THE ROYALL MISSIVE TO THE PRINCE OF VVALES, BEING THE LETTER OF K. CHARLES I.

IN PART METRICALLY PARA­PHRASED, FOR ESSAY VNTO THE REST.

BY RI. VVATSON.

Printed AT CAEN, By CLAVDE LE BLANC. M.DC.LX.

To the Prince of VVales.

SON,
If my Papers at your hand arrive,
Wherein by Conscience Counsell I contrive;
Rallie my private thoughts, and in array
My forces ready for your march display,
Proof-armed, & by sound Experience taught
How to keep ground, retreate, how to assau't;
Advance yours by my Iudgement to the field,
Where Piety must be your sword and shield;
Guide you in fight, and parlie, to redresse
What now doe's, or hereafter may, you presse.
I wing the heavie Houres, and cleare the skie
From the cloud of restraint and injurie;
Through my immantled soul see brighter day
Then's usherd by the messenger of May,
In these light streaming lines, which o're the hill
Shew me your future triumph by my skill,
When neither Son, nor Subject, sure, will guesse
The measure of the Caeuse by my successe,
Convinc'd by yours; nor in opinion state
My Iudgement, as my Warre, unfortunate.
So, yet more thought so for your sake, & theirs,
With my selfe Rivalls, you my Love's coheires;
The weights of whose afflictions presse me downe
Deeper in sense, and sadnesse, then mine owne,
From a false title to my suffering,
Because I am your father, and their King.
But from most Princes have you Wisdome's prise
Won, by encountring early miseries;
And with deare-bought Experience crown'd those yeeres
Spent in beguiling pleasures by your Peeres;
Practis'd your armes, and patience exercis'd;
So that by no Chance can you be surpris'd,
For want of Iudgement's guard, in your escape
Secure, taught future cautele by my rape.
In this black scile, & season, doe you plant
Politike Vertues, manure Morall, dant
Slow Expectation; turne Ioy into Rage
At full grow'n Piety in pupillage.
So shoot up winter-scians, more streight, & cleane,
Then in warme Sun-shine set, or times serene.
In dayes of peace and plenty Princes courts
No Paradises are, but Scenes of sports,
Where Vertue take's no root, & Pleasure weave's
But Honour's counterfeit in silken leaves;
Frame's language to put off, with disrepute,
Empty formalities for reall fruit,
That sterve the Publike, to which Kings sonnes Knowe
Their yeares, by birth, and Providence, they owe.
That Royall couple, by the sacred pen
Recorded, neither Kings alike, nor men,
Give's us a prospect of th' inchanting power,
Which blowe's the Grādsire's, blast's y e Nephew's flower.
The Paraphrast here take's the liber­ty of some en­large­ment out of sa­cred Hi­sto­rie.
The son of Iesse that step't first with his sling
Toward the Court and tite of a King,
Met, though the Giant fell by the small stone,
Troups of Miss-fortunes for that happy one;
Steep mountaines climb'd for a concealing clowd,
And in darke caves did Innocency shrowd,
Vntill, fledg'd in afflictions, and high-flow'n
He fetch't from Heav'n the laurell with his Crown,
Maintaind by sword and Vertue, but entail'd
To one who, fraught with Wisdome, by Will sail'd;
Become heire of vast wealth, & war-got leisu­re,
Traffiq't for new-found fancies, unknow'n pleasure;
Chang'd th' iron Chariot for an ivory Throne;
On silver trod instead of sand and stone;
Walk't under bending Cedars clasp't with gold,
While globes of Incense through his Palace roll'd;
As many wives and women had, as wishes;
More tables furnish't, then his father dishes.
His ships, witharmes, and horses, plough'd y e Maine,
Brought Apes too, and y e bird with starry traine.
The Infant heire, in beds of softest downe,
Slept out the boding sorrowes of a Crowne;
Chapletts of roses bound his youthfull brow,
While wine and joyes his bowles did overflow;
Intrancing musike dayly charm'd his eare;
In streames of oyle and whispers did he heare
All sycophantike language, not once told,
The yong Prince, as yong Peasant, must grow old.
In these rich softs & sweets Rehoboam bred
His honour, peace, and Crowne, halfe forfeited
To his green Sages rashnes, and those flies
That stick to glorious Princes with press'd thighes
And cripled knees, much like such summer creatures
As in ripe fruit destroy the fairest features,
Till Autumne's chasing blasts do 'em disseise,
As a miss-fortune spied give's wings to these.
I had rather (which my Heart speake's by my Hand)
That you should Charles le Bon be, then le Grand;
Yet I, hope, destin'd to my Royall seat,
God will both Charles the good make, and y e Great,
Call'd in the dawning of your Age, to try
With Nature's Champions Grace's chivalry;
And by Heav'n's influence subdue the mists
That to delude your sense possesse the lists;
The guerdon to which conquest of your mind,
Will be, to have it steadily inclin'd
To the imployment of those sacred powers
Descended on you with the blooming Howers,
By their full strength and luster to maintaine
Your peoples wellfare, & their love to gaine.
With God begin and end, whose Vassalls are,
All Kings, each scepter subject to some starre,
Wherein its Fortune wind's or low, or high,
By an eccentrike regularitie,
Till, at accomplish'd numbers, it the same
With silent thunder strikes, or unseen flame,
Which a lowd summon is, and blazing light,
For him to reach a Crowne, that ha's no right,
Whom the Disposer Soveraigne may too
Give a short turne, and then eternize you;
For all the Kings and Kingdomes of the World
Are by him calmed, or in tempests hurld;
And crownes in lines descend not, nor are given,
But by Fate wrap't up in the fold of Heaven.
The highest Monarchie you can attaine
Is, to account y e World's, your Soveraigne;
That you may copie right the Royall Are
By the sway of his scepter in your heart,
That scepter which by word proclaime's his will,
By spirit incline's gently to fullfill.
Princes true glory is God's to advance
In holy worship, and Church maintenance;
By ciuile power to oblige or release,
With justice, honour, dues to publike Peace.
Auspicious Votes payd at the Altar may
Vnveile your Morning for a glorious Day;
At least keep up the cloud before her eyes
From breaking stormes, dethroning Miseries;
Though with the VVretched shall I not enroll
Him that, y e field & Crowne lost, save's his soul.
Vnto which center of true Happinesse,
I trust, the All-directour doe's addresse
These black lines of Affliction, from each arch
Of Miserie's circumference that march
Through my soul's circlet, & me captive lead
To Conquest, where, turn'd rayes, they'll deck my head.
You have allready Kis't the Cup, but I
Have congies quaff't of King-calamitie,
Which though it in the hollow of each veine
A tempest beate, and sympathetike paine
Raise in my Spirits Palace, yet I call
Heav'n's Panace or safe Antimoniall.
Before all, if not, as Hope suggest's, done,
Ground a firme Quadrate for Religion,
On which no slight Shaft or Pillaster set,
With the late-fancied foliage, or fret;
But such as English Architects have told
Supported the Church Aedifice of old,
When Rome on no Grotisque, or Antike, stood,
But on Heav'n's Atlas, a
Christ on the Crosse, and the holy Mar­tyrs that supported the Pri­miti­ve Chur­ch by their suffe­rings.
Colosse of blood;
Greece not in ruines, and amazement, lay,
The marble softned by her teares to clay▪
Which Ancient Pile of Glory I best thought
By the Britannike Modellers new - wrought,
Wherein you have beauteous proportions seen
With others eyes, but now must judge between
Conscience and Custome, with your Reason try
What Fayth can reach short of Credulity.
So shall the choice be yours, not, as before,
The practice, on mine, or the Bishops, score.
In it, thus rais'd, I charge you persevere,
As the divinest Oracles most neare
Approaching, for pure doctrine, & the Prime
Church order drawing downe to moderne time,
Somewhat amended, which I often have
Express'd, and offer'd, but none hearing gave.
That you should fixed in Religion be,
Ha's no more uncontroll'd necessitie
For your soul's, then your Kingdomes lasting peace,
When your warres, & now - forced travailes, cease.
Since the rebellious Devill, turne Divine,
And in shape of Reforming Angels shine.
Now the old gliding Serpent goe's upright,
Pretending from darke shades to new - sprung light.
When Conscience Faction and sedition cries,
Sone with Religion stop her mouth, and Lies;
When Piety Patience pleades, and Peace, their peal
Of Fury ring's, out nought but Armes and Zeale;
So that unlesse the root well - earthed bee,
The Wind, that seeme's to kisse, will shake, the Tree.
Nor shall you want Religion's tempting powers
To Reforme, that is, Ruine you and yours:
For when the worst in treason would combine,
They find nought better blancheth the designe,
Where, beside new invention, which affect's
The vulgar changing fancies, each project's
Himselfe a share in the Great Worke, the name
Of a Reformer, to conceale his shame,
Which, self-convicted turne's to impudence
Of censure, with feign'd zeale out-fa [...]ing sease.
What by your judgement, and the Church, is set
Religion's standard, vindicate; abet
No Partisans of faction, nor relieve
The plaintiffe Schismatike, th'accus'd to grieve.
Head no disjointed Members, nor adhere
To
By privi­legia­tes are meant suich as claime privi­ledge or exē ­ption from thepu­blike esta­blisse­ment; and vvo­uld have the King's coun­tenan­ce a­gainst him selfe.
Privilegiates, in hope, or feare;
For the complying hearts, you gaine, are such
As, when you in Religion ben will crouch,
While the more upright Votaries impute,
That you their fayth desprise, them persecute.
With charity, and calmnesse, recompose
Impartially divided spirits, but those
That upon interest Rebellion raise,
Out of Church-ruines to repaire decaies,
Chastise by Iustice, or with forces scatter,
So neither Faction need you feare, or flatter;
For if their courtesie your want, my Son,
I antedate your doome, You are undone,
If Innocence mistake her mate, in love
Bill with the Serpent, He'll devoure y e Dove.
None wil you finde lesse loyall, just, humane,
Then Rebells that Religion's name prophane;
All their demands, and actions, which surmount
Reaeson, or rule, they place to Gods account;
Vnder whose Colours, and Heav'n's Canopie,
Ambition marcheth, with slie Policie,
Secure and confident of the applause
Common Devotion offer's to God's Cause.
Thus may you from their covenanted Bands
Heave Iacob's voice, but shall feel Esau's hāds.
England lesse no usurping Faction fear'd,
Of late yeares, then Presbyterie, which appear'd
Most Saintly modest, humbly retrograde
From their forefathers boldnesse to invade;
Nor, when they most in Consistorie sate,
Could they strike terrour in my Church, or State;
But since phantastike Frowardnesse divides
My double - byass'd People into sides,
As corrupt Humours, fond some Fever's name
To get, meet in full furie to inflame:
So doe's each scatter'd discontented Passion
Here rendezvous, some in choice, some for fashion,
While this New Light, shot from the Northerne starre,
Religion guide's, by Parliament, to Warre.
At first the pettie Factions were the suite
Of this great Rabbi, crouch'd & kiss'd his feet,
Till Time experience gave, & Warre's successe
Leisure to search, discoverie to guesse
Each at peculiar int'rest, that invite's
To divide spoyles, and sequester'd delights;
To breake Religion's stock for a new Trade
By partie-profits, or preferments, made;
This to Church ruine, and Republike, wrought;
And on Presbyterie self - confusion brought;
Dash'd his first hopes, when chosen Generall,
He mean't no sharing stakes, but sweoping all.
Have nothing despicable in your eye
That threaten's the Church-peace or Piety;
Errours, and schismes, presented from a farre
But as Night - cloud - foyles for Heaven's bright­fac't starre,
Chace from your Church-horizon, and dispell,
By early censure, each to its darke cell,
Lest what seeme's a petitionarie hand
Or'ecloud you, spread into an Armed Band.
The Temple cleansed, and y e Altars dress'd,
Religion preserv'd, beautified, profess'd;
To God, his Church, your Soul, due justice done;
Truth, though betweē two crucified, kep't one;
Ascend your high Tribunal, judge each cause
By your inheritance, the Kingdome's lawes:
For as your great Fate in that Orbe doth roll,
So your good Ruling-starre turne's on this pole,
Whose mixed influence may wonder bring,
That set's your Subject free, yet keepe's you King,
If you know true Prerogative's to have
A happy people Servant, no poore Slave;
Whose safety, peace, and property preserv'd,
Import's no pamper'd Body, with Head sterv'd.
Ingenuous Liberty doe's not restraine
The right - hand priviledge to hold the reigne,
Fed with the fruits of a joint care, 'tis meant
You guide they draw, the Chariot, by consent.
Charge not your head with such a massie Crowne,
As sinke's the body and supporters downe,
From which nor strength, nor honour, can you have,
Nor hope they 'll rise from ruine you to save.
Best may you Royalty from rumours quit,
When you intend not rigour, but remit;
For while by justice you oppresse, not awe,
You play the Tyrant with a ruling Lawe.
The censure of the raving VVorld to me
Is no reproach, so I a Martyr be,
And such I am, who suffer, to maintaine
Fix't Lawes, set - VVorship of my Soveraigne;
Naught else my Kingdome - troublers can object
But that these from their changes I protect;
That I preferre the Oracles, I found
By sun - rayes writ, to darke dreames they pro­pound;
And shall, till better Reason me perswade
Then Tumults, Armies, Prisons, which invade.
I can not yet that uncouth lesson learne,
Nor you, I hope, when at the Kingdome's sterne,
That it is safe for us Kings to recant
Our Lawes for Faction's violence, or taunt;
O [...], for their feigned courtesie, unfold
Those sacred sheetes, where VVisdome hath en­roll'd
The Publike Interest, and gratifie
VVith new Indentures raz'd Communitie.
VVhat, to alleviate my pressing weights,
Heav'n may contrive; how to enlarge my streights;
How it will crosse unnaturall intents
Of Hands, becoming Heads of Jnstruments;
How into order such confusion bring;
Reduce to subject each become halfe-King;
I can't determine, nor will take much care
How in the hands of unjust men I fare,
VVhile in the Empire of my soul I hold
Justice by God and Conscience uncontroll'd.
VVhat Reason, Honour, Conscience, could permit
To my concession, I indulged it,
All strain'd atlength by offers to Reforme
Regarding onely safety in the storme;
Or'e-nice in no reserves, but where consent
Must needs betray all due meanes to prevent
Irreparable violences to
My soul, the Church, my People, Son, & you,
VVho in the issues of my Grants have share,
As of my Kingdomes next undoubted heire.
[vase of flowers]

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