THE TIMES Anatomiz'd, In severall CHARACTERS.

By T. F.

Difficile est Satyram non scribere.

Juv. Sat. 1.

LONDON, Printed for W. L. Anno, MDCXLVII.

THE CONTENTS of the severall CHARACTERS.

  • 1 A Good KING.
  • 2 Rebellion.
  • 3 An honest Subject.
  • 4 An hypocriticall Convert of the times.
  • 5 A Souldier of fortune.
  • 6 A discontented person.
  • [Page] 7 An ambitious man.
  • 8 The Vulgar.
  • 9 Errour.
  • 10 Truth.
  • 11 A selfe-seeker.
  • 12 Pamphlets.
  • 13 An envious man.
  • 14 True Valour.
  • 15 Time.
  • 16 A Newter.
  • 17 A Turn-coat.
  • 18 A moderate man.
  • 19 A corrupt Committee-man.
  • 20 A Sectary.
  • 21 Warre.
  • 22 Peace.
  • 23 A Drunkard.
  • 24 A novice-preacher.
  • 25 A scandalous Preacher.
  • [Page] 26 A grave Divine.
  • 27 A selfe-conceited man.
  • 28 An inconstant man.
  • 29 Religion.
  • 30 Death.
Courteous Reader,

ANtonio Diel (a Spaniard) brings in some laughing at an old man, Burton of Melanc. in Ep. that by reason of his age was a litle fond; but as hee admonisheth there, Ne mireris, mî hospes de hoc sene, nam tota haec civitas dilirium est. Certainly to play the Foole in this age, when the whole World's distracted, is not only tolerable, but [Page] necessary. 1 Sam. 21. David once in wisdome play'd the Fool, to deliver him­self: and why may not I once play the fool, to deliver my conscience, in a free reproof? which if ever was, is now ne­cessary, when vice was never more perpotrated nor lesse punished, Fraus dolus in obscura, eoque in [...] nitabilia. Plin. Pa­neger, in Trajan. and so disguis'd and fenc'd is some, that we may say of them as Alexan­der of the Scythians, Difficilius est inveni­re, quam vincere: More difficult it is to finde them out then to confute them. It hath [Page] been my endeavour to un-mask some, where­by to render them odi­ous, and however you shall finde a heape of chaffe for an handfull of wheat, yet feare I not to professe with that witty Epigramatist, ‘Invenies paucos hic ut in orbebonos. Owen Ep.’ Although vice be al­most grown a generall rule; yet are there some exceptions from it: Some who feare not to patronize Truth and Virtue, though vaga­bonds. Yet am I not ig­norant [Page] that hereby I have exposed my selfe to the censures of every detracting Momus, and carping Zoilus, so true is that Italian Pro­verb. ‘Chi fà un casa in piazza, ô è troppo alta, ô troppo bassà.’

Who builds i' th' way where all go by,
Shall make his house too low, or high.

He that exposeth him­selfe to publique view, betrayes himselfe to e­very ones censure. If Apelles will set out his pictures, Plin. Nat. Hist. he shall heare [Page] the Shoo-maker finde fault with what he un­derstands not. Much more may I, who have entered into the Lists with so many prevail­ing enemies, yet have I not aymed at any mans person, but only at the vice: if any one shall apply to himself in par­ticular what I speake in generall, hee will thereby argue himselfe guilty: 'Tis the gall'd horse that kicks, sayes the Proverb.

It is our misery that we are miserable, but greater that we are not [Page] sensible. Aug. Gravissimè aegrotat qui se non sen tit aegrotare: Is there­fore we would return into the right way, we must first know our selves to bee in the wrong: Primus sapi­entiae gradus est falsa intelligere, Lactan. sayth La­ctantius: The first step to health is to know our selves to be sick. The whole Kingdome hath laboured these five years full, with an un­civill civill Warre, one member destroying a­nother, whilst the whole body is indange­red. [Page] Me thinks, I heare, our deare mother Eng­land calling to her con­tending children, like that affectionate mo­ther in the Tragoedy, Dum pacem peto audite inermes. Iocasta to her two sons Etop [...] ­les & Poli­nites. Sen. Trag. The­bais. weeping over the ma­lice of her two sons, in these words, or sighs rather, Ille te, tu illum times, ego utrum (que) sed pro utroque: Thy bro­ther feares thee, and thou him, I both, but but for the danger of you both. If when Sci­pio had set Carthage on fire and saw that the flames thereof soared up to the clouds, al­though [Page] he were an ene­my yet tears trickled down his cheeks to be­hold their ruine, Polybius cited by Melancth. Chron. fol. p. 126. as is testified by an eye-wit­nesse, and can any one who is a member of the Kingdom not be sensi­ble of, and sorrowfull for the distractions thereof? To see Reli­gion of late become a Monster with many fa­ces, to see that Dove be­speckled with Sects and Schismes! Si fundamentum tolli­tur, quid nisi ruina expectatur? If Reli­gion that is the founda­tion [Page] of a Kingdom be taken away, what can be expected, but ruine of the whole building? To see all government contemn'd, and a law­lesse liberty justling out all Law, labouring to be introduc'd. But I would say to them as Lycurgus did, Sir Fr. Ba­con. Apo­theg. who be­ing about to reforme and alter the State of Sparta, in that consul­tation, one advised that it should be reduced to an absolute popular e­quality, Lycurgus said unto him, Sir, begin it in your own house [Page] first. Considering these things, and other mise­ries wayring upon a ci­vill warre. Quis tem­peret à lacrimis! The Embassadours of Asia Minor comming to Antonius, after hee had imposed upon them a double tax, told him plainly, that if hee would have two Tri­butes in one yeare, he must give them two seed-times, and two harvests: But alas! never was taxes great­er, and takings lesse then now, many tri­butes to be paid, but in [Page] many places, neither seed-time nor harvest, Suet. Trā. in vit. Domit. and yet as Domitian the Emperour (a few dayes before he was kil­led) rubbing a wart up­on his face, bloud chan­ced to gush out: he said, Utinam ad huc, I w [...]sh this may be all: So say I, God grant we have not the dregs of that cup yet to drinke off, of which we have hither­to but tasted: for it is observed, three things undid the Roman Em­pire; Young heads, Private grudges, and Private gains. First, [Page] Young heads, I say of them, being State Phy­sitians, but as the Pro­verb is, A young Phy­sitian, and a new Church-yard, and for private grudges, where is the man that will doe as it is reported of G. Naz. who when the Church at Constanti­nople began to be divi­ded, as he supposed, by occasion that he possest the See, hee openly sayd, Si propter me ista tempestas: If I be the Jonas that cause this storme in the State, why, sacrifice me to the [Page] fury of the angred Di­ety? Where is now the man that would lay downe his private grudges, rather then engage the Kingdom in a publike Quarrell? And for private ends how many be there that long for fighting, be­cause they live by it? Ex utra­que parte sunt qui pugnare cu­piunt, Tully Julius Caesar was wont to say of men brought excessive low by ryot, or had commit­ted divers crimes, that there was no other re­medy for them but ci­vill War. But i'le con­clude with this story.

[Page] Some few moneths be­fore Domitian was murthered, Suet. Tran. ut Ante. there was a Crow in the Capitoll spake these words plainly, [...]. All shall be well. And one interpreted this prodigie thus,

Nuper Tarptio quae sedit culmine Cornix
Est bene non potuit dicete, dixit erit.

The Crow that sate on Tar­pie news to tell,
She could not say all is, but sayd, All shall be well.

That this Fable (if it be so) may be turned into Truth, and the [Page] Prophesie into History, in our Kingdom, is, and shall be the con­tinuall Pray­er of

Thine, T. F.

THE TIMES Anatomiz'd.

I. A good KING.

IS the Primum mobile of a Kingdome, the largenesse of whose Orbe moves all the rest in their severall places: The Sun, that not onely enlightens the se­verall [Page] Planets and lesser Stars in a State, but also the whole Kingdom depends upon the influence of his good or bad Aspect. All the inferiour Magistrates and Ministers of Justice, receive their virtue and power from him, as the Moon and Stars their light from the Sun. A Kingdom without a King, is but like a body with­out a head, like a heaven with­out a Sun, and no wonder if all mischiefes be perpetrated, when the light of Israel is put out. Needs must the King­dom float in a Sea of miseries, that hath lost its Pilot, and a miracle is it if it split not on the Rock of ruine: He is the [Page] vigilant Argus, that sees all parts of the Kingdome: to o­versee the under-seers. The hundred-handed Briarius to revenge, and right-wronged innocence. He is a mortall god, on whom the Almighty hath stampt his image in a more e­speciall manner, with power and terrour. The very presence of a King strikes awe into men. How have some Traitors been dazled with the splendent rays of Majesty, that it hath melted and mollified their iron, stony and obdurate hearts into an humble and meek reluctancy? The happy Reigne of a good King makes the whole King­dome to prosper and flourish, [Page] withwealth, peace and plenty. For like the Sun, though hée move but in one place at once actually, yet is he virtually pre­sent in all and every part of his Dominions; dispensing his sa­cred influence, as well upon the lowest as the highest. Ju­stice hath committed her Sword and Ballance into his hands. Wisdome and Power support his Throne, and Piety is his continuall Hand-maid.

II. Rebellion.

IS a poysonous weed grow­ing up in a Cōmon-wealth, by the fatnesse of the soyle. It may flourish for a while, but the sword of justice doth in the end cut it down, being whetted by time and divine revenge. It is a true Viper, for as the shee-viper biteth off the head of the hee, and thereby conceives with young, & those young prove her own destru­ction, making their birth her death; and thus doth Rebelli­on when it hath bitten off the [Page] head of government, it proves its own destruction, and will be the end of the beginners thereof; And not seldom, it is m [...]de its owne scourge. For though Majesty may be eclip­sed for a season, yet will it at length breake out againe into its force like the Sun in his greatest brightnesse, and dis­pell those misty fogs and va­pours that before had clouded it. Whilest the two petty Combatants (in the Fable) strove which should overcome the other, they were both made a prey unto the royall Eagle: ambition and discon­tent are the two main wheels this Engine moves on, and [Page] because it is so ugly in it selfe, that all men would detest it, it seldome appears but with a borrowed face for the good of the Common-wealth, and if it get hold on Religion, it flies (too truly) like wilde-fire.

III. An honest Subject.

IS one that fears God, ho­nours his King, and med­dles not with those that are gi­ven to change; and without question hee that is a good Christian will be a good Sub­ject. He hath learned so much loyalty from dumb creatures (taught by natures instinct) to shelter their wronged head with their whole body, as knowing that their life lies in their head. He hath heard that Subjects often are Adje­ctives [Page] that cannot stand with­out, and therefore should not stand against their Sovereign: He loves peace: knowing that the sowers of discord will reap destruction, however, in the midst of Warre he labours to keepe peace in his own con­science, being content with his own estate, and seeking not to increase it by unlawfull di­minishing of others, for hee cannot thinke him an honest man that in publike losses goes away a gainer. Hee is so far from exceeding, that he can be content to be lesse then him­selfe, accounting it more noble to be like the fruitfull bough, which stoops under a pretious [Page] burthen; then to aime at the eminencie of the fruitlesse height of the pine tree. If his merits have brought him into the way of honour and prefer­ment, they doe not there leave him; but he herein holds that maxime good, to keepe them by the same means he obteined them: and if he see undeserving men preferred before him, he rather pitties then envies them, as counting it more noble to have deserved preferment then to have it. When the the thrid of his naturall life is run to the appointed end, he leaves this world to enjoy a better, yet leaving behinde him the pre­tious balme of a good name, [Page] which shall preserve his me­mory more surely to future posterity, then the time-de­caying monuments of Brasse and Marble, which in processe of time do molder away, and their glory obscured in fewer years then some of those sumptuons Statues have been erecting.

IV. An Hypocriticall Con­vert of the Times.

IS a rotten Sepulchre, newly painted over with a colour of sanctity. And now none so zealous as he, then whom be­fore there was none so profane, but having drawne a faire glove of profession over his foul hand. Hee now weares the livery of the Times; and all his policy is, if he can carry it undiscovered: he is an essence needing a double definition, [Page] for he is not what he appears, but like some of the Spheres, that besides their generall mo­tion with the others, have a particular one to themselves. Like a water-man that looks one way but rows another. But for all his out, he cānot change his inside, so that he differs no­thing from an Hypocrite, Without he is a severe Cato, but within a cruell Nero, like those Dragons in Armenia that spit fire, yet have cold bodies: he is a Sheep-skin lin'd with Fox-fur; formall precisenesse keeps the doore, whilst profit and profanenesse lodge within, he hangs out Religion for a signe, but I take it for a signe [Page] he hath no Religion, like the Planet Mercury convertibly, good or bad according to his company: With the Religi­gious, hee is no lesse then a Saint, and with the prophane none more loose, but no foe to a false friend: the Devill is never so true a Devill, as when he is transformed into an An­gel of light.

V. A Souldier of fortune.

HEe is a Salamander that lives in the fire of Warr. And is commonly a younger brother, for though the elder beare the coat, the younger beares the Armes. Peace is his greatest enemy, for then he lies (like a fish out of water) out of his element. Honour and pay are the two main En­gines that set him on going, hunger and cold march in the same file with him, and plun­der brings up the reare. He [Page] should be a Scholer, for he is alwayes is controversies, bul­lets are his arguments, and his sword a necessary conclusion. He questiōs not who hath the best cause, but the best treasu­ry. His onely fishing is in troubled waters. His life is action, his food bloud and booty, his honour valour, and his end conquest. He is Peaces envie, and Wars darling: a horse-fly ingendred of the corruption of a Kingdome, when too much plenty hath set men on quarrelling, and then he's a necessary evill to help let out the superfluous hu­mours, which hee effects by letting them bloud, till the [Page] losse of their bloud prove the losse of their lives. But the Citizens of Athens banished a coffin maker out of the City, because the cause of his mirth, was others sadnesse, and much resembleth a Lawyer, whose wealth is increased by others poverty.

VI. A discontented Person.

IS a dis-joynted member of the Kingdome, one that is falne out with the World, and will not be reconcil'd againe with it, hardly with himselfe. He is always weary of the pre­sent times, not because it is bad; but because it is present. He extols & commends times past, and despairs of ever see­ing the like, but is always desi­ring of changes, like sick folks; thinking unquietnesse would procure rest. Hee continually [Page] carries a cloud of discontent in his countenance, whereby you may judge of the storms in his brest. He makes all crosses seem the heavier by his conceiting them greater then they are; being once thus out of tune himself, all his study is to cre­ate discords. Hee is an apt sub­ject for Rebellion to work on, as hoping thereby to ease his own by increasing others mi­series. All his speech is inve­ctives against Fortune: and like a froward child, because hee cannot be happy according to to his own will, he will be mi­serable in spight.

VII. An ambitious Man.

IS a Merchant of honour, sayling in the Venture, and ayming at the Cape of prefer­ment, his sayls are fill'd with the wind of hope: but he some­times meets with a tempest, that casts him away. Like a trai­vailer climing up the Alps of honour, on a sudden comes a puff of crosse-wind, that tum­bles him into an abysse of mi­sery: but his ambition is to get unto the top, not minding the bottom: desire to rise, hath ta­ken [Page] away al fear of falling. He cares not though he creep low, so hee may thereby rise any whit the higher, and still the more he gets, the more he de­sires to get: for the greater draught of honour, causeth the greater drought. Hee is a meer bladder puft up with the wind of hope. Many times hee rises high, and then like a Rocket in the ayre, breaks, and falls down to the wōderment of all the beholders. Envy and pride are his two wings, hee still flutters with, to get above o­thers. And when he is got up, he usually throws down those whom before hee made (as staires) the meanes of his ri­sing. [Page] He is of a restlesse nature, and counts every stay a losing of time. Hee can sayle with any winde, nay, with a cross winde, rather then stand still. Hee is a great incendiary, and stirrer of Wars, whilst one like Pompey, can endure no equall; another like Caesar admit of no superiour. He wishes all things turn'd topsie-turvy, knowing that then, the first will be last, and the last first.

VIII. The Vulgar.

IS an untamed monster with many heads; but like roaring Cyclops with one eye: attempt­ing things with great clamour, but little judgment: not able to judge of things as they are indeed, but only by outward appearances. And therefore as the Sea is mov'd with every puffe of winde, so are they with every breath of their O­rators. They regard not what is said, but who says it. For let the matter be never so good, if they like not the Authour, 'tis [Page] worth nothing; on the contra­ry, let one of theirs vent non­sence, 'tis presently cry'd up for Gospel, but their love or hatred is (like a childes) wonne and lost in an hour. For whom they now extoll to the Skies, by and by they'l cry down, as fast as before they cry'd him up: And if they take head a­gainst a man, they run violent­ly like a torrent to overwhelm him, without law, reason, or judgment: making greater cla­mour, then the Frogs in Ho­mer, that would not suffer the Goddesse Pallas to sleep, for their continual croaking. They are (as wee say of fire and wa­ter) good servants, but, very bad Masters.

IX. Errour.

IS the Ape of Truth. A Laby­rinth wherein mens judge­ments wander like men led by an Ignis fatuus, to their own ruine. It is an enticing Syren, that with its deceitfull layes draws men into an Ocean of destruction. The cunning Mer­cury, which luls the senses a­sleep, that so it may captivate the reason and judgement. A darke cloud over-casting with its fogs and mysts, the bright Sun of Truth, and herein it [Page] gains infinite advantages over Truth, in that Truth is but one, but errour infinite, and every one going masked in the man­tle of Truth, for did men see Errour in its proper colours, they would never entertain it: but every one that maintains any Errour; does it not because it is an errour, but because he conceives it to be the onely Truth. Again, Errour is more pleasing unto men then Truth, and therefore Errour findes entertainment where Truth is shut out of doors. It was the Delemma of the Philosopher, If I speake to please the people, I shall not tell the Truth, and if I tell the Truth, I shall not [Page] please them, but procure enmity: and therefore it is just, that those that will not have Truth for their King, should have Errour for their Tyrant, to whom their judgements should be captivated and enslaved.

X. Truth.

IS the food of the soule. The daughter of time, yet was the daughter before the mo­ther. Simple without any mix­ture; not needing any artifici­all painting, or decking with flowers of Rhethorick, but ap­pearing most beautifull when naked and in its proper co­lours. It is the touch-stone and square whereby to try all opinions and doctrines, the onely Anchor whereon all things depend, and the Chart [Page] whereby we sayle unto Eter­nity. It is a strong Castle, which if we defend, will de­fend us; for though it may be besieged, it can never be conquered; but like a pretious Minerall, it lyes not on the face of the earth, but inveloped in a multiplicity of errours. It is fitly resembled by the Sun; for first, as there is but one Sun, so but one Truth, & as the Sun enlightens the eyes of the bo­dy, so Truth the eyes of the soule, and though it may be ecclipsed, it cannot be extin­guished; and so glorious is this heavenly light, that our weake sight is daz'led with the splendour thereof: so that [Page] though man be strong enough to desire, but too weake to re­ceive Truth, or at least, not to hold it when received. A wit­ty Fryer told the people, That Truth was like Holy Water, which all men call for, yet when it came to be cast on them, they would turne aside their faces: they that cry fastest for Truth, when it comes to them, runs fastest from it.

XI. A Self-Seeker.

IS a cunning Archer, that loo­king to the publique service as the marke he onely aymes at, yet squints aside at his own ends, which is the true Butt, all the arrows of his endea­vours are shot at. No man pre­tends more for the publique good then he, and yet no man can intend it lesse, and well may he in shew advance that which indeed advanceth him. This is a dangerous crime in men of publique trust, for such [Page] leaks make the vessels of the Common-wealth to sinke. Like that notorious Pick-pocket, that whilst (according to the custome) every one held up their hands at reher­sing the Creed, he by a divice had a false hand which hee held up like the rest, whilst his true hand was false in other mens pockets: Or as a cun­ning Physitian, that instead of lightning the disease, lightens the purse of his patient, pro­tracting the cure, to prolong his gains. A deceitfull Soul­dier, who under colour of the publique, fights onely for his private cause.

XII. Pamphlets.

ARE the Weekly Alma­nacks, shewing what wea­ther is in the State, which like the Doves of Aleppo, carry news to every part of the Kingdom. They are the silent Traytors that affront Majesty, and abuse all Authority, under the colour of an Imprimatur. Ubiquitary flyes that have of late so blistred the eares of all men, that they cannot endure any solid truth. The Ecchoes whereby, what is done in part [Page] of the Kingdome, is heard all over. They are like Mushromes sprung up in a night, and dead in a day, and such is the gree­dinesse of mens natures (in these Athenian dayes) of news, that they will rather feigne then want it.

XIII. An envious Man.

IS one that can endure no man to be happy, with, or besides himselfe; Nay, he had rather see himselfe in misery, then his neighbour in prospe­rity. He had rather goe to hell alone, then to heaven with company, yet is he the greatest foe to himselfe, for whilst he wishes harme to others, it re­bounds to himselfe and good men like Cammomile, grow the better, for envies treading, it is but as a black ground to [Page] set off the luster of their me­rits: & not seldome whilst envy seeks to wound, it cures, bring­ing an Antidote instead of a poyson. Like the Mirrour of glasse that reverberated the poyson of the serpent upon her selfe killing her with her own weapon. Goodnesse appears with greater lustre through the black cloud of envy. The en­vious man feasts like flies on others soares, anothers Co­medy in his Tragoedy. He is never merry but at others sad­nesse, and their cryes makes the only harmony in his eares.

XIV. True Valour.

IS a virtue in the spirit, which keepes the flesh in subje­ction, for whilst it over­throws its enemies it conquers it selfe, which is the best vi­ctory. It resolves without fear, and acts without fainting, not daunted with multitudes of oppositiōs, knowing that the greater the cōflict is, the greater wil be the honor of the conqueror. It is a sweet temper of the soul, not cast down in captivity, nor elated in victory, wisdome is [Page] her guide, and resolution her companion. A good cause makes her truly noble, and pittie it is it should have any enemy but errour.

XV. Time.

TIme is the universall Stan­dard, whereby we mea­sure Houres, Dayes, Weeks, Moneths, Years and Ages. A Rivulet of Time, which proceeded from, and shall end in the Ocean of Eternity, com­pared by that great Statesman and Philosopher of our King­dom, to the nature of a River, which carryeth down to us that which is light and blown up, and sinketh and drowneth that which is solid and weigh­ty. [Page] It is the devourer of all things, the great Monarch that casteth down some, and raiseth others, with a kinde of omni­potencie and unresistable pow­er, for there is not any thing in the power of man can scotch the ever-circling wheele of Time. 'Tis neither force nor flattery can stop his full career. It is he that opens the win­dows of heaven to let in day and drawes the curtaines of the night, to secure the sleepe of wearied labor. And so swift is his flight that we cannot dis­cover it, till past. He is al­wayes the same, and yet not the same since I said so. The onely subject of honest and [Page] lawfull avarice. But whilst I speake of Time I lose it, con­sidering that though hee is known to be, yet is his be­ing unknown, for his name is better known then his nature. (⸪)

XVI. A Newter.

IS a very blank, wherein you may write any thing that will make for his profit. Hee is a meer Bat all the time of War, resolving to lye hid till time and fortune have decided the quarrell; and then hee'l be sure to have a Bird for the Con­querour. Fortune is his god, Machiavel his Priest, Time-serving his Religion, and his only Counsellours are Corran­toes: for by those hee guesses which way the winde of For­tune [Page] blows, and accordingly (with the Hedghog) hee turns his Den. Hee is only a specta­tor of this bloudy Tragoedy, and will be sure to reserve his Plaudite till the last Act. What he shall be he knows not, nor what hee is, yet I hold him an Independent; for whilst hee sides with all, hee'l be sure to none. Like a pair of Compas­ses, the one end of his owne ends stands fast; while with the other of his speeches he walks the round of every prevailing faction. He is a meer Polypus, always of the same colour of the side he meets with, for hee varies his shapes as often as his company; like an Adjective, [Page] that varies case and gender with his Substantive. Hee uses Moderation as a fair masque o­ver his foul-face of Newtrali­ty: but when hee comes to be unmasqued, hee becomes then as ridiculous to all, as before he was odious. His discourse is the very Almanack of the Times, for his judgment is as variable as Victory. Hee is of a very unfit temper to make a Zelot of, being neither hot, nor cold, but Lukewarme, which is detestable to both. Wee may well term him a Wavering­man, for (like the waves) he is moved with the winde of suc­cesse. Hee would make a very good Musician, for hee studies [Page] nothing so much as to keepe Time: keeping close to the wheel of Fortune, which is somtimes broken on by short turnings. Striving so long, to bend to all, till hee break him­self. And so playing the Am­bo-dexter, that hee becomes at length Ambo-sinister. But I cease to know further what he is, who knows not what hee is in himself.

XVII. A Turn-coat.

IS one that will be sure to be of the strongest side, and all his policy is, when the contra­ry party prevails to tack abont, and with a side-winde, to saile with them. For hee is always of the Religion of the Con­querour; if the more zealous party get up, then none more zealous then he; if the lesse se­vere, then none lesse religious. Setting his carriage to the tune [Page] of the times, though never so Base. The truth is, he absolute soft wax, in which the last im­pression always puts out the former. He is one that sails with any winde; That will run with the Hare, and hold with the Hound. A meer Weather-cock, for by him you may easily know which way the winde of successe bloweth: for the Times and him are Tearms converti­ble. He will be sure to stand to his friend, no longer then he is able to stand, for like Vermin, his flight is a certain token of a falling house Hee never de­clares his judgment but in du­bious Tearms, leaving himself a liberty to expound them as Times shall serve.

XVIII. A Moderate Man.

IS the temperate Zone of the times, quallifying the cold of detestible Neutrality, and the fiery heat of over-zealous rash­nesse. Moderation is the bal­last of his soul, which keeps him upright. He had rather for a time hide Truth in the cave of his heart, then by his weak­nesse, or the times wickedness betray both it and himself to the contempt of their adversa­ries; as knowing that though [Page] Truth may be over-laid and buried, yet it will have a Re­surrection. If he live in such a time (as ours) wherein two op­posite parties pretend the truth, when but one can have it, hee resolves with himself, not so far to resolve with either, that his credit, but especially t [...]uths, might receive auy detriment thereby. If Truth be manifest­ly ingag'd against Errour, hee then though moderately, yet stoutly holds himself bound to defend it. Hee is neither of an hot fiery, nor of a key-cold temper, but of a moderate, between those two extreams, which is the healthfullest, & wil be the longest liv'd. But as Neutra­lity [Page] gains much by having Moderation for its vizard; so Moderation suffers more by having neutrality for its neigh­bour, yet may they be easily discerned, for Neutrality hath only its own ends for its ayme, but Moderation looks only at the Truth. Again, the Neuter is a wandring Planet, never setled, but the Moderate man is a fixed Star.

XIX. A corrupt Commit­tee-man.

HE is one of the Wens of the body politique, that draws the wealth of the Com­mon-wealth from its proper use; to the nourishment of his own base humours. Like the horse-leech or the grave, he is never satisfied, but continually trying, give, give; He is one that under the authority of the State, impoverisheth it. A li­cens'd Cheater, authoriz'd by [Page] Authority, which gives him a freedome to examine and measure every one but him­selfe. Like Lyca [...]n, hee de­voures men, and turns his Of­fice into an Office of Escheat, making himselfe heire to every mans estate, under colour of the States service. He deals with all that come before him, as the Gyant did with his guests, he fits them all to his size, for those that are over­grown in wealth he cuts shor­ter, and those that plead pover­ty he stretches longer. For the liberty of the Subject hee brings all men into slavery. This upstart Ivie will in time eat out the heart of the Oake [Page] that supports him. Hee is a very good Chimist, for hee turns all things into gold, the maine engine of the Warre, and the pipe that conveys and commands all the trea­sure of the Kingdome, but there's a crack of selfe ends that hinders it from going to the right end of the Kingdoms good. His very name is as ter­rible to the poore Countrey man, as the Inquisition, speak­ing nothing lesse then commit­ment, for the Prison is his rack, and an Oath the tormen­tor; whereby he makes men prove Traitors to themselves worse then ever, by the Oath Ex Officio. His will must be [Page] the Standard whereto every one must be reduced. The under Committees he uses as a spunge, or as the Turks doe the Jews, which when they have gathered sufficiently, he squeezes, and so the grea­ter Thieves rob the lesse, and both the Commonwealth. For his Religion, if hee have any, it is altogether for Liberty of Conscience, but whilest hee keeps loose his own, he bindes all other mens. Nothing ter­rifies him so much, as to think of an accompt, 'tis therefore his policy to be an evil angel to stir & mud the waters, like the fish Sepia, that he may go away un-discerned, like a Thief in a [Page] crowd. Peace is as often in his mouth, as seldome in his heart, for like a corrupt Chy­rurgion, he lives upon keeping the soare raw: as certaine the poore Kingdom must needs be a Patient that suffers under such Chyrurgions. But how this foundation will stand, that is raised on other mens ruines, and built on others breakings, when the winde of Majesty, and the reign of justice shall again descend, who knows? till then I leave him, if in the meane time his guilty con­science doe not condemn him, and he himselfe save the hang­man a labour, by preventing him.

XX. A Sectary.

HEe is one that having left the roade of the Churches practice, wanders in the Laby­rinth of Sects and Schismes, and being of a Quick-silver brain, can never be fixed in any till hee become an absolute Atheist, for they that once are of all Religions, will quickly be of none at all. He cannot endure any government as ty­ing him in an inclosure: for he will not be fed by the whol­some food of his proper Mi­nister, [Page] but will carve for him­selfe, not discerning weeds from herbs, poyson from wholsome meat. For learning hee utterly detests it, and no wonder if they that seek darke corners, hate the light of the Sun that would discover them, yet the Sun is never the worse nor lesse usefull, because blear eyes cannot endure its light. He is so strict to observe the very words of the Scripture (though he can read never a word of it) that because the Apostles were some of them fisher-men, and Paul preached in an upper roome, He thinks him no Preacher that is not a mechanick, nor that no Church [Page] which is not in a chamber. He rails continually against plura­lities, and affects nothing so much as to be singular. If he be the ring-leader of a Sect, his only care is to worke upon the weaker sex, to deceive sim­ple women, whom, if they fol­low him, hee supposes their husbands wil come after them. And thus the Serpent, the fa­ther of Heretikes first tempted Eve, and then leaving her to tempt her husband. And these all weare Christs colours, but fight under the Devils banner, which daily multiply by our divisions, these abstractions from the Church increase by the distractions in the Church, [Page] and it will be as easie to knit a rope of sand, as to unite them againe thus dissipated.

XXI. Of War.

WAr is a Tragoedy, that most commonly de­stroyes the Scene whereon 'tis acted. An unwelcome guest that devoures his Host. The cursed off-spring of two bles­sed parents, Peace and Plen­ty, both which it destroyes and devoures, as Pharoes leane kine did the fat ones. Peace chains up al furies & mischiefs, which the sword of Warre lets loose. War is a Wolfe whose pestilēt breath stops the mouth [Page] of the Laws, whose voyce can­not be heard for the cryes of oppressed people, the effect, and the roaring of Cannons, and clashing of Armes, the sad­der causes. Wars griping hand squeezeth and scattereth what good husbandry had raked to­gether in time of peace. Time of War is the true Iron Age, for it converts all into iron, which iron will be master of all mens gold. Warre never comes but attended with a train of devouring followers: Destruction and that usually goe hand in hand. this Gene­rall Warre hath so universall a command, that no particular man can have any command of [Page] his now. But of all Wars, none so uncivill as civill War, other wars kill foes, but this friends, in this, one member rises up against another. If a Kingdom divided from others cannot stand, a Kingdom di­vided against it self must needs fall. But the uglinesse of War will appeare better, or rather worse, by viewing the beauty of Peace.

XXII. Of Peace.

PEace is the ligament or seament, that knits and u­nites the severall members of one Kingdom into one body. Shee is the mother of plenty and prosperity. The nurse and cherisher of Arts and Sciences, and what's worth all, the best means for propagating the Go­spel, for the spirituall fishers never caught the more for fishing in troubled waters, for [Page] such fish (as mariners say of the litterall fish) if they see bloud on the net, they will not be caught by any bayes. No this Gospel is the Gospel of Peace, and of the God of Peace, and his children the lovers of Peace. Peace makes those calme dayes wherein the Hal­cyon of honour seats her nest. It is the onely cordiall to re­vive a fainting Kingdom, lan­guishing of the deadly wounds of the keen sword of inraged warre. This one word Peace (as one well observes) is but a monosylable, yet is it big with a world of happinesse. Yet many Athenians there be who never went to conclude a peace [Page] but in mourning garments. But I feare to speake farther of it, lest I meet with the Florentine Law, which made it death for any one to name Peace. I sup­pose the miseries of this cruell Warre may bee as so many mouthes to cry and call for Peace, and therefore I will hold my peace.

XXIII. A Drunkard.

IS a meere beast in the shape of a man. A living pipe or conduite, through which the liquour passeth. A great asser­tor of Copernicus his opinion, for he holds that all things go ronnd. He might make a reso­lute Souldier, but that he stag­gers so often. Drukennesse is used in High Germany for the Index, or Touch-stone of a mans nature, for the parents will see men drunk before they marry their daughters unto [Page] them, because they will know what kinde of drunkennesse they are subject to; and accor­ding to the good or ill (if a Drunkard can have good) qua­lities they judge him conve­nient or not for their marri­ages: And indeed there is no passion that a Drunkard is sub­ject to, but Wine will make him turn traytor to himselfe and discover. It is not for no­thing that the word in the O­riginall signifies Naked, drun­kennesse breakes the veile of secrecie, and renders a man naked to his very enemies, when he is like Gryllus (in Plu­tarch) who was so transformed by one of Circes charmes, that [Page] he could not by all Ulisses clo­quence be induced to depose his hoggish nature, and resume the person of a man. He is not then his own Master or his own man, whose senses are fettered with Drunkennesse, and yet how he boasts in ma­king himselfe a hogshead, stri­ving to take off his liquour till he be taken of it, and become its captive, and instead of quenching his thirst drownes his soule. And being thus be­reaved of his senses, he jumps not an inch from a mad-man. For as there are severall sorts of mad-men, so are there also of Drunkards, and every one in his severall humour: some [Page] are mad, some merry, some raging Drunkards. How many brute beasts will rise up in judgement against the Drunk­ards, who make the sufficing of Nature their Standard in eating and drinking, which they will not exceed no more then the Drunkard exceeds them in his drink? For there are but two things whereby a man is differenc'd from a beast, Ratio & Oratio, Reason and Speech, and the Drunkard wants them both. He wants reason like him that stuft a porrage pot with straw to make it the easier pillow. He wants speech also, for as the Ephra­mites were distinguished from [Page] the rest of the Israelites, by lisping, they could not pro­nounce the letter [...]. Thus Drunkards (sayth one wittily) are distinguished from the Kings sober subjects by clip­ping the coyne of the tongue. But lamentable it is when hee dares to quote Scripture ex­amples for proofe of his acti­ons, looking only at the evill of sin, but not at the evill of punishmeut that follows those sins; let him shew me the ex­ample of a Saint that sinn'd, and had not also his affliction for it. As the Comoedian, who when one objected to him his bringing a deboist fellow upon the stage, thereby giving [Page] an evill example to youth: He answerd, 'tis true, I brought such an one upon the Stage, but I hang'd him before he went off, and so I gave them a good example. ⸪

XXIV. A novice Preacher.

IS a young Lapwing, running from his nest of the Univer­sity, before maturity of time and knowledge have cast the shel of ignorance, which there­fore he still carries on his pate. How-ever this kallow Bird weary of his Mothers tuition, (when indeed she might better be weary of him) having hopt out of his nest, must be chirp­ing on every hedge, and will be stragling abroad, never minding the danger of such at­tempts; [Page] but Who so bold as blinde Bayard, saith the Pro­verbe? Wee may say of him as of the Nitingale, Vox & praeterea Nil, His greatest com­mendation is the strength of his lungs, having been but a while like a cypher, in the place of a figure, me thinks, I heare the people saying, to those No­vices, as the wise to the foolish Virgins, ye have not enough for us and your selves too, go yee rather and buy for your selves: for wee beare ye wit­nesse, that hitherto out of your owne necessities ye have administred unto us. And no wonder, that instead of shi­ning [Page] Lights, they prove foo­lish fires to lead their flocks in­to a Maze of Errours, in which they wander, not having the clue of learning or judgement to guide them out. They are rather smoake to put out the eyes of the seeing, then like to lend eyes unto the blind. They are meere wels without water, aud clouds without rain. His Sermons are but the ecchoes of other men, in which his greatest commendation is, that he reads them Clerk-like. For his prayers they consist most an end of naught else, save a zealous taking the Lords name in vain, in tedious tautologies▪ which he is as devout in, as a [Page] Papist would be in dropping his beads. His Library consists of a Directory, and an Ordi­nance for Tithes, and if his estate will reach to it, a Concor­dance.

XXV. A Scandalous Preach­er.

HE is one who by his Do­ctrine sheweth the way to heaven, but by his life, the road to hell. Like that ridicu­lous Actor iu Smyrna, who pronouncing ô coelum! pointed down to the ground, of whom Polemio in a chafe sayd, This fellow hath spoken false La­tine with his hand: so does he that preacheth well, and lives ill; he speakes false Divinity with his conversation. His [Page] tongue speakes the language of Canaan, but his life the lan­guage of Ashdod. We may say of him as it was of Erasmus, his Encheridion, that there was more devotion in the booke then the man; so that there is more Learning and Religion in the Sermon then in the Preacher, and what an incon­gruous thing is it, to see an ho­ly Preacher and a wicked man in one and the same person? whose life is a Traytor to that Doctrine his tongue both pro­fesseth and perswades allea­gance to, as if hee thought to goe to heaven some other way then what he teaches the peo­ple, soyling the glorious robe [Page] of Religion, by putting it upon a beastly conversation. He is a meere Comoedian in Religi­on, acting goodnesse in voice and gesture onely. His life and Doctrine is like the cloud that led the Israelites in the wilder­nes, light on one side, but dark on the other, for no man teach­es better then he, and no man lives worse, teaching others what he does not himselfe, like way-posts, directing travailers in their way, but themselves not stirring.

XXVI. A grave Divine.

IS a faithfull watchman, go­ing before his flock, holding forth the shining lampe of his Doctrine in the lanthorne of a good conversation. Hee is a good steward, that hath study­ed before hand to lay in suffi­cient provision for that great charge he hath undertaken. He leapt not from the Grammar Schoole to the Pulpit, but was long in the Tyring-house of the University, before he ap­pear'd on the publike Theater, [Page] where he courted not the mi­strisse Divinity first, but made his way to her the easier, by first winning the Arts, her hand-maids. Neither was he hasty to launch forth of that Port, till hee was sufficiently ballasted with learning. Being lawfully called to the Mini­stry, he first throughly learned the weight thereof, that hee may the better fit his shoulders to beare it, and surely he that is most carefull to know, will be most carefull to performe his duty. His endeavour is to fit his matter to the capacity of his hearers, as desiring rather their profit then his applause. In any controversie he more [Page] delights to shew the strength of truth, then his adversaries weaknesse: using soft words, (as one well) but hard Ar­guments. He is very circum­spect in ordering his own con­versation, as knowing that ig­norant people learn as much (if not more) by their eyes then their eares; so that his whole life is but one continued Le­cture, wherein his parishioners may legibly read their duty. And indeed the actions of the Minister, are the Pole-stars the people steere their course by: therefore it is our Ministers care that they may read (as it were) all his precepts and ex­hortations to them in the line of his own life.

XXVII. A self-conceited Man.

IS one that looking through the spectacles of self-love on his own worth, which makes every small thing seeme great in his own conceit. Like the Ape, he hugs the brats of his own brain, and with the Crow, thinks his own bird whitest. He looks only upon the flowers of his good acti­ons, but not on the weeds of his imperfections, which, though never so bad, are the best part of his actions. Hee [Page] looks so on his own beauty, till Narcissus-like he is inamou­red with himself, being drunk­en with self-conceit he sees all things double. Whatsoever he sayes, he counts like Pitha­goras his ipse dixit, to his scho­lars, that must stand for an in­falible rule. His opinions are alwayes singular, and had ra­ther erre by himself then hold a common truth. You can tell him nothing that is good in him, but hee knew it too well before. Whatsoever opinion he is pleased to grace with ap­probation, must be the only truth, not because it is (if it be) truth, but because he holds it.

XXVIII. An inconstant Man.

HE is a wandring Star, ne­ver fixed in any resoluti­on. Whatsoever he meant or said, is presently altered, for he meant it not long enough to take impression, his strongest resolutions being rather tack'd then fastned. He is always buil­ding and pulling down, stri­ving to out-vey time it selfe in mutability: in the best things continuance is quarrell suffici­ent, and novelty the highest style of commendation in the [Page] meanest. His understanding writes upon his wit, as men write on water, no sooner written, but forgotten. He is a stranger to himselfe, and all his actions so different from another, that one would think it impossible they should all come out of one the sameshop. A piece of clay, tempered with running water, which keeps his wit in a perpetuall motion. He often resolves seldome Acts, being rul'd by passion, not rea­son. He is the best enemy that can be, but the worst friend, for 'tis a wonder if his love or hatred, last so long as a wonder. All his purposes are built upon the floting Islands of his seve­rall [Page] humours: but Ile here cast anchor, and leave him to the winde of his own will.

XXIX. Religion.

REligion in it self is natu­rally written in the hearts of all men: which will rather be of a false then of no Religi­on. It is the bond betweene God and us, and therefore in our old English called Ean­fastnes, as the only assurance, and fast anchor-hold of our souls health: and therefore ir­religious men cut or dissolve this band, and then no won­der if cutting this cable, they [Page] make shipwrack of their souls. Though there be many false religions, as many false gods in the World, yet is there but one true Religion, as one true and only God, who is the sole object of Religion: and all those severall ones, though so far distant frō one another, yet they all meet in this, that they all worship a Diety. Religion (like Sampson's haire) is the strength of a Kingdom: where that is lost, the Kingdom is a true Icabod, the glory is de­parted: and no such way to lose the true Religion, as in a crowd of false ones. Hee that opens his hand (or his heart rather) to contein all will, [Page] retein none: true Religion is of too pure a nature to admit of any mixture, but alas! we may too truly say of religion in our times, as Erasmus did of the Friers Cowle in his, that it there was like Charity, for it cover'd a multitude of sins, as if there was no such way for men to fight for their own ends, as under the banner of Religion. * [...]*

XXX. Death.

DEath is that universall winde to which all mor­tals, become wind-fals from the tree of life. Sickenesses & sleep, are as pauses and paren­theses, in the line of life, but Death the full point; the pe­riod; and Ne plus ultra, of the longest. The grisly Atropos that cuts in sunder the strong­est cord of life, it is that una­voidable debt levied upon all mankind, by force of that Sta­tute [Page] enacted by God in Para­dise: and recorded by Saint Paul, That all must dye. As when one told Anaxagoras, the Athenians have condemn'd thee to dye, He answered, and Nature then. It is that black night, which over-takes, and over-spreads the brightest day of life. The grim Serjeant sent from the Almighty with an Habeas Corpus, to arrest every one for that unavoidable debt, due to Nature, ever since our first Parent broke and turn'd Bankerupt. The grave is his Prison wherein he keeps them, till the Resurrection, the time of their Gaol-delivery from it. But to the godly, it is a friend­ly-fo, [Page] which by robbing them of a mortall life, makes them capable of immortality; and by splitting the vessell of their bodies, upon the rock of death, engulphs their souls in­to Eternity: setting her free from the prison of the body, and endenizing her into Hea­ven. It is their Exodus out of the Egypt of the World, pre­paring them to enter into their promised Land of the heaven­ly Canaan: or new Hierusalem. At this Port must weall arrive: whatsoever our Voyage be. This is the totall summe of all mankinde. It is the bitter cup our father Adam begun, and wee must all pledge it: the In­heritance [Page] which he purchased, as his wages of sin, and is en­tayl'd to all his posterity. A Deluge which broke in by A­dams breach of Gods Com­mandement that sooner or la­ter will over-flow all mankind. By his rebelling against God, al are become subject to deaths command. what the Epigram sayth wittily on the Gramari­an is true of every man, that being able to decline all other Nownes in every Case, could decline Death in no Case. All must fall down at deaths feet, as well the Prince as the Pe­sant. He cannot be resisted, nor will he be flatterd. No Orator so eloquent, that could [Page] perswade Death to spare him nor Monarch so mighty tha [...] could resist him. Hezekiah, in­deed was repriev'd, by God himselfe, for fiften yeares, but he came to it at last. When this wind blowes, and when this rain descends, it irresista­bly blowes down, and wash­eth away the clay tenements of our bodies. He is an Archer that shooteth, somtimes be­yond us hitting our supriours, somtimes short of us, striking our inferiors, somtimes at our right hand, depriving us of our freinds, somtimes at our left hand, taking away our foes: and then at last hits the marke it selfe, and we must tread the [Page] same path, that all have, who are gon before us, and all must that shall come after. (⸪)

Mors, omnium FINIS.

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