts in him was Lord to expresse his indoctrinating power in what sort him best seem'd; sometimes by a milde and familiar converse, sometimes with plaine and impartiall home-speaking regardlesse of those whom the auditors might think he should have had in more respect; otherwhiles with bitter and irefull rebukes if not teaching yet leaving excuselesse those his wilfull impugners. What was all in him, was divided among many others the teachers of his Church; some to be severe and ever of a sad gravity that they may win such, & check sometimes those who be of nature over-confident and jocond; others were sent more cheerefull, free, and still as it were at large, in the midst of an untrespassing honesty; that they who are so temper'd may have by whom they might be drawne to salvation, and they who are too scrupulous, and dejected of spirit might be often strength [...]'d with wise consolations and revivings: no man being forc't wholly to dissolve that groundwork of nature which God created in him, the sanguine to empty out all his sociable live­linesse, [Page 23] the cholerick to expell quite the unsinning predominance of his anger; but that each radicall humour and passion wrought upon and corrected as it ought, might be made the proper mould and foundation of every mans peculiar guifts, and vertues. Some also were indu'd with a staid moderation, and soundnesse of ar­gument to teach and convince the rationall and sober-minded; yet not therefore that to be thought the only expedient course of teaching, for in times of opposition when either against new heresies arising, or old corruptions to be reform'd this coole un­passionate mildnesse of positive wisdome is not enough to damp and astonish the proud resistance of carnall, and false Doctors, then (that I may have leave to soare a while as the Poets us [...]) then Zeale whose substance is ethereal, arming in compleat dia­mond ascends his fiery Chariot drawn with two blazing Mete­ors figur'd like beasts, but of a higher breed then any the Zodiack yeilds, resembling two of those four which Ezechiel and S. John saw, the one visag'd like a Lion to expresse power, high autori­ty and indignation, the other of count'nance like a man to cast derision and scorne upon perverse and fraudulent seducers; with these the invincible warriour Zeale shaking loosely the slack reins drives over the heads of Scarlet Prelats, and such as are insolent to maintaine traditions, brusing their stiffe necks under his fla­ming wheels. Thus did the true Prophets of old combat with the false; thus Christ himselfe the fountaine of meeknesse found acrimony anough to be still galling and vexing the Prel [...]ticall Pharisees. But ye will say these had immediat warrant from God to be thus bitter, and I say, so much the plainlier is it prov'd, that there may be a sanctifi'd bitternesse against the enemies of truth. Yet that ye may not think inspiration only the warrant thereof, but that it is as any other vertue, of morall and generall observation, the example of Luther may stand for all: whom God made choice of before others to be of highest eminence and power in reforming the Church; who not of revelation, but of judgement writ so vehemently against the chiefe defenders of old untruths in the Romish Church, that his own friends and fa­vourers were many times offended with the fiercenesse of his spi­rit; yet he being cited before Charles the fifth to answer for his books, and having divided them into three sorts, whereof one was of those which he had sharply written, refus'd though upon deliberation giv'n him to retract or unsay any word there­in; [Page 24] as we may reade in Sleiden. Yea he defends his eagernesse, as being of an ardent spirit, and one who could not write a dull stile: and affirm'd hee thought it Gods will to have the inventions of men thus laid open, seeing that matters quietly handled, were quickly forgot. And herewithall how usefull and available God had made this tart rhetorick in the Churches cause, he often found by his owne experience. For when he betook himselfe to lenity and moderation, as they call it, he reapt nothing but contempt both from Cajetan and Erasmus, from Cocleus, from Ecchius and others, insomuch that blaming his friends who had so counsel'd him, he resolv'd never to runne into the like error; if at other times he seeme to excuse his vehemence, as more then what was meet, I have not examin'd through his works to know how farre he gave way to his owne fervent minde; it shall suffice me to looke to mine own. And this I shall easily averre though it may seeme a hard saying, that the Spirit of God who is purity it selfe, when he would reprove any fault severely, or but relate things done or said with indignation by others, abstains not from some words not civill at other times to be spok'n. Omitting that place in Numbers at the killing of Zimri and Cosbi done by Phineas in the heigth of zeal, related as the Rabbines expound, not without an obscene word, we may finde in Deuteronomy and three of the Prophets, where God denouncing bitterly the punishments of Idolaters, tels them in a terme immodest to be utter'd in coole blood, that their wives shall be defil'd openly. But these, they will say were honest words in that age when they were spok'n. Which is more then any Rabbin can prove, and certainly had God been so minded, he could have pickt such words, as should never have come into abuse. What will they say to this. David going against Nabal, in the very same breath when he had but just before nam'd the name of God, he vowes not to leave any alive of Nabals house that pisseth against the wall. But this was unadvi­sedly spoke, you will answer, and set downe to aggravate his in­firmity. Turne then to the first of Kings where God himselfe uses the phrase; I will cut off from Ieroboam him that pisseth against the wall. Which had it beene an unseemely speech in the heat of an earnest expression, then we must conclude that Ionathan, or Onk [...]los the Targumists were of cleaner language then he that made the tongue; for they render it as briefly, I will cut off all who are at yeares of discretion, that is to say so much discretion as [Page 25] to hide nakednesse. Whereas God who is the author both of pu­rity and eloquence, chose this phrase as fittest in that vehement character wherein he spake. Otherwise that plaine word might have easily bin forborne. Which the Mas [...]reths and Rabbini­call Scholiasts not well attending, have often us'd to blurre the margent with Keri, instead of Ketiv, and gave us this ins [...]l [...] rule out of their Talmud, That all words which in the Law are writ ob [...]cenely, must be chang'd to more civill words. Fools who would teach men to speak more decently then God thought good to write. And thus I take it to be manifest, that indignation against men and their actions notoriously bad, hath leave and autority oft times to utter such words and phrases as in common talke were not so mannerly to use. That ye may know, not only as the Historian speaks, that all those things for which men plough, build, or saile, obey vertue, but that all words and whatsoever may be spoken shall at some time in an unwonted manner wait upon her purposes.

Now that the confutant may also know as he desires, what force of teaching there is sometimes in laughter, I shall returne him in short, that laughter being one way of answering A Foole according to his folly, teaches two sorts of persons, first the Foole himselfe not to be wise in his own conceit; as Salomon affirms, which is certainely a great document, to make an unwise man know himselfe. Next, it teaches the hearers, in as much as scorne is one of those, punishments which belong to men carnally wise, which is oft in Scripture declar'd; for when such are punisht the simple are thereby made wise, if Salomons rule be true. And I would ask, to what end Eliah mockt the false Prophets? was it to shew his wit, or to fulfill his humour? doubtlesse we cannot imagine that great servant of God had any other end in all which he there did, but to teach and instruct the poore misledde people. And we may frequently reade, that many of the Martyrs in the midst of their troubles, were not sparing to deride and scoffe their su­perstitious persecutors. Now may the confutant advise againe with Sir Francis Bacon whether Eliah and the Ma [...]tyrs did well to turne religion into a Comedy, or Satir; to rip up the wounds of Idolatry and Superstition with a laughing count [...]nance. So that for pious gravity his author here is matcht and overmatcht, and for wit and morality in one that followes.

I could urge the same out of Cicero, and Seneca, but he may content him with this. And hence forward, if he can learn, may know as well what are the bounds, and objects of laughter and vehement reproofe, as he hath knowne hitherto how to deserve them both. But lest some may haply think, or thus expostulat with me after all this debatement, who made you the busie Almoner to deale about this dole of laughter and reprehension which no man thanks your bounty for? To the urbanity of that man I shold answer much after this sort? That I, friend objecter, having read of heathen Philosophers, some to have taught, that whoso­ever would but use his eare to listen, might heare the voice of his guiding Genius ever before him, calling and as it were pointing to that way which is his part to follow; others, as the Sto­icks, to account reason, which they call the Hegemonicon, to be the common Mercury conducting without error those that give themselves obediently to be led accordingly, having read this, I could not esteeme so poorly of the faith which I professe, that God had left nothing to those who had forsaken all other doctrines for his, to be an inward witnesse, and warrant of what they have to do, as that they should need to measure themselves by other mens measures how to give scope, or limit to their pro­per actions; for that were to make us the most at a stand, the most unce [...]taine and accidentall wanderers in our doings, of all religions in the world. So that the question ere while mov'd who he is that spends thus the benevolence of laughter and re­proofe so liberally upon such men as the Prelats, may returne with a more just demand, who he is not of place and knowledge never so mean, under whose contempt and jerk these men are not deservedly falne? neither can religion receive any wound by disgrace thrown upon the Prelats, since religion and they sure­ly were never in such amity. They rather are the men who have wounded religion, and their stripes must heale her. I might al­so tell them, what Electra in Sophocles, a wise Virgin answer'd her wicked Mother who thought her selfe too violently reprov'd by her the daughter.

If therefore the Remonstrant complaine of libels, it is because he feels them to be right aim'd. For I ask againe as before in the animadversions, how long is it since he hath dis-relisht libe [...]s? we never heard the least mutter of his voice against them while they flew abroad without controul or check defaming the Scots and Puritans. And yet he can remember of none but Lysimachus Nicanor, and that he mislikt and censur'd. No more but of one can the Remonstrant remember? What if I put him in minde of one more? What if of one more whereof the Remonstrant in many likelyhoods may be thought the author? Did he never see a Pam­phlet intitl'd after his own fashion, A survey of that foolish, sedi­tious, scandalous, profane libell the Protestation protested? The child doth not more expresly refigure the visage of his Father, then that book resembles the stile of the Remonstrant, in those idi­oms of speech, wherein he seemes most to delight: and in the seventeenth Page three lines together taken out of the Remon­strance word for word, not as a citation, but as an author bor­rowes from himselfe. Who ever it be, he may as justly be said to have libell'd, as he against whom he writes: there ye shall finde another man then here is made shew of, there he bites as fast as this whines. Vinegar in the inke is there the antidote of Vi­pers. Laughing in a religious controversie is there a thrifty physick to expell his melancholy. In the meane time the testimony of Sir Francis Bacon was not misalledg'd, complaining that libels on the Bishops part were utter'd openly; and if he hop't the Prelats had no intell [...]gence with the libellours, he delivers it but as his fa­vourable opinion. But had he contradicted himselfe, how could I assoil him here, more then a little before, where I know not how by entangling himselfe, he leaves an aspersion upon Iob, which by any else I never heard laid to his charge. For having affirm'd that there is no greater confusion then the confounding of jest and earnest, presently he brings the example of Iob glancing at conceits of mirth, when he sate among the people with the gravity of a Iudge upon him. If jest and earnest be such a confusion, then were the people much wiser then Iob, for he smil'd, and they be­liev'd him not. To defend Libels, which is that whereof I am next accus'd, was farre from my purpose. I had not so lit [...]le share in good name, as to give another that advantage against [Page 28] my selfe. The summe of what I said, was that a more free per­mission of writing at some times might be profitable, in such a question especially wherein the Magistrates are not fully resolv'd; and both sides have equall liberty to write, as now they have. Not as when the Prelats bore sway, in whose time the bookes of some men were confuted, when they who should have answer'd were in close prison, deny'd the use of pen or paper. And the Divine right of Episcopacy was then valiantly asserted, when he who would have bin respondent, must have bethought himselfe withall how he could refute the Clink or the Gate-house. If now therefore they be persn'd with bad words, who persecuted o­thers with bad deeds, it is a way to lessen tumult rather then to encrea [...]e it; when as anger thus freely vented spends it selfe, ere it break out into action, though Machiavell whom he cites, or any Machiavillian Priest think [...]he contrary.

Sect. 3. Now Readers I bring ye to his third Section; where­in very cautiously, and no more then needs, lest I should take him for some Chaplaine at hand, some Squire of the body to his Prelat, one that serves not at the Altar only, but at the Court cup board, he will bestow on us a pretty modell of himselfe; and sobs me out halfe a dozen tizicall mottoes where ever he had them, hopping short in the measure of convulsion fi [...]; in which labour the agony of his wit, having scapt narrowly, instead of well siz'd periods, he greets us with a quantity of thum-ring po­sies. He has a fortune therefore good, because he is content with it. This is a piece of sapience not worth the brain of a fruit-trencher; as if content were the measure of what is good or bad in the guift of fortune. For by this rule a bad man may have a good fortune, because he may be oft times content with it for many reasons which have no affinity with vertue, as love of ease, want of spirit to use more, and [...]he like. And therefore content, he sayes, because it neither goes before, nor comes behinde his merit. Belike then if his fortune should go before his mer [...]t, he would not be content, but resigne, if we believe him, which I do the lesse, because he implyes that if it came behinde his merit, he would be content as little. Wheras if a wise mans content should depend upon such a There­fore, because his fortune came not behinde his merit, how many wise men could have content in this world? In his next pithy symbol I dare not board him, for he passes all the seven wise Masters of Greece attributing to himselfe that which on my life [Page 29] Salomon durst not; to have affections so equally temper'd, that they neither too hastily adhere to the truth, before it be fully examin'd, nor too lazily afterward. Which unlesse he only were exempted out of the corrupt masse of Adam, borne without sinne originall, and living without actuall, is impossible. Had Salomon (for it be [...] ­hoves me to i [...]stance in the wisest, dealing with such a transcen­dent Sage as this) had Salomon affections so equally temper'd, as not adhering too lazily to the truth, when God warn'd him of his halting in idolatry? do we reade that he repented hastily? did not his affections lead him hastily from an examin'd truth, how much more would they lead him slowly to it? Yet this man be­yond a Stoick apathy sees truth as in a rapture, and cleaves to it. Not as through the dim glasse of his affections which in this frail mansion of flesh are ever unequally temper'd, pushing forward to error, and keeping back from truth oft times the best of men. But how farre this boaster is from knowing himselfe, let his Pre­face speake. Something I thought it was that made him so quick-sighted to gather such strange things out of the Animadversions, whereof the least conception could not be drawne from thence, of Suburb si [...]ks, sometimes out of wit and cloaths, sometimes in new Serge, drinking Sack, and swearing, now I know it was this equall temper of his affections that gave him to see clearer then any fenell rub'd Serpent. Lastly, he has resolv'd that neither per­son, nor cause shall improper him. I may mistake his meaning, for the word ye heare is improper. But whether if not a person, yet a good Personage, or Impropriation bought out for him would not improper him, because there may be a quirk in the word, I leave it for a Canonist [...]o resolve.

Sect. 4. And thus ends this Section, or rather dissection of himselfe, short ye will say both in breath, and extent, as in our own praises it ought to be, unlesse wherein a good name hath bin wrongfully attainted. Right, but if ye looke at what he ascribes to himselfe, that temper of his affections which cannot any where be but in Paradise, all the judicious Panegyricks in any language extant are not halfe so prolixe. And that well ap­pears in his next removall. For what with putting his fancy to the tiptoe in this description of himselfe, and what with adven­turing presently to stand upon his own legs without the crutches of his margent, which is the sluce most commonly, that feeds the drouth of his text, he comes so lazily on in a Similie, with [Page 30] his arme full of weeds, and demeanes himselfe in the dull expres­sion so like a dough kneaded thing, that he has not spirit anough left him so farre to look to his Syntaxis, as to avoide nonsense. For it must be understood there that the stranger, and not he who brings the bundle would be deceav'd in censuring the field, which this hip-shot Grammarian cannot set into [...]ight frame of constru­ction, neither here in the similitude, nor in the following reddi­tion thereof, which being to this purpose, that the faults of the best pickt out, and presented in grosse, seeme monstrous, this saith he, you have done, in pinning on his sleeve the faults of others; as if to pick out his owne faults, and to pin the faults of others upon him, were to do the same thing. To answer therefore how I have cull'd out the evill actions of the Remonstrant from his ver­tues, I am acquitted by the dexterity and conveiance of his non­sense, loosing that for which he brought his parable. But what of other mens faults I have pinn'd upon his sleeve, let him shew. For whether he were the man who term'd the Mar­tyrs Foxian confessors, it matters not; he that shall step up be­fore others to defend a Church-government, which wants al­most no circumstance, but only a name to be a plaine Popedome, a government which changes the fatherly and everteaching dis­cipline of Christ into that Lordly and uninstructing jurisdiction which properly makes the Pope Antichrist, makes himselfe an accessory to all the evill committed by those, who are arm'd to do mischiefe by that undue government; which they by their wicked deeds, do with a kinde of passive and unwitting obedi­ence to God, destroy. But he by plausible words and traditions against the Scripture obstinately seeks to maintaine. They by their owne wickednesse ruining their owne unjust autority make roome for good to succeed. But he by a shew of good upholding the evill which in them undoes it selfe, hinders the good which they by accident let in. Their manifest crimes serve to bring forth an ensuing good and hasten a remedy against themselves, and his seeming good tends to reinforce their selfe-punishing crimes and his owne, by doing his best to delay all redresse. Shall not all the mischiefe which other men do, be layd to his charge, if they doe it by that unchurchlike power which he defends? Christ saith, he that is not with me is against me, and he that gathers not with me scatters. In what degree of enmity to Christ shall wee place that man then, who so is with him, as that it makes more [Page 31] against him, and so gathers with him, that it scatters more from him? shall it availe that man to say he honours the Martyrs me­mory and treads in their steps? No; the Pharisees confest as much of the holy Prophets. Let him and such as he when they are in their best actions even at their prayers looke to heare that which the Pharisees heard from Iohn the Baptist when they least expe­cted, when they rather lookt for praise from him. Generation of Vipers who hath warn'd ye to flee from the wrath to come? Now that ye have sta [...]ted back from the purity of Scripture which is the only rule of reformation, to the old vomit of your traditi­ons, now that ye have e [...]ther troubl'd or leven'd the people of God, and the doctrine of the Gospell with scandalous ceremo­nies and masse borrow'd Liturgies, doe ye turne the use of that truth which ye professe, to countenance that falshood which ye gaine by? We also reverence the Martyrs but relye only upon the Scriptures. And why we ought not to relye upon the Mar­tyrs I shall be content with such reasons as my confuter himselfe affords me; who is I must needs say for him in that point as offi­cious an adversary as I would wish to any man. For first, saith he, there may be a Martyr in a wrong cause, and as couragious in suffering as the best: sometimes in a good cause with a forward am­bition displeasing to God. Otherwhiles they that story of them out of blind zeale, or malice may write many things of them untruly. If this be so, as ye heare his own confession, with what safety can the Remonstant rely upon the Martyrs as Patrons of his cause, when as any of those who are alleg'd for the approvers of our Liturgy or Prelaty might have bin though not in a wrong cause Martyrs, yet whether not vainly ambitious of that honour, or whether not misreported, or misunderstood, in those their opi­ons God only knowes. The testimony of what we believe in re­ligion must be such as the conscience may rest on to be infallible, and incorruptible, which is only the word of God.

Sect. 5. His fifth Section finds it selfe agriev'd that the Re­monstrant should be taxt with the illegall proceedings of the high Commission, and oath Ex officio; And first whether they were illegall or no, tis more then he knowes. See this malevolent Fox? that tyranny which the whole Kingdome cry'd out against as stung with Adders, and Scorpions, that tyranny which the Par­lament in compassion of the Church and Commonwealth hath dissolv'd, and fetch't up by the roots, for which it hath receav'd [Page 32] the publick thanks and blessings of thousands, this obscure thorn-eater of malice and detraction, as well as of Quodlibets and So­phisms knowes not whether it were illegall or not. Evill, evill, would be your reward ye worthies of the Parlament, if this So­phister and his accomplices had the censuring, or the sounding forth of your labours. And that the Remonstrant cannot wash his hands of all the cruelties exercis'd by the Prelats, is past doubting. They scourg'd the confessors of the Gospell, and he held the scourgers garments. They excuted their rage, and he, if he did nothing else, defended the government with the oath that did it, and the ceremonies which were the cause of it: does he think to be counted guiltlesse?

Sect. 6. In the following Section I must foretell ye, Readers, the doings will be rough and dangerous, the bating of a Satir. And if the work seeme more triviall or boistrous then for this discourse, let the Remonstrant thank the folly of this confuter, who could not let a private word passe, but he must make all this blaze of it. I had said that because the Remonstrant was so much offended with those who were tart against the Prelats, sure he lov'd toothlesse Satirs, which I took were as improper as a tooth­ed Sleekstone. This Champion from behind the Arras cries out that those toothlesse Satyrs were of the Remonstrants making; and armes himselfe heretooth and naile and horne to boot, to sup­ply the want of teeth, or rather of gumms in the Satirs. And for an onset tels me that the simily of a Sleekstone shewes I can be as bold with a Prelat as familiar with a Laundresse. But does it not argue rather the lascivious promptnesse of his own fancy, who from the harmelesse mention of a Sleekstone could neigh out the remembrance of his old conversation among the Viraginian trol­lops? For me, if he move me, I shall claime his owne oath, the oath Ex officio against any Priest or Prelat in the kingdome to have ever as much hated such pranks as the best and chast [...]st of them all. That exception which I made against toothlesse Satirs the Confuter hopes I had from the Satirist, but is farre deceav'd: neither had I ever read the hobbling distick which he me [...]. For this good hap I had from a carefull education to be inur' [...] and season'd betimes with the best and elegantest authors of the lear­ned tongues, and thereto brought an eare that could measure a just cadence, and scan without articulating; rather nice and hu­morous in what was tolerable, then patient to read every draw­ling [Page 33] versifier. Whence lighting upon this title of toothlesse Satirs, I will not conceale ye what I thought. Readers, that sure this must be some sucking Satir, who might have done better to have us'd his corall, and made an end of breeding, ere he took upon him to weild a Satirs whip. But when I heard him talk of scouring the rusted swords of elvish Knights, doe not blame me, if I chang'd my thought, and concluded him some desperate Cu [...]ler. But why his scornefull muse could never abide with tragick shoos her an­kles for to hide, the pace of the verse told me that her maukin knuckles were never shapen to that royall buskin. And turning by chance to the sixth Satyr of his Second book I was confirm'd; where having begun loftily in heavens universall Alphab [...]t he fals downe to that wretched poorenesse and frigidity as to talke of Bridge street in heav'n, and the Ostler of heav'n, and there want­ing other matter to catch him a heat, (for certaine he was in the frozen Zone miserably benumm'd) with thoughts lower then any Beadle betakes him to whip the signe posts of Cambridge Alehou­ses, the ordinary subject of freshmens tales, and in a straine as pit­tifull. Which for him who would be counted the first English Satyr, to abase himselfe to, who might have learnt better among the Latin, and Italian Satyrists, and in our own tongue from the vision and Creed of Pierce plowman, besides others before him, ma­nifested a presumptuous undertaking with weak, and unexamin'd shoulders. For a Satyr as it was borne out of a Tragedy, so ought to resemble his parentage, to strike high, and adventure dange­rously at the most eminent vices among the greatest persons, and not to creepe into [...] blinde Taphouse that fears a Constable more then a Satyr. But that such a Poem should be toothlesse I still affirme it to be a bull, taking away the essence of that which it calls it selfe. For if it bite neither the persons nor the vices, how is it a Satyr, and if it bite either, how is it toothlesse, so that toothlesse Satyrs are as much as if he had said toothlesse teeth. What we should do therefore with this learned Comment upon teeth and horns which hath brought this confutant into his Pe­dantick kingdome of Cornucopia, to reward him for glossing upon hor [...] even to the Hebrew root, I know not unlesse we should commend him to be Lecturer in East-cheap upon [...]. Luk [...]s day, when they send their tribute to that famous hav'n by Detfo [...]. But we are not like to scape him so. For now the worme of Cri­ticisme works in him, he will tell us the de [...]ivation of German [Page 34] rutters, of meat, and of ink, which doubtlesse rightly apply'd with some gall in it may prove good to heale this tetter of Peda­goguism [...] that bespreads him, with such a tenasmus of origina­ting, that if he be an Arminian and deny originall sinne, all the etymologies of his book shall witnesse that his brain is not meanly tainted with that infection.

Sect. 7. His seventh section labours to cavill out the flawes which were found in the Remonstrants logick; who having layd downe for a generall proposition, that civill polity is variable and arbitrary, from whence was inferr'd logically upon him that he had concluded the polity of England to be arbitrary, for gene­rall includes particular, here his defendant is not asham'd to confesse that the Remonstrants proposition was sophisticall by a fallacy call'd ad plures interrogationes which sounds to me some­what strange that a Remonstrant of that pretended sincerity should bring deceitfull and double dealing propositions to the Parlament. The truth is he had let slip a shrewd passage ere he was aware, not thinking the conclusion would turne upon him with such a terrible edge, and not knowing how to winde out of the briars, he or his substitute seems more willing to lay the in­tegrity of his Logick to pawn, and grant a fallacy in his owne Major where none is, then be forc't to uphold the inference. For that distinction of possible and lawfull is ridiculous to be sought for in that proposition; no man doubting that it is possible to change the forme of civill polity; and that it is held lawfull by that Major, the word arbitrary implyes. Nor will this helpe him, to deny that it is arbitrary at any time or by any undertakers (which are two limitations invented by him since) for when it stands as he will have it now by his second edition civill polity is variable but not at any time or by any undertakers, it will result upon him, belike then at some time, and by some undertakers it may. And so he goes on mincing the matter, till he meets with something in Sir Francis Bacon, then he takes heart againe and holds his Major at large. But by and by as soon as the shadow of Sir Fran­cis hath left him, he fals off again warping and warping till he come to contradict himselfe in diameter: and denies flatly that it is either variable or arbitrary, being once settl'd. Which third shift is no lesse a piece of laughter. For before the polity was settl'd how could it be vari [...]ble when as it was no polity at all, but either an Anarchy or a Tyranny. That limitation therefore of [Page 35] after setling is a meere tautology. So that in fine his former asser­tion is now recanted and civill polity is neither variable nor arbi­trary.

Sect. 8. What ever else may perswade me that this confutati­on was not made without some assistance or advice of the Re­monstrant, yet in this eighth Section that his hand was not great­ly intermixt, I can easily believe. For it begins with this surmise, that not having to accuse the Remonstrant to the King, I do it to the Parlament, which conceit of the man cleanly shoves the King out of the Parlament, and makes two bodies of one. Whereas the Remonstrant in the Epistle to his last short answer, gives his supposall that they cannot be sever'd in the rights of their severall con­cernments. Mark, Readers, if they cannot be sever'd in what is severall (which casts a Buls eye to go yoke with the toothlesse Satyrs) how should they be sever'd in their common concern­ments, the wellfare of the land, by due accusation of such as are the common grievances, among which I took the Remonstrant to be one. And therefore if I accus'd him to the Parlament, it was the same as to accuse him to the King. Next he casts it into the dish of I know not whom that they flatter some of the House and libell others whose consciences made them vote contrary to some proceedings. Those some proceedings can be understood of no­thing else but the Deputies execution. And can this private con­cocter of malecontent, at the very instant when he pretends to extoll the Parlament, afford thus to blurre over, rather then to mention that publick triumph of their justice and constancy so high, so glorious, so reviving to the fainted Common-wealth with such a suspicious and murmuring expression as to call it some proceedings? and yet immediately hee falls to glozing, as if hee were the only man that rejoyc't at these times. But I shall disco­ver to ye Readers, that this his praising of them is as full of non­sense and Scolastick foppery, as his meaning he himselfe disco­vers to be full of close malignity. His first Encomium is that the Sun looks not upon a braver nobler convocation then is that of King, Peers, and Commons. One thing I beg of ye Readers, as ye beare any zeale to learning, to elegance, and that which is call'd De­corum in the writing of praise, especially on such a noble argu­ment, ye would not be offended, though I rate this cloister'd Lubber according to his deserts. Where didst thou learne to be so agueish, so pusillanimous, thou lozel Bachelour of Art, as [Page 36] against all custome and use of speech to terme the high and sovran Court of Parlament, a Convocation? was this the flower of all thy Syn [...]nyma's and voluminous Papers whose best f [...]lios are pred [...]stin'd to no better end then to make winding sh [...]etes in Lent for Pilchers? Coul [...]' [...] thou presume thu [...] wi [...]h one words speaking to clap as it were under hatches the King with all his Peeres and Ge [...]try i [...]to square Caps, an [...] Morkish hoods? How well dost thou now appeare to be a Chip of the old block that c [...]uld finde Bridg [...] st [...]e [...]t and Al [...] houses in h [...]av [...]; why didst th [...]u no [...]t be his per [...]ct mi [...]tor, liken the King to the Vice-chancellour & he Lords to the Doctors. N [...]ith [...]r is this an indig­nity only ou [...] a re [...]ro [...]ch t [...] call the inviolable residence of ju­st [...]ce and liberty by such an [...]dious name as now a Convocation is beco [...]e; which would be nothi [...]g inju [...]'d, though it were stil'd the house o [...] bondage, whereout so many c [...]uell tasks, so many [...]j [...]st bur [...]ens, have been [...]aden upon the b [...]used con [...]cien­ces of to ma [...]y Ch [...]stian through [...]ut the land. But which of th [...]se worthy deeds, whereof we and our poste [...]ity must confesse this Parlament to have done so many and so noble, which of those memor [...]ble acts come [...] first into his praises? none of all, not one. What will he then praise them for? not for any thing do­ing, but for deferring to do, for deferring to chastise his leud and insolent compriests. Not that they have deferr'd all, but that he hopes they will r [...]mit what is yet behind. For the rest of his oratory that followes, so just is it in the language of stall epistle non sense, that if he who made it can understand it, I deny not but that he may deserve for his pains a cast Doublet. When a man would looke he should vent something of his owne, as ever in a set speech the manner is with him that knowes any thing, he, lest we sh [...]uld not take notice anough of his barren stupidity, de­clares it by Alphabet, and referres us to odde remnants in his topicks. Nor yet content with the wonted room of his margent, but he must cut out large docks and creeks, into his text to un­lade the foolish frigate of his unseasonable autorities, not where­with to praise the Parlament, but to tell them what he would h [...]ve them do. What else there is, he j [...]mbles together in such a lost construction, as no man either lette [...]'d, or unletter'd will be able to piece up. I shall spare to transcribe him, but if I do him wrong, let me be so dealt with.

Now although it be a digression from the ensuing matter, yet [Page 37] because it shall not be said I am apter to blame others then to make triall my selfe, and that I may after this harsh discord touch upon a smo [...]ther string, awhile to ente [...]t [...]ine my selfe and him that list, wi [...]h some more pleasing fit, and not the lest to testifie the grati [...]ude which I owe to those publick benefact [...]rs of their country, for the sh [...]re I enjoy in the common peace and good by their incessant labours, I sh [...]ll be so troublesome to this declamer for once, as to shew him what he might have better said in their praise. Wherein I must mention only some few things of many, for more then that to a digression may not be granted. Although certainly their actions are worthy not thus to be spo­ken of by the way, yet if hereafter it befall me to attempt some­thing more answerable to their great merits, I perceave how hopelesse it will be to reach the heigth of their prayses at the ac­complisment of that expectation that weights upon their nob [...]e deeds, the unfinishing whereof already surpasses what others before them have left enacted with their utmost performance through many ages. And to the end we may be confident that what they do, proceeds neither from uncertaine opinion, nor su [...] ­den counsels, but from mature wisdome, deliberat vertue, and deere affection to the publick good, I shall begin at that which made them likeliest in the eyes of good men to effect those things for the recovery of decay'd religion and the Common­wealth, which they who were best minded had long wisht for, but few, as the times then were desperat, had the courage to hope for. First therefore the most of them being either of ancient and high Nobility, or at least of knowne and well reputed ancestry, which is a great advantage towards vertue one way, but in re­spect of welth, ease, and flattery, which accompanies a nice and tender education, is as much a hindrance another way, the good which lay before them they took, in imitating the worthiest of their progenitors, and the evill which assaulted their younger yeares by the temptation of riches, high birth, and that usuall bringing up, perhaps too favourable and too remisse, through the strength of an inbred goodnesse, and with the helpe of divine grace, that had markt them out for no meane purposes, they nobly overcame. Yet had they a greater danger to cope with; for be­ing train'd up in the knowledge of learning, and sent to those places, which were intended to be the seed plots of piety and the Liberall Arts, but were become the nurseries of superstition, and [Page 38] empty speculation, as they were prosperous against those vices which grow upon youth out of idlenesse and superfluity, so were they happy in working off the harmes of their abused studies and labours; correcting by the clearnesse of their owne judgement the errors of their mis-instruction, and were as David was, wiser then their teachers. And although their lot fell into such times, and to be bred in such places, where if they chanc't to be taught any thing good, or of their own accord had learn't it, they might see that presently untaught them by the custome and ill example of their elders, so farre in all probability was their youth from being, misl [...]d by the single power of example, as their riper years were knowne to be unmov'd with the baits of preferment, and undaunted for any discouragement and terror which appear'd often to those that lov'd religion, and their native liberty. Which two things God hath inseparably knit together, and hath disclos'd to us that they who seek to corrupt our religion are the same that would inthrall our civill liberty. Thus in the midst of all disdvantages and disrespects (some also at last not without imprisonment and open disgraces in the cause of their countrey) having given proofe of themselves to be better made and fram'd by nature to the love and practise of vertue, then o­thers under the holiest precepts and best examples have been headstrong and prone to vice, and having in all the trialls of a firme ingrafted honesty not oftner buckl'd in the conflict, then giv'n every opposition the foile, this moreover was added by fa­vour from heav'n, as an ornament and happinesse to their vertue, that it should be neither obscure in the opinion of men, nor e­clipst for want of matter equall to illustrat it selfe; God and man consenting in joynt approbation to choose them out as wor­thiest above others to be both the great reformers of the Church, and the restorers of the Common-wealth. Nor did they deceave that expectation which with the eyes and desires of their coun­trey was fixt upon them; for no sooner did the force of so much united excellence meet in one globe of brightnesse and efficacy, but encountring the dazl'd resistance of tyranny, they gave not over, though their enemies were strong and suttle, till they had laid her groveling upon the fatall block. With one stroke winning againe our lost liberties and Charters, which our fore­fathers after so many battels could scarce maintaine. And meet­ing next, as I may so resemble, with the second life of tyranny [Page 39] (for she was growne an ambiguous monster, and to be slaine in two shapes) guarded with supe [...]stition which hath no small pow­er to captivate the minds of men otherwise most wise, they nei­ther were taken with her mite [...]'d hypocrisie, nor te [...]rifi'd with the push of her bestiall hornes, but breaking them immediately forc't her to unbend the pontificall brow, and recoile. Which repulse only, given to the Prelats (that we may imagine how hap­py their removall would be) was the producement of such glori­ous effects and consequences in the Church, that if I should com­pare them with those exployts of highest fame in Poems and Pa­negyricks of old, I am certaine it would but diminish and impaire their worth, who a [...]e now my argument. For those ancient wor­thies deliver'd men from such tyrants as were content to inforce only an outward obedience, letting the minde be as free as it could. But these have freed us from a doctrine of tyranny that offe [...]'d violence and corruption even to the inward persuasion. They set at liberty Nations and Cities of men good and bad mixt together: but these opening the prisons and dungeons cal'd out of darknesse and bonds, the elect Martyrs and witnesses of their Redeemer. They restor'd the body to ease and wealth; but these the opprest conscience to that freedome which is the chiefe prerogative of the Gospell; taking off those cruell bur­dens impos'd not by necessity, as other tyrants are wont for the safeguard of their lives, but laid upon our necks by the strange wilfulnesse and wantonnesse of a needlesse and jolly persecuter call'd Indifference. Lastly, some of those ancient deliverers have had immortall praises for preserving their citizens from a famine of corne. But these by this only repulse of an unholy hierarchy almost in a moment replenisht with saving knowledge their countrey nigh famisht for want of that which should feed their souls. All this being done while two armies in the field stood ga­zing on, the one in reverence of such noblenesse quietly gave back, and dislodg'd; the other spight of the unrulinesse, and doubted fidelity in some regiments, was either perswaded or compell'd to disband and retire home. With such a majesty had their wisdome begi [...]t it selfe, that whereas others had levied warre to subdue a nation that sought for peace, they sitting here in peace could so many miles extend the force of their single words as to overawe the dissolute stoutnesse of an armed power secretly stir [...]'d up and almost hir'd against them. And having by a so­lemne [Page 40] protestation vow'd themselves and the kingdome anew to God and his service, and by a prudent foresight above what their Fathers thought on prevented the dissolution and frustra­ting of their designes by an untimely breaking up, notwith­standing all the treason [...]us plots against them, all the rumours either of rebellion, or invasion, they have not bin yet brought to change their constant resolution, ever to think fearlesly of their owne safeties, and hopefully of the Common-wealth. Which hath gain'd them such an admiration from all good men, that now they heare it as their ord'nary surname, to be saluted the Fathers of their countrey; and sit as gods among daily Petitions and publick thanks flowin [...] in upon them. Which doth so little yet exalt them in their own thoughts, that with all gentle affa­bility and curteous acceptance they both receave and returne that tribute of thanks which is tende [...]'d them; testifying their zeale and desire to spend themselves as it were peice-meale upon the grievances and wrongs of their distressed Nation. Insomuch that the meanest artizans and labourers, at other times also wo­men, and of [...]en the younger sort of servants assembling with their complaints, and that sometimes in a lesse humble guise then for petitioners, have gone with confidence, that neither their meannesse would be rejected, nor their simplicity con­temn'd, nor yet their urgency distasted either by the dignity, wisdome, or moderation of that supreme Senate; nor did they depart unsatisfi'd. And indeed, if we consider the generall con­course of suppliants, the free and ready admittance, the willing and speedy redresse in what is possible, it will not seeme much o­therwise, then as if some divine commission from heav'n were de­scended to take into hearing and commiseration the long reme­dilesse afflictions of this kingdome; were it not that none more then themselves labour to remove and divert such thoughts, lest men should place too much confidence in their persons, still re­ferring us and our prayers to him that can grant all and appoint­ing the monthly return of publick fasts and supplications. There­fore the more they seeke to humble themselves, the more does God by manifest signes and testimonies visibly honour their pro­ceedings; and sets them as the mediators of this his cov'nant which he offers us to renew. Wicked men daily conspire their hurt, and it comes to nothing, rebellion rages in our Irish Pro­vince, but with miraculous and losselesse victories of few against [Page 41] many is daily discomfired and broken; if we neglect not this early pledge of Gods inclining towards us, by the slacknesse of our needfull aids. And whereas at other times we count it ample honour when God voutsafes to make man the instrument and sub­ordinate worker of his gracious will, such acceptation have their prayers found with him, that to them he hath bin pleas'd to make himselfe the agent, and immediat performer of their de­sires; dissolving their difficulties when they are thought inex­plicable, cutting out wayes for them where no passage could be seene; as who is there so regardlesse of Divine providence, that from late occurences will not confesse. If therefore it be so high a grace when men are preferr'd to be but the inferior offi­cer [...] of good things from God, what is it when God himselfe condescends, and workes with his owne hands to fulfill the re­quests of men; which I leave with them as the greatest praise that can belong to humane nature. Not that we should think they are at the end of their glorious progresse, but that they will go on to follow his Almighty leading, who seems to have thus cov'nan­ted with them, that if the will and the endeavour shall be theirs, the performance and the perfeting shall be his. Whence only it is that I have not fear'd, though many wise men have miscarried in praising great designes before the utmost event, because I see who is their assistant, who their confederat, who hath ingag'd his omnipotent arme, to support and crowne with successe their faith, their fortitude, their just and magnanimous actions, till he have brought to passe all that expected good which his ser­vants trust is in his thoughts to bring upon this land in the full and per [...]et reformation of his Church.

Thus farre I have digrest, Readers, from my former subject; but into such a path, as I doubt not ye will agree with me, to be much fairer and more delightfull then the rode way I was in. And how to break off suddenly into those jarring notes, which this Confuter hath set me, I must be wary, unlesse I can provide a­gainst offending the eare, as some Musicians are wont skilfully to fall out of one key into another without breach of harmony. By good luck therefore his ninth Section is spent in mournfull elegy, certaine passionat soliloquies, and two whole pages of intergatories that praise the Remonstrant even to the sonetting of his fresh cheeks, quick eyes, round tongue, agil hand, and nim­ble invention.

[Page 42]In his tenth Section he will needs erect figures, and tell for­tunes. I am no Bishop, he sayes, I was never borne to it; let me tell therefore this wizzard since he calculats so right, that he may know there be in the world, and I among those who nothing ad­mire his Idol a Bishoprick, and hold that it wants so much to be a blessing, as that I rather deeme it the meerest, the falsest, the most unfortunate guift of fortune. And were the punishment and misery of being a Prelat Bishop terminated only in the person, and did not extend to the affliction of the whole Diocesse, if I would wish any thing in bitternesse of soule to mine enemy, I would wish him the biggest and the fattest Bishoprick. But hee proceeds; and the familiar belike informs him, that a rich Wi­dow, or a Lecture, or both, would content me; whereby I perceave him to be more ignorant in his art of divining then any Gipsy. For this I cannot omit without ingratitude to that providence a­bove, who hath ever bred me up in plenty, although my life hath not bin unexpensive in learning, and voyaging about, so long as it shall please him to lend mee what he hath hitherto thought good, which is anough to serve me in all honest and li­berall occasions, and something over besides, I were unthank­full to that highest bounty, if I should make my selfe so poore, as to sollicite needily any such kinde of rich hopes as this Fortune­teller dreams of. And that he may furder learne how his Astrolo­gy is wide all the houses of heav'n in spelling mariages, I care not if I tell him thus much profestly, though it be to the losing of my rich hopes, as he calls them, that I think with them who both in prudence and elegance of spirit would choose a virgin of mean fortunes honestly bred, before the wealthiest widow. The feind therefore that told our Chaldean the contrary was a lying feind. His next venome he utters against a prayer which he found in the animadversions, angry it seemss to finde any prayers but in the Service Book. He dislikes it, and I therefore like it the better. It was theatricall, he sayes. And yet it consisted most of Scripture language: it had no Rubrick to be sung in an antick Coape up­on the Stage of a High Altar. It was big-mouth'd he sayes; no m [...]rvell; if it were fram'd as the voice of three Kingdomes: nei­ther was it a prayer so much as a hymne in prose frequent both in the Prophets, and in humane authors; therefore the stile was greater then for an ordinary prayer: It was an astounding prayer. I thank him for that confession, so it was intended to [Page 43] astound and to astonish the guilty Prelats; and this Confuter confesses that with him it wrought that effect. But in that which followes, he does not play the Soothsayer but the diabolick slanderer of prayers. It was made, he sayes, not so much to please God, or to benefit the weale publick (how dares the Viper judge that) but to intimate, saith he, your good abilities, to her that is your rich hopes, your Maronilla. How hard it is when a man meets with a Foole to keepe his tongue from folly. That were miserable indeed to be a Courter of Maronilla, and withall of such a haplesse invention, as that no way should be left me to pre­sent my meaning but to make my selfe a canting Probationer of orisons, The Remonstrant when he was as young as I could▪

Teach each hollow Grove to sound his love

Wearying eccho with one changelesse word.

And so he well might, and all his auditory besides with his teach each.

Whether so me list my lovely thoughts to sing,

Delicious! he had that whole bevie at command whether in morrice or at May pole. Whilest I, by this figure-caster must be imagin'd in such distresse as to sue to Maronilla, and yet left so impoverisht of what to say, as to turne my Liturgy into my La­dies Psalter. Believe it graduat, I am not altogether so rustick, and nothing so irreligious, but as farre distant from a Lecturer, as the meerest Laick, for any consecrating hand of a Prelat that shall ever touch me. Yet, I shall not decline the more for that, to speak my opinion in the controversie next mov'd. Whether the people may be allow'd, for competent judges of a ministers ability. For how else can be fulfill'd that which God hath promis'd, to power out such abundance of knowledge upon all sorts of men in the times of the Gospell? how should the people examine the do­ctrine which is taught them, as Christ and his Apostles continu­ally bid them do? how should they discerne and beware of false Prophets, and try every spirit, if they must be thought unfit to judge of the ministers abilities: the Apostles ever labour'd to per­swade the Christian flock that they were call'd in Christ to all per­fectnesse of spirituall knowledge, and full assurance of understanding in the mystery of God. But the non-resident and plurality-gaping Prelats the gulphs and whirle pools of benefices, but the dry [Page 44] pits of all sound doctrine, that they may the better preach what they list to their sheep, are still possessing them that they are sheepe indeed, without judgement, without understanding, the very beasts of Mount Sinai as this Confuter calls them; which words of theirs may serve to condemne them out of their own [...] mouths; and to shew the grosse contrarieties that are in their opinions. For while none thinke the people so void of know­ledge as the Prelats think them, none are so backward and ma­lignant as they to bestow knowledge upon them; both by sup­pressing [...] frequency of Sermons, and the printed explanations of the E [...]glish Bible. No marvell if the people turne beasts, when their Teachers themselves as Isaiah calls them, Are dumbe and greedy dogs that can never have anough, ignorant, blind, and can­not understand, who while they all look their own way every one for his gaine from his quarter, how many parts of the land are fed with windy ceremonies instead of sincere milke; and while one Pre­lat enjoyes the nourishment and [...]ight of twenty Ministers, how many waste places are left as darke as Galile of the Gentiles, sitting in the region and shadow of death; without preaching Mi­nister, without light. So little care they of beasts to make them men, that by their sorcerous doctrine of formalities they take the way to transforme them out of Christian men into Iudaizing beasts. Had they but taught the land, or suffer'd it to be taught, as Christ would it should have bin, in all plenteous dispensation of the word, then the poore mechanick might have so accustom'd his eare to good teaching, as to have discern'd betweene faith­full teachers and false. But now with a most inhumane cruelty they who have put out the peoples eyes reproach them of their blindnesse. Just as the Pharisees their true Fa [...]hers were wont; who could not indure that the people should be thought compe­tent judges of Christs d [...]ctrine, although we know they judg [...]d farre better then those great Rabbies. Yet this people, said they, that knowes not the law is accurst. We need not the autority of Pliny brought to tell us, the people cannot judge of a minister. Yet [...]ha [...] hurts no [...]. For as none can judge of a Painter, or Stain­ [...]ry but he who is [...]n Artist, that is, either in the Practick or the Theory which is often separated from the practick, and judges learnedly without it, so none can judge o [...] a Christian teacher, but he who hath, either he pract [...]ze, o [...] the knowledge of Chri­stian religion, though not so art [...]l [...]y dige [...]e [...] in him. And who [Page 45] almost of the meanest Christians hath not heard the Scriptures often read from his childhood, besides so many Sermons and Lectures mo [...]e in number then any stu [...]ent heard in Philo­sohy, whereby he may easily attaine to know when he is wisely taught and when weakly. Whereof three wayes I remember are set downe in Scripture. The one is to reade often that best of books written to this purpose, that not the wise only but the sim­ple and ignorant may learne by them; the other way to know of a minister, is by the life he leads, whereof the meanest under­standing may be appprehensive. The last way to judge a right in this point is when he who judges, lives a Christian life himselfe. Which of these three will the Confuter affirme to exceed the ca­pacity of a plaine artizan? And what reason then is the [...]e left wherefore he should be deny'd his voice in the election of his minister, as not thought a competent discerner? It is but arro­gance therefore, and the pride of a metaphysicall fume, to thinke that the mutinous rabbl [...] (for so he calls the Christian congrega­tion) would be so mistaken in a Clerk of the Vniversity that were to be their minister. I doubt me those Clerks that think so, are more mistaken in themselves, and what with tru [...]nting and de­baushery, what with false grounds and the weaknesse of na­turall faculties in many of them (it being a maxim in some men to send the simplest of their sonnes thither) perhaps there would be found among them as many unsolid and corrupted judge­ments both in doctri [...]e and life, as in any other two Corporati­ons of like bignesse. This is undoubted that if any Carpenter Smith, or Weaver, were such a bungler in his trade, as the grea­ter number of them are in their profession, he would starve for any custome. And should he exer [...]ise his manifacture, as little as they do their talents, he would forget his art: and should he mistake his tools as they do theirs, he would marre all the worke he took in hand. How few among them that know to write, or speak in a pu [...]e stile, much lesse to distinguish the idea's, and vari­ous kinds of stile: in Latine barbarous, and oft not without so­lecisms, declaming in rugged and miscellaneous geare blown to­gether by the foure winds, and in their choice preferring the gay rankness: of A [...]uleius, Arn [...]bius or any moderne fustianist, be [...]ore the native Latinisms of Cicero. In the Greek tongue m [...]st of them unletter'd, or unenter'd to any sound proficiency in those Attick maisters of morall wisdome and eloquence. In the He­brew [Page 46] text, which is so necessary to be understood except it be some few of them, their lips are utterly uncircumcis'd. No lesse are they out of the way in philosophy; pestring their heads with the saplesse dotages of old Paris and Salamanca. And that which is the main point, in their Sermons affecting the comments and postils of Friers and Jesuits, but scorning and slighting the re­formed writers. In so much that the better sort among them will confesse it a rare matter to heare a true edifying Sermon in either of their great Churches; and that such as are most humm'd and applauded there, would scarce be suffer'd the second hea­ring in a grave congregation of pious Christians. Is there cause why these men should overween, and be so queasie of the rude multitude, lest their deepe worth should be undervalu'd for want of fit umpires? No my matriculated confutant there will not want in any congregation of this Island, that hath not beene altoge­ther famisht, or wholly perverted with Prelatish leven, there will not want divers plaine and solid men, that have learnt by the ex­perience of a good conscience, what it is to be well taught, who will soone look through and through both the lofty nakednesse of your Latinizing Barbarian, and the finicall goosery of your neat Sermon-actor. And so I leave you and your fellow starres, as you terme them, of either horizon, meaning I suppose either he­misphere, unlesse you will be ridiculous in your astronomy. For the rationall horizon in heav'n is but one, and the sensible hori­zons in earth are innumerable; so that your allusion was as erro­neous as your starres. But that you did well to prognosticat them all at lowest in the horizon, that is either seeming bigger then they are through the mist and vapour which they raise, or else sinking, and wasted to the snuffe in their westerne socket.

Sect. 11. His eleventh Section intends I know not what unlesse to clog us with the residue of his phlegmatick sloth, discus­sing with a heavie pulse the expedience of set formes: which no question but to some, and for some time may be permitted, and perhaps there may be usefully set forth by the Church a common directory of publick prayer, especially in the administration of the Sacraments. But that it should therefore be inforc't where both minister and people professe to have no need, but to be scanda­liz'd by it, that, I hope, every sensible Christian will deny. And the reasons of such deniall the confuter himselfe, as his bounty still is to his adversary, will give us out of his affirmation. First [Page 47] saith he, God in his providence hath chosen s [...]me to teach others and pray for others, as ministers and Pastors. Whence I gather, that however the faculty of others may be, yet that th [...]y whom God hath set apart to his ministery, are by him endu'd with an ability of prayer; because their office is to pray for others. And not to be the lip-working deacons of other mens appointed words. Nor is it easily credible that he who can preach well should be unable to pray well; when as it is indeed the same ability to speak affirmatively, or doctrinally, and only by changing the mood to speak prayingly. In vaine therefore do they pretend to want ut­terance in prayer, who can finde utterance to preach. And if prayer be the guift of the Spirit, why do they admit those to the Ministery, who want a maine guift of their function, and pre­scribe guifted men to use that which is the remedy of another mans want; setting them their tasks to read, whom the Spirit of God stands ready to assist in his ordinance with the guift of free conceptions. What if it be granted to the infirmity of some Ministers (though such seeme rather to be halfe ministers) to help themselves with a set forme, shall it therefore be urg'd upon the plenteous graces of others? and let it be granted to some peo­ple while they are babes in Christian guifts, were it not better to take it away soone after, as we do loitering books, and interline­ary translations from children; to stirre up and exercise that por­tion of the spirit which is in them, & not impose it upon congre­gations who not only deny to need it, but as a thing trouble­some and offensive refuse it. Another reason which he brings for liturgie, is the preserving of order, unity, and piety, and the same shall be my reason against Liturgy. For I Readers, shall alwayes be of this opinion, that obedience to the Spirit of God, rather then to the faire seeming pretences of men, is the best and most dutifull order that a Christian can observe. If the Spirit of God manifest the guift of prayer in his Minister, what more seemely order in the congregation, then to go along with that man in our devoutest affections? for him to abridge himselfe by reading, and to forestall himselfe in those petitions, which he must either omit, or vainly repeat, when he comes into the Pulpit under a shew of order, is the greatest disorder. Nor is unity lesse broken, especially by our Liturgy, though this author would almost bring the Communion of Saints to a Communion of Liturgicall words. For what other reformed Church holds communion [Page 48] with us by our liturgy, and does not rather disl [...]ke it? and a­mong our selves who knowes it not to have bin a perpetuall cause o [...] d [...]nion. Lastly, it hinders piety rather then sets it forward, be [...]ng more apt to weaken the [...]pirituall faculties, if the people be not wean'd from it in due time; as the daily powring in of hot waters quenches natur [...]ll heat. For not only the body, & the mind, but also the imp [...]ovement of Gods Spi [...]it is quickn'd by usin [...]. Wheras they who will ever adh [...]re to liturgy, bring thē ­selves in the end to such a passe by overmuch leaning as to loose even the legs of their devotion. These inconveniencies and dan­gers follow the compelling of set formes: but that the tolerati­on of the English Liturgy now in use, is more dangerous then the compelling of any other which the reformed Churches use, these reasons following may evince. To contend that it is fanta­sticall, if not senselesse in some places, were a copious argument, especially in the Responsori [...]s. For such alternations as are there us'd must be by severall persons; but the Minister and the people cannot so sever their interests, as to sustaine severall persons; he being the only mouth of the whole body which he presents. And if the people pray he being silent, or they ask one thing & he ano­ther, it either changes the property, making the Priest the peo­ple, and the people the Priest by turnes, or else makes two per­sons and two bodi [...]s representative where the [...]e should be but one. Which if it be nought else, must needs be a strange quaintnesse in ordinary prayer. The like, or worse may be said of the Litany, wherein neither P [...]iest nor people speak any intire sense of them­selves throughout the whole I know not what to name it; on­ly by the timely contribution of their parted stakes, closing up as it were the schisme of a slic't prayer, they pray not in vaine, for by this means they keep life betweene them in a piece of gas­ping sense, and keep downe the sawcinesse of a continuall reboun­ding nonsense. And hence it is that as it hath been farre from the imitation of any warranted prayer, so we all know it hath bin obvious to be the pattern of many a Jig. And he who hath but read in good books of devotion and no more, cannot be so either of eare or judgement unpractiz'd to distinguish what is grave, pa­theticall, devout, and what not, but will presently perceave this Liturgy all over in conception leane and dry, of affections empty and unmoving, of passion, or any heigth whereto the soule might soar upon the wings of zeale, destitute and barren: besides er­rors, [Page 49] tautologies, impertinences, as those thanks in the womans Churching for her delivery from Sunburning and Moonblast­ing, as if she had bin travailing not in her bed, but in the deserts of Arabia. So that while some men cease not to admire the in­comparable frame of our Liturgy, I cannot but admire as fast what they think is become of judgement, and tast in other men, that they can hope to be heard without laughter. And if this were all, perhaps it were a complyable matter. But when we re­member this our liturgy where we found it, whence we had it, and yet were we left it, still serving to all the abominations of the Antichristian temple, it may be wonder'd how we can demurre whether it should be done away or no, and not rather feare we have highly offended in using it so long. It hath indeed bin pre­tended to be more ancient then the Masse, but so little prov'd, that whereas other corrupt Liturgies have had withall such a see­ming antiquity, as that their publishers have ventur'd to ascribe them with their worst corruptions either to S. Peter, S. James, S. Mark, or at least to Chrysostome, or Basil, ours hath bin never able to find either age, or author allowable, on whom to father those things therein which are least offensive, except the two Creeds, for Te Deum has a smach in it of Limbus Patrum. As if Christ had not open'd the kingdome of heaven before he had over­come the sharpnesse of death. So that having receav'd it from the Papall Church as an originall creature, for ought can be shewn to the contrary, form'd and fashion'd by work maisters ill to be trusted, we may be assur'd that if God loathe the best of an Ido­laters prayer, much more the conceited fangle of his prayer. This Confuter himselfe confesses that a community of the same set forme in prayers, is that which makes Church and Church truly one; we then using a Liturgy farre more like to the Masse-book then to any Protestant set forme, by his owne words must have more communion with the Romish Church, then with any of the reformed. How can we then not partake with them the curse and vengeance of their superstition▪ to whom we come so neere in the same set forme and dresse of our devotion? do we thinke to sift the matter finer then we are sure God in his jealousie will? who detested both the gold, and the spoile of Idolatrous Cities, and forbid the eating of things offer'd to Idols. Are we stronger then he to brook that which his heart cannot brook? It is not surely because we think that praiers are no where to be had but at [Page 50] Rome; that were a foule scorne and indignity cast upon all the reformed Churches, and our own; if we imagine that all the god­ly Ministers of England are not able to new mould a better and more pious Liturgy then this which was conceav'd and infanted by an idolatrous Mother: how base [...]y were that to esteeme of Gods Spirit, and all the holy blessings and priviledges of a true Church above a false? Heark ye Prelats, is this your glorious Mother of England, who when as Christ hath taught her to pray, thinks it not anough unlesse she adde thereto the teaching of An­tichri [...]t? How can we believe ye would refuse to take the stipend of Rome, when ye shame not to live upon the almes-basket of he [...] pr [...]yers? will ye perswade us that ye ea [...] curse Rome from you [...] hearts when none bu [...] Rome must teach ye to pray? Abra­ham disdain'd to take so much as a th [...]ed or a shoolatchet from the King of Sod [...]me, though no foe of his, but a w [...]cked King, and shall we receave our prayers at the bounty of our more wicked enemies? whose guifts are no guifts, but the instruments of our ban [...]? Alas that the Spirit of God should blow as an uncertaine wind, should so mistake his inspiring, to misbestow his guifts pro­mis'd only to the elect, that the idolatrous should finde words acceptable to present God with and abound to their neighbours, while the true profess [...]rs of the Gospell can find nothing of their own worth the constituting, wherewith to worship God in pub­lick. Consider if this be to magnifie the Church of England, and not rather to display her nakednesse to all the world. Like there­fore as the retaining of this Romish Liturgy is a provocation to God, and a dishonour to our Church, so is it by those ceremo­nies, those purifyings and off [...]ings at the Altar, a pollution and disturbance to the Gospell it selfe; and a kinde of driving us with the foolish Galatians to another gospell. For that which the Apostles taught hath freed us in religion from the ordinances of men, and commands that burdens be not laid upon the redee­med of Christ, though the formalist will say, what no decency in Gods worship? Certainly Readers, the worship of God sing­ly in it selfe, the very act of prayer and thanksgiving with those free and unimpos'd expressions which from a sincere heart unbid­den come into the outward gesture, is the greatest decency that can be imagin'd. Which to dresse up and garnish with a devis'd bravery abolishe in the law, and disclam'd by the Gospell addes nothing but a deformed uglinesse. And hath ever afforded a co­lourable [Page 51] pretense to bring in all those traditions and carnalities that are so killing to the power and vertue of the Gospell. What was that which made the Jewes figur'd under the names of Aho­lah and Aholibah go a whooring after all the heathens inventi­ons, but that they saw a religion gorgeously attir'd and desira­ble to the eye? What was all, that the false Doctors of the Pri­mitive Church, and ever since have done, but to make a faire sh [...]w in the flesh, as S. Pauls words are? If we have indeed given a bill of divorce to Popery and superstition, why do we not say as to a divors't wife; those things which are yours take them all with you, and they shall sweepe after you? Why were not we thus wise at our parting from Rome? Ah like a crafty adultresse she forgot not all her smooth looks and inticing words at her pa [...]t­ing; yet keep these letters, these tokens, and these few orna­ments; I am not all so greedy of what is mine, let them preserve with you the memory of what I am? No, but of what I was, once faire and lovely in your eyes. Thus did those tender hear­ted reformers dotingly suffer themselves to be overcome with harlots language. And she like a witch, but with a contrary po­licy did not take something of theirs that she might still have power to bewitch them, but for the same intent left something of her own behind her. And that her whoorish cunning should prevaile to work upon us her deceitfull ends, though it be sad to speak, yet such is our blindnesse, that we deserve. For we are deepe in dotage. We cry out Sacriledge and misdevotion against those who in zeale have demolish't the dens and cages of her un­cleane wallowings. We stand for a Popish Liturgy as for the ark of our Cov'nant. And so little does it appeare our prayers are from the heart, that multitudes of us declare, they know not how to pray but by rote. Yet they can learnedly invent a prayer of their own to the Parlament, that they may still ignorantly read the prayers of other men to God. They obj [...]ct that if wee must forsake all that is Rome's, we must bid adieu to our Creed; and I had thought our Creed had bin of the Apostles; for so it beares title. But if it be hers let her take it. We can want no Creed, so long as we want not the Scriptures. We magnifie those who in reforming our Church have inconsideratly and blame­fully permitted the old leven to remaine and soure our whole lumpe: But they were Martyrs; True and he that looks well in­to the book of Gods providence, if he read there that God for [Page 52] this their negligence and halting, brought all that following persecution upon this Church, and on themselves, perhaps will be found at the last day not to have read amisse.

Sect. 12. But now, Readers, we have the Port within sight; his last Section which is no deepe one, remains only to be foar­ded, and then the wisht shoare. And here first it pleases him much, that he hath discri'd me, as he conceaves, to be unread in the Coun­sels. Concerning which matter it will not be unnecessary to shape him this answer; That some years I had spent in the stories of those Greek and Roman exploits, wherein I found many things both nobly done, add worthily spoken: when comming in the method of time to that age wherein the Church had obtain'd a Christian Emperor, I so prepar'd my selfe, as being now to read examples of wisdome and goodnesse among those who were formost in the Church, not else where to be parallell'd: But to the amazement of what I ex [...]ected, Readers, I found it all quite contrary; excepting in some very few, nothing but am­bition, corruption, contention, combustion: in so much that I could not but love the Historian Socrates, who in the proem to his fifth book professes, He was faire to intermixe affaires of State, for that it would be else an extreame annoyance to heare in a continu'd discourse the endless brabbles & counterplottings of the Bishops. Fin­ding therefore the most of their actions in single to be weak, and yet turbulent, full of strife and yet flat of spirit, and the summe of their best councels there collected, to be most commonly in questions either triviall and vaine, or else of short, and easie de­c [...]sion without that great bustle which they made, I concluded that if their single ambition and ignorance was such, then cer­tainly united in a Councell it would be much more; and if the compendious recitall of what they there did was so tedious and unprofitable, then surely to sit out the whole extent of their tat­tle in a dozen volumes, would be a losse of time irrecoverable. Besides that which I had read of S. Martin, who for his last six­teene yeares could never be perswaded to be at any Councell of the Bishops. And Gregory Nazianzen betook him to the same re­solution affirming to Procopius, that of any Councell, or meeting of Bishops he never saw good end; nor any remedy thereby of evill in the Church, but rather an increase. For, saith he, their contentions and desire of Lording no tongue is able to expresse. I have not there­fore I confesse read more of the Councels save here and there, I [Page 53] should be sorry to have bin such a prodigall of my time: but that which is better, I can assure this Confuter; I have read into them all. And if I want any thing yet, I shall reply something toward that which in the defence of Muraena was answer'd by Cicero to Sulpitius the Lawyer. If ye provoke me (for at no hand else will I undertake such a frivolous labour) I will in three months be an expert councelist. For be not deceav'd, Readers, by men that would overawe your eares with big names and huge Tomes that contradict and repeal one another, because they can cramme a margent with citations. Do but winnow their chaffe from their whe [...]t, ye shall see their great heape shrink and wax thin past be­lief [...]. From hence he passes to enqui [...]e wherefore I should blame the vices of the Prelats only, seeing the inferiour Clergy is known to be as faulty. To which let him heare in briefe; that those Priests whose vices have been notorious, are all Prelaticall, which argues both the impiety of that opinion, and the wicked re­misnesse of that government. We hear not of any which are call'd Nonconformists that have been accus'd for scandalous living; but are known to be pious, or at least sober men. Which is a great good argument, that they are in the truth and Prelats in the er­ror. He would be resolv'd next What the corruptions of the Ʋni­versities concerne the Prelats? and to that let him take this, That the Remonstrant having spok'n as if learning would decay with the removall of Prelats, I shew'd him that while books were ex­tant, and in print, learning could not readily be at a worse passe in the Universities then it was now under their government. Then he seeks to justifie the pernicious Sermons of the Clergy, as if they upheld soveranty, when as all Christian soveranty is by law, and to no other end but to the maintenance of the com­mon good. But their doctrine was plainly the dissolution of law which only sets up sov'ranty, and the erecting of an arbitrary sway according to privat will, to which they would enjoyne a slavish obedience without law; which is the known definition of a tyrant, and a tyranniz'd people. A little beneath he de­nies that great riches in the Church are the baits of pride & am­bition of which error to undeceave him, I shall allege a reputed divine autority, as ancient as Constantine, which his love to an­tiquity must not except against; and to adde the more waight, he shall learne it rather in the words of our old Poet Gower then [Page 54] in mine, that he may see it is no new opinion, but a truth deli­ver'd of old by a voice from heav'n, and ratify'd by long ex­perience,

But there were beasts of prey, saith he, before wealth was be­stow'd on the Church. What though? because the Vulturs had then but small pickings; shall we therefore go and fling them a full gorge? if they for lucre use to creepe into the Church un­discernably, the more wisdome will it be so to provide that no revennu there may exceed the golden mean. For so, good Pastors will be content, as having need of no more, and knowing with­all the precept and example of Christ and his Apostles, and also will be lesse tempted to ambition. The bad will have but small matter whereon to set their mischiefe a work. And the worst and sutlest heads will not come at all, when they shall see the [Page 55] crop nothing answerable to their capacious greedinesse. For small temptations allure but dribling offendors; but a great pur­chase will call such as both are most able of themselves, and will be most inabl'd hereby to compasse dangerous projects. But saith he, A widows house will t [...]mpt as well as a Bishops Palace. Acutely spok'n. Because neither we, nor the Prelats can abo­lish widows houses which are but an occasion taken of evill without the Church, therefore we shall set up within the Church a Lottery of such prizes as are the direct invi­ting causes of avarice and ambition, both unnecessary and harmefull to be propos'd, and most easie, most convenient, and needfull to be remov'd. Yea but they are in a wise dispen­cers hand. Let them be in whose hand they will, they are most apt to blind, to puffe up and pervert the most seeming good. And how they have bin kept from Vultures, what ever the dispen­cers care hath bin, we have learnt by our miseries. But this which comes next in view, I know not what good vein, or humor took him, when he let drop into his paper. I that was ere while the ignorant, the loyterer, on the sudden by his permission am now granted to know something. And that such a volley of expres­sion [...] he hath met withall, as he would never desire to have them better cloth'd. For me, Readers, although I cannot say that I am utterly untrain'd in those rules which best Rhetoricians have giv'n, or unacquainted with those examples which the primeau­thors of eloquence have written in any learned tongu, yet true elo­quence I find to be none, but the serious and hearty love of truth: And that whose mind so ever is fully possest with a fervent desire to know good things, and with the dearest charity to infuse the knowledge of them into others, when such a man would speak, his words (by what I can expresse) like so many nimble and airy servitors trip about him at command, and in well order'd files, as he would wish, fall aptly into their own places. But now to the remainder of our discours. Christ refus'd great riches, and large honours at the Devils hand. But why, saith he, as they were tender'd by him from whom it was a sin to receave them. Time­ly remember'd: why is it not therefore as much a sin to receave a Liturgy of the masses giving, were it for nothing else but for the giver? But he could make no use of such a high estate, quoth the Confuter; opportunely. For why then should the servant take upon him to use those things which his master had unfitted him­selfe [Page 56] to use, that hee might teach his ministers to follow his steps in the same ministery. But they were offer'd him to a bad end. So they prove to the Prelats; who after their prefer­ment most usually change the teaching labour of the word, into the unteaching ease of Lordship over conscien­ces, and purses. But hee proceeds, God entic't the Israelites with the promise of Canaan. Did not the Prelats bring as sla­vish mindes with them, as the Jewes brought out of Egypt, they had left out that instance. Besides that it was then the time, when as the best of them, as Saint Paul saith, was shut up unto the faith under the Law their School-maister, who was forc't to intice them as children with childish en­ticements. But the Gospell is our manhood, and the mini­stery should bee the manhood of the Gospell, not to looke after, much lesse so basely to plead for earthly rewards. But God incited the wisest man Salomon with these means. Ah Con­futer of thy selfe, this example hath undone thee, Salomon askt an understanding heart, which the Prelats have little care to ask. He askt no riches which is their chiefe care: therefore was the prayer of Salomon pleasing to God: hee gave him wisdome at his request, and riches without asking: as now hee gives the Prelats riches at their seeking, and no wisdome because of their perverse asking. But hee gives not over yet, Moses had an eye to the reward. To what reward, thou man that looks't with Balaams eyes, to what reward had the faith of Moses an eye to? He that had forsaken all the greatnesse of Egypt, and chose a troublesome journey in his old age through the Wildernesse, and yet arriv'd not at his journies end: His faithfull eyes were fixt upon that in­corruptible reward, promis'd to Abraham and his seed in the Messiah, hee sought a heav'nly reward which could make him happy, and never hurt him, and to such a re­ward every good man may have a respect. But the Prelats are eager of such rewards as cannot make them happy, but can only make them worse. Iacob a Prince borne, vow'd, that if God would but give him bread to eat and raiment to put on, then the Lord should be his God. But the Prelats of meane birth, and oft times of lowest, making shew as if they were call'd to the spirituall and humble ministery of the Gospell, [Page 57] yet murmur, and thinke it a hard service, unlesse contrary to the tenour of their profession, they may eat the bread and weare the honours of Princes. So much more covetous and base they are then Simon Magus, for he proffer'd a reward to be admitted to that work, which they will not be mea [...] ­ly hir'd to. But saith he, Are not the Clergy members of Christ, why should not each member thrive alike? Carnall textman! As if worldly thriving were one of the priviledges wee have by being in Christ, and were not a providence oft times extended more liberally to the Infidell then to the Christian. Therefore must the Ministers of Christ not be over rich or great in the world, because their cal­ling is spirituall, not secular; becuase they have a speci­all warfare, which is not to be intangl'd with many im­pediments: because their Maister Christ gave them this precept, and set them this example, told them this was the mystery of his comming, by meane things and per­sons to subdue mighty ones: and lastly because a middle estate is most proper to the office of teaching. Whereas higher dignity teaches farre lesse, and blindes the teacher. Nay, saith the Confuter, fetching his last indeavour, The Prelats will be very loath to let go their Baronies, and votes in Parlament, and calls it Gods cause, with an unsuffera­ble impudence. Not that they love the honours and the means, good men and generous, but that they would not have their countrey made guilty of such a sacrilege and injustice. A wor­thy Patriot for his owne corrupt ends! That which hee imputes as sacrilege to his countrey, is the only way left them to purge that abominable sacrilege out of the land, which none but the Prelats are guilty of. Who for the discharge of one single duty receave and keepe that which might bee anough to satisfie the labours of many paine­full Ministers better deserving then themselves. Who pos­sesse huge Benefices for lazie performances, great promo­tions, only for the execution of a cruell disgospelling ju­risdiction. Who ingrosse many pluralities under a non­resident and slubbring dispatch of soules. Who let hun­dreds of parishes famish in one Diocesse, while they the [Page 58] Prelats are mute, and yet injoy that wealth that would furnish all those darke places with able supply, and yet they eat, and yet they live at the rate of Earles, and yet hoard up. They who chase away all the faithfull Shep­heards of the flocke, and bring in a dearth of spirituall food, robbing thereby the Church of her dearest treasure, and sending heards of souls starvling to Hell, while they feast and riot upon the labours of hireling Curats, con­suming and purloyning even that which by their founda­tion is allow'd, and left to the poore, and to repa­rations of the Church. These are they who have bound the land with the sinne of Sacrilege, from which mor­tall ingagement wee shall never be free, till wee have to­tally remov'd with one labour as one individuall thing Prelaty and Sacrilege. And herein will the King be a true defender of the Faith, not by paring or lessning, but by distributing in due proportion the maintenance of the Church, that all parts of the Land may equally partake the plentifull and diligent preaching of the faith, the scan­dall of Ceremonies thrown out, that delude and circum­vent the faith. And the usurpation of Prelats laid levell, who are in words the Fathers, but in their deeds the op­pugners of the faith. This is that which will best con­firme him in that glorious title. Thus yee have heard, Readers, how many shifts and wiles the Prelats have in­vented to save their ill got booty. And if it be true, as in Scripture it is foretold, that pride and covetousnesse are the sure ma [...]kes of those false Prophets whicst are to come, then boldly conclude these to bee as great seducers, as any of the latter times. For betweene this and the judgement day, doe not looke for any arch deceavers who in spight of reformation will use more craft, or lesse shame to de­fend their love of the world, and their ambition, then these Prelats have done. And if yee thinke that soundnesse of reason, or what force of argument soever, will bring them to an ingenuous silence, yee think that which will never be. But if ye take that course which Erasmus was wont to say Luther tooke against the Pope and Monks, if yee [Page 59] denounce warre against their Miters and their bellies, ye shall soon discerne that Turbant of pride which they weare upon their heads to be no helmet of salvation, but the meere mettle and horn-work of Papall jurisdiction; and that they have also this guift, like a certaine kinde of some that are possest, to have their voice in their bellies, which being well drain'd and taken downe, their great Oracle, which is only there, will soone be dumbe, and the Di­vine right of Episcopacy forthwith expiring, will put us no more to trouble with tedious antiquities and disputes.