Skip to main content

Full text of "An English garner; ingatherings from our history and literature"

See other formats 


:00 


=  00 
:l-0 


\OD 


■CD 


00 


J?^' 


Vi^     ':\ 


r**^  "c  f'^ 


'/  r^ 


%m 


r^'/:s^ ., 


'^^■s  ./^^"^  /f'-^ 


^  ^ 


^v^S^:.:'A*^^. 


^'r^i'  - 


>v?  -.^ 


\:-,.\r^»v\' 


*;'^'  ^ 


%'^^V'    ''-rW 


]$MM'fih 


^-  'V      .if--,  '    ■■      .-7i 


>K\'\  •^. •.■--.  \l,^-^-  -'Vt^x,  v.^^^ 


'  f  '  .'I  ■■ 


m 


^v^..^CK-^m 


■■■^i'^^"^  '/^^^  'nO»\  >yf/^^=:'  ,;/^^^r'>  ,-t^^W   ^' 


^^9y<'^- 


'^!^Mt^^r'^'^>^ 


AN 


NGLISH 


ARNER, 


Volume    VI. 


=S3= 


'\'£flM/STOf^ HATH  TRIUMPHED  M  "/ilRS  AND  MADRIGRLS 

OVER  TIME:  WHICH  BESIDES  IT,m  THAT  WHISPER  SOFTNESS 

NOTHING  BUT  ETERNITYHAThW  IN  CH/JMBERS^' 
TRIUMPHED  OVERl'riss^           i  j'OsS^iv. 

Sit  (m.EafewTj,  I  3f .  ^iltojt , 

Hist.ofike  World.  |  Areopagitlca. 


E.ARBER.  I  Montague  ROAD, 

B IRM  INGHAM ,  En  C  UND^ 

1  May,        ^rSS==a;^        1883. 


Cd 


jlt^HELL  INVT.BT-E 


'*nm 


PR 
v.  ^ 


Contents  of  tf)z  %ixtl)  Oolume. 

PAGE 

William  of  Thorpe.  77^^?  Examination  of  Master  William 
Thorpe,  priest,  of  Heresy,  before  Thomas  Arundell, 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury ,  the  year  of  our  Lord,  M.CCCC.  and 
seven.     (1407.)^ 41 

The  Examination  of  the  honourable  Knight,  Sir  foHN  Old- 
CASTLE,  Lord  CoBHAM,  burnt  by  the  said  Archbishop  in  the 
first  year  of  King  Henry  the  Fifth.    (1413.)     119 

[?]  Here  beginneth  a  little  geste  of  Robin  Hood  and  his  meiny  : 
\jind6f the  proud  Sheriff  of  Nottingham.  (Printed  about  15  id.)    423 

John  Chilton.     Travels  in  Mexico.     1 568-1 585  a.d.     (?  1586.)      n 

Richard  Ferris.  The  most  dangerous  ajid  memorable  adi/enture 
of  Richard  Ferris,- one  of  the  five  ordinary  Messengers  of 
Her  Majesty's  Chamber  :  who  departed frotn  Tower  Wharf  on 
Midsummer  Day  last  past,  with  Andrew  Hill  and 
William  Thomas;  who  utidertook,  in  a  small  wherry  boat, 
to  row,  by  sea,  to  the  city  of  Bristow ;  and  are  now  safely 
returned.  Wherein  is  particularly  expressed  their  perils  sus- 
tained iti  the  said  Voyage  '  and  the  great  entertainment  they 
had  at  several  places  zepon  the  coast  of  England,  as  they  went ; 
but  especially  at  the  said  city  of  Bristow.     (August,  1590.)     ...     1 53 

Michael  Drayton,  Esq.    Idea.    (1594-1619.)    ...    289 

W.  Percy.     Sonnets  to  the  Fairest  Coelia..     (1594.) 135 

Lyrics,  E  LEG  I  ES,&r='c:    The  Triumphs  of  Ori ana.     Edited 

by  Thomas  Morley.    (1601.)     29 

■     An   Hour's  Recreation  in    Mtcsic.       By 

Richard  Alison,  Gentleman.    (1606.)     389 


CuN  TENTS     OF      THE     S  I  X  T  II     V  O  L  U  M  E. 


I'AGE 


C.  Wither.    Fidelia.    (1615.) 167 

[?]  The  Interpreter.     Wherein  three  principal  Terms  of  State,  much 

m'.staken  by  the  vulgar,  are  clearly  tmfolded.     (1622.)      231 

[?]  Leather:  A  Discourse  tendered  to  the  High  Court  of  Parlia- 
ment.   (1627.)    -09 

H.  P[eacham],  M.A.  The  Worth  of  a  Penny:  or  a  Caution  to 
keep  Money.  With  the  Causes  of  the  scarcity  and  misery  of 
the  want  hereof,  in  these  hard  and  merciless  Times.     ( 1 64 1 .)  . . .     245 

Sir  William  Petty,  F.R.S.  Political  AritJunctic,  or  a  Discoztrse 
coiuerning  the  extent  and  value  of  Lands,  People,  Bidldings ; 
Husbandry,  Manufactures^,  Commerce,  Fishery,  Artisans, 
Seamen,  Soldiers;  Public  Revenues,  Interest,  Taxes,  Super lu- 
cration.  Registries,  Banks;  Valuation  of  Men,  Increasing  of 
Seamen  ;  of  Militias,  harbours,  situation.  Shipping,  Power  at 
sea,  ^'c.  :  as  the  same  relates  to  every  country  in  general,  but 
more  particularly  to  the  territories  of  His  Majesty  of  Great 
Britain,  and  his  neighbours  of  Holland,  Zealand,  atid  France,  I 
1677.    (1690.)    323 

John  Bion.     An  Account  of  the  Torments,  the  Frcjtch  Protestants 

endure  aboard  the  Galleys.     (1708.)      397 

The  Controversy  between  Isaac  Bickerstapf  [Jonathan 
S w  1  n]  and  John  Pa r 7 ridge  i 708- 1 7 1 o. 

1.  Isaac  Bickerstaff,  Esq.  Predictions  for  the  Year  lyoS. 
IV herein  the  Month  ajid  Day  of  the  Month  are  set  down, 
the  Persons  named,  and  the  great  Actions  and  Events  of 
next  Year  particularly  related,  as  they  will  come  to  pass. 
(Feb.  1708.) 469 

2.  A  Revenue  Officer  [Jonathan  Swift].  A  Letter  to  a 
Lord.     (30  March  170S.)    480 

3.  [Jonathan  Swift.]    An  Elegy  on  Mr.  Pa  trige, the  Alma- 

nack maker,  who  died  on  the  2(jth  of  this  instant  March, 
1708.     (30  March  170S.)     483 

4.  John  Partridge,  Student  in  Physic  and  Astrology.    Squire 

HiCKER.sTAEF  detected;  or  the  Astrological  Impostor  coti- 

viclcd.     (1708.)     4S7 

A  true  and  impartial  Account  of  the  Proceedings  of  ISAAC 
BicKEKrAFi;  Esq.,  against  Me.     (?  1708.)    ...     489 


Contents   of    the    Sixth    Volume.     7 

PAGE 

5.  Isaac  Bickerstaff,  Esq.  A  Vindication  of  Isaac 
BiCKERSTAFF,  Esq.;  against  what  is  objected  to  him,  by 
Mr.  Patridge,  in  his  Almanack  for  the  present  Year 
1709.     (1709.)       495 

J.  Gay.     The  PreseJtt  State  of  Wit,  in  a  Letter  to  a  Friend  in  the 

Country.     (3  May  1711.) 503 

[J.  Arbuthnot,  M.D.]    Law  is  a  Bottomless  Pit.    In  Five  Parts. 

1.  Exe7nplified  in  the  Case  of  the  Lord  Strutt,  John  BulLj 
Nicholas  Frog,  and  Lewis  Baboon:  who  spent  all  they 
had  in  a  Lawsuit.     (28  February  1712.)        537 

2.  yoHN  Bull  in  his  Senses.     (18  March  17 12.)     557 

■^.  fOHN  Bull  Still  in  his  Senses.    (10  April  1712.)       577 

4.  An  Appendix  to  John  Bull  still  in  his  Senses.  (2  May 
1712.)      611 

5.  Lewis  Baboon  turned  honest,  and  John  Bull,  politician. 
(24july  1714.)      625 

Henry   Carey.    The  Ballad  of  Sally  in  our  Alley.    (Before 

1719-) 150 

The  Cojttroversy  between  Thomas  Tick  ell  and  Sir  Richard 
Steele,  172 1-2. 

1.  Thomas  TiCKELL.    Lifeof  Joseph  Addison.    (1721.)...    513 

2.  Sir  Richard  Steele.     Dedicatory  Epistle  to  William 

CONGREVE.     (1722.) 523 


FIRST  LINES  OF  POEMS  AND  STANZAS, 


PAGE 

AH  creatures  now  are  ...  33 

Al!  ihe  people  of   465 

An  evil  Spirit  (your 301 

A  Protestant  is  such 237 

A  Puritan  is  such  233 

Arise!  awake  !  you 36 

A  Romanist  is  such  243 

As  in  some  countries    ...  316 

As  Luvc  and  I  late  320 

As  other  men,  so  I    295 

As  Vesta  was  from 37 

A  Witless  Gallant 301 

Bright  Ph(euus  greets...  39 

Bright  Star  of  Beauty  1  293 

But  now,  my  lines 203 

But  now  we  may  behold  165 

But,  O  (I  pray   204 

But  tell,  "  What  Fruit...  207 

But  yet  it  seems  a 393 

Calfmg  to  mind  since  ..  316 

Calm  was  the  air  and  ...  34 

Can  I  abide  this    395 

Christ  have  mercy 468 

Clear  Ankor,  on   whose  317 

C<KLIA,  of  all  sweet 145 

Cume,  blessed  bird   40 

Come,  gentle  swains    ...  35 

Come, old  and  young  !...  164 

CuriD,  I  hatetheel 315 

Dear !  why  nhould   you  309 

Define  my  Weal,  and  ...  321 

'  Earth  't  but  a  point  to ...  396 

Fair  Cvth  area  presents  39 

I'l  r  i.ymphs  I  hcird  ...  37 

I      I    <  h.iANA,   Beauty's  33 

Kur  I  ii  lANA  in  the 38 

Fair  Ukiana,  seeming...  39 

Fair  Queen  of  Cniilos  I  141 

Vuf  Lust  ii  frail 31^4 


PAGE 

From  London  city    164 

Good  Andrew  Hill  ...  165 

Good  God!  how    142 

Had  Robin  dwelled 466 

Hard  by  a  crystal 40 

Hast  thou  any   464 

Hath  silly  wherry  done  165 

Hence  stars  !  too  dim  ...  31 

He  only  can  behold 391 

Htre  five  foot  deep  486 

Her  father,  he  makes  ...  151 

His  boat  not  bulged     ...  164 

How  many  paltry 294 

I  can  no  more  but  hope  393 

"  I  cannot  conquer  748 

I  end  with  prayers  to  ...  166 

I  ever  love,  where  never  304 

If  he,  from  heaven  that  298 

If  it  be  sin,  so  dearly  ...  142 

I  hear  some  say     303 

Into  tluse  Loves,  who ...  290 

In  former  times,  such  as  320 

In  hope,  a  king  doth    ..  392 

In  pride  of  Wit,  wnen...  314 

Is  not  Love  here,  as  'tis  304 

It  shall  be  said  I  died  ...  148 

Judged  by  my  Goddess'  139 

Letters  and  lines,  we   ...  297 

Lightly  She  whipped  ...  32 

Like  an  .idventurous    ...  291 

Lithe  and  listen     423 

Lithe  and  listen     454 

Lithe  and  listen     437 

Long  live  fair 32 

Love     banished   heaven  302 

Love,  in  a  humour   294 

Marvel  not.  Love!  308 

Mcthinks,  I  sec  some  ...  306 

'Mongst  all  the 299 


PAGE 

Muses  !  which  sadly   ...  313 

My  Fair!  if  thou  wilt...  318 

My  Genius!  say 207 

My  heart  the  anvil    311 

My  heart  was  slain  2q2 

My  master  and  the  152 

My  master  carries  me  to  152 

My  prime  of  youth  is  ...  394 

Nothing  but  "  No  !  "  ...  293 

Now  hath  the  Knight  ...  451 

Now  is  the  Knight   431 

Now  let  we  that    448 

Of  all  the  women 144 

Of  all  the  girls  that  151 

Of  all  the  days  that's  in  152 

Oft  I  heard  tell,  and 175 

O  gallant  minds  and    ...  165 

O  happy  hour,  and  yet  140 

O  heavenly  Ccelia   141 

O  heavy  heart !  whose...  392 

O  mighty  Jove  !  thou...  164 

Our  floods' Queen     307 

O,  why  should  Nature...  303 

Plain  pathed  Experience  314 

Prove  her  !    Ah,  nol    ...  140 

Receive  these  7vrits 149 

Relent,  my  dear    147 

Rest  with  yourselves    ...  394 

Robin  dwelled  in 468 

Round  about  her  chariot  38 

Shall  I  abide  this 395 

Shall  I  prefer  this  to    ...  165 

Since  there's  no  help    ...  321 

Since  to  obtain  thee     ...  298 

Sing  shepherds  all    35 

Sitting  alone,  Love  bids  310 

Some  men  there  be  312 

Some    misbelievinp;    and  308 

Some,  when  in  rhyme  ...  310 


First  Lines  of  Poems  and  Stanzas.    9 


PAGE 

Stay,  speedy  Time  ! 299 

Strike  up,  my  Lute  !    ...  143 

Taking  my  pen,  with  ...  292 

That  learned  Father    ...  297 

That  the  unwise  may  ...  232 

The  Fauns  and  Satyrs...  35 

The  King  came  to 458 

The  Knight  started 435 

The  Lady  Oriana  37 

The  man  upright   of  life  391 

The  nymphs  and  33 

The  Sheriff  dwelled 443 

The  spring  is  past     394 

The  stately  stag  that   ...  39s 

The  sturdy  rock,  for  all  395 

Then  bespake  good  468 

There's   nothing    grieve  293 

This  Knight  then 436 

Those  priests  which  first  306 

Though  Wit  bids  Will...  392 


PAGE 

Thou  leaden  brain    315 

Thou  purblind  Boy  I    ...  309 

Thus  BoNNY-BOOTES    ...  34 

Thus  our  King  and 463 

Thus  then  helped  him  ...  450 

To  nothing  fitter  can   I  296 

To  such  as  say,  thy  305 

To  this  our  World,  to  ...  300 

"  To  what  new  Study  ...  208 

To  win  the  Fort     144 

Truce,  gentle  Love ! 322 

Well,  Ferris,  now,  the  166 

Well,  'tis  as 483 

What  dost    thou  mean  317 

What  if  a  day,  or  a  396 

What  is  the  Fair   146 

What  may  be  thought ...  147 

When  Christmas  comes  152 

When  conquering   Love  305 

When  first  I  ended  322 


PAGB 

When  first  I  heard 149 

When  he  came  to 467 

When  like  an  Eaglet  ...  319 

When  once  I  saw 146 

When  she  is  by     151 

Whilst  others  ween  143 

Whilst  thus  my  pen 313 

Whilst  yet  mine  Eyes...  307 

Who  loves  his  life     393 

Why  do  I  speak  of  joy  3x1 

Why  should  your  fair  ...  312 

With  angel's  face  and  ...  31 

Withdraw  yourselves  ...  36 

With  fools  and  children  302 

With  grievous  thoughts  143 

Yet  read  at  last  the 318 

You  best  discerned  of  ...  319 

You  cannot  love,  my    ...  300 

You're  not  alone  when...  296 


lO 


PREFACE. 

Ew  OF  us  adequately  realize  the  immense 
Literature  which  has  descended  to  us  from  our 
ancestors.  Generation  after  generation  has 
passed  away  ;  each  of  which  has  produced  {in 
the  order  of  its  own  thought,  and  with  the 
tuition  of  its  inherited  or  acquired  experience) 
many  a  wise,  bright,  or  beautiful  thing :  which 
having  served  its  own  brief  day,  has  straightway  passed  away  into 
utter  forgctfulness,  there  to  remain  till  Doomsday ;  unless  some 
effort  like  the  present,  shall  restore  it  to  the  knowledge  and  enjoy- 
ment of  English-reading  peoples. 

This  Collection  is  to  gather,  for  the  gratification  of  this  and 
future  Ages,  a  vast  amount  of  incomparable  poesy  and  most  stirring 
prose;  which  hardly  any  one  woidd  imagine  to  be  in  existence  at  all. 
Of  many  of  the  original  impressions  there  survive  but  one  or  two 
copies,  and  these  often  are  most  difficidt  of  access ;  so  that  it  is  not 
too  much  to  say  of  the  following  contents  as  a  whole,  that  they 
have  never  hitherto  come  within  the  ken  of  any  single  English 
scholar. 

The  reader  must  be  prepared  often  to  find  most  crude  and 
imperfect  theories  or  beliefs,  which  later  experience  has  exploded^ 
mixed  up  with  most  important  facts  or  allusions  as  to  the  timeSy 
manners,  or  customs  of  the  period  then  tinder  illustration :  leaving 
to  us  the  obligation  to  reject  the  one,  and  to  receive  the  other. 

Many  of  the  following  books  and  tracts  are  the  original 
materials  out  of  which  modern  historians  have  culled  the  most 
graphic  touches  of  their  most  brilliant  pages.  In  fact,  the  Series 
is,  in  regard  to  much  of  its  prose,  a  Study  on  a  large  scale  of 
detached  areas  of  English  history;  and  stands  in  the  same  relation 
to  the  general  national  Story,  as  a  selected  Collection  of  Parish 
Maps  would  do  to  the  Ordnance  Survey  of  English  land. 


Vol.    VI. 


John     Chilton. 
Travels  in   Mexico,    1568 — 1585   a.d, 

[Hakluyt.    Voyages.    1589I 

A  notable  Discourse  of  Master  John  Chilton,  touching  the 
people,  manners,  mines,  cities,  riches,  forces,  and  other 
memorable  things  of  the  West  Indias;  seen  and  noted 
by  himself  in  the  time  of  his  travels,  continued  in  those 
parts  the  space  of  seventeen  or  eighteen  years. 

These  travels,  which  also  refer  to  Sir  JOHN  Hawkins's  disaster  at 
San  Juan  de  Ulua,  conclude  our  series  of  pieces  relating  to  the  tirst 
English  residents  in  Mexico  and  the  West  Indies. 


J 2     Chilton's  arrival  at  Vera  Cruz.     \J-f^. 


N  THE  year  of  our  Lord  1561,  in  the  month  of 
July,  I,  John  Chilton,  went  out  of  this  city 
of  London  into  Spain  ;  where  I  remained  for 
the  space  of  seven  years  :  and  from  thence,  I 
sailed  into  New  Spain,  and  so  travelled  there, 
and  by  the  South  Sea  [Pacific]  into  Peru,  the 
space  of  seventeen  or  eighteen  years. 

After  that  time  expired,  I  returned  into 
Spain;  and  so,  in  the  year  1586,  in  the  month  of  July,  I 
arrived  at  the  foresaid  city  of  London  :  where  perusing  the 
notes  which  I  had  taken  in  the  time  of  my  travel  in  those 
years,  I  have  set  down,  as  followeth. 


In  the  year  1568,  in  the  month  of  March,  being  desirous 
to  see  the  world,  I  embarked  myself  in  the  Bay  of  Cadiz,  in 
Andalusia,  in  a  ship  bound  for  the  isles  of  the  Canaries ; 
where  she  took  in  her  lading,  and  set  forth  from  thence  for 
the  voyage,  in  the  month  of  June  the  same  year. 

Within  a  month  after,  we  fell  with  the  isle  of  Santo 
Domingo;  and  from  thence,  sailing  directly  to  New  Spain, 
we  came  into  the  port  of  San  Juan  de  Ulua  [about  two  months 
before  Ha  WKINS's  arrival  at  the  same  port  on  September  16,  1568  : 
sec  Vol.  V.  p.  221,  and  the  following  description  probably  describes 
the  island  as  Sir  John  found  it]  :  which  is  a  little  island  stand- 
ing in  the  sea,  about  two  miles  [?J  from  the  land  :  where  the 
King  maintaineth  about  50  soldiers,  and  Captains,  that  keep 
the  forts  ;  and  about  150  Negroes,  who,  all  the  year  long,  are 
{iccupied  in  carrying  stone  for  building  and  other  uses,  and 
to  help  to  make  fast  the  ships  that  come  in  there  with  their 
cables.  There  are  two  Bulwarks  [batteries],  d-t  each  end  of  a 
wall,  that  standeth  likewise  in  the  said  island  ;  where  the 
ships  use  [are  accustomed  ]  to  ride,  made  fast  to  the  said  wall 
with  their  cables;  so  near,  that  a  man  may  leap  ashore. 

l-'rom  this  port,  I  journeyed  by  land  to  a  town  called  Vera 
Cruz,  standing  by  a  river's  side  :  where  all  the  Factors  of  the 
Spanish  merchants  dwell,  which  receive  the  goods  of  such 
bhips  as  come  thither ;  and  also  lade  the  same  with  such 
treasure  and  merchandize   as  they  return  back  into  Spain. 


^•^''^sej  The  Tlascalan  tax  of  a  handful  of  wheat,  i  3 

They  are  in  number,  about  400  :  who  only  remain  here  durin^:^ 
the  time  that  the  Spanish  Fleet  dischargeth  and  is  ladened 
again  ;  which  is  from  the  end  of  August,  to  the  beginning  of 
April  following  :  and  then,  for  the  unwholesomeness  of  the 
place,  they  depart  thence  sixteen  miles  further  up  within  the 
country,  to  a  town  called  Xalapa  [sec  Vol.  V.  p.  301],  a  very 
healthful  soil. 

There  is  never  any  woman  delivered  of  child  in  this  town  ; 
for  so  soon  as  they  perceive  themselves  conceived  with  child, 
they  get  them  up  into  the  country,  to  avoid  the  peril  of  the 
infected  air:  although  they  use  [are  accustomed],  every  morn- 
ing, to  drive  through  the  town,  about  2,000  head  of  cattle,  to 
take  away  the  ill  vapours  of  the  earth. 

From  Xalapa,  seven  leagues,  I  came  to  another  place 
named  Perota;  wherein  are  certain  houses  built  of  straw, 
called  by  the  name  of  Ventz  :  the  inhabitants  whereof  are 
Spaniards,  who  accustom  to  harbour  such  travellers  as  are 
occasioned  to  journey  that  way,  up  into  the  land.  It  standeth 
in  a  great  wood  of  pine  and  cedar  trees  ;  the  soil  being  very 
cold,  by  reason  of  store  of  snow,  which  lieth  on  the  mountains 
there,  all  the  year  long.  There  are  in  that  place,  an  infinite 
number  of  deer,  of  highness  like  unto  great  mules,  having 
also  horns  of  great  length. 

From  Perota,  nineleagues,  I  came  to  the  fo[u]ntsof  Ozumba  ; 
which  fo[u]nts  are  springs  of  water  issuing  out  of  certain 
rocks  into  the  midst  of  the  highway :  where  likewise  are 
certain  ranges ;  and  houses  for  the  uses  before  mentioned. 

Eight  leagues  off,  from  this  place,  I  came  to  the  City  of 
Angels  [Piiebla  de  los  Angeles],  so  called  by  that  name,  of  the 
Spaniards  ;  who  inhabit  there  to  the  number  of  1,000,  besides 
a  great  number  of  Indians.  This  city  standeth  in  very  plain 
fields,  having  near  adjoining  to  it  many  sumptuous  cities: 
as,  namely,  the  city  of  Tlascala,  a  city  of  200,000  Indians, 
tributary  to  the  King  [of  Spain]  ;  although  he  exacteth  no 
other  tribute  of  them  than  a  handful  of  wheat  a  piece, 
which  amounteth  to  13,000  hannegas  [2,600  English  Quarters] 
yearly,  as  appeareth  by  the  King's  Books  of  Account.  And 
the  reason  why  he  contenteth  himself  with  this  tribute  only 
from  them,  is  because  they  were  the  occasion  that  he  took 
the  city  of  Mexico  :  with  which,  the  Tlascalans  had  war  at 
the  same  time  that  the  Spaniards  came  into  the  country. 


14  The  Mexican  Indians  taxed  at  12s.  each,  p-f^^.'^^e. 

The  Governor  of  this  city  is  a  Spaniard,  called  among  them 
Alcadc  Major,  who  administereth  chiefest  causes  of  justice, 
both  unto  the  Christians  and  Indians  ;  referring  smaller  and 
lighter  vices,  as  drunkenness  and  such  like,  to  the  judgement 
and  discretion  of  such  of  the  Indians  as  are  chosen,  every 
year,  to  rule  amongst  them,  and  called  by  the  name  of 
Alcades. 

These  Indians  [at  Piiehla  de  los  Angeles],  from  fourteen 
years  old  and  upwards,  pay  unto  the  King  for  their  yearly 
tribute  one  ounce  of  silver  [the  Peso  =  6s.  8d.  {or  in  present 
value  53s.);  see  Vol.  V.  p.  227]  and  a  hannega  [}th  of  an 
English  Quarter]  of  maise,  which  is  valued  among  them  com- 
monly at  12  Rials  of  Plate  [or  silver  =  6s.  {or  in  present  valu 
48s.)].     The  widows  among  them  pay  half  of  this. 

The  Indians  both  of  this  city,  and  of  the  rest  lying  about 
Mexico,  go  clothed  with  mantles  of  linen  cloth  made  of  cotton 
wool,  painted  throughout  with  works  of  divers  and  fine 
colours. 

Distant  from  the  City  of  the  Angels,  four  leagues  to  the 
northward,  and  fourteen  from  Mexico;  there  is  another  city 
called  Cholula,  consisting  of  more  than  60,000  Indians, 
tributaries :  and  there  dwelleth  not  above  twelve  Spaniards 
there. 

From  it,  about  two  leagues,  there  is  another  called 
Acassingo,  of  about  5,000  Indians,  and  eight  or  twelve 
Spaniards ;  which  standeth  at  the  foot  of  the  Volcano  of 
Mexico  [Popocatepetl]. 

There  are  besides  these,  three  other  great  cities,  the  one 
named  Tepeaca,  a  very  famous  city;  Huexotzinco,  and 
Tetzmellocan. 

All  these,  in  times  past,  belonged  to  the  kingdom  Tlascala: 
and  from  these  cities  they  bring  all  their  cochineal  into  Spain 
[sec  Vol.  V.p.  60]. 

The  distance  from  the  City  of  the  Angels  to  the  city  of 
Mexico  is  twenty  leagues.  This  city,  Mexico,  is  the  city 
of  greatest  fame  in  all  the  Indias :  having  goodly  and 
costly  houses  in  it,  built  all  of  lime  and  stone;  and  seven 
streets  in  length,  and  seven  in  breadth,  with  rivers  running 
through  every  second  street,  by  which  they  bring  their  pro- 
vibiuns  in  canoes. 


•^■?^5.']  First  trip  to  New  Biscay  in   1569.    15 

It  is  situated  at  the  foot  of  certain  hills,  which  contain  in 
compass  by  estimation  above  twenty  leagues,  compassing 
the  said  city  on  the  one  side  ;  and  a  lake,  which  is  fourteen 
leagues  about,  on  the  other  side.  Upon  which  lake,  there 
are  built  many  notable  and  sumptuous  cities,  as  the  city  of 
Tescuco :  where  the  Spaniards  built  six  frigates  at  that  time 
when  they  conquered  Mexico;  and  where  also  Hernando 
Cortes  made  his  abode  five  or  six  months,  in  curing  of  the 
sickness  of  his  people,  which  they  had  taken  at  their  coming 
into  the  country.  There  dwell  in  this  city  about  60,000 
Indians,  which  pay  tribute  to  the  King. 

In  this  city  [Mexico]  the  said  Hernando  built  the  finest 
Church  that  ever  was  built  in  the  Indias ;  the  name  whereof 
is  St.  Peter's. 


After  I  had  continued  six  months  in  this  city;  being 
desirous  to  see  farther  the  countries,  I  employed  [invested] 
that  which  I  had,  and  took  my  voyage  [in  1569J  towards  the 
Provinces  of  the  California :  in  the  which  was  discovered  a 
certain  country  by  a  Biscayan,  whose  name  was  Diego  de 
Guiara,  and  called  it  after  the  name  of  his  country,  New 
Biscay  ;  where  I  sold  my  merchandise  for  exchange  of  silver, 
for  there  were  there  certain  rich  mines  discovered  by  the 
aforesaid  Biscayan. 

Going  from  Mexico,  I  directed  my  voyage  towards  the 
south-west,  to  certain  mines  called  Tamalxaltepec  ;  and  so 
travelled  forward,  the  space  of  twenty  days,  through  desert 
uninhabited  places,  till  I  came  to  the  Valley  of  St.  Bar- 
tholomew, which  joineth  to  the  province  of  New  Biscay.  In 
all  these  places,  the  Indians  are  for  the  most  part  naked,  and 
are  wild  people.  Their  common  armour  is  bows  and  arrows. 
They  use  [are  accustomed]  to  eat  up  such  Christians  as  they 
come  by. 

At  my  return  to  Mexico,  I  came  along  by  the  coast  of  the 
South  Sea,  through  the  Province  of  Zacatula ;  from  thence  in 
the  Province  of  Coloa  :  where  I  employed  the  silver  that  I  had 
in  a  certain  grain  growing  like  an  almond,  called  among  the 
Indians  Cacao  [Cocoa  beans]  which  in  New  Spain  is  current 
for  money,  to  buy  things  of  small  value,  as  fruits,  &c. ;  fof 
they  have  no  small  money  there  ;  and  in  which,  also,  they  pay 


1 6    Chilton  loses  igoo  ducats  by  Drake,    [^-f^'l'^l 

the  King  his  tribute.  They  grind  this  grain  to  a  powder,  and 
mingle  it  with  water;  and  so  is  made  both  bread  and  drink 
to  them;  which  is  a  provision  of  great  profit  and  good 
strength. 

From  thence  departing,  I  came  to  another  province  named 
Xalisco,  and  from  thence  to  the  port  of  Navidad  which  is 
sixty-six  leagues  from  Mexico.  In  which  port  arrive,  always 
in  the  month  of  April,  all  the  ships  that  come  out  of  the  South 
Sea,  from  China  and  the  Philippines;  and  there  they  lay 
their  merchandise  ashore :  the  most  part  whereof  is  mantles 
made  of  cotton  wool,  wax,  and  fine  platters  gilt  made  of  earth, 
and  much  gold. 

The  next  summer  following,  being  in  the  year  1570,  which 
was  the  first  year  that  the  Pope's  Bidls  were  brought  into 
the  Indias  ;  I  undertook  another  voyage  towards  the  Province 
of  Sonsonate,  which  is  in  the  kingdom  of  Guatemala  ;  whither 
I  carried  di\ers  merchandise  of  Spain,  all  by  land  on  mules' 
backs.  The  way  thitherward,  from  Mexico,  is  to  the  City  of 
the  Angels ;  and  from  thence  to  another  city  of  Christians, 
eighty  leagues  off,  called  Guaxaca,  in  which  there  dwelt  about 
fifty  Spaniards  and  many  Indians.  All  the  Indians  of  this 
Province  pay  their  tribute  in  mantles  of  cotton  wool,  and 
cochineal,  whereof  there  growelh  great  abundance  about  this 
country. 

Near  to  this  place,  there  lieth  a  port  in  the  South  Sea, 
called  Aquatulca  [Acapulco]  :  in  which  there  dwelleth  not 
above  three  or  four  Spaniards,  with  certain  Negroes  which 
the  King  maintaineth  there.  In  which  place,  Sir  Francis 
Drake  arrived  in  the  year  1579,  in  the  month  of  April  [see 
Vol.  V.  p.  294]  :  where  I  lost  with  his  being  there,  about 
1,000  ducats*  [=;^275  =now  about  ;^2,20o]  :  which  he  took 
away,  with  much  other  of  goods  of  other  merchants  of  Mexico, 
from  one  Fkanxiso  Gomes  Kangifa,  Factor  there,  for  all  the 
Spanish  merchants  that  then  traded  in  the  South  Sea.  For 
from  this  port,  they  use  to  embark  all  their  goods  that  go  for 
Peru,  and  to  the  kingdom  of  Honduras. 

From  Guaxaca,  I  came  to  a  town  named  Nixapa,  which 

*  This  loss  was  subsequent  to  the  conclusion  of  Chilton's  narrative 
of  his  personal  adventures  ;  which  ends  with  his  journey  to  Yucatan  ia 
//.  25,  26. 


■^■?^'''i586.']  Hawkins's  brass  tiece  at  Teiiuantepec.    17 

standeth  upon  certain  very  high  hills  in  the  Province  of 
Zapatecos,  wherein  inhabit  about  the  number  of  twenty 
Spaniards  by  the  King  of  Spain's  commandment,  to  keep 
that  country  in  peace ;  for  that  the  Indians  are  very  rebel- 
lious :  and  for  this  purpose  he  bestoweth  on  them  the  towns 
and  cities  that  be  within  that  Province. 

From  hence,  I  went  to  a  city  called  Tehuantepec,  which 
is  the  furthest  town  to  the  eastward  in  all  New  Spain, 
which  sometime  did  belong  to  [Hernando  Cortes]  the 
Marquis  de  la  Valle  :  and  because  it  is  a  very  fit  port, 
standing  in  the  South  Sea,  the  King  of  Spain,  upon  a  re- 
bellion [!]  made  by  the  said  Marquis  against  him,  took  it  from 
him,  and  doth  now  possess  it  as  his  own. 

Here,  in  the  year  1572,  I  saw  a  piece  of  ordnance  of  brass, 
called  a  Demi-Culverin,  which  came  out  of  a  ship  called  the 
Jesus  of  Lubeck  [See  Vol.  V.  pp.  223,  238],  which  Captain 
Hawkins  left  in  San  Juan  de  Ulua,  being  in  fight  with  the 
Spaniards,  in  the  year  1568,  which  piece  they  afterward 
carried  a  hundred  leagues  by  land,  over  mighty  mountains, 
to  the  said  city,  to  be  embarked  for  the  Philippines. 

Leaving  Tehuantepec,  I  went  still  along  by  the  South  Sea, 
about  150  leagues,  in  the  desolate  Province  of  Soconusco  :  in 
which  Province  there  groweth  Cacao,  which  the  Christians 
carry  from  thence  into  New  Spain  ;  for  that  it  will  not  grow 
in  any  cold  country.  The  Indians  of  this  country  pay  the 
King  their  tribute  in  Cacao,  giving  him  400  Cargas  (every 
Carge  is  2,400  almonds)  which  Carge  is  worth  in  Mexico,  30 
pieces  of  Rials  of  Plate  [15s.  {^£6  now)].  They  are  men  of 
great  riches,  and  withal  very  proud  :  and  in  all  this  Province 
throughout,  there  dwell  not  twenty  Christians. 

I  travelled  through  another  Province  called  Suchetepec^ 
and  thence  to  the  Province  of  Guasacapan,  in  both  of  which 
Provinces  are  very  few  people ;  the  biggest  town  therein 
having  not  above  200  Indians.  The  chiefest  merchandise 
there  is  Cacao. 

Hence,  I  went  to  the  city  of  Guatemala,  which  is  the 
chief  city  of  all  this  Kingdom.  In  this  city,  do  inhabit  about 
eighty  Spaniards  :  and  here  the  King  hath  his  Governors 
and  Council,  to  whom  all  the  people  of  the  kingdom  repair 
for  justice.  This  city  standeth  from  the  coast  of  the  South 
Sea,   fourteen   leagues   within    the   land,  and  is  very  rich, 

£ng.  Gar.  VI.  2, 


1 8   Second  trip,  in   1570-71,  to  Guatemala,  P-p.'fg^; 

by  reason  of  the  gold  that  they  fetch  out  of  the  coast  of 
\'eragua. 

From  this  city,  to  the  Eastward,  sixty  leagues,  hath  the 
Province  of  Sonsonate;  where  I  sold  the  merchandise  I 
carried  out  of  New  Spain.  The  chiefest  city  of  this  Province 
is  San  Salvador,  which  hath  seven  leagues  from  the  coast  of 
the  South  Sea,  and  hath  a  port  lying  by  the  sea  coast, 
called  Acaxutla,  where  the  ships  arrive  with  the  merchandise 
they  bring  from  New  Spain  ;  and  from  thence,  lade  back  the 
Cacao.     There  dwell  there  to  the  number  of  sixty  Spaniards. 

From  Sonsonate,  I  travelled  to  Nicoya,  which  is  the 
Kingdom  of  Nicaragua.  In  which  port,  the  King  buildeth 
all  the  shipping  that  travel  out  of  the  Indies  to  the  Moluccas. 

I  went  forward  from  thence  to  Costa  Rica,  where  the 
Indians,  both  men  and  women,  go  all  naked ;  and  the  land 
lieth  between  Panama  and  the  Kingdom  of  Guatemala. 

And  for  that  the  Indians  there,  live  as  warriors,  I  durst 
not  pass  by  land  :  so  that  here,  in  a  town  called  San  Salvador, 
I  bestowed  that  which  I  carried  in  anil  [indigo],  which  is  a 
kind  of  thing  to  dye  blue  withal,  which  I  carried  with  me 
to  the  port  of  Cavallos  [see  Vol.  V.p.  302.  At  present,  called 
Puerto  Cortes  or  Cabellos],  lying  in  the  Kingdom  of  Honduras: 
which  port  is  a  mighty  huge  river;  and  at  the  coming  in 
of  the  one  side  of  it,  there  lieth  a  town  of  little  force,  without 
ordnance  or  any  other  strength,  having  in  it  houses  of  straw. 
At  which  town,  the  Spaniards  use  yearly,  in  the  month  of 
August,  to  unlade  four  ships  which  come  out  of  Spain  laden 
with  rich  merchandise,  and  receive  in  again  here,  a  kind  of 
merchandise  called  anil,  cochineal  (although  it  be  not  of  such 
value  as  that  of  New  Spain),  silver  of  the  mines  of  Toma 
Angua,  gold  of  Nicaragua,  hides,  and  salsaparilla  the  best  in 
all  the  Indies.  All  which  merchandise  they  return  [take  back', 
and  depart  from  thence  always  in  the  month  of  April  following 
[Chilton  evidently  ivcnt  this  voyage  in  April,  1571],  taking  their 
course  by  the  island  of  Jamaica  :  in  which  island,  there  dwell 
on  the  west  side  of  it  certain  Spaniards  of  no  great  number. 
From  this  place,  they  go  to  Cape  St.  Antonio  ;  which  is  the 
uttermost  part  of  the  westward  of  the  isle  of  Cuba. 

And  from  thence,  to  Havanna,  lying  hard  by  ;  which  is  the 
chiefest  port  that  the  King  of  Spain  hath  in  all  the  countries 
of  tiic  Indies,  and  of  greatest  importance.     For  all  the  ships 


J-^'^'^i'^g";]  Honduras,  Havanna,  and  Peru;  and  back.  19 

from  Peru,  Honduras,  Porto  Rico,  Santo  Domingo,  Jamaica, 
and  all  other  places  in  his  Indies,  arrive  there,  on  their 
return  to  Spain;  for  that  in  this  port,  they  take  in  victuals 
and  water,  and  the  most  part  of  their  lading.  Here  they 
meet  from  all  the  foresaid  places,  always  in  the  beginning  of 
May,  by  the  King's  commandment.  At  the  entrance  of 
this  port,  it  is  so  narrow  that  there  can  scarce  come  in  two 
ships  together ;  although  it  be  above  six  fathoms  deep  in 
the  narrowest  place  of  it. 

In  the  north  side  of  the  coming  in,  there  standeth  a  tower, 
in  which  there  watcheth  every  day  a  man  to  descry  the  sail 
of  ships  which  he  can  see  on  the  sea  :  and  as  many  as  he 
discovereth,  so  many  banners  he  setteth  upon  the  tower, 
that  the  people  of  the  town  (which  standeth  within  the  port 
about  a  mile  from  the  tower)  may  understand  thereof.  [See 
Vol.  III.  p.  444,  for  a  similar  arrangement  at  Terceira.] 

Under  this  tower,  there  lieth  a  sandy  shore,  where  men 
may  easily  go  aland  :  and  by  the  tower,  there  runneth  a  hill 
along  by  the  water's  side ;  which  easily,  with  small  store  of 
ordnance,  subdueth  the  town  and  port.  The  port  within  is 
so  large,  that  there  may  easily  ride  a  thousand  sail  of  ships, 
without  anchor  or  cable  :  for  no  wind  is  able  to  hurt  them. 

There  inhabit  within  the  town  of  Havanna,  about  300 
Spaniards,  and  about  sixty  soldiers  ;  which  the  King  main- 
taineth  there,  for  the  keeping  of  a  certain  castle  which  he 
hath  of  late  erected,  which  hath  planted  in  it  about  twelve 
pieces  of  small  ordnance.  It  is  compassed  round  with  a  small 
ditch,  wherethrough,  at  their  pleasure,  they  may  let  in  the  sea. 

About  two  leagues  from  Havanna,  there  lieth  another  town 
called  Guanabacoa,  in  which  there  are  dwelling  about  100 
Indians :  and  from  this  place  sixty  leagues,  there  lieth 
another  town  named  Bahama,  situated  on  the  north  side  of 
the  island.  The  chiefest  city  of  this  island  of  Cuba,  which 
is  above  200  miles  in  length,  is  also  called  Cuba  [Santiago 
de  Cuba]  ;  where  dwelleth  a  Bishop  and  about  200  Spaniards: 
which  town  standeth  on  the  south  side  of  the  island  about 
a  hundred  leagues  from  Havanna. 

All  the  trade  of  this  island  is  cattle  ;  which  they  kill  only 
for  the  hides  that  are  brought  thence  into  Spain.  For  which 
end,  the  Spaniards  maintain  there  many  negroes  to  kill  their 
cattle :    and  foster  [breed]    a  great   number  of  hogs,  which 


20    Returning  by  Guatemala,  to  Mexico,     [^f^'l^, 

being  killed  and  cut  into  small  pieces,  they  dry  in  the  sun  ; 
and  so  make  provision  for  the  ships  which  come  for  Spain. 

Having  remained  in  this  island  two  months,  I  took  shipping 
[  ?  in  July,  1571]  in  a  frigate  [briganiine],  and  went  over  to 
Nombre  de  Dios  ;  and  from  thence  by  land  to  Panama,  which 
standeth  upon  the  South  Sea.  From  Nombre  de  Dios  to 
Panama  is  seventeen  leagues  [see  Vol.  V.  pp.  537  and  552I. 
From  which  town  ^Nombre]  there  runneth  a  river,  which  is 
called  the  River  of  Chagres,  which  runneth  [up]  within  five 
leagues  of  Panama,  to  a  place  called  [Venta  de]  Cruzes :  by 
which  river  they  carry  their  goods  and  disembark  it  at  the  said 
Cruzes  ;  and  from  thence  it  is  conveyed  on  mules'  backs  to 
Panama  by  land  :  where  they  again  embark  it,  in  certain 
small  ships,  in  the  South  Sea  for  all  the  coast  of  Peru.  In 
one  of  these  ships,  I  went  to  [started  for]  Potosi,  and  from 
thence  by  land  to  Cuzco,  and  from  thence  to  Paita.  Here 
I  remained  the  space  of  seven  months. 

I  then  returned  towards  the  Kingdom  of  Quatemala ;  and 
arrived  in  the  Provinces  of  Nicoya  and  Nicaragua. 

From  Nicaragua,  I  travelled  by  land  to  a  Province  called 
Nicamula,  which  lieth  towards  the  North  Sea  [Giilf  of 
Mexico]  in  certain  high  mountains  :  for  that  I  could  not  pass 
through  the  kingdom  of  Quatemala  at  that  time,  for  the 
waters  wherewith  all  the  low  countries  of  the  Province  of 
Soconusco,  lying  by  the  South  Sea,  are  drowned  with  the 
rain  that  falleth  above  in  the  mountains,  enduring  always 
from  April  to  September ;  which  season  for  that  cause  they 
call  their  winter. 

From  this  Province,  I  came  into  another  called  Vera 
Paz  ;  in  which  the  chiefest  city  is  also  called  after  that  name, 
where  there  dwelleth  a  Bishop,  and  about  forty  Spaniards. 
Among  the  mountains  of  this  country  towards  the  North 
Sea,  there  is  a  Province  called  La  C  and  on  a,  \wherQ  are  Indian 
men  of  war  which  the  King  cannot  subdue :  for  they  have 
towns  and  forts  in  a  great  lake  of  water  above,  in  the  said 
mountains.  The  most  part  of  them  go  naked,  and  some 
wear  mantles  of  cotton  wool. 

Distant  from  this,  about  eighty  leagues,  I  came  into  an- 
other Province,  called  the  Province  of  Chiapa  ;  wherein  the 
chiefest  city  is  called  Zacatlan  [Ciudad  Real]  :  where  dwelleth 
a  Bishop  and  about  a  hundred  Spaniards.     In  this  country 


J-j^^'^e;] Third  trip,  1572-3,  toTampico  &  Zacatecas.  2 1 

there  is  great  store  of  cotton  wool;  whereof  the  Indians  make 
line  linen  cloth,  which  the  Christians  bu}'  and  carry  into  New 
Spain.  The  people  of  this  Province  pay  their  tribute  to  the 
King  all  in  cotton  wool  and  feathers. 

Fourteen  leagues  from  this  city,  there  is  another  city 
called  Chiapa ;  where  are  the  finest  gennets  in  all  the  Indies, 
which  are  carried  hence  to  Mexico,  300  leagues  from  it. 

From  this  city,  I  travelled  still  [going  now  southward] 
through  hills  and  mountains  till  I  came  to  the  end  of  this 
Province,  to  a  hill  called  Ecatepec,  which  in  English  signi- 
fieth,  the  "  Hill  of  Wind  "  :  for  that  they  say  it  is  the  highest 
hill  that  was  ever  discovered,  for  from  the  top  of  it  may  be 
discovered  both  the  North  and  South  Seas  ;  and  it  is  in  height 
supposed  to  be  nine  leagues.  They  which  travel  over  it,  lie 
always  at  the  foot  of  it  overnight,  and  begin  their  journey 
about  midnight  to  travel  to  the  top  of  it  before  the  sunrise 
of  the  next  day  :  because  the  wind  bloweth  with  such  force 
afterwards,  that  it  is  impossible  for  any  man  to  go  up. 

From  the  foot  of  this  hill  to  Tehuantepec,  the  first  town 
of  New  Spain,  is  about  fifteen  leagues.  And  so  from  thence,  I 
journeyed  to  Mexico. 

By  and  by,  after  I  came  to  Mexico,  which  was  in  the  year 
1572  ;  in  the  company  of  another  Spaniard,  who  was  my 
companion  in  this  journey  [to  Peru  and  hack]  ;  we  went  to- 
gether toward  the  Province  of  Panuco  which  lieth  upon  the 
coast  of  the  North  Sea. 

Within  three  days'  journey,  we  entered  a  city  called  Mez- 
titlan,  where  there  dwelt  twelve  Spaniards.  The  Indian 
inhabitants  there  were  about  30,000.  This  city  standeth  in 
certain  high  mountains,  which  are  very  thick  planted  with 
trees;  very  wholesome  and  fruitful,  having  plentiful  fountains 
of  water  running  through  them.  The  highways  of  these  hills 
are  all  set  with  fruits  and  most  pleasant  trees  of  divers  kinds. 
In  every  town,  as  we  passed  through,  the  Indians  presented 
us  with  victuals. 

Within  twenty  leagues  of  this  place,  there  is  another  city, 
called  Tlanchinoltepec,  belonging  to  a  gentleman,  where 
there  inhabit  about  40,000  Indians:  and  there  are  among 
them,  eight  or  nine  Friars  of  the  order  of  Saint  Augustine, 
who  have  there  a  monastery. 


2  2    C  HILTON    41    DAYS    SICK    AT    PaNUCO.  [■^•,^"''^'386; 

Within  three  days  after,  we  departed  from  this  place,  and 
came  to  a  city  called  Guaxutla;  where  there  is  another 
Monastery  of  Friars  of  the  same  order.  There  dwell  in  this 
town  about  twelve  Spaniards. 

From  this  place  forwards,  beginneth  a  Province  called 
Guastecan ;  which  is  all  plain  grounds  without  any  hills. 
The  first  town  we  came  unto  is  called  Tanguilabe,  in  which 
there  dwell  many  Indians  high  of  stature,  having  all  their 
bodies  painted  with  blue,  and  wear  their  hair  long  down  to 
their  knees,  tied  as  women  used  to  do  with  their  hairlaces. 
When  they  go  out  of  their  doors,  they  carry  with  them  their 
bows  and  arrows,  being  very  great  archers :  going  for  the 
most  part  naked. 

In  those  countries,  they  take  neither  gold  nor  silver  for 
exchange  of  anything;  but  only  salt:  which  they  greatly 
esteem,  and  use  it  as  a  principal  medicine  for  certain  v/orms 
which  breed  in  their  lips  and  in  their  gums. 

After  nine  days'  travel  from  this  place,  we  came  to  a  town 
called  Tampico,  which  is  a  port  town  upon  the  sea  ;  wherein 
there  dwell,  I  think,  forty  Christians :  of  which  number, 
whilst  we  abode  there,  the  Indians  [Chichimics]  killed  four- 
teen, as  they  were  gathering  salt ;  which  is  all  the  trade  that 
they  have  in  this  place.  It  standeth  upon  the  entry  of  the 
river  of  Panuco,  which  is  a  mighty  great  river :  and  were  it 
not  for  a  sand  that  lieth  at  the  mouth  of  it,  ships  of  500 
tons  might  go  up  into  it  above  threescore  leagues. 

From  hence,  we  went  to  Panuco,  fourteen  leagues  from 
Tampico ;  which  in  times  past  had  been  a  goodly  city,  where 
the  King  of  Spain  had  his  Governor :  but  by  reason  that  the 
Indians  [Chichimics]  there  destroyed  the  Christians,  it  lieth 
in  a  manner  waste,  containing  in  it  not  above  ten  Christians, 
with  a  priest. 

In  this  town,  I  fell  sick :  where  I  lay  forty-one  days,  having 
no  other  sustenance  than  fruit  and  water  :  which  water  I  sent 
for,  about  six  leagues  off  within  the  country.  Here  I  remained 
till  my  companion  came  to  me,  who  had  departed  from 
me  another  way ;  I  having  kept  in  my  company  only  a  slave 
which  I  brouglit  with  me  from  Mexico  :  and  the  last  day  in 
Easter  week  [1572  or  1573],  my  companion  came  to  me, 
finding  me  in  a  very  weak  state,  by  reason  of  the  unwhole- 
bomencss  of  the  place. 


^■j^H'sse."]  Nearly  eaten  by  the  Ciiiciiimic  Indians.     23 

Notwithstanding  my  weakness,  I  being  set  on  a  horse  and 
an  Indian  behind  me  to  hold  me ;  we  went  forward  in  our 
voyage  all  that  day  till  night. 

The  next  day,  in  the  morning,  we  passed  over  the  river  in 
a  canoe  :  and  being  on  the  other  side,  I  went  myself  before 
alone  ;  and  by  reason  there  met  many  ways  trailed  by  the 
wild  beasts,  I  lost  my  way  :  and  so  travelled  through  a  great 
wood  about  two  leagues  ;  and  at  length  fell  into  the  hands 
of  certain  wild  Indians  [Chicldmics],  which  were  in  certain 
cottages  made  of  straw.  Who  seeing  me,  came  out,  to  the 
number  of  twenty  of  them,  with  their  bows  and  arrows  ; 
and  spake  unto  me  in  their  language  ;  which  I  understood 
not. 

So  I  made  signs  unto  them  to  help  me  from  my  horse  ; 
which  they  did,  by  commandment  of  their  lord  [chief]  which 
was  there  with  them  :  and  [a] lighted  down,  they  carried  me 
under  one  of  their  cottages,  and  laid  me  upon  a  mat  on  the 
ground. 

Perceiving  that  I  could  not  understand  them,  they  brought 
unto  me  a  little  Indian  wench,  of  Mexico,  of  fifteen  or  sixteen 
years  of  age ;  whom  they  commanded  to  ask  me  in  her 
language,  from  whence  I  came,  and  for  what  intent  I  am 
among  them  ?  "  For,"  said  she,  "  dost  thou  not  know, 
Christian  !  how  that  these  people  will  kill  and  eat  thee  ?  " 

To  whom  I  answered,  "  Let  them  do  with  me,  what  they 
will  !  here  now  I  am  !  " 

She  replied,  saying,  "  Thou  mayst  thank  GOD  thou  art 
lean !  for  they  do  fear  thou  hast  the  [small] pox,  otherwise 
they  would  eat  thee  !  " 

So  I  presented  to  the  King  [caique  or  chief]  a  little  wine, 
which  I  had  with  me  in  a  bottle  ;  which  he  esteemed  above 
any  treasure  :  for  for  wine  they  will  sell  their  wives  and 
children. 

Afterwards  the  wench  asked  me,  "  What  I  would  have, 
and  whether  I  would  eat  anything  ?  " 

I  answered  that  "  I  desired  a  little  water  to  drink,  for  that 
the  country  is  very  hot!  " 

She  brought  me  a  great  gilded  Venice  glass  full  of 
water.  Marvelling  at  the  glass,  I  demanded,  "  How  they 
came  by  it  ?  " 

She  told  me  that  "  the  Caique  brought  it  from  Shallapa 


24 


On  the  march  from  Panuco  to  Zacatecas.  [^-Pf^l 


r?  Jalapa^,  a  town  on  the  hills  distant  from  this  place  thirty 
leagues;  whereas  dwelt  certain  Christians  and  certain  Friars 
of  the  order  of  St.  Augustine  :  which  this  Caique  with  his 
people,  on  a  night,  slew ;  and  burning  the  Friars'  Monastery, 
among  other  thmgs,  reserved  this  glass;  and  from  hence  also 
brought  me." 

Having  now  been  conversant  with  them,  three  or  four 
hours,  they  bid  her  ask  me,  "  if  I  would  go  my  way  ?  " 

I  answered  her  that  "  I  desired  nothing  else." 

So  the  Caique  caused  two  of  the  Indians  to  lead  me  for- 
ward in  my  way,  going  before  me,  with  their  naked  bows  and 
arrows,  the  space  of  three  leagues,  till  they  brought  me  to  a 
highway  :  and  then  making  a  sign  to  me,  they  signified  that 
in  a  short  time,  I  should  come  to  a  town  where  Christians 
inhabited  ;  which  was  called  Santiago  de  las  Villas,  standing 
in  the  plain  fields,  walled  about  with  a  mud  wall.  The  num- 
ber of  Christians  that  dwelt  therein  were  not  above  four  or 
five  and  twenty  :  unto  which  the  King  of  Spain  giveth  Indians 
and  towns,  to  keep  the  country  subject  unto  him. 

Here  the  Christians  have  their  mighty  mules,  with  which 
they  carry  to  all  parts  of  the  Indies,  and  into  Peru  ;  for  all 
their  merchandise  is  carried  by  land  by  this  means. 

In  this  town  aforesaid,  I  found  my  company  [his  Spanish 
friend,  &c.]  which  I  had  lost  before  ;  who  made  no  other 
account  of  me  but  that  I  had  been  slain.  And  the  Christians 
there  likewise  marvelled  to  hear  that  I  came  from  those  kind 
of  Indians  alive  :  which  was  a  thing  never  seen,  nor  heard  of 
before.  For  they  take  great  pride  in  killing  a  Christian,  and 
to  wear  any  part  of  him  where  he  hath  any  hair  growing 
[r.^^,  the  scalp],  hanging  it  about  their  necks,  and  so  are 
accounted  for  valiant  men. 

In  this  town,  I  remained  eighteen  days,  till  I  recovered 
my  health.  In  the  mean  space,  there  came  one  Don 
Fkanxisco  de  Pago, whom  the  Viceroy,  Don  HenricoManki- 
QUEs,  had  sent,  for  Captain  General,  to  open  and  discover  a 
certain  way  from  the  seaside  to  the  mines  of  Zacatecas, 
which  is  from  this  place  i6o  leagues ;  for  to  transport 
their  merchandise  that  way  :  and  to  leave  the  way  by  Mexico, 
whicli  is  se\'cn  or  eight  months'  travel. 

So  tiiis  Captain    took    me   and    my   company   [Iiis   slave, 


•^■?*^^is86.']  Fourth  trip,  to  Campeche  and  Yucatan.   25 

Spanish  friend,  &c.]  with  the  rest  of  his  soldiers,  to  the  num- 
ber of  forty,  which  he  had  brought  with  him,  and  500  Indians 
which  we  took  out  of  two  towns  in  this  Province  called 
Tanchipa  and  Tamadelipa,  all  good  archers  and  naked  men  ; 
and  went  thence  to  the  river  de  las  Palmas  [  ?  Rio  Satander] 
of  great  bigness,  parting  the  kingdom  of  New  Spain  and 
Florida. 

Going  still  along  by  this  river  the  space  of  three  days,  seek- 
ing a  passage  to  pass  over  and  finding  none  :  we  were  at  length 
enforced  to  cut  timber  to  make  a  balsa  [raft]  which  when  we 
had  made,  we  sat  on  it,  and  the  Indians  swimming  in  the 
water  and  thrusting  it  before  them  to  the  other  side. 

Within  thirty  days  after,  after  travelling  through  woods, 
hills,  and  mountains,  we  came  to  the  mines  of  Zacatecas  : 
which  are  the  richest  mines  in  all  the  Indies,  and  from 
thence  they  fetch  most  silver.  In  which  mines,  there  dwelt 
above  300  Christians. 

There,  our  Captain  gave  us  leave  to  depart.  So  we  came 
to  the  Valley  of  Saint  Michael,  toward  Mexico;  and  from 
thence  to  Puebla  Neuva. 

And  from  that  place,  to  the  Province  of  Mechuacan  (after 
which  name,  the  chiefest  city  of  that  place  is  called,  where 
dwell  a  Bishop  and  above  a  hundred  Spaniards  in  it).  It 
aboundeth  with  all  kinds  of  Spanish  fruits,  and  hath  woods 
full  of  nut  trees  and  wild  vines.  Here  are  many  mines  of 
copper,  and  great  store  of  cattle.  It  lieth  sixty  leagues  from 
Mexico  (whither  we  came  within  four  days  after).  The 
Indians  of  this  country  are  very  mighty  and  big  men. 


Afterwards,  I  returned  another  way,  to  the  Province  of  Son- 
sonate,  by  Vera  Cruz;  and  so  to  the  Rio  Alvarado  ;  and  from 
thence  to  the  Province  of  Campeche  [now  Yncatan],  which 
lieth  on  the  south  side  of  the  Bay  of  Mexico.  The  chief  town 
of  this  Province  is  called  Merida,  in  which  is  a  Bishop  and 
almost  a  hundred  Spaniards.  The  Indians  of  this  Province 
pay  all  their  tribute  in  mantles  of  cotton  wool  and  cocoa. 
There  is  no  port  in  all  this  Province  for  a  ship  of  a  100  tons 
to  ride  in,  but  only  in  the  river  of  Tabasco,  by  which  river 
the  city  of  Merida  standeth.  The  chiefest  merchandise  with 
which  they  lade  there  in  small   frigates,  is  a  certain  wood 


26    The  King  of  Spain's  W.  Indian  revenue.  P^^'^S": 

called  campcche  [logwood]  wherewith  they  use  to  dye,  as  also 
hides  and  anil. 

By  this,  there  lieth  the  Province  of  Yucatan  near  the 
Honduras,  by  the  North  Sea  coast;  where  there  is  also 
another  Bishop,  and  a  town  likewise  named  Yucatans 
[  ?  Valladolid],  where  dwell  a  few  Spaniards.  They  have  no 
force  at  all,  in  all  this  coast,  to  defend  themselves  withal ; 
save  only  that  the  land  is  low,  and  there  is  no  port  to  receive 
any  shipping  unless  they  be  frigates,  which  carry  from  thence 
to  the  port  of  San  Juan  de  Ulua,  wax,  cocoa,  honey:  also 
mantles  of  cotton  wool,  whereof  they  make  their  great  store  ; 
and  of  which  kind  of  merchandise  there  is  great  trade  thence 
to  Mexico.  Of  the  same  also,  they  pay  their  tribute  to  the 
King. 


The  King  hath  tribute  brought  him  yearly  out  of  the  Indies 
into  Spain  of  between  nine  and  ten  millions  of  gold  and  silver 
[t.e.,  crowns,  equal  to  seventy  to  eighty  millions  of  the  present  day]. 
Yov  he  receiveth  of  every  Indian  that  is  subject  to  him,  ex- 
cepting those  which  do  belong  to  the  Inconimenderos  (which 
are  the  children  of  those  Spaniards  who  first  conquered  the 
land  ;  to  whom  the  King  gave  and  granted  the  government 
of  the  cities  and  towns  subdued,  for  three  lives)  12  Rials  of 
Plate  [=  6s.,  or  in  present  value  485.]  and  a  hannega  (five  of 
them  make  a  Quarter  of  English  measure)  of  maize  which  is 
a  wheat  of  the  country  :  and  of  every  widow  woman,  he  had 
6\  rials  [^s.^^d.,  or  26s.  noiv]  and  half  a  hannega  of  maize. 
So  if  an  infidel  [heathen]  have  twenty  children  in  his  house, 
he  payeth  for  every  one  of  them,  being  above  fifteen  years 
old,  after  that  rate.  This  wheat,  being  duly  brought  to  the 
Governor  of  every  Province  and  city,  is  sold  in  Mexico,  by 
the  King's  Governors  there,  every  year.  So  that  the  money 
received  for  it  is  put  into  the  King's  Treasury  there  ;  and  so 
is  yearly  carried  from  thence  into  Spain. 

Of  the  Spaniards  which  are  owners  of  the  mines  of  gold 
and  silver,  he  receiveth  the  Fifth  Part,  which  he  calleth  his 
(,)uinlas  :  which  being  taken  out  of  the  heap,  there  are  his 
arms  set  on  it  ;  for,  otherwise,  it  may  not  be  brought  out  of 
the  land  into  Spain,  under  pain  of  death. 

Ihc  Mark  of  Silver,  wiiich  ib   8  ounces,  when  it   cometh 


j.chiuon.-i  The  Christians  and  Indians  rebellious.    27 

!     1585.J 

carry  it  to  the  Km^  s  ^^reabu  thereby,  to 

?;yrofTl"t:Vr/s: Ve'  K^rfh  for  his  custom  ,a., 
"'^Stltear  Sirc^Mifwas  the  year  that  the  Pope;;s 

flSfhef  car;'^o?h  "P^.r  with  then,  into  the  Indies 

^r^'ZwhiifiltVanVway,  stolen;  and  so  is  par- 
^Tlfe'ilvenue'of  his  Bulk,  after  this  manner,  yieldeth  unto 

"Sf do^re^to  t^:VBuns:  for  t\at  thev  perce.ve 
?il:r  t.Lr  fo'r^  :.Tr  e^.'^-  ^vheLl'  n  former 

rral'ttXttna'm'nrsSl^^^^^^ 

house),  and  tearetn  uic   ^..^  sav  n?  thus, 

^-^-l^r:^^f:^^r:^,  'in^Lr^hlch  tLy%ou,ht 


28     No  WINE  OR  OIL  MAY  GROW  IN  MeXICO.    [^-f^l'^^e. 

the  year  before  they  had  above  10,000  years'  Pardon.'' 
These  pieces  they  stick  up  in  the  wall  of  the  houses  where 
they  lie. 

Both  the  Christians  and  Indians  are  weary  with  these 
infinite  taxes  and  customs,  which,  of  late,  he  hath  imposed 
upon  them  more  than  in  the  years  before. 

So  the  people  of  both  sorts  did  rebel  twice  in  the  time 
that  I  was  among  them  [1568-1585  ?  ]  ;  and  would  have  set 
up  another  King  of  themselves.  For  which  cause,  the  King 
hath  commanded,  upon  pain  of  death,  that  they  should  not 
plant  either  wine  or  oil  there  ;  but  should  always  stand  in 
need  of  them  to  be  brought  out  of  Spain  :  although  there 
would  more  grow  there  in  four  years,  than  there  groweth  in 
Spain  in  twenty,  it  is  so  fertile  a  country. 

And  the  King,  to  keep  the  country  always  in  subjection 
and  to  his  own  use,  hath  straitly  provided  by  law,  upon  pain 
of  death  and  loss  of  goods,  that  none  of  these  countries 
should  traffic  with  any  other  nation,  although  the  people 
themselves  do  much  now  desire  to  trade  with  any  other 
that  with  them  [than  with  them]  ;  which  they  would  un- 
doubtedly do,  if  they  feared  not  the  peril. 


About  Mexico  and  other  places  in  New  Spain,  there  groweth 
a  certain  plant  called  Nc<^e  [ilic  Mexican  A^avc],  which  yieldeth 
wine,  vinegar,  honey,  and  black  sugar  ;  and  of  the  leaves  of  it 
dried,  they  make  hemp,  ropes,  shoes  which  they  use,  and  tiles 
for  their  houses  :  and  at  the  end  of  every  leaf  there  groweth  a 
sharp  point  like  an  awl,  wherewith  they  use  to  bore  or  pierce 
through  anything. 

Thus  I  make  an  end.  I  have  here  set  down  the  sum  of 
all  the  chiefest  things  that  I  have  observed  and  noted  in  my 
seventeen  years'  travels  in  those  parts. 


29 


Lyrics,  Elegies,   &'c.  from  Madrigals, 
Canzonets,  &c. 


The    Triumph  3    of   Oriana. 

Edited    by    Thomas    Morley. 

I  6  o  I. 


To  THE  Right  Honourable 
The  Lord  CHARLES  HOWARD, 

Earl  of  Nottingham,   Baron  of   Effingham, 

Knight    of   the   noble    Order    of    the    Garter; 

Lord  High  Admiral  of  England,  Ireland,  and 

Wales,  &c.;  and  one  of  Her  Majesty's  most 

honourable  Privy   Council. 

Right    Honourable. 

Have  adventured  to  dedicate  these  few  discordant 
tunes,  to  be  censured  by  the  ingenious  disposition  of 
your  Lordship's  honourable  rare  perfection  ;  persuad- 
ing myself  that  these  labours,  composed  by  me  and 
others-as  in  "the  survey  hereof,  your  Lordship  may  well  perceive 
—may   not,  by  any  means,  pass  without  the  malignity  of  some 


30  Dedication  to  the  Earl  of  Nottingham.  [^-^^T'o^; 

malicious  MoMUS,  whose  malice,  being  as  toothsome  as  adder's 
sti7ig,  couched  in  the  progress  of  a  wayfaring  man's  passage,  might 
make  him  retire,  though  almost  at  his  journey's  end. 

Two  special  motives  have  emboldened  me.  Right  Honourable  ! 
in  this  my  proceeding.  First,  for  that  I  consider  that  as  the  body 
cannot  be  without  the  shadow  ;  so  HOMER,  the  prince  of  poets, 
may  not  be  without  a  Zoilist.  The  second  and  last  is  the  most 
forcible  motive  :  I  know  not  only  by  report,  by  also  by  experience, 
your  Lordship  to  be  not  only  Philomusus,  a  Lover  of  the  Mnses 
and  of  Learning  ;  but  Philomathes,  a  personage  always  desirous, 
though  in  all  arts  sufficiently  skilful,  to  come  to  a  more  high  per- 
fection or  summum  bonum. 

/  will  not  trouble  your  Lordship  with  too  too  tedious  circum- 
stances, only  I  humbly  entreat  your  Lordship — in  the  name  of 
many — to  patronage  this  work,  with  not  less  acceptance,  than  I 
with  a  willing  and  kind  heart,  dedicate  it.  So  shall  I  think 
the  initium  of  this  work  not  only  happily  began,  but  to  be  finited 
with  a  more  happy  period. 

Your  Honour's  devoted  in  all  duty, 

T  II  O  M  a  S      M  O  R  L  E  Y  . 


31 


Lyrics^    Elegies^   Sf r.  from  Madrigals^ 
Canzonets^  &'c. 

The    Triumph^    of   Oriana. 

MICHAEL     ESTE. 

Ence  Stars  !  too  dim  of  light ! 
You  dazzle  but  the  sight  ! 
You  teach  to  grope  by  night ! 
See  here  the  shepherd's  star  I 
Excelling  you  so  far." 
Then  Phcebus  wiped  his  eye, 
And  Zephyr  cleared  the  skies 
In  sweet  accented  cries, 
Then  sang  the  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  Diana, 
Long  live  fair  Oriana  ! 

IT  This  Song  being  sent  too  late,  and  all  my  others  printed, 
I  placed  it  before  the  rest,  rather  than  to  leave  it  out. 

DANIEL     NORCOME. 

|ITH  Angel's  face  and  brightness,  and  orient  hue, 
'  Fair  Oriana  shining,  with  nimble  foot  she  tripped 
o'er  hills  and  mountains ; 

Hard  by  Diana's  fountains; 
At  last  in  dale  she  rested. 
This  is  that  maiden  Queen  of  the  Fairy  Land, 

With  sceptre  in  her  hand.  [lightness. 

The    Fawns  and   Satyrs   dancing,   did   show  their    nimble 
Fair  Nais  and  the  nymphs  did  leave  their  bowers, 
And  brought  their  baskets  full  of  herbs  and  flowers: 
Then  sang  the  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  Diana, 
Long  live  fair  ORIANA  ! 


Lyrics,  Elegies,  &c.  from  [ 


Ed.  by  T.  Morley. 
1601. 


JOHN     MUNDY. 

Ightly  She  whipped  o'er  the  dales. 
Making  the  woods  proud  with  her  presence  ; 
Gently  She  trode  the  flowers,  and  they  as  gently 
kissed  her  tender  feet. 
The  birds  in  their  best  language  bade  her  welcome, 
Being  proud  that  Oriana  heard  their  song. 
The   clove-foot    Satyrs   singing,  made  music  to    the  Fauns 

a-dancing, 
And  both  together,  with  an  emphasis,sang  Oriana's  praises 
Whilst  the  adjoining  woods  with  melody  did  entertain  their 

sweet  harmony. 
Then  sang  the  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  Diana, 
Long  live  fair  Oriana  ! 


ELLIS     GIBBONS. 

Also  set  to  music  by   Thomas    hunt. 

OxG  live  fair  Oriana  ! 
Hark !  did  you  ever  hear  so  sweet  a  singing? 

They  sing,  young  Love  to  waken  ! 
The   nymphs    unto   the   woods,    their   Queen    are 
bringing. 

There  was  a  note  well  taken  ! 
O  good.',   hark  !  how  joyfully  'tis  ditticd  ! 
A  Queen  and  Song  most  excellently  fitted. 
I  never  saw  a  fairer, 
I  never  heard  a  rarer : 
Then  sing,  ye  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  DiANA, 
Long  live  fair  Oriana  ! 


Ed. by T. Moriey.i   Madrigals,  Canzonets,  &c.    33 

I60I.  J 

JOHN      BENET. 

ILL  creatures  now  are  merry-minded, 

The  shepherd's  daughters  playing  : 

The  nymphs  are  "  Fa,  la  la-ing," 

Yon  bugle  was  well  winded  ! 
At  Oriana's  presence,  each  thing  smileth  ! 

The  flowers  themselves  discover  ! 

Birds  over  her  do  hover  ! 

Music,  the  time  beguileth  ! 
See,  where  She  comes,  with  flow'ry  garlands  crowned, 

Queen  of  all  queens  renowned. 
Then  sang  the  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  Diana, 
Long  live  fair  Oriana  ! 


JOHN      HILTON. 

Air  Oriana,  Beauty's  Queen ! 
Tripped  along  the  verdant  green  ; 
The  Fauns  and  Satyrs  running  out, 
Skipped  and  danced  round  about. 
Flora  forsook  her  painted  bowers, 
And  made  a  coronet  of  flowers. 
Then  sang  the  nymphs  of  chaste  Diana, 
Long  live  fair  OrianA  ! 


GEORGE      MARSON. 

|He  nymphs  and  shepherds  danced 

^'  La  Voltos  in  a  daisy-tapestred  valley  ; 

Love  from  their  face-lamps  glanced, 
Till  wantonly  they  dally  : 
Till  in  a  rose-banked  alley 
Bright  Majesty  advanced, 
A  crown-graced  Virgin,  whom  all  people  honour; 

ENG.  Gar.  VI.  ■J 


34 


Lyrics,  Elegies,  &c.  from  [^^^^ '^^ ^- '^^tT. 

They  leave  their  sport,  amazed, 

Run  all  to  look  upon  her. 

A  moment  scarce  they  gazed, 
Ere  Beauty's  splendour  all  their  eyes  had  dazed, 
Desire  to  see  yet  ever  fixed  on  her. 
Then  sang  the  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  Diana, 
Long  live  fair  Oriana  ! 


RICHARD      CARLTON. 

Alm  was  the  air  and  clear  the  sky, 
Fair  Oriana  passing  by, 
Over  the  downs  to  Ida  plains, 
Where  heaven-born  Sisters  with  their  trains. 
Did  all  attend  her  sacred  Beauty, 
Striving  to  excel  in  duty. 
Satyrs  and  Nymphs  dancing  together, 
Shepherds  triumphing,  flocking  thither. 
Seeing  their  sov'reign  Mistress  there. 
That  kept  their  flocks  and  them  from  fear ; 
With  high-strained  voice 
And  hearts  rejoice. 
Thus  sang  the  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  Diana, 
Long  live  fair  Oriana  ! 


!^ 


JOHN      HOLMES, 

Hus  BoxNY-BOOTES  the  birthday  celebrated, 
Of  her,  his  Lady  dearest, 
Fair  Oriana,  which  to  his  heart  was  nearest. 
The  Nymphs  and  Shepherds  feasted 
With  clouted  cream,  and  were  to  sing  requested. 
"  Lo  here,  the  Fair  created,"  quoth  he,  "the  world's  chief 

Goddess  ;  " 
Sing  then,  for  She  is  Bonny-bootes  sweet  Mistress ! 
Then  sang  the  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  Diana, 
Long  live  fair  Oriana  ! 


^'^•''■^•''TH  Madrigals,  Canzonets,  &c.    35 


RICHARD      NICOLSON. 

Ing  shepherds  all,  and  in  your  roundelays, 
Sing  only  of  fair  Oriaxa's  praise. 
The  gods  above  will  help  to  bear  a  part, 
And  men  below  will  try  their  greatest  art, 
Though  neither  gods  nor  men  can  well  apply 
Fit  song  or  tune  to  praise  her  worthily. 
Then  sang  the  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  DiANA, 
Long  live  fair  Oriana  ! 


THOMAS      TOM  KINS. 

He  Fauns  and  Satyrs  tripping, 
With  lively  Nymphs  of  fresh  cool  brooks  and  foun- 
tains. 

And  those  of  woods  and  mountains, 

Like  roes  came  nimbly  skipping. 

By  signs,  their  mirth  unripping, 

My  fairy  Queen,  they  presented. 

With  Amaltheas  twenty. 

Brim  full  of  wealthy  plenty. 

And  still  to  give  frequented, 

With  bare  gifts  not  contented, 
The  demi-gods  pray  to  the  gods  supernal. 
Her  life,  her  wealth,  her  fame  may  be  eternal ! 
Then  sang  the  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  Diana, 
Long  live  fair  Oriana  ! 


MICHAEL      CAVENDISH. 

Ome,  gentle  swains  and  shepherds'  dainty  daughters, 

Adorned  with  courtesy,  and  comely  duties  I 
Come  sing,  and  joy,  and  grace  with  lovely  laughters, 

The  birthday  of  the  beauties  1 
Then  sang  the  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  Diana, 
Long  live  fair  Oriana  I 


-6       Lyrics,  Elegies,  &c.  from    [Ed- by t. Moriey. 


WILLIAM      COBBOLD. 

Ithdraw  yourselves,  ye  shepherds !  from  your  bowers, 
And  strew  the  path  with  flowers. 

The  Nymphs  are  coming  ! 
Sweetly  the  birds  are  chirping, 
The  swift  beasts  running, 
As  all  amazed,  they  stand  still  gazing, 
To  see  such  bright  stars  blazing, 
To  DiAN  bravely  treading. 
The  powers  divine,  to  her  do  vail  their  bonnets. 
Prepare  yourselves  to  sound  your  pastoral  sonnets. 
Then  sang  the  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  Diana, 
Lo7ig  live  fair  Oriana  ! 


THOMAS      MORLEY. 

Rise  !  awake  !  you  silly  shepherds  sleeping, 
Devise  some  honour  for  her  sake  by  mirth  to  banish 

weeping, 

Lo !  where  she  comes  in  gaudy  green  arraying ! 
A  Prince  of  beauty,  rich  and  rare,  for  her  delighting 

pretends  to  go  a-Maying. 
You  stately  nymphs,  draw  near,  and    strew   your 
paths  with  roses. 

In  you,  her  trust  reposes  ! 
Then  sang  the  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  DiANA, 
Long  live  fair  OlilANA  ! 


Ed.byT.Mo,^^y.-|  Madrigals,  Canzonets,  &c.   z7 


JOHN-     FARMER. 

Air  Nymphs,  I  heard  one  telling 
Diana's  train  are  hunting  in  this  Chace. 
To  beautify  this  place 
The  Fauns  are  running; 
The  Shepherds  their  pipes  tuning, 
To  show  their  cunning  : 
The  lambs  amazed,  leave  off  their  grazing, 

And  blind  their  eyes  with  gazing : 
While  the  earth's  Goddess  doth  draw  nearyour  places, 
Attended  by  the  Muses  and  the  Graces, 
Then  sang  the  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  Diana, 
Long  live  fair  Oriana  ! 


JOHN      WILBY. 

He  Lady  Oriana 

Was  dight  all  in  the  treasures  of  Guiana  ; 
And  on  her  Grace,  a  thousand  graces  tended, 
And  thus  sang  they,    "Fair  Queen  of  Peace  and 
Plenty ! 
The  fairest  Queen  of  twenty  !  " 
Then  with  an  olive  wreath,  for  peace  renowned, 
Her  virgin  head,  they  crowned. 
Which  ceremony  ended. 
Unto  her  Grace,  the  thousand  graces  bended. 
Then  sang  the  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  Diana, 
Long  live  fair  Oriana  ! 


THOMAS     WEELKES. 

S  Vesta  was  from  Latmos  hill  descending, 
She  spied  a  Maiden  Queen  the  same  ascending, 
Attended  on  by  all  the  shepherds'  swain. 
To   whom    Diana's   darlings   came  running   down 
a-main : 


2S      Lyrics,  Elegies,  &  c  .   from   [ 


Ed.  by  T.  IMorley. 
1601. 


First  two  by  two,  then  three  by  three  together, 
Leaving  their  goddess  all  alone,  hasted  thither 
And  rningling  with  the  shepherds  of  her  train, 
With  mirthful  tunes  her  presence  entertain. 
Then  sang  the  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  DiANA, 
Long  live  fair  OjilANA  ! 


JOHN     MILTON  [the  father  of  the  Pod], 

Air  Oriana  in  the  morn, 
Before  the  day  was  born  ; 
With  velvet  steps  on  ground, 
Which  made  nor  print  nor  sound, 
Would  see  her  Nymphs  a-bed ; 
What  lives  those  Ladies  led. 
The  roses,  blushing,  said, 
♦'  O  stay  thou  Shepherd's  Maid  !  " 
And  on  a  sudden  all. 
They  rose  and  heard  her  call. 
Then  sang  those  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  Diana, 
Lo7tg  liv^  fair  Oriana  ! 


ELLIS    gibbons, 

OuND  about  her  chariot  with  all  admiring  strains, 
The  Hyades  and  Uryades  give  sweetest  entertains, 
Lo,  how  the  gods,  in  revels,  do  accord, 
Whilst  doth  each  goddess  melodies  afford. 
Now  Bacchus  is  consorting, 
Silvanus  falls  a  sporting, 
Amphion's  harp  reporting, 
To  the  shepherds'  pipes,  sing  the  nymphs  of  Diana, 
Long  live  fair  Oriana  ! 


Ed.  by  T.  MorW.J    M  A  D  R  I  G  A  L  S  ,    C  A  N  Z  O  N  E  T  S  ,    &  C.      2,9 


GEORGE      KIRBYE. 

Right  Phcebus  greets  most  clearly, 
With  radiant  beams,  fair  Oriana  sitting ! 
Her  apple,  Venus  yields,  as  most  befitting  ! 
A  Queen  beloved  most  dearly  ! 
Rich  Pluto  leaves  his  treasures ! 
And  Proserpine,  glad,  runs  in  her  best  array  * 
Nymphs  deck  her  crown  with  bay ! 
Her  feet,  are  lions  kissing  ! 
No  joy  can  there  be  missing! 
Now  Thetis  leaves  the  Mermaids'  tunes  admired, 
And  swells  with  pride,  to  see  her  Queen  desired  ! 
Then  sang  the  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  Diana, 
Long  live  fair  Oriana  ! 


Robert    jones, 

Air  Oriana,  seeming  to  wink  at  folly, 
Lay  softly  down  to  sleeping ; 
But  hearing  that  the  world  was  grown  unholy, 

Her  rest  was  turned  to  weeping. 
So  waked,  she  sighed ;  and  with  crossed  arms. 
Sat  drinking  tears  for  others'  harms  ; 
Then  sang  the  nymphs  and  shepherds  of  Diana, 
Long  live  fair  ORIANA  ! 


JOHN      LISLE  Y. 

Air  Cytharea  presents  her  doves  !  Minerva  singeth ! 
Jove  gives  a  crown  !  a  garland  Juno  bringeth  ! 
Fame  summoned  each  celestial  power 

To  bring  their  gifts  to  Oriana's  bower. 
Then  sang  the  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  Diana, 
Long  live  fair  Oriana  ! 


40 


Lyrics,  Elegies,  &c.      [^■'^^ 


by  T.  Morley. 
1601. 


THOMAS      MORLEY. 

Ard  by  a  crystal  fountain, 
Oriana  the  bright,  lay  down  a  sleeping. 
The  birds  they  finely  chirped,  the  winds  were  stilled 
Sweetly  with  these  accenting,  the  air  was  filled, 
This  is  that  Fair  whose  head  a  crown  deserveth, 

Which  heaven  for  her  reserveth. 
Leave,   shepherds,   your    lambs'  keeping   upon   the    barren 

mountain  ! 
And  Nymphs  attend  on  her,  and  leave  your  bowers  ! 
For  She,  the  shepherd's  life  maintains,  and  yours. 
Then  sang  the  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  Diana, 
Long  live  fair  Oriana  ! 


EDWARD      JOHNSON. 

Ome,  blessed  bird,  and  with  thy  sugared  relish, 
Help  our  declining  quire  now  to  embellish  : 
For  BoNNY-BOOTES  that  so  aloft  would  fetch  it, 
O  he  is  dead  !  and  none  of  us  can  reach  it. 
Then  tune  to  us,  sweet  bird  !  thy  shrill  recorder. 
For  fault  of  better,  will  serve  in  the  chorus ! 
Begin,  and  we  will  follow  thee  in  order  ! 
Then  sang  the  wood-born  Minstrel  of  DiANA, 
Long  live  fair  Oriana  ! 

FINIS. 


urije  €jcammation 

of  fl^aster  cmtUiam  CDorpc,  priest, 

of  l)eresp,  before  Cl)omas  i^runtiell, 

:arcl)bt6t)op  of  Canterbury, 

tl)e  pear  of  our  3LorD, 

S^X€€€.  auD 
setjen. 

«C!)e  Cjcammation 

of  m  l)onouraftle  iSimgl)t,  ^ir  3o\^n 

£)lDca6tle,  JLorU  Cobi)am,  burnt 

ftp  tl)e  saiD  ;arcl)bi6l)op/  in 

tl)e  first  pear  of  iBitng 

i^enrp  m  fiftt). 

C  TBe  no  more  asbamen  to  ftear  it,  tban  ge  toete 
ann  be,  to  no  it 

[=;^  This  is  incorrect,  Archbishop  AR^deix  condemned  Sir  John  Old- 
castle  on  September  25th,  141 3-  who  was  then  sent  to  the  Tower,  see 
5fTi?  132  Som  which  he  escaped  ;  and  being  recaptured  m  Wales  in 
IAI7  was  burnt  on  the  14th  December  of  that  year.  But  m  the  mean- 
time,' Xrchbiship  ARUNDLLL  had  died  on  the  14th  February,  1414  ;  and 
Henry  Chicheley  had  become  Archbi?hop.J 


43 


C  5anto  tl)e  Ct)ristian  ^aeaDer. 

Race  and  peace  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Read 
here  with  jtidgewent,  good  Reader !  the  Examination 
of  the  blessed  Ma7i  of  GOD,  and  there  thou  shalt 
easily  perceive  wherefore  our  Holy  Church  (as  the 
most  iinholy  sort  of  all  the  people  will  be  called)  make  all  their 
examinations  in  darkness  ;  all  the  lay  people  clean  excluded  from 
their  counsels. 

For  if  their  lies  had  been  openly  confuted,  and  also  that  the 
Accused  of  Heresy  might  as  well  have  been  admitted  to  reason 
their  Articles  with  Counsel,  whether  they  were  heresy  or  no[t] ,  as 
the  A  ccused  of  Treason  against  the  King  is  admitted  to  his  Council 
to  confute  his  cause  and  Articles,  whether  they  be  treason  or  not, 
they  should  never  have  murdered  nor  prisoned  so  many  good 
Christian  men  as  they  have  done. 

For  their  cloaked  lies  could  never  have  continued  so  long  in  the 
light,  as  they  have  done  in  corners.  They,  good  men  !  when  they 
come  in  the  pulpit,  and  preach  against  the  Truth,  cry,  "If  their 
learning  [i.e.,  of  the  Protestants]  were  good  and  true,  they  would 
never  go  in  corners  ;  but  speak  it  openly  I  " 

Whereunto  I  answer,  that  besides  that  Christ  and  his  Apostles 
were  compelled  (for  because  of  the  furiousncss  of  their  fathers,  the 
Bishops  and  Priests,  which  only,  that  time  also,  would  be  called 
Holy  Church)  oftentimes  for  to  walk  secretly,  and  absent  them- 
selves, and  give  place  to  their  malice.  Yet  we  have  daily  examples, 
of  more  than  one  or  two,  that  have  not  spared  nor  feared  for  to 
speak,  and  also  [to]  preach  openly  the  Truth  ;  which  have  been  taken 
of  them,  prisoned,  and  brent:  besides  others  that  for  fear  of  death, 
have  abjured  and  carried  faggots.  Of  whose  Articles  and 
Examination  there  is  no  layman  that  can  shew  a  word. 

Who  can  tell  ivhcrcfore,  not  many  years  past,  there  ivcrc  Seven 


44    Deaths  of  seven  at  Coventry,  &c.    [ 


W.  Tindale. 
1530. 


burnt  in  Coventry  on  one  day  ?  Who  can  tell  wherefore  that 
good  priest  and  holy  martyr,  Sir  [the  reverend]  THOMAS 
HiTTON  was  brent,  now  this  year,  at  Maidstone  in  Kent  ?  I 
am  sure,  no  man  !  For  this  is  their  cast  [contrivance]  ever  when 
they  have  put  to  death  or  punished  any  man  :  after  their  secret 
Examinations,  to  slander  him  of  such  things  as  he  never  thought ; 
as  they  may  do  well  enough,  seeing  there  is  no  man  to  contrary 
them. 

Wherefore  I  exhort  thee,  good  brother!  whosoever  thou  be  that 
rcadest  this  treatise,  mark  it  well,  and  consider  it  seriously  !  and 
there  thou  shall  find,  not  only  what  the  Church  is,  their  doctrine 
of  the  Sacrament,  the  Worshipping  of  Images,  Pilgrimage,  Con- 
fession, Swearing,  and  Paying  of  Tithes  :  but  also  thou  may  est  see 
what  strong  and  substantial  arguments  of  Scripture  and  Doctors, 
and  what  clerkly  reasons  my  Lord  the  head  and  Primate  of  the 
Holy  Church  in  England  (as  he  will  be  taken)  bringeth  against 
this  poor,  foolish,  simple,  and  mad  loscll,  knave,  and  heretic,  as  he 
calleth  him.  And  also  the  very  cause  wherefore  all  their  Examina- 
tions are  made  in  darkness. 

And  the  Lord  of  all  Light  shall  lighten  thee  with  the  candle  of 
II is  grace,  for  to  see  the  Truth  !     Amen. 

C  This  I  have  corrected  and  put  forth  in  the  English  that 
now  is  used  in  England,  for  our  Southern  men ; 
nothing  thereto  adding,  ne  yet  therefrom 
minishing.     And  I  intend  hereafter, 
with  the  help  of  GOD  to  put  it 
forth  in  his  own  old  English, 
which  shall  well  serve,  I 
doubt  not,  both  for  the 
Northern  men  and 
the  faithful 
brethren 
of  Scot- 
land. 


45 


[ 


tlliam  of  Cijorpe's 
preface.] 

He  lord  god  that  knoweth  all  things, 
wotteth  well  that  I  am  right  sorrowful  for 
to  write  or  make  known  this  Sentence 
beneath  written,  where  that  of  mine  even 
Christian,  set  in  high  state  and  dignity,  so 
great  blindness  and  malice  may  be  known  ; 
that  they,  that  presume  of  themselves  to 
destroy  vices  and  to  plant  in  men  virtues,  neither  dread 
to  offend  GOD,  nor  lust  [desire]  to  please  Him:  as  their 
works  shew.  For,  certes,  the  bidding  of  GOD  and  His 
Law  (which,  in  the  praising  of  His  most  Holy  Name,  He 
commandeth  to  be  known  and  kept  of  all  men  and  women, 
young  and  old  ;  after  the  cunning  and  power  that  He  hath 
given  to  them),  the  Prelates  of  this  land  and  their  ministers, 
with  the  comente  [community]  of  priests  chiefly  consenting  to 
them,  enforce  them  most  busily  to  withstand  and  destroy  the 
holy  Ordinance  of  GOD.  And  therethrough,  GOD  is  greatly 
wroth  and  moved  to  take  hard  vengeance,  not  only  on  them 
that  do  the  evil,  but  also  on  them  all  that  consent  to  the  Anti- 
christ's limbs  ;  which  know  or  might  know  their  malice  and 
their  falsehood,  and  [adjdress  them  not  to  withstand  their 
malice  and  great  pride. 

Nevertheless,  four  things  moveth  me  to  write  this  Sentence 
beneath. 

The  first  thing,  that  moveth  me  hereto  is  this,  that  where- 
as it  was  known  to  certain  friends  that  I  came  from  the 
prison  of  Shrewsbury,  and  (as  it  befell  in  deed),  that  I 
should  to  the  prison  of  Canterbury ;  then  divers  friends, 


46  Truth  impugned,  iiatii  a  sweet  smell.  [W'"-- of  Thorp. 

in  divers  places,  spake  to  me  full  lieartfully  and  full 
tenderly,  and  commanded  me  then,  if  it  so  were  that  I 
should  be  examined  before  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury, that,  if  I  might  in  any  wise,  I  should  write  mine 
Apposing  and  mine  Answering.  And  I  promised  to  my 
special  friends,  that  if  I  might,  I  would  gladly  do  their 
biddings,  as  I  might. 

The  second  thing  that  moveth  me  to  write  this  Sentence  is 
this.  Divers  friends  which  have  heard  that  I  have  been 
examined  before  the  Archbishop,  have  come  to  me  in 
prison  and  counselled  me  busily,  and  coveted  greatly  that 
I  should  do  the  same  thing.  And  other  brethren  have 
sent  to  me,  and  required  me,  on  GOD's  behalf!  that  I 
should  write  out  and  make  known  both  mine  Apposing 
and  mine  Answering  "for  the  proht  that,"  as  they  say, 
"over  my  [ac]knowledging  may  come  thereof."  But 
this,  they  bade  me,  that  I  should  be  busy  in  all  my  wits 
to  go  as  near  the  Sentence  and  the  words  as  I  could ; 
both  that  were  spoken  to  me,  and  that  I  spake:  up[on] 
adventure  this  Writing  came  another  time,  before  the 
Archbishop  and  his  Council.  And  of  this  counselling  I 
was  right  glad  !  for  in  my  conscience,  I  was  moved  to  do 
this  thing;  and  to  ask  hereto  the  special  help  of  GOD. 

And  so  then,  I  considering  the  great  desire  of  divers 
friends  of  sundry  places,  according  all  in  one;  I  occupied 
all  my  mind  and  my  wits  so  busily,  that  through  GOD's 
grace,  I  perceived  by  their  meaning  and  their  charitable 
desire  some  profit  might  come  therethrough. 

For  Soothfastness  and  Truth  hath  these  conditions. 
Wherever  it  is  impugned,  it  hath  a  sweet  smell,  and 
thereof  comes  a  sweet  savour.  And  the  more  violent  the 
enemies  [adjdress  themselves  to  oppress  and  to  with- 
stand the  Truth,  the  greater  and  the  sweeter  smell 
comcth  thereof.  And  tlierefore  this  heavenly  smicU  of 
GOU's  Word  will  n(;t,  as  a  smoke,  pass  away  with  the 


William  or  Thorpe.-j'pjjg  FOUR  MOTIVES  TO  THIS  Narrative.  47 

wind ;  but  it  will  descend  and  rest  in  some  clean  soul 
that  thirsteth  thereafter. 

And  thus,  some  deal,  by  this  Writing,  may  be  perceived, 
through  GOD's  grace,  how  that  the  enemies  of  the 
Truth,  standing  boldly  in  their  malice,  enforce  them  to 
withstand  the  freedom  of  Christ's  Gospel ;  for  which 
freedom,  Christ  became  man,  and  shed  his  heart's 
blood.  And  therefore  it  is  great  pity  and  sorrow  that 
many  men  and  women  do  their  own  wayward  will ;  nor 
busy  them  not  to  know  nor  to  do  the  pleasant  will  of  GOD. 

Ye  men  and  women  that  hear  the  Truth  and  Soothfast- 
ness,and  hear  or  knowofthis,perceiving  what  isnow  in  the 
Church,  ought  therethrough  to  be  the  more  moved  in  all 
their  wits  to  able  them  to  grace,  and  set  lesser  price  by 
themselves :  that  they,  without  tarrying,  forsake  wilfully 
[voluntarily]  and  bodily  all  the  wretchedness  of  this  life ; 
since  they  know  not  how  soon,  nor  when,  nor  where,  nor 
by  whom  GOD  will  teach  them,  and  assay  their  patience. 
For,  no  doubt,  who  that  ever  will  live  piteously,  that  is 
charitably,  in  Christ  Jesu  shall  suffer  now,  here  in  this 
life,  persecution  in  one  wise  or  another,  that  is,  if  we 
shall  be  saved. 

It  behoveth  us  to  imagine  full  busily,  the  vilite  and 
foulness  of  sin,  and  how  the  LORD  GOD  is  displeased 
therefore:  and  of  this  vilite  of  hideousness  of  sin,  it  be- 
hoveth us  to  busy  us  in  all  our  wits  for  to  abhor  and  hold 
in  our  mind  a  great  shame  of  sin,  ever !  and  so  then  we 
owe  [ought]  to  sorrow  heartily  therefore,  and  ever  flying 
all  occasion  thereof.  And  then  [it]  behoveth  us  to  take 
upon  us  sharp  penance,  continuing  therein,  for  to  obtain 
of  the  LORD,  forgiveness  of  our  foredone  sins,  and 
grace  to  abstain  us  hereafter  from  sin !  And  but  if 
[except]  we  enforce  us  to  do  this  wilfully  and  in  con- 
venient time,  the  LORD  (if  He  will  not  utterly  destroy 
and  cast  us  away  ! )  will,  in  divers  manners,  move 
tyrants  against  us,  for  to  constrain  us  violently  for  to  do 


48  This  Storv  may  startle  some  consciences.  [^^ZTi- 

penance,  which  we  would  not  do  wilfully.  And,  trust ! 
that  this  doing  is  a  special  grace  of  the  LORD,  and  a 
great  token  of  life  and  mercy ! 

And,  no  doubt,  whoever  will  not  apply  himself,  as  is 
said  before,  to  punish  himself  wilfully,  neither  will  suffer 
patiently,  meekly,  and  gladly  the  rod  of  the  LORD, 
howsoever  that  He  will  punish  him :  their  wayward 
wills  and  their  impatience  are  unto  them  earnest  of  ever- 
lasting damnation. 

But  because  there  are  but  few  in  number  that  do  able 
them  thus  faithfully  to  grace,  for  to  live  here  simply  and 
purely,  and  without  gall  of  malice  and  of  grudging, 
herefore  the  lovers  of  this  world  hate  and  pursue  them 
that  they  know  patient,  meek,  chaste,  and  wilfully  poor, 
hating  and  fleeing  all  worldly  vanities  and  fleshly  lusts. 
For,  surely,  their  virtuous  conditions  are  even  contrary 
to  the  manners  of  this  world. 

The  third  thing  that  moveth  me  to  write  this  Sentence  is 
this.  I  thought  I  shall  busy  me  in  myself  to  do  faith- 
fully, that  all  men  and  women  occupying  all  their 
business  in  knowing  and  in  keeping  of  GOD's  com- 
mandments, able  them  so  to  grace,  that  they  might 
understand  truly  the  Truth,  and  have  and  use  virtue  and 
prudence ;  and  so  to  serve  to  be  lightened  from  above 
with  heavenly  wisdom  :  so  that  all  their  words  and  their 
works  may  be  hereby  made  pleasant  sacrifices  unto  the 
LORD  GOD  ;  and  not  only  for  help  for  their  own  souls, 
but  also  for  ediiic^.tion  of  all  Holy  Church. 

For  I  doubt  not  but  all  they  that  will  apply  them  to 
have  this  foresaid  business  shall  profit  full  mickle  both 
to  friends  and  to  foes.  For  some  enemies  of  the  Truth, 
through  the  grace  of  GOD,  shall,  through  charitable 
folks,  be  made  astonied  in  their  conscience,  and  perad- 
venture  converted  from  vices  to  virtues ;  and  also  they 
that  labour  to  know  and  to  keep  faithfully  the  biddings 


William  of  Thorpe.1  Innocence  RECEIVES  Dtvine  help.  49 

of  GOD,    and   to  suffer  patiently  all  adversities,  shall 
hereby  comfort  many  friends. 

And  the  fourth  thing  that  moveth  me  to  write  this  Sentence 
is  this.     I    know  my   sudden  and   unwarned    Apposing 
and   Answering  that  all   they  that   will   of    good   heart 
without  feigning   able  themselves  wilfully   and    gladl}', 
after  their  cunning  and  their  power,  to  follow  Christ 
patiently,  travailing  busily,  privily  and  apertly,  in  work 
and  in  word,  to  withdraw  whomsoever  that  they  may 
from  vices,  planting  in  them  (if  they  may)  virtues,  com- 
forting them  and  furthering  them  that  standeth  in  grace  ; 
so  that  therewith  they  be  not  borne  up  into  vainglory 
through  presumption  of  their  wisdom,  nor  enflamed  with 
any  worldly    prosperity :    but  ever   meek   and   patient, 
purposing   to    abide    steadfastly   in  the  Will  of    GOD, 
suffering    wilfully    and    gladly,    without    any    grudging 
whatsoever,  the  rod  the  LORD  will  chastise  them  with. 
Then  this  good  LORD  will  not  forget  to  comfort  all  such 
men  and  women  in  all  their  tribulations,  and  at  every 
point  of  temptation  that  any  enemy  purposeth  for  to  do 
against  them  ([to]  such  faithful  lovers  specially,  and  patient 
followers  of  Christ),  the  LORD  sendeth  His  wisdom 
from  above  to  them  !  which  the  adversaries  of  the  Truth 
may  not  know  nor  understand ;  but  through  their  old 
and  new  unshamefast  sins,  those  tyrants  and  enemies  of 
Soothfastness  shall  be  so  blinded  and  obstinate  in  evil, 
that  they  shall  ween  themselves  to  do  pleasant  sacrifices 
unto  the  LORD  GOD  in  their  malicious  and  wrongful 
pursuing  and  destroying  of  innocent  men's  and  women's 
bodies ;  which  men  and  women  for  their  very  virtuous 
living  and  for  their  true  knowledging  of  the  Truth  and 
their  patient,  wilful,  and  glad  suffering  of  persecution  for 
righteousness,  deserve   through   the  grace  of   GOD  to 
be  heirs  of  the  endless  bliss  of  heaven. 

And  for  [on  account  of]  the  fervent  desire  and  the  great 
Eng.  Gar.  VI.  4 


:o  Heaven  IS  THE  LORD  GOD  Himself!  [' 


iam  of  Thorpe, 
1407. 


love  that  those  men  have,  as  to  stand  in  Soothfastness 
and  witness  of  it,  though  they  be,  suddenly  and  unwarned, 
brought  forth   to  be  Apposed  of  their  adversaries  :   the 
HOLY    GHOST   yet,  that   moveth  and    ruleth  them, 
through  His  charity,  will,  in  the  hour  of  their  Answering, 
speak   in    them,  and    shew    His  wisdom,   that  all   their 
enemies  shall  not  again  say  [gainsay]  and  against  stand 
lawfully  [by  rigid]. 
And  therefore    all  they  that  are  stedfast  in  the   faith  of 
GOD,    yea,  which    (through  diligent   keeping  of  His   com- 
mandments, and  for  their  patient    suffering   of  whatsoever 
adversity  that  cometh  to  them)  hope  surely  in  His  mercy, 
purposing  to  stand  continually  in  perfect  charity :  for  those 
men  and  women  dread  not  so  the  adversities  of  this  life,  that 
they  will    fear   (after  their  cunning   and    their    power)    to 
[acjknowledge  prudently  the  truth  of  GOD's  Word!  when, 
where,  and  to  whom  that  they  think  their  [acjknowledging 
may  profit.     Yea,  and  though  therefore,  persecution  come  to 
them,  in  one  wise  or  another,  certes,  they  patiently  take  it ! 
knowing  their  conversation  to  be  in  heaven. 

It  is  a  high  reward  and  a  special  grace  of  GOD  for  to 
have  and  enjoy  as  the  everlasting  inheritance  of  heaven,  for 
the  suffering  of  one  persecution  in  so  short  a  time  as  is  the 
term  of  this  life.  For,  lo,  this  heavenly  heritage  and  end- 
less reward  is  the  LORD  GOD  Himself!  which  is  the  best 
thing  that  may  be.  This  Sentence  witnesseth  the  LORD 
GOD  Himself,  whereas  He  said  to  Abraham,  /  am  thy  uicde ! 
And  as  the  LORD  said  He  was,  and  is  the  mede  of  Abraham; 
so  He  is  of  all  His  other  saints. 

This  most  blessed  and  best  mede  He  grant  to  us  all  I   for 

His  holy  name,  that  made  us  of  nought,  and  sent  His  only 

most  dear  worthy  Son,  our  Lord  Jesu  Christ,  for  to  redeem 

us  with  His  most  precious 

heart's  blood. 

Amen. 


51 


[C|)e  Cxamtnatton  of  sir 
illiam  of  C|)orpe.] 

NowN  be  it  to  all  men  that  read  or  hear 
this  Writing  beneath,  that  on  the  Sunday 
next  [August  yth]  after  the  Feast  of  St.  Peter 
that  we  call  Lammas  [August  ist],  in  the 
year  of  our  Lord  a  thousand  four  hundred 
seventh  year,  I,  William  of  Thorpe,  being 
in  prison  in  the  castle  of  Saltwood  [near 
Hythe,  in  Kent],  was  brought  before  Thomas 
Arundell,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  i^LordJ  Chan- 
cellor then  of  England. 

And  when  that  I  came  to  him,  he  stood  in  a  great  chamber, 
and  much  people  [were]  about  him ;  and  when  that  he  saw 
me,  he  went  fast  into  a  closet  [private  room],  bidding  all 
secular  men  [laymen]  that  followed  him,  to  go  forth  from  him 
soon  ;  so  that  no  man  was  left  then  in  that  closet,  but  the 
Archbishop  himself,  a  physician  that  was  called  Malveren 
[i.e.,  John  Malverne,  S.T.P.],  Parson  of  St.  Dunstan's 
[Church,  in  Tower  Street]  in  London,  and  two  other  persons 
unknown  to  me,  which  were  Ministers  of  the  Law  [i.e.,  the 
Canon  Law  :  later  on,  they  are  called  Clerks,  i.e.,  Chaplains]. 

Archbishop.  And  I  standing  before  them,  by  and  by,  the 
Archbishop  said  to  me,  "'  William  !  I  know  well,  that  thou 
hast,  this  twenty  winter  and  more  [i.e.,  from  before  1387],  tra- 
velled about  busily,  in  the  North  country  and  in  other  divers 
countries  [counties]  of  England,  sowing  about  false  doctrine  : 
having  great  business,  if  thou  might,  with  thine  untrue  teach- 
ing and  shrewd  will,  for  to  infect  and  poison  all  this  land.  But, 
through  the  grace  of  GOD  !  thou  art  now  withstanded,  and 
brought  into  my  ward  !  so  that  I  shall  now  sequester  thee 
from  thine  evil  purpose,  and  let  [hinder]  thee  to  envenom  the 
sheep  of  my  Province.  Nevertheless,  St.  Paul  saith,  //  it 
may  be,  as  far  as  in  us  is,  we  owe  [ought]  to  have  peace  with  all 
men.  Therefore,  William  !  if  thou  wilt  now,  meekly,  and 
of  good  heart,  without  any  feigning,  kneel  down  and  lay  thy 


52     A    PRECISE    &    AUTHENTIC    LOLLARD    CrEED.     [T'lt"! 

hand  upon  a  book,  and  kiss  it ;  promising  faithfully  as  I  shall 
here  charge  thee,  that  '  thou  wilt  submit  thee  to  my  correc- 
tion and  stand  to  mine  ordinance,  and  fulfil  it  duly  by  all 
thy  cunning  and  power,'  thou  shalt  yet  find  me  gracious 
unto  thee !  " 

William.  Then  said  I,  to  the  Archbishop,  "Sir,  since  ye 
deem  me  an  heretic  out  of  belief,  will  ye  give  me  here 
audience  to  tell  my  Belief y 

Archbishop.  And  he  said,  "  Yea,  tell  on  !  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  /  believe  that  there  is  not  but  one  GOD 

Almighty,  and  in  this  Godhead  and  of  this  Godhead  are  three 

Persons ;  that  is  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  soothfast  HOLY 

GHOST.     And  I  believe  that  all  these  tJiree  Persons  are  even 

in  power,  in  cunning,  and  in  might,  fidl  of  grace  and  of  all 

goodness  :  for  whatever  that  the  Father  doth  or  can  or  will, 

that  thing  also  the  Son  doth  can  and  will ;  and  in  all  their 

power  cunning  and   will,  the  HOLY  GHOST  is  equal  to 

the  Father  and  to  the  Son. 

Over   this,  I  believe   that,  through  counsel   of  this  most  blessed 

Trinity  {in  most  convenient   time,  before   ordained),  for  the 

salvation  of  mankind,  the  second   Person  of    this   Trinity 

was  ordained  to  take  the  form  of  Man,  that  is  the  Kind  of 

man.     And  I  believe  that  this  second   Person,    onr   Lord 

Jesu  Christ  was  conceived,  through  the  HOLY  GHOST, 

into  the  womb  of  the  most  blessed  Virgin  Mary  without  any 

man's  seed.     And  I  believe  that  after  nine  months,  CHRIST 

was  born  of  this  most  blessed  Virgin  without  any  pain   or 

breaking  of  the  closter  of  her  womb,  and  without  filth  of  her 

virginity. 

And  I  believe  that  CHRIST  our  Saviour  was  circumcised  in  the 

eighth  day  after  his  birth,  in  fulfilment  of  the  Law  ;  and  his 

name  was  called  Jesus,  which  was  called  of  the  angel  before 

he  was  conceived  in  the  womb  of  Mary  his  mother. 

And  I  believe  that  Christ,  as  he  was  about   thirty  years  old, 

was  baptized  in  the  flood  of  Jordan  of  John  [the]  Baptist, 

and  in  likeness   of  a   dove  the  HOLY  GHOST  descended 

there  upon  him ;  and  a  voice  was  heard  from  heaven,  saying. 

Thou  art  my  well   beloved  Son  !     In  Thee,  I  am  full 

pleased  ! 

And   I   believe    that  CllRiST  -was  moved  then    by    the  HOLY 

GHOST  for  to  go  into  [the]  desert,  and  there  he  fasted  forty 


William.!    ^   PRECISE    &    AUTHENTIC    LoLLARD    CrEED.    5, 


1407. J 


days  and  forty  nights  without  bodily  meat  and  drink.     And 
I  believe  that  by  and  by,  after  his  fasting,  when  the  manhood 
of  Christ  hungered,  the  Fiend  came  to  him  and  tempted  him 
in  gluttony,  in  vainglory,  and  in  covdise  :  but  in  all  those 
temptations  CHRIST  concluded  [confounded]  the  Fiend  and 
withstood  him. 
And  then,  without  tarrying,  Jesu  began  to  preach,  and  to  say 
unto  the  people.  Do  ye  penance  !  for  the  Realm  of  Heaven 
is  now  at  hand  ! 
And  I  believe  that  CHRIST,  in  all  his  time  here,  lived  most  holily; 
and  taught  the  Will  of  his  Father  most  truly  :  and  I  believe 
that  he  suffered  therefore  most  wrongfully,  greatest  reproofs 
and  dcspisings. 
And  after  this,  when  CHRIST  woidd  make  an  end  here,  of  his 
temporal  life,  I  believe  that,  in  the  day  next  before  that^  he 
would  suffer  passion  on  the  morn,  in  form  of  bread  and  ivinc, 
he  ordained  the  Sacrament  of  his  flesh  and  blood,  that  is  his 
own  precious  body,  and  gave  it  to  his  Apostles  for  to  eat, 
commanding  them,  and  by  them  all  their  after-comers,  that 
they  should  do  it,  in  this  form  that  he  shaved  to  them,  use 
themselves  and  teach  and  common  forth  to  other  men  and 
women  this  most  worshipful  holiest  Sacrament ;  in  mindful- 
ness of  his  holiest  Living  and  of  his  most  true  Teaching,  and 
of  his  wilful  and  patieni  Suffering  of  the  most  painful  Passion. 
And  I  believe  that  thus,  CHRIST  our  Saviour,  after  that  he  had 
ordained  this  most  worthy  Sacrament  of  his  own  precious 
body,  he  went  forth  wilfully  against  his  enemies,  and  he  suffered 
them  most  patiently  to  lay  their  hands  most  violently  upon 
him,  and  to  bind  him,  and  to  lead  him  forth  as  a  tliief, 
and  to  scorn  and  buffet  him,  and  all  to  blow  or  [de]file  him 
with  their  spittings. 
Over   this,   I  believe   tJiat   Christ   suffered,   most  meekly  and 
patiently, '  his   enemies  for  to  ding  [beat]  _  out  laith  sharp 
scourges,  the  blood  that   ivas  between  his  skin  and  his  flesh : 
yea,  without  grudging,   CHRIST  suffered   wicked  Jews  to 
crown  him  with  most  sharp   thorns,  and  to  strilie  him  with 
a  reed.     And,  after,  CHRIST  suffered  wicked  Jews  to  draw 
[lay]    him    out    upon    the    Cross,   and  for    to   nail    him 
there,  upon  foot    and  hand;    and  so,  through   this  pitiful 
nailing,    CHRIST   shed   out    wilfully,    for   man's  life,    the 
blood    that    was    in   his   veins :    and  then,   Christ    gave 


54     A    PRECISE    &    AUTHENTIC    LOLLARD    CrEED.    \^V\ 


am. 
407. 


wilfully  his  spirit  into  the  hands  or  power  of  his  Father. 
And  so,  as  he  would,  and  when  he  would,  Christ 
died  wilfully,  for  man's  sake,  upon  the  Cross.  And  not- 
withstanding that  Christ  was  wilfully,  painfully,  and 
most  shaiJiefnlly  pnt  to  death  as  to  the  world,  tJicre  was 
left  blood  and  water  in  his  heart,  as  he  before  ordained 
that  he  would  shed  out  this  blood  and  this  water  for 
man's  salvation.  And  therefore  he  suffered  the  Jeivs  to 
make  a  blind  [ignorant]  Knight  to  thrust  him  into  the  heart 
with  a  spear ;  and  this  the  blood  and  water  that  was  in  his 
heart,  Christ  would  shed  oid  for  mart's  love. 

And,  after  this,  I  believe  that  Christ  was  taken  down  from  the 
Cross,  and  buried. 

And  I  believe  that  on  the  third  day,  by  the  power  of  his  godhead, 
Christ  rose  again  from  death  to  life.  And  forty  days  there- 
after, I  believe  that  Christ  ascended  up  into  heaven  ;  and  that 
he  there  sitteth  on  the  right  hand  of  GOD  the  Father  Almighty. 
And  the  tenth  day  after  his  up  going,  he  sent  to  his  Apostles 
the  HOLY  GHOST,  that  he  had  promised  them  before. 

And  I  believe  that  Christ  shall  come  and  judge  all  mankind, 
some  to  everlasting  peace,  and  some  to  everlasting  pains. 

And  as  I  believe  in  the  Father,  and  in  the  Son,  that  they  are  one 
GOD  Almighty ;  so  I  believe  in  the  HOLY  GHOST  that  is 
also,  with  them,  the  same  GOD  Almighty. 

And  I  believe  [in]  an  Holy  Church,  that  is,  all  they  that  have  been, 
and  that  now  are,  and  always  to  the  end  of  the  world  shall  be, 
a  people  the  ivhich  shall  endeavour  them  to  know,  and  keep  the 
commandments  of  GOD ;  dreading  over  all  things  to  offend 
GOD,  and  loving  and  seeking  most  to  please  Him.  And  I 
believe  that  all  they  that  have  had,  and  yet  have,  and  all  they 
that  yet  shall  have  the  foresaid  virtues,  surely  standing  in 
the  Belief  of  GOD,  hoping  steadfastly  in  His  mcrcifid  doings, 
continuing  to  their  end  in  perfect  charity,  wilfully  patiently 
and  gladly  suffering  persecutions  by  the  example  of  CHRIST 
chiefly  and  His  Apostles;  and  these  have  their  names  written  in 
the  Book  of  Life.  Therefore  I  believe  that  the  gathering  together 
of  this  people  living  now  in  this  life,  is  the  Holy  Church  of 
GOD,  fighting  here  on  earth  against  the  Fiend,  the  prosperity 
of  the  world,  and  their  fleshly  lusts.  Wherefore,  seeing  that  all 
the  gathering  together  of  this  Church  beforesaid,  and  every  part 
thereof,  neither  covctcth,  nor  willeth,  nor  loveth,  nor  seeketh 


T'1407'.]    A    TRECISE    &   AUTHENTIC    LoLLARD    CrEED.     55 

anytliing,  but  to  eschew  the  offence  of  GOD,  and  to  do  His 
pleasing  will :  meekly,  gladly,  and  wilfully,  of  all  mine 
heart,  I  submit  myself  unto  tins  Holy  Church  of  Christ  ;  to 
be  ever  buxom  and  obedient  to  tlie  ordinance  of  it,  and  of  every 
member  thereof,  after  my  knowledge  and  power,  by  the  help  of 
GOD. 

Therefore  I  [ac]knowledge  noiv,  and  evermore  shall  {if  GOD  will !) 
that,  of  all  my  heart,  and  of  all  my  might,  I  will  submit  me 
only  to  the  rule  and  governance  of  them  whom,  after  my 
knowledge,  I  may  perceive,  by  the  having  and  nsing  of  the 
beforcsaid  virtues,  to  be  members  of  the  Holy  Church. 

Wherefore  these  Articles  of  Belief  and  all  others,  both  of  the  Old 
Law  and  of  the  New,  which,  after  the  commandment  of  GOD, 
any  man  ought  to  believe,  I  believe  verily  in  my  soul,  as  a 
sinftd  deadly  wretch  of  my  cunning  and  power  ought  to  be- 
lieve ;  praying  the  LORD  GOD,  for  His  holy  name,  for  to 
increase  my  belief,  and  help  my  unbelief. ' 

And  for  because,  to  the  praising  of  GOD's  name,  I  desire  above 
all  things  to  be  a  faithful  member  of  Holy  Church,  I  make 
this  Protestation  before  you  all  four  that  are  now  here  present, 
coveting  that  all  men  and  women  that  [are]  now  absent  knew 
the  same ;  that  what  thing  soever  before  this  time  I  have  said 
of  done,  or  what  thing  here  I  shall  do  or  say  at  any  time 
hereafter,  I  believe  that  all  the  Old  Law  and  the  Neiv  Law 
given  and  ordained  by  the  counsel  of  these  three  Persons  in 
the  Trinity,  were  given  and  written  to  [for]  the  salvation  of 
mankind.  And  I  believe  these  Laws  are  sufficient  for  the 
man's  salvation.  And  I  believe  every  Article  of  these  Laws 
to  the  intent  that  these  Articles  were  ordained  and  commanded, 
of  these  three  Persons  of  the  most  blessed  Trinity,  to  be  believed. 
And  therefore  to  the  rule  and  the  ordinance  of  these,  GOD's 
Laics,  meekly,  gladly,  and  wilfully,  I  submit  me  with  all  mine 
heart:  that  whoever  can  or  will,  by  authority  of  GOD'sLaw, 
or  by  open  reason,  tell  me  that  I  have  erred,  or  now  err,  or 
any  time  hereafter  shall  err  in  any  Article  of  Belief  {from 
which  inconvenience,  GOD  keep  me,  for  his  goodness ! )  I 
submit  me  to  be  reconciled,  and  to  be  buxom  and  obedient 
tinto  these  Laws  of  GOD,  and  to  every  Article  of  them.  For 
by  authority  specially  of  tJiese  Laws,  I  will,  through  the  grace 
of  GOD,  be  tmied  [united]  charitably  unto  these  Lavvs. 
Yea,  Sir,  and  over  this,  I  believe  and  admit  all  the  Sentences, 


56  Archbishop's  conditions  to  William.  [^^'''' 


am  of  Thorpe. 
?  1407. 


autlwritics,  and  reasons  of  the  Saints  and  Doctors,  according 
iinto  Holy  Scripture,  and  declaring  it  truly.  I  submit  me 
wilfnlly  and  meekly  to  be  ever  obedient,  after  my  cunning  and 
power,  to  all  these  Saints  and  Doctors  as  they  are  obedient  in 
work  and  in  word  to  GOD  and  his  Law :  and  further,  not 
tomy  knowledge;  nor  for  any  cartJily  power,  dignity,  or  state, 
through  the  help  of  GOD. 

"  But,  Sir,  I  pray  you  tell  me,  if  after  your  biddin<;,  I 
shall  lay  my  hand  upon  the  book,  to  the  intent  to  swear 
thereby  ? " 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  unto  me,  "Yea! 
wheretore  else  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said  to  him,  "  Sir,  a  book  is  nothing  else 
but  a  thing  coupled  together  of  diverse  creatures  [created 
things]  ;  and  to  swear  by  any  creature,  both  GOD's  Law  and 
man's  law  is  against.  But,  Sir,  this  thing  I  say  here  to  you, 
before  these  your  Clerks,  with  my  foresaid  Protestation,  that 
how,  where,  when,  and  to  whom,  men  are  boundento  swear 
or  to  obey,  in  any  wise,  after  GOD's  Laws,  and  Saints  and 
good  Doctors  according  with  GOD's  Law;  I  will,  through 
GOD's  grace,  be  ever  ready  thereto,  with  all  my  cunning  and 
power ! 

"But  I  pray  you.  Sir,  for  the  charity  of  GOD!  that  ye 
will,  before  that  I  swear  as  I  have  rehearsed  to  you,  tell  me 
how  or  whereto  that  I  shall  submit  me  ;  and  shew  me 
whereof  that  ye  will  correct  me,  and  what  is  the  ordinance 
that  ye  will  thus  oblige  me  to  fulfil  ?  " 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  unto  me,  "  I  will, 
shortly,  that  now  thou  swear  here  to  me,  that  thou  shalt  for- 
sake all  the  opinions  which  the  Sect  of  Lollards  hold,  and  is 
slandered  [charged]  with  ;  so  that,  after  this  time,  neither 
privily  nor  apertly,  thou  hold  any  opinion  which  I  shall,  after 
that  thou  hast  sworn,  rehearse  to  thee  here.  Nor  thou  shalt 
favour  no  man  nor  woman,  young  nor  old,  that  holdeth  any 
of  these  foresaid  opinions  ;  but,  after  thy  knowledge  and 
power,  thou  shalt  enforce  thee  to  withstand  all  such  dis- 
troublers  of  Holy  Church  in  every  diocese  that  thou  comest 
m ;  and  them  that  will  not  leave  their  false  and  damnable 
opmions,  thou  shalt  put  them  up,  publishing  them  and  their 
names ;  and  make  them  known  to  the  Bishop  of  the  diocese 


William  of  Thorpe. -|   J-Jj-    jg    TO    BE    THE     BiSHOPS     STY.    57 

that  they  are  in,  or  to  the  Bishop's  Ministers  And,  over 
thfs  I  will  that  thou  preach  no  more,  unto  the  time  that 
I  fcow,  bv  good  witness  and  true,  that  thy  conversation 
be  such  that  thy  heart  and  thy  mouth  accord  truly  m  one 
conti-arying  [of]  all  the  lewd  learning  that  thou  nast  taught 

^Itdt' hearing  these  words,  thought  in  my  heart  that  this 
was  an  unlawfSl  asking;  and  I  deemed  myself  curbed  ^f 
GOD,  if  I  consented  hereto:  and  I  thought  how  Susanna 
said,  Anguish  is  to  me  on  every  side  I     ^       .,,         ,          ,      ^   .  . 

Archbishop.  And  in  that  I  stood  still,  and  spake  not 
the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  Answer  one  wise  or  ano  her  1 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  if  I  consented  to  >-ou  thus,  as 

ye  have  here  rehearsed  to  me;  I  should  become  an  Appealei% or 

every  Bishop  s  Spy!  Summonerof  all  England!  For  an  [vf\  I 

Tould  thus'put  upland  publish  the  names  of  men  and  women 

I  should  herein  deceive  lull  many  persons:  yea,  Su    asit  is 

il    ly%y  the  doom  of  my  conscience    I   should  herein  be 

causl  of  the    death,   both    of  men    ^^^^    ™T.en;  >ea,  both 

hoHilv  and  ehostlv.     For  many  men  and  women  that  stand 

now  m  thef  uthfandare  in  the  way  of  salvation   if  I  should 

for   the  learning  and  reading  of  their  Belief  publish    them 

or  pit  them  therefore  up  to  ^Bishops  or  to  their  unpiteous 

Ministers,    I     know    some     deal     by    experience,   that   they 

should  be  so  distroubled  and  dis-eased  with  persecution  or 

otherwise,  that  many  of  them,  I  think,  would  rather  choose 

to  forlake  the  Way  of  Truth  than  to  be  travailed   scorned, 

and  sTand   "d  or^nished  as  Bishops  and  their  Ministers 

now  use  rar.  accustlned]  for  to  constrain  men  and  women  to 

'^^"Tut'l  tT  in   no   place    in    Holy  Scripture    that    this 
office  that  ye  would  now  enfeoff  me  with,  ^---^^^^^J^^'^^ 
Driest   of   Christ's  sect,  nor  to  any  other    Chiistian    man. 
indU.ei.foreto  do  thus,  were  to  me  a  ^ ^^ ->--^^;;^^^^ 
bounden  with,  and  over  grievous  charge,     l^'^.^r^!!  Sir 
if  I  thus  did,  many  men  and  women  m  the  ^^f  ^'  >^^'  .^'^^ 
mi-ht  iustlv,  unto  my  confusion  say  to  me  that     I   weie   a 
"litor^o  GOD  and\o  them  1 '   since,  as       thin^c  m  -n 
heart,  many  men  and  women  trust_  so  mickle    n  me         tl.  s 
case  that  I  would  not,  for  the  saving  of  my  life,  do  thus  to 
Sem.     For  if  I  thus  should  do,  full  many  men  and  women 


58  ArUxXdell  threatens  to  burx\  William. [ 


William  of  Thorpe 


1407. 


would,  as  they  might  full  truly,  say  that  '  I  had  falsely  and 
cowardly  forsaken  the  Truth,  and  slandered  shamefully  the 
Word  of  GOD! '  For  if  I  consented  to  you,  to  do  hereafter 
your  will,  for  bonchief  and  mischief  that  may  befall  to  me  in 
this  life,  I  deem  in  my  conscience  that  I  were  worthy  here- 
fore  to  be  cursed  of  GOD,  as  also  of  all  His  Saints  !  From 
which  inconvenience  keep  me  and  all  Christian  people, 
Almighty  GOD  !  now  and  ever,  for  His  holy  name  !  " 

Archbishop.  And  then  the  Archbishop  said  unto  me, 
"  O  thine  heart  is  full  hard,  endured  [hardened]  as  was  the 
heart  of  Pharaoh  ;  and  the  Devil  hath  overcome  thee,  and 
perverted  thee  !  and  he  hath  so  blinded  thee  in  all  thy  wits, 
that  thou  hast  no  grace  to  know  the  truth,  nor  the  measure 
of  mercy  that  I  have  proffered  to  thee  !  Therefore,  as  I  per- 
ceive now  by  thy  foolish  answer,  thou  hast  no  will  to  leave 
thine  old  errors.  But  I  say  to  thee,  lewd  loseli  !  [base  lost 
one  !  or  base  son  of  perdition  !]  either  thou  quickly  consent  to 
mine  ordinance,  and  submit  thee  to  stand  to  my  decrees,  or, 
by  Saint  Thomas!  thou  shalt  be  disgraded  [degraded],  and 
follow  thy  fellow  in  Smithfield  !" 

And  at  this  saying,  I  stood  still  and  spake  not ;  but  I 
thought  in  mine  heart  that  GOD  did  to  me  a  great  grace,  if 
He  would,  of  His  great  mercy,  bring  me  to  such  an  end.  And 
in  mine  heart,  I  was  nothing  [a^fraid  with  this  menacing  of 
the  Archbishop. 

And  I  considered,  there,  two  things  in  him.  One,  that  he 
was  not  jet  sorrowful,  for  that  he  had  made  William  Sautre 
wrongfully  to  be  burnt  [on  Feb.  12,  1401,  at  Smithfield]. 
And  as  I  considered  that  the  Archbishop  thirsted  yet  after 
more  shedding  out  of  innocent  blood.  And  fast  therefore 
I  was  moved  in  all  my  wits,  for  to  hold  the  Archbishop 
neither  for  Prelate,  nor  for  priest  of  GOD  ;  and  for  that  mine 
inward  man  was  thus  altogether  departed  from  the  Arch- 
bishop, methought  I  should  not  have  any  dread  of  him. 
But  I  was  right  heavy  and  sorrowful  for  that  there  was  none 
audience  of  secular  [lay]  men  by:  but  in  mine  heart,  I  prayed 
the  LORD  GOD  to  comfort  me  and  strengthen  me  against 
them  that  there  were  against  the  Soothfastness.  And  I  pur- 
posed to  speak  no  more  to  the  Archbishop  and  his  Clerks 
[Chaplains]  than  me  need  behoved. 

And  all  thus  I  prayed  GOD,  for  Plis  goodness,  to  give  me 


William, 
?      1407. 


]  How  William  came  to  Wycliffe,  about  1377.  59 


then  and  always  grace  to  speak  with  a  meek  and  an  easy 
spirit ;  and  whatsoever  thing  that  I  should  speak,  that  I 
might  thereto  have  true  authorities  of  Scriptures  and  open 
reason. 

A  Clerk.  And  for  that  I  stood  still,  and  nothing  spake, 
one  of  the  Archbishop's  Clerks  said  unto  me,  "  What  thing 
musest  thou  ?  Do  thou,  as  my  Lord  hath  now  commanded 
to  thee  here  !  " 

And  yet  I  stood  still,  and  answered  him  not. 

Archbishop.  And  then,  soon  after,  the  Archbishop  said 
to  me,  "  Art  thou  not  yet  bethought,  whether  thou  wilt  do  as 
I  have  here  said  to  thee  ?  " 

"William.  And  I  said  then  to  him,  *'  Sir,  my  father  and 
mother  (on  whose  souls  GOD  have  mercy  !  if  it  be  His  will) 
spent  mickle  money  in  divers  places  about  my  learning;  for 
the  intent  to  have  made  me  a  priest  to  GOD.  But  when 
I  came  to  years  of  discretion,  I  had  no  will  to  be  priest; 
and  therefore  my  friends  were  right  heavy  to  me.  And  then 
methought  their  grudging  against  me  was  so  painful  to 
me,  that  I  purposed  therefore  to  have  left  their  company. 
And  when  they  perceived  this  in  me,  they  spake  some  time 
full  fair  and  pleasant  words  to  me  :  but  for  that  they  might 
not  make  me  to  consent,  of  good  heart,  to  be  a  priest,  they 
spake  to  me  full  ofttimes  very  grievous  words,  and  menaced 
me  in  divers  manners,  shewing  to  me  full  heavy  cheer. 
And  thus,  one  while  in  fair  manner,  another  while  in 
grievous,  they  were  long  time,  as  methought,  full  busy 
about  me,  ere  I  consented  to  them  to  be  a  priest. 

"But,  at  the  last,  when,  in  this  matter,  they  would  no 
longer  suffer  mine  excusations  ;  but  either  I  should  consent 
to  them,  or  I  should  ever  bear  their  indignation  ;  yea,  '  their 
curse,'  as  they  said.  Then  I  seeing  this,  prayed  them  that 
they  would  give  me  license  for  to  go  to  them  that  were 
named  wise  priests  and  of  virtuous  conversation,  to  have 
their  counsel,  and  to  know  of  them  the  office  and  the  charge 
of  priesthood. 

"And  hereto  my  father  and  my  mother  consented  full 
gladly,  and  gave  me  their  blessing  and  good  leave  to  go,  and 
also  money  to  spend  in  this  journey. 

"And  so  then  I  went  to  those  priests  whom  I  heard  to  be  of 
best  name  and  of  most  holy  living,  and  best  learned   and 


rWilliam. 


60   Wycliffe's  co-workers  in  translating  the  |_ 

most  wise  of  heavenly  wisdom:  and  so  I  communed  with 
them  unto  the  time  that  I  perceived,  by  their  virtuous  and 
continual  occupations,  that  their  honest  and  charitable 
works  [sur] passed  their  fame,  which  I  heard  before  of  them. 
Wherefore,  sir,  by  the  example  of  the  doctrine  of  them,  and 
specially  for  the  godly  and  innocent  works  which  I  perceived 
of  them  and  in  them ;  after  my  cunning  and  power  I  have 
exercised  me  then,  and  in  this  time,  to  know  perfectly  GOD's 
Law:  having  a  will  and  desire  to  live  thereafter,  willing  that 
all  men  and  women  exercised  themselves  faithfully  there- 
about. 

"  If  then,  Sir,  either  for  pleasure  or  displeasure  of  them 
that  are  neither  so  wise,  nor  of  so  virtuous  conversation 
(to  my  knowledge,  nor  by  common  fame  of  other  men's 
knowledge  in  this  land)  as  these  men  were,  of  whom  I 
took  my  counsel  and  information  ;  I  should  now  forsake, 
thus  suddenly  and  shortly,  and  unwarned,  all  the  learning 
that  I  have  exercised  myself  in,  this  thirty  winter  [i.e.,  from 
1377J  and  more,  my  conscience  should  ever  be  herewith  out 
of  measure  unquieted.  And  as.  Sir,  I  know  well  that  many 
men  and  women  should  be  therethrough  greatly  troubled 
and  slandered ;  and  (as  I  said,  Sir,  to  you  before)  for  mine 
untruth  and  false  cowardness  many  a  one  should  be  put 
into  full  great  vq^v  tie' [reproof].  Yea,  Sir,  I  dread  that  many 
a  one,  as  they  might  then  justly,  would  curse  me  full 
bitterly:  and,  Sir,  I  fear  not  but  the  curse  of  GOD  (which 
I  should  deserve  herein)  would  bring  me  to  a  full  evil  end, 
if  I  continued  thus. 

"And  if  through  remorse  of  conscience,  I  repented  me 
at  any  time,  returning  into  the  Way  which  you  do  your  dili- 
gence to  constrain  me  now  to  forsake  ;  yea,  Sir,  all  the 
Bishops  of  this  land,  with  full  many  other  priests,  would 
defame  me,  and  pursue  me  as  a  Relapse  :  and  they  that  now 
have  (though  I  be  unworthy)  some  confidence  in  me,  here- 
after would  never  trust  to  me,  though  I  could  teach  and  live 
never  so  virtuously  more  that  I  can  or  may. 

"  For  if,  after  your  counsel,  I  left  utterly  all  my  Learning: 
I  should  hereby,  first  wound  and  defile  mine  own  soul ;  and 
also  I  should  herethrough  give  occasion  to  many  men  and 
women  of  full  sore  hurting.  Yea,  Sir,  it  is  likely  to  me,  if  I 
consented  to  your  will,  1  should  herein  by  mine  evil  example 


^''|'^^'^;]i?/i?Z^,HEREF0RD&PuRVEY,GIVEUpL0LLARDISM.6l 

in  it,  as  far  as  in  me  were,  slay  many  folk  ghostly,  that 
I  should  never  deserve  for  to  have  grace  of  GOD  to  the 
edifying  of  His  Church,  neither  of  myself,  nor  of  none  other 
man's  life,  and  [be]  undone  both  before  GOD  and  man. 

"  But,  Sir,  by  example  chiefly  of  some,  whose  names  I  will 
not  now  rehearse,  [Nicholas  de]  H[ereford],  of  J[ohn] 
PTurvey],  and  B[owland]  ;  and  also  by  the  present  doing  of 
Philip  of  Repington  that  [after  being  a  Lollard]  is  now 
become  Bishop  of  Lincoln  [consecrated  on  March  28,  1405  ; 
and  about  a  year  folloiaing  this  Examination  ivas  made,  on  Sep- 
tember 19,  1408,  a  Cardinal]  :  I  am  now  learned,  as  many 
more  hereafter  through  GOD's  grace  shall  be  learned,  to  hate 
and  to  flee  all  such  slander  that  these  foresaid  men  chiefly 
hath  defiled  principally  themselves  with.  And  in  it  that  in 
them  is,  they  have  envenomed  all  the  Church  of  GOD ;  for  the 
slanderous  revoking  at  the  Cross  of  Paul's,  of  H[ereford], 
P[urvey],  and  of  B'owland],  and  how  now  Philip  Reping- 
ton pursueth  Christ's  people.  And  the  feigning  that  these 
men  dissemble  by  worldly  prudence,  keeping  them  cowardly 
in  their  preaching  and  communing,  within  the  bonds  and 
terms,  which,  without  blame,  may  be  spoken  and  shewed  out 
to  the  most  worldly  livers,  will  not  be  unpunished  of  GOD. 
For  to  the  point  of  truth  that  these  men  shewed  out  some 
time,  they  not  will  now  stretch  forth  their  lives:  but  by 
example,  each  one  of  them,  as  their  words  and  works  shew, 
they  busy  them,  through  their  feigning,  for  to  slander  and 
to  pursue  Christ  in  his  members,  rather  than  they  will  be 
pursued." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "These 
men  the  which  thou  speakest  of  now,  were  fools  and 
heretics,  when  they  were  counted  wise  men  of  thee  and 
other  such  losells :  but  now  they  are  wise  men,  though  thou 
and  such  others  deem  them  unwise.  Nevertheless,  I  wist 
never  none,  that  right  said ;  that  any  while  were  envenomed 
with  your  contagiousness,  that  is  contaminated  and  spotted 
doctrine." 

William.  And  I  said  to  the  Archbishop,  "  Sir,  I  think 
well  that  these  men  and  such  others  are  now  wise  as  to  this 
world,  but  as  their  words  sounded  sometime  and  their  works 
shewed  outwardly,  it  was  likely  to  move  me  that  they  had 
earnest  of  the  wisdom  of  GOD,  and  that  they  should  have 


William. 
■'.     1407. 


62    J.  Purvey,  Vicar  of  West  Hytiie,  140 1-3 

deserved  mickle  grace  of  GOD  to  have  saved  their  own  souls 
and  many  other  men's,  if  they  had  continued  faithful  in  wilful 
poverty  and  in  other  simple  virtuous  living;  and  specially  if 
they  had  with  these  foresaid  virtues,  continued  in  their  busy 
fruitful  sowing  of  GOD's  Word,  as,  to  many  men's  knowledge, 
they  occupied  them  a  season  in  all  their  wits  full  busily  to 
know  the  pleasant  Will  of  GOD,  travailing  all  their  members 
full  busily  for  to  do  thereafter  purely,  and  chiefly  to  the 
praising  of  the  most  holy  name  of  GOD  and  for  grace  of 
edification  and  salvation  of  Christian  people.  But  woe  worth 
false  covetise  !  and  evil  counsel  !  and  tyranny  !  by  which 
they  and  many  men  and  women  are  led  blindly  into  an  evil 
end." 

Archbishop.  Then  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  Thou 
and  such  other  losells  of  thy  sect  would  shave  your  beards 
full  near,  for  to  have  a  benefice  !  For,  by  Jesu  !  I  know 
none  more  covetous  shrews  than  ye  are,  when  that  ye  have  a 
benefice.  For,  lo,  I  gave  to  John  Purvey  a  benefice  but  a 
mile  out  of  this  Castle  [i.e.,  the  vicarage  of  West  Hythe,  near 
Saltwood  Castle  in  Kent,  which  PURVEY  held  from  August  11, 
1401,  till  he  resigned  it  on  October  8,  1403],  and  I  heard  more 
complaints  about  his  covetousness  for  tithes  and  other  mis- 
doings, than  I  did  of  all  men  that  were  advanced  within  my 
diocese." 

William,  And  I  said  to  the  Archbishop,  "  Sir,  Purvey  is 
neither  with  you  now  for  the  benefice  that  ye  gave  him,  nor 
holdeth  he  faithfully  with  the  learning  that  he  taught  and 
writ  before  time ;  and  thus  he  sheweth  himself  neither  to  be 
hot  nor  cold:  and  therefore  he  and  his  fellows  may  sorcLly] 
dread  that  if  they  turn  not  hastily  to  the  Way  that  they  have 
forsaken,  peradventure  they  be  put  out  of  the  number  of 
Christ's  chosen  people." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said,  "Though 
Pi'RVEY  be  now  a  false  harlot  [debased  man.  This  term  was  at 
this  time  applied  also  to  men],  I  quite  me  [absolve  myself  in 
respect]  to  him :  but  come  he  more  for  such  cause  before  me, 
ere  we  depart,  I  shall  know  with  whom  he  holdeth  !  But  I 
say  to  thee.  Which  are  these  holy  men  and  wise  of  whom 
thou  hast  taken  thine  information  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  Master  John  Wycliffe  was 
holdcn  ol  full  many  men,  the  greatest  Clerk  [Divine]  that  they 


Willbm  of  Thorpe.-|   -pjjj^  FIRST  LEADERS  OF  THE   LoLLARDS.     63 

knew  then  living;  and  therewith  he  was  named  a  passing 
ruely  man  and  an  innocent  in  his  living :  and  herefore  great 
many  commoned  [communed]  oft  with  him,  and  they  loved  so 
much  his  learning  that  they  writ  it,  and  busily  enforced 
them  to  rule  themselves  thereafter.  Therefore,  Sir,  this  fore- 
said learning  of  Master  John  Wycliffe  is  yet  holden  of  full 
many  men  and  women,  the  most  agreeable  learning  unto  the 
living  and  teaching  of  Christ  and  his  Apostles,  and  most 
openly  shewing  and  declaring  how  the  Church  of  Christ 
hath  been,  and  yet  should  be,  ruled  and  governed.  There- 
fore so  many  men  and  women  covet  this  learning,  and  pur- 
pose, through  GOD's  grace,  to  conform  their  living  like  to 
this  learning  of  Wycliffe. 

"  Master  John  Aiston  taught  and  writ  accordingly,  and  full 
busily,  where,  and  when,  and  to  whom  that  he  might  :  and 
he  used  it  himself  right  perfectly,  unto  his  life's  end. 

"  And  also  Philip  of  Repington,  while  he  was  a  Canon  of 
Leicester  [He  was  CJiancellor  of  Oxford  in  1397,  ^^^'^  again 
in  1400];  Nicholas  Her[e]ford;  David  Gotray  of 
Pakring,  Monk  of  Bylande  and  a  Master  of  Divinity  ;  and 
John  Purvey,  and  many  others,  which  were  holden  right 
wise  men  and  prudent,  taught  and  writ  busily  this  foresaid 
learning,  and  conformed  them  thereto.  And  with  all  these 
men  I  was  oft  right  homely  [qnite  at  home],  and  communed 
with  them  long  time  and  oft  :  and  so,  before  all  other  men, 
I  choose  wilfully  to  be  informed  of  them  and  by  them,  and 
especially  of  Wycliffe  himself;  as  of  the  most  virtuous  and 
godly  wise  men  that  I  heard  of  or  knew.  And  therefore  of 
him  specially,  and  of  these  men  I  took  my  learning,  that  I 
have  taught ;  and  purpose  to  live  thereafter,  if  GOD  will  !  to 
my  life's  end. 

"  For  though  some  of  these  men  be  contrary  to  the  learning 
that  they  taught  before,  I  wot  well  that  their  learning  was 
true  which  they  taught ;  and  therefore,  with  the  help  of  GOD, 
I  purpose  to  hold  and  to  use  the  learning  which  I  heard  of 
them  while  they  sat  on  Moses'  chair,  and  specially  while  they 
sat  on  the  chair  of  Christ.  But  after  the  works  that  they 
now  do,  I  will  not  do!  with  GOD's  help.  For  they  feign  and 
hide  and  contrary  the  Truth  which  before  they  taught  out 
plainly  and  truly.  For  as  I  know  well,  when  some  of  these 
men  hath  been  blamed  for  their  slanderous  doing,  they  grant 


64  William's  Sermon  at  St.  Chad's,  [wim- of  xho^pe. 

not  that  they  have  taught  amiss,  or  erred  before  time  ;  but 
that  they  were  constrained  by  pain[s]  to  leave  to  tell  out  the 
Sooth  :  and  thus  they  choose  now  rather  to  blaspheme  GOD 
than  to  suffer  awhile  here  bodily  persecution  for  Soothfastness 
that  Christ  shed  out  his  heart-blood  for." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said,  "That  learning 
that  thou  callest  Truth  and  Soothfastness  is  open  slander  to 
Holy  Church,  as  it  is  proved  of  Holy  Church.  For  albeit 
that  Wycliffe  your  author  [founder]  was  a  great  Clerk,  and 
though  that  many  men  held  him  a  perfect  liver  :  yet  his 
doctrine  is  not  approved  of  Holy  Church,  but  many  Sen- 
tences of  his  learning  are  damned  [condemned]  as  they  are  well 
worthy. 

"  But  as  touching  Philip  of  Repington  that  was  first 
Canon,  and  after  Abbot  of  Leicester,  which  is  now  Bishop  of 
Lincoln;  I  tell  thee  that  the  Day  is  now  comen  for  which  he 
fasted  the  Even  1  For  neither  he  holdeth  now,  now  will  hold 
the  learning  that  he  thought  when  he  was  Canon  of  Leicester ; 
for  no  Bishop  of  this  land  pursueth  now  more  sharply  them 
that  hold  thy  Way  than  he  doth." 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  full  many  men  and  women 
wondereth  upon  him,  and  speaketh  him  mickle  shame,  and 
holdeth  him  for  a  cursed  enemy  of  the  Truth." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  Where- 
fore tarriest  thou  me  thus  here,  with  such  fables  ?  Wilt  thou 
shr)rtly,  as  I  said  to  thee,  submit  thee  to  me  or  no  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  I  tell  you  at  one  word.  I  dare 
not,  for  the  dread  of  GOD,  submit  me  to  you  after  the  tenour 
and  Sentence  that  ye  have  above  rehearsed  to  me." 


Archbishop.  And  then,  as  if  he  had  been  wroth,  he  said 
to  one  of  his  Clerks,  "  Fetch  hither  quickly  the  Certification 
that  came  to  me  from  Shrewsbury,  under  the  Bailiff's  seal, 
witnessing  the  errors  and  heresies  which  this  losell  hath 
venemously  witnessed  there  !  " 

Then  hastily  the  Clerk  took  out  and  laid  forth  on  a  cup- 
board divers  rolls  and  writings  ;  among  which  there  was  a 
little  one,  which  the  Clerk  delivered  to  the  Archbishop. 

And  by  and  by  ihe  Archbishop  read  this  roll  containing  this 
sentence. 


William  of  Thorpe.-j    ^^j^  DESIRE  OF  THE  SHREWSBURY  MEN.     65 

tr  The  third  Sunday  [April  17th]  after  Easter  [March  27th], 
the  year  of  our  Lord  1407,  William  Thorpe  came  unto  the 
town  of  Shrewsbury,  and,  through  leave  granted  to  him  to  preach, 
he  said  openly  in  St.  Chad's  Church,  in  his  sermon, 

That  the  Sacrament  of  the  Altar  after  the  consecration  was 
material  bread. 

And  that  images  should  in  no  wise  be  worshipped. 

And  that  men  shotdd  not  go  on  any  pilgrimages. 

And  that  priests  have  no  title  to  tithes. 

And  that  it  is  not  lawful  to  swear  in  any  wise. 

Archbishop.  And  when  the  Archbishop  had  read  thus 
this  roll,  he  rolled  it  up  again,  and  said  to  me,  "  Is  this 
wholesome  learning  to  be  among  the  people  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said  to  him,  "  Sir,  I  am  both  ashamed  on 
their  behalf,  and  right  sorrowful  for  them  that  have  certified 
you  these  things  thus  untruly  :  for  I  never  preached  nor  taught 
thus,  privily  nor  apertly." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  I  will  give 
credence  to  these  worshipful  men  which  have  written  to  me 
and  witnessed  under  their  seals  there  among  them.  Though 
thou  now  deniest  this,  weenest  thou  that  I  will  credence  to 
thee  !  Thou,  losell  !  hast  troubled  the  worshipful  com- 
minalty  of  Shrewsbury,  so  that  the  Bailiffs  and  commin- 
alty  of  that  town  have  written  to  me,  praying  me,  that  am 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  Primate,  and  Chancellor  of 
England,  that  I  will  vouchsafe  to  grant  them,  that  if  thou  shalt 
be  made,  as  thou  art  worthy  !  to  suffer  open  jotiresse  [?  penance  or 
pillory]  for  thine  heresies,  that  thou  may  have  thy  jouresse  openly 
there  among  them ;  so  that  all  they  whom  thou  and  such  like  losells 
have  there  perverted,  may,  through  fear  of  thy  deed  [i.e.,  martyr- 
dom] be  reconciled  again  to  the  unity  of  Holy  Church ;  and  also 
they  that  stand  in  true  faith  of  Holy  Church  may  through  thy 
deed  be  more  stablished  therein."  And  as  if  this  asking  had 
pleased  the  Archbishop,  he  said,  *'  By  my  thrift !  this  hearty 
prayer  and  fervent  request  shall  be  thought  on !  " 

But  certainly  neither  the  prayer  of  the  men  of  Shrewsbury, 
nor  the  menacing  of  the  Archbishop  made  me  anything  afraid  : 
but,  in  the  rehearsing  of  this  malice,  and  in  the  hearing  of  it, 
my  heart  greatly  rejoiced,  and  yet  doth.  I  thank  GOD,  for  the 
grace  that  I  then  thought,  and  yet  think,  shall  come  to  all 

Eng.  Gar.  VI.  5 


66    A   DAUNTLESS    LOLLARD   SPEECH.     [ 


William  of  Thorpe. 
i  1407. 


the   Church  of  GOD  herethrough,  by  the   special  merciful 
doing  of  the  LORD. 

William.  And  as  having  no  dread  of  the  mahce  of  tyrants, 
by  trusting  stedfastly  in  the  help  of  the  LORD,  with  full 
purpose  for  to  [ac] knowledge  the  Soothfastness,  and  to  stand 
thereby  after  my  cunning  and  power,  I  said  to  the  Arch- 
bishop, "  Sir,  if  the  truth  of  GOD's  Word  might  now  be 
accepted  as  it  should  be,  I  doubt  not  to  prove  by  likely 
evidence,  that  they  that  are  famed  to  be  out  of  the  faith  of 
Holy  Church  in  Shrewsbury  and  in  other  places  also,  are  in 
the  true  faith  of  Holy  Church.  For  as  their  words  sound 
and  their  works  shew  to  man's  judgement,  dreading  and 
loving  faithfully  GOD  ;  their  will,  their  desire,  their  love, 
and  their  business,  are  most  set  to  dread  to  offend  GOD 
and  to  love  for  to  please  Him  in  true  and  faithful  keeping 
of  His  commandments. 

"  And  again,  they  that  are  said  to  be  in  the  faith  of  Holy 
Church  at  Shrewsbury  and  in  other  places,  by  open  evidence 
of  their  proud,  envious,  malicious,  covetous,  lecherous,  and 
other  foul  words  and  works,  neither  know  nor  have  will  to 
know  nor  to  occupy  their  wits  truly  and  effectuously  in  the  right 
faith  of  Holy  Church.  Wherefore  [none  of]  all  these,  nor 
none  that  follow  their  manners,  shall  any  time  come  verily 
in  the  faith  of  Holy  Church,  except  they  enforce  them  more 
truly  to  come  in  the  way  which  now  they  despise.  For 
these  men  and  women  that  are  now  called  Faithful  and 
holden  Just,  neither  know,  nor  will  exercise  themselves  to 
know,  ot  faithfulness,  one  commandment  of  GOD.  And  thus 
full  many  men  and  women  now,  and  specially  men  that  are 
named  to  be  "  principal  limbs  of  Holy  Church,"  stir  GOD  to 
great  wrath  ;  and  deserve  His  curse  for  that  they  call  or  hold 
them  "just  men"  which  are  full  unjust,  as  their  vicious 
words,  their  great  customable  swearing,  and  their  slanderous 
and  shameful  works  shew  openly  and  witness.  And  here- 
fore  such  vicious  men  and  unjust  in  their  own  confusion  call 
them  "  unjust  men  and  women,"  which  after  their  power  and 
cunning,  busy  themselves  to  live  justly  after  the  command- 
ment of  GOD. 

*'  And  where.  Sir,  ye  say,  that  I  have  distroubled  the  com- 
minalty  of  Shrewsbury  and  many  other  men  and  women  with 
my  teaching;  if  it  thus  be,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  [atj  of 


William. 
?   1407 


•]  The  office  of  every  Priest  is  to  preach.     67 


wise  men,  since  all  the  comminalty  of  the  city  of  Jerusalem 
was  distroubled  of  Christ's  own  person,  that  was  Very  GOD 
and  Man,  and  [the]  most  prudent  preacher  that  ever  was  or 
shall  be.  And  also  all  the  Synagogue  of  Nazareth  was 
moved  against  Christ,  and  so  full-filled  with  ire  towards  him 
for  his  preaching,  that  the  men  of  the  Synagogue  rose  up  and 
cast  Christ  out  of  their  city,  and  led  him  up  to  the  top  of  a 
mountain  for  to  cast  him  down  there  headlong.  Also  accord- 
ing hereto,  the  LORD  witnesseth  by  Moses,  that  He  shall 
put  dissension  betwixt  His  people,  and  the  people  that  con- 
trarieth  and  pursueth  His  people.  Who,  Sir,  is  he  that  shall 
preach  the  truth  of  GOD's  Word  to  that  unfaithful  people, 
and  shall  let  [hinder]  the  Soothfastness  of  the  gospel,  and  the 
prophecy  of  GOD  Almighty  to  be  fulfilled  ?  " 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  tome,  "Itfolloweth 
of  these  thy  words,  that  thou,  and  such  other,  thinkest  that 
ye  do  right  well  for  to  preach  and  teach  as  ye  do,  without 
authority  of  any  Bishop.  For  ye  presume  that  the  LORD 
hath  chosen  you  only,  for  to  preach  as  faithful  disciples  and 
special  followers  of  Christ  !  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  by  authority  of  GOD's  law, 
and  also  of  Saints  and  Doctors,  I  am  learned  to  deem  that  it 
is  every  priest's  office  and  duty  for  to  preach  busily,  freely, 
and  truly  the  Word  of  GOD. 

"  For,  no  doubt,  every  priest  should  purpose  first  in  his  soul 
and  covet  to  take  the  order  of  priesthood  chiefly  for  to  make 
known  to  the  people  the  Word  of  GOD,  after  his  cunning  and 
power,  approving  his  words  ever  to  be  true  by  his  virtuous 
works  ;  and  for  this  intent  we  suppose  that  Bishops  and 
other  prelates  of  Holy  Church  should  chiefly  take  and  use 
their  prelacy.  And  for  the  same  cause,  Bishops  should  give 
to  priests  their  orders.  For  Bishops  should  accept  no  man  to 
priesthood,  except  that  he  had  good  will  and  full  purpose, 
and  were  well  disposed  and  well  learned  to  preach.  Where- 
fore, Sir,  by  the  bidding  of  Christ,  and  by  example  of  His 
most  holy  living,  and  also  by  the  witnessing  of  His  holy 
apostles  and  prophets,  we  are  bound  under  full  great  pain  to 
exercise  us  after  our  cunning  and  power  (as  every  priest  is 
likewise  charged  of  GOD),  to  fulfil  duly  the  office  of  priest- 
hood. We  presume  not  hereof,  ourselves,  for  to  be  es- 
teemed,   neither  in  our  own    reputation   nor  in  none  other 


68    GOD  WILL  BE  A  Letter  of  License!  [wm-m -r Thorpe. 

man's,  faithful  disciples  and  special  followers  of  Christ: 
but,  Sir,  as  I  said  to  you  before,  we  deem  this,  by  authority 
chiefly  of  GOD's  Word,  that  it  is  the  chief  duty  of  every  priest 
to  busy  him  faithfully  to  make  the  law  of  GOD  known  to 
His  people;  and  so  to  comune  [communicate]  the  command- 
ment of  GOD  charitably,  how  that  we  best,  where,  when,  and 
to  whom  that  ever  we  may,  is  our  very  duty.  And  for  the 
will  and  business  that  we  owe  of  due  debt  to  do  justly  our 
office,  through  the  stirring  and  special  help,  as  we  trust,  of 
GOD,  hoping  stedfastly  in  His  mercy,  we  desire  to  be  the 
faithful  disciples  of  Christ  :  and  we  pray  this  gracious 
LORD,  for  His  holy  name !  that  He  make  us  able  for  to 
please  Him  with  devout  prayers  and  charitable  priestly 
works,  that  we  may  obtain  of  Him  to  follow  Him  thankfully." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me, "  Lewd  losell ! 
whereto  makest  thou  such  vain  reasons  to  me  ?  Asketh  not 
Saint  Paul,  How  should  priests  preach,  except  they  be  sent  ? 
But  I  sent  thee  never  to  preach  !  For  thy  venomous  doctrine 
is  so  known  throughout  England,  that  no  Bishop  will  admit 
thee  for  to  preach,  by  witnessing  of  their  Letters  !  Why  then, 
lewd  idiot !  willst  thou  presume  to  preach,  since  thou  art 
not  sent  nor  licensed  of  thy  Sovereign  to  preach  ?  Saith  not 
Saint  Paul  that  Subjects  owe  [ought]  to  obey  their  Sovereigns  ; 
and  not  only  good  and  virtuous,  but  also  tyrants  that  are  vicious !  " 

William.  And  I  said  to  the  Archbishop,  "  Sir,  as  touching 
your  Letter  of  License  or  other  Bishops',  which,  ye  say,  we 
should  have  to  witness  that  we  were  able  to  be  sent  for  to 
preach  ;  we  know  well  that  neither  you,  Sir,  nor  any  other 
Bishop  of  this  land  will  grant  to  us  any  such  Letters  of 
License  but  [except]  we  should  oblige  [bind]  us  to  you  and  to 
other  Bishops  by  unlawful  oaths  for  to  pass  not  the  bounds 
and  terms  which  ye,  Sir,  or  other  Bishops  will  limit  to  us. 
And  since  in  this  matter,  your  terms  be  some  too  large,  and 
some  too  strait ;  we  dare  not  oblige  us  thus  to  be  bound  to  you 
for  to  keep  the  terms  which  you  will  limit  to  us,  as  ye  do  to 
Friars  and  such  other  preachers :  and  therefore,  though  we 
have  not  your  Letter,  Sir,  nor  Letters  of  other  Bishops  written 
with  ink  upon  parchment ;  we  dare  not  herefore  leave  the 
office  of  preaching ;  to  which  preaching,  all  priests,  after 
their  cunning  and  power  are  bound,  by  divers  testimonies  of 
GOD's  Law  andof  great  Doctors,  without  any  mention  making 
of  Bishops'  Letters. 


William 
?      1407 


;]    Both  good  and  bad  are  witnesses.     69 


"  For  as  mickle  as  we  have  taken  upon  us  the  office  of 
priesthood,  though  we  are  unworthy  thereto,  we  come  and 
purpose  to  fulfil  it,  with  the  help  of  GOD,  by  authority  of 
His  own  law,  and  by  witness  of  great  Doctors  and  Saints 
according  hereto,  trusting  stedfastly  in  the  mercy  of  GOD. 
For  that  [because]  He  commandeth  us  to  do  the  office  of 
priesthood.  He  will  be  our  sufficient  Letters  and  witness,  if 
we,  by  the  example  of  his  living  and  teaching  specially 
occupy  us  faithfully  to  do  our  office  justly :  yea,  that  people 
to  whom  we  preach,  be  they  faithful  or  unfaithful,  shall  be 
our  Letters,  that  is,  our  witness  bearers;  for  that  Truth  where 
it  is  sown  may  not  be  unwitnessed.  For  all  that  are  con- 
verted and  saved  by  learning  of  GOD's  Word  and  by  working 
thereafter  are  witness  bearers,  that  the  Truth  and  Soothfast- 
ness  which  they  heard  and  did  after,  is  cause  of  their 
salvation.  And  again,  all  unfaithful  men  and  women  which 
heard  the  Truth  told  out  to  them  and  would  not  do  thereafter, 
also  all  they  that  might  have  heard  the  Truth  and  would 
not  hear  it,  because  that  they  would  not  do  thereafter,  all 
these  shall  bear  witness  against  themselves,  and  the  Truth 
(which  they  would  not  hear,  or  else  heard  it  and  despised  to 
do  thereafter  through  their  unfaithfulness)  is  and  shall  be 
cause  of  their  damnation. 

"  Therefore,  Sir,  since  this  foresaid  witnessing  of  GOD,  and 
of  divers  Saints  and  Doctors,  and  of  all  the  people  good  and 
evil  sufficeth  to  all  true  preachers :  we  think  that  we  do  not 
the  office  of  the  priesthood,  if  that  we  leave  our  preaching 
because  that  we  have  not  or  may  not  have  duly  Bishops' 
Letters  to  witness  that  we  are  sent  of  them  to  preach.  This 
Sentence  approveth  Saint  Paul  where  he  speaketh  of  him- 
self and  of  faithful  Apostles  and  disciples,  saying  thus.  We 
need  110  letters  of  conuncndation  as  some  other  preachers  do  ;  which 
preach  for  covetousness  of  temporal  goods,  and  for  men's  praising. 

"  And  where  ye  say.  Sir,  Saint  Paul  biddeth  subjects  obey 
their  Sovereigns ;  this  is  Sooth,  and  may  not  be  denied.  But 
there  are  two  manner  of  Sovereigns ;  virtuous  sovereigns 
and  vicious  tyrants.  Therefore  to  these  last  Sovereigns, 
neither  men  nor  women  that  be  subject  owe  [ought]  to  obey. 
In  two  manners.  To  virtuous  Sovereigns  and  charitable, 
subjects  owe  to  obey  wilfully  and  gladly  in  hearing  of  their 
good  counsel,  in  consenting  to  their  charitable  biddings,  and 


70  The  old  theory  of  Political  Responsibility.  lT'^o^" 

in  working  after  their  fruitful  works.  This  Sentence,  Paul 
approveth  where  he  saith  thus  to  subjects,  Be  ye  mindful  of 
your  Sovereigns  that  speak  to  you  the  Word  of  GOD  ;  and  follow 
you  the  faith  of  them,  whose  conversation  yoii  know  to  be  virtuous. 

"  For  as  Paul  saith  after,  These  Sovereigns  to  whom  sub- 
jects owe  to  obey  in  following  of  their  manners,  work  busily 
in  holy  studying  how  they  may  withstand  and  destroy  vices, 
first  in  themselves  and  after  in  all  their  subjects,  and 
and  how  they  may  best  plant  in  them  virtues.  Also  these 
Sovereigns  make  devout  and  fervent  prayers  for  to  purchase 
[obtain]  grace  of  GOD,  that  they  and  their  subjects  may, 
over  all  things,  dread  to  offend  Him,  and  to  love  for  to 
please  Him.  Also  these  Sovereigns  to  whom  Paul  bid- 
deth  us  obey,  as  it  is  said  before,  live  so  virtuously  that 
all  they  that  will  live  well  may  take  of  them  good  example 
to  know  and  to  keep  the  commandments  of  GOD. 

"  But,  in  this  foresaid  wise,  subjects  owe  [ought]  not  to  obey 
nor  to  be  obedient  to  tyrants,  while  they  are  vicious  tyrants; 
since  their  will,  their  counsel,  their  biddings,  and  their  works 
are  so  vicious  that  they  owe  [ought]  to  be  hated  and  left. 
And  though  such  tyrants  be  masterful  and  cruel  in  boasting 
and  menacing,  in  oppressions  and  divers  punishings ;  Saint 
Peter  biddeth  the  servants  of  such  tyrants  to  obey  meekly 
to  such  tyrants,  suffering  patiently  their  malicious  cruelness. 
But  Peter  counselleth  not  any  servant  or  subject  to  obey  to 
any  Lord,  or  Prince,  or  Sovereign,  in  anything  that  is  not 
pleasing  to  GOD." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  unto  me,  "  If  the 
Sovereign  bid  his  subject  do  that  thing  that  is  vicious,  this 
Sovereign  herein  is  to  blame :  but  the  subject,  for  his 
obedience,  deserveth  meed  of  GOD.  For  obedience  pleaseth 
more  to  GOD  than  any  sacrifice." 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Samuel  the  Prophet  said  to 
Saul  the  wicked  King,  that  GOD  was  more  pleased  with 
the  obedience  of  His  commandment,  than  with  a^iy  sacrifice  of 
beasts:  but  David  saith,  and  Saint  Paul  and  Saint  Gre- 
gory accordingly  together,  that  not  only  they  that  do  evil 
are  worthy  of  death  and  damnation ;  but  also  all  they  that 
consent  to  evil  doers.  And,  Sir,  the  law  of  Holy  Church 
teacheth,  in  the  Decrees,  that  no  servant  to  his  Lord,  nor 
child   to  the   father  or  mother,   nor   wife  to  her   husband, 


William  of  Thorpe.j  ^  Priest  NOT  PREACHING,  IS  Antichrist.  7 1 

nor  monk  to  his  abbot,  ought  to  obey,  except  in  lefull 
[loyal]  things  and  lawful." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  All  these 
allegings  that  thou  bringest  forth  are  nought  else  but  proud 
presumptuousness.  For  hereby  thou  enforcest  [endcavourest] 
thee  to  prove,  that  thou  and  such  others  are  so  just,  that 
ye  owe  [ought]  not  to  obey  to  Prelates  :  and  thus  against 
the  learning  of  Saint  Paul  that  telleth  you  not  to  preach,  but 
if  ye  were  sent,  of  your  own  authority,  ye  will  go  forth  and 
preach,  and  do  what  ye  list !  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  [re]presenteth  not  every 
priest  the  office  of  the  Apostles  or  the  office  of  the  disciples 
of  Christ?" 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said,  "Yea  !" 

William.  And  I  said,  "Sir,  as  the  loth  Chapter  of  Matthew 
and  the  last  Chapter  of  Mark  witnesseth,  Christ  sent  his 
Apostles  for  to  preach.  And  the  loth  Chapter  of  Luke  wit- 
nesseth Christ  sent  his  two  and  seventy  disciples  for  to 
preach  in  every  place  that  Christ  was  to  come  to.  And 
Saint  Gregory  in  the  Conunon  Law  saith,  that  every  man 
that  goeth  to  priesthood  taketh  upon  him  the  office  of 
preaching  :  for  as  he  saith,  tliat  priest  stirreth  GOD  to  great 
wratli,  of  whose  mouth  is  not  heard  the  voice  of  prcacJiing.  And 
as  other  more  glosses  upon  Ezekiel  witness,  that  the  priest 
that  preacheth  not  busily  to  the  people  shall  be  partaker  of 
their  damnation,  that  perish  through  his  default :  and  though 
the  people  be  saved  by  other  special  grace  of  GOD  than  by  the 
priest's  preaching ;  yet  the  priests  (in  that  they  are  ordained 
to  preach,  and  preach  not)  as  before  GOD,  they  are  man- 
slayers.  For  as  far  as  in  them  is,  such  priests  as  preach  not 
busily  and  truly,  slayeth  all  the  people  ghostly,  in  that  they 
withhold  from  them  the  Word  of  GOD,  that  is  [the]  life  and 
sustenance  of  men's  souls.  And  Saint  Isidore  saith.  Priests 
shall  be  damned  for  [the]  wickedness  of  the  people,  if  they  teach 
not  them  that  are  ignorant,  and  condemn  them  that  are  sinners.  For 
all  the  work  and  witness  of  priests  standeth  in  preaching 
and  teaching ;  that  they  edify  all  men,  as  well  by  cunning  of 
faith,  as  by  discipline  of  works,  that  is  virtuous  teaching. 
And,  as  the  gospel  witnesseth,  Christ  said  in  his  teaching, 
/  am  born  and  come  into  this  world  to  bear  witness  to  the  Truth, 
and  he  that  is  of  the  TrutJi  heafctJi  my  voice. 


72  The  Psalter  taken  from  William.  P^' 


llianTof  Tliorpe. 
1407. 


"  C  Then,  Sir,  since  by  the  word  of  Christ  specially,  that 
is  his  voice,  priests  are  commanded  to  preach  ;  whatsoever 
priest  that  it  be,  that  hath  not  goodwill  and  full  purpose 
to  do  thus,  and  ableth  not  himself  after  his  cunning  and 
power  to  do  his  office,  by  the  example  of  Christ  and  his 
Apostles  :  whatsoever  other  thing  that  he  doeth,  displeaseth 
GOD.  For,  lo,  Saint  Gregory  saith,  That  thing  left,  that  a 
man  is  bound  chiefly  to  do  ;  whatsoever  other  thing  that  a  man 
doeth,  it  is  unihankful  to  the  HOLY  GHOST.  And  therefore 
saith  [Robert  Grosset£te,  Bishop  of]  Lincoln,  That  priest 
that  preacheth  not  the  Word  of  GOD,  though  he  be  seen  to  have 
none  other  default,  he  is  Antichrist  and  Sathanas,  a  night-thief 
and  a  day-thief,  a  slayer  of  souls,  and  an  angel  of  light  turned 
into  darkness. 

"  Wlierefore,  Sir,  these  authorities  and  others  well  con- 
sidered, I  deem  myself  damnable,  if  I,  either  for  pleasure 
or  displeasure  of  any  creature,  apply  me  not  diligently  to 
preach  the  Word  of  GOD  :  and  in  the  same  damnation,  I 
deem  all  those  priests  which,  of  good  purpose  and  will,  en- 
force them  not  busily  to  do  thus,  and  also  all  them  that  have 
purpose  or  will  to  let  [hinder]  any  priest  of  this  business." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  those  three 
Clerks  that  stood  before  him,  "  Lo,  Sirs,  this  is  the  manner 
and  business  of  this  losell  and  such  others,  to  pick  out 
such  sharp  sentences  of  Holy  Scripture  and  of  Doctors  to 
maintain  their  sect  and  lore  [teaching]  against  the  ordinance 
of  Holy  Church.  And  therefore,  losell  !  is  it,  that  thou 
covetest  to  have  again  the  Psalter  that  I  made  to  be  taken 
from  thee  at  Canterbury,  to  record  sharp  verses  against  us  ! 
But  thou  shalt  never  have  that  Psalter,  nor  none  other  book, 
till  that  I  know  that  thy  heart  and  thy  mouth  accord  fully 
to  be  governed  by  Holy  Church." 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  all  my  will  and  power  is,  and 
ever  shall  be,  I  trust  to  GOD  !  to  be  governed  by  Holy 
Church." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  asked  me,  "  What  was 
Holv  Church?" 

William.  And  I  said,  "Sir,  I  told  you  before,  what  was 
Holy  Church  :  but  since  ye  ask  me  this  demand,  I  call 
CiiKisT  and  liis  saints,  Holy  Church." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  unto  me,  "  1  wot 


^''l4c^.']  The  1ST  CHARGE  of  the  Shrewsbury  men.     jt, 

well  that  Christ  and  his  saints  are  Holy  Church  in  heaven ; 
but  what  is  Holy  Church  in  earth  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "Sir,  though  Holy  Church  be  every 
one  in  charity ;  yet  it  hath  two  parts.  The  first  and  princi- 
pal part  hath  overcomen  perfectly  all  the  wretchedness  of  this 
life,  and  reigneth  joyfully  in  heaven  with  Christ.  And  the 
other  part  is  here  yet  in  earth,  busily  and  continually  fight- 
ing, day  and  night,  against  temptations  of  the  Fiend,  forsaking 
and  hating  the  prosperity  of  this  world,  despising  and  with- 
standing their  fleshly  lusts  ;  which  only  are  the  pilgrims  of 
Christ,  wandering  towards  heaven  by  steadfast  faith,  and 
grounded  hope,  and  by  perfect  charity.  For  these  heavenly 
pilgrims  may  not,  nor  will  not,  be  letted  [hindered  ]  of  their 
good  purpose  by  reason  of  any  Doctors  discording  from  Holy 
Scripture,  nor  by  the  floods  of  any  tribulation  temporal,  nor 
by  the  wind  of  any  pride  of  boast,  or  of  menacing  of  any  crea- 
ture ;  for  they  are  all  fast  grounded  upon  the  sure  stone 
Christ,  hearing  his  word  and  loving  it,  exercising  them 
faithfully  and   continually  in  all  their  wits  to  do  thereafter." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  his  Clerks,  "  See 
ye  not  how  his  heart  is  endured  [hardened],  and  how  he  is 
travailled  with  the  Devil,  occupying  him  thus  busily  to  allege 
such  Sentences  to  maintain  his  errors  and  heresies  !  Certain, 
thus,  he  would  occupy  us  here  all  day,  if  we  would  suffer  him  1" 

Ne  of  the  Clerks  answered,  "  Sir,  he  said,  right  now, 
that  this  Certification  \.h.^.t  came  to  you  from  Shrews- 
bury is  untruly  forged  against  him.  Therefore,  Sir, 
appose  you  him  now  here,  in  all  the  points  which 
are  certified  against  him  ;  and  so  we  shall  hear  of  his  own 
mouth  his  answers,  and  witness  them." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  took  the  Certification  in 
his  hand,  and  looked  thereon  awhile ;  and  then  he  said  to  me, 
"  Lo,  herein  is  certified  against  thee,  by  worthy  men  and 
faithful  of  Shrewsbury,  that  thou  preachedst  there  openly  in 
Saint  Chad's  Church,  that  the  Sacrament  of  the  Altar  was  material 
bread  after  the  consecration.  What  sayest  thou  ?  Was  this 
truly  preached  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  I  tell  you  truly  that  I  touched 
nothing  there  of  the  Sacrament  of  the  Altar,  but  in  this 
wise,  as  I  will,  with  GOD's  grace,  tell  you  here. 


74   Material  bread  not  found  in  ScRirxuRE.  P?'''';^?: 

"  As  I  stood  there  in  the  pulpit,  busying  me  to  teach  the  com- 
mandment of  GOD,  there  knelled  a  sacring-bell ;  and  there- 
fore mickle  people  turned  away  hastily,  and  with  great  noise  ran 
from  towards  me.  And  I  seeing  this,  say  to  them  thus,  '  Good 
men!  ye  were  better  to  stand  here  full  still  and  to  hear  GOD's 
Word.  For,  certes,  the  virtue  and  the  mede  of  the  most  holy 
Sacrament  of  the  Altar  standeth  much  more  in  the  Belief 
thereof  that  ye  ought  to  have  in  your  soul,  than  it  doth  in  the 
outward  Sight  thereof.  And  therefore  ye  were  better  to  stand 
quietly  to  hear  GOD's  Word,  because  that  through  the  hear- 
ing thereof,  men  come  to  very  true  belief.'  And  otherwise, 
Sir,  I  am  certain  I  spake  not  there,  of  the  worthy  Sacrament 
of  the  Altar." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  I  believe 
thee  not!  whatsoeverthou  sayest, since  so  worshipful  menhave 
witnessed  against  thee.  But  since  thou  deniest  that  thou 
saidest  thus  there,  what  sayest  thou  now  ?  Resteth  there, 
after  the  consecration,  in  the  [h]ost,  material  bread  or  no  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  I  know  of  no  place  in  Holy 
Scripture,  where  this  term,  material  bread,  is  written  :  and 
therefore.  Sir,  when  I  speak  of  this  matter,  I  use  not  [am  not 
accustomed  ]  to  speak  of  material  bread." 

Archbishop.  Then  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  How 
teachest  thou  men  to  believe  in  this  Sacrament  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  as  I  believe  myself,  so  I  teach 
other  men." 

Archbishop.  He  said,  "Tell  out  plainly  thy  belief 
hereof!  " 

William.  And  I  said,  with  my  Protestation,  "  Sir,  I  believe 
that  the  iii<^ht  before  that  Christ  Jesu  would  suffer  wilfully 
Passion  for  mankind  on  the  morn  after,  he  took  bread  in  his  holy 
and  most  worshipful  hands,  lifting  np  his  eyes,  and  giving 
thanks  to  GOD  Iiis  Father,  blessed  this  bread  and  brake  it,  and 
gave  it  to  his  disciples,  saying  to  tJiem,  Take,  and  eat  of  this,  all 
of  you  !     This  is  my  body  ! 

"And  that  this  is,  and  ought  to  be  all  men's  belief,  Mat- 
thew, Mark,  Luke,  and  Paul  witnesseth. 

"  Other  belief,  Sir,  have  I  none,  nor  will  have,  nor  teach  : 
for  I  believe  that  this  sufficeth  in  this  matter.  For  in  this 
belief,  with  GOD's  grace,  I  purpose  to  live  and  die  :  lac]- 
knowlcdging  as  I  believe  and  teach  other  men  to  believe, 


William  of  Thorpe.-]  3t.  Paul,  A  DocTOR  OF  HoLY  Church.  75 

that  the  worshipful  Sacrament  of  the  Altar  is  the  Sacrament  of 
Christ's  flesh  and  his  blood,  in  form  of  bread  and  wine.'' 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  It  is  sooth , 
that  this  Sacrament  is  very  Christ's  body  in  form  of  bread  : 
but  thou  and  thy  sect  teachest  it  to  be  the  substance  of  bread  ! 
Think  you  this  true  teaching?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Neither  I  nor  any  other  of  the 
sect  that  ye  damn  [condemn],  teach  any  otherwise  than  I  have 
told  you,  nor  beheve  otherwise,  to  my  knowing. 

"  Nevertheless,  Sir,  I  ask  of  you,  for  charity  !  that  will  ye 
tell  me  plainly,  how  ye  shall  understand  this  text  of  Saint 
Paul,  where  he  saith  thus,  This  thing  feel  you  in  yourselves, 
that  is,  in  CHRIST  Jesu,  while  he  was  in  the  form  of  GOD. 
Sir,  calleth  not  Paul  here,  the  form  of  GOD,  the  substance  or 
kind  of  GOD  ?  Also,  Sir,  saith  not  the  Church,  in  iht  Hours 
of  the  most  blessed  Virgin,  accordingly  hereto,  where  it  is 
written  thus.  Thou  Author  of  Health  !  remember  that  some  time 
thou  took,  of  the  imdcfiled  Virgin,  the  form  of  our  body  !  Tell  me, 
for  charity!  therefore,  Whether  the  form  of  our  body  be  called 
here,  the  kind  of  our  body,  or  no  ?  " 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  Wouldst 
thou  make  me  declare  this  text  after  thy  purpose,  since  the 
Church  hath  now  determined  that  'there  abideth  no  substance 
of  bread  after  the  consecration  in  the  Sacrament  of  the 
Altar ! '  Believest  thou  not,  on  this  Ordinance  of  the  Church  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  whatsoever  Prelates  have  or- 
dained in  the  Church,  our  Belief  standeth  ever  whole.  I  have 
not  heard  that  the  ordinance  of  men  under  Belief,  should  be 
put  into  Belief." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  *'  If  thou 
hast  not  learned  this  before,  learn  now,  to  know  that  thoa  art 
out  of  belief,  if,  in  this  matter,  and  others,  thou  believest 
not  as  Holy  Church  believeth  !  What  say  Doctors  treating 
of  this  Sacrament  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  Saint  Paul,  that  was  a  great 
Doctor  of  Holy  Church,  speaking  to  the  people  and  teaching 
the  right  belief  of  this  most  holy  Sacrament,  calleth  it  bread 
that  we  break.  And  also  in  the  Canon  of  the  Masse,  after  the 
consecration,  this  most  worthy  Sacrament  is  called  holy  bread. 
And  every  priest  in  this  land,  after  he  hath  received  this 
Sacrament,  saith  to  this  wise,  That  thing  wliichwchavctakenwith 


76  The  FxMTIi  of  the  Church  for  1,000  years.  P7i 


am. 
407. 


our  mo7ifh,wcpray  GOD,  that  we  may  take  it  with  a  pure  and  dean 
mind  :  that  is,  as  I  understand,  '  We  pray  GOD,  that  we  may 
receive,  through  very  beHef,  this  holy  Sacrament  worthily.' 
And,  Sir,  Saint  Augustine  saith.  That  thin^  that  is  sense  is 
bread,  but  that  men's  faith  asketh  to  be  informed  of  is  very  Christ's 
body.  And  also  Fulgentius,  an  ententif  Doctor,  saith, 
As  if  were  an  error  to  say  that  Christ  was  bid  a  substance,  that 
is  Very  Man  and  not  Very  GOD,  or  to  say  that  Christ  was 
Very  GOD  and  not  Very  Man  ;  so  is  it,  this  Doctor  saith,  an 
error  to  say  that  the  Sacrament  of  the  Altar  is  but  a  snhstance. 
And  also,  Sir,  accordingly  hereto,  in  the  Secret  of  the  mid- 
Mass  of  Christmas  day,  it  is  written  thus,  Idem  refnlsit 
DEUS,  sic  terrena  substantia  nobis  confer  at  quod  divinum  est  ; 
which  sentence,  with  the  Secret  of  the  fourth  ferye  quatuor 
iemporum  Scptemhris,  I  pray  you,  Sir,  declare  here  openly  in 
English !  " 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  I  perceive 
well  enough  whereabout  thou  art !  and  how  the  Devil  blindeth 
thee,  that  thou  maist  not  understand  the  ordinance  of  Holy 
Church,  nor  consent  thereto  !  But  I  command  thee  now, 
answer  me  shortly,  '  Believest  thou  that,  after  the  consecra- 
tion of  this  foresaid  Sacrament,  there  abideth  substance  of 
bread  or  not  ?  '  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  as  I  understand,  it  is  all  one 
to  grant  or  to  believe  that  there  dwelleth  substance  of  bread, 
and  to  grant  or  to  believe  that  this  most  worthy  Sacrament 
of  Christ's  own  body  is  one  Accident  without  Subject.  But, 
Sir,  for  as  mickle  as  your  asking  passeth  mine  understanding, 
I  dare  neither  deny  it  nor  grant  it,  for  it  is  a  School  matter 
[a  subject  for  debate  in  the  University  Schools],  about  which  I 
busied  me  never  for  to  know  it :  and  therefore  I  commit  this 
term  accidens  sine  subjecto,  to  those  Clerks  which  delight  them 
so  in  curious  and  subtle  sophistry,  because  they  determine  oft 
so  difficult  and  strange  matters,  and  wade  and  wander  so  in 
them,  from  argument  to  argument,  with  pro  and  contra,  till 
they  wot  not  where  they  are  !  nor  understand  not  themselves! 
But  the  shame  that  these  proud  sophisters  have  to  yield 
them  to  men  and  before  men,  maketh  them  oft  fools,  and  to 
be  concluded  shamefully  before  GOD." 

Al'chbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  *'  I  purpose 
not  to  oblige  thee  to  the  subtle  arguments  of  Clerks,  since 


William. 
?   1407 


■J  The    2ND  CHARGE  OF  THE  SHREWSBURY    MEN.     "]"] 


thou  art  unable  thereto !  but  I  purpose  to  make  thee  obey  to 
the  determination  of  Holy  Church." 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  by  open  evidence  and  ,£;reat 
witness,  a  thousand  years  after  the  Incarnation  of  Christ, 
that  determination  which  I  have,  here  before  you,  rehearsed 
w^as  accepted  of  Holy  Church,  as  sufficient  to  the  salvation 
of  all  them  that  would  believe  it  faithfully,  and  work  there- 
after charitably.  But,  Sir,  the  determination  of  this  matter, 
which  was  brought  in  since  the  Fiend  was  loosed  by  Friar 
Thomas  [Acquinas,  d.  1274]  again,  specially  calling  the  most 
worshipful  Sacrament  of  Christ's  own  body,  an  Accident  with- 
out Subject ;  which  term,  since  I  know  not  that  GOD's  law 
approveth  it  in  this  matter,  I  dare  not  grant  :  but  utterly  I 
deny  to  make  this  friar's  sentence  [emendation]  or  any  such 
other  my  belief;  do  with  me,  GOD  !  what  Thou  wilt !  " 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  Well, 
well !  thou  shalt  say  otherwise  ere  that  I  leave  thee  !  " 

Ut  what  sayest  thou  to  this  second  point  that  is  re- 
corded against  thee,  by  worthy  men  of  Shrewsbury, 
saying  that  thou  preachedst  openly  there  that  the 
images  ought  not  to  he  worshipped  in  any  wise  ?  " 
William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  I  preached  never  thus,  nor, 
through  GOD's  grace,  I  will  not,  any  time,  consent  to  think 
nor  to  say  thus  ;  neither  privily,  nor  apertly.  For,  lo,  the 
LORD  witnesseth  by  Moses,  that  the  things  which  He  made 
were  right  good,  and  so  then  they  were,  and  yet  are,  and  shall 
be  good  and  worshipful  in  their  kind.  And  thereto,  to  the 
end  that  GOD  made  them  to,  they  are  all  preisable  [valuable] 
and  worshipful ;  and  specially  man  that  was  made  after  the 
image  and  likeness  of  GOD  is  full  worshipful  in  his  kind : 
yea,  this  holy  image,  that  is  man,  GOD  v^0Y^h\Y>^&i}\[respecteth]. 
And  herefore  every  man  should  worship  others  in  kind,  and 
also  for  heavenly  virtues  that  men  use  charitably.  Also  I 
say,  wood,  tin,  gold,  silver,  or  any  other  matter  that  images 
are  made  of;  all  these  creatures  [created  things]  are  worshipful 
in  their  kind,  and  to  the  end  that  GOD  made  them  for. 

"  But  the  carving,  casting,  nor  painting  of  any  imagery 
made  with  man's  hands  (albeit  that  this  doing  be  accepted  of 
men  of  highest  state  and  dignity,  and  ordained  of  them  to  be 
a  calendar  [horn  book]  to  lewd  men  that  neither  can  nor  will 


yS  How  Image-carvers  SHRIVE  THEMSELVES  FIRST.  \^^ 


lam. 
407. 


be  learned  to  know  GOD  in  His  Word,  neither  by  His  crea- 
tures, nor  by  His  wonderful  and  divers  workings)  ;  yet  this 
imagery  ought  not  to  be  worshipped  in  the  form,  nor  in  the 
likeness  of  man's  craft :  nevertheless  that  every  matter  that 
painters  paint  with,  since  it  is  GOD's  creature  ought  to  be 
worshipped  in  the  kind  and  to  the  end  that  GOD  made  and 
ordained  it  to  serve  man." 

Archbishop.  Then  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  I  grant 
well  that  nobody  oweth  [ought]  to  do  worship  to  any  such 
images  for  themselves  ;  but  a  crucifix  ought  to  be  worshipped 
for  the  Passion  of  Christ  that  is  painted  therein,  and  so 
brought  therethrough  to  man's  mind  :  and  thus  the  images 
of  the  blessed  Trinity  and  of  [the]  Virgin  Mary,  Christ's 
mother,  and  other  images  of  the  saints  ought  to  be  worshipped. 
For,  lo,  earthly  kings  and  lords,  which  use  to  send  their 
letters  ensealed  with  their  arms  or  with  their  privy  signet,  to 
men  that  are  with  them,  are  worshipped  of  these  men.  For 
when  these  men  receive  their  lord's  letters,  in  which  they  see 
and  know  the  wills  and  biddings  of  their  lords,  in  worship  of  their 
lords,  they  do  off  their  caps  to  these  letters  :  why  not,  then, 
since  in  images  made  with  man's  hands,  we  may  read  and 
know  many  divers  things  of  GOD  and  of  His  saints,  shall  we 
not  worship  their  images?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  with  my  foresaid  Protestation,  "  I 
say  that  these  worldly  usages  of  temporal  lords  that  ye  speak 
now  of,  may  be  done  in  case  without  sin  :  but  this  is  no  simi- 
litude to  worship  images  made  by  man's  hand,  since  that 
Moses,  David,  Solomon,  Baruch,  and  other  saints  in  the 
Bible,  forbid  so  plainly  the  worshipping  of  all  such  images." 

Archbishop.  Then  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  Lewd 
losell !  In  the  Old  Law,  before  that  Christ  took  mankind 
[human  nature],  was  no  likeness  of  any  person  of  the  Trinity 
neither  shewed  to  man  nor  known  of  man  ;  but  now  since 
Christ  became  man,  it  is  lawful  to  have  images  to  shew  His 
manhood.  Yea,  though  many  men  which  are  right  great 
Clerks,  and  others  also,  hold  it  an  error  to  paint  the  Trinity ; 
I  say,  it  is  well  done  to  make  and  to  paint  the  Trinity 
in  images.  For  it  is  a  great  moving  of  devotion  to  men,  to 
have  and  to  behold  the  Trinity  and  other  images  of  Saints 
carved,  cast,  and  painted.  For  beyond  the  sea,  are  the  best 
painters  that  ever  I  saw.     And,  sirs  !  I  tell  you,  this  is  their 


^'"'4^!]   Great  boldness  of  the  Lollard  Apostle.  79 

manner;  and  it  is  a  good  manner  !  When  that  an  image- 
maker  shall  carve,  cast  in  mould,  or  paint  any  images  ;  he 
shall  go  to  a  priest,  and  shrive  him  as  clean  as  if  he  should 
die,  and  take  penance,  and  make  some  certain  vow  of  fasting, 
or  of  praying,  or  of  pilgrimages  doing  :  praying  the  priest 
specially  to  pray  for  him,  that  he  may  have  grace  to  make  a 
fair  and  a  devout  image." 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  I  doubt  not,  if  these  painters 
that  ye  speak  of,  or  any  other  painters  understood  truly  the 
text  of  Moses,  of  David,  of  the  Wise  Man  [i.e.,  Solomon],  of 
Baruch,  and  of  other  Saints  and  Doctors,  these  painters 
should  be  moved  to  shrive  them  to  GOD,  with  full  inward 
sorrow  of  heart ;  taking  upon  them  to  do  right  sharp  penance 
for  the  sinful  and  vain  craft  of  painting,  carving,  or  casting 
that  they  had  used ;  promising  GOD  faithfully  never  to  do  so 
after,  [acjknowledging  openly  before  all  men,  their  reprovable 
earning.  And  also,  sir,  these  priests,  that  shrive,  as  ye  do  sa}', 
painters,  and  enjoin  them  to  do  penance,  and  pray  for  their 
speed,  promising  to  them  help  of  their  prayers  for  to  be  curious 
[cunning]  in  their  sinful  crafts,  sin  herein  more  grievously 
than  the  painters.  For  these  priests  do  comfort  and  give 
them  counsel  to  do  that  thing,  which  of  great  pain  (yea, 
under  the  pain  of  GOD's  curse  !)  they  should  utterly  forbid 
them.  For,  certes,  Sir,  if  the  wonderful  working  of  GOD, 
and  the  holy  living  and  teaching  of  Christ  and  of  his 
Apostles  and  Prophets  were  made  known  to  the  people  by 
holy  living  and  true  and  busy  teaching  of  priests ;  these 
things,  Sir,  were  sufficient  books  and  kalendarsto  know  GOD 
by,  and  His  Saints :  without  any  images  made  with  man's 
hand  :  but,  certes,  the  vicious  living  of  priests  and  their 
covetousness  are  [the]  chief  cause  of  this  error  and  all  other 
viciousness  that  reigneth  among  the  people." 

Archbishop.  Then  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  **  I  hold 
thee  a  vicious  priest,  and  a  curst !  and  all  them  that  are  of 
thy  sect  !  for  all  priests  of  Holy  Church  and  all  images  that 
move  men  to  devotion ;  thou  and  such  others  go  about  to 
destroy  !  Losell !  were  it  a  fair  thing  to  come  into  a  church, 
and  see  therein  none  image  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  they  that  come  to  the  church, 
for  to  pray  devoutly  to  the  LORD  GOD,  may  in  their  inward 
wits  be  the  more  fervent  [when]  that  all  their  outward  wits 


8o  There  is  no  miracle  in  an  Image,   [wniiam  of  Thorpe. 

be  closed  from  all  outward  seeing  and  hearing  and  from  all 
distroublance  and  lettings  [hindrances].  And  since  Christ 
blessed  them  that  saw  him  not  bodily,'  and  have  believed 
faithfully  in  him:  it  sufficeth  then,  to  all  men,  through  hearing 
and  knowing  of  GOD's  Word,  and  to  do  thereafter,  for  to  be- 
lieve in  GOD,  though  they  see  never  images  made  with  man's 
hands,  after  any  Person  of  the  Trinity,  or  of  any  other  Saint." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me  with  a 
fervent  spirit,  "  I  say  to  thee,  losell  !  that  it  is  right  well 
done  to  make  and  to  have  an  image  of  the  Trinity  !  Yea, 
what  sayest  thou  ?  Is  it  not  a  stirring  thing  to  behold  such 
an  image  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  ye  said,  right  now,  that  in  the 
Old  Law,  ere  Christ  took  mankind,  no  likeness  of  any  Person 
of  the  Trinity  was  shewed  to  men  ;  wherefore.  Sir,  ye  said  it 
was  not  then  lawful  to  have  images :  but  now  ye  say,  since 
Christ  is  become  man,  it  is  lawful  to  make  and  to  have  an 
image  of  the  Trinity,  and  also  of  other  saints.  But,  sir,  this 
thing  would  I  learn  of  you  !  Since  the  Father  of  heaven, 
yea,  and  every  Person  of  the  Trinity  was,  without  beginning, 
GOD  Almighty,  and  many  holy  prophets,  that  were  dedely 
[deathly,  i.e.,  liable  to  death]  men,  were  martyrized  violently  in 
the  Old  Law,  and  also  many  men  and  women  then  died  holy 
Confessors  :  why  was  it  not  then,  as  lawful  and  necessary  as 
now,  to  have  made  an  image  of  the  Father  of  heaven,  and  to 
have  made  and  had  other  images  of  martyrs,  prophets,  and 
holy  confessors  to  have  been  kalendars  to  advise  men  and 
move  them  to  devotion,  as  ye  say  that  images  now  do  ?  " 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said,  "  The  Synagogue 
of  jews  had  not  authority  to  approve  these  things,  as  the 
Church  of  Christ  hath  now." 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  Saint  Gregory  was  a  great 
man  in  the  New  Law,  and  of  great  dignity  ;  and  as  the 
Common  [?  Canon]  Law  witnesseth,  he  commended  greatly 
a  Bishop,  in  that  he  forbade  utterly  the  images  made  with 
man's  hand,  should  be  worshipped." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said,  "  Ungracious 
losell  !  thou  lavourest  no  more  the  truth,  than  a  hound  ! 
Since  at  the  RoodI_s]  at  the  North  Door  [of  Saint  Patd's 
Chunlii  at  London,  at  our  Lady  at  Walsingham,  and  many 
other  divers  places  in  England,  are  many  great  and  preisable 


William  of  Thi 


I'w.]  In  what  image,  may  god  be  shewed  ?  8i 


[precioiis]  miracles  done :  should  not  the  images  of  such  holy 
saints  and  places,  at  [on  account  of  \  the  reverence  of  GOD, 
and  our  Lady,  and  other  saints,  be  more  worshipped,  than 
other  places  and  images  where  no  such  miracles  are  done  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  there  is  no  such  virtue  in  any 
imagery,  that  any  images  should  herefore  be  worshipped  ; 
wherefore  I  am  certain  that  there  is  no  miracle  done  of  GOD 
in  any  place  in  earth,  because  that  any  images  made  with 
man's  hand,  should  be  worshipped.  And  herefore,  Sir,  as 
I  preached  openly  at  Shrewsbury  and  other  places,  I  say  now 
here  before  you :  that  nobody  should  trust  that  there  were 
any  virtue  in  imagery  made  with  man's  hand,  and  herefore 
nobody  should  vow  to  them,  nor  seek  them,  nor  kneel  to 
them,  nor  bow  to  them,  nor  pray  to  them,  nor  offer  any- 
thing to  them,  nor  kiss  them,  nor  incense  them.  For, 
lo,  the  most  worthy  of  such  images,  the  Brazen  Serpent,  by 
Moses  made,  at  GOD's  bidding!  the  good  King  Hezekiah 
destroyed  worthily  and  thankfully ;  for  because  it  was 
incensed.  Therefore,  Sir,  if  men  take  good  heed  to  the 
writing  and  to  the  learning  of  Saint  Augustine,  of  Saint 
Gregory,  and  of  Saint  John  Chrysostom,  and  of  other 
Saints  and  Doctors,  how  they  speak  and  write  of  miracles 
that  shall  be  done  now  in  the  last  end  of  the  world  ;  it  is  to 
dread  that,  for  the  unfaithfulness  of  men  and  women,  the 
Fiend  hath  great  power  for  to  work  many  of  the  miracles  that 
now  are  done  in  such  places.  For  both  men  and  women 
delight  now,  more  for  to  hear  and  know  miracles,  than  they  do 
to  know  GOD's  Word  or  to  hear  it  effectuously.  Wherefore, 
to  the  great  confusion  of  all  them  that  thus  do,  Christ  saith. 
The  generation  of  adulterers  requircth  tokens,  miracles,  and  wonders. 
Nevertheless,  as  divers  Saints  say,  now,  when  the  faith  of 
GOD  is  published  in  Christendom,  the  Word  of  God  sufhceth 
to  man's  salvation,  without  such  miracles;  and  thus  also  the 
Word  of  GOD  sufhceth  to  all  faithful  men  and  women,  with- 
out any  such  images. 

"But,  good  Sir,  since  the  Father  of  heaven,  that  is  GOD  in 
His  Godhead,  is  the  most  unknown  thing  that  may  be,  and  the 
most  wonderful  Spirit,  having  in  it  no  shape  or  likeness  of 
any  members  of  any  dedely  [deadly,  i.e.,  liable  to  death]  crea- 
ture :  in  what  likeness,  or  what  image,  may  GOD  the  Father 
be  shewed  or  painted  ?  " 

Emg  Car.  VI,  6 


82  The  3RD  charge  of  the  Shrewsbury  men.  [T.'r/. 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said,  "As  Holy  Church 
hath  suffered,  and  yet  suffereth  the  images  of  all  the  Trinity, 
and  other  images  to  be  painted  and  shewed,  sufficeth  to  them 
that  are  members  of  Holy  Church.  But  since  thou  art  a 
rotten  member  cut  away  from  Holy  Church,  thou  favourest 
not  the  ordinance  thereof!  But  since  the  day  passeth,  leave 
we  this  matter  1  " 

IRchbishop.  And  then  he  said  to  me,  "  What  sayest 
thou,  to  the  third  point  that  is  certified  against 
thee,  preaching  openly  in  Shrewsbury  that  Pilgrim- 
age is  not  laivfnl  ?  And,  over  this,  thou  saidest  that 
those  men  and  women  that  go  on  pilgrimages  to  Canterbury,  to 
Beverley, to  Carlington,to  Walsingham,and  to  any  such  other  places, 
arc  accursed;  and  made  foolish,  spending  their  goods  in  waste.'" 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  by  this  Certification,  I  am  ac- 
cused to  you,  that  I  should  teach  that  no  pilgrimage  is  lawful. 
But  I  never  said  thus.  For  I  know  that  there  be  true  pilgrim- 
ages, and  lawful  and  full  pleasant  to  GOD  ;  and  therefore, 
Sir,  howsoever  mine  enemies  have  certified  you  of  me,  I  told 
at  Shrevv'sbury  of  tw^o  manner  of  pilgrimages." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "Whom 
callest  thou  true  pilgrims  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  v^'ith  my  Protestation,  I  call 
them  true  pilgrims  travelling  towards  the  bliss  of  heaven, 
which  (in  the  state,  degree,  or  order  that  GOD  calleth  them) 
do  busy  them  faithfully  for  to  occupy  all  their  wits  bodily  and 
ghostly,  to  know  truly  and  keep  faithfully  the  biddings  of 
GOD,  hating  and  fleeing  all  the  seven  deadly  sins  and  every 
branch  of  them,  ruling  them  virtuously,  as  it  is  said  before, 
with  all  their  wits,  doing  discreetly  wilfully  and  gladly  all 
the  works  of  mercy,  bodily  and  ghostly,  after  their  cunning 
and  power  abling  them  to  the  gifts  of  the  HOLY  GHOST, 
disposing  them  to  receive  in  their  souls,  and  to  hold  therein 
the  right  blessings  of  Christ  ;  busying  them  to  know  and  to 
keep  the  seven  principal  virtues  :  and  so  then  they  shall 
obtain  herethrough  grace  for  to  use  thankfully  to  GOD  all 
the  conditions  of  charity;  and  then  they  shall  be  moved  with 
the  good  Spirit  of  GOD  for  to  examine  oft  and  diligently 
their  conscience,  that  neither  wilfully  nor  wittingly  they  err 
in  any  Article  of  Belief,  having  continually  (as  frailty  will 


WilHam. 
?    1407. 


]  Every  good  thought  is  a  step  heavenward.  8; 


suffer)  all  their  business  to  dread  and  to  flee  the  offence  of 
GOD,  and  to  love  over  all  things  and  to  seek  ever  to  do  His 
pleasant  will. 

"Of  these  pilgrims,  I  said,  *  Whatsoever  good  thought  that 
they  any  time  think,  what  virtuous  word  that  they  speak,  and 
what  fruitful  work  that  they  work;  every  such  thought,  word, 
and  work  is  a  step  numbered  of  GOD  towards  Him  into  heaven. 
These  foresaid  pilgrims  of  GOD  delight  sore,  when  they  hear 
of  saints  or  of  virtuous  men  and  women,  how  they  forsook 
wilfully  the  prosperity  of  this  life,  how  they  withstood  the 
suggestion  of  the  Fiend,  how  they  restrained  their  fleshly 
lusts,  how  discreet  they  were  in  their  penance  doing,  how 
patient  they  were  in  all  their  adversities,  how  prudent  they 
were  in  counselling  of  men  and  women,  moving  them  to 
hate  all  sin  and  to  flee  them  and  to  shame  ever  greatly 
thereof,  and  to  love  all  virtues  and  to  draw  to  them,  imagin- 
ing how  Christ  and  his  followers  (by  example  of  him)  suffered 
scorns  and  slanders,  and  how  patiently  they  abode  and  took 
the  wrongful  menacing  of  tyrants,  how  homely  they  were  and 
serviceable  to  poor  men  to  relieve  and  comfort  them  bodily 
and  ghostly  after  their  power  and  cunning,  and  how  devout 
they  were  in  prayers,  how  fervent  they  were  in  heavenly 
desires,  and  how  they  absented  them  from  spectacles  of  vain 
seeings  and  hearings,  and  how  stable  they  were  to  let  [hinder] 
and  to  destroy  all  vices,  and  how  laborious  and  joyful  they 
were  to  sow  and  plant  virtues.  These  heavenly  conditions 
and  such  others,  have  the  pilgrims,  or  endeavour  them  for  to 
have,  whose  pilgrimage  GOD  accepteth.' 

"And  again  I  said,  '  As  their  works  shew,  the  most  part  of 
men  or  women  that  go  now  on  pilgrimages  have  not  these 
foresaid  conditions ;  nor  loveth  to  busy  them  faithfully  for  to 
have.  For  (as  I  well  know,  since  I  have  full  oft  assayed) 
examine,  whosoever  will,  twenty  of  these  pilgrims !  and  he 
shall  not  find  three  men  or  women  that  know  surely  a  Com- 
mandment of  GOD  [i.e.,  one  of  the  Ten  Couwiandmcnts],  nor 
can  say  their  Pater  nostcr  and  Ave  Maria  !  nor  their  Credo, 
readily  in  any  manner  of  language.  And  as  I  have  learned, 
and  also  know  somewhat  by  experience  of  these  same  pilgrims, 
telling  the  cause  why  that  many  men  and  women  go  hither 
and  thither  now  on  pilgrimages,  it  is  more  for  the  health  of 
their  bodies,  than  of  their  souls  !  more  for  to  have  richesse  and 


84  The  singing  and  jangling  of  pilgrims,  pviuiam  of  Thorpe. 

prosperity  of  this  world,  than  for  to  be  enriched  with  virtues 
in  their  souls  !  more  to  have  here  worldly  and  fleshly  friend- 
ship, than  for  to  have  friendship  of  GOD  and  of  His  saints  in 
heaven.  For  whatsoever  thing  a  man  or  woman  doth,  the 
friendship  of  GOD,  nor  of  any  other  Saint,  cannot  be  had 
without  keeping  of  GOD's  commandments.' 

"  For  with  my  Protestation,  I  say  now,  as  I  said  at  Shrews- 
bury,'though  they  thathave  fleshlywills,  travel  for  their  bodies, 
and  spend  mickle  money  to  seek  and  to  visit  the  bones  or 
images,  as  they  say  they  do,  of  this  saint  and  of  that :  such 
pilgrimage-going  is  neither  praisable  nor  thankful  to  GOD, 
nor  to  any  Saint  of  GOD  ;  since,  in  effect,  all  such  pilgrims 
despise  GOD  and  all  His  commandments  and  Saints.  For 
the  commandments  of  GOD  they  will  neither  know  nor  keep, 
nor  conform  them  to  live  virtuously  by  example  of  Christ 
and  of  his  Saints.' 

"Wherefore,  Sir,  I  have  preached  and  taught  openly,  and 
so  I  purpose  all  my  lifetime  to  do,  with  GOD's  help,  saying 
that  'such  fond  people  waste  blamefully  GOD's  goods  in  their 
vain  pilgrimages,  spending  their  goods  upon  vicious  hostelars 
[innkeepers],  which  are  oft  unclean  women  of  their  bodies;  and 
at  the  least,  those  goods  with  the  which,  they  should  do  works 
of  mercy,  after  GOD's  bidding,  to  poor  needy  men  and  women.' 

"  ([  These  poor  men's  goods  and  their  livelihood,  these 
runners  about  offer  to  rich  priests!  which  have  mickle  more 
livelihood  than  they  need  :  and  thus  those  goods,  they  waste 
wilfully,  and  spend  them  unjustly,  against  GOD's  bidding, 
upon  strangers;  with  which  they  should  help  and  relieve,  after 
GOD's  will,  their  poor  needy  neighbours  at  home.  Yea,  and 
over  this  folly,  ofttimes  divers  men  and  women  of  these 
runners  thus  madly  hither  and  thither  into  pilgrimage,  borrow 
hereto  other  men's  goods  (yea,  and  sometimes  they  steal 
men's  goods  hereto),  and  they  pay  them  never  again. 

"  Also,  Sir,  I  know  well,  that  when  divers  men  and  women 
will  go  thus  after  their  own  wills,  and  finding  out  one  pil- 
grimage, they  will  ordain  with  them  before^hand]  to  have 
with  them  both  men  and  women  that  can  well  sing  wanton 
songs;  and  some  other  pilgrims  will  have  with  them  bagpipes: 
so  that  every  town  that  they  come  through,  what  with  the 
noise  of  their  singing,  and  with  the  sound  of  their  piping,  and 
with  the  jangling  of  their  Canterbury  bells,  and  with  the 


William  of  Thorpe.-|    'YuE    ArCIIBP.'s    CURE    FOR    A    TOEACIIE.  85 

barking  out  of  dogs  after  them,  they  make  more  noise  than 
if  the  King  came  there  away,  with  all  his  clarions  and  many 
other  minstrels.  And  if  these  men  and  women  be  a  month 
out  in  their  pilgrimage,  many  of  them  shall  be,  a  half  year 
after,  great  janglers,  tale-tellers,  and  liars." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  Lewd 
losell !  thou  seest  not  far  enough  in  this  matter!  for  thou 
considerest  not  the  great  travail  of  pilgrims  ;  therefore  thou 
blamest  that  thing  that  is  praisable  !  I  say  to  thee,  that  it 
is  right  well  done  ;  that  pilgrims  have  with  them  both  singers 
and  also  pipers  :  that  when  one  of  them  that  goeth  barefoot 
striketh  his  toe  upon  a  stone  and  hurteth  him  sore  and 
maketh  him  to  bleed  ;  it  is  well  done,  that  he  or  his  fellow, 
begin  then  a  song  or  else  take  out  of  his  bosom  a  bagpipe  for  to 
drive  away  with  such  mirth,  the  hurt  of  his  fellow.  For  with 
such  solace,  the  travail  and  weariness  of  pilgrims  is  lightly 
and  merrily  brought  forth." 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  Saint  Paul  teacheth  men,  to 
weep  with  them  that  iceep." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said,  "  What  janglest 
thou  against  men's  devotion  ?  Whatsoever  thou  or  such 
other  say,  I  say,  that  the  pilgrimage  that  now  is  used,  is  to 
them  that  do  it,  a  praisable  and  a  good  mean[s]  to  come  the 
rather  to  grace.  But  I  hold  thee  unable  to  know  this  grace  ! 
for  thou  enforcest  thee  to  let  [hinder]  the  devotion  of  the 
people,  since  by  authority  of  Holy  Scripture,  men  may  law- 
fully have  and  use  such  solace  as  thou  reprovest !  For 
David  in  his  last  Psalm,  teacheth  me  to  have  divers  instru- 
ments of  music  for  to  praise  therewith  GOD." 

William.  And  I  said,  "Sir,  by  the  sentence  [opinions]  of 
divers  Doctors  expounding  the  Psalms  of  David,  the  music 
and  minstrelsy  that  David  and  other  Saints  of  the  Old  Law 
spake  of,  owe  [ouglit],  now,  neither  to  be  taken  nor  used  by 
the  letter ;  but  these  instruments  with  their  music  ought  to 
be  interpreted  ghostly  [spiritually]  :  for  all  those  figures  are 
called  Virtues  and  Grace,  with  which  virtues  men  should 
please  GOD  and  praise  His  name.  For  Saint  Paul  saith, 
All  such  things  befell  to  them  in  figure.  Therefore,  Sir,  I 
understand  that  the  letter  of  this  Psalm  of  David  and  of  such 
other  Psalms  and  sentences,  doth  slay  them  that  taken  them 
now  literally.     This  sentence,  I  understand,  Sir,  CiiRisT  ap- 


86    The  4TH  charge  of  the  Shrewsbury  men.  [V^l^^i. 

proveth  himself,  putting  out  the  minstrels,  ere  that  he  would 
quicken  the  dead  damsel." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  *'  Lewd 
Josell  !  is  it  not  lawful  for  us  to  have  organs  in  the  church, 
for  to  worship  therewithal  GOD  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "Yea,  Sir,  by  man's  ordinance  ;  but, 
by  the  ordinance  of  GOD,  a  good  sermon  to  the  people's 
understanding,  were  mickle  more  pleasant  to  GOD  1  " 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  that  "  organs  and 
good  delectable  songs  quickened  and  sharpened  more  men's 
wits,  than  should  any  sermon  !  " 

William.  But  I  said,  "  Sir,  lusty  men  and  worldly  lovers 
delight  and  covet  and  travail  to  have  all  their  wits  quickened 
and  sharpened  with  divers  sensible  solace  :  but  all  the  faithful, 
lovers  and  followers  of  Christ  have  all  their  delight  to  hear 
GOD's  Word,  and  to  understand  it  truly,  and  to  work  there- 
after faithfully  and  continually.  For,  no  doubt,  to  dread  to 
offend  GOD,  and  to  love  to  please  Him  in  all  things, 
quickeneth  and  sharpeneth  all  the  wits  of  Christ's  chosen 
people,  and  ableth  them  so  to  grace,  that  they  joy  greatly  to 
withdraw  their  ears,  and  all  their  wits  and  members  from  all 
worldly  delight,  and  from  all  fleshly  solace.  For  Saint 
Jerome,  as  I  think,  saith,  Nobody  may  joy  with  this  world, 
and  rci:j:n  with  CHRIST.'' 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop,  as  if  he  had  been  dis- 
pleased with  mine  answer,  said  to  his  Clerks,  "  What  guess 
ye  this  idiot  will  speak  there,  where  he  hath  none  dread  ;  since 
he  spaketh  thus  now,  here  in  my  presence  ?  Well,  well,  by 
God  !  thou  shalt  be  ordained  for  !  " 

|Nd  then  he  spake  to  me,  all  angerly,  "  What  sayest 
thou  to  this  fourth  point  that  is  certified  against 
thee,  preaching  openly  and  boldly  in  Shrewsbury, 
That  priests  have  no  title  to  tithes  ?  " 
William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  I  named  there  no  word  of 
tithes  in  my  preaching.  F)Ut,  more  than  a  month  after  [?  June, 
1407]  that  I  was  arrested,  there  in  prison  \at  Shreicsbury],  a  man 
came  to  me  into  the  prison,  asking  me  'What  I  said  of  tithes  ?' 
"  And  I  said  to  him,  '  Sir,  in  this  town,  are  many  Clerks  and 
Priests;  of  which  some  of  them  are  called  Religious  Men, 
though  many  of  them  be  Seculars.  Therefore,  ask  ye  of 
them  this  question  ! ' 


William  of  Thorpe.j  ClIRIST  &  HIS  ApOSTLES  TOOK  NO  TITHES.  87 

"  And  this  man  said  to  me,  *  Sir,  our  prelates  say  that  we 
are  also  obliged  to  pay  our  tithes  of  all  things  that  renew  to 
us ;  and  that  they  are  accursed  that  withdraw  any  part 
wittingly  from  them  of  their  tithes,' 

"And  I  said,  Sir,  to  that  man,  as  with  my  Protestation,  I 
say  now  here  before  you,  that  '  I  had  wonder[ed]  that  any 
priest  dare  say  men  to  be  accursed,  without  ground  of  GOD's 
Word.' 

"  And  the  man  said,  'Sir,  our  priests  say  that  they  curse 
men  thus,  by  authority  of  GOD's  Law.' 

"  And  I  said,  '  Sir,  I  know  not  where  this  sentence  of 
cursing  is  authorized  now  in  the  Bible.  And  therefore,  Sir,  I 
pray  you  that  ye  will  ask  the  most  cunning  Clerk  of  this 
town,  that  5'e  may  know  where  this  sentence,  "  cursing  them 
that  tythe  not  now,"  is  written  in  GOD's  Law :  for  if  it  were 
written  there,  I  would  right  gladly  be  learned  [informed]  where.' 

"  But,  shortly,  this  man  would  not  go  from  me,  to  ask  this 
question  of  another  body  ;  but  required  me,  there,  as  I  would 
answer  before  GOD  !  if,  in  this  case,  the  cursing  of  priests 
were  lawful  and  approved  of  GOD  ? 

"  And,  shortly,  therewith  came  to  my  mind  the  learning  of 
Saint  Peter,  teaching  priests  especially,  to  halloiv  the  LORD 
Christ  in  their  hearts,  being  evermore  ready,  as  far  as  in.  them 
is,  to  answer  throtigh  faith  and  hope,  to  them  that  ask  of  them  a 
reason.  And  this  lesson  Peter  teacheth  me  to  use,  with  a 
meek  spirit,  and  with  dread  of  the  LORD. 

"  Wherefore,  Sir,  I  said  to  this  man,  in  this  wise,  '  In 
the  Old  Law,  which  ended  not  fully  till  the  time  that  Christ 
rose  up  again  from  death  to  life,  GOD  commanded  tithes  to 
be  given  to  the  Levites  for  the  great  business  and  daily 
travail  that  pertained  to  their  office  :  but  Priests,  because 
their  travail  was  mickle  more  easy  and  light  than  was  the 
office  of  the  Levites,  GOD  ordained  that  Priests  should 
take  for  their  lifelode  [livcliJwod]  to  do  their  office,  the  tenth 
part  of  those  tithes  that  were  given  to  the  Levites. 

"  '  But  now,'  I  said,  '  in  the  New  Law,  neither  Christ 
nor  any  of  his  Apostles  took  tithes  of  the  people,  nor  com- 
manded the  people  to  pay  tithes,  neither  to  Priests  nor  to 
Deacons.  But  Christ  taught  the  people  to  do  almesse 
[alms],  that  is,  works  of  mercy  to  poor  needy  men,  of  surplus 
that  is  superfluouse  [superfluity]  of  their  temporal  goods  which 


88  Apostle  Paul  worked  witti  ins  hands.  [^^'"^7°^  '^"^-p^^; 

they  had  more  than  them  needed  reasonably  to  their  necessary 
livelihood.  And  thus,'  I  said,  '  not  of  tithes,  but  of  pure 
alms  of  the  people  Christ  lived  and  his  Apostles,  when  they 
were  so  busy  in  teaching  of  the  Word  of  GOD  to  the  people, 
that  they  might  not  travail  otherwise  for  to  get  their  liveli- 
hood. But  after  Christ's  Ascension,  and  when  the  Apostles 
had  received  the  HOLY  GHOST,  they  travailed  with  their 
hands  for  to  get  their  livelihood  when  that  they  might  thus 
do  for  [on  account  of]  busy  preaching.  Therefore,  by  example 
of  himself,  St.  Paul  teacheth  all  the  priests  of  Christ  for 
to  travail  with  their  hands,  when  for  busy  teaching  of  the 
people,  they  might  thus  do.  And  thus  all  these  priests 
(whose  priesthood  GOD  accepteth  now,  or  will  accept  ;  or 
did  [accept]  in  the  Apostles'  time,  and  after  their  decease) 
will  do,  to  the  world's  end. 

'"  But  as  Cistcrcicnsis  telleth,  in  the  thousand  year  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  two  hundred  and  eleventh  year,  one 
Pope,  the  tenth  Gregory,  ordained  new  tithes  first  to  be 
given  to  priests  now  in  the  New  Law.  But  Saint  Paul  in 
his  time  (whose  trace  or  example,  all  priests  of  GOD  enforce 
them  to  follow),  seeing  the  covetousness  that  was  among  the 
people  (desiring  to  destroy  this  foul  sin,  through  the  grace 
of  GOD,  and  true  virtuous  living  and  example  of  himself) 
wrote  and  taught  all  priests  for  to  follou'  him,  as  he  followed 
Christ,  patiently,  willingly,  and  gladly  in  high  poverty. 
Wherefore  Paul  saith  this,  The  LORD  hath  ordained,  that 
they  that  preach  the  Gospel  shall  live  by  the  Gospel.  But  we, 
saith  Paul,  that  covet  and  busy  us  to  be  faithful  followers  of 
Christ,  use  not  this  power.  For,  lo,  as  Paul  witnessed  after- 
ward, when  he  was  full  poor  and  needy,  preaching  among 
the  people,  he  was  not  chargeous  \clwirgeable]  unto  them,  but 
with  his  hands  he  travailed,  not  only  to  get  his  own  living, 
but  also  the  living  of  other  poor  and  needy  creatures.  And 
since  the  people  were  never  so  covetous  nor  so  avarous 
[avaricious],  I  guess,  as  they  are  now  ;  it  were  good  counsel 
that  all  priests  took  good  heed  to  this  heavenly  learning  of 
Paul  :  following  him  here,  in  wilful  poverty,  nothing  charging 
the  people  for  their  bodily  livelihood. 

'"  But  because  that  many  priests  do  contrary  Paul  in  this 
foresaid  doctrine,  Paul  biddeth  the  people  take  heed  to  those 
pricbts,  that  follow  him,  as  he  had  given  them  example  :  as  if 


William  of  Thorpe. J     p^iEyTs  SPEND  THE  PARISH  OFFERINGS.      89 

Paul  would  say  thus  to  the  people,  "Accept  ye  none  other 
priests,  than  they  that  live  after  the  form  that  I  have  taught 
you  !  "  For,  certain,  in  whatsoever  dignity  or  order  that  any 
priest  is  in,  if  he  conform  him  not  to  follow  Christ  and  his 
Apostles  in  wilful  poverty  and  in  other  heavenly  virtues,  and 
specially  in  true  preaching  of  GOD's  Word  ;  though  such 
a  one  he  named  a  Priest,  yet  he  is  no  more  but  a  Priest  in 
name :  for  the  work  of  a  very  Priest  such  a  one  wanteth ! 
This  sentence  [opinion]  approveth  Augustine,  Gregory, 
Chrysostom,  and  [Grosset£te,  Bishop  of]  Lincoln 
plainly.'  " 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  Thinkest 
thou  this  wholesome  learning  for  to  sow  openly,  or  yet  privily 
among  the  people  I  Certain,  this  doctrine  contrarieth 
plainly  the  ordinance  of  Holy  Fathers  :  which  have  ordained, 
granted,  and  licensed  priests  to  be  in  divers  degrees  ;  and  to 
live  by  tithes  and  offerings  of  the  people,  and  by  other  duties." 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  if  priests  were  now  in  mea- 
surable measure  and  number;  and  lived  virtuously,  and  taught 
busily  and  truly  the  Word  by  the  example  of  Christ  and  of 
his  Apostles,  without  tithes  offerings  and  other  duties  that 
priests  now  challenge  and  take :  the  people  would  give  them 
freely  sufficient  livelihood." 

A  Clerk.  And  a  Clerk  said  to  me,  "  How  wilt  thou  make 
this  good,  that  the  people  will  give  freely  to  priests  their 
livelihood;  since  that  now,  by  the  law,  every  priest  can 
scarcelv  constrain  the  people  to  give  them  their  livelihood  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  it  is  now  no  wonder,  though 
the  people  grudge  to  give  the  priests  the  livelihood  that  they 
ask  !  for  mickle  people  know,  now,  how  that  priests  should 
live ;  and  how  that  they  live  contrary  to  Christ  and  His 
Apostles.  And  therefore  the  people  are  full  heavy  to  pay,  as 
they  do,  their  temporal  goods  to  Parsons  and  to  other  Vicars 
and  Priests;  which  should  be  faithful  dispensators  of  the 
parish's  goods,  taking  to  themselves  no  more  but  a  scarce 
living  of  tithes  nor  of  offerings  by  the  Ordinance  of  the  Coni- 
mon  Law.  For  whatsoever  priests  take  of  the  people,  be  it 
tithes  or  offering,  or  any  other  duty  or  service,  the  priests 
ought  not  to  have  thereof  no  more  but  a  bare  living  :  and  to 
depart  [give  away]  the  residue  to  the  poor  men  and  women, 
specially  of  the  parish  of  whom  they  take  this  temporal  living. 


90  Christ  lived  wholly  upon  alms,  [wmiam of  Thorp. 

But  the  most  deal  [greater  portion]  of  priests  now  waste  their 
parish's  goods,  and  spendeth  them  at  their  own  will,  after  the 
world  in  their  vain  lusts:  so  that  in  few  places  poor  men  have 
duly,  as  they  should  have,  their  own  sustenance,  neither  of 
tithes  nor  of  offerings,  nor  of  other  large  wages  and  foundations 
that  priests  take  of  the  people  in  divers  manners,  above  that 
they  need  for  needful  sustenance  of  meat  and  clothing.  But 
the  poor  needy  people  are  forsaken  and  left  of  priests,  to  be 
sustained  of  the  paroshenis  [parishioners];  as  if  the  priests  took 
nothing  of  the  parishioners,  for  to  help  the  poor  people  with. 
And  thus.  Sir,  into  over  great  charges  of  the  parishioners, 
they  pay  their  temporal  goods  twice  ;  where  once  might 
suffice,  if  priests  were  true  dispensators. 

"  Also,  Sir,  the  parishioners  that  pay  their  temporal  goods, 
be  they  tithes  or  offerings,  to  priests  that  do  not  their  office 
among  them  justly,  are  partners  of  every  sin  of  those  priests: 
because  that  they  sustain  those  priests'  folly  in  their  sin,  with 
their  temporal  goods.  If  these  things  be  well  considered, 
what  wonder  is  it  then.  Sir,  if  the  parishioners  grudge  against 
these  dispensators  ?  " 

Archbishop.  Then  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,"  Thou  that 
shouldest  be  judged  and  ruled  by  Holy  Church,  presump- 
tuously, thou  deemest  Holy  Church  to  have  erred  in  the  ordi- 
nance of  tithes  and  other  duties  to  be  paid  to  priests  !  It 
shall  be  long  ere  thou  thrive,  losell  !  that  thou  despisest  thy 
ghostly  Mother!  How  darest  thou  speak  this,  losell  !  among 
the  people  ?     Are  not  tithes  given  to  priests  for  to  live  by  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  Saint  Paul  saith  that  tithes 
were  given  in  the  Old  Law  to  Levites  and  to  Priests,  that 
came  of  the  lineage  of  Levi.  But  onr  priest,  he  saith,  came  not 
of  the  lineage  of  LEVI,  but  of  the  lineage  ofJUDAH;  to  which 
JUDAH,  no  tithes  were  promised  to  be  given.  And  therefore  Paul 
saith.  Since  the  priesthood  is  changed  from  the  generation  of  Levi 
to  the  generation  of  JUDAH,  it  is  necessary  t/iat  changing  also  be 
made  of  the  Law.  So  that  priests  live  now  without  tithes  and 
other  duties  that  they  now  claim  ;  following  Christ  and  his 
Apostles  in  wilful  poverty,  as  they  have  given  them  ex- 
ample. For  since  Christ  lived  all  the  time  of  His  preaching 
by  pure  [the  simple]  alms  of  the  people,  and  (by  example  of 
him)  his  Apostles  lived  in  the  same  wise,  or  else  by  the 
travail  of  their  hands,  as  it  is  said  above;  every  priest,  whose 


William  of  Thorpe.-|  u  HeARD  YE  EVER  LOSELL  SPEAK  THUS  !  "  9I 

priesthood  Christ  approveth,  knoweth  well,  and  confesseth 
in  word  and  in  work  that  a  disciple  oivdh  [ought]  not  to  be  above 
his  Master,  but  it  snjjiccth  to  a  disciple  to  be  as  his  Master,  simple 
and  pure,  meek  and  patient :  and  by  example  specially  of  his 
Master  Christ,  every  priest  should  rule  him  in  all  his  living; 
and  so,  after  his  cunning  and  power,  a  priest  should  busy 
him  to  inform  and  to  rule  whomsoever  he  might  charitably." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  with  a  great 
spirit,  "  GOD's  curse  have  thou  and  thine  for  this  teaching  ! 
for  thou  wouldest  hereby  make  the  Old  Law  more  free  and 
perfect  than  the  New  Law !  For  thou  say  est  it  is  lawful  for 
Levites  and  to  Priests  to  take  tithes  in  the  Old  Law,  and  so 
to  enjoy  their  privileges;  but  to  us  priests  in  the  New  Law, 
thou  sayest  it  is  not  lawful  to  take  tithes !  And  thus,  thou 
givest  the  Levites  of  the  Old  Law  more  freedom,  than  to 
priests  of  the  New  Law  !  " 

"William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  I  marvel,  that  ye  understand 
this  plain  text  of  Paul  thus  !  Ye  wot  well,  that  the  Levites 
and  Priests  in  the  Old  Law,  that  took  tithes,  were  not  so  free 
nor  so  perfect  as  Christ  and  his  Apostles  that  took  no  tithes  ! 
And,  Sir,  there  is  a  Doctor,  I  think  that  it  is  Saint  Jerome, 
that  saith  thus,  The  priests  that  challenge  now  in  the  Neie)  Law, 
tithes,  say,  in  effect  that  Christ  is  not  become  Man,  nor  that  he 
hath  yet  suffered  death  for  man's  love.  Whereupon,  this  Doctor 
saith  this  sentence,  Since  tithes  were  the  hires  and  wages  limited 
to  Levites  and  to  Priests  of  the  Old  Law,  for  bearing  about  of 
the  Tabernacle,  and  for  slaying  and  flaying  of  beasts,  and  for 
burning  of  sacrifice,  and  for  keeping  of  the  Temple,  and  for  trwnping 
of  battle  before  the  host  of  Israel,  and  other  divers  observances  that 
pertained  to  their  office;  those  priests,  that  ivill  challenge  or  take 
tithes,  deny  that  Christ  is  comen  in  flesh,  and  do  the  Pricsfs  office 
of  the  Old  Law,  for  whom  tithes  were  granted  :  for  else,  as  the 
Doctor  saith,  priests  take  now  tithes  wrongfullyJ" 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  his  Clerks, 
*'  Heard  ye  ever  losell  speak  thus  !  Certain,  this  is  the 
learning  of  them  all,  that  wheresoever  they  come,  and  they 
may  be  suffered,  they  enforce  them  to  expugn  the  freedom  of 
Holy  Church  !  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  why  call  you  the  taking  of 
tithes  and  of  such  other  duties  that  priests  challenge  now 
wrongfully  *  the  freedom   of    Holy  Church ' ;  since  neither 


92   Priests  are  the  stomach  of  the  people  !  \y^. 

Christ  nor  his  Apostles  challenged  nor  took  such  duties? 
Herefore  these  takings  of  priests  now,  are  not  called  justly 
'the  freedom  of  Holy  Church  '  :  but  all  such  giving  and  tak- 
ing ought  to  be  called  and  holden  '  the  slanderous  covetous- 
ness  of  men  of  the  Holy  Church.'  " 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  Why, 
losell  !  wilt  not  thou  and  others  that  are  confedered  \con- 
fcdcratcd]  with  thee,  seek  out  of  Holy  Scripture  and  of  the 
sentence  of  Doctors,  all  sharp  authorities  against  Lords  and 
Knights  and  Squires,  and  against  other  secular  men,  as  thou 
dost  against  priests  ?  " 

"William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  whatsoever  men  or  women. 
Lords  or  Ladies,  or  any  others  that  are  present  in  our 
preaching  specially,  or  in  our  communing,  after  our  cunning, 
we  to  tell  to  them  their  office  and  their  charges:  but.  Sir,  since 
Chrvsostom  saith  the  priests  are  the  stomach  of  the  people,  it  is 
needful  in  preaching  and  also  in  communing,  to  be  most  busy 
about  this  priesthood,  since  by  the  viciousness  of  priests, 
both  Lords  and  Commons  are  most  sinfully  infected  and  led 
into  the  worst.  And  because  that  the  covetousness  of  priests, 
and  pride  and  the  boast  that  they  have  and  make,  of  their 
dignity  and  power,  destroyeth  not  only  the  virtues  of  priest- 
hood in  priests  themselves :  but  also,  over  this,  it  stirreth 
GOD  to  take  great  vengeance  both  upon  Lords  and  Com- 
mons, which  suffer  these  priests  charitably." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  Thou 
judgest  ever)'  priest  proud  that  will  not  go  arrayed  as  thou 
dost !  By  God !  I  deem  him  to  be  more  meek  that  goeth 
every  day  in  a  scarlet  gown,  than  thou,  in  that  threadbare 
blue  gown  !     Whereby  knowest  thou  a  proud  man  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  a  proud  priest  may  be  known 
when  he  denieth  to  follow  Christ  and  his  Apostles  in  wilful 
poverty  and  other  virtues  ;  and  coveteth  worldly  worship, 
and  taketh  it  gladly,  and  gathereth  together  with  pleting 
[?  pleading]  menacing  or  with  flattering,  or  with  simony,  any 
worldly  goods :  and  most  if  a  priest  busy  him  not  chieliy  in 
himself,  and  after  in  all  other  men  and  women,  after  his 
cunning  and  power,  to  withstand  sin." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  Though 
thou  knewest  a  priest  to  have  all  these  vices,  and  though 
thou  sawest  a  priest,  lovely,  lie  now  by  a  woman,  knowing 


Will 


l'^';';^;]   The  5x11  charge  of  the  Shrewsbury  men.  93 

her  fleshly  ;  wouldest  thou  herefore  deem  this  priest  damn- 
able ?  I  say  to  thee,  that  in  the  turning  about  of  thy  hand, 
such  a  sinner  may  be  verily  repented!  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  I  will  not  damn  any  man  for 
any  sin  that  I  know  done  or  may  be  done  ;  so  that  the  sinner 
leaveth  his  sin  !  But,  by  authority  of  Holy  Scripture,  he 
that  sinneth  thus  openly,  as  ye  shew  here,  is  damnable  for 
doing  of  such  a  sin  ;  and  most  specially  a  priest  that  should 
be  [an]  example  to  all  others  for  to  hate  and  fly  sin  :  and  in 
how  short  time  that  ever  ye  say,  that  such  a  sinner  may  be 
repented,  he  oweth  [ought]  not,  of  him  that  knoweth  his 
sinning,  to  be  judged  verily  repentant,  without  open  evidence 
of  great  shame  and  hearty  sorrow  for  his  sin.  For  whosoever, 
and  specially  a  priest,  that  useth  pride,  envy,  covetousness, 
lechery,  simony,  or  any  other  vices  ;  and  sheweth  not,  as  open 
evidence  of  repentance,  as  he  hath  given  evil  example  and 
occasion  of  sinning  :  if  he  continue  in  any  such  sin  as  long  as 
he  may,  it  is  likely  that  sin  leaveth  him  and  he  not  sin  ;  and, 
as  I  understand,  such  a  one  sinneth  unto  death,  for  whom 
nobody  oweth  [ought]  to  pay,  as  Saint  John  saith." 

A  Clerk.  And  a  Clerk  said  to  the  Archbishop,  "  Sir,  the 
longer  that  ye  appose  him,  the  worse  he  is !  and  the  more 
that  ye  busy  you  to  amend  him,  the  waywarder  he  is  !  for  he 
is  of  so  shrewd  a  kind,  that  he  shameth  not  only  to  be  himself 
a  foul  nest ;  but,  without  shame,  he  busieth  him  to  make  his 
nest  fouler !  " 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  his  Clerk, 
*'  Suffer  a  while,  for  I  am  at  an  end  with  him  !  for  there  is 
one  other  point  certified  against  him ;  and  I  will  hear  what 
he  saith  thereto." 

Nd  so  then,  he  said  to  me,  *'  Lo,  it  is  here  certified 
against  thee,  that  thou  preachedst  openly  at  Shrews- 
burv  tJiat  it  is  not  lawful  to  swear  in  any  case.'' 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  I  preached  never  so 
openly,  nor  I  have  not  taught  in  this  wise,  in  any  place.  But, 
Sir,  as  I  preached  in  Shrewsbury,  with  my  Protestation  I  say 
to  you  now  here.  That  by  the  authority  of  the  Gospel  and  of 
Saint  James,  and  by  witness  of  divers  Saints  and  Doctors,  I 
have  preached  openly,  in  one  place  or  other,  that  it  is  not  law- 
ful in  any  case  to  swear  by  any  creature.  And,  over  this,  Sir, 


94   A  Man  of  Law  and  a  Master  of  Divinity. 


rWlllIrim. 
L   '!   1407- 


have  also  preached  and  taught,  by  the  foresaid  authorities, 
that  nobody  should  swear  in  any  case,  if  that  without  oath,  in 
any  wise,  he  that  is  charged  to  swear,  might  excuse  him  to 
them  that  have  power  to  compel  him  to  swear  in  leful  things 
and  lawful :  but  if  a  man  may  not  excuse  him  without  oath  to 
them  that  have  power  to  compel  him  to  swear,  then  he  ought 
to  swear  only  by  GOD,  taking  Him  only,  that  is  Soothfast- 
ness,  for  to  witness  the  soothfastness." 

A  Clerk.  And  then  a  Clerk  asked  me,  "  If  it  were  not 
leful  [lawful]  to  a  subject,  at  the  bidding  of  his  Prelate,  for  to 
kneel  down  and  touch  the  Holy  Gospel  book,  and  kiss  it 
saying,  So  help  me,  GOD  !  and  this  holy  doom!  for  he  should, 
after  his  cunning  and  power,  do  all  things,  that  his  Prelate 
commandeth  him?" 

William.  And  I  said  to  them,  **  Sirs,  ye  speak  here  full 
generally  and  largely  !  What,  if  a  Prelate  commanded  his 
subject  to  do  an  unlawful  thing,  should  he  obey  thereto?" 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  A  subject 
ought  not  to  suppose  that  his  Prelate  will  bid  him  do  an 
unlawful  thing.  For  a  subject  ought  to  think  that  his  Pre- 
late will  bid  him  do  nothing  but  that  he  will  answer  for 
before  GOD,  that  it  is  lefull  [lawful] :  and  then,  though  the 
bidding  of  the  Prelate  be  unlawful,  the  subject  hath  no  peril 
to  fulfil  it ;  since  that  he  thinketh  and  judgeth  that  what- 
soever thing  his  Prelate  biddeth  him  do,  that  is  leful  to 
him  for  to  do  it." 

William.  And  I  said,  **  Sir,  I  trust  not  hereto  1  But  to 
our  lirst  purpose  1  Sir,  I  tell  you  that  I  was  once  in  a 
gentleman's  house,  and  there  were  then  two  Clerks  there,  a 
Master  of  Divinity  and  a  Man  of  Law  ;  which  Man  of  Law 
was  also  communing  in  divinity.  And  among  other  things, 
these  men  spake  of  oaths.  And  the  Man  of  Law  said,  '  At 
the  bidding  of  his  Sovereign  which  had  power  to  charge  him 
to  swear,  he  would  lay  his  hand  upon  a  book,  and  hear 
his  charge;  and  if  his  charge,  to  his  understanding  were 
unlawful,  he  would  hastily  withdraw  his  hand  from  the 
book ;  and  if  he  perceived  his  charge  to  be  leful  he  would 
hold  still  his  hand  upon  the  book,  taking  there  only  GOD  to 
witness  that  he  would  fulfil  that  leful  charge  after  his 
power.'  And  the  Master  of  Divinity  said  then  to  him  thus, 
'  Certain,  he  that  layeth  his  hand  upon  a  book  in  this  wise, 


Will 


ri'w.']  William  to  explain  Ciirvsostom's  Homil  v.  95 

and  maketh  there  a  promise  to  do  that  thing  that  he  is 
commanded,  is  obliged  there,  by  book  oath,  then,  to  fulfil 
his  charge.  For,  no  doubt,  he  that  chargeth  him  to  lay  his 
hand  thus  upon  a  book,  touching  the  book  and  swearing  by 
it,  and  kissing  it,  promising  in  this  form,  to  do  this  thing  or 
that,  will  say  and  witness,  that  he  that  toucheth  thus  a  book 
and  kisseth  it,  hath  sworn  upon  that  book ;  and  all  other 
men  that  see  that  men  thus  do,  and  also  all  those  that 
hear  thereof  in  the  same  wise,  will  say  and  witness  that 
this  man  hath  sworn  upon  a  book  !  Wherefore,'  the  Master 
of  Divinity  said,  '  it  was  not  leful,  neither  to  give  nor  to 
take  any  such  charge  upon  a  book!  for  every  book  is 
nothing  else  but  divers  creatures  [created  tilings],  of  which  it 
is  made  of:  therefore  to  swear  upon  a  book,  is  to  swear  by 
creatures !  and  this  swearing  is  ever  unlefuL' 

"  This  sentence  witnesseth  Chrysostom,  plainly  blaming 
them  greatly,  that  bring  forth  a  book  for  to  swear  upon, 
charging  Clerks  that  in  nowise  they  constrain  anybody  to 
swear,  whether  they  think  a  man  to  swear  true  or  false." 

And  the  Archbishop  and  his  Clerks  scorned  me,  and 
blamed  me  greatly  for  this  saying.  And  the  Archbishop 
menaced  me  with  great  punishment  and  sharp,  except  I 
left  this  opinion  of  swearing. 

"William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  this  is  not  mine  opinion  ;  but 
it-  is  the  opinion  of  Christ  our  Saviour  !  and  of  Saint  James  ! 
and  of  Chrysostom  !  and  of  other  divers  Saints  and  Doctors  !  " 

Then  the  Archbishop  bad  a  Clerk  read  this  Homily  of 
Chrysostom,  which  Homily  this  Clerk  held  in  his  hand 
written  in  a  roll ;  which  roll  the  Archbishop  caused  to  be 
taken  from  my  fellow  at  Canterbury :  and  so  then  this  Clerk 
read  this  roll,  till  he  came  to  a  clause  where  Chrysostom 
saith  that  it  is  sin,  to  swear  well. 

A  Clerk  (?Malveren).  And  then  a  Clerk,  Malveren 
as  I  guess,  said  to  the  Archbishop,  *'  Sir,  I  pray  you  wit 
of  him,  how  that  he  understandeth  Chrysostom  here,  saying 
it  to  be  sin,  to  swear  well." 

Archbishop.  And  so  the  Archbishop  asked  me,  "  How  I 
understood  here  Chrysostom  ? 

William.  And,  certain,  I  was  somewhat  afraid  to  answer 
hereto ;  for  I  had  not  busied  me  to  study  about  the  sense 
hereof:  but  lifting  up  my  mind  to  GOD,  I  prayed  Him,  of 


96    ArCIIBP.'s    views    enforced    by    force.  [Wnuam  of  Thorpe. 

j^race.  And,  as  fast,  as  I  thought  how  Christ  said  to 
his  apostles,  When,  for  my  name,  ye  shall  be  brott^ht  before 
judges,  I  will  give  into  your  month,  wisdom,  that  your  adver- 
saries shall  not  against  say  [gainsay]  ;  and  trusting  faithfully 
in  the  Word  of  GOD,  I  said,  "  Sir,  I  know  well,  that  many 
men  and  women  have  now  swearing  so  in  custom,  that  they 
know  not,  nor  will  not  know  that  they  do  evil  for  to  swear 
as  they  do :  but  they  think  and  say,  that  they  do  well 
for  to  swear  as  they  do  ;  though  they  know  well  that  they 
swear  untruly.  For  they  say,  '  They  may  by  their  swearing, 
though  it  be  false,  [a]void  blame  or  temporal  harm;  which 
they  should  have,  if  they  swore  not  thus.' 

"  And,  Sir,  many  men  and  women  maintain  strongly  that 
they  swear  well,  when  that  thing  is  sooth  that  they  swear  for. 

"  Also  full  many  men  and  women  say  now  that  '  It  is 
well  done  to  swear  by  creatures,  when  they  may  not  (as  they 
say)  otherwise  be  believed.' 

"  And  also  full  many  men  and  women  now  say  that  *  It  is 
well  done  to  swear  by  GOD  and  by  our  Lady,  and  by  other 
Saints  ;  for  to  have  them  in  mind ! ' 

"  But  since  all  these  sayings  are  but  excusations  [excuses] 
and  sin,  methinketh,  Sir,  that  this  sentence  of  Chrysostom 
may  be  alleged  well  against  all  such  swearers :  witnessing  that 
these  sin  grievously  ;  though  they  think  themselves  for  to 
swear  in  this  foresaid  wise,  well.  For  it  is  evil  done  and 
great  sin  for  to  swear  truth,  when,  in  any  manner,  a  man 
may  excuse  him  without  oath." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  that  "  Chrysos- 
tom might  be  thus  understood." 

A  Clerk.  And  then  a  Clerk  said  to  me,  "  Wilt  thou  tarry  my 
Lord  no  longer  !  but  submit  thee  here  meekly  to  the  ordinance 
of  Holy  Church  ;  and  lay  thine  hand  upon  a  book,  touching 
the  Holy  Gospel  of  GOD,  promising,  not  only  with  thy  moutli 
but  also  with  thine  heart,  to  stand  to  my  Lord's  ordinance  ?" 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  have  I  not  told  you  here,  how 
that  I  heard  a  Master  of  Divinity  say  that,  in  such  a  case, 
it  is  all  one  to  touch  a  book,  and  to  swear  by  a  book  ?" 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said,  "  There  is  no 
Master  of  Divinity  in  England  so  great,  that  if  he  hold  this 
opinion  before  me,  but  I  shall  punish  him  as  I  shall  do  thee, 
except  thou  swear  as  I  shall  charge  thee !  ■' 


William 
1    1407, 


;]  Specimen  of  the  arguments  of  Schoolmen.  97 


William.  And  I  said,"  Sir,  is  not  Chrysostom  an  ententil 
Doctor?  " 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said,  "  Yea  !  " 

"William.  And  I  said,  "  If  Chrysostom  proveth  him 
worthy  great  blame  that  bringeth  forth  a  book  to  swear  upon, 
it  must  needs  follow  that  he  is  more  to  blame  that  sweareth 
on  that  book  !  " 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said,  "  If  Chrysostom 
meant  according  to  the  ordinance  of  Holy  Church,  we  will 
accept  him !  " 

A  Clerk.  And  then  said  a  Clerk  to  me,  "  Is  not  the  Word 
of  GOD,  and  GOD  Himself  equipollent^  that  is,  of  one 
authority  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Yea  !  " 

A  Clerk.  Then  he  said  to  me,  *'  Why  wilt  thou  not  swear, 
then,  by  the  Gospel  of  GOD,  that  is,  GOD's  Word ;  since  it  is 
all  one  to  swear  by  the  Word  of  GOD  and  by  GOD  Himself  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  since  I  may  not,  now,  other- 
wise be  believed  but  by  swearing,  I  perceive,  as  Augustine 
saith,  that  it  is  not  speedful  that  ye,  that  should  be  my 
brethren,  should  not  believe  me  :  therefore  I  am  ready,  by 
the  Word  of  GOD  (as  the  LORD  commanded  me  by  His 
Word),  to  swear." 

A  Clerk.  Then  the  Clerk  said  to  me,  "  Lay,  then,  thine 
hand  upon  the  book,  touching  the  Holy  Gospel  of  GOD  ;  and 
take  th}^  charge  !  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  I  understand  that  the  Holy 
Gospel  of  GOD  may  not  be  touched  with  man's  hands  !  " 

A  Clerk.  And  the  Clerk  said  I  fonded  [Jooled],  and  that  I 
said  not  truth. 

William.  And  I  asked  this  Clerk,  "  Whether  it  were 
more  to  read  the  Gospel,  or  to  touch  the  Gospel  ? " 

A  Clerk.  And  he  said,  "  It  was  more  to  read  the  Gospel !  " 

William.  Then  I  said,  "  Sir,  by  authority  of  Saint 
Jerome,  the  Gospel  is  not  the  Gospel  for  [through]  reading 
of  the  letter,  but  for  the  belief  that  men  have  in  the  Word  of 
GOD  ;  that  it  is  the  Gospel  that  we  believe,  and  not  the 
letter  we  read  :  for  because  the  letter  that  is  touched  with 
man's  hand  is  not  the  Gospel,  but  the  sentence  that  is  verily 
believed  in  man's  heart  is  the  Gospel.  For  so  Saint  Jerome 
saith,  The  Gospel,  that  is  the  virtue  of  GOD's  Word  is  not  in  the 

£ng.  Gar.  VI.  7 


98    Gospel  hid  in  the  Letter  of  Scripture.    [Y'' 


lam. 


leaves  of  the  hook,  but  it  is  in  the  root  of  reason.  Neither  the 
Gospel,  he  saith,  is  in  the  writing  above  of  the  letters  ;  but  the 
Gospel  is  in  the  marking  of  the  sentence  of  Scriptures. 

"  This  sentence  approveth  Saint  Paul,  saying  thus,  The 
Kingdom  of  GOD  is  not  in  word,  but  in  virtue.  And  David 
saith.  The  voice  of  the  LORD,  that  is,  His  Word,  is  in  virtue. 
And,  after,  David  saith,  Through  the  Word  of  GOD,  the  heavens 
were  formed ;  and  in  the  Spirit  of  His  mouth  is  all  the  virtue  of 
them.  And  I  pray  you,  Sir,  understand  ye  well  how  David 
saith  that,  in  the  Spirit  of  the  mouth  of  the  LORD  is  all  the  virtue 
of  angels  and  of  men''  ? 

A  Clerk.  And  the  Clerk  said  to  me,  "  Thou  wouldst  make 
us  to  fond  with  thee !  Say  we  not  that  the  Gospels  are 
written  in  the  Mass  book  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  though  men  use  [are  accus- 
tomed] to  say  thus,  yet  it  is  unperfect  speech.  For  the 
principal  part  of  a  thing  is  properly  the  whole  thing  :  for, 
lo,  man's  soul  that  may  not  now  be  seen  here,  nor  touched 
with  any  sensible  thing,  is  properly  Man  !  And  all  the  virtue 
of  a  tree  is  in  the  root  thereof,  that  may  not  be  seen ;  for  do 
away  with  the  root,  and  the  tree  is  destroyed !  And,  Sir,  as 
ye  said  to  me,  right  now,  GOD  and  His  Word  are  of  one 
authority;  and.  Sir,  Saint  Jerome  witnesseth  that  Christ, 
Very  GOD  and  Very  Man,  is  hid  in  the  letter  of  his  Law; 
thus  also,  Sir,  the  Gospel  is  hid  in  the  letter ! 

"  For,  Sir,  as  it  is  full  likely  many  divers  men  and  women 
here  in  the  earth  touched  Christ,  and  saw  him,  and  knew 
his  bodily  person  ;  which  neither  touched,  nor  saw,  nor  knew 
ghostly  his  Godhead  :  right  thus.  Sir,  many  men  now  touch, 
and  see,  and  write,  and  read  the  Scriptures  of  GOD's  Law, 
which  neither  touch,  see,  nor  read  effectually  the  Gospel. 
For  as  the  Godhead  of  Christ,  that  is,  the  virtue  of  GOD,  is 
known  by  the  virtue  through  belief ;  so  is  the  Gospel,  that  is 
Christ's  Word  !  " 

A  Clerk.  And  a  Clerk  said  to  me,  "  These  be  full  misty 
matters  and  unsavoury,  that  thou  showest  here  to  us !  " 

"William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  if  ye,  that  are  Masters,  know 
not  plainly  this  sentence,  ye  may  sore  dread  that  the  Kingdom 
ot  Heaven  be  taken  from  you  !  as  it  was  from  the  Princes 
of  Priests  and  from  the  Elders  of  the  Jews." 

A  Clerk  (?  Malveren).  And  then  a  Clerk,  as   I  guess 


T'"moT]     Tiiey  layed  wait  to  entrap  William.      99 

Malveren,  said  to  me,  "  Thou  knowest  not  thine  equivoca- 
tions! for  the  '  King-dom  of  Heaven'  hath  diverse  under- 
standings. What  callest  thou  the  '  Kingdom  of  Heaven  '  in 
this  sentence,  that  thou  shewest  here  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  by  good  reason,  and  sentence 
of  Doctors,  the  Realm  of  Heaven  is  called  here,  the  under- 
standing of  GOD'S  Word." 

A  Clerk.  And  a  Clerk  said  to  me,  *'  From  whom,  thinkest 
thou,  that  this  understanding  is  taken  away  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  by  authority  of  Christ 
himself,  the  effectual  understanding  of  Christ's  word  is 
taken  away  from  all  them  chiefly  which  are  great-lettered 
[learned]  men,  and  presume  to  understand  high  things,  and 
will  be  holden  wise  men,  and  desire  mastership  and  high 
state  and  dignity :  but  they  will  not  conform  them  to  the 
living  and  teaching  of  Christ  and  of  His  Apostles." 

Archbishop.  Then  the  Archbishop  said,  "  Well,  well, 
thou  wilt  judge  thy  sovereigns !  By  God  !  the  King  [Henry 
IV.]  doeth  not  his  duty,  but  he  suffer  thee  to  be  condemned  !  " 

A  Clerk. [^^^^1 N d  then  another  Clerk  said  to  me,  "  Why, 
on  Friday  last,  that  was  [August  5,  1407], 
counselledst  thou  a  man  of  my  Lord's,  that 
he  should  not  shrive  him  to  Man,  but 
only  to  GOD?" 

And  with  this  asking,  I  was  abashed ;  and  then,  by  and 
by,  I  knew  that  I  was  surely  betrayed  of  a  man  that  came 
to  me  in  prison  [  ?  at  Saltwood  Castle]  on  the  Friday  before, 
communing  with  me  in  this  matter  of  confession  :  and, 
certain,  by  his  words,  I  thought  that  this  man  came  then  to 
me  of  full  fervent  and  charitable  will.  But  now  I  know,  he 
came  to  tempt  me  and  to  accuse  me.  GOD  forgive  him,  if 
it  be  His  holy  will  ! 

And  with  all  mine  heart,  when  I  had  thought  thus,  I  said 
to  this  Clerk,  "  Sir,  I  pray  you  that  ye  would  fetch  this  man 
hither !  and  all  the  words,  as  near  as  I  can  repeat  them, 
which  that  I  spake  to  him  on  Friday  in  the  prison,  I  will 
rehearse  now  here,  before  you  all,  and  before  him." 

Archbishop.  And,  as  I  guess,  the  Archbishop  then  said 
to  me,  "  They  that  are  now  here,  suffice  to  repeat  them.  How 
saidest  thou  to  him  ?  " 


lOO  Talk  on  Confession,  in  Saltwood  Castle. 


rwiiii 


William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  that  man  came  and  asked  me 
of  divers  things  ;  and  after  his  asldng,  I  answered  him,  as  I 
understood  that  good  was.  And,  as  he  shewed  to  me  by  his 
words,  he  was  sorry  for  his  living  in  Court,  and  right  heavy 
for  his  own  vicious  living,  and  also  for  the  viciousness  of 
other  men,  and  specially  of  priests'  evil  living;  and  herefore, 
he  said  to  me  with  a  sorrowful  heart,  as  I  guessed,  that  he  pur- 
posed fully,  within  short  time,  for  to  leave  the  Court,  and  busy 
him  to  know  GOD's  Law,  and  to  conform  all  his  life  hereafter. 

"  And  when  he  had  said  to  me  these  words,  and  others  more, 
which  I  would  rehearse  and  [if]  he  were  present,  he  prayed 
me  to  hear  his  confession. 

"  And  I  said  to  him, '  Sir,  wherefore  come  ye  to  me,  to  be 
confessed  of  me  ?  Ye  wot  well  that  the  Archbishop  putteth 
and  holdeth  me  here,  as  one  unworthy  either  to  give  or  to 
take  any  Sacrament  of  Holy  Church  ! ' 

"  And  he  said  to  me,  '  i3rother,  I  wot  well,  and  so  wot 
many  others  more,  that  you  and  such  others  are  wrongfully 
vexed ;  and  herefore  I  will  common  [coinmune]  with  you  the 
more  gladly.' 

"And  I  said  to  him,  *  Certain,  I  wot  well  that  many  men 
of  this  Court  [i.e.,  the  Archbishop's],  and  specially  Priests  of 
this  household  [Chaplains],  would  be  full  evil  a  paid,  both  with 
you  and  me,  if  they  wist  that  ye  were  confessed  of  me  !  ' 

"  And  he  said  that  he  cared  not  therefore,  for  he  had  full 
little  affection  in  them !  and,  as  methought,  he  spake  these 
words  and  many  others  of  so  good  v.'ill  and  of  so  high  desire 
for  to  have  known  and  done  the  pleasant  Will  of  GOD. 

"  And  I  said  then  to  him,  as  with  my  foresaid  Protesta- 
tion, I  say  to  you  now  here,  '  Sir,  I  counsel  you  for  to  absent 
you  from  all  evil  company,  and  to  draw  you  to  them  that 
love  and  busy  them  to  know  and  to  keep  the  precepts  of  GOD  ; 
and  then  the  good  Spirit  of  GOD  will  move  you  for  to 
occupy  busily  all  your  wits  in  gathering  together  of  all  your 
sins,  as  far  as  ye  can  bethink  you  ;  shaming  greatly  of  them, 
and  sorrowing  heartily  for  them.  Yea,  Sir,  the  HOLY 
GHOST  will  then  put  in  your  heart  a  good  will  and  a  fervent 
desire  for  to  take  and  to  hold  a  good  purpose,  to  hate  ever 
and  to  lly,  after  your  cunning  and  power,  all  occasion  of  sin  : 
and  so  then  wisdom  shall  come  to  you  from  above,  lightening 
with  divers  beams  of  grace  and  of  heavenly  desire  all  your 


William  of  Thorpe.-|    QQD    ALONE    CAN    FORGIVE    SINS  !      lOI 

wits,  informing  you  how  ye  shall  trust  stedfastly  in  the  mercy 
of  the  LORD,  [acjknowledging  to  Him  only  all  your  vicious 
living,  praying  to  Him  ever  devoutly  of  charitable  counsel 
and  continuance,  hoping  without  doubt  that  if  ye  continue 
thus  busying  you  faithfully  to  know  and  keep  his  biddings, 
that  He  will,  for  He  only  may,  forgive  you  all  your  sins  !  ' 

"And  this  man  said  then  to  me,  '  Though  GOD  forgive 
men  their  sins,  yet  it  behoveth  men  to  be  assoiled  [absolved] 
of  priests,  and  to  do  the  penance  that  they  enjoin  them  ! ' 

"  And  I  said  to  him,  '  Sir,  it  is  all  one  to  assoil  men  of 
their  sins,  and  to  forgive  men  their  sins:  wherefore  since  it 
pertaineth  only  to  GOD  to  forgive  sin,  it  sufficeth  in  this 
case,  to  counsel  men  and  women  for  to  leave  their  sin,  and 
to  comfort  them  that  busy  them  thus  to  do,  for  to  hope 
stedfastly  in  the  mercy  of  GOD.  And  againward,  priests 
ought  to  tell  sharply  to  customable  sinners,  that  if  they  will 
not  make  an  end  of  their  sin,  but  continue  in  divers  sins 
while  that  they  may  sin,  all  such  deserve  pain  without 
end.  And  herefore  priests  should  ever  busy  them  to  live  well 
and  holily,  and  to  teach  the  people  busily  and  truly  the 
Word  of  GOD  ;  shewing  to  all  folk,  in  open  preaching  and  in 
privy  counselling,  that  the  LORD  GOD  only  forgiveth  sin. 
And  therefore  those  priests  that  take  upon  them  to  assoil 
men  of  their  sins,  blaspheme  GOD  ;  since  that  it  pertaineth 
only  to  the  LORD  to  assoil  men  of  all  their  sins.  For,  no 
doubt,  a  thousand  years  after  that  Christ  was  man,  no 
priest  of  Christ  durst  take  upon  him  to  teach  the  people, 
neither  privil}^  nor  apertly,  that  they  behoved  needs  to  come 
to  be  assoiled  of  them  ;  as  priests  do  now.  But  by  authority 
of  Christ's  word,  priests  bound  indured  [hardened]  custom- 
able sinners  to  everlasting  pains,  [those]  which,  in  no  time  of 
their  living,  would  busy  them  faithfully  to  know  the  biddings 
of  GOD,  nor  to  keep  them.  And,  again,  all  they  that  would 
occupy  all  their  wits  to  hate  and  to  flee  all  occasion  of  sin, 
dreading  over  all  things  to  offend  GOD,  and  loving  for  to 
please  Him  continually;  to  these  men  and  women,  priests 
shewed  how  the  LORD  assoileth  them  of  their  sins.  And 
thus  Christ  promised  to  confirm  in  heaven,  all  the  binding 
and  loosing  that  priests,  by  authority  of  his  Word,  bind  men 
in  sin  that  are  indured  therein  ;  or  loose  them  out  of  sin  here 
upon  earth  that  are  verily  repentant.' 


I02  The  Monk  of  Faversiiam's  sermon,  [wniiam  of  Thorpe. 

"  And  this  man  hearing  these  words,  said  that  he  '  might 
well  in  conscience  consent  to  this  sentence.  But,'  he  said, 
*  is  it  not  needful  to  the  lay  people  that  cannot  thus  do,  to 
go  shrive  them  to  priests  ? ' 

"  And  I  said,  '  If  a  man  feel  himself  so  distroubled  with 
any  sin,  that  he  cannot  by  his  own  wit,  avoid  this  sin  without 
counsel  of  them  that  are  herein  wiser  than  he  ;  in  such  a  case, 
the  counsel  of  a  good  priest  is  full  necessary.  And  if  a  good 
priest  fail,  as  they  do  now  commonly,  in  such  a  case ;  Saint 
Augustine  saith  that  a  man  may  lefully  comon  [lawfidly 
commune]  and  take  counsel  of  a  virtuous  secular  man.  But, 
certain,  that  man  or  woman  is  overladen  and  too  beastly, 
which  cannot  bring  their  own  sins  into  their  mind,  busying 
them  night  and  day  for  to  hate  and  for  to  forsake  all  their 
sins,  doing  a  sigh  for  them,  after  their  cunning  and  power. 
And,  Sir,  full  accordingly  to  this  sentence,  upon  mid-Lenton 
Sunday,  two  years  [March  29,  1405],  as  I  guess,  now  agone,  I 
heard  a  Monk  of  Feversham,  that  men  called  Moredom, 
preach  at  Canterbury,  at  the  Cross  within  Christchurch 
Abbey,  saying  thus  of  Confession  :  As  through  the  suggestion 
of  the  Fiend,  without  counsel  of  any  other  body  than  of  themselves, 
many  men  and  women  can  imagine  and  find  means  and  ways 
enough  to  come  to  pride,  to  theft,  to  lechery,  and  to  other  divers 
vices  :  in  contrary  wise,  this  Alonk  said,  since  the  LORD  GOD 
is  more  ready  to  forgive  sin  than  the  Fiend  is  or  may  be  of  power 
to  move  anybody  to  sin,  then  u'hoever  will  shame  and  sorroiv 
heartily  for  their  sins,  [ac]knowlcdging  them  faithfully  to  GOD, 
amending  them  after  their  power  and  cunning,  without  counsel  of 
any  other  body  than  of  GOD  and  himself,  through  the  grace  of 
GOD,  all  such  men  and  women  may  find  sufficient  means  to 
come  to  GOD's  mercy,  and  so  to  be  clean  assoiled  of  all  their  sins.'' 
This  sentence  I  said,  Sir,  to  this  man  of  yours,  and  the  self 
words,  as  near  as  I  can  guess." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said,  "  Holy  Church 
approveth  not  this  learning." 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  Holy  Church,  of  which 
Christ  is  head  in  heaven  and  in  earth,  must  needs  approve 
this  sentence.  For,  lo,  hereby  all  m.en  and  women  may,  if 
they  will,  be  sufficiently  taught  to  know  and  to  keep  the 
commandments  of  GOD,  and  to  hate  and  to  fly  continually 
all  occasion  of  sin,  and  to  love  and  to  seek  virtues  busily, 


Willinm, 
?  1407. 


]    William  calls  Alkerton,  Flatterer!     10; 


and  to  believe  in  GOD  stably,  and  to  trust  in  His  mercy 
stedfastly,  and  so  to  come  to  perfect  charity  and  continue 
therein  perseverantly :  and  more,  the  LORD  asketh  not  of 
any  man  here  now  in  this  life.  And,  certain,  since  Jesus 
Christ  died  upon  the  cross  wilfully  to  make  men  free ;  Men 
of  the  Church  are  too  bold  and  too  busy  to  make  men  thrall  ! 
binding  them  '  under  the  pains  of  endless  curse, '  as  they  say,  to 
do  many  observances  and  ordinances,  which  neither  the  living 
nor  the  teaching  of  Christ,  nor  of  his  Apostles  approveth." 

A  Clerk.  And  a  Clerk  said  then  to  me,  "  Thou  shewest 
plainly  here  thy  deceit,  which  thou  hast  learned  of  them  that 
travail  to  sow  popil  \tare^'\  among  wheat !  But  I  counsel  thee  to 
go  away  clean  from  this  learning,  and  submit  thee  lowly  to 
my  Lord,  and  thou  shalt  find  him  yet  to  be  gracious  to  thee  !  " 

Another  Clerk.  And  as  fast,  another  Clerk  said  to  me, 
"  How  wast  thou  so  bold  at  Paul's  Cross  in  London,  to  stand 
there  hard,  with  thy  tippet  \cape'\  bounden  about  thine  head, 
and  to  reprove  in  his  sermon,  the  worthy  Clerk  Alkerton, 
drawing  away  all,  that  thou  mightest !  Yea,  and  the  same 
day  at  afternoon,  thou  meeting  that  worthy  Doctor  in  VVat- 
lins:  street,  calledst  him,  '  False  flatterer,  and  hypocrite  !  '  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  I  think  certainly,  that  there 
was  no  man  nor  woman  that  hated  verily  sin  and  loved 
virtues,  hearing  the  sermon  of  the  Clerk  of  Oxford,  and  also 
Alkerton's  sermon,  but  they  said,  and  might  justly  say,  that 
Alkerton  reproved  the  Clerk  untruly,  and  slandered  him 
wrongfully  and  uncharitably.  For,  no  doubt,  if  the  living  and 
teaching  of  Christ  chiefly  and  his  Apostles  be  true,  nobody 
that  loveth  GOD  and  His  Law  will  blame  any  sentence  that 
the  Clerk  then  preached  there  ;  since,  by  authority  of  GOD's 
Word,  and  by  approved  Saints  and  Doctors,  and  by  open 
reason,  this  Clerk  approved  all  things  clearly  that  he  preached 
there." 

A  Clerk.  And  a  Clerk  of  theArchbishop  said  to  me,  "  His 
sermon  was  false,  and  that  he  sheweth  openly,  since  he  dare 
not  stand  forth  and  defend  his  preaching,  that  he  then 
preached  there." 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  I  think  that  he  purposeth  to 
stand  stedfastly  thereby,  or  else  he  slandereth  foully  himself 
and  many  others  that  have  great  trust  that  he  will  stand  by 
the  truth  of  the  Gospel.     For  I  wot  well  his  sermon  is  writ- 


I04    The  Clerk  at  Oxford,  a  Lollard.  [ 


William  of  Thorpe. 
?  1407. 


ten  both  in  Latin  and  in  English  ;  and  many  men  have  it, 
and  they  set  great  price  thereby.  And,  Sir,  if  ye  were 
present  with  the  Archbishop  [i.e.,  of  CANTERBURY,  in  whose 
presence  he  was  then  standing]  at  Lambeth,  when  this  Clerk 
appeared  ;  and  were  at  his  Answer  before  the  Archbishop  :  ye 
wot  well  that  this  Clerk  denied  not  there  his  sermon  ;  but,  two 
days,  he  maintained  it  before  the  Archbishop  and  his  Clerks." 

Archbishop  or  a  Clerk.  And  then  the  Archbishop,  or 
one  of  his  Clerks  said  (I  wot  not  which  of  them  !),  "  That 
harlot  [at  this  time  applied  to  men  also]  shall  be  met  with,  for 
that  sermon.  For  no  man  but  he,  and  thou,  and  such  other 
false  harlots,  praiseth  any  such  preaching." 

Archbishop.  And  then  the  Archbishop  said,  **  Your  cursed 
sect  is  busy,  and  it  joyeth  right  greatly  to  contrary  and  to 
destroy  the  privilege  and  freedom  of  Holy  Church." 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  I  know  no  men  travail  so 
busily  as  this  sect  doth,  which  you  reprove,  to  make  rest  and 
peace  in  Holy  Church.  For  pride,  covetousness,  and  simony 
which  distrouble  most  Holy  Church,  this  sect  hateth  and 
flyeth,  and  travaileth  busily  to  move  all  other  men  in  like 
manner  unto  meekness  and  wilful  poverty  and  charity,  and 
free  ministring  of  the  sacraments  :  this  sect  loveth,  and  useth, 
and  is  full  busy  to  move  all  other  folks,  thus  to  do.  For  these 
virtues  oweall  membersof  Holy  Church  to  their  head, Christ." 

A  Clerk.  Then  a  Clerk  said  to  the  Archbishop,  "  Sir,  it  is 
far  day,  and  ye  have  far  to  ride  to-night ;  therefore  make  an 
end  with  him,  for  he  will  none  make !  But  the  more.  Sir, 
that  ye  busy  you  for  to  draw  him  towards  you,  the  more  con- 
tumax  \coniuuiacious]  he  is  made,  and  the  further  from  you." 

Malveren,  And  then  Malveren  said  to  me,  "  William  ! 
kneel  down,  and  pray  my  Lord,  of  grace  !  and  leave  all  thy 
fantasies,  and  become  a  child  of  Holy  Church  !" 

William.  And  I  said,  '*  Sir,  I  have  prayed  the  Archbishop 
oft,  and  yet  I  pray  him,  for  the  love  of  Christ  !  that  he  will 
leave  his  indignation  that  he  hath  against  me  ;  and  that  he 
will  suffer  me,  after  my  cunning  and  power,  for  to  do  mine 
office  of  priesthood,  as  I  am  charged  of  GOD  to  do  it.  For  I 
covet  nought  else,  but  to  serve  my  GOD  to  His  pleasing,  in 
the  state  that  I  stand  in,  and  have  taken  me  to." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  If,  of 
good  heart,  thou  wilt  submit  thee  now,  here,  meekly  to  be 


William  of  Thovpe.-|  \YiLLIAM  QUESTIONS  THE  ArCHBISIIOP.     IO5 

ruled,  from  this  time  forth  by  my  counsel,  obeying  meekly 
and  wilfully  to  mine  ordinance,  thou  shalt  find  it  most  profit- 
able and  best  to  thee  for  to  do  thus.  Therefore,  tarry  thou 
me  no  longer !  Grant  to  do  this,- that  I  have  said  to  thee 
now,  here,  shortly ;  or  deny  it  utterly  !  " 

William.  And  I  said  to  the  Archbishop,  "  Sir,  owe  [ought] 
we  to  believe  that  Jesus  Christ  was  and  is  Very  GOD  and 
Very  Man  ?  " 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said,  "  Yea  !  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  owe  we  to  believe  that  all 
Christ's  living  and  his  teaching  is  true  in  every  point  ?  " 

Archbishop.  And  he  said,  "  Yea  !  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  owe  we  to  believe  that  the 
living  of  the  Apostles  and  the  teaching  of  Christ  and  of  all 
Prophets  are  true,  which  are  written  in  the  Bible  for  the 
health  and  salvation  of  GOD's  people  ?  " 

Archbishop.  And  he  said,  "  Yea  !  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  owe  all  Christian  men  and 
women,  after  their  cunning  and  power,  for  to  conform  their 
living  to  the  teaching  specially  of  Christ;  and  also  to  the 
teaching  and  living  of  his  Apostles  and  of  Prophets,  in  all 
things  that  are  pleasant  to  GOD,  and  edification  to  His 
Church  ?  " 

Archbishop.  And  he  said,  "  Yea  !  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "Sir,  oughtthe  doctrine,  the  bidding, 
or  the  counsel  of  anybody  to  be  accepted  or  obeyed  unto, 
except  this  counsel,  these  biddings,  or  this  counsel  may  be 
granted  and  affirmed  by  Christ's  living  and  his  teaching, 
or  by  the  living  and  teaching  of  his  Apostles  and  Pro- 
phets?" 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  Other 
doctrine  ought  not  to  be  accepted,  nor  we  owe  not  to  obey  to 
any  man's  bidding  or  counsel ;  except  we  can  perceive  that 
this  bidding  or  counsel  accordeth  with  the  bidding  and 
teaching  of  Christ  and  of  his  Apostles  and  Prophets  ?  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  are  not  all  the  learning  and 
biddings  and  counsels  of  Holy  Church  means  and  healthful 
remedies  to  know,  and  to  withstand  the  privy  suggestions 
and  the  apert  temptations  of  the  Fiend  ;  and  also  ways  and 
healthful  remedies  to  slay  pride  and  all  other  deadly  sins  and 
the  branches  of  them  ;    and  sovereign  means  to  purchase 


io6  William  VERY  firm;  Abp.  in  a  passion,  [wnuam  of  Thorpe. 

grace,  for  to  withstand  and  overcome  all  fleshly  lusts  and 
moving?.  ?  " 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said,  "  Yea  !  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  whatsoever  thing  ye  or  any 
other  body  bid  or  counsel  me  to  do  ;  according  to  this  foresaid 
learning,  after  my  cunning  and  power,  through  the  help  of 
GOD,  I  will  meekly,  with  all  mine  heart,  obey  thereto  !  " 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  Submit 
thee  then,  now,  here,  meekly  and  wilfully  to  the  ordinance  of 
Holv  Church,  which  I  shall  shew  to  thee  !  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  according  as  I  have  here,  now 
before  you,  rehearsed,  I  will  now  be  ready  to  obey  full  gladly 
to  Christ,  the  Head  of  all  Holy  Church,  and  to  the  learning 
and  biddings  and  counsels  of  every  pleasing  member  of  Him." 

Archbishop.  Then  the  Archbishop  striking  with  his  hand 
fiercely  upon  a  cupboard,  spake  to  me^  with  a  great  spirit, 
saying,  "  By  Jesu  !  but  if  thou  leave  such  additions,  obliging 
thee  now  here  without  any  exception  to  mine  ordinance,  ere 
that  I  go  out  of  this  place,  I  shall  make  thee  as  sure  as  any 
thief  that  is  in  the  prison  of  Lantern.  Advise  thee  now, 
what  thou  wilt  do  !  "  And  then,  as  if  he  had  been  angered, 
he  went  from  the  cupboard  where  he  stood,  to  a  window. 

And  then  Malveren  and  another  Clerk  came  nearer  me,  and 
they  spake  to  me  many  words  full  pleasantly,  and  another 
while  they  menaced  me  and  counselled  full  busily  to  submit 
me,  or  else  they  said  I  should  not  escape  punishing  over 
measure  ;  for  they  said  I  should  be  degraded,  cursed,  and 
burned,  and  so  then  damned  ! 

Malveren  and  a  Clerk.  "  But  now,"  they  said,  "  thou 
mayest  eschew  all  these  mischiefs,  if  thou  will  submit  thee 
wilfully  and  meekly  to  this  worthy  Prelate,  that  hath  cure  of 
thy  soul !  And  for  the  pity  of  Christ  !  "  said  they,  "  bethink 
thee,  how  great  clerks  [Philip  de  Repington]  the  Bishop  of 
Lincoln,  Hereford,  and  Purvey  were,  and  yet  are;  and 
also  B;owton]  that  is  a  well  understanding  man  :  which  also 
have  forsaken  and  revoked  all  the  learning  and  opinions  that 
thou  and  such  others  hold  !  Wherefore,  since  each  of  them 
is  mickle  wiser  than  thou  art  ;  we  counsel  thee  for  the  best, 
that,  by  the  example  of  these  four  Clerks,  thou  follow  them, 
submitting  thee  as  they  did  !  " 

A  Clerk.  And  one  of  the  [Arch'bishop's  Clerks  said,  then, 


William 
?  1407, 


']  The  Chaplains  try  their  hands  on  him,     107 


there,  that  "  he  heard  Nicholas  Hereford  say,  that  '  since 
he  forsook  and  revoked  all  the  learning  and  opinions  of  the 
Lollards,  he  hath  had  mickle  greater  favour  and  more  delight 
to  hold  against  them  ;  than  ever  he  had  to  hold  with  them, 
while  he  held  with  them. '  " 

Malveren.  And  therefore  Malveren  said  to  me,  "I  un- 
derstand and  [if]  thou  wilt  take  thee  to  a  priest,  and  shrive 
thee  clean,  forsake  all  such  opinions,  and  take  thy  penance  of 
my  Lord  here,  for  the  holding  and  teaching  of  them,  within 
short  time  thou  shalt  be  greatly  comforted  in  this  doing  !  " 

William.  And  I  said  to  the  Clerks,  that  thus  busily  coun- 
selled me  to  follow  these  foresaid  men,  "  Sirs,  if  these  men,  of 
whom  ye  counsel  me  to  take  example,  had  forsaken  benefices 
of  temporal  profit  and  of  worldly  worship,  so  that  they  had 
absented  them  and  eschewed  from  all  occasions  of  covetous- 
ness  and  of  fleshly  lusts;  and  had  taken  them  to  simple  living 
and  wilful  poverty :  they  had  herein  given  good  example  to 
me  and  many  others  to  have  followed  them.  But  now,  since 
all  these  four  men  have  slanderously  and  shamefully  done 
the  contrary,  consenting  to  receive  and  to  have  and  to  hold 
temporal  benefices,  living  now  more  worldly  and  more  fleshly 
than  they  did  before,  conforming  them  to  the  manners  of  this 
world  ;  I  forsake  them  herein,  and  in  all  their  foresaid  slan- 
derous doing ! 

"  For  I  purpose,  with  the  help  of  GOD  into  remission  of 
all  my  sins  and  of  my  foul  cursed  living,  to  hate  and  to  fly, 
privily  and  apertly,  to  follow  these  men  !  teaching  and  coun- 
selling whomsoever  that  I  may,  for  to  fly  and  eschew  the  way 
that  they  have  chosen  to  go  in,  which  will  lead  them  to  the 
worst  end,  if,  in  convenient  time,  they  repent  them  not,  verily 
forsaking  and  revoking  openly  the  slander  that  they  have  put, 
and  every  day  yet  put  to  Christ's  Church.  For,  certain, 
so  open  blasphemy  and  slander,  as  they  have  spoken  and  done 
in  their  revoking  and  forsaking  of  the  Truth,  ought  not,  nor 
may  not,  privily  be  amended  duly.  Wherefore,  Sirs,  I  pray 
you  that  ye  busy  you  not  for  to  move  me  to  follow  these  men 
in  revoking  and  forsaking  of  the  Truth  and  Soothfastness  ! 
as  they  have  done,  and  yet  do ;  wherein  by  open  evidence,  they 
stir  GOD  to  great  wroth,  and  not  only  against  themselves, 
but  also  against  all  them  that  favour  them  or  consent  to  them 
herein,  or  that  comoneth  [coimnundh]  with  them,  except  it  be 


io8  William  rejects  the  Lollard  turncoats.   [ 


rWilliam 

1407. 


for  their  amendment.  For  whereas  these  men  first  were 
pursued  of  enemies,  now  they  have  obliged  them  by  oath  for 
to  slander  and  pursue  Christ  in  his  members  !  Wherefore, 
as  I  trust  stedfastly  in  the  goodness  of  GOD,  the  worldly 
covetousness,  and  the  lusty  living,  and  the  sliding  from  the 
truth  of  these  runagates  [renegades]  shall  be  to  me,  and  to 
many  other  men  and  women,  an  example  and  an  evidence  to 
stand  the  more  stiffly  by  the  Truth  of  Christ. 

"  For,  certain,  right  many  men  and  women  do  mark  and 
abhor  the  foulness  and  cowardice  of  these  aforesaid  untrue 
men,  how  that  they  are  overcome,  and  stopped  with  benefices, 
and  withdrawn  from  the  truth  of  GOD's  Word,  forsaking 
utterly  to  suffer  therefore  bodily  persecution.  For  by  this 
unfaithful  doing  and  apostasy,  of  them  specially  that  are 
great  lettered  men,  and  have  [acjknowledged  openly  the  truth ; 
and  now  either  for  pleasure  or  displeasure  of  tyrants  have 
taken  hire  and  temporal  wages,  to  forsake  the  Truth  and  to 
hold  against  it,  slandering  and  pursuing  them  that  covet  to 
follow  Christ  in  the  way  of  righteousness:  many  men  and 
women  therefore  are  now  moved.  But  many  more,  through 
the  grace  of  GOD,  shall  be  moved  hereby,  for  to  learn  the 
Truth  of  GOD,  and  to  do  thereafter,  and  to  stand  boldly 
thereby." 

Archbishop.  Then  the  Archbishop  said  to  his  Clerks, 
"  Busy  you  no  longer  about  him  !  for  he,  and  others  such  as 
he  is,  are  confeder[at]ed  so  together,  that  they  will  not  swear 
to  be  obedient,  and  to  submit  them  to  Prelates  of  Holy 
Church.  For  now,  since  I  stood  here,  his  fellow  sent  me 
word  that  he  will  not  swear,  and  that  he  [William  of  Thorpe] 
counselled  him  that  he  should  not  swear  to  me.  But,  losell  !  in 
that  thing  that  in  thee  is,  thou  hast  busied  thee  to  lose  this 
3''oung  man;  but,  blessed  be  GOD!  thou  shalt  not  have 
thy  purpose  of  him  !  For  he  hath  forsaken  all  thy  learning, 
submitting  him  to  be  buxom  [submissive]  and  obedient  to  the 
ordinance  of  Holy  Church  ;  and  weepeth  full  bitterly,  and 
curseth  thee  full  heartily  for  the  venomous  teaching  which 
thou  hast  shewed  to  him,  counselling  him  to  do  thereafter. 
And  for  thy  false  counselling  of  many  others  and  him,  thou 
hast  great  cause  to  be  right  sorry  !  For,  long  time,  thou  hast 
busied  thee  to  pervert  whomsoever  thou  mightest  !  Therefore 
as  many  deaths  thou  art  worthy  of,  as  thou  hast  given  evil 


William. 
?    1407. 


]  AbP.  says,    "  HE  SHALL  CONFORM  IN  8  DAYS  !  "    IO9 


counsels.  And  therefore,  by  Jesu  !  thou  shalt  go  thither 
where  Nicholas  Hereford  and  John  Purvey  were  har- 
boured !  and  I  undertake,  ere  this  day  eiji^ht  days,  thou  shalt 
be  right  glad  for  to  do  what  thing  that  ever  I  bid  thee  do  ! 

"And,  losell  !  I  shall  assay  if  can  make  thee  there,  as 
sorrowful  as,  it  was  told  me,  thou  wast  glad  of  my  last  going 
out  of  England  [in  1397].  By  St.  Thomas  !  I  shall  turn  thy 
joy  into  sorrow  !  " 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  there  can  nobody  prove  law- 
fully that  I  joyed  ever  of  the  manner  of  your  going  out  of 
this  land  [the  Archbishop  had  been  banished].  But,  Sir,  to 
say  the  sooth,  I  was  joyful  when  ye  were  gone  !  for  [Robert 
DE  Braybrooke]  the  Bishop  of  London  (in  whose  prison  ye 
left  me  !)  found  in  me  no  cause  for  to  hold  me  longer  in  his 
prison  ;  but,  at  the  request  of  my  friends,  he  delivered  me 
to  them,  asking  of  me  no  manner  of  submitting." 

Archbishop.  Then  the  Archbishop  said  to  me,  "  Where- 
fore that  I  yede  [went]  out  of  England  is  unknown  to  thee  1 
But  be  this  thing  well  known  to  thee  !  that  GOD,  as  I  wot 
well,  hath  called  me  again  and  brought  me  into  this  land, 
for  to  destroy  thee  and  the  false  sect  that  thou  art  of  1  as,  by 
God  !  I  shall  pursue  you  so  narrowly  that  I  shall  not  leave 
a  step  of  you  in  this  land  !  " 

William.  And  I  said  to  the  Archbishop,  "  Sir,  the  holy 
prophet  Jeremy  said  to  the  false  prophet  Hananiah,  When 
the  word,  that  is,  the  prophecy,  of  a  prophet  is  known  or  ful- 
filled ;  then  it  shall  be  known  that  the  LORD  sent  the  prophet  in 
truth !  " 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop,  as  if  he  had  not  been 
pleased  with  my  saying,  turned  him  away-ward,  hither  and 
thither,  and  said,  "  By  God  !  I  shall  set  on  thy  shins  a  pair 
of  perils  [?  pearls],  that  thou  shalt  be  glad  to  change  thy  voice  !" 

These  and  many  more  wondrous  and  convicious  [railing] 
words  were  spoken  to  me  ;  menacing  me  and  all  others  of  the 
same  sect,  for  to  be  punished  and  destroyed  to  the  utter- 
most. 

And  the  Archbishop  called  then  to  him,  a  Clerk;  and 
rounded  with  him  [whispered  in  his  ear],  and  that  Clerk  went 
forth  :  and  soon  he  brought  in  the  Constable  of  Saltwood 
Castle,  and  the  Archbishop  rounded  a  good  while  with  him. 

And   then   the   Constable  went   forth,  and  then  came  in 


I  lo  The  Constable  places  him  in  a  den.   [wnnam  of  Thorpe. 

divers  secular  [laymen]  ;  and  they  scorned  me  on  every  side, 
and  menaced  me  greatly.  And  some  counselled  the  Arch- 
bishop to  burn  me  by  and  by  [at  once]  :  and  some  others 
counselled  him  to  drown  me  in  the  sea,  for  it  is  near  [at] 
hand  there. 

A  Clerk.  And  a  Clerk  standing  besides  me  there,  kneeled 
down  to  the  Archbishop,  praying  him  that  he  would  deliver 
me  to  him  for  to  say  Matins  with  him  ;  and  he  would  under- 
take that,  within  three  days,  I  should  not  resist  anything 
that  was  commanded  me  to  do,  of  my  Prelate. 

And  the  Archbishop  said  that  he  would  ordain  for  me 
himself. 

And  then,  after,  came  in  again  the  Constable  and  spake 
privily  to  the  Archbishop, 

And  then  the  Archbishop  commanded  the  Constable  to  lead 
me  forth  thence,  with  him  :  and  so  he  did. 

And  when  we  were  gone  forth  thence,  we  were  sent  after 
again. 

And  when  I  came  in  again  before  the  Archbishop,  a  Clerk 
bade  me  kneel  down,  and  ask  grace,  and  submit  me  lowly, 
and  I  should  find  it  for  the  best. 

William.  And  I  said  then  to  the  Archbishop,  "Sir,  as  I 
have  said  to  you,  divers  times,  to-day,  I  will  wilfully  and 
lowly  obey  and  submit  me  to  be  ordained  ever,  after  my 
cunning  and  power,  to  GOD  and  His  Law,  and  to  every 
member  of  Holy  Church  ;  as  far  forth  as  I  can  perceive  that 
these  members  accord  with  their  head,  Christ,  and  will 
teach  me,  rule  me,  or  chastise  me  by  authority  specially  of 
GOD'S  Law." 

Archbishop.  And  the  Archbishop  said,  "  I  wist  well, 
he  would  not,  without  such  additions,  submit  him  !  " 

And  then,  I  was  rebuked,  scorned,  and  menaced  on  every 
side ;  and  yet,  after  this,  divers  persons  cried  upon  me  to 
kneel  down  and  submit  me  :  but  I  stood  still,  and  spake  no 
word. 

And  then  there  was  spoken  of  me  and  to  me  many  great 
words  ;  and  I  stood,  and  heard  them  menace,  curse,  and 
scorn  me  :  but  I  said  nothing. 

Archbishop.  Then  a  while  after,  the  Archbishop  said  to 
me,  "  Wilt  thou  not  submit  thee  to  the  ordinance  of  Holy 
Church  ?  " 


T'hoT]     ^^    THANKS  GOD,  HE  IS,  AT  LAST,  ALONE.     I  I  I 

William.  And  I  said,  "  Sir,  I  will  full  gladly  submit  me, 
as  I  have  shewed  5'ou  before." 

And  then,  the  Archbishop  bade  the  Constable  to  have  me 
forth  thence  in  haste. 

And  so  then  I  was  led  forth,  and  brought  into  a  foul 
unhonest  prison,  where  I  came  never  before.  But,  thanked 
be  GOD  !  when  all  men  were  gone  forth  then  from  me,  and 
had  sparred  [barred]  fast  the  prison  door  after  them,  by  and 
by  [immediately]  after,  I  therein  by  myself  busied  me  to  think 
on  GOD,  and  to  thank  Him  of  His  goodness. 

And  I  was  then  greatly  comforted  in  all  my  wits,  not  only 
for  that  I  was  then  delivered,  for  a  time,  from  the  sight,  from 
the  hearing,  from  the  presence,  from  the  scorning,  and  from 
the  menacing  of  my  enemies  :  but  much  more  I  rejoiced  in 
the  LORD,  because  that  through  His  grace,  He  kept  me  so, 
both  among  the  flattering  specially,  and  among  the  men- 
acing of  mine  adversaries,  that  without  heaviness  and 
anguish  of  my  conscience,  I  passed  away  from  them.  For 
as  a  tree  laid  upon  another  tree  overthwart  or  on  cross  wise, 
so  was  the  Archbishop  and  his  three  Clerks  always  contrary 
to  me,  and  I  to  them. 

Now,  good  GOD  !  (for  Thine  holy  name  and  for  the  praising 

of  Thy  most  blessed  name,  make   us  one   together),  if  it  be 

Thy  will,    by  authority  of  thy    Word   that  is   true  perfect 

charity :  and  else  not !     And  that  it  may  thus  be,  all  that 

this  writing  read  or  hear,  pray  heartily  to  the  LORD  GOD  ! 

that  He  (for  His  great  goodness  that  cannot  be  with  tongue 

expressed)  grant  to  us  and  to  all  others,  that  in  the  same 

wise    and  for  the   same  cause    specially,    or   for  any  other 

cause  be  at  [a]    distance,  to  be  knit  and  made 

One  in  true  Faith,  in  stedfast  Hope,  and 

in  perfect  Charity. 

Amen. 

C  C)[)U0  entiett)  i\)t  6;camination  of 
fl^aster  aHJiUiam  i:i)orpe. 


I  12 


Znh  l)ereafter  follotoetl)  Us 
Cestament. 

Atthew,  an  Apostle  of  Christ  and  his 
gospeller,  witnesseth  truly  in  the  Holy  Gospel, 
the  most  holy  living  and  the  most  wholesome 
teaching  of  Christ.  He  rehearseth  how  that 
Christ  likeneth  them  that  hear  his  words  and 
keep  them,  to  a  wise  man  that  buildeth  his 
house  upon  a  stone,  that  is  a  stable  and  a  sad 
[firm]  ground. 

This  house  is  man's  soul,  in  whom  Christ  delighteth  to  dwell, 
if  it  he  grounded,  that  is,  stablished,  faithfully  in  his  living,  and 
in  his  true  teaching,  adorned  or  made  fair  with  divers  virtues, 
which  Christ  used  and  taught  without  any  meddling  of  any 
error,  as  are  chiefly  the  conditions  of  charity. 

This  foresaid  stone  is  CHRIST,  upon  lohich  every  faithf id  soul 
must  be  buildcd,  since  upon  none  other  ground  than  upon  Christ's 
living  and  his  teaching,  nobody  may  make  any  building  or  house- 
ing  wherein  Christ  will  come  and  dwell.  This  sentence  wit- 
nesseth Paul  to  the  Corinthians,  shewing  them  that  nobody  may 
set  any  other  ground  than  is  set,  that  is,  Christ's  living  and  his 
teaching. 

And  because  that  all  men  and  women  shordd  give  all  their 
business  here  in  this  life  to  build  them  virtuously  upon  this  sure 
foundation.  Saint  Paul  [ac]knowledging  the  fervent  desire  and 
the  good  will  of  the  people  of  Ephesus,  wrote  to  them  comfortably, 
saying,  Now  ye  are  not  strangers,  guests,  nor  yet  comeHngs, 
but  ye  are  the  citizens  and  of  the  household  of  GOD, 
builded  above  upon  the  foundament  of  the  Apostles  and 
Prophets.  In  which  foundament,  every  building  that  is 
builded  and  made  through  the  grace  of  GOD,  it  increaseth 
or  groweth   into   a   holy  temple ;    that  is,  everybody   that   is 


19 Sept. i46o.]  William  of  Thorpe's   Testament.   113 

grounded  and  hnildcd  faithfully  in  the  teaching  and  living  of 
Christ  is  theretJirungh  made  the  holy  tonple  of  GOD. 

This  is  the  stable  ground  and  stedfast  stone,  Christ  !  which  is 
the  sure  corner-stone  fast  joining  and  holding  mightily  together 
two  walls.  For  through  Christ  Jesu,  mean  or  middle  Person 
of  the  Trinity,  the  Father  of  Heaven  is  piteous  or  mercifidly  joined 
and  made  one  together  to  Mankind  :  and  through  dread  to  offend 
GOD,  and  fervent  love  to  please  him,  men  be  unseparably  made 
one  to  GOD,  and  defended  surely  under  His  protection. 

Also  this  foresaid  stone  Christ  was  figured  by  the  square 
stones  of  which  the  Temple  of  GOD  was  made.  For  as  a  square 
stone,  wheresoever  it  is  cast  or  laid,  it  abideth  and  lieth  stably ;  so 
Christ  and  every  faithful  member  of  his  Church,  by  example  of 
him,  abideth  and  dwelleth  stably  in  true  faith  and  in  all  other 
heavenly  virtues,  in  all  adversities  that  they  suffer  in  this  Valley  of 
Tears.  For,  lo,  when  these  foresaid  square  stones  were  hewen  and 
wrought  for  to  be  laid  in  the  walls  or  pillars  of  GOD's  Temple, 
none  noise  or  stroke  of  the  workmen  was  heard.  Certain,  this 
silence  in  working  of  this  stone  figureth  Christ  chiefly,  and  his 
faithful  members,  which  by  example  of  him  have  been,  and  yet  are, 
and  ever  to  the  world's  end  shall  be,  so  meek  and  patient  in  every 
adversity,  that  no  sound  nor  yet  any  grudging  shall  any  time  be 
perceived  in  them. 

Nevertheless  this  chief  and  most  worshipfid  corner-stone,  which 
only  is  ground  of  all  virtues,  proud  beggars  reproved !  but  this 
despite  and  reproof  CHRIST  suffered  most  meekly  in  his  own 
person,  for  to  give  example  of  all  meekness  and  patience  to  all  his 
faithful  followers.  Certain,  this  world  is  now  so  full  of  proud 
beggars  which  are  named  priests  ;  but  the  very  office  of  working  of 
priesthood  which  CHRIST  approveth  true,  and  accepteth,  is  far 
from  the  multitude  of  priests  that  now  reign  in  this  world. 

For,  from  the  highest  priest  to  the  lowest,  all  (as  who  say) 
study,  that  is,  they  imagine  and  travail  busily  how  they  may  please 
this  world  and  their  flesh.  This  sentence  and  many  such  others 
dcpendeth  upon  them,  if  it  be  well  considered ;  either  GOD  the 
Father  of  heaven  hath  deceived  all  mankind  by  the  living  specially 

£.VG.  Gar.  VI.  8 


114   William  of  Tiiorle's   Te  st  a  me  NT.[_^9'^^vi-M^o. 

and  teaching  of  Jesvs  Christ,  and  by  the  living  and  teaching 
of  his  Apostles  and  Prophets  ;  all  else  all  the  Popes  that  have  been 
since  I  had  any  knozvlcdge  or  discretion,  with  all  the  College 
of  Cardinals,  Archbisliops,  and  Bishops,  Monks,  Canons,  and 
Friars,  with  all  the  contagious  flock  of  the  comminalty  of  priest- 
hood, which  have,  all  my  life-time  and  inichlc  longer,  reigned  and 
yet  reign  and  increase  damnably  from  sin  into  sin,  have  been  and 
yet  be  proud  obstinate  heretics,  covetous  simoners  [trafficers  in 
ecclesiastical  preferments],  ajid  defouled  adulterers  in  the  minis- 
tering of  the  Sacraments,  and  especially  in  the  ministering  of  the 
Sacrament  of  the  Altar, 

For,  as  their  works  shew  (whereto  Christ  biddeth  ns  take 
heed  !)  the  highest  priests  and  Prelates  of  this  priesthood  challenge 
and  occupy  [hold]  unlawfully  temporal  lordships.  And  for 
temporal  favour  and  mcde,  they  sell  and  give  benefices  to  unworthy 
and  Jiuable  persons  ;  yea,  these  simoners  sell  sin  !  suffering  men 
and  women  in  every  degree  and  estate,  to  lie  and  contimie,  from 
year  to  year,  in  divers  vices  slanderously.  And  thus,  by  evil 
example  of  high  priests  in  the  Church,  lower  priests  under  tlicm  are 
not  only  suffered,  but  they  are  maintained  to  sell  full  dear  to  the 
people  for  temporal  mede,  all  the  Sacraments.  And  tJius  all  this 
foresaid  priesthood  is  bloimi  so  high,  and  borne  up  in  pride  and 
vainglory  of  their  estate  and  dignity,  and  so  blinded  with  worldly 
covetousness,  that  they  disdain  to  follow  CHRIST  in  very  meekness 
and  wilful  poverty,  living  holily,  and  preaching  GOD's  Word 
truly,  freely,  and  continually;  taking  their  livelihood  at  the  free 
will  of  the  people,  of  their  pure  almose  [alms],  wliere  and  when, 
they  suffice  not  (for  their  true  and  busy  preaching)  to  get  their 
sustenance  with  their  hands. 

To  this  true  sentence,  grounded  on  Christ's  own  living  and 
teaching  of  his  Apostles;  these  foresaid  worldly  and  fleshly  priests 
will  not  consent  effectually.  But,  as  their  works  and  also  their  words 
shew,  boldly  and  imshamefastly  these  foresaid  named  priests  and 
Prelates  covet,  and  enforce  them  mightily  and  busily,  that  all  Holy 
Scripture  lucre  expounded  and  drawn  according  to  their  manners, 
and   to  their   ungrounded  [unwarranted]   usages  and  findings. 


19  Sept.  1460.]  WiLiJA^r  OF  Thorpe's  T  e  st  a  me  nt.   115 

For  they  will  not  (since  they  hold  it  but  folly  and  madness  !) 
conform  their  manners  to  the  pure  and  simple  living  of  CHRIST 
and  his  Apostles,  nor  they  will  not  follow  freely  their  learning* 
Wherefore  all  the  Emperors  and  Kings,  and  all  other  lords  and 
ladies,  and  all  the  common  people  in  every  degree  and  state,  which 
have  before  time  known  or  might  have  known ;  and  also  all  they 
that  now  yet  know  or  might  know  this  foresaid  witness  of  priest- 
hood ;  and  would  not,  nor  yet  will  enforce  them,  after  their  cun- 
ning and  power,  to  withstand  charitably  the  foresaid  enemies  and 
traitors  of  Christ  and  his  Church  :  all  these  strive,  with  Anti- 
christ, against  Jesu  !  And  they  shall  bear  the  indignation  of 
GOD  Almighty  without  end,  if  in  convenient  time  they  amend 
them  not,  and  repent  them  verily  ;  doing  therefore  due  mourning 
and  sorrow,  after  their  cunning  and  power. 

For  through  presumptions  and  negligence  of  priests  and  Pre- 
lates (not  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  but  occupying  their  prelacy, 
unduly  in  the  Church,  and  also  by  flattering  and  false  covetousncss 
of  other  divers  named  priests),  lousengers,  and  lonnderers  are 
wrongfidly  made  and  called  Hermits  ;  and  have  leave  to  defraud 
poor  and  needy  creatures  of  their  livelihood,  and  to  live  by  their 
false  winning  and  begging  in  sloth  and  other  divers  vices.  And 
also  of  these  Prelates,  these  cokir  noses  [  ?  ]  are  suffered  to  live  in 
pride  and  hypocrisy,  and  to  dcfoul  themselves  both  bodily  and 
ghostly. 

Also  by  the  suffering  and  counsel  of  these  foresaid  Prelates  and 
of  other  priests,  are  made  vain,  both  Brotherhoods  and  Sisterhoods, 
full  of  pride  and  envy  ;  which  are  full  contrary  to  the  Brotherhood 
of  Christ,  since  they  are  cause  of  mickle  dissension :  and  tJicy 
multiply  and  sustained  it  uncharitably,  for  in  lusty  eating,  and 
drinking  immeasurably  and  out  of  time,  they  exercise  themselves. 
Also  this  vain  confederacy  of  Brotherhoods  is  permitted  to  be  of 
one  clothing,  and  to  hold  together.  A  nd  in  all  these  ungrounded 
and  unlawful  doings,  priests  are  partners  and  great  meddlers  and 
counsellors. 

And  over  this  viciousness,  herinits  and  pardoners,  ankers 
[anchorites],  and  strange  beggars  are  licensed  and  admitted  of 


ii6  William  of  Thorpe's   Te sta men t.\j9?>^v^-h('o. 

Prelates  and  priests  for  to  he<;iiile  the  people  with  flatterings 
and  leasings  [falsehoods]  slanderously,  against  all  good  reason 
and  true  belief ;  and  so  to  increase  divers  vices  in  themselves,  and 
also  among  all  them  that  accept  them  or  consent  to  them. 

And  thus,  the  viciousncss  of  these  forenamcd  priests  and  Pre- 
lates, has  been  long  time,  and  yet  is,  and  shall  be  cause  of  wars, 
both  within  the  realm  and  without. 

And,  in  the  same  wise,  these  unable  [useless]  priests  have  been, 
and  yet  are,  and  shall  be,  the  chief  cause  of  pestilence  of  men,  and 
murrain  of  beasts,  and  of  bareness  of  the  earth,  and  of  all  other 
mischiefs,  to  the  time  that  Lords  and  Commons  able  them  through 
grace  for  to  know  and  to  keep  the  Commandments  of  GOD,  enforc- 
ing them  then  faithfully  and  charitably  by  one  assent,  for  to  redress 
and  make  one,  this  foresaid  priesthood  to  the  wilfid poor,  meek,  and 
innocent  living  and  teaching,  specially  of  CHRIST  and  his 
Apostles. 

Therefore  all  they  that  know,  or  might  knoio  the  viciousness  that 
reigncih  noiv  cursedly  in  these  priests  and  in  their  learning,  if 
they  suffice  not  to  ivitlistand  this  contagious  viciousness :  let  them 
pray  to  the  LORD  heartily  for  the  health  of  his  Church!  abstain- 
ing them  prudently  from  these  endured  [hardened]  enemies  of 
Christ  and  his  people,  and  from  all  their  Sacraments  !  since  to 
them  all  that  knonD  them,  or  may  knoiv,  they  are  but  fleshly  deeds 
and  false:  as  Saint  Cyprian  ivitnesseth  in  the  first  Question  of 
Decrees  and  in  the  first  Cause.     Ca.  Si  quis  inquit. 

For  as  this  Saint,  and  great  Doctors  witness  there,  that  not  only 
vicious  priests,  but  also  all  tJiey  tJiat  favour  them  or  consent  to  them 
in  their  viciousness,  shall  together  perish  with  them,  if  they  aniend 
them  not  duly:  as  all  they  perished  tJiat  consented  to  Dathan 
and  Abiram.  For  nothing  ivere  more  confusion  to  these  foresaid 
vicious  priests,  than  to  eschew  them  prudently  in  all  their  unlawful 
Sacraments,  while  they  continue  in  their  sinful  living  slanderously, 
as  they  have  long  time  done  and  yet  do.  And  nobody  need  to  be 
afraid,  though  death  did  follow  by  any  wise  or  other,  for  to  die  out 
of  this  world  ivithout  taking  of  any  Sacrament  of  these  foresaid 
Christ's  enemies:  since  Christ  will  not  fail  for  to  minister 


19 Sept.  1460.]  William  of  Thorpe's   Testament.   117 

himself  all  lawful  and  heal-ful  sacraments,  and  necessary  at  all 
time  ;  and  especially  at  the  end,  to  all  them  that  are  in  true  faith, 
in  steadfast  hope,  and  in  perfect  charity. 

But  yet  some  mad  fools  say,  for  to  eschew  slander  they  will  be 
shriven  once  a  year  and  comuned  [receive  the  Sacrament]  of  their 
proper  priests  ;  though  they  know  them  defouled  with  slanderous 
vices.  No  doubt,  but  all  they  that  thus  do  or  consent,  privily  or 
apertly,  to  such  doing,  are  culpable  of  great  sin ;  since  St.  Paul 
witnesseth  that  not  only  they  that  do  evil  are  worthy  of  death  and 
damnation,  but  also  they  that  consent  to  evil  doers.  Also,  as  their 
slanderous  works  ivitness,  these  foresaid  vicious  priests  despise  and 
cast  from  them  heavenly  cunning  that  is  given  of  the  HOLY 
GHOST.  Wherefore  the  LORD  throw etli  all  such  despisers  from 
Him,  that  they  use  nor  do  any  priesthood  to  Him.  No  doubt 
then,  all  they  that  wittingly  or  wilfully  take,  or  consent  that  any 
other  body  should  take  any  Sacrament  of  any  such  named  priest, 
sinncth  openly  and  damnably  against  all  the  Trinity,  and  are 
unable  to  any  Sacrament  of  health. 

And  that  this  foresaid  sentence  [opinion]  is  altogether  true  unto 
remission  of  all  my  sinful  living,  trusting  steadfastly  in  the  mercy 
of  GOD,  I  offer  to  Him  my  soul  ! 

And  to  prove  also  this  foresaid  sentence  true,  with  the  help  of 
GOD,  I  purpose  fully  to  suffer  meekly  and  gladly  my  most  wretched 
body  to  be  tormented,  where  GOD  will!  and  of  whom  He  will !  how 
He  will  and  when  He  will !  and  as  long  as  He  will  I  and  what 
temporal  pain  He  will !  and  death  !  to  the  praising  of  His  name, 
and  to  the  edification  of  His  Church.  And  I,  that  am  most  un- 
worthy and  wretched  caitiff,  shall  now,  through  the  special  grace 
of  GOD,  make  to  Him  pleasant  sacrifice  of  my  most  sinful  and 
unworthy  body. 

Beseech  heartily  all  folk  that  read  or  hear  this  end  of 
my  purposed  Testament,  that,  through  the  grace  of 
GOD,  they  dispose  verily  and  virtuously  all  their  wits, 
and  able,  in  like  manner,  all  their  members  for  to  under- 
stand truly  and  to  keep  faithfully,  charitably,  and  continually  all 


ii8  William  of  Thorpe's   T  es  ta  m  e  nt  .\^9?><^v^-^^^o. 

the  commandments  of  GOD,  and  so  then  to  pray  devoutly  to  all 

the  blessed  Trinity,  that  I  may  have  grace  with  wisdom  andprndence 

from  above,  to  end  my  life  here,  in  this  foresaid  Truth  and  for  this 

Cause  in   true  faith 

and  steadfast  hope 

and  in  perfect 

charity, 
AMEN, 


m 


Ere  endeth,  sir  [the  Reverend]  William  Thorpe's 
Testament  on  the  Friday  after  the  Rood  Day  [Holy 
Rood-day,  or  Exaltation  of  the  Holy  Cross,  falls  on 
Sept.  14th],  and  the  twenty  [  ?  nineteenth]  day  of  September, 
in  the  year  of  our  Lord  a  thousand  four  hundred  and  sixty. 

And  on  the  Sunday  [August  yth]  next  after  the  feast  of  Saint 
Peter  that  we  called  Lammas  Day  [August  1st]  in  the  year  of 
our  Lord  a  thousand  four  hundred  and  seven,  the  said  sir 
William  Thorpe  was  accused  of  these  points,  before  written 
in  this  book,  before  Thomas  Arundell,  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  as  it  is  said  before. 

And  so  was  it  then  betwixt  the  Pay  of  his  Accusing,  and 
the  Day  that  this  was  written  three  and  fifty  years; 
and  as  mickle  more  as  from  the  Lammas 
[Aiigust  1st]  to  the  Woodmas 
[September  igth]. 

Behold  the  end ! 

^  The  strength  of  a  tale  is  in  its  end. 


119 


jj)ere  foUotoetb 

Clje  examination  of  tt)e 
JLorD  Cobl)am* 

[The  following  is  but  an  abridgement  of  the  Story  of  Sir  John  Old- 
C^STl  E  •  respecting  which,  Miss  L.  TOULMIN  SMITH  has  recently  pub- 
lished, in  \h^Ani^lia  for  April  1882,  THOMAS  OcCLKVE's  Ballad  against 
Lord  COBHAM  and  the  Lollards,  in  1415-] 

Cbe  "JSclief  of  t})e  Lorn  Cobbam. 

"lE  IT  known  to  all  men  !  that  in  the  year  of 
our  LORD  a  thousand  four  hundred  and 
thirteen,  in  the  first  year  of  King  Henry 
the  Fifth;  the  King  gave  to  [Thomas 
Arundell]  the  Bishop  of  Canterbury, 
leave  to  correct  the  Lord  Cobham. 

And  because  no  man  durst  summon  him 
personally,  the  Archbishop  set  up  a  Citation 
on  his  Cathedral  Church  door  on  the  Wednesday  [September 
6, 14131  next  before  the  nativity  of  our  Lady  [September  mi  m 
the  foresaid  year:  and  that  Citation  was  taken  down  by  the 
friends  of  the  Lord  Cobham. 

And,  after  that,  the  Bishop  set  up  another  on  our  Lady 
Day  [September  8,  1413I  ;  which  also  was  rent  down. 

And  because  he  came  not  to  answer  on  the  day  assigned 
in  the  Citation,  the  Bishop  cursed  him  for  contumacy. 

And  the  Lord  Cobham  seeing  all  this  malice  purposed 
against  him,  wrote  this  Belief  that  followeth,  with  his  own 
hand;  and  noted  [signed]  it  himself;  and  also  answered  to 
Four  Points  put  against  him  by  the  Bishop :  and  he  went  to 
the  King,  supposing  to  get  of  him  good  favour  and  lordship. 

C  Cl)e  15elief. 

Believe  in  GOD  the  Father  Almighty,  Maher  of 
heaven  and  earth;  and  in  Jesu  Christ  His  only 
Son  our  Lord,  which  was  conceived  of  the  HOLY 

GHOST,  born  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  and  suffered 

death  under  PoNTius  PiLATE,  crucified,  dead,  and  buried.     He 


I20    The  Belief  oy  Sir  John  Oldcastle.    [sept.  1413. 

went  down  to  hells.  The  third  day  He  rose  again  from  death. 
He  ascended  up  into  heavens.  He  sitteth  on  the  right  hand  of 
GOD,  the  Father  Almighty.  From  thence,  He  is  to  come  to  judge 
the  quick  and  dead. 

I  believe  in  the  HOLY  GHOST,  all  Holy  Church,  the  Com- 
miinion  of  Saints,  forgiveness  of  sins,  uprising  of  flesh,  and  ever- 
lasting  life.     Amen. 


Nd  for  to  declare  more  plainly  my  soothfastness  in  the 
belief  of  Holy  Church,  I  believe  faithfully  and  verily, 
that  there  is  but  one  GOD  Almighty;  and  in  this  God- 
head and  of  this  Godhead  be  TJirce  Persons,  the  Father, 
the  Son,  and  the  HOLY  GHOST  ;  and  these  Three  Persons  be  the 
same  GOD  Almighty. 

Furthermore,  I  believe  that  the  Second  Person  of  this  most 
blessed  Trinity,  in  most  convenient  time  before  ordained,  took  flesh 
and  blood  of  the  most  blessed  Virgin,  our  Lady  Saint  Mary,  for 
the  redemption  and  salvation  of  mankind;  that  was  lost  before,  for 
Adam's  sin. 

And  I  believe  that  Jesu  Christ  our  Lord,  which  is  both  GOD 
and  Man,  is  head  of  all  Holy  Church  ;  and  that  all  those  that  be, 
and  shall  be  saved,  be  members  of  this  most  Holy  Church.  Which 
Holy  Church  is  departed  [divided]  in  three  parts.  Of  the  which, 
one  part  is  now  in  Heaven;  that  is  to  say,  the  saints  that  in  this  life 
live  accordingly  with  the  most  blessed  Law  of  Christ  and  his 
living,  despising  and  forsaking  the  Devil  and  his  works,  the  pros- 
perities of  this  world,  and  the  foul  lust  of  the  flesh. 

The  seco7idpart  is  in  Purgatory,  abiding  the  mercy  of  GOD,  and 
purging  them  there  of  their  sins;  of  the  wliich  they  have  been  truly 
confessed  in  deed,  or  else  in  will  to  have  been. 

The  third  part  of  this  Church  is  here  in  Earth,  the  which  is  called 
the  Fighting  Church  ;  for  it  fighteth,  every  day  and  night,  against 
the  temptation  of  the  Devil,  the  prosperity  of  this  false  failing 
world,  and  the  proud  rebellion  of  the  flesh  against  the  soid.  This 
Church  is  departed  [divided]  by  the  most  blessed  ordinance  of  GOD 


Sept.  1413-]    The  Belief  oy  Sir  John  Oldcastle.       121 

into  three  Estates;  that  is  to  say,  Priesthood,  Knighthood,  and 
Commons  :  to  every  Estate  of  the  which,  GOD  gave  charge  that 
one  should  help  another,  and  none  destroy  other. 

As  to  Priests,  they  should  be  most  holy  and  least  worldly  ;  and 
tndy  living  as  near  as  they  could,  after  the  example  of  CHRIST 
and  his  Apostles.  And  all  their  business  should  be,  day  and 
night,  in  holy  example  of  living,  and  true  preaching  and  teaching 
of  GOD' s  Law  to  both  the  other  parts.  And  also  they  should  be 
most  meek,  most  serviceable,  and  most  lovely  in  spirit,  both  to  GOD 
and  man. 

In  the  second  part  of  this  Church,  that  is  Knighthood,  be  con- 
tained all  that  bear  the  sword  by  the  law  of  Office :  which  should 
maintain  GOD' s  Law  to  be  preached  and  taught  to  the  people; 
and  principally  the  Gospel  of  Christ  ;  and  truly  to  live  thereafter. 
The  which  part  should  rather  put  themselves  to  peril  of  death,  than 
to  suffer  any  Law  or  Constitution  [referring  to  the  Constitutions 
of  Arundel  in  1408]  to  be  made  of  man,  wherethrough  the  free- 
dom of  GOD' s  Law  might  be  letted  to  be  preached  and  taught  to 
the  people,  or  whereof  any  error  or  heresy  might  grow  in  the 
Church.  For  I  suppose  fully  that  there  may  come  none  heresy  nor 
error  among  the  people,  but  by  false  Laws, Constitutions,  or  teachings 
contrary  to  Christ's  Law,  or  by  false  leasings  [lies]. 

Also  the  second  part  should  defend  the  common  people  from 
tyrants,  oppressors,  and  extortioners :  and  maintain  the  Clergy, 
doing  tndy  their  office,  in  preaching,  teaching,  praying,  and  freely 
ministering  the  Sacraments  of  Holy  Churcli.  And  if  this  Clergy 
he  negligent  in  doing  this  office,  this  second  part  of  the  Church 
ought,  by  their  office  that  they  have  taken  of  GOD,  to  constrain 
the  Clergy  in  due  wise,  to  do  their  office  in  the  form  that  GOD 
hath  ordained  to  be  done. 

The  third  part  of  this  Fighting  Church  oweth  [ought]  to  bear 
good  will  to  Lords  and  Priests,  truly  to  do  their  bodily  labour  in 
tilling  the  earth,  and  with  their  true  merchandise  doing  their  duties 
that  they  owe  both  to  Knighthood  and  to  Priesthood,  as  GOD's 
Law  limitcth  ;  keeping  faithfully  the  commandments  of  GOD. 

Moreover,  I  believe  all  the  Sacraments  of  Holy  Church  for  to  be 


122     The  Bel//- F  OF  Sir  John  Oldcastle.       [sept.  1413. 

meedful  and  prcfitable  to  nil  that  shall  be  saved ;  taking  them  after 
the  intent  that  GOD  and  Holy  Church  have  ordained. 

And  for  as  mickle  as  I  am  slandered  falsely  in  my  Belief  in  the 
Sacrament  of  the  Altar,  I  do  all  Christian  men  to  wit,  that  I  believe 
verily  that  the  most  blessed  Sacrament  of  the  Altar  is  very 
Christ's  body  inform  of  bread  ;  the  same  body  that  was  born  of 
the  blessed  Virgin  our  Lady  Saint  Mary,  done  on  the  cross,  dead, 
hnried,  and  on  the  third  day  rose  from  death  to  life,  the  which 
body  is  now  glorified  in  heaven. 

Also  I  believe  that  all  GOD's  Law  is  true;  and  who  that 
liveth  contrary  to  this  blessed  Law,  and  so  continueth  to  his  life's 
end,  and  dieth  so  breaking  the  holy  commandments  of  GOD,  that 
he  shall  be  damned  into  everlasting  pains.  And  he  that  will 
learn  this  most  blessed  Law,  and  live  thereafter,  keeping  these  holy 
commandments  of  GOD,  and  endeth  in  charity  shall  have  ever- 
lasting bliss. 

Also  I  understand  that  this  followeth  of  Belief,  that  our  Lord 
Jesu  Christ  (tliat  is  both  GOD  and  Man)  askcth  no  more  here 
in  earth,  but  that  he  obey  to  him  after  the  form  of  his  Law, 
in  truly  keeping  of  it.  And  if  any  Prelate  of  the  Church  ask 
more  obedience  than  this,  of  any  man  living  ;  he  exalteth  himself,  in 
that,  above  CHRIST  :  and  so  lie  is  an  open  Antichrist. 

Also  tJiese  points  I  hold  as  of  Belief  in  especial. 

And  in  general,  I  believe  all  that  GOD  wills  that  I  believe^ 
praying,  at  the  reverence  of  Almighty  GOD,  to  you  my  liege  Lord 
[Henry  V.]  that  tliis  Belief  might  be  examined  by  the  wisest  and 
truest  Clerks  of  your  realm  :  and  if  it  be  truth,  that  it  might  be 
confirmed,  and  I  to  be  holden  for  a  true  Christian  man;  and  if  it 
be  false,  that  it  might  be  damned  [condemned],  and  I  taught  a 
better  Belief  by  GOD's  Law;  and  I  will  gladly  obey  thereto. 

This  foresaid  Belief,  the  Lord  Cobham  wrote  ;  and  took  it 
with  him,  and  offered  it  to  the  King  \Henry  V.],  for  to  see: 
and  the  King  would  not  receive  it,  but  bade  him  take  it  to 
them  that  should  be  his  judges 

And  then  the  Lord  of  Cobham  offered  to  bring  before  the 


Sept.  1413-]  His  Answer  to  the  Four  Points.       123 

King,  to  purge  him  of  all  error  and  heresy,  that  they  would 
put  against  him,  a  hundred  Knights  and  Squires. 

And  also  he  offered  to  fight  with  any  man,  Christian  or 
heathen,  that  would  say  he  were  false  in  his  belief;  except 
the  King  and  his  brethren. 

And  after,  he  said  "  He  would  submit  him  to  all  manner  [ofj 
correction,  that  any  man  would  correct  him,  after  GOD's 
Law." 

And  notwithstanding  all  this,  the  King  suffered  him  to  be 
summoned  personally,  in  his  own  \the.  King's]  chamber. 

And  the  Lord  of  Cobham  said  to  the  King,  that  he  had 
appealed  to  the  Pope  from  the  Archbishop ;  and  therefore,  he 
said,  "  he  ought  not  to  take  him  for  his  judge  "  :  and  so  he  had 
there  his  Appeal  ready  written,  and  shewed  to  the  King. 

And  therewith  the  King  was  more  angry,  and  said,  "  He 
should  not  pursue  his  appeal  :  but  rather  he  should  be  in 
ward  till  his  appeal  were  admitted,  and  then  (would  he  or 
not  !)  he  should  be  his  judge  !  " 

And  thus  nothing  of  all  this  was  allowed;  but,  because  he 
would  not  swear  to  submit  him  to  the  Church,  and  take  what 
penance  the  Archbishop  would  enjoin  Lim,  he  was  arrested, 
and  sent  to  the  Tower  of  London  to  kedp  his  day  that  the 
[archjbishop  assigned  him  in  the  King's  Chamber. 

And  then  he  made  the  Be/z>/ aforesaid,  with  the  Answer  to 
Four  Points  that  now  follow,  to  be  written  in  two  parts  of  an 
Indenture. 

And  when  he  came  to  answer ;  he  gave  that  one  part  to 
the  [archjbishop,  and  that  other  part  he  kept  to  himself. 

Cbe  3lnnenture  of  tfje  Lorn  Cotiftam* 

,  John  Oldcastle  Knight,  and  Lord  of  COBHAM, 
will  that  all  Christian  men  wit,  how  that  THOMAS  of 
Arundell,  Archbishop  of  CANTERBURY  hath  not 
only  laid  it  to  my  charge  maliciously,  but  also  very 
untruly,  by  his  Letter  and  his  Seal  written  against  me  in  most 
slanderous  wise,  that  I  should  otherwise  feel  and  teach  of  the 
Sacraments  of  the  Holy  Chtirch ;  assigning  in  special  the 
Sacrament  of  the  Altar,  the  Sacrament  of  Penance,  and  also  in 
Worshipping  of  Images,  and  in  Going  on  Pilgrimages,  otherwise 


124     The  Answer  to  the  Four  Points,   [sept.  1413. 

than  fcdeth  and  teacheth  the  universal  Holy  Church.  I  take  Al- 
mighty GOD  to  witness,  that  it  hath  been,  and  now  is,  and  ever, 
with  the  help  of  GOD,  shall  be,  mine  intent  and  my  will  to  believe 
faithfully  and  truly  in  all  the  Sacraments  that  ever  GOD  ordained 
to  be  done  in  Holy  Church. 

And,  moreover,  for  to  declare  me  in  these  points  aforesaid. 

I  believe  that  the  jnost  worshipful  Sacrament  of  the  Altar  is  very 
Christ's  body  in  form  of  bread :  the  same  body  that  was  born  of 
the  blessed  Virgin  our  Lady  Saint  Mary,  done  on  the  cross,  dead 
and  buried,  and  the  third  day  rose  from  death  to  life  ;  the  which 
body  is  now  glorified  in  heaven. 

Also  as  for  the  Sacrament  of  Penance,  I  believe  that  it  is  need- 
ful to  every  man  that  shall  be  saved,  to  forsake  sin,  and  to  do  due 
penance  for  sin  before  done,  with  true  confession,  very  contrition, 
and  due  satisfaction,  as  GOD' s  Law  limiteth  and  teacheth;  and 
else,  may  he  not  be  saved  ;  which  penance  I  desire  all  men  to  do. 

And  as  for  Images,  I  understand  that  they  be  not  of  Belief ,  but 
they  were  ordained  (since  Belief  was  given  of  Christ)  by  suffer- 
ance of  the  Church  for  to  be  Kalenders  to  laymen,  to  represent  and 
bring  to  mind  the  Passion  of  our  Lord  Jesu  Christ,  and  [the] 
martyrdom  and  good  living  of  other  Saints.  And  that  who  so  it 
be,  that  doeth  the  ivorship  to  dead  images  that  is  due  to  GOD ;  or 
puiteth  hope,  faith,  or  trust  in  help  of  them  as  he  should  do  to  GOD  ; 
or  hath  affection  in  one  more  than  in  another :  he  doth  in  that,  the 
great  sin-  of  Idolatry. 

Also  I  suppose  this  fully,  that  every  man  in  this  earth  is  a 
Pilgrim  towards  Bliss  or  towards  Pains.  And  he  that  knowcth  not, 
nor  will  not  know,  nor  keep  the  holy  commandments  of  GOD  in 
his  living  (albeit  that  he  gocth  on  pilgrimage  in  all  parts  of  tlie 
world),  and  he  die  so,  he  shall  be  damned.  And  he  that  knoweth  the 
holy  commandments  of  GOD  and  kecpcth  them  to  his  end,  he  shall 
be  saved ;  though  he  never  in  his  life,  go  on  pilgrimage  as  men  use 
[are  accustomed]  now  to  Canterbury,  or  to  Rome,  or  to  any  other 
place. 

This  Belief  indented,  containing  the  foresaid  Belief  with 


Sept. I4I3.]      Lord  Cobham's  final  ExaminatiOxM.    125 

these  foresaid  Answers,  he  took  to  the  Bishops  when  he  came 
to  answer  [in  the  Chapter  House  of  St.  PauFs]  on  the  Saturday 
next   before   Michaelmas  in    the  year  beforesaid    [September 

23,  1413]. 

And  whatsoever  the  Bishops  asked  him,  he  bade  them  look 
what  his  Bill  said  thereto  ;  and  thereby  he  would  stand  to 
the  death.  Other  answer  gave  he  not  that  day  :  but  the 
Bishops  were  not  quieted  herewith. 

And  the  Archbishop  bade  him  take  avisement  [coimsel]  till 
Monday  [September  z^th]  next  following,  to  answer  to  this 
point : 

//  there  remained  material  bread  in  the  Sacrament  of  the  Altar, 
after  the  words  of  consecration  ? 

And  in  the  meantime,  he  perceived  that  the  uttermost 
malice  was  purposed  against  him,  howsoever  he  answered  : 
therefore  he  put  his  life  in  GOD's  hand,  and  answered  thus, 
as  foUoweth. 

This  is  the  judgement  and  sentence  given  upon  Sir 
John  Oldcastlb  Knight  and  Lord  of  Cobham,  the 
Monday  [September  25th]  next  before  Michaelmas  Day, 
at  the  Friar  Preachcrs's  [the  Dominican  Friary  within 
Ludgate]  in  London,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord,  a  thou- 
sand, four  hundred  and  thirteen. 

[Thomas  Arundell]  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
[Richard  Clifford]  the  Bishop  of  London,  [Henry  Beau- 
fort] the  Bishop  of  Winchester,  [Benedict  Nicolls]  the 
Bishop  of  Bangor;  Master  John  Witnam,  Master  John 
Whitehead  [both  of  New  College,  Oxford],  Doctors  of 
Divinity;  Master  Philip  Morgan,  Master  Henry  Ware, 
Master  John  Kemp,  Doctors  of  [Canon]  Law;  and  sir  [i^^y.] 
Robert  Wombewell,  Vicar  of  St.  Lawrence  in  the  Jewry ; 
Master  John  Stevens,  Master  James  Cole,  Notaries: 
with  the  Four  Orders  of  Friars,  and  many  other  Clerks, 
deeming  and  convicting  him  for  an  heretic  and  a  cursed  man. 

The  Archbishop  made  all  these  Clerks,  both  Religious  and 
Secular,  to  swear  upon  a  book,  that  they  should  not,  for  love 
or  favour  of  the  one  party,  nor  for  any  envy  or  hatred  of  the 
■other  party,  say,  nor  witness  but  the  truth. 

And  the  two  foresaid  Notaries  were  sworn  also  to  write  and 


126    The  Abp.  again  offers  to  absolve  iiim.   [sept.  1413. 

to  witness  the  words  and  process  that  were  to  be  said  on 
both  the  parties,  and  to  say  the  sooth  if  it  otherwise  were. 

After  this,  the  Lord  of  Cobham  came,  and  was  brought 
before  them  all,  to  his  Examination,  and  to  his  Answer. 

Then  the  Archbishop  said  to  him,  "  Lord  of  Cobham,  ye  be 
advised  well  enough  of  the  words  and  Process  that  were  said 
to  you,  upon  Saturday  last  past,  in  the  Chapter  House  of 
Paul's :  the  which  Process  were  now  too  long  to  rehearse. 
Then  I  proffered  to  have  assoiled  [absolve]  you  (for  ye  were 
accursed !)  of  your  contumacy  and  disobedience  to  Holy 
Church." 

Then  said  the  Lord  Cobham  forthwith,  "  GOD  saith, 
Maledicam  benedictionibus  vcstns,  that  is  to  say,  '  I  shall  curse 
your  blessings  !  '  " 

Then  said  the  Archbishop,  "  Sir,  then  I  proffered  to  have 
assoiled  you,  if  ye  would  have  asked  it ;  and  }et  I  do  the 
same  !  " 

Then  said  the  Lord  of  Cobham,  "  Nay,  forsooth,  I  tres- 
passed never  against  you  !  and  therefore  will  I  not  do  it." 

And  with  that,  he  kneeled  down  on  the  pavement,  and 
held  up  his  hands  and  said,  "  I  shrive  me  to  GOD  !  and  to 
j^ou  all,  Sirs !  that,  in  my  youth,  I  have  sinned  greatly 
and  grievously  in  lechery  and  in  pride,  and  hurt  many  men, 
and  done  many  other  horrible  sins  ;  Good  Lord  !  I  cry  Thee, 
mercy !  " 

And  therewith  weepingly,  he  stood  up  again  and  said,  "Here, 
for  the  breaking  of  GOD's  Law  and  His  commandments, 
ye  cursed  me  not !  but  for  your  own  laws  and  traditions, 
above  GOD's  Law  :  and  therefore  it  shall  be  destroyed." 

Then  the  Archbishop  examined  the  Lord  of  his  Belief. 
And  the  Lord  of  Cobham  said,  "I  believe  fully  in  all  GOD's 
Law,  and  I  believe  that  it  is  all  true  !  and  I  believe  all  that 
GOD  wills  that  I  believe." 

Then  the  Archbishop  examined  him  of  the  Sacrament  of 
the  Altar,  how  he  believed  therein  ? 

The  Lord  of  Cobham  said,  "Christ  upon  Shere  [or  Shrive 
or  Maunday]  Thursday  [the  day  be/ore  Good  Friday]  at  night, 
sitting  with  his  disciples  at  the  Supper,  after  that  he  had 
supped,  he  took  bread  and  giving  thanks  to  the  Father,  he 
blessed  it  and  brake  it,  and  gave  it  to  his  disciples  saying, 


Sept.  I4I3.]    Smiling  THEY  say,  "It  is  an  pieresy  !  "    127 

Take,  and  eat  ye  of  this,  all !  This  is  my  body  that  shall  be  betrayed 
Joy  yoit !  Do  you  this,  in  the  remembrance  of  me.  This  I 
believe  !  "  said  he. 

Then  the  Archbishop  asked  him,  "  If  it  were  bread  after  the 
consecration,  and  the  sacramental  words  said  ?  " 

The  Lord  of  Cobham  said,  "  I  believe  that  the  Sacrament 
of  the  Altar  is  very  Christ's  body  in  form  of  bread  ;  the  same 
body  that  was  born  of  theVirgin  Mary,  done  on  the  cross, 
dead  and  buried,  and  the  third  day  rose  from  death  to  life  : 
which  body  is  now  glorified  in  heaven." 

Then  said  one  of  the  Doctors  of  the  Law,  "  After  the  sacra- 
mental words  said,  there  remaineth  no  bread  but  the  body  of 
Christ!" 

Then  the  Lord  of  Cobham  said  to  one,  Master  John 
Whitehead,  "  You  said  to  me  in  the  Castle  of  Cowling 
[Lord  Cobham' s  home],  that  the  host  sacred  was  not  Christ's 
body:  but  I  said,  '  It  was  Christ's  body  ! '  though  Seculars 
and  Friars  hold  each  one  against  other  in  this  opinion." 

Then  said  they,  "  We  say  all  that  it  is  GOD's  body  !  " 

And  they  asked  him,  "  Whether  it  were  material  bread 
after  the  consecration  ?" 

Then  said  the  Lord,  "  I  believe  it  is  Christ's  body  in 
form  of  bread.     Sir,  believe  ye  not  thus  ?  " 

And  the  Archbishop  said,  "  Yea  !  " 

Then  the  Doctors  asked  him,  "Whether  it  were  only 
Christ's  body  after  the  consecration,  and  no  bread  ?  " 

And  he  said  to  them,  "  It  is  Christ's  body  and  bread. 
For  right  as  Christ  was  here  in  manhood,  and  the  godhead 
hid  in  the  manhood  :  so  I  believe  verily  that  Christ's  flesh 
and  his  blood  is  hid  there  in  the  form  of  bread." 

Then  they  smiled  each  on  other,  deeming  him  taken  in 
heresy  ;  and  said,  "  It  is  an  heresy  !  " 

The  Archbishop  asked  him,  "  What  bread  it  was?"  and 
the  Clerks  also,  "  Whether  it  were  material  or  not  ? " 

Then  the  Lord  said,  "  The  Gospel  speaketh  not  of  this 
term  material',  and  therefore  I  will  not!  but  say,  it  is 
Christ's  body  and  bread  !  For  the  Gospel  saith,  Ego  sum 
panis  vivus  qtn  de  coelo  descendi,  that  is  to  say,  "  I  am  quick 
bread  that  came  down  from  heaven."  For  as  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  is  Very  GOD  and  Very  Man;  so  the  most 
blessed  Sacrament  of  the  Altar  is  Christ's  body  and  bread. 


128   Lollard  definition  of  "Holy  Church."  [sept.  1413. 

Then  they  said,  "It  is  an  heresy,  to  say  that  it  is  bread 
after  the  consecration  and  the  sacramental  words  said,  but 
only  Christ's  body." 

The  Lord  said,  "  Saint  Paul  the  Apostle  was  as  wise  as 
ye  be  !  and  he  called  it  bread ;  where  he  saith  thus  The  bread 
that  we  break,  is  it  not  the  partaking  of  the  body  of  the 
LORD ? " 

Then  they  said,  "  Paul  must  be  otherwise  understanded  ; 
for  it  is  an  heresy  to  say,  that  it  is  bread  after  the  conse- 
cration, but  only  Christ's  body  :  for  it  is  against  the  deter- 
mination of  the  Church." 

Then  they  asked  him,  "  Whether  he  believed  not  in  the 
determination  of  the  Church  ?  " 

And  he  said,  *'  No,  forsooth !  but  I  believe  all  GOD's 
Law,  and  all  that  GOD  wills  that  I  believe;  but  not  in  your 
law  nor  in  your  determination :  for  ye  be  no  part  of 
Holy  Church,  as  openly  your  deeds  shew  ;  but  very  Anti- 
christs, contrary  to  GOD's  law.  For  ye  have  made  laws  for 
your  covetousness." 

"  This,"  they  said,  "  was  heresy  :  not  for  to  believe  in  the 
determination  of  the  Church." 

Then  the  Archbishop  asked  him,  "  What  was  Holy 
Church?" 

He  said,  "  I  believe  that  Holy  Church  is  the  number  of  all 
them  that  shall  be  saved ;  of  whom  Christ  is  head  :  of  the 
which  Church,  one  part  is  in  Heaven,  another  in  Pur^^^atory, 
and  the  third  here  in  Earth.  This  part  here,  standeth  in 
three  degrees  and  estates,  Priesthood,  Knighthood,  and  the 
Comminalty,  as  I  said  plainly  in  my  Belief.'" 

Then  the  Archbishop  said  to  him,  "  Wot  you  who  is  ot 
this  Church  ?  It  is  doubt  to  you  who  is  thereof  ?  Ye  should 
not  judge !  " 

The  Lord  said,  "Operibiis  credite  !  jnstiun  judicium  judicate ! " 
that  is  to  say,  "  Believe  ye  the  works  !  judge  ye  rightful 
judgement !  " 

Also  he  said  to  them  all,  "  Where  find  ye  by  GOD's  Law, 
that  ye  should  set  thus  upon  any  man,  or  any  man's  death,  as 
ye  do?  But  Annas  and  Caiaphas  sat  and  judged  Christ; 
and  so  do  you  !  " 

Then  said  they,  "  Yes,  Sir,  Christ  judged  Judas  !  " 

The  Lord  of  Cobham  said,  "  No,  Christ  judged  not  Judas! 


sept.1413.]  The  venom  of  worldly  possessions.   129 

but  he  judged  himself,  and  went  and  hanged  himself :  but 
Christ  said,  Woe  to  him,  as  he  doth  to  many  of  you !  For 
since  the  venom  was  shed  into  the  Church  ;  ye  followed 
never  Christ,  nor  ye  stood  never  in  perfection  of  GOD's 
Law  !  " 

Then  the  Archbishop  asked  him,  "  What  was  that  venom  ?" 

The  Lord  said,  "  The  lordships  and  possessions.  For 
then,  cried  an  angel,  '  Woe  !  woe  !  woe  !  This  day  is  venom 
shed  into  the  Church  of  GOD  !  '  For  before  that  time, 
there  many  martyrs  of  Popes  ;  and  since  I  can  tell  of  none ! 
but,  sooth  it  is,  since  that  time  one  hath  put  down  another, 
and  one  hath  slain  another,  and  one  hath  cursed  another, 
as  the  Chronicles  tell ;  also  of  much  more  cursedness." 

Also  he  said,  "  Christ  was  meek,  and  the  Pope  is  proud. 
Christ  was  poor  and  forgave  ;  the  Pope  is  rich  and  a  man- 
slayer,  as  it  is  openly  proved.  And  thus  this  is  the  nest  of 
Antichrist,  and  out  of  this  nest  cometh  Antichrist's  disciples, 
of  whom  these  Monks  and  Friars  be  the  tail." 

Then  said  [Richard  Dodington]  Prior  of  the  Friars 
Augustines,  "  Sir,  why  say  ye  so  ?  " 

And  the  Lord  of  Cobham  said,  **  For  as  ye  be  Pharisees, 
**  divided,"  and  divided  in  habit  [dress]  ;  so  ye  make  division 
among  the  people.  And  thus  these  friars  and  monks  with 
such  others  be  the  members  of  the  nest  of  Antichrist." 

And  he  said,  "  Christ  saith.  Woe  be  to  you,  Scribes  and 
Pharisees,  hypocrites  !  for  ye  close  ttp  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  before 
men :  for,  sooth,  ye  enter  not  yourselves !  nor  ye  will  not  suffer 
them  that  would,  to  enter  in !  And  thus,  ye  be  the  disciples 
of  Antichrist !  For  ye  will  not  suffer  GOD's  Law  to  go 
through,  nor  to  be  taught  and  preached  of  good  priests;  which 
will  speak  against  your  sinsv,  and  reprove  them  :  but  of  such 
that  be  flatterers,  which  sustain  you  in  your  sins  and  cursed- 
ness." 

Then  said  the  Archbishop,  **  By  our  Lady !  Sir,  there 
shall  no  such  preach,  that  preacheth  dissension  and  division, 
if  GOD  will!" 

Then  said  the  Lord  of  Cobham  to  the  Archbishop,  "  Christ 
saith  that  there  shall  be  so  great  tribidation,  as  never  was  since 
the  beginning.  And  this  shall  be  in  your  days  !  and  by  you  ! 
for  ye  have  slain  many  men,  and  shall  more  hereafter:  but 
Christ  saith.  Except  that  those  days  were  shortened,  no  flesh 

Eng.  Gar.  VI.  9 


130  The  4  Determinations  of  the  Church.  [?ept.  1413. 

should  he  saved  :  but  hastily  GOD  will  short[en]  your  days  ! 
Furthermore,  Bishops,  Priests,  and  Deacons  be  grounded  in 
GOD'sLaw:  but  not  these  other  Religious  [Monks  and  Friars] 
as  far  as  I  can  wit." 


Then  a  Doctor  of  Law,  one  Master  John  Kemp,  put  to 
him  these  four  Points  that  follow  : 

"  The  faith  and  determination oj  HolyChurchtouching  the  blessed 
Sacrament  of  the  Altar  is  this.  That  after  the  sacramental  words 
be  said  of  a  priest  in  his  Mass,  the  material  bread  that  was  before, 
is  turned  into  Christ's  body,  and  the  material  wine  that  was 
before,  is  turned  into  Christ's  very  blood  :  and  so  there  remaineth 
in  the  Sacrament  of  the  Altar,  no  material  bread  nor  material 
wine;  the  which  were  there,  before  the  saying  of  the  sacramental 
words.     Sir,  believe  you  this  ?  " 

The  Lord  of  Cobham  said,  "  This  is  not  my  belief.  For 
my  belief  is,  as  I  said  to  you  before,  that  the  worshipful 
Sacrament  of  the  Altar  is  very  Christ's  body  in  form  of 
bread." 

Then  said  the  Archbishop,  "  Sir  John!  ye  must  say  other- 
wise !  " 

The  Lord  of  Cobham  said,  "  Nay,  if  GOD  will !  but  that 
it  is  Christ's  body  in  form  of  bread,  as  all  the  common 
belief  is." 

The  Doctor  [John  Kemp]  said,  "The  second  is  this, 
The  Holy  Church  hath  determined  that  every  Christian  man  living 
bodily  upon  the  earth  oweth  [ought]  to  be  shriven  to  a  priest 
ordained  by  the  Church,  if  he  may  come  to  him.  Sir,  what  say 
ye  to  this  ?  " 

The  Lord  answered  and  said,  "  A  sick  man  and  sore 
wounded  had  need  to  have  a  sure  Leech  and  a  true,  knowing 
his  cure ;  and  therefore  a  man  should  be  principally 
shriven  to  GOD  ;  and  else  his  confession  is  nought.  And  a 
man  should  rather  go  and  be  counselled  with  a  good  priest 
that  knoweth  GOD's  Law,  and  liveth  thereafter ;  than  with 
his  own  priest,  if  he  were  an  evil  man,  or  with  any  other 
such." 

The  Doctor  said,  "The  Third  is  this,  Christ  ordained 
Saint  Peter  to  be  his  Vicar  in  earth,  whose  See  is  the  Church  of 
Rome  ;  ordaining  and  granting  that  the  same  power  tJiat  he  gave 


Sept.  1413]  "Where  is  the  cross  Christ  died  on  ?  "    131 

to  Peter  sJionld  succeed  to  all  Peter's  successors,  the  which  we 
call  now  the  Popes  of  Rome  :  by  whose  power  in  the  Church  par- 
ticularly and  specially,  be  ordained  Prelates  as  Archbishops, 
Bishops,  and  other  degrees;  to  whom  Christian  men  owe  [ought] 
to  obey  after  the  law  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  This  is  the 
determination  of  the  Church." 

To  this,  he  answered  and  said,  "  Who  that  followeth  next 
Peter  in  living,  is  next  him  in  succession  :  but  your  living 
refuseth  poor  Peter's  living,  and  many  other  Popes  that 
were  martyrs  in  Rome  that  followed  Peter  in  manner  of 
living;  whose  conditions  ye  have  clean  forsaken,  all  the 
world  may  know  it  well !  " 

The  Doctor  said,  "  The  fourth  point  is  this.  Holy  Church 
hath  determined  that  it  is  meedful  to  a  Christian  man,  to  go  on 
pilgrimages  to  holy  places ;  and  there  especially  to  worship  holy 
relics  of  Saints,  Apostles,  Martyrs,  Confessors,  and  all  Saints 
approved  by  the  Church  of  Rome." 

To  this,  he  said,  "  It  were  enough  to  bury  Saints  fair  in 
the  earth  ;  but  now  Saints  that  be  dead,  be  compelled  to  beg 
for  covetousness  !  the  which  in  their  life,  hated  covetousness 
and  begging.  But  I  say  to  you  all,  and  know  it  for  a  truth, 
that  with  your  shrines  and  idols,  and  your  feigned  absolu- 
tions and  indulgences,  and  your  temporalities,  ye  draw  to 
you  all  the  richesse  of  this  world." 

*'  Why  Sir,"  said  one  of  the  Clerks,  "  will  ye  not  worship 
images  ?  " 

**  What  worship  ?  "  said  the  Lord. 

Then  said  Friar  [Thomas]  Palmer  [Warden  of  the 
Minorites],  "  Sir,  ye  will  worship  the  Cross  of  Christ  that 
he  died  on  ?  " 

*'  Where  is  it  ?  "  said  the  Lord. 

The  Friar  said,  "  I  put  case,  Sir,  that  it  were  here  before 
you !  " 

The  Lord  said,  *'  This  is  a  ready  man  !  to  put  to  me  a 
question  of  a  thing,  that  they  wot  never  where  it  is  ?  And 
yet  I  ask  you,  What  worship?  " 

A  Clerk  said,  "  Such  worship  as  Paul  speaketh  of,  that  is 
this,  GOD  forbid  me  to  joy,  but  in  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesu 
Christ."' 

Then  said  the  Lord,  and  spread  his  arms  abroad,  "  This  is 
a  very  cross  !  " 


132    Lord  Cobiiam  adjudged  a  heretic,   [sept.  1413. 

Then  said  the  [Henry  Beauclerc]  Bishop  of  London, 
"  Sir,  ye  wot  well !    that  he  died  on  a  material  cross." 

Then  said  the  Lord,  "  Our  salvation  come  in  only  by  him 
that  died  on  the  cross,  and  by  the  material  cross.  And,  well 
I  wot,  that  this  was  the  cross  that  Paul  joyed  on,  that  is,  in 
the  Passion  of  our  LORD  Jesu  Christ." 

The  Archbishop  said,  "Sir  John  !  ye  must  submit  you  to 
the  ordinance  of  the  Church  !  " 

The  Lord  said,  "  I  wot  not  whereto  ?  " 


Then  the  Archbishop  read  a  bill  of  his  judgement,  and 
convicted  him  for  a  heretic. 

After  the  reading  of  the  bill,  the  Lord  said,  "Though  ye 
judge  my  body,  I  hope  to  GOD !  that  He  will  save  my  soul ! " 
and  he  said  that  he  "would  stand  to  the  death,  by  these  things 
beforesaid;  with  the  help  of  Jesu  !" 

And  then  he  said  to  all  the  people,  "  Sirs,  for  GOD's  love! 
be  well  ware  of  these  men !  for  they  will  beguile  you  else  ! 
and  lead  you  blindlings  into  hell,  and  themselves  also  !  For 
Christ  saith, '  If  one  blind  man  lead  another,  both  fall  into  the 
ditch!" 

And  after  this,  thus  he  prayed  for  his  enemies,  and  said, 
"  LORD  GOD  !  I  beseech  thee,  forgive  my  pursuers!  if  it  be 
thy  will !  " 


And  then  he  was  led  again  to  the  Tower  of  London :  and 
thus  was  the  end. 


|HiLEtheLordof  Cobiiam  was  in  the  Tower,  he  sent  out 
privily  to  his  friends  ;  and  they,  at  his  desire,  in- 
formed and  writ  this  bill  that  followeth  next,  com- 
mending it  to  the  people,  that  they  should  cease  the 
slanders  and  leasings  that  his  enemies  made  on  him. 


Sept.  1413]  The   MS.   notice   in   London  Streets. 


Or  as  mickle   as  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  Kni<^ht  and 

Lord  of  COBHAM,  is  untruly  convicted  and  prisoned, 

and  falsely  reported  and  slandered  among  the  people 

by   his   adversaries,    that   he   should   othemvise 

feel  and  speak  of  the  Sacraments  of  Holy 

Church,   and  especially  of  the  blessed 

Sacrament  of  the  Altar,  than 

was  written  in  his  Belief, 

which    was    indented 

and  taken   to  the 

Clergy,  and  set 

up  in  divers 

open  places 

in  the  city  of 

London:  Known 

he  it  to  all    the  world, 

that  he  never  varied  in  any 

point  therefrom ;  but  this  is  plainly 

his  Belief,  that  all  the  Sacraments  of 

Holy  Church  be  profitable  and  meedful  to 

all  them  that  shall  be  saved,  taking  them  after 

the  intent  that  GOD  and  Holy  Church  hath 

ordained.    Furthermore  he  believeth 

that  the  blessed  Sacrament  of  the 

Altar   is   verily   and 

tndy  Christ's 

body  inform 

of  bread. 


Truth  long-hid  now  is  disclosed. 
Praised  be  GOD!     Amen. 


134 


>^:^^^ 


f^  .fv  .O/' 'H- V 


^^^ 


Sonnets 


TO   THE  FAIREST 


C  O  E  L  I  A. 


Pan'e,  nee  jnvideo,  sine  me  liber  iHs  ad  illam, 
Hei  »iihi  quod  dovuno  >ton  licet  jVf  U40. —  J'KIST.  i. 


LONDON, 

Primed  by  Adam   I  slip, 

for  IV.  P. 

1594. 


>l^^^^' 


■  •^  -gir  -titr  tir  -tja-  -d^  i 


To    the    Reader. 


Courteous    Reader, 

Hereas  I  was  fully  determined  to  have  con- 
cealed my  Sonnets  as  tilings  privy  to  myself ; 
yet,  of  courtesy,  having  lent  them  to  some, 
they  were  secretly  committed  to  the  Pi'ess  and  almost 
finished,  before  it  came  to  my  knowledge. 

Wherefore  making,  as  they  say.  Virtue  of  Necessity, 
I  did  deem  it  most  convenient  to  prepose  ?ny  Epistle,  ^;z/)/ 
to  beseech  you  to  acco2int  of  them  as  of  toys  and  amorous 
devices ;  and,  ere  long,  1  will  impart  unto  the  World 
another"  Poem,  which  shall  be  both  more  fruitful 
and  ponderotcs. 

In  the  mean  while,  I  commit  these,  as  a  pledge,  to  your 
i7idifferent  censures. 

London,  1594. 

W.    PERCY. 


^  «^^  -j^  j^  u^  V 


138 


139 


COELI  A. 


SO  N  N  ET    I. 

Udged  by  my  Goddess'  doom  to  endless  pain ; 
Lo,  here  I  ope  my  Sorrow's  Passion  ! 
That  every  silly  eye  may  view  most  plain 
A  Sentence  given  on  no  occasion. 

If  that,  by  chance,  they  fall  most  fortunate 
Within  those  cruel  hands  that  did  enact  it ; 
Say  but  "  Alas,  he  was  too  Passionate  !  " 
My  doom  is  passed,  nor  can  be  now  unactit." 
So  mayst  Thou  see  I  was  a  spotless  lover  ! 
And  grieve  withal  that,  ere,  thou  dealt  so  sore  ! 
Unto  remorse,  who  goes  about  to  move  her. 
Pursues  the  winged  winds,  and  tills  the  shore  ! 

Lovely  is  her  Semblance,  hard  is  her  Heart ; 

Wavering  is  her  Mind,  sure  is  her  Dart ! 


140 


C  CE  L  T  A 


r 


Percy. 
1594- 


SONNET    II. 

Happy  hour,  and  yet  unhappy  hour  ! 
When  first  by  chance  I  had  my  Goddess  viewed  ; 
Then  first  I  tasted  of  the  sweetest  sour 
Wherewith  the  cup  of  Cypria  is  embrued. 
For  gazing  firm  without  suspicion, 
Love,  cooped  behind  the  chariot  of  her  eye, 
Justly  to  school  my  bold  presumption, 
Against  my  heart  did  let  an  arrow  fly. 

"  Fair  Sir,"  quoth  he,  "  to  practise  have  you  nought 
But  to  be  gazing  on  Divinity  ? 
Before  you  part,  your  leare  you  shall  be  taught !  " 
With  that,  at  once,  he  made  his  arrows  hie. 
"  Imperious  God  !   I  did  it  not  to  love  her! 
Ah,  stay  thy  hand  !   I  did  it  but  to  prove  her !  " 


SONNET    III. 

Rove  her  !     Ah,  no  !  I  did  it  but  to  love  her  ! 
Then  shoot  amain,  dread  Liege  !    I  stand  unarmed. 
Although  no  hope  that  anything  may  move  her  ; 
Some  ease  it  is,  to  be  by  beauty  charmed. 
Then  quick,  my  Liege!  then  quick,  and  end  thy  game! 
That  all  the  World  may  see  how  thou  hast  plagued  us  ; 
Then  cruel  She  shall  view,  unto  her  blame, 
That  "all  men  be  not  fickle,"  as  they've  termed  us. 

May  be,  my  words  may  win  contrition  ! 
If  not  my  words,  my  sobs  !  if  not  my  sobs, 
My  tears  may  move  her  to  compassion  ! 
If  tears  do  fail,  my  tears,  my  words,  my  throbs. 
Ay  me  !  ah  no  !  tears,  words,  throbs,  all  in  vain ! 
She  scorns  my  dole,  and  smileth  at  my  pain  ! 


W.  Percy.' 

I594-. 


C  (E  L  I  A  . 

SONNET    IV. 


141 


Heavenly  Ccelia,  as  fair  as  virtuous! 
The  only  Mirror  of  true  Chastity  ! 
Have  I  been  'gainst  thy  godhead  impious, 
That  thus  am  guerdoned  for  my  fealty  ? 

Have  I  not  shed  upon  thine  iv'ry  shrme 
Huge  drops  of  tears  with  large  eruptions? 
Have  I  not  offered,  Evening,  and  at  Prime, 
My  sighs,  my  Psalms  of  invocations  ? 

«'  What  be  men's  sighs  but  cauls  of  guilefulness^.^ 
"  They  shew,  dear  Love  !  true  proofs  of  firmity  !  ^^ 
"  What  be  your  tears  but  mere  ungraciousness? 
*'  Tears  only  plead  for  our  simplicity  !  " 

When  all  strike  mute,  She  says  "  It  is  my  duty  ! 
And  claims  as  much  as  to  her  deity. 


SONNET    V, 

Air  Queen  of  Cnidos!  come,  adorn  my  forehead! 
And  crown  me  with  the  laurel.  Emperor! 
U,  thrice  sing  16  about  thy  poet ! 
Lo,  on  my  goddess,  I  am  conqueror !  _ 

For  once,  by  chance,  not  sure  or  wittingly, 
Upon  my  foot,  her  tender  foot  alighted 
With  that,  she  plucked  it  off  full  nimbly 
As  though  the  very  touch  had  her  affrighted. 

Dear  Mistress!  will  you  deal  so  cruelly, 
To  'prive  me  of  so  small  a  benefit  ? 
What !  do  you  jerk  it  off  so  nimbly  _    _ 

As  though,  in  very  sooth,  a  snake  had  bit  it  . 
Yea   bit  perhaps  indeed  !   Ho,  Muses,  blab  you  ? 
Not' a  word,  Pieanncts  !  or  I  will  gag  you  ! 


142 


C  CE  L  1  A  . 


fW.  Percy. 
L  1394- 


SONNET    VI. 

OoD  God  !  how  senseless  be  we  paramours, 
So  proudly  on  a  Nothing  for  to  vaunt  it ! 
We  cannot  reap  the  meanest  of  all  favours, 
But,  by-and-by,  we  think  our  suit  is  grantit ! 

Had  ye  observed  two  Planets  which  then  mounted, 
Two  certain  signs  of  indignation  ; 
Ye  would  have  deemed  rather  both  consented 
To  turn  all  hopes  to  desperation. 

Then  can  you  waver  so  inconstantly 
To  shew  first  Love,  and  then  Disdainfulness  ? 
First  for  to  bring  a  dram  of  courtesy. 
Then  mix  it  with  an  ounce  of  scornfulness  ? 

No,  no,  the  doubt  is  answered !  Certainly, 

She  trod  by  chance ;  She  trod  not  wittingly  ! 


SONNET    VII. 

F  IT  be  sin,  so  dearly  for  to  love  thee ; 
Come  bind  my  hands  !  I  am  thy  prisoner! 
If  yet  a  spark  of  pity  may  but  move  thee, 
First  sit,  upon  the  cause,  Commissioner  ! 

The  same,  well  heard,  may  wrest  incontinent, 
Two  floods  from  forth  those  rocks  of  adamant  ; 
Which  streaming  down  with  force  impatient 
May  melt  the  breast  of  my  fierce  Rhadamant. 

Dearest  Cruel,  the  cause,  I  see  dislikes  thee  ! 
On  us  thy  brows  thou  bends  so  direfully  ! 
Enjoin  me  penance  whatsoever  likes  thee ; 
Whate'er  it  be,  I'll  take  it  thankfully  ! 

Yet  since,  for  love  it  is,  I  am  thy  Bondman ; 

Good  CcELiA,  use  me  like  a  Gentleman ! 


Percy  " 


C  (E  L  I  A 


14: 


SONNET    VIII. 

Trike  lip,  my  Lute !  and  ease  my  heavy  cares, 
The  only  solace  to  my  Passions  : 
Impart  unto  the  airs,  thy  pleasing  airs  ! 
More  sweet  than  heavenly  consolations. 

Rehearse  the  songs  of  forlorn  amor'us 
Driven  to  despair  by  dames  tyrannical  1 
Of  Alpheus'  loss,  of  woes  of  Troilus, 
Of  Rowland's  rage,  of  Iphis'  funeral ! 

Ay  me  !  what  warbles  yields  mine  instrument ! 
The  Basses  shriek  as  though  they  were  amiss  1 
The  Means,  no  means,  too  sad  the  merriment ! 
No,  no !  the  music  good,  but  thus  it  is 

I  loath  both  Means,  merriment.  Diapasons ; 

So  She  and  I  may  be  but  Unisons. 


SONNET   IX. 

HiLST  others  ween  sole  hopes  to  be  a  sa[l]ve, 
Sole  hopes  I  find  to  be  my  corrosive  ! 
Whilst  others  found  in  hopes,  an  harbour  have ; 
From  hopes,  I  feel  a  sea  of  sorrows  rise  1 

For  when  mild  hopes  should  ease  my  raging  fires, 
They  fester  more,  in  that  they  are  but  ropes ; 
Then  whilst  I  touch  the  foot  of  my  Desires, 
A  storm  of  hate  doth  burst  mine  anchor  ropes. 

Were  I  but  once  resolved  certainly. 
Soon  should  I  know  which  point  my  helm  to  steer ; 
But  She  denies  my  suit  most  womanly, 
As  hidden  documents  for  us  to  hear. 

Lo,  this  the  cause  my  hell  forsakes  me  never. 

"Tell  me,"  dear  Sweet,  "thus  shall  I  live  for  ever?" 


144 


C  CE  L  I  A  . 


"W.  Percy. 
1594- 


SONNET    X. 

'li  A   Mystery. 

[Seir  Vol.  I.  //.  74,  128,  460,  651  :   V.  p.  370-] 

O  WIN  the  Fort,  how  oft  have  I  assayed ! 
Wherein  the  heart  of  my  fair  Mistress  lies. 
What  rams,  what  mines,  what  plots  have  I  not  laid! 
Yet  still  am  frighted  fiom  mine  enterprise. 

First  from  the  leads  of  that  proud  citadel 
Do  foulder  forth  two  fiery  Culverins, 
Under,  two  red  coats  keep  the  Larum  Bell 
For  fear  of  close  or  open  venturings  ; 

Before  the  gates,  Scorn,  Fear,  and  Modesty 
Do  toss  amain  their  pikes ;  but  'bove  them  all 
Pudicity  wields  her  staff  most  manfully, 
Guarded  with  blocks,  that  keep  me  from  the  wall. 

Yet  if  this  staff  will  ford  me  clear  the  way ; 

In  spite  of  all,  I'll  bear  my  Dame  away  ! 


SONNET    XI. 

To   POLYXENA. 

F  ALL  the  women  which  of  yore  have  been, 
Alcest  for  virtue  may  be  glorified  ; 
For  courage,  Teuce;  for  features,  Sparta's  Queen; 
For  all  in  one,  Polyxen  deified. 

If  true  it  be,  by  old  philosophy, 
These  souls  to  have,  since  destin,  entered 
To  other  bodies  of  like  sympathy  ; 
Thou  art  the  last  of  these  metampsychosed  ! 

Thy  courage  wondrous  !  thy  virtues  peerless  ! 
Thy  features  have  the  fairest  ladies  blamed  ! 
Then  (if  thou  scorn'st  not  such  a  Monarchess) 
Henceforth,  by  reason  good,  thou  shalt  be  named, 

Nor  Teuce,  nor  Alcest,  nor  fair  Helena  ; 

Thou  shalt  be  named  my  dear  Polvxena  ! 


VV.  Percy.' 
»594-. 


C  (E  L  I  A 


145 


SONNET    XII. 

^Rlia,  of  all  sweet  courtesies  resolve  me  ! 
For  wished  grace,  how  must  I  now  be  doing  ? 
Since  Ops,  the  completest  frame  which  did  absolve 

thee, 
Hath  made  each  parcel  to  my  sole  undoing  ! 

Those  wires  which  should  thy  corps  to  mine  unite, 
Be  rays  to  daze  us  from  so  near  approach. 
Thine  eyne,  which  should  my  'nighted  sailors  light, 
Be  shot  to  keep  them  off  with  foul  reproach. 

Those  ruddy  plums  embrued  with  heavenly  foods, 
When  I  would  suck  them,  turn  to  driest  coral ; 
And  when  I  couch  between  her  lily  buds, 
They  surge,  like  frothy  water  mounts  above  all. 

Surely,  they  were  all  made  unto  good  uses ; 

But  She,  them  all  untowardly  abuses. 


SONNET    XIII. 

^rn  grievous  thoughts  and  weighty  care  opprest, 
One  day,  I  went  to  Venus's  Fanacle ; 
Of  Cyprian  dreams,  which  did  me  sore  molest, 
To  be  resolved  by  certain  Oracle. 

No  sooner  was  I  past  the  temple's  gate. 
But  from  the  shrine,  where  Venus  wont  to  stand, 
I  saw  a  Lady  fair  and  delicate 
Did  beckon  to  me  with  her  ivory  hand. 

Weening  She  was  the  Goddess  of  the  Fane, 
With  cheerful  looks  I  towards  bent  my  pace : 
Soon  when  I  came,  I  found  unto  my  bane, 
A  Gorgon  shadowed  under  Venus'  face ; 

Whereat  affright,  when  back  I  would  be  gone, 

I  stood  transformed  to  a  speechless  stone. 
Eng.  Gar.  VI.  10 


146  ccELiA.  r^:;:: 

SONNET    XIV. 


[Hen  once  I  saw  that  no  intreats  would  move  her; 
All  means  I  sought  to  be  delivered: 
Against  white  Cupid  and  his  golden  Mother, 
In  high  contempt,  base  words  I  uttered  : 
When  both,  from  clouds  of  her  bright  firmament, 
With  heavy  griefs  and  strong  disdain  surmounted, 
Upon  my  thoughts  and  me  did  shoot  revengement. 
Whilst  in  our  highest  prides  we  were  amounted. 

Nor  be  they  pleased  to  give  us  all  these  wounds, 
To  make  me  languish  as  a  dying  liver : 
But  from  her  orbs  they  fling  their  firebrands. 
Thereby  to  quite  consume  both  heart  and  liver. 
Pardon,  dread  Powers  !  pardon  my  rash  offence  ! 
By  Heaven's  bright  vail !  'twas  'gainst  my  conscience  ! 


SONNET    XV. 

Echo. 

Mat  is  the   Fair,  to  whom   so   long  I  plead  ? 

Lead. 
What  is  her  face,  so  angel-like  ?  Angel-like. 

Then  unto  Saints  in  mind,  Sh'is  not  unlike  ?       Unlike. 
What  may  be  hoped  of  one  so  evil  nat'red  ?  Hatred. 

O  then  my  woes  how  shall  I  ope  best  ?  Hope  best ! 

Then  She  is  flexible  ?  She  is  flexible. 

Fie,  no,  it  is  impossible  !  Possible. 

About  her  straight  then  only  our  best  !  You're  best ! 

How  must  I  first  her  loves  to  me  approve  ?      Prove  ! 
How  if  She  say  I  may  not  kiss  her?  Kiss  her! 

r^or  all  her  bobs  I  must  them  bear,  or  miss  her?   Yes,  sir  ! 
Then  will  She  3'ield  at  length  to  Love  ?  To  love ! 

Iwcn  so  !  Even  so  !    By  Narcisse  !  is  it  true  ?  True  ! 

Of  thine  honesty  ?  /.     Adieu  !  Adieu  ! 


SONNET    XVI.    ' 

^Hat  may  be  thought  of  thine  untowardness, 
That  movest  still  at  every  motion  ? 
What  may  be  hoped  of  so  strange  uncouthness, 
That  scorns  all  vows,  scorns  all  devotion  ? 
If  I  but  sue,  thou  wouldst  relieve  mine  anguish, 
Two  threatening  arcs  thou  bendest  rigorously ! 
Then  if  I  swear  thy  love  did  make  me  languish. 
Thou  turn'st  away,  and  smilest  scornfully  ! 

Then  if  I  wish  thou  would'st  not  tyrannize  ; 
Of  Tyranny  thou  mak'st  but  a  mockery  ! 
And  if  I  weep,  my  tears  thou  dost  despise  ! 
And  if  I  stir,  thou  threatenest  battery ! 

Frown  on  !  smile  on  !  mock  me  !  despise  me  !  threat  me  ! 
All  shall  not  make  me  leave  for  to  intreat  thee ! 


SONNET    X  VII. 

Elent,  my  dear,  yet  unkind  Ccelia  ! 
At  length,  relent,  and  give  my  sorrows  end  ! 
So  shall  I  keep  my  long-wished  holiday, 
And  set  a  trophy  on  a  froward  friend  ! 

Nor  tributes,  nor  imposts,  nor  other  duties 
Demand  I  will,  as  lawful  Conqueror ! 
Duties,  tributes,  imposts  unto  thy  beauties, 
Myself  will  pay  as  yielded  Servitor  ! 

Then  quick  relent !  thyself  surrender  us  ! 
"Brave  Sir,  and  why,"  quoth  She,  "must  I  relent  ?  " 
"  Relent,"  cried  I,  "  thyself  doth  conquer  us  !  " 
When  eftsoons  with  my  proper  instrument 

She  cut  me  off,  ay  me  !  and  answered, 

**You  cannot  conquer,  and  be  conquered." 


148 


C  Oi.  L  I  A 


'ercy. 
1504. 


SONNET    XVIII. 

Cannot  conquer  and  be  conquered  !  " 
Then  whole  myself  I  yield  unto  thy  favour  ! 
Behold  my  thoughts  float  in  an  ocean,  battered  ; 
To  be  cast  off,  or  wafted  to  thine  harbour ! 
If  of  the  fame,  thou  wilt  then  take  acceptance, 
Stretch  out  thy  fairest  hand,  as  flag  of  peace  ! 
If  not,  no  longer  keep  us  in  attendance  ; 
But  all  at  once  thy  fiery  shafts  release ! 
If  thus  I  die,  an  honest  cause  of  love 
Will  of  my  fates  the  rigour  mitigate ; 
Those  gracious  ey'n,  which  will  a  Tartar  move. 
Will  prove  my  case  the  less  unfortunate. 

Although  my  friends  may  rue  my  chance  for  aye, 
It  will  be  said,  "  He  died  for  Ccelia  !  " 


SONNET    XIX. 

T  SHALL  be  said  I  died  for  Ccelia  ! 
riien  quick,  thou  grisly  man  of  Erebus, 
Transport  me  hence  unto  Proserpina, 
To  be  adjudged  as  "wilful  amorous." 
To  be  hung  up  within  the  liquid  air ! 
For  all  the  sighs  which  I  in  vain  have  wasted  : 
To  be  through  Lethe's  waters  cleansed  fair ! 
For  those  dark  clouds  which  have  my  looks  o'ercasted 

To  be  condemned  to  everlasting  fire ! 
Because  at  Cupid's  fire,  I  wilful  brent  me, 
And  to  be  clad  for  deadly  dumps  in  mire. 
Among  so  many  plagues  which  shall  torment  me, 
One  solace  I  shall  find,  when  I  am  over; 
It  will  be  known  I  died  a  constant  lover! 


W.  lercy."! 


C    (E   L    I  A  . 


149 


SONNET    XX. 

KcEiVE  these  writs,  my  sweet  and  dearest  Friend ! 
The  lively  patterns  of  my  lifeless  body  ; 
Where  thou  shall  find  in  ebon  pictures  penned. 
How  I  was  meek,  but  thou  extremely  bloody ! 

ril  walk  forlorn  along  the  willow  shades, 
Alone,  complaining  of  a  ruthless  Dame  : 
Where'er  I  pass,  the  rocks,  the  hills,  the  g!ades. 
In  piteous  yells  shall  sound  her  cruel  name  ! 

There  will  I  wail  the  lot  that  Fortune  sent  me, 
And  make  my  moans  tmto  the  savage  ears ! 
The  remnant  of  the  days  which  Nature  lent  me  ; 
ril  spend  them  all,  concealed,  in  ceaseless  tears  ! 

Since  unkind  Fates  permit  me  not  Venjoy  her  ; 

No  more,  burst  eyes !  I  mean  for  to  annoy  her  ! 

FINIS. 


To    Parthenophil! 
Upon  hisLAYAand  Parthenophe. 

[See  Vol.  V.  pp.  335-486.I 

MA  D  R  I  G  A  L. 

Hen  first  I  heard  thy  loves  to  Lay  A, 
I  wished  the  gods  to  turn  it  to  good  hap  ! 
Yet  since  I  hear  thy  blessed  flight  away, 
I  joy  thy  chance,  for  fear  of  aftcrclap  ! 

Unwily  man  I  why  couldst  not  keep  thee  there  ? 
But  must  with  Parthenoph\  thee  'gain  entrap  ! 
I  little  rue  thy  well  deserved  tears  ! 
The  beast  once  'scaped  will  ever  shim  the  trap  ! 
What  telVst  thou  me,  ''By  spells,*  th'  hast  won  thy  Dear!'' 
Believe  her,  Friend  !  no  more  than  La  ya  past ! 
Charmed  Love  endures  but  whilst  the  Charm  doth  last ! 
[*  See  the  Sestine  at  Vol.  V.  pp.  479-482.] 


I50 


Henry     Carey. 

The   Ballad  of 
Sally    in    our    alley, 

[Poems  on  several  occasions.    3rd.  ^</.  1729.] 

The    Argument. 

A  vulgar  error  having  long  prevailed  among  many  persons, 
who  imagine  Sally  Salisbury  the  subject  of  this  ballad  ; 
the  Author  begs  leave  to  undeceive  and  assure  them  it  has 
not  the  least  allusion  to  her ;  he  being  a  stranger  to  her  very 
name,  at  the  time  this  Song  was  composed.  For  as  Innocence 
and  Virtue  were  ever  the  boundaries  of  his  Muse,  so  in  this 
little  poem,  he  had  no  other  view  than  to  set  forth  the  beauty 
of  a  chaste  and  disinterested  Passion,  even  in  the  lowest 
class  of  human  life. 

The  real  occasion  was  this.  A  shoemaker's  apprentice 
making  holiday  with  his  sweetheart,  treated  her  with  a  sight 
of  Bedlam  [Bethlehem  Hospital  for  the  insane,  in  London] ;  the 
Puppet  Shows,  the  Flying  Chairs,  and  all  the  elegancies  of 
Moorfields.  From  whence,  proceeding  to  the  Farthing  Pie 
House,  he  gave  her  a  collation  of  buns,  cheesecakes,  gammon 
of  bacon,  stuffed  beef,  and  bottled  ale.  Through  all  which 
scenes,  the  Author  dodged  them,  charmed  with  the  simplicity 
of  their  courtship ;  from  whence  he  drew  this  little  sketch  of 
Nature.  But  being  then  young  and  obscure,  he  was  very 
much  ridiculed  by  some  of  his  acquaintance,  for  this  per- 
formance :  which,  nevertheless,  made  its  way  into  the  polite 


H.  Carey."] 
Before  1719.  J 


Sally  in   our  Alley 


151 


world,  and  amply  recompensed  him  by  the  applause  of  the 
Divine  Addison  ;  who  was  pleased,  more  than  once,  to  men- 
lion  it  with  approbation. 


^^ 

^ 

Wm 

^1 

mS 

^M 

^^^ 

M^M 

F  all  the  girls  that  are  so  smart, 

There's  none  like  pretty  Sally  ! 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 

And  she  lives  in  our  alley ! 
There  is  no  Lady  in  the  land 

Is  half  so  sweet  as  Sally  ! 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 

And  she  lives  in  our  alley  ! 


Her  father,  he  makes  cabbage  nets ; 

And  through  the  streets,  does  cry  'em 
Her  mother,  she  sells  laces  long, 

To  such  as  please  to  buy  'em. 
But,  sure,  such  folks  could  ne'er  beget 

So  sweet  a  girl  as  Sally  ! 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart. 

And  she  lives  in  our  alley ! 


When  she  is  by,  I  leave  my  work 

(I  love  her  so  sincerely  !) ; 
My  Master  comes,  like  any  Turk, 

And  bangs  me  most  severely. 
But  let  him  bang  his  belly  full ! 

I'll  bear  it  all  for  Sally  ! 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 

And  she  lives  in  our  alley  ! 


152  SaLLYINOUrAlLEY.  [BeLe '7' 

Of  all  the  days  that's  in  the  week, 

I  dearly  love  but  one  day  ! 
And  that's  the  day  that  comes  betwixt 

A  Saturday  and  Monday ; 
For  then  I'm  drest,  all  in  my  best, 

To  walk  abroad  with  Sally  : 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 

And  she  lives  in  our  alley  ! 

My  master  carries  me  to  Church, 

And  often  am  I  blamed, 
Because  I  leave  him  in  the  lurch. 

As  soon  as  Text  is  named. 
I  leave  the  Church  in  sermon  time, 

And  slink  away  to  Sally  ; 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart,  "> 

And  she  lives  in  our  alley ! 

When  Christmas  comes  about  again, 

O  then  I  shall  have  money  ! 
I'll  hoard  it  up,  and  box  and  all 

I'll  give  it  to  my  Honey  ! 
And  would  it  were  ten  thousand  pounds, 

I'd  give  it  all  to  Sally  ! 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 

And  she  lives  in  our  alley  ! 

My  master  and  the  neighbours  all. 

Make  game  of  me  and  Sally  : 
And  (but  for  her  !)   I'd  better  be 

A  slave,  and  row  a  galley  ! 
But  when  my  seven  long  years  are  out, 

O  then,  I'll  marry  Sally  ! 
And  then  we'll  wed,  and  then  we'll  bed  ; 

But  not  in  our  alley  ! 


rey. 
9- 


The  most  dangerous 

and  memorable  adventure 

of  Richard  Ferris,  one  of  the  five 

ordinary  Messengers  of  Her  Majesty's  Chamber  : 

who  departed  from  Tower  Wharf,  on  Midsummer 

Day  last  past,  with  Andrew  Hill  and  William  Thomas; 

who  undertook,  in  a  small  wherry  boat, 

to  row,  by  sea,  to  the  city  of  Bristow  j 

and  are  now  safely  returned. 

Wherein    is   particularly    expressed  their   perils 
sustained  in  the  said  Voyage:  and  the  great  entertain- 
ment they  had  at  several  places  upon  the  coast  of 
England,  as  they  iventj  but  especially  at  the 
said  city  of  Bristoiv. 

Published  by  the  said  Richard  Ferris. 


LONDON 

Printed  by  John  Wolfe  for  Edward  White,  and 

aie   to  be   sold  at  his  shop,  being  at  the  Little  North  Door  ot 

Paul's,  at  the  sign  of  the  Gun.      i  5  9  ^  • 


155 


To  the  Right  Honourable  Sir   Thomas 
H  E  N  E  A  G  E   Knight,   one  of  Her 
Majesty's  honourable  Privy  Council, 
Vice-Chamberlain  to  Her  High- 
ness,  and   Treasurer    of   Her 
Majesty's  Chamber ; 
prosperous    health !    long  life !    and  much   increase 

of  honour ! 

Right    Honourable, 

He  late  dangerous  attempt,  rashly  by  me  under- 
taken,  to   row   in   a   small   boat   to   the  city  of 
Bristow     [Bristol],     along     the     perilous    rocks, 
breaches,   races,    shelves,   quicksands,   and    very 
unlikely  places  for  passage  with  such  small  boats,  along  the 
coast  of   England,   is  now,    by  the  assistance  of  Almighty 
GOD,  truly  performed  :  as  appeareth  by  our  several  certifi- 
cates ready  to  be  seen;  with  our  safe  return,  contrary  to 
the  expectation  of  sundry  persons.     Which  being  truly  and 
particularly  discoursed,  I  have  presumed  to  dedicate  unto  your 
Honour;  wherein  may  plainly  be  seen,  how  we  adventured 
to  pass  the  force  of  dangerous  flaws  and  rough  seas,  which 
we  found  in  our  voyage  ;  and  proveth  the  attempt  the  more 


^^^^ 

1 

I  :;6  Dedication  to  Sir  T.   H  e  x  p:  a  g  e.  [Aug^rsgo: 


strange  in  respect  that  I  was  never  trained  up  on  the  water. 
Not  doubting  but  the  same  may  be  a  just  occasion  to  prick 
forward  others  of  my  native  countrymen,  to  practise  an 
ordinary  passage  through  the  like  dangers,  in  such  small 
wherry  boats  ;  especially  when  necessary  occasion  shall  serve, 
the  better  to  daunt  the  enemies  [the  Spaniards]  of  this  nation  ; 
who  in  such  flaws  and  frets  at  sea,  dare  not  hazard  their 
galleys  to  go  forth,  though  they  be  of  far  greater  force  to  brook 
the  seas. 

Thus  humbly  desiring  your  Honour's  favourable  accept- 
tance  hereof,  I  end :  beseeching  GOD  to  send  health  and 
long  life  to  Her  Majesty,  my  dread  Sovereign  and  most 
gracious  Mistress  !  peace  to  this  land !  and  to  your  Honour, 
even  your  heart's  desire  ! 

Your  Honour's 

Most  humble  to  command, 

Richard    Ferris. 


-v.g>^ 


157 


Richard  Ferris,  his  travels 
to  Bristow. 


Fter  that  I  had  rashly  determined  to  pass 
the  seas  in  a  wherry,  and  to  row  myself  in 
the  same  to  the  city  of  Bristow,  though 
with  the  evil  will  of  sundry  my  good 
friends;  and  especially  full  sore  against  my 
aged  father's  consent,  now  dwelling  in  the 
city  of  Westminster,  where  I  was  born  :  I 
thought  it  convenient  to  seek  out  some  one 
expert  pilot,  to  direct  me  and  my  companion  by  his  skill,  the 
better  to  pass  the  perils  and  dangers,  whereof  I  was  foretold. 
Whereupon,  I  took  unto  me  one  W.  Thomas,  a  man  of 
sufficient  skill  and  approved  experience  ;  by  whom  I  was  still 
content  to  be  advised,  even  from  my  first  going  forth,  until 
my  last  coming  home. 

The  boat  wherein  I  determined  to  perform  my  promise 
was  new  built;  which  I  procured  to  be  painted  with  green, 
and  the  oars  and  sail  of  the  same  colour,  with  the  Red  Cross 
for  England,  and  Her  Majesty's  arms,  with  a  vane  [pennon] 
standing  fast  to  the  stern  of  the  said  boat :  which  being  in 
full  readiness,  upon  Midsummer  Day  last  [Jnne  24,  15901, 
myself,  wdth  my  companions,  Andrew  Hill  and  William 
Thomas,  with  a  great  many  of  our  friends  and  well-willers 
accompanying  us  to  the  Tower  Wharf  of  London,  there  we 
entered  our  boat  :  and  so,  with  a  great  many  of  our  friends  in 
other  like  boats,  rowed  to  the  Court  at  Greenwich  :  where 
before  the  Court  Gate,  we  gave  a  volley  of  shot. 

Then  we  landed  and  went  into  the  Court,  where  we  had 
great  entertainment  at  every  Office;  and  many  of  our  friends 
were  full  sorry  for  our  departing. 


158      The    track    of    the   Voyage.  [,{; 


Ferris. 

ig-  isyo- 


And  having  obtained  leave  before,  of  the  Right  Honourable 
the  Lord  Chamberlain  [Lord  HuNSDON],  the  Lord  Admiral 
[Earl  of  Nottingham],  and  Master  Vice-Chamberlain  [Sir 
Thomas Heneage]  for  my  departure:  I  took  my  leave,  and  so 
departed.  Setting  up  our  sails,  and  taking  to  our  oars,  we 
departed  towards  this  our  doubtful  course. 

And  first  we  took  our  way  to  Gravesend  ;  and  from  thence, 
to  these  places  hereafter  mentioned,  namely : 


To  Margate. 

To  Dover. 

To  Newhaven,  in  Sussex. 

To  Portsmouth. 

To  Sandwich  [?  Swanage]  in 

Dorsetshire. 
To  Abbotsbury. 
To  Lyme. 
To  Seaton. 
To  Teignmouth. 
To  Dartmouth. 
To  Salcombe. 
To  Plymouth. 

To  Low  [Looe],  in  Cornwall. 
To  St.  Mawes,  in  Falmouth. 


To  the  great  bay  at  Pen- 
zance, called  Alounts  Bay. 

To  St.  Ives,  at  the  further 
side  of  Land's  End. 

To  Godrevy. 

To  Padstow. 

To  Bottrick's  Castle,  which 
is  in  the  race  of  Hart- 
land  alias  Harty  Point. 

To  Clevelley  [Clovelly]. 

To  IlfordCoume  [Ilfracombc], 

To  Mynett  [?  Minehead]  high 
cliffs. 

And,  lastly,  to  the  City  of 
Bristow. 


At  these  places  before  recited,  we  stayed  and  refreshed 
ourselves.  Sometimes  we  were  constrained  to  put  into  these 
places  for  want  of  victuals ;  sometimes,  for  to  have  their 
certificates  to  testify  of  our  being  there ;  sometimes,  we  were 
weather  bound ;  and  sundry  accidents  worth  the  noting, 
happened  unto  us  in  many  of  these  places  :  and  our  welcome 
in  all  places  deserveth  due  commendations,  the  particulars 
whereof  hereafter  followeth. 

After  we  had  passed  Gravesend  as  is  aforesaid,  we  came  to 
the  land's  end  ;  then  we  bent  our  course  to  Margate  ;  which 
place  having  passed,  we  wan  the  Foreland,  with  some  high 
JdIHows. 

From  thence,  to  the  South  Foreland  :  and  soon  after,  we 
put  in  at  Dover;  where  we  stayed  about  six  hours,  and  where 
we  were  greatly  entertained. 

From  thence,  we  took    to  the   Camber  nestes  [?J  which 


A^g^isQoG  ^L^'^*^  THE  South  Coast  of  England.     159 

is  between  Rye  and  Dover;  and  so  along  the  main  sea  towards 
fair  Lee  [?  Fair  light]. 

Then  we  rowed  or  sailed  along  the  coast,  until  we  came  to 
Beachy  [Head],  and  passing  by  it,  we  harboured  at  Newhaven, 
in  Sussex. 

Where  we  had  reasonable  good  weather,  till  we  came 
between  the  Isle  of  Wight  and  Portsmouth.  There,  we  had  a 
great  storm  ;  and  were  in  such  sort,  overpressed  with  weather 
that  we  were  constrained  to  make  towards  a  castle  called 
Hurst  Castle  :  from  whence,  at  the  fall  of  wind  and  tide,  we 
put  forth  again  to  sea,  and  recovered  Sandwich  [?  Swanage]  in 
Dorsetshire. 

From  thence,  we  passed  through  a  race  called  St.  Albans, 
which  is  a  headland  ;  where  we  were  in  a  great  fret  by  reason 
of  the  race ;  and  so  continued  hazarding  our  lives  by  means 
of  that  fret,  to  the  great  and  dangerous  race  of  Portland  : 
where,  by  the  good  direction  of  our  pilot  and  master,  we  sought 
and  strove  by  great  labour,  to  take  the  advantage  of  the  tide 
and  weather ;  whereby  we  passed  through  it  in  one  hour. 
Here  did  the  billows  rise  very  high,  so  that  we  were  in  great 
danger :  yet,  GOD  be  thanked  !  we  escaped  them  without 
any  damage. 

From  thence,  we  passed  to  Lyme  Bay,  where  we  stayed 
but  one  night :  and  from  thence  to  Seaton. 

At  which  place,  we  were  compelled  to  carry  and  lift  up  our 
boat  on  shore,  by  extremity  of  foul  weather ;  for  we  were 
there  in  great  danger,  by  reason  of  frets,  sands,  and  foul 
weather,  which  greatly  troubled  us. 

From  thence,  we  went  to  Teignmouth ;  and  so  to  Dart- 
mouth. There  we  remained  two  days,  and  had  good  enter- 
tainment and  great  courtesy  offered  us  by  the  inhabitants 
thereof. 

And  upon  the  next  day  morning,  being  Sunday,  we  put  to 
sea  again.  There  being  a  fair  wind  and  tide,  we  came  to  the 
Start,  where  the  wind  rose  and  hemmed  us  in  round  about 
into  a  very  dangerous  race  (this  was  on  the  15th  of  July)  ; 
where  we  were  in  such  an  extremity  that  we  had  like  to  have 
been  drowned  :  yet  it  pleased  GOD  so  far  to  work  for  us,  that 
we  escaped  the  danger  thereof. 

Which  done,  we  went  to  the  Westward,  to  Salcombe. 
There,  we  were  constrained  to  haul  up  our  boat  in  a  cove 


l6o  KrXDLY  TREATED  BY  H.M.^.  AT  PLYMOUTH.  K/t^^o; 

called  Sower  Mill,  behind  a  rock,  near  to  Sir  William 
Courtney's,  a  very  bountiful  Knigjht;  at  whose  house  we  lay 
all  that  night,  and  he  would  have  had  us  to  have  stayed 
longer. 

But  from  thence,  having  fair  weather,  we  came  to 
Plymouth. 

Here  we  met  with  Her  Majesty's  ships,  where  Master 
Captain  Fenner  and  Master  Captain  Wilkinson  gave  us 
great  entertainment,  especially  for  that  they  saw  we  had 
leave  given  us  from  the  Right  Honourable  Her  Majesty's 
Council,  for  our  quiet  and  safe  passage.  And  for  that  I  was 
Her  Majesty's  Messenger,  they  gave  us  the  greater  entertain- 
ment.    We  stayed  there  one  night. 

From  thence,  we  went  to  Lowe  [Looe],  and  there  stayed 
one  night. 

And  from  thence,  to  St.  Maws,  with  very  calm  and  good 
weather,  until  we  came  to  the  Lizard,  being  a  place  well 
known  to  be  most  dangerous,  and  full  of  rocks  and  races  : 
where,  GOD  be  thanked  !  we  passed  in  the  current  of  the 
tide,  with  great  swiftness  but  with  wonderful  danger ;  where, 
had  it  not  been  well  looked  unto,  of  the  Master,  we  had  been 
all  cast  away. 

Then  we  did  cut  over  the  Mouse  Bay  to  Mouse  hole;  which 
is  four  miles  beyond  the  Mount :  where  we  were  constrained 
for  want  of  necessary  victuals,  to  come  back  again  to 
Penzance  ;  where  we  lodged  all  night. 

The  next  morning  [Jtdy  20th],  we  set  out  to  go  for  Land's 
End ;  where  setting  from  Penzance  with  our  half  tide,  to 
recover  the  first  of  the  tide  at  Land's  End,  we  being  in  our 
boat  a  great  way  from  the  shore  :  our  Master  descried  a  pirate, 
having  a  vessel  of  four  tons ;  who  made  towards  us  amain, 
meaning  doubtless  to  have  robbed  us.  But  doubting  [feavbig] 
such  a  matter,  we  rowed  so  near  the  shore  as  we  might. 
And  by  that  time  as  he  was  almost  come  at  us,  we  were  near 
to  a  rock  standing  in  the  sea  ;  where  this  pirate  thought  to 
have  taken  us  at  an  advantage.  For  being  come  close  to  the 
outside  of  the  said  rock,  called  Raynalde  stones  !  ?  RnniUcsfouc] ; 
he  was  becalmed,  and  could  make  no  way,  and  so  were  we. 
But  GOD  (who  never  faileth  those  that  put  their  trust  in 
Him  !)  sent  us  a  comfort  unlooked  for.  For  as  we  rowed  to 
come  about  by  this  rock,  suddenly  we  espied  a  plain  and  veiy 


A^ug^iS]  Narrow  escape  from  a  Pirate.     i6i 

easy  way  to  pass  on  the  inner  side  of  the  said  rock  ;  where 
we  went  through  very  pleasantly  ;  and  by  reason  thereof,  he 
could  not  follow  us.  Thus  we  escaped  safely ;  but  he  was 
soon  after  taken,  and  brought  in  at  Bristow. 

Here  we  found  great  breaches,  races,  and  rocks;  the  wind 
being  then  northerly  and  altogether  against  us  :  which  was 
wonderfullLy]  painful,  troublesome,  and  dangerous  to  us. 
Nevertheless,  GOD  be  thanked  !  we  escaped  in  safety;  and 
recovered  St.  Ives:  where  we  were  well  entertained. 

The  next  day,  we  put  to  sea  again  :  but  being  within  five 
miles  of  St.  Ives,  we  were  constrained  to  seek  for  a  cove ; 
which  we  found  called  St.  Dryvey,  in  Cornwall. 

Here,  for  that  we  wanted  victuals,  our  Master  was  con- 
strained to  go  climb  the  great  cliff  at  Godrevy,  which  is  at 
least  forty  fathoms  high  and  wonderfull[y]  steep  ;  which  none 
of  us  durst  venture  to  do:  and  GOD  be  blessed  for  it! 
he  had  no  harm  at  all ;  but  surely,  to  all  likelihoods,  had  his 
foot  once  slipped,  there  could  have  been  no  recovery  to  have 
saved  him,  but  that  he  would  have  been  bruised  to  pieces. 
At  this  place  we  stayed  two  days,  at  Master  Arundel's 
house  ;  where  we  were  greatly  welcomed. 

And  from  thence,  we  went  to  Bottrick's  Castle,  where 
dwelleth  a  Gentleman  called  Master  Hynder.  There  we 
were  weatherbound,  and  constrained  to  stay  full  seventeen 
days ;  where  we  had  great  entertainment :  he  himself  offer- 
ing us  "  if  we  would  stay  a  whole  year,  we  should  be  wel- 
come !"  and  the  rather,  for  that  I  was  one  of  Her  Majesty's 
servants. 

But  upon  the  eighteenth  day,  the  foul  weather  ceasing, 
we  did  again  put  to  sea,  through  the  race  of  Hartland  alias 
Harty  Point ;  which  is  as  ill  as  the  race  at  Portland  :  which 
we  escaped,  and  recovered  to  Clevelley  \Clovelly]  ;  where  we 
were  entertained  by  a  very  courteous  Gentleman,  called 
Carey. 

And  from  thence,  we  came  to  Ilford  Coume  [Ilfracomhe] ; 
which  was  on  Saturday  at  night,  the  ist  of  August  last 
past. 

Whereupon  for  that  we  were  so  near  Bristow,  I  desired 
my  company,  that  we  might  put  to  sea  that  night ;  which 
they  were  loth  to  do ;  yet,  at  my  importunate  suit,  they 
granted  thereto.     But  being  at  sea,  the  wind  arose  very  sore 

Ei\G.  Gar.  VI.  11 


1 62  Grand  reception  by  the  Bristol  people,  [^,/j; J. 

from  the  land ;  which  put  us  all  in  great  fear :  whereby  I 
myself  was  constrained  to  row  four  hours  alone,  on  the 
larboard  side ;  and  my  fellow  rower  was  compelled_  to  lade 
forth  water  (so  fast  as  it  came  into  the  boat)  which  beat 
upon  me  and  over  me  very  sore,  the  wind  then  being  East- 
and-by-South. 

Thus  was  I  constrained  to  labour  for  life,  and  yet  had 
almost  killed  myself  through  the  heat  I  took,  in  that  time  : 
rowing,  as  is  aforesaid,  until  we  came  to  Mynette  [Minchead]. 
This  done,  we  went  from  Mynette ;  and  so,  between  the  two 
homes  [?]  came  to  Bristow,  in  one  tide  :  and  arrived  at  the 
back  of  Bristow,  about  six  of  the  clock  at  night.  _ 

But  it  was  wonderful  to  see  and  hear  what  rejoicing  there 
was,  on  all  sides,  at  our  coming !  The  Mayor  of  Bristow, 
with  his  brethren  the  Aldermen,  came  to  the  water  side,  and 
welcomed  us  most  lovingly  ;  and  the  people  came  in  great 
multitudes  to  see  us  ;  insomuch  as,  by  the  consent  of  the 
IMagistrates,  they  took  our  boat  from  us,  not  suffering  us 
once  to  meddle  with  it,  in  that  we  were  extremely  weary  : 
and  carried  our  said  boat  to  the  High  Cross  in  the  city. 
From  thence,  it  was  conveyed  to  the  Town  House,  and  there 
locked  safe  all  night. 

And  on  the  next  morning,  the  people  gathered  themselves 
together,  and  had  prepared  trumpets,  drums,  fifes,  and 
ensigns  [flags]  to  go  before  the  boat ;  which  was  carried 
upon  men's  shoulders  round  about  the  city,  with  the  Waits 
of  the  said  city  playing  orderly,  in  honour  of  our  rare  and 
dangerous  attempt  achieved. 

Afterwards,  we  were  had  to  Master  Mayor's,  to  the 
Aldermen's  and  Sheriffs'  houses;  where  we  were  feasted  most 
royally,  and  spared  for  no  cost,  all  the  time  that  we  remained 
there. 


Thus  having  a  while  refreshed  ourselves  after  our  so 
tedious  labours;  we  came  to  London,  on  Saturday,  being 
the  8th  of  August,  1590  :  where,  to  speak  our  truth  with- 
out dissembling,  our  entertainment  at  our  coming  was  great 
and  honourable  ;  especially  at  the  Court,  and  in  the  cities  of 
London  and  Westminster.  And  generally,  I  found  that  the 
people  greatly  rejoiced  to  see  us  in  all  places. 


Augl'is'^     Triumph  of  the  boat  in  London.     163 

To  conclude.  I  have  given  order  that  the  said  boat  shall 
be  brought  by  land  from  Bristovv  to  London ;  where  the 
vi'atermen  and  sundry  others  have  promised  to  grace  the 
said  boat  with  great  melody  and  sundry  volleys  of  shot ; 
which  is  very  shortly  intended  to  be  performed. 

Here  is  to  be  remembered  that  between  Harty  Point  and 
Clevelley,  the  wind  being  very  strong,  my  companion  and 
oar-fellow,  Andrew  Hill,  in  taking  down  our  sail,  fell  over- 
board into  the  sea :  where,  by  great  goodhap,  and  by  means 
that  he  held  fast  to  a  piece  of  our  sail,  we  recovered  him 
and  got  him  up  again,  although  he  were  a  very  weighty 
man  ;  which  if  we  had  not  done,  I  could  not  have  gotten  any 
man  to  have  supplied  his  room.  But  when  we  saw  that  he 
was  amended ;  we  gave  GOD  thanks  for  his  recovery. 

Thus  to  GOD,  I,  with  my  fellow  mates,  give  most  hearty 
prayers  and  thanks  for  our  safe  deliverance  from  so  imminent 
dangers  as  we  have  been  in,  since  our  departure  from  the 
Court  at  Greenwich  :  being  still  defended  by  the  mighty  and 
handy  work  of  Almighty  GOD.  To  whom,  we,  in  all 
obedience  and  duty,  daily  pray  for  the  prosperous  health  of 
Her  Majesty  and  her  honourable  Council,  whose  lives  and  wel- 
fare are  the  strength  and  maintenance  of  this  land;  and 
whom  Almighty  GOD  prosper  and  preserve,  now  and  ever  ! 
Amen. 

Richard    Ferris. 

FINIS. 


164 


A     new     Sonnet    made  upon    the  arrival 

and  brave  entertainment  of  R  i  c  h  a  r  d 

Ferris  with  his  boat ;   who 

arrived    at    the    city    of   Bristow, 

the  3rd  day  of  August  1590. 


JJOme,  old  and  young  !  behold  and  view  ! 

A  thing  most  rare  is  to  be  seen  ! 

A  silly  wherry,  it  is  most  true  ! 

Is  come  to  town,  with  sail  of  green  ; 
With  oars,  colour  of  the  same  : 
To  happy  Ferris'  worthy  fame  ! 

From  London  city,  this  wager  sure, 
Was  for  to  bring  his  wherry  small, 
On  surging  seas  if  life  endure, 
From  port  to  port,  hap  what  hap  will  ! 
To  Bristow  city  of  worthy  name. 
Where  Ferris  now  hath  spread  his  fame. 

His  boat  not  bulged,  but  at  High  Cross, 
Was  seen  the  third  of  August,  sure  ; 
Whereby  the  man  hath  had  no  loss, 
But  did  each  willing  heart  procure 
For  to  be  ready  there  in  haste, 
To  see  the  boat  that  there  was  placed. 

O  mighty  Jove  !  thou  guide  of  guides  ! 

Which  brought  this  boat  from   surging  seas, 

Clean  from  the  rage  of  furious  tides  ; 

No  doubt,  Ferris  !  GOD  thou  didst  please  ! 
Both  thou  and  thine  which  were  with  thee. 
You  served  GOD  !    He  set  you  free  ! 


auJTmo.']  Song  on  Ferris's  voyage  to   Bristol.     165 

Good  Andrew  Hill,  thy  pains  were  great! 
And  William  Thomas',  in  this  wherry  ! 
And  honour,  Ferris,  sure,  doth  get  ! 
He  doubtless  means  to"  make  you  merry  ! 

Your  fame  is  such,  through  travail's  toil, 

You  win  the  spur  within  our  soil. 


Shall  I  prefer  this  to  3-our  skill  : 
No,  no  !  'twas  GOD  that  did  you  guide  ! 
For  this,  be  sure  !  without  His  will 
You  could  not  pass  each  bitter  tide. 

But,  pray  I  you  did  no  doubt,  each  hour, 
Whereby  GOD  blest  you,  by  His  power. 

O  gallant  minds  and  venturous  bold  ! 

That  took  in  hand,  a  thing  most  rare. 

'Twill  make  the  Spaniards'  hearts  wax  cold  ! 

If  that  this  news  to  them  repair, 

That  three  men  hath  this  voyage  done, 
And  thereby  wagers  great  have  won. 

But  now  we  may  behold  and  view 
That  English  hearts  are  not  afraid. 
Their  Sovereign's  foes  for  to  subdue  : 
No  tempest  can  make  us  dismayed  ! 

Let  monstrous  Papists  spit  their  fill  ! 

Their  force  is  full  against  GOD's  will. 

Hath  silly  wherry  done  the  deed, 
That  gallejs  great  dare  not  to  try! 
And  hath  she  had  such  happy  speed, 
That  now  in  rest  on  shore  she  lie ! 

Doubtless  the  LORD,  her  pilot  was  ! 

It  could  not  else  been  brought  to  pass. 


1 66     Song  on  Ferris's  voyage  to  Bristol.    [iuJ''f;9o: 

Well,  Ferris,  now,  the  game  is  thine  ! 
No  loss  thou  hast !  (thank  Him  above  !) 
From  thy  two  mates,  do  not  decline  ; 
But  still  in  heart,  do  thou  them  love  ! 

So  shall  thy  store  increase,  no  doubt  ; 

Through  Him  that  brought  thy  boat  about. 

I  end  with  prayers  to  the  LORD, 

To  save  and  keep  our  royal  Queen ! 

Let  all  true  hearts,  with  one  accord. 

Say,  "  LORD,  preserve  Her  Grace  from  teen  ! 

JBless,  LORD  !  her  friends  !  confound  her  foes! 

For  aye,  LORD  save  our  royal  Rose  !  " 

James    Sargent. 
FINIS, 


i;'ij^'ijff''»j*--'*j*--%ii''ijfs--4*-"^^  1^  I^P  !!^ 


Fidelia. 


^^. 


W^h 


L  O  ND  O  N, 

Printed  by  Nicholas 
O  K  E  s.     i6  I  5. 


m 


'>^.a::i.jij.^*l?.^J^'&u-fyy^.f^..^.&>^.&>^.^^.f^^'^\f 


l6q 


^^  The  Occasion  of  the 

private  Impression  of  this  Elegy. 

Omnlius  ad  quos  pervenerit, 

0  PREVENT  [anticipate]  tJiose  that  would  else  be 
inquisitive  after  my  intent  in  the  dispersing  of  this 
Elegy  among  my  private  friends ;  I  have  left  this 
Preface  to  inform  them,  that  after  my  liberty  seemed 
to  add  a  period  to  my  troubles,  and  I,  thinking  the  worst 
past,  had  afresh  settled  myself  to  some  serious  study :  wanting 
consideration  to  foresee  at  first  what  was  expedient  for  him  to 
he  furnished  withal,  that  ivoidd  compass  so  great  a  business,  as 
my  Phantasy  had  begun ;  I  ivas  forced  to  wrestle  with  so  many 
lets  and  discouragements  in  my  fortune,  that,  with  all  my 
endeavours,  the  best  forwardness  I  could  bring  it  unto  was,  that  I 
had  gotten  together  a  confused  heap  of  some  materials,  necessary 
for  such  a  structure  as  I  had  already  fashioned  in  my  brain.  Yet 
despairing  not,  but  comforting  myself  with  hope,  that  I  should, 
notwithstanding  all  disadvantages,  one  day,  be  able  to  set  together 
in  a  uniform  building,  what  my  Invention  had  yet  drawn  to 
nothing  but  an  undigested  Pile  of  different  matters  ;  I  still  added 
something  more  to  that  chaos  of  conceits  ;  such  as  I  deemed  necessary 
either  to  strengthen  or  adorn. 

Which,  whilst  I  was  so  busied   about,  that  I   almost  seemed 
wholly  to  forget  the  looking  to  my  estate  ;  Providence,  a  friend 


lyo     The  Occasion  of  the  trivate  [g- wither. 


1615. 


that  I  was  never  yet  well  acquainted  withal  !  whispered  such 
doubts,  provisoes,  and  considerations  into  my  ears,  as  half  startled 
my  Muse,  and  so  distempered  the  whole  frame  of  my  studies,  that 
I  could  no  sooner  bend  my  Invention  to  any  intended  piece,  but 
it  was  presently  confounded  by  the  intrusion  of  some  molested 
thoughts,  ofttimes  even  in  the  very  height  of  conceit. 

Wherewith,  as  it  were,  awakened;  I  began  to  foresee  my  future, 
and  weigh  my  present  estate.  And  having  noted  the  general 
condition  of  Man,  with  the  uncertainty  of  this  world's  favours  ; 
and  how  soon,  for  the  most  part,  the  want  of  outward  fortunes  or 
a  little  trouble  will  make  the  best  friends  weary  of  their  dearest 
familiars,  if  they  become  but  a  little  chargeable ;  I  saw  reason 
enough  to  doubt  [fear]  that  if  I  should  (by  neglecting  my  worthy 
friends  to  apply  me  wholly  to  my  studies)  wear  myself  out  of  their 
respect  and  acquaintance  :  perhaps,  hereafter,  when  I  had,  with 
my  Youth,  wasted  my  Fortunes,  and  by  much  labour,  brought  to 
^ass  somewhat  for  others'  contentments;  one  mighty  Fool  or  other, 
incensed  by  some  great  Villain,  might,  for  all  my  pains,  pick  an 
nnjiLst  quarrel,  and  cause  me  to  be  shut  ivhere,  despised  of  tJie 
world,  forgotten  of  my  friends,  and  beggared  in  my  estate,  I  may 
lis  and  hear  myself  pitied,  only  by  a  few  good  natures  that  were 
not  able  to  help  me. 

A7id  for  the  present,  I  perceived  my  late  troubles  had  already, 
not  only  wasted  my  time  ivith  the  hindrance  of  my  fortunes ; 
but  also  brought  me  so  far  behind,  that  I  was  fain  to  engage  my 
credit  firther  than  ever  I  thought  in  that  kind  to  do  :  which, 
though  I  should  forfeit  but  a  day  [and  that  never  so  much  against 
my  will)  many,  I  see,  would  be  ready  to  take  that  advantage  to 
my  disgrace ;  whilst  few  or  none  are  of  so  good  nature  or  noble 
disposition  as  to  excuse  me,  by  considering  the  troubles  I  had 
passed,  and  the  many  unlocked  for  occasions  that  might  force  me 
to  such  an  inconvenience. 

Hereupon,  I  resolved,  before  I  woidd  busy  my  head  with  any  more 
inventions  than  for  recreation  only,  to  try,  if,  by  any  means,  I  might, 
first  cither  recover  my  former  hindrances;  or  suit  my  mind  with 
such  an  estate  as  might  make  me  hereafter  able,  of  myself,  without 


^■?^^i6iT]    impression   of  this   Elegy.        171 

relying  on  any  others'  friendships,  to  bear  out  the  brunt  of  ensuing 
misadventures. 

Once,  I  was  determined,  since  most  men  deemed  me  a  prisoner 
at  His  Majesty's  charge,  to  petition  that  it  would  please  him,  to 
make  me  as  happy  in  deed  as  I  was  in  opinion  :  but  when  I 
remembered  how  little  I  had  in  me  to  deserve  it,  and  tmderstood 
how  far  my  Sovereign  was  from  being  so  much  as  acquainted 
with  my  endurance  till  his  justice  delivered  me ;  and  withal, 
knowing  how  many  that  had  nothing  but  begging  to  live  by, 
depended  on  his  royal  bounty,  I  was  loth  to  rob  them  of  their 
occupation.  And,  in  truth,  I  feared  also,  lest,  if  ought  were 
granted  me,  I  should  have  been  fain,  after  twelve  months'  dancing 
attendance,  to  part  with  three  moieties  to  get  one  !  and  perhaps  to 
some  Under  Officer  !  to  whom  the  being  beholding,  woidd  be  worse 
to  me  than  three  years'  close  imprisonment ! 

But  knowing  somewhat  was  suddenly  to  be  determined  of,  to 
prevent  loss  of  time  ;  and  seeing  the  best  men,  with  their  noblest 
actions,  obscured  by  poverty,  while  wealth  made  the  owners 
thereof  esteemed  of  those  that  once  scorned  them,  and  the  base 
means  by  which  they  obtained  it,  quite  forgotten  :  when  I  perceived 
also,  the  greatest  men  thought  nothing  base  that  might  increase 
their  profit,  and  that  this  was  no  Age  to  stand  on  curious  terms, 
I  found  small  reason  why  I  shoidd  think  scorn  to  undertake  any 
course,  so  it  were  honest,  that  might  bring  me  any  such  reasonable 
benefit,  whereby  I  might  be  enabled  to  keep  even  with  the  world, 
and  to  go  forward  with  what  I  intended,  as  well  for  the  good  of 
others  as  mine  own  contentment. 

Therefore  finding  how  helpful  a  little  travel  with  some  com- 
modity might  prove  to  my  intended  studies,  at  first  I  proposing  a 
voyage,  meant  to  put  out  somewhat  among  my  friends,  to  be  repaid 
me  again  with  reasonable  advantage  at  my  return. 

But  having  many  well  willers  that  outwardly  professing  me 
more  than  an  ordinary  love,  seemed  desirous  of  occasion  to  shew 
it;  I  was  advised  by  divers  of  my  best  friends  to  imprint  this 
Elegy,  and  to  put  it  out  for  an  adventure  [a  speculation]  amongst 
my  acquaintance,  upon  a  certain  consideration :  yet  I  thought  it 


172     The  Occasion  of  the  private  [^'-riS: 

fit,  before  I  presumed  too  much  upon  them,  to  make  trial  how  they 
stood  affected  to  such  a  project.  And  indeed,  no  sooner  had  I 
discovered  my  intent,  hut  I  found  every  man  in  whom  I  had  any 
confidence,  so  voluntarily  ready  to  accept  it,  that  I  have  now  set  it 
on  foot;  and  hope  thereby,  to  make  myself  able  to  compass  that 
which  shall  make  both  me  and  them  gainers  by  the  bargain. 

Yet  I  trust  no  man  will  imagine,  that  I  am  driven  to  nse  this, 
as  my  ultimum  refugium ;  for  let  this  fail,  and  the  worst  that 
can  betide  me  !  yet  I  am  verily  persuaded  GOD  will  so  provide  for 
me,  that  I  shall  ever  find  an  estate  [position]  {or,  stcre,  a  mind  at 
least)  as  shall  make  me  content. 

And  therefore  I  have  undertaken  this,  not  altogether  in  hope  of 
profit ;  but  being  an  honest  enterprise,  I  rather  attempt  it,  partly 
to  make  trial  who  are  friends  ?  and  partly  to  shew  this  great 
world,  that  the  Little  World  of  my  Mind  is  not  so  barren  but  it 
can,  out  of  itself,  spare  somewhat  wherewithal  to  make  traffic  for 
others'  best  commodities.  In  which  my  comfort  is,  if  I  have  an  ill 
voyage,  none  but  I  myself  shall  be  in  danger  to  lose  anything ; 
whereas  if  I  make  a  prosperous  return,  many  are  like[ly]  to  gain, 
and  perhaps,  too,  more  than  they  had  ever  hope  of. 

Now  this  {among  other  poems  in  my  hand,  long  since  penned; 
whereof  some  might peradventure  have  been  thought  fitter  for  such 
a  purpose)  for  two  reasons,  I  have  made  use  of.  First,  for  that  it 
pleased  sundry  of  my  friends  to  make  choice  hereof.  Secondly,  I 
knowing  how  jealous  these  Times  are  of  my  writings,  and  hoiv 
ready  some  would  be  to  take  occasion  of  hurtin^g  me  (though  they 
everlastingly  disgraced  themselves),  thought  it  good  policy  to  take 
such  a  piece  as,  I  was  certain,  would  be  free  from  the  least 
exception :  whereas  else,  when  I  shall  look  to  have  the  liberty  of 
the  whole  world  to  wander  in,  I  may  chance,  once  again,  to  be 
scarce  allowed  two  rooms  to  walk  in  !  The  subject  is  but  light, 
yet  those  I  know  that  desire  to  do  me  good,  will  no  less  accept 
thereof,  than  if  it  were  a  jewel  of  some  greater  value. 

Examples  of  such  undertakings,  we  daily  see  in  Gentlemen,  both 
of  good  birth  and  reasonable  fortunes  :  only  this  difference  there  is, 
ihcy  put  out  their  money ;  and  I,  not  only  that  wliich  some  will 


G.  W 


'll;l;^    IMPRESSION  OF  THIS   Elegv.        I 73 


mo7x  esteem,  but  what,  without  me,  no  money  can  purchase.  They 
seek  their  own  commodity ;  and  I,  with  my  particular  profit,  to 
be  able  to  do  my  friends  and  country  good. 

By  this  means  also,  I  shall  be  sure  to  be  beholding  to  none  but 
those  that  love  Virtue  and  Me  !  and  [shall]  preserve  the  unequalled 
happiness  of  a  Free  Spirit  !  Whereas  else,  being  forced  to  accept 
of  some  particular  bounties  :  it  may  be,  blinded  by  seeming 
courtesies,  I  might  fall  into  the  common  baseness  incident  to 
flatterers  ;  and  so,  at  length,  become  like  those  great  Clergy-men  of 
our  Times,  who  dare  not  upbraid  all  sins,  for  fear  they  should 
seem  so  saucy  as  to  reprehend  their  patrons. 

Yet  the  best  is,  I  see  few  apt  to  corrupt  any  with  their  liberality  ; 
though  I  make  no  question  there  be  such,  and  some  Phillips  too, 
that  if  they  knew  the  danger  of  a  flatterer,  woidd  think  themselves 
as  much  honoured  by  that  boy  who  should  every  day  remember 
them,  They  were  but  men  !  as  Alexander  could  be  by  his  sly 
courtiers,  who  hourly  proclaimed  him,  the  son  of  Jupiter  ! 

But  I  d)  not  greatly  doubt  any  such  alternation  !  for  whatever 
my  fortunes  be,  so  far  is  my  Mi)id  in  love  with  her  own  liberty, 
that  with  more  contentment  could  I  die  in  poverty,  than  live  in 
abundance  subjected  to  baseness.  For  I  cannot  admire  any  one 
because  he  is  rich,  nor  believe  a  man  aught  the  wiser  for  his  titles  ! 
I  shall  never  praise  my  Lord's  running  horse  that  is  a  jade,  to 
please  him;  nor  fashion  myself  to  humour  his  follies  for  his 
revenues !  I  cannot  laugh,  when  he  doth,  unless  I  see  some 
occasion ;  nor  be  sad,  when  he  is  so,  unless  I  love  him  !  Nor 
shall  I  ever  need  to  do  so,  if  my  friends  continue  but  so  much 
love  as  they  have  now  begun  to  make  shew  of.  For  some  of 
my  acquaintance,  out  of  their  oivn  worth  only ;  others,  merely 
moved  by  their  good  loill  towards  me,  ha.ve  freely  proffered  more 
than  ever  I  could,  of  myself,  have  requested:  yea,  many,  in  a  sort 
strangers  (partly  in  consideration  of  the  good  they  seemed  to  have 
received  from  my  former  pains,  and  partly  in  hope  to  make  me 
able  to  perform  some  greater  matter),  have,  both  by  their  promises 
and  persuasions,  so  encouraged  me,  as  I  have  resolved  to  make 
trial  of  the  world's  fair  shews  of  new  professed  friendship. 


174     The  Occasion  OF  PRIVATE  PRINTING,  &c.  [^-riS: 

If  it  take  effect,  I  shall  thereby  find  means  to  free  myself  from 
those  cares  ivhich  might  else  much  abate  the  vigour  of  my  spirit, 
trouble  my  inventions,  and  consume  my  youth  before  I  could  be 
fit  to  settle  myself  about  that,  which,  if  I  may  live  to  effect  accord- 
ing to  my  intent,  will  require,  besides  an  tmdistetnpered  mind,  all 
the  best  assistances  of  Nature,  with  the  utmost  of  my  endeavours. 

And  if  I  fail  in  my  hopes,  it  shall  never  discontent  me  !  for  my 
greatest  loss  will  be  but  a  little  labour,  which  will  be,  another  way, 
very  well  recompensed.  For  when  I  shall  perceive  the  No  Trust 
that  is  to  be  reposed  on  this  world's  love,  I  shall,  ever  after,  be  so 
far  from  flattering  myself  again  with  any  such  confidence,  or 
troubling  my  mind  with  studying  after  others'  satisfactions,  as  I 
will  persuade  myself  all  my  former  determinations  were  but 
impossible  Ideas  /  and  with  less  charge  and  pain,  enjoy  alone 
that  delight  and  contentment  which  with  dis-easing  myself,  I 
shoidd  but  share  amongst  an  unthankful  multitude. 

But  I  make  no  question,  I  shall  find  as  good  success  in  this  as 
I  do  or  can  justly  expect  :  and  the  sooner,  because  as  the  project  is 
honest,  so  it  is  unhurtful  to  all.  And  my  comfort  is,  if  any 
should,  in  their  foolish  imagination,  deem  me  aught  disparaged 
thereby ;  it  were  but  their  weakness  to  think  so  !  for  in  respect  of 
those  base  courses,  suits,  and  enterprises  {by  which  some  men,  now 
of  great  account)  have  increased  aud  raised  their  fortunes  out  of 
the  dunghill;  I  hold  this  honourable  !  seeing  I  shall  receive 
willingly  with  love,  what  they,  against  men's  wills,  have  either 
defrauded  by  subtilties,  or  extorted  by  violence. 

But  what  mean  I  ?  My  intent  is,  by  this  time,  sujficiently 
tmderstood !  and  there  needs  no  more  Apologies  to  my  Friends : 
because  they  will  approve  or  hold  it  indifferent  ;  and,  questionless, 
to  their  power,  further  it.  Now,  as  for  others,  they  shall,  by  my 
will,  never  come  to  the  honour  or  credit  to  be  acquainted  with  a 
Fidelia  ! 

Valete. 


175 


An  Elegiacal  Epistle 

of      Fl  DELIA: 

to     her    unconstant    friend. 


The     Argument. 

Thh  Elegiacal  Epistle,  being  a  fragment  of  some 
greater  poem,  discovers  the  modest  affections  of  a  dis- 
creet and  constant  woman,  shadowed  under  the  name  of 
Fidelia  ;  wherein  you  may  perceive  the  height  of  her 
Passions  so  far  as  they  seem  to  agree  with  Reason,  and 
keep  within  such  decent  bounds  as  beseemeth  their  Sex : 
but  further  it  meddles  not. 

The  occasion  seems  to  proceed  from  some  mutability  in 
her  friend ;  whose  objections  she  here  presupposing,  con- 
futeth  :  and,  in  the  person  of  him,  justly  upbraideth  all 
that  are  subject  to  the  like  change  or  fickleness  in 
mind. 

Among  the  rest,  some  more  weighty  arguments  than 
are,  perhaps,  expected  in  such  a  subject,  arc  briefly,  and 
yet  somcivhat  seriously  handled. 

Ft  I  heard  tell,  and  now  for  truth  I  find, 
"Once    out  of   sight,  and    quickly  out    of 

mind!" 
And  that  it  hath  been  rightly  said  of  old, 
"  Love  that's  soonest  hot,  is  ever  soonest 

cold!" 
Or   else    my  tears    at   this   time  had  not 
stained 
The  spotless  paper,  nor  my  lines  complained! 
I  had  not  now  been  forced  to  have  sent 
These  for  the  Nuncios  of  my  discontent ; 
Or  thus  exchanged,  so  unhappily, 


I  ;6  Fidelia.  [' 


G.  Wither. 
1615. 


My  Songs  of  Mirth,  to  write  an  Elegy ! 

But  now  I  must !  and  since  I  must  do  so ; 

Let  me  but  crave,  thou  wilt  not  flout  my  woe! 

Nor  entertain  my  sorrows  with  a  scoff; 

But,  at  least,  read  them  !  ere  thou  cast  them  off. 

And  though  thy  heart's  too  hard  to  have  compassion, 

If  thou'It  not  pity,  do  not  blame  my  Passion  ! 

For,  well  thou  knowst !  (alas,  that  e'er  'twas  known  !) 
There  was  a  time,  although  that  time  be  gonej^ 
I,  that  for  this,  scarce  dare  a  beggar  be; 
Presumed  for  more  !  to  have  commanded  thee  ! 
Yea,  the  day  was  (but  see  how  things  may  change !) 
When  thou  and  I  have  not  been  half  so  strange ; 
But  oft  embraced,  with  a  gentle  greeting, 
And  no  worse  words  than  "  Turtle-dove  !"  and  "  Sweeting 
Yea,  had  thy  meaning,  and  those  vows  of  thine 
Proved  but  as  faithful  and  as  true  as  mine, 
It  still  had  been  so  !  (for,  I  do  not  feign !) 
I  should  rejoice,  it  might  be  so  again. 
But  sith  thy  love  grows  cold,  and  thou,  unkind  ; 
Be  not  displeased  I  somewhat  breathe  my  mind ! 
I  am  in  hope,  my  words  may  prove  a  mirror ; 
Whereon,  thou  looking,  mayest  behold  thine  error! 
And  yet  the  Heaven,  and  my  sad  heart  doth  know, 
How  grieved  I  am !  and  with  what  feeling  woe 
My  mind  is  tortured,  to  think  that  I 
Should  be  the  brand  of  thy  disloyalty  ! 
Or  live,  to  be  the  author  of  a  line 
That  shall  be  tainted  with  a  fault  of  thine  ! 
Since  if  that  thou  but  slightly  touched  be ; 
Deep  wounds  of  grief  and  shame,  it  strikes  in  me  ! 

And  yet  I  must !     Ill  hap  compels  me  to  ! 
What  I  ne'er  thought  to  have  had  cause  to  do. 
And  therefore  seeing  that  some  angry  Fate 
Imposes  on  me  what  I  so  much  hate; 
Or  since  it  is  so,  that  the  Powers  divine, 
Me  miserable  !  to  such  cares  assign  : 
O  that  Love's  Patron,  or  some  sacred  Muse, 
Amongst  my  Passions,  would  such  Art  infuse, 
My  well-framed  words  and  airy  sighs  might  prove 
The  happy  blasts  to  re-inflame  thy  love  I 


G- Wither.-!  Fidelia,  1^7 

Or,  at  least,  touch  thee  with  thy  fault  so  near. 

That  thou  mightst  see  thou  wrongedst  who  held  thee  dear ! 

Seeing,  confess  the  same  !  and  so,  abhor  it ! 

Abhorring,  pity !  and  repent  thee  for  it ! 

But,  Dear  !     I  hope  that  I  may  call  thee  so ! 
(For  thou  art  dear  to  me,  although  a  foe) 
Tell  me,  is't  true  that  I  do  hear  of  thee 
And  by  thy  absence  now,  so  seems  to  be  ? 
Can  such  abuse  be  in  thy  Court  of  Love  ? 
False  and  inconstant  now,  thou  He  shouldst  prove ; 
He  that  so  woful  and  so  pensive  sate, 
Vowing  his  service  at  my  feet,  of  late? 
Art  thou  that  quondam  lover,  whose  sad  eye 
I  never  saw  yet,  in  my  presence  dry  ? 
And  from  whose  gentle-seem.ing  tongue,  I  know 
So  many  pity-moving  words  could  flow  ? 
Was't  thou  !  so  soughtst  my  love  ?  so  seeking  that 
As  if  it  had  been  all  th'  hadst  aimed  at  ! 
Making  me  think  th}'  Passion  without  stain, 
And  gently  quite  thee  with  my  love  again  ? 
With  this  persuasion,  I  so  fairly  placed  it ; 
Nor  Time,  nor  Envy  should  have  e'er  defaced  it ! 
Is  't  so  ?     Have  I  done  thus  much  ?  and  art  thou 
So  over-cloyed  with  my  favours  now  ? 
Art  weary  since  with  loving,  and  estranged 
So  far  ?     Is  thy  affection  so  much  changed, 
That  I,  of  all  my  hopes  must  be  deceived  ; 
And  all  good  thoughts  of  thee  be  quite  bereaved  ? 

Then  I  find  true,  which,  long  before  this  day, 
I  feared  myself,  and  heard  some  wiser  say, 
"  That  there  is  nought  on  earth  so  sweet,  that  can 
Long  relish  with  the  curious  taste  of  Man  !  " 

Happy  was  I !     Yea,  well  it  was  with  me  ! 
Before  I  came  to  be  bewitched  by  thee, 
I  joyed  the  sweet'st  content  that  ever  Maid 
Possessed  yet !  and,  truly  well-a-paid. 
Made  to  myself  alone,  as  pleasant  mirth 
As  ever  any  Virgin  did  on  earth  ! 
The  melody  I  used  was  free,  and  such 
As  that  bird  makes,  whom  never  hand  did  touch ; 
But  unallured  with  fowlers,  whistling  flies 

Ea-g.  Gar.  VI.  j_2 


r-S  Fidelia.  \^^^ 

A:cvc  the  reach  of  human  treacheries- 

And  well  I  do  remember,  often  then, 

Cou'.i  I  read  o'er  the  policies  of  men  ! 

Disc: ver  v.  jij.:  uncertatnttes  they  were ! 

How  they  wonld  s- ,.  k  sad !  protest  \  and  swear  [ 

Nay,  feign  to  die  :  ./ ey  did  never  prove 

The  slenderest  touch  of  a  right  worthy  love : 

But  had  chilled  hearts,  whose  dulness  understood 

No  more  of  Passion,  than  they  did  of  Good  ! 

All  which  I  noted  well,  and  in  my  —•-  -' 

(A  general  humour  amongst  womer. 

This  vow  I  made  (thinking  to  keep  :i  LJicn  !j, 

*^  That  never  the  fair  tongue  of  any  man. 

Nor  his  Complaint,  though  never  so  much  grieved. 

Should  move  my  heart  to  liking,  whilst  I  lived  \  " 

But  who  can  say  what  she  shall  live  to  do  ? 
I  have  beheved,  and  let  in  liking  too  I 
And  that  so  far,  I  cannot  %-et  see  how 
I  mav  so  much  as  hope,  to  help  it  now ! 
Wliich  makes  me  think,  whate'er  we  women  say, 
'■  Another  mind  will  come  another  day  ! 
And  that  men  may  to  things  unhoped  for  climb, 
Who  watch  but  Opportunity  and  Time." 

For  'tis  well  known,  we  were  not  made  of  clay. 
Or  such  coarse  and  Ol-tempered  stnff  as  they  I 
For  He  that  framed  us  of  their  fiesh,  diddeign, 
\\lien  'twas  at  best,  to  new  refine  't  again ! 
Which  makes  ns,  ever  since,  the  kinder  creatures. 
Of  far  more  fiesble  and  yielding  natures. 
And  as  we  oft  excel  in  outward  parts. 
So  have  we  nobler  and  more  gentle  hearts ! 
Which  you,  well  knowing,  daily  do  devise. 
How  to  imprint  on  them,  your  cruelties  ! 

But  do  I  find  my  cause  thus  bad  indeed; 
Or  else  on  things  imaginary-  feed  ? 
Am  I  the  Lass  that  late  so  truly  jolly. 
Made  myself  merr}*,  oft,  at  others'  folly  ? 
Am  I  the  Nj-mph  that,  Cupid's  fancies  blamed  : 
That  was  so  cold,  so  hard  to  be  inflamed  ? 
Am  I  myself  ?  or  is  myself  that  She. 
Who,  irom  this  thraldom,  or  such  falsehoods  free. 


G.  Wither. 
16 


^s.]  Fidelia.  i  79 


Late  owned  mine  own  heart  ?  and,  full  merry  then, 
Did  forewarn  others  to  beware  of  men  ! 
And  could  not,  having  taught  them  what  to  do, 
Now  learn  myself  to  take  heed  of  you  too  ? 
Fool  that  I  am  !   I  fear  my  guerdon's  just  ! 
In  that  I  knew  this,  and  presumed  to  trust. 
And  yet,  alas,  for  aught  that  I  could  tell. 
One  Spark  of  Goodness  in  the  world  might  dwell  ! 
And  then  I  thought,  "  If  such  a  thing  might  be, 
Why  might  not  that  One  Spark  remain  in  thee  ? " 
For  thy  fair  outside,  and  thy  fairer  tongue, 
Promised  much,  although  thy  years  were  young  ! 
And  Virtue  (wheresoever  she  be  now!). 
Seemed  then,  to  sit  enthroned  upon  thy  brow ! 
Yea,  sure  it  was !  But  whether  'twere  or  no  ; 
Certain  I  am,  I  was  persuaded  so  ! 
Which  made  me  loth  to  think  that  words  of  fashion 
Could  be  so  framed,  so  overlaid  with  Passion  ! 
Or  sighs  so  feelingly  feigned  from  any  breast  ! 
Nay,  say  thou  hadst  been  false  in  all  the  rest ; 
Yet  from  thine  eye,  my  heart  such  notice  took, 
Methought  Guile  could  not  feign  so  sad  a  look ! 
But  now  I've  tried,  my  bought  experience  knows, 
"  They  are  oft  worst,  that  make  the  fairest  shows  !  " 
*'  And  howsoe'er  men  feign  an  outward  grieving; 
'Tis  neither  worth  respecting,  nor  believing !  " 
For  She  that  doth  one  to  her  mercy  take, 
Warms  in  her  bosom  but  a  frozen  snake  ; 
Which  heated  with  her  favours,  gathers  sense, 
And  stings  her  to  the  heart,  in  recompense  ! 

But  tell  me  why,  and  for  what  secret  spite, 
You,  in  poor  women's  miseries  delight  ? 
For  so  it  seems  !  Else  what  d'  ye  labour  for 
That,  which,  when  'tis  obtained,  ye  do  abhor  ? 
Or  to  what  end,  do  you  endure  such  pain 
To  win  our  love,  and  cast  it  off  again  ? 
O  that  we  either,  your  hard  hearts  could  borrow ; 
Or  else  your  strengths,  to  help  us  bear  our  sorrow  ? 

But  we  are  cause  of  all  this  grief  and  shame ; 
And  we  have  none  but  our  own  selves  to  blame  ! 
For  still  we  see  your  falsehoods  for  our  learning, 


i8o  Fidelia,  [«-^^=;^- 

Yet  never  can  have  power  to  take  't  for  warning ; 

But,  as  if  born  to  be  deluded  by  you, 

We  know  you,  trustless ;  and  yet,  still  we  try  you  ! 

Alas,  what  wrong  was  in  my  power  to  do  thee  ! 
Or  what  despite  have  I  e'er  done  unto  thee, 
That  thou  shouldst  choose  Me  !  above  all  the  rest, 
To  be  thy  scorn  !  and  thus  be  made  a  jest ! 
Must  men's  ill  natures  such  true  villains  prove  them, 
To  make  them  only  wrong  those  that  most  love  them  ! 
Couldst  thou  find  none  in  Country,  Town,  or  Court, 
But  only  Me  !  to  make  thy  fool  !  thy  sport  ! 
Thou  knowst  I  have  no  wanton  courses  run, 
Nor  seemed  easy  unto  lewdness  won. 
And  though  I  cannot  boast  me  of  much  Wit ; 
Thou  sawst  no  sign  of  fondness  in  me  yet  ! 
Nor  did  ill-nature  ever  so  o'ersway  me. 
To  flout  at  any,  that  did  woo  or  pray  me ! 
But  grant,  I  had  been  guilty  of  abusage  ; 
Of  thee  (I'm  sure  !)  I  ne'er  deserved  such  usage  ! 
But  thou  wert  grieved  to  behold  my  smilings, 
When  I  was  free  from  love  and  thy  beguilings  : 
Or  to  what  purpose  else,  didst  thou  bestow 
Thy  time  and  study  to  deceive  me  so  ? 
Hast  thou  good  parts !  and  dost  thou  bend  them  all 
To  bring  those  that  ne'er  hated  thee  in  thrall  ? 
Prithee,  take  heed  !  although  thou  yet  enjoy'st  them  ! 
They'll  be  took  from  thee,  if  thou  so  employst  them  ! 
For  though  I  wish  not  the  least  harm  to  thee ! 
I  fear,  the  just  Heavens  will  revenged  be  ! 

0,  what  of  Me,  by  this  time,  had  become  ; 
If  my  desires,  with  thine  had  happed  to  roam  ? 
Or  I,  unwisely,  had  consented  to 
What,  shameless,  once,  thou  didst  attempt  to  do  ! 
I  might  have  fallen  by  those  immodest  tricks, 
Had  not  some  Power  been  stronger  than  my  sex. 
And  if  I  should  have  so  been  drawn  to  folly, 
I  saw  thee  apt  enough  to  be  unholy  ! 
Or  if  my  Weakness  had  been  prone  to  sin, 
I  poorly  by  thy  Strength  had  succoured  been  !' 
You  men  make  us  believe,  "  You  do  but  try  ! 
And  that's  your  part !  "  you  say  ;  "  Ours  to  deny  !" 


G.  W 


';j^^::]  Fidelia.  i8i 


Yet  I  much  fear,  if  we  through  frailty  stray; 
There's  few  of  you  within  your  bounds  will  stay ; 
But,  maugre  all  your  seeming  virtue,  be 
As  ready  to  forget  yourselves  as  we  ! 

I  might  have  feared  thy  part  of  love  not  strong, 
"When  thou  didst  offer  me  so  base  a  wrong ! 
And  that  I  after  loathed  thee  not,  did  prove 
In  me  some  extraordinary  love  ! 
For,  sure,  had  any  other  but  in  thought 
Presumed  unworthily  what  thou  hast  sought  ; 
Might  it  appear,  I  should  do  thus  much  for  him! 
Wiih  a  scarce  reconciled  Jiate,  abhor  him ! 
My  young  experience  never  yet  did  know. 
Whether  Desire  might  range  so  far  or  no, 
To  make  true  lovers  carelessly  request 
What,  rash  enjoying,  makes  them  most  unblest  ? 
Or  blindly,  through  frailty,  give  consenting 
To  that,  which  done,  brings  nothing  but  repenting? 
But  in  my  judgement,  it  doth  rather  prove 
That  thou  art  fired  with  Lust,  than  warmed  with  Love  ! 
And  if  it  be  for  proof,  men  so  proceed. 
It  shews  a  doubt  !     Else  what  do  trials  need  ? 
And  where  is  that  man  living  ever  knew 
That  false  Distrust  could  be  with  Love  that's  true  ? 
Since  the  mere  cause  of  that  unblamed  effect. 
Such  an  opinion  is,  as  hates  suspect. 

And  yet  I  will  thee,  and  thy  love  excuse  ; 
If  thou  wilt  neither  me,  nor  mine,  abuse  ! 
For  I'll  suppose  thy  Passion  made  thee  proffer 
That  unto  me ;  thou,  to  none  else  wouldst  offer! 
And  so  think  thou  !  if  I  have  thee  denied, 
(Whom  I  more  loved  than  all  men  else  beside !) 
What  hope  have  they,  such  favours  to  obtain. 
That  never  half  so  much  respect  could  gain  ? 
Such  was  my  love,  that  I  did  value  thee 
Above  all  things  below  Eternity  ! 
Nothing  on  earth,  unto  my  heart  was  dearer  ! 
No  joy  so  prized  !  nor  no  jewel  dearer ! 
Nay,  I  do  fear,  I  did  idolatrize  ! 
For  which  Heaven's  wrath  inflicts  these  miseries. 
And  makes  the  things,  which  it  for  blessings  sent. 


„  re.  Wither. 

182  Fidelia,  L      1015. 

To  be  renewers  of  my  discontent. 

Where  were  there  any  of  the  Naiades, 

The  Dryades,  or  the  Hamadryades ; 

Which  of  the  British  Shires  can  yield  a,c:ain 

A  Mistress  of  the  Spring,  the  Wood,  or  Plain, 

Whose  eye  enjoyed  more  sweet  contents  than  mine  ? 

Till  I  received  my  overthrow  by  thine  ! 

Where's  She  did  more  delight  in  Springs  and  Rills ; 

Where's  She  that  walked  more  Groves,  or  Downs,  or  Hills  ! 

Or  could,  by  such  fair  artless  prospects,  more 

Add  bv  conceit,  to  her  contentment's  store 

Than  1  ?  whilst  thou  wert  true  !  and  with  thy  graces, 

Didst  give  a  pleasing  presence  to  those  places  ! 

But  now.  What  is  !  What  ivas,  hath  overthrown  ! 

My  rose-decked  alleys,  now  with  rue  are  strown  ! 

And  from  those  flowers  that  honeyed  used  to  be  ; 

I  suck  nought  now,  but  juice  to  poison  me  ! 

For  even  as  She,  whose  gentle  spirit  can  rise 
To  apprehend  Love's  noble  mysteries, 
Spving  a  precious  jewel  richly  set 
Shine  in  some  corner  of  her  cabinet, 
Taketh  delight,  at  first,  to  gaze  upon 
The  pretty  lustre  of  the  sparkling  stone  ; 
And  pleased  in  mind  by  that,  doth  seem  to  sei 
How  virtue  shines  through  base  obscurity  : 
But  prying  nearer,  seeing  it  doth  prove 
Some  relic  of  her  dear  deceased  Love  ; 
Which  to  her  sad  remembrance  doth  lay  ope 
WHiat  She  most  sought,  and  sees  most  far  from  hope, 
Fainting  almost  beneath  her  Passions'  weight, 
(And  quite  forgetful  of  her  first  conceit) 
Looking  upon  't  again,  from  thence,  She  borrows 
Sad  melancholy  thoughts  to  feed  her  sorrows. 

So  I,  beholding  Nature's  curious  bowers 
Ceiled,  strewed,    and   trimmed    up  with    leaves,  herbs,  and 

flowers, 
Walked,  pleased,  on  awhile,  and  do  devise 
How  on  each  object  I  may  moralize. 
But  ere  I  pace  on  many  steps,  I  see 
There  stands  a  Hawthorn  that  was  trimmed  by  thee  ! 
Here,  thou  didst  once  slip  off  the  virgin  spra}  s, 


^•''■':!;r;:]  Fidelia.  183 

To  crown  me  with  a  wreath  of  living  Bayes  I 

On  such  a  bank,  I  see  how  thou  didst  He 

When,  viewing  of  a  shady  Mulberry, 

The  hard  mishap  thou  didst  to  me  discuss 

Of  loving  Thisbe  and  young  Pyramus. 

"  And  O,"  think  I,  "  how  pleasing  was  it  then  ! 

Or  would  be  yet,  might  he  return  again  !  " 

But  if  some  neighbouring  row  do  draw  me  to 

Those  Arbours,  where  the  shadows  seem  to  woo 

The  weary  love-sick  passenger,  to  sit 

And  view  the  beauties.  Nature  strews  on  it. 

"  How  fair,"  think  I,  "would  this  sweet  place  appear, 

If  he  I  love  were  sporting  with  me  here  ! 

Nay,  every  several  object  that  I  see, 

Doth  severally  (methinks)  remember  thee  ! 

But  the  delight  I  used  from  it  to  gather; 

I  now  exchange  for  cares,  and  seek  them  rather  ! 

But  those,  whose  dull  and  gross  affections  can 
Extend  but  only  to  desire  a  Man, 
Cannot,  the  depths  of  these  rare  Passions  know! 
For  their  imagmations  flag  too  low  ! 
And  'cause  their  base  conceits  do  apprehend 
Nothing  but  that,  whereto  the  flesh  doth  tend  : 
In  Love's  embraces,  they  ne'er  reach  unto 
More  of  content,  than  the  brute  creatures  do  ! 
Neither  can  any  judge  of  this,  but  such 
Whose  braver  minds,  for  braver  thoughts  do  touch  : 
And  having  spirits  of  a  nobler  frame, 
Feel  the  true  heat  of  Love's  unquenched  flame. 
lliey  may  conceive  aright  what  smarting  sting 
To  their  remembrances,  the  place  will  bring, 
Where  they  did  once  enjoy,  and  then  do  miss, 
\\'hat  to  their  souls  most  dear  and  precious  is  ! 
With  me,  'tis  so  !     For  those  walks  that  once  seemed 
Pleasing,  when  I  of  thee  was  more  esteemed ; 
To  me,  appear  most  desolate  and  lonely, 
And  are  the  places  now,  of  torment  only  ! 
Where  I,  the  highest  of  contents  did  borrow  ; 
There  am  I  paid  it  home,  with  treble  sorrow  ! 

Unto  one  place,  I  do  remember  well  ! 
We  walked,  the  evenings,  to  hear  Philomel  ; 


1 84 


^  re.  Wither. 

F I  DELIA.  L 


1615. 


And  that  seems  now  to  want  the  light  it  had  ! 

The  shadow  of  the  grove  's  more  dull  and  sad : 

As  if  it  were  a  place  but  fit  for  fowls 

That  screech  ill-luck,  as  melancholy  owls  ! 

Or  fatal  ravens,  that  seld  boding  good, 

Croak  their  black  auguries  from  some  dark  wood  ! 

Then,  if  from  thence,  I  half  despairing  go  ; 
Another  place  begins  another  woe  ! 
For  thus  unto  my  thought,  it  seems  to  say, 
"  Hither,  thou  sawest  him  riding  once,  that  way  !  " 
"  Thither,  to  meet  him,  thou  didst  nimbly  haste  thee  !  " 
"  Yond,  he  alighted,  and  e'en  there  embraced  thee !  " 
Which  whilst  I  sighing,  wish  to  do  again  ; 
Another  object  brings  another  pain  1 
For  passing  by  that  Green,  which  (could  it  speak !) 
Would  tell,  it  saw  us  run  at  Barley  break ! 
There,  I  beheld  what,  on  that  thin-rind  tree, 
Thou  hadst  engraven,  for  the  love  of  me  ; 
When  we  two,  all  alone,  in  heat  of  day. 
With  chaste  embraces,  drove  swift  hours  away  ! 
Then  I  remember  too  (unto  my  smart  !) 
How  loth  we  were,  when  time  compelled,  to  part  ! 
How  cunningly  thy  Passions,  thou  couldst  feign  ; 
In  taking  leave,  and  coming  back  again 
So  oft,  until  (as  seeming  to  forget 
We  were  departing)  down  again  we  set  ; 
And  freshly  in  that  sweet  discourse  went  on  : 
Which  now  I  almost  faint  to  think  upon  ! 

Viewing  again,  those  other  walks  and  groves 
That  have  been  witnesses  of  our  chaste  loves; 
When  I  behold  those  trees,  whose  tender  skin 
Hath  that  cut  out,  which  still  cuts  me  within  ! 
Or  come  by  chance  unto  that  pretty  rill. 
Where  thou  wouldst  sit  and  teach  the  neighbouring  hill 
To  answer  in  an  echo,  unto  those 
Ixare  Problems  which  thou  often  didst  propose  ! 
When  I  come  there,  think  I,  "  If  these  could  take 
That  use  of  words  and  speech  which  we  partake ; 
Tliey  might  unfold  a  thousand  pleasures  then, 
Which  I  shall  never  live  to  taste  again  !  " 
And  thereupon,  Remembrance  doth  so  rack 


^•''''zt;:]  Fidelia.  185 

My  thoughts,  with  representing  what  I  lack, 
That,  in  my  mind,  those  Clerks  do  argue  well 
Which  hold  Privation,  the  greatest  plague  of  hell  : 
For  there's  no  torment  gripes  me  half  so  bad, 
As  the  Remembrance  of  those  joys  I  had. 

O  hast  thou  quite  forgot,  when  sitting  by 
The  banks  of  Thames,  beholding  how  the  fry 
Played  on  the  silver  waves  ?     There,  where  I  first 
Granted  to  make  my  Fortune  (thus  accurst  !). 
There,  where  thy  too  too  earnest  suit  compelled 
My  over-soon  believing  heart  to  yield 
One  favour  first  ;  which  then  another  drew. 
To  get  another  !  till  (alas,  I  rue 
That  Day  and  Hour!)  thinking  I  ne'er  should  need 
As  now,  to  grieve  for  doing  such  a  deed  ! 
So  freely  I,  my  courtesies  bestowed; 
That  whose  I  was,  unwarily  I  showed  ! 
And  to  my  heart,  such  passage  made  for  thee. 
Thou  canst  not,  to  this  day  removed  be  ! 

And  what  breast  could  resist  it  1  having  seen 
How  true  thy  love  had  in  appearance  been  ? 
For  I  shall  ne'er  forget  when  thou  hadst  there 
Laid  open  every  discontent  and  care. 
Wherewith  thou  deeply  seemedst  to  me  opprest ; 
When  thou,  as  much  as  any  could  protest, 
Hadst  vowed  and  sworn,  and  yet  preceivedst  no  sign 
Of  pity  moving  in  this  breast  of  mine  ! 
"  Well,  Love !  "  saidst  thou,  "  since  neither  sigh  nor  vow 
Nor  any  service  may  prevail  me  now  ! 
Since  neither  the  recital  of  my  smart. 
Nor  those  strong  Passions  that  assail  my  heart ! 
Nor  anything  may  move  thee  to  belief 
Of  these  my  sufferings,  or  to  grant  relief! 
Since  there's  no  comfort,  nor  desert  that  may 
Get  me  so  much  as  hope  of  what  I  pray  ! 
Sweet  Love,  farewell !     Farewell,  fair  Beauty's  light ! 
And  ever-pleasing  object  of  the  sight  I 
My  poor  despairing  heart  here  biddeth  you 
And  all  Content,  for  evermore,  adieu  !  " 

Then,  even  as  thou  seemedst  ready  to  depart. 
Reaching  that  hand,  which  after  gave  my  heart ; 


7-  PG.  Wither. 

i86  Fidelia.  [       1^,15 

And  thinking  this  sad  "  Farewell  !  "  did  proceed 

From  a  sound  breast  but  truly  moved  indeed  : 

I  stayed  thy  departing  from  me  so, 

Whilst  I  stood  mute  with  sorrow ;  thou,  for  show  ! 

And  the  meanwhile,  as  I  beheld  thy  look, 

]\Iy  eye  th'impression  of  such  pity  took 

That,  with  the  strength  of  Passion  overcome, 

A  deep-fetched  sigh,  my  heart  came  breaking  from. 

Whereat  thou  (ever  wisely  using  this. 

To  take  advantage,  when  it  offered  is) 

Renewed  they  suit  to  me  ;  who  did  afford 

Consent,  in  silence  lirst,  and  then  in  word. 

So,  for  that  yielding,  thou  mayst  thank  thy  Wit ! 

And  yet  whenever  I  remember  it  ; 

Trust  me,  I  muse  !  and  often  wondering,  think, 

Through  what  cranny,  or  what  secret  chink. 

That  Love,  unawares,  so  like  a  sly  close  Elf, 

Did  to  my  heart  insinuate  itself. 

Gallants  I  had,  before  thou  cam'st  to  woo  ! 
Could  as  much  love,  and  as  well  Court  me  too  ! 
And  though  they  had  not  learned  so  the  fashion 
Of  acting  such  well-counterfeited  Passion  ; 
In  Wit  and  Person,  they  did  equal  thee  ! 
■    (And  worthier  seemed,  unless  thou'll  faithful  be  !) 
Yet  still  unmoved,  unconquered  I  remained  ! 
No,  not  one  thought  of  love  was  entertained  ! 
Nor  could  they  brag  of  the  least  favour  to  them, 
Save  what  mere  courtesy  enjoined  to  do  them  ! 
Hard  was  my  heart :  but  would  't  had  harder  been  ! 
And  then,  perhaps,  I  had  not  let  thee  in  ! 
Thou,  Tyrant  !  that  art  so  imperious  there ! 
And  only  tak'st  delight  to  domineer! 
But  held  I  out  such  strong,  such  oft  assailing, 
And  ever  kept  the  honour  of  prevailing ; 
Was  this  poor  breast,  from  Love's  allurings  free, 
Cruel  to  all,  and  gentle  unto  thee  ? 
Did  I  unlock  that  strong  Affection's  door 
That  never  could  be  broken  ope  before, 
Only  to  thee  ?  and,  at  thy  intercession, 
^0  freely  give  up  all  my  heart's  possession, 
That  to  myself  I  left  not  one  poor  vein  ! 


c.  Wither.-]  Fidelia.  187 

Nor  power,  nor  will  to  put  thee  from  't  again  ? 

Did  I  do  this  !  and  all,  on  thy  bare  vow  ! 

And  wilt  thou  thus,  requite  my  kindness  now? 

O  that  thou  either  hadst  not  learned  to  feign, 

Or  I  had  power  to  cast  thee  off  again  ! 

How  is  it,  that  thou  art  become  so  rude, 

And  overblinded  by  ingratitude  ? 

Swearest  thou  so  deeply,  that  thou  wouldst  persever. 

That  I  might  thus  be  cast  away  for  ever  ? 

Well  then,  'tis  true  that  "lover's  perjuries," 

Among  some  men,  "  are  thought  no  injuries  !  " 

And  that  "  she  only  hath  least  cause  of  grief; 

Who,  of  your  words  hath  small'st  or  no  belief." 

Had  I  the  wooer  been  or  fondly  woon  ; 
This  had  been  more  though,  than  thou  couldst  have  done ! 
But  neither  being  so,  what  reason  is 
On  thy  side,  that  should  make  thee  offer  this  ? 

I  know,  had  I  been  false,  or  my  faith  failed  ; 
Thou  wouldst  at  women's  fickleness  have  railed  ! 
And  if  in  me,  it  had  an  error  been  : 
In  thee,  shall  the  same  fault  be  thought  no  sin  ? 
Rather  I  hold  that  which  is  bad  in  me, 
Will  be  a  greater  blemish  unto  thee  ! 
Because,  by  Nature,  thou  art  made  more  strong. 
And  therefore  abler  to  endure  a  wrong. 
But  'tis  our  fortune  !     You'll  have  all  the  Power  ! 
Only  the  Care  and  Burden  must  be  our ! 
Nor  can  you  be  content,  a  wrong  to  do  ; 
Unless  you  lay  the  blame  upon  us  too  ! 

O  that  there  were  some  gentle  minded  Poet 
That  knew  my  heart  as  well  as,  now,  I  know  it  ! 
And  would  endear  me  to  his  love  so  much. 
To  give  the  World,  though  but  a  slender  touch 
Of  that  sad  Passion,  which  now  clogs  my  heart  ; 
And  shew  my  truth  ;  and  thee,  how  false  thou  art ! 
That  all  might  know  (what  is  believed  by  no  man) 
There  's  Fickleness  in  Man,  and  Faith  in  Woman  ! 

Thou  saw'st,  I  first  let  Pity  in,  then  Liking, 
And  lastly,  that  which  was  thy  only  seeking  : 
And  when  I  might  have  scorned  that  love  of  thine 
(As  now  ungently,  thou  despisest  mine  !) 


iS8  Fidelia.  [ 


G.  Wither. 
1615, 


Amon,£^  the  inmost  angles  of  my  breast, 
To  lodge  it,  by  my  heart,  I  thought  it  best  ! 
Which  thou  has  stolen  too,  like  a  thankless  mate, 
And  left  me  nothing  but  a  black  self-hate. 

What  can'st  thou  say  for  this,  to  stand  contending  ? 
What  colour  hast  thou  left  for  thy  offending  ? 
That  Wit,  perhaps,  hath  some  excuse  in  store, 
Or  an  evasion  to  escape  a  sore  ! 
But  well  I  know,  if  thou  excuse  this  treason. 
It  must  be  by  some  greater  thing  than  Reason  ! 

Are  any  of  those  virtues  yet  defaced. 
On  which  thy  first  affections  seemed  placed  ? 
Hath  any  secret  foe,  my  true  faith  wronged, 
To  rob  the  bliss  that  to  my  heart  belonged  ? 
What  then  !  Shall  I  condemned  be  unheard, 
'Before  thou  knowest  how  I  may  be  cleared  ? 
Thou  art  acquainted  with  the  Times'  condition  ! 
Knowest  it  is  full  of  envy  and  suspicion  ! 
So  that  the  wariest  in  thought,  word,  and  action 
Shall  be  most  injured  by  foul-mouthed  Detraction, 
And  therefore  thou,  methinks !  shouldst  wisely  pause 
Before  thou  credit  rumours  without  cause  ! 
But  I  have  gotten  such  a  confidence 
In  thy  opinion,  of  my  innocence  ; 
It  is  not  that,  I  know  !  withholds  thee  now  ! 

Sweet  !  tell  me,  then  !     Is  it  some  sacred  vow  ? 
Hast  thou  resolved  not  to  join  thy  hand 
With  any  one  in  Hymen's  bold  band  ? 
Thou  shouldst  have  done  it  then,  when  thou  wert  free ! 
Before  thou  hadst  bequeathed  thyself  to  me  ! 
\Vhat  vow  do'st  deem  more  pleasing  unto  Heaven, 
Than  what  is  by  unfeigned  lovers  given  ? 
If  any  be,  yet  sure  it  frovvneth  at 
Those  that  are  made  for  contradicting  that ! 
Pjut  if  thou  wouldst  live  chastely  all  thy  life  ; 
Than  thou  mayst  do,  though  we  be  man  and  wife ! 

Or  if  thou  long'st  a  virgin-death  to  die, 
Why,  if  it  be  thy  pleasure,  so  do  I  ! 
Make  me  but  thine  !  and  I'll,  contented,  be 
A  virgin  still  ;  }-et  live  and  lie  with  thee  1 
Then  let  not  thy  inventing  brain  assay 


«-^^':a  Fidelia.  189 

To  mock,  and  still  delude  me  every  way ! 
But  call  to  mind,  how  thou  hast  deeply  sworn 
Not  to  neglect,  nor  leave  me  thus  forlorn  ! 

And  if  thou  wilt  not  be  to  me,  as  when 
We  first  did  love  ;  do  but  come  see  me  then  ! 
Vouchsafe  that  I  may  sometimes  with  thee  walk ! 
Or  sit  and  look  on  thee,  or  hear  thee  talk ! 
And  I,  that  most,  Content  once  aimed  at ; 
Will  think  there  is  a  world  of  bliss  in  that  1 

Dost  thou  suppose  that  my  Desire  denies 
With  thy  Affections  well  to  sympathize  ? 
Or  such  perverseness  hast  thou  found  in  me, 
May  make  our  natures  disagreeing  be  ? 
Thou  knowst,  when  thou  didst  wake,  I  could  not  sleep ! 
And  if  thou  wert  but  sad,  that  I  should  weep  ! 
Yet  even  when  the  tears,  my  cheek  did  stain ; 
If  thou  didst  smile,  why,  I  could  smile  again  ! 
I  never  did  contrary  thee  in  ought ! 
Nay,  thou  canst  tell,  I  oft  have  spake  thy  thought ! 
Waking,  the  self-same  course  with  thee  I  ran  ! 
And  sleeping,  oftentimes  our  dreams  were  one  ! 

The  dial  needle,  though  it  sense  doth  want, 
Still  bends  to  the  beloved  Adamant. 
Lift  the  one  up,  the  other  upward  tends ! 
If  this  fall  down,  that  presently  descends  ! 
Turn  but  about  the  stone,  the  steel  turns  too  ! 
Then  straight  returns,  if  but  the  other  do  ! 
And  if  it  stay,  with  trembling  keeps  one  place, 
As  if  it,  panting,  longed  for  an  embrace  ! 
So  was  't  with  me  !     For  if  thou  merry  wert, 
That  mouth  of  thine  moved  joy  within  my  heart ! 
I  sighed,  too,  when  thou  didst  sigh  or  frown ! 
When  thou  wert  sick  ;  thou  hast  perceived  me  swoon  ! 
And  being  sad,  have  oft,  with  forced  delight 
Strived  to  give  thee  content,  beyond  my  might ! 
When  thou  wouldst  talk,  then  have  I  talked  with  thee ! 
And  silent  been,  when  thou  wouldst  silent  be ! 
If  thou  abroad  didst  go,  with  joy  I  went  ! 
If  home  thou  lovedst,  at  home  was  my  content! 
Yea,  what  did  to  my  nature  disagree, 
I  could  make  pleasing !  'cause  it  pleased  thee ! 


T7    r    T^    T^    T     T    /I  rC'-  Wither. 

190  r    I  D  E  L   I  A   .  \_  ,cii. 

But  if 't  be  either  my  weak  Sex  or  Youth 
Makes  thee  misdoubt  m}'  undistained  truth  ; 
Know  this !      As  none,  till  that  unhappy  hour 
When  I  was  first  made  thine,  had  ever  power 
To  move  my  heart,  by  vows'  or  tears'  expense  : 
No  more  (I  swear!)  could  any  creature  since! 
No  looks  lout  thine,  though  aimed  with  Passion's  Art, 
Could  pierce  so  deep,  to  penetrate  my  heart ! 
No  name  but  thine  was  welcome  to  my  ear, 
No  word  did  I  so  soon,  so  gladly  hear! 
Nor  never  could  my  eyes  behold  or  see 
What  I  was  since  delighted  in,  but  thee  ! 
And,  sure,  thou  wouldst  believe  it  to  be  so. 
If  I  could  tell,  or  words  might  make  thee  know 
How  many  a  weary  night  my  tumbled  bed 
Hath  known  me  sleepless  !  what  salt  tears  I've  shed  ! 
What  scalding  sighs  (the  marks  of  souls  opprest) 
Have  hourly  breathed  from  my  careful  breast  ! 

Nor  wouldst  thou  dream  those  waking  sorrows  feigned. 
If  thou  mightst  see  how,  sleeping,  I  am  pained  ! 
For  if  sometimes  I  chance  to  take  a  slumber, 
Unwelcome  dreams  my  broken  rest  doth  cuml^er  ! 
Which  dreaming  makes  me  start  !   startmg,  with  fears 
Wakes  1  and  so  waking,  I  renew  my  cares, 
Until  my  eyes  o'ertired  with  watch  and  weeping, 
Drowned  in  their  own  floods,  fall  again  to  sleepmg ! 

0  that  thou  couldst  but  think,  when  last  we  parted, 
How  much  I,  grieving  for  thy  absence,  smarted  ! 
My  very  soul  fell  sick  !  my  heart,  to  aching  ! 
As  if  they  had  their  last  "  Farewells  !  "  been  taking  : 
Or  feared,  by  some  secret  divination. 
This  thy  revolt,  and  causeless  alteration  ! 
Didst  thou  not  feel,  how  loth  that  hand  of  mine 
Was  to  let  go  the  hold  it  had  of  thine  ? 
And  with  what  heavy,  what  unwilling  look  ; 
I  leave  of  thee,  and  then  of  comfort,  took  ? 
I  know  thou  didst  !  and  though  now  thus  thou  do ; 
I  am  deceived  but  then,  it  grieved  thee  too  ! 

Then  if  I  so,  with  Love's  fell  passion  vexed, 
For  thy  departure  only  was  perplexed  ; 
When  I  had  left  to  strengthen  me,  some  trust 


G.  Wither. 


'''jg^jj  Fidelia.  191 

And  hope  that  thou  wouldst  ne'er  have  proved  unjust  : 
What  was  my  torture  then,  and  hard  endurance, 
When  of  thy  falsehood  I  received  assurance  ? 

Alas,  my  tongue,  a  while,  with  grief  was  dumb  ! 
And  a  cold  shuddering  did  my  joints  benumb  ! 
Amazement  seized  my  thought !  and  so  prevailed, 
I  found  me  ill,  but  knew  not  what  I  ailed  ! 
Nor  can  I  yet  tell  !  since  my  suffering  then 
Was  more  than  could  be  shown  by  Poet's  pen, 
Or  well  conceived  by  another  heart 
Than  that,  which  in  such  care  hath  borne  a  part. 

0  me  !  how  loth  was  I  to  have  believed 
That  to  be  true,  for  which  so  much  I  grieved  ? 
How  gladly  would  I  have  persuaded  been, 
There  had  been  no  such  matter  !  no  such  sin  ! 

1  would  have  had  my  heart  think  that  I  knew 
To  be  the  very  truth,  not  to  be  true  1 

"  Why  may  not  this,"  thought  I,  "  some  vision  be, 

Some  sleeping  dream,  or  waking  phantasy, 

Begotten  by  my  over-blinded  folly, 

Or  else  engendered  through  my  melancholy  ?  " 

But  finding  it  so  real,  thought  I,  "  Then, 

Must  I  be  cast  from  all  my  hopes  again  ? 

What  are  become  of  all  those  fading  blisses, 

Which  late  my  hope  had,  and  now  so  much  misses  ? 

Where  is  that  future  fickle  happiness 

Which  I  so  long  expected  to  possess  ? " 

And  thought  I  too,  "  Where  are  his  dying  Passions? 

His  honeyed  words  ?  his  bitter  lamentations  ? 

To  what  end  were  his  Sonnets,  Epigrams  ? 

His  pretty  Posies  ?  witty  Anagrams  ?  " 

I  could  not  think  all  that,  might  have  been  feigned  ! 

Nor  any  faith  I  thought  so  firm,  been  stained  ! 

Nay,  I  do  sure  and  confidently  know 

It  is  not  possible  it  should  be  so. 

If  that  rare  Art  and  Passion  was  thine  own  ! 

Which  in  my  presence,  thou  hast  often  shown. 

But  since  thy  change ;  my  much  presaging  heart 

Is  half  afraid  thou,  some  imposter  wert ; 

Or  that  thou  didst  but  (Player-like  addrest) 

Act  that,  which  flowed  from  some  more  gentle  breast ! 


192 


Fidelia,  \_      ,01= 


Thy  puffed  Invention,  with  worse  Matter  swollen ; 
Those  thy  Conceits,  from  better  wits,  hath  stolen ! 
Or  else,  I  know  it  could  not  be,  that  thou 
Shouldst  be  so  over-cold,  as  thou  art  now ! 
Since  those  who  have  that  feelingly  their  own, 
Ever  possess  more  worth  concealed  than  known. 
And  if  Love  ever  any  mortals  touch 
To  make  a  brave  impression,  'tis  in  such 
Who,  sworn  Love's  Chaplains,  will  not  violate 
That,  whereunto,  themselves  they  consecrate. 

But  O  you  noble  brood !  on  whom  the  World 
The  slighted  burden  of  neglect  hath  hurled  : 
Because  your  thoughts  for  higher  objects  born, 
Their  grovelling  humours  and  affections  scorn  ! 
You,  whom  the  Gods,  to  hear  your  strains,  will  follow, 
Whilst  you  do  court  the  Sisters  of  Apollo! 
You  whom,  there  's  none  that  's  worthy,  can  neglect, 
Or  any  that  unworthy  is,  affect  ! 
Do  not  let  those  (that  seek  to  do  you  shame  !) 
Bewitch  us  with  those  Songs  they  cannot  frame ! 
The  noblest  of  our  sex,  and  fairest  too. 
Do  ever  love  and  honour  such  as  you  ! 
Then  wrong  us  not  so  much,  to  give  your  Passion 
To  those,  that  have  it  but  in  imitation  ! 
And  in  their  dull  breasts,  never  feel  the  power 
Of  such  deep  thoughts  as  sweetly  move  in  your! 
As  well  as  you ;  they,  us  thereby  abuse  ! 
For,  many  times,  when  we  our  lovers  choose 
Where  we  think  Nature,  that  rich  jewel  sets. 
Which  shines  in  you  !  we  light  on  counterfeits ! 

But  see,  see  whither  discontentment  bears  me ! 
And  to  what  uncouth  strains  my  Passion  rears  me ! 
Yet,  pardon  me  !  I  here  again  repent, 
If  I  have  erred  through  that  discontent ! 
Be  what  thou  wilt !  be  counterfeit  or  right ! 
Be  constant  !  serious  !  or  be  vain  or  light ! 
My  love  remains  inviolate  the  same. 
Thou  canst  be  nothing  that  can  quench  this  flame ! 
But  it  will  burn,  as  long  as  thou  hast  breath 
To  keep  it  kindled  !  (if  not  after  death) 
Ne'er  was  there  one  more  true  than  I  to  thee  ! 


G.  WitVier. 


.'S:]  Fidelia.  193 

And  though  my  faith  must  now  despised  he, 

Unprized,  unvalued  at  the  lowest  rate, 

Yet  this,  I'll  tell  thee  !  'tis  not  all  thy  State, 

Nor  all  that  better-seeming  Worth  of  thine, 

Can  buy  thee  such  another  Love  as  mine  ! 

Liking,  it  may !     But  O,  there's  as  much  odds 

'Twixt  Love  and  that,  as  between  men  and  gods ! 

And  'tis  a  purchase  not  procured  with  treasure  ! 

As  some  fools  think;  not  to  be  gained  at  pleasure  ! 

For  were  it  so,  and  any  could  assure  it, 

What  would  not  some  men  part  with,  to  procure  it  ? 

But  though  thou  weigh  't  not,  as  thou  ought'st  to  do. 

Thou  know'st  I  love  !  and  once,  didst  love  me  too  ! 

Then  where  's  the  cause  of  this  dislike  in  thee  ? 

Survey  thyself!     I  hope  there  's  none  in  me. 

Yet  look  on  her,  from  whom  thou  art  estranged  ! 

See,  is  my  Person,  or  my  Beauty  changed  ? 

Once,  thou  didst  praise  it !     Prithee,  view  't  again  ! 

And  mark  if  't  be  not  still  the  same  'twas  then  ! 

No  false  vermilion  dye  my  cheek  distains, 

'Tis  the  pure  blood,  dispersed  through  pores  and  veins. 

Which  thou  hast,  oft,  seen  through  my  forehead  flushing. 

To  shew  no  dauby  colour  hid  my  blushing ! 

Nor  never  shall !     Virtue,  I  hope,  will  save  me  ! 

Contented  with  that  beauty.  Nature  gave  me. 

Or  if  it  seem  less,  for  that  Grief's  veil  hath  hid  it : 

Thou  threwst  it  on  me !  'twas  not  I  that  did  it ! 

And  canst  again  restore,  what  may  repair 

All  that  's  decayed,  and  make  me  far  more  fair! 

Which  if  thou  do,  Fll  be  more  wary  then 

To  keep  't  for  thee  unblemished,  what  I  can  ! 

And  'cause,  at  best,  'twill  want  much  of  perfection : 

The  rest  shall  be  supplied  with  true  affection ! 

But  I  do  fear,  it  is  some  other's  riches ; 
Whose  more  abundance  that  thy  mind  bewitches; 
So  that  base  object,  that  too  general  aim, 
Makes  thee  my  lesser  fortune  to  disclaim  ! 
lie  !  can'st  thou  so  degenerate  in  spirit, 
As  to  prefer  the  Means  before  the  Merit ! 
(Although  I  cannot  say,  it  is  in  me !) 
Such  Worth,  sometimes,  with  poverty  may  be, 

Eng.  Gar  VI.  JO 


194  Fidelia,  r'''':ft 

To  equalize  the  match  she  takes  upon  her  ; 

Though  th'  other  vaunt  of  Birth,  Wealthy,  Beauty,  Hcnour: 

And  many  a  one,  that  did  for  Greatness  wed, 

Would  gladly  change  it  for  a  meaner  bed  ! 

Yet  are  my  fortunes  known  indifferent. 

Not  basely  mean,  but  such  as  may  content ! 

And  should  I  yield,  the  better  to  be  thine  ; 

I  may  be  bold  to  say  thus  much  for  mine  : 

"  That  if  thou  couldst  of  them,  and  me  esteem; 

Neither,  thy  state,  nor  birth  would  misbeseem  ! 

Or  if  it  did,  how  can  I  help  't,  alas  ! 

Thou,  not  alone,  before,  knew'st  what  it  was  ! 

But  I  (although  not  fearing  so  to  speed  !) 

Did  also  disenable  't  more  than  need  : 

And  yet  thou  wooedst !  and  wooing,  didst  persever, 

As  if  thou  hadst  intended  Love  for  ever  ! 

Yea,  thy  account  of  wealth,  thou  mad'st  so  small 

Thou  hadst  not  any  question  of  't  at  all : 

But,  hating  much  that  peasant-like  condition. 

Didst  seem  displeased  I  held  it  in  suspicion. 

Whereby  I  think,  if  nothing  else  do  thwart  us, 

It  cannot  be  the  want  of  that,  will  part  us  I 

Yea,  I  do  rather  doubt  indeed,  that  this 
The  needless  fear  of  friends'  displeasure  is  ! 
That  is  the  bar  that  stops  out  my  delight. 
And  all  my  hope  and  joy  confoundeth  quite  ! 
But  bears  there  any,  in  thy  heart  such  sway, 
To  shut  me  thence,  and  wipe  thy  love  away ! 
Can  there  be  any  friend  that  hath  the  power 
To  disunite  hearts  so  conjoined  as  our  ? 
Ere  I  would  have  so  done  by  thee,  I'd  rather 
Have  parted  with  one  dearer  than  my  father  ! 
For  though  the  will  of  our  Creator  binds 
Kach  child  to  learn,  and  know  his  parents'  minds ; 
Yet,  sure  I  am  !  so  just  a  Deity 
Commandeth  nothing  against  Piety  ! 
Nor  doth  that  Bond  of  Duty  give  them  leave 
To  violate  their  faith,  or  to  deceive  ! 
And  though  that  parents  have  authority 
To  rule  their  children  in  minority  ; 
Yet  they  are  never  granted  such  power  on  them 


G.  Wither. 


S  Fidelia.  195 

That  will  allow  to  tyrannize  upon  them ! 
Or  use  them  under  their  command,  so  ill, 
To  force  them  without  reason,  to  their  will ! 
For  who  hath  read  in  all  the  Sacred  Writ, 
Of  any  one  compelled  to  marriage,  yet  ? 
Or  father  so  unkind,  thereto  required. 
Denied  his  child  the  match  that  he  desired ; 
So  that  he  found  the  laws  did  not  forbid  it  ? 
I  think,  those  gentler  Ages,  no  man  did  it ! 
In  those  days  therefore,  for  them  to  have  been 
Contracted  without  license,  had  been  sin ! 
Since  there  was  more  good  nature  among  men, 
And  every  one  more  truly  loving  then. 
But  now,  although  we  stand  obliged  still 
To  labour  for  their  liking  and  good  will ; 
There  is  no  Duty,  whereby  they  may  tie  us 
From  aught,  which,  without  reason,  they  deny  us, 
For  I  do  think,  it  is  not  only  meant 
Children  should  ask ;  but  parents  should  consent ! 
And  that  they  err,  their  duty  as  much  breaking 
For  not  consenting,  as  we  for  not  speaking. 
It  is  no  marvel,  many  matches  be 
Concluded,  now,  without  their  privity; 
Since  they,  through  greedy  avarice  misled, 
Their  interest  in  that  have  forfeited. 
For  these,  respectless  of  all  care,  do  marry 
Hot  youthful  May  to  cold  old  January  : 
Those  for  some  greedy  end,  do  basely  tie 
The  sweetest  Fair  to  foul  Deformity  ; 
Forcing  a  love,  from  where  'twas  placed  late. 
To  re-ingraff  it,  where  it  turns  to  hate. 
It  seems  no  cause  of  hindrance  in  their  eyes, 
Though  manners,  nor  affections  sympathise  ! 
And  two  religions,  by  their  rules  of  State, 
They  may  in  one-made  body  tolerate  ! 
As  if  they  did  desire  that  double  stem 
Should  fruitful  bear  but  Neuters,  like  to  them  1 
Alas,  how  many  numbers  of  both  kinds 
By  that,  have  ever  discontented  minds  ! 
And  live,  though  seeming  unto  others  well, 
In  the  next  torments  unto  those  of  hell ! 


196  Fidelia.  [ 


G.  WitVi-r. 
1615. 


How  many  desperate  grown  by  this  their  sin  ; 

Have  both  undone  themselves  and  all  their  kin  ! 

Many  a  one,  v/e  see,  it  makes  to  fall 

With  the  too-late  repenting  Prodigal. 

Thousands,  though  else  by  Nature  gentler  given, 

To  act  the  horridst  murders,  oft,  are  driven  ! 

And  which  is  worse,  there's  many  a  careless  elf, 

(Unless  Heaven  pity  !)  kills  and  damns  himself! 

O  what  hard  heart,  or  what  unpitying  eyes. 

Could  hold  from  tears,  to  see  those  tragedies. 

Parents  (by  their  neglect  in  this)  have  hurled 

Upon  the  Stage  of  this  respectless  world  1 

'Tis  not  one  man,  one  family,  one  kin  ; 

No,  nor  one  country  that  hath  ruined  been 

By  such  their  folly  :  which  the  cause  hath  proved 

That  Foreign  oft,  and  Civil  Wars  were  moved. 

By  such  beginnings,  many  a  city  lies 

Now  in  the  dust,  whose  turrets  braved  the  skies ; 

And  divers  monarchs,  by  such  fortunes  crossed. 

Have  seen  their  kingdoms  fired,  and  spoiled,  and  lost. 

Yet  all  this  while,  thou  seest  !   I  mention  not 
The  ruin,  shame,  that  Chastity  hath  got  ! 
For  'tis  a  task  too  infinite  to  tell 
How  many  thousands,  that  would  have  done  well, 
Do,  by  the  means  of  this,  suffer  desires 
To  kindle  in  their  hearts,  unlawful  fires. 
Nay,  some  in  whose  cold  breast  ne'er  flame  had  been, 
Have,  only  for  mere  vengeance,  fallen  to  sin  ! 

Ahself  have  seen  (and  my  heart  bled  to  see  't) 
A  witless  clown  enjoy  a  match  unmeet. 
She  was  a  Lass,  that  had  a  look  to  move 
The  heart  of  cold  Diogenes  to  love  ! 
Her  eye  was  such,  whose  every  glance  did  know 
To  kindle  flames  upon  the  hills  of  snow  ; 
And  by  her  powerful  piercings  could  imprint, 
Or  sparkle  fire  into  a  heart  of  flint  ! 
And  yet  (unless  I  much  deceived  be) 
In  very  thought,  did  hate  immodesty  ! 
And,  had  she  enjoyed  the  man  she  could  have  loved, 
Might,  to  this  day,  have  lived  unreproved  ! 
But  being  forced,  preforce,  by  seeming  friends  : 


^- ^^■';|,7;;]  Fidelia,  197 

With  her  consent ;  she,  her  contentment  ends  ! 
In  that  compelled,  herself  to  him  she  gave ; 
Whose  bed,  she  rather  could  have  wished  her  grave  ! 
And  since,  I  hear  (what  I  much  fear  is  true  !) 
That  "  she  hath  bidden  Shame  and  Fame,  adieu  !  " 

Such  are  the  causes,  now,  that  parents  quite 
Are  put  beside  much  of  their  ancient  right. 
The  fear  of  this,  makes  children  to  withhold 
From  giving  them  those  dues  which  else  they  would. 
And  those,  thou  seest  !  are  the  too  fruitful  ills, 
Which  daily  spring  from  their  unbridled  wills  ; 
Yet  they,  forsooth,  will  have  it  understood. 
That  all  their  study  is  their  children's  good  ! 
A  seeming  love  shall  cover  all  they  do, 
When  (if  the  matter  were  well  looked  into) 
Their  careful  reach  is  chiefly  to  fulfil 
Their  own  foul,  greedy,  and  insatiate  will  ! 
Who,  quite  forgetting  they  were  ever  young, 
Would  have  their  children  doat,  with  them,  on  dung! 

Grant,  betwixt  two,  there  be  True  Love,  Content ; 
Birth  not  mis-seeming,  Wealth  sufficient, 
Equality  in  years,  an  honest  Fame, 
In  every  side  the  person  without  blame  ; 
And  they  obedient  too  :  what  can  you  gather 
Of  love  or  of  affection  in  that  father, 
That,  but  a  little  to  augment  his  treasure, 
(Perhaps,  no  more  but  only  for  his  pleasure  !) 
Shall  force  his  child  to  one  he  doth  abhor  ? 
From  her  he  loves  and  justly  seeketh  for : 
Compelling  him  (for  such  misfortune  grieveth  !) 
To  die  with  care,  that  might,  with  joy  have  lived  ! 
This,  you  may  say  is  Love  :  and  swear  as  well 
There  are  pains  in  Heaven,  and  delights  in  Hell  ! 
Or  that  the  Devil's  fury  and  austerity. 
Proceeds  out  of  his  care  of  our  prosperity  ! 
Would  parents,  in  this  Age,  have  us  begin 
To  take,  by  their  eyes,  our  affections  in  ? 
Or  do  they  think,  we  bear  them  in  our  fist  ! 
That  we  may  still  remove  them,  as  they  list  ? 
It  is  impossible  it  should  be  thus ! 
For  we  are  ruled  by  Love,  not  Love  by  us  ! 


198  Fidelia.  \!:'-^'''tl 

And  so  our  power  so  much  ne'er  reacheth  to, 
To  know  where  we  shall  love,  until  we  do  ! 
And  when  it  comes,  hide  it  awhile  we  may  ! 
But  'tis  not  in  our  strengths  to  drive  't  away ! 

Either  mine  own  eye  should  my  Chooser  he, 
Or  I  would  ne'er  wear  Hymen's  livery ! 
For  who  is  he,  so  near  my  heart  doth  rest, 
To  know  what  'tis  that  mine  approveth  best  ? 
I  have  myself  beheld  those  men,  whose  frame 
And  outward  personages  had  nought  of  blame, 
They  had  (what  might  their  good  proportion  grace  !) 
The  much  more  moving  part,  a  comely  face  ! 
With  many  of  those  complements,  which  we. 
In  common  men  of  the  best  breeding  see. 
They  had  discourse  and  wit  enough  to  carry 
Themselves  in  fashion,  at  an  Ordinary. 
Gallants  they  were,  loved  company  and  sport. 
Wore  favours,  and  had  mistresses  at  Court  ! 
And,  every  wa)',  were  such  as  they  might  seem  ; 
Worthy  of  note,  respect,  and  much  esteem. 
Yet  hath  my  eye  more  cause  of  liking  seen, 
Where  nought  perhaps  by  some  hath  noted  been  ; 
And  I  have  there  found  more  content,  b}'  far  ! 
Where  some  of  these  perfections  wanting  are. 
Yea,  so  much,  that  their  beauties  were  a  blot 
To  them,  methought !  because  he  had  them  not. 

There  some  peculiar  thing  innated  is, 
That  bears  an  uncontrolled  sway  in  this ! 
And  nothing  but  itself  knows  how  to  tit 
The  mind  with  that  which  best  shall  suit  with  it! 

Then  why  should  parents  thrust  themselves  into 
What,  they  want  warrant  for,  and  power  to  do  ? 
How  is  it  they  are  so  forgetful  grown, 
Of  those  conditions,  that  were  once  their  own  ? 
Do  they  so  doat,  midst  their  wit's  perfection, 
To  think  that  Age  and  Youth  hath  like  aftection  ; 
W'hen  they  do  see,  'mong  those  of  equal  years. 
One  hateth  what  another  most  endears  ? 
Or  do  they  think  their  wisdoms  can  invent 
A  thing  to  give,  that 's  greater  than  Content  ? 
No,  neither  shall  they  wrap  us  in  such  blindness. 


G,  WUli 


l^r;:]  Fidelia.  199 

To  make  us  think,  the  spite  they  do,  a  kindness ! 

For  as  I  would  advise  no  child  to  stray 

From  the  least  duty  that  he  ought  to  pay; 

So  would  I  also  have  him  wisely  know 

How  much  that  duty  is !  that  he  doth  owe  : 

That  knowing  what  doth,  unto  both  belong  ; 

He  may  do  them,  their  right !  himself,  no  wrong! 

For  if  my  parents,  him  I  loathe,  should  choose, 

'Tis  lawful !  yea,  my  duty,  to  refuse  ! 

Else  how  shall  I  lead  so  upright  a  life 

As  is  enjoined  to  the  Man  and  Wife  ? 

Since  that  we  see,  sometimes  there  are  repentings 

F'en  where  there  are  the  most  and  best  contentings ! 

\Vhat  though  that  by  our  parents,  first  we  live; 

Is  not  Life  misery  enough  to  give  I 

Which  at  their  births,  the  children  doth  undo. 

Unless  they  add  some  other  mischief  too  ? 

'Cause  they  gave  Being  to  this  flesh  of  our, 

Must  we  be  therefore  slaves  unto  their  power? 

We  ne'er  desired  it !     For  how  could  we  tell. 

Not  Being,  but  that  Not  to  Be  was  well  I 

Nor  know  they  whom  they  profit  by  it,  seeing 

Happy  were  some  if  they  had  had  no  being  ! 

Indeed,  had  they  produced  us  without  sin  ; 

Had  all  our  duty,  to  have  pleased  them  been  ; 

Of  the  next  life,  could  they  assure  the  state  : 

And  both  beget  us,  and  regenerate ! 

There  were  no  reason  then,  we  should  withstand 

To  undergo  their  tyrannous  command  ! 

In  hope  that,  either  for  our  hard  endurance. 

We  should,  at  last,  have  comfort  in  assurance: 

Or  if,  in  our  endeavours,  we  mis-sped 

At  least  feel  nothing,  when  we  should  be  dead! 

But  what 's  the  reason  for  't,  that  we  shall  be 
Enthralled  so  much  unto  mortality  ? 
Our  souls  on  will  of  any  men,  to  tie 
Unto  an  everlasting  misery  ? 
So  far,  perhaps  so,  from  the  good  of  either : 
We  ruin  them,  ourselves,  and  all  together ! 

Children  owe  much,  I  must  confess  'tis  true  ! 
And  a  great  debt  is  to  the  parents  due. 


J-,  ,     ,  TG.  Wilher. 

200  P  I  D  E  L  I  A  ,  L         16.5. 

Yet  if  they  have  not  so  much  power  to  crave, 

But  in  their  own  defence,  the  lives  they  gave  : 

How  much  less  then,  should  they  become  so  cruel 

As  to  take  from  them,  the  high-prized  jewel 

Of  Liberty  of  Choice,  where  depends 

The  main  contentment  that  the  Heaven  here  lends  ? 

Woit'i  life  or  wealth  !  nay,  far  more  worth  than  either! 

Or  twenty  thousand  lives  all  put  together ! 

Then  howsoever  some,  severer  bent, 
^lay  deem  of  my  opinion  or  intent, 
With  that  which  follows,  thus  conclude  I  do ; 
And  I  have  Reason  for't,  and  Conscience  too  ! 
"  No  parent  may,  his  child's  just  suit  deny, 
On  his  bare  will,  without  a  reason  why  ! 
Nor  he,  so  used,  be  disobedient  thought ! 
If,  unapproved,  he  take  the  Match  he  sought." 

So  then,  if  that  thy  faith  uncrazed  be, 
Thy  friends'  dislike  shall  be  no  stop  to  me  ! 
For  if  their  Will  be  not  of  force  to  do  it : 
They  shall  have  no  cause  else,  to  drive  them  to  it ! 
Let  them  bring  all  forth,  that  they  can  allege ! 
We  are  both  young,  and  of  the  fittest  age  ! 
(If  thou  dissemblest  not)  both  love  !  and  both 
To  admit  hinderance  in  our  loves  were  loth  ! 
'Tis  prejudicial  unto  none  that  live  ; 
And  GOD's  and  human  Law,  our  warrant  give ! 
Nor  are  we  much  unequal  in  degree  ; 
Perhaps,  our  fortunes  somewhat  different  be ! 
But  say,  that  little  means  which  are,  were  not ; 
The  want  of  wealth  may  not  dissolve  this  knot ! 
For  though  some,  such  preposterous  courses  wend, 
Prescribing  to  themselves  no  other  end  ; 
Marriage  was  not  ordained  to  enrich  men  by ! 
Unless  it  were  in  their  posterity  : 
And  he  that  doth  for  other  causes  wed 
Ne'er  knows  the  true  sweets  of  a  marriage  bed  ! 
Nor  shall  he,  by  my  will !     For  'tis  unfit 
Me  should  have  bliss,  that  never  aimed  at  it ! 
Though  that  bewitching  gold,  the  rabble  blinds 
And  is  the  object  of  the  vulgar  minds  : 
Yet  those,  methinks,  that  graced  seem  to  be 


Wither.  "I 
1615.J 


Fidelia,  201 


With  so  much  good,  as  doth  appear  in  thee ! 

Should  scorn  their  better-taught  desires  to  tie 

To  that,  which  Fools  do  get  their  honour  by  1 

I  can  like  of  the  wealth,  I  must  confess  ! 

Yet  more  I  prize  the  Man  !  though  moneyless. 

I  am  not  of  their  humour  yet,  that  can 

For  title  or  estate  affect  a  man ; 

Or  of  myself.  One  Body  deign  to  make 

With  him  I  loathe,  for  his  possessions'  sake ! 

Nor  wish  I  ever  to  have  that  mind  bred 

In  me,  that  is  in  those;  who  when  they  wed, 

Think  it  enough,  they  do  attain  the  grace 

Of  some  new  honour!  to  fare  well !  take  place  ! 

Wear  costly  clothes  !  in  others'  sight  agree  ! 

Or  happy,  in  opinion  seem  to  be ! 

I  weigh  not  this !  for  were  I  sure  before. 
Of  Spencer's  wealth,  or  our  rich  Sutton's  store  ! 
Had  I  therewith  a  man  whom  Nature  lent 
Person  enough  to  give  the  eye  content ! 
If  I  no  outward  due,  nor  right  did  want  ; 
Which  the  best  husbands,  in  appearance,  grant ! 
Nay,  though,  alone,  we  had  no  private  jars; 
But  merry  lived  from  all  domestic  cares ! 
Unless  I  thought  his  nature  so  incline 
That  it  might  also  sympathize  with  mine, 
And  yield  such  correspondence  with  my  mind, 
Our  souls  might  mutually  contentment  find 
By  adding  unto  these  which  went  before 
Some  certain  unexpressed  pleasures  more 
(Such  as  exceed  the  straight  and  curbed  dimensions 
Of  common  minds  and  vulgar  apprehensions)  : 
I  would  not  care  for  such  a  Match !  but  tarry 
In  this  estate  I  am,  and  never  marry  ! 

Such  were  the  sweets,  I  hoped  to  have  possessed. 
When  Fortune  should,  with  thee  have  made  me  blest ! 
My  heart  could  hardly  think  of  that  content. 
To  apprehend  it  without  ravishment ! 
Each  word  of  thine,  methought,  was  to  my  ears 
More  pleasing  than  that  music,  which  the  Spheres 
(They  say)  do  make  the  gods,  when,  in  their  chime, 
Their  motions  diapson  with  the  time. 


202  Fidelia.  [^■^''?,:;: 

In  my  conceit,  the  opening  of  th}'  eye 

Seemed  to  give  light  to  every  object  by, 

And  shed  a  kind  of  life  unto  my  shew 

In  everything  that  was  within  its  view. 

More  joy  I  have  felt,  to  have  thee  but  in  place 

Than  many  do  in  the  most  close  embrace 

Of  their  belovedst  friend  !  which  well  doth  prove 

Not  to  thy  body  only  tends  my  love  : 

But  mounting  a  true  height,  grows  so  divine; 

It  makes  my  soul  to  fall  in  love  with  thine  ! 

And,  sure,  now,  whatsoe'er  thy  body  do, 
Thy  soul  loves  mine,  and  oft  they  visit,  too ! 
For,  late,  I  dreamed  they  went  I  know  not  whither, 
Unless  to  heaven  !  and  there  played  together; 
And  to  this  day,  I  ne'er  could  know  or  see 
'Twixt  them  or  us  the  least  antipathy ! 

Then  what  should  make  thee  keep  thy  person  hence  ! 
Or  leave  to  love  !  or  hold  it  in  suspense  ! 
If  to  offend  thee,  I  unawares  was  driven  ; 
Is  't  such  a  fault  as  may  not  be  forgiven  ? 
Or  if  by  frowns  of  Fate,  I  have  been  checked, 
So  that  I  seem  not  worth  my  first  respect ; 
Shall  I  be  therefore  blamed  and  upbraided 
With  what  could  not  be  holpen  or  avoided  ? 
'Tis  not  my  fault !  yet  'cause  my  Fortunes  do, 
Wilt  thou  be  so  unkind  to  wrong  me  too  ? 
Not  unto  thine,  but  Thee,  I  set  my  heart ! 
So  naught  can  wipe  my  love  out,  while  thou  art ! 
Though  thou  wert  poorer,  both  of  house  and  meat, 
Than  he  that  knows  not  where  to  sleep  or  eat ! 
Though  thou  w^ert  sunk  into  obscurity, 
Become  an  abject  in  the  world's  proud  eye  ! 
Though  by  perverseness  of  thy  Fortune  crost ; 
Thou  wert  deformed,  or  some  limb  hadst  lost ! 
That  Love,  which  Admiration  first  began  ; 
Pity  would  strengthen,  that  it  failed  not ! 
Yea,  I  should  love  thee  still,  and  without  blame. 
As  long  as  thou  couldst  keep  thy  mind  the  same  ! 
Which  is  of  virtues  so  compact  (I  take  it !), 
No  mortal  change  shall  have  the  power  to  shake  it ! 
This  may,  and  will,  I  know,  seem  strange  to  those 


G.  Wither.")  FT    r    r,     r-     r      t     a 

1615.J  -^  I  D  E  L  I  A 


20- 


That  cannot  the  Abyss  of  Love  disclose  ; 

Nor  must  they  think,  whom  but  the  outside  moves, 

Ever  to  apprehend  such  noble  loves  ; 

Or  more  conjecture  their  unsounded  measure, 

Than  can  we  mortals,  of  immortal  pleasure  ! 

Then  let  not  those  dull  unconceiving  brains. 
Who  shall  hereafter  come  to  read  these  strains, 
Suppose  that  no  Love's  fire  can  be  so  great 
Because  it  gives  not  their  cold  clime  such  heat  ! 
Or  think  m'  Invention  could  have  reached  here 
Unto  such  thoughts,  unless  such  Love  there  were ! 
For  then  they  shall  but  shew  their  knowledge  weak ; 
And  injure  me,  that  feel  of  what  I  speak! 


But  now,  my  lines  grow  tedious,  like  my  wrong  ! 
And  as  I  thought  that  thou  think'st  this  too  long  ! 
Or  some  may  deem,  I  thrust  myself  into 
More  than  beseemeth  modesty  to  do  ! 
But  of  the  difference,  I  am  not  unwitting, 
Betwixt  a  peevish  coyness,  and  things  unfitting. 
Nothing  respect  I,  who  pries  o'er  my  doing  ! 
For  here's  no  vain  allurements,  nor  fond  wooing, 
To  train  some  wanton  stranger  to  my  love  ! 
But  with  a  thought  that's  honest,  chaste,  and  pure  ; 
I  make  my  Cause  unto  thy  Conscience  known ; 
Suing  for  that,  which  is,  by  right,  my  own  ! 
In  which  Complaint,  if  thou  do  hap  to  find 
Any  such  word,  as  seems  to  be  unkind, 
Mistake  me  not!   It  but  from  Passion  sprang, 
And  not  from  an  intent  to  do  thee  wrong  ! 
Or  if  among  these  doubts,  my  sad  thoughts  breed, 
Some,  peradventure,  may  be  more  than  need  ; 
They  are  to  let  thee  know  (might  we  dispute !) 
There's  no  objection  but  I  could  refute  ! 
And  spite  of  Envy,  such  defences  make, 
Thou  shouldst  embrace  that  Love  thou  dost  forsake  I 

Then  do  not,  0  forgetful  man  !  now  deem, 
That  'tis  ought  less,  than  I  have  made  it  seem ; 
Or  that  I  am  unto  this  Passion  moved. 
Because  I  cannot  elsev/here  be  beloved  ! 


204  Fidelia,  [^'-  ^^''le;^: 

Or  that  it  is  thy  State  ;  whose  greatness  known, 
Makes  me  become  a  suitor  for  my  own  ! 
Suppose  not  so  !  For  know,  this  day,  there  be 
Some  that  woo  hard  for  what  I  offer  thee  ! 
And  I  have  ever  yet  contented  been, 
With  that  estate  I  first  was  placed  in  ! 

Banish  those  thoughts,  and  turn  thee  to  my  heart ! 
Come  once  again,  and  be  what  once  thou  wert  ! 
Revive  me,  by  those  wonted  joys  repairing,  _ 
That  am  nigh  dead  with  sorrows  and  despairing  ! 
So  shall  the  memory  of  this  Annoy 
But  add  more  sweetness  to  my  future  Joy ! 
Yea,  make  me  think  thou  meanst  not  to  deny  me  ; 
But  only  wert  estranged  thus,  to  try  me  ! 
And  lastly,  for  that  love's  sake  thou  once  bar'st  me  ! 
By  that  right  hand  thou  gav'st  !  that  oath,  thou  swor'st  me! 
By  all  the  Passions  !  and  (if  any  be) 

For  her  dear  sake,  that  makes  thee  injure  me  ! 

I  here  conjure  thee  !  no,  intreat  1  and  sue ! 
That  if  these  lines  do  overreach  thy  view  : 
Thou  wouldst  afford  me  so  much  favour  for  them, 
As  to  accept,  or,  at  least,  not  abhor  them  ! 

So  (though  thou  wholly  cloak  not  thy  disdain) 

I  shall  have  somewhat  the  less  cause  to  'plain 

Or  if  thou  needs  must  scoff  at  this,  or  me  ; 

Do  't  by  thyself!  that  none  may  witness  be. 

Not  that  I  fear  'twill  bring  me  any  blame  ; 

Only  I'm  loth  the  World  should  know  thy  shame  ! 

For  all  that  shall  this  Plaint  with  reason  view, 

Will  judge  me,  faithful  ;  and  thee,  most  untrue  ! 

]5ut  if  Oblivion,  that  thy  love  bereft 

Hath  not  so  much  good  nature  in  thee  left; 

But  that  thou  must,  as  most  of  you  men  do, 

When  you  have  conquered,  tyrannize  it  too  I 

Know  this,  before  !     That  it  is  praise  to  no  mail 

To  wrong  so  frail  a  creature  as  a  woman  ! 

And  to  insult  o'er  one,  so  much  made  thine. 

Will  more  be  to  thy  disparagement  than  mine  ! 


But  O  (I  pra}'  that  it  portend  no  harms!) 


G.  Wither. 


u,Z'~\  Fidelia.  205 

A  cheering  heat,  my  chilled  senses  warms  ! 

Just  now,  I,  flashing  feel  into  my  breast, 

A  sudden  comfort  not  to  be  exprest  ! 

Which,  to  my  thinking,  doth  again  begin 

To  warm  my  heart,  to  let  some  Hope  come  in  ! 

It  tells  me,  "  'Tis  impossible  that  thou 

Shouldst  live,  not  to  be  mine  !  "     It  whispers  how 

Myformer  fears  and  doubts  have  been  in  vain  ! 

And  that  thou  meanest,  yet,  to  return  again. 

It  says,  "  Thy  absence,  from  some  cause  did  grow, 

Which,  or  I  should  not,  or  I  could  not  know  !  " 

It  tells  me,  now,  that  all  those  proofs,  whereby 

I  seemed  assured  of  thy  disloyalty, 

May  be  but  treacherous  plots  of  some  base  foes 

That,  in  thy  absence,  sought  our  overthrows  ! 

Which  if  it  prove  (as  yet,  methinks  it  may  ! ) 
O,  what  a  burden  shall  I  cast  away ! 
What  cares  shall  I  lay  by !  and  to  what  height 
Tower  in  my  new  ascension  to  Delight  ! 
Sure,  ere  the  full  of  it,  I  come  to  try  ; 
I  shall  e'en  surfeit  in  my  joy,  and  die  ! 
But  such  a  Loss  might  well  be  called  a  Thriving, 
Since  more  is  got  by  dying  so,  than  living  ! 

Come,  kill  me  then,  my  Dear !  if  thou  think  fit ! 
With  that  which  never  killed  woman  yet  1 
Or  write  to  me  before,  so  shalt  thou  give 
Content  more  moderate,  that  I  may  live  ! 
And  when  I  see  my  Staff  of  Trust  unbroken, 
I  will  unspeak  again  what  was  mis-spoken  ! 
What  I  have  written  in  dispraise  of  men  ; 
I  will  recant,  and  praise  as  much  again  ! 
In  recompense,  I'll  add  unto  their  stories, 
Encomiastic  lines  to  imp  their  glories  ! 
And  for  those  wrongs,  my  Love  to  thee  hath  done, 
Both  I  and  it,  unto  thy  Pity  run  ! 
In  whom,  if  the  least  guilt  thou  find  to  be; 
For  ever  let  thy  arms  imprison  me  ! 

Meanwhile,  I'll  try  if  Misery  will  spare 
Me  so  much  respite,  to  take  truce  with  Care ! 
And  patiently  await  the  doubtful  doom  ; 
Which  I  expect  from  thee,  should  shortly  come  ! 


2o6  Fidelia.  [^-^'.t^^: 

Much  longing  that  I,  one  way,  may  be  sped  ; 

And  not  still  linger  'twixt  alive  and  dead  1 

For  I  can  neither  live  yet,  as  I  should  ; 

Because  I  least  enjoy  of  that  I  would  ! 

Nor  quiet  die,  because,  indeed,  I  first 

Would  see  some  better  days,  or  know  the  worst  !' 

Then  hasten,  Dear  !  if  to  my  end  it  be  ! 
It  shall  be  welcome,  'cause  it  comes  from  thee ! 
If  to  renew  my  Comfort,  aught  be  sent ; 
Let  me  not  lose  a  minute  of  Content ! 
The  precious  Time  is  short,  and  will  away ! 
Let  us  enjoy  each  other  while  we  may  ! 
Cares  thrive  !  Age  creepeth  on  !  Men  are  but  shades  ! 
Joys  lessen  !  Youth  decays  !  and  Beauty  fades  ! 
New  turns  come  on,  the  old  returneth  never  ! 
If  we  let  ours  go  past,  'tis  past  for  ever  ! 


Then  follows  the  original  text  of  Shall  I  ivnsthig  in  despair  :  of  which 
we  have  given  two  versions  in  Vol.  IV./ip.  454,  577. 


G.  Wither 


ther.n 
1615J 


A    Palinode. 


207 


Inter  Equitandum 
Palmodium, 

Y   Genius  !    say,    "  What  Thoughts,  these 
pantings  move  ?  " 

"  Thy  Thoughts  of  Love  !  " 
"  What    Flames  are   these,   that   set    my 
heart  on  fire  ?  " 

"  Flames  of  Desire  !  " 
"  What  are  the  Means,  that  these  two  underprop  ?  " 

*'  Thy  earnest  Hope  !  " 
Then  yet  Fm  happy  in  my  sweet  Friend's  choice  ! 
For  they  in  depth  of  Passion  may  rejoice, 
Whose  Thoughts  and  Flames  and  Means  have  such  blest  scope, 
They  may,  at  once,  both  Love,  Despair,  and  Hope  ! 


But  tell,  "  What  Fruit  at  last,  my  Love  shall  gain  ?  " 

"  Hidden  Disdain  !  " 

"  What  will  that  Hope  prove,  which  yet  Faith  keeps  fair  ? " 

"  Hopeless  Despair  !  " 

"  What  End  will  run  my  Passions,  out  of  breath  ?  " 

*'  Untimely  Death  !  " 

O  me  !  that  Passion  joined  with  Faith  and  Love 

Should  with  my  Fortunes  so  ungracious  prove  ; 

That  She'll  no  Fruit,  nor  Hope,  nor  End  bequeath, 

But  cruellest  Disdain,  Despair,  and  Death  ! 


208 


A    Palinode. 


re.  Wither. 

L  1615. 


"  To  what  new  Study  shall  I  now  apply  ?  " 

"  Study  to  Die  !  " 
"  How  might  I  end  my  Care,  and  die  content  ?  " 

"  Care  to  Repent !  " 
"And  what  good  Thoughts  may  make  my  End  more  holy?  " 

"  Think  on  thy  Folly  !  " 
Vv-'ell,  so  I  will !  and  since  my  Fate  may  give 
Nothing  but  discontents  whilst  here  I  live  ; 
My  Studies,  Cares,  and  Thoughts,  Fll  all  apply 
To  weigh  my  Folly  well,  Repent,  and  Die  ! 

FINIS. 


LEATHER: 

yl  Discourse 

tendered  to  the  Hish  Court 

of  Parliament, 


of\ 


I  The  general  Use  of  heather ^ 
The  general  Abuse  thereof^ 
The  good  which  may  arise  to  Great  Britain, 
from   the    reformation. 
The  several  Statutes  made  in  that  behalf,  by 
our  ancient  Kings : 


And,  lastly,  a  Petition  to  the  High  Court  of  Par  Ha- 
ment,  that,  out  of  their  pious  care  to  their  country,  they 
would  be  pleased  to  take  into  consideration  the  redress  of 
all  old  abuses  ;  and  by  adding  some  remedies  of  their  own, 
to  cut  of  the  new. 


.vjit. 


LONDON, 

Printed  by  T.  C.  for  Michael  Sparke,  dwelling  at  the 
sign  of  the  Blue  Bible^  in  Green  Arbor.      1629. 


Eng.  Gar.  VI.  14 


2IO 


The    Contents    of   this    Discourse. 


Irst,  a  Proem,  or  Induction  to  it. 

Secondly,  a  Comparison  made  between  the  commo- 
dities of  other  countries,  and  this  of  our  own ;  and 
then  is  shewed  the  general  use  of  Leather. 
Thirdly,  are  laid  open  several  abuses  offered  to  England,  by 
transporting  her  leather  into  foreign  kingdoms. 

Fourthly,  is  delivered,  what  profit  to  the  King,  and  what  good 
to  the  Siibject  shall  arise  by  a  due  reformation  of  the  abuses. 

Fifthly,  are  brought  in  several  Statutes  made  by  our  ancient 
Kings,  and  pleading  in  tliat  behalf. 

Sixthly  and  lastly,  a  Petition  to  the  High  Court  of  Parliament, 
that  they  would  be  pleased  to  look  upon  their  country,  and  cure  her 
of  these  enormities. 


1 1 


A  Discourse  concerning  Leather^ 

tendered  to  the  High  Court  of  Parhament, 

Ingdoms  are  Palaces  built  by  the  great  Architect 
of  the  world,  for  Monarchs  to  dwell  in  !  Nations, 
the  Courtiers  !  every  common  subject,  an  Officer 
attending  there  upon  his  Sovereign  !  The  higher 
men  are  seated,  the  broader  and  stronger  ought 
their  shoulders  to  be,  in  supportation  of  that  State  which 
they  are  to  bear  up ;  whilst  the  hard-hand  artificer  and 
poorest  mechanic  are  parts  and  pieces  of  that  scaffolding 
which  serves  to  strengthen  the  glory  of  so  magnificent  a 
structure.  For  though  Kings  are  the  Master  Bees  in  their 
full  and  swelling  hives  ;  subjects  may  well  be  called  minores 
apes,  which  fly  every  day  to  bring  home  the  honey. 

And  albeit  the  earth  be  the  proper  and  main  foundations 
of  these  kingdoms  :  yet  the  best  and  soundest  timber  to  raise 
up  buildings,  the  most  curious  adornings,  beautifyings,  and 
embellishings  of  them,  when  they  are  up,  yea,  even  at  the 
erecting  of  the  first  story,  are  wise,  profound,  politic,  and 
wholesome  Laws. 

Without  Laws,  all  nations  are  lame,  and  Sovereignty  itself 
walks  upon  crutches  ;  Authority  lies  sick  of  a  consumption  : 
and  none  (at  such  times)  have  able  bodies,  but  Insolence, 
and  the  rage  of  the  harrowing  multitude.  The  beast  with 
many  heads  will  then  be  head  of  all  !  and  when  such  a 
head  is  distracted,  how  can  the  limbs  be  but  laid  upon  the 
rack,  and  torn  to  pieces ! 

It  hath  ever,  therefore,  been  a  custom  in  all  countries, 
especially  in  this  of  ours,  to  invent,  enact,  and  establish  good 
Ordinances  and  Statutes,  to  serve  to  two  uses  :  one  as  a 
snaffle,  to  be  thrust  into  the  mouths  of  the  headstrong ;  the 
other,  as  a  sevenfold  shield  to  protect  the  obedient. 

Yet,  as  there  can  be  no  concord  in  music  without  discord, 
as  the  best-working  medicines  are  tempered  with  poison,  as 
the  noblest  and  clearest  rivers  have  by-ways,  creeks,  and 
crooked  windings :  so  there  are  no  stratagems  projected, 
how  beneficial  soever  to  a  kingdom,  but  some  busy-pated 
and  malevolent  spirits  are  raised  out  of  hell,  by  sorcerous 


2  12     Look  ijack  upon  the  reigns  of  our  Kings!    \J^^^ 

charms,  to  cross  and  countermine  it.  Hence  it  comes,  that 
if  the  whole  race  of  man  should  study  how  to  steer  the  helm 
of  a  commonwealth,  hy  a  strong  and  steady  hand  ;  yet  whirl- 
winds will  be  raised  on  shore,  and  tempests  hurl  down  their 
malice  in  thunder  and  lightning  at  sea,  to  shipwreck  the 
industry,  courage,  and  knowledge  of  those  excellent  pi'">ts. 

Let  Law  be  never  so  sweetly  strung  ;  there  are  meddling, 
spiteful  singers,  which  can  put  it  out  of  tune.  Abuses  even 
of  the  best  things,  grow  apace,  and  spread  their  branches 
over  the  largest  dominions  :  but  amendments  can  hardly  take 
rooting  in  the  narrowest  cities. 

Look  back  upon  the  reigns  of  our  ancient  Kings,  upon  the 
honourable  Courts  of  Parliament  holden  in  their  ages,  upon 
the  wisdom,  judgement,  counsel,  gravity,  and  sincerity  of  both 
Houses,  Upper  and  Lower,  then  assembled;  upon  the  Laws, 
the  excellent  Laws  !  those  men  made  ;  and  upon  the  care, 
deliberation,  and  serious  resolution  they  took,  in  the  con- 
stitution, comprising,  and  composing  of  those  Laws  :  yet 
what  statutes,  how  strongly  soever  knit  then  together,  but  by 
the  paws  of  Lions  (great  men)  have  been  since  rent  in  sunder, 
mangled,  and  misused  ;  or  by  the  subtilty  of  Foxes  (blood- 
suckers of  States)  have  had  holes  eaten  into  them,  and  been 
broken  through,  as  if  they  had  been  the  cobweb  lawn  of  spiders. 

The  same  infection  reigns  now  !  Corruption  of  goodness 
will  never  die  !  Enormities,  once  crept  into  Kingdoms,  sure, 
are  whole-breasted  monsters  ;  and  it  is  long  ere  their  hearts 
will  break  !  The  sweetest  sprigs  are  nipped  in  the  blossom  ; 
the  fairest  trees,  eaten  by  caterpillars  ;  and  the  noblest  land 
hath  her  bowels  gnawn  out  by  vipers  of  her  own  breeding. 

W'ho  are  those  vipers  ?  Men,  evil-minded  men  !  that  care 
not,  so  their  own  turns  be  served,  what  laws  they  subvert  ! 
what  statutes  they  infringe !  what  customs  they  violate  ! 
what  Orders  they  break  !  on  what  sacred  urns  of  our  English 
Kings,  they  commit  sacrilege  !  by  stealing  from  them  the 
reverence  due  to  their  names  for  calling  honourable  Parlia- 
ments, Councils,  and  Consultations  together,  how  to  preserve 
in  health  this  royal  Kingdom  ;  and  if  any  bi-disorders  and 
misdemeanours  should  strike  her  sick,  how  to  cure  her. 
I  leave  the  main  ocean  to  expert  navigators ;  it  is  only  a 
poor  rivulet,  that  I  crave  pardon  to  row  in  ;  and  thus  it  runs, 
The  general  Use  of  Leather. 


213 


u^ 


The   general   Use   of  Leather. 

He  heavenly  Distributor  of  blessings  hath 
with  so  excellent  a  moderation  and  judge- 
ment parted  [shared]  them  among  nations, 
that  what  one  abounds  in,  the  other  wants  ; 
or,  if  any  one  hath  share  in  her  neighbour's 
benefits,  it  is  not  a  superfluous  heap,  but  a 
husbandly  and  sparing  handful  :  so  that 
the  world  is  the  great  Vine,  and  every 
Kingdom  a  Prop  to  support  the  branches,  and  make  them 
flourish. 

Here  will  I  spread  the  table !  and  on  it,  plant  some  of  the 
dishes  belonging  to  this  banquet. 

The  West  Indies  open  their  womb,  and  are  delivered  of 
their  golden  ingots.  These  are  the  King  of  Spain's  best  sons  ; 
whom  he  sends  foith,  to  fight  against,  and  conquer  (if  he  can) 
all  Christendom. 

Other  countries  on  the  American  shore  have  their  peculiar 
endowments.  Some  boast  of  their  several  grained  woods, 
accommodable  to  rare  and  extraordinary  excellent  uses  ;  some, 
of  tobacco  ;  some,  of  fishing  :  all  can  speak  of  their  own  par- 
ticular rarities  ;  and  all  are  profitable  and  useful  amongst 
countries  far  remote  from  them. 

Let  us  come  nearer  home,  and  look  into  our  next  neigh- 
bours' orchards,  walks,  and  delicate  gardens. 

Spain  is  proud  of  her  fat  wines  ;  her  oils,  iron,  hides  :  and 
her  golden  apples  of  the  Hesperides.  France  glories  in  her 
vineyards,  her  saltpits,  and  marble  quarries.  Germany,  of  her 
seventeen  rich  and  warlike  daughters,  sitting  enthroned,  with 
the  abundance  of  all  things  about  them.     Russia  lays  before 


2  14  Unmatchable  goodness  of  English  Leather,  [^g-^, 

you  the  costly  furs  and  the  rich  skins  of  beasts.  The  Eastern 
tountries  [Baltic  seashore]  are  happy  in  their  masts,  cables, 
flax,  hemp,  rosin,  pitch,  tar,  turpentine,  &c. 

And  this,  the  Almighty  Benefactor  does,  to  the  intent,  with 
a  maims  manum  fricat,  the  fire  of  one  country  should  thaw  the 
ice  of  another;  the  fulness  of  one  supply  the  other's  empti- 
ness ;  and  so  be  ever  mindful  of  the  good  turns  received,  with 
a  study  of  the  requital  Qucb  milti  prccstiteris  meniini,  seuiperque 
tcnebo.  So  that,  by  this  means,  they  being  severally  beholden 
to  foreigners  and  strangers  unknown,  may  love  one  together, 
though  living  never  so  far  asunder,  like  united  friends,  allies, 
and  neighbours. 

This  participation  of  the  fruits  and  commodities  which  one 
land  suffers  to  be  made  with  another,  opens  a  free  market  for 
all  commerce.  It  is  a  noble  mart,  to  which  the  Christian 
and  Turk  are  invited  alike.  This  is  the  golden  Chain  of  Traffic 
and  Negotiation,  which  doth  concatenare  (tie)  merchants  of  far 
separated  countries  so  fast  together,  as  if  they  dwelt  in  their 
own.  This  increases  shipping,  advances  the  trade  of  fish- 
ing, nurseth  up  mariners,  and  makes  us  as  familiar  inhabi- 
tants and  tenants  of  the  sea,  as  the  farmer  and  the  husband- 
man are  to  the  land. 

And  as  these  forenamed  Kingdoms  have  their  royal  maga- 
zines and  storehouses;  so  hath  England  hers.  Eor  when  she 
unlocks  her  treasury,  there  you  may  behold  mines  of  tin,  lead, 
and  iron.  What  Kingdom  in  the  world  hath  goodlier  and 
greater  cattle,  to  feed  man,  and  do  him  service  ?  And  where 
nobler  pasture  than  here,  to  fatten  beasts  ?  Where,  larger 
sheep?  where  fo.ks  so  numerous  ?  where  better  and  more 
useful  wool  ?  What  fields  can  please  the  eye  for  grass ;  or 
fill  the  barns  with  hea\ier  sheaves  of  corn  ?  Where  sit  any 
people  by  warmer  fires  ?  our  sea  coalpits  being  able,  if  not 
abused,  to  furnish  the  whole  island,  and  lend  fuel  to  neighbour- 
ing nations. 

And  yet,  if  truly  you  cast  up  the  accounts  of  all  those  rich 
merchandises  in  foreign  kingdoms,  and  balance  them  with 
these  of  our  own;  you  shall  find  that  not  one  of  them  all, 
either  abroad  or  at  'home,  are  able  for  common  use,  extraor- 
dinar}'  employment,  enforced  necessity,  unrateable  value,  and 
unmatchable  goodness,  to  compare  with  our  English 
Leather. 


.^y  Its  necessity  to  all  classes  of  people.  215 

We  can  live  without  the  gold  of  Peru,  the  trees  of  Brazil, 
the  smoke  of  Virginia,  and  the  whales  of  Newfoundland. 
What  need  have  we  of  the  hot  Spanish,  or  cool  French  grape  ? 
Without  Russia's  furs,  we  have  cloth  of  our  own  to  keep  us 
warm,  and  to  make  robes  to  adorn  our  Princes.  But  can 
our  Kingdom  want  that  excellent,  useful,  and  commendable 
commodity  of  her  own  English  Leather  ? 

We  have  amongst  us,  a  kind  of  humble,  though  sometimes 
complimentally  cogging,  proverbial  speech  ;  when,  to  shew 
how  well  we  wish  to  a  man  or  woman,  we  say,  "  I  would  lay 
my  hands  under  his  feet,  to  do  him  good  !  "  What  submission 
can  be  greater  !  What  free  expression  of  love,  duty,  and  ser- 
vice 1  Now  if  Leather  were  able  to  do  no  more  but  this  ;  to 
lay  itself  under  our  feet,  were  it  not  sufficient  ? 

If  no  use  could  be  made  of  Leather,  but  out  of  it  only  to  cut 
and  fashion  boots  and  shoes;  what  a  universal  benefit  were 
this  to  our  country  !  It  reaches  from  the  King  downwards  to 
his  meanest  vassals  ;  and  ascends  from  the  common  subject, 
up  to  the  Prince  and  Nobleman. 

Suppose  we  had  no  Leather,  either  of  our  own  or  from  any 
other  nation!  and  that,  then  necessity  compelled  us  to  travail 
hard  for  some  new  invention  to  preserve  our  feet  from  the 
ground  :  what  could  the  brain  of  man  hnd  out  for  the  foot  and 
leg,  so  fit,  so  pliant,  so  comely  to  the  eye,  so  curious  in  the 
wearing,  so  lasting,  and  so  contemning  all  sorts  of  weather,  as 
this  treasure  of  the  Shoemaker? 

In  times  of  peace,  how  many  thousand  employments  have 
we  for  Leather  ?  In  times  of  war,  are  there  not  as  many  ? 
WHiat  can  W^ar  perform  without  it  ?  and  what  not  undergo, 
having  the  free  use  of  it  ? 

All  our  ancient  English  Kings,  all  our  former  Parliaments, 
all  the  Nobility,  Clergy,  Judges,  and  the  learned  Wits  of  the 
land  would  never  have  enacted  so  many,  so  severe,  and  such 
politic  laws  to  bar  the  transportation  of  English  Leather  into 
any  foreign  dominions :  but  that  they  well  knew,  how  bene- 
ficial a  commodity  it  was  to  their  own  kingdom,  being  kept 
at  home;  and  how  prejudicial  it  would  prove  to  the  State,  if 
ever  it  were  suffered  to  be  consumed  abroad. 

How  many  millions,  wdthin  the  bounds  of  this  little  island, 
of  men,  women,  and  children,  eat  their  bread  by  the  sweat  of 
their  labour ;  who  deal  only,  in  this  leathern  commodity  ? 


2i6   The  Trades  making  use  of  Leather.    [lel/. 

There  is  no  City  in  England,  no  Corporation,  but  have  hands 
working  in  this  Tan  Vat.  The  Kingdom  is  by  their  industry 
generally  furnished  :  and  how  London  thrives  by  them,  wit- 
ness our  Fairs !  by  the  cartloads  of  leather  brought  into 
Leadenhall,  Smithfield,  and  other  places;  and  all  bought  up 
within  three  days  at  most ! 

How  many  masters,  besides  menservants,  in  and  about  this 
honourable  and  populous  City,  would  be  enforced  to  leave 
London,  and  lose  their  freedoms,  or  else  run  into  base  and 
desperate  courses,  should  they  give  over  their  trading  in 
leather  !  How  many  professions  were  undone,  wanting  the 
use  of  it !  How  many  rich  households  would  be  shut  up,  as 
in  a  time  of  sickness  [plague]  !  and  though  the  persons  might 
happily  [haply]  not  be  missed  ;  yet  their  labours  would  ! 

How  many  occupations  and  manual  trades  must  be  left- 
handed  and  go  lame,  if  Leather,  which  is  the  staff  they  partly 
lean  upon,  be  taken  from  them  ? 

Take  a  survey  of  these  few :  et  ah  uno  discc  omnes. 

Shoemakers,  and  \  get  their  maintenance   only  by 
Curriers  j    Leather. 

These  trades  might  want  work,  were  it  not  for  Leather. 


Book  binders. 
Saddlers. 
Upholsterers. 
Budget  makers. 
Trunk  makers. 
Belt  makers. 
Case  makers. 
Wool-card  makers. 


Sheath  makers. 

Hau-k's-Jiood  makers. 

Scabbard  makers. 

Box  makers. 

Cabinet  makers. 

Bottle  and  Jack  makers. 

Girdlers. 

Glovers. 


And  now,  within  the  compass  of  a  few  years,  those  upstart 
trades 

Coach  makers,  and 

Harness  makers  for  Coach  horses. 

And  let  thus  much,  being  but  little  in  words,  though 
enough  in  substance,  serve  to  prove  the  general  and  neces- 
sary Use  of  Leather. 

Now,  to  the  Abuse. 


217 


Of  the  Abuses  of  Leather, 


S  DARKNESS  shoves  away  light,  and  as  the 
best  working  physic  hath  poison  in  it  :  so 
the  most  wholesome  laws  may  be  perverted, 
corrupted,  confounded,  and  condemned;  as 
purest  waters  grow  thick  by  being  troubled, 
Sithence  then,  that  these  few  following 
AcUy  established  by  all  the  wisdom,  care, 
and  providence  of  former  times,  and  serv- 
ing but  as  a  taste  to  a  thousand  more,  stand  up  as  proofs 
that  the  goodliest  buildings  may  be  undermined  and  blown 
up  :  it  is  no  marvel,  if  this  weak  one  and  poor  one  of  Leather 
be  likewise  shaken,  and  in  danger  to  be  confounded. 

The  Use  of  Leather  hath  his  place  before.  Now,  do  but 
cast  your  eyes  on  this  other  side,  and  behold  what  Abuses 
do  attend  upon  it  ! 

They  are  not  many ;  yet  able  enough  to  do  much  mischief. 
Is  it  not  strange  that  our  Kingdom  being  as  plentifully 
stored  with  leather  as  any  one  part  of  the  world,  there 
should  here,  notwithstanding,  be  a  dearth  of  leather?  Are 
not  boots  and  shoes  (which  every  man,  woman,  and  child 
must,  of  necessity,  have)  sold  at  extreme,  unusual,  and 
intolerable  prices?  insomuch  that  the  rich  complain  of  the 
excessive  dearness,  and  the  poor  cannot  reach  to  the  honour 
of  a  new  pair.     How  comes  this  to  pass  ? 

Doth  the  Abuse  spring  from  transportation  of  our  leather 
into  foreign  countries  ?  which  hath,  in  all  our  Kings'  reigns, 
as  shall  be  shewn  hereafter,  been  forbidden ;  and  is  still 
forbidden !  Yet  what  cannot  golden  hooks  pluck  away  from  us  ? 
to  serve  strangers  beyond  the  seas  ;  yea,  our  greatest  enemies. 


21 8   S'OOO  Coaches  in  London  &  Westminster.   [2^^ 

This,  if  it  be  true  (as  it  is  to  be  feared),  is  a  great  Abuse. 
But  is  not  our  wanton  and  prodigal  expense  of  it  at  home, 
as  great  an  Abuse,  or  greater  than  the  former?  I  believe 
any  man  may  say  so,  when  he  doth  but  look  upon  our  infinite 
number  of  coaches !  What  prodigal  spending  of  leather  is 
there  made,  in  covering  but  one  coach,  and  cutting  out  the 
harness  for  it !  and  this  leather  is  not  the  meanest  sort  or 
worst;  but  the  principal  and  strongest,  which  might,  otherwise, 
serve  both  for  Sooling  [soling]  Leather  and  Upper  Leather. 

It  is  thought,  and  it  is  easy  to  be  known,  that  in  London 
and  Westminster  and  the  parts  adjoining,  are  maintained 
at  least  5,000  coaches  and  caroches;  to  the  furnishing  of 
which  throughout  with  leather,  are  consumed  5,000  hides  of 
leather. 

And  if  these  two  places  only,  spoil  so  much  what  doth  the 
whole  kingdom  ?  sithence  Pride  leaps  into  her  chariot  in  every 
Shire,  Town,  and  City  ? 

Every  private  Gentleman  now  is  a  Phzeton,  and  must 
hurry  with  his  thundering  caroch  along  the  streets,  as  that 
proud  boy. 

Or,  if  this  be  not  a  wasting,  decaying  and  abuse  of  leather  ; 
what  shall  we  think  of  the  prodigality  of  our  legs  and  feet  ? 
what  over  lavish  spending  of  leather  is  there,  in  boots  and 
shoes !  To  either  of  which,  is  now  added  a  French  proud 
superfluity  of  Galloshes  1 

The  wearing  of  Boots  is  not  the  abuse  ;  but  the  generality 
of  wearing,  and  the  manner  of  cutting  boots  out  with  huge, 
slovenly,  unmannerly,  and  immoderate  tops! 

For  the  general  walking  in  Boots,  it  is  a  pride  taken  up  by 
the  Courtier,  and  is  descended  down  to  the  clown.  The 
merchant  and  the  mechanic  walk  in  boots!  Many  of  our 
Clergy,  either  in  neat  boots,  or  shoes  and  galloshes  !  Uni- 
versity scholars  maintain  the  fashion  likewise.  Some 
citizens,  out  of  a  scorn  not  to  be  gentile  [genteel],  go,  every 
day,  booted  !  Attorneys,  lawyers'  clerks,  serving-men,  all 
sorts  of  men  delight  in  this  wasteful  wantonness  ! 

Wasteful,  I  may  well  call  it!  for  one  pair  of  boots  eats  up 
the  leather  of  six  pair  of  reasonable  men's  shoes  ! 

How  many  thousand  pairs  of  boots  are  worn  in  London 

and  Westminster,  every  year  !     They  cannot  be  numbered  ! 

But  if    there    were  but    1,000  pairs  worn:  in  them    are 


J.J  A  PAIR  OF  Boots  equal  to  6  tair  of  Shoes.    219 

consumed  6,000  pairs  of  shoes,  the  soles  only  excepted ;  for 
it  is  meant  only  6,000  upper  leathers. 

Is  not  this,think  you  !  an  excessive  devouring,  and  anexceed- 
ing  abuse  of  leather  ?   If  this  be  not,  I  know  not  what  can  be  ! 

Besides,  how  many  several  new  pairs  of  boots  doth  some 
one  man  lavishly  wear  out  in  one  year  ? 

If  these  things,  these  abuses,  were  not ;  the  poor  might  go 
as  well  shod  as  the  rich,  and  leather  would  be  sold  at  a 
reasonable  rate :  which  now  carries  a  higher  price,  than  ever 
was  known  in  England. 


220 


Abuses  of  Leather  Markets, 

0  THESE  abuses  of  leather,  add  the  abuses  of  markets 
where  hides  and  leather  are  sold  ! 

And  to  avoid  the  nomination  of  too  man}'  places, 
for  these  disorders  spread  all  over  the  kingdom,  let 
Leadenhall  only  be  pricked  down  !  for  the  circle 
and  centre,  in  which  all  these  devilish  abuses  are  conjured  up. 
Of  which,  this  is  the  main  one,  viz.  : 

The  market  is  full  of  excellent  leather,  strong  backs  and 
good  upper  leathers  ;  all  this  in  the  morning,  lies  unsealed. 
Then  into  the  market  enter  a  crew  of  ancient,  careful,  good 
men,  (ancient  in  villainy!  careful  to  get  wealth!  but  not 
caring  whom  to  undo  !  good  to  themselves,  but  bad  members 
to  a  commonwealth  !)  citizens  by  title,  Cordwainers  or  Shoe- 
makers by  profession. 

And  these  are  not  above  eight  or  ten  in  number  ;  rich  in 
purse,  poor  in  conscience  !  full  of  gold,  empty  of  goodness  I 
These  eight  or  ten  (no  matter  what  their  number  is,  so  they 
were  honest  !)  stalk  severally  up  and  down  the  market,  and 
spying  where  the  heaps  of  best  leathers  are,  a  price  is  beaten 
in  the  tanner's  ear ;  but  the  closing  up  of  the  bargain  must 
be  at  the  tavern  :  where  they  and  the  tanners  meet,  have  a 
breakfast  of  30s.  or  40s,  {  =  £0  or  —£%  now\  which  the  tanner 
or  they  easily  discharge  ;  and  there,  the  leather  is  bought, 
before  it  be  sealed  !  which  ought  not  to  be. 

But  then,  a  Sealer  is  sent  for,  a  crown  [6s.]  clapped  into 
his  hand  (where  not  Half  is  his  due)  to  go  and  despatch  : 
which  being  done,  every  shoemaker  comes  in,  and  seeing  it 
sealed,  cheapens,  but  cannot  buy  ! 

"  It  is  sold,"  they  say,  "  already."  And  so,  on  a  sudden, 
all  is  swept  away  to  the  warehouses  or  cellars  of  these  un- 
conscionable engrossers. 

So  that  if  a  shoemaker  that  brings  but  ;^4  or  £^  [£i6  or 
£20  now\  to  the  market  (his  estate  happily  reaching  no 
higher),  is  enforced  to  buy  leather  of  these  cormorants,  at 
such  rates  as  they  please  to  set  them. 


j637.]  The  abuses  of  the  Leather  markets.  221 

The  hurts  done  by  these  men  are  many  ;  and  whole  famiHes 
smart  and  want  through  their  greediness.  Yet  the  mischief 
they  do,  comes  not  alone :  for  here  another  abuse  follows. 

The  poorer  sort  of  tanners  ;  they,  seeing  the  market  swept 
of  all  the  best  leather,  hold  up  their  worst  hides  at  as  dear  a 
rate  as  the  best  were  paid  for  :  and  so,  the  said  shoemaker 
is  glad  to  buy  ill  ware,  and  pay  dear  for  it  too  !  or  else  go 
home  and  do  nothing. 

Another  abuse  is,  that  every  week  are  bought  and  carried 
away  from  the  market  300  or  400  raw  hides  at  the  least  ; 
which  being  conveyed  in  carts  to  certain  ends  of  the  town, 
are  there  first  dried  and  then  salted ;  and  then  sent  into 
several  counties  to  be  tanned  :  but  are  never  again  brought 
into  London.  By  which  means,  the  market  of  the  City  is 
cheated  of  much  good  ware  in  a  year;  and  the  tradesmen 
thereby  hindered,  if  not  undone. 


The  good  that  may  arise  by  Reformation 
of  these  Abuses. 

[F  IT  would  please  the  High  Court  of  Parliament  to 
take  into  consideration,  a  redress  of  these  wrongs, 
disorders,  and  abuses  ;  by  restraining  the  prodigal 
wasting  of  Leather, 

1.  The  prices  of  boots  and  shoes  would,  in  a  very  short 
time  be  abated. 

2.  Our  country  would  be  abundantly  furnished  with  this 
beneficial  and  needful  commodity. 

3.  The  knitting  of  worsted  and  woollen  stockings,  now  much 
decayed  throughout  the  whole  kingdom,  [would  be] 
greatly  put  in  practice. 

4.  An  infinite  number  of  poor  children,  which  now  go 
begging  up  and  down,  fwouldj  be  set  at  work. 

5.  Tradesmen  and  shopkeepers  in  all  our  cities,  [would] 
have  quicker  doings. 


222  Probable  benefits  from  a  Reformation.  [,^'7. 

6.  The  ancient  Company  of  Hosiers  (who,  in  former  times, 
lived  richly,  by  cutting  out  Kerseys  into  Cloth  Stockings^; 
but  are  now  utterly  in  a  manner,  extinguished)  might 
be  set  up  again  :  to  the  good  and  maintenance  of  many 
hundreds  of  families  ;  who  might  be  set  at  work,  only 
to  serve  their  shops  with  those  kinds  of  wares. 

7.  And,  lastly,  by  this  means,  our  own  country  commo- 
dities might  be  kept  at  home  in  full  abundance  :  whereas, 
now,  they  are  conveyed  away  into  other  Kingdoms  to 
furnish  them,  whilst  we  feel  the  scarcity. 

If  the  Masters  and  Wardens  of  the  Companies  of  Saddlers, 
Cordwainers,  and  Curriers  might  be  examined,  what  they 
know  touching  these  abuses,  how  they  come  ?  and  from 
whom  ?  and  by  what  ways  these  mischiefs  may  be  prevented  ? 
no  question  is  to  be  made,  but  an  easy  path  might  be  beaten 
out,  to  do  a  general  good  to  our  nation  ;  because  they  are 
men  better  informed  in  these  mysteries  than  any  others. 


223 


The    Statutes    enacted    in    several    Kings' 


Anno.  27 
Hen.  8, 
cap.  14. 


reigns,   touching  Leather. 

0  MANNER  of  Estranger  or  Denizen  shall 
pack,  or  cause  to  be  packed,  any  manner  of 
Leather,  to  be  conveyed  over  the  seas  out  of 
this  Realm,  Wales,  or  other  the  King's 
Dominions ;  otherivise  than  in  this  Act  is 
expressed,  that  is  to  say,  that  all  such  Leather  shall  be  here- 
after packed  by  a  Packer  sworn  in  every  such  port,  where 
any  leather  shall  be  shipped  to  be  conveyed  out  of  this 
Realm,  Wales,  or  other  the  King's  Dominions,  upon  pain  of 
forfeiture  of  all  such  leather,  &c. 

No  tanner  within  this  Realm,  Wales,  or  other  the  King's 
Dominions,  or  other  persons  occupying  or  having  a  tan  house, 
shall  from  henceforth  send,  or  cause  to  be  conveyed  over  the  sea,  by 
way  of  merchandise  or  otherwise,  any  manner  of  leather,  tanned  or 
untanned  :  upon  pain  of  forfeiture  of  all  such  leather,  or  the  value 
thereof. 

Nor  that  any  person  or  persons,  at  any  time  hereafter,  shall 
carry  over  the  sea  out  of  this  Realm  &c,,  any  salted  or  untanned 
hide,  or  any  leather  called  Back  or  Sole  Leather,  &c. 

Anno.  2  Ed.  6,  cap.  11.  An  Act  was  made  for  the  true 
tanning  of  Leather. 

An  Act  enacted  in  Anno,  3  Ed.  6,  cap.  6.  That  it  shall 
be  lawful  to  divers  artificers  there  named,  to  buy  and  sell 
tanned  leather,  curried  or  not  curried  :  so  that  such  should 
be  converted  by  the  buyers  into  wares  within  the  King's 
Dominions. 

Again,    in  Anno,  5   Ed,  6,  cap,  15.     No  person  or  persons 


2  24  Statutes  relatIxMG  to  Leather.   [J,^^ 

shall  ship,  or  cause  to  be  shipped,  to  the  intent  to  carry  transport 
or  convey  over  the  seas,  as  merchandise  to  be  sold  or  exchanged 
there,  any  shoes,  boots,  buskins,  startups,  or  slippers  :  upon  pain 
to  forfeit  all  and  every  such  shoes,  &c. 

Again  Anno,  i  Eliz.,  cap.  lo.  An  Act  was  made  that  the 
carrying  of  leather,  tallow,  and  raw  hides  out  of  this  Realm 
for  merchandise,  should  be  Felony. 

There  was  a  Statute  made  concerning  Cordwainers  and 
Shoemakers  in  25  Ed.  3,  cap.  2. 
Another  in  13  Rich.  2,  cap.  12. 
Another  in  4  Hen.  4,  cap.  35. 
Another  in  2  Hen.  5,  cap.  7. 

Another  in  4  Ed.  4,  intituled,  Cordwainers  and  Cobblers. 
Another  in  i  Hen.  7,  called  An  Act  against  Tanners  and 
Cordwainers. 

Another  in  ig  Hen.  7,  intituled,  For  Curriers  and 
Cordwainers. 

Another  in  3  Hen.  8. 

Another  in  5  Hen.  8,  intituled,  An  Act  for  Strangers  for 
buying  of  Leather  in  open  market. 

Another  in  the  14  or  15  Hen.  8,  intituled,  An  Act  concern- 
ing the  liberty  of  Cordivaincrs  and  Shoemakers. 

Another  in  22  Hen.  8,  intituled.  An  Act  concerning  Tanners 
and  Butchers. 

Another  in  24  Hen.  8,  intituled,  An  Act  concerning  true 
tanning  and  currying  of  Leather. 

Another  to  the  same  purpose,  Anno.  2  and  3  Ed.  6,  cap.  g. 
Another  in  4  Ed.  6,  intituled,  An  Act  for  buying  of  rough 
hides  and  calves'  skins. 

Another  in  i  Eliz.,  where  it  was  enacted,  Thatit  shall  not  be 
lawful  for  any  person  or  persons  to  lade,  ship,  or  carry  into  any 
vessel  or  ship,  or  otherwise,  any  Leather,  Tallow,  or  raw  Hides, 
of  intent  to  transport  or  carry  the  same  into  any  place  or  places  of 
the  parts  beyond  the  seas,  or  into  the  Realm  of  Scotland,  by  land 
or  by  seas,  other  than  Scottish  hides  :  upon  the  forfeiture  S-c. 

And  the  owners  of  the  said  ships  or  vessels,  knowing  of  such 
offence,  to  forfeit  the  said  ships  or  vessels,  with  all  their  apparel 
[tackle!  and  furniture  to  them  and  every  of  them  belonging. 

And  the  Masters  and  Mariners  knowing  of  such  offence,  to  for- 
feit all  their  goods  and  chattels ;  and  to  have  imprisonment  by  the 
space  of  One  Year,  without  bail  or  mainprize. 


jel;.]   Statutes  relating  to   Leather.   225 

Then   in  4  Jacob,    cap.   5,  there  is   a  long  Act  set  down 

touching    Cordwainers,     Curriers,   Tanners,    Butchers,    and 

Leather  ;  spreading  into  many  and  several  branches,  viz. : — 

No   Btitcher   by   himself    or    any   other   person,   shall    gash, 

slaughter,  or  cut  any  Hide  of  any  ox,  bull,  steer,  or  cow. 

No  Butcher  shall  water  any  Hide,  except  in  the  months  of 
June,  July,  and  Augtist ;  nor  shall  offer  to  put  to  sale  any  Hide 
putrificd. 

No  Butcher  shall  use  the  craft,  feat,  or  mystery  of  a  Tanner. 
No    Tanner  shall  use  the  craft  or  mystery  of  a  Shoemaker, 
Currier,  Butcher,  or  other  artificer  using,  or  exercising,  cutting,  or 
working  of  leather. 

No  Tanner  shall  suffer  any  Hide  or  Skin  to  be  in  the  lime  till 
the  same  be  ovcrlinied ;  nor  shall  put  any  Hides  or  Skins  into  any 
tan  vats  before  the  lime  be  well  and  perfectly  soaked ;  nor  shall 
use  any  stuff  about  tJie  tanning  of  Leather,  but  only  ash-bark, 
oak-bark,  topwort,  malt,  meal,  or  lime ;  nor  shall  suffer  his 
Leather  to  he  laid,  or  to  hang,  or  to  lie  wet  in  any  frost ;  nor  to 
parch  or  dry  his  leather  with  the  heat  of  the  fire  or  of  the  summer 
sun  ;  nor  shall  suffer  the  hide  for  utter  [outward]  Sole  Leather, 
to  lie  in  the  woozes,  any  less  time  than  nine  months  at  the  least. 

No  Tanner  shall  tan  any  Hide,  Calves'  skin,  or  Sheep's  skin, 
with  hot  or  warm  woozes :  upon  forfeiture  of  ^10  for  every  such 
offence  ;  and  also  for  every  such  offence,  stand  in  the  pillory,  three 
market  days. 

No  Currier  shall  curry  any  kind  of  Leather  in  the  house  of  any 
Shoemaker  ;  but  only  in  his  own  house,  and  that  must  be  situate 
in  a  corporate  or  market  town  :  nor  shall  curry  any  kind  of 
Leather,  except  it  be  well  and  perfectly  tanned ;  nor  curry  any 
hide  being  not  perfectly  dried  after  his  wet  season.  In  which  wet 
season,  he  shall  not  tise  any  deceitful  mixture ;  nor  curry  any 
Leather  meet  for  utter  Sole  Leather  with  miy  other  stuff  than  hard 
tallow;  nor  curry  any  leather  for  Over  [Upper]  Leather  and 
Lnncr  Soles  but  with  good  scuff,  being  fresh  and  not  salt ;  nor 
shall  burn  or  scald  any  Hide  or  Leather  in  the  currying,  nor  shall 
have  any  leatJier  too  thin ;  nor  shall  gash  or  hurt  any  Leather  in 
ili€  shaving. 

No  Currier  shall  use  the  mystery  of  a  Tanner,  Cordwainer, 
Shoemaker,  Butcher,  or  any  other  artificer  using  or  cutting  uf 
Leather. 

No  Cordwainer  or  Shoemaker  shall  make,  or  cause  to  be  made 
EAG.  G.-iJi.  VI.  15 


226  Statutes  relating  to  Leather.  \_J^^_ 

any  boots,  shoes,  bnskins,  startups,  slippers,  or  pantoffies  ;  or  any 
part  of  them,  of  English  Leather  wet  curried  (otJier  than  Dect 
skins,  Calf  skins,  or  Goat  skins  dressed  like  Spanish  Leather)  ; 
but  of  Leather  zz'ell  and  truly  tanned,  and  curried  substantially, 
sewed  with  good  thread  {well  twisted  and  made  and  sufficiently 
waxed  with  wax,  and  well  rosined),  and  the  stitches  hard  drawn 
with  hand-leathers,  without  mingling  of  Over  Leathers ;  that  is 
to  say,  part  of  the  Over  Leather  being  of  Neafs  Leather,  and  pari 
of  Calf  Leather. 

No  Cordwainer  or  Shoemaker  shall  put  into  any  boots,  shoes, 
&c.  (as  before)  any  Leather  made  of  Sheepskin,  Bull  hide,  or 
Horse  hide  ;  nor  in  the  Upper  Leathers  of  any  shoes,  startups  &c., 
or  in  the  nether  [lower]  part  of  any  boots  (the  inner  part  of  the 
shoes  only  excepted)  any  part  of  any  Hide  from  which  the  Sole 
Leather  is  cut,  called  the  Womb,  Neck,  Shank,  Flank,  Poul,  or 
Cheek.  Nor  put  in  the  Utter  Sole,  any  other  leather  than  the 
best  of  the  Ox  or  Steer  Hide ;  nor  into  the  Lnncr  Sole,  than  the 
Wombs,  Necks,  Pouls,  or  Cheeks ;  nor  into  the  trewsels  of  the 
double-soled  shoes,  other  than  the  Flanks  of  Hides. 

Moreover,  the  Masters  and  Wardens  of  Cordwainers,  Curriers, 
Girdlers,  and  Saddlers  of  the  City  of  London,  upon  pain  to  forfeit 
£^0  [=;^200  now]  for  every  year  they  make  default,  shall,  once 
every  quarter,  make  a  true  search  and  vieiv  within  London,  and 
within  three  miles  of  the  same,  for  all  boots,  shoes,  buskins,  &c., 
made  of  tanned  leather ;  and  if  they  be  not  made  and  wrought,  as 
they  ought  to  be,  or  insufficiently  curried ;  then  the  said  Masters 
and  Wardens  have  power  to  take,  seize,  and  carry  away  to  their 
Common  Halls,  all  such  boots,  shoes,  wares,  stuff,  or  other  things. 

And  that  all  coach  makers  dwelling  in  London,  or  within  three 
miles  of  the  city,  shall  be  under  the  survey  and  search  of  the  Mas- 
ters and  Wardens  of  the  Company  of  the  Saddlers. 

Moreover,  that  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London  and  the  Aldermen 
are,  upon  pain  of  £/[o  yearly,  to  appoint  Eight  Persons,  free  of 
the  Cordwainers,  Curriers,  Saddlers,  or  Girdlers  (of  the  which  one 
shall  be  a  Sealer,  and  the  rest  Searchers),  to  view  and  search  every 
tanned  Hide,  Skin,  or  Leather  which  shall  be  brought  to  Leaden- 
hall  Market :  and  there,  if  they  find  them  sufficiently  tanned  and 
tJioroughly  dried,  then  to  seal  them  ;  or  being  found  defective,  to 
seize  them. 

And  within  six  days  after  the  seizing,  such  Hides  or  Leathers 
arc  to  be  reviewed  by  certain  Triers;  whereof  there  are  two  of  the 


lel?-]  Statutes  relating  to  Leather.   227 

hdtcr  sort  of  tJie  Company  of  the  Cordicaincrs,  two  of  the  better 
sort  of  the  Company  of  Curriers,  and  the  other  two  of  the  better 
sort  of  the  Tanners  nsing  Leadenhall  Market. 

These  Searchers  and  Sealers,  for  fear  of  corruption,  are  not 
suffered  to  continue  in  the  office  longer  than  two  years  :  taking  for 
the  searching,  sealing,  and  registering  of  every  Ten  Hides,  Backs, 
or  Butts  of  Leather  (with  the  Necks,  Wombs,  and  Dibbins,  or 
other  pieces  of  offal  cut  from  the  Backs  or  Butts),  of  the  Seller  2d. 
[  =  6d.  now],  and  of  the  Buyer  as  much. 

Now  for  the  avoiding  of  all  ambiguities  and  doubts,  which 
may  grow  and  arise  upon  the  definition  of  this  word  Leather  :  it 
is  enacted  S-c,  That  the  Hides  and  Skins  of  Ox,  Steer,  Bull, 
Cow,  Calf,  Deer  red  or  fallow.  Goat  and  Sheep,  being  tanned  or 
tawed ;  and  every  Salt  Hide  is,  shall  be,  and  ever  hath  been, 
reputed  and  taken  for  "  Leather." 

All  currying  and  dressing  of  Leather,  commonly  called  Dry 
Currying  and  Frizzing,  being  construed  to  be  ^Dressing  and 
Currying  of  Leather  after  the  manner  of  Spanish  leather.'" 

To  shew  how  careful  this  Parliament  was  to  keep  this 
excellent  commodity  of  Leather  to  ourselves,  the  want  of  it 
bein^  so  hurtful  ;  hear  what  the  Act  speaks  against  transpor- 
tation. 

It  is  enacted  &c.,  That  if  any  Leather  wrought,  cut,  or  un- 
wrought,  to  the  intent  to  be  sold  or  bartered,  shall  hereafter 
7mlawfully  be  transported,  or  purposed  to  be  transported  into  other 
parts  beyond  the  sea,  from  or  otd  of  any  port,  haven,  or  creek  of 
this  Realm  or  Wales  :  every  Controller,  Customer  [Customs 
Collector],  Surveyor,  Collector  of  Tonnage  and  Poundage,  and 
the  Searchers  ;  and  the  deputy  of  any  of  them,  or  any  other  persons 
hearing  or  knowing,  by  any  ways,  of  any  Leather  meant  to  be 
transported  from  any  place  within  his  Office,  and  do  not  his  best 
endeavour  to  seize  the  same ;  or  being  transported,  do  not  disclose 
or  cause  the  same  to  be  disclosed  within  forty  days  next  after  such 
knowledge  or  hearing  of  the  same,  in  some  Court  of  Record,  so  as 
the  offender  may  be  punished  according  to  the  laws  in  that  case 
provided,  shall,  for  every  the  first  offence  committed  against  this 
Article,  forfeit  ;!rioo  [  =  ;£'500  now],  and  for  the  second  offence,  his 
Office. 

Again,  Every  Customer,  Officer,  or  Officer's  Deputy  that  shall 
make  any  false  certificate  of  any  Leather  in  any  port,  creek,  or 
place  of  this  Realm,  sliall  also  forfeit  for  every  such  offence  £"100. 


2  28  Statutes  relating  to  Leather.  [2^ 

Now  whereas  by  the  covefousness  of  divers,  regrating  and  in- 
grossing  [rigging  the  market  of]  tanned  Leather,  and  selling  it 
again  at  excessive  prices  to  saddlers,  and  such  other  artificers  making 
wares  of  tanned  Leather,  those  wares  he  grown  to  unreasonable 
prices:  Be  it  enacted  &c..  That  no  person  or  persons,  of  what 
estate  degree  or  condition  soever  he  or  they  be,  shall  buy  or  ingross, 
or  cause  to  be  bought  or  ingrossed  any  kind  of  tanned  leather,  to 
the  intent  to  sell  the  same  again  :  upon  pain  to  forfeit  the  said 
leather  so  bought.  Provided  S-c,  That  all  Saddlers,  Girdlers, 
Cordwamers,  and  all  other  artificers  such  as  make  mails,  bougets 
[bags],  leather-pots,  tankards,  boar-hides,  or  any  other  wares  of 
Leather,  shall  or  may  buy  all  such  kind 
of  Tanned  Leather. 

FINIS. 


22Q 


The  Ge?ural  Grievance  of  all  E 77 gland  ; 
Man^  JFoman^  and  Child. 

To  THE  High  and  Honourable  Court  of  Parliament. 

Hereas,  We,  your  poor  Petitioners, 
jointly,  with  one  unanimity,  humbly  desire 
a  Reformation  of  this  general  and  great 
Grievance  of  late,  for,  and  in  consideration 
of  the  great  Abuse  of  Transportation  of 
Raw  Hides,  Tanned  Skins  of  great  growth, 
and  Calves'  Skins :  all  which  are  trans- 
ported in  most  unreasonable  manner,  and  under  the  colour 
[pretence]  of  the  transporting  of  some  hundred  Dozens, 
many  thousands  are  daily  transported  ;  and  that  in  such 
an  excessive  manner  that  not  only  all  Skins  that  are  brought 
into  the  market  at  Leadenhall  and  elsewhere,  are  so  enhanced 
in  price  that  they  be  of  late  raised  Treble  to  the  price  they 
have  been  ;  but,  by  secret  bargains,  almost  all  sorts  of  leather 
be  bought  underhand,  in  all  countries  [counties]  before  they 
come  to  markets  to  be  sold,  by  divers  merchants  for  to  be 
transported. 

And,  moreover,  it  is,  for  certain,  known,  that  divers 
Dutchmen  come  daily  over,  and  employ  poor  shoemakers, 
currier?,  and  cobblers  to  be  their  bargain -drivers  in  all 
chief  fairs,  for  great  parcels  of  ware  and  sums  of  money, 


230    A  Petition  to  the   Parliament.    Qg'^, 

whilst  they  themselves  sit  private  in  taverns  or  tippling- 
houses,  to  pay  the  money  when  others  have  driven  the 
bargain.  By  which  means  the  fairs  and  markets  be  so  fore- 
stalled, that  His  Majesty's  subjects  cannot  have  the  benefit  of 
the  fairs  and  markets  as  in  times  past ;  the  said  commodities 
being  bought  out  of  His  Majesty's  subjects'  hands. 

And  likewise,  of  late  days,  some  leather  sellers  of  London, 
who  do  not  cut,  or  work,  or  use  leather,  finding  the  great 
benefit  and  profit  to  be  got  by  transporting,  have  and  do 
(contrary  to  all  equity  or  right)  buy,  or  cause  in  private  to  be 
bought  up,  what  they  conveniently  may. 

So  that,  unless  there  be  some  speedy  course  taken  by  this 
Honourable  Court  now  assembled;  it  is  most  likely  that  all 
mechanics  that  get  their  livings  by  the  said  use  of  Leather, 
are  likely  to  fall  to  utter  ruin  and  decay  ;  and  this  commodity 
to  be  enhanced  to  such  an  unreasonable  price  that  our 
enemies  shall  go  well  shod,  and  we  bare  foot !  and  be  utterly 
impoverished  in  that  commodity:  and  all  trades,  which  in 
times  past  have  flourished  by  Leather,  are  now  likely  to  be 
utterly  ruinate  and  overthrown. 

Therefore,  We,  His  Majesty's  poor  subjects,  in  most 
humble  manner,  desire  in  commiseration  of  our  poor  wives 
and  children,  [you]  to  take  into  consideration  this  our 
extreme  grievance,  and  to  provide  for  some  speedy  remedy.' 

And  we  shall  daily  pray  for  3'our  prosperous  success. 


THE 


INTERPRETER. 


Wherein  three  principal  Terms  of   State, 

mtich  tnistaken  by  the  vulgar^ 

are  clearly  unfolded. 

^^ui  vult  decipi^  decipiatur. 
Anno  1622. 


[\'  This  important  Political  Satire,  which  gives  us,  with  such  freshness,  the 
national  opinions  of  the  hour  in  which  it  was  written,  is  thought  to  have  been 
printed  either  in  Scotland  or  Holland.] 


-o-^ 


'To  such  as  understand  not  the  English 
tongue  perfectly, 

-I AT  the  unwise  may  learn  to  understand 

How  certain  Words  are  used  in  our  land ; 

And   that    they    may    write    sense,    whilst    they 
remain 

In  foreign  parts,  or  shall  return  again ; 
(For  idioms,  fashions,  manners  alter  here. 
As  friendship  and  religion  ever\-where")  : 
I  have  some  elegancies  for  our  tongue 
Observed,  as  they  are  used  now,  among 
Our  ablest  linguists,  who  mint  for  the  Court 
Words  fit  to  be  proclaimed  ;  and  do  resort 
^\'here  lords  and  ladies  couple  and  converse. 
And  trade  lip  learning,  both  in  prose  and  verse. 
And  by  these  few,  the  docible  may  see 
How  rich  our  language  is  !  religious,  we  ! 

Time  was,  aPcRiTAN  was  counted  such 
As  held  some  Ceremonies  were  too  much 
Retained  and  urged  :  and  would  no  Bishops  grant, 
Others  to  rule,  who  government  did  want. 

Time  was,  a  Protestant  was  only  taken 
For  such  as  had  the  Church  of  Rome  forsaken  ; 
Or  her  known  falsehoods  in  the  highest  point : 
But  would  not,  for  each  toy,  true  peace  disjoint. 

Time  was,  a  P  a  p  i  s  T  was  a  man  who  thought 
Rome  could  not  err,  but  all  her  Canons  ought 
To  be  canonical ;  and,  blindly  led, 
He  from  the  Truth,  for  fear  of  Error,  fled. 

But  now  these  words,  with  divers  others  more. 
Have  other  senses  than  they  had  before  : 
Which  plainly  I  do  labour  to  relate, 
As  they  are  now  accepted  in  our  Stale. 


-00 


y^  Purita?i. 

(So  nicknamed,  but  indeed  the  sound  Protestant.) 

Puritan  is  such  another  thing 

As  says,  with  all  his  heart,  '^  GOD  save  the 
King 

And   all   his   issue ! "    and   to    make  this 
good, 

Will  freelv  spend  his  money  and  his  blood  ; 

And  in  his  factious  and  fond  mood,  dare 
say, 
-'  'Tis  madness, 'for  the  Palsgrave,  thusto  stay 
And  wait  the  loWng  leisure  of  kind  Spain  I 
Who  gets  at  first,  only  to  give  again 
In  courtesv,  that  faithless  heretics 
May  taste 'the  Faith  and  Love  of  Catholics. 
And  Hope  too  !  ^'     For  a  Puritan  is  he 
That  doth  not  hope  these  Holy  Days  to  see ; 
And  would  a  wasted  countr}",  on  condition 
Scorn  to  receive  \  although  the  High  Commission 
Of  England,  Spain,  and  Rome  would  have  it  so. 
False  favours  he'd  not  take  from  a  true  foe  I 

A  Puritan  is  he,  that  rather  had 
Spend  all.  to  help  the  States  he  is  so  mad  !), 
Than  spend  one  hundred  thousand  pounds  a  year 
To  guard  the  Spanish  coasts  from  pirates'  fear : 
The  whilst,  the  Catholic  King  might  force  combme 
Both  Holland.  Beame,  and  PaLz  to  undermine ; 
And  bv  his  cross-curse-Christian  counterwork 
To  mcLke  Rome  both  fcr  Antichrist  and  Turk 


234  T  H  E  Interpreter.      T n e  P  u ritan.  [.eL. 

Right  Catholic.     So  th'  Empire  first  divided, 

By  Holy  Mother's  pious  plots  (who  sided 

The  East,  and  West ;  that  she  might  get  between, 

And  sit  aloft,  and  govern  like  a  Queen) ; 

The  Turk  did  great  Constantinople  gain, 

And  may  win  Rome  too,  by  the  help  of  Spain. 

A  Puritan  is  he  that  would  not  live 
Upon  the  sins  of  other  men  ;  nor  give 
Money  for  Office  in  the  Church  or  State, 
Though  'twere  a  Bishopric  :  he  so  doth  hate 
All  ceremonies  of  the  Court  and  Church, 
Which  do  the  coffer  and  the  conscience  lurch 
Of  both  the'jr]  treasures.     So  that  (covetous!)  he 
Would  not  have  such  as  want  both,  better  be  ! 

A  Puritan  is  he  that  thinks,  and  says 
He  must  account  give  of  his  works  and  ways  : 
And  tliat  whatsoever  calling  he  assumes, 
It  is  for  others'  good.     So  he  presumes 
Rashly  to  censure  such  as  wisely  can 
(By  taking  timely  bribes  of  every  man), 
Enrich  themselves  :  knowing  to  that  sole  end, 
GOD  and  the  King  did,  them  their  honours  send  ; 
And  that  Simplicity  hath  only  mounted 
By  virtue ;  but  such  fools,  they'll  not  be  counted  ! 

A  Puritan  is  he,  that,  twice  a  day. 
Doth,  at  the  least,  to  GOD  devoutly  pray. 
And  twice  a  Sabbath,  he  goes  to  church  to  hear, 
To  pray,  confess  his  sins,  and  praise  GOD  there 
In  open  sight  of  all  men  :  not  content 
GOD  knows  his  heart,  except  his  knee  be  bent, 
That  men,  and  angels  likewise,  may  discern 
He  came  to  practise  there,  as  well  as  learn  ; 
And  honour  GOD  with  every  outward  part. 
With  knee,  hand,  tongue,  as  well  as  with  the  heart. 

A  Puritan  is  he,  which  grieves  to  think 
Religion  should  in  France  shipwreck  and  sink  ; 
Whilst  we  give  aim  !  and  that  those  men  should  sway 
The  kingdom  there,  who  made  the  King  away 
The  whilst  all  such  as  helped  to  crown  the  father*  [♦henryiv.] 
Should  by  the  son  i  be  now  proscribed  the  rather.       [|  louis 

A  Puritan,  in  unadvised  zeal,  y.iw.^ 


,4.]  The  Interpreter.      The  P  u r i  t  a  n,  2^^ 

Could  wish  that  huntsmen  ruled  the  Common  weal  : 
And  that  the  King's  hounds  were  the  only  spies, 
For  they  would  tell  truth  !  as  the  others,  lies. 
He  wisheth  beasts  were  men,  as  men  resemble 
Beasts:  for  surely  they  would  not  dissemble  ! 
But  would  tell  where  the  fault  lies,  and  hunt  home 
The  subtle  Fox,  either  to  Spain  or  Rome. 

A  Puritan  is  he,  that  speaks  his  mind 
In  Parliament  :  not  looking  once  behind 
To  others'  danger  ;   nor  yet  sideways  leaning 
To  promised  honour,  his  direct  true  meaning. 
But  for  the  Laws  and  Truth  doth  firmly  stand  : 
By  which,  he  knows,  Kings  only  do  command; 
And  Tyrants  otherwise.     He  crosseth  not 
This  man,  because  a  Courtier  or  a  Scot  ; 
Or  that,  because  a  Favourite,  or  soe  : 
But  if  the  State's  friend,  none  can  be  his  foe  ! 
But  if  the  State's  foe  (be  he  what  he  will, 
Illustrious,  wise,  great,  learned),  he  counts  him  ill. 
He  neither  sides  with  that  man  nor  with  this, 
But  gives  his  voice  just  as  the  reason  is, 
And  yet,  if  Policy  would  work  a  fraction 
To  cross  Religion  by  a  foreign  faction 
Pretending  public  good;  he'll  join  with  those 
Who  dare  speak  Truth,  not  only  under  the  rose, 
But  though  the  White  Rose  and  the  Red  do  hear ! 
And  though  the  pricking  Thistle  too  be  there  ! 
Yea, though  the  stars,'''  the  moon,'''  the  sun,*  [»TheNobi- 

,         ,  lity,  Prince 

look  on,  CHAiii.Es,  arid 

And  cast,  through  clouds,  oblique  aspects  upon  King  james.] 

His  clear  and  free  intentions  ;  he's  as  bold 

And  confident  as  the  bright  marigold  !  t  tt  Buckingham.] 

That  flatterer,  that  favourite  of  the  sun, 

Who  doth  the  self-same  course  observe  and  run ; 

Not  caring  though  all  flowers  else  wax  sear, 

So  he,  the  golden  livery  may  wear ! 

But  our  free,  generous,  and  noble  spirit 

Doth  from  his  ancient  English  stock,  inherit 

Such  native  worth  and  liberty  of  mind, 

As  will  omit  no  slavery  of  his  kind  ; 

Yet  he  is  ready  to  obey  wheresoe'er 


236    T  11  E  I  N  T  E  R  r  R  E  T  E  R.        T 11 E  P  U R  I  TA  N.  [J^^^ 

He  may  not  prejudice  the  Truth  by  fear, 
Nor  faintly  seem  to  shrink,  withdraw,  give  way, 
Whilst  other  mushrumpes  *  do  the  State  betray. 
He'll  not  a  traitor,  be  unto  the  King,  [* Mushrooms.] 

Nor  to  the  Laws  (for  that's  another  thing 
Men  dream  not  of,  who  think  they  no  way  can 
Be  traitors  unto  many,  for  one  man), 
But  his  chief  error  is  to  think  that  none 
Can  be  a  traitor,  till  Law  calls  him  one  ; 
And  that  the  Law  is  what  the  State  decrees 
In  Parliament :  by  which,  whilst  that  he  sees 
His  actions  and  intentions  justified. 
He  counts  himself  a  martyr  glorified. 
If,  in  this  cause,  he  suffers  ;  and  contemns 
All  dangers  in  his  way.     Nay,  he  condemns 
All  such  as  traitors  be  to  Church  and  State, 
Who  for  the  love  of  one,  all  others  hate  ! 
And  for  particular  ends  and  private  aims. 
Forsake  their  Country  !  and  their  conscience  maim  ! 
His  Character  abridged,  if  you  would  have. 
He's  one,  that  would  a  Subject  be,  no  Slave  ! 


6/ 


''^t 


A  Protestarit, 


(So  will  the  Formalist  be  called.) 

Protestant  is  such  an  other  thing 

As  makes,  within  his  heart,  God  of  the 

And  (as  if  he  did,  with  his  Crown  inherit 
A  never-erring  and  infallible  spirit). 
Labours  to  blow  him  up  by  praise  of  wit, 
And  by  false  flatteries  cosen  him  of  it. 
A  Protestant  is  one  that  shakes  his  head 
And  pities  much  the  Palsgrave  was  misled 
To  meddle  with  Bohemia,  and  incense 
The  Spanish  wrath  ;  'gainst  which,  there  is  no  fence  ! 
That  his  revenues  in  the  Palz  again 
Were  well  restored,  he  wishes  ;  so  that  Spain 
Would  take  the  honours  of  that  house,  and  give 
Mentz  his  demands,  letting  the  Palsgrave  live  : 
For  such  a  favour  as  his  lands  and  life, 
Not  one,  except  the  father  of  his  wife 
(That  King  of  Peace  and  Love  !)  dares  boldly  crave 
But  what  is  it  he  may  despair  to  have 
By  means  of  th'English  and  the  Scottish  Saint, 
Who,  at  their  pupils'  suit,  doth  still  acquaint 
The  Spanish  Patron,  how,  the  first  of  May, 
Philip  and  James  make  one  Holy  Day  ; 
What  therefore's  given  to  one,  the  other  must 
Be  shares  in  ;  for  James  is  surnamed  "  Just." 
And  so,  this  year,  by  Holy  Church's  count, 


238THE  Interpreter.    TheProtestant.  [.sL. 

The  Calendar  reformed  hath  singledout, 

These  two  most  sacred  Saints  to  wait  upon 

Our  Saviour's  feast  of  Resurrection, 

Which  by  the  English  heathen  computation 

Meets  with  May  Day  among  the  Catholic  nation  ; 

And  may  be  such  a  dav,  as  that,  for  goodness, 

Which  some  called  "111  May  Day  "  from  people's  woodness, 

A  day  of  feasting,  and  a  day  of  pleasure, 

A  day  of  marriage,  and  withal  of  treasure, 

A  day  of  Catholic  unity  and  love 

Which  may  a  kind  of  resurrection  move 

In  our  State,  Union  ;  almost  now  forgot, 

Being  buried  both  by  th'English  and  the  Scot. 

Spain  strikes  betwixt,  and  like  a  Lord  commands, 

They  join  their  Laws  together  with  their  Lands  : 

And  join  they  will  !  but  in  despite  of  Spain, 

Making  his  Holy  Day  of  hope  but  vain. 

A  Protestant  is  he,  that  fain  would  take 
Occasion  from  the  East  or  West,  to  shake 
Our  League  with  the  United  Provinces  : 
To  which  end,  he  hath  many  fair  pretences. 
Our  Honour  first,  for  in  the  Greenland,  they, 
And  the  East  Indies,  beat  our  ships  away. 
Our  Profit  likewise,  for  in  both  those  places 
We  do  great  loss  sustain,  besides  disgraces  : 
And  in  the  Narrow  Seas,  where  we  are  masters; 
They  will  presume  to  be  our  herring-tasters  ! 
But  we  should  have  white  herrings  wondrous  plenty, 
If  they  would  give  us  two  of  every  twenty  ; 
Or  stay  our  idle  leisure,  till  that  none 
Remained  for  them  or  us,  but  all  were  gone. 
And  if  they  will  not  thus,  our  humours  serve, 
"  That  we,"  saith  he,  "should  leave  them,  they  deserve  !  " 
A  herring  cob.  we  see,  will  make  him  quarrel ; 
What  would  the  man  do,  think  you  !  for  a  barrel  ? 
Well  could  I  wish  these  things  were  all  amended  ; 
But  greater  business,  now,  is  to  be  'tended. 
Our  Lives,  Religions,  Liberties,  and  Lands 
Upon  this  nice  and  tickle  quarrel  stand; 
And  we  must  for  a  fitter  time  attend, 
lilse  Spain  will  soon  this  controversy  end ! 


leLJTiiE  Interpreter.    The  Protestant.  239 

A  Protestant  is  he,  that,  by  degrees, 
Climbs  every  Office  ;  knows  the  proper  fees 
They  give  and  take,  at  entrance  of  the  Place, 
And  at  what  rate  again,  they  vent  that  grace  ; 
Knows  in  how  many  years  a  man  may  gather 
Enough  to  make  himself  a  reverend  father, 
Or  from  the  lowest  civil  step  arise 
To  sit  with  honour  in  the  starry  skies  : 
For  he  hath  gone  that  Progress,  step  by  step, 
As  snails  creep  up  where  safely  none  can  leap ; 
For  snails  do  leave  behind  their  silver  slime, 
And  guild  the  way  for  falling  as  they  climb. 

A  Protestant  is  he  that  with  the  stream 
Still  swims,  and  wisely  shuns  every  extreme  ; 
Loves  not  in  point  of  faith  to  be  precise  ; 
But  to  believe  as  Kings  do,  counts  it  wise  : 
If  CoNSTANTiNE  the  Great  will  christened  be  ; 
This  will  the  white  robe  wear  as  well  he  ! 
And  in  the  hallowed  fountain  plunge  amain 
His  naked  body,  as  if  every  stain 
Were  now  washed  off,  and  his  inflamed  zeal 
Thirsted  these  waters,  which  soul's  sin  doth  heal. 
Again,  if  Julian  will  renounce  his  faith; 
This  man  will  say,  just  as  his  Sovereign  saith. 
If  he  intend  Religion  to  betray. 
And  yet  will  walk  a  close  and  covert  w^ay, 
Corrupting  men  by  office,  honour,  bounty, 
You  shall  find  this  man  will  deserve  a  County ; 
By  double  dealing  and  by  broking  so, 
That  none  shall  think  him  ere  they  find  him  too 
Apostated  :  for  no  way  so  doth  work 
To  make  a  man  an  Atheist,  Jew,  or  Turk, 
As  do  corrupted  manners,  which  let  in 
A  deluge  of  impiety  and  sin. 
These,  backed  by  favour  and  preferment,  may 
Have  power  to  make  all  error  open  way ; 
And  every  man  will  censure  opposition, 
When  gilden  flattery  kills  without  suspicion. 
This  poisoned  vial  then  was  poured  in 
When,  first,  the  Church  got  means  to  maintain  sin; 
And  now  the  means  withdrawn  or  misemployed, 


240  The  Ixtertreter.    The  Protestant,  \_J^,_^ 

Makes  all  religion  and  all  conscience  void. 

For  man  that  hunts  for  honour,  wealth,  or  fame, 

Will  be  as  those  be,  who  dispose  the  same.  - 

So  that  no  readier  way  there  can  be  found 

To  conquer  us,  than  to  corrupt  the  sound 

By  bribes ;  the  worst  assault  that  can  befall 

To  Bodies  Politic,  confounding  all. 

Gifts  blind  the  wise.     And  though  the  Chequer  be 

Open  and  empty,  as  erst  full  and  free  ; 

Yet  other  bribes  can  work  the  same  effect 

That  Mammon  would.     The  favour  and  respect 

Of  Favourites,  a  nod  or  wink  from  Kings, 

Employment,  Office,  Grace  are  able  things  ! 

Besides,  the  honoured  style  of  Viscount,  Lord, 
Earl,  Marquess,  Duke  can  work,  at  every  word, 
Strange  alterations,  more  than  Circe's  cup, 
In  such  as  can,  no  other  ways  get  up. 

Will  he  speak  tnith  directly  ?     Make  him  then 
A  Dean,  or  Bishop  !  they  are  no  such  men  ! 
The  wolf  hath  seen  them  first !     Their  throat  is  furred, 
You  shall  not  hear  from  them,  a  factious  word  ! 

Stands  he  for  Laiv,  and  custom  of  the  land  ? 
Make  him  an  Officer!     Give  him  command  ! 
Command,  where  he  may  gain  !  this  will  bewitch 
Demosthenes,  who  labours  to  be  rich. 

What,  is  he  bold  and  forward  ?     Send  him  out 
On  some  embassage  !  or  employ  the  stout 
At  sea  or  land  !  some  desperate  voyage,  where 
They  may  be  lost !     Then  leave  them  helpless  there  ! 
Undo  them  thus !     Before,  they  had  too  much  ; 
But  being  poor,  they'll  nothing  dare  to  touch  ! 
This  ostracism  will,  sure,  abate  their  pride; 
And  they  sliall  give  great  thanks  for  it  beside  ! 

If  he  he  poor,  oppress  him  !  shut  him  out 
In  forlorn  banishment,  where  round  about 
The  faithless  world,  he  may  his  living  seek! 
Then  no  man,  after  him,  will  do  the  like. 

If  he  he  faint,  check  him  !  or  do  but  chide. 
He'll  hold  his  tongue,  and  his  tail  closely  hi_le  ! 

Is  he  free-tongued,  tJioiigh  serious  and  discreet  ? 
Proclaim  him  silent  !     Whip  him  through  the  street  ! 


jg-^J  The  Interpreter.   J h e  P ro  t es  t a nt.  241 

Thus,  whatsoe'er  is  done,  nor  bird  shall  dare 
To  warn  the  rest,  till  all  be  in  the  snare. 

7s  he  a  rich  man  ?     Then,  the  Fleet  and  fine 
Will  make  him  seem,  although  he  be  not,  thine. 

Briefly,  whatsoe'er  he  be,  except  alone 
Directly  honest  (of  which  few  or  none 
Remain  alive)  a  Statist,  ways  can  find, 
By  policy  to  work  him  to  his  mind. 
And  thus  the  Common  wealth  may  conquered  be, 
The  Church  deflowered,  beslaved  our  Liberty, 
Without  all  bloodshed  ;  under  the  pretence 
Of  Peace,  Religion,  Love,  and  Innocence. 

A  Protestant  is  an  indifferent  man, 
That  with  all  faiths,  or  none,  hold  quarter  can  ; 
So  moderate  and  temperate  his  passion 
As  he  to  all  times  can  his  conscience  fashion. 
He  at  the  Chapel,  can  a  Bishop  hear; 
And  then  in  Holbom  a  religious  Freer. 
A  Mass  ne'er  troubles  him  more  than  a  Play; 
All's  one  :  he  comes  all  one,  from  both  away. 

A  Protestant,  no  other  fault  can  spy 
In  all  Rome's  beadroll  of  iniquity, 
But  that,  of  late,  they  do  profess  King-killing ; 
Which  Catholic  point,  to  credit  he's  unwilling. 
Only  because  he  gains  by  Kings  far  more. 
Than  he  can  hope  for,  by  the  Romish  whore. 
He  saith,  "  This  only,  doth  the  Pope  proclaim 
For  Antichrist,  because  that  Greekish  name 
Doth  signify  Against  the  LORD's  Anointed"; 
As  if  it  only,  'gainst  this  doctrine  pointed. 
And  therefore  leaving  this  out  of  their  Creed; 
He  in  the  rest,  with  them  is  soon  agreed. 
And  so  the  King's  part  may  be  safe  from  fear : 
Let  GOD  Himself,  for  His  own  part,  take  care  ! 

A  Protestant  is  he,  that  guards  the  ear 
Of  Sovereign  Justice,  so  that  Truth  to  hear 
He's  not  permitted  ;  nor  to  know  the  danger 
He  stands  in,  'twixt  the  Subject  and  the  Stranger; 
The  plots  which  strangers  have,  grief  of  his  own; 
Which  may  too  late  be  prevented,  known. 
For  though  his  foes  be  wily  wolves  and  foxes, 

£JVG.  Gar.  VI.  l6 


242  The  IXTERTRETER.     TlIE    P  R  O  T  E  S  T  A  N  T.\_J^^^ 

His  subjects  shackled  asses,  yoked  oxes  : 
Yet  time  will  show  them  not  to  be  such  daws 
As  will  look  on,  whilst  others  change  the  Laws, 
And  rob  the  State,  Religion  do  deflower; 
Having  their  Prince  imprisoned  in  their  power  ! 
As  Princes  have  been  prisoners  to  their  own  ; 
And  so  may  ours  too,  if  the  truth  were  known : 
The  liberty  of  will  by  strong  affection 
May  be  restrained  ;  which  is  the  worst  subjection  \ 
Vov  then  the  understanding  will  not  see, 
But  rusheth  on  whatsoe'er  the  danger  be. 

A  Protestant  is  be,  whose  good  intention 
Deserves  an  English  and  a  Spanish  pension, 
Both  for  One  service ;  and  obtains  it  too 
By  winning  Spain,  more  than  their  arms  could  do. 
With  long  delays  :  and  losing  us  and  ours  ; 
\\'hat  lost,  to  get  again  we  want  both  powers. 
And  perhaps  will. 

Others  by  treaties  and  disputes  may  gain ; 
But  we  by  blows :  else  old  said  saws  be  vain  ! 

A  Protestant  is  he,  that  hath  no  eye 
Beyond  his  private  profit ;  but  doth  lie 
In  wait  to  be  the  first  that  may  propound 
What  he  foresees  Power  plots.     The  solid  ground 
He  ne'er  examines  :  be  it  right  or  wrong, 
All's  one  1  since  it  doth  to  his  part  belong. 
For  to  his  part  belongs  to  sooth  and  flatter 
The  greatest  Man,  though  in  the  foulest  matter; 
And  him,  he  holds  a  rebel,  that  dare  say 
"  No  man  against  the  Laws,  we  must  obc}' !  " 

His  character  abridged,  if  you  will  have. 

He's  one  that's  no  true  Subject,  but  a  Slave  ! 


''^^ 


A  Papist. 


Romanist  is  such  an  other  thing 

As  would,  with  all  his  heart,  murder  the 

King; 
That  saith,  "  The  House  of  Austria  is  ap- 
pointed 
To  rule  all  Christians ;  and  for  this  anointed 
By  Christ's  own  Vicar:  and  they,  rebels 
are ; 

Who  dare  against  this  House  make  any  war, 
Invasive  or  defensive."     Jesuits'  wit 
And  Indian  gold  do  both  attend  on  it ; 
And  all  Rome's  hierarchy  do  plot,  pray,  curse, 
And  spend  the  strength  of  body,  soul,  and  purse 
To  this  sole  end,  that  every  State  besides, 
May  be  the  vassals  to  the  Austrian  pride. 
And  so  Rome  may,  of  both  the  Empirics, 
Keep  still  the  Civil  and  Religious  keys. 

A  Romanist  is  he,  that  sows  debate 
'Twixt  Prince  and  People;  and 'twixt  every  State 
Where  he  remains :  that  he,  by  the  division, 
May  work  himself  some  profit  in  decision  ; 
Or  bring  in  Rome  and  Spain  to  make  all  friends 
Who,  having  footing  once,  have  half  their  ends. 
For  as  the  Devil,  since  first  he  got  within 
Man's  heart,  keeps  still  there  by  Original  Sin ; 
So  those  wheresoe'er  once  they  Interest  gain 
Keep  all ;  or  such  a  party  let  remain 
Behind,  assured  to  them,  as  may  procure 
A  relapse,  when  men  think  themselves  secure. 


244  The  Interpreter.     The  Papist.  Q^L 

Thus  each  disease,  though  cured,  remains  in  part : 
And  thus  the  frail  flesh  oft  betrays  the  heart. 
Now,  for  the  rest,  no  Romish  false  opinion 
Can  make  a  Papist  in  the  King's  dominion  ; 
Nor  absence  from  the  Church  :  for,  at  this  season, 
He  is  no  Papist  that  commits  not  treason ! 
Let  him  to  Church  resort,  or  be  Recusant ; 
All's  one !  he's  counted  a  good  Protestant. 
Nay,  'tis  a  question,  if  Guy  Fawkes  were  one  > 
But  'tis  resolved  that  Papist,  he  was  none. 
His  Character  abridged,  if  you  will  have, 
He  is  Spain's  Subject,  and  a  Romish  Slave  ! 


THE 

WORTH 

OF    A    PENNY: 

O  R    A 

Caution  to  keep  Money. 

With   the 

Causes  of  the  scarcity  and  misery  of  the  want 

hereoj,  in  these  hard  and  jnerciless  Times, 

AS  AL so 

How  to  save  it  in  our  diet,  apparel,  recreations,  &c. 

yfnd  also 
What  honest  courses  men  in  want  may  take  to  live. 

By  H.  P.,  Master  of  Arts. 


^ 


WMl 


m^ 


L  O  N   DON, 

Printed  Ann.  Dom.  i  647. 

[This  date  is  a  misprint,  apparently  for  1641.     This  first  edition  was  privately  printed, 
see/.  248.] 


246 


(\Ve  have  been  careful  to  distinguish  in  the  present  text,  what 
Peacham  himself  wrote,  from  the  additions  by  his  friend  [p.  248]  and 
others,  in  the  posthumous  editions  of  1664,  1667,  1669,  and  1676. 

All  such  fresh  matter,  whether  in  the  text  or  side-notes,  is  shewn 
between  square  brackets,  [  ].) 


!47 


To   the  every  way  deserving  and  worthy 
Gentleman,  Master  Richard     Gipps, 
eldest  son  unto  Master  Richard    Gipps, 
one  of  the  Judges  of  the  Court  of  Guild- 
hall, in    the   city  of  London. 
Sir, 

Hen  I  finished  this  discourse  of  The  Worth  of  a 
Penny,  or  A  Caution  to  keep  Money,  ajid  bethinking 
myself  luito  icJiom  I  should  offer  the  Dedication  ;  none 
came  more  opportmiely  into  my  thought,  than  your- 
self!  For  I  imagined,  if  I  should  dedicate  the  same  unto  any 
penurious  or  miser-able  minded  man,  it  would  make  him  worse, 
and  be  more  uncharitable  and  illiberal :  if  unto  a  bountiful  and 
free-minded  Patron,  I  should  teach  him  to  hold  his  hand ;  and, 
against  his  nature,  make  him  a  miser.  I,  to  avoid  either,  made 
choice  of  yourself !  who  being  yet  unmarried,  walk  alone  by  your- 
self;  having  neither  occasion  of  the  one  nor  the  other. 

Besides,  you.  have  travelled  [in]  France  and  Italy,  and  I  hope 
have  learned  Thrift  in  those  places  :  and  understand  what  a  virtue 
Parsimony  is,  for  want  thereof,  how  many  young  heirs  iii  Eng- 
land have  galloped  through  their  estates,  before  they  have  been 
thirty ! 

Lastly,  my  obligation  is  so  much  to  your  learned  and  good 
father,  and  (for  goodness)  your  incomparable  mother;  that  I 
should  ever  have  thought  the  worse  of  myself,  if  I  had  not  cum 
tota  mea  supellex  sit  chartacea,  as  Erasmus  saith,  I  had 
not  expressed  my  duty  and  hearty  love  to  yoit,  one  way  or  other. 
Whose  in  all  service, 

I  am  truly, 

Henry    P  e  a  c  h  a  m . 


!4S 


[An    Advertisement   to    the   Reader. 

By  William  Lee,  the  Publisher,  in  1664,  and  1667. 

1664.  Master  Peacham,  many  years  since,  having  finished  this  httle 
book  of  Tlie  Wortli  of  a  Penny,  did  read  it  unto  me  ;  and  some  eminent 
friends  of  his,  being  then  present,  we  were  much  pleased  with  his  con- 
ceits. The  chief  intent  of  printing  it,  was  to  present  then\  \copies\  to 
his  friends. 

But  some  years  after,  Mr.  Peacham  dying,  and  the  book  being  so 
scarce  that  most  of  the  considerable  booksellers  in  London  had  never 
heard  of  it,  many  Gentlemen  of  great  worth  were  very  importunate  with 
me,  to  print  the  book  anew  :  but  after  much  search  and  inquiry,  I  found 
the  book  without  any  printer's  name,  and  without  any  true  date  \i.c., 
1647  instead  1641  or  2]  ;  and  having  procured  it,  to  be  licensed  and 
entered  [/>/  1664],  and  corrected  all  the  mistakes  in  it,  I  have,  in  an  orderly 
way,  reprinted  a  small  number  of  them,  word  for  word,  as  it  was  in  the 
original.  Only  a  friend  of  his,  that  knew  him  well  in  the  Low  Countries, 
and  when  he  was  Tutor  to  the  Earl  of  Arundel's  children,  hath  added 
some  notes  in  the  margent,  and  translated  some  Greek  and  Latin 
sentences,  which  were  omitted  in  the  first  impression. 

To  speak  much  of  the  worth  of  the  Author  is  needless,  who,  by  his 
own  Works,  hath  left  unto  the  World  a  worthy  memorial  of  himself  ;  his 
book  called  The  complete  Gentleman,  being  in  the  year  1661,  reprinted 
the  third  time  :  and  divers  others  books  of  his. 

And,  Reader,  know,  that  there  is  no  felicity  in  this  life,  nor  comfort  at 
our  death,  without  a  good  conscience  in  a  healthful  body,  and  a  com- 
petent estate  :  and  most  remarkable  is  the  saying  of  that  eminent  wise 
man — 

Industry  is  Fortune's  right  hand,  and  Frugality  her  left. 

Read  this  book  over,  and  if  thou  hast  a  Penny,  it  will  teach  thee  how  to 
keep  it  ;  and  if  thou  hast  not  a  Penny,  it  will  teach  thee  how  to  get  it. 
And  so,  farewell.  W.  L. 

1667.  Reader,  I  reprinted  this  little  book  about  two  years  since  \June 
24,  1664],  and  the  number  printed  presently  selling  in  a  few  days  all  away, 
I  intended  suddenly  to  have  printed  it  again  ;  but  the  great  judgement  of 
that  fearful  Plague,  1665,  hindered  the  printing  of  it  :  and  it  being  after- 
wards fitted  for  the  press,  the  late  dreadful  Fire  burnt  that  copy  {eaition^ 
with  many  thousands  of  otlier  books  burnt  with  it. 

But  now  [JA^y  17,  1667],  it  is  so  well  fitted  and  corrected  ;  with  some 
useful  additions  printed  in  a  change  of  letter  Yltalic  type,  as  also  in  this 
1883  edition^  that,  with  your  good  husbandry  it  will  so  increase  your 
store,  that  you  may  have  "  a  penny  to  spend,  a  penny  to  lend,  and  a  penny 
for  thy  friend." 

The  number  of  books  {copies^  printed  then  [1664]  was  so  much  sold  off 
within  a  few  days  in  London,  that  there  hath  not  been  books  left  for  to 
serve  the  country,  not  one  for  every  shire  in  England  !  that  the  country 
at  this  day,  is  altogether  unfurnished  with  them.  W.  L.] 


249 


THE 


WORTH   OF   A   PENNY: 

0  R   A 

Caution  to  keep  Money. 

He  Ambassador  [J.  Ben  Abdella]  of 
MuLEY  Hamet  Sheik,  King  of  Morocco, 
when  he  was  in  England,  about  four  or 
five  years  since  [He  arrived  in  London  on 
October  8,  1637],  said  on  a  time,  sitting  at 
dinner  at  his  house  at  Wood  street,  "  He 
thought  verily,  that  Algiers  was  four  times 
as  rich  as  London."  An  English  merchant 
replied  that  he  "  thought  not  so  ;  but  that  London  was  far 
richer  than  that !  and  for  plenty,  London  might  compare 
with  Jerusalem,  in  the  peaceful  days  of  Solomon." 

For  my  part,  I  believe  neither  !  especially  the  merchant. 
For,  in  the  time  of  Solomon,  silver  was  as  plentiful  in  Jeru- 
salem as  stones  in  the  street :  but  with  us,  stones  are  in  far 
more  abundance,  when,  in  every  street  in  London,  you  may 
walk  over  five  thousand  loads,  ere  you  will  find  a  single  Penny. 
Again,  the  general  complaint  and  murmur  throughout  the 
Kingdom,  of  the  scarcity  and  want  of  money,  argues  that  we 
fall  far  short  of  that  plenty  which  the  merchant   imagined. 

And,  one  time,  I  began  to  bethink  myself,  and  to  look  into 
the  causes  of  our  want  and  this  general  scarcity  :  and  I  found 
them  manifold. 

First,  some  men,  who,  by  their  wits  or  industry,  or  both, 
have  screwed  or  wound  themselves  into  vast  estates,  and 
gathered  thousands  like  the  griffins  of  Bactria;  when  they 
have  met  with  a  gold  mine,  so  brood  over  and  watch  it,  day 
and  night,  that  it  is  impossible  for  Charity  to  be  regarded, 
Virtue  rewarded,  or  Necessity  relieved  :  and  this  we  know  to 
have  been  the  ruin,  not  only  of  such  private  persons  them- 
selves, but  of  whole  Estates  and  Kingdoms.  That  I  may 
instance  one  for  many.     Constantinople  was  taken    by  the 


250  IMoxsiEUR  Gaulart  andiils  iiiduex  money. ["■r^^'^l'g^™: 

Turk,  when  the  citizens  abounding  in  wealth  and  money, 
would  not  part  with  a  penny  in  the  common  necessity  :  no, 
not  for  the  repair  of  their  battered  walls  !  or  the  levying  of 
soldiers  to  defend  them. 

Another  sort  doat  upon  the  stamp  of  their  money,  and  the 
bright  lustre  of  their  gold ;  and,  rather  than  they  will  suffer 
it  to  see  the  light,  will  hide  it  in  hills,  old  walls,  thatch  or 
tiles  of  their  houses,  tree  roots,  and  such  places  :  as,  not 
many  years  since,  at  Wainfleet  in  Lincolnshire,  there  was 
[Helmets eaten  found  in  digging  of  a  back  side  to  sow  hemp  in,  an 
the°r"olinru'lt,  old  rusty  hclmct  of  iron,  rammed  in  full  of  pieces 
foimd''f!iied  of  go^*^  '^^^^^  ^^^  picture  and  arms  of  King  Henry  I. 
with  monies  of  And  moncy  thus  hid,  the  owner  seldom  or  never 

ancient  inscrip-  ,  -,11  -i"  x*  ij 

tion.  1664.]  meets  withal  agaui ;  bemg,  many  tunes,  prevented 
by  sudden  death,  by  casualty,  or  their  forgetfulness. 

Monsieur  Gaulart,  a  Great  Man  of  France,  though  none  of 
[About  33        the  wisest,  in  the  times  of  the  Civil  Wars,  buried 

years  suice  v         nr  r  -•  -t 

[1629],  not  far  somc  2,000  crowns  [^£000= £3, 000  iiow\,  a  mile 
stabie^^many  or  two  from  his  housc,  in  an  open  fallow  field:  and 
pieces  of  silver  ^^^^^  }^g  might  know  thc  place  again,  took  his  mark 

were  taken  o_  r  . 

up;  which  the  froiii  thc  spirc  of  a  steeple  that  was  right  against 
thrown  upon  the  place.  The  wars  being  ended,  he  came,  with  a 
funw"^t!ems  frlcnd  of  his,  as  near  the  place  as  he  could  guess, 
riie'-'were  ^^  '°°^  ^'^^  ^^^  moncy.  Which  he  not  finding,  and 
found  to  be  wondering  what  the  reason  should  be,  after,  in  the 
impr'essIon'oV^  circumferencc,  he  had  gone  about  the  steeple, 
[iiem!"  Mr.  being  right  against  it  which  way  soever  he  went ; 
John  ski.den  quoth   hc    to    liis   friend,   "  Is   there    no    cheating 

much  valued        ,  .  1    •     1  1      •         j  1  11  • 

them  for  their  knavc,  think  you  !  m  the  steeple,  that  turns  it 
someoflhem  about,  intending  to  cheat  me  of  my  money  ? " 
having  been      imagining  that  it  went  round  and    himself   stood 

stamped,  as  he  -ii  r\  ■>  •  ^  r- 

said, above       Still,    as   CoPERNicus    did   of    thc    Globe  of    the 

900,  and  some      t^      .,1 
a  1000  years.        i^ ai  t  U . 

1664.]  Indeed,   much    money   and  treasure,   in  former 

manygreat'^^'^  timcs,  as  in  the  invasions  of  the    Saxons,  Danes, 

sumsofmoney  and  Nomians  here  with  us,  and  of  others  in  other 

ground;  which  places,  hath  been  this  way  bestowed  ;  and  for  this 

the're,''dur1n?  fcason,  in  such  troublesome  times,  become  scarce 

theheatof  the  for  wholc  Agcs  aftcr,  but  this  is  no  true  cause  of 

late  unnann-al  „  ^        .  ,^. 

wars.  1664.]  Want  ol  moncy  in  our  1  imes  :  wherein,  it  is  true, 
we  have  little  money  to   hide ;  yet  there   are    not    wanting 


H.  Peaehatn 
?        164 


"JThe  characteristics  of  a  Miser  in  1641.  251 


among  us,  those  monednlcB  or  money-hiding  daws,  who  repine 
and  envy  that  either  King  or  country  should  be  one  penny 
better  (yea,  even  in  the  greatest  extremity  !)  for  what  they 
have  conveyed  into  their  holes. 

And  most  true  it  is,  that  money  so  heaped  up  in  chests 
and  odd  corners,  is  like,  as  one  saith,  to  dung;  which  while 
it  lieth  upon  a  heap  doth  no  good,  but  dispersed  and  cast 
abroad,  maketh  fields  fruitful.  Hence  Aristotle  concludeth 
that  the  prodigal  man  is  more  beneficial  to,  and  deserveth 
better  of,  his  country,  than  the  covetous  miser.  Every  trade 
and  vocation  fareth  the  better  for  him,  as  the  tailor,  haber- 
dasher, vintner,  shoemaker,  sempster,  hostler,  and  the  like. 

The  covetous  man  is  acquainted  with  none  of  these.  For 
instead  of  satin,  he  suits  himself  in  sacken.  He  trembles, 
as  he  passeth  by  a  tavern  door,  to  hear  a  reckoning  of  8s. 
[^30s.  now]  sent  up  into  the  Half  Moon  [?  how  window]  for 
wine,  oysters,  and  faggots  :  for  his  own  natural  drink,  you 
must  know  !  is  between  that  the  frogs  drink  [simple  water] 
and  a  kind  of  pitiful  small  beer  too  bad  to  be  drunk,  scarbeer, 
and  somewhat  too  good  to  drive  a  water  mill.  Broom  in'the 
The  haberdasher  gets  as  little  by  him  as  he  did  by  lovv  countries 
an  old  acquaintance  of  mine  at  Lynn  in  Norfolk  :  «<7w"]theglnon, 
who,  when  he  had  worn  a  hat  eight  and  thirty  '^ -""ch  uke  k. 
years,  would  have  petitioned  Parliament  against  haberdashers 
for  abusing  the  country,  in  making  their  ware  so  slight  ! 
For  the  shoemaker,  he  hath  as  little  to  do  with  him,  as  ever 
Tom  Coryat  had.  For  sempsters,  it  is  true,  that  he  loves 
their  faces  better  than  their  fashions.  For  Plays,  if  he  read 
but  their  titles  upon  a  post  [the  Bill  of  the  Play],  it  is  enough. 
Ordinaries  [Eating-houses  with  table  d'hotcs]  he  knows  none ! 
save  some  of  three  pence  [i.e.,  a  threepenny  ( =  is.  now)  dinner], 
in  Black  Horse  Alley,  and  such  places.  For  tapsters  and 
hostlers,  they  hate  him  as  hell !  as  not  seeing  a  mote  in  his 
cup  once  in  seven  years.  [This  miser-able  Master  supped  liis 
man  and  himself,  at  the  inn,  with  a  quart  of  milk  !  1664.J 

Another  cause  of  scarcity  and  want  of  money  are  peaceful 
Times,  the  nurses  of  pride  and  idleness  ;  wherein  people 
increase,  yet  hardly  get  employment.  Those  of  the  richer 
and  abler  sort  give  themselves  to  observe  and  follow  every 
fashion  ;  as  what  an  infinite  sum  of  money  goeth  out  of  this 
kingdom  into  foreign  parts,  for  the  fuel  of  our  fashionable  pride ! 


252    Occasions  of  the  great  want  of  Coin.  ["-^ 


Peacham. 
1641. 


Let  me  hereto  add  the  multitude  of  strangers  that  daily 
,-,.^  ^  ,.  ^  come  over  into  our  warmer  soil,  as  the  cranes  in 
g.,id  being  at  a  Winter  betake  themselves  to  -bgypt ;  where,  havmg 
beyond'iheTeas  cnrichcd  themsclvcs  through  our  folly  and  pride, 
n-uion.'isa'^'^"  they  return  and  purchase  great  estates  in  their 
great  cause  of    Qwu  countrlcs  :  euhaucing  there,  our  monies  to  a 

the  transpor-  ,    •     ,  .  j.        i  1       •  •  •  j     xl  • 

tationofit.  higher  rate,  to  their  excessive  gain  and  the  im- 
"^^^^■^  poverishing  our  people  of  England. 

Let  me  add  hereto  besides,  the  great  sums  of  money  and 
many  other  great  and  rich  gifts,  which  have  been  formerly 
conferred  on  strangers  :  which,  how  they  have  been  deserved, 
I  know  not !  Some,  I  am  sure !  like  snakes  taken  up,  and 
having  got  warmth  from  the  Royal  fire,  have  been  ready  to 
hiss  at  and  sting,  as  much  as  in  them  lieth,  both  their  finders 
and  their  founders. 

Again,  there  is  an  indisposition  of  many  to  part  with 
money  in  these  tickle  Times :  being  desirous  if  the  worst 
should  happen,  to  "  have  their  friends  about  them,"  as  Sir 
Thomas  More  said,  filling  his  pockets  with  gold,  when  he  was 
carried  to  the  Tower. 

There  is  likewise  almost  a  sensible  decay  of  Trade  and 
traffic  :  which  being  not  so  frequent,  as  heretofore,  by  reason, 
as  some  would  have  it,  the  seas  are  now  more  pestered  with 
pirates  than  in  times  past ;  the  "  receipt  of  custom,"  like  the 
stomach,  wanting  the  accustomed  nourishment,  is  constrained 
to  suck  it  from  the  neighbourfing]  veins  to  the  ill  disposition 
and  weakening  of  the  whole  body. 

They  are  no  few  or  small  sums,  which,  in  Pieces  of  Eight 
[How much      -i.e.,  eif:;ht  Rials,  the  brc sent  Mexican  dollar  =^  as.   yi. 

gold  IS  con-  I  '       o  _       '  r  _  T^        o 

yeyed  thither  now]  arc  camcd  over  to  the  East  Indies :  no  doubt  to 
1664.7  "^  the  great  profit  and  enriching  of  some  in  particular; 
but  whether  of  the  whole  Kingdom  in  general,  I  know  not ! 

What  hurt,  our  late  questioned  Patentees,  in  Latin  Hiru- 
dincs  [bloodsuckers],  have  done  to  the  common  body,  in  suck- 
ing and  drawing  forth  even  the  very  life-blood  from  it ; 
we  know  daily,  and  more  we  shall  know  shortly. 

I  wish  some  of  the  craftiest  and  most  dangerous  among 
them,  might  be  singled  out  for  examples  !  remembering 
that  of  Tacitus: 

PcBna  ad  paucos,  timor  ad  multos. 
[The  punishment  to  feiv,  but  the  terror  to  many.  1664.] 


H.Peacham.-|  jjjg  MoNEY  Lenders  OF  MooR  Fields.  253 

All  people  complain  generally,  as  I  have  said,  of  the  want 
of  money  ;  which,  like  an  epidemical  disease,  hath  over-run 
the  whole  land.  The  City  hath  litde  Trading  [which  is  the 
Mother  of  Money  :  for  he  who  buys  and  sells,  feels  not  what  he 
spends.  1667].  Country  farmers  complain  of  their  rents  yearly 
raised  (especially  by  their  Catholic  landlords,  which,  in  times 
past,  have  been  accounted  the  best  ;  though  now  the  case 
is  altered,  and  easily  may  the  reason  be  guessed)  :  yet  can 
find  no  utterance  for  their  commodities,  or  must  sell  them  at 
under  rates.  Scholars,  without  money,  get  neither  patrons 
nor  preferment  ;  mechanic  artists  [skilled  workmen],  no  work  : 
and  the  like  of  the  other  professions. 

One  very  well  compared  worldly  wealth  or  Money  unto  a 
Foot  Ball :  some  few  nimble-heeled  and  [nimblej-headed 
run  quite  away  with  it ;  when  most  are  only  lookers-on,  and 
cannot  get  a  kick  at  it,  in  all  their  lives. 

Go  but  among  the  Usurers  in  their  walk  in  Moor  Fields, 
and  see  if  you  can  borrow  :!f  100  [=£350  now]  of  any  of  them, 
without  a  treble  security,  with  the  use  [interest] ,  one  way  or 
other,  doubled  !  and  as  yourself,  so  must  your  estate  be 
particularly  known  ! 

A  pleasant  fellow  came,  not  long  since,  to  one  of  them, 
and   desired    him  that    he   would    lend   him    £^0  [a  country 

•  —  riJC   now].  tenant  meeting: 

LAj/J  -  ,..,^,  With  his  miser- 

Ouoth   the    usurer,    "  My   friend,    I   know  you  able  landlord, 

y,  „  f  J  >  •'in  the  'leim 

not   !  time,  did  offer 

"  For  that  reason  only,  I  would  borrow  the  money  ^^"^^  ^^l  p™"'" 

of  you,"   [said  the  other,  1Q67\  ;  "for  if  you  knew  °4om'^iie  uind 

me,  I  am  sure  you  would  not  lend  me  a  penny!  "  lord  said,"i;ea 

Another  meets  a  creditor  of  his,  in  Fleet  street  :  fnd?aveone ' 

who  seeing  his  old  debtor,  "  Oh,  Master  A,"  quoth  ^'^f^^fiv'^  , 

<->  .  '.  '  11  ^^  '"^  other  ! 

he,  "you  are  met  m  good  time!  You  know  there  and  i  win  take 
is  money  between  us,  and  hath  been  a  long  time  ;  Ifyouhadspe^it 
and  now  it  is  become  a  scarce  commodity."  (/'!"'/«'////'^'' 

"  It    is    true,  Sir,"  quoth    the  other,  "  for,"  he   '£';'^fl'^^{j 
looking  down  upon  the  stones  that  were  between, 
""  in  good  faith  !  I  see  none." 

And  this  was  all  the  citizen  could  get  at  that  time  ;  but 
afterwards,  he  was  well  satisfied. 

Whom  would  it  not  vex,  to  be  indebted  to  many  of  your 
shopkeepers  ?  who,  though  they  have  had  their  bills  truly  paid 


254  Money  is  required  for  everything.  ["•^'^^'^I;"; 

them  for  many  years  together,  yet  (upon  the  smallest  distaste 
of  a  petty  mistake,  reckoning,  or  some  remnant  behind) 
will  be  called  upon  !  openly  railed  at !  by  their  impudent  and 
clamorous  wives,  insulted  over  !  and  lastly,  arrested  !  which 
should,  methinks,  teach  every  young  Fashion-monger,  either 
to  keep  himself  out  of  debt,  or  money  in  his  purse  to  provide 
Cerberus  a  sop. 

Another  misery  proceeding  from  the  want  of  money  is  that 
when  it  is  due  unto  you,  by  your  own  labour  or  desert,  from 
some  rich  miser-able,  or  powerful  man  or  other,  by  long  wait- 
ing, day  by  day,  yea  hourly  attendance,  at  his  house  or 
lodging;  you  not  only  lose  your  time  and  opportunity  of 
getting  it  elsewhere,  and  when  all  is  done,  to  be  paid  after 
five  in  the  hundred,  in  his  countenance,  or  else  fair  and  can- 
did promises,  which  will  enrich  you  straight ! 

Promissis  dives  qidlihet  esse  potest. 
[If  words  and  promises  would  pass  for  coin;  there- 
would  be  no  man  poor.     1664  [, 

And  some  poor  men  there  are,  of  that  currish  and  inhuman 
nature  :  whom,  if  you  shall  importune  through  urgent  neces- 
sity, then  are  you  in  danger  to  lose  both  your  monies  and 
their  favour  for  ever. 

Would  you  prefer  and  place  your  son  in  the  University  ? 
Let  him  deserve  never  so  well,  as  being  an  able  and  ready 
Grammarian,  yea,  Captain  of  his  Form  !  you  shall  very  hardly 
prefer  him,  wdthout  Great  Friends  joined  with  your  great 
Purse  !  For  those  just  and  charitable  Times  wherein  Desert 
seldom  went  without  its  due,  are  gone  ! 

The  like,  I  may  say  of  the  City  :  where,  if  the  Trade  [line 
of  business]  be  anything  like,  j^ou  cannot  place  your  son, 
under  ^^'Go  or  ;£"ioo  [=£210  or  ^350  now] ;  though  by  nature 
he  were,  as  many  are,  made  for  the  same,  and  of  wit  and 
capacity  never  so  pregnant. 

Or  have  you  a  daughter,  by  birth  well  descended,  virtuous, 
chaste,  fair,  comely,  endued  with  the  best  commendable 
qualities  that  may  be  required  in  a  young,  beautiful,  and 
modest  Maid  :  if  you  have  not  been,  in  your  life-time,  thrifty 
to  provide  her  a  Portion,  she  may  live  till  she  be  as  old  as 
Creusa,  or  the  Nurse  of  ^Eneas,  ere  you  shall  get  her  a  good 
Match! 


H.  Peach 


lov.']  Successful  pleading  of  a  Frexcii  Lady.  255 

Nam  genus  et  forniam  Regina  Pecunia  donat, 
[Money  's  a  Queen  !  that  doth  bestow 
Beauty  and  Birth  to  high  and  low.     1664.] 

is  as  true  as  old.     Hence  the  Dutch  have  a  proverb,  that 
"  Gentihty  and  Fair  Looks  buy  nothing  in  the  market." 

If  you  happen  to  be  sick  and  ill ;  if  your  purse  hath  been 
lately  purged,  the  Doctor  is  not  at  leisure  to  visit  you  !  yea, 
hardly  your  neighbours  and  familiar  friends  !  But  unto 
monied  and  rich  men,  they  fly  as  bees  to  the  willow  palms  ! 
and,  many  times,  they  have  the  judgement  of  so  many,  that 
the  Sick  is  in  more  danger  of  them,  than  of  his  disease. 

A  good  and  painful  Scholar  having  lately  taken  his  Orders, 
shall  be  hardly  able  to  open  a  Church  door  without  a  Golden 
Key,  when  he  should  ring  his  bells  [i.e.,  ring  himself  in]. 
Hence  it  comes  to  pass,  that  so  many  of  our  prime  wits  run 
over  sea  to  seek  their  fortunes ;  and  prove  such  vipers  to 
their  mother  country. 

Have  you  but  an  ordinary  suit  in  law,  let  your  cause  or 
case  be  never  so  plain  or  just,  if  you  want  wherewith  to 
maintain  it,  and,  as  it  were,  ever  and  anon  to  water  it  at  the 
root,  it  will  quickly  wither  and  die  ! 

I  confess  friends  may  do  much  to  promote  it,  and  may 
prevail  by  their  powerful  assistance  in  the  prosecution  [as 
by  the  following  story  appears.     1667.] 

There  was,  of  late  years,  in  France,  a  marvellous  fair  and 
goodly  Lady,  whose  husband  being  imprisoned  for  [Beauty  i/ not 
debt  or  something  else,  was  constrained  to  be  his  T>-ovfrmo"eak 
Solicitor,  and,  in  her  own  person,  to  follow  his  suit  jrw/i^eeV] 
in  law,  through  almost  all  the  Courts  in  Paris;  and  indeed, 
through  her  favour,  got  extraordinary  favour  among  the 
Lawyers  and  Courtiers,  and  almost  a  final  despatch  of  all 
business  :  only  she  wanted  the  King's  hand,  who  was  Henry 
IV.  of  famous  memory.  He,  as  he  was  a  noble,  a  witty,  and 
an  understanding  Prince,  understanding  how  well  she  had 
sped  (her  suit  having  been,  in  the  opinion  of  most  men, 
desperate  or  lost),  told  her  that  "for  his  part,  he  would 
willingly  sign  her  Petition."  Withal,  he  asked  her,  "  How 
her  husband  did  ?  "  and  bade  her,  from  himself,  to  tell  him, 
"  That  had  he  not  pitched  upon  his  horns,  he  had  utterly 
been  spoiled  and  crushed  !  " 


256        How    CONFIDENT    ARE    MONEYED    MeN  !     ["' ^r'l'e^'^: 

So  that  hereby  was  the  old  proverb  verified,  "  A  Friend  in 
ithgoodto  Court  is  better  than  a  Penny  in  the  Purse."  But, 
'b7u/u7ar''  as  friends  go  nowadays,  I  had  rather  seek  for 
hetterneverto  thcm    in    my    purse,    than    in   the    Court:    and    I 

ha'ne  need  of  r\  ,  •  c  "J 

them.  1669.    behcve  many  Courtiers  are  01  my  mind. 

Again,  to  teach  every  one  to  make  much  of  and  to  keep 
money,  when  he  hath  it  ;  let  him  seriously  think  with  him- 
self. What  a  misery  it  is,  and  how  hard  a  matter  to  borrow 
it !     And  most  true  it  is,  that  one  saith  : 

Semper  comitem  jfEris  Alieni  esse  Miseriam. 
That  Misery  is  ever  the  companion  of  Borrowed  Money. 

Hereby,  a  Man  is  made  cheap  and  undervalued  !  despised  ! 
deferred  !  mistrusted  !  oftentimes  flatly  denied  !  and  besides, 
upon  the  least  occasion,  upbraided  therewith,  in  company  and 
among  friends ! 

And  sometimes.  Necessity  drives  men  to  be  beholden  to 
such  as,  at  another  time,  they  would  scorn  to  be  !  wherein 
the  old  saying  is  verified — 

Miserum  est  debere  cui  nolis. 
[A   miserable  thing  it  is,   to  oive  money   to  hiniy 
whom  thou  woiddst  not !     1664.] 

And,  on  the  contrary,  how  bold,  confident,  merry,  lively, 
and  ever  in  humour,  are  Moneyed  Men.  [For  being  out  debt, 
[They  need  not  they  are  out  of  danger  !  1667.]  They  go  where 
but'^are^sueet  they  Hst !  They  wear  what  they  list !  They  eat 
proof.  1664.]  and  drink  what  they  list !  And  as  their  minds,  so 
their  bodies  are  free  ! 

They  fear  no  City  Serjeant,  Court  Marshal's  man,  or 
Country  Bailiff.  Nor  are  they  followed  or  dogged  home  to 
their  Ordinaries  and  lodgings,  by  City  shopkeepers  and  other 
creditors  :  but  they  come  to  their  houses  and  shops,  where 
they  are  bidden  welcome  ;  and  if  a  stool  be  fetched  [i.e.,  for 
them]  into  the  shop,  it  is  an  extraordinary  favour,  because  all 
passers  by  take  notice  of  it.  And  these  men  can  bring  their 
wives  or  friends  to  see  in  Court,  the  King  and  Queen  at  din- 
ner, or  to  see  a  Masque ;  by  means  of  some  eminent  man  of 
the  Guard,  or  the  carpenter  that  made  the  scaffold  [i.e.,  for 
the  Masque] . 


H.Peacham-j  WhY     ARE     MEN     POOR?  257 

The  common  and  ordinary  Causes  zuhy  men 
are  poor  and  want  money. 


Here  must,  by  the  Divine  Providence,  in  the  Body 


of  the  Common  wealth,  be  as  well  poor  [xhe 


bi 


essing 


as    rich  :    for    as  a    human  body  cannot  °i  god  upon 

,.  .,  ,  ,  ,.  •',,  the   prosperity 

subsist  Without  hands  and  leet  to  labour,  oftheindus- 
and  to  walk  about,  to  provide  for  other  members;  contented.'^ 
the  rich  being  the  belly,  which  devour  all  yet  do  ^664.] 
no  part  of  the  work  :  but  the  cause  of  every  man's  poverty  is 
not  one  and  the  same. 

Some  are  poor  by  condition,  and,  content  with  their  calling, 
neither  seek,  nor  can  work  themselves  into  a  better  fortune  : 
yet  GOD  raiseth  up,  ashy  miracle,  the  children  and  posterity 
of  these,  oftentimes,  to  possess  the  most  eminent  places, 
either  in  Church  or  Commonwealth,  as  to  become  Arch- 
bishops, Bishops,  Judges,  Commanders,  Generals  in  the  field. 
Secretaries  of  State,  Statesmen,  and  the  like.  So  that  it 
proveth  not  ever  true,  which  Martial  saith, 

Pauper  eris  semper,  si  pauper  es  AiMlLIANE  ! 
If  poor  thou  beest ;  poor,  shalt  thou  ever  be  ! 
i^MiLiANUS,  I  assure  thee  ! 

Of  this  condition  are  the  greatest  number  in  every  Kingdom. 
Others  there  are,  who  have  possessed  great  estates,  but 
those  estates,  as  I  have  seen  and  known  it  in  some  families, 
and  not  far  from  the  City,  have  not  thrived  or  continued;  as 
gotten  by  oppresson,  deceit,  usury,  and  the  like :  which 
commonly  lasteth  not  to  the  Third  generation ;  according  to 
the  old  saying: 

De  male  qucEsitis  vix  gaudet  tertius  hceres. 
[The  Grandchild  seldom  is  the  heir 
Of  goods  that  evil  gotten  are.     1664.] 

Others  come  to  want  and  misery,  and  spend  their  fair 
estates  in  ways  of  vicious  living,  as  upon  drink  and  women  : 
for  Bacchus  and  Venus  are  inseparable  companions  ;  and  he 
that  is  familiar  with  the  one,  is  never  a  stranger  to  the  other. 

Uno  namque  modo,  Vina  VENUSque  nocent. 
[In  one  same  way,  manner,  and  end  ; 
Both  Wine  and  Women  do  offend.     1664.] 

Eng.  Gar.  VI.  I7 


258  Idleness  &  Prodigality,  causes  of  Want.["-  ^'^=1'^;^; 

Some  again  live  in  perpetual  want,  as  being  naturally 
wholly  given  to  idleness  [ivhich  turns  the  edge  of  Wit,  and  is  the 
Key  of  Beggary.  1667.]  These  are  the  drones  of  the  Common 
wealth,  who  deserve  not  to  live. 

Qui  noH  laborat,  non  mandiicet. 
[He  that  laboureth  not,  must  not  eat. 

'*  Labour,  nirht  and  day !  rather  than  be  burdensome,^'  saith  St. 
Paul.    1664.] 

Both  country  and  City  swarm  with  this  kind  of  people. 
"  The  diligent  hand,"  saith  Solomon,  "  shall  make  rich  ;  but 
the  sluggard  shall  have  scarcity  of  bread." 

I  remember,  when  I  was  in  the  Low  Countries,  there  were 
three  soldiers,  a  Dutchman,  a  Scot,  and  an  Englishman,  for 
their  misdemeanours,  condemned  to  be  hanged.  Yet  their 
lives  were  begged  by  three  several  men.  One,  a  Bricklayer, 
that  he  [the  Dutch  soldier]  might  help  him  to  make  bricks,  and 
carry  them  to  the  walls.  The  other  was  a  Brewer  of  Delft, 
who  begged  his  man  [the  Scot]  to  fetch  water,  and  do  other 
work  in  the  brewhouse.  Now,  the  third  was  a  Gardener,  and 
desired  the  third  man,  to  help  him  to  work  in  and  dress  a 
hop-garden. 

The  first  two  accepted  their  offers  thankfully.  The 
Englishman  told  his  master,  in  plain  terms,  '*  his  friends 
never  brought  him  up  to  gather  hops !"  but  desired  he  might 
be  hanged  first  :  and  so  he  was. 

[The  reasons  ^  Othcrs  haviug  had  great  and  fair  estates  left 
sogrrates"at°s  uuto  them  by  friends,  and  who  never  knew  the 
cont^methem-  P^i"  ^nd  carc  of  getting  them,  have,  as  one 
"'^nth'in '"'"  ^^^^  truly,  *'  galloped  through  them  in  a  very  short 
1664.]"  time." 

These  are  such,  of  whom  Solomon  speaketh,  "  who,  having 
riches,  have  not  the  hearts  (or  rather  the  Wit),  to  use 
them." 

These  men,  Homer,  most  aptly,  compareth  unto  the  Willow 
Tree,  which  he  calleth  by  a  most  significant  epithet  wXeo-i- 
Kap7ro<i,  in  haiin  frugi-perda,  or  "  loose  fruit  :  "  because  the 
palms  [buds]  of  the  willow  tree  are  no  sooner  ripe,  but  are 
blown  away  with  the  wind. 

I  remember,  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  time,  a  wealthy  citizen 


H.  Peacham 


^16^1]]   Some  undone  by  foolish  marriages.     259 

of  London  left  his  son  a  mii^hty  estate  in  money :  who 
imagining  he  should  never  be  able  to  spend  it,  would 
usually  make  "  ducks  and  drakes  "  in  the  Thames,  with 
Twelve  pences  [  =  55.  now],  as  boys  are  wont  to  do  with  tile 
sherds  and  oyster  shells.  And  in  the  end,  he  grew  to  that 
extreme  want,  that  he  was  fain  to  beg  or  borrow  sixpence : 
having,  many  times,  no  more  shoes  than  feet ;  and  some- 
times, "  more  feet  than  shoes,"  as  the  Beggar  said  in  the 
Comedy. 

[WJio  more  than  his  worth  doth  spend, 
Maketh  a  rope,  his  life  to  end  !     1667.] 

Many  also  there  are,  who,  having  been  born  to  fair  estates, 
have  quite  undone  themselves  by  marriage  :  and  that,  after  a 
twofold  manner. 

First,  by  matching  themselves,  without  advice  of  parents  or 
friends,  in  heat  of  youth,  unto  proud,  foolish,  and  light  house- 
wives, or  such  perfect  "linguists,"  that  one  were  ♦  a  place  near 
better  to  take  his  diet  in  Hell,*  than  his  dinner  at  to. west- 

A       1       1    •        •  1  r     1      •       Tiinster  Hall  ; 

home.     And  this  is  the  reason  so  many  of  their  where  very 
husbands  travel  beyond  the  seas ;  or,  at  home,  go  dr^sseXaiuhe 
from  town  to  town,  from  tavern  to  tavern,  to  look  Tef"!'""^- 
for  company :  and,  in  a  word,  to  spend  anything  to  live  any- 
where, save  at  home  in  their  own  houses. 

Others  there  are,  again,  who  match  themselves  (for  a  little 
handsomeness  and  eye-pleasing  Beauty,  [which,  so  soon  as 
Poverty  conicth  in  at  the  door,  leapcth  onto/ the  window.  1664. J 
into  very  mean  and  poor  kindred ;  and  are  sometimes  drawn 
in  hereto  by  broken  knaves,  necessitous  parents,  who  are  glad 
to  meet  with  such,  that  they  may  serve  them  as  props  to  up- 
hold their  decaying  and  ruinous  families.  And  these  poor 
silly  young  birds  are  commonly  caught  up  before  they  be 
fledged,  and  pulled  bare  before  ever  they  knew  they  had 
feathers  :  for  their  fathers-in-law  or  some  near  of  the  kin, 
as  soon  as  they  have  seen  one  and  twenty,  have  so  belimed 
them  with  Bonds,  that  they  shall  hardly,  as  long  as  they 
live,  be  able  to  fly  over  ten  acres  of  that  land,  their  friends 
left  them. 

[//  Youth  be  joined  with  Honour  and  Riches,  how  dangerous, 
if  the  reins  be  then  let  loose,  we  see  the  many  destructive  effects  it 
hath,  and  do  work !  but  the  Three  joined  with  Wisdom,  how 
honourable  and  noble  are  they  all ! 


26o  Learn  the  just  bounds  of  Pleasure!  ["' ^^"^I'g^"?: 

Bid  the  greatest  snare,  the  Author  writes  of,  is  Beauty  :  which, 
of  itself ,  is  a  blessing.  We  see  how  comfortably  the  candle  causes 
light,  not  offending  in  burning ;  yet  the  foolish  fly  offends  in 
scorching  itself  in  the  fame  !  Yea,  it  is  no  small  misery  to  become 
a  temptation  unto  another,  and  to  be  made  the  occasion  of  other's 
ruin  ;  Beauty  being  not  well  governed.  Which  fails,  if  the  Soul 
answers  not  the  Face  !  for  the  foulest  soids  often  dwell  fairest ! 
How  happy,  if  Virtue  be  joined  thereto  ! 

If  Preccptswill  notforcivarn  thee,  yet  let  a  midtitude  of  Examples 
affright  thee  from  unequal  and  unfit  marriages  ! 

He  that  takes  his  fidl  liberty  in  what  he  may,  shall  repent  him  ! 
how  much  more,  in  what  he  should  not  /  Nothing  can  overturn 
him  that  hath  power  of  himself  !  Learn  first,  by  a  just  survey,  to 
know  the  jusc  due  and  law  fid  bounds  of  Pleasu,re  !  and  then 
knowing  the  danger  of  going  beyond  a  man's  strength,  use  pleasures 
wiihout  dotage  !  I  n^^ver  knew  a  wise  man  that  repented  him  of 
too  little  w' or  Idly  pleasure.  The  surest  course  in  all  earthly  delights 
is  to  rise  [therefrom]  with  an  appetite,  and  to  be  satisfied  with 
moderation.     1669.1 

A  Knight  of  ^£'8,000  or  £10,000  [=£25,000  or  £30,000 
now]  [by]  land  in  a  year,  doated  upon  a  poor  Alewife's 
daughter,  and  made  her  a  Lady.  It  cannot  be  denied  but 
women  of  the  meanest  condition  may  make  good  wives ;  since 

Paupertas  non  est  vitiwn  ; 
Poverty  is  no  vice  : 

but  herein  is  the  danger,  that  when  their  husbands,  in  a 
short  time,  having  as  it  were  taken  a  surfeit  of  their  beauties, 
and  finding  their  error;  they  begin,  as  I  have  known  many, 
to  contemn  them,  and  fly  abroad,  doat  upon  others,  and 
devise  all  the  ways  they  can  (being  grown  desperate)  to  give 
or  sell  all  that  they  have. 

Besides,  such  poor  ones,  oftentimes,  prove  so  impious  and 
proud,  as  that  they  make  no  conscience  to  abuse,  insult  over, 
and  make  silly  fools  of  their  husbands  ;  as  by  letting  and 
disposing  of  their  lands,  gathering  up  his  rents,  putting  away 
and  entertaining  what  servants  they  list,  to  verify  that  old 
verse : 

Aspcrius  nihil  est  humili,  cum  surgit  in  altum. 
There's  nothing  more  perverse  and  proud  than  She, 
Who  is  to  Wealth  advanced  from  Beggary. 


H.  Peacha 


^™:]  Flee  Pleasure,  and  it  will  be  nigh!    261 

An  Italian  Earl,  about  Naples,  of  100,000  Crowns 
[  =  5^30,000  then  =^£"100, 000  now]  by  the  year  in  estate, 
married  a  common  laundress.  Whereupon  old  Pasquin  (the 
image  of  stone  in  Rome),  the  next  Sunday  morning  or 
shortly  after,  had  a  foul  and  most  filthy  shirt  put  on  his  back, 
and  this  tart  libel  beneath  : 

"  Pasquin,  how  now  I  a  foul  shirt  upon  a  Sunday  !  " 
The  risposto  or  answer,  in  Pasquin's  behalf  was  : 
"  I  cannot  help  it,  my  laundress  is  made  a  Countess !  " 

Besides,  another  inconvenience  is  that,  besides  the 
calling  of  his  Wit  and  Judgement  into  question ;  he  draws 
unto  him  so  many  leeches  and  down-drawers  upon  his  estate, 
as  his  wife  hath  necessitous  friends  and  kindred.  But  they 
that  thus  marry,  are  commonly  such  young  men  as  are  left 
to  themselves  :  their  parents,  overseers  [^i^uar^m»s],  or  faithful 
friends,  being  either  dead,  or  far  from  them. 

Others,    not  affecting   marriage  at   all,  live,  as  they  say, 
"  upon  the  Commons  "  :  unto  whom  it  is  death  to     NUaUest 
be  put  into  the  Several.     They  spend  what  they  {/,y'"4-/X'"^ 
have,  altogether  in  irregular  courses  of  life,  and  in  ""''''^• 
change   of  horses  and   lodgings,    entertainment  of  new  ac- 
quaintance, making  great  feasts  in  taverns,  invitations  and 
meetings  of  their  common  mistresses,  coach  hire,  clothes  in 
fashion,  and  the  like.      [Who  forget  that  old  but  true  Proverb  : 

Follow  Pleasure,  and  Pleasure  will  fly  ! 

Flee  Pleasure,  and  Pleasure  will  be  nigh  !  1667.] 

besides  the  hanging  on  and  intrusion  of  some  necessitous 
parasites ;  of  w^hom  they  shall  find  as  much  use,  as  of  water 
in  their  boots.  [And  it  is  well  said  by  one,  that  "he  that  over- 
much studies  his  own  contentment,  ever  wanteth  it  /"  1667.] 

There  are  others,  again,  of  overgood  free  natures  and  dis- 
positions ;  who  are  easily  fetched  and  drawn  in  by  decayed 
and  crafty  knaves  (I  call  them,  no  better!)  to  enter  into 
bonds,  and  to  pass  their  words  for  their  old  debts  and  engage- 
ments :  and  this  they  are  wrought  to  do  in  taverns  in  their 
cups  and  merriment,  at  Ordinaries,  and  the  like  places. 


262   Many  ways  of  coming  to  poverty.  ["-^^ 


ichaiii. 
1641. 


I  would  have  in  the  fairest  room  of  one  of  these  houses, 
The  old  an  Emblem  of  a  gallant  young  heir  creeping  in  at 
si^etyship.  the  great  end  of  a  hunter's  horn  with  ease  ;  but 
cruelly  pinched  at  the  coming  forth  at  the  small  end :  a 
fool  standing  not  far  off,  laughing  at  him.  And  these  be 
those  fools  who  will  be  so  easily  bound!  and  pass  their  words 
in  their  drink. 

Fact  lis  descensus  Averni,  sed  revocare  gradum. 
I'Tis  easy  into  hell  to  fall ; 
But  to  come  back  from  thence  is  all !  1664.] 

It  is  easy  slipping  in,  but  the  return  and  getting  out  is  full 
of  difficulty. 

Infinite  also  are  the  Casualties  that  are  incident  to  the 
Life  of  Man,  whereby  he  may  fall  into  poverty  :  as  mis- 
fortune by  fire,  loss  at  sea,  robbery  and  theft  on  land,  wounds, 
lameness,  sickness,  and  the  like. 

Men  run  out  of  great  estates,  and  have  undone  themselves 
by  over  sumptuous  building,  above  and  beyond  their  means 
and  estates.  [F07'  he  that  builds  a  fair  house,  without  good 
counsel,  builds  himself  to  prisoji !  It  being  a  sweet  impoverish- 
ment!    1667.  J 

Others  have  been  undone  by  carelessness  and  thriftless 
servants,  such  as  waste  and  consume  their  Masters'  goods  ; 
[for  thcreisa  great  deal  savedwhere  alittle  is  spent.  1667.':  neither 
saving  nor  mending  what  is  amiss  ;  but  whatsoever  they 
are  entrusted  withal,  they  suffer  to  be  spoiled  and  to  run  to 
ruin.     For 

Qtd  nwdica  spernit,  panlatim  defliiit, 
*'  He  that  despiseth  small  things,  falls  by  little  and  little," 
says  the  Wise  Man. 

Some,  yea,  a  great  many,  have  brought  themselves  to 
beggary  by  play  and  gaming,  and  never  lying  [staying]  out 
of  Ordinaries  and  Dicing-houses  :  which  places,  like  quick- 
sands, so  suddenly  sink  and  swallow  them,  that  hardly  you 
shall  ever  see  their  heads  appear  any  more.  [And  so,  these 
idle  practices  turn  the  edge  of  their  Wit.     1667.] 

Others,  and  Great  Ones  too,  affect  unprofitable,  yea,  im- 
possible inventions  and  practices,  as  the  Philosopher's  Stone, 
the  Adamantine  Alphabet,*  the  discovery  of  that  new  w^orld 
'■•  Tossibly  referring  to  Bp.  F.  Godwin's  book  in  1638.  E.  A. 


H.  Peacham.-J  Jjjg  CHARACTER  OF  AN  INDIGENT  SOLDIER.    263 

in  the  Moon  by  these  new  devised  perspective  glasses  \teks- 
copes] ,  far  excelling,  they  say,  those  of  Galileo,  sundry  kinds 
of  useless  wild  fire,  water  works,  extractions,  distillations, 
and  the  like. 

If  any  would  be  taught  the  true  use  of  money,  let  him 
travel  to  Italy  !  For  the  Italian,  the  Florentine  especially, 
is  able  to  teach  all  the  world.  Thrift  !  For  Italy  being 
divided  into  many  Principalities  and  Provinces,  and  all  very 
fertile ;  the  inhabitants  are  many,  and  by  reason  of  so  often 
differences  among  them,  apt  to  take  arms.  The  people  are 
subject  to  taxes  and  impositions  :  as,  in  Florence,  the  Duke 
hath  a  custom  [octroi\  at  the  gates,  even  out  of  herbs  that 
are  brought  for  sallets  [sallads]  and  broths  into  the  city. 

T/ic  Symptoms  of  a  JMiiid  dejected  and  discontented 

for  want  of  money. 

|E  THAT  wanteth  money  is,  for  the  most  part? 
extremely  melancholic  in  every  company,  or  alone 
by  himself  [He  is  a  Cypher  among  Niunbers!  1667,] 
especially  if  the  weather  be  foul,  rainy,  or  cloudy. 
Talk  to  him,  of  what  you  will  ;  he  will  hardly  give  you  the 
hearing !  Ask  him  any  questions ;  he  answers  you  with 
monosyllables,  as  Tarleton  did  one,  who  out-eat  him  at 
an  Ordinary  :  "  Yes  !  No  !  That !  Thanks  !  True  !  "  &c. 

That  rhetorical  passage  of  5/a//« /m;is/a^z7;z«  [the State  trans- 
lative, 1664.J  is  of  great  use  with  him,  when  he  lays  the  cause 
of  his  want  upon  others  :  as  protesting,  this  great  Lord,  that 
Lady,  or  kinsman  owes  him  money ;  but  not  a  denierc  can  he 
get !  He  swears,  he  murmurs  against  the  French  and  other 
strangers,  who  convey  such  sums  of  money  out  of  the  land, 
besides  our  leather  hides  under  the  colour  of  calfskins  :  with 
that,  he  shews  you  his  boots  out  at  the  heels,  and  wanting 
mending  1  He  walks  with  his  arms  folded  ;  his  belt  without 
a  sword  or  rapier,  that  perhaps  be  somewhere  in  [Theinu- 
trouble.  A  hat  without  a  band,  hanging  over  his  ^animiiscnt 
ej-es  ;  only  it  wears  a  weather-beaten  fancy,  for  ''t".itfuZ'idkr. 
fashion'  sake.  He  cannot  stand  still,  but  like  one  i664.] 
of  the  Tower  wild  beasts,  is  still  walking  from  one  end  of  his 
room  to  another,  humming  out  some  new  Northern  time  or 
other.     If  he  meets  with  live  or  ten  pieces  ha.^'^Wy  [by  chance] 


Wa 


264  Poverty  makes  men  to  be  scorned.  ["•  ^'^'x6,"1: 

conferred  upon  him,  by  the  beneficence  of  some  noble  friend 
or  other  [althottgh  he  may  carry  all  his  friends  on  his  back.  1667.1 ; 
he  is  become  a  new  man  !  and  so  overjoyed  with  his  fortune, 
that  not  one  drop  of  small  drink  will  down  with  him,  all  that 
day ! 

T/ie  misery  of  want  of  money  in  regard  of 
contempt  in  the  world. 

HosoEVER  wanteth  money  is  ever  subject  to  con- 
tempt and  scorn  in  the  world ;  let  him  be  furnished 
with  never  so  good  gifts,  either  of  body  or  mind. 
So  that,  most  true  it  is,  that  one  saith, 

l^il  habet  infcelix  paupertas  durins  in  se 
Qiiain  quod  ridiculos  homines  facit. 

[Nothing  there  is  more  hard  in  penury. 
Than  that  it  makes  men  so  despised  be !  1664.] 

The  worst  property  that  Poverty  hath,  it  maketh  men 
ridiculous  and  scorned,  but  oftentimes  of  such  as  are  more 
to  be  contemned  themselves,  in  regard  either  of  their  igno- 
rance, or  vicious  living,  or  useless  company. 

If  we  do  but  look  back  into  better  and  wiser  Ages,  we 
shall  find  Poverty,  simply  in  itself,  never  to  have  been,  as 
nowadays  in  this  last  and  worst  Act  of  Time,  esteemed  a 
Vice,  and  so  loathsome,  as  many  would  have  it :  it  having 
been  the  Badge  of  Religion  and  Piety  in  the  primitive  times 
since  Christ,  and  of  Wisdom  and  Contempt  of  the  World 
among  the  wisest  Philosophers  long  before. 

But  Tempera  mutantur  [The  Times  are  changed.  1664.].  And 
in  these  Times,  we  may  say  with  the  W^ise  Man,  "  My  son, 
' od°o?the''^  better  it  is  to  die,  than  to  be  poor  !  "  For,  now, 
worid.andthe  moncy  is  the  World's  God,  and  the  Card,  which 
card'.  1664.']'^  the  Dcvil  tums  up  trump,  to  win  the  set  withal  ! 
for  it  gives  Birth,  Beauty,  Honour,  and  Credit;  and  the 
most  think,  it  conferreth  Wisdom  to  every  possessor. 

PecunicE  omina  obediunt. 
[All  thi}igs  obey  money.  1664.] 

Hence  it  is  so  admired,  that  millions  venture  both  soul  and 
body,  for  the  possessio'U  of  it. 


"■  ^?''"'i64'^:]  Indignities  offered  to  a  needy  one.     265 

But  there  is  a  worse  effect  of  Poverty  than  that.  It 
maketh  men  dissolute  and  vicious  [so  that  ''Debtors  are 
said  to  be  liars."  1664.]. 

O  mala  Paupertas  !  vitii  scelerisque  Ministra, 
[0  wretched  Poverty,  a  bawd 
To  every  wickedness  and  fraud.     1664.] 

saith  Mantuan. 

It  wresteth  and  maketh  crooked  the  best  natures  of  all ; 
which,  were  their  necessities  supplied,  would  rather  die  than 
do  as  they  sometimes  do,  borrow  and  not  be  able  to  pay,  to 
speak  untruths,  to  deceive,  and  sometimes  to  cheat  their  own 
fathers  and  friends. 

What  greater  grief  can  there  be  to  an  ingenious  and  free 
spirit,  sitting  at  a  superior's  table  (and  thought  to  be 
necessitous  and  only  to  come  for  a  dinner)  than  to  fj,';,te;;'lhe  "^ 
be  placed  the  lowest!  to  be  carved  unto  of  the  occasion  of 

Jt  f  1       -1      1    1  r  1  J    il  much  con- 

worst  and  first  cut,  as  of  boiled  beet  brawn  and  the  tempt,  deceit, 

like  !    and  if  the    Lady  or   loose-bodied    Mistress  nel'T664j 

presents  unto  him,  the  meat  from  her  trencher,  then  assuredly 

it  is  burnt  to  the  body  [we  shoidd  now  say  "  burnt  to  the  bone  "]  ! 

if  he  be  carved  unto  out  of  a  pasty  of  venison,  it  was  some 

part  that  was  bruised  in  the  carriage,  and  began  to  stink  !  yet 

for  all  this,  he  must  be  obsequious  !  endure  any  jeer!  whisper 

for  his  drink !  and  rise,  at  the  coming  in  of  the  basin  and 

ewer  !     To  do  the  which,  any  generous  and  true  noble  spirit 

had  rather,  as  I  am  persuaded,  dine  with  my  Lord  Mayor's 

hounds  in  Finsbury  Fields. 

Another  misery,  akin  to  the  former,  is,  what  discourse  so- 
ever is  offered  at  such  tables,  the  necessitous  man,  though 
he  can  speak  more  to  the  purpose  than  them  all ;  yet  he 
must  give  them  leave  to  engross  all  the  talk!  And  though  he 
knows  they  tell  palpable  and  gross  lies,  speak  the  absurdest 
nonsense  that  may  be :  yet  must  he  be  silent !  and  be  held 
all  the  while  for  a  vau-neant ! 

Let  these,  and  the  like  examples,  then,  be  motives  to  all, 
to  make  much  of  Money !  to  eat  their  own  bread  ^^;::r"' 
in  their  houses  !  and  to  be  beholden  as  little  as  f'^^7;4%'"'^ 
may  be,  to  any  for  their  meat.  For  lee?.] 

Est  aliena  vivere  quadra,  miserrimiim. 
{It  is  most  miserable  to  live  on  the  trencher  of  another  man.   1664.] 


266      How  Want  leads   to   CriiME.    ["■ 


Peacham. 
?      1641. 


How  Necessity  and  Want  compelleth  to  offend 
both  against  body  and  soul. 

Eek  not  Death,  in  the  error  of  your  lives !  "  saith 
the  Wise  Man  ;  that  is,  by  taking  evil  wisdom. 
courses  to  procure  unto  yourselves  untimely  ends  : 
as  those  do,  who,  through  extreme  necessity,  are 
constrained  to  steal,  lie,  forswear  themselves,  become  cheaters, 
common  harlots,  and  the  like  ;  whereof,  nowadays,  we  have 
too  m.any  examples  everywhere,  to  the  hazard  of  their  souls 
to  hell,  and  their  bodies  to  the  hands  of  the  executioner. 

Hereby,  we  may  see,  how  much  it  concerns  all  parents 
\The,ii,tycf  to  give  their  children  virtuous  education  in  the 
iirtumJZui-  fear  of  GOD,  and  to  employ  them  betimes  in 
'^"htidreV'"'''  lionest  vocations;  whereby  they  may  be  armed 
1664.]  ■         against  want  and  ill  courses. 

And  doubtless  many,  yea,  too  many  parents  have  been, 
and  are  herein  much  to  blame  ;  who,  when  they  have  given 
their  children  a  little  breeding  and  bringing  up  till  about 
twelve  or  fourteen  3'ears  of  age,  they  forsake  them  !  and 
send  them  out  into  the  wide  world  to  shift  for  themselves,  to 
sink  or  swim  !  without  trades  or  portions  provided.  So  they 
be  rid  of  a  charge,  what  care  they  ! 

Hence  we  see  so  many  young  men  and  women  come  to  un- 
timely ends;  who  living  might  have  been  comfortsto  their  friends 
and  parents,  and  proved  good  members  in  the  Common  wealth. 

[Some  years  since,  I  saw  one  Master  Ward,  one  of  the  dehau- 
cJiedst  men  of  that  Age,  much  known  by  the  name  of  ^^  Damn 
Ward  "  :  w^Jw,  being  in  Newgate,  it  was  reported  that  he  did 
drink  a  health  to  the  Devil. 

He  being  at  Tyburn,  at  his  execution  did  speak  short,  beginning 
thus,  "A  man  of  an  ill  name  is  half  hanged!"  saying,  ^^  he  was 
in  his  youth  brought  up  a  Gentleman  at  the  charge  of  his  father's 
brother;  but  his  uncle  dying,  his  maintenance  failed.'"  WisJiing 
all  parents  to  bciuare  how  they  breed  their  children  above  their 
means,  and  without  a  calling.  Much  blaming  his  uncle's  fond- 
ness. Denying  the  drinking  of  such  a  Health;  said  ''he  was 
forced  to  live  by  liis  sword."  Confessed  his  fact  [crime^  :  and  so 
was  executed.     1667.] 

I  spake  before  of  idle  persons,  whom  St.  Paul  denieth  to 
eat ;  which  are  the  drones  of  the  Common  wealth,  nut  to  be 
pitied:  \\'hum  Homlr  prettily  described. 


\6'] 


Of  Frugality  or   Parsimony : 
what  it  is^  and  the  effects  thereof, 

AviNG  already  shewed  you  the  Misery  of 
Want  from  the  want  of  money;  let  me  give 
you  a  Presei'vative  against  that  Want,  from 
the  nature  and  effects  of  Thrift,  which  if  not 
observed  and  looked  to,  he  shall  live  in 
perpetual  want. 

And  indeed,  next  to  the  serving  of  GOD, 
it  is  the  first  thing  we  ought,  even  from 
children,  to  learn  in  the  w^orld. 

Some  men  are  thrifty  and  sparing  by  nature ;  yea,  saving 
even  in  trifles.  As  Charles  V.  was  so  naturally  sparing, 
that  if  a  point  [tai^]  from  his  hose  had  broken,  he  would  have 
tied  the  same  upon  {in\  a  knot,  and  made  it  to  serve  again. 

Others  again  are  thrifty  in  small  matters,  but  lavish  and 
prodigal  in  great.  These,  we  say,  "  are  Penny  ]J',^/Jy'''^^ 
wise,  and  Pound  foolish!"  Many  great  Ladies  Ladiepnnd 
and  our  great  Dames  are  subject  to  this  disease.  7w"l-«'fi664.i 
Others  having  had  long  experience  in  the  world,  and 
having  been  bitten  with  Want,  through  their  unthriftiness 
when  they  were  young,  have  proved  very  good  husbands  at 
the  last. 

Others  again  there  be,  who  cloak  their  miserable  baseness 
under  the  pretence  of  Thrift :  as  one  would  endure  none  of 
his  family  to  eat  butter  with  an  egg  but  himself;  because 
it  was  sold  for  5d.  [=i8t/.  »0tC'   the  lb. 


268    Of  every  Shilling,  spend  a  Penny  !  ["•  ^"^"I's;?: 


The  definition  of  Frugality  or  Th'ift. 

[RuGALiTY  is  a  virtue  which  holdeth  her  own,  layeth 
out  or  expendeth  profitably,  avoideth  unnecessary 
expenses,  much  buying,  riot,  borrowing,  lending, 
superfluous  buildings,  and  the  like:  yet  can  spend, 
in  a  moderate  way,  as  occasion  shall  require,  \a^.  That  Groat 
is  well  spent !  that  saveth  a  Shilling. 

Many  years  since,  a  very  aged  Gentleman  having  bought  wares 
of  a  citizen  in  London ;  the  master  sends  a  young  boy,  his  appren- 
tice, to  carry  the  goods  with  the  said  party. 

The  old  Gentleman  gave  the  boy  a  single  Penny,  saying,  "/ 
give  thee  but  this  small  piece  of  money ;  but  I  will  give  thee  good 
counsel !  That  when  thy  master's  more  liberal  customers  have 
given  thee,  to  the  value  of  One  Shilling,  then  spend  but  One 
Penny !  and  when  it  incrcaseth  to  Two  Shillings,  spend  Two  pence! 
and  keep  the  money,  spending  thus  sparingly,  and  thou  mayest  be 
a  rich  man,  many  years  after  my  dcatli !  " 

The  boy  observing  this  rule,  did  ^^  make  his  penny  ^'  icith 
diligence  and  a  small  portion,  up  to  thousands  of  pounds.     1667.  ] 

It  is  a  virtue  very  nearly  allied  to  Liberality,  and  hath  the 
same  extremes.  For  as  Liberality  is  opposite  to  Covetous- 
ness,  so  Frugality  is  more  opposite  to  Profuseness  or  Prodi- 
gality. [For  he  that  livcth  not  well  one  year,  sorroweth  for  it 
seven  years  after.     1667.] 

This  virtue  is  the  Fountain  or  Springhead  of  Beneficence 
and  Liberality :  for  none  can  be  bountiful  except  they  be 
parsimonious  and  thrifty.  Bonus  Servatius  facit  bonum  Boni- 
faciuni,  is  an  old  Monkish,  but  true,  proverb.  Quod  ccssat 
reditu  ex  frugalitate  supplctuv,  ex  quo  velut  fonte  libcralitas  nostra 
decurnt,  quce  ita  tamcn  tcnipcranda  est,  ne  nimia  profusione 
inarescat,  saith  Seneca.  [That  which  becometh  defecteth  in  our 
revenues  is  to  be  supplied  by  Thrift :  from  whence,  as  from  a  foun- 
tain, our  Liberality  fioweth ;  which,  notwithstanding,  is  so  to 
be  moderated  that  it  grow  not  dry  by  too  much  profuseness. 
1664. 

It  avoideth  the  ambitious  buildings,  pomps,  shows,  Court 


H.  Peacham.j  Examples  of  Extravagance  and  Avarice.  269 

maskings,   with    excessive   feasts    and   entertainments.     As 
Mark  Antony  spent,  at  one  supper,  a  thousand  For  the 

^  ..  11*  J.     K.oiTians  n^Q 

wild  boars.     Heliogabalus  had  served  nim  up  at  no  dinners, 
a  supper  likewise,  six  hundred  heads  of  ostriches,  ^"hich  weTe' 
ViTELLius,  at  one  feast,  had  two  thousand  fishes,  f^^;;![J,5!7„'=  °^ 
and  mostly  of  several  kinds;  besides  seven  thou-  the  afternoon. 
sand  fowls. 

Many  such  like  feasts  have  been  made  by  the  Roman 
Emperors ;  and  some  so  excessive,  that  an  infinite  quantity 
of  bread,  meat,  and  other  good  victuals,  all  sorts  of  people 
being  satisfied,  hath  been  thrown  into  the  river  of  Tiber. 

Again,  on  the  other  side,  there  are  miserable  Euclios  and 
base  penurious  slaves  to  be  found  in  all  parts ;  yea,  in  every 
town  of  the  kingdom.  As  one  at  Priors  Thorney,  near  to 
Swaffham  in  Norfolk,  made  his  man  pay  a  penny  out  of  his 
wages  for  a  rope  he  [?  the  servant]  cut  [down],  when  he  [?  the 
master]  was  hanging  of  himself  in  his  barn. 

Another,  in  the  Spring  time,  because  [in  order  that]  the 
market  should  not  thrive  by  him,  would  make  boys  climb 
trees  and  search  steeples,  for  all  the  crows  and  daws  they 
could  find :  which  he  lived  upon,  while  they  lasted,  to  save 
other  victuals. 

Now  there  is  an  aurdpKeia,  or  a  Self-contented  Sufficiency, 
which  is  most  pleasing  and  agreeable  to  the  nature  of  many 
men.  As  Phocion,  when  Alexander  had  sent  him  a  gift  of 
a  hundred  talents  of  gold :  he  sent  it  back  with  [shewing  he 
this  message,  that  "  he  needed  not  Alexander's  rhrn'hft'hat 
money."  eVtSe/^a?  -rrXova Loire pov  rov  8c86vto<;  gaveit.i664.] 
Toaavra,  &c.  [Thou  hast  shewed  thyself  a  richer  man  than  the 
owner  himself!  1664]  be  the  words  of  Plutarch. 

T/ie  derivation  of  the  word  Penny,  and  of  the  value 
and  worth  thereof. 

Ur  English  Penny  consists  of  four  Farthings.     And 

a  Farthing  is  so  called  from  the  old  Saxon  or  High 

Dutch   [German]   Ein  viert  ding,  that   is,  a  fourth 

thing  :  because  from  the  Saxons'  time  until  Edward 

III.,  the  Penny  of  this  land  had  a  cross  struck  so  deep  in  the 


70     Etymology  of  the  word  Pen.xy.    ["■ 


Peacham. 


midst  thereof,  that  you  might  break  out  any  part  of  the  four, 
to  buy  what  you  thought  good  withal ;  which  was,  in  those 
times,  their  Farthing. 

The  word  Penny  is  so  called,  airo  rrj^;  7revla<;,  that  is, 
Poverty;  because,  for  the  most  part,  poor  people  are  here- 
with relieved.  The  old  Saxon  called  it  Pcnig,  the  High 
Dutch  Pfennig,  the  Netherlanders  Penninck,  in  Italian 
Denaro,  in  Spanish  Dinero,  in  Latin  Denaritis,  which  some 
fetch  from  the  Chaldean  Denar,  but  somebody  hath  taught 
the  Chaldean  to  speak  Latin.  It  is  indeed  derived  a  nmncro 
denario,  because  decern  asses  made  a  Penny ;  or,  according  to 
Plutarch,  a  decern  ccreis,  koL  to  heKo.'^aXKov  eKoXelro  hrjvdpiov. 
[Ten  small  pieces  of  brass  were  called  a  Penny.     1664.] 

In  the  British  or  Welsh,  it  is  Keniog  from  being  current, 
because  it  goes  away  faster  than  other  money  :  as  Scavernog 
is  Welsh  for  a  hare,  because  she  runs  over  the  mountains 
faster  than  an  ordinary  runner  in  Wales  can  overtake  or 
catch  her ;  as  my  honest  friend  Master  Owen  Morgan,  that 
country-man  once,  in  good  earnest,  told  me. 

There  are  as  many  kind  of  Pence,  as  there  are  several 
countries  or  nations.   Our  English  penny  is  a  Scotch  shilling. 

In  the  time  of  King  Edward  I.  our  English  Penny  being 
round  and  undipped,  was  to  weigh  thirty  grains  of  wheat 
taken  out  of  the  midst  of  the  ear.  Twenty  of  these  grains 
made  an  ounce,  and  twelve  [of  these]  ounces  made  a  pound. 

There  were  also  golden  pence,  as  we  may  find  in  Didymus 
Claudius  de  analogia  Ronianoriim.  In  a  word,  I  might  dis- 
course ad  infinitnui,  of  the  variety  of  Pence,  as  well  for 
the  form  and  stamp  as  weight  and  value ;  though  I  sought 
no  further  than  among  those  of  our  Saxon  kings,  but  it  were 
needless.  I  will  only  content  myself  with  our  ordinary 
Penny,  and  stay  the  reader  a  while  upon  the  not  unpleasant 
consideration  of  the  simple  worth  of  a  single  Penny ;  reflect- 
ing or  looking  back,  as  oft  as  I  can  (and  as  Pliny  adviseth), 
upon  my  Title. 


Peacham.-l     fjiE    WORTH    OF    A    PeNNY    in     I  64 1.     271 

'i         i04i._j 

T/ie  simple  worth  of  a  single  Penny, 

Penny  bestowed  in  charity  upon  a  poor  body  shall 
not  want  a  heavenly  reward. 

For  a  Penny,  you  may,  in  the  Low  Countries,  in 
any  market,  buy  eight  several  commodities  ;  as  nuts, 
vinegar,  grapes,  a  little  cake,  onions,  oatmeal,  and  the  like. 

A^Penny  bestowed  in  a  small  quantity  of  aniseed,  aqua 
vitcB,  or  the  like  strong  water,  may  save  one's  life  in  a  faintmg 

or  swoon. 

[At  the  Apothecaries, you  may  buy  a  pennyworth  of  any  of  these 
things  following,  viz.,  Lozenges  for  a  cold  or  cough;  Juice  of 
Liquorish  [liquorice^,  or  Liquorish;  a  Diachilon  plaster  for  an 
issue  ;  Paracelsus,  Oil  of  Roses,  Oil  of  St.  John's  Wort,  a  penny- 
worth of  each  is  good  for  a  sprain;  Syrup-lettuce,  to  make  one 
sleep  ;  Jallop,  to  give  a  purge ;  Mithridate,  to  make  you  sweat  if 
you  have  taken  cold,  or  good  to  expel  and  prevent  infection ; 
Diascordium  Diacodium,  if  you  cannot  sleep.     1667.] 

For  a  Penny,  you  may  hear  a  most  eloquent  oration  upon 
our  English  Kings  and  Queens,  if,  keeping  your  hands  off, 
you  will  seriously  listen  to  David  Owen,  who  keeps  the 
Monuments  at  Westminster  [i.e.,  the  Abbey]. 

Some,  for  want  of  a  Penny  [for  a  ferry  or  boat  across  the 
Thames],  have  been  constrained  to  go  trom  Westmmster, 
about  by  London  Bridge  to  Lambeth ;  and  might  say  truly, 
Defessi  sunius  abulando.  •   ,   j    • 

You  may  have  in  Cheapside,  your  Penny  tripled  in  the 
same  kind  :  for  you  shall  have  Penny  Grass,  Penny  Wort, 
and  Penny  Royal  for  your  Penny. 

For  a  Penny,  you  may  see  any  Monster,  Jacknapes;  or 
those  roaring  boys,  the  Lions.  t-     1     j       j 

For  a  Penny,  you  may  have  all  the  news  in  England  and 
other  countries,  of  murders,  floods,  witches,  fires,  tempests, 
and  what  not,  in  one  of  Martin  Parker's  Ballads  [in  the 
weekly  News  books.     1664], 

For  a  Penny,  you  may  have  your  horse  rubbed  and  walked, 
after  a  long  journey ;  and  [itj  being  at  grass,  there  are  some 
that  will  breathe  [exercise]  him  for  nothing. 

For  a  Penny,  you  may  buy  a  fair  cucumber ;  but  not  a 
breast  of  mutton !  except  it  be  multiplied  [maggoty]. 


2/2     The  worth  of  a   Penny  in   1641.  ["• 


Peacham. 


For  a  Penny,  you  may  buy  Time,  which  is  precious  ;  yea, 
and  Thrift  too,  if  you  be  a  bad  husband. 

For  a  Penny,  a  hostess  or  an  hostler  [innkeeper]  may  buy 
as  much  chalk  as  will  score  up  £2,0  or  ^^40  [=  £120  or  £"i6o 
now]  ;  but  how  to  come  by  their  money,  that  let  them  look  to  ! 

For  a  Penny,  you  may  have  your  dog  wormed  [cured  of 
worms],  and  so  be  kept  from  running  mad. 

For  a  Penny  [doubled.  1664],  a  drunkard  may  be  guarded 
to  his  lodging,  if  his  head  be  light  and  the  evening  dark. 

For  a  Penny,  you  shall  tell  what  will  happen  a  year  hence, 
(which  the  Devil  himself  cannot  do  !)  in  some  Almanack  or 
other  rude  country. 

A  hard-favoured  and  ill-bred  wench  made  Penny  white, 
may,  as  our  Times  are,  prove  a  gallant  Lady. 

For  a  Penny,  you  may  be  advanced  to  that  height  that 
you  shall  be  above  the  best  in  the  City ;  yea,  the  Lord 
Mayor  himself !  that  is,  to  the  top  of  Paul's. 

For  a  Penny,  a  miserable  and  covetous  wretch  that  never 
did,  nor  never  will,  bestow  a  penny  on  a  Doctor  or  Apothe- 
cary for  their  physic  or  advice,  may  provide  a  remedy  for  all 
diseases  [viz.,  a  halter.     1664]. 

[For  a  Penny,  you  may  buy  a  dish  of  coffee  (not  yet  sold  in 
cups),  to  quicken  your  stomach  and  refresh  your  spirits.     1664.] 

For  a  Penny,  you  may  buy  the  hardest  book  in  the  world, 
and  which,  at  some  time  or  other,  has  posed  the  greatest 
Clerks  in  the  land,  viz.,  a  hornbook  [the  making  up  of  which 
books  employeth  above  thirty  trades.     1664]. 

In  so  great  esteem,  in  former  times,  have  our  English 
pence  been,  that  they  have  been  carried  to  Rome  by  cart 
loads  [i.e.,  Peter's  Pence], 

For  a  Penny,  you  may  search  among  the  Rolls,  and  withal 
give  the  Master  good  satisfaction.  I  mean,  in  a  baker's  basket. 

For  a  Penny,  a  chambermaid  may  buy  as  much  red  ochre 
as  will  serve,  seven  years,  for  the  painting  of  her  cheeks. 

For  a  Penny,  the  Monarch  of  a  free  school,  may  provide 
himself  of  so  many  arms,  as  will  keep  all  his  rebellious 
subjects  in  awe. 

For  a  Penny,  you  may  walk  within  one  of  the  fairest 
gardens  in  the  City,  and  have  a  nosegay  or  two  made  you 
of  what  sweet  flowers  you  please  [to  satisfy  your  sense  of 
smelling.     1664j. 


H.Peacham.j     f  jj  g    WORTH    OF    A    PeNNY    in     1 64  I.        273 

[And  for  a  Penny, you  may  have  that  so  useful  at  your  trencher, 
as  will  season  your  meat  to  please  your  taste,  a  month.     1684.] 

For  a  Penny,  you  may  buy  as  much  wood  of  that  tree, 
which  is  green  all  the  year  and  beareth  red  berries,  as  will 
cure  any  shrew's  tongue,  if  it  be  too  long  for  her  mouth  [viz., 
a  holly  wand.     1664]. 

A  Penny  may  save  the  credit  of  many.    As  it  did  of  four  or 
five  young*  scholars  in  Cambridge,  who,  going  into  *  some  of 
the  town  to  break  their  fast  with  puddings,  havinsf  f'^^'"  ^^/^  yet 

.  r  o    '  o     living  in 

sent  to  their  college  for  bread  and  beer,  the  hostess  London. 
brought  them  twelve  puddings,  broiled  ;  and  finding  among 
themselves  that  they  had  but  eleven  pence,  they  were  much 
troubled  about  the  other  penny,  not  having  any  book  about 
them,  to  lay  in  pawn  for  it. 

Quoth  one,  bolder  than  the  rest,  "  Audaces  fortuna  javat :" 
"  Fortune  favours  the  venturous  ;"  and  biting  off  a  piece  of 
the  pudding's  end,  by  wonderful  luck,  spat  out  a  single 
penny,  that  paid  for  it ;  which,  it  seems,  was  buried  in  the 
oatmeal  or  spice.     So  for  that  time,  they  saved  their  credits. 

But  I  will  leave  this  discourse  of  a  Penny's  worth  to  their 
judgements  and  experience,  who,  having  been  troubled  with 
overmuch  money,  afterward,  in  no  long  time,  have  been  fain, 
after  "a.  long  dinner  with  Duke  Humphrey,"  to  take  a 
nap  on  "  penniless  bench,"  only  to  verify  the  old  proverb, 
"A  fool  and  his  money  is  soon  parted." 


£JVG.  Gar.  VI.  18 


How  7?io?tey  7nay^  77ta7iy  wajs^  be  saved 

171  diet^  apparel,    7^ecreatio72^ 

a7id  the  like, 

5  vS  THERE  are  infinite  ways  and  occasions  of 
spending  and  laying  out  money,  which  it 
were  superfluous  here  to  recount ;  whereof 
some  may  be  well  omitted ;  but  others 
not,  except  we  would  want  meat,  drink, 
and  our  apparel,  with  other  external 
necessaries,  as  horses,  armour,  books,  and 
the  like ;  in  a  word,  whatsoever  may  con- 
duce to  our  profit  or  honest  pleasure.  Yet  in  husbanding 
our  money  in  all  these,  there  is  a  great  deal  of  caution  and 
discretion  to  be  used. 

For  most  true  it  is,  that  of  all  nations  in  Europe,  our 
English  are  the  most  profuse  and  careless  in  the  way  of 
expense.  Go  into  other  countries,  especially  Italy !  the 
greatest  magnifico  in  Venice  will  think  it  no  disgrace  to  his 
magnificenza  to  go  to  market,  to  choose  and  buy  his  own  meat, 
what  him  best  liketh  :  but  we  in  England  scorn  to  do  either; 
surfeiting  indeed  of  our  plenty,  whereof  other  countries  fall 
far  short.  Insomuch,  as  I  am  persuaded,  that  our  City  of 
London,  of  itself  alone,  eateth  more  good  beef  and  mutton 
in  one  month,  than  all  Spain,  Italy,  and  a  part  of  France,  in 
a  whole  year.  If  we  have  a  mind  to  dine  at  a  tavern,  we 
bespeak  a  dinner  at  all  adventure  !  never  demanding  or 
knowing  the  price  thereof  till  it  be  eaten.  After  dinner, 
there  is  a  certain  sauce  brought  up  by  the  Drawer,  called  a 
Reckoning,  in  a  bill  as  long  as  a  broker's  inventory. 


H.  Peacham 


^,eZ\]   The  necessary  use  of  taverns.      275 

^  I    have    known,    by  experience,   in    some   taverns,    some- 
times of  at  least  twice,  and  sometimes  thrice,  as  t^'^"".*: '"'""■^ 
much  as  the  meat  and  dressing  hath  been  worth  nZ'f,fJ/y'Z 
[is_  charged].     No  question  but  a  fair  and  honest  S'./'fr" 
gain  is  to  be  allowed,   in   regard  of  house -rent,  fZad£yfor 
linen,  attendance  of  servants,  and  the  like.     There  t-'^p  dinners 
are,  without  doubt,  very  many  taverns  veiy  honest  T.Lll'aur'the 
and  reasonable.     And  the  use  of  them  is  neces-  xmly'^''''''''' 
sary.     For  if  a  man  meets  with  his  friend  or  acquaintance 
in  the  street,  whither   should  they  go,  having  no  friend's 
house  near  to  go  into,  especially  in  rainy  or  foul  weather, 
but  to  a  tavern  ?  where,  for  the  expense  of  a  pint  or  quart  of 
wine,  they  may  have  a  dry  house  and  room,  to  confer  with, 
and  to  write  to  any  friends  about  business. 

But  to  have  in  a  bill,  8s.  [=  30s.  now^„  brought  up  for  an 
ordinary  capon,  as  my  Lord  of  Northampton's  Gentleman 
had,  at  Greenwich,  in  King  James  his  time ;  "]$.  or  95. 
[=  25s.  or  30s.  now']  for  a  pair  of  soles;  4s.  [=  15s.  now]  for 
a  dozen  of  larks ;  would  make  a  Florentine  run  out  of  his 
wits  !  How  excellently,  in  some  houses,  are  their  neats' 
tongues  powdered,  when  the  reckoning  is  brought  you  up  ! 

Again,  what  can  be  m.ore  distasteful  to  an  ingenious  and 
free  spirit,  than  to  stand  to  the  courtesy  of  a  nimble-tongue 
Drawer,  or  his  many-ringed  Mistress,  whether  they  or  your- 
self shall  have  the  disposing  of  your  money  !  It  is  no  small 
sum  that  our  Gallants  might  save  in  a  year,  if  they  would  be 
wise  in  this  respect. 

{Mm  commanly  are  very  cautious  in  purchasing  bargains  of 
great  value,  as  buying  of  houses,  horses,  or  rich  apparel,  or  any 
other  commodity  of  the  like  nature;  but  for  small  expenses,  as  a 
penny,  or  two  pence  at  a  time,  that  many  daily  lay  out  about 
trivial  things,  they  are  altogether  regardless  of :  and,  for  the  most 
part,  those  are  most  free  in  spending  these  small  sums,  who  have 
nothing  else  to  spend,  when  their  wives  and  children  are  ready  to 
starve. 

Now,  a  frequent  custom  of  these  small  expenses,  in  a  short  time, 
arise  to  a  considerable  sum.  As  is.  [=  3s.  now]  a  day  spent, 
Cometh  to  £iS  5s.  6d.  in  the  year ;  and  id.  a  day  to  £1  10s.  5^. 
in  the  year.  And  a  man  of  credit  may  take  tip,  at  interest,  £2$, 
for  id.  a  day,  being  the  full  use  [interest]  of  that  sum  after  the 
rate  of  Six  per  Cent.     1667.] 


2/6   The  grExVT  temperance  of  Italians,  &c.  [ 


II.  Peacham. 

1041. 


Besides,  in  your  own  private  house  or  chambers,  a  dish  or 
{Moderation  two,  and  a  good  stomach  for  a  sauce,  shall  give 
^andrn'orJ'''''^'  j'ou  morc  contcnt,  continue  your  health,  and  keep 
^Atnud'an!!'''''  your  body  in  better  plight,  than  a  variety  of  many 
1664.]  dishes.  This  pleased  ever  the  wisest  and  best  men. 

Horace  affirmeth  him  to  live  healthy  and  happy,  ctu 
splendet  in  mensa  tcniie  salinnm,  meaning  by  the  small  and 
poor  salt  cellar,  a  slender  and  frugal  diet. 

CuRius,  that  noble  Roman,  a  man  of  marvellous  honesty, 
temperance,  and  valour,  who  overcame  the  Samnites  and 
Pyrrhus  himself;  when  the  ambassadors  of  the  Samnites 
brought  him  a  huge  sum  of  gold,  they  found  him  sitting  by 
the  fire,  and  seething  of  turnips  for  his  dinner,  with  an 
earthen  dish  in  his  lap.  At  which  time,  he  gave  them  this 
answer,  "  I  had  rather  eat  in  this  dish,  and  command  over 
them  that  have  gold  ;  than  be  rich  myself."  Awhile  after, 
being  accused  for  deceiving  the  State  of  money  which  he 
had  gotten  in  his  conquests  and  kept  to  himself;  he  took  a 
solemn  oath,  that  he  saved  no  more  of  all  he  got,  but  that 
one  treen  or  wooden  barrel,  which  he  had  there  by  him. 

Marvellous  was  the  temperance  of  the  Romans  in  their 
diet ;  as  also  of  the  Turks  at  this  day,  the  Italians,  and  the 
Spaniards  :  but  it  is  in  them  natural,  not  habitual ;  and  by 
[The.^rcat  consequcncc,  no  virtue,  as  themselves  would  have  it. 
jr"gaiity  of         Pqj.  the  inhabitants  of  hot  countries  have  not  their 

tlie  Italinns,  .... 

Spaniards,  digcstiott  SO  strong  as  those  under  cold  climates  ; 
1664.]"'^"  whose  bodies,  by  an  antipcristasis  or  surrounding 
\i\T.iR/oT,  of  of  cold,  have  the  natural  heat  repelled  and 
grea'/an'eatTr  ^^P^  within  them  :  which  is  the  reason  that  the 
as  any  0/ iafe  Northcm  nations  are,  of  all  others,  the  greatest 
sometTmeseat  catcrs  and  drlnkcrs  ;  and  of  those,  the  French  say 
(=9j'oriL  we  of  England  have  the  best  stomachs  and  are 
,,ov.-)i„,„ntton  the  greatest  trenchermen  of  the  world.  Lcs  Andais 

at  a  iiteal ;  ana  ,  .  777 

other  fine  meat  sout  Ics  pLus  gvos  UHDigcurs  dc  tout  Ic  niondc.  But  they 
llponAisoitm'  arc  dcccived ;  those  of  Denmark  and  Norway 
purse,  he  often  excccd  US,  and  the  Russians,  them. 

Jeeaing  on  t  r 

coarse  meats,         \  confcss  wc  havc  had,  and  vet  have,  some  re- 

inadeM.orZci.  1      vi  i.  ,  ,  r 

(=--is.6d.  markable  eaters  amongst  us:  who,  for  a  wager, 
°;";/?rL«  would  have  eaten  with  the  best  of  them;  as 
,„eat.  1664.]  WoLMER  of  Windsor.  And  not  long  since.  Wood 
of  Kent  eat  up,  at  one  dinner,  fourteen  green  geese,  equal 


H.Peacham.J   INSTANCES    OF    REMARKABLE    MiSERS.    277 

to  the  old  ones  in  bigness,  with  sauce  of  gooseberries:  as  I 
heard  it  affirmed  to  my  Lord  Richard,  Earl  of  Dorset,  at 
a  dinner  time,  at  his  house  at  Knowle,  in  Kent,  by  one  of 
his  Gentlemen,  who  was  an  eye-witness  of  the  same. 

But  the  truth  is,  that  those  men  live  the  longest,  and 
are  commonly  in  perfect  health,  who  content  themselves 
with  the  least  and  simplest  meat ;  which  not  only  saves 
the  purse,  but  preserves  the  body  :  as  we  may  see  in  Lan- 
cashire, Shropshire,  Cheshire,  Yorkshire,  and  other  counties 
which  are  remote  from  the  City.  And  it  is  Master  [oid  p  irr 
Camden's  observation  in  his  Britannia,  Ut  diutius  nvingakmi 
vivant  qiLCB  vescuntur  Lacticiniis,  "  they  commonly  Van'iy'eat any 
are  long-lived,  who  live  by  white  meats,"  as  milk,  ■^"'''  ^^^^^ 
butter,  cheese,  curds,  and  the  like. 

For   Multa  fercula   innltos  morbos   gigncre*   was  *  That  many 
truly  said  of  St.  Jerome,  as  being  apt,  by  their  many^'diseases. 
sundry    and   opposite    qualities    to    breed    much  corruption. 
How    healthful    are    scholars    in    our    Universities,    whose 
commons  are  no  more  than  needs  must ! 

Neither  would  I  have  any  man  starve  himself  to  save  his 
purse,  as  a  usurer  confessed  upon  his  death-bed,  how  he  was 
above  ;f200  1  =;£"6oo  now]  indebted  to  his  belly  for  breakfasts, 
dinners,  and  suppers  ;  which  he  had  defrauded  it,  in  Term 
times  at  London,  and  in  other  places,  employing  his  money 
to  other  miserable  purposes. 

[Another  rich  usurer  {who  made  it  his  custom,  every  Term  to 
travel  on  foot,  in  ragged  clothes,  and  who  sometimes  did  beg  of 
the  thieves  themselves)  was  so  well  known  that,  at  last,  they  took 
notice  of  him  :  and,  examining  his  pockets,  tJiey  found  little  store 
of  gold ;  bnt  a  great  black  pudding,  in  one  end  whereof  his  gold 
was.  The  usurer,  pleading  hunger,  desired  the  thieves,  for  GOD's 
sake  !  to  give  him  half  of  it  back  again  :  which  granted,  and  the 
usurer  finding  it  to  be  the  wrong  end;  lie  desired  them  to  give 
some  of  tJie  fat  in  the  other  end,  to  his  lean.  "  No,  you  rogue  !  " 
said  the  thieves,  ^^ you  have  had  your  cut  already  !  you,  shall  not 
have  a  crnmb  more  I  "     1664.] 

Money  may  be  well  saved  in  travel,  or  in  town,  if  three  or 
four  shall  join  their  purses ;  and  provide  their  diet  at  the 
best  hand.     It  is  no  shame  so  to  do. 

I  have  known  also  some  who  have  been  very  skilful  in 
dressing  their  own  diet.     Homer  tells  us,  that  Achilles 


278       A     TLAIN     GARB     IS     THE     BEST.    ["'  ^/'"l'^™; 

could  play  the  cook  excellently  well.  And  I  believe  it  were 
not  amiss  for  our  English  travellers  so  to  do,  in  foreign 
countries  :  for  many  reasons  I  have  known. 

And  execrable  is  the  miser-able  and  base  humour  of  many, 
who,  to  save  their  money,  will  live  upon  vile  and  loathsome 
[A  miser-ahie  thlngs,  as  mushrooms,  snails,  frogs,  mice,  young 
^^.w^^V";'/::'^,    kltllngs,  and  the  like. 

"jondofdi'I  ^"  ivi^t  of  extreme  dearth  or  famine,  people,  I 
agree  tJ have  confcss,  havc  bccn  driven  to  look  out  for  whatso- 
'touIgeTahout  ever  could  nourish,  and,  as  we  say,  "  keep  life  and 
'drail^htof  sou^  together  "  :  yea,  and  of  far  worse  things  than 
small heerjf  thcsc,  as  JosEPHUs  rcportcth  of  the  Jews,  in  that 
^asmZly  ""  horrlblc  and  fearful  famine  in  Jerusalem  at  the  time 
t^n'li  of  the  siege  by  Titus  and  Vespasian.  Such  we 
Mta<casi,e     blame  not ! 

ivould  put  '"•,,,,  ,  .  , 

tayingonc  Most    blamcworthy   are   they   who,  as   it  were 

nmv'u'iay;'  surfciting  of,  or  loathing  that  abundant  plenty  of 
/1'luu"he''Ld.  all  good  and  wholesome  meats  GOD  hath  afforded 
ijinthe  us  in  this  land,  and  which  GOD, by  name  hath  com- 

ivintcr,  the  ,       ,  t  t  •  1  1  1    •  rr    1       • 

benefit  of  a_  mcndcd  to  His  people,  make  this  stuff  their  greatest 
theluvnne'r,  a  dalntlcs  :  as  I  havc  known  Ladies  who,  when 
'^anccfor'Jmah  ^^^Y  ^avc  eatcn  till  they  could  eat  no  more  of 
heer.  1664.]  all  the  dainticst  dishes  at  the  table  :  yet  they  must 
eat  the  legs  of  their  larks  roasted  anew  in  a  greasy  tallow 
candle  ;  and  if  they  carved  but  a  piece  of  a  burnt  claw 
to  any  Gentleman  at  the  table,  he  must  take  it  as  an  extra- 
ordinary favour  from  her  Ladyship.  It  were  much  to  be 
wished  that  they  were  bound  to  hold  them  to  their  diet, 
in  a  dear  )ear,  or  a  wet  spring  !  when  frogs  and  snails  may 
be  had  in  greatest  abundance. 

Of  thrift  and  good  husbandry  in  Apparel. 

|0u   must,  if  you  would  keep  money  in  your  purse  to 
uphold  your  credit,  at  all  times  be  frugal  and  thrifty 
also  in  your  apparel  :  not  dogging  the  Fashion,  or 
^  setting  your  tailor  a  work  at  the    sight  of  every 
Monsieur's  new  suit. 

There  is  a  middle,  plain,  and  decent  garb,  which  is  best 
and  most  to  be  commended.  This  is  commonly  affected  of 
the  most  staid  and  wisest. 


H.  p.ach^am.-j  'YuE  English  are  the  Apes  of  EuRorE.  279 

[7  have  observed  that  this  year  1667,  many  that  had  lost 
thousands  by  the  late  dreadful  Fire,  both  nienandivomen  that  have 
worn  the  best  of  clothing,  said  that  "  they  would  wear  over  their 
old  clothes  again,  by  altering  of  them  in  a  plain  way.''  Thousands 
1WW  have  estates  [fortunes]  to  repair,  and  therefore  must  not  de- 
spise small  things.  It  is  good  to  abridge  or  take  away  petty  charges  ; 
and  to  stoop  to  petty  gcttings.  Also,  a  man  ought  to  avoid  all 
charge  begun,  that  will  continue.     1667.] 

What  money  might  be  saved,  if  we  were  so  wise  as  the 
Dutch  or  Spaniards,  who,  for  these  two  or  three  hundred  years, 
have  kept  themselves  to  one  fashion  :  but  we,  the  [t/,^ cam- 
Ape^  of  Europe,  like  Proteus,  must  change  our  '"u"tnm 0/ tiie 
shapes  every  year !  nay  quarter !  month  !  and  s'/^a/aa,''/, in 
week !  as  well  in  our  doublets,  hose,  cloaks,  hats,  ^J^'^'^'''^^'"'^' 
bands,  boots,  and  what  not  ? 

That  emblem  was  not  improper  which  I  saw  at  Antwerp, 
where  was  a  he-fool  and  a  she-fool  turning  a  double- 
rimmed  wheel  upon  one  axle  tree,  one  on  the  one  side, 
and  the  other  on  the  other.  Upon  the  he-fool's  wheel 
were  the  several  fashions  of  men's  apparel ;  on  the  other 
wheel,  of  women's  :  which,  with  the  revolution  of  time,  went 
round,  and  came  into  the  same  place,  use,  and  request  again  ; 
as  for  the  present  aloft  and  followed  of  all,  by  and  by,  was 
cast  down  and  despised. 

I  see  no  reason  why  a  Frenchman  should  not  imitate  our 
English  fashion,  as  we  do  his.  What!  have  the  French 
more  wit  than  we  in  fitting  clothes  to  the  body,  or  a  better 
invention  or  way  in  saving  money,  or  making  of  apparel  ? 
Surely,  I  think  not.  It  may  be  our  English,  when  they  had 
to  do  in  France,  got  a  humour  of  affecting  their  fashions, 
which  they  could  not  shake  off  since. 

There  is  no  man  ever  the  warmer,  or  ever  the  wiser  fqr  a 
fashion,  so  far  forth  as  it  is  a  fashion  2  but  rather  the 
contrary,  a  fool !  for  needless  expense,  and  suffering  himself 
to  quake  for  cold  ;  when  his  clothes  in  the  fashion  must  be 
cut  to  the  skin,  his  hat  hardly  cover  his  crown,  but  stand 
upon  his  periwig  like  an  extinguisher.  And  we  know  by 
ridiculous  experience,  every  day  in  the  street,  that  our  ladies 
and  waiting-women  will  starve  and  shiver  in  the  hardest 
frost,  rather  than  they  will  suffer  their  bare  necks  and  breasts 
to  pass  your  eyes  un viewed. 


2  So  Greatest  Princes  often  dress  plainest.  ["• 


Peach  am. 
?      1641. 


But  some  will  say,  as  I  have  heard  many,  there  is  no  man 
nowadays  esteemed,  that  follows  not  the  fashion.  Be  it 
so.  The  fashion  of  these  Times  is  very  fit  to  be  observed  ! 
which  is,  to  be  deeply  indebted  to  mercers,  haberdashers, 
sempsters,  tailors,  and  other  trades,  for  the  fulfilling  of  a 
fashionable  humour:  which  a  thrifty  and  wise  man  avoideth, 
accommodating  himself  with  apparel  fair  and  seemly,  for  half 
or  a  third  of  others'  charge. 

What  makes  so  many  of  our  city  tailors  arise  to  so  great 
estates,  as  some  of  them  have  ;  and  to  build  so  brave  houses, 
but  the  fashion  ?  silkmen  and  mercers  to  buy  such  goodly 
Lordships  in  the  countries  [coimiics^ ,  where  (many  times) 
they  are  chosen  High  Sheriffs,  but  the  fashion  ? 

And  I  would  fain  know  of  any  of  our  prime  fashion- 
mongers,  what  use  there  is  of  laced  bands  of  £6,  £'j,  and 
£8  [=£i8,  ;;^2i,  ;^24  now]  the  band  ?  nay,  of  ;^40  or  £50  the 
band  ?  such  daubing  of  cloaks  and  doublets,  with  gold  and 
silver  points,  of  ;;^5  and  £8  [=£1^  and  £2^  now]  the  dozen, 
to  dangle  uselessly  at  the  knees? 

Philopcemen,  a  brave  Commander  among  the  Grecians, 
inPHiLOPCE-  as  Plutarch  reporteth,  commanded  that  all  the 
WEN.  gold  and  silver  which  he  had  taken  away  from  his 

enemies,  which  was  a  very  great  quantity,  should  be  em- 
ployed in  gilding  and  inlaying  of  swords,  saddles,  bridles, 
all  warlike  furniture  both  for  his  men  and  horses.  "  For 
gold  and  silver  worn  by  martial  men  addeth,"  saith 
Plutarch,  "  courage  and  spirit  unto  them  ;  but  in  others, 
effeminacy  or  a  kind  of  womanish  vanity." 

Modcrata  durante  [Things  that  are  nioderaie,  endure.  1664^  ; 
vicdiocra  firinti  [Things  of  mediocrity  are  firm.  1664.  {Lord 
Bacon)],  were  the  mottoes  of  two  as  grave  and  great 
Councillors  as  were,  of  their  Times,  in  England. 

A  Gentleman  in  a  plain  cloth  suit,  well  made,  may  appear 
in  the  presence  of  the  greatest  Prince.  The  Venetians,  as 
wise  a  people  and  State  as  any  other  in  Europe,  are  bound 
by  the  laws  of  their  Common  wealth,  that  their  upper  gar- 
ment, worn  within  the  city,  should  ever  be  of  plain  black. 

Yea,  the  greatest  Princes  go,  many  times,  the  plainest  in 
their  apparel.  Chakles  the  Fifth,  Emperor,  the  Bulwark 
and  Moderator  of  Christendom,  in  his  time,  went  veiy  plain  ; 
seldom  or  never  wearing  any  gold  or  silver,  save  his  Order  of 
the  Golden  Fkecc  about  his  neck. 


H.Peachani.J    ScHOLARS    OFTEN    REGARDLESS    OF    DRESS.     28 1 

Henry  IV.,  King  of  France,  worthily  styled  the  Ninth 
Worthy,  many  times,  in  the  heat  of  summer,  would  only  go 
in  a  suit  of  buckram  cut  upon  white  canvas,  or  the  like  : 
so  little  they,  who  had  the  Kernel  of  wisdom  and  magna- 
nimity, cared  for  the  Shell  of  gaudy  apparel. 

And   it  is  worthy  the  observation  how,  for  the  IJ^'/ greatest 

.  "^  ,  , ,  .0  clwla  rs  nave 

most  part,  the  rarest  and  most  excellent  men  m  I'eo,  the 
inward    knowledge    and  multiplicity    of    learning,  i7»s,"!ifi/!ey 
have    been    most  negligent    and   careless  in  their  ''/'■"^ t'^^": 'i 

00  to  be  no  dis- 

apparel ;  and,  as  we  say,  slovens.  Erasmus  saith  credit  to tiiem. 
of  Sir  Thomas  More,  Quod  a  pitero  semper  in  ^^^^ 
vestitu  fnit  negligentissimns,  "that  from  a  child,  he  Episto'iarwi. 
was  ever  most  careless  and  slovenly  in  his  apparel."  Para- 
celsus we  read  to  have  been  the  like  :  and,  to  parallel  him, 
our  late  Master  Butler  of  Cambridge  [died  1618I,  that 
learned  and  excellent  Physician. 

[0/  Scholars  and  Wits,  in  all  Ages,  both  poets  and  others,  some 
there  have  been  who,  of  force,  and  against  their  own  will,  have 
been  forced  to  keep  an  old  fashion. 

I  remember  that  an  old  Poet,  of  excellent  parts  for  learning  and 
pleasant  discourse,  did,  many  years  since,  tell  me.  A  Gentleman 
of  great  estate  in  Derbyshire,  desiring  his  company  into  the 
country  with  him,  it  being  in  the  Long  Vacation  in  summer 
time,  when  great  breeches  had  been  [were]  much  in  fashion,  with 
baggings  out  at  the  knees,  taking  up  much  cloth,  and  a  great 
store  of  linings.  This  scholar  being  at  present  very  low  in  his 
fortunes,  had  worn  very  long  and  threadbare,  a  suit  of  this 
fashion  till  his  linings  being  so  broken  that  he'  was  fain,  every 
night,  li'hcn  he  put  them  off,  to  be  a  long  time  putting  them  in 
order,  that  he  might  find  the  way  to  put  them  on,  in  the  morning. 

But  in  the  morni^ig,  the  Gentleman  coming  into  the  room,  and 
taking  icp  his  breeches,  threw  them  upon  his  bed,  saying,  "  He  was 
a  slugger-bed  ! " 

"  O,  Sir,''  said  the  scholar,  "you,  have  tmdone  me  !  for  I  was 
a  great  while  setting  my  breeches  the  last  nigJii  ;  and  now  I  shall 
not  know  how  to  get  my  legs  into  them  /" 

The  Gentleman  fell  into  a  laughter,  and  sent  for  a  tailor  to 
make  him  a  new  suit. 

This  is  as  near  the  story  as  I  can  remember  ;  according  to  the 
scholar's  own  relation,  about  1625.     1669.] 

There  is  much  money  to  be  saved  in  apparel,  in  choice  of 


282  Godfrey  Colton,  the  Cambridge  tailor.  ["•^,^'"^^6^"?; 

stuff  for  lasting  and  expense  :  and  that  you  may  not  be  de- 
ceived in  the  stuff  or  price,  take  the  advice  of  some  honest  tailor, 
your  friend  ;  as,  no  question,  but  everywhere  there  are  many. 

I  will  instance  one.  In  Cambridge,  there  dwelt,  some 
twenty  or  thirty  years  ago  [about  1620',  one  Godfrey 
Colton  ;  who  was,  by  trade,  a  tailor :  but  a  merry  com- 
panion with  his  tabour  and  pipe,  and  for  singing  of  all  manner 
of  Northern  Songs  before  Nobles  and  Gentlemen,  who  much 
delighted  in  his  company  ;  besides,  he  was  Lord  of  Stour- 
bridge Fair  and  all  the  misorders  there. 

On  a  time,  an  old  Doctor  of  the  University  brought  unto 
him  five  yards  of  pure  fine  scarlet,  to  make  him  a  Doctor  of 
Divinity's  gown  :  and  withal,  desired  him  to  save  him  the 
least  shred,  to  mend  a  hole  if  a  moth  should  eat  it. 

Godfrey  having  measured  it,  and  found  there  was  enough, 
laid  it  by. 

"Nay,"  quoth  the  Doctor,  "  let  me  see  it  cut  ere  I  go !  for 
though  you  can  play  the  knave  abroad,  I  think  you  are  honest 
at  home  and  at  your  work." 

"  GOD  forbid  else  !  "  quoth  Godfrey,  "  and  that  you  shall 
find  by  me!  For  give  me  but  20s.  from  you,  and  I  will  save 
you  40s.  in  the  making  of  your  gown." 

"  That  I  will !  "  said  the  Doctor,  who  was  miser-able 
enouj^h,  "  with  all  mine  heart !  " 

With  that,  he  gave  him  two  old  Harry  Angels  out  of  his 
velvet  pouch  :  which  Godfrey  having  put  into  his  pocket, 
the  Doctor  desired  him  to  tell  him  how  he  should  save  him  40s. 

"  Marry  !  will  I,"  quoth  Godfrey,  "  in  good  faith,  Sir. 
Let  some  other  tailor,  in  any  case,  make  it !  For  if  I  take 
it  in  hand,  I  shall  utterly  spoil  it !  for  I  never,  in  all  my  life, 
made  any  of  this  fashion  !  " 

I  report  this,  for  the  credit  of  honest  tailors  ;  who  will  ever 
tell  their  friends  the  truth. 

0/  Recreations. 

F  recreations,  some  are  more  expensive  than  others, 

as  requiring  more  address  and   charge  [outlay]  ;  as 

Fittings,  Masques,  Plays,  and  the  like:"  which  are 

^  proper  to  Princes'  Courts. 

But  I  speak  of  those  which  are  proper  [appropriate]  to  private 


H.  Peacham 
i 


I'g^"^;]  English  recreations  in   1641.283 


men.  For  such  is  our  nature,  that  we  cannot  stand  long^ 
bent  ;  but  we  must  have  our  relaxations  as  well  of  mind,  as  of 
body. 

For  of  Recreations,  some  are  proper  to  the  mind  and 
speculation,  as  reading  of  delightful  and  pleasant  books,  the 
knowledge  of  the  mathematical  and  other  contemplative 
sciences  ;  which  are  the  more  pleasing  and  excellent,  by  how 
much  the  pleasure  of  the  Mind  excelleth  that  of  the  Body. 

Others  belong  to  the  body,  as  walking,  riding  upon  pleasure, 
shooting,  hunting,  hawking,  bowling,  ringing,  Paille  Maille 
[Note  the  occurrence  of  this  name  18  years  before  the  Restoration, 
when  Charles  II.  brought  it  into  fashion],  and  the  like  ;  which 
are  recreations  without  doors :  others  are  within  doors,  as 
chess,  tables,  cards,  dice,  billiards,  gioco  d'oco,  and  the  like. 

But  the  truth  is,  the  most  pleasing  of  all,  is  riding  with 
a  good  horse  and  a  good  companion,  in  the  spring  [T/tatrec>-ea. 
or  summer  season,  into  the  country,  when  the  bios-  IZ'st^f/ealant. 
soms  are  on  the  trees  and  flowers  in  the  fields ;  or  i664.] 
when  corn  and  fruit  are  ripe  in  autumn.  What  sweet  and 
goodly  prospects  shall  you  have,  on  both  sides  of  you,  upon 
the  way  !  delicate  green  fields !  low  meadows !  diversity  of 
crystal  streams  !  woody  hills  !  parks  with  deer  !  hedgerows  ! 
orchards !  fruit  trees !  churches  I  villages !  the  houses  of 
gentlemen  and  husbandmen  !  several  habits  [different  clothes] 
and  faces !  variety  of  country  labours  and  exercises  ! 

And  if  you  happen,  as  often  it  falleth  out,  to  converse  with 
countrymen  of  the  place;  you  shall  find  them,  for  the  most 
part,  understanding  enough  to  give  you  satisfaction :  and  some- 
times country  maids  and  market  wenches  will  give  as  unhappy 
answers  as  they  be  asked  knavish  and  uncivil  questions. 

Others  there  be,  who,  out  of  their  rustical  simplicity,  will 
afford  you  matter  of  mirth,  if  you  stay  to  talk  with  them.  I 
remember,  once,  by  Horncastle,  near  to  Stikeswold,  in  Lin- 
colnshire, in  the  heat  of  summer,  I  met  with  a  swineherd 
keeping  his  hogs  on  a  fallow  field. 

"  My  friend,"  quoth  I,  "  you  keep  here  a  company  of  unruly 
cattle !  " 

"  I  [Ay],  poor  souls,  they  are  indeed,"  quoth  he. 

"I  believe,"  said  I,  "they  have  a  language  among  them- 
selves, and  can  understand  one  another." 

"  I,  as  well  as  you  or  I." 


284    Recreation  should  re-create  a  man.  ["' ^'''I'g.T. 

**  Were  they  ever  taught  ?  " 

"  Alas,  poor  things,  they  know  not  one  letter  of  the  book  ! 
I  teach  them  all  they  have." 

"  Why,  what  saith  that  great  hog  with  red  spots,"  quoth 
I,  "  that  lies  under  another,  in  his  grunting  language  ?  " 

"  Marry,  he  bids  him  that  sleeps  so  heavy  upon  him,  to  lie 
farther  off." 

But  to  our  purpose.  The  most  ordinary  recreations  in  the 
country  are  foot-ball,  skales  or  nine-pins,  shooting  at  butts  ; 
quoits,  bowling,  running  at  the  base,  stoolball,  leaping,  and 
the  like  :  whereof  some  are  too  violent  and  dangerous. 

The  safest  recreations  are  within  doors,  but  not  in  regard 
of  cost  and  expense  ;  for  thousands  sometimes  are  lost  at 
Ordinaries  and  Dicing-houses.  Yea,  I  have  known  goodly 
Lordships  to  have  been  lost  at  a  cast !  and.  for  the  sport  of  one 
night,  some  have  made  themselves  beggars  all  their  lives  after. 

Recreation  is  so  called  a  rccreando,  that  is,  by  a  metaphor, 
from  creating  a  Man  anew,  by  putting  life,  spirit,  and  delight 
into  him,  after  the  powers  of  his  mind  and  body  have  been 
decayed  and  weakened  with  over  much  contemplation,  study, 
and  labour :  and  therefore  to  be  used  only  to  that  end. 

Some  go  for  recreations  which  trouble  and  amuse  the 
mind  as  much  or  more  than  the  hardest  study  ;  as  chess, 
In  Basiikon  whlch  Klug  James  called  therefore  "  over  philo- 
doron.  sophical  a  folly." 

And,  indeed,  such  recreations  should  be  so  used  that  leave 
no  sting  of  repentance  for  sin  committed  by  them,  or  grief  and 
sorrow,  for  loss  of  money  and  time,  many  days  after. 

I  could  instance  many  of  that  nature,  but  I  will  only  give 
Excellent  rules  somc  cxcellent  rules  to  be  observed  in  some  of 


recreation.     ,1 

them. 


1664.] 

If  you  have  a  mind  to  recreate  yourself  by  Play,  never 
adventure  but  a  Third  part  of  that  money  you  have  ! 
Let  those  you  play  withal,  be  of  your  acquaintance,  and 
not  strangers  ;  if  you  may  avoid  it. 

Never  miss  Time  yourself,  by  sitting  long  at  Play,  as 
some  will  do  three  or  four  nights  together ;  and  so  make 
yourself  unfit  for  any  business  in  many  days  after. 

Never  play  until  you  be  constrained  to  borrow,  or 
pawn  an3thing  of  your  own  ;  which  becometh  a  base 
groom  better  than  a  Gentleman. 


"■  ?'''i6":]  W  A  Y  S    TO    GET    A    LIVING    IN     I  64  I.      2S5 

Avoid  quarrelling,  blasphemous  swearing;   and,  in  a 

word,  never  play  for  more  than  you  are  willing  to  lose, 

that  you  may  find  yourself,  after  your  pastime,  not  the 

worse,  but  the  better  :  which  is  the  end  of  all  recreations. 

There  are  some,  I   know,  so  base  and  penurious,  who,  for 

fear  of  losing   a  penny,  will   never  play   at   anything :    yet, 

rather  than  they  should  want  their  recreation,  I  would  wish 

them    to    venture    at    Span-counter    and    Dust-point,   with 

schoolboys,  upon  their  ordinary  play  days,  in  a  market-place 

or  Church  porch ! 

Of  such  Jionest  ways  that  men  in  want  may 
take  to  live  and  get  money. 

|F  A  man  hath  fallen  into  poverty  or  distress,  either 
by  death  of  friends,  some  accident  or  other  \a  proper 
by  sea  or  land,  sickness,  or  the  like ;   let  IVgsi^'o/a 
him  not  despair!  ior  paupcrtas  non  est  vitium.  Centtemanin. 

...  ,  f-^  '■  '■'■.,.        ..^  U-rfordsIn  re. 

And  smce  the  Common  wealth  is  like  unto  a  theCentteman 
human  Body,  consisting  of  many  members  so  use-  fJid^iirnXft 
ful,  each  to  either,  as  one  cannot  subsist  without  "«'''«« ^/"^ 

11  f-\    •  ^    •      r\  •  1  yoittli  and 

the  other;  as  a  Prince,  his  Council  and  Statesmen,  umbs »i,ght be 
are  as  the  Head;  the  Arms,  are  men-at-arms;  the  VePr\vhere- 
Backthe  commonality;  Hands  and  Feet  are  country  'l^Zarlaid 
and  mechanic  trades,  &c. :  so,  GOD  hath  ordained  "-^'-f'"    .^, 

,  ,,  1111  1  r  1  1  trotibled    ivitli 

that  all  men  should  have  need  one  01  another,  that  a  bad  disease, 
none  might  live  idly  or  want  employment.  Where-  wZ'asL',ned:' 
fore  Idleness  as  the  bane  of  a  Common  wealth,     '^he  Centie- 

.  .  7iia7i  giving 

hath  a  curse  attending  upon  it ;  it  should  be  >^''"  ■^^-  (=6d. 
clothed  with  rags  !  it  should  beg  its  bread  !  &c.        Tiding/or- 

I  remember  I  have  read  in  an  Italian  history,  of  '^lltanlack  tT 
one  so  idle,  that  he  was  fain  to  have  one  to  help  ^,".'"""  ^^''''"^ 

,.  ....  ,  ,  lit  1   •  "'-f  aisease 

him  to  stir  his  chops,  when  he  should  eat  his  meat,  w^?-    The 

Now,   if  you   would    ask   me.  What  course  he  ^Jfdi him,hit 

should  take,  or  what  he  should  do  that  wanteth  ^f^'^'/JZ"^' 

money?    let  him    first    bethink    himself  to  what  cudgei/ed.he 

profession  or  trade  of  life  he  hath  been  formerly  se,vh^g-ntan. 

brought  up?       _  'u&u"5us 

If  of  the  inferior  rank  of  people,  as  a  tradesman  '/X7JJT 

[mechanic]  or   artificer;  for  those  are  the  persons  .w«fwr« 

most  concerned  in  this  general  complaint.  xQit]^"^^''" 


286    Loss  OF  TIME   IN  COFFEE-HOUSES   IN    16/6.  ["•  ^ 


Penchnm. 
1641. 


First,  let  them  be  diligent  and  industrious  in  their 
several  trades  and  callings. 

Secondly,  let  them  avoid  all  such  idle  society  that 
squandered  away  a  great  deal  of  tune  at  a  cheap  rate. 

[I  shall  instance,  in  those  sober  and  civil  Conventions  as  at 
coffee-houses  and  clubs,  where  little  Money  is  pretended  to  be 
spent,  but  a  great  deal  of  precious  Time  is  lost :  which  the 
person  never  thinks  of,  but  measures  his  expenses  by  what  goes 
out  of  his  pocket ;  nor  considers  what  he  might  have  put  in 
by  his  labour,  and  what  he  might  have  saved,  being  employed 
in  a  shop  for  example. 

A   mechanic  tradesman,  it  may  be,  goes  to  the  coffee-house 
or  ale-house,  in  the  morning,  to  drink  his  morning's  draught; 
where  he  spends  twopence,  and  in  smoking  and  talking  con- 
sumes at  least  an  hour :  in  the  evening,  about  six  o'clock,  he 
goes  to  his  twopenny  Club,  and  there  stays  for  his  twopence 
till  nine  or  ten.     Here  are  fourpence  spent ;  and  four  hours 
at   least   lost,    which   in   most   mechanic    trades,    cannot    be 
reckoned  at  less  than  a  shilling :  and,  if  he  keep  servants, 
they  may  lose  him  nearly  as  much  by  idling  and  spoiling  his 
goods,  which  his  presence  might  have  prevented.     So  that, 
upon  these  considerations,  for  this,  his  supposed  Groat  a  day's 
expenses,  he  cannot  reckon  less  than   seven   groats :   which 
comes  to  14s.  [  =  425.  now]  a  week,  Sundays  excepted  ;  this  is 
£^,6  105.  a  year  [=z£iog  10s.  now],  a  great  deal  of  money  in 
a  poor  tradesman's  pocket.     1676.] 
If  brought  up  to  no  trade,  to  what  his  genius  or  natural 
disposition  stands  most  affected  unto. 

If  he  hath  a  mind  to  travel,  he  shall  find  entertain- 
[Thetimcsin  mcnt  in  the  Netherlands;  who  are  the  best 

"o /lin/7/io  paymasters  ;    except  the  Emperor  of  Russia, 

deny  imiustry  ^si^    the    Vcnctians    (I    mean,  for  the   most 

aiiTeiihood.  means)  m  Europe. 

waylillTy  If  you  llst  not  to  follow  the  wars,  you  may 

^hhSiuord,°£  fi"^  entertainment    among   our   new  Planta- 

ike  schoi'ar  by  tions  in  Amcrica  I  as  New  England,  Virginia, 

the  exercise  of  ,         t~>       i        i  c~.       r^t      •  11  i     1  < 

hhPen:  and  the  barbadocs,  bt.  Christopher  s,  ana  the  rest : 

'Zuilhaf  where  with  a  great  deal  of  delight,  you  may  have 

'Z'^uUrstntdcih  variety  of  honest  employment,  as  fishing  with 

7iot.  1C64.]  the  net  or  hook,  planting,  gardening,  and  the 

like ;  which,  besides  your  maintenance,  you  shall  find  it 


H.  Peach  nm. 
2      104 


':]       Get,  and  keep  a  friend!         287 


a  great  content  to  your  conscience  to  be  in  action,  which 
GOD  commands  us  all  to  be!  vniereis,w 

If  you  have  been  ever  in  Grammar  School,  'i:Z"lva,u\f 
you  may  everywhere  find  children  to  teach  ;  %"ll'^;,/J, 
so    many,    no   doubt,    as  will    keep  you  from  "ponmUawfui 
starving,    and   it    may   be  in   a  Gentleman's  mf/{Z'';''a»j, 
house.     Or  if  you  get  entertainment  of  any  s^So, 
who  followeth  the  Law  or  practiseth  Physic:  ''"f^^-"  ', 
you  may,  with  diligence  and  practice,  prove  a  hima,ii,u-h 
Clerk  to  himself  or  some  Justice  of  the  Peace.  t^nTtL'\mi.\ 
By  the  other,  you  may  get  the  knowledge  and  nature  of 
herbs  and  all  foreign  drugs  from  his  apothecary  ;  and 
perhaps  many  good  receipts  for  agues,  wounds,  and  the 
like.     I  have  known  many,  this  way,  to  have  proved  in 
a  country  town,  tolerable  physicians,   and  have  grown 
rich. 
If  being  born  a  Gentleman,  you  scorn,  as  our  Gentlemen  do, 
to  do  any  of  these;  you  may  get  to  be  a  Gentleman 
Usher  to  some  Lady  or  other.     They  are  not  few  that 
have  thrived  passing  well  this  way. 
And,  in  a  word,  rather  than  be  in  miserable  and  pitiless 
want,  let  a  man  undertake  any  vocation  and  labour  !  always 
remembering  that  homely,  but  true,  distich  of  old  Tusser's, 

Think  no  labour  slavery. 
That  brings  in  Penny  saverly ! 

And  as  a  necessary  rule  hereto  coincident,  let  every  man 
endeavour,  by  a  dutiful  diligence,  to  get  a  friend  !  and  when 
he  hath  found  him  (neither  are  they  so  easily  found  in  these 
days!)  with  an  equal  care  to  keep  him  !  and  to  use  him,  as  one 
would  do  a  crystal  or  Venice  glass,  to  take  him  up  softly  and 
use  him  tenderly ;  or  as  you  would  a  sword  of  excellent 
temper  and  mettle,  not  to  hack  at  every  gate  or  cut  every 
staple  and  post  therewith,  but  to  keep  him  to  defend  you  in 
your  extremest  danger. 

False  and  seeming  friends  are  infinite.  Such  be  our 
ordinary  acquaintance,  with  the  compliment,  "  Glad  to  see 
you  well  !  "  "  How  have  you  done,  this  long  time?"  &c. : 
and  with  these,  we  meet  every  day. 

In  a  word,  for  a  conclusion,  let  every  one  be  careful  to  get 


>.SS     "  We  will  want  money,  for  no  man  ! "  ["• 


Peacham. 
?      1641. 


and  keep  money.  Know  the  worth  of  a  Penny  !  [There  is 
no  companion  like  a  Penny  !  Be  a  good  husband  !  and  iliou 
wilt  soon  get  a  penny  to  spend,  a  penny  to  lend,  and  a  penny  for 
thy  friend.     1667.] 

And  since  we  are  born,  we  must  live.     Vivons  nons !  Let 

us   live  as  well,   as  merrily,    as  we   can,  in   these    hardest 

Times !  and  say,  every  one  of  us,  as  Sir  Roger  Williams, 

that    brave   soldier,    said    to    Queen   Elizabeth,  when    he 

wanted  pay  for  himself  and  his  soldiers,  "  Madam, 

I  tell  you  true  !  we  will  be  without  money  for 

no  man's  pleasure  !  " 

FINIS. 


I  D  E  ^ , 

I  N 

S  I  X  T  Y-T  H  R  E  E 

SONNETS. 

B  Y 

Michael  Drayton, 

Esquire. 

# 

LONDON, 

Printed  for  John    Smethwick. 

I  6  I  9. 

ENG.  Gar.  VI. 


290 


^A^i    To  the   Reader  of 
these  Sonnets. 


N'to  these  Loves,  w/io  btit  for  Passion  looks  ; 
At  tills  first  sight,  here  let  him  lay  them  by  / 
And  seek  elsezvJiere  in  tttrning  other  books, 
Which  better  may  his  labour  satisfy. 
No  far-fetched  Sigh  shall  ever  wound  my  bi'east  I 
Love  from  7nine  eye,  a  Tear  shall  never  wring  I 
No  "  Ah  me  I  "s  my  whiiiing  sofinets  drest  I 
A  Libertine  /  fantastic ly  I  sing  ! 

My  Verse  is  the  true  image  of  my  ATind, 
Ever  in  motion,  still  desiring  change  : 
And  as  thus,  tovariety  inclined ; 
So  in  all  humottrs  sportively  /  range  I 

My  MtLse  is  rightly  of  the  English  strain, 
That  cannot  long  07ie  fashion  entertain. 


291 


Idea. 


Ike  an  adventurous  seafarer  am  I, 
Who  hath  some  long  and  dangerous  voyage 

been ; 
And  called  to  tell  of  his  discovery, 
How  far  he  sailed,  what  countries  he  had 
seen  ; 
Proceeding  from  the  port  whence  he  put 
forth, 
Shews  by  his  compass  how  his  course  he  steered, 
When  East,  when  West,  when  South,  and  when  by  North, 
As  how  the  Pole,  to  every  place  was  reared ; 

What  capes  he  doubled,  of  what  continent, 
The  gulfs  and  straits  that  strangely  he  had  past ; 
Where  most  becalmed,  where  with  foul  weather  spent, 
And  on  what  rocks  in  peril  to  be  cast  : 
Thus  in  my  Love,  Time  calls  me  to  relate 
My  tedious  travels,  and  oft-varying  fate. 


292 


Idea. 


CM.  Drayton. 
1594-1619. 


Y  HEART  was  slain,  and  none  but  you  and  I  ? 
Who  should  I  think  the  murder  should  commit ; 
Since  but  yourself,  there  was  no  creature  by 
But  only  I,  guiltless  of  murdering  it  ? 

It  slew  itself?  The  verdict  on  the  view 
Do  quit  the  dead,  and  me  not  accessory. 
Well,  well !  I  fear  it  will  be  proved  of  you  ! 
Th'evidence  so  great  a  proof  doth  carry. 

But  0  see  !  See,  we  need  inquire  no  further  ! 
Upon  your  lips,  the  scarlet  drops  are  found  ! 
And  in  your  eye,  the  Boy  that  did  the  murder  ! 
Your  cheeks  yet  pale,  since  first  he  gave  the  wound  ! 

By  this  I  see,  however  things  be  past, 

Yet  Heaven  will  still  have  murder  out  at  last. 


Aking  my  pen,  with  words  to  cast  my  woe, 
Duly  to  count  the  sum  of  all  my  cares  ; 
I  find,  my  griefs  innumerable  grow  : 
The  reck'nings  rise  to  millions  of  despairs. 

And  thus  dividing  of  my  fatal  hours  : 
The  payments  of  my  Love,  I  read  and  cross  ; 
Subtracting,  set  my  Sweets  unto  my  Sours. 
My  Joys'  arrearage  leads  me  to  my  loss. 

And  thus  mine  eyes  a  debtor  to  thine  eye, 
Which  by  extortion  gaineth  all  their  looks  ; 
My  heart  hath  paid  such  grievous  usury, 
That  all  their  wealth  lies  in  thy  Beauty's  books. 

And  all  is  Thine  which  hath  been  due  to  me  ; 

And  I  a  bankrupt,  quite  undone  by  Thee  ! 


M.  Dray 

1594 


ayton."| 
-1619.J 


Idea. 


293 


Right  Star  of  Beauty !  on  whose  Eyelids  sit 
A  thousand  nymph-like  and  enamoured  Graces, 
The  Goddesses  of  Memory  and  Wit, 
Which  there  in  order  take  their  several  places. 

In  whose  dear  Bosom,  sweet  delicious  Love 
Lays  down  his  quiver,  which  he  once  did  bear, 
Since  he  that  blessed  Paradise  did  prove  ; 
And  leaves  his  mother's  lap,  to  sport  him  there. 

Let  others  strive  to  entertain  with  words ! 
My  soul  is  of  a  braver  mettle  made  : 
I  hold  that  vile,  which  vulgar  Wit  affords. 
In  me  's  that  faith  which  Time  cannot  invade  ! 

Let  what  I  praise,  be  still  made  good  by  3'ou  ! 

Be  you  most  worthy,  whilst  I  am  most  true ! 


Othing  but  «'No!"  and  "*I !",  and  "I!"  and  "No!". 

"  How  falls  it  out  so  strangely?  "  you  reply. 

I  tell  ye,  Fair  !  I'll  not  be  answered  so  !  v^y^ 

With  this  affirming  "  No  !  ",  denying  "  I !  ". 

I  say  "  I  love  ! "  You  slightly  answer  "  I  !  ". 
I  say  "  You  love  ! "  You  pule  me  out  a  "  No  !  ". 
I  say  "  I  die  1  "  You  echo  me  with  "  I  !  ". 
"  Save  me  !  "  I  cry ;  you  sigh  me  out  a  "  No  !  ". 

Must  Woe  and  I  have  naught  but  "  No ! "  and  "  I ! "  ? 
No  "  I  1  "  am  I,  if  I  no  more  can  have. 
Answer  no  more  I  With  silence  make  reply, 
And  let  me  take  myself  what  I  do  crave  ! 

Let  "  No !  "  and  "  I  !  "  with  I  and  you  be  so. 

Then  answer  «'  No ! "  and  ''  I ! ",  and  "  I ! "  and  "  No ! ". 


294 


I  D   E   A: 


[M.  Drayton. 
1594-1619. 


6. 

Ow  many  paltry  foolish  painted  Things, 
That  now  in  coaches  trouble  every  street, 
Shall  be  forgotten  (whom  no  Poet  sings) 
Ere  they  be  well  wrapped  in  their  winding  sheet ! 

Where  I,  to  thee  Eternity  shall  give  ! 
When  nothing  else  remaineth  of  these  days. 
And  Queens  hereafter  shall  be  glad  to  live 
Upon  the  alms  of  thy  superfluous  praise. 

Virgins  and  matrons,  reading  these  my  rhymes. 
Shall  be  so  much  delighted  with  thy  Story, 
That  they  shall  grieve  they  lived  not  in  these  Times, 
To  have  seen  Thee,  their  sex's  only  glory  ! 

So  shalt  thou  fly  above  the  vulgar  throng, 

Still  to  survive  in  my  immortal  Song. 


OvE,  in  a  humour,  played  the  prodigal, 
And  bade  my  Senses  to  a  solemn  feast ; 
Yet  more  to  grace  the  company  withal, 
Invites  my  Heart  to  be  the  chiefest  guest. 

No  other  drink  would  serve  this  glutton's  turn. 
But  precious  Tears  distilling  from  mine  ey'n  ; 
Wliich  with  my  Sighs  this  epicure  doth  burn. 
Quaffing  carouses  in  this  costly  wine  : 

Where,  in  his  cups,  o'ercome  with  foul  excess, 
Straightways  he  plays  a  swaggering  ruffian's  part, 
And  at  the  banquet,  in  his  drunkenness, 
Slew  his  dear  friend,  my  kind  and  truest  Heart. 

A  gentle  warning,  friends  !  thus  may  you  see. 

What  'tis  to  keep  a  drunkard,  company  ! 


M 


.  Drayton."] 

1594-16HJ.J 


Idea. 


295 


Here's  nothing  grieve  me,  but  that  Age  should  haste, 
That  in  my  days,  I  may  not  see  the  old  ! 
That  where  those  two  clear  sparkling  Eyes  are  placed, 
Only  two  loopholes,  then  I  might  behold ! 
That  lovely  arched  ivory-polished  Brow 
Defaced  with  wrinkles,  that  I  might  but  see! 
Thy  dainty  Hair,  so  curled  and  crisped  now, 
Like  grizzled  moss  upon  some  aged  tree  ! 

Thy  Cheek,  now  flush  with  roses,  sunk  and  lean  ! 
Thy  Lips,  with  age  as  any  wafer  thin  ! 
Thy  pearly  Teeth,  out  of  thy  head  so  clean, 
That  when  thou  feed'st,  thy  Nose  shall  touch  thy  Chin ! 
These  Lines  that  now  scornst,  which  should  delight  thee : 
Then  would  I  make  thee  read,  but  to  despite  thee ! 


S  OTHER  men,  so  I  myself,  do  muse 
Why  in  this  sort  I  wrest  Invention  so  ? 
And  why  these  giddy  metaphors  I  use, 
Leaving  the  path  the  greater  part  do  go  ? 

I  will  resolve  you  !  I  am  lunatic  ! 
And  ever  this  in  madmen  you  shall  find. 
What  they  last  thought  of,  when  the  brain  grew  sick, 
In  most  distraction,  they  keep  that  in  mind. 

Thus  talking  idly,  in  this  Bedlam  fit. 
Reason  and  I  (you  must  conceive)  are  twain  ; 
'Tis  nine  years  now,  since  first  I  lost  my  Wit. 
Bear  with  me  then,  though  troubled  be  my  brain  ! 

With  diet  and  correction,  men  distraught, 
(Not  too  far  past),  may  to  their  wits  be  brought. 


296 


Idea. 


FM.  Drayton. 
L     1594-1619. 


'. 


10. 

O  NOTHING  fitter  can  I  thee  compare, 
Than  to  the  son  of  some  rich  penny-father  ; 
Who  having  now  brought  on  his  end  with  care, 
Leaves  to  his  son,  all  he  had  heaped  together. 
This  new  rich  Novice,  lavish  of  his  chest, 
To  one  man  gives !  doth  on  another  spend  ! 
Then  here  he  riots  !  yet,  amongst  the  rest, 
Haps  to  lend  some  to  one  true  honest  friend. 

Thy  Gifts,  thou  in  obscurity  dost  waste  ! 
False  friends,  thy  Kindness  !  born  but  to  deceive  thee. 
Thy  Love  that  is  on  the  unworthy  placed  ! 
Time  hath  thy  Beauty,  which  with  age  will  leave  thee! 
Only  that  little,  which  to  me  was  lent, 
I  give  thee  back  !  when  all  the  rest  is  spent. 


II. 

Ou're  not  alone  when  You  are  still  alone, 
O  God  !  from  You  that  I  could  private  be ! 
Since  You  one  were,  I  never  since  was  one  ; 
Since  You  in  Me,  my  self  since  out  of  Me. 

Transported  from  my  Self  into  your  Being, 
Though  either  distant,  present  yet  to  either : 
Senselessly  with  too  much  joy,  each  other  seeing; 
And  only  absent,  when  We  are  together. 

Give  me  my  self!  and  take  your  self  again  ! 
Devise  some  means  but  how  I  may  forsake  You  I 
So  much  is  mine  that  doth  with  You  remain, 
That  taking  what  is  mine,  with  me  I  take  You  ! 

You  do  bewitch  Me  !  O  that  I  could  liy 

From  my  self  You,  or  from  your  pwn  self  I  I 


M. 


1594-1619.J 


Idea 


297 


12. 

To  the  Soul. 

Hat  learned  Father,  which  so  firmly  proves 
The  Soul  of  Man  immortal  and  divine, 
And  doth  the  several  Offices  define  : 

Gives  her  that  Name,  as  she  the  body  moves. 

Then  is  she  Love,  embracing  Charity. 

Moving  a  will  in  us,  it  is  the  Mind  :  ^ 

Retaining  knowledge,  still  the  same  in  kind. 

As  intellectual,  it  is  Memory. 

In  judging.  Reason  only  is  her  name. 

In  speedy  apprehension,  it  is  Sense. 


Aniiita, 

Amor, 

Animus, 

Melts, 

Memoria, 

Ratio, 

Sensiis,  ^  -     J 

Conscientia,  In  right  and  wrong,  they  call  her  Conscience. 

Spiritus,       The  Spirit,  when  it  to  GODward  doth  mflame. 
These  of  the  Soul,  the  several  functions  be, 
Which  my  heart  lightened  by  thy  Love,  doth 
see. 


13- 

To  the  Shadow. 

Etters  and  lines,  we  see  are  soon  defaced. 
Metals  do  waste  and  fret  with  canker's  rust. 
The  diamond  shall  once  consume  to  dust; 
And  freshest  colours,  with  foul  stains  disgraced. 

Paper  and  ink  can  paint  but  naked  words. 
To  write  with  blood,  of  force  offends  the  sight. 
And  if  with  tears,  I  find  them  all  too  light : 
And  sighs  and  signs,  a  silly  hope  afford : 

O  sweetest  Shadow,  how  thou  serv'st  my  turn ! 
Which  still  shalt  be,  as  long  as  there  is  sun. 
Nor  whilst  the  world  is,  never  shall  be  done  ; 
Whilst  moon  shall  shine,  or  any  fire  shall  burn : 

That  everything  whence  shadow  doth  proceed, 

May  in  his  shadow,  my  Love's  story  read. 


298 


Id 


E  A 


[M.  Drayton. 
1594-1619. 


14. 

F  HE,  from  heaven  that  filched  that  living  fire. 
Condemned  by  JovE  to  endless  torment  be  ! 
I  greatly  marvel,  how  you  still  go  free! 
That  far  beyond  Prometheus  did  aspire. 

The  fire  he  stole,  although  of  heavenly  kind, 
Which  from  above  he  craftily  did  take, 
Of  liveless  clods,  us  living  men  to  make  ; 
He  did  bestow  in  temper  of  the  mind. 

But  you  broke  into  heaven's  immortal  store, 
Where  Virtue,  Honour,  Wit,  and  Beauty  lay  ! 
Which  taking  thence,  you  have  escaped  away. 
Yet  stand  as  free  as  e'er  you  did  before  : 

Yet  old  Prometheus  punished  for  his  rape! 

Thus  poor  thieves  suffer,  when  the  greater  'scape. 


15. 

Hh  Remedy  for  Love. 

Ince  to  obtain  thee,  nothing  me  will  stead, 
I  have  a  Med'cine  that  shall  cure  my  Love. 
The  powder  of  her  Heart  dried,  when  she  is  dead, 
That  gold  nor  honour  ne'er  had  power  to  move ; 

Mixed  with  her  Tears  that  ne'er  her  True  Love 
crost, 
Nor,  at  fifteen,  ne'er  longed  to  be  a  bride ; 
Boiled  with  her  Sighs,  in  giving  up  the  ghost. 
That  for  her  late  deceased  husband  died  ; 

Into  the  same,  then  let  a  woman  breathe. 
That  being  chid,  did  never  word  reply  ; 
With  one  thrice-married's  Prayers,  that  did  bequeath 
A  legacy  to  stale  virginity. 

If  this  receipt  have  not  the  power  to  win  me; 

Little  I'll  say,  but  think  the  Devil  's  in  me  ! 


M.  Dray 

1594 


S-ton."] 
1619.J 


I  D  E  A  » 


299 


i5. 

An  Allusion  to  the  Phxnix. 

Ongst  all  the  creatures  in  this  spacious  round, 
Of  the  birds'  kind,  the  Phoenix  is  alone  : 
Which  best  by  you,  of  living  things  is  known  ; 
None  like  to  that  !  none  like  to  you  is  found  ! 

Your  Beauty  is  the  hot  and  splend'rous  sun. 
The  precious  spices  be  your  chaste  Desire ; 
Which  being  kindled  by  that  heavenly  tire, 
Your  life,  so  like  the  Phoenix  's  begun. 

Yourself  thus  burned  in  that  sacred  flame, 
With  so  rare  sweetness  all  the  heavens  perfuming  ; 
Again  increasing,  as  you  are  consuming, 
Only  by  dying  born  the  very  same. 

And  winged  by  Fame,  you  to  the  stars  ascend ! 
So  you,  of  time  shall  live  beyond  the  end. 


17- 

To  Time. 

Tay,  speedy  Time  !  behold,  before  th«u  pass 
From  Age  to  Age,  what  thou  hast  sought  to  see ! 
One  in  whom  all  the  excellencies  be, 
In  whom  Heaven  looks  itself  as  in  a  glass. 

Time  !  look  thou  too  in  this  tralucent  glass  ! 
And  thy  youth  past,  in  this  pure  mirror  see ! 
As  the  World's  Beauty  in  his  infancy, 
What  it  was  then  ;  and  thou,  before  it  was. 

Pass  on  !  and  to  posterity  tell  this! 
Yet  see  thou  tell  but  truly,  what  hath  been  ! 
Say  to  our  nephews,  that  thou  once  hast  seen 
In  perfect  human  shape,  all  Heavenly  Bliss  ! 

And  bid  them  mourn,  nay  more,  despair  with  thee, 

(That  she  is  gone)  her  like  again  to  see ! 


5& -3    s 


300  IDEA.  1_     ,s94-l6i9. 

18. 

To  the  Celestial  Numbers, 

0  THIS  our  World,  to  Learning,  and  to  Heaven  ; 
Three  Nines  there  are,  to  every  one  a  Nine  : 
One  number  of  the  earth,  the  other  both  Divine, 
One  Woman  now  makes  three  odd  numbers  even. 

Nine  Orders  first,  of  Angels  be  in  heaven  ; 
Nine  Muses  do,  with  Learning  still  frequent; 
These  with  the  gods  are  ever  resident. 
Nine  worthy  Women,  to  the  World  were  given. 

My  worthy  One,  to  these  Nine  Worthies  addeth  ! 
And  my  fair  Muse,  one  Muse  unto  the  Nine  ! 
And  my  good  Angel  (in  my  soul,  divine!), 
With  one  more  Order,  these  nine  Orders  gladdeth  ! 

My  Muse,  my  Worthy,  and  my  Angel  then 

Makes  every  One  of  these  three  Nines,  a  Ten. 


19. 

To  Humour. 

fOu  cannot  love,  my  pretty  Heart !  and  why  ? 
There  was  a  time  you  told  me  that  you  would ; 
But  now  again,  you  will  the  same  deny! 
If  it  might  please  you,  would  to  God  you  could  ! 
What,  will  you  hate  ?  Nay,  that  you  will  not  neither ! 
Nor  love,  nor  hate  !  how  then  ?     What  will  you  do  ? 
What,  will  you  keep  a  mean  then  betwixt  either  ? 
Or  will  you  love  me,  and  yet  hate  me  too  ? 

Yet  serves  not  this  !  What  next,  what  other  shift  ? 
You  Will,  and  Will  Not;  what  a  coil  is  here ! 
I  see  your  craft !     Now,  I  perceive  your  drift  I 
And  all  this  while,  I  was  mistaken  there. 

Your  love  and  hate  is  this,  I  now  do  prove  you  ! 
You  love  in  hate,  by  hate  to  make  me  love  you. 


M.  Drayton.' 


.  Drayton."] 
1594-1619.J 


Idea, 


301 


20. 

N  EVIL  Spirit  (your  Beauty)  haunts  me  still, 
Wherewith,  alas,  I  have  been  long  possesst  ; 
Which  ceaseth  not  to  attempt  me  to  each  ill, 
Nor  give  me  once,  but  one  poor  minute's  rest. 

In  me  it  speaks,  whether  I  sleep  or  wake  : 
And  when  by  means  to  drive  it  out  I  try. 
With  greater  torments  then  it  me  doth  take, 
And  tortures  me  in  most  extremity. 

Before  my  face,  it  lays  down  my  despairs, 
And  hastes  me  on  unto  a  sudden  death : 
Now  tempting  me,  to  drown  myself  in  tears ; 
And  then  in  sighing  to  give  up  my  breath. 

Thus  am  I  still  provoked  to  every  evil. 

By  this  good-wicked  Spirit,  sweet  Angel-Devil. 


21. 

Witless  Gallant,  a  young  wench  that  wooed 
(Yet  his  dull  spirit,  her  not  one  jot  could  move), 
Intreated  me,  as  e'er  I  wished  his  good. 
To  write  him  but  one  Sonnet  to  his  Love. 

When  I,  as  fast  as  e'er  my  pen  could  trot, 
Poured  out  what  first  from  quick  Invention  came ; 
Nor  never  stood  one  word  thereof  to  blot  : 
Much  like  his  wit,  that  was  to  use  the  same. 

But  with  my  verses,  he  his  Mistress  won ; 
Who  doated  on  the  dolt  beyond  all  measure. 
But  see  !     For  you,  to  heaven  for  phrase  I  run. 
And  ransack  all  Apollo's  golden  treasure  ! 

Yet  by  my  froth,  this  Fool,  his  Love  obtains  : 

And  I  lose  you,  for  all  my  wit  and  pains  ! 


:o2 


Idea. 


[M.  Drayton. 
1S94-1619. 


22. 

To  Folly. 

Ith  fools  and  children,  good  discretion  bears. 
Then,  honest  people,  bear  with  Love  and  me ! 
Nor  older  yet,  nor  wiser  made  by  years, 
Amongst  the  rest  of  fools  and  children  be. 

Love,  still  a  baby,  plays  with  gauds  and  toys, 
And  like  a  wanton  sports  with  every  feather ; 
And  idiots  still  are  running  after  boys  : 
Then  fools  and  children  fittest  to  go  together. 

He  still  as  young  as  when  he  first  was  born  ; 
No  wiser  I,  than  when  as  young  as  he  : 
You  that  behold  us,  laugh  us  not  to  scorn  ; 
Give  Nature  thanks,  you  are  not  such  as  we ! 

Yet  fools  and  children  sometimes  tell  in  play, 

Some  wise  in  shew,  more  fools  indeed  than  they ! 


23- 

OvE  banished  heaven,  in  earth  was  held  in  scorn  ; 
Wand'ring  abroad  in  need  and  beggary  t 
And  wanting  friends,  though  of  a  goddess  born. 
Yet  craved  the  alms  of  such  as  passed  by. 
I,  like  a  man  devout  and  charitable, 
Clothed  the  naked,  lodged  this  wandering  guest; 
With  sighs  and  tears  still  furnishing  his  table, 
With  what  might  make  the  miserable  blest. 
But  this  Ungrateful  !  for  my  good  desert, 
Inticed  my  thoughts,  against  me  to  conspire; 
Who  gave  consent  to  steal  away  my  heart, 
And  set  my  breast  (his  lodging)  on  a  fire. 

Well,  well,  my  friends!  when  beggars  grow  thus  bold; 
No  marvel  then,  though  Charity  grow  cold. 


M.  Dray 

1594- 


ayton."] 
j-i6i9.J 


Idea. 


503 


24. 

Hear  some  say,  "This  man  is  not  in  love !  " 
"  Who  !  can  he  love  ?  a  likely  thing  !  "  they  say. 
"  Read  but  his  Verse,  and  it  will  easily  prove  !  " 
O,  judge  not  rashly,  gentle  Sir,  I  pray  ! 

Because  I  loosely  trifle  in  this  sort, 
As  one  that  fain  his  sorrows  would  beguile  : 
You  now  suppose  me,  all  this  time,  in  sport ; 
And  please  yourself  with  this  conceit  the  while. 

Ye  shallow  Censures  !  sometimes,  see  ye  not, 
In  greatest  perils,  some  men  pleasant  be  ; 
Where  Fame  by  death  is  only  to  be  got. 
They  resolute  !     So  stands  the  case  with  me. 

Where  other  men,  in  depth  of  Passion  cry ; 

I  laugh  at  Fortune,  as  in  jest  to  die ! 


25. 

,  Why  should  Nature  niggardly  restrain, 
That  foreign  nations  relish  not  our  tongue  ? 
Else  should  my  Lines  glide  on  the  waves  of  Rhine, 
And  crown  the  Pyren's  with  my  living  Song. 

But  bounded  thus,  to  Scotland  get  you  forth  ! 
Thence  take  you  wing  unto  the  Orcades ! 
There  let  my  Verse  get  glory  in  the  north, 
Making  my  sighs  to  thaw  the  frozen  seas. 

And  let  the  Bards  within  that  Irish  isle, 
To  whom  my  Muse  with  fiery  wings  shall  pass. 
Call  back  the  stiff-necked  rebels  from  exile, 
And  mollify  the  slaughtering  Gallowglass  ! 

And  when  my  flowing  Numbers  they  rehearse, 

Let  wolves  and  bears  be  charmed  with  my  Verse ! 


\o4 


Idea. 


TM.  Drayton. 
L     1594-1619. 


26. 

To  Despair. 

Ever  love,  where  never  Hope  appears, 

Yet  Hope  draws  on  my  never-hoping  care  ; 

And  my  life's  Hope  would  die  but  for  Despair ; 
My  never-certain  joy  breeds  ever  certain  fears. 

Uncertain  dread  gives  wings  unto  my  Hope; 
Yet  my  Hope's  wings  are  laden  so  with  fear 
As  they  cannot  ascend  to  my  Hope's  sphere ; 
Though  fear  gives  them  more  than  a  heavenly  scope. 

Yet  this  large  room  is  bounded  with  Despair, 
So  my  Love  is  still  fettered  with  vain  Hope, 
And  liberty  deprives  him  of  his  scope, 
And  thus  am  I  imprisoned  in  the  air. 

Then,  sweet  Despair,  awhile  hold  up  thy  head  ! 

Or  all  my  Hope,  for  sorrow,  will  be  dead. 


27. 

S  NOT  Love  here,  as  'tis  in  other  climes  ? 
And  differeth  it,  as  do  the  several  nations? 
Or  hath  it  lost  the  virtue,  with  the  Times  ? 
Or  in  this  island  altereth  with  the  fashions  ? 

Or  have  our  Passions  lesser  power  than  theirs, 
Who  had  less  Art,  them  lively  to  express  ? 
Is  Nature  grown  less  powerful  in  their  heirs, 
Or  in  our  fathers,  did  she  more  transgress  ? 

I  am  sure,  my  sighs  come  from  a  heart  as  true 
As  any  man's  that  Memory  can  boast  1 
And  my  respects  and  services  to  you, 
Equal  with  his,  that  loves  his  Mistress  most! 
Or  Nature  must  be  partial  in  my  cause, 
Or  only  You  do  violate  her  laws  1 


M.  Dray 
'594 


ayton."] 
t-i6i9.J 


Idea. 


505 


28. 

0  SUCH  as  say,  thy  Love  I  overprize, 
And  do  not  stick  to  term  my  praises,  folly ; 
Against  these  folks,  that  think  themselves  so  wise, 
I  thus  oppose  my  reason's  forces  wholly. 

Though  I  give  more  than  well  affords  my  state. 
In  which  expense,  the  most  suppose  me  vain 
(Which  yields  them  nothing,  at  the  easiest  rate), 
Yet,  at  this  price,  returns  me  treble  gain. 

They  value  not,  unskilful  how  to  use  ; 
And  I  give  much,  because  I  gain  thereby : 
I  that  thus  take,  or  they  that  thus  refuse  ; 
Whether  are  these  deceived  then,  or  I  ? 

In  everything,  I  hold  this  maxim  still. 

The  circumstance  dotli  make  it  good  or  ill. 


29. 

To  the  Senses. 

Hen  conquering  Love  did  first  my  Heart  assail ; 
WVfii    Unto  mine  aid  I  summoned  every  Sense : 
)^^    Doubting,  if  that  proud  tyrant  should  prevail, 
My  Heart  should  suffer  for  mine  eyes'  offence. 

But  he  with  beauty  first  corrupted  Sight, 
My  Hearing  bribed  with  her  tongue's  harmony. 
My  Taste  by  her  sweet  lips  drawn  with  delight. 
My  Smelling  won  with  her  breath's  spicery. 

But  when  my  Touching  came  to  play  his  part 
(The  King  of  Senses,  greater  than  the  rest). 
He  yields  Love  up  the  keys  unto  my  Heart ; 
And  tells  the  others,  how  they  should  be  blest. 
And  thus  by  those,  of  whom  I  hoped  for  aid ; 
To  cruel  Love,  my  soul  was  first  betrayed. 

Eng.  Gar.  VI.  20 


3o6  Idea,  \^\ 


Drayton. 

594-1619. 


To  the  Vestals. 

Hose  priests  which  first  the  Vestal  Fire  began, 
\\"hich  might  be  borrowed  from  no  earthly  flame, 
Devised  a  vessel  to  receive  the  sun, 
Being  stedfastly  opposed  to  the  same  : 

Where,  with  sweet  wood,  laid  curiously  by  Art, 
On  which  the  sun  might  by  reflection  beat ; 
Receiving  strength  for  every  secret  part. 
The  fuel  kindled  with  celestial  heat. 

Thy  blessed  Eyes,  the  sun  which  lights  this  fire  ! 
My  holy  Thoughts,  they  be  the  Vestal  Flame  1 
The  precious  odours  be  my  chaste  Desires  ! 
My  Breast's  the  vessel  which  includes  the  same! 

Thou  art  my  Vesta  !     Thou,  my  goddess  art  1 

Thy  hallowed  temple  only  is  my  Heart ! 


31- 

To  the  Critics. 


jiEthinks,  I  see  some  crooked  Mimic  jeer, 
And  tax  my  Muse  with  this  fantastic  grace  ; 
Turning  my  papers,  asks,  "  What  have  we  here?" 
Making  withal  some  filthy  antic  face. 

I  fear  no  censure,  nor  what  thou  canst  say ! 
Nor  shall  my  spirit,  one  jot  of  vigour  lose  ! 
Think'st  thou,  my  Wit  shall  keep  the  packhorse  way, 
That  every  dudgen  low  Invention  goes  ? 

Since  Sonnets  thus  in  bundles  are  imprest. 
And  every  drudge  doth  dull  our  satiate  ear ; 
Think'st  thou,  my  Love  shall  in  those  rags  be  drest, 
That  every  dowdy,  every  trull  doth  wear  ? 

Up  to  my  pitch,  no  common  judgement  flies ! 

I  scorn  all  earthly  dung-bred  scarabies ! 


M.  Dray 

1594- 


.-rrj  Idea.  307 

32. 

To  the  River  Ankor. 

Ur  floods'  Queen,  Thames,  for  ships  and  swans  is 

crowned ; 
And  stately  Severn,  for  her  shore  is  praised. 
The  cr3^stal  Trent,  for  fords  and  fish  renowned ; 
And  Avon's  fame,  to  Albion's  cliffs  is  raised, 

Carlegion  Chester  vaunts  her  holy  Dee. 
York,  many  wonders,  of  her  Ouse  can  tell. 
The  Peak,  her  Dove,  whose  banks  so  fertile  be : 
And  Kent  will  say,  her  Medway  doth  excel. 

Cotswold  commends  her  Isis  to  the  Tame. 
Our  northern  borders  boast  of  Tweed's  fair  flood. 
Our  western  parts  extol  their  Wilis'  fame  ; 
And  the  old  Lea  brags  of  the  Danish  blood. 

Arden's  sweet  Ankor,  let  thy  glory  be, 

That  fair  Idea  only  lives  by  thee  ! 

33. 

To  Imagination. 

HiLST  yet  mine  Eyes  do  surfeit  with  delight, 
My  woful  Heart  (imprisoned  in  my  breast) 
Wisheth  to  be  transformed  to  my  sight. 
That  it,  like,  those,  by  looking,  might  be  blest. 

But  whilst  mine  Eyes  thus  greedily  do  gaze, 
Finding  their  objects  over-soon  depart; 
These  now  the  other's  happiness  do  praise, 
Wishing  themselves,  that  they  had  been  my  Heart. 

That  Eyes  were  Heart,  or  that  the  Heart  were  Eyes, 
As  covetous  the  other's  use  to  have. 
But  finding  Nature,  their  request  denies, 
This  to  each  other  mutually  they  crave. 

That  since  the  one  cannot  the  other  be, 

That  Eyes  could  think  of  that  my  Heart  could  see. 


io8 


Idea. 


[M.  Drayton. 
'55 


594-1619. 


34- 

To  Admiration. 

Arvel  not,  Love  !  though  I  thy  power  admire  ! 
Ravished  a  world  beyond  the  farthest  thought, 
And  knowing  more,  than  ever  hath  been  taught, 
That  I  am  only  starved  in  my  Desire : 

Marvel  not,  Love  !  though  I  thy  power  admire  ! 
Aiming  at  things  exceeding  all  perfection ; 
To  Wisdom's  self  to  minister  direction, 
That  I  am  only  starved  in  my  Desire : 

Marvel  not.  Love  !  though  I  thy  power  admire  ! 
Though  my  Conceit  I  further  seem  to  bend 
Than  possibly  Invention  can  extend  ; 
And  yet  am  only  starved  in  my  Desire : 

If  thou  wilt  wonder  !  here  's  the  wonder,  Love  ! 

That  this  to  me  doth  yet  no  wonder  prove. 


35- 

To  Miracle. 

Ome  misbelieving  and  profane  in  Love, 
When  I  do  speak  of  miracles  by  thee. 
May  say,  that  thou  art  flattered  by  me  ; 
Who  only  write,  my  skill  in  Verse  to  prove. 

See  miracles  !  ye  Unbelieving,  see  ! 
A  dumb-born  Muse  made  to  express  the  mind  1 
A  cripple  Hand  to  write,  yet  lame  by  kind  ! 
One  by  thy  name,  the  other  touching  thee. 

Blind  were  mine  eyes,  till  they  were  seen  of  thine  ; 
And  mine  ears  deaf,  by  thy  fame  healed  be  : 
My  vices  cured  by  virtues  sprung  from  thee  ; 
My  hopes  revived,  which  long  in  grave  had  lien. 

All  unclean  thoughts  (foul  spirits)  cast  out  in  me, 

Only  by  virtue  that  proceeds  from  thee. 


I.  Drayton. "1 

1594-1619.J 


Idea. 


509 


36. 

Cupid  conjured. 

Hou  purblind  Boy  !  since  thou  hast  been  so  slack 
To  wound  her  heart,  whose  eyes  have  wounded  me  ; 
And  suffered  her  to  glory  in  my  wrack  : 
Thus  to  my  aid,  I  lastly  conjure  thee ! 

By  hellish  Styx  (by  which  the  Thunderer  swears)! 
By  thy  fair  Mother's  unavoidrd  power  ! 
By  Hecate's  names  !  by  Proserpine's  sad  tears, 
When  she  was  rapt  to  the  infernal  bower  ! 

By  thine  own  loved  Psyche's  !  by  the  fires 
Spent  on  thine  altars,  flaming  up  to  heaven  ! 
By  all  true  lovers'  sighs,  vows,  and  desires  ! 
By  all  the  wounds  that  ever  thou  hast  given  ! 

I  conjure  thee,  by  all  that  I  have  named, 

To  make  her  love  !  or,  Cupid,  be  thou  damned  ! 


37. 

Ear  !  why  should  you  command  me  to  my  rest, 
When  now  the  night  doth  summon  all  to  sleep  ? 
Methinks,  this  time  becometh  lovers  best  ! 
Night  was  ordained,  together  friends  to  keep. 

How  happy  are  all  other  living  things. 
Which,  through  the  day,  disjoined  by  several  flight. 
The  quiet  evening  yet  together  brings. 
And  each  returns  unto  his  Love  at  night ! 

O  thou  that  art  so  courteous  else  to  all, 
Why  shouldst  thou,  Night !  abuse  me  only  thus  ! 
That  every  creature  to  his  kind  dost  call. 
And  yet  'tis  thou  dost  only  sever  us  ? 

Well  could  I  wish,  it  would  be  ever  day; 

If,  when  night  comes,  you  bid  me  go  away  ! 


3IO 


Idea 


[M.  Drayton. 
1594-1619. 


Itting  alone,  Love  bids  me  go  and  write  ! 
Reason  plucks  back,  commanding  me  to  stay ! 
Boasting  that  She  doth  still  direct  the  way, 
Or  else  Love  were  unable  to  indite. 

Love  growing  angry,  vexed  at  the  spleen, 
And  scorning  Reason's  maimed  argument. 
Straight  taxeth  Reason,  wanting  to  invent 
Where  She  with  Love  conversing  hath  not  been. 

Reason  reproached  with  this  coy  disdain, 
Despiteth  Love,  and  laugheth  at  her  folly : 
And  Love  contemning  Reason's  reason  wholly, 
Thought  it  in  weight  too  light  by  many  a  grain. 

Reason  put  back,  doth  out  of  sight  remove  ; 

And  Love  alone  picks  reason  out  of  love. 


39- 

O.ME,  when  in  rhyme,  they  of  their  loves  do  tell  ; 
With  ilames  and  lightnings  their  exordiums  paint. 
Some  call  on  heaven,  some  invocate  on  hell, 
And  Fates  and  Furies,  with  their  woes  acquaint. 

Elizium  is  too  high  a  seat  for  me. 
I  will  not  come  in  Styx  or  Phlegethon. 
The  thrice-three  Muses  but  too  wanton  be. 
Like  they  that  lust,  I  care  not,  I  will  none  ! 

Spiteful  Ekinnys  frights  me  with  her  looks, 
My  manhood  dares  not,  with  foul  Ate  mell. 
I  quake  to  look  on  Hecate's  charming  books. 
I  still  fear  bugbears  in  Apollo's  cell. 

I  pass  not  for  Minerva  !  nor  Astrea  ! 

Only  I  call  on  my  divine  Idea  ! 


[.  Drayton."! 
1594-1619.J 


Idea 


311 


40. 

R^  Y  HEART  the  Anvil  where  my  thoughts  do  beat ; 
My  words  the  Hammers  fashioning  my  Desire ; 
My  breast  the  Forge  including  all  the  heat, 
Love  is  the  Fuel  which  maintains  the  fire. 
My  sighs  the  Bellows  which  the  flame  increaseth, 
Filling  mine  ears  with  noise  and  nightly  groaning. 
Toiling  with  pain,  my  labour  never  ceaseth  ; 
In  grievous  Passions,  my  woes  still  bemoaning. 

My  eyes  with  tears  against  the  fire  striving, 
Whose  scorching  glede,  my  heart  to  cinders  turneth : 
But  with  those  drops,  the  flame  again  reviving 
Still  more  and  more  it,  to  my  torment  burneth. 
With  Sisyphus  thus  do  I  roll  the  stone, 
And  turn  the  wheel  with  damned  Ixion. 


41. 

Love's  Lunacy. 

^Hy  do  I  speak  of  joy,  or  write  of  love. 
When  my  heart  is  the  very  den  of  horror ; 
And  in  my  soul  the  pains  of  hell  I  prove. 
With  all  his  torments  and  infernal  terror  ? 

What  should  I  say  ?     What  yet  remains  to  do  ? 
My  brain  is  dry  with  weeping  all  too  long. 
My  sighs  be  spent  in  uttering  of  my  woe. 
And  I  want  words  wherewith  to  tell  my  wrong. 

But  still  distracted  in  Love's  lunacy, 
And  Bedlamlike,  thus  raving  in  my  grief. 
Now  rail  upon  her  hair,  then  on  her  eye. 
Now  call  her  "Goddess!"  then  I  call  her  "Thief!" 

Now  I  deny  her!  then  I  do  confess  her! 

Now  do  I  curse  her!  then  again  I  bless  her! 


/„     „      ,  riSI.  Drayton. 

D  E  A  .  j_    X594-X619. 

42. 

Ome  men  there  be,  which  Hke  my  method  well, 
And  much  commend  the  strangeness  of  my  vein. 
Some  say  I  have  a  passing  pleasing  strain, 
Some  say  that  in  my  humour  I  excel. 

Some,  who  not  kindly  relish  my  conceit, 
They  say,  as  poets  do  I  use  to  feign, 
And  in  bare  words  paint  out  my  Passions'  pain. 
Thus  sundry  men,  their  sundry  minds  repeat. 

I  pass  not,  I,  how  men  affected  be ! 
Nor  who  commends  or  discommends  my  Verse  1 
It  pleaseth  me,  if  I  my  woes  rehearse  ! 
And  in  my  lines,  if  She,  my  love  may  see  ! 

Only  my  comfort  still  consists  in  this; 

Writing  her  praise,  I  cannot  write  amiss ! 


43. 
JHy  should  your  fair  eyes,  with  such  sovereign  grace. 

Disperse  their  rays  on  every  vulgar  spirit, 
Ij  Whilst  I  in  darkness,  in  the  self-same  place, 
Get  not  one  glance  to  recompense  my  merit  ? 

So  doth  the  plowman  gaze  the  wandering  star. 
And  only  rest  contented  with  the  light ; 
That  never  learned  wl^ajt  constellations  are. 
Beyond  the  bent  of  his  unknowing  sight. 

O  why  should  Beauty  (custom  to  obey), 
To  their  gross  sense  apply  herself  so  ill ! 
Wpuld  God  !   \  were  as  ignorant  as  they  ! 
"When  I  am  made  unhappy  by  my  skill ! 

Only  compelled  on  this  poor  good  to  boast. 

Heavens  arc  not  kind  to  them,  that  know  them  most! 


[.  Drayt 
1594 


lyton."] 

-1619.J 


Idea 


o^o 


44. 

HiLST  thus  my  pen  strives  to  eternize  thee, 
Age  rules  my  lines  with  wrinkles  in  my  face ; 
Where,  in  the  Map  of  all  my  Misery, 
Is  modelled  out  the  World  of  my  disgrace : 

Whilst  in  despite  of  tyrannizing  Times, 
MEDEAlike,  I  make  thee  young  again! 
Proudly  thou  scorn'st  my  world-outwearing  rhymes, 
And  murder'st  Virtue  with  thy  coy  disdain  ! 

And  though  in  youth,  my  youth  untimely  perish, 
To  keep  Thee  from  oblivion  and  the  grave ; 
Ensuing  Ages  yet  my  Rhymes  shall  cherish, 
Where  I  entombed,  my  better  part  shall  save ; 

And  though  this  earthly  body  fade  and  die, 

My  Name  shall  mount  upon  Eternity  ! 


45- 

Uses  !  which  sadly  sit  about  my  chair, 
Drowned  in  the  tears  extorted  by  my  lines  ;  ^ 
With  heavy  sighs,  whilst  thus  I  break  the  air, 
Painting  my  Passions  in  these  sad  designs. 

Since  She  disdains  to  bless  my  happy  Verse, 
The  strong  built  Trophies  to  her  living  fame. 
Ever  henceforth  my  bosom  be  your  hearse  ! 
Wherein  the  World  shall  now  entomb  her  name. 

Enclose  my  music,  you  poor  senseless  walls  ! 
Sith  She  is  deaf  and  will  not  hear  my  moans, 
Soften  yourselves  with  every  tear  that  falls  ! 
Whilst  I,  like  Orpheus,  sing  to  trees  and  stones. 

Which  with  my  plaint  seem  yet  with  pity  moved, 

Kinder  thai]  She  whom  I  so  long  have  loved. 


314 


Idea. 


[M.  Drayton. 
1594-1619. 


46. 

Lain  pathed  Experience  (th'  unlearned's  guide), 
Her  simple  followers  evidently  shews 
Sometimes  what  Schoolmen  scarcely  can  decide, 
Nor  yet  wise  Reason  absolutely  knows. 
In  making  trial  of  a  murder  wrought, 
If  the  vile  actors  of  the  heinous  deed 
Near  the  dead  body  happily  be  brought, 
Oft  't  hath  been  proved,  the  breathless  corse  will  bleed. 

She  coming  near,  that  my  poor  heart  hath  slain, 
Long  since  departed  (to  the  World  no  more), 
Th'  ancient  wounds  no  longer  can  contain. 
But  fall  to  bleeding,  as  they  did  before. 

But  what  of  this  !  Should  She  to  death  be  led, 
It  furthers  Justice  ;  but  helps  not  the  dead  ! 


47- 

jN  PRIDE  of  Wit,  when  high  desire  of  fame 
Gave  life  and  courage  to  my  lab'ring  pen, 

i  And  first  the  sound  and  virtue  of  my  name 
Won  grace  and  credit  in  the  ears  of  men  ; 

With  those,  the  thronged  Theatres  that  press, 
I  in  the  Circuit  for  the  laurel  strove  ! 
Where  the  full  praise,  I  freely  must  confess, 
In  heat  of  blood,  a  modest  mind  might  move. 

With  shouts  and  claps  at  every  little  pause, 
When  the  proud  Round  on  every  side  hath  rung  ; 
Sadly  I  sit,  unmoved  with  the  applause. 
As  though  to  me  it  nothing  did  belong. 

No  public  glory  vainly  I  pursue  : 

All  that  I  seek  is  to  eternize  you  ! 


I.  Drayton.-j  J  D   E   A  .  3^5 

1594-1619.J  "^ 

48. 

Upid,  I  hate  thee  !  which  I'd  have  thee  know  ! 

A  naked  starveling  ever  mayst  thou  be  ! 

Poor  rogue  !  go  pawn  thy  fascia  and  thy  bow 

For  some  poor  rags,  wherewith  to  cover  thee  ! 

Or  if  thou  'It  not,  thy  archery  forbear ! 
To  some  base  rustic  do  thyself  prefer  ! 
And  when  the  corn  's  sown,  or  grown  into  the  ear; 
Practice  thy  quiver,  and  turn  crowkeeper ! 

Or  being  blind,  as  fittest  for  the  trade. 
Go  hire  thyself  some  bungling  harper's  boy  ! 
They  that  are  blind  are  minstrels  often  made  ! 
So  mayst  thou  live,  to  thy  fair  mother's  joy ! 

That  whilst  with  Mars  she  holdeth  her  old  way, 

Thou,  her  blind  son,  mayst  sit  by  them  and  play. 


49. 

Hou  leaden  brain,  which  censur'st  what  I  write, 
And  sayst  my  lines  be  dull,  and  do  not  move. 
I  marvel  not  thou  feelst  not  my  Delight, 
Which  never  felt'st  my  fiery  touch  of  Love  ! 
But  thou,  whose  pen  hath  like  a  packhorse  served, 
Whose  stomach  unto  gall  hath  turned  thy  food. 
Whose  senses,  like  poor  prisoners,  hunger  starved, 
Whose  grief  hath  parched  thy  body,  dried  thy  blood. 

Thou  which  hast  scorned  life,  and  hated  death ; 
And  in  a  moment,  mad,  sober,  glad,  and  sorry  ; 
Thou  which  hast  banned  thy  thoughts,  and  curst  thy  birth, 
With  thousand  plagues  more  than  in  Purgatory  : 
Thou,  thus  whose  spirit.  Love  in  his  fire  refines  ! 
Come  thou  and  read,  admire,  applaud  my  Lines! 


3i6 


Idea 


LM.  Drayton. 
1594-1619. 


50- 

S  IN  some  countries,  far  remote  from  hence, 
The  wretched  creature  destined  to  die ; 
Having  the  judgement  due  to  his  offence, 
By  Surgeons  begged,  their  Art  on  him  to  try  : 

Which  on  the  living,  work  without  remorse, 


First  make  incision  on  each  mastering  vein, 

Then  staunch  the  bleeding,  then  transpierce  the  corse, 

And  with  their  balms  recure  the  wounds  again. 

Then  poison,  and  with  physic  him  restore ; 
Not  that  they  fear  the  hopeless  man  to  kill, 
But  their  experience  to  increase  the  more. 
Even  so  my  Mistress  works  upon  my  ill. 
By  curing  me  and  killing  me  each  hour. 
Only  to  shew  her  Beauty's  sovereign  power. 


51- 


Allikg  to  mind  since  first  my  Love  begun, 
The  uncertain  Times,  oft  varying  in  their  course ; 
How  things  still  unexpectedly  have  run, 
As  it  please  the  Fates,  by  their  resistless  force. 
Lastly,  mine  eyes  amazedly  have  seen 
Essex's  great  fall !  Tyrone  his  peace  to  gain  ! 
The  quiet  end  of  that  long  living  Queen  ! 
This  King's  fair  Entrance  !  and  our  peace  with  Spain! 

We  and  the  Dutch  at  length  ourselves  to  sever ! 
Thus  the  World  doth  and  evermore  shall  reel  : 
Yet  to  my  goddess  am  I  constant  ever  ! 
Howe'er  blind  Fortune  turn  her  giddy  wheel. 

Though  heaven  and  earth  prove  both  to  me  untrue, 
Yet  am  I  still  inviolate  to  You ! 


M.  Drayton.-]  I  D  E  A  .  Z"^  1 

1594-1619.J 

Hat  dost  thou  mean,  to  cheat  me  of  my  heart  ? 
To  take  all  mine,  and  give  me  none  again  ? 
Or  have  thine  eyes  such  magic,  or  that  Art 
That  what  they  get,  they  ever  do  retain  ? 
Play  not  the  Tyrant,  but  take  some  remorse ! 
Rebate  thy  spleen,  if  but  for  pity's  sake  ! 
Or  cruel,  if  thou  can'st  not,  let  us  scorse  ! 
And  for  one  piece  of  thine,  my  whole  heart  take  ! 

But  what  of  pity,  do  I  speak  to  thee  ! 
Whose  breast  is  proof  against  complaint  or  prayer: 
Or  can  I  think  what  my  reward  shall  be 
From  that  proud  Beauty,  which  was  my  betrayer ! 
What  talk  I  of  a  heart,  when  thou  hast  none  ! 
Or  if  thou  hast,  it  is  a  flinty  one. 


53- 

Another  to  the  river  Ankor. 

Lear  Ankor,  on  whose  silver-sanded  shore, 
My  soul-shrined  Saint,  my  fair  Idea  lives; 
O  blessed  brook!  whose  milk-white  swans  adore 
Thy  crystal  stream,  refined  by  her  eyes. 
Where  sweet  myrrh-breathing  Zephyr,  in  the  Spring, 
Gently  distils  his  nectar-dropping  showers  : 
Where  nightingales  in  Arden  sit  and  sing 
Amongst  the  dainty  dew-impearled  flowers. 

Say  thus,  fair  brook,  when  thou  shalt  see  thy  Queen, 
"  Lo,  here  thy  shepherd  spent  his  wandering  years  ! 
And  in  these  shades,  dear  Nymph  !  he  oft  hath  been  ! 
And  here  to  thee,  he  sacrificed  his  tears  !  " 
Fair  Arden,  thou  my  Tempe  art  alone  ! 
And  thou,  sweet  Ankor,  art  my  Helicon ! 


3i8  Idea.  [^ 


Drayton. 

594-r6i9. 


Et  read  at  last  the  Story  of  my  Woe ! 
The  dreary  abstracts  of  my  endless  cares, 
With  my  life's  sorrow  interlined  so. 
Smoked  with  my  sighs,  and  blotted  with  my  tears. 
The  sad  Memorials  of  my  Miseries  ! 
Penned  in  the  grief  of  mine  afflicted  ghost. 
My  Life's  Complaint  in  doleful  Elegies  ! 
With  so  pure  love  as  Time  could  never  boast. 

Receive  the  incense  which  I  offer  here, 
By  my  strong  faith  ascending  to  thy  fame  ! 
My  zeal,  my  hope,  my  vows,  my  praise,  my  prayer, 
My  soul's  oblations  to  thy  sacred  Name  ! 

Which  Name,  my  Muse,  to  highest  heavens  shall  raise, 
By  chaste  Desire,  true  Love,  and  virtuous  Praise ! 


55- 

Y  Fair  !  if  thou  wilt  register  my  Love, 
A  world  of  volumes  shall  thereof  arise  ! 
Preserve  my  Tears,  and  thou  thyself  shall  prove 
A  second  Flood,  down  raining  from  mine  eyes ! 
Note  but  my  Sighs,  and  thine  eyes  shall  behold 
The  sunbeams  smothered  with  immortal  smoke ! 
And  if  by  thee,  my  Prayers  may  be  enrolled ; 
They,  heaven  and  earth  to  pity  shall  provoke ! 

Look  thou  into  my  breast,  and  thou  shalt  see 
Chaste  holy  vows  for  my  soul's  sacrifice  ! 
That  soul,  sweet  Maid !  which  so  hath  honoured  thee, 
Erecting  Trophies  to  thy  sacred  eyes. 

Those  eyes  to  my  heart  shining  ever  bright, 
When  darkness  hath  obscured  each  other  light. 


M 


.  Drayton."] 
1 594-1619.  J 


Idea 


.19 


56. 

An  allusion  to  the  Eas^lets. 


Hen  like  an  Eaglet,  I  first  found  my  love, 
For  that  the  virtue  I  thereof  would  know. 
Upon  the  nest  I  set  it  forth,  to  prove 
If  it  were  of  that  kingly  kind  or  no  : 
But  it  no  sooner  saw  my  sun  appear, 
But  on  her  rays  with  open  eyes  it  stood  ; 
To  shew  that  I  had  hatched  it  for  the  air, 
And  rightly  came  from  that  brave-mounting  brood. 

And  when  the  plumes  were  sunned  with  sweet  Desire, 
To  prove  the  pinions,  it  ascends  the  skies  1 
Do  what  I  could,  it  needsly  would  aspire 
To  my  soul's  sun,  those  two  celestial  Eyes. 

Thus  from  my  breast,  where  it  was  bred  alone, 
It  after  thee  is,  like  an  Eaglet  flown. 


57. 
Ou  best  discerned  of  my  mind's  inward  eyes, 
And  yet  your  graces  outwardly  Divine, 
Whose  dear  remembrance  in  my  bosom  lies, 
Too  rich  a  relic  for  so  poor  a  shrine. 
You,  in  whom  Nature  chose  herself  to  view, 
When  she,  her  own  perfection  would  admire ; 
Bestowing  all  her  excellence  on  you. 
At  whose  pure  eyes,  Love  lights  his  hallowed  fire ; 

Even  as  a  man  that  in  some  trance  hath  seen 
More  than  his  wondring  utterance  can  unfold ; 
That,  rapt  in  spirit,  in  better  worlds  hath  been. 
So  must  your  praise  distractedly  be  told  ! 

Most  of  all  short,  when  I  would  shew  you  most, 
In  your  perfections  so  much  am  I  lost. 


:20 


Idea 


[M.  Drayton. 
1594-1619. 


N  FORMER  times,  such  as  had  store  of  coin, 
In  wars  at  home,  or  when  for  conquests  bound, 
For  fear  that  some  their  treasure  should  purloin, 
Gave  it,  to  keep,  to  Spirits  within  the  ground : 

And  to  attend  it,  them  as  strongly  tied. 
Till  they  returned.     Home  when  they  never  came, 
Such  as  by  Art  to  get  the  same  have  tried. 
From  the  strong  Spirit,  by  no  means  force  the  same. 

Nearer  men  come,  that  further  flies  away  ! 
Striving  to  hold  it  strongly  in  the  deep. 
Even  as  this  Spirit,  so  you  alone  do  play 
With  those  rich  beauties,  Heaven  gives  you  to  keep. 

Pity  so  left  to  the  coldness  of  your  blood, 

Not  to  avail  you,  nor  do  others  good. 


59- 

To  Proverbs. 

S  Love  and  I  late  harboured  in  one  inn. 
With  Proverbs  thus  each  other  entertain. 
In  Love  there  is  no  lack,  thus  I  begin  : 
Fair  words  make  fools,  replieth  he  again. 

Who  spares  to  speak,  doth  spare  to  speed,  quoth  I. 
As  well,  saith  he,  too  forward  as  too  slow. 
Fortune  assists  the  boldest,  I  reply. 
A  hasty  man,  quoth  he,  ne'er  wanted  woe  ! 

Labour  is  light,  where  Love,  quoth  I,  doth  pay. 
Saith  he.  Light  burden  's  heavy,  if  far  born. 
Quoth  I,  The  Main  lost,  cast  the  By  away  ! 
You  have  spun  a  fair  thread,  he  replies  in  scorn. 

And  having  thus  awhile  each  other  thwarted, 

Fools  as  we  met,  so  fools  again  we  parted. 


M.  Drayton."] 


Idea, 


321 


60. 

Efine  my  Weal,  and  tell  the  joys  of  heaven  ; 
Express  my  Woes,  and  ^hew  the  pains  of  hell ! 
Declare  what  Fate,  unluck  stars  have  given  ! 
And  ask  a  world  upon  my  life  to  dwell  ! 
Make  known  the  faith  that  Fortune  could  not  move  ! 
Let  virtue  be  the  touchstone  of  my  Love  ! 
Compare  my  worth  with  others'  base  desert ! 
So  may  the  heavens  read  wonders  in  my  heart  ! 

Behold  the  clouds  which  have  eclipsed  my  sun  ! 
And  view  the  crosses  which  my  course  do  let  1 
Tell  me,  if  ever  since  the  world  begun 
So  fair  a  rising,  had  so  foul  a  set  ? 
And  see,  if  Time  (if  he  would  strive  to  prove) 
Can  shew  a  Second  to  so  pure  a  Love ! 


61. 


Inch  there  *s  no  help,  Come,  let  us  kiss  and  part ! 
Nay,  I  have  done.     You  get  no  more  of  me  ! 
And  I  am  glad,  yea,  glad,  with  all  my  heart, 
That  thus  so  cleanly,  I  my  self  can  free. 
Shake  hands  for  ever  !  Cancel  all  our  vows  ! 
And  when  we  meet  at  any  time  again, 
Be  it  not  seen  in  either  of  our  brows, 
That  we  one  jot  of  former  love  retain  ! 

Now  at  the  last  gasp  of  Love's  latest  breath. 
When  his  pulse  failing.  Passion  speechless  lies  ; 
When  Faith  is  kneeling  by  his  bed  of  death. 
And  Innocence  is  closing  up  his  eyes  : 

Now,  if  thou  wouldst !  when  all  have  given  him  over, 
From  death  to  life,  thou  might'st  him  yet  recover ! 
enc.gar.w.  21 


322 


Idea. 


LM.  Drayton. 
1594-1619. 


62. 

Hen  first  I  ended,  then  I  first  began  ; 
Then  more  I  travelled  further  from  my  rest. 
Where  most  I  lost,  there  most  of  all  I  wan ; 
Pined  with  hunger,  rising  from  a  feast. 
Methinks,  I  fly,  yet  want  I  legs  to  go; 
Wise  in  conceit,  in  act  a  very  sot. 
Ravished  with  joy  amidst  a  hell  of  woe  ; 
What  most  I  seem  that  surest  am  I  not. 

I  build  my  hopes,  a  world  above  the  sky ; 
Yet  with  the  mole  I  creep  into  the  earth. 
In  plenty  I  am  starved  with  penury  ; 
And  yet  I  surfeit  in  the  greatest  dearth. 
I  have,  I  want ;  despair,  and  yet  desire  : 
Burned  in  a  sea  of  ice,  and  drowned  amidst  a  fire. 


feift 


63. 

RucE,  gentle  Love  !  a  Parley  now  I  crave  ! 
Methinks,  'tis  long  since  first  these  wars  begun. 
Nor  thou,  nor  I,  the  better  yet  can  have  ! 
Bad  is  the  match,  where  neither  party  won. 

I  offer  free  Conditions  of  fair  Peace  ! 
My  heart  for  hostage  that  it  shall  remain. 
Discharge  our  forces  !     Here,  let  malice  cease  ! 
So  for  my  pledge,  thou  give  me  pledge  again. 

Or  if  no  thing  but  death  will  serve  thy  turn, 
Still  thirsting  for  subversion  of  my  State, 
Do  what  thou  canst  !  raze  !  massacre  !  and  burn 
Let  the  World  see  the  utmost  of  thy  hate  ! 

I  send  Defiance!   since  if  overthrown, 

Thou  vanquishing,  the  conquest  is  mine  own  ! 


FINIS. 


Political  Arithmetic, 

O  R 

A    DISCOURSE 

Concerning 

The  extent  and  value  of  Lands,  People, 
Buildings;  Husbandry,  Manufacture[s], 
Commerce,  Fishery,  Artizans,  Seamen, 
Soldiers  ;  Public  Revenues,  Interest, 
Taxes,  Superlucration,  Registries,  Banks; 
Valuation  of  Men,  Increasing  of  Seamen  ; 
of  Militias,  harbours.  Situation,  Shipping, 
Power  at  sea,  &c. :  as  the  same  relates 
to  every  country  in  general,  but  more 
,  particularly  to  the  territories  of  His 
Majesty  of  Great  Britain,  and  his 
neighbours  of  Holland,  Zealand,  and 
France. 


By  Sir  WILLIAM    PETTY, 

late  Fellow  of  the  Royal  Society. 


London.  Printed  by  Robert  Clavel  at  the  Peacock^ 
and  Henry  Mortlock  at  the  Phoenix  in  St. 
Paul's  Church-yard.      1690. 


324 


Et  this  book  called  Political  Arithmetic ,  which  was  long 
since  written  [about  1677,  seep.  351]  by  Sir  William 
Petty  deceased,  be  printed. 

Given  at  the  Court  at  Whitehall,  the  yth  day  of  November,  i6go. 

Nottingham. 


Lord  Siielborne's  Dedication  to  Willlvm  III.  325 


To  the  King's  most  excellent  Majesty. 

Sire, 

HiLST  every  one  meditates  some  fit  offering  for  your 

Majesty,  sucJi  as   may  best  agree    loith  your  happy 

exaltation  to  this  Throne ;  I  presume  to  offer  what 

my  father,  long  since,  wrote  to  shew  the  Weight  and 

Importance  of  the  English  Crown. 

It  was  by  him  styled  Political  Arithmetic,  inasmuch  as  things 
of  Government,  and  of  no  less  concern  and  extent  than  the  glory  of 
the  Prince  and  the  happiness  and  greatness  of  the  People  are,  by 
the  ordinary  rules  of  Arithmetic,  brought  into  a  sort  of  Demon- 
stration. 

He  was  allotted  by  all,  to  be  the  Inventor  of  this  method  of 
instruction,  where  the  perplexed  and  intricate  ways  of  the  World 
are  explained  by  a  very  mean  piece  of  Science :  and  had  not  the 
Doctrines  of  this  Essay  offended  France,  they  had,  long  since,  seen 
the  light  [i.e.,  the  Essay  would  have  been  printed  in  England, 
but  for  the  French  policy  of  Charles  II.]  ;  and  had  sound 
followers,  as  well  as  improvements,  before  this  time,  to  the  ad- 
vantage, perhaps,  of  mankind. 

But  this  has  been  reserved  to  the  felicity  of  your  Majesty's 
reign,  and  to  the  expectation  which  the  Learned  have  therein ; 
and  if,  while  in  this  I  do  some  honour  to  the  memory  of  a  good 
father,  I  can  also  pay  service,  and  some  testimony  of  my  zeal  and 
reverence  to  so  great  a  King,  it  will  be  the  tUmost  ambition  of 

Sire, 

Your  Majesty's 
Most  dutiful  and  most  obedient  subject, 

Shelborne. 


326 

7he    pri7icipal   Conclusions    of  this 
'Treatise   are  : 

Chap.  I.  That  a  small  country  and  few  people  may,  by 
their  Situation,  Trade,  and  Policy,  be  equiva- 
lent in  wealth  and  strength  to  a  far  greater 
people  and  territory.  And,  particularly,  that 
conveniences  for  shipping  and  water  carriage, 
do  most  eminently  and  fundamentally  conduce 

thereunto       />.  331 

II.  That  some  kind  of  taxes  and  public  levies  may 
rather  increase,  than  diminish  the  wealth 
of  the  Kingdom      p.  348 

III.  That  France  cannot, by  reason  of  natural  andper- 
petualimpcdiments,bc  more powerfid  at  sea  than 

the  English  or  Hollanders  now  are,  or  may  be  p.  356 

IV.  That  the  People  and  Territories  of  the  King  of 
England  are,  naturally,  nearly  as  considerable 

for  wealth  and  strength,  as  those  of  France  ...p.  362 
V.  That  the  impediments  of  England's  greatness 

are  but  contingent  and  renwveable         p.  374 

VI.  That  the  power  and  wealth  of  England  hath 

increased, this  forty  years  [i.e.,  since  1637  A. D.]  p.  378 
VII.  That  One-Tenth  part  of  the  Whole  Expense  of 
the  King  of  England's  subjects  is  sufficient  to 
maintain  100,000  Foot,  30,000  Horse,  and 
40,000  seamen  at  sea ;  and  to  defray  all  other 
charges  of  the  Government,  both  ordinary  and 
extraordinary,  if  the  same  iv  ere  regularly  taxed 

and  raised       , p.  380 

VIII.  That  there  are  spare  hands  enough,  among  the 
King  of  England's  subjects,  to  earn  ^3,000,000 
per  annum  more  than  they  now  do;  and  that 
there  are  also  employments  ready,  proper,  and 

sufficient  for  that  purpose        p.  383 

IX.  That  there  is  Money  sufficient  to  drive  the  Trade 

of  the  nation p.  385 

X.  That  the  King  of  England's  subjects  have  Stock 
tcapitalj  competent  and  convenient  to  drive  the 
Trade  of  the  whole  Commercial  World p.  386 


^%t 


327 


PREFACE. 

Orasmuch  as  men  who  are  in  a  deca}'ing  condi- 
tion or  who  have  but  an  ill  of  their  own  concern- 
ments, instead  of  being,  as  some  think,  the  more 
industrious  to  resist  the  evils  they  apprehend,  do, 
contrariwise,  become  the  more  languid  or  ineffectual  in  all 
their  endeavours ;  neither  caring  to  attempt  or  prosecute 
even  the  probable  means  of  their  relief.  Upon  this  considera- 
tion, as  a  member  of  the  Common  Wealth,  next  to  knowing 
the  precise  truth,  in  what  condition  the  common  Interest 
stands,  I  would,  in  all  doubtful  cases,  think  the  best !  and 
consequently  not  despair  without  strong  and  manifest  reasons, 
carefully  examining  whatever  tends  to  lessen  my  hopes  of 
the  Public  Welfare. 

I  have  therefore  thought  iit  to  examine  the  following 
Persuasions ;  which  I  find  too  current  in  the  world,  and 
too  much  to  have  affected  the  minds  of  some,  to  the  prejudice 
all,  viz. : 

That  the  rents  of  lands  are  generally  fallen  ;  that  therefore, 
and  for  many  other  reasons,  the  whole  Kingdom  The  fears  of 
grows  every  day  poorer  and  poorer. 
it  abounded  with  gold  ;  but  now,  there  is  a  great 
scarcity,  both  of  gold  and  silver.  That  there  is  no  trade,  nor 
employment  for  the  people;  and  yet  that  the  Land  is  under- 
peopled.     That  taxes  have  been  many  and  great.     That  Ireland 


r\y\       ,      r       1        many  concern- 

That  formerly  ;„.  tL  welfare 


of  England. 


328  Prejudices  &  Improvements  of  England.  [^"Y-  ''"g"^; 

and  the  Plantations  in  America,  and  other  additions  to'tJie  Crown, 
are  a  burden  to  England.  That  Scotland  is  of  no  advantage. 
That  Trade,  in  general,  doth  lamentably  decay.  That  the 
Hollanders  are  at  our  heels,  in  the  race  for  naval  power  :  the 
French  grow  too  fast  upon  both  ;  and  appear  so  rich  and  potent, 
that  it  is  but  their  clemency  that  they  do  not  devour  their  neigh- 
bours. And,  finally,  that  the  Church  and  State  of  England 
are  in  the  same  danger  with  the  Trade  of  England.  With  many 
other  dismal  suggestions,  which  I  had  rather  stifle  than 
repeat. 


It  is  true,  the  expense  of  foreign  commodities  hath,  of  late 
The  real  Pre-    bccn  too   great.     Much    of  our   plate,   had   it   re- 

jndices  of 

p:ngiaiid.  mained  money,  would  have  better  served  trade. 
Too  many  matters  have  been  regulated  by  Laws,  which 
Nature,  long  custom,  and  general  consent  ought  only  to  have 
governed.  The  slaughter  and  destruction  of  men  by  the  late 
Civil  Wars  [1642-50],  and  Plague  [1665],  have  been  great. 
The  Fire  at  London,  and  Disaster  at  Chatham  have  begotten 
opinions  in  the  vulgus  of  the  world,  to  our  prejudice.  The 
Nonconformists  incj-ease  [!]  The  people  of  Ireland  think 
long  of  their  Settlerqent.  The  English  there,  apprehend 
themselves  to  be  aliens,  and  are  forced  to  seek  a  trade  with 
foreigners,  which  they  might  as  well  maintain  with  their 
own  relations  in  England. 

But  notwithstanding  all  this,  the  like  whereof  was  always 
in  all  places,  the  buildings  of  London  grow  great  and  glorious. 
The  Improve-    The  American  Plantations  employ  400  Sail  of  Ships. 

rnents  of  .  ^  _  . 

England.  Actwus  [Sharcs]  in  the  East  India  Company  are 
nearly  double  the  principal  money  [the  original  nominal  Stock], 
Those  who  can  give  good  security,  may  have  money  under 
Statute  interest.  Materials  for  building,  even  oak  timber,  are 
[but,  little  the  dearer  (some  cheaper)  for  [allj  the  rebuilding 
of  London.     The  Exchange  seems  as  lull  of  merchants  as 


SirW 


w.petty.-i  XijE  Author's  sianner  of  arguing.  329 

formerly.  No  more  beggars  in  the  streets,  nor  executed  for 
thieves,  than  heretofore.  The  number  of  coaches  and  splen- 
dour of  equipage  exceeds  former  Times.  The  public  Theatres 
are  very  magnificent.  The  King  has  a  greater  Navy,  and 
stronger  Guards  than  before  our  calamities.  The  Clergy  are 
rich,  and  the  Cathedrals  in  repair.  Much  land  has  been 
improved,  and  the  price  of  food  is  so  reasonable  as  that  men 
refuse  to  have  it  cheaper  by  admitting  of  Irish  cattle. 

And,  in  brief,  no  man  needs  to  want,  that  will  take  moderate 
pains.  That  some  are  poorer  than  others,  ever  was  and  ever 
will  be  :  and  that  many  are  naturally  querulous  and  envious, 
is  an  evil  as  old  as  the  world. 

These  general  observations,  and  that  men  eat,  and  drink, 
and  laugh,  as  they  used  to'do,  have  encouraged  me  to  try  if 
I  could  also  comfort  others  :  being  satisfied  myself,  that  the 
Interest  and  Affairs  of  England  are  in  no  deplorable  con- 
dition. 

The  method  I  take,  to  do  this,  is  not  yet  very  usual.  For 
(instead  of  using  only  comparative  and  superlative  xhe  Author's 

,,  ,  ,     \      T     1  J.     1  Method  and 

words,  and  mtellectual  arguments)  1  have  taken  manner  uf 
the  course  (as  a  specimen  of  the  Political  Arith-  '"'^'""'^■ 
metic  I  have  long  aimed  at)  to  express  myself  in  Terms  of 
Number,  Weight,  or  Measure;  to  use  only  arguments  of 
sense,  and  to  consider  only  such  causes  as  have  visible 
foundations  in  Nature  :  leaving  those  that  depend  upon  the 
mutable  minds,  opinions,  appetites,  and  passions  of  particular 
men,  to  the  consideration  of  others.  Really  professing  my- 
self as  unable  to  speak  satisfactorily  upon  those  grounds  (if 
they  may  be  called  grounds  !)  as  to  foretell  the  cast  of  a  die 
[dice],  to  play  well  at  tennis,  billiards,  or  bowls  (without  long 
practice)  by  virtue  of  the  most  elaborate  conceptions  that  ever 
have  been  written  dc  projedilibus  et  missilibus,  or  of  the  angles 
of  incidence  and  reflection. 


330  Observations  set  forth  by  Number,  &c.  p^V'- ^';-;^;: 

Now  the  Observations  or  Positions  expressed  by  Number, 
.  Wei£:ht,  and  Measure,  upon  which   I   bottom   the 

1  he  nature  ot  "         '  ' 

his  PiopoM-      ensuins:    Discourses,  are  either  true,    or    not    ap- 

tions  and  Sup-  n  '  '  •■ 

positious.  parently  false.  And  which  if  they  are  not  already 
true,  certain,  and  evident  ;  yet  may  be  made  so  by  the 
Sovereign  Power,  Na})i  id  certuui  est  quod  ccrtum  reddi  potest. 
And  if  they  are  false,  not  so  false  as  to  destroy  the  argument 
they  are  brought  for :  but,  at  worst,  are  sufficient,  as  Sup- 
positions, to  shew  the  way  to  that  Knowledge  I  aim  at. 

And  I  have,  withal,  for  the  present,  confined  myself  to  the 
Ten  principal  Conclusions  hereafter  particularly  handled  : 
which  if  they  shall  be  judged  material,  and  worthy  of  a  better 
discussion ;  I  hope  all  ingenious  and  candid  persons  will 
rectify  the  errors,  defects,  and  imperfections,  which  probably 
may  be  found  in  any  of  the  Propositions,  upon  which  these 
ratiocinations  were  grounded.  Nor  would  it  misbecome 
Authority  itself,  to  clear  the  truth  of  those  matters  which 
private  endeavours  cannot  reach  to. 


«kT^ 


OJ 


"^I 


CHAPTER    I . 

That  a  small  conntvy  and  few  people,  by  its  Situation,  Trade, 
and  Policy,  may  be  equivalent  in  wealth  and  strength  to  a  far 
greater  people  and  territory.  A  nd,  particularly,  that  conveniences 
for  shipping  and  water  carriage,  do  most  eminently  and  funda- 
mentally conduce  thereunto. 

His  first  principal  Conclusion,  by  reason 
of  its  length,  I  consider  in  three  parts : 
whereof  the  first  is 

That  a  small  country  and  few  people  may 
be  equivalent  in  wealth  and  strength  to  a  far 
greater  people  and  territory. 

This  part  of  the  First  principal  Conclu- 
sion   needs    little    proof :    foras-  How  one  Man 

1  u  by  Art,  and  one 

much  as  one  acre  of  land  may  bear  as  mucn  coin  Acre  of  land  by 
and  feed,  as  many  cattle,  as  twenty ;  by  the  dif-  ;^,7b:"'a- 
ference  of  the  soil.  Some  parcel  of  ground  is,  lent  to  many. 
naturally,  so  defensible,  as  that  an  hundred  men  bemg  pos- 
sessed thereof,  can  resist  the  invasion  of  five  hundred.  And 
bad  land  may  be  improved  and  made  good.  Bog  may,  by 
draining,  be  made  meadow.  Heathland  may,  as  in  Flanders, 
be  made  to  bear  flax  and  clover  grass  ;  so  as  to  advance  in 
value  from  one  to  a  hundred.  The  same  land,  being  built 
upon,  may  centuple  the  rent  which  it  yielded  as  pasture.  One 
man  is  more  nimble  or  strong,  and  more  patient  of  labour 
than  another.  One  man,  by  Art,  may  do  as  much  work  as 
many  without  it,  viz. :  one  man  with  a  mill  can  grind  as 
much  corn  as  twenty  can  pound  in  a  mortar.  One  printer 
can  make  as  many  copies  as  a  hundred  men  can  write  by 


33-2  A  COMPARISON  OF  HoLLAND  WITH  FrANCE.  l^'"  J ' '^Tt/?. 

hand.  One  horse  can  carry  upon  wheels  as  much  as  five 
upon  their  backs,  and,  in  a  boat  or  upon  ice,  as  twenty.  So 
that  I  say  again,  this  First  point  of  this  general  Position 
needs  little  or  no  proof. 

But  the  Second  and  more  material  part  of  this  Conclusion 
is  that  this  difference  in  land  and  people,  arises  principally 
from  their  situation,  trade,  and  policy. 

To  clear  this,  I  shall  compare  Holland  and  Zealand  with 
A  comparison  the  Kiugdom  of  Francc  ;  viz.,  Holland  and  Zealand 
zL^rnd'with'^  do  not  contain  above  1,000,000  of  English  acres. 
France.  Wlicrcas  the  Kingdom  of  France  contains  above 

80,000,000, 

Now  the  original  and  primitive  Difference  holds  proportion 
as  land  to  land  :  for  it  is  hard  to  say  that  when  these  places 
were  first  planted,  whether  an  acre  in  France  was  better 
than  the  like  quantity  in  Holland  and  Zealand  ;  nor  is  there 
any  reason  to  suppose  but  that,  therefore,  upon  the  first 
plantation,  the  number  of  planters  was  in  proportion  to  the 
quantity  of  land.  Wherefore,  if  the  people  are  not  in  the 
same  proportion  as  the  Land,  the  same  must  be  attributed 
to  the  situation  of  the  Land  and  to  the  trade  and  policy  of 
the  People  superstructed  thereupon. 

The  next  thing  to  be  shewn  is  that  Holland  and  Zealand, 
at  this  day,  is  not  only  an  eightieth  part  as  rich  and  strong 
as  France,  but  that  it  hath  advanced  to  one-third  or  there- 
abouts ;  which,  I  think,  will  appear  upon  the  balance  of 
the  following  particulars,  viz.  : 

As  to  the  wealth  of  France,  a  certain  Map  of  that  Kingdom, 
set  forth  anno  1647,  represents  it  to  be  ^15,000,000,  whereof 
£6,000,000  did  belong  to  the  Church  :  the  Author  thereof,  as 
I  suppose,  meaning  the  rents  of  the  Lands  only. 

And  the  Author  of  a  most  judicious  Discourse  of  Husbandry 
(supposed  to  be  Sir  Richard  Weston)  doth,  from  reason  and 
ThattheLands  cxpcrience,  shew  that  lands  in  the  Netherlands, 
tfuhe^'Landrof  t>y  bearing  flax,  turnips,  clover  grass,  madder,  &c., 
"aiand'as's'to  ^^^^^  easily  yield  ;^io  per  acre.    So  as  the  territories 


I,  in  value.  of  Hollaud  and  Zealand  should,  by  his  account, 
yield  at  least  £10,000,000  per  annum :  yet  I  do  not  believe  the 
same  to  be  so  much,  nor  France  so  little  as  above  said  :  but 
rather,  that  one  bears  to  the  other,  as  about  7  or  8  to  i. 


sirw.PettynyjjE  e^'tire  European  shipping  in  1677.  333 

'!        1677. J 

The  people  of  Amsterdam  [about  160,000]  are  One-third  of 
those  in  Paris  or  London  [aboiU  480,000]  :  which  ^f'^Amsterdam 
two  cities  differ  not  in  people,  a  twentieth  part  from  --tuue^tf 
each  other  as  hath  appeared  by  the  Bills  of  burials  those  at  Paris. 
and  christenings  for  each.  But  the  value  of  the  Buildmgs 
in  Amsterdam  may  well  be  half  that  of  those  of  Pans  by 
reason  of  the  foundations,  grafts  [7 piles]  and  bridges  ;  which  m 
Amsterdam  are  more  numerous  and  chargeable  than  at  Pans. 

Moreover,  the  habitations  of  the  poorest  people  The  Housing 
in  Holland  and  Zealand  are  Twice  or  Thrice  as  i"J-",?f,, 
good  as  those  of  France  :  but  the  people  of  the  one,  'j^-j^^J^-'"- 
to  the  people  of  the  other,  being  as  13  to  i;  the  HoUandand 
value  of  the  Housing  must  be  as  about  5  to  i.         2^^'""''- 

The  value  of  the  Shipping  of  Europe,  being  about  2,000,000 

tons,  „,   „,.    . 

I  suppose  the  English  have       500,000  J^I^^^IZ"^ 

the  Dutch 900,000  ^^in^^'j,-;sthat 

the  French    ...  100,000 

the  Hamburgers,  and  subjects  of  Den- 
mark, Sweden,  and  the  town  of  Dantzic     250,000 

And  Spain,  Portugal,  Italy,  &c ^250,000 

2,000,000 

So  as  the  Shipping,  in  our  case  of  France  to  that  of  Hol- 
land and  Zealand,  is  about  i  to  9 ;  which,  reckoned  at 
great  and  small,  new  and  old,  one  with  another,  at  £8  per 
ton,  makes  the  worth  to  be  as  ^800,000  to  £7, 200,000. 

The  Hollanders'  capital  in  the[ir]  East  Indian  The^comj«ri-^ 
Company  is  worth  above  £3,000,000  ;  where  the  and  France  in 
French,  as  yet,  have  little  or  nothing.  '^^  ^"'^'^'-  . 

The  value  of  goods  exported  out  of  France  to  all  parts,  is 
supposed  to  be  quadruple  to  what  is  sent  to  Eng-  The^  Jxpo^t^a- 
land  alone  [£1,250,000]:  and  consequently  m  all  andHoiiandis 
about  £5,000,000:  but  what  is  exported  out  of  as  5  to  31. 
Holland  into  England  is  worth  £3,000,000;  and  what  is 
exported  thence  into  all  the  world  besides,  is  sextuple  to  the 
same  [£3,000,000  + £i8,ooo,ooo  =  £2i, 000,000]^ 

The  monies  yearly  raised  by  the  King  of  France,  as  the 
same  appears  by  the  book  entituled  The  State  of  The  Revenues 
France,  dedicated  to  the  King  ;  printed  anno  1669,  °    '■^""- 
and  set  forth  several  times  by  authority,   is  82,000,000  ot 


334  The  taxes  of  the  United  Provinces,  p'' 7' ^rg;! 

French  Livers,  which  is  about  ^^6, 500,000  sterhng.  Of  which 
sum,  the  Author  says  that  "  one-fifth  part  was  abated  for 
non-vakiers  or  insolvencies "  so,  as  I  suppose,  not  above 
£5,000,000  were  effectually  raised. 

But  whereas,  some  say  that  the  King  of  France  raised 
-£"11,000,000  as  the  One-fifth  of  the  effects  of  France:  I 
humbly  affirm  that  all  the  land  and  sea  forces,  all  the  build- 
ings and  entertainments  which  we  have  heard  by  common 
fame,  to  have  been  set  forth  and  in  any  of  these  seven  last 
years  [?  1671-77]  needed  not  to  have  cost  ;£'6,ooo,ooo  sterling  ; 
wherefore  I  suppose  he  hath  not  raised  more,  especially 
since  that  were  One-Fifth  insolvencies,  when  the  tax  was  at 
that  pitch. 

But  Holland  and  Zealand,  paying  67  parts  of  the  100  paid 
The  taxes  paid  by  all  the  United  Provinces;  and  the  city  of 
andzetiaud.  Amsterdam  paying  27  of  the  said  67  parts:  it 
follows  that  if  Amsterdam  hath  paid  4,000  Flemish  Pounds 
per  diem,  or  about  1,400,000  Pounds  per  annum  or  ;£'8oo,ooo 
sterling  ;  that  Holland  and  Zealand  have  paid  ^^'a, 100,000 
per  annum. 

Now  the  reasons  why  I  think  they  pay  so  much,  are  these, 
viz.  : 

1.  The  Author  of  the  State  of  the  Netherlands  saith  so. 

2.  The  excise  of  victuals  at  Amsterdam  seems  to  be  above 
half  the  original  value  of  the  same,  viz.  :  Ground  corn 
pays  20  stivers  the  bushel,  or  63  guilders  the  last. 
Beer  113  stivers,  the  barrel.  Housing,  one-sixth  of  the 
rent.  Fruit,  one-eighth  of  what  it  cost.  Other  com- 
modities one-seventh,  one-eighth,  one-ninth,  one-twelfth, 
&c.  Salt,  ad  libitum.  All  weighed  goods  pay,  besides 
the  premises,  a  vast  sum. 

Now  if  the  expense  of  the  people  of  Amsterdam,  at  a 
medium,  and  without  excise,  were  £8 per  annum;  whereas 
in  England,  it  is  £y :  then  if  all  the  several  imposts 
above  named  raise  it  to  ^^5  more  ;  there  being  160,000 
souls  in  Amsterdam,  the  sum  of  £800,000  sterling  per 
annum  will  thereby  be  raised. 

3.  Though  the  expense  of  each  head  should  be  £13 
per  annum  :  it  is  well  known  that  there  be  few  in  Am- 
sterdam, who  do  not  earn  much  more  than  the  said 
expense. 


^''f'^u'l^j  SUPERLUCRATION  OF   FrAXCE  &   HoLLAXD.   335 

4.  If  Holland  and  Zealand  pay  per  annum  ^^2, 100,000 ; 
then  all  the  Provinces  together  must  pay  about 
■;r3, 000, 000.  Less  than  which  sum  per  annnm,  perhaps, 
is  not  sufficient  to  have  maintained  the  naval  war  with 
England,  72,000  land  forces,  besides  all  the  other 
ordinary  charges  of  their  Government,  whereof  the 
Church  is  there  a  part. 

To  conclude,  it  seems  from  the  premisses,  that  all 
France  doth  not  raise  above  thrice  as  much  from  the 
public  charge  as  Holland  and  Zealand  alone  do. 

5.  Interest  of  money  in  France  is  £y  per  cent. ;  ^f'^fnfjresr"" 
but  in  Holland  scarcely  half  so  much.  J'5'^^'^*^'?     , 

-       ._,,  .  r    XT     11  1  1^1  1  Hollana  and 

6.  The  countries  of  Holland  and  Zealand  con-  France. 
sisting,  as  it  were,  of  islands  guarded  with  the  sea, 
shipping,  and  marshes,  is  defensible  at  one-fourth  of  the 
charge  that  a  plain  open  country  is,  and  where  the  seat 
of  war  may  be,  both  summer  and  winter  :  whereas  in  the 
others,  little  can  be  done  but  in  the  summer  only. 

7.  But  above  all  the  particulars  hitherto  considered,  that 
of  Superlucration  [the  national  capitalizing  of  ihesuper- 
wealth,  by  savings  out  of  income,  through  thrift,  betweenPrance 
industry,  and  economy  of  power]  ought  chiefly  to  ''"'^  Holland. 
be  taken  in.  For  if  a  Prince  have  ever  so  many  subjects, 
and  his  country  be  ever  so  good  :  yet  if  either  through 
sloth  or  extravagant  expenses,  or  oppression  and  injustice, 
whatever  is  gained  shall  be  spent  as  fast  as  gotten ;  that 
State  must  be  accounted  poor. 

Wherefore   let  it   be  considered,  how  much,  or  how 

many  times  rather,  Holland  and  Zealand  are  now  above 

what  they  were  a  hundred  years  ago  :  which  we  must 

also  do  of  France.     Now  if  France  hath  scarce  doubled 

its  wealth  and  power,  and  that  the  other  have  decupled 

theirs  ;    I  shall    give  the  preference  to  the  latter  even 

though  the  nine-tenths  increased  by  the  one,  should  not 

exceed  the  one-half  gained  by  the  other:  because  one 

has  a  store  for  nine  years,  the  other  but  for  one. 

To  conclude,  upon  the  whole,  it  seems  that  though  France 

be  in  People  to  Holland   and  Zealand  as  13  to  i ;    and  in 

quantity  of  good  Land,  as  80  to  i ;  yet  is  it  not  13  times 

richer  and  stronger,  much  less  80  times:  nor  much  above 

thrice.     Which  was  to  be  proved. 


23^  Density  of  poruLATiox,  a  national  gain. [^'^ 7' ^iI'?: 

Having^  thus  despatched  the  Two  first  branches  of  the  First 
The  causes  of  pi-inclpal  Conclusion  :  it  follows  to  shew  that  this 

the    (Jinerence    ^    .  -.      ^  ,    t  •  111  1 

between  Difference  of  Improvement  m  wealth  and  strength 

Honand!'"^  arises  from  the  situation,  trade,  and  policy  of  the 
places  respectively  :  and  in  particular  from  conveniences  for 
shipping  and  water  carriage. 

Many  writing  on  this  subject,  do  so  magnify  the  Hollanders 
as  if  they  were  more,  and  all  other  nations  less,  than  men,  as 
to  matters  of  trade  and  policy  ;  making  them  angels,  and 
others  fools,  brutes,  and  sots  as  those  particulars  :  whereas, 
I  take  the  Foundation  of  their  achievements  to  lie  originally  in 
the  Situation  of  the  country  ;  whereby,  they  do  things  inimitable 
by  others,  and  have  advantages  whereof  others  are  incapable. 
The  reasons  First.  The  soil  of  Holland  and  Zealand  is  low 

is  better  than  land,  rlch  and  fertile  ;  whereby  it  is  able  to  feed 
t'hougli'of'^'the  many  men:  and  so,  as  that  men  may  live  near  each 
samerent;and  other,  for  their  mutual  assistance  in  trade. 

consequently  '  r        1 

why  Holland        I    Say  that    a    1,000    acres  that  can  leed  i,ooo 

is   better   than  1  t-ii^u  r 

France.  souls,  are   better  than    10,000  acres   01    no    more 

effect ;  for  the  following  reasons  : 

1.  Suppose  some  great  fabric  were  in  building  by  a  1,000 
men  :  shall  not  much  more  Time  be  spared,  if  they  lived 
all  upon  1,000  acres,  than  if  they  were  forced  to  live 
upon  ten  times  as  large  a  scope  of  land. 

2.  The  charge  of  the  Cure  of  their  souls  and  the  Ministry 
would  be  far  greater  in  one  case  than  in  the  other :  as 
also  of  Mutual  Defence,  in  case  of  invasion,  and  even 
of  thieves  and  robbers.  Moreover  the  charge  of  Ad- 
ministration of  Justice  would  be  much  easier,  where 
witnesses  and  parties  may  be  easily  summoned,  attend- 
ance less  expensive,  when  men's  actions  would  be  better 
known,  when  wrongs  and  injuries  could  not  be  covered 
as  in  thin  peopled  places  they  are. 

Lastly,  those  who  live  in  solitary  places,  must  be 
their  own  soldiers,  divines,  physicians,  and  lawyers ;  and 
must  have  their  houses  stored  with  necessary  provisions, 
like  a  ship  going  upon  a  long  voyage,  to  the  great  waste 
and  needless  expense  of  such  provisions. 
The  value  of  this  First  convenience  to  the  Dutch,  I  reckon 
or  estimate  to  be  about  jTioo.ooo  per  annum. 

Secondly,  Holland  is  a  level  country,  so  as,  in  any  part 


Sir  W 


'■^;^7^';]  Merchandise,   Manufactures,  &c.  2>Z7 

thereof,  a  windmill  may  be  set  up  ;  and  by  its  being  moist 
and  vaporous,  there  is    always  wind   stirring;  over  'i'leadvan- 

■,,■■,  1  111  p  tages  from  the 

it :    by    which    advantage,    the    labour    of    many  levei,  and 
thousand   hands   is  saved,    forasmuch  as  a  mill,  Hoiiand^° 
made  by  one  man  in  half  a  year,  will  do  as  much  labour  as 
four  men  for  five  years  together. 

This  advantage  is  greater  or  less,  where  employment  or 
ease  of  labour  is  so:  but  in  Holland  it  is  eminently  great, 
and  the  worth  of  this  convenience  is  nearly  ;^i5o,ooo. 

Thirdly,  there  is  much  more  to  be  gained  by  Manufacture 
than  Husbandry;  and  by  Merchandise  than  Manu-  iheadvan- 
facture.     But  Holland  and  Zealand  being  seated  at  Hofilnd,  from 
the  mouths  of  three  longgreat  rivers  passing  through  manufacture 

o  o  _  r  o  o         and  commerce. 

rich  countries,  do  keep  all  the  inhabitants  upon  the  The  situation 
sides  of  those  rivers  but  as  husbandmen ;  whilst  zeaiand"upon 
they  themselves  are  the  manufactors  [jiiamifacturcrs]  [hreegreat  "'^ 
of  their  commodities  :  and  do  dispense  them  into  "^ers. 
all  parts  of  the  world,  making  returns  for  the  same,  at 
what  prices  almost  they  please  themselves.  And,  in  short, 
they  keep  the  Keys  of  Trade  of  those  countries,  through 
which  the  said  rivers  pass. 

The  value  of  this  Third  conveniency,  I  suppose  to  be 
-£"200,000. 

Fourthly,  in  Holland  and  Zealand,  there  is  scarcely  any 
place  of  work  or  business  one  mile  distant  from  a  Nearness  to 

•        1   1  111  r  i  •  navigable 

navigable  water  :  and  the  charge  01  water  carriage  waters. 
is  generally  but  one-fifteenth  or  one-twentieth  part  of  land 
carriage.  Wherefore,  if  there  be  as  much  trade  there  as  in 
France,  then  the  Hollanders  can  outsell  the  French  fourteen- 
fifteenths  of  all  the  expense  of  all  travelling,  postage,  and 
carriage  whatsoever :  which  even  in  England  I  take  to  be 
£^00,000  per  annum,  where  the  very  postage  of  letters  costs 
the  people  perhaps  ^{^50,000  per  annum,  though  farmed  at 
much  less;  and  all  other  labour  of  horses  and  porters  at 
least  six  times  as  much. 

The  value  of  this  conveniency,  I  estimate  to  be  above 
^300,000  per  annum. 

Fifthly,  the  defensibleness  of  the  country  by  reason  of  its 
situation  in  the  sea,  upon  islands  and  in  the  marshes,  Tii^e defensible- 
impassable  ground  diked  and  trenched  ;  especially  Holland. 
considering  how  that  place  is  aimed  at,  for  its  wealth. 

Eng.  Gar.  VI.  22 


338  All  the  European  trade  is  ^45,000,000.  p'J-  ^fd/;, 

I  say,  the  charge  of  defending  that  country  is  easier  than 
if  it  were  a  plain  champion,  at  least  £200,000  per  annum. 

Sixthly,  Holland  is  so  considerable  for  keeping  ships  in 
Harbouring  of  harbour,  with  small  expense  of  men  and  ground 
smau'efp'^ense.  tacklc,  that  it  savcs  per  annum  ^£'200, 000  of  what 
must  be  spent  in  France. 

Now,  if  all  these  natural  advantages  do  amount  to  above 
;^r, 000,000  per  annum  profits :  and  that  the  Trade  of  all 
Europe,  nay,  of  the  Whole  World  with  which  our  Europeans 
do  trade,  is  not  about  ^£"45, 000, 000  per  annum,  and  if  one- 
thirtieth  of  the  Value  be  one-seventh  of  the  Profit,  it  is  plain 
that  the  Hollander  may  command  and  govern  the  whole  trade. 

Seventhly,  those  who  have  their  situation  thus  towards  the 
Advantages  from  sca,  and  abouud  with  fish  at  home;  and  having 
*i^'^'"s-  also   the   command   of  shipping,  have    by  con- 

sequence the  fishing  trade;  whereof  that  of  herring  alone 
brings  more  yearly  profit  to  the  Hollanders,  than  the  trade 
of  the  West  Indies  to  Spain,  or  of  the  East  to  themselves: 
as  many  have  affirmed:  being,  as  the  same  say,  viis  et  modis, 
of  above  £^,000,000  per  annum  profit. 

Eighthly,  it  is  not  to  be  doubted,  but  that  those  who  have 
Advantages  by  the  trade  of  shipping  and  fishing,  will  secure  them- 
provisions.  sclvcs  of  thc  trade  of  timber  for  ships,  boats,  masts, 
and  caske ;  of  hemp  for  cordage,  sails,  and  nets ;  of  salt,  of 
iron;  as  also  of  pitch,  tar,  rosin,  brimstone,  oil,  and  tallow,  as 
necessary  appurtenances  to  shipping  and  fishing. 

Ninthly,  those  who  predominate  in  shipping  and  fishing, 
Fitness  for  havc  morc  occasions  than  others,  to  frequent  all 
universal  trade,  p^fts  of  thc  woHd,  and  to  obscrvc  what  is  wanting 
or  redundant  everywhere,  and  what  each  people  can  do,  and 
what  they  desire  ;  and  consequently  to  be  the  Factors  and 
Carriers  for  the  Whole  World  in  Trade.  Upon  which  ground, 
they  bring  all  native  commodities  to  be  manufactured  at 
home  ;  and  carry  the  same  back,  even  to  that  country  in  which 
they  grew. 

All  which  we  see.  For  do  they  not  work  the  sugars  of  the 
West  Indies  ?  the  timber  and  iron  of  the  Baltic  ?  the  hemp 
of  Russia  ?  the  lead,  tin,  and  wool  of  England  ?  the  quicksilver 
and  silk  of  Italy  ?  the  yarns  and  dyeing  stuffs  of  Turkey  ? 

To  be  short.  In  all  the  ancient  States  and  Empires,  those 
who  had  thc  shipping,  had  the  wealth.     And  if  2  per  cent,  in 


^''T'^iir?:]  SeamexN,  Artisans,  &  Husbandmen.   339 

the  price  of  commodities  be,  perhaps,  20  per  cent,  in  the  gain; 
it  is  manifest  that  they  who  can,  in  ^45,000,000,  undersell 
others,  by  ^^i, 000, 000  [i.e.,  nearly  2  per  cent.],  upon  account 
of  natural  and  intrinsic  advantages  only,  may  easily  have  the 
Trade  of  the  World,  without  such  angelical  wits  and  judge- 
ments as  some  attribute  to  the  Hollanders. 

Having  thus  done  with  their  Situation,  I  now  come  to  their 
Trade. 

It  is  commonly  seen  that  each  country  flourisheth  in  the 
manufacture  of  its  own  native  commodities,  viz.,  Artificial 
England,  for  woollen  manufacture ;  France,  for  of  ivad?* 
paper;  Luic  land,  for  iron  ware;  Portugal,  for  confectures 
[confectionary];  Italy,  for  silks.  Upon  which  principle,  it 
follows  that  Holland  and  Zealand  must  flourish  most  in  the 
trade  of  shipping,  and  so  become  Carriers  and  Factors  of  the 
Whole  World  of  Trade. 

Now  the  advantages  of  the  Shipping  Trade  are  as  followeth, 
viz. : 

Husbandmen,    seamen,  soldiers,  artisans,  and  merchants 
are  the  very  Pillars  of  any  Commonwealth :  Husbandmen 
all  the  other  great  professions  do  rise  out  of  seamen,  soi-  ' 

.,.,,  •..  J.  .  p,,  ,,  diers,  artisans, 

the  infirmities  and  miscarriages  01  these.   Now  and  merchants 
the  seaman  is  three  of  these  four.     For  every  Piiil'Jsof7 
Seaman  of  industry  and  ingenuity,  is  not  only  ^,°Xh°"anda 
a  Navigator,  but  a  Merchant,  and  also  a  Sol-  Seaman  is 
dier;  not  because  he  hath  often  occasion  to  '  ""^°  '  ^"'• 
fight  and  handle  arms,  but  because  he  is  familiarized 
with  hardship  and  hazards  extending  to  life  and  limbs. 
For  training  and  drilling  is  a  small  part  of  soldiery  in 
respect  of  this  last-mentioned  qualification :  the  one  being 
quickly  and  presently  learned;  the  other,  not  without  many 
years'  most  painful  experience.     Wherefore  to  have  the 
occasion  of  abounding  in  Seamen  is  a  vast  conveniency. 
2.  The   husbandmen  of   England   earns  but   about   4s.   a 
week;  but  the  seamen  have  as  good  as  12s.  in  ASeaman 
wages,  victuals,  and  as  it  were  housing,  with  f,'^"h^ei''"' 
other  accommodations :  so  as  a  seaman  is  in  un^bandmen. 
effect  three  husbandmen. 

Wherefore  there  is  little  ploughing  and  sowing  of  corn 
in  Holland  and  Zealand,  or  breeding  of  young  cattle  :  but 


140    A  Seaman  equals  three  Husbandmen.  p'^T'^'S?: 

their  land  is  improved  by  building  houses,  ships,  engines, 
dykes,  wharfs,  gardens  of  pleasure,  extraordinary  flowers 
and  fruits  ;  for  dairy  and  feeding  of  cattle,  for  rape,  flax, 
madder,  &c. — the  foundations  of  several  advantageous 
manufactures. 

3.  Whereas  the  employment  of  other  men  is  confined 
to  their  own  country,  that  of  seamen  is  free  to  the  whole 
world  ;  so  as  where  Trade  may,  as  they  call  it,  be  dead, 
here  or  there,  now  and  then,  it  is  certain  that  somewhere 
or  other  in  the  world,  Trade  is  always  quick  enough,  and 
provisions  are  always  plentiful.  The  benefit  whereof, 
those  who  command  the  shipping  enjoy,  and  they  only. 

4.  The  great  and  ultimate  effect  of  trade  is  not  wealth 
at  large  ;  but  particularly  abundance  of  silver,  gold,  and 
Silver,  gold,  jcwcls;  which  are  not  perishable,  nor  so  mutable 
Unlve'vTri''  ^"^  ^s  other  commodities,  but  are  wealth  at  all 
Wealth.  times,  and  all  places:  whereas  abundance  of 
wine,  corn,  fowls,  flesh,  &c.,  are  riches  but  hie  et  nunc. 
So  as  the  raising  of  such  commodities,  and  the  following 
of  such  trade  which  does  store  the  country  with  gold, 
silver,  jewels,  &c.,  is  profitable  before  others. 

But  the  labour  of  seamen  and  freight  of  ships  are 
always  of  the  nature  of  an  exported  commodity :  the 
overplus  wdiereof,  above  what  is  imported,  brings  home 
money,  &c. 

5.  Those  who  have  the  command  of  the  sea  trade, 
Reasons  why  may  work  at  easier  freight  with  more  profit 
safi  for 'les"'^^'^^  than  othcrs  at  greater.  For  as  cloth  must  be 
freight.  cheaper  made  when  one  cards,  another  spins, 
another  weaves,  another  draws,  another  dresses,  another 
presses  and  packs ;  than  when  all  the  operations  above 
mentioned  are  clumsily  performed  by  the  same  hand  :  so 
those  who  command  the  trade  of  shipping,  can  build  long 
slight  ships  for  carrying  masts,  fir  timber,  boards,  balks 
[beams  or  rafters],  &c.;  and  short  ones  for  lead,  iron, 
stones,  &c. ;  one  sort  of  vessels  to  trade  at  ports  where 
they  need  never  lie  aground,  others  where  they  must 
jump  upon  the  sand  twice  every  twelve  hours  :  one  sort 
of  vessels  and  way  of  manning,  in  time  of  peace  and  for 
cheap  gross  [bulky]  goods,  another  for  war  and  precious 
commodities  ;  one  sort  of  vessels  for  the  turbulent  sea, 


^''V'^'e"/']  ^^^^  Policy  of  the  United  Provinces.    341 

another  for  inland  waters  and  rivers  ;  one  sort  of  vessels 
and  rigging  where  haste  is  requisite  for  the  maidenhead 
[first  sales]  of  a  market,  another  where  one-third  or  one- 
fourth  of  the  time  makes  no  matter  ;  one  sort  of  masting 
and  rigging  for  long  voyages,  another  for  coasting;  one  sort 
of  vessels  for  fishing,  another  for  trade ;  one  sort  for  war  for 
this  or  that  country,  another  for  burden  only.     Some  for 
oars,  some  for  poles,  some  for  sails,  and  some  for  draught 
by  men  or  horses.     Some  for  the  northern  navigations 
amongst  ice  ;  and  some  for  the  South,  against  worms,  &c. 
And  this  I  take  to  be  the  chief  of  several  reasons,  why 
the  Hollanders  can  go  at  less  freight  than  their  neigh- 
bours, viz.,  because  they  can  afford  a  particular  sort  of 
vessels  for  each  particular  trade. 
I  have  shewn  how  Situation  hath  given  them  shipping,  and 
how  Shipping  hath  given  them,  in  effect,  all  other  trade  ;  and 
how  Foreign  Traffic  must  give  them  as  much  Manufactures 
as  they  can  manage  themselves :  and  as  for  the  overplus,  make 
the  rest  of  the  world  but  as  workmen  to  their  shops. 

It  now  remains  to  shew  the  effects  of  their  Policy  super- 
structed  upon  these  Natural  Advantages,  and  not,  as  The  Poiky  of 
some  think,  upon  the  excess  of  their  understandings.  "°"^"'^- 

I  have  omitted  to  mention,  the  Hollanders  were,  one 
hundred  years  since,  a  poor  and  oppressed  people  living  in  a 
country  naturally  cold,  moist,  and  unpleasant;  and  were  withal 
persecuted  for  their  heterodoxy  in  religion. 

From  hence  it  necessarily  followed,  that  this  people  must 
labour  hard,  and  set  all  hands  to  work ;  rich  and  poor,  old 
and  young  must  study  the  Art  of  Number,  Weight,  and 
Measure,  must  fare  hard,  provide  for  impotents  and  orphans 
out  of  hope  to  make  profit  by  their  labours ;  must  punish  the 
lazy  by  labour,  and  not  by  crippling  them.  I'say,  all  these 
particulars  (said  to  be  the  subtle  excogitations  of  the 
Hollanders)  seem  to  me  but  what  could  not  almost  have  been 
otherwise. 

Liberty  of  Conscience,  Registry  of  Conveyances,  small  Customs 
[import  duties].  Banks,  Liunbards  [pawnbrokers]  and  Law 
Merchant  rise  all  from  the  same  spring,  and  tend  to  the  same 
sea.  As  for  Loivncss  of  hit  crest,  it  is  also  a  necessary  effect  ot 
all  the  premisses,  and  not  the  fruit  of  their  contrivance. 


342  Trade  value  of  Liberty  of  Conscience.  [^''' 7' ^iI??'. 

Wherefore  we  shall  only  shew  in  particular  the  efBcacy  of 
each  ;  and  first  of  Liberty  of  Conscience. 

But  before  I  enter  upon  these,  I  shall  mention  a  practice 
almost  forgotten,  whether  it  referreth  to  Trade  or  Policy  is 
Undermasting  Hot  material ;  which  is  the  Hollanders'  under- 
of  ships.  masting  and  sailing  such  of  their  shipping  as  carry 

cheap  and  gross  [bulky]  goods,  and  whose  sale  doth  not  depend 
much  upon  the  season. 

It  is  to  be  noted,  that  of  two  equal  and  like  vessels,  if  one 
spreads  i,6oo  yards  of  like  canvas,  and  the  other  2,500,  their 
speed  is  but  as  Four  to  Five:  so  as  one  brings  home  the  same 
timber  in  four  days  as  the  other  will  in  five.  Now  if  we  con- 
sider that  although  those  ships  be  but  four  or  five  days  under 
sail,  that  they  are  perhaps  thirty  upon  the  voj^age :  so  as  one 
is  but  one-thirtieth  part  longer  upon  the  whole  voyage  than 
the  other,  though  one-fifth  longer  under  sail.  Now  if  masts, 
yards,  rigging,  cables,  and  anchors  do  all  depend  upon  the 
quantity  and  extent  of  the  sails,  and  consequently  hands 
also :  it  follows  that  the  one  vessel  goes  at  one-third  less 
Charge,  losing  but  one-thirtieth  of  the  Time  and  of  what 
depends  there  upon. 

I  now  come  to  the  first  Policy  of  the  Dutch,  viz.,  Liberty  of 
liberty  of     Couscicnce:  which  I  conceive,  they  grant  upon  these 

Conscience,  .  '  ^    o  r         _ 

aiidtheKea-  grounds:  but  keeping  up  always  a  force  to  maintain 

sons  thereof      ",  r       o       r  j 

in  Holland,    the  common  peace. 

1.  They  themselves  broke  with  Spain  to  avoid  the  im- 
position of  the  Clergy. 

2.  Dissenters  of  this  kind  are,  for  the  most  part,  thinking, 
sober,  and  patient  men ;  and  such  as  believe  that 
labour  and  industry  is  their  duty  towards  GOD  ;  how 
erroneous  soever  their  opinions  be. 

3.  These  people  believing  in  the  Justice  of  GOD;  and 
seeing  the  most  licentious  persons  to  enjoy  most  of  the 
world  and  its  best  things,  will  never  venture  to  be  of  the 
same  religion  and  profession  with  voluptuaries  and  men 
of  extreme  wealth  and  power,  whom  they  think  to  have 
their  portion  in  this  world. 

4.  They  cannot  but  know  That  no  man  can  believe  what 
himself  pleases  :   and  to  force  men  to  say  they  believe, 


^;-^f"//J  The  Heterodox  drive  most  of  the  Trade.  343 

what  they  do  not,  is  vain,  absurd,  and  without  honour  to 
GOD. 

5.  The  Hollanders  knowing  themselves  not  to  be  an  infall- 
ible church,  and  that  others  had  the  same  Scriptures  for 
guides  as  themselves,  and  withal  the  same  Interest  to 
save  their  souls,  do  not  think  fit  to  make  this  matter 
their  business;  no  more  than  to  take  bonds  of  the  seamen 
they  employ,  not  to  cast  away  their  own  ships  and  lives. 

6.  The  Hollanders  observe  that,  in  France  and  Spain, 
especially  the  latter,  the  Churchmen  [Clergy]  are  about 
100  to  I  to  what  they  use  or  need  ;  the  principal  care  of 
whom,  is  to  preserve  Uniformity  :  and  this  they  take  to 
be  a  superfluous  charge. 

7.  They  observe  where  most  endeavours  have  been  used  to 
keep  Uniformity,  there  Heterodoxy  hath  most  abounded. 

8.  They  believe  that  if  one-fourth  of  the  people  were  hete- 
rodox, and  that  if  that  whole  quarter  should  (by  miracle) 
be  removed  ;  that,  within  a  small  time,  one-fourth  of  the 
remainder  would  again  become  heterodox,  some  way  or 
other  :  it  being  natural  for  men  to  differ  in  opinion  in 
matters  above  Sense  and  Reason  ;  and  for  those  who 
have  less  Wealth,  to  think  they  have  the  more  Wit  and 
Understanding,  especially  of  the  Things  of  GOD,  which 
they  think  chiefly  belong  to  the  poor. 

9.  They  think  the  case  of  the  primitive  Christians,  as 
it  is  represented  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  looks  like  that 
of  the  present  Dissenters  :  I  mean,  externally. 

Moreover,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  Trade  doth  not,  as 
some  think,  best  flourish  under  popular  Govern-  The  trade  of 
ments  :  but  rather  that  Trade  is  most  vigour-  cMefirmM- '^ 
ously  carried  on,  in  every  State  and  Govern-  aged  by  the 

1111  r      1  1     Heterodox 

ment,  by  the  heterodox  part  01  the  same;  and  party. 
such  as  profess  opinions  different  from  what  are  publicly 
established.  That  is  to  say,  in  India,  where  the  Maho- 
metan religion  is  authorized  ;  there  the  Banyans  are  the 
most  considerable  merchants.  In  the  Turkish  Empire, 
the  Jews  and  Christians.  At  Venice,  Naples,  Leghorn, 
Genoa,  and  Lisbon ;  Jews  and  non-Papist  merchant- 
strangers.  But  to  be  short,  in  that  part  of  Europe  where 
the  Roman  Catholic  religion  now  hath,  or  lately  hath  had 
establishment,  there  three-quarters  of  the  whole  trade  is 


344  Registries  OF  Titles  TO  Lands  &  Houses.  [^''Y-^^en, 

in  the  hands  of  such  as  have  separated  from  that  Church: 
that  is  to  say,  the  inhabitants  of  England,  Scotland,  and 
Ireland,  as  also  those  of  the  United  Provinces,  with  Den- 
mark, Sweden,  and  Norway,  together  with  the  subjects  of 
the  German  Protestant  Princes  and  the  Hanse  Towns,  do, 
at  this  day,  possess  three-quarters  of  the  Trade  of  the 
World.     And  even  in  France  itself;  the  Huguenots  are, 
proportionably,  far  the  greatest  traders. 
Nor  is  it  to  be  denied,  but  that  in  Ireland,  where  the  said 
Roman  religion  is  not  authorized :  there,  the  professors 
thereof  have  a  great  part  of  the  trade. 
From  whence  it  follows,  that  Trade  is  not  fixed  to   any 
species  of  Religion,  as  such  :  but  rather,  as  before  hath 
been  said,  to  the  heterodox  part  of  the  whole  :  the  truth 
whereof  appears   also,    in  all   the  particular   towns   of 
greatest  trade  in  England. 
Nor  do  I  find  reason  to  believe,  that  the  Roman  Catholic 
seamen  in  the  whole  world,  are  sufficient  to  man  effectually 
All  the  Pap-      a  Flcct  cqual  to  what  the  King  of  England  now  hath: 
Europe  are       but  tlic  nou-Papist  seameu  can  do  above  thrice  as 
deMMo  ml'n      much.     Whcrcforc  he,  whom  this  latter  party  doth 
the  King  of      affectionately  own  to  be  their  head,  cannot  probably 

England  s  .  <       ,   .  iii"^ 

Fleet.  be  wronged  m  his  sea  concernments  by  the  other. 

From  whence  it  follows,  that  for  the  Advancement  of 
Trade,  if  that  be  a  sufficient  reason,  indulgence  must  be 
granted  in  Matters  of  Opinion  ;  though  licentious  actings,  as 
even  in  Holland,  be  restrained  by  force. 

The  second  Po//cj',  or  help  to  trade  used  by  the  Hollanders, 
is  the  securing  the  Titles  to  Lands  and  Houses,  For  although 
!•■''■'"  T't'es  to  lands  and  houses  may  be  called  terra  firma  et  res 
House^^  imuiohilis ;  yet  the  title  unto  them  is  no  more  cer- 
tain than  it  pleases  the  Lawyers  and  Authority  to  make  them. 
Wherefore  the  Hollanders  do,  by  Registries  and  other  ways 
of  assurance,  make  the  title  as-  immoveable  as  the  lands. 
For  there  can  be  no  encouragement  to  industry,  where  there 
is  no  assurance  of  what  shall  be  gotten  by  it;  and  where,  by 
fraud  and  corruption,  one  man  may  take  away,  with  ease  and 
by  a  trick,  and  in  a  moment,  what  another  has  gotten  by 
many  years'  extreme  labour  and  pains. 

Tlieue  hath   been    much  discourse  about  the  introducing 


^"  7'  ^re"?'.]  The   Dutch   banking  system.     345 

of  Registries  into  England.  The  Lawyers,  for  the  most 
part,  object  against  it,  alleging  that  titles  of  land  in  oftheintroduc- 
England  are  sufficiently  secure  already.  Wherefore  infu^ngfandr" 
omitting  the  considerations  of  small  and  oblique  reasons  pro 
et  contra  ;  it  were  good  that  enquiry  were  made  from  the 
Officers  of  several  Courts,  to  what  sum  or  value,  purchasers 
have  been  damnified  [robbed],  for  this  last  ten  years,  by  such 
fraudulent  conveyances  as  Registries  would  have  prevented  : 
the  tenth  part  whereof,  at  a  medium,  is  the  annual  loss  which 
the  people  sustain  for  want  of  them.  And  then,  computation 
is  to  be  made  of  the  annual  Charge  of  Registering  such  extra- 
ordinary conveyances  as  would  secure  the  title  of  lands. 
Now  by  comparing  these  two  sums,  the  question  so  much 
agitated  may  be  determined  :  though  some  think  that, 
though  few  are  actually  damnified  [damaged],  yet  that  all  are 
hindered  by  fear,  and  deterred  from  dealing. 

Their  third  Policy  is  their  Bank  :  the  use  whereof  is  to 
increase  Money,  or  rather  to  make  a  small  sum  The  Banks  of 
equivalent  in  trade  to  a  greater.  Huiiand. 

For  the  effecting  whereof,  these  things  are  to  be  con- 
sidered— 

1.  How  much  money  will  drive  the  Trade  of  the  nation. 

2.  How  much  current  money  there  is  actually  in  the 
nation. 

3.  How  much  money  will  serve  to  make  all  payments  of 
under  ^^50  (or  any  other  more  convenient  sum) 
throughout  the  year. 

4.  For  what  sum,  the  Keepers  of  the  Bank  are  unquestion- 
able security. 

If  all  these  four  particulars  be  well  known,  then  it  may 
also  be  known,  how  much  of  the  ready  money  above  men- 
tioned may  be  safely  and  profitably  lodged  in  the  Bank,  and 
to  how  much  ready  current  money  the  said  deposited  money 
is  equivalent. 

As  for  example,  suppose  /"loOjOOO  will  drive  the  Trade  of 

the  nation. 

And  suppose  there  be  but  ^£'60,000  of  ready  money  in 

the  same. 

Suppose  also    that    £20,000  will  drive  on,  and  answer 

all  payrnents  of  under  £50. 


346  The  Dutch  avoid  badly  paying  pursuits.  P'T^iI;?'. 

In  this  case  ^£"40,000  of  the  ^^60,000  being  put  into  the  Bank, 
\vill  be  equivalent  to  ^^80,000  :  which  ^TSOjOOO,  and  ;r20,ooo 
kept  out  of  the  Bank,  do  make  up  ;^ioo,ooo,  that  is  to  say, 
enough  to  drive  the  trade,  as  was  proposed. 

Where,  note,  that  the  Bank  Keepers  must  be  responsible 
for  double  the  sum  intrusted  with  them  ;  and  must  have 
power  to  levy  upon  the  General  [the  nation  at  large,  or  the  body 
of  shareholders]  what  they  happen  to  lose  unto  particular  men. 

Upon  which  grounds,  the  Bank  may  freely  make  use  of 
the  received  £40,000:  whereby  the  said  sum,  with  the  like 
sum  in  credit,  makes  £"80,000  ;  and  with  the  £20,000  reserved, 
are  £100,000. 

I  might  here  add  many  more  particulars  :  but  being  the 
same  as  have  already  been  noted  by  others,  I  shall  conclude 
with  adding  one  observation ;  which  I  take  to  be  of  con- 
sequence, viz. : 

That  the  Hollanders  do  rid  their  hands  of  two  trades 
The  Holland-  which  arc  of  greatest  turmoil  and  danger;  and 
Tusblndtr  yet  of  least  profit.  , 

orfoot  soldiers.  f  hc  first,  whcrcof,  is  that  of  a  common  and  private 
soldier.  For  such  they  can  hire  from  England,  Scotland,  and 
Germany,  to  venture  their  lives  for  sixpence  a  day  ;  whilst 
they  themselves  safely  and  quietly  follow  such  trades,  where- 
by the  meanest  of  them  gain  six  times  as  much.  And  withal, 
by  this  entertainment  of  such  strangers  for  soldiers,  their 
country  becomes  more  and  more  peopled :  forasmuch  as 
the  children  of  such  strangers  are  Hollanders,  and  take  to 
trades ;  whilst  new  strangers  are  admitted  ad  infinitum. 
Besides,  these  soldiers,  at  convenient  intervals,  do  at  least 
as  much  work  as  is  equivalent  to  what  they  spend. 

And  consequently,  Idv  this  way  of  employing  of  strangers 
for  soldiers,  they  people  the  country  and  save  their  own 
persons  from  danger  and  misery,  without  any  real  expense  ; 
effecting  by  this  method  what  others  have  in  vain  attempted 
by  Laws  for  Naturalizing  of  strangers;  as  if  men  could  be 
charmed  to  transplant  themselves  from  their  own  native, 
into  a  foreign  country,  merely  by  words,  and  for  the  bare 
leave  of  being  called  by  a  new  name.  In  Ireland,  Laws  of 
Naturalization  have  had  little  effect  to  bring  in  aliens;  and 
it  is  no  wonder,  since  Englishmen  will  not  go  thither,  without 


^f";?:] Mankind, LIKE  Land, worth  2oyears'purchase.34 7 

they  may  have  the  pay  of  soldiers,  or  some  other  advantage 
amounting:  to  maintenance. 


Having  intimated  the  way  by  which  the  Hollanders  do 
increase  their  people  ;  I  shall  here  digress  to  set  down  the 
way  of  computing  the  value  of  every  head,  one  with  another: 
and  that  by  the  instance  of  people  in  England,  viz. : 

Suppose  the  people  of  England  be  6,000,000  in  number ; 
that  their  expense  at  ^7  per  head,  be  ^^42, 000, 000.  The  method  of 
Suppose  also  that  the  rent  of  the  lands  be  vaiurofTien' 
;^8,ooo,ooo ;  and  the  yearly  profit  of  all  personal  ^"^^  People. 
estate  be  3^8,000,000  more.  It  must  needs  follow,  that  the 
labour  of  the  people  must  have  supplied  the  remaining 
3^26,000,000.  The  which  multiplied  by  20  (the  mass  of  man- 
kind being  worth  twenty  3'ears'  purchase  as  well  as  land), 
makes  ^520,000,000,  as  the  value  of  the  whole  people  : 
which  number  divided  b}'  6,000,000  makes  above  ^^So  sterl- 
ing to  be  the  value  of  each  head  of  man,  woman,  and  child  ; 
and  of  adult  persons,  twice  as  much.  From  whence,  we  may 
learn  to  compute  the  loss  we  have  sustained  by  the  Plague, 
by  the  slaughter  of  men  in  war,  and  by  the  sending  them 
abroad  into  the  service  of  foreign  Princes. 


The  other  trade  of  which  the  Hollanders  have  rid  their 
hands,  is  the  old  patriarchal  trade  of  being  cow-keepers; 
and  in  a  great  measure,  of  that  which  concerns  the  plough- 
ing and  sowing  of  corn  :  having  put  that  employment  upon 
the  Danes  and  Polanders  [Poles]  ;  from  whom  they  have 
their  young  cattle  and  corn. 

Now  here  we  may  take  notice,  that  as  trades  and  curious 
Arts  increase,  so  the  trade  of  husbandry  will  decrease  ;  or 
else  the  wages  of  husbandmen  must  rise,  and  consequently 
the  rents  of  lands  must  fall. 

For  proof  whereof,  I  dare  affirm  that,  if  all  the  husband- 
men of  England,  who  now  earn  but  8^.  a  day  [=2s.  now] 
or  thereabouts,  could  become  tradesmen  [mechanics]  and  earn 
l6d.  a  day  [=45.  now]  (which  is  no  great  wages,  25.  and 
2s.  6d.  [=6s.  and  75.  6d.  now]  being  usually  given)  ;  that  then, 
it  would  be  the  advantage  of  England  to   throw  up   their 


348  Anticipation  of  English  manufactures.  P""?    ,677': 

husbandry,  and  to  make  no  use  of  their  lands,  but  for  grass, 
horses,  milch  cows,  gardens,  and  orchards,  &c.  Which,  if  it 
be  so,  and  if  Trade  and  Manufacture  have  increased  in  Eng- 
land, that  is  to  say,  if  a  greater  part  of  the  people  apply 
themselves  to  those  faculties  than  there  did  heretofore  ;  and  if 
the  price  of  corn  be  no  greater  now  than  when  husbandmen 
Reasons  why  wcre  morc  numerous  and  tradesmen  fewer  ;  it 
rents  must  fall.  foUows  from  that  singlc  reason,  though  others  may 
be  added,  that  rents  of  land  must  fall.  As  for  example,  suppose 
the  price  of  wheat  be  5s.  or  6od.  the  bushel.  Now,  if  the  rent 
of  the  land  whereon  it  grows,  be  the  Third  Sheaf:  then  of 
the  6od.,  2od.  is  for  the  land,  and  401^.  for  the  husbandman. 
But  if  the  husbandman's  wages  should  rise  one-eighth  part, 
or  from  Sd.  to  gd.  per  diem,  then  the  husbandman's  share  in 
the  bushel  of  wheat  rises  from  40^.  to  45^.  ;  and,  conse- 
quently, the  rent  of  the  land  must  fall  from  2od.  to  i^d. 
For  we  suppose  the  price  of  the  wheat  still  remains  the 
same,  especially  since  we  cannot  raise  it  :  for  if  we  did 
attempt  it,  corn  would  be  brought  in  to  us,  as  into  Holland, 
from  foreign  parts,  where  the  state  of  husbandry  was  not 
changed. 

And  thus  I  have  done  with  the  First  principal  Conclusion, 
that  a  small  territory  and  even  a  few  people,  may  by  Situation, 
Trade,  and  Policy,  be  made  equivalent  to  a  greater ;  and  that  con- 
venience for  shipping  and  water  carriage  do  most  eminently  and 
fundamentally  conduce  thereunto. 


C  H  A  P  T  E  R    I  I  .- 

That  some  Idnd  of  taxes  and  public  levies  may  rather  increase, 
than  dintinish  the  wealth  of  the  kingdom. 

F   the    money   or    other    effects    levied    from    the 
people  by  way  of  tax,  were  destroyed  and  what  shifting 

I  '-'•',  ..  ■J  01  money  from 

annihilated;    then    it   is  clear  that  such  hand  (to  h.-ind] 
levies     would     diminish     the     Common  no^'""'' 
Wealth.     Or  if  the  same  were  exported  out  of  the  kingdom, 
without  any  return  at  all ;  then  the  case  would  be  also  the 
same  or  worse. 


^"T'  ^fiy^.jDURATION,  THE  TEST  OF  NATIONAL  WEALTH.349 

But  if  what  is  levied  as  aforesaid  be  only  transferred 
from  one  hand  to  another  ;  then  we  are  only  to  consider, 
Whether  the  said  money  or  commodities  are  taken  from 
an  improving  hand,  and  given  to  an  ill  husband  ,  or  vice 
versa  ? 

As,  for  example,  suppose  that  money,  by  way  of  tax,  be 
taken  from  one  who  spendeth  the  same  in  superfluous  eating 
and  drinking,  and  delivered  to  another  who  employeth  the 
same  in  improving  of  land,  in  fishing,  in  working  of  mines, 
in  manufacture,  &c.  ;  it  is  manifest  that  such  tax  is  an 
advantage  to  the  State  whereof  the  said  different  persons 
are  members. 

Nay,  if  money  be  taken  from  him,  who  spendeth  the  same, 
as  aforesaid,  upon  eating  and  drinking,  or  any  other  perishing 
commodity ;  and  the  same  be  transferred  to  one  that 
bestoweth  it  on  Clothes  :  I  say,  that,  even  in  this  case,  the 
Common  Wealth  hath  some  little  advantage  ;  because  clothes 
do  not  altogether  perish  so  soon  as  meat  and  drinks.  But  if 
the  same  be  spent  in  Furniture  of  Houses,  the  advantage  is 
yet  a  little  more ;  if  in  Building  of  Houses,  yet  more  ;  if  in 
Improving  of  Lands,  working  of  mines,  fishing,  &c.,  yet  more  : 
but,  most  of  all,  in  bringing  gold  and  silver  into  the  country, 
because  those  things  are  not  only  not  perishable ;  but  are 
esteemed  for  wealth  at  ail  times  and  everywhere.  Whereas 
other  commodities  which  are  perishable,  and  whose  value 
depends  upon  the  fashion,  or  which  are  contingently  scarce 
and  plentiful,  are  Wealth  hut  pro  hie  et  nunc  ;  as  shall  be  else- 
where said. 

In  the  next  place,  if  the  people  of  any  country,  who  have 
not  already  a  full  employment,  should  be  enjoined  Taxing  of  new 
or  taxed  to  work  upon  such  commodities  as  are  im-  t™theCommon 
ported  from  abroad  :  I  say,  that  such  a  tax  also  weaith. 
doth  improve  the  Common  Wealth. 

Moreover,  if  persons  who  live  by  begging,  cheating,  steal- 
ing, gaming,  borrowing  without  intention  of  re-  xhetaxingof 
storing ;  who,  by  those  ways,  do  get  from  the  ^'"^'■^" 
credulous  and  careless,  more  than  is  sufficient  for  the  sub- 
sistence of  such  persons ;  I  say,  that  although  the  State 
should  have  no  present  employment  for  such  persons,  and 
consequently  should  be  forced  to  bear  the  whole  charge  of 
their  livelihood  :  yet  it  were  more  for  the  public  profit,  to  give 


350  Common  Wealth  rests  on  material  things.  [^^,1^?'. 

all  such  persons  a  regular  and  competent  allowance  by 
public  tax,  than  to  suffer  them  to  spend  extravagantly  at  the 
only  charge  of  careless,  credulous,  and  good-natured  people  ; 
and  to  expose  the  Common  Wealth  to  the  loss  of  so  many 
able  men,  whose  lives  are  taken  away  for  the  crimes  which  ill 
discipline  doth  occasion. 

On  the  contrary,  if  the  stocks  [capital]  of  laborious  and  in- 
genious men,  who  are  not  only  beautifying  the  country  where 
they  live,  by  elegant  diet,  apparel,  furniture,  housing,  pleasant 
gardens,  orchards,  and  public  edifices,  &c. ;  but  are  also  in- 
creasing the  gold,  silver,  and  jewels  of  the  country  by  trade 
and  arms:  I  say,  if  the  stock  of  these  men  should  be 
diminished  by  a  tax,  and  transferred  to  such  as  do  nothing  at 
all  but  eat  and  drink,  sing,  play,  and  dance  ;  nay,  to  such  as 
study  the  metaphysics  or  other  needless  speculation,  or  else 
employ  themselves  in  any  other  way  which  produces  no 
material  thing,  or  things  of  real  use  and  value  in  the  Common 
Wealth— in  this  case,  I  say  the  Wealth  of  the  Public  will  be 
diminished  ;  otherwise  than  as  such  exercises  are  recreations 
and  refreshments  of  the  mind,  and  which,  being  moderately 
used,  do  gratify  and  dispose  men  to  what  is  in  itself  more 
considerable. 

Wherefore  upon  the  whole  matter,  to  know  whether  a 
A  Judgement  tax  will  do  good  or  harm,  the  state  of  the  people 
are^'dvanta"  ^"d  their  employments  must  be  well  known,  that 
g.,..us.  is  to  say  : 

What  part  of  the  people  are  unfit  for  labour  by  their 
infancy  or  impotency ;  and  also  what  part  are  exempt 
from  the  same  by  reason  of  their  wealth,  function,  or 
dignities,  or  by  reason  of  their  charge  and  employments 
otherwise  than  in  governing,  directing,  and  preserving 
those  who  are  appointed  to  Labour  and  Arts  ? 

2.  In  the  next  place,  computation  must  be  made,  What 
part  of  those  who  are  fit  for  Labour  and  Arts  as  afore- 
said, are  able  to  perform  the  work  of  the  Nation,  in  its 
present  state  and  measure  ? 

3.  It  is  to  be  considered.  Whether  the  remainder  can  make 
all,  or  any  part  of  those  commodities  which  are  imported 
fromi  abroad  ?  which  of  them  ?  and  how  much  in  par- 
ticular ?  The  remainder  of  which  sort  of  people,  if  any 
be,  may,  safely,  and  without  possible  prejudice  to  the 


^''T'^.T;?-]  ^^^  PRINCIPLES  OF  Dutch  taxation.     351 

Common  Wealth,  be  employed  in  Arts  and  exercises  of 
pleasure  and  ornament  :  the  greatest  whereof,  is  the 
improvement  of  natural  knowledge  [natural  science]. 

Having  thus,  in  general,  illustrated  this  point;  which,  I 
think,  needs  no  other  proof  but  illustration  :  I  come  next  to 
intimate  that  no  part  of  Europe  hath  paid  so  much,  by  way 
of  tax  and  public  contribution,  as  Holland  and  Zealand,  for 
this  last  hundred  years ;  and  yet  no  country  hath,  in  the 
same  time,  increased  its  wealth  comparably  to  them.  And  it 
is  manifest  that  they  have  followed  the  general  considerations 
above  mentioned,  for  they  tax  meats  and  drinks  most  heavily 
of  all,  to  restrain  the  excessive  expense  of  those  things  which 
twenty-four  hours  doth,  as  to  the  use  of  man,  wholly  annihi- 
late ;  and  they  are  more  favourable  to  commodities  of  greater 
duration. 

Nor  do  they  tax  according  to  what  men  gain,  but  in  extra- 
ordinary cases  :  but  always  according  to  what  men  spend ; 
and,  most  of  all,  according  to  what  they  spend  needlessly, 
and  without  prospect  of  return. 

Upon  which  grounds,  their  Customs  upon  goods  imported 
and  exported  are  generally  low  ;  as  if  they  intended  by  them, 
only  to  keep  an  account  of  their  Foreign  Trade ;  and  to  re- 
taliate upon  their  neighbouring  States,  the  prejudices  done 
them,  by  their  prohibitions  and  impositions. 

It  is  further  to  be  observed,  that,  since  the  year  1636,  the 
taxes   and  public  levies  made    in    England,  Scotland,  and 
Ireland,  have  been  prodigiously  greater  than  at  any  itispmbabie 
time  heretofore ;  and  yet  the  said  kingdoms  have  and'Elitiand 
increased  in  their  wealth  and  strength  for  these  last  ^i-e  grown 

ricncr  under 

forty   years   [163 7-1 677,  therefore    this   Essay   was  taxes. 
written  about  1677],  as  shall  hereafter  be  shown. 

It  is  said,  that  the  King  of  France,  at  present,  doth  levy 
the  Fifth  Part  of  his  people's  wealth  ;  and  yet  great  The  difference 
ostentation    is   made   of  the   present   riches    and  revenues, 
strength  of  that  Kingdom. 

Now,  great  care  must  be  had  in  distinguishing  between 
the  wealth  of  the  People,  and  that  of  an  Absolute  Monarch, 
who  taketh  from  the  people,  where,  when,  and  in  what  pro- 
portion he  pleaseth. 

Moreover,  the  subjects  of  two  monarchs  may  be  equally 
rich ;   and  yet  one  monarch  may  be  double  as  rich  as  the 


352  Louis  XIV.  has  i-  of  wealth  of  France.  [^'^ T' ^iI??: 

other,  viz.  :  if  one  take  the  tenth  part  of  the  peoples'  sub- 
stance to  his  own  dispose  [disposal] ;  and  the  other  but  the 
twentieth. 

Nay,  the  monarch  of  a  poorer  people  may  appear  more 
splendid  and  gracious  than  that  of  a  richer:  which,  perhaps, 
may  be  somewhat  the  case  of  France,  as  shall  be  examined. 

As  an  instance  and  application  of  what  has  been  said,  I 
conceive  that  in  Ireland,  wherein  are  about  1,200,000  people, 
That  Ireland     ^^^   nearly  ^00,000  smokes   or   hearths,   it   were 

may  be  more  >  i  rr  •  1      t  t  i 

advantage-  morc  profitable  for  the  Kmg  that  each  Head  paid 
a"poie''in'^flax'[  2s.  [=6s.  How]  worth  of  flax,  than  that  each  Smoke 
should  pay  2s.  in  silver.     And  that  for  the  following  reasons  : 

Ireland  being  under-peopled,  and  land  and  cattle  being 
very  cheap ;  there  being  everywhere  store  of  fish  and  fowl ; 
the  ground  yield  excellent  roots  (and  particularly  that  bread- 
like root.  Potatoes) ;  and  withal  they  being  able  to  perform 
their  husbandry  with  such  harness  and  tackle  as  each  man 
can  make  with  his  own  hands ;  and  living  in  such  houses  as 
almost  every  man  can  build ;  and  every  housewife  being  a 
spinner  and  dyer  of  wool  and  yarn  :  they  can  live  and  subsist 
after  their  present  fashion,  without  the  use  of  gold  and  silver 
money ;  and  can  supply  themselves  with  the  necessaries 
above  mentioned,  without  labouring  two  hoxirs  per  diem. 

Now,  it  hath  been  found  that,  by  reason  of  insolvencies 
arising  rather  from  the  uselessness,  than  want,  of  money  among 
these  poor  people  ;  that  from  300,000  hearths,  which  should 
have  yielded  £2,0,000  per  annum,  not  ^15,000  of  money  could 
be  levied.  Whereas  it  is  easily  imagined  that  four  or  five 
persons,  dwelling  in  that  cottage  which  hath  but  one  smoke, 
could  easily  have  planted  a  ground  plot,  of  about  forty  feet 
square,  with  flax,  or  the  fiftieth  part  of  an  acre  :  for  so  much 
ground  will  bear  8s.  or  los.  worth  of  that  commodity,  and 
the  rent  of  so  much  ground,  in  few  places  amounts  to  a 
penny  per  annum.  Nor  is  there  any  skill  requisite  to  this 
practice,  wherewith  the  country  is  not  already  familiar. 

Now  as  for  a  market  for  the  flax,  there  is  imported  into 
Holland  itself,  over  and  above  what  that  country  produces, 
as  much  flax  as  is  there  sold  for  between  j^i6o,ooo  and 
pf 200, 000;  and  into  England  and  Ireland  is  imported  [from 
Holland\  as  much  linen  cloth  made  of  flax,  and  there  spent 


SirW.Petty.-j      JrisH    TAXES    TO    BE    PAID    IN    FlAX.      353 

\7ised\  as  is  worth  above  half  a  million  of  money.     As  shall  be 
shewn  hereafter. 

Wherefore,  having  shewn  that  silver  money  is  useless  to 
the  poor  people  of  Ireland  ;  that  half  the  hearth  money  could 
not  be  raised  by  reason  thereof;  that  the  people  are  not  a 
hfth  part  employed  ;  that  the  people  and  land  of  Ireland  are 
competently  qualified  for  flax  ;  that  one  pennyworth  of  land 
produces  10s.  worth  of  the  same  ;  and  that  there  is  market 
enough,  and  enough  for  ;£'ioo,ooo  worth :  I  conceive  my 
Proposition  sufficiently  proved  ;  at  least,  to  set  forwards  and 
promote  a  practice,  which  both  the  present  Law  and  Interest 
of  the  country  doth  require.  Especially,  since  if  all  the  flax 
so  produced  should  yield  nothing,  yet  there  is  nothing  lost ; 
the  same  time  having  been  worse  spent  before. 

Upon  the  same  grounds,  the  like  tax  of  2s.  per  head  may 
be  raised  with  the  like  advantage  upon  the  people  of  Eng- 
land, which  will  amount  to  £600,000  per  annum ;  to  be  paid 
in  Flax  manufactured  into  all  soits  of  Linens,  threads,  tapes, 
and  laces;  which  we  now  receive  from  France,  Flanders, 
Holland,  and  Germany:  the  value  whereof  doth  far  exceed 
the  sum  last  mentioned,  as  hath  appeared  by  the  examina- 
tion of  particulars. 

It  is  observed  by  clothiers  and  others,  who  employ  great 
numbers  of  poor  people,  that  when    corn  is  ex-  o^u^'r 
tremely  plentiful,  that  the  labour  of  the  poor  is  c^~/f«^ 
proportionably  dear  ;  and  scarcely  to  be  had  at  all .  harmless  tax. 
so  licentious  are  they  who  labour  only  to  eat,  or  rather  to  drink. 
Wherefore,  when  so  many  acres  sown  with  corn,  as  do 
usually  produce  a  sufficient  store  for  the  nation,  shall  pro- 
duce perhaps  double  to  what  is  expected,  or  necessary ;  it 
seems  not  unreasonable  that  this  common  blessing  of  GOD 
should  be  applied  to  the  common  good  of  all  people,  repre- 
sented by  their  Sovereign  ;  much  rather  than  that  the  same 
should  be  abused  by  the  vile  and  brutish  part  of  mankind,  to 
the  prejudice  of  the  Common  Wealth  :  and  consequently  that 
such  surplusage  of  corn  should  be  sent  to  public  storehouses  ; 
from  thence  to  bedisposed  of,  to  the  bestadvantage  of  thepublic. 
Now,  if  the  corn  spent  in  England,  at  5s.  [=i5s.  now]  per 
bushel  of  wheat,  and  2s.  6d.  of  barley,  be  worth  -^10,000,000 
comnmnihm  minis  ;  it  follows  that  in  years  of  great  plenty, 
when   the   grains    are   one-third  part  cheaper,  that  a  vast 

£NG.  GAR.  VI.  23 


OD 


4  English  Taxes  payable  in  Linen.  P'"" T' '^.'s'?: 


advantage  might  accrue  to  the  Common  Wealth,  which  is 
now  spent  in  overfeeding  of  the  people  in  quantity  or  quality, 
and  so  indisposing  them  to  their  usual  labour. 

The  like  may  be  said  of  Sugar,  Tobacco,  and  Pepper, 
which  custom  hath  now  made  necessary  to  all  sorts  of 
people;  and  which  the  overplanting  of  them,  hath  made  un- 
reasonably cheap.  I  say,  it  is  not  absurd  that  the  Public 
should  be  advantaged  by  this  extraordinary  plenty. 

That  an  excise  should  be  laid  upon  Currants  also  is  not 
unreasonable :  not  only  for  this,  but  also  for  other  reasons. 

The  way  of  the  present  Militia,  or  Trained  Bands,  is  a 
Of  the  tax  by  gentle  tax  upon  the  country:  because  it  is  only  a 
Miiuia,  and  fcw  days'  labour  in  the  year,  of  a  few  men  in 
sOTt7o°f  armL.  Tespcct  to  the  whole ;  using  their  own  goods,  that 
is,  their  own  arms. 

Now,  if  there  be  3,000,000  of  males  in  England,  there  be 
about  200,000  of  them  who  are  between  the  age  of  sixteen 
and  thirty,  unmarried  persons,  and  who  live  by  their  labour 
and  service :  for  of  so  many,  or  thereabouts,  the  present 
Militia  consists. 

Now,  if  150,000  of  these  were  armed  and  trained  as  Foot, 
and  50,000  as  Horse  (Horse  being  of  special  advantage  in 
islands),  the  said  forces  at  land,  with  30,000  men  at  sea, 
would,  by  GOD's  ordinary  blessing,  defend  this  nation, 
being  an  island,  against  any  force  in  view. 

But  the  Charge  of  arming,  disciplining,  and  rendezvousing 
all  these  men,  twice  or  thrice  a  year,  would  be  a  very  gentle 
tax  levied  by  the  people  themselves,  and  paid  to  themselves. 

Moreover,  if  out  of  the  said  number,  one-third  part  were 
selected,  of  such  as  are  more  than  ordinarily  fit  and  disposed 
for  war,  to  be  exercised  and  rendezvoused  fourteen  or  fifteen 
times  per  annum  ;  the  charge  thereof,  being  but  a  fortnight's 
pay,  would  also  be  a  very  gentle  tax. 

Lastly,  if  out  of  this  last-mentioned  number,  one-third 
again  should  be  selected  ;  making  about  16,000  Foot  and 
nearly  6,000  Horse  to  be  exercised  and  rendezvoused  forty 
days  in  the  year:  I  say,  that  the  Charge  of  all  these  three 
Militias,  allowing  the  latter  six  weeks'  pay  per  aiinuiii,  would 
not  cost  above  £120,000  per  annum;  which  I  take  to  bean 
easy  burden  for  so  great  a  benefit. 


^''■y-''j'=6^^':] Scotch  Taxes  payable  in  Herrings.  355 

Forasmuch  as  the  present  Navy  of  Enj:^land  requires 
36,000  men  to  man  it ;  and  for  that  the  Enghsh  For  supplying 
Trade  of  Shipping  requires  about  48,000  men  to  ^iv^itrdvims^'"^ 
manage  it  also  :  it  follow  that  to  perform  both  well,  wkh  seamen. 
there  ought  to  be  about  72,000  men  (and  not  84,000)  com-' 
petently  qualified  for  these  services.  For  want  whereof,  we 
see  that  it  is  a  long  while  before  a  Royal  Navy  can  be 
manned  :  which  till  it  be,  it  is  of  no  effectual  use,  but  lies  at 
charge.  And  we  see  likewise,  upon  these  occasions,  that 
merchants  are  put  to  great  straights  and  inconveniences,  and 
do  pay  excessive  rates  for  the  carrying  on  their  trade. 

Now  if  24,000  able-bodied  tradesmen  [artisans]  were,  by  6,000 
of  them  per  annum,  brought  up  and  fitted  for  sea  service ;  and 
for  their  encouragement  allowed  20s.  [=£^  now]  per  annum 
for  every  year  they  had  been  at  sea,  even  when  they  stay  at 
home,  not  exceeding  ^6  for  those  who  have  served  six  years 
or  upward  ;  it  follows  that  about  ;£'72,ooo,  at  the  medium  of 
£^  per  man,  would  salariate  the  whole  number  of  24,000. 

And  so,  forasmuch  as  half  the  seamen  which  manage  the 
merchants'  trade,  are  supposed  to  be  always  in  harbour,  and 
are  about  24,000  men ;  the  said  half  together  with  the 
Auxiliaries  last  mentioned,  would,  upon  all  emergencies,  man 
out  the  whole  Royal  Navy  with  36,000,  and  leave  to  the 
Merchants  12,000  of  the  abler  Auxiliaries  to  perform  their  busi- 
ness in  harbour  till  others  come  home  from  sea.  And  thus 
36,000,  24,000,  and  12,000  make  the  72,000  above  mentioned. 

I  say  that  more  than  this  sum  of  ;£"72,ooo  is  fruitlessly 
spent  and  overpaid  by  the  Merchants,  whensoever  a  great 
fleet  is  to  be  fitted  out. 

Now  these,  whom  I  call  Auxiliary  Seamen,  are  such  as 
have  another  trade  besides,  wherewith  to  maintain  themselves 
when  they  are  not  employed  at  sea  :  and  the  charge  of  main- 
taining them,  though  ^^72,000  per  annum,  I  take  to  be  little 
or  nothing,  for  the  reasons  above  mentioned,  and  conse- 
quently an  easy  tax  to  the  people,  because  levied  by,  and 
paid  to  themselves. 

As  we  propounded  that  Ireland  should  be  taxed  with  flax ; 
England,  by  linen  and  other  manufactures  of  the  a  herring  tax 
same;  I  conceive  that  Scotland  also  might  be  taxed  "P'^" ^='^''^"'^- 
as  much  [i.e.,  £^0,000],  to  be  paid  in  herrings,  as  Ireland  in  flax. 


356  Men-of-war  of  300  to  1,300  tons  are  best.  l^^l'/?. 

Now  the  three  taxes,  viz.,  of  Flax,  Linen,  and  Herrings; 
and  the  maintenance  of  the  triple  Militia,  and  of  the 
Auxiliary  Seamen  above  mentioned,  do,  all  five  of  them 
together,  amount  to  ;^i,ooo,ooo  of  money.  The  raising 
whereof  is  not  a  million  spent,  but  gain  unto  the  Common 
Wealth  ;  unless  it  can  be  made  to  appear  that,  by  reason  of 
all  or  any  of  them,  the  exportation  of  woollen  manufactures, 
lead,  and  tin  are  lessened  ;  or  of  such  commodities  as  our 
own  East  and  West  India  trade  do  produce:  forasmuch  as 
I  conceive  that  the  Exportation  of  these  last-mentioned 
commodities  is  the  Touchstone  whereby  the  wealth  of 
England  is  tried,  and  the  Pulse  whereby  the  health  of  the 
Kingdom  may  be  discerned. 

CHAPTER    III. 

That  France  cannot,  by  reason  of  natural  and  perpetual  inipcdi- 
mcnts,  be  more  poivevful  at  sea  than  the  English  or  Hollanders 
now  are,  or  may  be. 

OwER  at  sea  consists  chiefly  of  Men  able  to  fight  at 
sea  ;  and  that,  in  such  shipping  as  is  most  The  qualities 
proper  for  the  seas  wherein  they  serve  :  "he'^'dTflncVof 
and  those  are,  in  these  Northern  seas,  England. 
ships  from  between  300  to  1,300  tons;  and  of  those,  such  as 
draw  much  water,  and  have  a  deep  latch  [hold]  in  the  sea,  in 
order  to  keep  a  good  wind,  and  not  fall  to  leeward,  a  matter 
of  vast  advantage  in  sea  service. 

Wherefore  it  is  to  be  examined.  Whether  the  King  of 
France  hath  ports  in  the  Northern  seas  (where  he  hath  most 
occasion  for  his  fleets  of  war,  in  any  contests  with  England), 
able  to  receive  the  vessels  above  mentioned,  in  all  weathers, 
both  in  winter  and  summer  season  ? 

For  if  the  King  of  France  would  bring  to  sea  an  equal 
number  of  fighting  men  with  England  and  Holland,  in  small 
floaty  leeward  vessels,  he  would  certainly  be  of  the  weaker 
side.  For  a  vessel  of  1,000  tons,  manned  with  500  men, 
fighting  with  five  vessels  of  200  tons,  each  manned  with  100 
men  apiece,  shall,  in  common  reason,  have  the  better,  offen- 
sively and  defensively :  forasmuch  as  the  great  ship  can 
carry  such  ordnance  as  can  reach   the  small  ones  at  a  far 


^fg^?'.]  Few  good  harbours  on  the  West  of  Franxe.  357 

greater  distance  than  those  can  reach,  or  at  least  hurt  the 
other;  and  can  batter  and  sink  at  a  distance,  when  small  ones 
can  scarce  pierce. 

Moreover,  it  is  more  difficult  for  men,  out  of  a  small  vessel 
to  enter  a  tall  ship ;  than  for  men  from  a  higher  place  to  leap 
down  into  a  lower :  nor  is  small  shot  [musketry]  so  effectual 
upon  a  tall  ship,  as  vice  versa. 

And  as  for  vessels  drawing  much  water,  and  consequently 
keeping  good  wind ;  they  can  take  or  leave  leeward  vessels 
at  pleasure,  and  secure  themselves  from  being  boarded  by 
them.  Moreover  the  windward  ship  has  a  fairer  mark  at  a 
leeward  ship,  than  vice  versa ;  and  can  place  her  shot  upon 
such  parts  of  the  leeward  vessel,  as  upon  the  next  tack  will 
be  under  water. 

Now  then,  the  King  of  France  having  no  ports  able  to 
receive  large  windward  vessels,  between  Dunkirk  and 
Ushant  :  what  other  ships  he  can  bring  into  those  seas  will 
not  be  considerable. 

As  for  the  wide  ocean,  which  his  harbours  of  Brest  and 
Charente  do  look  into  :  it  affordeth  it  him  no  advantage  upon 
an  enemy ;  there  being  so  great  a  latitude  of  engaging  or  not, 
even  when  the  parties  are  in  sight  of  each  other. 

Wherefore,  although  the  King  of  France  were  immensely 
rich,  and  could  build  what  ships  he  pleased,  both  for  number 
and  quality  :  yet  if  he  have  not  ports  to  receive  and  shelter 
that  sort  and  size  of  shipping  which  is  fit  for  his  purpose,  the 
said  riches  will,  in  this  case,  be  fruitless,  and  a  mere  expense 
without  any  return  or  profit. 

Some  will  say  that  other  nations  cannot  build  so  good 
ships  as  the  English.  I  do  indeed  hope  they  cannot.  But 
because  it  seems  too  possible  that  they  may,  sooner  or  later, 
by  practice  and  experience,  I  shall  not  make  use  of  that 
argument :  having  bound  myself  to  shew  that  the  impedi- 
ments of  France,  as  to  this  purpose,  are  natural  and  perpetual. 

Ships  and  guns  do  not  fight  of  themselves ;  but  by  men, 
who  act  and  manage  them  :  wherefore  it  is  more  material  to 
shew.  That  the  King  of  France  neither  hath,  nor  can  have 
men  sufficient  to  man  a  fleet  of  equal  strength  to  that  of  the 
King  of  England,  viz.  : 

The  King  of  England's  Navy  consists  of  about  70,000  tons 


358  France  has   150,000  tons  of  snirpiNC.  [^'""y'^il;;: 

of  shippinp^,  which  requires  36,000  men  to  man  it.  These 
The  quaiifica-    mcn  being  supposed  to  be  divided  into  eight  parts, 

tions  of  seamen     •»  "ji^  "i^^l  ^  i.i_  r 

for  defence.  I  conceivc  that  one-eighth  part  must  be  persons  01 
great  experience  and  reputation  in  sea  service :  another 
eighth  part  must  be  such  as  have  used  the  sea,  seven  years 
and  upwards  :  half  of  them,  or  four-eighths  part  more,  must 
be  such  as  have  used  the  sea  above  a  twelvemonth,  viz., 
two,  three,  four,  five,  or  six  years:  allowing  but  one  quarter 
of  the  whole  complements  to  be  such  as  never  were  at  sea  at 
all,  or  at  most  but  one  voyage,  or  upon  one  expedition.  So 
that,  at  a  medium,  I  reckon  that  the  whole  Fleet  must  be 
men  of  three  or  four  years'  growth  [in  seamanship],  one  with 
another. 

FouRNiER,  a  late  judicious  writer,  making  it  his  busi- 
ness to  persuade  the  world,  how  considerable  the  King  of 
France  was,  or  might  be,  at  sea,  in  the  ninety-second  and 
The  number  of  ninety-third  pages  of  his  Hydrography,  saith  that 
FrtweV"  "  there  was  one  place  in  Brittany  which  had  fur- 
nished the  King  with  1,400  seamen,  and  that  perhaps  the 
whole  sea  coast  of  France  might  have  furnished  him  with 
fifteen  times  as  many."  Now,  supposing  his  whole  allegation 
were  true,  yet  the  said  number  amounts  but  to  21,000  :  all 
which,  if  the  whole  Trade  of  Shipping  in  France  were  quite 
and  clean  abandoned,  would  not,  by  above  a  third,  man  out 
a  Fleet  equivalent  to  that  of  the  King  of  England.  And  if 
the  Trade  were  but  barely  kept  alive,  there  would  not  be  one- 
third  part  of  men  enough  to  man  the  said  Fleet, 

But  if  the  Shipping  Trade  of  France  be  not  above  a  quarter 
as  great  as  that  of  England ;  and  that  one-third  part  of  the 
same,  namely,  the  fishing  trade  to  the  Banks  of  Newfound- 
land, is  not  peculiar  or  fixed  to  the  French:  then,  I  say,  that 
if  the  King  of  England,  having  power  to  press  men,  cannot, 
under  two  or  three  months'  time,  man  his  Fleet ;  then  the 
King  of  France,  with  less  than  a  quarter  of  the  same  help, 
can  never  do  it  at  all. 

For  in  France,  as  shall  elsewhere  be  shewn,  there  are  not 
above  150,000  tons  of  trading  vessels  ;  and  consequently  not 
above  15,000  seamen,  reckoning  a  man  to  10  tons. 

As  it  has  been  shewn,  that  the  King  of  France  cannot,  at 
present,  man  such  a  Fleet  as  iy  above  d.escribed :  we  come 


^.T/yJ  Dangers  of  our  seamen  serving  the  French.  359  , 

next  to  shew,  That  he  never  can !  being  under  natural  and 
perpetual  impediments,  viz. : 

1.  If  there  be  but  15,000  seamen  in  all  France,  to  manage 
its  Trade ;  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  said  Trade 
should  be  extinguished  ;  nor  that  it  should  spare  above 
5,000  of  the  said  15,000  towards  manning  the  Fleet 
which  requires  35,000. 

Now  the  deficient   30,000  must  be  supplied,   one  of 
these  four  ways.     Either,  first,  by  taking  in  ^^{^^J';^^ 
landsmen;  of  which  sort  there  must  not  be  French mu>\ 
above  10,000  :  since  the  seamen  will  never  be  men!"'"''"'"' 
contented  without  being  the  major  part.     Nor  do  they 
heartily  wish  well  to  landsmen  at  all,  or  rejoice  even  at 
those  successes    of   which  the  landsmen    can  ^V'l;^,;^^''''™^" 
claim  any  share  :  thinking  it   hard  that   they  Landsmen, 
themselves,  who   are   bred   to    miserable,    painful,  and 
dangerous    employments,    and    yet    profitable    to    the 
Common    Wealth,  should,   at  a  time   when  booty  and 
purchase  is  to  be  gotten,  be  clogged  or  hindered  by  any 
conjunction  with   landsmen,  or  forced  to  admit  those  to 
an  equal  share  with  themselves. 

2.  The  seamen,  which  we  suppose  20,000,  must  be  had, 
that  is,  hired  from  other  nations ;  which  cannot  be 
without  tempting  them  with  so  much  wages  as  exceeds 
what  is  given  by  merchants  :  and  withal  to  counterpoise 
the  danger  of  being  hanged  by  their  own  xhedangerof 
Prince,  and  allowed  no  quarter  if  they  are  nien'.'theirserv. 
taken  ;  the  trouble  of  conveying  themselves  "s  the  French. 
away,  when  restraints  and  prohibitions  are  upon  them; 
and  also  the  infamy  of  having  been  apostates  to  their 
own  country  and  cause.  I  say  their  wages  must  be 
double  to  what  their  own  Prince  gives  them  ;  and  their 
assurance  must  be  very  great,  that  they  shall  not  be,  at 
[the]  long  run,  abused  or  slighted  by  those  that  em- 
ployed them,  as  "hating  the  traitor,  although  they  love 
the  treason."     [Sec  Vol.  VII .  p.  435.] 

I  say,  moreover,  that  those  who  will  be  thus  tempted 

away,  must  be  the  basest  and  lewdest  sort  of  seamen  ; 

and  such  as  have  not  enough  of  honour  and  conscience 

to  qualify  them  for  any  trust  or  gallant  performance. 

3.  Another  way  to  increase  seamen  is  to  put  great  num- 


360  How  MEN  BECOME  GOOD  SEAMEN.  [^'^  7'  ^Te/?'. 

bers  of  landsmen  upon  ships  of  war,  in  orderto  their  being 
seamen  :  but  this  course  cannot  be  effectual,  not  only 
How  men  learn  for  thc  above-mcntioned  antipathy  between 
seamen!"  landsmcn  and  seamen  ;  but  also  because  it  is 

seen  that  men  at  sea  do  not  apply  themselves  to  labour 
and  practice,  without  more  necessity  than  happens  in 
over-manned  shipping.  For  where  there  are  fifty  men 
in  a  vessel  that  ten  can  sufficiently  navigate,  the  super- 
numerary forty  will  improve  little  :  but  where  there  shall 
be  of  ten,  but  one  or  two  supernumeraries ;  there 
necessity  will  often  call  upon  every  man  to  set  his  hand 
to  the  work,  which  must  be  well  done,  at  the  peril  of 
their  own  lives. 

Moreover,  seamen  shifting  vessels,  almost  every  six  or 
twelve  months,  do  sometimes  sail  in  small  barks,  some- 
times in  middling  ships,  and  sometimes  in  great  vessels 
of  defence  ;  sometimes  in  lighters,  sometimes  in  hoighs 
[hoys],  sometimes  in  ketches,  sometimes  in  three-masted 
ships.  Sometimes  they  go  to  the  Southward,  some- 
times to  the  Northward;  sometimes  they  coast,  some- 
times they  cross  the  ocean.  By  all  which  variety  of 
service,  they  do  in  time  complete  themselves  in  every 
part  and  circumstance  of  their  faculty.  Whereas  those 
who  go  out  for  a  summer  in  a  man-of-war,  have  not  that 
variety  of  practice,  nor  a  direct  necessity  of  doing  any- 
thing at  all. 

Besides,  it  is  three  or  four  years,  at  a  medium,  where- 
in a  seaman  must  be  made  ;  neither  can  there  be  less 
than  three  seamen,  to  make  a  fourth  of  a  landsman. 
Consequently  the  15,000  seamen  of  France  can  increase 
but  5,000  in  three  or  four  years  :  and  unless  their  Trade 
should  increase  with  their  seamen  in  proportion,  the 
King  must  be  forced  to  bear  the  charge  of  this  improve- 
ment out  of  the  public  Stock  [national  Exchequer],  which 
is  intolerable. 
So  as  the  question  which  now  remains  is.  Whether  the 

Whether  the     shipping  trade  of  France  is  likely  to  increase  ? 

shipping  trade       Upuu  whlch  account  it  is  to  be  considered 

of  France  IS  /-n       ^    i>  •  rr     •         .1  1  •    1  1.     1    •       t 

likely  to  i  liut  V  raucc  IS  sumcicntly  stored  with  all  kinds 

increase?        of  neccssarics  ;    as    with  corn,   cattle,  wine,   salt, 
linen  cloth,  paper,  silk,  fruits,   (ic. :    so  as  they  need  little 


^''7'^il77-] '^^^^ '^^^'^'-^'^^  OF  THE  French  exports.  361 

shipping  to  import  more  commodities  of  weight  or  bulk. 
Neither  is  there  anything  of  bulk  exported  out  of  France,  but 
wines  and  salt ;  the  weight  whereof  is  under  100,000  tons 
per  annum,  yielding  not  employment  to  above  25,000  tons 
of  shipping:  and  these  are,  for  the  most  part,  Dutch  and 
English ;  who  are  not  only  already  in  possession  of  the  said 
trade,  but  also  are  better  fitted  to  maintain  it  than  the  French 
are,  or  perhaps  ever  can  be.  And  that  for  the  following 
reasons,  viz. : 

1.  Because  the  French  cannot  victual  so  cheap  Reasons  why 
as  the  English  and  Dutch,  nor  sail  with  so  "cannot. 
few  hands. 

2.  The  French,  for  want  of  good  coasts  and  harbours, 
cannot  keep  their  ships  in  port  under  double  the  charge 
that  the  English  and  the  Hollanders  can. 

3.  By  reason  of  paucity,  and  distance  of  their  ports  one 
from  another,  their  seamen  and  tradesmen  [mechanics] 
relating  to  shipping,  cannot  correspond  with  and  assist 
one  another  so  easily,  cheaply,  and  advantageously  as  in 
other  places. 

Wherefore,  if  their  shipping  trade  is  not  likely  to  increase 
within  themselves,  and  much  less  to  increase  by  their  beating 
out  the  English  and  Hollanders  from  being  the  Carriers  of 
the  World  ;  it  follows  that  their  seamen  will  not  be  increased 
by  the  increase  of  their  said  Trade. 

Wherefore,  and  for  that  they  are  not  likely  to  be  increased 
by  any  of  the  several  ways  above  specified  ;  and  for  that  their 
ports  are  not  fit  to  receive  ships  of  burden  and  quality  fit  for 
their  purpose,  and  that  by  reason  by  the  less  fitness  of  their 
ports  than  that  of  their  neighbours' ;  I  conceive  that  what 
was  propounded  hath  been  competently  proved. 

TheaforenamedFouRNiER,in  the  ninety-second  andninety- 
third  pages  of  his  Hydrography,  hath  laboured  to  prove  the 
contrary  of  all  this  ;  unto  which  I  refer  the  reader  :  not 
thinking  his  arguments  of  any  weight  at  all,  in  the  present 
case.  Nor,  indeed,  doth  he  make  his  comparisons  with  the 
English  and  Hollanders,  but  with  the  Spaniards  ;  who,  nor 
the  Grand  Signior  [tlie  Turks]  (the  latter  of  whom  hath  greater 
advantages  to  be  powerful  at  sea  than  the  King  of  France) 
could  ever  attain  to  any  illustrious  greatness  in  Naval  Power; 
having  often  attempted,  but  never  succeeded  in  the  same. 


362  The  French  and  English  territories.  [^"J-'^Ten. 

Nor  is  it  easy  to  believe  that  the  King  of  England  should, 
for  so  many  years,  have  continued  his  Title  to  the  Sovereignty 
of  the  Narrow  Seas  against  his  neighbours  (ambitious  enough 
to  have  gotten  it  from  him),  had  not  their  impediments  been 
Natural  and  Perpetual,  and  such  as  we  say  do  obstruct  the 
King  of  France. 

CHAPTER    IV. 

That  the  People  mid  Territories  of  the  King  of  England  are, 
naturally,  nearly  as  considerable  for  wealth  and  strength,  as  those 
of  France. 


He  Author  of  The  State  of  England,  among  the 
many  useful  truths  and  observations  he  or  comparison 
hath   set    down,   delivers    the   proportion  bftween  the 

•  •  TT^ii  1     lerritories  of 

between    the  territories    01  England  and  Engiandand 
France  to  be  as   30   to   82  :   the  which,  if  it   be 
true,  then  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  wath  the  islands 
unto  them  belonging,  will,  taken  altogether,  be  nearly  as  big 
as  France. 

Though  I  ought  to  take  all  advantages  for  proving  the 
paradox  in  hand :  yet  I  had  rather  grant  that  England, 
Scotland,  and  Ireland,  with  the  islands  before  mentioned, 
together  with  the  planted  parts  of  Newfoundland,  New 
England,  New  Netherland  [New  York],  Virginia,  Maryland, 
Carolina,  Jamaica,  Bermudas,  Barbadoes,  and  all  the  rest  of 
the  Caribbee  Islands,  with  what  the  King  hath  in  Asia  and 
Africa,  do  not  contain  so  much  territory  as  France  and  what 
planted  land  [Canada,  S-c]  the  King  of  France  hath  also  in 
America.  And  if  any  man  will  be  heterodox  in  behalf  of  the 
I'rench  Interest,  I  would  be  contented,  against  my  knowledge 
and  judgement,  to  allow  the  King  of  France's  territories  to  be 
a  Seventh,  Sixth,  or  even  a  Fifth  greater  than  those  of  the 
King  of  England  :  belie\ing  that  both  Princes  have  more 
land  than  they  do  employ  to  its  utmost  use. 


And  here,  I  beg  leave,  among  the  several  matters  which  I 
intend  for  serious,  to  interpose  a  jocular  and  perhaps  ridicu- 
lous digression ;  and  which  I  indeed  desire  men  to  look  upon 


^'■"T'^ilS  -^  DREAM  OF  A  POLITICAL  ECONOMIST.   363 

rather  as  a  Dream  or  reverie  than  a  rational  Proposition:  the 
which  is,  that  if  all  the  Moveables  and  People  of  Ireland  and 
of  the  Highlands  of  Scotland  were  transported  into  a  Proposition 
the  rest  of  Great  Britain,  that  then  the  King  and  i'"/^,^"'"^';^ 
his  subjects  would  thereby  become  more  rich  and  the  Highlands 
strong,  both  offensively  and  defensively,  than  now  °  '''"'"'  " 
they  are. 

It  is  true,  I  have  heard  many  wise  men  say,  when  they 
were  bewailing  the  vast  losses  of  the  English  in  preventing 
and  suppressing  rebellions  in  Ireland,  and  considering  how 
little  profit  hath  returned  either  to  the  King  or  subjects  of 
England,  for  their  five  hundred  years'  doing  and  suffering 
in  that  country :  I  say,  I  have  heard  wise  men,  in  such  their 
melancholies,  wish  "  that  (the  people  of  Ireland  being  saved) 
the  island  were  sunk  under  water  !  " 

Now  it  troubles  me,  that  the  distemper  of  my  own  mind, 
in  this  point,  carries  me  to  dream  that  the  benefit  of  those 
wishes  may  practically  be  obtained,  without  sinking  that 
vast  mountainous  island  under  water ;  which  I  take  to  be 
somewhat  difficult  :  for  although  Dutch  engineers  may  drain 
its  bogs,  yet  I  know  no  artists  that  can  sink  its  mountains. 
If  ingenious  and  learned  men,  among  whom  I  reckon  Sir 
Thomas  More  and  Descartes,  have  disputed,  That  we  who 
think  ourselves  awake,  are  or  may  be  really  in  a  dream  ;  and 
since  the  greatest  absurdities  of  dreams  are  but  a  preposter- 
ous and  tumultuary  contexture  of  realities :  I  will  crave  the 
umbrage  [example]  of  these  great  men  last  named  ;  to  say 
something  for  this  wild  conception,  wath  submission  to  the 
better  judgement  of  all  those  that  can  prove  themselves 
awake. 

If  there  w^ere  but  One  man  living  in  England,  then  the 
benefit  of  the  whole  territory  could  be  but  the  livelihood  of 
that  One  man :  but  if  another  man  were  added,  the  rent  or 
benefit  of  the  same  would  be  double ;  if  two,  triple  ;  and  so 
forward,  until  so  many  men  were  planted  in  it,  as  the  whole 
territory  could  afford  food  unto.  For  if  a  man  would  know 
what  any  land  is  worth,  the  true  and  natural  question  must 
be.  How  many  men  will  it  feed  ?  How  many  men  are  there  tp 
be  fed  ? 

But  to  speak  more  practically.  Land  of  the  same  quantity 
and  quality  in  England,  is  generally  worth  four  or  five  times 


364  Proposed  transplantation  of  the  Gaels-^'Y'  ^^l'/?'. 

as  much  as  in  Ireland,  and  but  one-quar'Ler  or  one-third  of 
what  it  is  worth  in  Holland  :  because  England  is  four  or  five 
times  better  peopled  than  Ireland,  and  but  a  quarter  so  well 
as  Holland. 

And,  moreover,  where  the  rent  is  advanced  by  reason  of 
the  multitude  of  people,  there,  the  number  of  years'  purchase 
for  which  an  inheritance  may  be  sold  is  also  advanced, 
though  perhaps  not  in  the  very  same  proportion.  For  205. 
[^=£3  now]  per  annum  in  Ireland,  may  be  worth  but  ^6 
[=^£2Jf.  now] ;  and  in  England,  where  titles  are  very  sure, 
above  £20  [  =  £^0  now]  ;  and  in  Holland,  above  £30  [=£yo 
7  tow]. 

I  suppose  that  in  Ireland  and  the  Highlands  of  Scotland, 
there  may  be  about  1,800,000  people,  or  about  a  Fifth  part  of 
what  are  in  all  the  three  Kingdoms  [i.e.,  9,000,000], 

Wherefore  the  First  question  will  be.  Whether  England, 
Wales,  and  the  Lowlands  of  Scotland  cannot  afford 
food  (that  is  to  say,  corn,  fish,  flesh,  and  fowl)  to  a  fifth 
part  more  people  than  are,  at  present,  planted  upon  it ; 
with  the  same  labour  that  the  said  fifth  part  do  now  take, 
where  they  are  ?  For  if  so,  then  what  is  propounded  is 
naturally  possible. 

2.  It  is  to  be  inquired,  What  the  value  of  the  Immove- 
ables, which,  upon  such  removal,  must  be  left  behind, 
are  worth  ?  For  if  they  be  worth  less  than  the  advance- 
ment of  the  price  of  land  in  England  will  amount  unto  ; 
then  the  Proposal  is  to  be  considered. 

3.  If  the  relict  [relinquished]  Lands  and  the  Immoveables 
left  behind  upon  them,  may  be  sold  for  money  ;  or  if  no 
other  nation  shall  dare  meddle  with  them,  without  pay- 
ing well  for  them  ;  and  if  the  nation  who  shall  be 
admitted,  shall  be  less  able  to  prejudice  and  annoy  the 
Transplantees  into  England,  than  before:  then  I  con- 
ceive that  the  whole  Proposal  will  be  a  pleasant  and 
profitable  Dream  indeed  ! 

As  to  the  First  point.  Whether  England  and  the  Lowlands 
ami'tiiriow"''  ^^  Scotland  can  maintain  a  Fifth  part  more  people 
lands  of  Scut-    than  they  now  do,  that  is  to  say,  0,000,000  of  souls 

land  will  feed       •  1 1   0 

the  people  IH    all    T 

sLoi'iand"'Ilid  ^^^'  answer  thereunto,  I  first  say,  that  the  said 
•"•■laud.'  territories  of  England   and  the   Lowlands  of 


^2  ^fe"?']  ^^^^^^-^^  Ireland  FOR  SALE  to  foreigners.  365 

Scotland  contain  about  36,000,000  acres,  that  is,  4  acres 
for  every  head  (man,  woman,  and  child)  :  but  the  United 
Provinces  do  not  allow  above  i^  acres.  And  England 
itself,  rescinding  [excluding]  Wales,  hath  but  3  acres  to 
every  head  ;  according  to  the  present  state  of  tillage  and 
husbandry. 

Now  if  we  consider  that  England  having  but  3  acres  to 
a  head,  as  aforesaid,  does  so  abound  in  victuals  as  that 
it  maketh  laws  against  the  importation  of  cattle,  flesh, 
and  fish  from  abroad  ;  and  that  the  draining  of  fens, 
improving  of  forests,  inclosing  of  commons,  sowing  of 
St.  Foyne  [sainfoin]  and  clover-grass,  be  grumbled 
against  by  landlords,  as  the  way  to  depress  the  price  of 
victuals :  then  it  plainly  follows  that  less  than  3  acres, 
improved  as  they  may  be,  will  serve  the  turn  ;  and 
consequently  that  4  will  suffice  abundantly. 

I  could  here  set  down  the  very  number  of  acres  that 

would  bear  bread,  drink,  and  corn,  together  with  flesh, 

butter,  and  cheese  sufficient  to  victual  9,000,000  persons, 

as  they  are  victualled  in  ships  and  regular  families  :  but 

I  shall  only  say  in  general,  that  12,000,000  acres,  viz., 

one-third  of  36,000,000  will  do  it ;  supposing  that  roots, 

fruits,  fowls,  and  fish,  and  the  ordinary  profit  of  lead, 

tin,   and   iron  mines,  and  woods,   would  piece  up  any 

defect  that  may  be  feared. 

As  to  the  Second,  I  say  that  the  Land   and  Housing  in 

Ireland  and  the  Highlands  of   Scotland,  That  the  value 

at  the  present  market  rates,  are  not  worth  ofaiithe 

Z'  r         /-  I      r  quitted  lands 

£  13,000,000  [  =  £39,000,000  now]  Ot  money:    and  unmove- 

nor  would  the  actual  charge  of  transplan-  chl'^rle^of'ti-^ns'^ 
tation   proposed,  amount   to   ;£"4,ooo,ooo  ^'^''"'^''^^'^1" '"'^ 
[  =  £12,000,000  now]  more.  above 

So  then  the  question  will   be.  Whether  the  ■^'7,000,000. 
benefit  expected  from  this  Transplantation  will  exceed 
;£'i7,ooo,ooo  [=;^5 1, 000,000  now]. 

To  which  I  say,  that  the  Advantage  will  probably  be 
nearly  four  times  the  last-mentioned  sum  or  about 
£69,300,000  [=;^207,900,ooo  now]. 

For  if  the  Rent  of  all  England  and  Wales  and 
the  Lowlands  of  Scotland  be  about  ;£'9,ooo,ooo  [= 
£27,000,000  now]  per  annum ;  and  if  the  Fifth  part 


366  Wealth  in  ratio  to  Density  of  Population,  [^f^^^'; 

of  the  people  be  superadded  unto  the  present  in- 
habitants of  those  countries  :  then  the  Rent  will 
amount  to  ;£"io, 800,000  [  =  ;f 32,400, 000  novi'];  and 
the  number  of  years'  purchase  will  rise  from  17^  to 
a  fifth  part  more,  which  is  21. 

So  as  the  Land,  which  is  now  worth  but  ^£'9,000,000 
per  annum,  at  lyh  years'  purchase,  making 
^^157,500,000,  will  then  be  worth  £10,800,000  at 
21  years'  purchase,  viz.,  £226,800,000  [= 
£680,400,000  now]  :  which  is  £69,300,000 
[=£207,900,000   now]    more   than  it  was  before. 

And  if  any  Prince  willing  to  enlarge  his  terri- 
That  those       tories,  will    give    anything     more    than 

who  p'.ucha<ie        /,,  '  i      ir.i  ^  i  r 

Ireland  shall     £6,500,000,  or  halt  thc  prcscut  valuc,  lof 

th?nisdves.      the  said    relinquished   land  ;    which    are 

estimated  to  be  worth  £13,000.000  :  then  the  whole 

profit  will    be  above  £75,800,000    [  =  £227,400,000 

now] ;  or  above  Four  times  the  loss,  as  the  same  was 

above  computed. 

But  if  any  man  shall  object  that  it  will  be  dangerous 

unto  England,  that  Ireland  should  be  in  the  hands  of 

any  other  nation  :  I  answer,  in  short,  that  that  nation, 

(whoever  shall  purchase  it)  being  divided  by  means  of 

the   said   purchase,  shall    not  be  more    able    to    annoy 

England  than    now,  in   its   united    condition.      Nor  is 

Ireland  nearer  England,  than  France  and  Flanders. 

Now   if  any  man   shall  desire  a  more  clear  explanation, 

How,  and  by  what  means,  the  rents  of  lands  shall  rise  by 

this    closer    cohabitation    of    people,    above    described  ?    I 

answer,  that  the  advantage  will  arise  in  transplanting  above 

1,800,000   people,  from    the   poor    and    miserable    trade  of 

husbandr}',  to  more  beneficial  handicrafts.     For,  when  the 

superaddition  is  made,  a  very  little  addition  of  husbandry  to 

the  same  lands  will  produce  a  fifth  part  more  of  food,  and 

consequently  the  additional  hands,  earning  but  40s.    [=£6 

now]  per  annum,  as  they  may  very  well  do,  nay,  to  £8  [  =  £24 

now]  /le^flnn/nu  at  some  other  trade  ;  the  superlucration  will 

be  above  £3,600,000  [=£10,800,000  now]  per  annum  :  which 

at  20  years'  purchase  is  £70,000,000  [=£210,000,000  now]. 

Moreover,  as  the  inhabitants  of  cities  and  towns  spend 
more  commodities  and  make  greater  consumptions  than  those 


^""T'^^S     9,500,000  PEOPLE  IN    THE   BrITISII   IsLES.    367 

who  live  in  wild  thin-peopled  countries  ;  so  when  England 
shall  be  thicker  peopled,  in  the  manner  before  described,  the 
very  same  people  shall  then  spend  more  than  when  they  lived 
more  sordidly  and  inurbanely ;  and  further  asunder,  and 
more  out  of  the  sight,  observation,  and  emulation  of  each 
other  :  every  man  desiring  to  put  on  better  apparel  when  he 
appears  in  company  than  when  he  has  no  occasion  to  be 
seen. 

I  further  add  that  the  charge  of  the  Government  (Civil, 
Military,  and  Ecclesiastical)  would  be  more  cheap,  safe,  and 
effectual  in  this  condition  of  closer  cohabitation  than  other- 
wise :  as  not  only  reason,  but  the  example  of  the  United 
Provinces  doth  demonstrate. 


But  to  let  this  whole  digression  pass  for  a  mere  Dream,  I 
suppose  it  will  serve  to  prove  that  in  case  the  King  That  the  diiTe- 

J   I  i  '-'     rence   between 

of  England's  territories  should  be  a  little  less  than  England's  and 
those   of  the  King   of  France,    that  forasmuch  as  t^ryTnot""" 
neither  of  them  is  overpeopled,  the  difference  is  material. 
not  material  to  the  question  in  hand  : 

Wherefore  supposing  the  King  of  France's  advantages  to 
be  little  or  nothing  in  point  of  Territory;  we  come,  next,  to 
examine  and  compare  the  number  of  Subjects  which  each  of 
these  monarchs  doth  govern. 

The  book  called  The  State  of  France  maketh  that 
Kingdom  to  consist  of  27,000  parishes.  And  another  book, 
written  by  a  substantial  author,  who  professedly  enquires 
into  the  state  of  the  Church  and  Churchmen  [Clergy]  of 
France,  sets  it  down  as  an  extraordinary  case,  that  a  parish 
in  France  should  have  600  souls  ;  where  I  suppose  that  the 
said  Author  (who  hath  so  well  examined  the  matter)  is  not  of 
opinion  that  every  parish,  one  with  another,  hath  above  500. 
By  which  reckoning,  the  whole  people  of  France  are  about 
13,500,000. 

Now  the  people  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  with 
the  islands  adjoining,  by  computation  from  the  number  of 
parishes  (which  commonly  have  more  people  in  Protestant 
Churches  than  in  Popish  countries),  as  also  from  the 
Hearth  Money,  Pole  Money,  and  E.\cise,  amount  to  about 
9,500,000. 


o 


68  1 3, 500,000  French  TO  1 0,000,000  ENGLisH.p''7-^;677." 


The  King  of  There  are  in  New  England,  about  16,000  men 
in'^enect.but  mustcrcd  in  arms,  and  about  24,000  able  to  bear 
suw'^t'r°a°d  arms :  and  consequently  about  150,000  in  all. 
the  Kins' of  And  I  see  no  reason  why,  in  all  this,  and  the 
io"L>"ooo.  other  Plantations  [Colonies]  of  Asia,  Africa,  and 
Frlnce^Mh  ""^  Amcrica,  there  should  not  be  500,000  m  all.  But 
270, oooch inch-  ^]^js  i^gf    J  leave  to  every  man's  conjecture. 

men,  and  the  '  •'  ,-',,. 

KingofEng.  And  conscqucntly,  I  suppose  that  the  Kmg  of 
""■ihe°i<mg of  England  hath  about  10,000,000  of  subjects  ubivis 
fo^Sl^seamen;  terraYuni  ovbis,  and  the  King  of  France  about 
and  the  King    1^,500,000  as  aforesald. 

of  France,  *^'*'        ' 


Although  it  be  very  material  to  know  the  number  of  Sub- 
jects belonging  to  each  Prince  :  yet  when  the  question  is 
concerring  their  Wealth  and  Strength,  it  is  also  material  to 
examine,  How  many  of  them  do  get  More  than  they  spend  ? 
and  How  many  Less  ? 

In  order  whereunto,  it  is  to  be  considered  that  in  the  King 
of  England's  Dominions,  there  are  not  20,000  Churchmen 
[Clergy]  :  but  in  France  (as  the  aforementioned  Author  of 
theirs  doth  aver,  who  sets  down  the  particular  number  of 
each  religious  Order)  there  are  about  270,000,  viz.,  250,000 
more  than  we  think  necessary ;  that  is  to  say,  250,000  with- 
drawn out  of  the  World. 

Now  the  said  number  of  adult  and  able-bodied  persons  are 
equivalent  to  about  double  the  same  number  of  the  promis- 
cuous mass  of  mankind.  And  the  same  Author  says,  that 
the  same  Religious  Persons  do  spend,  one  with  another,  about 
i8d.  per  diem,  which  is  triple  even,  to  what  a  labouring  man 
requires. 

Wherefore  the  said  250,000  Churchmen,  living  as  they  do, 
make  the  King  of  France's  13,500,000  to  be  less  than 
13,000,000. 

Now  if  Ten  men  can  defend  themselves  as  well  in  islands 
as  Thirteen  can  upon  the  Continent  ;  then  the  said  Ten 
being  not  concerned  to  increase  their  territory  by  the 
invasion  of  others,  are  as  effectual  as  Thirteen  in  point  of 
Strength  also. 

Wherefore  that  there  are  more  superlucrators  in  the 
English,  than  in  the  French  Dommions,  we  say,  as  foUoweth: 


^''T'^il??'.]'^^^^  SEA-LINES  OF  ENGLAND  AND  FrANCE.   369 

There  be  in  England,  Scotland,  Ireland,  and  the  King's 
other    territories,    above    40,000    seamen:  in     Themuiti- 
France  not  above  a  quarter  so  many,  But  one  oei^gydoes 
seaman    earneth    as    much    as    two    common  K-'ngVf''^ 
husbandmen:  wherefore  this  difference  in  sea-  France's 
men,    addeth    to  the  account  of  the  Kins:  of     Themuiti- 

Ei  1)        '       1   •        ,  •  1  .  ■  tvide  of  seaand 

ngland  s  subjects,  is  an  advantage,  equiva-  navai  men  dues 

lent  to  60,000  husbandmen.  'i:'^^t''t^f '!!•';„ 

There  are  in  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  land s subjects^ 
and  all  other  the  King  of  England's  territories,  600,000 
tons  of  shipping,  worth  ;£'4.500,ooo  [  =  £"13.500,000 
iioiv]  of  money  :  and  the  Annual  Charge  of  maintaining 
the  shipping  of  England  by  new  buildings  and  repa- 
rations is  about  one-third  part  of  the  same  sum 
T;^!, 500, 000  =^^4,500,000  woic],  which  is  the  wages  of 
150,000  husbandmen,  but  is  not  the  wages  of  above  one- 
third  part  [i.e.,  50,000]  of  so  many  artisans  as  are 
employed  upon  shipping  of  all  sorts,  viz.,  shipwrights, 
caulkers,  joiners,  carvers,  painters,  block-makers,  rope- 
makers,  mast-makers,  smiths  of  several  sorts,  hag- 
makers,  compass-makers,  brewers,  bakers,  and  all  other 
sorts  of  victuallers,  all  sorts  of  tradesmen  [mechanics] 
relating  to  guns  and  gunner's  stores.  Wherefore  there 
being  four  times  more  of  these  artisans  in  England,  &c., 
than  in  France,  they  further  add  to  the  account  of  the 
King  of  England's  subjects,  the  equivalent  of  80,000 
husbandmen  more. 

The  sea-line  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  and 
adjacent  islands,  is. about  3,800  miles,  accord-  The  Kin- of 
ing  to  which  length  and  the  whole  contents  of  H,'or'ieslrV^a" 
acres,  the  said  land   would  be  an   oblong  or  eiiect,  but 

11     1  n.  r         o  -1  1  J     12  ""les  trom 

parallelogram  ngure  of  3,000  miles  long,  and  navigable 
about  24  miles  broad  :  and  consequently,  every  K^n^of'  * 
part  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland  is,  one  Frunce-ses. 
with  another,  but  12  miles  from  the  sea. 

Whereas  France,  containing  but  about  1,000  miles  of 
sea-line,  is  by  the  like  method  or  computation,  about  65 
miles  from  the  sea-side  ;  and,  considering  the  paucity  of 
ports  in  comparison  of  what  are  in  the  King  of  England's 
Dominions,  as  good  as  70  miles  distant  from  a  port. 

Upon  which  grounds,  it  is  clear  that  England  can  be 

ENC.  Gar.  VI.  24 


370  England  spends  nearly  as  much  as  France.  P^^^; 

supplied  with  all  .i^ross  and  bulky  commodities  of  foreign 
growth  and  manufacture,  at  far  cheaper  rates  than  France 
can  be,  viz.,  at  about  4s.  per  cent,  cheaper:  the  land 
carriage  for  the  difference  of  the  distance  between 
England  and  France  from  a  port  being  so  much,  or 
near  thereabouts. 

Now  to  what  advantage  this  conveniency  amounteth, 
upon  the  importation  or  exportation  of  bulky  commodities, 
cannot  be  less  than  the  labour  cf  i,ooo.oco  of  people: 
meaning  by  bulky  comimodities  all  sorts  of  timber,  plank, 
and  staves  for  caske  :  all  iron,  lead,  stone,  bricks,  and 
tiles  for  building;  all  corn,  salt,  and  drinks;  all  flesh 
and  fish  ;  and  indeed  all  other  commodities  wherein  the 
gain  and  loss  of  4s.  per  cent,  is  considerable :  where 
note,  that  the  like  wines  are  sold  in  the  inner  parts  of 
France  for  £j^  or  /5  a  tun,  which  near  the  ports,  yield 

£7' 

Moreover,  upon  this  principle,  the  decay  of  timber  in 

Thedecayof^   England  is  no  very   formidable  thing,  as  the 

iandi,snove?y  rebuilding  of  London   [after  the  Fire  of  1666] 

I.Tter!'"'       and  of  the  ships  wasted   by  the    Dutch  War 

[1665-7]  ^o  clearly  manifest. 

Nor  can  there  be  any  want  of  corn,  or  other  necessary 
provisions  in  England  ;  unless  the  weather  hath  been 
universally  unseasonable  for  the  growth  of  the  same, 
which  seldom  or  never  happens.  For  the  same  causes 
which  make  dearth  in  one  place,  do  often  cause  plenty 
in  another ;  wet  weather  being  propitious  to  high  lands, 
which  drowneth  the  low. 

It  is  observed  that  the  poor  in  France  have  generally 
less  wages  than  in  England ;  and  yet  their  victuals 
are  generally  dearer  there  ;  which  being  so,  there  may 
be  more  superlucration  in  England  than  in  France. 

Lastly,  I  offer  to  the  consideration  of  all  those  who 
have  travelled  through  England  and  France,  Whether  the 
plebians  of  England,  for  they  constitute  the  bulk  of  the 
The  Kin?- of  nation,  do  not  spend  a  sixth  part  more  than  the 
j^cfs'spen/"'''  plebians  of  France  ?  And  if  so,  it  is  necessary 
"rtheKir'o'f  *^^^^  ^^^y  must  first  get  it:  and  consequently 
France's.  that  10,000,000  of  the  King  of  England's  sub- 
jects are  equivalent  to  12,000,000  of  the  King  of  France  ; 


^I'e"?-]  Royal  Magnificence  not  National  Wealth.  371 

and,  upon  the  whole  matter,  to  the  13,000,000  at  which 

the  French  nation  was  estimated. 
It  will   here   be   objected  that   the  splendour  and  magni- 
ficences  of  the  King  of  France  appearing  greater  than  those 
of  England,    the    wealth  of  France  must  be  proportionably 
greater  than  that  of  England.     But  that  doth  not  Thegreatei- 
follow,  forasmuch    as    the    apparent    greatness   of  the'^King'^o'f 
the  King  doth  depend  upon  the  quota  pars  of  the  tain"arg"umTnt 
people's  wealth  which  he  levieth  from  them.     For  of  the  greater 

■'^.  ,  ,  ,  ,,.,.„  J,    wealth  of  his 

supposmg  the  people  to  be  equally  rich,  11  one  01  people. 
the  sovereigns  levy  a  Fifth  part  and  the  other  a  Fifteenth ; 
the  one  seems  actually  thrice  as  rich  as  the  other :  whereas, 
potentially,  they  are  but  equal. 


Having  thus  discoursed  of  the  Territory,  People,  Super- 
lucration,  and  Defensibleness  of  both  Dominions ;  [-^^J^fP-^^'p""  °^ 
and  in  some  measure  of  their  Trade  so  far  as  we  Trade  of 
had  occasion  to  mention  ships,  shipping,  and  near-  France. 
ness  to  ports :    we  come,   next,  to  enlarge   a   little   further 
upon  the  Trade  of  each. 

Some  have  estimated  that  there  are  not  above 
300,000,000  people  in  the  whole  world.  Whether  that 
be  so,  or  not,  is  not  very  material  to  be  known :  but 
I  have  fair  grounds  to  conjecture,  and  would  be  glad 
to  know  it  more  certainly,  that  there  are  not  above 
80,000,000  with  whom  the  English  and  Dutch  have 
commerce ;  no  Europeans  that  I  know  of,  trading 
directly  or  indirectly,  where  they  do  now.  So  that  the 
Commercial  World,  or  World  of  Trade,  consisteth  of 
about  80,000,000  souls  as  aforesaid. 

And  I  further  estimate  that  the  value  of  all  commo- 
dities yearly  exchanged  amongst  them  doth  not  exceed 
the  value  of  ^^45, 000, 000  [=1^/^135,000,000  now]. 

Now  the  Wealth  of  every  nation  consisting  chiefly  in 
the  share  which  they  have  in  the  Foreign  Trade  with  the 
whole  Commercial  World,  rather  than  in  the  Domestic 
trade  of  ordinary  meat,  drink,  and  clothes,  &c.,  which 
bring  in  little  gold,  silver,  jewels,  and  other  Universal 


372  The  Trade  OF  THE  World  IN  1677.  pT'^^l^^: 

Wealth  :  we  are  to  consider,  Whether  the  subjects  of 
the  King  of  England,  head  for  head,  have  not  a  greater 
share  [in  the  Foreign  Trade]  than  those  of  France  ? 

To  which  purpose  it  hath  been  considered  that 
the  manufactures  of  wool  yearly  exported  out  of 
England  into  several  parts  of  the  world,  viz.  :  all 
sorts  of  cloth,  serges,  stuffs,  cottons,  bayes,  sayes, 
frieze,  perpetuanas ;  as  also  stockings,  caps,  rugs, 
&c.,  exported  out  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland, 
do  amount  unto  ^^5, 000, 000  [=^£15,000,000  now]. 

The  value  of  lead,  tin,  and  coals,  to  be  £500,000 
[=£1,500,000  now]. 

The  value  of  all  clothes,  household  stuff,  &c., 
carried  into  America  [i.e.,  the  English  Colonies  there], 
£200,000  [=£600,000  noia]. 

The  value  of  silver  and  gold  taken  [in  the  way  of 
trade]  from  the  Spaniards,  £60,000  [=£180,000 
now]. 

The  value  of  sugar,  indigo,  tobacco,  cotton,  and 
cocoa,  brought  from  the  southward  parts  of  America, 
£600,000  [=£1,800,000  now]. 

The  value  of  the  fish,  pipe  staves,  masts,  beaver, 
&c.,  brought  from  New  England  and  the  northern 
parts  of  America,  £200,000  [  =  £600,000  now]. 

The  value  of  the  wool,  butter,  hides,  tallow,  beef, 
herrings,  pilchards,  and  salmon  exported  out  of 
Ireland,  £800,000  [  =  £2,400,000  now]. 

The  value  of  the  coals,  salt,  linen,  yarn,  herrings, 
pilchards,  salmon,  linen  cloth,  and  yarn  brought  out  of 
Scotland  and  Ireland,  £500,000  [=£1,500,000  noie^]. 

The  value  of  saltpetre,  pepper,  calicoes,  diamonds, 
drugs,  and  silks  brought  out  of  the  East  Indies 
(above  what  was  spent  in  England),  £800,000 
[=  £2,400^000  now]. 

The  value  of  the  slaves  brought  out  of  Africa,  to 
serve  in  our  America  Plantations,  £20,ooo[=£6o,ooo 
now]. 

Which  with  the  Freight  of  English  shipping  trad- 
ing into  foreign  parts,  being  above  £1,500,000 
L  =  £4»5"»>«oo  now],  makes  in  all  £10,180,000 
[=£30,540.000  ^^<y^J- 


^'' 7"  ^il^y.]  Particulars  of  the   English  Trade.  2,7?, 

Which  computation  is  sufficiently  justified  by  the  Customs 
of  the  three  Kingdoms,  whose  intrinsic  value  is  thought  to  be 
nearly  ;£"!, 000,000  [  =  £"3,000,000  now]  per  annmn,  viz.: 

;£^6oo,ooo  [=£ I, Soo, 000  now]  payable  to  the  King. 

;^^ioo,ooo  [=  ;^30o,ooo  now]  for  the  charges  of  col- 
lecting, &c. 

j{^200,ooo  [=  ;,r6oo,ooo  now]  smuckled  [smuggled]  b}' 

the  merchants  ;  and 

;£'ioo,ooo  [=  ;£'300,ooo  now]  gained  by  the  Farmers. 


/"i, 000, 000 


according  to  common  opinion  and  men's  sayings. 

And  this  agrees  also  with  that  proportion  or  part  of  the 
whole  Trade  of  the  World,  which  I  have  estimated  the  sub- 
jects of  the  King  of  England  to  be  possessed  of,  viz.,  of  about 
£10,000,000  of  j^45,ooo,ooo. 

But  the  value  of  the  French  commodities  brought  into  Eng- 
land, notwithstanding  some  current  estimates,  is  not  above 
;^i, 200,000  r=;£'3,6oo,ooo  now]  per  annum  ;  and  the  value  of 
all  they  export  into  all  the  world  besides,  not  above  three  or 
four  times  as  much  :  which  computation  also  agreeth  well 
enough  with  the  account  we  have  of  the  Customs  of  France. 

So  as  France  not  exporting  above  Half  the  value  of  what 
England  doth ;  and  for  that  all  the  commodities  of  France 
— except  wines,  brandy,  paper;  and  the  first  patterns  and 
fas/iions  of  clothes  and  furniture  (of  which  France  is  the 
mint) — are  imitable  by  the  English  ;  and  having  withal  more 
people  than  England  :  it  follows  that  the  people  of  England, 
&c.,  have,  head  for  head,  Thrice  as  much  Foreign  Trade  as 
the  people  of  France,  and  about  Two  parts  out  of  Nine  of 
the  Trade  of  the  whole  Commercial  World  :  and  about  Two 
parts  in  Seven  of  all  the  Shipping. 

Notwithstanding  all  which,  it  is  not  to  be  denied,  that  the 
King  and  some  Great  Men  of  France  appear  more  rich  and 
splendid  than  those  of  the  like  Quality  in  England  :  all  which 
arises  rather  from  the  nature  of  their  Government,  than 
from  the  intrinsic  and  natural  causes  of  wealth  and  power. 


,74   Two   Pan- English   Grand  Councils.    [^'"'T^re"?: 


CHAPTERV. 

That  the  impediments  of  EnglaruVs  greatness  arc  but  contingent 
and  rcmoveable. 


He  first  Impediment  of  En;;land's  greatness  is  that 
the  territories    thereunto    belonging,  are  The  disunion 
too  far  asunder,  and  divided  by  the  sea  °oriesof^"'' 
into  many  several  islands  and  countries;  i^"p^e'drmJnr"of 
and,    I    may    say,    into    so    many   Kingdoms    and  its  greatness. 
several  Governments,  viz.: 

There  be  three  distinct  Legislative  Powers  in  England, 
The  different  Scotland,  Ireland;  the  which  instead  of  uniting 
anothlTr'"'^'''''  together,  do  often  cross  one  another's  Interest,  put- 
impediment.  ting  bars  and  impediments  upon  one  another's 
trades,  not  only  as  if  they  were  foreigners  to  each  other,  but 
sometimes  as  enemies. 

2.  The  islands  of  Jersey  and  Guernsey,  and  the  Isle  of  Man 
are  under  jurisdictions  different  from  those,  either  of  England, 
Scotland,  or  Ireland. 

3.  The  Government  of  New  England,  both  Civil  and 
TheC9ionies     Ecclcsiastical,   doth   so    differ    fiom    that    of   His 

belonging  to         -  ,     .  ,  ,  --^  .      .  ,  ...  , 

England, a  Majesty  s  othcr  Dommions,  that  it  is  hard  to  say, 
^heEmpi'r"e.'°    what  may  be  the  consequence  of  it. 

And  the  Government  of  the  other  Plantations  doth  also 
differ  ver^'  much  from  any  of  the  rest ;  although  there  be 
not,  naturally,  substantial  reasons,  from  the  situation,  trade, 
and  condition  of  the  people,  why  there  should  be  such 
differences. 

From  all  which,  it  comes  to  pass  that  small  divided 
remote  Governments,  being  seldom  able  to  defend  themselves, 
the  burden  of  protecting  of  them  all,  must  lie  upon  the  Chief 
Kingdom,  England  :  and  so  all  the  smaller  kingdoms  and 
dominions,  instead  of  being  additions,  are  really  diminutions. 

But  the  same  is  remedied  by  making  Two  such  Grand 
Councils  as  may  equally  represent  the  whole  Empire  :  one 
to  be  chosen  by  the  King,  the  other  by  the  People. 

The  wealth  of  a  King  is  threefold.  One  is  the  Wealth  of 
his  subjects.  The  second  is  the  Quota  pars  of  his  subjects' 
wealth,  given  him  for  the  public  defence,  honour,  and  orna- 


sirw.  Petty.T  j^Q^y  I ?,! PEiyiMENTS  OF  Disunion  work.    375 

ment  of  the  people,  and  to  manage  such  undertaking  for  the 
common  good,  as  no  one,  or  a  few  private  men  are  sufficient 
for.  The  tlidrd  sort  is  the  Quota  of  the  last-mentioned  Quota 
pars,  which  the  King  may  dispose  of,  as  his  own  personal 
inclination  and  discretion  shall  direct  him,  without  account. 

Now  it  is  most  manifest,  that  the  afore-mentioned  distances 
and  differences  of  kingdoms  and  jurisdictions  are  great  im- 
pediments to  all  the  said  several  sorts  of  wealth,  as  may  be 
seen  in  the  following  particulars. 

First,  in  case  of  war  with  foreign  nations,  England 
commonly  beareth  the  whole  burden  and  charge  :  where- 
by many  in  England  are  utterly  undone. 
Secondly,  England  sometimes  prohibiting  the  commodities 
of  Ireland  and  Scotland  (as,  of  late,  it  did  the  cattle, 
flesh,  and  fish  of  Ireland),  did  not  only  make  food,  and 
consequently  labour,  dearer  in  England  :  but  also  hath 
forced  the  people  of  Ireland  to  fetch  those  commodities 
from  France,  Holland,  and  other  places,  which  before 
were  sold  them  from  England  ;  to  the  great  prejudice  of 
both  nations. 
Thirdly,  it  occasions  an  unnecessary  trouble  and  charge  in 
collecting  of  Customs  upon  commodities  passing  between 
the  several  nations. 
Fourthly,  it  is  a  damage  to  our  Barbadoes  and  other 
American  trades,  that  the  goods  which  might  pass 
thence  immediately  to  several  parts  of  the  world,  and 
to  be  sold  at  moderate  rates  ;  must  first  come  into 
England,  and  there  pay  duties  :  and  afterwards,  if  at  all, 
pass  into  those  countries,  whither  they  might  have  gone 
immediately. 
Fifthly,  the  islands  of  Jersey  and  Guernsey  are  protected 
at  the  charge  of  England  :  nevertheless  the  labour  and 
industry  of  that  people,  which  is  very  great,  redounds 
most  to  the  profit  of  the  French. 
Sixthly,  in  New  England,  there  are  vast  numbers  of  able- 
bodied  Englishmen  employed  chiefly  in  husbandry  ; 
and  in  the  meanest  part  of  it,  which  is  breeding  of 
cattle:  whereas  Ireland  would  have  contained  all  those 
persons,  and,  at  worst,  would  have  afforded  them  lands 
on  better  terms  than  they  have  them  in  America,  if  not 
some  other  better  trade  wittial  than  now  they  can  have. 


376   Other  kinds  of  National  lMrEDiMENTS.[^'''7'^r67;: 

Seventhly,  the  inhabitants  of  the  other  Plantations  althouf^^h 
they  do  indeed  plant  commodities  which  will  not  grow 
so  well  in  England  ;  yet  grasping  at  more  land  than  will 
suffice  to  produce  the  said  exotics  in  a  sufficient  quantity 
to  serve  the  whole  World,  they  do  therein  but  distract 
and  confound  the  effect  of  their  own  endeavours. 
Eighthly,  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  same  people  far  and 
widely  dispersed,  must  spend  more  upon  their  Govein- 
ment   and   protection,  than  the   same  living  compactly, 
and  when   they  have   no  occasion   to  depend  upon   the 
wind,  weather,  and  all  the  accidents  of  the  sea. 
A    second   impediment    to  the  greatness  of  England  is  the 
ThediiTerent    different  understanding  of  several  material  points, 
understand-      yj^.,  of  thc  King's  Prcrogativc,  Privileges  of  Par- 
gntive,  and       Hamcnt,  the  obscure  differences  between  Law  and 
ParHament°      Equity,  as  also  betweenCivil  and  Ecclesiastical  J  uris- 
Eqm\yrctii    dictions,  doubts  whether  the  Kingdom  of  England 
and  Ecciesias-  hath  powcr  ovcr  thc  Kingdom  of  Ireland  :  besides 
dictions] ;  the    thc  wondcrful   paradox,  that  Englishmen  lawfully 
Legislature  of   scnt  to  supprcss  rebellions  in  Ireland,  should,  after 
irekud,&c.      having  effected  the  same,  be   as  it  were   disfran- 
chised, and  lose  that  Interest  in  the  Legislative  Power  which 
they  had   in   England  ;    and  pay  Customs   as  foreigners  for 
all  they  spend  in  Ireland,  whither  they  were  sent    for   the 
honour  and  benefit  of  England, 

The  third  impediment  is,  that  Ireland  being  a  conquered 
Want  of  country,   and  containing   not    the    Tenth    part    as 

for'«^nt^o"f°"'  many  Irish  natives  as  there  are  English  in  both 
mix.ureand      kingdoms ;  that    natural    and    firm    Union    is    not 

transplanta-  "^  ,  ,  . 

tion.  made  between  the  two  peoples  by  transplantations 

and  proportionable  mixture,  so  as  there  may  be  but  a  Tenth 
part  of  the  Irish  in  Ireland,  and  the  same  proportion  in 
England  :  whereby  the  necessity  of  maintaining  an  armv  in 
Ireland  at  the  expense  of  the  quarter  of  all  the  rents  of  that 
kingdom  may  be  taken  away. 

The  fourth  impediment  is,  that  taxes  in  England  are  not 
The  unequal  Icvicd  upon  thc  Expcnse,but  upon  the  whole  Estate; 
inonveu.ent     j^qj-  upou  Lands,  Stock,  and  Labour,  but  chiefiy  upon 

method  of  111  11  1  1  J      •       IT 

taxing.  land  alone  :  and  that  not   by  any  equal  and  mciit- 

ferent  standard,  but  the  casual  predominancy  of  Parties  and 
factions.     And  moreover  that  these  taxes  are  not  levied  with 


^''T'^ilzzJ  II^^LF  THE  TAXES  LOST  IN  THE  COLLECTING,  l']^ 

the  least  trouble  and  charge,  but  are  let  out  to  Farmers; 
^vho  also  let  them  from  one  to  another,  without  explicit 
knowledge  of  what  they  do  :  but  so  as  in  conclusion,  the 
poor  people  pay  twice  as  much  as  the  King  receives. 

The  fifth  impediment  is  the  inequality  of  shires,  dioceses, 
parishes,  church-livings,  and  other  precincts;  as  inequality  of 
also  [ofj  the  Representation  of  the  people  in  Parlia-  cesLtWHshes, 
ment :  all  which  do  hinder  the  operatioi  s  of  Autho-  fj'p^;^:^^^'^!^^! 
rity  in  the  same  manner  as  a  wheel  nregularly  ^^^• 
made  and  excentrically  hung,  neither  moves  so  easily,  nor 
performs  its  work  so  truly,  as  if  the  same  were  duly  framed 
and  poised. 

Sixthly,  as  to  whether  it  be  an  impediment  that  the  Power 
of  Making  War,  and  Raising  Money  be  not  in  the  same  hand  ? 
much  may  be  said.  But  I  leave  it  to  those  who  may  more 
properly  meddle  with  fundamental  laws. 

None  of  these  impediments  are  natural  :  but  have  arisen, 
as  the  irregularity  of  buildings  do,  by  being  built  a  part  at 
one  time  and  a  part  at  another;  and  by  the  changing  of  the 
state  of  things  from  what  they  were  at  the  respective  times 
when  the  practices  we  complain  of  were  first  admitted  ;  and 
perhaps  are  but  the  warpings  of  time  from  the  rectitude  of 
the  first  institution. 

As  these  impediments  are  contingent,  so  they  are  also 
removable. 

For  may  not  the  land  of  superfluous  territories  be  sold, 
and  the  people,  with  their  movables,  brought  away  ?  May 
not  the  English  in  the  American  Plantations,  who  plant 
tobacco,  sugar,  &c.,  compute  what  land  will  serve  their  turn, 
and  then  contract  their  habitation  to  that  proportion,  both 
for  quantity  and  quality  ?  As  for  the  people  of  New  England, 
I  can  but  wish  they  were  transplanted  into  Old  England  or 
Ireland,  according  to  Proposals  of  their  own,  made  within 
these  twenty  years  [1657-1677]  ;  although  they  were  a' lowed 
more    Liberty  of  Conscience    than  they  allow  one  another. 

May  not  the  Three  Kingdoms  be  United  into  One,  and 
equally  represented  in  Parliament  ?  May  not  the  several 
species  [races]  of  the  King's  subjects  be  equally  mixed  in 
their  habitations  ?  Might  not  the  parishes  and  other  pre- 
cincts  be   better   equalized?     Might  not   Jurisdictions  and 


3;8  Increase  of  English  territory  i637-77.p''7'^:l77: 

other  pretences  [claims']  to  Power  be  determined  and  ascer- 
tained ?  Might  not  the  taxes  be  equally  applotted,  and 
directly  applied  to  their  ultimate  use?  Might  not  Dissenters 
in  religion  be  indulged ;  they  paying  for  a  competent  force 
to  keep  the  public  peace  ? 

I  humbly  venture  to  say  all  these  things  may  be  done,  if 
it  be  so  thought  fit  by  the  Sovereign  Power;  because  the  like 
hath  often  been  done  already,  at  several  places  and  times. 


CHAPTER     VI. 

That  the  pcnccr  and  iccalth  of  England  hath  increased  this 
last  forty  years. 

IT  IS  not  much  to  be  doubted  but  that  the  Territo- 
ries under  the  King's  dominion  have  in-  Manytem- 
creased  :  forasmuch  as  New  Engand,  Vir-  beeiTad'ied 
ginia,  Barbadoes,  and   Jamaica,  Tangier,  to^pgi-i'id 

<^  '  .  '  J  .  '  .o         '     within  aljuut 

and   Bombay,   have,  since  that   time,  been  either  forty  years; 
added    to    His    Majesty's   territories,  or  improved  fm,,rove"ments 
from   a  desert   condition,    to  abound  with  people,  "''"^''' 
buildings,     shipping,    and    the    production    of    many    useful 
commodities. 

And  as  for  the  land  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  as 
it  is  not  less  in  quantity  than  it  was  forty  years  ago,  so  it  is 
manifest  that,  by  reason  of  the  draining  of  the  fens,  watering 
of  dry  grounds,  improving  of  forests  and  commons,  making 
of  heathy  and  barren  grounds  to  bear  sainfoin  and  clo  ver 
grass,  [a] meliorating  and  multiplying  several  sorts  of  fruit 
and  garden  stuff,  making  some  rivers  navigable,  &c. ;  I  say, 
it  is  manifest  that  the  land  in  its  present  condition  is  able  to 
bear  more  provisions  and  commodities  than  it  was  forty  years 
ago. 

Secondly,  although  the  People  of  England,  Scotland,  and 
Ireland,  which  have  extraordinarily  perished,  by  the  Plague 
and  Sword,  within  these  last  forty  years,  do  amount  to  about 
300,000  above  what  [would]  have  died  in  the  ordinary  way  : 
yet  the  ordinary  increase  by  generation  of  10,000,000,  which 
doubles  in  200  years,  as  hath  been  shewn  by  the  Observators 
upon  the  Bills  of  Mortality,  may,  in  forty  years,  which  is  a 


^"T'^il??:]  Increase  of  Houses,  and  SiiirriNG.  379 

fifth  part  of  the  same  time,  have  increased  one-fifth  part  of 
the  whole  number,  or  2,000,000. 

Where  note  by  the  way,  that  the  accession  of  Negroes  to 
the  American  Plantations,  being  all  men  of  great  labour  and 
little  expense,  is  not  inconsiderable.  Besides,  it  is  hoped 
that  New  England  (where  few  or  no  women  are  barren,  and 
most  have  many  children  ;  and  where  people  live  long  and 
healthfully)  hath  produced  an  increase  of  as  many  people  as 
were  destroyed  in  the  late  tumults  in  Ireland. 

As  for  Housing,  the  streets  of  London  itself  speaks   it. 
I  conceive  it  is  double  in  value  in  that  city  to  what  'ii,e  Housing 
it  was  forty  years  since.     And  for  Housing  in  the  doubied^L 
country,  it  has  increased  at  Newcastle,  Yarmouth,  value. 
Norwich,    Exeter,    Portsmouth,     Cowes  ;     Dublin,    Kinsale, 
Londonderry  and  Coleraine  in  Ireland,  far  beyond  the  pro- 
portion of  what  I  can  learn  has    been  dilapidated  in   other 
places.     For  in  Ireland,  where  the    ruin  was    greatest,  the 
Housing,  taking  all  together,  is  now  more  valuable  than  forty 
years  ago.     Nor  is  this  to  be  doubted:  since  Housing  is  now 
more  splendid  than  in  those  days;  and  the  number  of  dwellers 
is  increased  by  nearly  one-fifth  part ;  as  in  the  last  paragraph 
is  set  forth. 

As  for  Shipping,  His  Majesty's  Navy  is  now  triple  or 
quadruple    to  what  it  was  forty    years  since,  and  i''i«=  shipping 

^     P  K  i~,  .  ,.,"'•'  itvery  much 

before  the  Sovereign  was  built.  increased ; 

The  shipping  trading  to  Newcastle,  which  is  now  Tons  thereof!^" 
80,000  tons,  could  not  be  then  above  a  quarter  of  that  quantity. 

1.  Because  the  City  of  London  is  doubled. 

2.  Because  the  use  of  coals  is  also  at  least  doubled : 
because  they  were  heretofore  seldom  used  in  chambers 
as  now  they  are;  nor  were  there  so  many  bricks  burned 
[baked]  with  them,  as  of  late  ;  nor  did  the  country  on 
both  sides  the  Thames  make  use  of  them  as  now. 

Besides,  there  are  employed  in  Guinea  [i.e.,  the  slave  dealing] 
and  American  trade,  above  40,000  tons  of  shipping  per  annum  ; 
which  trade  in  those  days  was  inconsiderable. 

The  quantity  of  wines  was  not  nearly  so  much  as  now,  and, 
to  be  short,  the  Customs  upon  imported  and  exported  com- 
modities did  not  then  yield  a  third  part  of  the  present  value: 
which  shews  that  not  only  Shipping,  but  Trade  itself  hath 
increased  somewhat  near  that  proportion. 


380   The  wages  of  a  Labourer  in  1677.  p'"" T ^^a 

As  to  Money,  the  interest  thereof  was,  within  these  fifty 
Interest  of  ycars,  at  £io  pcv  cent.  ;  forty  years  ago,  at  £8;  and 
neTrty  hait.^  HOW,  at  £6  '.  uo  thanks  to  any  laws  which  have 
been  made  to  that  purpose  !  forasmuch  as  those  who  can  give 
good  security,  may  now  have  it  at  less.  But  the  natural  fall 
of  interest  is  the  effect  of  the  increase  of  money. 

Moreover  ii  rented  lands  and  houses  have  increased,  and  if 
Money  and  tradc  hath  increased  also  :  it  is  certain  that  money, 
nue' increased,  whlcli  paycth  thosc  rcnts  and  driveth  on  trade, 
must  have  increased  also. 

Lastly,  I  leave  it  to  the  consideration  of  all  observers, 
whether  the  number  and  splendour  of  Coaches,  Equipage,  and 
Household  Furniture  hath  not  increased  since  that  time  :  to 
say  nothing  of  the  Postage  of  Letters,  which  has  increased 
from  One  to  Twenty  ;  which  argues  the  increase  of  business 
and  negotiation. 

I  might  add  that  His  Majesty's  Revenue  is  nearly  tripled  ; 
and  therefore  the  means  to  pay,  and  bear  the  same,  have 
increased  also. 

CHAPTER     VII. 

That  One-Tenth  part  of  the  Whole  Expense  of  the  King  of 
England's  stibjects  is  sufficient  to  maintain  100,000  Foot,  40,000 
Horse,  and  40,000  seamen  at  sea  ;  and  to  defray  all  other  charges 
of  the  Government,  botli  ordinary  and  extraordinary,  if  the  same 
were  regularly  taxed  and  raised. 


0  CLEAR  this  point,  we  are  to  find  out,  What  is  the 
middle  expense  of  each  head  in  the  King's  r^" '^f 'i'"""'r 

T^  .      .        '       ,  ,  ,    .     ,  ,7         the  Medium  of 

Uommions,  between  the  highest  and  the  Expenseof 
lowest  ?  To  which  I  say,  it  is  not  probably  FngianT  '" 
less  than  the  expense  of  a  Labourer,  who  earneth  about  Sd. 
[^2s.7iow]  a  day.  For  the  wages  of  such  a  man  is  45.  [  =  i2s. 
now]  per  week  without  victuals,  or  2s.  [  =  6s.  now]  with  them  : 
where  the  value  of  his  victuals  is  2s.  [=6s.  now]  or  £s  ^s. 
[=^£1^  12s.  now]  per  annum. 

Nov/  the  value  of  clothes  cannot  be  less  than  the  wages 
given  to  the  poorest  maidservant  in  the  country  ;  which  is 
30-^-  L  =  ;^4  los.  nozc'  per  annum.  Nor  can  the  charge  of  all 
other  necessaries  be  less  than  6s.  [=185.  noiv]  per  annnni  more. 


^"T  ^iljy  Average  English  expense,  per  head,  ^7.  38 1 

Wherefore  the  whole  charge  is  £y  [=-^21  now]. 

It  is  not  likely  that  this  Discourse  will  fall  into  the  hands 
of  any  that  live  at  £y  per  annuui  :  and  therefore  such  [i.e.,  as 
read  it]  will  wonder  at  this  supposition.  But  if  they  consider 
how  much  the  number  of  the  poor  and  their  children  is 
greater  than  that  of  the  rich ;  although  the  personal 
expense  of  some  rich  men  should  be  twenty  times  more  than 
that  of  a  labourer  :  yet  the  expense  of  the  labourer  above 
mentioned  may  well  enough  stand  for  the  Standard  of  the 
expense  of  the  whole  mass  of  mankind. 

Now  if  the  expense  of  each  man,  one  with  another,  be  £"7 
per  anmtm,  and  if  the  number  of  the  King's  subjects  be 
10,000,000 ;  then  the  tenth  part  of  the  whole  expense  will  be 

;;^7,000,000    [  =  ;£'2I,000,000  «OZ£'j. 

But  about  ;^5, 000,000,  or  a  very  little  more,  will  amount  to 
one  year's  pay  for  100,000  Foot,  40,000  Horse,  and  40,000 
men  at  sea  :  winter  and  summer;  which  can  rarely  be 
necessary  ! 

And  the  ordinary  Charge  of  Government,  in  times  of  deep 
and  serene  peace,  was  not  about  ;£'6oo,ooo  [or  ;£'i,8oo,ooo 
now]  per  annum. 

Where  a  people  thrive,  there  the  Income  is  greater  than 
the  Expense ;  and  consequently  the  tenth  part  of  the  expense 
is  not  a  tenth  part  of  the  income.  Now  for  men  to  pay  a 
tenth  of  their  expense  in  a  time  of  the  greatest  exigency 
(for  such  it  must  be,  when  so  great  forces  are  requisite)  can 
be  no  hardship,  much  less  a  deplorable  condition.  For  to 
bear  a  tenth  part,  a  man  need  spend  but  a  twentieth  part 
less,  and  labour  a  twentieth  part  more  (or  half  an  howv  per 
diem  extraordinary) ;  both  of  which,  within  common  experi- 
ence, are  very  tolerable  :  there  being  very  few  in  England 
who  do  not  eat  by  a  twentieth  part  more  than  does  them 
good;  and  what  misery  were  it,  instead  of  wearing  cloth  of 
20S.  per  yard,  to  be  contented  with  that  of  195.,  few  men 
having  skill  enough  to  discern  the  difference. 

Memorandum.  That  all  this  while  I  suppose  that  all  of 
these  10,000,000  of  people  are  obedient  to  their  Sovereign, 
and  within  the  reach  of  his  power  :  for  as  things  are  otherwise, 
so  the  calculation  must  be  varied. 


382  Capital /30.ooO'000'  Labour/40,ooo,ooo.P''7'  ^"eZ: 


CHAPTER     VIII. 

That  there  are  spare  hands  enottgh,  among  the  King  of 
England's  subjects,  to  earn  ^2,000,000  per  annum  more  than 
they  noiv  do ;  and  that  there  are  also  employments  ready,  proper, 
and  sufficient  for  that  purpose. 


0  PROVE  this  point,  we  must  inquire,  How  much  all 
the  people  could  earn,  if  they  were  disposed  or 
necessitated  to  labour,  and,  had  work  where- 
upon to  employ  themselves  ?  and  compare  that 
sum  with  that  of  the  total  Expense  above  mentioned;  deduct- 
ing the  rents  and  profits  of  land  and  stock  [capital],  which, 
properly  speaking,  saveth  so  much  labour. 

Now  the  proceeds  of  the  said  lands  and  stock  in  the 
Countries  [counties]  is  about  Three  parts  of  Seven  of  the 
whole  expense.  So  as  where  the  expense  is  ^^'yo, 000, 000  the 
rent  of  the  land,  and  the  profit  of  all  personal  estate,  interest 
of  money,  &c.,  must  be  about  £30,000,000  [  =  ;£'go, 000,000 
now] ,  and  consequently  the  value  of  the  Labour,  ^£"40, 000, 000 
[  =  ;^i20,ooo,ooo  now] ,  that  is  £^  [  =  £12  now]  per  head. 

But  it  is  to  be  noted  that  about  a  Quarter  of  the  mass  of 
mankind  are  children,  male  and  female,  under  seven  years 
old  :  from  whom  little  labour  is  to  be  expected. 

It  is  also  to  be  noted  that  about  another  Tenth  part  of  the 
whole  people  are  such  as,  by  reason  of  their  great  estates, 
titles,  dignities,  Offices  and  Professions,  are  exempt  from  that 
kind  of  labour  we  now  speak  of :  their  business  being,  or 
ought  to  be,  to  govern,  regulate,  and  direct  the  labours  and 
actions  of  others. 

So  that  of  10,000,000,  there  may  be  about  6,500,000  which, 
if  need  require,  might  actually  labour. 

And  of  these,  some  might  earn  3s.  [  =  95.  n-oic]  a  week, 
some  5s.  [^155.  now] ,  and  some  7s.  [=2is.]  :  that  is,  all  of 
them :  might  earn  5s.  per  week,  at  a  medium,  one  with 
another;  or  at  least  ;^io  [=£1,0  now]  per  annum,  allowing 
for  sickness  and  other  accidents.  Whereby  the  whole  might 
earn  5^65,000,000  [  =  ;£'i95,ooo,ooo  now]  per  annum  :  that  is 
;^25,ooo,ooo  [  =  £75,000,000  noiv]  more  than  the  expense. 

The  Author  of  The  Stale  of  England  says  that  the  children 


Pl'>'-]  Building  trade  after  the  Fire  of  London.  383 

1077. J 

of  Norwich,  between  six  and  sixteen  years  old,  do  earn 
£12,000  [=5^36,000  now]  per  annum  more  than  they  spend. 
Now  forasmuch  as  the  people  of  Norwich  are  a  three- 
hundredth  part  of  all  the  people  of  England  [i.e.,  20,000],  as 
appears  by  the  accounts  of  the  Hearth  Money  ;  and  about  a 
five-hundredth  part  of  all  the  King's  subjects  throughout  the 
world,  it  follows  that  all  his  Majesty's  subjects  between  six  and 
sixteen  years  old,  might  earn  £5,000,000  [  =  £15,000,000  now] 
per  ammm  more  than  they  spend. 

Again,  forasmuch  as  the  number  of  the  people  above 
sixteen  years  old,  is  double  the  number  of  those  between  six 
and  sixteen  ;  and  that  each  of  the  men  can  earn  double  to 
each  of  the  children  :  it  is  plain  that  if  the  men  and  children 
everywhere,  did  do  as  they  do  at  Norwich,  they  might  earn 
/■25,ooo,ooo  [=£75,000,000  now]  per  annum  more  than  they 
sp"end.  'which  Estimate  grounded  upon  matter  of  fact  and 
experience,  agrees  with  the  former. 

Although,  as  hath  been  proved,  the  people  of  England  do 
thrive;  and  that  it  is  possible  they  might  superlucrate 
£^5  000,000  per  annum  ;  yet  it  is  manifest  that  they  do  not ; 
nor '£23,000,000,  which    is    less   by  the    £2,000,000   herein 

meant.  ,         •       u     ^ 

For  if  they  did  superlucrate  £23,000,000,  then  in  about 
five  or  six  years'  time,  the  whole  Stock  and  Personal  Estate 
of  the  nation  would  be  doubled :  which  I  wish  were  true ; 
but  find  no  manner  of  reason  to  believe. 

Wherefore  if  they  can  superlucrate  £25,000,000  ;  but  do 
not  actually  superlucrate  £23,000,000,  nor  £20,000,000,  nor 
£10,000,000,  nor  perhaps  £5,000,000  :  I  have  proved  what  was 
propounded,  viz.,  that  there  are  spare  hands  among  the 
King's  subjects  to  earn  £2,000,000  more  than  they  do. 

But  to  speak  a  little  more  particularly  concerning  this 
matter.  It  is  to  be  noted  that  since  the  Fire  of  London, 
there  was  earned,  in  four  years  [1666-1670]  by  tradesmen 
[artisans]  relating  to  building  only,  the  sum  of  £4,000,000 
[=£12,000,000  noit'],  viz.,  £1,000,000  per  annum -.  without 
lessening  any  other  sort  of  work,  labour  or  manufacture, 
which  was  usually  done  in  any  other  four  years  before  the 
said  occasion. 

But  if  the  tradesmen  relating  to  building  only,  and  sucli 
of  them  only   as  wrought  in  and    about  London,  could  do 


384  Native  production  of  foreign  imports.  pT'^ilJ?! 

pTi, 000,000  worth  of  work  extraordinary  ;  I  think  that  from 
thence,  and  from  what  hath  been  said  before,  all  the  rest  of 
the  spare  hands  might  very  well  double  the  same  :  which  is 
as  much  as  was  propounded. 

Now  if  there  were  spare  hands  to  superlucrate  millions 
upon  millions,  they  signify  nothing,  unless  there  were 
employment  for  them  ;  and  may  as  well  follow  their  pleasures 
and  speculations,  as  labour  to  no  purpose.  Therefore  the 
more  material  point  is  to  prove  that  there  js  ;£'2,ooo,ooo 
worth  of  work  to  be  done ;  which  at  present,  the  King's 
subjects  do  neglect. 

For  the  proof  of  this,  there  needs  little  more  to  be  done, 
than  to  compute. 

1.  How  much  money  is  paid  by  the  King  of  England's 
subjects,  to  foreigners  for  freights  of  shipping  ? 

2.  How  much  the  Hollanders  gain  by  their  lishing  trade 
practised  upon  our  seas  ? 

3.  What  is  the  value  of  all  the  commodities  imported  into 
and  spent  in  England :  which  might,  by  diligence,  be 
produced  and  manufactured  here. 

To  make  short  of  this  matter,  upon  perusal  of  the  most 
authentic  accounts  relating  to  these  several  particulars, 
I  affirm  that  the  same  amounteth  to  above  £5,000,000 
[=^^15, 000, 000  now]  :  whereas  I  propounded  but  ;^'2,ooo,ooo. 

For  a  further  proof  whereof,  Mr.  Samuel  Fortry,  in  his 
ingenious  Discourse  of  Trade  [1673]  exhibits  the  particulars 
[details] :  wherein  it  appears  that  the  goods  imported  out  of 
France  only,  amount  yearly  to  £2,600,000  [=£7,800,000  ncnc^]. 
And  I  affirm  that  the  wine,  paper,  cork,  rosin,  capers,  and  a 
few  other  commodities  which  England  cannot  produce,  do 
not  amount  to  one-fifth  part  of  the  said  sum. 

From  whence  it  follows,  that,  if  Mr.  Fortry  hath  not 
erred,  the  £2,000,000  here  mentioned,  may  arise  from  France 
alone  ;  and  consequently  £5,000,000  or  £6,000,000  from  all 
three  heads  last  above  specilied. 


Si>^  W.  Peuy.-J(3QiNAGE  AT  THE  RESTORATION,  ^6,000,000.   385 

CHAPTER    IX. 

That  there  is  sufficient  Money  to  drive  the  Trade  of  the  nation. 

]Ince  His  Majesty's  happy  Restoration,  it  was 
thought  fit  to  call  in,  and  new  coin,  the  money 
which   was    made    in    the     times   of    Usurpation 

... [Comvionwcalth].      Now    it    was    observed,  by    the 

general  consent  of  Cashiers  [Goldsmiths  or  money  changers], 
that  the  said  money,  being  by  frequent  revolutions  [circtda- 
tions]  well  mixed  with  old,  was  about  a  Seventh  part 
thereof;  and  that  the  said  [Commonwealth]  money  being 
called  in,  was  about  £800,000  ;  and  consequently  the  whole 
[coinage  was  about]  £5,600,000.  Whereby  it  is  probable,  that, 
some  allowance  being  given  for  hoarded  money,  the  whole 
Cash  of  England  was  then  about  £6,000,000 :  which  I  con- 
ceive is  sufficient  to  drive  the  Trade  of  England  :  not  doubtmg 
but  the  rest  of  His  Majesty's  Dominions  have  the  like  means 
to  do  the  same  respectively. 

If  there  be  6,000,000  souls  in  England,  and  that  each 
spendeth  £7  per  annum,  then  the  whole  expense  is  £42,000,000 
or  about  £800,000  per  week  :  and  consequently  if  every  man 
did  pay  his  expense  weekly,  and  that  the  money  could  cnxulate 
within  the  compass  of  a  week,  then  less  than  £1,000,000 
would  answer  the  ends  proposed. 

But  forasmuch  as  the  rents  of  the  lands  m  England,  which 
are  paid  half  yearly,  are  £8,000,000  [=£24,000,000  now]  per 
annum  ;  there  must  be  £4,000,000  [in  coin ;  Bank  of  England 
notes  and  cheques  not  having  yet  been  invented]  to  pay  them. 

And  forasmuch  as  the  rents  of  the  Housing  of  England, 
paid  quarterly,  are  worth  about  £4,000,000  [=£12,000,000 
now]  per  annum  ;  there  neecis  but  £1,000,000  to  pay  the  said 

rents. 

Wherefore  £6,000,000  being  enough  to  make  good  the 
three  sorts  of  circulations  above  mentioned  :  I  conceive  what 
was  proposed,  is  competently  proved :  at  least,  until  some- 
thing better  be  held  forth  to  the  contrary. 


ENG.  GAR.  VI.  25 


386  Gentry  putting  younger  sons  to  TRADE.[^'''7'^f6"7; 


CHAPTER    X. 

That  the  King  of  England's  siLbjcds  have  Stock  [capital] 
competent  and  convenient  to  drive  the  Trade  of  the  whole  Com- 
mercial World. 

^Ow  for  the  further  encouragement  of  Trade,  as  we 
have  shewn  that  there  is  money  enough  in 
England  to  manage  the  affairs  thereof,  so  we 
shall  now  offer  to  consideration,  Whether  there  be 
not  a  competent  and  convenient  Stock  to  drive  the  Trade  of 
the  whole  Commercial  World  ? 

To  which  purpose,  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  all  the 
Commodities  yearly  exported  out  of  every  part  of  the  last- 
mentioned  World,  may  be  bought  for  ^^^45, 000,000  ;  and  that 
the  Shipping  employed  in  the  same  World  are  not  worth 
above  £15,000,000  more,  and  consequently  that  £60,000,000 
[  =  £180,000,000  novij]  at  most  would  drive  the  whole  Trade 
above  mentioned,  without  any  trust  at  all. 

But  forasmuch  as  the  growers  of  commodities  do  commonly 
trust  them  to  such  merchants  or  factors  as  are  worth  but 
such  part  of  the  full  value  of  their  commodities  as  may 
possibly  be  lost  upon  the  sale  of  them ;  whereas  gain  is 
rather  to  be  expected :  it  follows  that  less  than  a  Stock  of 
£60,000,000  ;  nay,  less  than  half  that  sum  is  sufficient  to 
drive  the  Trade  above  mentioned.  It  being  well  known  that 
any  tradesman  of  good  reputation,  worth  £500,  will  be  trusted 
with  above  £1,000  worth  of  commodities. 

Wherefore  less  than  £30,000,000  will  suffice  for  the  said 
purpose:  of  which  sum,  the  Coin,  Shipping,  and  Stock  already 
in  the  Trade,  do  at  least  make  one-half. 

And  it  hath  been  shewn  'at p.  345]  how,  by  the  policy  of  a 
Bank  [of  which  not  one  existed  in  England  at  the  time  this  u>as 
written],  any  sum  of  money  may  be  equivalent  in  Trade  unto 
nearly  double  the  same  :  by  all  which  it  seems  that,  even 
at  present,  much  is  not  wanting  to  perform  what  is  pro- 
pounded. 

But  suppose  £20,000,000  or  more  were  wanting,  it  is  not 
improbable  that  since  the  generality  of  (Gentlemen,  and  some 
Noblemen  do  put  their  younger  sons  to  merchandise,  they 


si>- w- Pf^^^":]  Landed  income,  ^8,000,000  in  1677.  387 

will  see  it  reasonable,  as  they  increase  in  the  number  of 
merchants,  so  to  increase  the  magnitude  of  Trade,  and 
consequently  to  increase  Stock.  Which  may  effectually  be 
done  by  inbanking  ^^20, 000, 000  worth  of  land  (not  being 
above  a  Sixth  or  Seventh  of  the  whole  territory  of  England) 
that  is  to  say,  by  making  a  Fond  \fund]  of  such  value  to  be 
security  for  all'  commodities  bought  and  sold  upon  the 
account  of  the  Universal  Trade  here  mentioned  [40  years 
after  this  was  written,  the  Landed  Interest  somewhat  attempted 
this  suggestion,  in  the  foundation  of  the  South  Sea  Company]. 

And  thus,  it  having  appeared  that  England  having  in  it, 
as  much  land  like  Holland  and  Zealand,  as  the  said  two 
Provinces  do  themselves  contain  ;  with  abundance  of  other 
land,  not  inconvenient  for  trade  ;  and  that  there  are  spare 
hands  enough,  to  earn  many  millions  of  money  more  than 
they  now  do  ;  and  that  there  is  employment  to  earn  several 
millions,  even  from  the  consumption  of  England  itself:  it 
follows  from  thence,  and  from  what  hath  been  said  in  the 
last  paragraph  about  enlarging  of  Stock,  both  of  money  and 
land,  that  it  is  not  impossible,  nay,  a  very  feasible  matter 
for  the  King  of  England's  subjects  to  gain  the  Universal 
Trade  of  the  whole  Commercial  World. 

Nor  is  it  unseasonable  to  intimate  this  matter.  Foras- 
much as  the  younger  brothers  of  the  good  families  of  England 
cannot  otherwise  he  provided  for,  so  as  to  live  according  to 
their  birth  and  breeding. 

For  if  the  Lands  of  England  are  worth  ^8,000,000  per 
annwn,  there  be,  at  a  medium,  about  10,000  families  of 
about  ;^8oo  [£=2,400,  now] per  annum  :  in  each  of  which,  one 
with  another,  we  may  suppose  there  is  a  younger  brother, 
whom  less  than  ;^200  or  ^^300  [=;r6oo  or  £900  now]  per 
annum,  will  not  maintain  suitable  to  his  relations. 

Now  I  say  that  neither  the  Offices  at  Court,  nor  Commands 
in  our  ordinary  army  and  navy,  nor  Church  preferments,  nor 
the  usual  gains  by  the  Profession  of  the  Law  or  of  Physic, 
nor  the  employments  under  Noblemen  and  Prelates,  will,  all 
of  them  put  together,  furnish  livelihoods  of  above  ;^300  per 
annum  to  3,000  of  the  said  10,000  younger  brothers  :  where- 
fore it  rem.ains  that  Trade  alone  must  supply  the  rest. 

But  if  the  said  7,000  Gentlemen  be  applied  to  Trade,  with- 


38S    Unity,  Industry,  and  Obedience.  [-'■"y'^S' 

out  increasin,£^  of  Trade ;  or  if  we  hope  to  increase  Trade, 
without  increasing  of  Stock  (which,  for  ought  appears,  is  only 
to  be  done  by  imbanking  a  due  proportion  of  Lands  and 
Money)  ;  we  must  necessarily  be  disappointed. 

Where  note,  that  selhng  of  lands  to  foreigners  for  gold  and 
silver,  would  enlarge  the  Stock  of  the  Kingdom  :  whereas 
doing  the  same  between  one  another,  doth  effect  nothing. 
For  he  that  turneth  all  his  land  into  money,  disposes  himself 
for  trade  ;  and  he  that  parteth  with  his  money  for  land,  doth 
the  contrary  :  but  to  sell  land  to  foreigners,  increaseth  both 
money  and  people,  and  consequently  trade. 

Wherefore  it  is  to  be  thought  that  when  the  laws  denying 
strangers  to  purchase,  and  not  permitting  them  to  trade 
without  paying  extraordinary  duties,  were  made  ;  that  then 
the  public  state  of  things  and  Interest  of  the  nation  were  far 
different  from  what  they  now  are. 


Having  handled  these  Ten  principal  Conclusions,  I  might 
go  on  with  others  ad  infinitum.  But  what  hath  been  already 
said,  I  look  upon  as  sufficient,  for  to  shew  what  I  mean  by 
Political  Arithmetic  :  and  to  shew 

1.  The  uses  of  knowing  the  True  State  of  the  People,  Land, 
Stock,  Trade,  &c. 

2.  That  the  King's  subjects  are  not  in  so  bad  a  condition 
as  discontented  men  would  make  them. 

3.  The  great  effect  of  Unity,  Industry,  and  Obedience  in 
order  to  the  common  safety  and  each  man's  peculiar 
happiness. 

FINIS. 


;89 


Lyrics^  Elegies,  &c.  from  Madrigals, 
Ca?2Zonets,   &^c, 

AnHour'?T\ecreation    inJVIu^ic 

1606. 
By    Richard    Alison,    Gentleman. 


To     the     right     worthily    honoured    and 

most  free  respecter  of  all  virtue,  his 

chiefly  esteemed  and  singular  good 

patron,  Sir  John   Scudamore, 

Knight. 

0\V  noble,  how  ancient,  and  how  effectual  the  Art  of 
Music  is,  many  excellent  discourses  of  theorists  deeply 
learned  in  the  science,  have  already  so  confirmed  and 
,  illustrated,  that  it  might  seem  as  much  arrogancy  in 

me  to  attempt  the  praise  thereof,  as  it  argues  malice  or  ignorance 
in  such  as  seek  to  exclude  it  out  of  divine  or  human  society.  I  iviU 
only  allege  one  testimony  out  of  an  Epistle,  which  that  ancicni 
father,  Martin  Luther,  did  write  to  Senfelius  the  Musician, 
which  is  so  ample  in  commendation  of  this  Art,  that  it  were  super- 
fluous to  add  any  other.  1  ■  ,  i 
''Music;'  saith  he,  " /o  devils  wc  know  is  hateful  and  mtolcr- 


590  Dedication  to  Sir  J.  Scudamore.  [ 


Ed.   by  R.  Alison. 
?  1606. 


able ;  mid  I  plainly  think,  neither  am  I  ashamed  to  aver  it,  that 
next  to  Thcolo<;y,  there  is  110  Art  comparable  with  Music.  For  it 
alone,  next  to  Theology,  doth  effect  that  which  otJierwise  only 
Theology  can  perform  ;  that  is,  a  quiet  and  a  cheerfid  mind." 

Now  if  Music  merits  so  high  a  place  as  this  holy  man  hath 
given  it,  can  we  deny  love  and  honour  to  tlicm  tJiat,  with  their 
grace  and  bounty,  raise  the  professors  tliereof  ?  Or  to  whom  shall 
we  that  labour  in  this  quality,  better  recommend  our  Works  than 
to  our  patrons  and  benefactors  ? 

Receive  therefore,  most  honoured  Knight  and  my  worthiest 
Patron  !  the  fruits  of  your  bounties,  and  the  effects  of  those  quiet 
days  which,  by  your  goodness,  I  Iiave  enjoyed.  And  as  the  glory 
of  a  neia-fiuished  house  belongs  not  so  much  to  the  u'orkman  that 
built  it,  as  to  the  Lord  that  owns  it :  so  if  any  part  of  this  new 
Work  of  mine  can  excite  commendation,  the  grace  is  chiefly  yours  ; 
though  the  labour,  mine.  But  because  there  is  no  man  more  dis- 
trustfid  of  his  own  endeavours  than  I  am  myself,  by  the  weakness 
of  my  nature  :  I  beseech  you  receive  my  labours,  howsoever,  into 
your  protection ;  whose  worth  can  best  countenance  them  from 
misfortune,  and  spirit  defend  them.  I  will  only  assist  you  with 
a  poor  man''s  bounty,  I  mean  my  many  humble  prayers  to  the 
Highest  Protector ;  beseeching  Him  to  bless  yon  with  long  life 
and  prosperity,  to  His  glory,  and  our  comforts,  that  must  ever  owe 
you  our  service  and  love. 

Your  Worship's,  wholly  devoted, 

RICHARD    ALISON. 


391 


Lyrics,   Elegies,   ^c.  from   Madrigals, 

Ca?izo72ets, 


^^ 


By   Richard    Alison,    Gentleman. 


^ 


An    Houf('3   T^ecp^eation   in   JVl  u  p  i  c  . 

He    man   upright    of   life,    whose   guiltless 
heart  is  free 
From    all   dishonest    deeds   or  thought  of 

vanity : 
That  man  whose  silent  days  in  harmless 
joys  are  spent, 
Whom  hopes  cannot  delude,  nor  sorrow  discontent : 
That  man  needs  neither  towers  nor  armour  for  defence, 
Nor  secret  vaults  to  fly  from  thunder's  violence. 


He  only  can  behold  with  unaffrighted  eyes, 

The  horrors  of  the  deep,  and  terrors  of  the  skies. 

Thus  scorning  all  the  cares,  that  Fate  or  Fortune  brings, 


392     Lyrics,  Elegies,  &c.  FROM    l""'- ""J ""■  ^feZ 

He  makes  his  heaven  his  book,  his  wisdom  heavenly  things  ; 
Good  thoughts,  his  only  friends ;  his  wealth,  a  well-spent 

The  earth,  his  sober  inn,  and  quiet  pilgrimage. 


Heavy  heart  !  whose  harms  are  hid, 
Thy  help  is  hurt,  thy  hap  is  hard  ; 
If  thou  shouldst  break,  as  God  forbid  ! 
Then  should  Desert  want  his  reward. 
Hope  well  to  have !  hate  not  sweet  thought ! 
Foul  cruel  storms,  fairer  calms  have  brought  ! 
After  sharp  showers,  the  sun  shines  fair  1 
Hope  comes  likewise  after  Despair  ! 

In  hope,  a  king  doth  go  to  war ! 

In  hope,  a  lover  lives  full  long  ! 

In  hope,  a  merchant  sails  full  far  ! 

In  hope,  just  men  do  suffer  wrong  ! 

In  hope,  the  ploughman  sows  his  seed  ! 

Thus  Hope  helps  thousands  at  their  need  ! 

Then  faint  not,  heart !  among  the  rest, 

Whatever  chance,  hope  thou  the  best ! 

Though  Wit  bids  Will  to  blow  retreat, 
Will  cannot  work  as  Wit  would  wish  : 
When  that  the  roach  doth  taste  the  bait, 
Too  late  to  warn  the  hungry  fish  : 
When  cities  burn  in  fiery  flame, 
Great  rivers  scarce  may  quench  the  same  ; 
If  Will  and  Fancy  be  agreed, 
Too  late  for  Wit  to  bid  take  heed. 


Ed.  by  R.  Aiison.-i  M  A  D  R I G  A  L  s,  Canzonets,  &  c.   39; 

?       1 606.  J 

But  yet  it  seems  a  foolish  drift, 
To  follow  Will,  and  leave  the  Wit : 
The  wanton  horse  that  runs  too  swift, 
May  well  be  stayed  upon  the  bit  ; 
But  check  a  horse  amid  his  race, 
And,  out  of  doubt,  you  mar  his  pace  ! 
Though  Wit  and  Reason  doth  men  teach, 
Never  to  climb  above  their  reach. 


I  can  no  more  but  hope,  good  heart ! 
For  though  the  worst  doth  chance  to  fall, 
I  know  a  wile  shall  ease  thy  smart. 
And  turn  to  sweet,  thy  sugared  gall. 
When  thy  good  will  and  painful  suit 
Hath  shaked  the  tree,  and  wants  the  fruit: 
Then  keep  thou  patience  well  in  store, 
That  sovereign  salve  shall  heal  thy  sore  1 


Ho  LOVES  his  life,  from  love  his  love  doth  err ; 
And  choosing  dross,  rich  treasure  doth  deny ; 
Leaving  the  pearl,  Christ's  counsel,  to  prefer, 
With  selling  all  we  have,  the  same  to  buy. 
O  happy  soul,  that  doth  disburse  a  sum 
To  gain  a  Kingdom  in  the  life  to  come ! 


;94 


Lyrics,  Elegies,  &  c.  f  t;  o  m  IJ-'^-  ''f  ^ 


.  Alison. 
1606. 


Y  PRIME  of  youth  is  but  a  frost  of  cares  ! 
My  feast  of  joy  is  but  a  dish  of  pain  ! 
My  crop  of  corn  is  but  a  field  of  tares  ! 
And  all  my  good  is  but  vain  hope  of  gain ! 
My  life  is  fled,  and  yet  I  saw  no  sun  ! 
And  now  I  live,  and  now  my  life  is  done ! 

The  spring  is  past,  and  yet  it  hath  not  sprung ! 
The  fruit  is  dead,  and  yet  the  leaves  be  green  ! 
My  youth  is  gone,  and  yet  I  am  but  young ! 
I  saw  the  World,  and  yet  I  was  not  seen ! 
My  thread  is  cut,  and  yet  it  is  not  spun  ! 
And  now  I  live,  and  now  my  life  is  done. 


Est  with  yourselves,  you  vain  and  idle  brains  ! 
Which  Youth  and  Age  in  lewdest  Lust  bestow, 
And  find  out  frauds,  and  use  ten  thousand  trains 
To  win  the  soil,  where  nought  but  sin  doth  grow  : 
And  live  with  me,  you  chaste  and  honest  minds ! 
Which  do  your  lives  in  lawful  Love  employ, 
And  know  no  sleights,  but  friends  for  virtue  finds, 
And  loath  the  lust,  which  doth  the  soul  destroy. 


For  Lust  is  frail,  where  Love  is  ever  sound ; 
Lust,  outward  sweet ;  but  inward,  bitter  gall : 
A  Shop  of  Shews,  where  no  good  ware  is  found ; 
Not  like  to  Love,  where  honest  faith  is  all. 
So  that  is  Lust,  where  Fancy  ebbs  and  flows, 
And  hates  and  loves,  as  Beauty  dies  and  grows ; 
And  this  is  Love,  where  Friendship  firmly  stands 
On  Virtue's  rock,  and  not  on  sinful  sands. 


Ed.  by  R.  Aiison.-i  M  A  D  R I G  A  L  s,  Canzonets,  «&:  c.  395 

Hall  I  abide  this  jesting  ? 
I  weep,  and  she's  a  feasting  ! 
O  cruel  Fancy !  that  so  doth  blind  me 
To  love  one,  that  doth  not  mind  me. 


Can  I  abide  this  prancing? 
I  weep,  and  she  's  a  dancing ! 
O  cruel  Fancy  !  so  to  betray  me; 
Thou  goest  about  to  slay  me ! 


He  sturdy  rock,  for  all  his  strength, 
By  raging  seas,  is  rent  in  twain ; 
The  marble  stone  is  pierced  at  length, 
With  little  drops  of  drizzling  rain ; 
The  ox  doth  yield  unto  the  yoke, 
The  steel  obeyeth  the  hammer's  stroke ; 


The  stately  stag  that  seems  so  stout 
By  yelping  hounds  at  bay  is  set ; 
The  swiftest  bird  that  flies  about, 
At  length  is  caught  in  fowler's  net ; 
The  greatest  fish,  in  deepest  brook, 
Is  soon  deceived  with  subtle  hook. 


396 


Lyrics,   Elegies,  &c.        [ 


Ed.  bv   R.  Alison. 


Hat  if  a  day,  or  a  month,  or  a  year 
Crown    thy  delights   with  a   thousand   sweet   con- 
tentings  ! 

Cannot  a  chance  of  a  night  or  an  hour 
Cross  thy  desires  with  as  many  sad  tormentings? 
Fortune,  Honour,  Beauty,  Youth,  are  but  blossoms  dying! 
Wanton  Pleasure,  doating  Love  are  but  shadows  flying  ! 
All  our  joys  are  but  toys  !  idle  thoughts  deceiving  : 
None  have  power,  of  an  hour,  in  their  lives  bereaving. 


Earth  's  but  a  point  to  the  world,  and  a  Man 
Is  but  a  point  to  the  world's  compared  centre ! 
Shall  then  a  point  of  a  point  be  so  vain 
As  to  triumph  in  a  silly  point's  adventure  ? 
All  is  hazard  that  we  have  !  there  is  nothing  biding ! 
Days  of  pleasure   are   like  streams   through  fair   meadows 
gliding ! 

Weal  and  woe,  time  doth  go  !  time  is  never  turning  ! 

Secret  fates  guide  our  states,  both  in  mirth  and  mourning ! 

[Thomas  Campion,  M.D.] 

FINIS. 


AN 

ACCOUNT 

O  F   TH  E 

TORMENTS, 

THE 

French  Protestants 

endure  aboard  the 

GALLEYS. 


By  John  B  i  o  n  ,  heretofore  Priest  and  Curate  of  the 
parish  of  Ursy,  in  the  Province  of  Burgundy;  and 
Chaplain  to  the  Superbe  Galley,  in  the  French 
Service. 


LONDON, 

Printed   for  John     Morphew,    near 
Stationers'    Hall.       1708. 


"I^J^ 


To     THE     ^UEEN, 


Madam, 

May  it  please  your  Majesty  i 
N  gratitude  to  those  wretches,  whose  heroic 
constancy  raised  in  me  that  admiration  which 
was  the  first  cause  of  my  happy  conversion  ; 
I    humbly   lay  at   your    Majesty's    feet,    an 
Account  of  their  Sufferings. 

Their  only  hopes,  under  GOD,  are  in  your  Majesty  ! 
the  glorious  defender  and  ornament  of  their  faith. 
The  charity  by  which  you  support  such  numbers  of 
their  brethren  in  your  dominions,  the  concern  you  have 
expressed  for  the  pressures  the  French  churches  labour 
under,  and  the  zeal  for  their  restoration  to  their  ancient 
splendour,  leave  no  room  to  doubt  of  your  Majesty's 
generous  intentions.  And  that  Providence,  which 
watches  over  your  sacred  person,  and  distinguishes 
your  reign  by  so  many  exploits,  both  at  home  and 
abroad,  from  those  of  your  most  glorious  ancestors, 
will,  no  doubt,  reward    your  piety,    and   enable  your 


400  The  Dedication  to  Queen  Anne.    [^"'''- -^- l^Jos! 

Majesty   to    ease  them  of  their  chains,   after  having 
broken  those  of  Europe. 

They  would  not  thus  presume  to  make  their  way 
through  the  crowd  of  your  admirers,  and  disturb  the 
acclamation  that  surrounds  your  august  Person,  with 
the  doleful  rehearsal  of  their  misery,  did  not  your 
Majesty's  known  goodness  facilitate  their  access,  and 
your  love  of  justice,  and  proneness  to  redress  griev- 
ances encourage  their  presumption. 

I  am,  in  particular,  happy  in  being  so  far  instru- 
mental in  their  future  deliverance,  as  to  make  their 
Case  known  to  the  best  and  greatest  of  Queens  ;  and  I 
am  proud  that  it  furnishes  me  with  an  opportunity  of 
letting  the  World  know,  that  I  am, 
May  it  please  your  Majesty  ! 

Your  Majesty's  most  faithful  subject, 

and  obedient  humble  servant, 

John     B i o  n  , 

heretofore  Chaplain  to   the   Sitpcrbe  Galley,  in   the 
French  Kino's  service. 


40I 


The    Preface. 

is  I  PURPOSED  in  this  Work,  only  to  make  the  sufferings 
of  the  Protestants  condemned  to  the  galleys  for  the  sake 
of  Religion,  known  to  the  World  ;  people  will  he  apt  to 
_____  think  that  when  I  speak  in  general  of  the  different  sorts 
of  forgats  or  slaves  which  are  on  them,  I  go  beside  the  ndes  I 
prescribed  to  myself.  But  if  it  be  considered  that  it  is  no  little  tor- 
ment to  the  Protestants  to  be  amongst  malefactors  and  lewd  and 
profligate  villains,  whose  continual  blasphemies  and  cursings  have 
no  parallel  but  among  the  damned  in  hell ;  it  will  not  be  thought 
beside  my  purpose,  to  have  given  to  the  World,  aparticidar  account 
of  the  various  sorts  of  those  men  who  live  in  the  galleys. 

There  is,  besides,  a  block,  those  who  never  saw  the  galleys  but  in 
the  port  at  Marseilles,  will  infallibly  stumble  at;  if  not  removed. 
Which  is,  that  whereas  the  galley  slaves  are  not,  during  that  time, 
in  that  wretched  condition  they  are  in  whilst  at  sea,  and  tugging 
at  the  oar.  Being  allowed  to  keep  shop  about  the  Port,  and  there 
to  work  and  sell  all  manner  of  commodities.  And  sometimes 
having  leave  to  walk  in  the  town  :  giving  only  one  penny  to  the 
Algousin,  as  much  to  the  Turk  with  whom  each  of  them  must  then 
heloupled,  and  five  pence  to  the  Pertuisenier  or  Partizan  Bearer 
who  guards  them.  There  being  some  besides,  that  even  have  their 
wives  at  Marseilles.  And  all  being  permitted  to  hear  from  their 
friends,  and  receive  money  from  their  relations.  All  such  com- 
forts and  favours,  as  well  as  all  manner  of  correspondence 
with  friends,  are  utterly  denied  the  Protestants ! 

/  have  not  descended  to  partictdars,  in  what  relateth  to  the 
usefidness  of  galleys  in  sea  fights,  for  the  keeping  of  the  coasts  or 
convoying  of  merchant  sloops  when  there  is  [any]  danger  of  their 
being  taken  or  set  upon  by  the  brigantines  the  Duke  of  Savoy 
keeps  commonly  for  that  purpose,  during  the  war,  in  Villa 
Franca,  St.  Hospitio,  and  Oneglia. 
ENG.  Gar.  VI.  26 


402    The  armament  of  a  French  galley.  [^''''"  ^"  ^^'os! 

Nor  did  I  take  notice  in  this  Work,  how  the  galleys,  in  an 
engagement  wherein  there  are  Men-of-war,  serve  to  keep  off,  and  sink 
with  their  cannon  shot  out  of  the  Coursier,  a  gnn  so  called,  the 
fire-ships  the  enemy  sendeth  to  set  the  ship  on  fire ;  and  to  tow 
away  such  as  are  disabled  in  the  fight. 

I  might  also  have  observed  how  in  every  galley,  there  are  five 
guns  upon  the  for edeck,  viz.,  four  six  or  eight  pounders,  and  a  fifth 
called  the  Coursier,  which  carrieth  a  ^6lb.  ball. 

And  herewith,  when  an  enemy^s  ship  is  becalmed,  a  galley , 
which  ivith  her  oars  can  do  what  she  pleaseth,  may  attack  that  ship 
fore  and  aft,  to  avoid  her  broadsides;  and  ply  her  with  the 
Coursier:  so  that  sometimes,  if  she  happeneth  to  let  [give]  her  a 
shot,  which  cometh  between  wind  and  water,  she  forceth  her  to 
surrender.  Which  however  happeneth  seldom  enough  :  for  a  ship 
needs  but  a  little  wind  to  make  nothing  of  overthrowing  five  or 
six  galleys. 

I  did  not  think  fit  either  to  give  here,  an  account  of  the  number 
of  galleys  in  France ;  which  are  twenty-four  at  Marseilles,  and  six 
upon  the  ocean.  Not  to  speak  of  the  six  small  rooms  in  every 
galley,  under  the  deck,  wherein  ammunition  and  provisions  are 
kept ;  and  which  they  call  the  Gavon,  the  Scandclat,  the 
Campaign,  the  Paillot,  the  Tavern,  and  the  Fore-room. 

A II  these  particulars  would  have  carried  me  too  far  out  of  my 
way,  and  beside  my  purpose  :  which  is  only  to  give  a  plain  and 
faithful  Account,  without  amplifying,  of  the  Sufferings  of  the 
Protestant  galley  slaves. 

If  there  be  anything  omitted  in  this  Relation,  it  will  not  be 
found  as  to  any  material  point.     And  as  my  sole  aim  in  it,  hath 

been  to  work  a  following  feeling  in  other  men's  hearts,  I  shall  not 
find  myself  at  all  disappointed,  although  their  curiosity  should  not 

be  fully  satisfied. 

The  LORD,  in  his  mercy,  pour   out  his  blessings  upon  this 

Work  !  and  favourably  hear  our  prayers  and  supplications,  which 

we  shall  never  cease  to  make  unto  his  Divine  Majesty,  for  the 

deliverance  of  our  poor  distressed  brethren. 


403 


•rz? 


THE 

Sufferings    of    the     Protestants 

IN    the 

FRENCH     GALLEYS. 

He  dismal  accounts  handed  down  to  us  by 
historians,  of  the-  torments  afflicted  on 
Christians  by  the  heathen  Emperors,  in 
the  first  Ages  of  the  Church,  might  justly 
be  suspected,  if  the  woful  experience  of  our 
own,  did  not  put  the  truth  of  them  out  of 
dispute.  For  though  it  be  not  easy  to  con- 
ceive how  men  can  put  off  all  that  is  tender 
and  generous  in  their  natures,  and  degenerate  into  the  ferity 
[ferocity]  of  brutes  ;  yet  it  is  but  looking  on  the  World  around 
us,  and  being  convinced  that  they  can  even  outdo  their  fellow 
animals  in  cruelty  to  one  another.  Nay,  we  may  see  many 
professing  Christianity,  under  the  specious  pretence  of  zeal 
for  its  Interest,  commit  such  barbarities  as  exceed,  tor]  at  least 
equal,  the  rage  of  the  persecutors  of  the  primitive  Christians. 
History  abounds  in  instances  that  shew  the  nature  of  a 
spirit  of  persecution,  and  how  boundless  its  rage  and  fury  ! 
but  the  sad  effects  it  hath,  of  late  years,  produced  in  France, 
as  they  are  still  fresh  and  but  too  obvious,  are  scarcely  to  be 
parallel  in  any  Age  or  nation. 

All  the  World  knows  the  Protestants  there,  lived  under 
the  protection  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes ;  a  treaty  as  full  and 
solemn  as  any  ever  was  !  It  was  at  first  religiously  observed  ; 
but  in  time,  several  breaches  were  made  in  it.     Many  of  its 


404   MOXSTEUR  BiON's  HONOURABLE  TESTIMONIALS.  P"  ^J™; 

branches  were  by  degrees  lopt  off,  till  at  last,  under  the 
present  King  \L0UIS  XIV.],  at  the  continual  teasing  and 
solicitation  of  the  Jesuits,  those  restless  and  busy  insects  !  it 
was  perfidiously  broken,  or,  as  they  please  to  term  it, 
repealed. 

But  Religion  and  its  propagation  must  be  the  cloak  under 
which  those  crafty  silversmiths  intend  to  play  their  game. 
And  therefore  having  first  confidently  taught  that  the  King 
hath  a  Despotic  Power  over  the  Consciences  as  well  as 
Estates ;  and  consequently  his  Will  to  be  the  Rule  of  their 
Religion  :  they,  by  several  arts  and  methods,  but  chiefiy  by 
dreadful  punishments,  force  weak  people  to  play  the  hypo- 
crites, and  embrace  a  Religion  which  in  their  hearts  they 
detest.  Such  as  were  too  good  Christians  to  prostitute  their 
consciences  to  vile  worldly  interests,  are  denied  the  benefit 
of  retiring  into  foreign  countries;  and  punished,  if  discovered, 
often  with  death  :  or  reserved  for  more  cruel  usage,  and 
condemned  to  spin  out  their  wretched  lives  in  the  galleys. 

Of  these  last,  I  design  to  give  the  public  an  Account,  as 
being  of  all  men  the  most  miserable :  the  barbarities  com- 
mitted in  those  horrid  machines  exceeding  all  that  can 
possibly  be  imagined.  The  ingenuity  of  the  famous  Sicilian 
Tyrants  in  inventing  torments  deserves  no  longer  to  be 
proverbial :  being  far  excelled  in  this  pernicious  art,  by  the 
modern  enemies  of  Religion  and  Liberty. 

I  shall  endeavour  to  satisfy  the  curiosity  of  those  who 
desire  to  be  informed  of  the  treatment,  the  slaves,  and  parti- 
cularly the  Protestants,  in  the  galleys  meet  with  ;  and  to 
convince  such,  as  are  loth  to  harbour  any  hard  thoughts  of 
the  French  Court ;  that  justifies  its  proceedings,  by  pre- 
tending that  what  they  suffer,  is  not  on  the  account  of 
Religion,  but  a  just  and  lawful  punishment  for  Rebellion  and 
Disobedience. 

My  being  several  campaigns  \crinzes],  Chaplain  aboard 
one  of  the  galleys,  called  La  Supcrbe,  gave  me  a  sufficient 
opportunity  of  informing  myself  of  the  truth  of  the  following 
Relation.  And  1  hope  my  integrity  will  not  be  called  in 
question  by  anybody  that  hears,  that  during  my  stay  in  that 
Service,  I  never  received  the  least  disgust  or  met  with  any 
disobligation.     The  certificates   I   have  from   Monsieur   de 


Rev.  J.  "ion.1Q£NEi.  AL  DESCRIPTION  OF  A  FrENCII  GALLEY.  405 

lyoci.J 

MoNTOLiEU,  Chief  Flag  Officer  of  the  French  galleys  ;  and 
Monsieur  D'Autigny,  Captain  of  the  aforesaid  galley,  whose 
Chaplain  I  was ;  a  reward  for  my  services  conferred  on  me 
by  the  French  King  in  the  year  1704,  at  the  recommenda- 
tion of  Monsieur  de  Portchartrin  ;  several  good  offices 
done  me  by  the  General,  and  other  officers  who  knew  me  : 
will  I  hope  screen  me  from  the  suspicions  or  calumny  of 
such,  who,  through  malice,  or  perhaps  Interest,  might  be 
inclined  to  misrepresent  me.  . 

Neither  shall  a  blind  zeal  for  the  Protestant  Religion, 
which  I  have  lately  embraced,  hurry  me  beyond  the  strict 
bounds  of  truth,  or  make  me  represent  things  in  any  colours 
but  their  own.  I  should  be  an  unworthy  prolessor  ol  that 
holy  Religion,  if,  on  any  consideration,  I  should  m  the  least 
deviate  from  the  strictest  truth  ;  to  which  end.  I  shall  relate 
nothing  by  hearsay,  but,  like  the  Apostle,  confine  myselt  to 
those  things,  my  "  eyes  have  seen." 

But  before  I  proceed  to  shew  the  sufferings  and  misery, 
the  wretches  in  the  galleys,  labour  under,  I  shall  give  a  short 
description  of  that  vessel.  ,    -.  1    ,u 

A  Galley  is  a  long  flat  one-decked  vessel,  though  it  hath 
two  masts.  Yet  they  generally  make  use  of  oars,  because 
they  are  built  so  as  not  to  be  able  to  endure  a  rough  sea  : 
and  therefore  their  sails  for  the  most  part  are  useless  unless 
in  cruising,  when  they  are  out  of  sight  of  land  ;  for  then,  lor 
fear  of  being  surprised  by  ill  weather,  they  make  the  best  ot 

their  way.  ^     , 

There  are  five  slaves  to  every  oar  ;  one  of  them,  a  1  urk  ; 
who  being  generally  stronger  than  Christians,  is  set  at  the 
upper  end,  to  work  it  with  more  strength. 

There  are  in  all  300  slaves;  and  150  men,  either  Officers, 
soldiers,  seamen,  or  servants.  ,        ,         1        j 

There  is  at  the  stern  of  the  galley,  a  chamber,  shaped  on 
the  outside  like  a  cradle,  belonging  to  the  _  Captain  :  and 
solely  his,  at  night  or  in  foul  weather;  but  in  the  daytime, 
common  to  the  Officers  and  Chaplain.  All  the  rest  of  the 
crew  (the  Under  Officers  excepted,  who  retire  to  other  con- 
venient places)  are  exposed  above  deck,  to  the  scorching  heat 
of  the  sun  by  day,  and  the  damps  and  inclemencies  of  the 


4o6  Fearful  hardships  of  the  slaves.  P'"'- ■'•  ^Jos.' 

night.  There  is  indeed  a  kind  of  a  tent  suspended  by  a  cable 
from  head  to  stern,  that  affords  some  little  shelter  :  but  the 
misfortune  is,  that  this  is  only  when  they  can  best  be  without 
it,  that  is,  in  fair  weather.  For  in  the  least  wind  or  storm, 
it  is  taken  down ;  the  galley  not  being  able  to  endure  it  for 
fear  of  oversetting. 

The  two  winters  (in  a7ino  1703,  and  in  1704)  we  kept  the 
coasts  of  Monaco,  Nice,  and  Antibes  ;  those  poor  creatures, 
after  hard  rowing,  could  not  enjoy  the  usual  benefit  of  the 
night,  which  puts  an  end  to  the  fatigues  and  labours  of  the 
day  :  but  were  exposed  to  the  winds,  snow,  hail,  and  all  other 
inconveniences  of  that  season.  The  only  comforf  they  wished 
for,  was  the  liberty  of  smoking :  but  that,  on  pain  of  the 
bastinado,  the  usual  punishment  of  the  place,  is  forbidden. 

The  vessel  being  but  small  for  the  number,  the  men  con- 
sequently crowded,  the  continual  sweat  that  streams  down 
from  their  bodies  whilst  rowing,  and  the  scanty  allowance 
of  linen  ;  one  may  easily  imagine,  breed  abundance  of  vermin. 
So  that,  in  spite  of  all  the  care  that  can  be  taken,  the  galleys 
swarm  with  lice,  &c.;  which  nestling  in  the  plaits  and  laps  of 
their  clothes,  relieve  by  night,  the  executioners  who  beat  and 
torment  them  by  day. 

Their  whole  yearly  allowance  for  clothes  is  two  shirts 
made  of  the  coarsest  canvas  ;  and  a  little  jerkin  of  red  serge, 
slit  on  each  side,  up  to  their  arm  holes ;  the  sleeves  are  also 
open,  and  come  not  down  so  low  as  their  elbows.  And  every 
three  years,  a  kind  of  a  coarse  frock ;  and  a  little  cap  to 
cover  their  heads,  which  they  are  obliged  to  keep  close 
shaved,  as  a  mark  of  infamy. 

Instead  of  a  bed,  they  are  allowed,  sick  or  well,  only  a 
board  a  foot  and  a  half  broad.  And  those  who  have  the 
unfortunate  honour  of  lying  near  the  Officers,  dare  not  pre- 
sume, though  tormented  with  vermin,  to  stir  so  much  as  a 
hand  for  their  ease  :  for  fear'  their  chains  should  rattle,  and 
awake  any  of  them  ;  which  would  draw  on  them  a  punish- 
ment more  severe  than  the  biting  of  those  insects. 

It  is  hard  to  give  an  exact  description  of  the  pains  and 
labours  the  slaves  undergo  at  sea,  especially  during  a  long 
campaign  [crui-^e].  The  fatigue  of  tugging  at  the  oar  is 
extraordinary.  They  must  rise  to  draw  their  stroke,  and 
fall  back  again  almost  on  their  backs  :  insomuch  that,  in  all 


^'''' ^' ^'Jos:]  The  merciless  strokes  of  the  Comites.  407 

seasons,  through  the  continual  and  violent  motion  of  their 
bodies,  the  sweat  trickles  down  their  harassed  limbs. 

And  for  fear  they  should  fail,  as  they  often  do  through 
faintness,  there  is  a  gang  board,  which  runs  through  the 
middle  of  the  ship,  on  which  are  constantly  posted  three 
Comites,  an  Officer  somewhat  like  a  Boatswain  in  Her 
Majesty's  ships,  who  whenever  they  find  or  think  that  an 
oar  does  not  keep  touch  with  the  rest,  without  ever  examin- 
ing whether  it  proceeds  from  weakness  or  laziness,  they 
unmercifully  exercise  a  tough  wand  on  the  man  they  sus- 
pect :  which  being  long  is  often  felt  by  two  or  three  of 
his  innocent  neighbours,  who  being  naked  when  they  row, 
each  blow  imprints  evident  marks  of  the  inhumanity  of  the 
executioner. 

And  that  which  adds  to  their  misery,  is  that  they  are  not 
allowed  the  least  sign  of  discontent  or  complaint,  that  small 
and  last  comfort  of  the  miserable  !  but  must,  on  the  contrary, 
endeavour  with  all  their  might,  to  exert  the  little  vigour  that 
remains,  and  try  by  their  submission,  to  pacify  the  rage  of 
those  relentless  tigers  ;  whose  strokes  are  commonly  ushered 
in,  and  followed  by  a  volley  of  oaths  and  horrid  imprecations. 

No  sooner  are  they  arrived  in  any  port,  but  their  work, 
instead  of  being  at  an  end,  is  increased  ;  several  laborious 
things  previous  to  casting  anchor,  being  expected  from  them; 
which  in  a  galley  is  harder  than  a  ship.  And  as  the  Coniitc's 
chief  skill  is  seen  in  dexterously  casting  anchor,  and  that 
they  think  Blows  are  the  life  and  soul  of  Work ;  nothing  is 
heard  for  some  time,  but  cries  and  lamentation  :  and  as  the 
poor  slaves'  arms  are  busy  in  the  execution  of  his  commands, 
his  are  as  briskly  exercised  in  lashing  them. 

To  support  their  strength  under  all  these  hardships ; 
during  the  campaign,  every  morning,  at  eight  of  the  clock, 
they  give  each  man,  his  proportion  of  biscuit ;  of  which 
indeed,  they  have  enough,  and  pretty  good.  At  ten,  a 
porringer  made  of  oil,  with  peas  or  beans  often  rotten,  and 
commonly  musty.  I  call  it  soup,  according  to  their  use ; 
although  it  be  nothing  but  a  little  hot  water  with  about  a 
dozen  peas  or  beans  floating  on  the  top.  And  when  on  duty, 
a  Pichone  of  wine,  a  measure  containing  about  two-thirds  of 
an  English  pint,  morning  and  evening. 

When  at  anchor  in  any  port,  all  who  have  any  money  are 


4o8    Employments  of  the  slaves  in  port.   [^'''- -'•  ^;°8: 

allowed  to  buy  meat ;  and  the  Turk  that  commands  the  oar, 
and  is  not  chained,  is  commonly  the  person  employed  for  this 
purpose,  as  also  to  see  it  dressed  in  the  Cook  Room.  But  I 
have  often  seen  the  Captain's  Cook,  a  brutal  passionate  man, 
take  the  poor  men's  pot,  under  pretence  that  it  troubled  him, 
and  either  break  or  throw  it  overboard  :  whilst  the  poor 
wretches  were  fainting  for  want  of  that  little  refreshment, 
without  daring  so  much  as  to  murmur  or  complain.  This 
indeed  is  not  usual,  but  where  the  Cook  happens  to  be  a 
villain  :  of  which  sort  of  men  there  are  plenty  in  the  galleys. 

The  Officer's  table  is  well  furnished  both  for  plenty  and 
delicacy  :  but  this  gives  slaves  only  a  more  exquisite  sense 
of  their  misery,  and  seems  to  brave  their  poverty  and 
hunger. 

We  spent  the  Carnival  of  1704,  in  the  port  of  Monaco. 
Our  Officers  frequently  treated  the  Prince  of  that  place 
aboard  the  galley.  Their  entertainments  were  splendid. 
Music  and  all  things  that  could  promote  Mirth  were  procured. 
But  who  can  express  the  affliction  of  those  poor  creatures, 
who  had  only  a  prospect  of  pleasure,  and  whilst  others 
revelled  at  their  ease,  were  sinking  under  a  load  of  chains, 
pinched  with  hunger  in  their  stomachs,  and  nothing  to 
support  their  dejected  spirits. 

Nay,  and  what  is  worse,  they  are  forced  to  add  to  the  pomp 
and  honour  done  to  Great  Men,  who  visit  their  Officers  :  but 
in  such  a  manner  as  moves  the  compassion  of  all  who  are 
not  used  to  such  dismal  solemnities.  When  a  Person  of 
Quality  comes  on  board,  the  Comite  gives  twice  notice  with 
his  whistle.  The  first  time  they  are  all  attentive;  and  the 
second,  the  slaves  are  obliged  to  salute,  as  they  call  it,  three 
times :  not  with  a  cheerful  Huzza,  as  in  an  English  Man-of- 
war  ;  but  by  howling  in  a  piteous  tone,  making  a  lamentable 
complaining  outcry. 

When  the  badness  of  the  weather  hinder  the  galleys  from 
putting  to  sea;  such  as  have  trades  work  in  the  galley. 
Such  as  have  none  learn  to  knit  coarse  stockings  ;  the  Comite, 
for  whose  profit  they  work,  gives  them  yarn,  and  pays  them 
about  half  the  usual  price  ;  and  this  not  in  money,  but  some 
little  victuals,  or  wine  which  they  are  obliged  to  take  out  of 
the  Ship's  Cellar  (of  which  the  Comite  is  the  keeper),  though 
it    be  generally  bad,  and  dashed  with  water.     For  though 


Rev.j.p.ion.-!     Walking  IN  THE  Shades  of  Death.    409 

1708.J 

thev  had  as  much  gold  as  they  could  carry,  they  durst  not, 

""J„rmay1-agr/'^t  such  ill  treatment,  diet    and  i„ 
fec?i^„  S  3s  occasion  frequent  sickness.     In  that  case, 

"^Therf  ilVn'^the  hold,  a  close  dark  room.    The  air  is  ad- 

miferorb^  the  scuttle   two^^^^^^^ 

only  passage  f°'\-.,t}Tl2ron\-<hich  the  sick  are  laid 

^'tTh";   horrid  place,   alj  kind   of  v  r    i„      ,e  .vith^^an 
arbitrary  sway ;    gnawmg  the   poor  sicK   creatui 
'■  Wh'n" the  duties  of  my  function  called  -e  in  amongst 
them,  to  confess,  advise  or  admm.s ter  ---°™ta„Ver  d  all 

rr-itrrrh:£;r^^ 

'^"Z  Th.'^^WcTi  stTl^t  off  L^I  came  ou^nd  hy  that 
mSans'rid  Myself  of  them,  ^y  P""!""  °"J,Lt  n  a  literal 
""f  in  th^  ShaTs  o?bTat:1  was  ohU  'ed'notwithstand- 
■:r^  Sake  c^^dLahle  stays  m  tH.  gloomy  mans,or>^o 
confess  such  who  were  ready  to  expire       Ana  i 

loathsome  hospital. 


4IO         How    THE    SICK    SLAVES    ARE    ROBBED.         P'"' ^- ^JoS.' 

There  is  a  chirurgeon  to  take  care  of  the  sick.  At  the 
first  setting  out  of  the  galley,  the  King  lays  in  drugs  for  the 
use  of  the  crew  ;  which  are  always  very  good  :  and  therefore 
the  chirurgeons  make  money  of  them,  in  the  several  places  we 
arrive  at ;  so  that  the  persons  they  are  intended  for,  have  the 
least  benefit  of  them. 

During  the  sickness,  the  King  orders  each  man  in  the  room 
we  have  described,  i  lb.  of  fresh  bread,  and  the  same  quantity 
of  fresh  meat,  and  2  oz.  of  rice  a  day.  This  is  the  Steward's 
province  :  and  he  discharges  his  office  in  such  a  manner,  that 
five  or  six  campaigns  make  his  fortune.  We  have  frequently 
had  in  our  galley,  threescore  and  ten  sick  men ;  and  the 
quantity  of  flesh  allowed  for  that  number,  never  exceeded 
20  lbs.  weight,  and  that  bad  meat  too  :  though,  as  I  have  ob- 
served, the  King's  allowance  is  i  lb.  for  every  man ;  the  rest 
going  into  his  own  pocket. 

Once,  out  of  curiosity,  I  tasted  it ;  and  found  it  little  better 
than  hot  water.  I  complained  to  the  Chirurgeon  and  Steward  : 
but  being  great  [thick]  and  commcnsales,  they  connived  at  one 
another. 

I  complained  to  the  Officers  also :  but  for  what  reason  (I 
only  guess  !)  they  did  not  regard  me.  And  I  have  too  much 
respect  for  the  Captain,  to  say  that  he  had  any  reason  or 
Interest  to  wink  at  so  great  a  piece  of  injustice,  though  he 
could,  by  his  own  authority,  do  these  wretches  justice  :  who 
often  refused  that  water,  made  only  more  loathsome  by  the 
little  quantity  of  meat  put  into  it,  and  the  little  care  used 
about  it. 

I  enquired  of  other  Chaplains,  whether  the  same  was 
practised  aboard  their  galleys  ?  They  frankly  confessed  it 
was  ;  but  durst  own  no  more. 

After  the  campaign  of  1704,  I,  having  occasion  to  go  to 
Versailles,  thought  myself  obliged,  when  there,  to  give  an 
account  to  Monsieur  de  Pontchartrin,  one  of  the  King's 
Ministers,  whose  particular  province,  the  Sea  Affairs  are. 

I  offered  him  a  short  Memorial,  and  some  Advices  which 
I  thought  most  proper  to  prevent  the  like  abuses  for  the 
future. 

He  was  pleased  to  be  so  well  satisfied,  and  found  them  so 
agreeable  to  some  intimations  given  him  before  ;  that  he 
regarded  my  advice,  and  offered  me  his  Interest.     The  King 


^^''■■'■^iogl     The  five  classes  of  galley  slaves.    411 


1 708.  J 


*ua  ^L^ 


was  pleased  to  order  me  a  gratuity.  I  left  the  Warrant  with 
Monsieur  Thome,  Treasurer  General  of  the  Galleys,  living 
at  the  Marias  du  Temple ;  to  serve  as  an  acquittance  for  the 
several  payments  he  has  made  me. 

This  is  a  brief  account  of  the  Galley ;  and  the  government 
thereof. 


Now  proceed  to  shew  what  sort  of  people  are  con" 
demned  there. 

There  are  in  a  galley,  five  several  sorts  of  people, 
under  the  notion  of  slaves ;  besides  seamen  and 
soldiers  :    viz.,  Turks,  such  as  are   called  Faus- 
sioners,  deserters,  criminals,  and  Protestants. 

The  King  buys  the  Turks  to  manage  the  stroke  of  the  oar, 
as  I  have  already  shewn,  and  they  are  called  Vogneavants  ;  and 
they  together  with  such  as  are  on  the  seats  called  banc  die 
quartier,  de  la  Conille,  and  les  espalliers,  have  the  same  allow- 
ance with  the  soldiers.  They  are  generally  lusty  strong  men, 
and  the  least  unfortunate  of  the  whole  crew.  They  are  not 
chained  ;  but  only  wear  a  ring  on  their  foot,  as  a  badge  of 
slavery. 

When  they  arrive  at  any  port,  they  have  liberty  to  trade. 
Some  of  them  are  worth  £"300  or  £"400  [  =  £750  or  ;£'i,ooo 
now].  They  frequently  send  money  to  their  wives  and  fami- 
lies :  and,  to  the  shame  of  Christians  be  it  spoken  !  there  is 
a  great  deal  more  charity  amongst  them,  than  is  to  be 
found  amongst  us. 

I  had  taken  one,  called  Tripoli,  for  my  servant.  He  was 
a  most  religious  observer  of  his  law.  During  the  Ramadan, 
a.  feast  kept  by  them,  the  first  Moon  of  the  year ;  he  never 
eat,  nor  drank,  from  sun  rising  to  sun  setting  ;  in  spite  of  all 
the  toil  and  fatigue  of  the  oar;  he  never  seemed  uneasy, 
though  ready  to  faint  through  weakness. 

I  could  never  so  much  as  persuade  him,  to  take  a  little 
wine ;  though  I  have  often  urged  him,  merely  out  of  com- 
passion. 

The  Officers  make  use  of  no  other  servants ;  and  they  are 
so  trusty,  that  they  are  never  found  out  in  any  theft  or 
roguery. 


412  Monsieur  Bion  tries  lo  convert  a  Turk.  ['^^''- ■'•  !'7;"; 

If  any,  by  chance,  commit  a  fault ;  all  the  Turks  importune 
their  respective  masters,  to  intercede  for  him  with  the  Cap- 
tain. If  any  be  sick  ;  they  are  all  busy  about  him,  to  do  him 
all  the  kind  offices  in  their  power.  They  club  to  buy  him 
meat,  or  to  purchase  anything  that  may  refresh  him,  or  do 
him  good.  In  short,  in  the  galleys,  one  would  think  that  the 
Turks  and  the  Christians  had  made  an  exchange  of  prin- 
ciples :  and  that  the  latter  had  abjured  the  Precepts  of  their 
Saviour,  and  that  the  others  had  taken  them  up.  And  ac- 
cordingly, preach  up  Christ  to  a  Turk,  in  a  galley  ;  and  his 
answer  presently  is,  that  "  he  had  rather  be  transformed  to  a 
dog,  than  be  of  a  religion  that  countenances  so  much  barbarity, 
and  suffer  so  many  crimes." 

I  cannot  omit  one  remarkable  instance  of  their  constancy, 
and  firm  adherence  to  their  religion.  One  of  them  who  spoke 
French,  fell  sick.  I  found  him  stretched  on  the  cable,  in  the 
place  I  have  already  described.  I  had  done  him  some  services  : 
and  seeing  me  do  the  duties  of  my  function  to  some  of  his 
neighbours,  he  called  me  to  him,  and  bade  me  farewell ;  telling 
me  that  he  found  he  could  not  possibly  live  four  hours  longer. 

I  ventured  to  talk  to  him,  of  GOD,  our  Saviour  Christ,  and 
the  principles  of  his  religion  ;  and  told  him  that  "  through  him 
alone,  he  was  to  expect  salvation." 

I  found  what  I  said  made  some  impression. 

Whereupon  I  embraced  him,  and  told  him  "  I  would  answer 
for  his  soul,  if  he  would  renounce  Mahomet,  who  was  but  an 
imposter;  and  believe  in  Jesus  Christ,  the  only  Redeemer 
and  Saviour  of  Mankind,  whose  holy  and  excellent  doctrine, 
he  had  heard  me  so  often  preach." 

He  told  me,  he  would  do  what  I  thought  fit. 

I  answered  that  all  I  desired  was  his  consent  to  receive 
baptism  :  "  without  which,"  I  told  him,  "  he  could  expect  no 
salvation."  I  explained  in  a  few  words,  the  nature  and  design 
of  it :  and  having  induced  him  to  consent,  I  went  for  some 
water ;  and  secretly  told  the  Captain  what  had  happened. 

But  unluckily,  another  Turk,  a  friend  of  his  (who  also 
understood  French,  and  had  heard  all  that  had  past),  whilst 
I  was  away,  said  something  to  my  proselyte  in  his  own  lan- 
guage :  so  that,  by  the  time  I  came  back,  he  had  quite 
altered  his  resolution,  in  such  wise  that  I  could,  by  no  means, 
persuade  him  to  perform  the  promise  he  made  me. 


Rcv.j.r.ion.-i  The    hunger    after    S  a  l  t  .  413 

1708.  J 

Nav  his  friend  threw  himself  over  him,  and  exhorted  him 
.        \!lLlrue  to  the  prophet  Mahomet;  m  spite  of  the 

siu   fiom  deathfl  should  have  hid  a  multitude  of  my  own 
s?ns     The  reader.  I  hope,  wil  excuse  my  former  e.ror 

-rsnncrl,    a,  annears  from  what  hath  been  said,  the    1  urks 

on?h    I'lie'^lTue^ted  somewhat  better  than  the  Chris 
?ians  •  and  though  they  be  in  no  wise  molested  on  the  score 
of  ?elieion     or  whilst  Mass  is  a  saying,  they  are  put  into  the 
ot  religion,  lor  wi  themselves  by  smoking 

S UlkLg^Vt"  toe  rnot  oL  of  them,  but  would  give  all 

ana  talking  •  ^^  Hhertv     For  the  very  name  of  a  Galley 

s'teTrTwe  to 'Lm.teatefnotwithstanding  their  treatme^ 

is  ore  tvea°yy?t  they  are  slaves  during  life:  ™l!=^%«'^,'; ' 
hev  are  vei  yo  d  and  unserviceable,  they  meet  with  friends  who 
areVilhn  Tay  out  a  large  sum  of  money  for  their  ransom 
Whi^shtws  h'^w  little  tliose  P"-- -.f^^^^?  1n"be 

X"rmen°Vhrwo"l"nottce7o"." 

galleys,  nien  w  ^^  talking  of  a  battle 

reronf'elV'srviunless'yf  great  distance;  or  Knows 
nothing  of  but  by  hearsay. 

o^hose  who  are  called  Fcmssoniers  [deceivers]  are  generally 
noir  peaslnts  who  are  found  to  buy  salt  in  such  provinces 
LhereiUs  cheap  such  as  the  country  of  Burgundy,  or  the 
Country  of  Domfe.     In  France,  what  they  call  a  pint  of  salt, 

"^it'?e'Irs'or';;:rrea?ants-and  their  whole  families 
who    for  want  of  sSt,  eat   no  soup  sometimes  ^  a  who  e 
week-  though  it  be  their  common  nourishment.     ^ J^^"}'^ 
S  case,  g?ieved  to  see  his  wife  and  children  m  a  starving. 


414    The  Criminal  Classes  in  a  galley.    P'^J-rS: 

languishing  condition,  ventures  to  go  abroad,  to  buy  salt  in 
the  Provinces  where  it  is  three  parts  in  four  cheaper.  If 
discovered,  he  is  certainly  sent  to  the  galleys.  It  is  a  very 
melancholy  sight,  to  see  a  wife  and  children  lament  their 
father,  whom  they  see  ladened  with  chains  and  irrevocably 
lost ;  and  that  for  no  other  crime  but  endeavouring  to  pro- 
cure subsistence  for  those  to  whom  he  gave  birth. 

These,  indeed,  are  condemned  only  for  a  time ;  perhaps 
five,  six,  or  eight  years  :  but  the  misfortune  is,  that  having 
served  out  their  time,  if  they  outlive  it,  they  are  still  unjustly 
detained.  For  Penance  or  Masses  avail  nothing  in  this 
Purgatory,  Indulgences  are  excluded,  especially  if  the  man 
be  unfortunately  strong  and  robust,  let  his  sentence  be  what 
it  will.  The  King's  orders  are  that  when  the  time  of  the 
sentence  is  expired,  they  should  be  set  at  liberty,  and  sent 
home.  But  in  this,  as  in  many  other  cases,  his  orders  are 
not  duly  put  in  execution  :  which  indeed  does  not  excuse 
him  !  since  a  good  Prince  is  obliged  to  have  an  eye  on  the 
administration  of  his  Ministers  and  servants. 


As  for  Deserters,  their  sentence  runs  during  life.  Formerly, 
they  used  to  cut  off  their  nose  and  ears :  but  because  they 
stank,  and  commonly  infected  the  whole  crew,  they  only 
now  give  them  a  little  slit. 

Though  these  are  inexcusable,  because  desertion  is,  upon 
several  accounts,  dangerous  and  base  :  yet  it  moves  one's  pity 
to  see  young  men,  who  often  happen  to  descend  from  good 
families,  condemned  to  so  wretched  and  so  miserable  a  life. 


Such  as  are  condemned  for  Crimes,  are  generally,  filous 
[pickpockets],  sharpers,  rooks  [cheats],  or  highwaymen.  The 
most  notorious  villains  are  least  daunted,  and  take  heart 
soonest.  They  presently  strike  up  a  friendship  with  those  of 
their  own  gang.  They  tell  over  their  old  rogueries,  and 
boast  of  their  crimes;  and  the  greatest  villain  passes  for  the 
greatest  hero. 

The  misery  they  have  reduced  themselves  to,  is  so  far  from 
working  any  amendment,  that  it  makes  them  more  desperate 
and  wicked :  insomuch  that  if  any  stranger  chances  to  come 


Rov.  J.  Bion.-j  YiiE  FIRST  SUPPLY  OF  PrOTESTANT  SLAVES.     4I  5 

aboard,  though  it  were  but  a  handkerchief  or  some  such 
trifle,  they  will  certainly  steal  it,  if  they  can.  Their  common 
employment  is  to  forge  titles,  to  engrave  false  seals,  and  to 
counterfeit  handwriting ;  and  these  they  sell  to  others  as  bad 
as  themselves,  that  often  come  in,  some  time  after,  to  bear 
them  company.  But  though  they  feel  no  remorse,  yet  they 
feel  the  Comite ;  who,  with  a  rope's  end,  often  visits  _  their 
shoulders  :  but  then,  instead  of  complaining,  they  vomit  out 
oaths  and  blasphemies  enough  to  make  a  man's  hair  stand 
on  end. 

There  was  one,  who,  shewing  me  the  mark  the  rope  had 
made  about  his  neck,  bragged  that  though  he  had  escaped 
the  gallows,  he  was  not  thereby  grown  a  coward  :  but  that, 
as  soon  as  ever  he  had  been  at  liberty,  he  had  robbed 
the  first  person  he  met  with.  And  that  having  been  taken, 
and  brought  before  a  judge  who  knew  him  not;  he  had 
been  only  condemned  to  the  galleys  ;  where,  he  thanked 
GOD  !  he  was  sure  of  bread  and  good  company,  the  remain- 
der of  his  days. 

It  is  certain,  that  how  terrible  and  hard  soever  the  usage 
of  such  may  be  in  the  galleys  ;  yet  it  is  too  mild  for  them  ! 
for  in  spite  of  all  the  misery  they  endure,  they  are  guilty  of 
crimes  too  abominable  to  be  here  related. 

Over  which,  we  shall  draw  a  veil ;  and  go  on  to  the  Pro- 
testants :  who  are  there  purely  because  they  chose  rather 
to  obey  GOD  than  man;  and  were  not  willing  to  exchange 
their  souls  for  the  gain  of  the  World.  It  is  not  the  least 
aggravating  circumstance  of  their  misery,  to  be  condemned 
to  such  helhsh  company.  They  who  have  so  great  a  value 
for  the  truth  of  religion  as  to  prefer  it  to  their  worldly 
interest,  must  be  supposed  to  be  indued  with  too  much 
virtue,  not  to  be  in  pain  and  under  concern,  for  the  open 
breach  of  its  rules,  and  the  unworthiness  of  its  professors. 

He   Protestants,  now  on   the  galleys,  have  been 
condemned  thither,  at  several  times. 

The  first  were  put  in,  after  the  Revocation  of 
the  Edict  of  Nantes  [October  22,  1685].    The  term 
prefixed  for  the  fatal   choice  of  either  abjuring 
their  religion,  or  leaving  the  Kingdom  was  a  fortnight :  and 


41 6  Great  injustice  of  the  French  system.  [^^'''- J- ^j,"": 

that  upon  pain  of  being  condemned  to  the  galleys.  But  this 
liberty,  by  many  base  artifices  and  unjust  methods  was 
rendered  useless,  and  of  none  effect.  There  were  often 
secret  orders,  by  the  contrivance  of  the  Clergy,  to  prevent 
their  embarking,  and  to  hinder  the  selling  of  their  substance. 
Their  debtors  were  absolved  by  their  Confessors,  when  they 
denied  [the  payment  of]  a  debt.  Children  were  forced  from 
their  fathers'  and  mothers'  arms,  in  hopes  that  the  tender- 
ness of  the  Parent  might  prevail  over  the  zeal  of  the  Christian. 
They  indeed  were  not  massacred,  as  in  Herod's  time,  but 
the  blood  of  the  Fathers  was  mingled  with  their  tears.  For 
many  Ministers,  who  had  zeal  and  constancy  enough  to 
brave  the  severest  punishments,  were  broken  alive  upon 
wheels,  without  mercy,  whenever  surprised  discharging  the 
duties  of  their  function.  The  Registers  and  Courts  of  Justice 
where  the  sentences  were  pronounced  against  them  are  re- 
corded, and  the  executioners  of  them  are  lasting  monuments 
of  the  bloody  temper  and  fury  of  Popery. 

The  laity  were  forbidden,  on  pain  of  the  galleys,  leaving 
the  kingdom,  on  any  pretence  whatsoever.  But  what 
posterity  will  scarcely  believe!  the  Protestants  of  all  sexes, 
ages,  and  conditions  used  to  fly  through  deserts  and  wild 
impracticable  ways,  they  committed  their  lives  to  the  mercy 
of  the  seas,  and  ran  innumerable  hazards,  to  avoid  either 
idolatry  or  martyrdom.  Some  escaped  very  happily  [for- 
tunatcly]  in  spite  of  the  vigilance  of  the  dragoons  and  bailiffs : 
but  a  great  many  fell  into  their  hands.  The  prisons  were 
filled  with  Confessors.  But  the  saddest  spectacle  of  all,  was 
to  see  200  men  at  a  time,  chained  together,  going  to  the 
galleys ;  and  above  loo  of  that  number  Protestants.  And 
what  was  barbarous  and  unjust  to  the  last  degree,  was  that 
they  were  obliged,  when  there,  on  pain  of  bastinado,  to  bow 
before  the  Host,  and  to  hear  Mass :  and  yet  that  was  the  only 
crime  for  which  they  had  been  condemned  thither. 

P"or  suppose  they  were  in  the  wrong,  in  obstinately  refusing 
to  change  their  religion  ;  the  galleys  were  the  punishment ! 
Why  then  were  they  required  to  do  that,  which  had  been  the 
cause  of  their  condemnation  ?  Especially  since  there  is  a 
law  in  France,  that  positively  forbids  a  double  punishment 
for  one  and  the  same  fault,  viz.,  Non  bis  punitur  in  idem. 
But  in  PVance,  properly  speaking,  there  is  no  Law  where  the 


J.Bion.-j  Jjjj,  ATROCIOUS  TREATMENT  OF  F.  SaBATTIER.  417 
170b. J 

King's  commands  are  absolute  and  peremptory.  I  have  seen 
a  General  Bastinado,  on  that  account ;  which  I  shall  describe 
in  its  proper  place  [see  p.  421]. 

It  is  certain,  that  though  there  were,  at  first,  a  very  great 
number  of  Protestants  condemned  to  the  galleys,  the  bastinado 
and  other  torments  hath  destroyed  [between  1685  and  1708] 
above  three  parts  of  four ;  and  the  most  of  those  who  are  still 
alive  are  in  dungeons,  as  Monsieurs  Bansillion,  De  Serres., 
and  Sabattier,  who  are  confined  to  a  dungeon,  at  Chateau 
d'lf,  a  fort  built  upon  a  rock  in  the  sea,  three  miles  from 
Marseilles. 

But  the  generous  constancy  of  this  last,  about  eight  or  ten 
months  ago  [or  rather  in  1689],  deserves  a  place  in  this  History, 
and  challenges  the  admiration  of  all  true  Protestants. 

Monsieur  [Francois]  Sabattier,  whose  charity  and  zeal 
equal  those  of  the  primitive  Christians,  having  a  little  rnoney, 
distributed  it  to  his  brethren  and  fellow  sufferers  in  the 
galleys.  But  the  Protestants  being  watched  more  narrowly 
than  the  rest;  he  could  not  do  it  so  secretly  but  he  was 
discovered,  and  brought  before  Monsieur  DE  Monmort, 
Intendant  of  the  Galleys  at  Marseilles. 

Being  asked,  he  did  not  deny  the  fact. 

Monsieur  Monmort  not  only  promised  him  his  Pardon,  but 
a  reward  if  he  would  declare  who  it  was  that  had  given  him 
that  money? 

Monsieur  Sabattier  modestly  answered  that,  "  he  should 
be  guilty  of  ingratitude  before  GOD  and  man,  if,  by  any  con- 
fession, he  should  bring  them  into  trouble  who  had  been  so 
charitable  to  him":  that  "his  person  was  at  his  disposal, 
but  he  desired  to  be  excused,  as  to  the  secret  expected  from 
him." 

The  Intendant  replied  he  "  had  a  way  to  make  him  tell, 
and  that  immediately." 

Whereupon,  he  sent  for  some  Turks,  who  at  his  command 
stripped  Sabattier  stark  naked;  and  beat  him,  at  several 
times,  with  rope  ends  and  cudgels,  during  three  days.  And 
seeing  this  did  not  prevail  over  this  generous  Confessor,  he 
himself,  which  never  happened  to  an  Intendant  before,  turned 
Executioner !  striking  him  with  his  cane  ;  and  telling  the  by- 
standers, "  See,  what  a  devil  of  a  religion  this  is  !  "     These 

£AG.  GAK.   VI.  27 


41 8  The  ferocity  of  the  Abbi^  du  Chelas.  p'^-J-^^^s! 

were  his  own  expressions,  as  is  credibly  reported  by  persons 
that  were  present.  The  Gazettes  and  Public  Letters  gave  us 
an  account  of  the  same. 

At  last,  seeing  he  was  ready  to  expire  ;  he  commanded 
him  into  a  dungeon  :  where,  maugre  all  torments.  Providence 
hath  preserved  him  to  this  day  [He  was  released  in  1713]. 

But  though  most  of  the  Protestants  of  the  first  date  are 
destroyed  :  yet  the  Wars  in  the  Cevennes  [1702-1705]  have 
furnished  them  with  more  than  enough  to  fill  the  vacant 
places.  These  Wars  may  be  properly  called  a  Second  Persecu- 
tion, because  the  cruelty  and  inveterate  malice  of  a  Popish 
priest  was  the  occasion  and  first  cause  of  them. 

One  of  the  most  bitter  and  passionate  enemies  of  the  Pro- 
testants was  the  Abbot  du  Chelas,  whose  benefice  was  in 
the  Cevennes.  He  kept  an  exact  account  of  the  Protestants 
in  his  district.  Whenever  he  missed  them  at  Mass,  he  used 
to  send  for  them,  under  some  pretence  or  other,  to  his  house ; 
and  used  to  make  his  servants  tie  them  (whether  men,  women, 
or  maidens)  to  a  tree,  stripped  down  to  their  waist :  and  then, 
with  horsewhips,  scourged  them  till  the  blood  gushed  out. 

This  the  Papists  themselves  do  not  deny,  who  own  that  this 
Du  Chelas  was  an  ill  [bad]  man :  and  yet  this  his  proceeding 
against  the  Protestants,  being  meritorious  at  Court,  he  had 
encouragement  to  hope  for  a  reward. 

But  at  last,  his  Protestant  neighbours  perceiving  there 
were  no  hopes  of  pacifying  this  monster  by  submission  and 
fair  means,  grew  desperate :  and  one  night  invested  his 
house.  He  leaped  out  of  his  window  into  his  garden  ;  but 
not  being  able  to  get  out,  he  begged  Quarter :  but  as  he  had 
never  granted  any,  they  served  him  in  his  kind,  by  killing 
him. 

And  because  they  were  sure  of  being  pursued,  they  kept 
the  country  :  and  by  degrees  their  numbers  increased.  All 
that  were  tormented  for  not  going  to  Mass,  made  a  body  and 
joined  them.  GOD  blessed  their  arms  with  success  for  some 
time  :  but  (for  good  reasons,  no  doubt,  though  unknown  to 
us)  he  gave  them  up  into  the  hands  of  their  enemies ;  and 
not  only  them,  but  the  inhabitants  of  the  neighbouring 
countries,  as  the  Viverrois  and  Langucdoc.  And  [onj  the  bare 
suspicion  of  being  in  their  Interest,  those  with  whom  any 


Rcv.j.pion.j    Monsieur   and    Madame    Salgas.    419 

arms  were  found,  those  who  refused  to  frequent  the  Mass, 
were  either  hanged,  or  broken  on  the  wheel. 

That  pretended  RebelHon  was  made  use  of,  as  a  pretence  to 
send  to  the  galleys,  several  rich  Protestant  merchants. 

There  is,  since  that  time,  a  Gentleman,  Monsieur  Salgas 
by  name,  who  before  the  Repealing  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes, 
enjoyed  a  plentiful  estate  in  the  Cevennes.  In  order  to  keep 
it,  he  abjured  his  religion,  and  promised  to  go  to  Mass.  His 
spouse,  a  worthy  Lady  (with  whom  I  have  often  conversed 
at  Geneva  where  she  lives)  refused  ;  and  generously  rejected 
all  proposals  on  that  subject. 

Seeing  they  threatened  her,  with  a  Cloister,  she  endeavoured 
to  gain  time :  but,  at  last,  her  husband  told  her  that  there 
was  a  positive  order  from  Court,  to  confine  her,  if  she  did  not 
comply  and  go  to  Mass. 

This  courageous  Lady,  who  deserves  to  be  a  pattern  of 
piety  and  zeal  to  posterity,  having,  by  prayer  and  other  acts 
of  devotion,  implored  the  Divine  assistance,  resolved  to  quit 
her  country,  her  husband  children  and  estate,  and  all  that  is 
dear  and  precious  here  below. 

She  took  her  opportunity,  one  day,  when  her  husband  was 
gone  a  hunting  ;  without  communicating  anything  of  her 
design  to  anybody  but  to  such  as  were  instrumental  in  her 
escape.  She  retired  to  Geneva,  where  she  might  have  liberty 
to  make  an  open  profession  of  her  religion,  and  bemoan  the 
misfortune  of  her  family. 

Some  time  after,  the  Wars  of  the  Cevennes  broke  out. 
Monsieur  de  Salgas  was  accused  of  assisting  the  Camisards 
with  provisions  :  and,  in  spite  of  his  hypocrisy  and  pretended 
zeal  for  his  new  religion,  he  was  sent  to  the  galleys. 

But  here  we  must  admire  the  wisdom  of  Providence,  very 
remarkable  in  this  dispensation.  For  this  has  proved  the 
means  to  open  his  own  eyes,  and  to  let  him  see  his  error :  as 
appears  from  the  penitential  letters  he  writes  to  his  friends, 
his  Christianlike  behaviour  under  his  sufferings,  his  exhorta- 
tions to  his  fellow  sufferers,  and  the  noble  and  pious  example 
he  shews  them. 

He  hath  had  frequent  offers  made  him,  of  being  restored 
to  his  estate,  on  the  same  conditions  he  had  preserved  it 
before  :  but  he  hath  hitherto  been  proof  against  all  their 
attempts. 


420  A  DESCRirXION  OF  A  GENERAL  BasTINADO.  [^''''' ^- ';;o8: 

He  was,  some  3'ears  ago,  put  into  the  Hospital  General 
for  the  Galleys,  at  Marseilles.  This  is  a  kind  of  manufactory, 
where  their  treatment  is  somewhat  easier  than  in  the  galleys. 
But  at  the  siege  of  Toulon  [1707J,  he  and  all  his  brethren 
were  taken  out  of  that  hospital,  and  reduced  to  their  old 
station  and  former  miserable  condition ;  besides  losing  12  or 
14  Louis  d'Or  [about  ;£"i2  ov  £^\\  which  he  had  procured,  to 
purchase  such  necessaries  as  might  keep  up  and  support  his 
spirits,  under  the  hardships  he  endured.  This  account  came 
to  his  Lady,  while  I  was  there  [therefore  BiON  was  at 
Geneva  in  1707]  ;  who  is,  as  one  may  easily  imagine,  under 
an  inexpressible  concern  for  the  miseries  her  husband  groans 
under. 

But  it  is  time  to  bring  this  sad  Relation  to  a  conclusion. 
In  order  whereunto,  I  shall  according  to  my  promise,  give 
an  account  of  the  General  Bastinado,  at  which  I  was  present : 
and  it  was  not  the  least  means  of  my  conversion !  GOD 
grant  it  may  be  effectual  to  my  salvation  ! 

In  the  year  1703,  several  Protestants  out  of  Languedoc 
and  the  Cevennes,  were  put  on  board  our  galley. 

They  were  narrowly  watched  and  observed.  I  was  mightily 
surprised,  one  Sunday  morning,  after  saying  Mass  on  the 
Bancasse  (a  table  so  placed  that  all  in  the  galley  may  see  the 
priest  when  he  elevates  the  Host),  to  hear  the  Comite  say  he 
was  "  going  to  give  the  Huguenots  the  bastinado  because  they 
did  not  kneel,  nor  shew  any  respect  to  the  mysteries  of  the 
Mass,"  and  that  he  was  a  going  to  acquaint  the  Captain 
therewith. 

The  very  name  of  Bastinado  terrified  me,  and  though  I  had 
never  seen  this  fearful  execution,  I  begged  the  Comite  to  for- 
bear till  the  next  Sunday ;  and  that,  in  the  mean  time,  I 
would  endeavour  to  convince  them  of  what  I  (then)  thought 
their  duty,  and  mine  own. 

Accordingly  I  used  all  the  means  I  could  possibly  think  of, 
to  that  effect  ;  sometimes  making  use  of  fair  means,  giving 
them  victuals  and  doing  them  other  good  offices  ;  sometimes 
using  threats,  and  representing  the  torments  that  were 
designed  them  ;  and  often  urging  the  King's  command  ;  and 
quoting  the  passage  of  St.  Paul,  that  he  who  resists  the  Higher 
Powers,  resists  GOD  ! 


Rev.j.  nbn.-j  jg  Protestants  bastinadoed  at  once.  421 

I  had  not,  at  that  time,  any  design  to  oblige  them  to  do 
anything  against  their  consciences.  I  must  confess  that 
what  I  did  at  that  time,  chiefly  proceeded  from  a  motive  of 
pity  and  tenderness.  This  was  the  cause  of  my  zeal ; 
which  had  been  more  fatal  to  them,  had  not  GOD  endued 
them  with  resolution  and  virtue  sufficient  to  bear  up  against 
my  arguments  and  the  terrible  execution  they  had  in  view. 

I  could  not  but  admire,  at  once  both  the  modesty  of  their 
answers  and  greatness  of  their  courage.  "  The  King,"  said 
they,  "  is  indeed  master  over  our  bodies,  but  not  of  our 
consciences." 

At  last,  the  dreadful  day  being  come,  the  Comite  narrow>y 
observed  them,  to  see  the  fruit  of  my  labours.  There  were 
only  two  out  of  the  twenty,  that  bowed  their  knee  to  Baal. 

The  rest  generously  refused  it,  and  were  accordingly,  by 
the  Captain's  command,  served  in  the  manner  following  : 

Here,  like  another  ^Eneas  (with  regret,  calling  to  mind 
the  miseries  and  ruin  of  his  own  country ;  the  very  memory 
whereof  struck  his  soul  with  horror)  ;  I  may  truly  say, 

Infandum  Regina  jubes  renovare  dolorem  ! 

In  order  to  the  execution,  every  man's  chains  were  taken 
off;  and  they  were  put  into  the  hands  of  four  Turks,  who 
stripped  them  stark  naked,  and  stretched  them  upon  the 
Coursier,  that  great  gun  we  have  described  in  the  Preface. 
There  they  are  so  held  that  they  cannot  so  much  as  stir. 
During  that  time,  there  is  a  horrid  silence  throughout  the 
whole  galley.  It  is  so  cruel  a  scene  that  the  most  profligate 
obdurate  wretches  cannot  bear  the  sight ;  but  are  forced  to 
turn  away  their  eyes. 

The  victim  thus  prepared,  the  Turk  pitched  upon  to  be 
the  executioner,  with  a  tough  cudgel  or  knotty  rope's  end, 
unmercifully  beats  the  poor  wretch  ;  and  that  too  the  more 
willingly,  because  he  thinks  that  it  is  acceptable  to  his 
prophet  Mahomet. 

But  the  most  barbarous  thing  of  all  is,  that  after  the  skin 
is  flayed  off  their  bones  ;  the  only  balsam  they  apply  to  their 
wounds  is  a  mixture  of  vinegar  and  salt. 

After  this,  they  are  thrown  into  the  hospital  already 
described  [p.  409]. 

I  went  thither,  after  the  execution ;  and  could  not  refrain 


Bion. 


422  Punishment  of  Protestants  for  Religion.  p^J"! 

from  tears  at  the  sight  of  so  much  barbarity.  They  quickly 
perceived  it,  and  though  scarce  able  to  speak,  through  pain 
and  weakness ;  they  thanked  me  for  the  compassion  I 
expressed,  and  the  kindness  I  had  always  shewn  them. 

I  went  with  a  design  to  administer  some  comfort ;  but  I 
was  glad  to  find  them  less  moved  than  I  was  myself.  It  was 
wonderful  to  see  with  what  true  Christian  patience  and 
constancy,  they  bore  their  torments  :  in  the  extremity  of 
their  pain,  never  expressing  anything  like  rage  ;  but  calling 
upon  Almighty  GOD,  and  imploring  his  assistance. 

I  visited  them,  day  by  day;  and  as  often  as  I  did,  my 
conscience  upbraided  me  for  persisting  so  long  in  a  religion, 
whose  capital  errors  I  had  long  before  perceived,  and  above 
all,  that  inspired  so  much  cruelty ;  a  temper  directly  opposite 
to  the  spirit  of  Christianity.  At  last,  their  wounds,  like  so 
many  mouths,  preached  to  me,  made  me  sensible  of  my 
error,  and  experimentally  taught  me  the  excellency  of  the 
Protestant  Religion. 


But  it  is  high  time  to  conclude,  and  draw  a  curtain  over 
this  horrid  scene  ;  which  presents  us  with  none  but  ghastly 
sights,  and  transactions  full  of  barbarity  and  injustice  :  but 
which  all  shew  how  false  what  they  pretend  in  France,  is, 
for  detaining  the  Protestants  in  the  galleys,  viz.,  that  they 
do  not  suffer  there  upon  a  religious,  but  a  civil  account :' 
being  condemned  for  rebellion  and  disobedience.  The  punish- 
ments inflicted  on  them,  when  they  refuse  to  adore  the  Host; 
the  rewards  and  advantages  offered  them  on  their  compliance 
in  that  particular;  area  sufficient  argument  against  them: 
there  being  no  such  offers  made  to  such,  who  are  condemned 
for  crimes.  It  shews  the  World  also,  the  almost  incredible 
barbarity  used  against  the  French  Protestants  ;  and,  at  the 
same  time,  sets  off  in  a  most  glorious  manner,  their  virtue, 
constancy,  and  zeal  for  their  holy  Religion. 

FINIS. 


423 


ftegtnnett)  a 

little  seste   of  Jaobtn 

i^ooU  anU  l)ts  meinp :  anD  of  tl)e 

prouD   S)t)eriff  of  J15otttnsl)am. 


Ithe  and  listen,  Gentlemen 
That  be  of  free-born  blood  ! 
I  shall  you  tell  of  a  good  yeoman  ; 
His  name  was  Robin  Hood. 
Robin  was  a  proud  outlaw, 
Whiles  he  walked  on  ground, 
So  courteous  an  outlaw  as  he  was  one, 
Was  never  none  yfound. 
Robin  stood  in  Bernysdale, 
And  leaned  him  to  a  tree ; 
And  by  him  stood  Little  John, 
A  good  yeoman  was  he  : 
And  also  did  good  Scathelock, 
And  Much  the  miller's  son, 
There  was  no  inch  of  his  body 
But  it  was  worth  a  groom. 
Then  bespake  him  Little  John, 
All  unto  Robin  Hood, 

"  Master,  if  ye  would  dine  betime, 
It  would  do  you  much  good  !  " 

Then  bespake  good  Robin, 
"  To  dine  I  have  no  lust, 
Till  I  have  some  bold  Baron, 
Or  some  unketh  guest, 
That  may  pay  for  the  best. 


424  First  vKmi-E-D  Robin  Hood  ballad,  [wwerabout^^sxt 

Or  some  Knight  or  some  Squire 
That  dwelleth  here  by  West." 

A  good  manner  then  had  Robin, 
In  land  where  that  he  were, 
Every  day  or  he  would  dine, 
Three  Masses  would  he  hear. 
The  one  in  the  worship  of  the  Father, 
The  other  of  the  HOLY  GHOST, 
The  third  was  of  our  dear  Lady 
That  he  loved,  all  others  most. 
Robin  loved  our  dear  Lady; 
For  doubt  of  deadly  sin, 
Would  he  never  do  company  harm 
That  any  woman  was  in. 

"  Master!  "  then  said  Little  John, 
"  And  we  our  board  shall  spread, 
Tell  us.  Whether  we  shall  gone. 
And  what  life  we  shall  lead  ? 
Where  shall  we  take  ?  where  we  shall  leave? 
Where  we  shall  abide  behind  ? 
Where  shall  we  rob  ?  where  shall  we  'reave  ? 
Where  we  shall  beat  and  bind  ?  " 

"  Thereof,  no  force  !  "  said  Robin, 
"  We  shall  do  well  enough  ! 
But  look,  ye  do  no  husband  harm, 
That  tilleth  with  his  plough  ! 
No  more  ye  shall  no  good  yeoman 
That  walketh  by  green-wood  shaw  ! 
Ne  no  Knight,  ne  no  Squire 
That  would  be  a  good  fellow  ! 
These  Bishops  and  these  Archbishops, 
Ye  shall  them  beat  and  bind ! 
The  High  Sheriff  of  Nottingham, 
Him  hold  in  your  mind  !  " 

"  This  word  shall  be  held,"  saith  Little  John, 
"  And  this  lesson  shall  we  lere  ! 
It  is  far  day,  God  send  us  a  guest. 
That  we  were  at  our  dinner  !  " 

"  Take  thy  good  bow  in  thy  hand,"  said  Robin, 
"  Let  Much  wend  with  thee  ! 
And  so  shall  William  Scatiielock! 


wordSoutTsio!!  First  PRINTED  j^c^/iV //co/?  ballad.  425 

And  no  man  abide  with  me. 
And  walk  up  to  the  sayles, 
And  so  to  Watling  street, 
And  wait  after  some  unketh  guest, 
Upchance,  ye  may  them  meet : 
Be  he  Earl  or  any  Baron, 
Abbot  or  any  Knight, 
Bring  him  to  lodge  to  me  ! 
His  dinner  shall  be  dight  !  " 

They  went  unto  the  sayles, 
These  yeomen  all  three  ; 
They  looked  East,  they  looked  West, 
They  might  no  man  see. 

But  as  they  looked  in  Bernysdale, 
By  a  derne  street, 
Then  came  there,  a  Knight  riding : 
Full  soon  they  'gan  him  meet. 
All  dreary  then  was  all  his  semblante, 
And  little  was  his  pride. 
His  one  foot  in  the  stirrup  stood, 
That  other  waved  beside. 
His  hood  hanging  over  his  eyen  two. 
He  rode  in  simple  array  ; 
A  sorrier  man  than  he  was  one. 
Rode  never  in  summer's  day. 

Little  John  was  courteous, 
And  set  him  on  his  knee, 
"  Welcome  be  ye,  gentle  Knight ! 
Welcome  are  you  to  me  ! 
Welcome  be  thou  to  green  wood, 
Hende  Knight  and  free  ! 
My  master  hath  abiden  you  fasting. 
Sir  !  all  these  hours  three  !  " 

"  Who  is  your  master  ?  "  said  the  Knight. 

John  said,  ''  Robin  Hood  !  " 

"  He  is  a  good  yeoman,"  said  the  Knight ; 
"  Of  him  I  have  heard  much  good  ! 
I  grant,"  he  said,  "  with  you  to  wend, 
My  brethren  all  three  : 
My  purpose  was  to  have  dined  to-day 
At  Blyth  or  Doncaster." 


426  First  VB.mi:-ET)  Robin  Hood  ballad,  [wwderaboutTsit! 

Forth  then  went  that  gentle  Knight, 
With  a  careful  cheer  ; 
The  tears  out  of  his  eyen  ran, 
And  fell  down  by  his  leer. 

They  brought  him  unto  the  lodge  door: 
When  Robin  'gan  him  see, 
Full  courteously  did  off  his  hood. 
And  set  him  on  his  knee. 

"  Welcome,  Sir  Knight  !  "  then  said  Robin, 
"  Welcome  thou  art  to  me  ; 
I  have  abide  you  fasting.  Sir, 
All  these  hours  three  !  " 

Then  answered  the  gentle  Knight 
With  words  fair  and  free, 
"  God  thee  save,  good  Robin  ! 
And  all  thy  fair  meiny  !  " 

They  washed  together,  and  wiped  both; 
And  set  till  *  their  dinner  :  *to. 

Bread  and  wine  they  had  enough, 
And  nombles  of  the  deer; 
Swans  and  pheasants  they  had  full  good, 
And  fowls  of  the  river. 
There  failed  never  so  little  a  bird 
That  ever  was  bred  on  breret.  t  briar. 

"  Do  gladly,  Sir  Knight !  "  said  Robin. 

"  Grammercy,  Sir  !  "  said  he, 
"  Such  a  dinner  had  I  not 
Of  all  the  weeks  three  : 
If  I  come  again,  Robin, 
Here  by  this  country, 
As  good  a  dinner,  I  shall  thee  make 
As  thou  hast  made  to  me !  " 

*'  Grammercy,  Knight !  "  said  Robin, 
"  My  dinner  when  I  have 
I  was  never  so  greedy,  by  dear  worthy  God  ! 
My  dinner  for  to  crave  : 
But  pay  ere  ye  wend  !  "  said  Robin  ; 
"  Methinketh  it  is  good  right, 
It  was  never  the  manner,  by  dear  worthy  God  ! 
A  yeoman  [to]  pay  for  a  Knight  !  " 

"  I  have  nought  in  my  coffers,"  said  the  Knight, 


^''''"^''bK5i''o^]  Fii^sT  PRINTED  Robin  Hood  ballad.  427 


WortJe,  about 


"  That  I  may  proffer,  for  shame !  " 

"  Little  John  !  go  look  !  "  said  Robin  Hood, 
"  Ne  let  not,  for  no  blame, 
Tell  me  truth  !  "  said  Robin, 
"  So  God  have  part  of  thee  !  " 

"  I  have  no  more  but  ten  shillings,"  said  the  Knight, 
"  So  God  have  part  of  me  !  " 

"  If  thou  have  no  more,"  said  Robin, 
"  I  will  not  one  penny ! 
And  if  thou  have  need  of  any  more  ; 
More  shall  I  lenTd]  thee  ! 
Go  now  forth,  Little  John, 
The  truth,  tell  thou  me  ! 
If  there  be  no  more  but  ten  shillings. 
Not  one  penny  that  I  see  !  " 

Little  John  spread  down  his  mantle 
Full  fair  upon  the  ground  ; 
And  there  he  found,  in  the  Knight's  coffer, 
But  even  half  a  pound. 
Little  John  let  it  lie  full  still. 
And  went  to  his  master  full  low. 

"  What  tidings,  John  ?  "  said  Robin. 

"  Sir,  the  Knight  is  true  enough  !  " 
"  Fill  of  the  best  wine  !  "  said  Robin, 
"  The  Knight  shall  begin  ! 
Much  wonder  thinketh  me 
Thy  clothing  is  so  thin  ! 
Tell  me  one  word,"  said  Robin, 
*'  And  counsel  shall  it  be  : 
I  trow  thou  wert  made  a  Knight,  of  force, 
Or  else  of  yeomanry  1 
Or  else  thou  hast  been  a  sorry  husband 
And  leaved  in  stroke  and  strife. 
And  okerer  or  else  a  lecher,"  said  Robin, 
"  With  wrong  hast  thou  led  thy  life  !  " 

"  I  am  none  of  them,"  said  the  Knight, 
"  By  God  that  made  me  ! 
A  hundred  winters  herebefore, 
My  ancestors,  Knights  have  been. 
But  oft  it  hath  befallen,  Robin  ! 
A  man  hath  been  disgraced, 


428  First  printed  Robin  Hood  ballad.  [w^derfboutTsi'L! 

But  GOD  that  sitteth  in  heaven  above, 

May  amend  his  state  ! 

Within  two  or  three  years,  Robin  !  "  he  said, 

"  (My  neighbours  well  it  know  !) 

Four  hundred  pounds  of  good  money 

Full  well  then  might  I  spend. 

Now,  have  I  no  goods,"  said  the  Knight ; 

"  But  my  children  and  my  wife  ! 

GOD  hath  shapen  such  an  end, 

Till  GOD  it  may  amend  !  " 

"  In  what  manner,"  said  Robin, 
"  Hast  thou  lost  thy  riches  ?  " 

*'  For  my  great  folly,"  he  said, 
*'  And  for  my  kindness  ! 
I  had  a  son,  forsooth,  Robin  ! 
That  should  have  been  my  heir  : 
When  he  was  twenty  winters  old. 
In  field  would  joust  full  fair. 
He  slew  a  Knight  of  Lancashire 
And  a  Squire  bold. 
For  to  save  him  in  his  right 
My  goods  be  set  and  sold, 
My  lands  be  set  to  wed,  Robin  ! 
Until  a  certain  day 
To  a  rich  Abbot  here  besides. 
Of  Saint  Mary's  Abbey." 

"  What  is  the  sum  ?  "  said  Robin  ; 
"  Truth  then  tell  thou  me  !  " 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  "  four  hundred  pounds, 
The  Abbot  told  it  to  me !  " 

"  Now,  and  thou  lose  thy  land  !  "  said  Robin, 
"  What  shall  'fall  of  thee  ?  " 

"  Hastily  I  will  me  busk,"  said  the  Knight, 
"  Over  the  salt  sea, 

And  see  where  Christ  was  quick  and  dead 
On  the  Mount  of  Calvary  ! 
Farewell,  friend  !  and  have  good  day  ! 
It  may  not  better  be  !  " 
Tears  fell  out  of  his  eyen  two, 
He  would  have  gone  his  way. 
"  Farewell,  friends,  and  have  good  day! 


Printed  by  w.  (le-1    Pij^sT   VKINTED  KcW^iV  HoOD   BALLAD.    429 

'orde,  about  1510.J 


Worde 


I  ne  have  more  to  pay  !  " 

''  Where  be  thy  friends  ?  "  said  Robin. 
"  Sir  !  never  one  will  know  me  ! 
While  I  was  rich  enough  at  home 
Great  boast  then  would  they  blow ; 
And  now  they  run  away  from  me 
As  beasts  in  a  row, 
They  take  no  more  heed  of  me 
Than  they  me  never  saw  !  " 

For  ruth  then  wept  Little  John, 
ScATHELOCK  and  Much  also. 

"  Fill  of  the  best  wine  !  "  said  Robin, 
"For  here  is  a  simple  cheer. 
Hast  thou  any  friends,"  said  Robin, 
"  The  borrows  that  will  be  ?  " 

"  I  have  none !  "  then  said  the  Knight, 
"  But  God  that  died  on  the  tree ! " 

"  Do  way  thy  japes  !  "  said  Robin, 
"  Thereof  will  I  right  none  ! 
Weenest  thou,  I  will  have  GOD  to  borrow, 
Peter,  Paul,  or  John  ? 
Nay,  by  Him  that  me  made. 
And  shaped  both  sun  and  moon ! 
Find  a  better  borrow,"  said  Robin, 
"  Or  money  gettest  thou  none  !  " 

"  I  have  none  other  !  "  said  the  Knight^ 
*'  The  sooth  for  to  say, 
But  if  it  be  Our  dear  Lady 
She  failed  me  never  or  this  day  !  " 

"  By  dear  worthy  God  !  "  said  Robin, 
"  To  seek  all  England  through, 
Yet  found  I  never  to  my  pay 
A  much  better  borrow  ! 
Come  now  forth.  Little  John  ! 
And  go  to  my  treasure  ! 
And  bring  me  four  hundred  pound, 
And  look  that  it  well  told  be !  " 
Forth  then  went  Little  John 
And  ScATHELOCK  went  before, 
He  told  out  four  hundred  pound 
By  eighteen  [  ?  eight  and  twenty]  score. 


430  First  printed  Robin  Hood  ballad.  [woru'rabout^Isit! 

"  Is  this  well  told  ?  "  say  Little  Much. 

John  said,  "  What  grieveth  thee  ? 
It  is  alms  to  help  a  gentle  Knight 
That  is  fallen  in  poverty!  " 

"  Master !  "  then  said  Little  John, 
"  His  clothing  is  full  thin  ! 
Ye  must  give  the  Knight  a  livery 
To  help  his  body  therein  : 
For  ye  have  scarlet  and  green,  Master  ! 
And  many  a  rich  array  ; 
There  is  no  merchant  in  merry  England 
So  rich,  I  dare  well  say." 

"  Take  him  three  yards  of  every  colour, 
And  look  it  well  meeted  be  !  " 

Little  John  took  none  other  measure 
But  his  bow  tree ; 
And  of  every  handful  that  he  met 
He  leaped  over  feet  three. 

"  What  devilkins  draper !  "  said  Little  Much, 
"  Thinkst  thou  to  be  ?  " 

Scathelock  stood  full  still,  and  laughed, 
And  said  "  By  God  Almighty  ! 
John  may  give  him  the  better  measure ; 
By  God  !  it  cost  him  but  light !  " 

"  Master !  "  said  Little  John, 
All  unto  Robin  Hood, 
"  Ye  must  give  the  Knight  an  horse 
To  lead  home  all  these  goods." 

"  Take  him  a  grey  courser !  "  said  Robin, 
"And  a  saddle  new! 
He  is  Our  Lady's  Messenger ; 
God  leve  that  he  be  true !  " 

"And  a  good  palfrey,"  said  Little  Much, 
"  To  maintain  him  in  his  right  !  " 

"And  a  pair  of  boots,"  said  Scathelock, 
"  For  he  is  a  gentle  Knight !  " 

"What  shalt  thou  give  him,  Little  John  ?  "  said  Robin, 

"  Sir  ;  a  pair  of  gilt  spurs  clear. 
To  pray  for  all  this  company ; 
God  bring  him  out  of  teen  !  " 

"  When  shall  my  day  be,"  said  the  Knight, 


Printed  by  w.dc-1    T^ iy>q,t  VRINTED  jRoB/N  HoOD  V,ALl.Al).    43  I 

orde,  about  1510.J 


Word. 


"  Sir  !  and  your  will  be  ?  " 

"  This  day  twelvemonth  !  "  said  Robin, 
"  Under  this  green-wood  tree. 
It  were  great  shame,"  said  Robin, 
*'  A  Knight  alone  to  ride  ; 
Without  Squire,  yeoman,  or  page, 
To  walk  by  his  side  ! 
I  shall  thee  lend,  Little  John,  my  man; 
For  he  shall  be  thy  knave  ! 
In  a  yeoman's  stead,  he  may  thee  stand, 
If  thou  great  need  have  !  " 

C  Cl)e  seconD  fptte* 


i^Ow  is  the  Knight  went  on  his  way, 
This  game  he  thought  full  good. 
When  he  looked  on  Bernysdale, 
He  blessed  Robin  Hood': 
And  when  he  bethought  on  Bernysdale, 
On  ScATHELOCK,  MucH,  and  John  ; 
He  blessed  them  for  the  best  company 
That  ever  he  in  come. 

Then  spake  that  gentle  Knight, 
To  Little  John  'gan  he  say, 
''  To-morrow,  I  must  to  York  town, 
To  Saint  Mary's  Abbey, 
And  to  the  Abbot  of  that  place 
Four  hundred  pound  I  must  pay  : 
And  but  I  be  there  upon  this  night 
My  land  is  lost  for  aye !  " 

The  Abbot  said  to  his  Convent, 
There  he  stood  on  ground:  , 

"This  day  twelve  months  came  there  a  Knight, 
And  borrowed  four  hundred  pound 
Upon  all  his  land  free  ; 
But  he  come  this  ilk  day 
Disherited  shall  he  be  !  " 

"  It  is  full  early  !  "  said  the  Prior, 


;2     First   PRINTED   7v(977/yV //'C(9Z>  BALLAD,    [wordeffbout^sfo! 

"  The  day  is  not  yet  far  gone  ! 

I  had  lever  to  pay  an  hundred  pound 

And  lay  [it]  down  anon. 

The  Knight  is  far  beyond  the  sea 

In  England  he  is  right, 

And  suffereth  hunger  and  cold 

And  many  a  sorry  night  : 

It  were  great  pity,"  said  the  Prior, 

**  So  to  have  his  land  : 

And  ye  be  so  light  of  your  conscience 

Ye  do  to  him  much  wrong ! " 

"  Thou  art  ever  in  my  beard,"  said  the  Abbot ; 
"  By  God  and  Saint  Richard  !  " 
With  that  came  in,  a  fat-headed  monk, 
The  High  Cellarer. 

*'  He  is  dead  or  hanged  !  "  said  the  Monk, 
"  By  God  that  bought  me  dear  ! 
And  we  shall  have  to  spend  in  this  place. 
Four  hundred  pounds  by  year  !  " 

The  Abbot  and  High  Cellarer 
Start  forth  full  bold : 
The  Justice  of  England, 
The  Abbot  there  did  hold. 
The  High  Justice,  and  many  mo, 
Had  taken  into  their  hand 
Wholly  all  the  Knight's  debt, 
To  put  that  Knight  to  wrong. 
They  deemed  the  Knight  wonder  sore 
The  Abbot  and  his  meiny, 
But  he  come  this  ilk  day 
Disherited  shall  he  be. 

"  He  will  not  come  yet,"  said  the  Justice, 
"  I  dare  well  undertake  !  " 

But  in  sorrow  time  for  them  all, 
The  Knight  came  to  the  gate. 

Then  bespake  that  gentle  Knight 
Until  his  meiny, 

"  Now,  put  on  your  simple  weeds 
That  ye  brought  from  the  sea !  " 

They  came  to  the  gates  anon, 
The  Porter  was  ready  himself, 


Prmted^byW.d^e-|    "p ^^^j   PRINTED  RoBIN  HoOD   BALLAD.    433 


Worde,  about  : 


And  welcomed  them  every  each  one. 

"Welcome,  Sir  Knight !  "  said  the  Porter; 
•'  My  Lord,  to  meat  is  he  ; 
And  so  is  many  a  gentleman 
For  the  love  of  thee  !  " 

The  Porter  swore  a  full  great  oath 
"  By  God  that  made  me  ! 
Here  be  the  best  coresed  horse 
That  ever  yet  saw  I  me  ! 
Lead  them  into  the  stable !  "  he  said, 
*'  That  eased  might  they  be  !  " 

"  They  shall  not  come  therein  !  "  said  the  Knight, 
"  By  God  that  died  on  a  tree  1  " 

Lords  were  to  meat  yset 
In  that  Abbot's  hall : 

The  Knight  went  forth,  and  kneeled  down. 
And  salued  them,  great  and  small. 

"  Do  gladly,  Sir  Abbot!  "  said  the  Knight, 
**  I  am  come  to  hold  my  day !" 

The  first  word  the  Abbot  spake, 
**  Hast  thou  brought  my  pay  ?  " 

"  Not  one  penny  !"  said  the  Knight, 
"  By  God  that  maked  me  !" 

"  Thou  art  a  shrewd  debtor ! "  said  the  Abbot ; 
"  Sir  Justice,  drink  to  me  ! 
What  doest  thou  here,"  said  the  Abbot, 
*'  But  thou  hadst  brought  thy  pay  ? " 

"  For  GOD  !"  then  said  the  Knight, 
"  To  pray  of  a  longer  day  ! " 

"  Thy  day  is  broke  !"  said  the  Justice  ; 
**  Land  gettest  thou  none  ! " 

"  Now,  good  Sir  Justice  !  be  my  friend  ! 
And  fend  me  of  my  fone  !" 

"  I  am  hold  with  the  Abbot  !"  said  the  Justice, 
"  Both  with  cloth  and  fee  ! " 

"  Now,  good  Sir  Sheriff!  be  my  friend  !  " 
"Nay,  for  God!"  said  he. 
"  Now,  good  Sir  Abbot !  be  my  friend  1 
For  thy  courtesy ; 
And  hold  my  lands  in  thy  hand 
Till  I  have  made  thee  gree  : 
Eng.Gar.VI.  28 


434    TlRST   PRINTED  RoBLY  HoOD  BALLAD.    [wortrabuutT^x' 

And  I  will  be  thy  true  servant 
And  truly  serve  thee 
Till  3^e  have  four  hundred  pounds 
Of  money  good  and  free." 

The  Abbot  sware  a  full  great  oath, 
*'  By  God  that  died  on  a  tree  ! 
Get  thee  land  where  thou  mayest ; 
For  thou  gettest  none  of  me  !  " 

"  By  dear  worthy  God,"  then  said  the  Knight, 
**  That  all  this  world  wrought ! 
But  I  have  my  land  again. 
Full  dear  it  shall  be  bought ! 
God  that  was  of  Maiden  born, 
Leave  us  well  to  speed  ! 
For  it  is  good  to  assay  a  friend 
Or  that  a  man  have  need  !  " 

The  Abbot  loathly  on  him  'gan  look, 
And  villainously  him  'gan  look  : 
"  Out,"  he  said,  "  thou  false  Knight ! 
Speed  thee  out  of  my  hall !" 

"Thou  liest !"  then  said  the  gentle  Knight,    -> 
"  Abbot  in  thy  hall  I 
False  Knight  was  I  never. 
By  God  that  made  us  all ! " 
Up  then  stood  that  gentle  Knight: 
To  the  Abbot,  said  he, 
"  To  suffer  a  Knight  to  kneel  so  long. 
Thou  canst  no  courtesy  I 
In  jousts  and  in  tournament 
Full  far  then  have  I  be  ; 
And  put  myself  as  far  in  press 
As  any  that  ever  I  see." 

"  What  will  ye  give  more,"  said  the  Justice, 
"  And  the  Knight  shall  make  a  release  ? 
And  else  I  dare  safely  swear 
Ye  hold  never  your  land  in  peace  !" 

"  An  hundred  pounds  ! "  said  the  Abbot. 

The  Justice  said,  '*  Give  him  two  !" 

"  Nay,  by  God  ! "  said  the  Knight, 
**  Yet  grete  ye  it  not  so  ! 
Though  ye  would  give  a  thousand  more, 


de 
510. 


wort',loLT;:t:]  Fii^sT  PRINTED  Robin  Hood  ballad.  435 

Yet  wert  thou  never  the  near ! 

Shalt  there  never  be  mine  heir, 

Abbot!  Justice!  ne  Friar!" 

He  started  him  to  a  board  anon, 

Till  a  table  round, 

And  there  he  shook  out  of  a  bag 

Even  four  hundred  pound. 

"  Have  here  thy  gold,  Sir  Abbot !"  said  the  Knight, 

"  Which  that  thou  lentest  me  ! 

Hadst  thou  been  courteous  at  my  coming, 

Rewarded  shouldst  thou  have  be  !  " 

The  Abbot  sat  still,  and  eat  no  more, 
For  all  his  royal  cheer  : 
He  cast  his  head  on  his  shoulder, 
And  fast  began  to  stare. 

"Take  me,  my  gold  again !"  said  the  Abbot, 
"  Sir  Justice,  that  I  took  thee  ! " 

"  Not  a  penny !"  said  the  Justice, 
*'  By  God  that  died  on  the  tree  !" 

*'  Sir  Abbot,  and  ye  Men  of  Law  I 
Now  have  I  held  my  day  ! 
Now  shall  I  have  my  land  again 
For  ought  that  you  can  say  ! " 

The  Knight  started  out  of  the  door. 
Away  was  all  his  care  ! 
And  on  he  put  his  good  clothing, 
The  other  he  left  there. 
He  went  him  forth  full  merry  singing 
As  men  have  told  in  tale. 
His  Lady  met  him  at  the  gate 
And  home  in  Verysdale. 

"Welcome,  my  Lord!"  said  his  Lady, 
"  Sir,  lost  is  all  your  good  ?" 

"  Be  merry.  Dame  !"  said  the  Knight, 
"  And  pray  for  Robin  Hood  ! 
That  ever  his  soul  be  in  bliss  ; 
He  helped  me  out  of  my  teen. 
Ne  had  not  been  his  kindness, 
Beggars  had  we  been  ! 
The  Abbot  and  I  accorded  be  ; 


436  First  rruNTED  Robin  Hood  ballad.  [wurS^ 

He  is  served  of  his  pay  ! 
The  good  yeoman  lent  it  me. 
As  I  came  by  the  way." 


This  Knight  then  dwelled  fair  at  home, 
The  sooth  for  to  say, 
Till  he  had  got  four  hundred  pounds 
All  ready  for  to  pay. 
He  purveyed  him  an  hundred  bows, 
The  strings  well  dight ; 
An  hundred  sheafs  of  arrows  good, 
The  heads  burnished  full  bright : 
And  every  arrow  an  ell  long 
With  peacock  well  ydight ; 
Ynocked  all  with  white  silver. 
It  was  a  seemly  sight. 
He  purveyed  him  an  hundred  men. 
Well  harnessed  in  that  stead. 
And  himself  in  that  same  set 
And  clothed  in  white  and  red. 

He  bare  a  lance  gay  in  his  hand, 

And  a  man  led  his  mail, 

And  riding  with  a  light  song 

Unto  Bernysdale. 

But  as  he  went,  at  a  bridge  there  was  a  wrestling, 

And  there  tarried  was  he  : 

And  there  was  all  the  best  yeomen 

Of  all  the  West  country. 

A  full  fair  game  there  was  up  set ; 

A  white  bull,  ay,  up-pitched  ; 

A  great  courser,  with  saddle  and  bridle 

With  gold  burnished  full  bright ; 

A  pair  of  gloves,  a  red  gold  ring, 

A  pipe  of  wine,  in  good  fay  : 

What  man  beareth  him  best,  Iwis 

The  prize  shall  bear  away. 

There  was  a  yeoman  in  that  place, 

And  best  worthy  was  he. 

And  for  he  was  far  ioff]  and  friend  bestead 

Yslain  he  should  have  be. 


by  W.  de 
mt  1510. 


Primed  by  W.  del    Ftrst   VVkI^TZV)  RoBIN  HoOD   ballad.    4; 

Worde,  ;ibout  1510.  J 

The  Knight  had  ruth  of  his  yeoman 
In  place  where  that  he  stood  : 
He  said,  "  The  yeoman  should  have  no  harm, 
For  love  of  Robin  Hood  !  " 

The  Knight  pressed  into  the  place, 
An  hundred  followed  him  fair, 
With  bows  bent  and  arrows  sharp 
For  to  shend  that  company. 
They  shouldered  all  and  made  him  room 
To  wdt  what  he  would  say ; 

He  took  the  yeoman  by  the  hand 

And  gave  him  all  the  play ; 

He  gave  him  five  marks  for  his  wme, 

There  it  laid  on  the  mould  : 

And  bade  it  should  be  set  abroach, 

Drink  who  so  would  ! 

Thus  long  tarried  this  gentle  Knight 

Till  that  play  was  done  :  _ 

So  long  abode  Robin  fasting, 

Three  hours  after  the  noon. 


Cl)e  tl)(rD  fptte 


ITHE  and  listen,  Gentlemen  1 
All  that  now  be  here,  ,     ,.   .  .  ,.    ^^„ 

Of  Little  John,  that  was  the  Knight  s  man, 
Good  mirth  ye  shall  hear. 

It  was  upon  a  merry  day 
That  young  men  would  go  shoot, 
Little  John  fetched  his  bow  anon 
And  said  he  "  would  them  meet." 

Three  times.  Little  John  shot  about. 
And  always  he  sleste  [slit]  the  wand  : 
The  proud  Sheriff  of  Nottingham 
By  the  Marks  'gan  stand. 

The  Sheriff  swore  a  full  great  oath, 
"  By  Him  that  died  on  the  tree  1 
This  man  is  the  best  archer 
That  yet  saw  I  me  ! 


438  First  printed  Robin  Hood  ballad.  [vvvdrabouiT;i!r 

Say  me  now,  white  young  man  ! 
What  is  now  thy  name  ? 
In  what  country  wert  thou  horn  ? 
And  where  is  thy  wonning  wan  ?  " 

"  In  Holderness,  I  was  born, 
I  wis,  all  of  my  dame  : 
Men  call  me  Reynold  Greenleaf, 
When  I  am  at  home." 

"  Say  me,  Reynold  Greenleaf  1 
Wilt  thou  dwell  with  me  ? 
And  every  year,  I  will  thee  give 
Twenty  marks  to  thy  fee  !  " 

"  I  have  a  Master,"  said  Little  John, 
"  A  courteous  Knight  is  he ; 
May  ye  get  leave  of  him,  the  better  may  it  be  !  " 

The  Sheriff  got  Little  John 
Twelve  months  of  the  Knight ; 
Therefore  he  gave  him  right  anon 
A  good  horse  and  a  wight. 
Now  is  Little  John  a  Sheriff's  man, 
God  give  us  well  to  speed  ! 
But  always  thought  Little  John 
To  quite  him  well  his  meed. 

"  Now,  so  God  me  help  !  "  said  Little  John, 
*'  And  be  my  true  lewte  ! 
I  shall  be  the  worst  servant  to  him 
That  ever  yet  had  he  !  " 

It  befel  upon  a  Wednesday, 
The  Sheriff  on  hunting  was  gone, 

And  Little  John  lay  in  his  bed,  and  was  forgot  at  home, 
Therefore  he  was  fasting  till  it  was  past  the  noon. 

"  Good  Sir  Steward,  I  pray  thee. 
Give  me  to  dine  !  "  said  Little  John. 
*'  It  is  long  for  Greenleaf,  fasting  so  long  to  be. 
Therefore  I  pray  thee,  Steward,  my  dinner  give  thou  me  !  " 

"  Shalt  thou  never  eat  nor  drink,"  said  the  Steward, 
*'  Till  my  lord  be  come  to  town  !  " 

"  I  make  my  avow  to  God,"  said  Little  John 
*'  I  had  lever  to  crack  thy  crown  !  " 

The  Butler  was  full  uncourteous, 
There  he  stood  on  lloor  ; 


wrrde!lo^t'!;xt']    F"«T   PRINTED  ROBLV  HoOD  EALLAD.     439 

He  started  to  the  buttery,  and  shut  fast  the  door. 

Little  John  gave  the  Butler  such  a  rap 

His  back  went  nigh  in  two 

Though  he  lived  an  hundred  winters,  the  worse  he  should  go. 

He  spurned  the  door  with  his  foot,  it  went  up  well  and  tine ! 

And  there  he  made  a  large  'livery 

Both  of  ale  and  wine. 

"  Sir,  if  ye  will  not  dine,"  said  Little  John, 
**  I  shall  give  you  to  drink  ! 
And  though  ye  live  an  hundred  winters, 
On  Little  John  ye  shall  think  !  " 
Little  John  eat  and  little  drank,  the  while  he  would. 

The  Sheriff  had  in  his  kitchen  a  Cook, 
A  stout  man  and  a  bold, 

"  I  make  mine  avow  to  God  !  "  said  the  Cook, 
"  Thou  art  a  shrewd  hind. 

In  a  household  to  dwell  !  for  to  ask  thus  to  dine  !  " 
And  there  he  lent  Little  John 
Good  strokes  three. 

"  I  make  mine  avow,"  said  Little  John, 
"  These  strokes  liketh  well. 
Thou  art  a  bold  man  and  a  hardy, 
And  so  thinketh  rae  ! 
And  ere  I  pass  from  this  place 
Assayed  better  shalt  thou  be  !" 

Little  John  drew  a  good  sword, 
The  Cook  took  another  in  hand ; 
They  thought  nothing  for  to  flee, 
But  stiffly  for  to  stand. 
There  they  fought  sore  together. 
Two  mile  away  and  more  ; 
Might  neither  other  harm  do 
The  maintenance  of  an  hour. 

"  I  make  mine  avow  to  God,"  said  Little  John, 
"  And  be  my  true  lewte  ! 
Thou  art  one  of  the  best  swordsmen 
That  ever  yet  saw  I  me, 
Couldst  thou  shoot  as  well  in  a  bow. 
To  green  wood,  thou  shouldst  with  me  ! 
And  two  times  in  the  year,  thy  clothing 
Ychanged  should  be  ! 


440  First  printed  RobiN  Hood  ballad.  [wStbKit 

And  every  year  of  Robin  Hood, 
Twenty  marks  to  thy  fee  !  " 

"  Put  up  thy  sword,"  said  the  Cook, 
**  And  fellows  will  we  be  !" 

Then  he  fetch  to  Little  John, 
The  nombles  of  a  doe. 
Good  bread,  and  full  good  wine. 
They  eat  and  drank  thereto. 
And  when  they  had  drunken  well, 
Their  troths  together  they  plighted, 
That  they  would  be  with  Robin 
That  ilk  same  day. 
They  did  them  to  the  treasure  house 
As  fast  as  they  might  go  ; 
The  locks  that  were  good  steel. 
They  brake  them  every  each  one. 
They  took  away  the  silver  vessels, 
And  all  that  they  might  get ; 
Piece,  mazers,  and  spoons, 
Would  they  none  forget  ? 
Also  they  took  the  good  pence, 
Three  hundred  pounds  and  more  : 
And  did  them  strait  to  Robin  Hood 
Under  the  green-wood  tree. 

"  God  thee  save,  my  dear  master ! 
And  Christ  thee  save  and  see  !" 

And  then  said  Robin  to  Little  John, 
"  Welcome  might  thou  be  ! 
And  also  that  fair  yeoman, 
Thou  bringest  there  with  thee  ! 
What  tidings  from  Nottingham, 
Little  John  ?  tell  thou  me  !  " 

"  Well  thee  greeteth  the  proud  Sheriff! 
And  send  thee  here  by  me, 
His  Cook  and  his  silver  vessels, 
And  three  hundred  pounds  and  three  !" 

"  I  make  mine  avow  to  God  !"  said  Robin, 
"  And  to  the  Trinity  ! 
It  was  never  by  his  good-will 
This  good  is  come  to  me  !" 

Little  John  him  there  bethought 


Word^ 


ord"''abmu^sm]  FiRST  PRINTED  Robin  Hood  ballad.   441 

On  a  shrewd  wile.     Five  miles  in  the  forest  he  ran. 

Him  happed  at  his  will ! 

Then  he  met  the  proud  Sheriff 

Hunting  with  hounds  and  horn. 

Little  John  could  {kne.w\  his  courtesy, 

And  kneeled  him  beforne. 

"  God  thee  save,  my  dear  Master  ! 
And  Christ  thee  save  and  see  1" 

"  Reynold  Greenleaf  !  "  said  the  Sheriff, 
*•  Where  hast  thou  now  be  ?  " 
"  I  have  been  in  this  forest ; 
A  fair  sight  can  I  see  ; 
It  was  one  of  the  fairest  sights 
That  ever  yet  saw  I  me  ! 
Yonder  I  see  a  right  fair  hart, 
His  colour  is  of  green  ! 
Seven  score  of  deer  upon  a  herd. 
Be  with  him  all  bedeen, 
His  tynde  are  so  sharp,  Master, 
Of  sixty  and  well  mo, 
That  I  durst  not  shoot  for  dread. 
Lest  they  would  me  slay!  " 

"  I  make  mine  avow  to  God!  "  said  the  Sheriff, 
"  That  sight  would  I  fain  see  !  " 

"  Busk  you  thitherward,  my  dear  Master 
Anon,  and  wend  with  me  !  " 

The  Sheriff  rode,  and  Little  John, 
Of  foot  he  was  full  smart ; 
And  when  they  came  afore  Robin, 
*'  Lo,  here  is  the  master  Hart !  " 

Still  stood  the  proud  Sheriff : 
A  sorry  man  was  he  ! 
"  Woe  the  worth,  Reynold  Greenleaf, 
Thou  hast  betrayed  me  !  " 

"T  make  mine  avow  to  God,"  said  Little  John, 
"  Master,  ye  be  to  blame  ! 
I  was  mis-served  of  my  dinner. 
When  I  was  with  you  at  home  !  " 

Soon  he  was  to  supper  set. 
And  served  with  silver  white : 
And  when  the  Sheriff  see  his  vessel, 


442   First  trinted  Robin  Hood  ballad.  [worT!  about  is.o! 

For  sorrow,  he  might  not  eat  ! 

"  Make  good  cheer,"  said  Robin  Hood, 
"Sheriff!  for  charity  ! 
And  for  the  love  of  Little  John 
Thy  life  is  granted  to  thee  !  " 

When  they  had  supped  well, 
The  day  was  all  agone, 
Robin  commanded  Little  John 
To  draw  off  his  hosen  and  his  shoon, 
His  kirtle  and  his  coat  apie, 
That  was  furred  well  fine  ; 
And  took  him  a  green  mantle, 
To  lap  his  body  therein. 
Robin  commanded  his  wight  young  men. 
Under  the  green-wood  tree, 
They  shall  lay  in  that  same  suit, 
That  the  Sheriff  might  them  see. 

All  night  lay  that  proud  Sheriff, 
In  his  breech  and  in  his  shirt : 
No  wonder  it  was  in  green  wood 
Though  his  sides  do  smart. 

"  Make  glad  cheer,"  said  Robin  Hood, 
*'  Sheriff,  for  chanty  ! 
For  this  is  our  order,  I  wis, 
Under  the  green-wood  tree!  " 

"  This  is  harder  order,"  said  the  Sheriff, 
"  Than  any  Anchor  or  Friar  I 
For  all  the  gold  in  merry  England, 
I  would  not  long  dwell  here !  " 

"  All  these  twelve  months,"  said  Robin, 
*'  Thou  shalt  dwell  with  me  ! 
I  shall  thee  teach,  proud  Sheriff, 
An  outlaw  for  to  be  !  " 

"  Ere  I  here  another  night,"  said  the  Sheriff, 
"  Robin,  now  I  pray  thee! 
Smite  off  my  head,  rather  to-morne. 
And  I  forgive  it  thee  ! 
Let  me  go  then,"  said  the  Sheriff, 
"  For  saint  charity  I 
And  I  will  be  thy  best  friend, 
That  yet  had  thee!  " 


wordTaboutTiio':]  FiRST  PRINTED  Robin  Hood  ballad.   443 

"  Thou  shalt  swear  me  an  oath  !  "  said  Robin, 
"  On  my  bright  brand, 
Thou  shalt  never  await  me  scathe ! 
By  water  ne  by  land  ! 
And  if  thou  find  any  of  my  men, 
By  night,  or  by  day, 
Upon  thine  oath,  thou  shalt  swear 
To  help  them  that  thou  may  !  " 

Now  has  the  Sht  riff  ysworn  this  oath, 
And  home  he  began  to  go ; 
He  was  as  full  of  green  wood, 
As  ever  was  heap  of  stone. 


C  Cfte  fourtt)  fptte. 


m'f\ 


He  Sheriff  dwelled  in  Nottingham, 
He  was  fain  that  he  was  gone. 
And  Robin  and  his  meny  men 
Went  to  wood  anon. 

"  Go  we  to  dinner?  "  said  Little  John. 
Robin  Hood  said,  "  Nay  ! 
For  I  dread  our  Lady  be  wroth  with  me  ; 
For  she  [has]  sent  me  not  my  pay  !  " 

"  Have  no  doubt.  Master  !  "  said  Little  John. 
"Yet  is  not  the  sun  not  at  rest: 
For  I  dare  say  and  safely  swear 
The  Knight  is. true  and  trusty  !  " 

"Take  thy  bow  in  thy  hand  !  "  said  Robin. 
"Let  Much  wend  with  thee  ! 
And  so  shall  William  Scathelock  ; 
And  no  man  abide  with  me  ! 
And  walk  up  under  the  sayles, 
And  to  Watling  street  ; 
And  wait  after  such  unketh  guest, 
Upchance  ye  may  them  meet. 
Whether  he  be  messenger, 
Or  a  man  that  mirths  can  ; 
Or  if  he  be  a  poor  man, 
Of  my  good,  he  shall  have  some  !" 

Forth  then  started  Little  John, 


444  First  printed  Robin  Hood  ballad.  [worilL'Tsit 

Half  in  tray  or  teen, 

And  girded  him  with  a  full  good  sword 

Under  a  mantle  of  green. 

They  went  up  to  the  sayles, 

These  yeomen  all  three, 

They  looked  East,  they  looked  West, 

They  might  no  man  see. 

But  as  they  looked  in  Bernysdale, 

By  the  highway 

Then  were  they  'ware  of  two  hlack  monks, 

Each  on  a  good  palfrey. 

Then  bespake  Little  John, 
To  Much  he  'gan  say  : 
"  I  dare  lay  my  life  to  wed 
These  monks  have  brought  our  pay !  " 

"  Make  glad  cheer,"  said  Little  John, 
**  And  frese  our  bows  of  yew  ! 
And  look  your  hearts  be  sicker  and  sad, 
Your  strings  trusty  and  true  !  " 

The  monk  had  fifty  and  two  [men] 
And  seven  somers  full  strong, 
There  rideth  no  Bishop  in  this  land 
So  royally  I  understand. 

"  Brethren,"  said  Little  John, 
"  Here  are  no  more  but  we  three  ; 
But  we  bring  them  to  dinner. 
Our  Master,  dare  we  not  see  I  " 

"  Bend  your  bows !  "  said  Little  John, 
"Make  all  yon  press  to  stand  ! 
The  foremost  monk,  his  life  and  his  death. 
Are  closed  in  my  hand. 
Abide,  churl  Monk!  "  said  Little  John, 
*'  No  further  that  thou  go. 
If  thou  dost,  by  dear  worthy  God  ! 
Thy  death  is  in  my  hand  ! 

And  evil  thrift  on  thy  head  !  "  said  Little  John, 
*'  Right  under  thy  hat's  band  : 
For  thou  hast  made  our  Master  wroth, 
He  is  fasting  so  long  !  " 

"  Who  is  your  Master  ?  "  said  the  Monk. 
Little  John  said,  "  Rodin  Hood!  " 


Printed  by  W.de-|    Ptrcj   TRINTED  RoBIN  HoOD    BALLAD.    445 
Worde,  about  1510.J 

*'  He  is  a  strong  thief !  "  said  the  Monk  : 
"  Of  him  heard  I  never  good  !  " 

"  Thou  hest  then  !  "  said  Little  John, 
"  And  that  shall  rue  thee  ! 
He  is  a  yeoman  of  the  forest ; 
To  dine,  he  hath  bidden  thee!" 
Much  was  ready  with  a  bolt, 
Readily  and  anon, 
He  set  the  Monk  tofore  the  breast 
To  the  ground  that  he  can  gone. 
Of  hfty-two  wight  young  yeomen 
There  abode  not  one  ; 
Save  a  little  page  and  a  groom 
To  lead  the  somers  with  Little  John. 

They  brought  the  Monk  to  the  lodge  door, 
Whether  he  were  loth  or  lief, 
For  to  speak  with  Robin  Hood, 
Maugre  in  their  teeth. 

Robin  did  adown  his  hood. 
The  Monk  when  that  he  see, 
The  Monk  who  was  not  so  courteous 
His  hood  then  let  he  be. 

"  He  is  a  churl,  Master!  by  dear  worthy  God  !  " 
Then  said  Little  John. 
'    *'  Thereof,  no  force  !  "  said  Robin, 
*'  For  courtesy  can  he  none  ! 
How  many  men,"  said  Robin, 
"  Had  this  Monk,  John  ?  " 

"  Fifty  and  two  when  that  we  met ; 
But  many  of  them  be  gone." 

"  Let  blow  a  horn  !  "  said  Robin, 
"  That  fellowship  may  us  know  !  " 

Seven  score  of  wight  yeomen 
Came  pricking  on  a  row. 
And  every  each  of  them  a  good  mantle 
Of  scarlet  and  of  'ray, 
All  they  came  to  good  Robin 
To  wit  what  he  would  say. 
They  made  the  Monk  to  wash  and  wipe, 
And  sit  at  his  dinner, 
Robin  Hood  and  Little  John 


446    First  printed  Robin  Hood  rallad.  [wr.tfi'^Jit'y;,^ 

They  served  them  both  in  fere. 

"  Do  gladly,  Monk  !  "  said  Robin. 

"  Grammercy,  Sir  !  "  said  he. 

"  Where  is  your  Abbey,  when  ye  are  at  home ; 
And  who  is  your  avow  ?  " 

"  St.  Mary's  Abbey,"  said  the  Monk, 
"Though  I  be  simple  here." 

"  In  what  office  ?  "  said  Robin. 

•'  Sir  !  the  High  Cellarer." 

"  Ye  be  the  more  welcome,"  said  Robin. 

"  So  ever  might  I  thee." 

"  Fill  of  the  best  wine  !  "  said  Robin, 
"  This  Monk  shall  drink  to  me  ! 
But  I  have  great  marvel,"  said  Robin, 
"  Of  all  this  long  day, 
I  dread  our  Lady  be  wroth  with  me, 
She  sent  me  not  my  pay  !  " 

"  Have  no  doubt,  Master!  "  said  Little  John, 
**  Ye  have  no  need,  I  say  : 

This  Monk,  it  hath  brought,  I  dare  well  swear ! 
For  he  is  of  her  Abbey." 

"  And  She  was  a  borrow,"  said  Robin, 
"  Between  a  Knight  and  me, 
Of  a  little  money  that  I  him  lent 
Under  the  green-wood  tree  ; 
And  if  thou  hast  that  silver  ybrought, 
I  pray  thee  let  me  see. 
And  I  shall  help  thee  eftsoons 
If  thou  have  need  to  me  !  " 

The  Monk  swore  a  full  great  oath, 
With  a  sorry  cheer, 

*'  Of  the  borrowhood  thou  speakest  to  me 
Heard  I  never  ere  !  " 

"  I  make  mine  avow  to  God  !  "  said  Robin, 
"  Monk,  thou  art  to  blame  ! 
For  GOD  is  held  a  righteous  man. 
And  so  is  his  name. 
Thou  toldest  with  thine  own  tongue 
Thou  mayst  not  say  '  Nay  !  ' 
How  thou  art  her  servant, 
And  servest  her  every  day  : 


PnntedbyW.de-l    prr-cT  PRINTED  RoDLV  HoOD  BALLAD.    447 

'orde,  about  i5io._|     -^    ^     '-" 


And  thou  art  made  her  messenger, 

My  money  for  to  pay. 

Therefore  I  can  the  more  thanks, 

Thou  art  come  to  thy  day  ! 

What  is  in  your  coffers  ?  "  said  Robin  ; 

"True,  then,  tell  thou  me?" 

"  Sir  !  "  he  said,  "  twenty  marks  ! 
Also  might  I  thee  !  " 

*'  If  there  be  no  more,"  said  Robin, 
**I  will  not  one  penny. 
If  thou  hast  myster  of  any  more, 
Sir,  more  I  shall  lend  to  thee ! 
And  if  I  find  more,"  said  Robin, 
"  Iwis,  thou  shalt  it  forgo  ; 
For  of  thy  spending  silver,  Monk  ! 
Thereof  will  I  right  none." 

"  Go  now  forth,  Little  John, 
And  the  truth,  tell  thou  me  ! 
If  there  be  no  more  but  twenty  marks 
No  penny  [of]  that  I  see  !  " 

Little  John  spread  his  mantle  down, 
As  he  had  done  before, 
And  he  told  out  of  the  Monk's  mail 
Eight  hundred  pound  and  more. 
Little  John  let  it  lie  full  still. 
And  went  to  his  Master  in  haste  ; 

"  Sir  !  "  he  said,  "  the  Monk  is  true  enough  ; 
Our  Lady  hath  doubled  you  cast !  " 

"  I  make  mine  avow  to  God  !  "  said  Robin, 
*'  Monk,  what  told  I  thee  ! 
Our  Lady  is  the  truest  woman 
That  ever  yet  found  I  me  ! 
By  dear  worthy  God !  "  said  Robin, 
**  To  seek  all  England  through ; 
Yet  found  I  never  to  my  pay, 
A  much  better  borrow. 

Fill  of  the  best  wine,  and  do  him  drink  !  "  said  Robin; 
"  And  greet  well  thy  Lady  bend  ; 
And  if  She  have  need  to  Robin  Hood, 
A  friend  She  shall  him  find  : 
And  if  She  needeth  any  more  silver, 


448  First  printed  Robin  Hood  eallad.  [worderaboutTsil! 

Come  thou  again  to  me  ! 

And,  by  this  token  she  hath  me  sent, 

She  shall  have  such  three  !  " 

The  Monk  was  going  to  London  ward, 
There  to  hold  great  Mote, 
The  Knight  that  rode  so  high  on  horse 
To  bring  him  under  foot. 

"  Whither  be  ye  away  ?  "  said  Robin. 

"  Sir,  to  manors  in  this  land, 
To  reckon  with  our  Reeves 
That  have  done  much  wrong." 

"  Come  now  forth,  Little  John  ! 
And  hearken  to  my  tale  ! 
A  better  yeoman,  I  know  none 
To  seek  a  Monk's  mail. 

How  much  is  in  yonder  other  corser?  "  said  Robin, 
"  The  sooth  must  we  see  !  " 

"  By  our  Lady  !  "  then  said  the  Monk, 
"  That  were  no  courtesy  ; 
To  bid  a  man  to  dinner. 
And  sith  him  beat  and  bind  !  " 

"  It  is  our  old  manner  !  "  said  Robin, 
"  To  leave  but  little  behind." 

The  Monk  took  the  horse  with  spur, 
No  longer  would  he  abide  ! 

"  Ask  to  drink !  "  then  said  Robin, 
**  Or  that  ye  further  ride  ?  " 

"  Nay,  for  God  !  "  said  the  Monk, 
"  Me  rueth  I  came  so  near  ! 
For  better  cheap,  I  might  have  dined 
In  Blyth  or  in  Doncaster  !  " 

"  Greet  well,  your  Abbot  !  "  said  Robin, 
"  And  your  Prior,  I  you  pray  ! 
And  bid  him  send  me  such  a  Monk 
To  dinner  every  day  !  " 

Now  let  we  that  Monk  be  still ; 
And  speak  we  of  the  Knight  ! 
Yet  he  came  to  hold  his  day 
While  that  it  was  light. 
He  did  him  strait  to  Bernysdale, 


wo^eraboutT5i'i':]  FiRST  TRiNTED  Robin  Hood  ballad.  449 

Under  the  green-wood  tree. 

And  he  found  there  Robin  Hood 

A-nd  all  his  merry  meiny. 

The  Knight  light [ed]  down  off  his  good  palfrey. 

Robin  when  he  'gan  see ; 

So  courteously  he  did  adown  his  hood 

And  set  him  on  his  knee. 

"God  thee  save,  Robin  Hood, 
And  all  this  company  !  " 

"  Welcome,  be  thou,  gentle  Knight ! 
And  right  welcome  to  me  !  " 
Then  bespake  him  Robin  Hood, 
To  that  Knight  so  free, 
"  What  need  driveth  thee  to  green  wood  ? 
I  pray  thee,  Sir  Knight,  tell  me ! 
And  welcome  be,  thou  gentle  Knight  ! 
Why  hast  thou  been  so  long  ?  " 

"  For  the  Abbot  and  high  Justice 
Would  have  had  my  land  ?  " 

"  Hast  thou  thy  land  again  ?  "  said  Robin, 
"  Truth  then  tell  thou  me  !  " 

"  Yea,  for  God  !  "  said  the  Knight, 
*'  And  that  I  thank  GOD  and  thee  ! 
But  take  not  a  grief,"  said  the  Knight, 
"  That  I  have  been  so  long, 
I  came  by  a  wrestling. 
And  there  I  helped  a  poor  yeoman, 
Who  with  wrong  was  put  behind." 

"  Nay,  for  God  !  "  said  Robin, 
"  Sir  Knight,  that  thank  I  thee ! 
What  man  that  helpeth  a  good  yeoman, 
His  friend  then  will  I  be." 

"  Have  here  four  hundred  pounds  !  "  then  said  the  Knight, 
"  The  which  ye  lent  me, 
And  here  is  also  twenty  marks  for  your  courtesy  !  " 

"  Nay,  for  God  !  "  then  said  Robin, 
"  Thou  brook  it  well  for  aye  ; 
For  our  Lady,  by  her  Cellarer, 
Hath  sent  to  me  my  pay  ! 
And  if  I  took  it  twice, 
A  shame  it  were  to  me  ! 

Eng.  Gar.  VI.  2Q 


450  First  printed  Robin  Hood  eallad.  [woXraboutT^fo! 

But  truly,  gentle  Knight, 
Welcome  art  thou  to  me  !  " 

When  Robin  had  told  his  tale, 
He  laughed  and  had  good  cheer, 

"  By  my  troth  !  "  then  said  the  Knight, 
*'  Your  money  is  ready  here  !  " 

"  Brook  it  well  ! "  said  Robin, 
"  Thou  gentle  Knight  so  free  ! 
And  welcome  be  thou,  gentle  Knight, 
Under  my  trystel  tree  ! 

But  what  shall  these  bows  do  ? "  said  Robin, 
*'  And  these  arrows  yfeathered  free  ?  " 

"  By  God  !  "  then  said  the  Knight, 
"  A  poor  present  to  thee  !  " 

"Come  now  forth,  Little  John, 
And  go  to  my  treasure, 
And  bring  me  there  four  hundred  pounds 
The  Monk  overtold  it  me. 
Have  here  four  hundred  pounds. 
Thou  gentle  Knight  and  true  ! 
And  buy  horse  and  harness  good. 
And  gilt  thy  spurs  all  new  1 
And  if  thou  fail  any  spending, 
Come  to  Robin  Hood  ! 
And,  by  my  troth,  thou  shalt  none  fail 
The  whiles  I  have  any  good  ; 
And  brook  well  thy  four  hundred  pounds 
Which  I  lent  to  thee  ! 
And  make  thyself  no  more  so  bare  ; 
By  the  counsel  of  me." 


Thus  then  helped  him,  good  Robin, 
The  Knight  all  of  his  care  : 
GOD  that  sits  in  heaven  high 
Grant  us  well  to  fare ! 


wrSlb'outTsi'l!]  First  printed  Robin  Hood  ballad.  45 1 


V(^z  fifti)  fptte. 

Ow  hath  the  Knight  his  leave  ytake, 
And  went  him  on  his  way. 
Robin  Hood  and  his  merry  men 
Dwelled  still  full  many  a  day. 
Lithe  and  listen,  Gentlemen  ! 
And  hearken  what  I  shall  say, 
How  the  proud  Sheriff  of  Nottingham 
Did  cry  a  full  fair  Play, 
That  all  the  best  archers  of  the  North 
Should  come  upon  a  day; 
And  that  shooteth  all  their  best, 
The  game  shall  bear  away  ! 
He  that  shooteth  all  their  best, 
Furthest,  fair,  and  low, 
At  a  pair  of  finely  butts, 
Under  the  green-wood  shaw, 
A  right  good  arrow  he  shall  have, 
The  shaft  of  silver  white, 
The  head  and  feathers  of  rich  red  gold, 
In  England  is  none  like. 

This  then  heard  good  Robin, 
Under  his  trystel  tree. 
*'  Make  you  ready,  ye  wight  young  men. 
That  shooting  will  I  see  ! 
Busk  you,  my  merry  young  men, 
Ye  shall  go  with  me  ! 
And  I  will  wit  the  Sheriff's  faith; 
True  and  if  be  he  !  " 

When  they  had  their  bows  ybent, 
Their  tackles  feathered  free, 
Seven  score  of  wight  young  men 
Stood  by  Robin's  knee. 

When  they  came  to  Nottingham, 
The  butts  were  fair  and  long, 
Many  were  the  bold  archers 
That  shooted  with  bowes  strong. 
"  There  shall  but  six  shoot  with  me, 


452     First  VRmTEB  ROBJN  I/OOD  BALLAD.    [wordeffboutTsio! 

The  others  shall  keep  my  heed, 
And  stand  with  good  bows  bent 
That  I  be  not  deceived." 

The  fourth  outlaw,  his  bow  'gan  bend, 
And  that  was  Robin  Hood  : 

And  that  beheld  the  proud  Sheriff,  ^ 

All  by  the  butt  he  stood. 
Thrice  Robin  shot  about, 
And  always  sliced  the  wand; 
And  so  did  good  "  Gilbert 
With  the  white  hand." 
Little  John  and  good  Scathelock 
Were  archers  good  and  free  : 
Little  Much  and  good  Reynold 
The  worst  would  they  not  be  ! 

When  they  had  shot  about. 
These  archers  fair  and  good  : 
Ever  more  was  the  best, 
Forsooth,  Robin  Hood. 
Him  was  delivered  the  good  arrow, 
For  best  worthy  was  he  : 
He  took  the  gift  so  courteously ; 
To  green  wood  would  he  ! 
They  cried  out  on  Robin  Hood, 
And  great  horns  'gan  they  blow  ! 

"Woe  worth  the  treason  !  "  said  Robin  ; 
**  Full  evil  thou  art  to  know  ! 
And  woe  be  thou,  thou  proud  Sheriff! 
Thus  gladding  thy  guest. 
Otherwise  thou  behote  me 
In  yonder  wild  forest. 
But  had  I  thee  in  green  wood, 
Under  my  trystel  tree. 
Thou  shouldst  leave  me  a  better  wed. 
Than  thy  true  lewte." 

Full  many  a  bow  there  was  bent, 
And  arrows  let  they  glide  ! 
Many  a  kirtle  there  was  rent. 
And  hurt  many  a  side  ! 
The  outlaws'  shot  was  so  strong 
That  no  man  might  them  drive. 


Printed  by  W.de-j    -pr-nQY   VRll^TEB  RoBIJV  HoOB  BAhLAB.     45, 
Worde,  about  isio.J 

And  the  proud  Sheriff's  men 

They  fled  away  full  blyve. 

Robin  saw  the  [am]bushment  to  broke, 

In  green  wood  he  would  have  been; 

Many  an  arrow  there  was  shot 

Among  that  company. 

Little  John  was  hurt  full  sore, 

With  an  arrow  in  his  knee, 

That  he  might  neither  go  nor  ride  : 

It  was  full  great  pity  ! 

"  Master!  "  then  said  Little  John, 
•*  If  ever  thou  lovest  me  ; 
And  for  that  ilk  Lord's  love 
That  died  upon  a  tree  ! 

And  for  the  meeds  of  my  service. 

That  I  have  served  thee  : 

Let  never  the  proud  Sheriff 

Alive  now  find  me  ! 

But  take  out  thy  brown  sword 

And  smite  all  off  my  head  ! 

And  give  me  wounds  dead  and  wide, 

No  life  on  me  be  left !  " 

"  I  would  not  that,"  said  Robin, 

"John  !  that  thou  be  slain, 

For  all  the  gold  in  merry  England, 

Though  it  lay  now  on  a  row !  " 
"  God  forbid  !  "  said  Little  Much, 

"  That  died  on  a  tree  ! 

That  thou  shouldst.  Little  John  1 

'Part  our  company  !  " 

Up  he  took  him  on  his  back. 

And  bare  him  well  nigh  a  mile  : 

Many  a  time,  he  laid  him  down. 

And  shot  another  while. 

Then  was  there  a  fair  Castle 

A  little  within  the  wood  ; 

Double  ditched  it  was  about. 

And  walled  by  the  road  : 

And  there  dwelt  that  gentle  Knight, 

Sir  Richard  at  the  Lee, 

That  Robin  had  lent  his  good 


454  First  printed  Robin  Hood  ballad.  [worde!\bout  i-^il 

Under  the  green-wood  tree. 

In  he  took  good  Robin 
And  all  his  company. 

"  Welcome  be  thou,  Robin  Hood  ! 
Welcome  art  thou,  to  me  ! 
And  much  thank  thee  of  thy  comfort 
And  of  thy  courtesy, 
And  of  thy  great  kindness 
Under  the  green-wood  tree  ! 
I  love  no  man,  in  all  this  world 
So  much  as  I  do  thee ! 
For  all  the  proud  Sheriff  of  Nottingham  ; 
Right  here  shalt  thou  be  ! 
Shut  the  gates,  and  draw  the  bridge  ; 
And  let  no  man  come  in ! 
And  arm  you  well,  and  make  you  ready ! 
And  to  the  wall  ye  win  ! 
For  one  thing,  Robin  !  I  thee  behote 
I  swear  by  St.  Quintin  ! 
These  twelve  days  thou  wonest  with  me, 
To  sup,  eat,  and  dine  !  " 

Boards  were  laid  and  cloths  spread 
Readily  and  anon  : 
Robin  Hood  and  his  merry  men 
To  meat  'gan  they  gone. 

C  C!)e  sijctl)  fptte. 

Ithe  and  listen,  Gentlemen! 
And  hearken  unto  your  song ! 
How  the  proud  Sheriff  of  Nottingham 
And  men  of  armes  strong 
Full  fast  came  to  the  High  Sheriff 
The  country  up  to  rout. 
And  they  beset  the  Knight's  Castle, 
The  walls  all  about. 

The  proud  Sheriff  loud  'gan  cry 
And  said,  "  Thou  traitor  Knight  ! 
Thou  keepest  here  the  King's  enemy ! 
Against  the  laws  and  right !  " 


wordeffboutTsit!]  FiRST  PRINTED  Robin  Hood  ballad.  455 

"  Sir,  I  will  avow  that  I  have  done 
The  deeds  thou  here  be  dight, 
Up  on  all  the  lands  that  I  have, 
As  I  am  a  true  Knight, 
Wend  forth.  Sirs,  on  your  way ; 
And  do  no  more  to  me, 
Till  ye  wit  our  King's  will 
What  he  will  say  to  thee  !" 

The  Sheriff  thus,  had  his  answer 
Without  any  leasing. 
Forth  he  yode  to  London  town, 
All  for  to  tell  the  King. 
There  he  told  them  of  that  Knight, 
And  eke  of  Robin  Hood  ; 
And  also  of  the  bold  archers, 
That  noble  were  and  good. 
He  would  avow  that  he  had  done 
To  maintain  the  outlaws  strong  ; 
He  would  be  Lord,  and  set  you  at  nought 
In  all  the  North  land. 

"  I  will  be  at  Nottingham,"  said  the  King, 
"  Within  this  fortnight  ! 
And  take  I  will,  Robin  Hood  ; 
And  so  I  will  that  Knight ! 
Go  home,  thou  proud  Sheriff! 
And  do  as  I  thee  bid. 
And  ordain  good  archers  ynow 
Of  all  the  wide  country  !  " 

The  Sheriff  had  his  leave  y take ; 
And  went  him  on  his  way. 
And  Robin  Hood  to  green  wood. 
Upon  a  certain  day. 

And  Little  John  was  whole  of  the  arrow 
That  shot  was  in  his  knee ; 
And  did  him  straight  to  Robin  Hood 
Under  the  green-wood  tree. 

Robin  Hood  walked  in  the  forest 
Under  the  leaves  green, 
The  proud  Sheriff  of  Nottingham, 
Therefore,  he  had  great  teen. 
The  Sheriff  there  failed  of  Robin  Hood 


456    First  printed  Robin  Hood  ballad.  [wrrr.'^aboutTsit: 

He  might  not  have  his  prey. 

Then  he  awaited  this  gentle  Knight, 

Both  by  night  and  by  day. 

Ever  he  awaited  that  gentle  Knight, 

Sir  Richard  at  the  Lee, 

As  he  went  on  hawking  by  the  river  side 

And  let  his  hawks  flee  ; 

Took  he  there,  this  gentle  Knight, 

With  men  of  armes  strong, 

And  led  him  home  to  Nottingham  ward 

Ybound  both  hand  and  foot. 

The  Sheriff  swore  a  full  great  oath, 

By  Him  that  died  on  a  tree. 

He  had  lever  than  a  hundred  pound 

That  he  had  Robin  Hood. 

This  Lady,  the  Knight's  wife, 
A  fair  Lady  and  free, 
She  set  her  on  a  good  palfrey  ; 
To  green  wood  anon  rode  she. 
When  she  came  to  the  forest. 
Under  the  green-wood  tree, 
Found  she  there  Robin  Hood 
And  all  his  fair  meiny. 

"  God  [save]  thee,  good  Robin  ! 
And  all  thy  company, 
For  our  dear  Lady's  love 
A  boon,  grant  thou  me  ! 
Let  thou  never  my  wedded  Lord 
Shamely  yslain  be  ! 

He  is  fast  ybound  to  Nottingham  ward, 
For  the  love  of  thee  !  " 

Anon  then  said  good  Robin, 
To  that  Lady  free  : 
"  What  man  hath  your  Lord  ytake  ?  " 

*'  For  sooth,  as  I  thee  say, 
He  is  not  yet  three  miles 
Passed  on  your  way." 

Up  then  started  good  Robin, 
As  a  man  that  had  been  wood ; 
"  Busk  you,  my  merry  young  men, 
For  Him  that  died  on  a  rood  ! 


word"e?about^5x^o!]  FiRST  PRINTED  RoBiN  Hood  ballad.  457 

And  he  that  this  sorrow  forsaketh, 
By  Him  that  died  on  a  tree  ! 
Shall  he  never  in  green  wood  be, 
Nor  longer  dwell  with  me  !  " 

Soon  there  were  good  bows  ybent, 
Mo  [re]  than  seven  score; 
Hedge  ne  ditch  spare  they  none 
That  were  them  before. 

"  I  make  mine  avow  to  God,"  said  Robin, 
"  The  Knight  would  I  fain  see ; 
And  if  I  may  him  take, 
Yquit  then  shall  it  be !  " 

And  when  they  came  to  Nottingham 
They  walked  in  the  street, 
And  with  the  proud  Sheriff  y wis 
Soon  gan  they  meet. 

*'  Abide,  thou  proud  Sheriff!  "  he  said, 
**  Abide,  and  speak  with  me  ! 
Of  some  tidings  of  our  King 
I  would  fain  hear  of  thee  ! 
This  seven  year,  by  dear  worthy  God  ! 
Ne  yede  I  so  fast  on  foot ; 

I  make  mine  avow  to  God,  thou  proud  Sheriff ! 
That  it  is  not  for  thy  good." 

Robin  bent  a  good  bow, 
An  arrow  he  drew  at  his  will ; 
He  hit  so  the  proud  Sheriff, 
Upon  the  ground  he  lay  full  still : 
And  or  he  might  up  arise, 
On  his  feet  to  stand  ; 
He  smote  off  the  Sheriff's  head, 
With  his  bright  brand. 

"  Lie  thou  there,  thou  proud  Sheriff! 
Evil  might  thou  thrive  ! 
There  might  no  man  to  thee  trust. 
The  whiles  thou  wert  alive !  " 

His  men  drew  out  their  bright  swords, 
That  were  so  sharp  and  keen. 
And  laid  on  the  Sheriff's  men 
And  drived  them  down  by  dene. 

Robin  started  to  that  Knight, 


458    First  printed  Robin  Hood  ballad.  [wortfaboutTsit 

And  cut  a  two  his  hood  ; 

And  took  him  in  his  hand  a  bow, 

And  bade  him  by  him  stand. 

"  Leave  thy  horse  thee  behind, 
And  learn  for  to  run  ! 
Thou  shalt  with  me  to  green  wood 
Through  mire,  moss,  and  fen  ! 
Thou  shalt  with  me  to  green  wood 
"Without  any  leasing. 
Till  that  I  have  got  us  grace 
Of  Edward,  our  comely  King." 


C!)e  setoenti)  fptte. 

He  King  came  to  Nottingham 
With  Knights  in  great  array 
For  to  take  that  gentle  Knight 
And  Robin  Hood,  if  he  may. 

He  asked  men  of  that  country 
After  Robin  Hood, 
And  after  that  gentle  Knight 
That  was  so  bold  and  stout. 
When  they  had  told  him  the  case, 
Our  King  understood  their  tale 
And  seized  in  his  hand 
The  Knight's  land  all. 
All  the  passe  of  Lancashire 
He  went  both  far  and  near ; 
Till  he  came  to  Plom[p]ton  Park 
He  failed  many  of  his  deer. 
There  our  King  was  wont  to  see 
Herdes  many  a  one, 
He  could  unneath  find  one  deer 
That  bare  any  good  horn. 

The  King  was  wondrous  wroth  withal, 
And  swore,  "  By  the  Trinity  ! 
I  would  I  had  Robin  Hood  ! 
With  eyen  I  might  him  see ! 


wordTaboutTixt!]  First  printed  Robin  Hood  ballad.    459 

And  he  that  would  smite  off  the  Knight's  head, 

And  bring  it  to  me  ; 

He  shall  have  the  Knight's  lands 

Sir  Richard  at  the  Lee. 

I  give  it  him  with  my  charter, 

And  seal  it  [with]  my  hand, 

To  have  and  hold  for  evermore 

In  all  merry  England." 

Then  bespake  a  fair  old  Knight, 
That  was  true  in  his  fay, 
"  O  my  liege  Lord  the  King, 
One  word  I  shall  you  say ! 
There  is  no  man  in  this  country 
May  have  the  Knight's  lands 
While  Robin  Hood  may  ride  or  gone 
And  bear  a  bow  in  his  hands, 
That  he  ne  shall  lose  his  head, 
That  is  the  best  ball  in  his  hood : 
Give  it  to  no  man,  my  Lord  the  King ! 
That  ye  will  any  good  !  " 

Half  a  year  dwelled  our  comely  King 
In  Nottingham,  and  well  more, 
Could  he  not  hear  of  Robin  Hood, 
In  what  country  that  he  were  : 
But  always  went  good  Robin 
By  halke  and  eke  by  hill. 
And  always  slew  the  King's  deer 
And  welt  them  at  his  will. 

Then  bespake  a  proud  for'ster 
That  stood  by  our  King's  knee, 
"  If  ye  will  see  good  Robin 
Ye  must  do  after  me ! 
Take  five  of  the  best  Knights 
That  be  in  your  lead. 
And  walk  down  by  your  Abbey, 
And  get  you  monks'  weed  ! 
And  I  will  be  your  leadsman 
And  lead  you  the  way  ! 
And  or  ye  com.e  to  Nottingham, 
Mine  head  then  dare  I  lay  ! 
That  ye  shall  meet  with  good  Robin, 


46o    First  printed  Robin  Hood  ballad.  [wordSboutT5:a 


In  life  if  that  he  be  : 

Or  ye  come  to  Nottingham 

With  eyen  ye  shall  him  see  !  " 

Full  hastily  our  King  was  dight, 
So  were  his  Knightes  five, 
Every  each  of  them  in  monks'  weed, 
And  hasted  them  thither  blithe. 
Our  King  was  grete  above  his  cowl, 
A  broad  hat  on  his  crown. 
Right  as  he  were  Abbot  like, 
They  rode  up  into  the  town. 
Stiff  boots  our  King  had  on, 
For  sooth  as  I  you  say, 
He  rode  singing  to  green  wood. 
The  convent  was  clothed  in  grey. 
His  mail  horse  and  his  great  somers 
Followed  our  King  behind. 
Till  they  came  to  green  wood 
A  mile  under  the  lynde. 

There  they  met  with  good  Rodin 
Standing  on  the  way. 
And  so  did  many  a  bold  archer, 
For  sooth  as  I  you  say. 

Robin  took  the  King's  horse. 
Hastily  in  that  stead  : 
And  said,  "  Sir  Abbot  !  by  your  leave  ; 
A  while  ye  must  abide  ! 
We  be  yeoman  of  this  forest, 
Under  the  green-wood  tree, 
We  live  by  our  King's  deer, 
Under  the  green-wood  tree  ; 
And  ye  have  churches  and  rents  both, 
And  gold  full  great  plenty  : 
Give  us  some  of  your  spending, 
For  saint  charity  !  " 

Then  bespake  our  comely  King, 
Anon  then  said  he, 
"  I  brought  no  more  to  green  wood, 
But  forty  pounds  with  me. 
I  have  lain  at  Nottingham, 
This  iortnight  with  our  King ; 


Printed  by  W.dc-l   Pipc-p  PRINTED  RoElN  HoOD  BALLAD.      46  I 

Vorcle,  about  1510.J 

And  spent  I  have  full  much  good 
On  many  a  great  Lording  : 
And  I  have  but  forty  pounds, 
No  more  than  have  I  me. 
But  if  I  had  a  hundred  pounds, 
I  vouch  it  half  on  thee  !  " 

Robin  took  the  forty  pounds, 
And  departed  it  in  two  parts : 
Half  endell  he  gave  his  merry  men, 
And  bade  them  merry  to  be. 
Full  courteously  Robin  'gan  say, 

"  Sir,  have  this  for  your  spending  ! 
We  shall  meet  another  day." 

"  Grammercy  !  "  then  said  our  King. 
"  But  well  thee  greeteth  Edward  our  King, 
And  sent  to  thee  his  seal ; 
And  biddeth  thee  come  to^Nottmgham, 
Both  to  meat  and  meal !  " 

He  took  out  the  broad  tarpe 
And  soon  he  let  him  see. 
Robin  could  his  courtesy, 
And  set  him  on  his  knee. 

"  I  love  no  man  in  all  the  world 
So  well  as  I  do  my  King  ! 
Welcome  is  my  Lord's  seal ! 
And  monk  for  thy  tiding. 
Sir  Abbot,  for  thy  tidings. 
To-day,  thou  shalt  dine  with  me ! 
For  the  love  of  my  King, 
Under  my  trystel  tree." 

Forth  he  led  our  comely  King 
Full  fair  by  the  hand  ; 
Many  a  deer  there  was  slain. 
And  full  fust  dightand. 
Robin  took  a  full  great  horn, 
And  loud  he  'gan  blow. 
Seven  score  of  wight  young  men 
Came  ready  on  a  row. 
All  they  kneeled  on  their  knee 
Full  fair  before  Robin. 
The  King  said,  himself  until, 


462    First  printed  Robin  Hood  ballad.  [worderaboutTsxt! 

And  swore,  "  By  Saint  Austin  ! 
Here  is  a  wondrous  seemly  sight ! 
Methinketh,  by  God's  pine! 
His  men  are  more  at  his  bidding 
Than  my  men  be  at  mine." 

Full  hastily  was  their  dinner  ydight, 
And  thereto  'gan  they  gone  ; 
They  served  our  King  with  all  their  might, 
Both  Robin  and  Little  John. 
Anon  before  our  King  was  set 
The  fat  venison, 

The  good  white  bread,  the  good  red  wine, 
And  thereto  the  fine  ale  brown. 

"  Make  good  cheer  !  "  said  Robin, 
**  Abbot,  for  charity  ! 
And  for  this  ilk  tiding 
Blessed  might  thou  be  ! 
Now  shalt  thou  see  what  life  we  lead, 
Or  thou  hence  wend, 
That  thou  may  inform  our  King 
When  ye  together  lend." 

Up  they  start  all  in  haste, 
Their  bows  were  smartly  bent : 
Our  King  was  never  so  sore  aghast ; 
•     He  wended  to  have  been  shent ! 
Two  yards  there  were  up  set 
Thereto  'gan  they  gang. 

'*  By  fifty  paces,"  our  King  said, 
**  The  marks  were  too  long  !  " 

On  every  side  a  rose  garland. 
They  shot  under  the  line. 

"  Whoso  faileth  of  the  rose  garland,"  saith  Robin, 
"  His  tackle  he  shall  tine, 
And  yield  it  to  his  Master, 
Be  it  never  so  fine  ! 
(For  no  man  will  I  spare, 
So  drink  I  ale  or  wine  ! ) 
And  bear  a  buffet  on  his  head 
Awis  right  all  bear." 
And  all  that  fell  in  Robin's  lot. 
He  smote  them  wondrous  sore. 


Printed  by  W.de-|   PiRgT  PRINTED  RoBIN  HoOD  BALLAD.     463 

Vorde,  about  1510.J    ^ 

Twice  Robin  shot  a  bout, 
And  ever  he  cleaved  the  wand  ; 
And  so  did  good  "  Gilbert, 
With  the  good  white  hand." 
Little  John  and  good  Scathelock, 
For  nothing  would  they  spare. 
When  they  failed  of  the  garland 
Robin  smote  them  full  sore. 

At  the  last  shot,  that  Robin  shot 
For  all  his  friends'  fare  ; 
Yet  he  failed  of  the  garland 
Three  fingers  and  more. 
Then  bespake  good  Gilbert, 
And  thus  he  'gan  say,  _ 

"  Master,"  he  said,  "  your  tackle  is  lost, 
Stand  forth  and  take  your  pay  !  " 

"  If  it  be  so,"  said  Robin, 
"  That  may  no  better  be ; 
Sir  Abbot,  I  deliver  thee  mine  arrow ! 
I  pray  thee,  Sir,  serve  thou  me  ! " 

"  It  falleth  not  for  mine  order,"  said  our  Kmg, 
*'  Robin,  by  thy  leave. 
For  to  smite  no  good  yeoman,  ^ 
For  doubt  I  should  him  grieve." 

**  Smite  on  boldly,"  said  Robin, 
"  I  give  thee  large  leave  !  " 

Anon  our  King,  with  that  word. 
He  folded  up  his  sleeve, 
And  such  a  buffet  he  gave  Robin, 
To  ground  he  yede  full  near. 

"  I  make  mine  avow  to  God,"  said  Robin, 
*'  Thou  art  a  stalwart  frere  ! 
There  is  pith  in  thine  arm,"  said  Robin, 
**  I  trow  thou  canst  well  shoot." 

Thus  our  King  and  Robin  Hood, 
Together  then  they  met. 
Robin  beheld  our  comely  King, 
Wistly  in  the  face  : 
So  did  Sir  Richard  at  the  Lee, 
And  kneeled  down  in  that  place. 


464    First  printed  Robin  Hood  ballad.  [wr^elloutTsT^ 

And  so  did  all  the  wild  outlaws, 
When  they  see  them  kneel. 

"  My  Lord,  the  King  of  England, 
Now  I  know  you  well." 

"  Mercy  then,"  Robin  said,  "our  King, 
Under  your  trystel  tree. 
Of  thy  goodness  and  thy  grace. 
For  my  men  and  me  ! 

"  Yes,  for  God  !  "  said  Robin, 
"  and  also  God  me  save  ! 
I  ask  mercy,  my  Lord  the  King, 
And  for  my  men  I  crave  !  " 

"  Yes,  for  God  !"  then  said  our  King, 
"And  thereto  'sent  I  me  ; 
With  that  thou  leave  the  green  wood, 
And  all  thy  company  ; 
And  come  home,  Sir,  to  my  Court, 
And  there  dwell  with  me." 

"  I  make  mine  avow  to  God  !  "  said  Robin, 
**  And  right  so  shall  it  be, 
I  will  come  to  your  Court, 
Your  service  for  to  see  ! 
And  bring  with  me,  of  my  men, 
Seven  score  and  three. 
But  me  like  well  your  service, 
I  come  again  full  soon  ; 
And  shoot  at  the  dun  deer 
As  I  wont  to  done." 


C  V^t  ei0l)tl)  fptte. 

AsT  thou  any  green  cloth,"  said  our  King, 
"  That  thou  wilt  sell  now  to  me  ?  " 

"  Yea,  for  God  !  "  said  Robin, 
"Thirty  yards  and  three." 
"  Robin,"  said  our  King, 
"  Now  pray  I  thee  ! 
Sell  me  some  of  that  cloth 
To  me  and  my  meiny." 


worde^'^aboutT'S  FiRST  PRINTED  RoDiN  Hood  ballad.    465 

"Yes,  for  God  !"  then  said  Robin, 
"  Or  else  I  were  a  fool ! 
Another  day  ye  will  me  clothe, 
I  trow  against  the  yule." 

The  King  cast  off  his  cowl  then, 
A  green  garment  he  did  on, 
And  every  knight  had  so  I  wis, 
Another  had  full  soon. 
When  they  were  clothed  in  Lincoln  green, 
They  cast  away  their  gray. 

"  Now  we  shall  to  Nottingham  ! 
All  thus,"  our  King  'gan  say. 

Their  bows  bent,  and  forth  they  went, 
Shooting  all  in  fere, 
Toward  the  town  of  Nottingham, 
Outlaws  as  they  were. 

Our  King  and  Robin  rode  together, 
For  sooth  as  I  you  say. 
And  they  shot  Pluck-buffet, 
As  they  went  by  the  way. 
And  many  a  buffet  our  King  won 
Of  Robin  Hood  that  day  ; 
And  nothing  spared  good  Robin 
Our  King  in  his  pay. 

**  So  God  me  help  !  "  said  our  King, 
*'  Thy  game  is  nought  to  lere  ; 
I  should  not  get  a  shot  of  thee. 
Though  I  shoot  all  this  year !  " 

All  the  people  of  Nottingham, 
They  stood  and  beheld. 
They  saw  nothing  but  mantles  of  green 
That  covered  all  the  field  : 
Then  every  man  to  other  'gan  say, 

"  I  dread  our  King  be  slain  ; 
Come  Robin  Hood  to  the  town,  ywis 
In  life  he  left  never  one !  " 

Full  hastily  they  began  to  flee. 
Both  yeomen  and  knaves. 
And  old  wives  that  might  evil  go 
They  hipped  on  their  staves. 

ENG.  GAR.  VI.  30 


466    First  printed  Robin  Hood  ballad.  [woSaboutTsil,! 

The  King  laughed  full  fast, 
And  commanded  them  again  : 
When  they  see  our  comely  King 
I  wis  they  were  full  fain. 
They  eat  and  drank  and  made  them  glad, 
And  sang  with  notes  high. 
Then  bespake  our  comely  King 
To  Sir  Richard  at  the  Lee  : 
He  gave  him  there  his  land  again ; 
A  good  man  he  bade  him  be. 
Robin  thanked  our  comely  King 
And  set  him  on  his  knee. 

Had  Robin  dwelled  in  the  King's  Court, 
But  twelve  months  and  three ; 
That  spent  an  hundred  pound, 
And  all  his  men's  fee. 
In  every  place  where  Robin  came, 
Evermore  he  laid  down, 
Both  for  Knights  and  for  Squires 
To  get  him  great  renown. 
By  then  the  year  was  all  agone 
He  had  no  man  but  twain, 
Little  John  and  good  Scathelock 
"With  him  all  for  to  gone. 
Robin  saw  young  men  shoot 
Full  far  upon  a  day. 

"  Alas,"  then  said  good  Robin, 
**  My  wealth  is  went  away  ! 
Sometime  I  was  an  archer  good, 
A  stiff,  and  eke  a  strong, 
I  was  committed  the  best  archer 
That  was  in  merry  England. 
Alas,"  then  said  good  Robin, 
"  Alas,  and  well  a  woo  ! 
If  I  dwell  longer  with  the  King, 
Sorrow  will  me  sloo  !  " 
Forth  then  went  Robin  Hood, 
Till  he  came  to  our  King : 
"  My  Lord  the  Kin?  of  England, 
Grant  me  mine  asking ! 


worderaboutTsii!]  FiRST  PRINTED  Robin  Hood  ballad.    467 

I  made  a  chapel  in  Bernysdale, 

That  seemly  is  to  see : 

It  is  of  Mary  Magdalene  ; 

And  thereto  would  I  be  ! 

I  might  never  in  this  seven  night 

No  time  to  sleep  ne  wink  ; 

Neither  all  these  seven  days 

Neither  eat  ne  drink  : 

Me  longeth  sore  to  Bernysdale. 

I  may  not  be  therefrom, 

Barefoot  and  woolward  I  have  hight 

Thither  for  to  go." 

"  If  it  be  so,"  then  said  our  King, 
"  It  may  no  better  be  ! 
Seven  nights  I  give  thee  leave, 
No  longer  to  dwell  from  me." 

"  Grammercy,  Lord  !  "  then  said  Robin, 
And  set  him  on  his  knee. 
He  took  his  leave  full  courteously 
To  green  wood  then  went  he. 

"When  he  came  to  green  wood 
In  a  merry  morning, 
There  he  heard  the  notes  small 
Of  birds,  merry  singing. 

"  It  is  far  gone,"  said  Robin, 
"  That  I  was  last  here. 
Me  list  a  little  for  to  shoot 
At  the  dun  deer." 

Robin  slew  a  full  great  hart. 
His  horn  then  'gan  he  blow, 
That  all  the  outlaws  of  that  forest, 
That  horn  could  they  know. 
And  gathered  them  together 
In  a  little  throw, 
Seven  score  of  wight  young  men 
Came  ready  on  a  row, 
And  fair  did  off  their  hoods 
And  set  them  on  their  knee. 

"  Welcome  !  "  they  said,  "  our  Master  ! 
Under  this  green-wood  tree  !  " 


468    First  printed  Robin  Hood  ballad,  [worderabom  1510! 

Robin  dwelled  in  green  wood 
Twenty  years  and  two  ; 
For  all  dread  of  Edward  our  King 
Again  would  he  not  go. 
Yet  was  he  beguiled  I  wis 
Through  a  wicked  woman, 
The  Prioress  of  Kirkesley. 
That  nigh  was  of  his  kin, 
For  the  love  of  a  Knight, 
Sir  Roger  of  Donkesley. 
That  was  her  own  special 
(Full  evil  might  they  be  !  ) 
They  took  together  their  counsel 
Robin  Hood  for  to  slay, 
And  how  they  might  best  do  that  deed 
His  banes  for  to  be. 

Then  bespake  good  Robin, 
In  place  where  as  he  stood, 
**  To-morrow,  I  must  to  Kirkesley 
Craftily  to  be  let  blood  !  " 
Sir  Roger  of  Doncaster, 
By  the  Prioress  he  lay : 
And  there  they  betrayed  good  Robin  Hood 
Through  their  false  play. 

Christ  have  mercy  on  his  soul ! 
(That  died  on  the  rood) 
For  he  was  a  good  outlaw, 
And  did  poor  men  much  good. 


tl  (ZBrpUcit  Eing  aBHUiarn  anti  IRobitt  ©oon  ann 
Little  3of)n.  3lmprmtcti  at  Lontion  in  jFleet  street 
at  tbc  sign  of  tbe  ^un.   T5p  Wc^vlmi  De  2Bortie. 


PREDICTIONS 

FOR     THE 

YEAR    1708. 

Wherein  the  Month  and  Day  of 
the  Month  are  set  down,  the 
Persons  named,  and  the  great 
Actions  and  Events  of  next  Year 
particularly  related,  as  they  will 
come  to  pass. 

Written  to  prevent  the  People  of  England 
from  being  further  imposed  on  by  vulgar 
Almanack  Makers, 

BylSAAC    Bl  C  KERST  AFF,   Esq. 


Sold  by  John   Morphew,  near  Stationers'  Hall. 
MDCCVIII. 


470 

[For  over  thirty  years,  John  Partridge,  a  Protestant  astrological  Quack 
of  great  renown,  of  considerable  ability,  and  apparently  a  deluded 
believer  in  his  own  Astrology,  had  been  issuing  his  annual  Almanacks^ 
from  his  house  of  the  sign  of  the  Blue  Bull  in  Salisbury  street,  Strand. 

In  his  Almanack,  Merlinus  Libcratus  for  1707  [British  Museum  press 
mark,  2465/9],  there  occurs  the  following  notice,  which  shews  that  he 
was  already  in  trouble  from  his  enemies. 

If  there  is  anything  added  to  this  Ahnanack  by  B. 
Harris,  either  in  the  middle  or  end  of  it,  besides  these 
Three  Sheets  ;  it  is  a  piece  of  knavery,  and  not  mine. 

Likewise  if  there  is  anything  in  my  name,  called  a  Prophecy 
or  Predictions,  it  is  done  by  a  pack  of  rascals,  contrary  to  my 
will  and  knowledge. 

I  am  also  informed  that  there  is  in  the  country  an  Al- 
manack sold,  said  to  be  done  by  Dorothy  Partridge  as  my 
wife.  There  was  never  such  a  thing  pretended  to  by  her, 
nor  is  it  her  name  ;  and  he  is  a  Villain  that  writes  it :  and 
it  is  a  Cheat  put  on  the  country,  and  this  I  do  to  prevent  it, 
and  to  advise  you  not  to  buy  it. 

John    Partridge. 

Whether  or  not  this  caught  the  eye  of  Swift,  and  so  fired  his  invention 
with  the  idea  to  expose  PARTRIDGE,  cannot  now  be  proved  :  but  when 
Almanack  time  came  round  again,  there  appeared  Partridge's  Alcr- 
linus  Libc7-atus  for  1708  [P.P.  2465/10],  as  usual  ;  without  any  such 
special  notice  as  the  one  just  quoted  :  and  also  Swift's  Isaac  Bicker- 
staff's  Predictions  for  ike  year  1708,  in  4to  [8610.  c.]. 

George  Faulkner,  the  Dublin  printer  and  publisher  of  Swift's 
Works,  1762,  8vo,  states  : 

"  The  author,  when  he  had  written  the  following  Paper,  being  at  a  loss 
what  name  to  prefix  to  it,  passing  through  Long  Acre,  observed  a  sign 
over  a  house  where  a  locksmith  dwelt,  and  found  the  name  Bickerstaff 
written  under  it :  which  being  a  name  somewhat  uncommon,  he  chose 
to  call  himself  Isaac  Bickerstaff.  This  name  was  afterwards  made 
use  of  by  Sir  Richard  Steele  and  Mr.  Addison,  in  the  Tatlers  :  in 
which  Papers  as  well  as  many  of  the  Spectators,  our  author  had  a  con- 
siderable share."  i.  p.  105, 

John  Partridge,  shoemaker,  astrologer,  and  Doctor  of  Medicine  [ot 
Leyden],  was  born  at  East  Sheen  in  Surrey,  January  8,  1644,  and  died  at 
London  June  24,  171 5,  and  was  buried  at  East  Sheen. 

The  intentional  mispelling  of  his  name,  as  Partrige,  or  Patridge,  is 
to  be  noticed,  as  it  was  part  of  the  plan  of  attack  on  him.  If  he  com- 
plained, he  might  then  be  asked  if  that  was  his  name.  If  he  said  "  No  !  " 
he  would  then  have  no  case.  This  is  what  the  astrologer,  at/.  502,  calls 
shamming  his  name  with  the  want  of  a  letter.] 


471 


PREDICTIONS 

for  the  Year  1708,  &^c. 


Have  lonj;  considered  the  gross  abuse  of  Astro- 
logy in  this  Kingdom  ;  and  upon  debating 
the  matter  with  myself,  I  could  not  possibly 
lay  the  fault  upon  the  Art,  but  upon  those 
gross  Impostors  who  set  up  to  be  the  ArLists. 
I  know  several  Learned  Men  have  contended 
that  the  whole  is  a  cheat ;  that  it  is  absurd  and 

',  ridiculous  to  imagine  the  stars  can  have  any 

influence  at  all  on  human  actions,  thoughts,  or  incHnations: 
and  whoever  has  not  bent  his  studies  that  way,  may  be 
excused  for  thinking  so,  when  he  sees  m  how  wretched  a  man- 
ner this  noble  Art  is  treated  by  a  few  mean  illiterate  traders 
between  us  and  the  stars  ;  who  import  a  yearly  stock  of  non- 
sense, lies,  folly,  and  impertinence,  which  they  offer  to  the 
world  as  genuine  from  the  planets,  although  they  descend 
from  no  greater  height  than  their  own  brains.  _ 

I  intend,  in  a  short  time,  to  publish  a  large  and  rational 
Defence  of  this  Art ;  and  therefore  shall  say  no  more  in  its 
iustification  at  present  than  that  it  hath  been,  in  all  Ages  de- 
fended by  many  Learned  Men  ;  and,  among  the  rest,  by  Soc- 
rates himself,  whom  I  look  upon  as  undoubtedly  the  vyisest  ot 
uninspired  mortals.  To  which  if  we  add,  that  those  who  have 
condemned  this  Art,  although  otherwise  learned,  having  been 
such  as  either  did  not  apply  their  studies  this  way,  or  at  least 
did  not  succeed  in  their  applications  ;  their  testimonies  will 
not  be  of  much  weight  to  its  disadvantage,  since  they  are 
liable  to  the  common  objection  of  condemning  what  they  did 

not  understand.  ...  •   •         ^     -t 

Nor  am  I  at  all  offended,  or  think  it  an  injury  to  the 
Art,  when  I  see  the  common  dealers   in  it,  the   Students  in 


472  Influence  of  Almanacks  in  the  country.  L^FJuTyos; 

Astronomy,  the  Philomaths,  and  the  rest  of  that  tribe,  treated 
by  wise  men  with  the  utmost  scorn  and  contempt  :  but  I 
rather  wonder,  when  I  observe  Gentlemen  in  the  country, 
rich  enough  to  serve  the  nation  in  Parliament,  poring  in 
Partridge's  Almanack  to  find  out  the  events  of  the  year,  at 
home  and  abroad ;  not  daring  to  propose  a  hunting  match, 
unless  Gadbury  or  he  have  fixed  the  weather. 

I  will  allow  either  of  the  two  I  have  mentioned,  or  any 
others  of  the  fraternity,  to  be  not  only  Astrologers,  but  Con- 
jurers too,  if  I  do  not  produce  a  hundred  instances  in  all 
their  Almanacks,  to  convince  any  reasonable  man  that  they  do 
not  so  much  as  understand  Grammar  and  Syntax ;  that  they  are 
not  able  to  spell  any  word  out  of  the  usual  road,  nor  even,  in 
their  Prefaces,  to  write  common  sense,  or  intelligible  English. 

Then  as  their  Observations  or  Predictions,  they  are  such  as 
will  suit  any  Age  or  country  in  the  world. 

This  month,  a  certain  great  Person  will  be  threatened  with  death 
or  sickness.  This  the  News  Paper  will  tell  them.  For  there 
we  find  at  the  end  of  the  year,  that  no  month  passeth  without 
the  death  of  some  Person  of  Note  :  and  it  would  be  hard  if  it 
should  be  otherwise,  where  there  are  at  least  two  thousand 
Persons  of  Note  in  this  kingdom,  many  of  them  old ;  and  the 
Almanack  maker  has  the  liberty  of  choosing  the  sickliest 
season  of  the  year,  where  he  may  fix  his  prediction. 

Again,  This  month,  an  eminent  Clergyman  will  be  preferred. 
Of  which,  there  may  be  some  hundreds,  half  of  them  with  one 
foot  in  the  grave. 

Then,  Such  a  Planet  in  such  a  House  shews  great  machina- 
tions, plots,  and  conspiracies,  that  may,  in  time,  be  brought  to 
light.  After  which,  if  we  hear  of  any  discovery,  the  Astrologer 
gets  the  honour  :  if  not,  his  prediction  still  stands  good. 

And,  at  last,  God  preserve  King  William  from  all  his  open 
and  secret  enemies.  Amen.  When,  if  the  King  should  happen 
to  have  died,  the  Astrologer  plainly  foretold  it !  otherwise  it 
passeth  but  forthe  pious  ejaculation  of  a  loyal  subject:  although 
it  unluckily  happened  in  some  of  their  Almanacks,  that  poor 
King  William  was  prayed  for,  many  months  after  he  was 
dead ;  because  it  fell  out,  that  he  died  about  the  beginning 
of  the  year. 

To  mention  no  more  of  their  impertinent  Predictions,  What 
have  we  to  do  with  their  advertisements  about  pills,  or  their 


I.  Bicker 
Feb 


'T7o8.]WhAT    BiCKERSTAFF   did   FORETELLp]  473 


mutual  quarrels  in  verse  and  prose  of  Whig  and  Tory  ?  where- 
with the  stars  have  little  to  do. 

Having  long  observed  and  lamented  these,  and  a  hundred 
other  abuses  of  this  Art  too  tedious  to  repeat ;  I  resolved  to 
proceed  in  a  New  Way  ;  which,  I  doubt  not,  will  be  to  the 
general  satisfaction  of  the  Kingdom.  I  can,  this  year,  pro- 
duce but  a  specimen  of  what  I  design  for  the  future  :  having 
employed  the  most  part  of  my  time  in  adjusting  and  correct- 
ing the  calculations  I  made  for  some  years  past ;  because 
I  would  offer  nothing  to  the  World,  of  which  I  am  not  as  fully 
satisfied  as  that  I  am  now  alive. 

For  these  last  two  years,  I  have  not  failed  in  above  one  or  two 
particulars,  and  those  of  no  very  great  moment.  I  exactly 
foretold  the  miscarriage  at  Toulon  [fruitlessly  besieged  by  Prince 
Eugene,  between  26th  July,  and  21st  August,  1707]  with  all  its 
particulars  :  and  the  loss  of  Admiral  [Sir  Cloudesly]  Shovel 
[at  the  Scilly  isles,  on  22nd  October,  1707]  ;  although  I  was 
mistaken  as  to  the  day,  placing  that  accident  about  thirty-six 
hours  sooner  than  it  happened ;  but  upon  reviewing  my 
Schemes,  I  quickly  found  the  cause  of  that  error.  I  likewise 
foretold  the  battle  of  Almanza  [2^th  April,  1707]  to  the  very 
day  and  hour,  with  the  loss  on  both  sides,  and  the  consequences 
thereof.  All  which  I  shewed  to  some  friends  many  months 
before  they  happened  :  that  is,  I  gave  them  papers  sealed  up, 
to  open  in  such  a  time,  after  which  they  were  at  liberty  to 
read  them  ;  and  there  they  found  my  Predictions  true  in  every 
Article,  except  one  or  two  very  minute. 

As  for  the  few  following  Predictions  I  now  offer  the  World, 
I  forbore  to  publish  them  until  I  had  perused  the  seveial 
A  Inianacks  iov  the  year  we  are  now  entered  upon.  I  found 
them  all  in  the  usual  strain  ;  and  I  beg  the  reader  will  com- 
pare their  manner  with  mine. 

And  here  I  make  bold  to  tell  the  World  that  I  lay  the  whole 
credit  of  my  Art  upon  the  truth  of  these  Predictions  ;  and  I  will 
be  content  that  Partridge  and  the  rest  of  his  clan  may  hcot 
me  for  a  cheat  and  impostor,  if  I  fail  in  any  single  particular  of 
moment.  I  believe  any  man  who  reads  this  Paper  [pamphlet], 
will  look  upon  me  to  be  at  least  a  person  of  as  much  honesty 
and  understanding  as  the  common  maker  of  Almanacks.  I  do 
not  lurk  in  the  dark.    I  am  not  whollv  unknown  to  the  World. 


474   I    HAVE   SET   MY    NaME    AT    LENGTH  !   ['•  ^j^'.T;! 

I  have  set  my  name  at  length,  to  be  a  mark  of  infamy  to 
mankind,  if  they  shall  find  I  deceive  them. 

In  one  thing,  I  must  desire  to  be  forgiven  :  that  I  talk  more 
sparingly  of  home  affairs.  As  it  would  be  imprudence  to  dis- 
cover Secrets  of  State,  so  it  would  be  dangerous  to  my  person  : 
but  in  smaller  matters,  and  that  as  are  not  of  public  conse- 
quence, I  shall  be  very  free  :  and  the  truth  of  my  conjectures 
will  as  much  appear  from  these,  as  the  other. 

As  for  the  most  signal  events  abroad,  in  France,  Flanders, 
Italy,  and  Spain  :  I  shall  make  no  scruple  to  predict  them  in 
plain  terms.  Some  of  them  are  of  importance  ;  and  I  hope  I 
shall  seldom  mistake  the  day  they  will  happen.  Therefore  I 
think  good  to  inform  the  reader,  that  I,  all  along,  make  use 
of  the  Old  Style  observed  in  England;  which  I  desire  he  will 
compare  with  that  of  the  News  Papers  at  the  time  they  relate 
the  actions  I  mention. 

I  must  add  one  word  more.  I  know  it  hath  been  the 
opinion  of  several  Learned  [Persons],  who  think  well  enough 
of  the  true  Art  of  Astrology,  that  the  stars  do  only  incline  and 
r\oi  force  the  actions  or  wills  of  men  :  and  therefore,  however 
I  may  proceed  by  right  rules;  yet  I  cannot,  in  prudence,  so 
confidently  assure  that  the  events  will  follow  exactly  as  I 
predict  them. 

I  hope  I  have  maturely  considered  this  objection,  which,  in 
some  cases,  is  of  no  little  weight.  For  example,  a  man  may, 
by  the  influence  of  an  overruling  planet,  be  disposed  or  in- 
clined to  lust,  rage,  or  avarice  ;  and  yet,  by  the  force  of 
reason,  overcome  that  evil  influence.  And  this  was  the  case 
of  Socrates.  But  the  great  events  of  the  World  usually  de- 
pending upon  numbers  of  men  ;  it  cannot  be  expected  they 
should  all  unite  to  cross  their  inclinations,  from  pursuing  a 
general  design  wherein  they  unanimously  agree.  Besides, 
the  influence  of  the  stars  reacheth  to  many  actions  and 
events  which  are  not,  in  any  way,  in  the  power  of  Reason,  as 
sickness,  death,  and  what  we  commonly  call  accidents ;  with 
many  more,  needless  to  repeat. 

But  now  it  is  time  to  proceed  to  my  Predictions :  which  I 
have  begun  to  calculate  from  the  time  that  the  sun  entereth 
into  Aries  [April]  ;  and  this  I  take  to  be  properly  the  beginning 
of  the  natural  year.     I   pursue  them  to  the   time  that  he 


BicUerstaff.-l  pARTraDGE  WILL  DIE  ON  THE  29TII  OF  M  ARCH.  475 

Feb.  1708. J 

Ihirfbrkspecm  nofwhatldesign.insucceedingyears  to 

tre^t  more  at  Lrge ;  it  I  may  have  liberty  and  encouragement. 

M„  first  Prediction  is  but  a  trifle ;  yet  I  will  mention  it  to 

"on^h^:th'':ilUr;  the  cardinal  PE  Nomlles,  Archbishop 
"'onthe  nth.  the  young  Prince  of  the  AsTURiAS,  son  to  the 
""on'  tL^i4?h:a  great  Peer  ct  this  realm  will  die  at  his 
'°On7he  wth  an  old  Layman  of  great  fame  and  learning ; 

'''f:^  Public  Aff!^.^'"'On  the  yth  of  this  month,  there  will 

ea^t  coast  of  F^nce  ;  which  will  destroy  many  of  their  ships, 

^l^h^o/h  4ill  TeTamot  fo?-the  revolt  of  a  whole  Province 
orli^gdl,  excepting  one  city :  by  which  tha^^^  of  a 
certain'Prince  in  the  Alliance  wi  ake  ^b^^^^;^^^^^;  ^usy 
May,  against  common  conjectures  will  be  no  y  y 
month  in  Europe  ;  but  very  ^ ^l^^.J^^t  Men  on 
Dauphm  [Note,  how  SwiFTts  '''  "'f%.^^^^^ 
the  French  side,  one  after  another:  ^^^^  ^  "^/  Th  kh  will  happen 
inclination  of  the  nation  just  at  the  moment] ,  whicli  win  napi 


476  Isaac  Bickerstaff's  P /?££>/ c  ti oats.  [^- ^i'^^T'^a. 

on  the  7th,  after  a  short  fit  of  sickness,  and  grievous  torments 
with  the  stranguary.  He  dies  less  lamented  by  the  Court 
than  the  Kingdom. 

On  the  gth,  a  Marshal  of  France  will  break  his  leg  by  a 
fall  from  his  horse.  I  have  not  been  able  to  discover  whether 
he  will  then  die  or  not. 

On  the  nth,  will  begin  a  most  important  siege,  which  the 
eyes  of  all  Europe  will  be  upon.  I  cannot  be  more  particular; 
for  in  relating  affairs  that  so  nearly  concern  the  Confederates, 
and  consequently  this  Kingdom ;  I  am  forced  to  confine  myself, 
for  several  reasons  very  obvious  to  the  reader. 

On  the  15th,  news  will  arrive  of  a  very  surprising  event ; 
than  which,  nothing  could  be  more  unexpected. 

On  the  19th,  three  noble  Ladies  of  this  Kingdom,  will, 
against  all  expectation,  prove  with  child ;  to  the  great  joy  of 
their  husbands. 

On  the  23rd,  a  famous  buffoon  of  the  Play  House  will  die 
a  ridiculous  death,  suitable  to  his  vocation. 

June.  This  month  will  be  distinguished  at  home  by  the 
utter  dispersing  of  those  ridiculous  deluded  enthusiasts, 
commonly  called  Prophets  [Scotch  and  English  Jesuits  affecting 
inspiration,  iinder  the  name  of  the  French  Prophets],  occasioned 
chiefly  by  seeing  the  time  come  when  many  of  their  prophecies 
were  to  be  fulfilled ;  and  then  finding  themselves  deceived  by 
the  contrary  events.  It  is  indeed  to  be  admired  [astonished 
at]  how  any  deceiver  can  be  so  weak  to  foretell  things  near 
at  hand  ;  when  a  very  few  months  must,  of  necessity,  discover 
the  imposture  to  all  the  world  :  in  this  point,  less  prudent  than 
common  Almanack  makers,  who  are  so  wise  [as]  to  wander 
in  generals,  talk  dubiously,  and  leave  to  the  reader  the  business 
of  interpreting. 

On  the  ist  of  this  month,  a  French  General  will  be  killed 
by  a  random  shot  of  a  cannon  ball. 

On  the  Gth,  a  fire  will  break  out  in  all  the  suburbs  of  Paris, 
which  will  destroy  above  a  thousand  houses ;  and  seems  to  be 
the  foreboding  of  what  will  happen,  to  the  surprise  of  all 
Europe,  about  the  end  of  the  following  month. 

On  the  loth,  a  great  battle  will  be  fought,  which  will  begin 
at  four  of  the  clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  last  until  nine  at 
night,  with  great  obstinacy,  but  no  very  decisive  event.  I 
shall  not  name  the  place,  fur  the  reasons  aforesaid ;  but  the 


^•^ifj;''*/!]  Isaac  Bickerstaff's  PREDrcno.vs.  ^yj 

Commanders  of  each    left  wing  will   be  killed.  ...  I   see 
bonfires,  and  hear  the  noise  of  guns  for  a  victory. 

On  the  14th,  there  will  be  a  false  report  of  the  French 
King's  death. 

On  the  20th,  Cardinal  Portocarrero  will  die  of  a  dysentery, 
with  great  suspicion  of  poison :  but  the  report  of  his  intentions 
to  revolt  to  King  Charles  will  prove  false, 

July.  The  6th  of  this  month,  a  certain  General  will, 
by  a  glorious  action,  recover  the  reputation  he  lost  by  former 
misfortunes. 

On  the  12th,  a  great  Commander  will  die  a  prisoner  in  the 
hands  of  his  enemies. 

On  the  14th,  a  shameful  discovery  will  be  made  of  a  French 
Jesuit  giving  poison  to  a  great  foreign  General ;  and,  when 
he  is  put  to  the  torture,  [he]  will  make  wonderful  discoveries. 

In  short,  this  will  prove  a  month  of  great  action,  if  I  might 
have  liberty  to  relate  the  particulars. 

At  home,  the  death  of  an  old  famous  Senator  will  happen  on 
the  15th,  at  his  country  house,  worn  [out]  with  age  and  diseases. 

But  that  which  will  make  this  month  memorable  to  all 
posterity,  is  the  death  of  the  French  King  Lewis  XIV.,  after 
a  week's  sickness  at  Marli ;  which  will  happen  on  the  2gth, 
about  six  o'clock  in  the  evening.  It  seemeth  to  be  an  effect 
of  the  gout  in  his  stomach  followed  by  a  flux.  And  in  three 
days  after,  IMonsieur  Chamillard  will  follow  his  master ; 
dying  suddenly  of  an  apoplexy. 

In  this  month  likewise,  an  Ambassador  will  die  in  London; 
but  I  cannot  assign  the  day. 

August.  The  affairs  of  France  will  seem  to  suffer 
no  change  for  a  while,  under  the  Duke  of  Burgundy's 
administration.  But  the  Genius  that  animated  the  whole 
machine  being  gone,  will  be  the  cause  of  mighty  turns  and 
revolutions  in  the  following  year.  The  new  King  maketh 
yet  little  change,  either  in  the  army  or  the  Ministry  ;  but  the 
libels  against  his  [grand]father  that  fly  about  his  very  Court, 
give  him  uneasiness. 

I  see  an  Express  in  mighty  haste,  with  joy  and  wonder  in 
his  looks,  arriving  by  the  break  of  day  on  the  26th  of  this 
month,  having  travelled,  in  three  days,  a  prodigious  journey 
by  land  and  sea.  In  the  evening,  I  hear  bells  and  guns,  and 
see  the  blazing  of  a  thousand  bonfires. 


478  Isaac  Bickerstaff's  Predictions.   \^■^^^^Cl^^i 

A  young  Admiral,  of  noble  birth,  doth  likewise,  tl  is  month, 
gain  immortal  honour  by  a  great  achievement. 

The  affairs  of  Poland  are,  this  month,  entirely  settled. 
Augustus  resigns  his  pretensions,  which  he  had  again 
taken  up  for  some  time.  Stanislaus  is  peaceably  possessed 
of  the  throne :  and  the  King  of  Sweden  declares  for  the 
Emperor. 

I  cannot  omit  one  particular  accident  here  at  home :  that, 
near  the  end  of  this  month,  much  mischief  will  be  done  at 
Bartholomew  Fair  \}idd  on  August  2^ih],  by  the  fall  of  a  booth. 

September.  This  month  begins  with  a  very  sur- 
prisingfitof  frosty  weather,  which  will  last  near  [ly]  twelve  days. 

The  Pope  having  long  languished  last  month,  the  swell- 
ings in  his  legs  breaking,  and  the  flesh  mortifying ;  he  will 
die  on  the  nth  instant.  And,  in  three  weeks'  time,  after  a 
mighty  contest,  he  will  be  succeeded  by  a  Cardinal  of  the 
Imperial  faction,  but  a  native  of  Tuscany,  who  is  now  about 
6i  years  old. 

The  French  army  acts  now  wholly  on  the  defensive, 
strongly  fortified  in  their  trenches  :  and  the  young  French 
King  sendeth  overtures  for  a  treaty  of  peace,  by  the  Duke  of 
Mantua  ;  which,  because  it  is  a  matter  of  State  that  con- 
cerneth  us  here  at  home,  I  shall  speak  no  further  of. 

I  shall  add  but  one  Prediction  more,  and  that  in  mystical 
terms,  which  shall  be  included  in  a  verse  out  of  Virgil. 

Alter  eritjam  Tethys,  et  altera  qucB  vehat  Argo 
Dilcctos  Hero  as. 

Upon  the  25th  day  of  this  month,  the  fulfilling  of  this 
Prediction  will  be  manifest  to  everybody. 

This  is  the  furthest  I  have  proceeded  in  my  calculations 
for  the  present  year.  I  do  not  pretend  that  these  are  all  the 
great  events  which  will  happen  in  this  period ;  but  that 
those  I  have  set  down  will  infallibly  come  to  pass. 

It  may  perhaps,  still  be  objected,  why  I  have  not  spoken 
more  particularly  of  affairs  at  home,  or  of  the  success  of 
our  armies  abroad  ;  which  I  might,  and  could  very  largely 
have  done.  But  those  in  Power  have  wisely  discouraged 
men  from  meddling  in  public  concerns  :  and  I  was  resolved, 
by  no  means,  to  give  the  least  offence.  This  I  will  venture 
to  say,  that  it  will  be  a   glorious  campaign  for  the  Allies, 


'■  '^Feb.'fzosJ  Common  Astrologers  &  their  pothooks.  479 

wherein  the  English  forces,  both  by  sea  and  land,  will  have 
their  full  share  of  honour;  that  Her  Majesty  Queen  Anne 
will  continue  in  health  and  prosperity;  and  that  no  ill  accident 
will  arrive  to  any  in  the  chief  Ministry. 

As  to  the  particular  events  I  have  mentioned,  the  readers 
may  judge  by  the  fulfilling  of  them,  whether  I  am  of  the 
level  with  common  Astrologers,  who,  with  an  old  paltr}'- 
cant,  and  a  few  Pothooks  for  Planets  to  amuse  the  vulgar, 
have,  in  my  opinion,  too  long  been  suffered  to  abuse  the 
World.  But  an  honest  Physician  ought  not  to  be  despised 
because  there  are  such  things  as  mountebanks. 

I  hope  I  have  some  share  of  reputation  ;  which  I  would 
not  willingly  forfeit  for  a  frolic,  or  humour :  and  I  believe  no 
Gentleman,  who  reads  this  Paper,  will  look  upon  it  to  be  of 
the  same  last  and  mould  with  the  common  scribbles  that 
are  every  day  hawked  about.  My  fortune  hath  placed  me 
above  the  little  regard  of  writing  for  a  few  pence,  which  I 
neither  value  nor  want.  Therefore,  let  not  any  wise  man 
too  hastily  condemn  this  Essay,  intended  for  a  good  design, 
to  cultivate  and  improve  an  ancient  Art,  long  in  disgrace  by 
having  fallen  into  mean  unskilful  hands.  A  little  time  will 
determine  whether  I  have  deceived  others,  or  myself :  and  I 
think  it  is  no  very  unreasonable  request,  that  men  would 
please  to  suspend  their  judgements  till  then. 

I  was  once  of  the  opinion  with  those  who  despise  all 
Predictions  from  the  stars,  till,  in  the  year  1686,  a  Man 
of  Quality  shewed  me  written  in  his  album,  that  the  most 
learned  astronomer.  Captain  H  [alley],  assured  him  he  would 
never  believe  anything  of  the  stars'  influence,  if  there  were 
not  a  great  Revolution  in  England  in  the  year  1688.  Since 
that  time,  I  began  to  have  other  thoughts  [SwiFT  does  not 
say  on  what  subject] ;  and,  after  eighteen  years'  [1690-1708J 
diligent  study  and  application  [in  what?],  I  think  I  have  no 
reason  to  repent  of  my  pains. 

I  shall  detain  the  reader  no  longer  than  to  let  him  know, 
that  the  account  I  design  to  give  of  next  year's  events  shall 
take  in  the  principal  affairs  that  happen  in  Europe.  And  if 
I  be  denied  the  liberty  of  offering  it  to  my  own  country  ;  I 
shall  appeal  to  the  Learned  World,  by  publishing  it  in  Latin, 
and  giving  order  to  have  it  printed  in  Holland. 

FINIS. 


48o 

A  Revenue  Officer 
^Jonathan    Swift.'] 

A  Letter  to  a  Lord. 


[30  March  1708.] 


]\I  Y    Lord 


N   OBEDIENCE  to  your  Lordship's  commands, 

as    well  as  to   satisfy  my   own  curiosity ;    I 

have,  for  some  days  past,  inquired  constantly 

after    Partrige     the    Almanack   maker:    of 

whom,  it  was  foretold  in  Mr.  Bickerstaff's 

Predictions,  published     about   a    month    ago, 

that   he  should  die,  the  29th  instant,  about 

eleven  at  night,  of  a  raging  fever. 

I  had  some  sort  of  knowledge  of  him,  when  I  was  employed 

in  the  Revenue  ;  because  he  used,  every  year,  to  present  me 

with  his  Almanack,  as  he  did  other  Gentlemen,  upon  the 

score  of  some  little  gratuity  we  gave  him. 

I  saw  him  accidentally  once  or  twice,  about  ten  days 
before  he  died  :  and  observed  he  began  very  much  to  droop 
and  languish ;  although  I  hear  his  friends  did  not  seem  to 
apprehend  him  in  any  danger. 

About  two  or  three  days  ago,  he  grew  ill ;  was  confined 
first  to  his  chamber,  and  in  a  few  hours  after,  to  his  bed : 
where  Dr.  Case  and  Mrs.  Kirleus  [two  London  quacks] 
were  sent  for,  to  visit,  and  to  prescribe  to  him. 

Upon  this  intelligence,  I  sent  thrice  every  day  a  servant 
or  other,  to  inquire  after  his  health :  and  yesterday,  about 
four  in  the  afternoon,  word  was  brought  me,  that  he  was 
past  hopes. 

Upon  which,  I  prevailed  with  myself  to  go  and  see  him  : 
partly,  out  of  commiseration  :  and,  I  confess,  partly  out  of 
curiosity.  He  knew  me  very  well,  seemed  surprised  at  my 
condescension,  and  made  me  compliments  upon  it,  as  well 


^  ^3o  MarchTyoS.']    SlIAM  ACCOUNT  OF  PaRTRIDGE's  death.    48  I 

as  he  could  in  the  condition  he  was.  The  people  about  him, 
said  he  had  been  delirious  :  but,  when  I  saw  him,  he  had 
his  understanding  as  well  as  ever  I  knew,  and  spoke  strong 
and  hearty,  without  any  seeming  uneasiness  or  constraint. 

After  I  had  told  him,  I  was  sorry  to  see  him  in  those 
melancholy  circumstances,  and  said  some  other  civilities 
suitable  to  the  occasion  ;  I  desired  him  to  tell  me  freely  and 
ingenuously,  whether  the  Predictions,  Mr.  Bickerstaff  had 
published  relating  to  his  death,  had  not  too  much  affected 
and  worked  on  his  imagination  ? 

He  confessed  he  often  had  it  in  his  head,  but  never  with 
much  apprehension  till  about  a  fortnight  before :  since 
which  time,  it  had  the  perpetual  possession  of  his  mind  and 
thoughts,  and  he  did  verily  believe  was  the  true  natural 
cause  of  his  present  distemper.  "  For,"  said  he,  "  I  am 
thoroughly  persuaded,  and  I  think  I  have  very  good  reasons, 
that  Mr,  Bickerstaff  spoke  altogether  by  guess,  and  knew 
no  more  what  will  happen  this  year  than  I  did  myself." 

I  told  him,  "His  discourse  surprised  me,  and  I  would  be 
glad  he  were  in  a  state  of  health  to  be  able  to  tell  me,  what 
reason  he  had,  to  be  convinced  of  Mr.  Bickerstaff's 
ignorance." 

He  replied,  "  I  am  a  poor  ignorant  fellow,  bred  to  a  mean 
trade  ;  yet  I  have  sense  enough  to  know  that  all  pretences 
of  foretelling  by  Astrology  are  deceits :  for  this  manifest 
reason,  because  the  wise  and  learned  (who  can  only  judge 
whether  there  be  any  truth  in  this  science),  do  all  unani- 
mously agree  to  laugh  at  and  despise  it ;  and  none  but  the 
poor  ignorant  vulgar  give  it  any  credit,  and  that  only  upon 
the  word  of  such  silly  wretches  as  I  and  my  fellows,  who 
can  hardly  write  or  read."  I  then  asked  him,  "  Why  he  had 
not  calculated  his  own  nativity,  to  see  whether  it  agreed 
with  Bickerstaff's  Predictions  ?  " 

At  which,  he  shook  his  head,  and  said,  "  O,  Sir !  this  is 
no  time  for  jesting,  but  for  repenting  those  fooleries,  as  I  do 
now  from  the  very  bottom  of  my  heart." 

"  By  what  I  can  gather  from  you,"  said  I,  "  the  Observa- 
tions and  Predictions  you  printed  with  your  Almanacks,  were 
mere  impositions  upon  the  people." 

He  replied,  "  If  it  were  otherwise,  I  should  have  the  less  to 
answer  for.     We  have  a  common  form  for  all  those  things. 

Eng.Gar.VI.  31 


A  Revenue  Oftirer. 


482   BlCKERSTx\FF  OUT  BY  ALMOST  4  HOURS.      [^  ^^3oTiarchT7' 

As  to  foretelling  the  weather,  we  never  meddle  with  that ! 
but  leave  it  to  the  printer,  who  taketh  it  out  of  any  old 
Almanack,  as  he  thinketh  fit.  The  rest  was  my  own  inven- 
tion, to  make  my  Almanack  sell  ;  having  a  wife  to  maintain, 
and  no  other  way  to  get  my  bread  :  for  mending  old  shoes  is 
a  poor  livelihood  !  And,"  added  he,  sighing,  "  I  wish  I  may 
not  have  done  more  mischief  by  my  physic  than  by  astro- 
logy 1  although  I  had  some  good  receipts  from  my  grand- 
mother, and  my  own  compositions  were  such  as  I  thought 
could,  at  least,  do  no  hurt." 

I  had  some  other  discourse  withhim, which  now  I  cannot  call 
to  mind :  and  I  fear  I  have  already  tired  your  Lordship.  I 
shall  only  add  one  circumstance.  That  on  his  deathbed,  he 
declared  himself  a  Nonconformist,  and  had  a  Fanatic  [the 
political  designation  of  Dissenters]  preacher  to  be  his  spiritual 
guide. 

After  half  an  hour's  conversation,  I  took  my  leave  ;  being 
almost  stifled  by  the  closeness  of  the  room. 

I  imagined  he  could  not  hold  out  long  ;  and  therefore 
withdrew  to  a  little  coffee-house  hard  by,  leaving  a  servant 
at  the  house,  with  orders  to  come  immediately,  and  tell  me 
as  near  as  he  could  the  minute  when  Partrige  should 
expire :  which  was  not  above  two  hours  after,  when,  looking 
upon  my  watch,  I  found  it  to  be  above  Five  minutes  after 
Seven.  By  which  it  is  clear  that  Mr.  Bickerstaff  was 
mistaken  almost  four  hours  in  his  calculation  [see  p.  501]. 
In  the  other  circumstances  he  was  exact  enough. 

But  whether  he  hath  not  been  the  cause  of  this  poor  man's 
death  as  well  as  the  Predictor  may  be  very  reasonably  dis- 
puted. However,  it  must  be  confessed  the  matter  is  odd 
enough,  whether  we  should  endeavour  to  account  for  it  by 
chance  or  the  effect  of  imagination. 

For  my  own  part,  although  I  believe  no  man  has  less  faith 
in  these  matters,  yet  I  shall  wait  with  some  impatience,  and 
not  without  expectation,  the  fulfilling  of  Mr.  Bickerstaff's 
second  prediction,  that  the  Cardinal  de  Noailles  is  to  die 
upon  the  4th  of  April  [1708]  ;  and  if  that  should  be  verified 
as  exactly  as  this  of  poor  Partrige,  I  must  own  I  shall  be 
wholly  surprised,  and  at  a  loss,  and  infallibly  expect  the 
accomplishment  of  all  the  rest. 


48: 


[In  the  original  broadside,  there  are  Deaths  with  darts,  winged  hour- 
glasses, crossed  marrow-bones,  &c.] 

[Jonathan    Swift.] 

An  Elegy  on  Mr,  Patrice,  ^T/^^  Almanack 

maker  ^  who  died  on  the  2()th  of  this 

instant  March^  1708. 

[Original  broadside  in  the  British  Museum,  C.  39.  k./74.1 

Ell,  'tis  as  Bickerstaff  has  guest ; 
Though  we  all  took  it  for  a  jest ; 
Patrige  is  dead !  nay  more,  he  died 
Ere  he  could  prove  the  good  Squire  lied  ! 
Strange,  an  Astrologer  should  die 
Without  one  wonder  in  the  sky 
Not  one  of  all  his  crony  stars 

To  pay  their  duty  at  his  hearse  ! 

No  meteor,  no  eclipse  appeared, 

No  comet  with  a  flaming  beard  ! 

The  sun  has  rose  and  gone  to  bed 

Just  as  if  Patrige  were  not  dead; 

Nor  hid  himself  behind  the  moon 

To  make  a  dreadful  night  at  noon. 

He  at  fit  periods  walks  through  Aries, 

Howe'er  our  earthly  motion  varies ; 

And  twice  a  year  he'll  cut  th'Equator, 

As  if  there  had  been  no  such  matter. 

Some  Wits  have  wondered  what  analogy 

There  is  'twixt*  Cobbling  and  Astrology?    '^rs^'Jcobbfer. 

How  Patrige  made  his  optics  rise 

From  a  shoe-sole,  to  reach  the  skies  ? 

A  list,  the  cobblers'  temples  ties, 


^S 

% 

J^ 

\simii 

;n 

J5^|J 

Mw/i 

^o| 

t^M 

1^ 

i 

m 

484  Connection  between  Cobbling  &  Astrology.  [^llf^[ 

To  keep  the  hair  out  of  their  eyes  ; 
From  whence,  'tis  plain,  the  diadem 
That  Princes  wear,  derives  from  them  : 
And  therefore  crowns  are  now-a-days 
Adorned  with  golden  stars  and  rays  ; 
Which  plainly  shews  the  near  alliance 
'Twixt  Cobbling  and  the  Planet  science. 

Besides,  that  slow-paced  sign  Bo-otes 
As  'tis  miscalled;  we  know  not  who  'tis  ? 
But  Patrice  ended  all  disputes  ; 
He  knew  his  trade  !  and  called  it  Boots  \  * 
The  Horned  Moon  which  heretofore  ^/wa«IU. 

Upon  their  shoes,  the  Romans  wore, 
Whose  wideness  kept  their  toes  from  corns, 
And  whence  we  claim  our  Shoeing  Horns, 
Shews  how  the  art  of  Cobbling  bears 
A  near  resemblance  to  the  Spheres. 

A  scrap  of  parchment  hung  by  Geometry, 
A  great  refinement  in  Barometry, 
Can,  like  the  stars,  foretell  the  weather : 
And  what  is  parchment  else,  but  leather  ? 
Which  an  Astrologer  might  use 
Either  for  A  Imanacks  or  shoes. 

Thus  Patrice,  by  his  Wit  and  parts, 
At  once,  did  practise  both  these  Arts ; 
And  as  the  boding  owl  (or  rather 
The  bat,  because  her  wings  are  leather) 
Steals  from  her  private  cell  by  night, 
And  flies  about  the  candle  light : 
So  learned  Patrice  could  as  well 
Creep  in  the  dark,  from  leathern  cell ; 
And  in  his  fancy,  fly  as  far, 
To  peep  upon  a  twinkling  star! 
Besides,  he  could  confound  the  Spheres 
And  set  the  Planets  by  the  ears. 
To  shew  his  skill,  he,  Mars  would  join 


j.swiftj  Partridge, 


^o  Mar.  170S 


A    COBBLING    STAR.    485 


To  Venus,  in  aspect  malign, 

Then  call  in  Mercury  for  aid, 

And  cure  the  wounds  that  Venus  made. 

Great  scholars  have  in  Lucian  read 
VV^hen  Philip,  King  of  Greece  was  dead, 
His  soul  and  spirit  did  divide, 
And  each  part  took  a  different  side : 
One  rose  a  Star  ;  the  other  fell 
Beneath,  and  mended  shoes  in  hell. 

Thus  Patrige  still  shines  in  each  Art, 
The  Cobbling,  and  Star-gazing  Part ; 
And  is  installed  as  good  a  star 
As  any  of  the  Caesars  are. 

Thou,  high  exalted  in  thy  sphere, 
May'st  follow  still  thy  calling  there ! 
To  thee,  the  Bull  will  lend  his  hide, 
By  Phabus  newly  tanned  and  dried  ! 
For  thee,  they  Argo's  hulk  will  tax, 
And  scrape  her  pitchy  sides  for  wax ! 
Then  Ariadne  kindly  lends 
Her  braided  hair,  to  make  thee  ends! 
The  point  of  Sagittarius'  dart 
Turns  to  an  awl,  by  heavenly  art ! 
And  Vulcan,  wheedled  by  his  wife, 
Will  forge  for  thee,  a  paring-knife  ! 

Triumphant  Star  1  some  pity  shew 
On  Cobblers  militant  below  ! 
*  But  do  not  shed  thy  influence  down 
Upon  St.  James's  end  o'  the  Town  1 
Consider  where  the  moon  and  stars 
Have  their  devoutest  worshippers! 
Astrologers  and  lunatics 
Have  in  Moorfields  their  stations  fixt : 
Hither,  thy  gentle  aspect  bend, 
t  Nor  look  asquint  on  an  old  friend  ! 


*  Seii  nee  in 
A  rctoo  sedcia 
tilii  legeris 
Qrbe,  ife. 


t  Ne7>e  ttiam 
■vnitus  obliquo 
tdere  Romani. 


486 


J.  Swift. 

_30  Mar.  1708. 


THE     EPITAPH. 

Ere  five  foot  deep,  lies  on  his  back, 
A  Cobbler,  Starmonger,  and  Quack  ; 
Who  to  the  stars,  in  pure  good  will. 
Does  to  his  best,  look  upward  still. 
Weep  all  you  customers,  that  use 
His  Pills,  his  Almanacks,  or  Shoes  ! 
A  nd  you  that  did  your  fortunes  seek. 
Step  to  this  grave,  but  once  a  week  ! 
This  earth  which  bears  his  body's  print 
YouHlfind  has  so  mucli  virtue  in  it; 
That  I  durst  pawjt  my  ears,  'twill  tell 
Whatever  concerns  you,  full  as  well 
{In  physic,  stolen  goods,  or  love) 
As  he  himself  could,  when  above  ! 

LONDON:   Printed  in  the  Year  1708. 


4S7 


Squire   Bickerstaff   detected  , 

OR   THE 

Astrological  Impostor  convicted, 

BY 

JOHN    PARTRIDGE, 

Student  in  Physic  and  Astrology. 

[This  was  written  for  PARTRIDGE,  either  by  Nicholas  Rowe  or  Dr. 
Yaldkn,  and  put  forth  by  him,  in  good  faith,  in  proof  ot  his  continued 
existence.] 

T  IS  hard,  my  dear  countrymen  of  these  United 
Nations  !  it  is  very  hard,  that  a  Britain  born, 
a  Protestant  Astrologer,  a  man  of  Revolu- 
tion Principles,  an  assertor  of  the  Liberty  and 
Property  of  the  people,  should  cry  out  in  vain, 
for  justice  against  a  Frenchman,  a  Papist, 
and  an  illiterate  pretender  to  Science,  that 
would  blast  my  reputation,  most  inhumanly 
bury  me  alive,  and  defraud  my  native  country  of  those 
services  which,  in  my  double  capacity  [Physician  and  Astro- 
logcr],  I  daily  offer  the  public. 

What  great  provocations  I  have  received,  let  the  impar- 
tial reader  judge  !  and  how  unwillingly,  even  in  my  ovvn 
defence,  I  now  enter  the  lists  against  Falsehood,  Ignorance, 
and  Envy  1  But  I  am  exasperated  at  length,  to  drag  out 
this  Cacus  from  the  den  of  obscurity,  where  he  lurketh,  to 
detect  him  by  the  light  of  those  stars  he  hath  so  impudently 
traduced,  and  to  shew  there  is  not  a  Monster  m  the  skies  so 
pernicious  and  malevolent  to  mankind  as  an  ignorant  preten- 
der to  Physic  and  Astrology. 

I  shall  not  directly  fall  on  the  many  gross  errors,  nor 
expose  the  notorious  absurdities  of  this  prostituted  libeller, 


488  G  R  E  A  T  M  E  N   AND    P  U  B  L  I  C   S  P  IR  I  TS  !  [  '  ^-  ^^J; 

until  I  have  let  the  Learned  World  fairly  into  the  controversy 
depending;  and  then  leave  the  unprejudiced  to  judge  of  the 
merits  and  justice  of  my  cause. 

It  was  towards  the  conclusion  of  the  year  1707  [according 
to  the  old  way  of  reckoning  the  year  from  March  2^th.  The 
precise  date  is  Fehrnary,  1708,  see  p.  469],  when  an  impudent 
Pamphlet  crept  into  the  world,  intituled  Predictions  &c.  by 
Isaac  Bickerstaff,  Esquire.  Among  the  many  arrogant 
assertions  laid  down  by  that  lying  Spirit  of  Divination  ;  he 
was  pleased  to  pitch  on  the  Cardinal  de  Noailles  and  my- 
self, among  many  other  eminent  and  illustrious  persons  that 
were  to  die  within  the  confines  of  the  ensuing  year,  and 
peremptorily  fixed  the  month,  day,  and  hours  of  our  deaths. 

This,  I  think,  is  sporting  with  Great  Men,  and  Public 
Spirits,  to  the  scandal  of  Religion,  and  reproach  of  Power  : 
and  if  Sovereign  Princes  and  Astrologers  must  make  diver- 
sion for  the  vulgar,  why  then,  Farewell,  say  I,  to  all 
Governments,  Ecclesiastical  and  Civil  !  But,  I  thank  my 
better  stars  !  I  am  alive  to  confront  this  false  and  audacious 
Predictor,  and  to  make  him  rue  the  hour  he  ever  affronted  a 
Man  of  Science  and  Resentment. 

The  Cardinal  may  take  what  measures  he  pleases,  with 
him  :  as  His  Excellency  is  a  foreigner  and  a  Papist,  he  hath 
no  reason  to  rely  on  me  for  his  justification.  I  shall  only 
assure  the  World  that  he  is  alive  !  but  as  he  was  bred  to 
Letters,  and  is  master  of  a  pen,  let  him  use  it  in  his  own 
defence  ! 

In  the  meantime,  I  shall  present  the  Public  with  a  faithful 
Narrative  of  the  ungenerous  treatment  and  hard  usage  I  have 
received  from  the  virulent  Papers  and  malicious  practices  of 
this  pretended  Astrologer. 


A  true  and  impartial 

ACCOUNT 

OF  THE 

PROCEEDINGS 

OF 

Isaac    Bickerstaff,   Esq., 

against  Me. 

He  29th  of  March,  Anno  Dom.,  1708,  being 
the  night  this  Sham  Prophet  had  so  im- 
pudently fixed  for  my  last ;  which  made 
little  impression  on  myself,  but  I  cannot 
answer  for  my  whole  family.  For  my  wife, 
with  a  concern  more  than  usual,  prevailed 
on  me  to  take  somewhat  to  sweat  for  a 
cold ;  and  betv^een  the  hours  of  8  and  9,  to 

go  to  bed. 

The  maid  as  she  was  warming  my  bed,  with  the  curiosity 
natural  to  young  women,  runs  to  the  window,  and  asks  of  one 
passing  the  street,  "  Who  the  bell  tolled  for  ?  " 

"  Dr.  Partridge,"  says  he,  "  the  famous  Almanack  maker, 
who  died  suddenly  this  evening." 

The  poor  girl  provoked,  told  him,  *'  He  lied  like  a  rascal !  " 

The  other  very  sedately  replied,  "The  sexton  had  so 
informed  him  ;  and  if  false,  he  was  to  blame  for  imposing  on 
a  stranger." 

She  asked  a  second,  and  a  third  as  they  passed  ;  and  every 
one  was  in  the  same  tone. 

Now  I  don't  say  these  were  accomplices  to  a  certain  astro- 
logical Squire,  and  that  one  Bickerstaff  might  be  sauntering 
thereabouts ;  because  I  will  assert  nothing  here  but  what  I 
dare  attest,  and  plain  matter  of  fact. 


490    TUEVISITOFTHE   UNDERTAKER.  [' 


?  N.  Rowe. 


My  wife,  at  this,  fell  into  a  violent  disorder;  and  I  must 
own  I  was  a  little  discomposed  at  the  oddness  of  the  accident. 

In  the  meantime,  one  knocks  at  the  door.  Betty  runneth 
down  and  opening,  finds  a  sober  grave  person,  who  modestly 
inquires  "  If  this  was  Dr.  Partridge's  ?  " 

vShe,  taking  him  for  some  cautious  City  patient,  that  came 
at  that  time  for  privacy,  shews  him  into  the  dining-room. 

As  soon  as  I  could  compose  myself,  I  went  to  him  ;  and  was 
surprised  to  find  my  gentleman  mounted  on  a  table  with  a 
two-foot  rule  in  his  hand,  measuring  my  walls,  and  taking  the 
dimensions  of  the  room. 

"  Pray,  Sir,"  says  I,  "  not  to  interrupt  you,  have  you  any 
business  with  me  ?  " 

"  Only,  Sir,"  replies  he,  "  to  order  the  girl  to  bring  me  a 
better  light :  for  this  is  but  a  dim  one." 

"Sir,"  sayeth  I,  "  my  name  is  Partridge!  " 

"  Oh  !  the  Doctor's  brother,  belike,"  cries  he.  "  The  stair- 
case, I  believe,  and  these  two  apartments  hung  in  close 
mourning  will  be  sufficient ;  and  only  a  strip  of  Bays  [cloth  | 
round  the  other  rooms.  The  Doctor  must  needs  die  rich. 
He  had  great  dealings  in  his  way,  for  many  years.  If  he  had 
no  family  Coat  [of  arms],  you  had  as  good  use  the  scutcheons 
of  the  Company.  They  are  as  showish  and  will  look  as 
magnificent  as  if  he  were  descended  from  the  Blood-Royal." 

With  that,  I  assumed  a  greater  air  of  authority,  and  de- 
manded, "  Who  employed  him  ?  and  how  he  came  there?  " 

"  Why,  I  was  sent.  Sir,  by  the  Company  of  Undertakers," 
saith  he,  "  and  they  were  employed  by  the  honest  gentleman 
who  is  the  executor  to  the  good  Doctor  departed  :  and  our 
rascally  porter,  I  believe  is  fallen  fast  asleep  with  the  black 
cloth  and  sconces  or  he  had  been  here  ;  and  we  might  have 
been  tacking  up  by  this  time." 

"  Sir,"  says  I,  ''  pray  be  advised  by  a  friend,  and  make  the 
best  of  your  speed  out  of  my  doors  ;  for  I  hear  my  wife's 
voice,"  which,  by  the  way,  is  pretty  distinguishable!  "and  in 
that  corner  of  the  room  stands  a  good  cudgel  which  somebody 
[i.e.,  himself]  has  felt  ere  now.  If  that  light  in  her  hands,  and 
she  knew  the  business  you  came  about ;  without  consulting 
the  stars,  I  can  assure  you  it  will  be  employed  very  much 
to  the  detriment  of  your  person." 

"  Sir,"  cries  he,  bowing  with  great  civility,  "  I   perceive 


?  N.  Rowe 


fy'^s;]  All  the  Town    knows  you  are  dead  !  491 

extreme  grief  for  the  loss  of  the  Doctor  disorders  you  a 
little  at  present :  but  early  in  the  morning,  I'll  wait  on 
you,  with  all  necessary  materials." 

Now  I  mention  no  Mr.  Bickerstaff,  nor  do  I  say  that  a 
certain  star-gazing  Squire  has  been  a  playing  my  executor 
before  his  time  :  but  I  leave  the  World  to  judge,  and  if  it  puts 
things  to  things  fairly  together,  it  won't  be  much  wide  of  the  mark. 
Well,  once  more  I  get  my  doors  closed,  and  prepare  for 
bed,  in  hopes  of  a  little  repose,  after  so  many  ruffling  adven- 
tures. Just  as  I  was  putting  out  my  light  in  order  to  it, 
anothei  bounceth  as  hard  as  he  can  knock. 

I  open  the  window  and  ask,  "  Who  is  there,  and  what  he 
wants  ?  " 

"  I  am  Ned  the  Sexton,"  replies  he,  "  and  come  to  know 
whether  the  Doctor  left  any  orders  for  a  Funeral  Sermon  ? 
pnd  where  he  is  to  be  laid?  and  whether  his  grave  is  to  be 
plain  or  bricked  ?  " 

*'  Why,  Sirrah !  "  says  I,  "  you  know  me  well  enough. 
You  know  I  am  not  dead ;  and  how  dare  you  affront  me  after 
this  manner  !  " 

"Alack  a  day,  Sir,"  replies  the  fellow,  "  why  it  is  in  print, 
and  the  whole  Town  knows  you  are  dead.  Why,  there's  Mr. 
White  the  joiner  is  but  fitting  screws  to  your  coffin  !  He'll 
be  here  with  it  in  an  instant.  He  was  afraid  you  would  have 
wanted  it  before  this  time." 

"Sirrah!  sirrah!"  saith  I,  "you  shall  know  to-morrow 
to  your  cost  that  I  am  alive  !  and  alive  like  to  be  !  " 

"  Why,  'tis  strange.  Sir,"  says  he,  "you  should  make  such 
a  secret  of  your  death  to  us  that  are  your  neighbours.  It 
looks  as  if  you  had  a  design  to  defraud  the  Church  of  its  dues  : 
and  let  me  tell  you,  for  one  who  has  lived  so  long  by  the 
heavens,  that  is  unhandsomely  done  !  " 

"  Hist !  hist  !  "  says  another  rogue  that  stood  by  him, 
"  away,  Doctor  !  into  your  flannel  gear  as  fast  as  you  can  !  for 
here  is  a  whole  pack  of  dismals  coming  to  you  with  their 
black  equipage  ;  how  indecent  will  it  look  for  you  to  stand 
frightening  folks  at  your  window,  when  you  should  have  been 
in  your  coffin  this  three  hours  !  " 

In  short,  what  with  Undertakers,  Embalmers,  Joiners, 
Sextons,  and  your  Elegy  hawkers  iipon  a  late  practitioner  in 
Physic  and  Astrology  ;  I  got  not  one  wink  of  sleep  that  night, 
nor  scarce  a  moment's  rest  ever  since. 


492   Remo  n  s  t  r  a  n  c  e  s  in  the  streets.  [  •  ^- ^^°;^: 

Now,  I  doubt  not  but  tbis  villanous  Squire  has  the  impu- 
dence to  assert  that  these  are  entirely  strangers  to  him  ;  he, 
good  man !  knoweth  nothing  of  the  matter !  and  honest 
Isaac  Bickerstaff,  I  warrant  you  !  is  more  a  man  of  honour 
than  to  be  an  accomplice  with  a  pack  of  rascals  that  walk  the 
streets  on  nights,  and  disturb  good  people  in  their  beds.  But 
he  is  out,  if  he  thinks  the  whole  World  is  blind !  for  there  is 
one  John  Partridge  can  smell  a  knave  as  far  as  Grub  street, 
although  he  lies  in  the  most  exalted  garret,  and  writeth 
himself  "  Squire  "  !  But  I  will  keep  my  temper !  and  proceed 
in  the  Narration. 

I  could  not  stir  out  of  doors  for  the  space  of  three  months 
after  this ;  but  presently  one  comes  up  to  me  in  the  street : 
"  Mr.  Partridge,  that  coffin  you  were  last  buried  in,  I  have 
not  yet  been  paid  for." 

"  Doctor  !  "  cries  another  dog,  "  How  do  you  think  people 
can  live  by  making  graves  for  nothing  ?  Next  time  you  die, 
you  may  even  toll  out  the  bell  yourself,  for  Ned  !  " 

A  third  rogue  tips  me  by  the  elbow,  and  wonders  "  how  I 
have  the  conscience  to  sneak  abroad,  without  paying  my 
funeral  expenses." 

"Lord!"  says  one,  "I  durst  have  sworn  that  was  honest 
Dr.  Partridge,  my  old  friend;  but,  poor  man,  he  is  gone  !  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  says  another,  "  you  look  so  like  my 
old  acquaintance  that  I  used  to  consult  on  some  private 
occasions :   but,  alack,   he   is  gone  the  way   of  all  flesh." 

"  Look,  look ! "  cries  a  third,  after  a  competent  space  of  star- 
ing at  me;  "  would  not  one  think  our  neighbour  the  Almanack 
maker  was  crept  out  of  his  grave,  to  take  another  peep  at 
the  stars  in  this  world,  and  shew  how  much  he  is  improved 
in  fortune  telling  by  having  taken  a  journey  to  the  other." 

Nay,  the  very  Reader  of  our  parish  (a  good  sober  discreet 
person)  has  sent  two  or  three  times  for  me  to  come  and  be 
iDuried  decently,  or  send  him  sufficient  reasons  to  the  con- 
trary :  or  if  I  have  been  interred  in  any  other  parish,  to 
produce  my  certificate  as  the  Act  requires. 

My  poor  wife  is  almost  run  distracted  with  being  called 
Widow  Partridge,  when  she  knows  it's  false  :  and  once  a 
Term,  she  is  cited  into  the  Court,  to  take  out  Letters  of 
Administration. 


?  N.  Rowe. 


"7^3:]  Is  LOOKED  UPON  AS  ONE  SEVEN  YEARS  DEAD.  493 

But  the  greatest  grievance  is  a  paltry  Quack  that  takes  up 
my  calHng  just  under  my  nose  ;  and  in  his  printed  directions 
with  a,  A'^.  B.tS^,  says  :  He  lives  in  the  house  of  the  late  ingenious 
Mr.  John  Partridge^  an  eminent  Practitioner  in  Leather^ 
Physic,  and  Astrology. 

But  to  shew  how  far  the  wicked  spirit  of  envy,  malice,  and 
resentment  can  hurry  some  men,  my  nameless  old  persecutor 
had  provided  a  monument  at  the  stone-cutter's,  and  would 
have  it  erected  in  the  parish  church :  and  this  piece  of  noto- 
rious and  expensive  villany  had  actually  succeeded,  if  I  had 
not  used  my  utmost  interest  with  the  Vestry ;  where  it  was 
carried  at  last  but  by  two  voices,  that  I  am  alive. 

That  stratagem  failing,  out  cometh  a  long  sable  Elegy 
bedecked  with  hour-glasses,  mattocks,  skulls,  spades,  and 
skeletons,  with  an  Epitaph  [seep.  486]  as  confidently  written 
to  abuse  me  and  my  profession,  as  if  I  had  been  under 
ground  these  twenty  years. 

And,  after  such  barbarous  treatment  as  this,  can  the 
World  blame  me,  when  I  ask.  What  is  become  of  the  freedom 
of  an  Englishman  ?  and.  Where  is  the  Liberty  and  Property 
that  my  old  glorious  Friend  [William  III.]  came  over  to 
assert  ?  We  have  driven  Popery  out  of  the  nation !  and 
sent  Slavery  to  foreign  climes !  The  Arts  only  remain  in 
bondage,  when  a  Man  of  Science  and  Character  shall  be 
openly  insulted  !  in  the  midst  of  the  many  useful  services  he 
is  daily  paying  the  public.  Was  it  ever  heard,  even  in 
Turkey  or  Algiers,  that  a  State  Astrologer  was  bantered  out 
of  his  life,  by  an  ignorant  impostor  ?  or  bawled  out  of  the 
world,  by  a  pack  of  villanous  deep-mouthed  hawkers  ? 

Though  I  print  Almanacks,  and  publish  Advertisements ; 
although  I  produce  certificates  under  the  Minister's  and 
Churchwardens'  hands,  that  I  am  alive :  and  attest  the  same, 
on  oath,  at  Quarter  Sessions  :  out  comes  A  full  and  true 
Relation  of  the  death  and  interment  of  John  Partridge. 
Truth  is  borne  down  ;  Attestations,  neglected  ;  the  testimony 
of  sober  persons,  despised :  and  a  man  is  looked  upon  by  his 
neighbours  as  if  he  had  been  seven  years  dead,  and  is  buried 
alive  in  the  midst  of  his  friends  and  acquaintance. 

Now  can  any  man  of  common  sense  think  it  consistent 
with  the  honour  of  my  profession,  and  not  much  beneath  the 
dignity  of  a  philosopher,  to  stand  bawling,  before  his  own 


494  Partridge's  genuine  idea  of  Bickerstaff.  [  •  ^°;^^: 

door,  "  Alive  !  Alive  !  Ho  !  the  famous  Doctor  Partridge  ! 
no  counterfeit,  but  all  alive  !  "  as  if  I  had  the  twelve  celestial 
Monsters  of  the  Zodiac  to  shew  within,  or  was  forced  for  a 
livelihood,  to  turn  retailer  to  May  and  Bartholomew  Fairs. 

Therefore,  if  Her  Majesty  would  but  graciously  be  pleased 
to  think  a  hardship  of  this  nature  worthy  her  royal  considera- 
tion ;  and  the  next  Parl[ia]m[en]t,  in  their  great  wisdom,  cast 
but  an  eye  towards  the  deplorable  case  of  their  old  Philomath 
that  annually  bestoweth  his  poetical  good  wishes  on  them  : 
I  am  sure  there  is  one  Isaac  Bickerstaff,  Esquire,  would 
soon  be  trussed  up  !  for  his  bloody  persecution,  and  putting 
good  subjects  in  terror  of  their  lives.  And  that  henceforward, 
to  murder  a  man  by  way  of  Prophecy,  and  bury  him  in  a 
printed  Letter,  either  to  a  Lord  or  Commoner,  shall  as  legally 
entitle  him  to  the  present  possession  of  Tyburn,  as  if  he 
robbed  on  the  highway,  or  cut  your  throat  in  bed. 


Advert'ise?nent . 

N.B.'SS'  There  is  now  in  the  Press,  my  Appeal  to  the  Learned; 
Or  my  general  Invitation  to  all  Astrologers,  Divines,  Physicians, 
Lawyers,  Mathematicians,  Philologers,  and  to  the  Literati  of  the 
whole  World,  to  come  and  take  their  Places  in  the  Common  Court 
of  Knowledge,  and  receive  the  Charge  given  in  by  me,  against 
Isaac  Bickerstaff,  Esq.,  that  most  notorious  Impostor  in 
Science  and  illiterate  Pretender  to  the  Stars  ;  where  I  shall  openly 
convict  him  of  ignorance  in  his  profession,  impudence  and  false- 
hood in  every  assertion,  to  the  great  detriment  and  scandal  of 
Astrology.  I  shall  further  demonstrate  to  the  Judicious,  that 
France  and  Rome  are  at  the  bottom  of  this  horrid  conspiracy 
against  me  ;  and  that  the  Cidprit  aforesaid  is  a  Popish  emissary, 
has  paid  his  visits  to  St.  Germains,  and  is  now  in  the  Measures  of 
Lewis  XIV. ;  that  in  attempting  my  reputation,  there  is  a 
general  Massacre  of  Learning  designed  in  these  realms ;  and, 
through  my  sides,  there  is  a  wound  given  to  all  the  Protestant 
Almanack  makers  in  the  universe. 

Vivat  Regina ! 


Partridge 

1709 


•]      "It    was    a    cold    touch! 


495 


Not  satisfied  with  this  Impartial  Account,  when  next  Almanack  time 
came  (in  the  following  November,  1708),  PARTRIDGE'S  ^/;//^wrt67<r  for  1709 
P.P.  2465/8]  contained  the  following  : 

You  may  remember  that  there  was  a  Paper  pubHshed 
predicting  my  death  upon  the  29th  March  at  night,  1708, 
and  after  the  day  was  past,  the  same  villain  told  the  World  I 
was  dead,  and  how  I  died,  and  that  he  was  with  me  at  the 
time  of  my  death. 

I  thank  GOD,  by  whose  mercy  I  have  my  Being,  that  I 
am  still  alive,  and  (excepting  my  age)  as  well  as  ever  I  was 
in  my  life:  as  I  was  also  at  that  29th  of  March.  And  that 
Paper  was  said  to  be  done  by  one  Bickerstaff,  Esq.  But  that 
was  a  sham  name,  it  was  done  by  an  impudent  lying  fellow. 

But  his  Prediction  did  not  prove  true  !  What  will  he  say 
to  that?  For  the  fool  had  considered  the  "Star  of  my 
Nativity"  as  he  said.  Why  the  truth  is,  he  will  be  hard  put 
to  it  to  find  a  salvo  for  his  Honour.  It  was  a  bold  touch  ! 
and  he  did  not  know  but  it  might  prove  true. 

One  hardly  knows  whether  to  wonder  most  at  the  self-delusion  or 
credulity  of  this  last  paragraph  by  the  old  quack. 

This  called  forth  from  Swift  : 

A 

VINDICATION 

OF 
ISAAC    BICKERSTAFF,    Esq,  ^c. 

f  R.  Partridge  hath  been  lately  pleased  to 

treat   me   after  a  very  rough  manner,  in 

that  which  is  called  his  Almanack  for  the 

present  year.    Such  usage  is  very  undecent 

from  one  Gentleman  to  another,  and  does 

not    at  all  contribute   to  the  discovery  of 

Truth,  which  ought  to  be  the  great  End  in 

all  disputes  of  the    Learned.     To  call   a 

man,  foul,  and  villain,  and  impudent  fellow,  only  for  differing 

from  him  in  a  point  merely  speculative,  is,  in  my  humble 

opinion,  a  very  improper  style  for  a  person  of  his  Education. 

I  appeal  to  the  Learned  World,  whether,  in  my  last  year's 


496  BlCKERSTAFFSP/^£DICT/ONSV.VR^Tl^  PORTUGAL.  p^JJ; 

Predictions,  I  gave  him  the  least  provocation  for  such  un- 
worthy treatment.  Philosophers  have  differed  in  all  Ages ; 
but  the  discreetest  among  them,  have  always  differed  as 
became  Philosophers.  Scurrility  and  Passion  in  a  Controversy 
among  Scholars,  is  just  so  much  of  nothing  to  the  purpose ; 
and,  at  best,  a  tacit  confession  of  a  weak  cause. 

My  concern  is  not  so  much  for  my  own  reputation,  as  that 
of   the    Republic  of   Letters;    which  Mr.  Partridge  hath 
endeavoured  to  wound  through  my  sides.     If  men  of  public 
spirit    must    be    superciliously   treated   for   their    ingenious 
attempts  ;  how  will  true  useful  knowledge  be  ever  advanced? 
I    wish   Mr.   Partridge  knew  the  thoughts  which  foreign 
Universities  have  conceived  of   his  ungenerous    proceeding 
with  me  :  but  I  am  too  tender  of  his  reputation  to  publish 
them  to  the  World,     That  spirit  of  envy  and  pride,  which 
blasts  so  many  rising  Geniuses  in  our  nation,  is  yet  unknown 
among  Professors  abroad.    The  necessity  of  justifying  myself 
will  excuse  my  vanity,  when  I  tell  the  reader  that  I  have  re- 
ceived nearly  a  hundred  Honorary  Letters  from  several  part 
of  Europe,  some  as  far  as  Muscovey,  in  praise  of  my  per- 
formance :  besides  several  others,  which  (as  I  have  been  credibly 
informed)  were  opened  in  the  P[ost]  Office,  and  never  sent  me. 
It  is  true,  the  Inquisition  in  P[ortuga]l  was  pleased  to  burn 
my  Predictions  [A  fact,  as  Sir  Paul  METHUEN,the  English 
Ambassador    there,   informed    SwiFT],    and    condemned    the 
Author  and  the  readers  of  them  :  but,  I  hope  at  the  same 
time,  it  will  be  considered  in  how  deplorable  a  state  Learn- 
ing lieth  at  present  in  that  Kingdom.     And,  with  the  pro- 
foundest  reverence  for  crowned  heads,  I  will  presume  to  add, 
that  it  a  little  concerned  His  Majesty  of  Portugal  to  interpose 
his  authority  in  behalf  of  a  Scholar  and  a  Gentleman,  the  sub- 
ject of  a  nation  with  which  he  is  now  in  so  strict  an  alliance. 
But  the  other  Kingdoms  and  States  of  Europe  have  treated 
me  with  more  candour  and  generosity.     If  I  had  leave  to 
print  the  Latin  letters  transmitted  to  me  from  foreign  parts, 
they  would  fill  a  Volume  !  and  be  a  full  defence  against  all 
that   Mr.  Partridge,  or  his  accomplices  of  the  Pfortugajl 
Inquisition,  will  be  ever  able  to  object :  who,  by  the  way, 
are  the  only  enemies  my  Predictions  have  ever  met  with,  at 
home  or  abroad.     But  I  hope  I  know  better  what  is  due  to 
the  honour  of  a  Learned  Correspondence  in  so  tender  a  point. 


^'^itoG  Mock  Quotations  from  Learned  Letters.  497 

Yet  some  of  those  illustrious  Persons  will,  perhaps,  excuse 
me  for  transcribing  a  passage  or  two,  in  my  own  vindication. 

*  The  most  learned  Monsieur  Leibnitz  thus  addresseth 
to  me  his  third  Letter,  Illustrissimo  Bickerstaffio  Astrologico 
Instaitratori,  &c.  Monsieur  le  Clerc,  quoting  my  Predic- 
tions in  a  treatise  he  published  last  year,  is  pleased  to  say, 
Ita  nuperrime  BICKERSTAFFIUS,  magnum  illiid  AnglicB  sidus. 
Another  great  Professor  writing  of  me,  has  these  words, 
BICKERSTAFFIUS  nobilis  Angliis,  Astrologanim  htijusce  secidi 
facile  Princeps.  Signior  Magliabecchi,  the  Great  Duke's 
famous  Library  Keeper,  spendeth  almost  his  whole  Letter  in 
compliments  and  praises.  It  is  true  the  renowned  Professor 
of  Astronomy  at  Utrecht  seemeth  to  differ  from  me  in  one 
article  ;  but  it  is  after  the  modest  manner  that  becometh  a 
Philosopher,  as  Pace  tanti  viri  dixerim :  and,  page  55,  he 
seemeth  to  lay  the  error  upon  the  printer,  as,  indeed  it  ought, 
and  sayeth,  vel  forsan  error  typographic  cum  alioqiun  BICKER- 
STAFFIUS vir  doctissimus,  &c. 

If  Mr.  Partridge  had  followed  these  examples  in  the  con- 
troversy between  us,  he  might  have  spared  me  the  trouble  of 
justifying  myself  in  so  public  a  manner.  I  believe  few  men 
are  readier  to  own  their  error  than  I,  or  more  thankful  to 
those  who  will  please  to  inform  him  of  them.  But  it  seems 
this  Gentleman,  instead  of  encouraging  the  progress  of  his 
own  Art,  is  pleased  to  look  upon  all  Attempts  of  this  kind  as 
an  invasion  of  his  Province. 

He  has  been  indeed  so  wise,  as  to  make  no  objection 
against  the  truth  of  my  Predictions,  except  in  one  siTigle  point, 
relating  to  himself.  And  to  demonstrate  how  much  men  are 
blinded  by  their  own  partiality,  I  do  solemnly  assure  the 
reader,  that  he  is  the  only  person  from  whom  I  ever  heard 
that  objection  offered !  which  consideration  alone,  I  think, 
will  take  off  its  weight. 

With  my  utmost  endeavours,  I  have  not  been  able  to  trace 
above  two  Objections  ever  made  against  the  truth  of  my  last 
year's  Prophecies. 

The  first  was  of  a  Frenchman,  who  was  pleased  to  publish 
to  the  World,  that  the  Cardinal  DE  NOAILLES  was  still  alive, 
notwithstanding  the  pretended  Prophecy  of  Monsieur  Biquer- 

*  The  quotations  here,  are  said  to  be  a  parody  of  those  of  Bentlev 
in  his  controversy  with  BOYLE. 

Eng.  Car.  VI.  32 


49S  Proofs  that  Partridge  is  not  alive.  p-^;;'i'j; 

STAFFE.  But  how  far  a  Frenchman,  a  Papist,  and  an  enemy 
is  to  be  believed,  in  his  own  cause,  against  an  English 
Protestant,  who  is  true  to  the  Government,  I  shall  leave  to 
the  candid  and  impartial  reader ! 

The  other  objection  isthe  unhappy  occasion  of  this  Discourse, 
and  relateth  to  an  article  in  my  Predictions,  which  foretold  the 
death  of  Mr.  Partridge  to  happen  on  March  29, 1708.  This, 
he  is  pleased  to  contradict  absolutely,  in  the  Almanack  he  has 
published  for  the  present  year ;  and  in  that  ungentlemanly 
manner  (pardon  the  expression  !)  as  I  have  above  related. 

In  that  Work,  he  very  roundly  asserts  that  he  is  not  only 
now  alive,  hit  was  likewise  alive  upon  that  very  2gth  of  March, 
when  I  had  foretold  he  shotdd  die. 

This  is  the  subject  of  the  present  Controversy  between  us, 
which  I  design  to  handle  with  all  brevity,  perspicuity,  and 
calmness.  In  this  dispute,  I  am  sensible  the  eyes,  not  only 
of  England,  but  of  all  Europe  will  be  upon  us:  and  the 
Learned  in  every  country  will,  I  doubt  not,  take  part  on  that 
side  where  they  find  most  appearance  of  Reason  and  Truth. 

Without  entering  into  criticisms  of  Chronology  about  the 
hour  of  his  death,  I  shall  only  prove  that  Mr.  Partridge  is  not 
alive. 

And  my  first  argument  is  thus.  Above  a  thousand 
Gentlemen  having  bought  his  Almanack  for  this  year,  merely 
to  find  what  he  said  against  me  :  at  every  line  they  read, 
they  would  lift  up  their  eyes,  and  cry  out,  between  rage  and 
laughter.  They  uDere  sure,  no  man  alive  ever  wrote  such  stuff  as 
this  !  Neither  did  I  ever  hear  that  opinion  disputed.  So 
that  Mr.  Partridge  lieth  under  a  dilemma,  either  of  disown- 
ing his  Almanack,  or  allowing  himself  to  be  no  man  alive. 

Death  is  defined  by  all  Philosophers  [as]  a  separation  of 
the  soul  and  body.  Now  it  is  certain  that  the  poor  woman 
[Mrs.  Partridge]  who  has  best  reason  to  know,  has  gone 
about,  for  some  time,  to  every  alley  in  the  neighbourhood,  and 
swore  to  her  gossips  that  her  husband  had  neither  life  nor  soul 
in  him.  Therefore,  if  an  uninformed  Carcass  walks  still  about, 
and  is  pleased  to  call  itself  Partridge;  Mr.  Bickerstaff  doth 
not  think  himself  any  way  answerable  for  that  !  Neither  had 
the  said  Carcass  any  right  to  beat  the  poor  boy,  who 
happened  to  pass  by  it  in  the  street,  crying  A  fidl  and  tru& 
Account  of  Dr.  Partridge's  death,  S-c. 


■^■^1709-]  Proofs  that  Partridge  is  not  alive.  499 

Secondly.  Mr.  Partridge  pretendeth  to  tell  fortunes 
and  recover  stolen  goods,  which  all  the  parish  says,  he 
must  do  bj^  conversing  with  the  Devil  and  other  evil  spirits  : 
and  no  wise  man  will  ever  allow,  he  could  converse 
personally  with  either,  until  after  he  was  dead. 

Thirdly.  I  will  plainly  prove  him  to  be  dead  out  of  his 
own  Almanack  for  this  year;  and  from  the  very  passage 
which  he  produceth  to  make  us  think  him  alive.  He  there 
sayeth,  He  is  not  only  now  alive,  but  was  also  alive  upon  that 
very  2gth  of  March,  which  I  foretold  he  should  die  on.  By  this, 
he  declareth  his  opinion  that  a  man  may  be  alive  now,  who 
was  not  alive  a  twelve  month  ago.  And,  indeed,  here  lies 
the  sophistry  of  his  argument.  He  dareth  not  assert  he  was 
alive  ever  since  the  2gth  of  March  !  but  that  he  is  now  alive, 
and  was  so  on  that  day.  I  grant  the  latter,  for  he  did  not  die 
until  night,  as  appeareth  in  a  printed  account  of  his  death, 
in  3i  Letter  to  a  Lord;  and  whether  he  be  since  revived,  I 
leave  the  World  to  judge  !  This  indeed  is  perfect  cavilling  ; 
and  I  am  ashamed  to  dwell  any  longer  upon  it. 

Fourthly.  I  will  appeal  to  Mr.  Partridge  himself, 
whether  it  be  probable  I  could  have  been  so  indiscreet  as  to 
begin  my  Predictions  with  the  only  falsehood  that  ever  was 
pretended  to  be  in  them  !  and  this  in  an  affair  at  home, 
where  I  had  so  many  opportunities  to  be  exact,  and  must 
have  given  such  advantages  against  me,  to  a  person  of  Mr. 
Partridge's  Wit  and  Learning:  who,  if  he  could  possibly 
have  raised  one  single  objection  more  against  the  truth  of  my 
Prophecies,  would  hardly  have  spared  me  ! 

And  here  I  must  take  occasion  to  reprove  the  above- 
mentioned  Writer  [i.e.,  SwiFT  himself,  sec  p.  482]  of  the 
Relation  of  Mr.  Partridge's  death,  in  a  Letter  to  a  Lord,  who 
was  pleased  to  tax  me  with  a  mistake  of  fottr  whole  hours  in 
my  calculation  of  that  event.  I  must  confess,  this  censure, 
pronounced  with  an  air  of  certainty,  in  a  matter  that  so 
nearly  concerned  me,  and  by  a  grave  judicious  author,  moved 
me  not  a  little.  But  though  I  was  at  that  time  out  of  Town, 
yet  several  of  my  friends,  whose  curiosity  had  led  them  to  be 
exactly  informed  (as  for  my  own  part ;  having  no  doubt  at 
all  of  the  matter,  I  never  once  thought  of  it ! )  assured  me,  I 
computed  to  something  under  half  an  hour:  which  (I  speak 
my  private  opinion  ! )  is  an  error  of  no  very  great  magnitude, 
that  men  should  raise  clamour  about  it ! 


500    Dead  men  still  issuing  Almanacks.  ['-^".Lg: 

I  shall  only  say,  it  would  not  be  amiss,  if  that  Author 
would  henceforth  be  more  tender  of  other  men's  reputation, 
as  well  as  of  his  own !  It  is  well  there  were  no  more 
mistakes  of  that  kind :  if  there  had  been,  I  presume  he 
would  have  told  me  of  them,  with  as  little  ceremony. 

There  is  one  objection  against  Mr.  Partridge's  death,  which 
I  have  sometimes  met  with,  although  indeed  very  slightly 
offered.  That  he  still  continueth  to  write  Almanacks.  But 
this  is  no  more  than  what  is  common  to  all  of  that  Profes- 
sion. Gadbury,  Poor  Robin,  Dove,  Wing,  and  several 
others,  do  yearly  publish  their  Almanacks,  though  several  of 
them  have  been  dead  since  before  the  Revolution.  Now  the 
natural  reason  of  this  I  take  to  be,  that  vvhereas  it  is  the 
privilege  of  other  Authors,  to  live  after  their  deaths ; 
Almanack  makers  are  only  excluded,  because  their  Disserta- 
tions, treating  only  upon  the  Minutes  as  they  pass,  become 
useless  as  those  go  off:  in  consideration  of  which.  Time, 
whose  Registers  they  are,  gives  them  a  lease  in  reversion, 
to  continue  their  Works  after  their  death.  Or,  perhaps,  a 
Name  can  make  an  Almanack  as  well  as  sell  one.  And  to 
strengthen  this  conjecture,  I  have  heard  the  booksellers 
affirm,  that  they  have  desired  Mr.  Partridge  to  spare  him- 
self further  trouble,  and  only  to  lend  his  Name;  which  could 
make  Almanacks  much  better  than  himself. 

I  should  not  have  given  the  Public  or  myself,  the  trouble 
of  this  Vindication,  if  my  name  had  not  been  made  use  of  by 
several  persons,  to  whom  I  never  lent  it :  one  of  which,  a 
few  days  ago,  was  pleased  to  father  on  me,  a  new  set  of 
Predictions.  But  I  think  these  are  things  too  serious  to  be 
trifled  with.  It  grieved  me  to  the  heart,  when  I  saw  my 
Labours,  which  had  cost  me  so  much  thought  and  watching, 
bawled  about  by  the  common  hawkers  of  Grub  street ;  which  I 
only  intended  for  the  weighty  consideration  of  the  gravest  per- 
sons. This  prejudiced  the  World  so  much  at  first,  that  several 
of  my  friends  had  the  assurance  to  ask  me,  "  Whether  I  were 
in  jest  ?  "  To  which  I  only  answered  coldly,  that  "  the  event 
will  shew !  "  But  it  is  the  talent  of  our  Age  and  nation  to 
turn  things  of  the  greatest  importance  into  ridicule.  When 
the  end  of  the  year  had  verified  all  my  Predictions ;  out 
cometh  Mr.  Partridge's  /I /;;z^7/'m67e/  disputing  the  point  of 
his  death.     So  that  I  am  employed,  like  the  General  who 


J.  Panridse.-|  PartRTDGE  DISCONTINUES  HIS  AlMANACK.     50I 

was  forced  to  kill  his  enemies  twice  over,  whom  a 
necromancer  had  raised  to  life.  If  Mr.  Partridge  has 
practised  the  same  experiment  upon  himself,  and  be  again 
alive;  long  may  he  continue  sol  But  that  doth  not,  in  the 
least,  contradict  my  veracity !  For  I  think  I  have  clearly 
proved,  hy  invincible  demonstration,  that  he  died,  at  farthest, 
within  half  an  hour  of  the  time  I  foretold  [;  and  not  four 
hours  sooner,  as  the  above-mentioned  Author,  in  his  Letter 
to  a  Lord  hath  maliciously  suggested,  with  a  design  to  blast 
my  credit,  by  charging  me  with  so  gross  a  mistake] . 

FINIS. 


Under  the  combined  assault  of  the  Wits,  Partridge  ceased  to  pubhsh 
his  Almanack  for  a  while  ;  but  afterwards  took  heart  again,  publishing 
his  '■'■  Mcrlinus  Redivivus,  being  an  Almanack  for  the  year  17 14,  by  John 
Partridge,  a  Lover  of  Truth  [P.P.  2465/6] ; "  at  p.  2  of  which  is  the 
following  epistle. 

To    Isaac    Bickerstaff,    Esq. 

Sir, 

There  seems  to  be  a  kind  of  fantastical  propriety  in 
a  dead  man's  addressing  himself  to  a  person  not  in  Bei>ng. 
Isaac  Bickerstaff  {i.e.,  Richard  Steele]  is  no  more  [the 
T atler  havi^ig  come  to  an  end],  and  I  have  now  nothing  to 
dispute  with  on  the  subject  of  his  fictions  concerning  me,  sed 
inagni  noniinis  umbra,  "  a  shadow  only,  and  a  mighty  name." 

I  have  indeed  been  for  some  years  silent,  or,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  Mr.  Bickerstaff,  "  dead  " ;  yet  like  many  an  old 
man  that  is  reported  so  by  his  heirs,  I  have  lived  long  enough 
to  bury  my  successor  [f/z^Tatler  having  been  discontinued].  In 
short,  I  am  returned  to  Being  after  you  have  left  it ;  and  since 
you  were  once  pleased  to  call  yourself  my  brother-astrologer, 
the  world  may  be  apt  to  compare  our  story  to  that  of  the  twin- 
stars  CASTORand  Pollux,  and  say  it  was  our  destiny,  not  to  ap- 
pear together,  but  according  to  the  fable,  to  live  and  die  by  turns. 

Now,  Sir,  my  intention  in  this  Epistle  is  to  let  you  know 
that  I  shall  behave  myself  in  my  new  Being  with  as  much 
moderation  as  possible,  and  that  I  have  no  longer  any 
quarrel  with  you  [i.e.,  STEELE],  for  the  accounts  you  inserted 
in  your  writings  [the  joke  was  continued  in  the  Tatler]  con- 
cerning my  death,  being  sensible  that  you  were  no  less 
abused  in  that  particular  than  myself. 


502  Partridge  comes  back  from  the  dead,  p- 


Partriilrre. 
1714  5- 


The  person  from  whom  you  took  up  that  report,  I  know, 
was  your  namesake,  the  author  of  Bickerstaff's  Predictions^ 
*  Vide  Dr.  a  notorious  cheat.*  And  if  you  had  been  indeed  as 
s[wi]FT.  much  an  Astrologer  as  you  pretended,  you  might 

have  known  that  his  word  was  no  more  to  be  taken  than  that 
of  an  Irish  evidence  [SwiFT  was  now  Dean  of  St.  Patrick's]  : 
that  not  being  the  only  Tale  of  a  Tub  he  had  vented.  The  only 
satisfaction  therefore,  I  expect  is,  that  your  bookseller  in  the 
next  edition  of  your  Works  [The  Tatlcr],  do  strike  out  my  name 
and  insert  his  in  the  room  of  it.  I  have  some  thoughts  of 
obliging  the  World  with  his  nativity,  but  shall  defer  that 
till  another  opportunity. 

I  have  nothing  to  add  further,  but  only  that  when  you 
think  fit  to  return  to  life  again  in  whatever  shape,  of  Censor 
[the  designation  of  the  supposed  Writer  of  the  Tatler],  a  Guardian, 
an  Englishman,  or  any  other  figure,  I  shall  hope  you  will 
do  justice  to  Your  revived  friend  and  servant, 

John    Partridge. 

On  the  last  leaf  of  this  Abnannck  is  the  following  notice  : — 
This  is  to  give  notice  to  all  people,  that  all  those  Prophecies, 
Predictions,  Almanacks,  and  other  pamphlets,  that  had  my 
name  either  true,  or  shammed  with  the  want  of  a  Letter 
[i.e.,  spelling  his  name  Partrige  instead  of  PARTRIDGE]  :  I 
say,  they  are  all  impudent  forgeries,  by  a  breed  of  villains,  and 
wholly  without  my  knowledge  or  consent.  And  I  doubt  not 
but  those  beggarly  villains  that  have  scarce  bread  to  eat 
without  being  rogues,  two  or  three  poor  printers  and  a  book- 
binder, with  honest  Ben,  will  be  at  their  old  Trade  again  of 
Prophesying  in  my  name.  This  is  therefore  to  give  notice, 
that  if  there  is  anything  in  print  in  my  name  beside  this 
Almanack,  you  may  depend  on  it  that  it  is  a  lie,  and  he  is  a 
villain  that  writes  and  prints  it. 

In  his  Almanack  for  1715  [P.P.  2465/7],  PARTRIDGE  says — 

It  is  very  probable,  that  the  beggarly  knavish  Crew  will  be 
this  year  also  printing  Prophecies  and  Predictions  in  my  name, 
to  cheat  the  country  as  they  used  to  do.  This  is  therefoi  e 
to  give  notice,  that  if  there  is  anything  of  that  kind  done  in 
my  name  besides  this  Almanack  printed  by  the  Company  of 
Stationers,  you  may  be  certain  it  is  not  mine,  but  a  cheat, 
and  therefore  refuse  it. 


THE 


^xt^tnt  S)tate 


OF 


W  I  T 


IN    A 

LETTER 

TO    A 
Friend  in  the  Country. 

LONDON: 

Printed  in  the  Year,  M  D  C  C  X  I. 

(Price  2d.) 


505 


THE 


present  ^tate 


O  F 


WIT,  &c. 


S  I  R 


* 


Ou  acquaint  me  in  your  last,  that  you  are 

still  so  busy  building  at ,  that  your 

friends  must  not  hope  to  see  you  in  Town 
this  year :  at  the  same  time,  you  desire 
me,  that  you  may  not  be  quite  at  a  loss 
in  conversation  among  the  beau  mondc 
next  winter,  to  send  you  an  account  of 
the  present  State  of  Wit  in  Town  :  which, 
without  further  preface,  I  shall  endeavour 
to  perform  ;  and  give  you  the  histories  and  characters  of  all 
our  Periodical  Papers,  whether  monthly,  weekly,  or  diurnal, 
with  the  same  freedom  I  used  to  send  you  our  other  Town 
news. 

I  shall  only  premise,  that,  as  you  know,  I  never  cared  one 
farthing,  either  for  Whig  or  Tory :  so  I  shall  consider  our 
Writers  purely  as  they  are  such,  without  any  respect  to 
which  Party  they  belong. 

Dr.  King  has,  for  some  time,  lain  down  his  monthly 
Philosophical  Transactions,  which  the  title-page  informed  us  at 
first,  were  only  to  be  continued  as  they  sold  ;  and  though 
that  gentleman  has  a  world  of  Wit,  yet  as  it  lies  in  one  par- 
ticular way  of  raillery,  the  Town  soon  grew  weary  of  his 
Writings :  though  I  cannot  but  think  that  their  author  deserves 
a  much  better  fate  than  to  languish  out  the  small  remainder 
of  his  life  in  the  Fleet  prison. 


5o6  Gay's  opinion  of  Daniel  Defoe.  QMayl;^!: 

About  the  same  time  that- the  Doctor  left  off  writing,  one 
Mr,  OzELL  put  out  his  Monthly  Amusement;  which  is  still 
continued  :  and  as  it  is  generally  some  French  novel  or  play 
indifferently  translated,  it  is  more  or  less  taken  notice  of,  as 
the  original  piece  is  more  or  less  agreeable. 

As  to  our  Weekly  Papers,  the  poor  Review  [by  Daniel 
Defoe]  is  quite  exhausted,  and  grown  so  very  contemptible, 
that  though  he  has  provoked  all  his  Brothers  of  the  Quill 
round,  none  of  them  will  enter  into  a  controversy  with  him. 
This  fellow,  who  had  excellent  natural  parts,  but  wanted  a 
small  foundation  of  learning,  is  a  lively  instance  of  those  Wits 
who,  as  an  ingenious  author  says,  "  will  endure  but  one 
skimming  "  [!j. 

The  Observator  was  almost  in  the  same  condition  ;  but  since 
our  party  struggles  have  run  so  high,  he  is  much  mended  for 
the  better :  which  is  imputed  to  the  charitable  assistance  of 
some  outlying  friends. 

These  two  authors  might  however  have  flourished  some 
time  longer,  had  not  the  controversy  been  taken  up  by  abler 
hands. 

The  Examiner  is  a  paper  which  all  men,  who  speak  with- 
out prejudice,  allow  to  be  well  written.  Though  his  subject 
will  admit  of  no  great  variety ;  he  is  continually  placing  it 
in  so  many  different  lights,  and  endeavouring  to  inculcate 
the  same  thing  by  so  many  beautiful  changes  of  expression, 
that  men  who  are  concerned  in  no  Party,  may  read  him 
with  pleasure.  His  way  of  assuming  the  Question  in  debate 
is  extremely  artful ;  and  his  Letter  to  Crassus  is,  I  think,  a 
masterpiece.  As  these  Papers  are  supposed  to  have  been 
written  by  several  hands,  the  critics  will  tell  you  that  they 
can  discern  a  difference  in  their  styles  and  beauties ;  and 
pretend  to  observe  that  the  first  Examiners  abound  chiefly  in 
Wit,  the  last  in  Humour. 

Soon  after  their  first  appearance,  came  out  a  Paper  from 
the  other  side,  called  the  Whig  Examiner,  written  with  so 
much  fire,  and  in  so  excellent  a  style,  as  put  the  Tories  in 
no  small  pain  for  their  favourite  hero.  Every  one  cried, 
"  BiCKERSTAFF  must  be  the  author  !  "  and  people  were  the 
more  confirmed  in  this  opinion,  upon  its  being  so  soon  laid 
down  ;  which  seemed  to  shew  that  it  was  only  written  to 


3Mal'p7".]  The  Writers  in  the  Examiner.  507 

bind  the  Examiners  to  their  good  behaviour,  and  was  never 
desis^ned  to  be  a  Weekly  Paper. 

The  Examiners,  therefore,  have  no  one  to  combat  with, 
at  present,  but  their  friend  the  Medley :  the  author  of  which 
Paper,  though  he  seems  to  be  a  man  of  good  sense,  and 
expresses  it  luckily  now  and  then,  is,  I  think,  for  the  most 
part,  perfectly  a  stranger  to  fine  writing. 

I  presume  I  need  not  tell  you  that  the  Examiner  carries 
much  the  more  sail,  as  it  is  supposed  to  be  written  by  the 
direction,  and  under  the  eye  of- some  Great  Persons  who  sit 
at  the  helm  of  affairs,  and  is  consequently  looked  on  as  a 
sort  of  Public  Notice  which  way  they  are  steering  us. 

The  reputed  author  is  Dr.  S[wifJt,  with  the  assistance, 
sometimes,  of  Dr.  Att[erbur]y  and  Mr.  P[rio]r. 

The  Medley  is  said  to  be  written  by  Mr.  OldlMIXoJn  ;  and 
supervised  by  Mr.  Mayn[warin]g,  who  perhaps  might 
entirely  write  those  few  Papers  which  are  so  much  better 
than  the  rest. 

Before  I  proceed  further  in  the  account  of  our  Weekly 
Papers,  it  will  be  necessary  to  inform  you  that  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  winter  [on  Jan.  2,  171 1] ,  to  the  infinite  surprise 
of  all  men,  Mr.  Steele  flang  up  his  Tatler;  and  instead 
oi  Isaac BiCKERSTAFF,Esquire,^VLh^cr\htdi  himself  Richard 
Steele  to  the  last  of  those  Papers,  after  a  handsome 
compliment  to  the  Town  for  their  kind  acceptance  of  his 
endeavours  to  divert  them. 

The  chief  reason  he  thought  fit  to  give  for  his  leaving  off 
writing  was,  that  having  been  so  long  looked  on  in  all  public 
places  and  companies  as  the  Author  of  those  papers,  he  found 
that  his  most  intimate  friends  and  acquaintance  were  in  pain 
to  speak  or  act  before  him. 

The  Town  was  very  far  from  being  satisfied  with  this 
reason,  and  most  people  judged  the  true  cause  to  be,  either 

That  he  was  quite  spent,  and  wanted  matter  to  continue 

his  undertaking  any  longer  ;   or 

That  he  laid  it  down  as  a  sort  of  submission  to,  and 

composition  with,  the  Government, for  some  past  offences; 

or,  lastly. 

That  he  had  a  mind  to  vary  his  Shape,  and  appear  again 

in  some  new  light. 


5oS  Immense  social  influence  of  the  Tatler.  \_^ly^^!^^l 

However  that  were,  his  disappearance  seemed  to  be  bewailed 
as  some  general  calamity.  Every  one  wanted  so  agreeable 
an  amusement,  and  the  Coffee-houses  began  to  be  sensible 
that  the  Esquire's  Liicuhratioiis  alone  had  brought  them  more 
customers,  than  all  their  other  News  Papers  put  together. 

It  must  indeed  be  confessed  that  never  man  threw  up  his 
pen,  under  stronger  temptations  to  have  employed  it  longer. 
His  reputation  was  at  a  greater  height,  than  I  believe  ever 
any  living  author's  was  before  him.  It  is  reasonable  to 
suppose  that  his  gains  were  proportionably  considerable. 
Every  one  read  him  with  pleasure  and  good-will ;  and  the 
Tories,  in  respect  to  his  other  good  qualities,  had  almost 
forgiven  his  unaccountable  imprudence  in  declaring  against 
them. 

Lastly,  it  was  highly  improbable  that,  if  he  threw  off 
a  Character  the  ideas  of  which  were  so  strongly  impressed  in 
every  one's  mind,  however  finely  he  might  write  in  any  new 
form,  that  he  should  meet  with  the  same  reception. 

To  give  you  my  own  thoughts  of  this  Gentleman's  Writings, 
I  shall,  in  the  first  place,  observe,  that  there  is  a  noble 
difference  between  him  and  all  the  rest  of  our  Polite  and 
Gallant  Authors.  The  latter  have  endeavoured  to  please 
the  Age  by  falling  in  with  them,  and  encouraging  them 
in  their  fashionable  vices  and  false  notions  of  things.  It 
would  have  been  a  jest,  some  time  since,  for  a  man  to 
have  asserted  that  anything  witty  could  be  said  in  praise 
of  a  married  state,  or  that  Devotion  and  Virtue  were  any 
way  necessary  to  the  character  of  a  Fine  Gentleman. 
BiCKERSTAFF  ventured  to  tell  the  Town  that  they  were 
a  parcel  of  fops,  fools,  and  coquettes ;  but  in  such  a  manner 
as  even  pleased  them,  and  made  them  more  than  half 
inclined  to  believe  that  he  spoke  truth. 

Instead  of  complying  with  the  false  sentiments  or  vicious 
tastes  of  the  Age — either  in  morality,  criticism,  or  good  breed- 
ing— he  has  boldly  assured  them,  that  they  were  altogether 
in  the  wrong;  and  commanded  them,  with  an  authority  which 
perfectly  well  became  him,  to  surrender  themselves  to  his 
arguments  for  Virtue  and  Good  Sense. 

It  is  incredible  to  conceive  the  effect  his  writings  have  had 
on  the  Town ;  how  many  thousand  follies  they  have  either 


3Mayp7"-]    ^^    ^^'^^    ^^^    ^^    ^    ^^^^   ^^"^^   ^^    TlIINKING.    5O9 

quite  banished  or  given  a  very  great  check  to !  how  much 
countenance,  they  have  added  to  Virtue  and  ReHgion !  how 
many  people  they  have  rendered  happy,  by  shewing  them  it 
was  their  own  fault  if  they  were  not  so !  and,  lastly,  how 
entirely  they  have  convinced  our  young  fops  and  young 
fellows  of  the  value  and  advantages  of  Learning ! 

He  has  indeed  rescued  it  out  of  the  hands  of  pedants  and 
fools,  and  discovered  the  true  method  of  making  it  amiable 
and  lovely  to  all  mankind.  In  the  dress  he  gives  it,  it  is  a 
most  welcome  guest  at  tea-tables  and  assembhes,  and  is 
relished  and  caressed  by  the  merchants  on  the  Change. 
Accordingly  there  is  not  a  Lady  at  Court,  nor  a  Banker  in 
Lombard  Street,  who  is  not  verily  persuaded  that  Captain 
Steele  is  the  greatest  Scholar  and  best  Casuist  of  any  man 
in  England. 

Lastly,  his  writings  have  set  all  our  Wits  and  Men  of  Letters 
on  a  new  way  of  Thinking,  of  which  they  had  little  or  no 
notion  before  :  and,  although  we  cannot  say  that  any  of  them 
have  come  up  to  the  beauties  of  the  original,  I  think  we  may 
venture  to  affirm,  that  every  one  of  them  writes  and  thinks 
much  more  justly  than  they  did  some  time  since. 

The  vast  variety  of  subjects  which  Mr.  Steele  has  treated 
of,  in  so  different  manners,  and  yet  All  so  perfectly  well, 
made  the  World  believe  that  it  was  impossible  they  should 
all  come  from  the  same  hand.  This  set  every  one  upon 
guessing  who  was  the  Esquire's  friend  ?  and  most  people  at 
first  fancied  it  must  be  Doctor  Swift;  but  it  is  now  no 
longer  a  secret,  that  his  only  great  and  constant  assistant 
was  Mr.  Addison. 

This  is  that  excellent  friend  to  whom  Mr.  Steele  owes  so 
much ;  and  who  refuses  to  have  his  name  set  before  those 
Pieces  which  the  greatest  pens  in  England  would  be  proud 
to  own.  Indeed,  they  could  hardly  add  to  this  Gentleman's 
reputation :  whose  works  in  Latin  and  English  Poetry  long 
since  convinced  the  World,  that  he  was  the  greatest  Master 
in  Europe  of  those  two  languages. 

I  am  assured,  from  good  hands,  that  all  the  visions,  and 
other  tracts  of  that  way  of  writing,  with  a  very  great 
number  of  the  most  exquisite  pieces  of  wit  and  raillery 
throughout  the  Lucubrations  are  entirely  of  this  Gentleman's 
composing :  which  may,  in  some  measure,  account  for  that 


5IO  The  suppositious  Continuations  of  Tatler.  \^;^^;, 

different  Genius,  which  appears  in  the  winter  papers,  from 
those  of  the  summer  ;  at  which  time,  as  the  Examiner  often 
hinted,  this  friend  of  Mr.  Steele  was  in  Ireland. 

Mr.  Steele  confesses  in  his  last  Volume  of  the  Tatlers 
that  he  is  obliged  to  Dr.  Swift  for  his  Town  Shower,  and  the 
Description  of  the  Morn,  with  some  other  hints  received  from 
him  in  private  conversation. 

I  have  also  heard  that  several  of  those  Letters,  which  came 
as  from  unknown  hands,  were  written  by  Mr.  Henley: 
which  is  an  answer  to  your  query,  "  Who  those  friends  are, 
whom  Mr.  Steele  speaks  of  in  his  last  Tatler }" 

But  to  proceed  with  my  account  of  our  other  papers. 
The  expiration  of  Bickerstaff's  L:icuhrations  was  attended 
with  much  the  same  consequences  as  the  death  ofMELiBCEUS's 
Ox  in  Virgil:  as  the  latter  engendered  swarms  of  bees,  the 
former  immediately  produced  whole  swarms  of  little  satirical 
scribblers. 

One  of  these  authors  called  himself  the  Growler,  and 
assured  us  that,  to  make  amends  for  Mr.  Steele's  silence, 
he  was  resolved  to  growl  at  us  weekly,  as  long  as  we  should 
think  fit  to  give  him  any  encouragement.  Another  Gentle- 
man, with  more  modesty,  called  his  paper,  the  Whisperer; 
and  a  third,  to  please  the  Ladies,  christened  his,  the  Tell 
tale. 

At  the  same  time  came  out  several  Tatlers;  each  of  which, 
with  equal  truth  and  wit,  assured  us  that  he  was  the  genuine 
Isaac  Bickerstaff. 

It  may  be  observed  that  when  the  Esquire  laid  down  his 
pen ;  though  he  could  not  but  foresee  that  several  scribblers 
would  soon  snatch  it  up,  which  he  might  (one  would  think) 
easily  have  prevented :  he  scorned  to  take  any  further  care 
about  it,  but  left  the  field  fairly  open  to  any  worthy  successor. 
Immediately,  some  of  our  Wits  were  for  forming  themselves 
into  a  Club,  headed  by  one  Mr.  Harrison,  and  trying  how 
they  could  shoot  in  this  Bow  of  Ulysses  ;  but  soon  found 
that  this  sort  of  writing  requires  so  fine  and  particular  a 
manner  of  Thinking,  with  so  exact  a  Knowledge  of  the  World, 
as  must  make  them  utterly  despair  of  success. 

They  seemed  indeed  at  first  to  think,  that  what  was  only 
the  garnish  of  the  former  Tatlers,  was  that  which  recom- 


r^ll]  TlIEV  ARE  ALL  SWEPT  AWAY  BY  THE  SPECTATOR.    $\l 

mended  them  ;  and  not  those  Substantial  Entertainments 
which  they  everywhere  abound  in.  According  they  were 
continually  talking  of  their  Maid,  Night  Cap,  Spectacles,  and 
Charles  Lillie.  However  there  were,  now  and  then,  some 
faint  endeavours  at  Humour  and  sparks  of  Wit :  which  the 
Town,  for  want  of  better  entertainment,  was  content  to  hunt 
after,  through  a  heap  of  impertinences  ;  but  even  those  are, 
at  present,  become  wholly  invisible  and  quite  swallowed  up 
in  the  blaze  of  the  Spectator. 

You  may  remember,  I  told  you  before,  that  one  cause 
assigned  for  the  laying  down  the  Tatler  was,  Want  of 
Matter;  and,  indeed,  this  was  the  prevailing  opinion  in 
Town  :  when  we  were  surprised  all  at  once  by  a  paper 
called  the  Spectator,  which  was  promised  to  be  continued 
every  day ;  and  was  written  in  so  excellent  a.  style,  with  so 
nice  a  judgment,  and  such  a  noble  profusion  of  Wit  and 
Humour,  that  it  was  not  difficult  to  determine  it  could 
come  from  no  other  hands  but  those  which  had  penned  the 
Luctibrations. 

This  immediately  alarmed  these  gentlemen,  who,  as  it  is 
said  Mr.  Steele  phrases  it,  had  "  the  Censorship  in  Com- 
mission." They  found  the  new  Spectator  came  on  like  a 
torrent,  and  swept  away  all  before  him.  They  despaired 
ever  to  equal  him  in  Wit,  Humour,  or  Learning ;  which  had 
been  their  true  and  certain  way  of  opposing  him:  and  there- 
fore rather  chose  to  fall  on  the  Author ;  and  to  call  out  for 
help  to  all  good  Christians,  by  assuring  them  again  and 
again  that  they  were  the  First,  Original,  True,  and  Undis- 
puted Isaac  Bickerstaff. 

Meanwhile,  the  Spectator,  whom  we  regard  as  our  Shelter 
from  that  flood  of  false  wit  and  impertinence  which  was  break- 
ing in  upon  us,  is  in  every  one's  hands ;  and  a  constant  topic 
for  our  morning  conversation  at  tea-tables  and  coffee-houses. 
We  had  at  first,  indeed,  no  manner  of  notion  how  a  diurnal 
paper  could  be  continued  in  the  spirit  and  style  of  our  present 
Spectators  :  but,  to  our  no  small  surprise,  we  find  them  still 
rising  upon  us,  and  can  only  wonder  from  whence  so  pro- 
digious a  run  of  Wit  and  Learning  can  proceed  ;  since  sonie 
of  our  best  judges  seem  to  think  that  they  have  hitherto,  in 
general,  outshone  even  the  Esquire's  first  Tatlcrs. 

Most  people  fancy,  from  their  frequency,  that  they  must  be 


5 1 2  Addison  behind  the  curtain,  Steele  in  front.  [J-  f^^^; 

composed  by  a  Society  :  I  withal  assign  the  first  places  to 
Mr.  Steele  and  his  Friend. 

I  have  often  thought  that  the  conjunction  of  those  two 
great  Geniuses,  who  seem  to  stand  in  a  class  by  themselves, 
so  high  above  all  our  other  Wits,  resembled  that  of  two 
statesmen  in  a  late  reign,  whose  characters  are  very  well 
expressed  in  their  two  mottoes,  viz.,  Prodesse  quain  conspici 
[  ?  ],   and   Otium  awn   dignitatc    [Edward 

Montagu,  Earl  of  Halifax].  Accordingly  the  first  [Addi- 
son] was  continually  at  work  behind  the  curtain,  drew  up 
and  prepared  all  those  schemes,  which  the  latter  still  drove 
on,  and  stood  out  exposed  to  the  World,  to  receive  its  praises 
or  censures. 

Meantime,  all  our  unbiassed  well-wishers  to  Learning  are 
in  hopes  that  the  known  Temper  and  prudence  of  one  of  these 
Gentlemen  will  hinder  the  other  from  ever  lashing  out  into 
Party,  and  rendering  that  Wit,  which  is  at  present  a  common 
good,  odious  and  ungrateful  to  the  better  part  of  the  Nation 
[by  which,  of  course,  Gay  meant  the  Tories]. 

If  this  piece  of  imprudence  does  not  spoil  so  excellent  a 
Paper,  I  propose  to  myself  the  highest  satisfaction  in  reading 
it  with  you,  over  a  dish  of  tea,  every  morning  next  winter. 

As  we  have  yet  had  nothing  new  since  the  Spectator^  it 
only  remains  for  me  to  assure  you,  that  I  am 

Yours,  &c., 

JLo  H  n].  G[a  y]. 
Westminster f  May  3,  1711. 


POSTCRIPT, 

Upon  a  review  of  my  letter,  I  find  I  have  quite  forgotten 
the  British  Apollo ;  which  might  possibly  have  happened, 
from  its  having,  of  late,  retreated  out  of  this  end  of  the 
Town  into  the  country  :  where,  I  am  informed  however,  that 
it  still  recommends  itself  b)'  deciding  wagers  at  cards,  and 
giving  good  advice  to  shopkeepers  and  their  apprentices. 

FINIS. 


51, 


Thomas     Tickell. 
Life  of  y  osEPH  Addison, 


[Preface  to  first  edition  of  Addison's  IVorks  1721.] 

OsEPH  Addison,  the  son  of  Lancelot  Addison, 
D.D.,  and  of  Jane,  the  daughter  of  Nathaniel 
Gulston,  D.D.,  and  sister  of  Dr.  William 
Gulston,  Bishop  of  Bristol,  was  born  at 
Milston,  near  Ambrosebury,  in  the  county  of 
Wilts,  in  the  year  1671. 

His  father,  who  was  of  the  county  of  West- 
moreland, and  educated  at  Queen's  College  in 
Oxford,  passed  many  years  in  his  travels  through  Europe 
and  Africa;  where  he  joined  to  the  uncommon  and  excellent 
talents  of  Nature,  a  great  knowledge  of  Letters  and  Things: 
of  which,  several  books  published  by  him,  are  ample  testi- 
monies. He  was  Rector  of  Milston,  above  mentioned,  when 
Mr.  Addison,  his  eldest  son,  was  born  :  and  afterwards 
became  Archdeacon  of  Coventry,  and  Dean  of  Lichfield. 

Mr.  Addison  received  his  first  education  at  the  Chartreuse 
[Cliarterhoiisc  School  in  London] ;  from  whence  he  was  removed 
very  early  to  Queen's  College,  in  Oxford.  He  had  been  there 
about  two  years,  when  the  accidental  sight  of  a  Paper  of  his 
verses,  in  the  hands  of  Dr.  Lancaster,  then  Dean  of  that 
House,  occasioned  his  being  elected  into  Magdalen  College. 

He  employed  his  first  years  in  the  study  of  the  old  Greek 
and  Roman  Writers  ;  whose  language  and  manner  he  caught, 
at  that  time  of  life,  as  strongly  as  other  young  people  gain  a 
French  accent,  or  a  genteel  air. 

An  early  acquaintance  with  the  Classics  is  what  may  be 
called  the  Good  Breeding  of  Poetry,  as  it  gives  a  certain 
gracefulness  which  never  forsakes  a  mind  that  contracted  it 
in  youth  ;  but  is  seldom,  or  never,  hit  by  those  who  would 
learn  it  too  late. 

£a'g.  Gar.  VI.  23 


514    BOILEAU'S  IGNORANCE  OF  OUR    LITERATURE,  p"  ™: 

He  first  distinguished  himself  by  his  Latin  compositions, 
pubhshed  in  the  Musa;  Anglicance  :  and  was  admired  as  one 
of  the  best  Authors  since  the  Augustan  Age,  in  the  two 
universities  and  the  greatest  part  of  Europe,  before  he  was 
talked  of  as  a  Poet  in  Town. 

There  is  not,  perhaps,  any  harder  task  than  to  tame  the 
natural  wildness  of  Wit,  and  to  civilize  the  Fancy.  The 
generality  of  our  old  English  Poets  abound  in  forced  conceits 
and  affected  phrases ;  and  even  those  who  are  said  to  come 
the  nearest  to  exactness,  are  but  too  often  fond  of  unnatural 
beauties,  and  aim  at  something  better  than  perfection.  If 
Mr.  Addison's  example  and  precepts  be  the  occasion  that 
there  now  begins  to  be  a  great  demand  for  Correctness,  we 
may  justly  attribute  it  to  his  being  first  fashioned  by  the 
ancient  Models,  and  familiarized  to  Propriety  of  Thought  and 
Chastity  of  Style. 

Our  country  owes  it  to  him,  that  the  famous  Monsieur 
BoiLEAU  first  conceived  an  opinion  of  the  English  Genius  for 
Poetry,  by  perusing  the  present  he  made  him  of  the  Mnsce 
Anglicancv.  It  has  been  currently  reported,  that  this  famous 
French  poet,  among  the  civilities  he  shewed  Mr.  Addison  on 
that  occasion,  affirmed  that  he  would  not  have  written  against 
Perrault,  had  he  before  seen  such  excellent  Pieces  by  a 
modern  hand.  Such  a  saying  would  have  been  impertinent, 
and  unworthy  [of  j  Boileau  !  whose  dispute  with  Perrault 
turned  chiefly  upon  some  passages  in  the  Ancients,  which  he 
rescued  from  the  misinterpretations  of  his  adversary.  The 
true  and  natural  compliment  made  by  him,  was  that  those 
books  had  given  him  a  very  new  Idea  of  the  English  Polite- 
ness, and  that  he  did  not  question  but  there  were  excellent 
compositions  in  the  native  language  of  a  country,  that  pro- 
fessed the  Roman  Genius  in  so  eminent  a  degree. 

The  first  English  performance  made  public  by  him,  is  a 
short  copy  of  verses  To  Mr.  Dryden,  with  a  view  particu- 
larly to  his  Translations. 

This  was  soon  followed  by  a  Version  of  the  fourth  Georgic 
of  Virgil;  of  which  Mr.  Dryden  makes  very  honourable 
mention  in  the  Postscript  to  his  own  Translation  of  Virgil's 
Works  :  wherein,  I  have  often  wondered  that  he  did  not,  at 
the  same  time,  acknowledge  his  obligation  to  Mr.  Addison, 
for  giving  the  Essay  upon  the  Gcorgics,  prefixed  to  Mr.  Dryden 's 


T.  TIckell 


I'^ya.':]  Public  monev  ruRciiAsiNG  Politeness.  515 

Translation.  Lest  the  honour  of  so  exquisite  a  piece  of 
criticism  should  hereafter  be  transferred  to  a  wrong  Author, 
I  have  taken  care  to  insert  it  in  this  Collection  of  his  Works. 
Of  some  other  copies  of  Verses,  printed  in  the  Miscellanies 
while  he  was  young,  the  largest  is  An  Account  of  the  greatest 
English  Poets  ;  in  the  close  of  which,  he  insinuates  a  design 
he  then  had  of  going  into  Holy  Orders,  to  which  he 
was  strongly  importuned  by  his  father.  His  remarkable 
seriousness  and  modesty,  which  might  have  been  urged  as 
powerful  reasons  for  his  choosing  that  life,  proved  the  chief 
obstacles  to  it.  These  qualities,  by  which  the  Priesthood  is 
so  much  adorned,  represented  the  duties  of  it  as  too  weighty 
for  him,  and  rendered  him  still  the  more  worthy  of  that 
honour,  which  they  made  him  decline.  It  is  happy  that  this 
very  circumstance  has  since  turned  so  much  to  the  advantage 
of  Virtue  and  Religion ;  in  the  cause  of  which,  he  has  be- 
stowed his  labours  the  more  successfully,  as  they  were  his 
voluntary,  not  his  necessary  employment.  The  World  be- 
came insensibly  reconciled  to  Wisdom  and  Goodness,  when 
they  saw  them  recommended  by  him,  with  at  least  as  much 
Spirit  and  Elegance  as  they  had  been  ridiculed  [with]  for 
half  a  century. 

He  was  in  his  twenty-eighth  year  [1699],  when  his  inclina- 
tion to  see  France  and  Italy  was  encouraged  by  the  great 
Lord  Chancellor  Somers,  one  of  that  kind  of  patriots  who 
think  it  no  waste  of  the  Public  Treasure,  to  purchase  Polite- 
ness to  their  country.  His  Poem  upon  one  of  King  William's 
Campaigns,  addressed  to  his  Lordship,  was  received  with 
great  humanity ;  and  occasioned  a  message  from  him  to  the 
Author,  to  desire  his  acquaintance. 

He  soon  after  obtained,  by  his  Interest,  a  yearly  pension 
of  three  hundred  pounds  from  the  Crown,  to  support  him  in 
his  travels.  If  the  uncommonness  of  a  favour,  and  the  dis- 
tinction of  the  person  who  confers  it,  enhance  its  value ; 
nothing  could  be  more  honourable  to  a  young  Man  of  Learning, 
than  such  a  bounty  from  so  eminent  a  Patron. 

How  well  Mr.  Addison  answered  the  expectations  of  my 
Lord  Somers,  cannot  appear  better  than  from  the  book  of 
Travels,  he  dedicated  to  his  Lordship  at  his  return.  It  is  not 
hard  to  conceive  why  that  performance  was  at  first  but  in- 
differently relished  by  the  bulk  of  readers ;  who  expected  an 


5r6  Addison's  T r  a  v e  l  s  i.v  I  t a  l  y.  \^- 


TIckell. 
i7.'i. 


Account,  in  a  common  way,  of  the  customs  and  policies  of  the 
several  Governments  in  Italy,  reflections  upon  the  Genius  of 
the  people,  a  Map  [description]  of  the  Provinces,  or  a  measure 
of  their  buildings.  How  were  they  disappointed  !  when, 
instead  of  such  particulars,  they  were  presented  only  with  a 
Journal  of  Poetical  Travels,  with  Remarks  on  the  present 
picture  of  the  country  compared  with  the  landskips  [land- 
scapes] drawn  by  Classic  Authors,  and  others  the  like  uncon- 
cerning  parts  of  knowledge  !  One  may  easily  imagine  a 
reader  of  plain  sense  but  without  a  fine  taste,  turning  over 
these  parts  of  the  Volume  which  make  more  than  half  of  it, 
and  wondering  how  an  Author  who  seems  to  have  so  solid  an 
understanding  when  he  treats  of  more  weighty  subjects  in  the 
other  pages,  should  dwell  upon  such  trifles,  and  give  up  so 
much  room  to  matters  of  mere  amusement.  There  are  indeed 
but  few  men  so  fond  of  the  Ancients,  as  to  be  transported 
with  every  little  accident  which  introduces  to  their  intimate 
acquaintance.  Persons  of  that  cast  may  here  have  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  Annotations  upon  an  old  Roman  Poem, 
gathered  from  the  hills  and  valleys  where  it  was  written. 
The  Tiber  and  the  Po  serve  to  explain  the  verses  which  were 
made  upon  their  banks;  and  the  Alps  and  Apennines  are 
made  Commentators  on  those  Authors,  to  whom  they  were 
subjects,  so  many  centuries  ago. 

Next  to  personal  conversation  with  the  Writers  themselves, 
this  is  the  surest  wa}'  of  coming  at  their  sense;  a  compen- 
dious and  engaging  kind  of  Criticism  which  convinces  at  first 
sight,  and  shews  the  vanity  of  conjectures  made  by  Anti- 
quaries at  a  distance.  If  the  knowledge  of  Polite  Literature 
has  its  use,  there  is  certainly  a  merit  in  illustrating  the  Per- 
fect Models  of  it ;  and  the  Learned  World  will  think  some 
years  of  a  man's  life  not  misspent  in  so  elegant  an  employ- 
ment. I  shall  conclude  what  I  had  to  say  on  this  Perform- 
ance, by  observing  that  the  fame  of  it  increased  from  year 
to  year;  and  the  demand  for  copies  was  so  urgent,  that  their 
price  rose  to  four  or  five  times  the  original  value,  before  it 
came  out  in  a  second  edition. 

The  Letter  from  Italy  to  my  Lord  Halifax  may  be  con- 
sidered as  the  Text,  upon  which  the  book  of  Travels  is  a  large 
Comment  ;  and  has  been  esteemed  by  those  who  have  a 
relish  for  Antiquity,  as  the  most  exquisite  of  his  poetical  per- 


T.  T 


';'^^J|:]   He   ^Y  r  I  t  e  s   the    Campaign.   517 


formances.  A  Translation  of  it,  by  Signer  Salvini,  Professor 
of  the  Greek  tongue,  at  Florence,  is  inserted  in  this  edition  ; 
not  only  on  account  of  its  merit,  but  because  it  is  the 
language  of  the  country,  which  is  the  subject  of  the  Poem. 

The  materials  for  the  Dialogues  iipon  Medals,  now  first 
printed  from  a  manuscript  of  the  Author,  were  collected  in 
the  native  country  of  those  coins.  The  book  itself  was 
begun  to  be  cast  in  form,  at  Vienna  ;  as  appears  from  a  letter 
to  Mr.  Stepney,  then  Minister  at  that  Court,  dated  in 
November,  1702. 

Some  time  before  the  date  of  this  letter,  Mr.  Addison  had 
designed  to  return  to  England;  when  he  received  advice  from 
his  friends  that  he  was  pitched  upon  to  attend  the  army 
under  Prince  Eugene,  who  had  just  begun  the  war  in  Italy, 
as  Secretary  from  His  Majesty.  But  an  account  of  the  death 
of  King  William,  which  he  met  with  at  Geneva,  put  an  end 
to  that  thought :  and,  as  his  hopes  of  advancement  in  his  own 
country,  were  fallen  with  the  credit  of  his  friends,  who  were 
out  of  power  at  the  beginning  of  her  late  Majest}/'s  reign, 
he  had  leisure  to  make  the  tour  of  Germany,  in  his  way  home. 

He  remained,  for  some  time  after  his  return  to  England, 
without  any  public  employment :  which  he  did  not  obtain  till 
the  year  1704,  when  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  arrived  at 
the  highest  pitch  of  glory,  by  delivering  all  Europe  from 
slavery  ;  and  furnished  Mr.  Addison  with  a  subject  worthy 
of  that  Genius  which  appears  in  his  Poem,  called  The  Cam- 
paign. 

The  Lord  Treasurer  Godolphin,  who  was  a  fine  judge  of 
poetry,  had  a  sight  of  this  Work  when  it  was  only  carried  on 
as  far  as  the  applauded  simile  of  the  Angel ;  and  approved  of 
the  Poem,  by  bestowing  on  the  Author,  in  a  few  days  after, 
the  place  of  Commissioner  of  Appeals,  vacant  by  the  removal 
of  the  famous  Mr.  [John]  Locke  to  the  Council  of  Trade. 

His  next  advancement  was  to  the  place  of  Under  Sec- 
retar}.,  which  he  held  under  Sir  Charles  Hedges,  and  the 
present  Earl  of  Sunderland.  The  opera  of  Rosamond  was 
written  while  he  possessed  that  employment.  What  doubts 
soever  have  been  raised  about  the  merit  of  the  Music,  which, 
as  the  Italian  taste  at  that  time  began  wholly  to  prevail,  was 
thought  sufficient  inexcusable,  because  it  was  the  com- 
position of  an  Englishman  ;  the  Poetry  of  this  Piece  has  given 


5i8  Tickell's  innuendo  against  Steele.  ['^•'^'^';'J,': 

as  much  pleasure  in  the  closet,  as  others  have  afforded  from 
the  Stage,  with  all  the  assistance  of  voices  and  instruments. 
The  Comedy  called  The  Tender  Husband  appeared  much 
about  the  same  time  ;  to  which  Mr.  Addison  wrote  the  Pro- 
logue. Sir  Richard  Steele  surprised  him  with  a  very 
handsome  Dedication  of  his  Play  ;  and  has  since  acquainted 
the  Public,  that  he  owed  some  of  the  most  taking  scenes  of 
it,  to  Mr.  Addison. 

His  next  step  in  his  fortune,  was  to  the  post  of  Secretary 
under  the  late  Marquis  of  Wharton,  who  was  appointed 
Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  in  the  year  1709.  As  I  have 
proposed  to  touch  but  very  lightly  on  those  parts  of  his  life, 
which  do  not  regard  him  as  an  Author ;  I  shall  not  enlarge 
upon  the  great  reputation  he  acquired,  by  his  turn  for  busi- 
ness, and  his  unblemished  integrity,  in  this  and  other  employ- 
ments. 

It  must  not  be  omitted  here,  that  the  salary  of  Keeper 
of  the  Records  in  Ireland  was  considerably  raised,  and  that 
post  bestowed  upon  him  at  this  time,  as  a  mark  of  the 
Queen's  favour. 

He  was  in  that  Kingdom,  v^^hen  he  first  discovered  Sir 
Richard  Steele  to  be  the  Author  of  the  Tatler,  by  an 
observation  upon  ViRGiL,  which  had  been  by  him  com- 
municated to  his  friend.  The  assistance  he  occasionally 
gave  him  afterwards,  in  the  course  of  the  Paper,  did  not  a 
little  contribute  to  advance  its  reputation ;  and,  upon  the 
Change  of  the  Ministry,  he  found  leisure  to  engage  more 
constantl)^  in  that  Work  :  which,  however,  was  dropped  at 
last,  as  it  had  been  taken  up,  without  his  participation. 

In  the  last  Paper,  which  closed  those  celebrated  Perform- 
ances, and  in  the  Preface  to  the  last  Volume,  Sir  Richard 
Steele  has  given  to  Mr.  Addison,  the  honour  of  the  most 
applauded  Pieces  in  that  Collection.  But  as  that  ac- 
knowledgement was  delivered  only  in  general  terms,  without 
directing  the  Public  to  the  several  Papers;  Mr.  Addison 
(who  was  content  with  the  praise  arising  from  his  own  Works, 
and  too  delicate  to  take  any  part  of  that  which  belonged  to 
others),  afterwards,  thought  fit  to  distinguish  his  Writings  in 
the  Spectators  and  Guardians,  by  such  marks  as  might  remove 
the  least  possibility  of  mistake  in  the  most  undiscerning 
readers. 


TiCKELl's  EDITION  INDICATES  AdDISOn's  TaTLERS.    519 

It  was  necessary  that  his  share  in  the  Tatlers  should  be 
adjusted  in  a  complete  Collection  of  his  Works:  for  which 
reason,  Sir  Richard  Steele,  in  compliance  with  the  request 
of  his  deceased  friend,  delivered  to  him  by  the  Editor,  was 
pleased  to  mark  with  his  own  hand,  those  Tatlers,  which  are 
inserted  in  this  edition ;  and  even  to  point  out  several,  in  the 
writing  of  which,  they  were  both  concerned. 

The  Plan  of  the  Spectator,  as  far  as  regards  the  feigned 
Person  of  the  Author,  and  of  the  several  Characters  that 
compose  his  Club,  was  projected  in  concert  with  Sir  Richard 
Steele.  And  because  many  passages  in  the  course  of  the 
Work  would  otherwise  be  obscure,  I  have  taken  leave  to  insert 
one  single  Paper  written  by  Sir  Richard  Steele,  wherein 
those  Characters  are  drawn ;  which  may  serve  as  a  Dramatis 
PersoncB,  or  as  so  many  pictures  for  an  ornament  and 
explication  of  the  whole. 

As  for  the  distinct  Papers,  they  were  never  or  seldom 
shewn  to  each  other,  by  their  respective  Authors ;  who  fully 
answered  the  Promise  they  had  made,  and  far  outwent  the 
Expectation  they  had  raised,  of  pursuing  their  Labour  in  the 
same  Spirit  and  Strength  with  which  it  was  begun. 

It  would  have  been  impossible  for  Mr.  Addison  (who  made 
little  or  no  use  of  letters  sent  in,  by  the  numerous  correspon- 
dents of  the  Spectator)  to  have  executed  his  large  share  of  his 
task  in  so  exquisite  a  manner ;  if  he  had  not  engrafted  into 
it  many  Pieces  that  had  lain  by  him,  in  little  hints  and 
minutes,  which  he  from  time  to  time  collected  and  ranged  in 
order,  and  moulded  into  the  form  in  which  they  now  appear. 
Such  are  the  Essays  upon  Wit,  the  Pleasures  of  the  Imagi- 
nation, the  Critique  ttpon  MiLTON,  and  some  others  :  which  I 
thought  to  have  connected  in  a  continued  Series  in  this 
Edition,  though  they  were  at  first  published  with  the  inter- 
ruption of  writings  on  different  subjects.  But  as  such  a 
scheme  would  have  obliged  me  to  cut  off  several  graceful 
introductions  and  circumstances  peculiarly  adapted  to  the 
time  and  occasion  of  printing  then  ;  I  durst  not  pursue  that 
attempt. 

The  Tragedy  of  Cato  appeared  in  public  in  the  year  1713  ; 
when  the  greatest  part  of  the  last  Act  was  added  by  the 
Author,  to  the  foregoing  which  he  had  kept  by  him  for  many 
years.     He  took  up  a  design  of  writing  a  play  upon  this  sub- 


520  Why  Cato  had  "^o  D e d ic a  tio n.\^ 


.  Tlctell. 
1721, 


ject,  when  he  was  very  young  at  the  University ;  and  even 
attempted  something  in  it  there,  though  not  a  Hne  as  it  now 
stands.  The  work  was  performed  by  him  in  his  travels,  and 
retouched  in  England,  without  any  formed  resolution  of 
bringing  it  upon  the  Stage,  until  his  friends  of  the  first  Quality 
and  Distinction  prevailed  on  him,  to  put  the  last  finishing  to 
it,  at  a  time  when  they  thought  the  Doctrine  of  Liberty  very 
seasonable. 

It  is  in  everybody's  memory,  with  what  applause  it  was 
received  by  the  Public  ;  that  the  first  run  of  it  lasted  for  a 
month,  and  then  stopped  only  because  one  of  the  performers 
became  incapable  of  acting  a  principal  part. 

The  Author  received  a  message  that  the  Queen  would  be 
pleased  to  have  it  dedicated  to  her  :  but  as  he  had  designed 
that  compliment  elsewhere,  he  found  himself  obliged,  by  his 
duty  on  the  one  side,  and  his  honour  on  the  other,  to  send  it 
into  the  World  without  any  Dedication. 

The  fame  of  this  tragedy  soon  spread  through  Europe  ;  and 
it  has  not  only  been  translated,  but  acted  in  most  of  the  lan- 
guages of  Christendom.  The  Translation  of  it  into  Italian 
by  Signor  Salvini  is  very  well  known  :  but  I  have  not  been 
able  to  learn,  whether  that  of  Signor  Valetta,  a  young 
Neapolitan  Nobleman,  has  ever  been  made  public. 

If  he  had  found  time  for  the  writing  of  another  tragedy,  the 
Death  of  Socrate3  would  have  been  the  story.  And,  how- 
ever unpromising  that  subject  may  appear  ;  it  would  be  pre- 
sumptuous to  censure  his  choice,  who  was  so  famous  for 
raising  the  noblest  plants  from  the  most  barren  soil.  It  serves 
to  shew  that  he  thought  the  whole  labour  of  such  a  Perform- 
ance unworthy  to  be  thrown  away  upon  those  Intrigues  and 
Adventures,  to  which  the  romantic  taste  has  confined  Modern 
Tragedy:  and,  after  the  example  of  his  predecessors  in 
Greece,  would  have  employed  the  Drama  to  wear  out  of  our 
minds  everything  that  is  mean  or  little,  to  cherish  and  cultivate  that 
Humanity  which  is  the  ornament  of  our  nature,  to  soften  Insolence, 
tu  soothe  Affliction,  and  to  subdue  our  minds  to  the  dispensations 
of  Providence.     {Spectator.    No.  39.) 

Upon  the  death  of  the  late  Queen,  the  Lords  Justices, 
in  whom  the  Administration  was  lodged,  appointed  him  their 
Secretary. 

Soon  after  His  Majesty's   arrival    in   Great   Britain,  the 


T.  Tickell 
17-' 


',';]  A  D  D  I  s  o  n's  r  o  s  t  II  u  m  o  u  s  Works.  521 


Earl  of  Sunderland,  being  constituted  Lord  Lieutenant  of 
Ireland;  Mr.  Addison  became,  a  second  time,  Secretary  for 
the  Affairs  of  that  Kingdom  :  and  was  made  one  of  the  Lords 
Commissioners  of  Trade,  a  little  after  his  Lordship  resigned 
the  post  of  Lord  Lieutenant. 

The  Paper  called  the  Freeholder,  was  undertaken  at  the  time 
when  the  Rebellion  broke  out  in  Scotland. 

The  only  Works  he  left  behind  for  the  Public,  are  the  Dia- 
lo^uesupon  medals,  and  the  Treatise  upon  the  Christian  Religion. 
Some  account  has  been  already  given  of  the  former:  to  which 
nothing  is  now  to  be  added,  except  that  a  great  part  of  the 
Latin  quotations  were  rendered  into  English  in  a  very  hasty 
manner  by  the  Editor  and  one  of  his  friends  who  had  the  good 
nature  to  assist  him,  during  his  avocations  of  business.  It 
was  thought  better  to  add  these  translations,  such  as  they 
are ;  than  to  let  the  Work  come  out  unintelligible  to  those 
who  do  not  possess  the  learned  languages. 

The  Scheme  for  the  Treatise  upon  the  Christian  Religion 
was  formed  by  the  Author,  about  the  end  of  the  late  Queen's 
reign ;  at  which  time,  he  carefully  perused  the  ancient 
Writings,  which  furnish  the  materials  for  it.  His  continual 
employment  in  business  prevented  him  from  executing  it,  until 
he  resigned  his  office  of  Secretary  of  State  ;  and  his  death  put 
a  period  to  it,  when  he  had  imperfectly  performed  only  one 
half  of  the  design  :  he  having  proposed,  as  appears  from  the 
Introduction,  to  add  the  Jewish  to  the  Heathen  testimonies 
for  the  truth  of  the  Christian  History.  He  was  more  as- 
siduous than  his  health  would  well  allow,  in  the  pursuit  of 
this  Work  :  and  had  long  determined  to  dedicate  his  Poetry 
also,  for  the  future,  wholly  to  religious  subjects. 

Soon  after,  he  was,  from  being  one  of  the  Lords  Commis- 
sioners of  Trade,  advanced  to  the  post  of  Secretary  of  State  ; 
he  found  his  health  impaired  by  the  return  of  that  asthmatic 
indisposition;  which  continued  often,  to  afflict  him  durmg  his 
exercise  of  that  employment  :  and,  at  last,  obliged  him  to  beg 
His  Majesty's  leave  to  resign. 

His  freedom  from  the  anxiety  of  business  so  far  re-estab- 
lished his  health,  that  his  friends  began  to  hope  he  might 
last  for  many  years :  but  (whether  it  were  from  a  life  too 


522  Add  I  son's  Letter  to  J.  C ra  ggs.  [ 


T.  Ticlcll. 
J721. 


sedentary;  or  from  his  natural  constitution,  in  which  was  one 
circumstance  very  remarkable,  that,  from  his  cradle,  he  never 
had  a  regular  pulse)  a  long  and  painful  relapse  into  an  asthma 
and  dropsy  deprived  the  World  of  this  great  man,  on  the  17th 
of  June,  1719. 

He  left  behind  him  only  one  daughter,  by  the  Countess 
of  Warwick  ;  to  whom  he  was  married  in  the  year  1716. 

Not  many  days  before  his  death,  he  gave  me  directions  to 
collect  his  Writmgs,  and  at  the  same  time  committed  to  my 
care  the  Letter  addressed  to  My.  Craggs,  his  successor  as 
Secretary  of  State,  wherein  he  bequeaths  them  to  him,  as  a 
token  of  friendship. 

Such  a  testimony,  from  the  First  Man  of  our  Age,  in  such 
a  point  of  time,  will  be  perhaps  as  great  and  lasting  an  honour 
to  that  Gentleman  as  any  even  he  could  acquire  to  himself; 
and  yet  it  is  no  more  than  was  due  from  an  affection  that 
justly  increased  towards  him,  through  the  intimacy  of  several 
years.  I  cannot,  save  with  the  utmost  tenderness,  reflect  on 
the  kind  concern  with  which  Mr.  Addison  left  Me  as  a  sort  of 
incumbrance  upon  this  valuable  legacy.  Nor  must  I  deny 
myself  the  honour  to  acknowlege  that  the  goodness  of  that 
Great  Man  to  me,  like  many  other  of  his  amiable  qualities, 
seemed  not  so  much  to  be  renewed,  as  continued  in  his 
successor ;  who  made  me  an  example,  that  nothing  could 
be  indifferent  to  him  which  came  recommended  to  Mr. 
Addison. 

Could  any  circumstance  be  more  severe  to  me,  while  I  was 
executing  these  Last  Commands  of  the  Author,  than  to  see 
the  Person  to  whom  his  Works  were  presented,  cut  off  in  the 
flower  of  his  age,  and  carried  from  the  high  Office  wherein  he 
had  succeeded  Mr.  Addison,  to  be  laid  next  him,  in  the  same 
grave  ?  I  might  dwell  upon  such  thoughts  as  naturally  rise 
from  these  minute  resemblances  in  the  fortune  of  two  persons, 
whose  names  probably  will  be  seldom  mentioned  asunder 
while  either  our  Language  or  Story  subsist  ;  were  I  not  afraid 
of  making  this  Preface  too  tedious  :  especially  since  I  shall 
want  all  the  patience  of  the  reader,  for  having  enlarged  it 
with  the  following  verses. 

[Tickell's  Poem  on  Addison,  or  "  Prose  in  rhyme,"  as  it  is  called  at 
p.  536,  is  omitted  as  not  relating  to  the  Controversy  between  him  and 
Stllle.] 


Sir     Richard    Steele. 
Dedicatory    Epistle   to    William 

C  O  N  G  R  E  V  E' 

[This  Dedication  is  prefixed  to  the  Second"! 
Edition  of  Addison's  Z)^»w/«tr,  1722.  J 

To  Mr.  Congreve: 
occasioned  by  Mr.   T  i  c  k  e  l  l  '  s  Preface  to  the  four 
volumes  of  Mr.  Addison's    "'""'-" 


Works. 


S  T  R 


His  is  the  second  time  that  I  have,  without 
your  leave,  taken  the  liberty  to  make  a 
public  address  to  you. 

However  uneasy  you  may  be,  for  your 
own  sake,  in  receiving  compliments  of 
this  nature,  I  depend  upon  your  known 
humanity  for  pardon;  when  I  acknowledge 
that  you  have  this  present  trouble,  for  mine. 
When  I  take  myself  to  be  ill  treated  with  regard  to  my 
behaviour  to  the  merit  of  other  men ;  my  conduct  towards 
you  is  an  argument  of  my  candour  that  way,  as  well  as  that 
your  name  and  authority  will  be  my  protection  in  it.  You 
will  give  me  leave  therefore,  in  a  matter  that  concerns  us  in 
the  Poetical  World,  to  make  you  my  judge  whether  I  am  not 
injured  in  the  highest  manner  !  for  with  men  of  your  taste 
and  delicacy,  it  is  a  high  crime  and  misdemeanour  to  be 
guilty  of  anything  that  is  disingenuous.  But  I  will  go  into 
my  matter. 

Upon  my  return  from  Scotland,  I  visited  Mr.  Tonson's 
shop,  and  thanked  him  for  his  care  in  sending  to  my 
house,  the  Volumes  of  my  dear  and  honoured  friend  Mr. 
Addison  ;  which  are,  at  last,  published  by  his  Secretary, 
Mr.  TiCKELL  :  but  took  occasion  to  observe,  that  I  had  not 
seen  the  Work  before  it  came  out ;  which  he  did  not  think  fit 
to  excuse  any  otherwise  than  by  a  recrimination,  that  I  had 
put  into  his  hands,  at  a  high  price,  a  Comedy  called   The 


524  The  Drummer  left  out  of  Addison's  Works.]^^^''^^;^ 

Dnnnmcr',  which,  by  my  zeal  for  it,  he  took  to  be  written  b}^ 
Mr.  Addison,  and  of  which,  after  his  [Addison's]  death,  he 
said,  I  directly  acknovvleged  he  was  the  author. 

To  urge  this  hardship  still  more  home,  he  produced  a 
receipt  under  my  hand,  in  these  words  — 

March  12,  I7i5[-i6]. 

Received  then,  the  sum  of  Fifty  Guineas  for  the  Copy  [copy 
right]  of  the  Comedy  called,  The  Drummer  or  the  Haunted 
House.  /  say,  received  by  order  of  the  Author  of  the  said 
Comedy,  RICHARD    STEELE. 

and  added,  at  the  same  time,  that  since  Mr.  Tickell  had 
not  thought  fit  to  make  that  play  a  part  of  Mr.  Addison's 
Works  ;  he  would  sell  the  Copy  to  any  bookseller  that  would 
give  most  for  it  [i.e.,  ToNSON  threw  the  onus  of  the  authen- 
ticity of  the  Drummer  on  Steele]. 

This  is  represented  thus  circumstantially,  to  shew  how  in- 
cumbent it  is  upon  me,  as  well  in  justice  to  the  bookseller, 
as  for  many  other  considerations,  to  produce  this  Comedy  a 
second  time  [It  was  first  printed  in  1716J  ;  and  take  this 
occasion  to  vindicate  myself  against  certain  insinuations 
thrown  out  by  the  Publisher  [Thomas  Tickell]  of  Mr. 
Addison's  Writings,  concerning  my  behaviour  in  the  nicest 
circumstance — that  of  doing  justice  to  the  Merit  of  my  Friend. 

I  shall  take  the  liberty,  before  I  have  ended  this  Letter, 
to  say  why  I  believe  the  Drummer  a  performance  of  Mr. 
Addison  :  and  after  I  have  declared  this,  any  surviving 
writer  may  be  at  ease ;  if  there  be  any  one  who  has  hitherto 
been  vain  enough  to  hope,  or  silly  enough  to  fear,  it  may  be 
given  to  himself. 

Before  I  go  any  further,  I  must  make  my  Public  Appeal  to 
you  and  all  the  Learned  World,  and  humbly  demand,  Whether 
it  was  a  decent  and  reasonable  thing,  that  Works  written, 
as  a  great  part  of  Mr.  Addison's  were,  in  correspondence 
[coadjutor ship]  with  me,  ought  to  have  been  published  with- 
out my  review  of  the  Catalogue  of  them  ;  or  if  there  were 
any  exception  to  be  made  against  any  circumstance  in  my 
conduct,  Whether  an  opportunity  to  explain  myself  should 
not  have  been  allowed  me,  before  any  Reflections  were  made 
on  me  in  print. 

Wlicn  I  had  perused  Mr.  Tickbll's  Preface^  I  had  soon 


Sir  R.  Steele 
17 


^;]    Tickell's  rabid  jealousy  of  Steele.    525 


so  many  objections,  besides  his  omission  to  say  anytliing  of 
the  Dvuuuucr,  against  his  long-expected  performance  :  the 
chief  intention  of  which  (and  which  it  concerns  me  first  to 
examine)  seems  to  aim  at  doing  the  deceased  Author  justice, 
against  me  !  whom  he  insinuates  to  have  assumed  to  myseh, 
part  of  the  merit  of  my  friend. 

He  is  pleased,  Sir,  to  express  himself  concerning  the 
present  Writer,  in  the  following  manner — 

The  Comedy  called  The  Tender  Husband,  appeared  much 
about  the  same  time;  to  which  Mr.  Addison  wrote  the  Prologue: 
Sir  Richard  Steele  surprised  him  with  a  very  handsome 
Dedication  of  this  Play ;  and  has  since  acquainted  the  PiMic, 
that  he  owed  some  of  the  most  taking  scenes  of  it,  to  Mr,  Addison. 
Mr.  Tickell's  Preface.     Pag.  11  \see  p.  518]. 

He  was  in  that  Kingdom  [Ireland] ,  when  he  first  discovered 
Sir  Richard  Steele  to  be  the  Author  of  the  Tatler,  by  an 
observation  upon  Virgil,  which  had  been  by  him  communicated 
to  his  friend.  The  assistance  he  occasionally  gave  him  afterwards, 
in  the  course  of  the  Paper,  did  not  a  little  contribute  to  advance  its 
reputation  ;  and,  upon  the  Change  of  the  Ministry  [in  the  autumn 
of  1710] ,  he  found  leisure  to  engage  more  constantly  in  that 
Work  :  which,  however,  was  dropped  at  last,  as  it  had  been  taken 
lip,  without  his  participation. 

In  the  last  Paper  which  closed  those  celebrated  Performances, 
and  in  the  Preface  to  the  last  Volume,  Sir  Richard  Steele 
has  given  to  Mr.  Addison,  the  honour  of  the  most  applauded 
Pieces  in  that  Collection.  But  as  that  acknowledgement  was 
delivered  only  in  general  terms,  without  directing  the  Public  to 
the  several  Papers ;  Mr.  A  DDISON  {who  was  content  with  the 
praise  arising  from  his  own  Works,  and  too  delicate  to  take  any 
part  of  that  which  belonged  to  others),  afterwards  thought  fit  to 
distinguish  his  Writings  in  the  Spectators  and  Guardians  by 
such  marks  as  might  remove  the  least  possibility  of  mistake  in  the 
most  undiscerning  readers.  It  was  necessary  that  his  share  in  the 
Tatlers  should  be  adjusted  in  a  complete  Collection  of  his  Works : 
for  which  reason.  Sir  RiCHARD  Steele,  in  compliance  with  the 
request  of  his  deceased  friend,  delivered  to  him  by  the  Editor,  was 
pleased  to  mark  with  his  own  hand,  those  Tatlers  which  are 
inserted  in  this  edition ;  and  even  to  point  out  several,  in  the 
writing  of  which,  they  both  were  concerned,     f'ag.  i2\see  p.  518, 519]. 


526  Steele's  acknowledgements  of  Addlson.  [^''''''• 


Steele 
1722 


The  Plan  of  the  Spectator,  as  far  as  it  related  to  the  feii^iicd 
Person  of  the  Author,  and  of  the  several  Characters  that  compose 
his  Club,  was  projected  in  concert  with  Sir  RiCHARD  STEELE: 
and  because  many  passages  in  the  course  of  the  Work  would  other- 
wise be  obscure,  I  have  taken  leave  to  insert  one  Paper  written 
by  Sir  Richard  Steele,  wherein  those  Characters  are  drawn  ; 
which  may  serve  as  a  Dramatis  Personae,  or  as  so  many  pictures 
for  an  ornament  and  explication  of  the  whole.  As  for  the  distinct 
Papers,  they  were  never  or  seldom  slieivn  to  each  other,  by  their 
respective  Authors ;  who  fully  answered  the  Promise  they  made, 
and  far  outwent  the  Expectation.  tJiey  had  raised,  of  pursuing  their 
Labour  in  the  same  Spirit  and  Strength  withwhich  it  was  begun. 
Page   13  [Sir  p.  519]. 

It  need  not  be  explained  that  it  is  here  intimated,  that  I 
had  not  sufficiently  acknowledged  what  was  due  to  Mr. 
Addison  in  these  Writings.  I  shall  make  a  full  Answer  to 
what  seems  intended  by  the  words,  He  was  too  delicate  to  take 
any  part  of  that  which  belonged  to  others;  if  I  can  recite  out  of 
my  own  Papers,  anything  that  may  make  it  appear  groundless. 

The  subsequent  [folloiving]  encomiums  bestowed  by  me 
on  Mr.  Addison  will,  I  hope,  be  of  service  to  me  in  this 
particular. 

But  I  have  only  one  Gentleman,  who  will  be  nameless,  to 
thank  for  any  frequent  assistance  to  me :  which  indeed  it  would 
have  been  barbarous  in  him,  to  have  denied  to  one  with  whom  he 
has  lived  in  an  intimacy  from  childhood;  considering  the  great 
Ease  with  which  he  is  able  to  despatch  the  most  entertaining  Pieces 
of  this  nature.  This  good  office  he  performed  with  such  force  of 
Genius,  Humour,  Wit,  and  Learning,  that  I  fared  like  a  distressed 
Prince  who  calls  in  a  powerful  neighbour  to  his  aid  ;  I  was  undone 
by  my  auxiliary  !  When  I  had  once  called  him  in,  I  could  not 
subsist  without  dependence  on  Jiim. 

The  same  Hand  wrote  the  distinguishing  Characters  of  Men 
and  Women  under  the  names  of  Musical  Instruments,  the 
Distress  of  the  News-Writers,  the  Inventory  of  the  Play 
House,  and  the  Description  of  the  Thermometer;  which  I 
cannot  but  look  upon,  as  the  greatest  embellishments  of  this  Work. 
Pre/,  to  the  4th  VoL  of  the  Taihrs. 

As  to  the  Work  itself,  the  acceptance  it  has  met  with  is  the  best 
proof  of  its  value  :  but  I  shoidd  err  against  that  candour  ichich 
an  honest  man  should  always  carry  about  him,  if  I  did  not  own 


SirR.  Steele.-J  SteeLE's  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS  OF  AdDISON.  527 

that  the  most  approved  Pieces  in  it  were  written  by  others ;  and 
those,  which  have  been  most  excepted  against  by  myself.  The 
Hand  that  has  assisted  me  in  those  noble  Discourses  npon  the 
Immortality  of  the  Soul,  the  Glorious  Prospects  of  another  Life,  and 
the  most  sublime  ideas  of  Religion  and  Virtue,  is  a  person,  who  is 
too  fondly  Iny  friend  ever  to  own  them  :  but  I  shotdd  little  deserve 
to  be  his,  if  I  usurped  the  glory  of  them.  I  must  acknowledge,  at 
the  same  time,  that  I  think  the  finest  strokes  of  Wit  and  Humour 
in  all  Mr.  Bickerstaff's  Lucubrations,  are  those  for  which  he 
is  also  beholden  to  him.     Tatler,  No.  271. 

/  hope  the  Apology  I  have  made  as  to  the  license  allowable  to  a 
feigned  Character  may  excuse  anything  which  has  been  said  in 
these  Discourses  of  the  Spectator  and  his  Works.  But  the  imputation 
of  the  grossest  vanity  would  still  dwell  upon  me,  if  I  did  not  give 
some  account  by  what  means  I  was  enabled  to  keep  up  the  Spirit 
of  so  long  and  approved  a  performance.  All  the  Papers  marked 
with  a  0,1^,1,  or  0—that  is  to  say,  all  the  Papers  which  I  have 
distinguished  by  any  letter  in  the  name  of  the  Muse  C  L  I  0 — 
were  given  me  by  the  Gentleman,  of  whose  assistance  I  formerly 
boasted  in  the  Preface  and  concluding  Leaf  of  theTsiilev.  I  am 
indeed  much  more  proud  of  his  long-contimied  friendship,  than  I 
shotdd  be  of  the  fame  of  being  thought  the  Author  of  any  Writings 
which  he  himself  is  capable  of  producing. 

I  remember,  when  I  finished  the  Tender  Husband ;  I  told  him, 
there  was  nothing  I  so  ardently  wished  as  that  we  might,  some 
time  or  other,  publish  a  Work  written  by  tis  both ;  which  should 
bear  the  name  of  the  Monument,  in  memory  of  otir  friendship.  I 
heartily  wish  what  I  have  done  here,  were  as  honorary  to  that 
sacred  name,  as  Learning,  Wit,  and  Htcmanity  render  those  Pieces, 
which  I  have  taught  the  reader  how  to  distinguish  for  his. 

When  the  Play  above  mentioned  was  last  acted,  there  were  so 
many  applauded  strokes  in  it  which  I  had  from  the  same  hand, 
that  I  thought  very  meanly  of  myself  that  I  had  never  ptiblicly 
acknowledged  them. 

After  I  have  put  other  friends  upon  importuning  him  to  publish 
Dramatic  as  well  as  other  Writings,  he  has  by  him ;  I  shall  end 
what  I  think  I  am  obliged  to  say  on  this  head,  by  giving  the  reader 
this  hint  for  the  better  judgement  of  my  productions  :  that  the  best 
Comment  upon  them  woidd  be,  an  Account  when  the  Patron  [i.e., 
Addison]  to  the  Tender  Husband  was  in  England  or  abroad 
[i.e.,  Ireland].    Spectator,  No  555. 


528  TiCKELL.AX  INTERMEDLER  IN  THINGS  ABOVE  HIM 


rSfeele. 
'|_    1722. 


My  purpose  in  this  Application  is  only  to  shew  the  esteem  I  have 
for  yon,  and  that  I  look  tipon  my  intimacy  with  yon  as  one  of  the 
most  valnable  enjoyments  of  my  life.  DaiUation  before  the  Tender 
Husband. 

I  am  sure,  you  have  read  my  quotations  with  indignation 
against  the  little  [petty]  zeal  which  prompted  the  Editor  (who 
by  the  way,  has  himself  done  nothing  in  applause  of  the  Works 
which  he  prefaces)  to  the  mean  endeavour  of  adding  to  Mr. 
Addison,  by  disparaging  a  man  who  had  (for  the  greatest  part 
of  his  life)  been  his  known  bosom  friend,  and  shielded  him 
from  all  the  resentments  which  many  of  his  own  Works  would 
have  brought  upon  him,  at  the  time  they  were  written.  It  is 
really  a  good  office  to  Society,  to  expose  the  indiscretion  of 
Intermedlers  int  he  friendship  and  correspondence  [coadjutor- 
ship]  of  men,  whose  sentiments,  passions,  and  resentments  are 
too  great  for  their  proportion  of  soul  ! 

Could  the  Editor's  indiscretion  provoke  me,  even  so  far  as 
(within  the  rules  of  strictest  honour)  I  could  go  ;  and  I  were 
not  restrained  by  supererogatory  affection  to  dear  Mr.  Addison, 
I  would  ask  this  unskilful  Creature,  What  he  means,  when 
he  speaks  in  an  air  of  a  reproach,  that  the  Tatler  was  laid 
down  as  it  was  taken  up,  without  Jiis  participation  ?  Let  him  speak 
out  and  say,  why  without  his  knowledge  would  not  serve  his 
purpose  as  well  ! 

If,  as  he  says,  he  restrains  himself  to  "  Mr.  Addison's 
character  as  a  Writer;  "  while  he  attempts  to  lessen  me,  he 
exalts  me  !  for  he  has  declared  to  all  the  World  what  I  never 
have  so  explicitly  done,  that  I  am,  to  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses, the  Author  of  the  Tatler!  He  very  justly  says,  the 
occasional  assistance  Mr.  Addison  gave  me,  in  the  course  of 
that  Paper,  "  did  not  a  little  contribute  to  advance  its  reputa- 
tion, especially  when,  upon  the  Change  of  Ministry  [August, 
1710],  he  found  leisure  to  engage  more  constantly  in  it."  It 
was  advanced  indeed  !  for  it  was  raised  to  a  greater  thing 
than  I  intended  it  !  For  the  elegance,  purity,  and  correctness 
which  appeared  in  his  Writings  were  not  so  much  my  pur- 
pose ;  as  (in  any  intelligible  manner,  as  I  could)  to  rally  all 
those  Singularities  of  human  life,  through  the  different  Pro- 
fessions and  Characters  in  it,  which  obstruct  anything  that 
was  truly  good  and  great. 


Sir  R.  Steele.-|  XiCKELL's  FANTASTICAL  &  IGNORANT  ZEAL.   529 

After  this  Acknowledgement,  you  will  see ;  that  is,  such 
a  man  as  you  will  see,  that  I  rejoiced  in  being  excelled ! 
and  made  those  little  talents  (whatever  they  are)  which  I 
have,  give  way  and  be  subservient  to  the  superior  qualities  of 
a  Friend,  whom  I  loved  !  and  whose  modesty  would  never 
have  admitted  them  to  come  into  daylight,  but  under  such  a 
shelter. 

So  that  all  which  the  Editor  has  said  (either  out  of  design, 
or  incapacity),  Mr.  Congreve  !  must  end  in  this:  that 
Steele  has  been  so  candid  and  upright,  that  he  owes 
nothing  to  Mr.  Addison  as  a  Writer  ;  but  whether  he  do,  or 
does  not,  whatever  Steele  owes  to  Mr.  Addison,  the  Public 
owe  Addison  to  Steele  ! 

But  the  Editor  has  such  a  fantastical  and  ignorant  zeal 
for  his  Patron,  that  he  will  not  allow  his  correspondents 
[coadjutors]  to  conceal  anything  of  his ;  though  in  obedience 
to  his  commands ! 

What  I  never  did  declare  was  Mr.  Addison's,  I  had  his 
direct  injunctions  to  hide ;  against  the  natural  warmth  and 
passion  of  my  own  temper  towards  my  friends. 

Many  of  the  Writings  now  published  as  his,  I  have  been 
very  patiently  traduced  and  culminated  for  ;  as  they  were 
pleasantries  and  oblique  strokes  upon  certain  of  the  wittiest 
men  of  the  Age  :  who  will  now  restore  me  to  their  goodwill, 
in  proportion  to  the  abatement  of  [the]  Wit  which  they 
thought  I  employed  against  them. 

But  I  was  saying,  that  the  Editor  won't  allow  us  to  obey 
his  Patron's  commands  in  anything  which  he  thinks  would 
redound  to  his  credit,  if  discovered.  And  because  I  would 
shew  a  little  Wit  in  my  anger,  I  shall  have  the  discretion  to 
shew  you  that  he  has  been  guilty,  in  this  particular,  towards 
a  much  greater  man  than  your  humble  servant,  and  one 
whom  you  are  much  more  obliged  to  vindicate. 

Mr.  Dryden,  in  his  ViRGiL,  after  having  acknowledged 
that  a  "certain  excellent  young  man"  [i.e.,  W.  Congreve 
himself]  had  shewed  him  many  faults  in  his  translation  of 
Virgil,  which  he  had  endeavoured  to  correct,  goes  on  to 
say,  "  Two  other  worthy  friends  of  mine,  who  desire  to  have 
their  names  concealed,  seeing  me  straightened  in  my  time, 
took  pity  on  me,  and  gave  me  the  Life  of  Virgil,  the  two  Pre- 
faces to  the  Pastorals  and  the  Georgics,  and  all  the  Arguments 

£JVG.  Gar,  VI.  34 


530  Tickell's  earnestness  to  disparage  Steele.^-  ^\7'^; 

in  prose  to  the  whole  Translation."  If  Mr.  Addison  is  one  of 
the  two  friends,  and  the  Preface  to  the  Georgics  be  what  the 
Editor  calls  the  Essay  upon  the  Georgics  as  one  may  adventure 
to  say  they  are,  from  their  being  word  for  word  the  same,  he 
has  cast  an  inhuman  reflection  upon  Mr.  Dryden  :  who, 
though  tied  down  not  to  name  Mr.  Addison,  pointed  at  him 
so  as  all  Mankind  conservant  in  these  matters  knew  him, 
with  an  eulogium  equal  to  the  highest  merit,  considering 
who  it  was  that  bestowed  it.  I  could  not  avoid  remarking 
upon  this  circumstance,  out  of  justice  to  Mr.  Dryden  :  but 
confess,  at  the  same  time,  I  took  a  great  pleasure  in  doing  it ; 
because  I  knew,  in  exposing  this  outrage,  I  made  my  court 
to  Mr.  Congreve. 

I  have  observed  that  the  Editor  will  not  let  me  or  any  one 
else  obey  Mr.  Addison's  commands,  in  hiding  anything  he 
desired  to  be  concealed. 

I  cannot  but  take  further  notice,  that  the  circumstance  of 
marking  his  Spectators  [with  the  letters  C,  L,  /,  0,],  which  I 
did  not  know  till  I  had  done  with  the  Work ;  I  made  my  own 
act !  because  I  thought  it  too  great  a  sensibility  in  my  friend  ; 
and  thought  it  (since  it  was  done)  better  to  be  supposed 
marked  by  me  than  the  Author  himself.  The  real  state  of 
which,  this  2ealot  rashly  and  injudiciously  exposes!  I  ask 
the  reader.  Whether  anything  but  an  earnestness  to  disparage 
me  could  provoke  the  Editor,  in  behalf  of  Mr.  Addison,  to 
say  that  he  marked  it  out  of  caution  against  me :  when  I  had 
taken  upon  me  to  say,  it  was  I  that  did  it !  out  of  tenderness 
to  him. 

As  the  imputation  of  any  the  Least  Attempt  of  arrogating 
to  myself,  or  detracting  from  Mr.  Addison,  is  without  any 
Colour  of  Truth  :  you  will  give  me  leave  to  go  on  in  the  same 
ardour  towards  him,  and  resent  the  cold,  unaffectionate,  dr}^, 
and  barren  manner,  in  which  this  Gentleman  gives  an  Account 
of  as  great  a  Benefactor  as  any  one  Learned  Man  ever  had  of 
another.  Would  any  man,  who  had  been  produced  from  a 
College  life,  and  pushed  into  one  of  the  most  considerable 
Employments  of  the  Kingdom  as  to  its  weight  and  trust,  and 
greatly  lucrative  with  respect  to  a  Fellowship  [i.e.,  of  a 
College]  :  and  who  had  been  daily  and  hourly  with  one  of  the 
greatest  men  of  the  Age,  be  satisfied  with  himself,  in  saying 
nothing  of  such  a  Person  besides  what  all  the  World  knew ! 


Sir  R.  Steele 
1722. 


]  TiCKELL,  EXECUTOR    FOR  AdDISOn's   FAME.   53  T 

except  a  particularity  (and  that  to  his  disadvantage  !)  which 
I,  his  friend  from  a  boy,  don't  know  to  be  true,  to  wit,  that 

he  never  had  a  regular  pulse  "  ! 

As  for  the  facts,  and  considerable  periods  of  his  life  he 
either  knew  nothing  of  them,  or  injudiciously  places  them  in 
a  worse  light  than  that  in  which  they  really  stood. 

When  he  speaks  of  Mr.  Addison's  declining  to  go  into 
Orders,  his  way  of  doing  it  is  to  lament  his  seriousness  and 
modesty  which  might  have  recommended  him,  proved  the 
chief  obstacles  to  it,  tt  seems  these  qualities,  by  which  the  Priesthood 
ts  so  much  adorned,  represented  the  duties  of  it  as  too  weighty  for  him 
and  rendered  him  still  more  worthy  of  that  honour  which  they 
made  him  decline.  These,  you  know  very  well !  were  not  the 
Reasons  which  made  Mr.  Addison  turn  his  thoughts  to  the 
civil  World  ;  and,  as  you  were  the  instrument  of  his  becom- 
ing acquainted  with  my  Lord  Halifax,  I  doubt  not  but  you 
remember  the  warm  instances  that  noble  Lord  made  to  the 
Head  of  the  College,  not  to  insist  upon  Mr.  Addison's  going 
into  Orders.  His  arguments  were  founded  on  the  general 
pravity  [depravity]  and  corruption  of  men  of  business  [public 
men]  who  wanted  liberal  education.  And  I  remember,  as  if 
I  read  the  letter  yesterday,  that  my  Lord  ended  with  a 
compliment,  that  "however  he  might  be  represented  as  no 
friend  to  the  Church,  he  would  never  do  it  any  other  injury 
than  keeping  Mr.  Addison  out  of  it !  " 

The  contention  for  this  man  in  his  early  youth,  among  the 
people  of  greatest  power;  Mr.  Secretary  Tickell,  the 
Lxecutor  for  his  Fame,  is  pleased  to  ascribe  to  "  a  serious 
visage  and  modesty  of  behaviour." 

^  When  a  Writer  is  grossly  and  essentially  faulty,  it  were  a 
jest  to  take  notice  of  a  false  expression  or  a  phrase,  othenvise 
Priesthood  in  that  place,  might  be  observed  upon  ;  as  a  term 
not  used  by  the  real  well-wishers  to  Clergymen,  except  when 
they  would  express  some  solemn  act,  and  not  when  that 
Order  is  spoken  of  as  a  Profession  among  Gentlemen.  I  will 
not  therefore  busy  myself  about  the  "  unconcerning  parts  of 
knowledge,  but  be  content  like  a  reader  of  plain  sense  without 
politeness."  And  since  Mr.  Secretary  will  give  us  no  account 
ot  this  Gentleman,  I  admit  "the  Alps  and  Apennines"  instead 
ot  the  Editor,  to  be  "  Commentators  of  his  Works,"  which, 
as  the  Editor  says,  "  have  raised  a  demand  for  correctness.'' 


532  Affection  of  the  Addison  family  forSteele.P"'^; 

This  "  demand,"  by  the  way,  ought  to  be  more  strong  upon 
those  who  were  mcst  about  him,  and  had  the  greatest  ad- 
vantage of  his  example.  But  as  our  Editor  says,  "  that 
those  who  come  nearest  to  exactness  are  but  too  often  fond 
of  unnatural  beauties,  and  aim  at  something  better  than 
perfection." 

Believe  me.  Sir,  Mr.  Addison's  example  will  carry  no  man 
further  than  that  height  for  which  Nature  capacitated  him  : 
and  the  affectation  of  following  great  men  in  works  above  the 
genius  of  their  imitators,  will  never  rise  farther  than  the  pro- 
duction of  uncommon  and  unsuitable  ornaments  in  a  barren 
discourse,  like  flowers  upon  a  heath,  such  as  the  Author's 
phrase  of  "  something  better  than  perfection." 

But  in  his  Preface,  if  ever  anything  was,  is  that  "  some- 
thing better  :  "  for  it  is  so  extraordinary,  that  we  cannot  say, 
it  is  too  long  or  too  short,  or  deny  but  that  it  is  both.  I 
think  I  abstract  myself  from  all  manner  of  prejudice  when  I 
aver  that  no  man,  though  without  any  obligation  to  Mr. 
Addison,  would  have  represented  him  in  his  family  and  in 
his  friendships,  or  his  personal  character,  so  disadvantageously 
as  his  Secretary  (in  preference  of  whom,  he  incurred  the 
warmest  resentments  of  other  Gentlemen)  has  been  pleased 
to  describe  him  in  those  particulars. 

Mr.  Dean  Addison,  father  of  this  memorable  Man,  left 
behind  him  four  children,  each  of  whom,  for  excellent  talents 
and  singular  preferments,  was  as  much  above  the  ordinary 
World  as  their  brother  Joseph  was  above  them.  Were 
things  of  this  nature  to  be  exposed  to  public  view,  I  could 
shew  under  the  Dean's  own  hand,  in  the  warmest  terms,  his 
blessing  on  the  friendship  between  his  son  and  me  ;  nor  had 
he  a  child  who  did  not  prefer  me  in  the  first  place  of  kindness 
and  esteem,  as  their  father  loved  me  like  one  of  them  :  and  I 
can  with  pleasure  say,  I  never  omitted  any  opportunit}'  of 
shewing  that  zeal  for  their  persons  and  Interests  as  became 
a  Gentleman  and  a  Friend. 

Were  I  now  to  indulge  myself,  I  could  talk  a  great  deal  to 
you,  which  I  am  sure  would  be  entertaining  :  but  as  I  am 
speaking  at  the  same  time  to  all  the  World,  I  consider  it 
would  be  impertinent. 


sirR.steeie.-j  Steele's  SPLENDID  Sketch  of  Addison.  533 

Let  me  then  confine  myself  awhile  to  the  following  Play 
[The  Drinnmer],  which  I  at  first  recommended  to  the  Stage, 
and  carried  to  the  Press. 

No  one  who  reads  the  Preface  which  I  published  with  it, 
will  imagine  I  could  be  induced  to  say  so  much,  as  I  then 
did,  had  I  not  known  the  man  I  best  loved  had  had  a  part  in 
it ;  or  had  I  believed  that  any  other  concerned  had  much 
more  to  do  than  as  an  amanuensis. 

But,  indeed,  had  I  not  known  at  the  time  of  the  transac- 
tion concerning  the  acting  on  the  Stage  and  the  sale  of  the 
Copy;  I  should,  I  think,  have  seen  Mr.  Addison  in  every 
page  of  it  !  For  he  was  above  all  men  in  that  talent  we  call 
Humour;  and  enjoyed  it  in  such  perfection,  that  I  have  often 
reflected,  after  a  night  spent  with  him  apart  from  the  World, 
that  I  had  had  the  pleasure  of  conversing  with  an  intimate 
acquaintance  of  Terence  and  Catullus,  who  had  all  their 
Wit  and  Nature  heightened  with  Humour  more  exquisite 
and  delightful  than  any  other  man  ever  possessed. 

They  who  shall  read  this  Play,  after  being  let  into  the  secret 
that  it  was  written  by  Mr.  Addison  or  under  his  direction, 
will  probably  be  attentive  to  those  excellencies  which  they 
before  overlooked,  and  wonder  they  did  not  till  now  observe 
that  there  is  not  an  expression  in  the  whole  Piece  which  has 
not  in  it  the  most  nice  propriety  and  aptitude  to  the  Character 
which  utters  it.  Here  is  that  smiling  Mirth,  that  delicate 
Satire  and  genteel  Raillery,  which  appeared  in  Mr.  Addison 
when  he  was  free  among  intimates  ;  I  say,  when  he  was  free 
from  his  remarkable  bashfulness,  which  is  a  cloak  that  hides 
and  muffles  merit :  and  his  abilities  were  covered  only  by 
modesty,  which  doubles  the  beauties  which  are  seen,  and  gives 
credit  and  esteem  to  all  that  are  concealed. 

The  Drummer  miade  no  great  figure  on  the  Stage,  though 
exquisitely  well  acted:  but  when  I  observe  this,  I  say  a  much 
harder  thing  of  the  Stage,  than  of  the  Comedy. 

When  I  say  the  Stage  in  this  place,  I  am  understood  to 
mean,  in  general,  the  present  Taste  of  theatrical  representa- 
tions :  where  nothing  that  is  not  violent,  and  as  I  may  say, 
grossly  delightful,  can  come  on,  without  hazard  of  bemg 
condemned  or  slighted. 

It  is  here  republished,  and  recommended  as  a  closet  piece 
[i.e.,for  private  reading],  to  recreate  an  intelligent  mind  in  a 


534    Steele,  an  Aide-de-Camp  to  Addison.   [^''^-^',7':: 

vacant  hour:  for  vacant  the  reader  must  be,  froni  every 
strong  prepossession,  in  order  to  relish  an  entertainment, 
quod  ncqiieo  monstrare  etsentio  tantum,  which  cannot  be  enjoyed 
to  the  degree  it  deserves,  but  by  those  of  the  most  polite 
Taste  among  Scholars,  the  best  Breeding  among  Gentlemen, 
and  the  least  acquainted  with  sensual  Pleasure  among  the 
Ladies. 

The  Editor  [Thomas  Tickell]  is  pleased  to  relate  con- 
cerning Cato,  that  a  Play  under  that  design  was  projected  by 
the  Author  very  early,  and  wholly  laid  aside ;  in  advanced 
years,  he  reassumed  the  same  design  ;  and  many  years  after 
Four  acts  were  finished,  he  wrote  the  Fifth ;  and  brought  it 
upon  the  Stage. 

All  the  Town  knows,  how  officious  I  was  in  bringing  it  on, 
and  you  (that  know  the  Town,  the  Theatre,  and  Mankind 
very  well)  can  judge  how  necessary  it  was,  to  take  measures 
for  making  a  performance  of  that  sort,  excellent  as  it  is,  run 
into  popular  applause. 

I  promised  before  it  was  acted  (and  performed  my  duty  ac- 
cordingly to  the  Author),  that  I  would  bring  together  so  just 
an  audience  on  the  First  Days  of  it,  it  should  be  impossible  for 
the  vulgar  to  put  its  success  or  due  applause  at  any  hazard  : 
but  I  don't  mention  this,  only  to  shew  how  good  an  Aide-de- 
Camp  I  was  to  Mr.  Addison  ;  but  to  shew  also  that  the  Editor 
does  as  much  to  cloud  the  merit  of  this  Work,  as  I  did  to 
set  it  forth. 

Mr.  Tickell's  account  of  its  being  taken  up,  laid  down, 
and  at  last  perfected,  after  such  long  intervals  and  pauses, 
would  make  any  one  believe,  who  did  not  know  Mr.  Addison, 
that  it  was  accomplished  with  the  greatest  pain  and  labour ; 
and  the  issue  rather  of  Learning  and  Industry  than  Capacity 
and  Genius  :  but  I  do  assure  you,  that  never  Play  which  could 
bring  the  author  any  reputation  for  Wit  and  Conduct,  not- 
withstanding it  was  so  long  before  it  was  finished,  employed 
the  Author  so  little  a  time  in  writing. 

If  I  remember  right,  the  Fifth  Act  was  written  in  less  than 
a  week's  time  I  For  this  was  particular  in  this  Writer,  that 
when  he  had  taken  his  resolution,  or  made  his  Plan  for  what 
he  designed  to  write  ;  he  would  walk  about  the  room  and 
dictate  it  into  Language,  with  as  much  freedom  and  ease  as 


Si.  R.  Stede.-j  g^j. j^LE  OFTEN  AN  AMANUENSIS  TO  AdDISON.  535 

any  one  could  write  it  down  :  and  attend  to  the  Coherence 
and  Grammar  of  what  he  dictated. 

I  have  been  often  thus  employed  by  him;  and  never  took 
it  into  my  head,  though  he  only  spoke  it  and  I  took  all  the 
pains  of  throwing  it  upon  paper,  that  I  ought  to  call  myself 
the  Writer  of  it. 

I  will  put  all  my  credit  among  men  of  Wit  for  the  truth  of 
my  averment,  when  I  presume  to  say  that  no  one  but  Mr. 
Addison  was,  in  any  other  way,  the  Writer  of  the  Drummer. 

At  the  same  time,  I  will  allow,  that  he  sent  for  me  (which 
he  could  always  do,  from  his  natural  power  over  me,  as  much 
as  he  could  send  for  any  of  his  clerks  when  he  was  Secretary 
of  State),  and  told  me  that  a  Gentleman  then  in  the  room 
had  written  a  play  that  he  was  sure  I  would  like  ;  but  it  was 
to  be  a  secret :  and  he  knew  I  would  take  as  much  pains, 
since  he  recommended  it,  as  I  would  for  him. 

I  hope  nobody  will  be  wronged  or  think  himself  aggrieved, 
that  I  give  this  rejected  Work  [the  Comedy  o/The  Drummer  not 
included  by  TiCKELL  in  his  collected  edition  of  Addison's  Works] 
where  I  do  :  and  if  a  certain  Gentleman  [T/cxfiLL]  is  injured 
by  it,  I  will  allow  I  have  wronged  him  upon  this  issue ;  that 
if  the  reputed  translator  [Tickell]  of  the  First  Book  of 
Homer  shall  please  to  give  us  another  Book,  there  shall 
appear  another  good  Judge  in  poetry,  besides  Mr.  Alexander 
Pope,  who  shall  like  it ! 


But  I  detain  you  too  long  upon  things  that  a^e  too  personal 
to  myself,  and  will  defer  giving  the  World  a  true  Notion  of 
the  Character  and  Talents  of  Mr.  Addison,  till  I  can  speak 
of  that  amiable  Gentlemen  on  an  occasion  void  of  con- 
troversy. 

I  shall  then  perhaps  say  many  things  of  him  which  will  be 
new  even  to  you,  with  regard  to  him  in  all  parts  of  his 
Character:  for  which  I  was  so  zealous,  that  I  could  not 
be  contented  with  praising  and  adorning  him  as  much  as  lay 
in  my  own  power ;  but  was  ever  soliciting  and  putting  my 
friends  upon  the  same  office. 

And  since  the  Editor  [TiCKELL]  has  adorned  his  heavy 


536Tickell's  attempt  on  Steele's  reputation.  p,t;. 

Discourse  with  Prose  in  rhyme  at  the  end  of  it,  upon  Mr. 
Addison's  death  :  give  me  leave  to  atone  for  this  long  and 
tedious  Epistle,  by  giving  after  it,  what  I  dare  say  you  will 
esteem,  an  excellent  Poem  on  his  marriage  [by  Mr.  Wel- 

STED]. 

I  must  conclude  without  satisfying  as  strong  a  desire,  as 
every  man  had,  of  saying  something  remarkably  handsome  to 
the  Person  to  whom  I  am  writing :  for  you  are  so  good  a 
judge,  that  you  would  find  out  the  Endeavourer  to  be  witty  ! 
and  therefore,  as  I  have  tired  you  and  myself,  I  will  be  con- 
tented with  assuring  you,  which  I  do  very  honestly,  I  would 
rather  have  you  satisfied  with  me  on  this  subject,  than  any 
other  man  living. 

You  will  please  pardon  me,  that  I  have,  thus,  laid  this  nice 
affair  before  a  person  who  has  the  acknowledged  superiority  to 
all  others  ;  not  only  in  the  most  excellent  talents  ;  but  possess- 
ing them  with  an  equanimity, candour,and  benevolence  which 
render  those  advantages  a  pleasure  as  great  to  the  rest  of  the 
World  as  they  can  be  to  the  owner  of  them.  And  since  Fame 
consists  in  the  Opinion  of  wise  and  good  men  :  you  must  not 
blame  me  for  taking  the  readiest  way  to  baffle  any  Attempt 
upon  my  Reputation,  by  an  Address  to  one,  whom  every  wise 
and  good  man  looks  upon,  with  the  greatest  affection  and 
veneration. 
I  am,  Sir, 

Your  most  obliged, 

most  obedient,  and 

most  humble  servant, 

Richard    Steele. 


LAW 

IS  A 

jSottcimle00  ^it 

Exemplified  in  the  CASE  of 

The  Lord  Strutt,  John  Bull, 

Nicholas  Frog,  and  Lewis  Baboon  : 
Who  spent  all  they  had  in  a  Lawsuit. 


Frinted  from  a  Manuscript  found  in  the  Cabinet 
of  the  famous  Sir  Humphry  Polesworth, 


L  0  ND  O  N: 

Printed  for  John  Morphew,  near  Stationers' 
Hall,  I  7  I  2.  Price  3d. 


538 


[The  precise  date  of  the  publication  of  this  First  Part,  is  fixed  by  an 
advertisement  in  No.  14  of  Volume  II.  of  [Swift's]  Examiner^  to  be  the 
28th  February,  1712.] 


539 


THE     CONTENTS. 


Chap.     I.  The  Occasion  of  the  Lawsuit p.  541 

II.  How  Bull  and  Frog  grew  jealous,  that  the 
Lord  Strutt  intended  to  give  all  his  custom 
to  his  grandfather  LEWIS  BABOON     p.  543 

III.  A  copy  of  Bull  and  Frog's  letter  to  Lord 
Strutt p.  543 

IV.  How  Bull  and  Frog  went  to  law  with 
Lord  Strutt  about  the  premisses,  and  were 
joined  by  the  rest  of  the  Tradesmen      p.  544 

V.  The  true  characters  of  John  Bull,  Nic. 

Frog,  and  Hocus      p.  545 

VI.  Of  the  various  success  of  the  Lawsuit p.  546 

VII.  How  John  Bull  was  so  mightily  pleased 
with  his  success,  that  he  was  going  to  leave  off 
his  trade,  and  turn  lawyer    p'  547 


540 


The  Contents. 


r  J.  Arbuthnot,  M  D. 
Lfart  I.  28  Feb.  1712. 


Chap.  VIII.  How  John  discovered  that  Hocus  had  an 
intrigue  with  his  wife,  and  what  followed 
thereupon    p.  548 

IX.  How  Signior  Cavallo,  an  Italian  Quack, 

undertook  to  cure  Mrs.  Bull  of  her  ulcer  ...p.  550 

X.  Of  John  Bull's  second  wife,  and  the  good 

advice  that  she  gave  him    p.  552 

XI.  How  John  looked    over  his    Attorney's 

^ill      P'  553 

XII.  How  John  grew  angry,  resolved  to  accept 
a  Composition;  and  what  methods  were 
practised  by  the  lawyers  for  keeping  him 
f^omit /,.  554 

XIII.  How  the  lawyers  agreed  to  send  Don  DiEGO 
DiSMALLO  the  Conjuror,  to  John  Bull, 
to  dissuade  him  from  making  an  end  of  his 
Lawsuit;  and  what pa^ed  between  them  ...p.  556 


541 


Law  is  a  Bottomless  Pit. 


CHAPTER      I. 

The  Occasion  of  the  Lawsuit, 


Need  not  tell  you  the  great  quarrels  that 
have  happened  in  our  neighbourhood,  since  the 
death  of  the  late  Lord  Strutt  [the  late  King  of 
Spain,  Charles  11. ,  who  died  in  1700J,  how  the 
Parson  [Cardinal  Portocarrero]  and  a  cun- 
ning Attorney  got  him  to  settle  his  estate  upon  his 
cousin  Philip  Baboon  [the  Duke  of  ANyou, 
afterwards  PHILIP  V.],  to  the  great  disappoint- 
ment of  his  cousin,  Esquire  South  [the  Archduke  Charles], 
Some  stick  not  to  say,  that  the  Parson  and  the  Attorney  forged 
a  Will,  for  which  they  were  well  paid  by  the  Family  of  the 
Baboons  [the  House  of  Bourbon],  Let  that  be  as  it  will,  it 
is  matter  of  fact,  that  the  honour  and  estate  have  continued 
ever  since  in  the  person  of  Philip  Baboon. 

You  know  that  the  Lord  Strutts  have,  for  many  years,  been 
possessed  of  a  very  great  landed  estate,  well  conditioned, 
wooded,  watered;  with  coal,  salt,  tin,  copper,  iron,  &c.,  all 
within  themselves :  that  it  has  been  the  misfortune  of  the 
Family,  to  be  the  property  of  their  stewards,  tradesmen,  and 
inferior  servants,  which  has  brought  great  incumbrances 
upon  them  ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  not  abating  of  their 
expensive  way  of  living  has  forced  them  to  mortage  their  best 
manors.  It  is  credibly  reported,  that  the  butcher's  and 
baker's  bills  of  a  Lord  Strutt  that  lived  two  hundred  years 
ago,  are  not  yet  paid. 


542  France  bullying  all  Europe.  [paiit^^teT;,^.* 

When  Philip  Baboon  came  first  to  the  possession  of  the 
Lord  Strutt's  estate,  his  Tradesmen  [the  Allies],  as  is  usual 
upon  such  occasions,  waited  upon  him,  to  wish  him  joy,  and 
to  bespeak  his  custom.  The  two  chief  were  John  Bull 
[the  English]  the  clothier,  and  Nic.  Frog  [the  Dutch]  the  linen 
draper.  They  told  him,  that  "  the  Bulls  and  the  Frogs  had 
served  the  Lord  Strutts  with  drapery  ware  for  many  years, 
that  they  were  honest  and  fair  dealers,  that  their  bills  had 
never  been  questioned,  that  the  Lord  Strutts  lived  gene- 
rously and  never  used  to  dirty  their  fingers  with  pen,  ink, 
and  counters,  that  his  Lordship  might  depend  upon  their 
honesty,  and  they  would  use  him  as  kindly  as  they  had  done 
his  predecessors." 

The  young  Lord  seemed  to  take  all  in  good  part,  and  dis- 
missed with  a  deal  of  seeming  content ;  assuring  them  that 
he  did  not  intend  to  change  any  of  the  honourable  maxims  of 
his  predecessors. 

CHAPTER     II. 

How  Bull  and  Frog  grew  jealous,  that  the  Lord  Strutt 
intended  to  give  all  his  custom  to  his  grandfather  LEWIS 
Baboon. 

T  HAPPENED,  unfortunately  for  the  peace  of  our 
neighbourhood,  that  this  young  Lord  had  an  old 
cunning  rogue,  or,  as  the  Scots  call  it,  a  "false  loon  " 
-^  of  a  grandfather,  that  one  might  justly  call  a  "Jack 
of  all  trades."  Sometimes  you  would  see  him  behind  his 
counter  selling  broadcloth  ;  sometimes,  measuring  linen ; 
next  day  he  would  be  dealing  in  mercery  ware.  High  heads, 
ribbons,  gloves,  fans,  and  lace,  he  understood  to  a  nicety  ; 
Charles  Mather  could  not  bubble  a  young  beau  better 
with  a  toy !  nay,  he  would  descend  even  to  the  selling  of 
tape,  garters,  and  shoebuckles.  When  shop  was  shut  up, 
he  would  go  about  the  neighbourhood,  and  earn  half  a  crown 
by  teaching  the  young  men  and  maids  to  dance.  By  these 
methods  he  had  acquired  immense  riches,  which  he  used  to 
squander  away  at  back-sword,  quarter-staff,  and  cudgel-play, 
in  which  he  took  great  pleasure  ;  and  challenged  all  the 
country. 


Pa{'tl'^"!!'F°eb.^/7i^.]  Parody  OF  THE /".^i^j/Tyo.v  Treaties.  543 

You  will  say  it  is  no  wonder  if  Bull  and  Frog  should  be 
jealous  of  this  fellow. 

"  It  is  not  impossible,"  says  Frog  to  Bull,  "but  this  old 
rogue  will  take  the  management  of  the  young  Lord's  busi- 
ness into  his  hands  ;  besides,  the  rascal  has  good  ware,  and 
will  serve  him  as  cheap  as  anybody,  in  that  case.  I  leave 
you  to  judge,  what  must  become  of  us  and  our  families  !  we 
must  starve,  or  turn  journeymen  to  old  Lewis  Baboon  ! 
therefore,  neighbour,  I  hold  it  advisable  that  we  write  to 
young  Lord  Strutt,  to  know  the  bottom  of  this  matter. 


CHAPTER    III. 

A  copy  of  Bull  and  Frog's  letter  to  Lord  Strutt, 

Lord, 

Suppose  your  Lordship  knows  that  the  Bulls  and 
the  Frogs  have  served  the  Lord  Strutts  with  all 
sorts  of  drapery  ware,  time  out  of  mind;  and  whereas 
we  are  jealous,  not  without  reason,  that  your  Lordship 
intends  henceforth  to  buy  of  your  grandsire,  old  Lewis  Baboon  : 
this  is  to  inform  your  Lordship,  that  this  proceeding  does  not  suit 
with  the  circumstances  of  our  families,  who  have  lived  and  made  a 
good  figure  in  the  World  by  the  generosity  of  the  Lord  Strutts. 
Therefore  we  think  fit  to  acquaint  your  Lordship,  that  you  must  find 
sufficient  security  to  us,  our  heirs  and  assigns,  that  you  will  not 
employ  LEWIS  BABOON,  or  else  we  will  take  our  remedy  at  law,  clap 
an  action  upon  you  of  ^20,000  for  old  debts,  seize  and  destrain  your 
goods  and  chattels;  which,  considering  your  Lordship's  circum- 
stances, will  plunge  you  into  difficulties  from  which  it  will  not  be 
easy  to  extricate  yourself :  therefore  we  hope  when  your  Lordship 
has  better  considered  on  it,  you  will  comply  with  the  desire  of 
Your  loving  friends, 

John    Bull, 
N  I  c.    Frog. 

Some  of  Bull's  friends  advised  him  to  take  gentler  methods 

with  the  young  Lord ;  but  John  naturally  loved  rough  play. 

It  is  impossible  to  express  the  surprise  of  the  Lord  Strutt, 

upon  the  receipt  of  this  letter.     He  was  not  flush  in  "  ready  " 


544  The  Allies  join  England  &  Holland.  [^■an''L"%Tl' 

[money],  either  to  go  to  law  or  to  clear  old  debts ;  neither 
could  he  find  good  bail. 

He  offered  to  bring  matters  to  a  friendly  accommodation  ; 
and  promised,  upon  his  word  of  honour,  that  he  would  not 
change  his  drapers  :  but  all  to  no  purpose,  for  Bull  and 
Frog  saw  clearly  that  old  Lewis  would  have  the  cheating  of 
him  1 

CHAPTER    IV. 

How  Bull  and  Frog  went  to  law  with  Lord  Strutt  about 
the  premisses,  and  were  joined  by  the  rest  of  the  Tradesmen. 

Ll    endeavours   of  accommodation    between   Lord 

Strutt  and  his  drapers   proved  vain.     Jealousies 

increased,  and  indeed  it  was  rumoured  abroad,  that 

the  Lord  Strutt  had  bespoke  his  new  liveries  of 

old  Lewis  Baboon. 

This  coming  to  Mrs.  Bull's  ears,  when  John  Bull  came 
home,  he  found  all  his  family  in  an  uproar.  Mrs.  Bull  [the 
late  Ministry  of  Lord  GoDOLPHiN  and  the  Duke  of  Marl- 
borough], you  must  know,  was  very  apt  to  be  choleric. 

"You  sot!"  says  she,  "you  loiter  about  alehouses  and 
taverns !  spend  your  time  at  billiards,  nine-pins  or  puppet- 
shows  !  or  flaunt  about  the  streets  in  your  new  gilt  chariot ! 
never  minding  me,  nor  your  numerous  family.  Don't  you 
hear  how  Lord  Strutt  has  bespoke  his  liveries  at  Lewis 
Baboon's  shop  !  Don't  you  see  how  that  old  fox  steals 
away  your  customers,  and  turns  you  out  of  your  business 
every  day;  and  you  sit,  like  an  idle  drone,  with  your  hands  in 
your  pockets!  Fie  upon  it !  Up  man  !  rouse  thyself!  I'll 
sell  to  my  shift,  before  I'll  be  so  used  by  that  knave  !  " 

You  must  think  Mrs.  Bull  had  been  pretty  well  tuned 
up  by  Frog  ;  who  chimed  in  with  her  learned  harangue. 

No  further  delay,  now  !  but  to  Counsel  learned  in  the  Law 
they  go!  who  unaminously  assured  them  of  the  justice  and 
infallible  success  of  their  Lawsuit. 

I  told  you  before,  that  old  Lewis  Baboon  was  a  sort  of  a 
"Jack  of  all  trades  "  ;  which  made  the  Tradesmen  jealous,  as 
well  as  Bull  and  Frog.  They  hearing  of  the  quarrel,  were 
glad  of  an  opportunity  of  joining  against  old  Lewis  Baboon, 


Paft'i!"!""':]  The  original  portrait  of  John  Bull.  545 

provided  that  Bull  and  Frog  would  bear  the  charges  of  the 
suit;  even  lying  Ned  the  Chimney-sweeper  [the  Duke  of 
Savoy],  and  Tom  the  Dustman  [the  King  of  Portugal]  put 
in  their  claims  ;  and  the  Cause  [war]  was  put  into  the  hands 
of  Humphry  Hocus  [the  Duke  of  Marlborough]  the 
Attorney  [the  General]. 

A  Declaration  was  drawn  up  to  sheu',  that  BuLL  and  Frog 
had  nndoubted  right  by  prescription  to  be  drapers  to  the  Lord 
Strutts  ;  that  there  were  several  old  contracts  to  that  purpose  ; 
that  Lewis  Baboon  had  taken  up  the  'trade  of  Clothier  and 
Draper,  without  serving  his  time  or  purchasing  his  Freedom  ;  that 
he  sold  goods,  that  were  not  marketable  without  the  stamp  ;  that 
he  himself  was  more  fit  for  a  bully  than  a  tradesman,  and  went 
about  through  all  the  country  fairs,  challenging  people  to  fight 
prizes,  wrestlings  and  cudgel-play.  And  abundance  more  to 
this  purpose. 

CHAPTER    V. 

The  true  characters  of  John  Bull,  Nic.  Frog,  and  Hocus. 

|0r  the  better  understanding  of  the  following  History, 
the  reader  ought  to  know,  that  Bull,  in  the  main, 
was  an  honest,  plain-dealing  fellow,  choleric,  bold, 
and  of  a  very  unconstant  temper.  He  dreaded  not 
old  Lewis  either  at  back-sword,  single  falchion,  or  cudgel- 
play;  but  then  he  was  very  apt  to  quarrel  with  his  best 
friends,  especially  if  they  pretended  to  govern  him.  If  you 
flattered  him,  you  might  lead  him  like  a  child  !  John's 
temper  depended  very  much  upon  the  air ;  his  spirits  rose 
and  fell  with  the  weather-glass.  John  was  quick,  and  under- 
stood his  business  very  well :  but  no  man  alive  was  more 
careless  in  looking  into  his  accounts ;  or  more  cheated  by 
partners,  apprentices,  and  servants.  This  was  occasioned 
by  his  being  a  boon  companion,  loving  his  bottle  and  his 
diversion  :  for,  to  say  truth,  no  man  kept  a  better  house 
than  John,  or  spent  his  money  more  generously.  By  plain 
and  fair  dealing,  John  had  acquired  some  "plumbs"  ;  and 
might  have  kept  them,  had  it  not  been  for  this  unhappy 
Lawsuit. 

Nic.  Frog  was  a  cunning  sly  whoreson,  quite  the  reverse 

£a'g.  Gar.  VI.  otf 


546  Character  of  Duke  of  Marlrorougii.  [kn^L'"^^"': 

of  John  in  many  particulars :  covetous,  frugal,  minded  do- 
mestic affairs:  would  pine  his  belly  to  save  his  pocket;  never 
lost  a  farthing  by  careless  servants  or  bad  debtors.  He  did 
not  care  much  for  any  sort  of  diversions,  except  tricks  of 
High  German  artistes  and  legerdemain.  No  man  exceeded 
Nic.  in  these.  Yet  it  must  be  owned,  that  Nic.  was  a  fair 
dealer  ;  and,  in  that  way,  had  acquired  immense  riches. 

Hocus  [the  Diikc  of  Marlborough]  was  an  old  cunning 
Attorney.  What  he  wanted  of  skill  in  law,  was  made  by  a 
Clerk  which  he  kept  [?],  that  was  the  prettiest  fellow  in  the 
world.  He  loved  mone}',  was  smooth-tongued,  gave  good 
words,  and  seldom  lost  his  temper.  He  was  not  "  worse 
than  an  Infidel  "  ;  for  he  provided  plentifully  for  his  family  : 
but  he  loved  himself  better  than  them  all.  He  had  a  terma- 
gant wife  [the  Duchess  of  Marlborough],  and,  as  the  neigh- 
bours said,  "was  plaguy  henpecked!"  He  was  seldom 
observed,  as  some  Attorneys  will  practise,  to  give  his  own 
personal  evidence  in  causes:  he  rather  chose  to  do  it  per  test, 
conduct.  In  a  word,  the  man  was  very  well  for  an  Attorney 
[General]. 

CHAPTER    VI. 

Of  the  various  siicccss  of  the  Lawsuit. 

|Aw  is  a  bottomless  pit !    It  is  a  cormorant,  a  harpy 

that  devours  everything  !  " 

John  Bull  was  flattered  by  his  lawyers  that 

his  suit  would  not  last  above  a  year  or  two,  at 
most ;  that  before  that  time  he  would  be  in  quiet  possession 
of  his  business;  yet  ten  long  years  did  Hocus  steer  his  Cause 
[the  war]  through  all  the  meanders  of  the  Law,  and  all  the 
Courts:  no  skill,  no  address  was  wanting.  And,  to  say 
truth,  John  did  not  starve  the  cause.  There  wanted  not 
"  yellow  boys  "  to  fee  Counsel,  hire  witnesses,  and  bribe 
juries.  Lord  Strutt  was  generally  cast,  never  had  one 
verdict  [victory]  in  his  favour :  and  John  was  promised,  that 
the  Next,  and  the  Next,  would  be  the  final  Determination.  But, 
alas,  that  final  Determination  and  happy  conclusion  were 
like  an  enchanted  island :  the  nearer  John  came  to  it,  the 
further  it  went  from  him.  New  trials  upon  new  points  still 
arose!  new  doubts,  new  matters  to  be  cleared!     In  short, 


ptnL^^fJ  EnCxLisii  victories  &  French  prostration. 547 

lawyers  seldom  part  with  so  good  a  cause,  till  they  have  got 
the  oyster,  and  their  clients  the  shell. 

John's  ready  money,  book  debts,  bonds,  mortgages,  all 
went  into  the  lawyers'  pockets.  Then  John  began  to  borrow 
money  on  Bank  Stock,  East  India  Bonds:  and  now  and  then  a 
farm  went  to  pot. 

At  last,  it  was  thought  a  good  expedient  to  set  up  Squire 
South's  [Archduke  Charles']  title,  to  prove  the  Will  forged, 
and  dispossess  Philip,  Lord  Strutt,  at  once.  Here  again 
was  a  new  field  for  the  lawyers  !  and  the  Cause  grew  more 
intricate  than  ever.  John  grew  madder  and  madder.  Wher- 
ever he  met  any  of  Lord  Strutt's  servants,  he  tore  off  their 
clothes.  Now  and  then,  you  would  see  them  come  home 
naked,  without  shoes,  stockings,  and  linen. 

As  for  old  Lewis  Baboon,  he  was  reduced  to  his  last  shift, 
though  he  had  as  many  as  any  other.  His  children  were 
reduced  from  rich  silks  to  doily  stuffs.  His  servants  were  in 
rags  and  barefooted  :  instead  of  good  victuals,  they  now  lived 
upon  neck  beef  and  bullock's  liver.  In  short,  nobody  got 
much  by  the  matter,  but  the  men  of  law. 


CHAPTER     VII. 

How  John  Bull  was  so  mightily  pleased  with  his  success, 
that  he  was  going  to  leave  off  his  trade,  and  tnrn  lawyer. 

T  IS  wisely  observed  by  a  great  philosopher,  that 
"  habit  is  a  second  nature."  This  was  verified  in  the 
case  of  John  Bull,  who,  from  an  honest  and  plain 
tradesman,  had  got  such  a  haunt  about  the  Courts 
of  Justice,  and  such  a  jargon  of  law  words,  that  he  concluded 
himself  as  able  a  lawyer  as  any  that  pleaded  at  the  bar,  or 
sat  on  the  bench. 

He  was  overheard,  one  day,  talking  to  himself  after  this 
manner.  "  How  capriciously  does  Fate  or  Chance  dispose 
of  mankind  !  How  seldom  is  that  business  allotted  to  a  man 
for  which  he  is  fitted  by  Nature  !  It  is  plain  I  was  intended 
for  a  man  of  law  !  How  did  my  guardians  mistake  my  genius, 
in  placing  me,  like  a  mean  slave,  behind  a  counter !  Bless 
me  !  what  immense  estates  these  fellows  raise  by  the  Law  ! 
besides,  it  is  the  profession  of  a  Gentleman.    What  a  pleasure 


548  The  Dutch  more  prudent  ix  the  war.  [l;^^,'\ 


bulhnrit. 
712. 


it  is  to  be  victorious  in  a  cause  !  to  swagger  at  the  bar ! 
What  a  fool  am  I  to  drudge  any  more  in  this  woollen  trade  ! 
for  a  lawyer  I  was  born,  and  a  lawyer  I  will  be !  One  is 
never  too  old  to  learn  !  " 

All  this  while,  John  had  conned  over  such  a  catalogue  of 
hard  words,  as  were  enough  to  conjure  up  the  Devil.  These 
he  used  to  l3ubble  indifferently  in  all  companies,  especially  at 
coffeehouses;  so  that  his  neighbour  tradesmen  began  to  shun 
his  company,  as  a  man  that  was  cracked.  Instead  of  the 
affairs  of  Blackwall  Hall,  and  price  of  broad  cloth,  wool, 
bayes ;  he  talked  of  nothing  but  "Actions  upon  the  Case, 
Returns,  Capias,  Alias  capias,  Demurrers,  Venire  facias. 
Replevins,  Supersedeas,  Certioraris,  Writs  of  Error,  Actions 
of  Trover  and  Conversion,  Trespasses,  Precipes  et  Dedimus.'* 

This  was  matter  of  jest  to  the  learned  in  law.  However, 
Hocus  and  the  rest  of  the  tribe,  encouraged  John  in  his 
fancy  :  assuring  him,  that  he  had  a  great  genius  for  law  ;  that 
they  questioned  not  but,  in  time,  he  might  raise  money  enough 
by  it,  to  reimburse  him  of  all  his  charges;  that  if  he  studied, 
he  would  undoubtedly  arrive  to  the  dignity  of  a  Lord  Chief 
Justice.  As  for  the  advice  of  honest  friends  and  neighbours, 
John  despised  it.  He  looked  upon  them  as  fellows  of  a  low 
genius;  poor  grovelling  mechanics!  John  reckoned  it  more 
honour  to  have  got  one  favourable  verdict,  than  to  have  sold 
a  bale  of  broad  cloth. 

As  for  Nic.  Frog,  to  say  the  truth,  he  was  more  prudent : 
for  though  he  followed  his  Lawsuit  closely,  he  neglected  not 
his  ordinary  business  ;  but  was  both  in  Court  and  in  his  shop 
at  the  proper  hours. 


CHAPTER    VII  L 

How  John  discovered  that  Hocus  had  an  intrigue  with  his 
wife,  and  what  followed  thereupon. 

JJOhn  had  not  run  on  a  madding  so  long,  had  it  not 
been  for  an  extravagant  wife  [tlie  Administration  of 
Lord  GoDOLPHiN],  whom  Hocus  perceiving  John 
to  be  fond  of,  was  resolved  to  win  over  to  his  side. 
It  was  observed  by  all  the  neighbourhood,  that  Hocus  had 


J.   Arbuthnot. 
Parti 


i7°2'.]TORY  DESCRIPTION  OF  aWiIIG  GOVERNMENT.  549 


dealings  with  John's  wife,  that  were  not  so  much  for  his 
honour  :  but  this  was  perceived  by  John  a  little  too  late. 

She  was  a  luxurious  jade,  loved  splendid  equipages,  plays, 
treats,  and  balls  ;  differing  very  much  from  the  sober  manners 
of  her  ancestors,  and  by  no  means  fit  for  a  tradesman's  wife. 
Hocus  fed  her  extravagancy,  and,  what  was  still  more 
shameful,  with  John's  own  money  !  It  is  matter  of  fact, 
that  upon  all  occasions,  she  ran  out  extravagantly  on  the 
praise  of  Hocus.  When  John  used  to  be  finding  fault  with 
his  bills,  she  used  to  reproach  him  as  ungrateful  to  his 
greatest  benefactor  !  one  that  had  taken  so  much  pains  in  his 
Lawsuit,  and  retrieved  his  Family  from  the  oppression  of  old 
Lewis  Baboon. 

A  good  swinging  sum  of  John's  readiest  cash  went  towards 
building  of  Hocus's  country-house  \tlic  Vote  for  the  buildin<^  of 
Blenheiui].  This  affair  between  Hocus  and  Mrs.  Bull  was 
so  open,  that  all  the  world  were  scandalized  at  it.  John  was 
not  so  clodpated,  but  at  last  he  took  the  hint. 

The  Parson  of  the  parish  [Doctor  Sacheverel]  preaching 
one  day,  a  little  sharply  against  adultery  [Resistance  to  Kiiis^s], 
Mrs.  Bull  told  her  husband,  that  "  he  was  a  very  uncivil 
fellow  to  use  such  coarse  language  before  People  of  Condi- 
tion ;  "  that  "  Hocus  was  of  the  same  mind,  and  that  they 
would  join,  to  have  him  turned  out  of  his  living,  for  using 
personal  reflections." 

"  How  do  you  mean,"'  says  John,  "  by  personal  reflec- 
tions ?     I  hope  in  God,  wife,  he  did  not  reflect  on  you  !  " 

"  No,  thank  God  !  my  reputation  is  too  well  established 
in  the  world,  to  receive  any  hurt  from  such  a  foul-mouthed 
scoundrel  as  he  !  His  doctrine  tends  only  to  m.ake  husbands 
[Sovereigns],  tyrants;  and  wives  [Nations],  slaves.  Must  we 
be  shut  up,  and  husbands  left  to  their  liberty  ?  Very  pretty, 
indeed  !  A  wife  must  never  go  abroad  with  a  Platonic  to  see 
a  play  or  a  ball !  she  must  never  stir  without  her  husband,  nor 
walk  in  Spring  Gardens  with  a  cousin!  I  do  say,  husband  ! 
and  I  will  stand  by  it,  that  without  the  innocent  freedoms  of 
life,  matrimony  would  be  a  most  intolerable  state  !  and  that 
a  wife's  virtue  ought  to  be  the  result  of  her  own  reason,  and 
not  of  her  husband's  government.  For  my  part,  I  would 
scorn  a  husband  that  would  be  jealous  !  " 

All  this  while,  John's  blood  boiled  in  his  veins.     He  was 


550  Shrewsbury  tries  to  s.-we  the  Whigs,   [kft'l^'ijxt 

now  confirmed  in  his  suspicions.  Jade  was  the  best  word 
that  John  gave  her. 

Things  went  from  better  to  worse,  until  Mrs.  Bull  aimed 
a  knife  at  John  ;  though  John  threw  a  bottle  at  her  head  very 
brutally  indeed.  After  this,  there  was  nothing  but  confusion. 
Bottles,  glasses,  spoons,  plates,  knives,  forks,  and  dishes  f^evv 
about  like  dust.  The  result  of  which  was,  that  Mrs.  Bull 
received  a  bruise  in  her  right  side,  of  which  she  died  half  a 
year  after  [the  fall  of  Lord  Godolphin's  Administration,  aboitt 
six  months  after  the  trial  of  Doctor  Sacheverel  in  March, 
1710]. 

The  bruise  imposthumated,  and  afterwards  turned  into 
an  ulcer,  which  made  everybody  shy  to  come  near  her,  she 
smelt  so ;  yet  she  wanted  not  the  help  of  many  able 
physicians,  who  attended  very  diligently,  and  did  what  men 
of  skill  could  do  :  but  all  to  no  purpose,  for  her  condition 
was  now  quite  desperate ;  all  regular  physicians  and  her 
nearest  relations  having  given  her  over. 


CHAPTERIX. 

How  Si'^nior  Cavallo,  an  Italian  Quack,  undertook  to  cure 
Mrs.  Bull  of  her  ulcer. 

H  liRE  is  nothing  so  impossible  in  Nature,  but  mounte- 
banks will  undertake ;  nothing  so  incredible,  but 
they  will  affirm.  Mrs.  Bull's  condition  was  looked 
upon  as  desperate  by  all  Men  of  Art.  Then  Signior 
Cavallo  [the  Duke  of  Shrewsbury]  judged  it  was  high 
time  for  him  to  interpose.  He  bragged  that  he  had  an 
infallible  ointment  and  plaster,  which,  being  applied  to  the 
sore,  would  cure  it  in  a  few  days  ;  at  the  same  time,  he  would 
give  her  a  pill  that  would  purge  off  all  her  bad  humours, 
sweeten  her  blood,  and  rectify  her  disturbed  imagination. 

In  spite  of  all  Signior  Cavallo's  applications,  the  patient 
grew  worse.  Every  day  she  stank  so,  that  nobody  durst 
come  witbin  a  stone's  throw  of  her;  except  Signior  Cavallo 
and  his  wife,  whom  he  sent  every  day  to  dress  her,  she  having 
a  very  gentle,  soft  hand.  x\.ll  this  while,  Signior  apprehended 
no  danger. 


Paft''i!"i7"2:]  Whig  legacies:  War,  Discord,  I  interest.  551 

If  one  asked  him,  "  How  Mrs.  Bull  did  ?  " 

"  Better  and  better  !  "  says  Signior  Cavallo  ;  the  **  parts 
heal  and  her  constitution  mends.  If  she  submits  to  my 
Government,  she  will  be  abroad  in  a  little  time." 

Nay,  it  is  reported  that  he  wrote  to  his  friends  in  the 
country  that  "  she  should  dance  a  jig  [meet  the  Parliament] 
next  October,  in  Westminster  Hall !  that  her  illness  had 
been  chiefly  owing  to  bad  physicians." 

At  last,  Signior,  one  day,  was  sent  for  in  great  haste,  his 
patient  growing  worse  and  worse. 

When  he  came,  he  affirmed  that  "  it  was  a  gross  mistake, 
that  she  was  never  in  a  fairer  way.  Bring  hither  the  salve," 
says  he,  "  and  give  her  a  plentiful  draught  of  my  cordial !  " 

As  he  was  applying  his  ointments,  and  administering  the 
cordial,  the  patient  gave  up  the  ghost :  to  the  confusion  of 
Signior  Cavallo,  and  the  great  joy  of  Bull  and  his  friends. 
Signior  flang  away  out  of  the  house  in  great  disorder,  and 
swore  there  was  foul  play,  for  he  was  sure  that  his  medicines 
were  infallible. 

Mrs.  Bull  having  died  without  any  signs  of  repentance  or 
devotion,  the  Clergy  would  hardly  allow  her  Christian  burial. 

The  Relations  had  once  resolved  to  sue  John  for  murder: 
but  considering  better  of  it,  and  that  such  a  trial  would  rip 
up  old  sores,  and  discover  things  not  so  much  to  the  reputa- 
tion of  the  deceased  ;  they  dropped  their  design. 

She  left  no  Will :  only  there  was  found  in  her  strong  box 
the  following  words  written  on  a  scrip  of  paper.  "  My  curse 
on  John  Bull  and  all  my  posterity,  if  ever  they  come  to  any 
Composition  with  my  Lord  Strutt  !  " 

There  were  many  epitaphs  written  upon  her.  One  was  as 
follows ; 

Here  lies  John's  ivifc, 
Plague  of  his  life  ! 
She  spent  his  ivealth  ! 
She  wronged  his  health  ! 
And  left  him  datightcrs  three 
As  bad  as  She  ! 

The  daughters'  names  were  Polemia  [War],  Discordia 
[Discord],  and  UsUKiA  [High  rate  of  Interest]. 


;52    A   COMPLIMENT  TO  OuEEN  AnNE.  [pi;t  L^'^^sTcb 


Arbiithnot,  ftl.D. 

712. 


CHAPTER    X. 

Of  John  Bull's  second  wife,  and  the  f^ood  advice  thai  she 

I. 

|OnN  quickly  got  the  better  of  his  grief,  and  it  being 
that  neither  his  constitution,  nor  the  affairs  of  his 
Family  could  permit  him  to  live  in  an  unmarried 
state  :  he  resolved  to  get  him  another  wife. 
A  cousin  of  his  last  wife  was  proposed ;  but  he  would 
have  no  more  of  that  breed !  In  short,  he  wedded  a  sober 
Country  Gentlewoman,  of  a  good  family,  and  plentiful  fortune 
[Qnccii  Anne]:  the  reverse  of  the  other  in  her  temper.  Not 
but  that  she  loved  money,  for  she  was  of  a  saving  temper ;  and 
applied  her  fortune  to  pay  John's  clamorous  debts,  that  the 
unfrugal  methods  of  his  last  wife,  and  this  ruinous  Lawsuit 
had  brought  him  into. 

One  day,  as  she  had  got  her  husband  into  a  good  humour, 
she  talked  to  him  after  the  following  manner:  "My  Dear! 
since  I  have  been  your  wife,  I  have  observed  great  abuses  and 
disorders  in  your  Family.  Your  servants  are  mutinous  and 
quarrelsome,  and  cheat  you  most  abominably.  Your  cook- 
maid  is  in  a  combination  with  your  butcher,  poulterer,  and 
fishmonger.  Your  butler  purloins  your  liquor,  and  your 
brewer  sells  you  hogwash.  Your  baker  cheats,  both  in  weight 
and  tale  [niujibcr].  Even  your  milk-woman  and  your  nursery- 
maid have  a  fellow  feeling.  Your  tailor,  instead  of  shreds, 
cabbages  [steals]  whole  yards  of  cloth.  Besides,  having  such 
long  scores,  and  not  going  to  market  for  ready  money,  forces 
us  to  take  bad  ware  of  the  Tradesmen,  at  their  own  price. 
You  have  not  posted  your  books  these  ten  years.  [Lord 
(tODULPHIN  carrying  War  Credits  over  from  year  to  year,  during 
the  period  of  his  Administration.]  How  is  it  possible  for  a 
man  of  business  to  keep  his  affairs  even  in  the  World,  at  this 
rate?  Pray  God,  this  Hocus  be  honest!  Would  to  God, 
you  would  look  over  his  bills,  and  see  how  matters  stand 
l)etween  Frog  and  you  !  Prodigious  sums  are  spent  in  this 
Lawsuit,  and  more  must  be  borrowed  of  scriveners  and 
usurers,  at  heavy  interest.  Besides,  my  Dear!  let  me  beg  of 
you  to  lay  aside  that  wild  project,  of  leaving  your  business  to 
turn  lawyer :    for   which,    let   me   tell    you,    Nature    never 


j.Arbuthnot, M.D.-i  TOTALLING  UP  THE  War  Credits.  553 

Part  I.     28  Feb.  1712  J  ' 

desi-ned  you.     Believe  me,  these  rogues  do  but  flatter,  that 

"^flThetd  ^aU-thirwhilelwith  paHence,  tiH  she  pricUed 

his  ma--ot,  and  touched  him  m  the  tender  pomt.  Then,  he 
b  okTSSfinto  a  violent  passion,  "What.  I  not  fit  for  a 
iavvyer'  Let  me  tell  you,  my  dodpated  relations  spoilt  the 
T^liest  genius  in  the  World,  when  they  bijd  me  a  mechanic  ! 
S  Strutt  and  his  old  rogue  of  a  grandsire  have  found  to 
their  cost  that  I  can  manage  a  Lawsuit  as  well  as  any  othei . 

'!  I  do  not  deny  what  yoSsay,"  says  Mrs.  Bull,  "  nor  do  I 
call  n  question  /our  parts ;  but  I  say  it  does  not  suit  with  your 
drcum?tances.   You  and  your  predecessors  have  lived  in  good 

put"  ion  among  your  neighbours  by  this  -me  c  o  h. 
trade-  and  it  were  madness  to  leave  it  off  1  Besides,  there 
are  few  that  know  all  the  tricks  and  cheats  of  these  lawyers. 
Does  no  your  own  experience  teach  you,  how  they  have 
drawn  vou  on  from  one  Term  to  another ;  and  how  you  have 
dan  ed  the  round  of  all  the  Courts,  still  flattering  you  with 
a  final  issue:  and.  for  aught  I  can  see,  your  Cause  is  not  a 
hit  clearer  than  it  was  seven  years  ago. 

"  rU  be  hanged,"  says  John,  "if  I  accept  of  any  Com- 
nosition  ivom  S?rutt,  or  his  Grandfather !  I'll  rather  whee 
^bou  t^ie  streets  an  engine  to  grind  knives  and  scissors ! 
However,  I  will  take  your  advice,  and  look  over  my  accounts. 

CHAPTER    XI. 

How  John  looked  over  his  Attorney's  hill. 
Hfn    Tohn    first   brought   out    the    bills    [the    War 
Credit,  the  surprise  of  all  the  Family  was  unex- 

pressible.  at  the  prodigious  di"^^,"^^°,?,%°f;t\T  bale 
.  short,  they  would  have  measured  with  the  best  bale 

of  cloth    n  JoHN's%hop.      Fees  to  Judges,  putsue  Judges 
Clerks,  Protolotaries.  Philizers,  Chirographers  Under  Cl^ 
Proclamators,  Counsel,  Witnesses,  J^^^men    Marshals    ip 
staffs,  Cryers,  Porters  ;  for  enrollings  exempl  ficat.ons,  bads 
vou-hers    returns,    caveats,    examinations,   filings   ot    woias, 
InU-ies     decla^-ations,    replications,   recordats,    nolle  proseqms, 
^^ar^mUtrurus,  demurrers,  special  verdicts,  ^formations 
scire  i!tc^as,  supersedeas,  Habeas  Corpus,  coach  hire,  treating  of 
witnesses,  &c. 


554  The  Queen  calls  in  Lord  Oxford.  [pJit'^'s'^l'/;?^: 

"  Verily,"  says  John,  "  there  are  a  prodigious  number  of 
learned  words  in  this  Law  ;  what  a  pretty  science  it  is  !  " 

"Ay,  but  husband!  you  have  paid  for  every  syllable  and 
letter  of  these  fine  words  !  Bless  me  !  what  immense  sums 
are  at  the  bottom  of  the  account  !  " 

John  spent  several  weeks  in  looking  over  his  bills,  and  by 
comparing  and  stating  his  accounts,  he  discovered  that, 
besides  the  extravagance  of  every  article,  he  had  been 
egregiously  cheated  ;  that  he  had  paid  for  Counsel  that  were 
never  fee-ed,  for  Writs  that  were  never  drawn,  for  dinners 
that  were  never  dressed,  and  journeys  that  were  never  made. 

In  short,  that  Hocus  and  Frog  had  agreed  to  throw  the 
burden  of  the  Lawsuit  upon  his  shoulders. 

CHAPTER    XII. 

How  John  grew  angry,  resolved  to  accept  a  Composition  ;  and 
what  methods  were  practised  by  the  lawyers  for  keeping  him  from  it. 

Ell  might  the  learned  Daniel  Burgess  say,  that 
*'  a  Lawsuit  is  a  suit  for  life  !  "  He  that  sows  his 
grain  upon  marble,  will  have  many  a  hungry  belly 
before  harvest.  This  John  felt,  by  woful  experience. 
John's  Cause  was  a  good  milch  cow ;  and  many  a  man 
subsisted  his  family  out  of  it. 

However  John  began  to  think  it  high  time  to  look  about 
him.  He  had  a  cousin  in  the  country,  one  Sir  Roger  Bold 
[Robert  Harley,  Earl  of  Oxford];  whose  predecessors 
had  been  bred  up  to  the  law,  and  knew  as  much  of  it  as 
anybody ;  but  having  left  off  the  profession  for  some  time, 
they  took  great  pleasure  in  compounding  lawsuits  amongst 
their  neighbours :  for  which,  they  were  the  aversion  of  the 
Gentlemen  of  the  Long  Robe,  and  at  perpetual  war  with  all 
the  country  attorneys. 

John  put  his  Case  in  Sir  Roger's  hands,  desiring  him  to 
make  the  best  of  it- 

The  news  had  no  sooner  reached  the  ears  of  the  lawyers, 
but  they  were  all  in  an  uproar.  They  brought  all  the  rest  of 
the  Tradesmen  [the  Allies]  upon  John.  Squire  South  [ArcJi- 
duke  Charles]  swore  he  was  betrayed,  that  he  would  starve 
before  he  compounded.  Frog  said  he  was  highly  wronged. 
Even  Ned  the  Chimney-sweeper  [Duke  of  Savoy]  and  Tom 


pafu.^'iril:]  Portrait  of  Duchess  of  Marlborough.  555 

the   Dustman   [King  of  PORTUGAL]  complained  that  their 
Interest  was  sacrificed. 

As  for  Hocus's  wife  [the  Duchess  of  Marlborough],  she 
took  a  hackney  chair,  and  came  to  John's  house  immediately; 
and  fell  a  scolding  at  his  wife  [Queen  Anne],  like  the 
mother  of  Beelzebub  !  "  You  silly,  awkward,  ill-bred, 
country  sow,  you  !  Have  you  no  more  manners  than  to  rail 
at  my  husband,  that  has  saved  that  clodpated,  numskulled, 
ninny-hammer  of  yours  from  ruin,  and  all  his  Family  !  It  is 
well  known  how  he  has  risen  early,  and  sat  up  late  to  make 
him  easy  ;  when  he  was  sotting  at  every  alehouse  in  the  town  ! 
I  knew  his  last  wife !  She  was  a  woman  of  breeding,  good- 
humour,  and  complaisance  !  knew  how  to  live  in  the  world ; 
but  as  for  you,  you  look  like  a  puppet  moved  by  clockwork ! 
Your  clothes  hang  upon  you  as  if  they  were  upon  tenter- 
hooks ;  and  you  come  into  a  room  as  if  you  were  going  to 
steal  something !  Get  you  gone  into  the  country,  to  look 
after  your  mother's  poultry,  to  milk  the  cows,  churn  the 
butter,  and  dress  up  nosegays  for  a  holiday!  and  meddle  not 
with  matters  that  you  know  no  more  of,  than  the  signpost 
before  your  door !  It  is  well  known  that  my  husband  has 
an  established  reputation  !  He  never  swore  an  oath,  nor 
told  a  lie  in  all  his  life!  He  is  grateful  to  his  benefactors, 
faithful  to  his  friends,  liberal  to  his  dependents,  and  dutiful 
to  his  superiors  !  He  values  not  your  money  more  than  the 
dust  under  his  feet ;  but  he  hates  to  be  abused!  Once  for 
all,  Mrs.  Mynx  !  leave  off  talking  of  my  husband,  or  I  will 
put  out  these  saucer  eyes  of  yours  !  and  make  that  red 
streaked  country  face  look  as  raw  as  an  ox-cheek  upon  a 
butcher's  stall !  Remember,  I  say,  that  there  are  pillories 
and  ducking  stools  !  "  With  this,  away  she  flang  ;  leaving 
Mrs.  Bull  no  time  to  reply. 

No  stone  was  left  unturned  to  fright  John  from  this  Com- 
position [the  Peace,  finally  settled  by  the  treaties  signed  at  Utrecht, 
on  the  315^  March  of  the  next  year  after  this  tract].  Some- 
times they  spread  reports  at  the  coffeehouses,  that  John  and 
his  wife  had  run  mad !  that  they  intended  to  give  up  house, 
and  make  over  all  their  estate  to  old  Lewis  Baboon  !  that 
John  had  been  often  heard  talking  to  himself,  and  seen  in  the 
streets  without  shoes  or  stockings  !  that  he  did  nothing,  from 
morning  to  night,  but  beat  his  servants  ;  after  having  been 
the  best  master  alive  !  As  for  his  wife,  she  was  a  mere  natural ! 


556  Lord  Nottingham  accused  of  trimming.  [i;,f;l':'%"°^: 

Sometimes  John's  house  was  beset  with  a  whole  regiment 
of  Attorneys'  clerks,  bailiffs  and  bailiffs'  followers,  and  other 
small  retainers  of  the  law  ;  who  threw  stones  at  his  windows, 
and  dirt  at  himself  as  he  went  along  the  street. 

When  John  complained  of  want  of  ready  money  to  carry  on 
his  Suit ;  they  advised  him  to  pawn  his  plate  and  jewels,  and 
that  Mrs.  Bull  should  sell  her  linen  and  wearing  clothes  1 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

How  the  lawyers  agreed  to  send  Don  DiEGO  Dismallo  the 
Conjuror,  to  JoHN  Bull,  to  dissuade  him  from  making  an  end 
of  his  Lawsuit;  and  what  passed  between  them. 

Bull    iF^S^^^^  ^°^^  "^y  ^^^^  friend  Don  Diego  [Daniel 
Finch,  Earl  of  Nottingham]  ? 

Don.  Never  worse !      Who  can  be  easy, 
when  their  friends  are  playing  the  fool  ? 

Bull.  But  then  you  may  be  easy,  for  I  am  resolved  to 
play  the  fool  no  longer  1  I  wish  I  had  hearkened  to  your 
advice,  and  compounded  this  Lawsuit  sooner. 

Don.  It  is  true,  I  was  then  against  the  ruinous  ways  of 
this  Lawsuit ;  but  looking  over  my  Scheme  since,  I  find  there 
is  an  error  in  my  calculation.  Sol  and  Jupiter  were  in  a 
wrong  House,  but  I  have  now  discovered  their  true  places. 
I  tell  you  I  find  that  the  stars  are  unanimously  of  opinion, 
that  you  will  be  successful  in  this  Cause,  that  Lewis  will 
come  to  an  untimely  end,  and  Stkutt  will  be  turned  out  of 
doors  by  his  wife  and  children. 

[The  Satire  here  is  against  Lord  NOTTINGHAM  ;  and  the  Party 
of  the  HigJi  Flyers  or  the  Warm  Gentlemen,  of  which  he  was  one  of 
the  leaders.  He  had,  while  Secretary  of  State,  in  1703,  brought 
Defoe  to  the  Pillory :  see  Vol.  VIL] 

Then  he  went  on  with  a  torrent  of  ecliptics,  cycles, 
epicycles,  ascendants,  trines,  quadrants,  conjunctions.  Bulls, 
Bears,  Goats,  Rams,  and  abundance  of  hard  words ;  which 
being  put  together,  signified  nothing.  John,  all  this  while, 
stood  gaping  and  staring,  like  a  man  in  a  trance. 

FINIS. 


JOHN  BULL 

in  his  SENSES: 

BEING    THE 

SECOND    PART 

OF 

Law  is  a  Bottomless  Pit. 


Printed  from  a  Manuscript  found  in  the  Cabinet 
of  the  famous  Sir  Humphry  Polesworth. 


LONDON, 
Printed  for  John  Morphew,  near  Stationers' 
Hall,  I  7  I  2.  Price  3d. 


558 


[It  appears  by  an  advertisement  in  No.  1 6,  of  Volume  II.  of  the  Examiner, 
that  the  Second  Edition  of  Part  I.  was  pubhshed  on  the  13th  March,  171 2. 
That  edition  contains  the  following  announcement. 

On  Tuesday  next  will  be  Publish'd, 
yoHN  Bull  in  his  Senses:  Being  the 
Second  Part  of  Law  is  a  Bottomless  Pit. 

This   fixes   the   first  appearance  of  Part   II.  to  be   on  Tuesday,  iSth 
March,  17 12.] 


559 


THE     CONTENTS. 


Chap.  I.  Mrs.  Bull's  Vindication  of  the  indispensable 
duty  of  cnckoldom  [Resistance  to  Arbitrary 
Power]  incumbent  upon  wives  [Nations]  in 
case  of  tyranny,  infidelity,  or  insufficiency 
of  Imsbands  [Sovereigns]  ;  being  a  full 
Answer  to  the  Doctor's  [Sacheverel] 
Sermon  against  Adidtery  [Resistance  to 
Arbitrary  Power]         ^- 5^- 

II.  The  two  great  parties  of  Wives,  the  Devotoes 

[High  Church]  and  the  Hitts  [Low  Church]  p.  563 

III.  An  account  of  the  Conference  between  Mrs. 
Bull    [Queen    Anne]   and    Don    Diego 

Z)/Sii/^LLO  [Lord  Nottingham]       /"•  564 

The   Articles   of  Agreement   between   John 

Bull  and  Nicholas  Frog      p.  567 

Nicholas  Frog's  letter  to  Lewis  Baboon, 
Master  of  the  noble  Science  of  Defence p.  568 


;6o 


The  Contents. 


r        J.  Arbmhnot,  M.D. 
L  Pan  II.     i8  Mar.  1712. 


CiiAP.  IV.  Hoiv  the  Guardians  of  the  deceased  Mrs. 
Bull's  three  daughters,  came  to  John  Bull, 
and  what  advice  they  gave  him;  wherein  is 
briefly   treated    the    characters   of   the    three 

daughters        P' 57^ 

Also    John    Bull's    answer    to   the   three 
Guardians      P- 573 

V.  Esquire  South' s  message  and  letter  to  Mrs. 

Bull     />.  575 


56i 


John  Bull  in  his  Senses. 

CHAPTER    I  . 

Mr^.  Bull's  Vindication  of  the  indispensable  duty  of  cnckol- 
dom  [Resistance  to  Arbitrary  Power]  incumbent  upon  wives 
[Nations]  in  case  of  tyranny,  infidelity,  or  insufficiency  of 
husbands  [Sovereigns]  :  being  a  full  Answer  to  the  Doctor's 
[Sacheverel]  Sermon  against  Adultery  [Resistance  to  Arbi- 
trary Power]. 

Ohn  found  daily  fresh  proofs  of  the  infidehty 
and  bad  designs  of  his  deceased  wife.  Amongst 
other  things,  one  day,  looking  over  his  Cabi- 
net, he  found  the  following  paper  : 


It  is  evident  that  Matrimony  [Government 
in  a  State]  is  founded  upon  an  Original  Contract 
[see  Vol.  VII.  p.539],  Wim'6j'  the  wife  makes  over 
the  Right  she  has  by  the  Law  of  Nature,  in  favour  of  the  husband, 
by  which  he  acquires  the  property  of  all  her  posterity.  But  tlien 
the  obligation  is  mutual;  and  where  the  Contract  is  broken  on  one 
side,  it  ceases  to  bind  on  the  other.  Where  there  is  a  Right,  there 
must  be  a  Power  to  maintain  it,  and  to  punish  the  offending  party 
This  power,  I  affirm  to  be  that  Original  Right,  or  rather  that 
indispensable  duty  of  cuckoldom  [Resistance  to  Oppression  and 
Arbitrary  Power]  lodged  in  all  wives,  in  the  cases  above  mcntwnca. 
No  wife  is  bound  \i.  e..  People  to  any  Sovereign]  by  any  law 
to  which  she  herself  has  not  consented.  All  cvconomical  pother 
is  lodged  originally  in  the  husband  and  wife  [Sovereign  ana 
People];  the  executive  part  being  in  the  husband.  Botli  nave 
their  privileges  secured  to  them  by  law  and  reason  :  but  wut  any 
man  infer  from  the  husband's  being  invested  with  the  executive 
hower,  that  the  wife  is  deprived  of  her  share,  and  that  which  is 
the  principal  branch  of  it,  the  original  right  of  cuckoldom  [Ke- 

ENC.  GAR.  VI.  3^ 


562  A  MARVELLOUS  IrONY  OF  WhIG  rRINCIPLES.[pJ;^^n 


buthnot. 
1 71 2. 


sistance  to  Arbitrary  Power]  ?  and  that  she  has  no  remedy  left 
but  preces  et  lachrymse,  or  an  appeal  to  a  supreme  Court  of 
Judicature  ? 

No  less  frivolous  are  the  argtiuicnts  draicm  from  the  general  appel- 
lations and  terms  of  Husband  and  Wife  [Sovereign  and  People]. 
A  Jinsband  denotes  several  different  sorts  of  Magistrates,  according 
to  the  usages  and  customs  of  different  climates  and  countries.  In 
some  Eastern  nations,  it  signifies  a  Tyrant,  with  the  absolute  power 
of  life  and  death.  In  Turkey,  it  denoteth  an  Arbitrary  Governor, 
with  power  of  perpetual  imprisonment.  In  Italy,  it  gives  the 
husband  the  power  of  poison  and  padlocks.  In  the  countries  of 
England,  France,  and  Holland,  it  has  quite  a  different  meaning, 
implying  a  free  and  equal  Government :  securing  to  the  wife,  in 
certain  cases,  the  liberty  of  cuckoldom  [Resistance],  and  the 
property  of  pin  money  and  separate  maintenance.  So  that  the 
arguments  drawn  from  the  terms  of  Husband  and  Wife  are  falla- 
cious, and  by  no  means  fit  to  support  a  tyrannical  doctrine,  as 
that  of  Absolute  unlimited  Chastity  [Passive  Obedience]  and 
conjugal  fidelity. 

The  general  exhortations  to  chastity  in  wives  are  meant  only  for 
rules  in  ordinary  cases;  but  suppose  the  three  conditions  oj  Ability, 
Justice,  and  Fidelity  in  the  Husband.  Such  an  unlimited,  un- 
conditioned fidelity  in  the  Wife  coidd  never  be  stipposed  by  reason- 
able men.  It  seems  a  refection  upon  the  Church,  to  charge  her 
with  doctrines  that  countenance  oppression. 

The  doctrine  of  the  Original  Right  of  cuckoldom  is  congruous  to 
the  Law  of  Nature,  which  is  superior  to  all  luunan  laws ;  and  for 
that,  I  dare  appeal  to  all  wives  I  It  is  much  to  the  honour  of  our 
English  wives  that  they  have  never  given  up  that  Fundamental 
Point;  and  that,  though  in  former  Ages  they  were  muffled  up  in  dark- 
ness and  superstition,  yet  that  notion  seemed  cngravenon  theirminds, 
and  the  impression  was  so  strong,  that  nothing  could  impair  it. 

To  assert  the  illegality  of  cuckoldom  f  Resistance],  upon  any  pre- 
tence whatever,  were  to  cast  odious  colours  upon  the  nuirried  state, 
to  blacken  the  necessary  means  of  perpetuating  families.  Such 
laws  can  never  be  supposed  to  have  been  designed  to  defeat  the  very 
end  of  matrimony,  the  increase  of  mankind.  I  call  them  necessary 
means,  for  in  many  cases  what  other  means  are  left  ?  Such  a 
doctrine  wounds  the  honour  of  families,  unsettles  the  titles  to  king- 
doms, honours,  and  estates;  for  if  the  actions  from  which  such 
settlements  spring  were  illegal,  all  that  is  built  upon  them  must  be 


Part 


rtn'''i8''Mar.^/7!^G     HiGII  ClIURCH  AND  Low  ClIURCII.      563 


so  too  :  but  the  last  is  absurd,  therefore  the  first  must  be  so  like- 
wise. What  is  the  cause  that  Europe  groans,  at  present,  under 
the  heavy  load  of  a  cruel  and  expensive  war ;  bid  the  tyrannical 
custom  of  a  certain  Nation  [Spain]  and  the  scrupidoiLS  nicety  of 
a  silly  Queen;  whereby  the  Kingdom  might  have  had  an  heir, 
and  a  controverted  stLccession  might  have  been  avoided  ?  These 
are  the  effects  of  the  narrow  maxims  of  your  Clergy,  "  That  one 
must  not  do  evil,  that  good  may  come  of  itJ" 

From  all  that  has  been  said,  one  may  clearly  perceive  the  ab- 
surdity of  the  doctrine  of  the  seditious,  discontented,  hotheaded, 
ungiftcd,  nnedifying  Preacher  [Doctor  Sacheverel]  asserting 
that  '■^  the  grand  security  of  the  matrimonial  state,  and  the  pillar 
upon  which  it  stands,  is  founded  upon  the  wife's  belief  of  an  abso- 
lute unconditional  fidelity  to  the  husband"  By  which  bold 
assertion  he  strikes  at  the  root,  digs  the  foundation,  and  removes 
the  basis  upon  whicli  the  happiness  of  a  married  state  is  built. 

As  for  his  personal  reflections,  I  would  gladly  know,  who  are 
those  Wanton  Wives  he  speaks  of  ?  who  are  those  Ladies  of  high 
stations  that  he  so  boldly  traduces  in  his  Sermon  ?  It  is  pretty  plain, 
whom  these  aspersions  are  aimed  at !  for  which  he  deserves  the 
pillory,  or  something  worse. 

In  confirmation  of  this  doctrine  of  the  indispensable  duty  of 
cuckoldom  [Resistance! ,  I  could  bring  the  example  of  the  wisest 
wives  of  all  Ages  ;  who,  by  these  means,  have  preserved  their 
husbands'  families  from  ruin  and  oblivion  :  but  what  has  been 
said,  is  a  sufficient  ground  for  punishing  this  pragmatical  Parson. 


CHAPTER     II. 

The  two  great  parties  of  Wives,  the  Devotoes  and  the  Hitts. 

He  doctrine  of  unlimited  chastity  [non-resistance]  and 
fidelity  in  wives,  was  universally  espoused  by  all 
husbands  [Sovereigns] ;  who  went  about  the  country, 
and  made  the  wives  sign  papers,  signifying  their 
utter  detestation  and  abhorrence  of  Mrs.  Bull's  wicked 
doctrine  of  the  indispensable  duty  of  cuckoldom.  Some 
yielded,  others  refused  to  part  with  their  native  liberty  ; 
which  gave  rise  to  two  great  parties  amongst  the  wives — the 
Devotoes  [High  Church],  and  the  Hitts  [Low  Church] ;  though 
it  must  be  owned  that  the  distinction  was  more  nominal 


n 


564  Talk  of  Mrs.  Bull  AxXd  Don  Dismallo.  yjl'^')"! 

than  real.  For  the  Devotees  would  abuse  freedoms  some- 
times ;  and  those  who  were  distinguished  by  the  name  of 
Hitts,  were  often  very  honest. 

At  the  same  time,  there  was  an  ingenious  treatise,  that 
came  out  with  the  title  of  Good  advice  to  Jmsbands.  In  which 
they  are  counselled  not  to  trust  too  much  to  their  wives' 
owning  the  doctrine  of  unlimited  conjugal  fidelity,  and  so  to 
neglect  family  duty,  and  a  due  watchfulness  over  the  manners 
of  their  wives ;  that  the  greatest  security  to  husbands  was  a 
vigorous  constitution,  good  usage  of  their  wives,  and  keeping 
them  from  temptation  :  many  husbands  having  been  sufferers 
by  their  trusting  too  much  to  general  professions ;  as  was 
exemplified  in  the  case  of  a  foolish  and  negligent  husband 
[James  II.],  who,  trusting  to  the  efficacy  of  this  principle, 
was  undone  by  his  wife's  elopement  from  him  [The  Revolution 
0/1688]. 

CHAPTER    III. 

An  account  of  the  Conference  between  Mrs.  Bull  and  Don 
Diego  Dismallo. 

Don  Diego.  [W^  ^^IS  it  possible,  Cousin  Bull  !  that  you 
can  forget  the  honourable  maxims  of 
the  Family  you  are  come  of,  and  break 
your  word  with  three  of  the  honestest, 
best-meaning  persons  in  the  world.  Esquire  South,  Frog, 
and  Hocus,  that  have  sacrificed  their  Interest  to  yours  ?  It 
is  base  to  take  advantage  of  their  simplicity  and  credulity, 
and  leave  them  in  the  lurch  at  last  ! 

Mrs.  Bull.  I  am  sure,they  have  left  my  Family  in  a  bad  con- 
dition. We  have  hardly  money  to  go  to  market,  and  nobody 
will  take  our  words  for  sixpence.  A  very  fine  spark,  this 
Esquire  South  [Archduke  Charles]  !  My  husband  took  him 
in,  a  dirty  boy.  It  was  the  business  of  half  the  servants  to 
attend  to  him,  the  rogue  did  bawl  and  make  such  a  noise  ! 
Sometimes  he  fell  into  the  fire,  and  burnt  his  face;  sometimes 
broke  his  shins  clambering  over  the  benches  :  and  always 
came  in  so  dirty,  as  if  he  had  been  dragged  through  the 
kennel  at  a  boarding  school.  He  lost  his  money  at  chuck-farth- 
ing, shufile-cap,  and  all-fours  ;  sold  his  books,  and  pawned 
his  linen,  which  we  were  always  forced  to  redeem.  Then  the 


iVi""'?""':]    Hints  that  Holland  has  thriven.     565 


T   Arbiithiiot 
Pa 


whole  generation  of  him  are  so  in  love  with  bagpipes  and 
puppet-shows  !  1  wish  you  knew  what  my  husband  has  paid 
at  the  pastrycooks  and  confectioners,  for  Naples  biscuit,  tarts, 
custards,  and  sweetmeats.  All  this  while,  my  husband  con- 
sidered him  as  a  Gentleman  of  good  family  that  had  fallen 
into  decay,  gave  him  a  good  education,  and  has  settled  him 
in  a  good  credible  way  of  living  ;  having  procured  him,  by  his 
Interest,  one  of  the  best  places  in  the  country  :  and  what 
return,  think  you  !  does  this  tine  Gentleman  make  us?  He 
will  hardly  give  me  or  my  husband,  a  good  word  or  a  civil  ex- 
pression !  Instead  of  plain  Sir,  and  Madam  ;  which  (though 
I  say  it)  is  our  due  :  he  calls  us  Goody,  and  Gaffer  such  a  one! 
that  he  did  us  a  great  deal  of  honour  to  board  with  us :  huffs 
and  dings  at  such  a  rate,  because  we  did  not  spend  the  little 
we  have  left,  to  get  him  the  title  and  estate  of  Lord  Strutt; 
and  then,  forsooth  1  we  shall  have  the  honour  to  be  his 
woollen-drapers. 

Don  Diego.  And  would  you  lose  the  honour  of  so  noble 
and  generous  an  undertaking  ?  Would  you  rather  accept  the 
scandalous  Composition,  and  trust  that  old  rogue  Lewis 
Baboon  ? 

Mrs.  Bull.  Look  you,  friend  Diego  !  if  we  law  it  on  till 
Lewis  turns  honest,  I  am  afraid  our  credit  will  run  low  at 
Blackwall  Hall  '.  I  wish  every  man  had  his  own  !  but  I  still 
say,  that  Lord  Strutt's  money  shines  as  bright,  and  chinks 
as  well  as  Squire  South's.  I  don't  know  any  other  hold  that 
we  Tradesmen  have  of  these  Great  Folks,  but  their  Interest. 
Buy  dear,  and  sell  cheap  !  and,  I'll  warrant  ye  !  you  will  keep 
your  customer.  The  worst  is,  that  Lord  Strutt's  servants 
have  got  such  a  haunt  about  that  old  rogue's  shop,  that  it 
will  cost  us  many  a  firkin  of  strong  beer  to  bring  them  back 
again  :  and  the  longer  they  are  in  a  bad  road,  the  harder  it 
will  be  to  get  them  out  of  it. 

Don  Diego.  But  poor  Frog  !  what  has  he  done  ?  On  my 
conscience,  if  there  be  an  honest,  sincere  man  in  the  world, 
it  is  that  Frog! 

Mrs.  Bull.  I  think,  I  need  not  tell  you  how  much  Frog 
has  been  obliged  to  our  Family  from  his  childhood.  He 
carries  his  head  high  now,  but  he  had  never  been  the  man  he 
is,  without  our  help.  Ever  since  the  commencement  of  this 
Lawsuit,  it  has  been  the  business  of  Hocus,  in  sharing  our 


566  Marlborough  helping  the  Dutch.  [iJ; lT"^s^llr^^;?.: 

expenses,  to  plead  for  Frog.  "  Poor  Frog,"  says  he,  "is  in 
hard  circumstances.  He  has  a  numerous  family  and  lives 
from  hand  to  mouth ;  his  children  do  not  eat  a  bit  of  good 
victuals  from  one  year's  end  to  the  other;  but  live  on  salt 
herrings,  sour  curd,  and  bore-cole.  He  does  his  utmost, 
poor  fellow  !  to  keep  things  even  in  the  world,  and  has  exerted 
himself  beyond  his  ability  in  this  Lawsuit :  but  he  really  has 
not  wherewithal  to  go  on.  What  signifies  this  hundred 
pounds  ?  place  it  upon  your  side  of  the  account  !  It  is  a 
great  deal  for  poor  Frog,  and  a  trifle  for  you." 

That  has  been  Hocus's  constant  language,  and  I  am  sure 
he  has  had  obligations  enough  to  us,  to  have  acted  another 
part. 

Don  Diego.  No  doubt  Hocus  meant  all  this  for  the  best ; 
but  he  is  a  tender-hearted  charitable  man.  Frog  is  indeed 
in  hard  circumstances. 

Mrs.  Bull.  Hard  circumstances  !  I  swear  this  is  provok- 
ing to  the  last  degree.  All  the  time  of  the  Lawsuit,  as  fast  as 
we  have  mortgaged.  Frog  has  purchased.  From  a  plain 
tradesman,  with  a  shop,  warehouse,  and  a  country  hut  with 
a  dirty  fishpond  at  the  end  of  it,  he  is  now  grown  a  very  rich 
Country  Gentleman,  with  a  noble  landed  estate,  noble  palaces, 
manors,  parks,  gardens,  and  farms  finer  than  any  we  were 
ever  master  of.  Is  it  not  strange,  when  my  husband  disbursed 
great  sums  every  Term,  Frog  should  be  purchasing  some 
new  farm  or  manor  ?  So  that  if  this  Lawsuit  lasts,  he  will 
be  far  the  richest  man  in  his  country. 

What  is  worse  than  all  this,  he  steals  away  my  customers 
every  day.  I  have  twelve  of  the  richest  and  the  best  that 
have  left  my  shop  by  his  persuasion,  and  whom  to  my  know- 
ledge, he  has  under  bonds  never  to  return  again.  Judge  you, 
if  this  be  neighbourly  dealing  ! 

Don  Diego.  Frog  is  indeed  pretty  close  in  his  dealings, 
but  very  honest !  You  are  so  touchy  and  take  things  so 
hotly;  I  am  sure  there  must  be  some  mistake  in  this  ! 

Mrs.  Bull.  A  plaguy  one  indeed  !  You  know,  and  3^ou 
have  often  told  me,  how  Hocus  and  those  rogues  kept  my 
husband,  John  Bull,  drunk  for  five  years  together,  with 
punch  and  strong  waters  (I  am  sure  he  never  went  one 
night  sober  to  bed),  till  they  got  him  to  sign  the  strangest 
deed  that  ever  you  saw  in  your  life.     The  methods  they  took 


p.niL''';8M°an'7P.:]  Parody  OF  The  Darrier  Treaty.  567 

to  manage  him,  I'll  tell  you  another  time :  at  present,  I  only 
read  the  writing  [the  Barrier  Treaty]. 

Articles  of  Agreement  between  John  Bull,  Clothier, 
and  Nicholas  Frog,  Linendraper. 

I.  Thai  for  maintaining  the  ancient  good  correspondence  and 
friendship  between  the  said  parties,  I,  Nicholas  Frog,  do 
solemnly  engage  and  promise  to  keep  peace  in  John  Bull's 
family  :  that  neither  his  wife,  children,  nor  servants  give  him  any 
trouble,  disturbance,  or  molestation  whatever ;  but  to  oblige  thcrn 
all,  to  do  their  duty  quietly  in  their  respective  stations.  And 
whereas  the  said  John  BuLL,  from  the  assured  confidence  that 
he  has  in  my  friendship,  has  appointed  me  Executor  of  his  last 
Will  and  Testament,  and  GiLardian  to  his  children  ;  I  do  under- 
take for  me,  my  heirs  and  assigns,,  to  see  the  same  duly  executed 
and  performed^  and  that  it  shall  be  unalterable  in  all  its  parts,  by 
John  Bull  or  anybody  else.  For  that  purpose,  it  shall  be  law- 
fid  and  allowable  for  me  to  enter  his  house  at  any  hour  of  the  day 
or  night,  to  break  open  bars,  bolts,  and  doors,  chests  of  drawers  and 
strong  boxes,  in  order  to  secure  the  peace  of  my  friend  John 
Bull's  family,  and  to  see  his  Will  duly  executed. 

II.  In  consideration  of  which  kind  neighbourly  office  of 
Nicholas  Frog,  in  that  he  has  been  pleased  to  accept  of  the 
aforesaid  Trust,  I,  John  Bull,  having  duly  considered  that  my 
friend  Nicholas  Frog  at  this  time  lives  in  a  marshy  soil  and 
unwholesome  air,  infested  with  fogs  and  damps,  destructive  of  the 
health  of  himself,  wife,  and  children,  do  bind  and  oblige  me,  my 
heirs  and  assigns,  to  purchase  for  the  said  Nicholas  Frog, 
with  the  best  and  readiest  of  my  cash,  bonds,  mortgages,  goods  and 
chattels,  a  landed  estate,  with  parks,  gardens,  palaces,  rivers,  fields, 
and  outlets,  consisting  of  as  large  extent  as  the  said  Nicholas 
Frog  shall  think  fit.  And  whereas  the  said  Nicholas  Frog 
is  at  present  hemmed  in  too  closely  by  the  grounds  of  Lewis 
Baboon,  Master  of  the  Science  of  Defence;  I,  the  said  John 
Bull,  do  oblige  myself,  with  the  readiest  of  my  cash,  to  purchase 
and  enclose  the  said  grounds  for  as  many  fields  and  acres  as  the 
said  Nicholas  shall  think  fit;  to  the  extent  that  the  said 
Nicholas  may  have  free  egress  and  regress,  without  let  or 
molestation,  suitable  to  the  df.mands  of  himself  and  family. 


568  Suggestions  as  to  Dutch  treachery.  [-'■^"iT.''  ^71°; 

III.  Furthermore,  the  said  John  Bull  ohli^^es  himself  to 
make  the  country  neighbours  of  Nicholas  Frog  allot  a  certain 
part  of  yearly  rents  to  pay  for  the  repairs  of  the  said  landed  estate, 
to  the  intent  that  his  good  friend  NICHOLAS  FliOG  may  be  eased 
of  all  charges. 

IV.  And  whereas  the  said  NICHOLAS  Frog  did  contract  with 
the  deceased  Lord  Strutt  ahont  certain  liberties,  privileges,  and 
imniunitics,  formerly  in  the  possession  of  the  said  John  Bull  ;  I, 
the  said  JOHN  BULL,  do  freely,  by  these  Presents,  renounce,  quit, 
and  make  over  to  tJie  said  Nicholas,  the  liberties,  privileges,  and 
immunities  contracted  for,  as  if  they  never  had  belonged  to  vie. 

V.  The  said  John  Bull  obliges  himself,  his  heirs  and  assigns, 
not  to  sell  one  rag  of  broad  or  coarse  cloth  to  any  gentleman  within 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  said  NICHOLAS,  except  in  such  quantities 
and  sucJi  rates  as  the  said  NICHOLAS  shall  think  fit. 

Signed  and  sealed^ 

John   Bull, 
N  I  c  .    Frog. 

The  readin,g  of  this  paper  put  Mrs.  Bull  in  such  a  passion 
that  she  fell  down  right  into  a  fit,  and  they  were  forced  to 
give  her  a  good  quantity  of  the  Spirits  of  Hartshorn  before 
she  recovered. 

Don  Diego.  Why  in  such  a  passion,  Cousin  ?  Con- 
sidering your  circumstances  at  that  time,  I  don't  think  such 
an  unreasonable  contract.  You  see  Frog,  for  all  this,  is 
religiously  true  to  his  bargain  !  He  scorns  to  hearken  to  any 
competition  without  your  privacy. 

Mrs.  Bull.     You   know  the   contrary,  read   that  letter ! 

(Reads  the  superscription.)     For  LEWIS  Baboon,  Master  oj 
the  noble  Science  of  Defence. 

Sir, 

Understand  that  you  are,  at  this  time,  treating  with 
my  friend  John  Bull,  about  the  restoring  of  the  Lord 
Strutt's  custom;  and  besides  allowing  him  certain 
privileges  of  parks  and  fishponds.  I  wonder  how  you, 
that  are  a  man  that  knoics  the  World,  can  talk  with  that  simple 
fellow  !     He  has  been  my  bubble  [toolj  these  twenty  years  ;  and  to 


Patui'l'Tz']  Nottingham  offended  at  Harley's  power,  569 

viy  certain  knowledge,  understands  no  more  of  his  own  Affairs  than 
a  child  in  swaddling  clothes.  I  know  he  has  got  a  sort  of  a 
pragmatical  silly  jade  of  a  wife  that  pretends  to  take  him  out  of 
viy  hands ;  bid  you  and  she  both  will  find  yourselves  mistaken, 
r II  find  those  that  shall  manage  her  !  and  for  him,  he  dares  as 
well  be  hanged  as  make  one  step  in  his  Affairs  without^  my  consent. 
If  you  will  give  me  what  you  promised  him,  I  will  make  all 
things  easy,  and  stop  the  Deeds  of  Ejectment  against  Lord  Strutt  ; 
if  you  will  not,  take  what  follows!  I  shall  have  a  good  Action 
againstyou,  for  pretending  [designing]  to  ro6  me  of  my  bubble, 
take  this  warning  from 

Your  loving  friend, 

Nicholas  Frog. 

I  am  told,  Cousin  Diego!  you  are  one  of  those  that  have 
undertaken  to  govern  me,  and  that  you  have  said,  you  will 
carry  a  green  bag  yourself  rather  than  we  shall  make  an  end 
of  our  Lawsuit.     I'll  teach  them,  and  you  too,  to  manage  ! 

Don  Diego.  For  God's  sake,  Madam  !  why  so  choleric ! 
I  say,  this  letter  is  some  forgery  !  It  never  entered  into  the 
head  of  that  honest  man,  Nic.  Frog,  to  do  any  such  thing  1 

Mrs.  Bull.  I  can't  abide  you!  You  have  been  railmg, 
these  twenty  years,  at  Esquire  South,  Frog,  and  Hocus ; 
calling  them  rogues  and  pickpockets  :  and,  now,  they  are 
turned  the  honestest  fellows  in  the  world  !  What  is  the 
meaning  of  all  this  ? 

Don  Diego.  Pray  tell  me,  how  you  came  to  employ  this 
Sir  Roger  m  your  Affairs,  and  not  think  of  your  old  friend 
Diego? 

Mrs.  Bull.  So,  so,  there  it  pinches  !  To  tell  you  the 
truth,  I  have  employed  Sir  Roger  in  several  weighty  affau-s, 
and  have  found  him  trusty  and  honest ;  and  the  poor  man 
always  scorned  to  take  a  farthing  of  me.  I  have  abundance 
that  profess  great  zeal,  but  they  are  greedy  of  the  pence.  My 
husband  and  I  are  now  in  circumstances,  that  we  must  be 
served  upon  cheaper  terms  than  we  have  been. 

Don  Diego.  Well,  Cousin,  I  find  I  can  do  no  good  with 
you  !  I  am  sorry  that  you  will  rum  yourself,  by  trusting  this 
Sir  Roger. 


570  Descriptions  OF  War  AND  Discord,  [p J- i^^^'^^'l^T^;^^^^^^^^^ 

CHAPTER     IV. 

How  the  Guardians  of  the  deceased  Mrs.  Bull's  three 
daughters,  came  to  jfoHN  BULL,  and  what  advice  they  gave  him; 
wherein  is  briefly  treated  the  characters  of  the  three  daughters. 
Also  John  Bull's  answer  to  the  three  Guardians, 

Told  you  in  my  First  Part  [p.  55 iL  that  Mrs. 
Bull,  before  she  departed  this  Hfe,  had  blessed  John 
with  three  daughters.  I  need  not  repeat  their 
names;  neither  would  willingly  use  any  scandalous 
reflections  upon  young  ladies,  whose  reputations  ought  to  be 
very  tenderly  handled  :  but  the  characters  of  these  were  so 
well  known  in  the  neighbourhood,  that  it  is  doing  them 
no  injury  to  make  a  short  description  of  them. 

The  eldest  [War]  was  as  termagant,  imperious,  prodigal, 
lewd,  profligate  wench  as  ever  breathed.  She  used  to  ranti- 
pole  about  the  house,  pinch  the  kitten,  kick  the  servants, 
and  torture  the  cats  and  dogs.  She  would  rob  her  father's 
strong-box  for  money  to  give  the  young  fellows  she  was  fond 
of.  She  had  a  noble  air,  and  something  great  in  her  mien ; 
but  such  a  noisome  infectious  breath,  as  threw  all  the  ser- 
vants that  dressed  her  into  consumption.  If  she  smelt  the 
fresh  nosegay,  it  would  shrivel  and  wither  as  it  had  been 
blighted.  She  used  to  come  home  in  her  cups,  and  break  the 
china  and  the  looking-glasses ;  was  of  such  an  irregular 
temper,  and  so  entirely  given  to  her  passion,  that  you  might 
as  well  argue  with  the  North  Wind  as  with  her  Ladyship; 
and  so  expensive,  that  the  income  of  three  Dukedoms  was  not 
enough  to  supply  her  extravagance.     Hocus  loved  her  best. 

The  second  daughter  [Discord],  born  a  year  after  her 
sister,  was  a  peevish,  froward,  ill-conditioned  creature  as 
ever  was  born,  ugly  as  the  Devil ;  lean,  haggard,  pale ; 
with  saucer  eyes,  a  sharp  nose,  and  hunchbacked  :  but 
active,  sprightly,  and  diligent  about  her  affairs.  Her  ill 
complexion  was  occasioned  by  her  bad  diet,  which  was 
coffee,  morning,  noon,  and  night  [i.e.,  Discord  fed  on  the  con- 
troversies in  the  Coffeehouses].  She  never  rested  quietly  a- 
bed,  but  used  to  disturb  the  whole  family  with  shrieking  out 
in  her  dreams ;  and  plague  them,  next  day,  with  interpreting 
them  :  lor  she  took  them  all  for  Gospel !     She  would  cry  out 


Parfii!"i7°2:]  Description  of  High  Rate  of  Interest.  571 

"Murder!"  and  disturb  the  whole  neighbourhood;  and 
when  John  came  running  downstairs  to  inquire  what  the 
matter  was,  "  Nothing,"  forsooth !  "  only  her  maid  had 
stuck  a  pin  wrong  in  her  gown." 

She  turned  away  one  servant  for  putting  too  much  oil  in 
her  salad,  and  another  for  putting  too  little  salt  in  her  water- 
gruel.  But  such  as,  by  flattery,  had  procured  her  esteem, 
she  would  indulge  in  the  greatest  crimes.  Her  father  had 
two  coachmen  [Prime  Ministers].  When  one  [Harley]  was 
on  the  coach-box,  if  the  coach  swung  but  the  least  to  one 
side,  she  used  to  shriek  so  loud  that  all  the  street  concluded 
she  was  overturned  :  but,  though  the  other  [Godolphin]  was 
eternally  drunk,  and  had  overturned  the  whole  Family,  she 
was  very  angry  with  her  father  for  turning  him  away. 

Then  she  used  to  carry  tales  and  stories  from  one  to 
another,  till  she  had  set  the  whole  neighbourhood  together 
by  the  ears  ;  and  this  was  the  only  diversion  she  took  pleasure 
in.  She  never  went  abroad  but  what  she  brought  home  such 
a  bundle  of  monstrous  lies,  as  would  have  amazed  any 
mortal  but  such  as  knew  her ;  of  "  a  whale  that  had  swal- 
lowed a  fleet  of  ships"  ;  of  "the  lions  being  let  out  of  the 
Tower,  to  destroy  the  Protestant  religion";  of  "  the  Pope's 
being  seen  in  a  brandy  shop  at  Wapping  "  ;  and  a  "  pro- 
digious strong  man  that  was  going  to  shove  down  the  cupola 
of  St.  Paul's";  of  *'  three  millions  of  Five  Pound  pieces  that 
Esquire  South  had  found  under  an  old  wall  "  ;  of  "  blazing 
stars,"  "  flying  dragons,"  and  abundance  of  such  stuff. 

All  the  servants  in  the  Family  made  high  court  to  her, 
for  she  domineered  there ;  and  turned  out  and  in,  whom 
she  pleased.  Only  there  was  an  old  grudge  between  her 
and  Sir  Roger  :  whom  she  mortally  hated,  and  used  to 
hire  fellows  to  squirt  kennel  water  upon  him,  as  he  passed 
along  the  streets ;  so  that  he  was  forced  constantly  to 
wear  a  surtout  of  oiled  cloth,  by  which  means  he  came  home 
pretty  clean,  except  where  the  surtout  was  a  little  scanty. 

As  for  the  third  [Usury],  she  was  a  thief  and  a  common 
mercenary  prostitute.  In  the  practice  of  her  profession,  she 
had  amassed  vast  magazines  of  all  sorts  of  things.  She  had 
above  five  hundred  suits  of  clothes ;  and  yet  went  abroad 
like  a  cinder-wench.  She  robbed  and  starved  all  the  servants, 
so  that  nobody  could  live  near  her. 


572  Satire  ON  Marlborough's  love  of  money,  [panii."^;^^: 

So  much  for  John's  three  daughters;  which  you  will  say 
were  rarities  to  be  fond  of.  Yet  Nature  will  shew  itself! 
Nobody  could  blame  their  Relations  for  taking  care  of  them  ; 
and  therefore  it  was  that  Hocus,  with  two  other  of  the 
Guardians,  thought  it  their  duty  to  take  care  of  the  Interest 
of  the  three  girls,  and  give  John  their  best  advice  before 
he  compounded  the  Lawsuit. 

Hocus.  What  makes  you  so  shy  of  late,  my  good  friend  ? 
There  is  nobody  loves  you  better  than  I,  nor  has  taken  more 
pains  in  your  affairs  !  As  I  hoped  to  be  saved !  I  would  do 
anything  to  serve  you  !  I  would  crawl  upon  all  fours  to  serve 
you  !  I  have  spent  my  health  and  paternal  estate  in  your 
service  !  I  have  indeed  a  small  pittance  left,  with  which 
I  might  retire,  and  with  as  good  conscience  as  any  man. 
But  the  thoughts  of  this  disgraceful  Composition  so  touches 
me  to  the  quick,  that  I  cannot  sleep.  After  I  had  brought 
the  Cause  to  the  last  stroke,  that  one  verdict  more  had  quite 
ruined  old  Lewis  and  Lord  Strutt,  and  put  you  in  the  quiet 
possession  of  everything  :  then  to  Compound !  I  cannot  bear  it. 

This  Cause  was  my  favourite.  I  had  set  my  heart  upon 
it  !  It  is  like  an  only  child,  I  cannot  endure  that  it 
should  miscarry.  For  God's  sake,  consider  only  to  what 
a  dismal  condition  old  Lewis  is  brought  !  He  is  at  an  end 
of  all  his  cash;  his  Attorneys  [Generals]  have  hardly  one 
trick  left,  they  are  at  an  end  of  all  their  chicane :  besides, 
he  has  both  his  law  and  his  daily  bread  now  upon  trust. 
Hold  out  one  Term  longer  !  and,  I'll  warrant  you  !  before 
the  next,  we  shall  have  him  in  the  Fleet.  I'll  bring  him  to 
the  pillory  !  his  ears  shall  pay  for  his  perjuries  !  For  the 
love  of  God,  don't  compound !  Let  me  be  hanged,  if  you 
have  a  friend  in  the  World  that  loves  you  better  than  I !  there 
is  nobody  can  say  I  am  covetous!  or  that  I  have  any  Interest 
to  pursue,  but  yours  ! 

Second  Guardian  [Lord  Godolphin,  the  late  Lord 
Treasurer],  There  is  nothing  so  plain  than  that  this  Lewis 
has  a  design  to  ruin  all  his  neighbouring  Tradesmen  ;  and  at 
this  time,  he  has  such  a  prodigious  income  by  his  trade  of 
all  kinds,  that  if  there  is  not  some  stop  put  to  his  exorbitant 
riches,  he  will  monopolize  everything,  and  nobody  will  be 
able  to  sell  a  yard  of  drapery  or  mercery  ware  but  himself. 


Arbuthnot.-l  Pi^AISEFOR  M ARLr.OROUGIl's  GENERALSHIP.  573 

Jr'art  11.  1712. J 

I  therefore  hold  it  advisable  that  you  continue  the  Lawsuit, 
and  burst  him  at  once.  My  concern  for  the  three  poor 
motherless  children  obliges  me  to  give  you  this  advice ;  for  their 
estates,  poor  girls  !  depend  upon  the  success  of  this  Cause. 

Third  Guardian  [Lord  Cowper,  the  late  Lord  Chancellor]. 
I  own  this  Writ  of  Ejectment  has  cost  dear;  but  then 
consider  it  a  jewel  well  worth  the  purchasing  at  the  price  of 
all  you  have.  None  but  Mr.  Bull's  declared  enemies  can 
say,  he  has  any  other  security  for  his  clothing  trade  but  the 
ejectment  of  Lord  Strutt.  The  only  question  then,  that 
remains  to  be  decided,  is,  Who  shall  stand  the  expenses  of  the 
Suit  ?  To  which  the  answer  is  plain.  Who  but  he  that  is  to 
have  the  advantage  of  the  sentence  !  When  Esquire  South 
has  got  possession  of  his  title  and  honour,  is  not  John  Bull 
to  be  his  Clothier  ?  Who  then  but  John,  ought  to  put  him 
in  possession  !  Ask  but  an  indifferent  Gentleman,  who  ought 
to  bear  his  charges  at  Law  ?  and  he  will  readily  answer, 
♦'  His  tradesmen  !  "  I  do  therefore  affirm,  and  I  will  go  to 
death  with  it !  that  being  his  Clothier ;  you  ought  to  put  him 
in  quiet  possession  of  his  estate  !  and  with  the  same  generous 
spirit  you  have  begun  it,  complete  the  good  work  !  If  you 
persist  in  the  bad  measures  you  are  now  in,  what  must  become 
of  the  three  poor  orphans  ?  my  heart  bleeds  for  the  poor  girls  ! 

John  Bull.  You  are  very  eloquent  persons,  but  give  me 
leave  to  tell  you,  that  you  express  a  great  deal  more  con- 
cern for  the  three  girls  than  for  me.  I  think  my  Interest 
ought  to  be  considered  in  the  first  place. 

As  for  you.  Hocus  1  I  can't  but  say  you  have  managed 
my  Lawsuit  with  great  address  and  much  to  my  honour :  and, 
though  I  say  it  !  you  have  been  well  paid  for  it  !  Never 
was  Attorney's  bill  more  extravagant  !  and,  give  me  leave  to 
say,  there  are  many  articles  [in  it],  which  the  most  gripmg 
of  your  profession  never  demanded.  I  have  trusted  you 
with  the  disbursing  of  great  sums  of  money,  and  you  have 
constantly  sunk  some  into  your  own  pocket.  1  tell  you,  I 
don't  like  that  sinking!  j  1   -j 

Why  must  the  burden  be  taken  off  Frog's  back,  and  laid 
upon  my  shoulders?  He  can  drive  about  his  own  parks 
and  fields  in  his  gilt  chariot ;  when  I  have  been  forced  to 
mortgage  my   estate  !     His  Note  will  go  further  than  my 


574  Jo"^'  Bull's  reply  to  the  Guardl\ns.  yufn."''!""': 

Bond.  Is  it  not  matter  of  fact,  that  from  the  richest  trades- 
man in  all  the  country,  I  am  reduced  to  beg  and  borrow  from 
Scriveners  and  Usurers  [The  National  Debt],  that  suck  the 
heart  and  blood  out  of  me  :  and  what  was  all  this  for  ?  Did 
you  like  Frog's  countenance  better  than  mine  ?  Was  not  I 
your  old  friend  and  relation  ?  Have  I  not  presented  you 
nobly  ?  Have  I  not  clad  your  whole  family  ?  Have  you 
not  had  a  hundred  yards  at  a  time  of  the  finest  cloth  in  my 
shop  ?  Why  must  the  rest  of  the  Tradesmen  be  not  only 
indemnified  from  charges,  but  forbidden  to  go  on  with  their 
own  business,  and  what  is  more  their  concern  than  mine  ? 

As  to  holding  out  this  Term,  I  appeal  to  your  own  con- 
science, has  not  that  been  your  constant  discourse  these  six 
years, "  One  Term  more,  andold  Lewis  goes  to  pot  !  "  If  thou 
art  so  fond  of  my  Cause,  be  generous  for  once  !  and  lend  me 
a  brace  of  thousands.  Ah  Hocus  !  Hocus!  I  know  thee! 
Not  a  sou,  to  save  me  from  gaol,  I  trow  ! 

Look  ye,  Gentlemen !  I  have  lived  with  credit  in  the  World  ; 
and  it  grieves  my  heart,  never  to  stir  out  of  my  doors,  but  to 
be  pulled  b}^  the  sleeve,  by  some  rascally  dun  or  another, 
*'  Sir,  remember  my  bill  !  "  "  There  is  a  small  concern  of  a 
thousand  pounds;  I  hope  you  think  on  it.  Sir!  "  And  to  have 
these  usurers  transact  [sell  and  buy]  my  debts  at  coffeehouses 
and  alehouses  ;  as  if  I  were  going  to  break  up  shop.  Lord  ! 
that  ever  the  rich,  the  generous  John  Bull,  Clothier,  the 
envy  of  all  his  neighbours,  should  be  brought  to  compound 
his  debts  for  five  shillings  in  the  pound  ;  and  to  have  his 
name  in  an  advertisement  for  a  statute  of  Bankrupt  !  The 
thought  of  it  makes  me  mad  !  I  have  read  somewhere  in  the 
Apocrypha,  that  one  should  not  consult  with  a  woman,  touching 
her  of  whom  she  is  jealous;  nor  with  a  mcrchayit,  concerning 
exchange;  nor  with  a  buyer,  of  selling ;  nor  with  an  nnmerciftd 
man,  of  kindness ;  &c.  I  could  have  added  one  thing  more. 
Nor  with  an  Attorney,  about  compounding  a  Lawsuit. 

ThisEjectment  of  Lord  Strutt  will  never  do  !  The  evidence 
is  crimp  [concocted]  ;  the  witnesses  swear  backwards  and 
forwards,  and  contradict  themselves  ;  and  his  tenants  [the 
people  of  Spain]  stick  by  him.  If  it  were  practicable,  is  it 
reasonable  that  when  Esquire  South  is  losing  his  money  to 
sharpers  and  pickpockets,  going  about  the  country  with  fid- 
dlers and  buffoons,  and  squandering  his  income  with  hawks 


J.  Arbuthnot.-|(3ouRTEOUS  ALLUSION  TO  PrINCE  EuGENE.  575 

Part  II.     1712J  ^ 

and  dogs,  I  should  lay  out  the  fruits  of  my  honest  industry 
in  a  Lawsuit  for  him,only  upon  the hopesof  being  hisClothier  ? 
and  when  the  Cause  is  over,  I  shall  not  have  the  benefit  of 
my  project  for  want  of  money  to  go  to  market ! 

Look  ye,  Gentlemen  !  John  Bull  is  but  a  plain  man  ;  but 
John  Bull  knows  when  he  is  ill  used.  I  know  the  infirmity 
of  our  Family  !  We  are  apt  to  play  the  boon  companion  ;  and 
throw  away  our  money  in  our  cups.  But  it  was  an  unfair 
thing  in  you,  Gentlemen  !  to  take  advantage  of  my  weakness; 
to  keep  a  parcel  of  roaring  bullies  about  me,  day  and 
night,  with  huzzas  and  hunting  horns,  and  ringing  the 
chlinges  on  butchers'  cleavers !  never  to  let  me  cool!  and 
make' me  set  my  hands  to  papers,  when  I  could  hardly  hold 
my  pen  !  There  will  come  a  Day  of  Reckonmg  for  all  that 
Droceedm"^. 

In  the  mean  time.  Gentlemen  !  I  beg  you  will  let  me  look 
into  my  affairs  a  little,  and  that  you  would  not  grudge  me 
a  very  small  remainder  of  a  very  great  estate  ! 

CHAPTER    V. 

Esquire  South' s  message  and  letter  to  Mrs.  Bull. 

He  arguments  used  by  Hocus  and  the  rest  of  the 
Guardians  had  hitherto  proved  insufficient.  John 
and  his  wife  could  not  be  persuaded  to  bear  the  ex- 
^  pense  of  Esquire  South's  Lawsuit.  They  thought 
it  reasonable  that,  since  he  was  to  have  the  honour  and 
advantage,  he  should  bear  the  greatest  share  of  the  charges  ; 
and  retrench  what  he  lost  to  sharpers,  and  spent  upon  country 
dances  and  puppet-plays,  to  apply  it  to  that  use.  This  was 
not  very  grateful  [agreeable]  to  the  Esquire  [here  standing  pr 
the  Emperor  of  A  USTKIA,  the  father  of  A  rchduke  CHARLES]. 

Therefore,  as  the  last  experiment,  he  was  resolved  to  send 
Signior  Bene-nato,  Master  of  his  Foxhounds  [Prince 
Eugene  of  Savoy,  who  came  to  England  on  this  political  mission 
to  Queen  Anne,  m  Jan.-March,  1711]  to  Mrs.  BuLL,to  try  what 
good  he  could  do  with  her.  ,  .        re 

This  Signior  Bene-nato  had  all  the  qualities  ot  a  tine 
Gentleman,  that  were  fit  to  charm  a  lady's  heart  ;_  and  if  any 
person  in  the  world  could  have  persuaded  her,  it  was  he  \ 


576  Failure  of  Prince  Eugene's  Mission,    [i^.vfit"":"?^. 

But  such  was  her  unshaken  fideh'ty  to  her  husband,  and  the 
constant  purpose  of  her  mind  to  pursue  his  Interest,  that  the 
most  refined  arts  of  gallantry  that  were  practised  could  not 
seduce  her  loyal  heart.  The  necklaces,  diamond  crosses, 
and  rich  bracelets  that  were  offered;  she  rejected  with  the 
utmost  scorn  and  disdain.  The  music  and  serenades  that 
were  given  her,  sounded  more  ungratefully  in  her  ears  than 
the  noise  of  a  screech  owl.  However,  she  received  Esquire 
South's  letter  by  the  hands  of  Signior  Bene-nato,  with  that 
respect  which  became  his  Quality. 

The  copy  of  the  letter  is  as  follows ;  in  which  you  will 
observe,  he  changes  a  little  his  usual  style. 

■Madam, 

^He  Writ  of  Ejectment  against  Philip  Baboon  pre- 
tended Lord  Strutt,  is  just  ready  to  pass.  There 
want  but  a  few  necessary  forms,  and  a  Verdict 
[victory]  or  two  more,  to  put  me  in  the  quiet  posses- 
sion of  my  Honour  and  Estate.  I  question  not  but  that,  according 
to  your  wonted  generosity  and  goodness,  you  will  give  it  the 
finishing  stroke  :  an  honour  that  I  would  grudge  anybody  but 
yourself. 

In  order  to  ease  you  of  some  part  of  the  charges,  I  promise  to 
furnish  pen,  ink,  and  paper ;  provided  you  pay  for  the  stamps. 
Besides,  I  have  ordered  my  Steward  to  pay,  out  of  the  readiest  and 
best  of  my  rents,  £^  los,  a  year,  till  my  Suit  is  finished.  I  wish 
you  health  and  happiness,  being 

With  due  respect. 
Madam, 

Your  assured  friend. 

So  U  T  H . 

What  answer  Mrs.  Bull  returned  to  this  letter,  you  shall 
know  in  my  Third  Part  :  only  they  were  at  a  pretty  good 
distance  in  their  Proposals.  For  as  Esquire  South  only  offered 
to  be  at  the  charges  of  pen,  ink,  and  paper ;  Mrs.  Bull  re- 
fused any  more  than  to  lend  her  barge  to  carry  his  Counsel 
to  Westminster  Hall  [the  English  fleets  transporting  the  forces 
to  Barcelona], 

FINIS. 


JOHN  BULL 

Still 

In  his  SENSES: 

BEING   THE 

THIRD    PART 

OF 

Law  isaBottomlessPit. 


Prifitedfrom  a  Manuscript  found  in  the  Cabinet 
of  the  Ja?nous  Sir  Humphry  Polesivorth : 
and  published  fas  well  as  the  twofor?ner  Parts) 
by  the  Author  of  the  New  Atlantis. 


LONDON: 

Printed  for  John  Morphew,  near  Stationers' 
Hall,  17 12.  Price  6d. 

Eng.  Gar.  VI.  37 


578 


[The  first  appearance  of  this  Third  Part  is  fixed  by  an  advertisement 
in  No.  20,  of  Vokune  II.  of  the  Exai)iiiia-  to  be  Thursday,  loth  April, 
17 1 2.] 


579 


THE    CONTENTS. 


The  Publisher'' s  Preface /••  580 

Chap.     I.  The  Character  of  John  Bull's  mother      ...  ^.  581 

II.  The  Character  of  John  Bull's  sister  Peg, 
with  the  quarrels  that  happened  between  Master 
and  Miss  in  their  childhood /*•  583 

III.  Jack's  Charms,  or  the  method  by  which  he 
gained  Peg's  heart />•  585 

IV.  How  the  Relations  reconciled  John  and  his 
sister  Peg  ;  and  what  return  Peg  made  to 
John's  message    p' 5^7 

V.  Of  some  quarrels  that  happened  after  Peg  was 
taken  into  the  Family    p.  590 

,VI.  The  Conversation  between  John  Bull  and 

his  wife p.  592 

VII.  Of  the  hard  shifts  Mrs.  Bull  was  put  to,  to 
preserve  the  Manor  of  Bullock's  Hatch  ;  with 
Sir  Roger's  method  of  keeping  off  importu- 
nate duns         p.  596 

VIII.  A   continuation  of  the   Conversation   betwixt 

John  Bull  and  his  wife   /••  598 

IX.  A  copy  of  Nicholas  Frog's  letter  to  John 

Bull     />.  604 

X.  Of  some  extraordinary  things  that  passed  at 
the  Salutation  tavern,  in  the  Conference  be- 
tween Bull,  Frog,  Esquire  South,  and 
Lewis  Baboon />•  607 


58o 


The  Publisher  s  Preface. 

He  World  is  much  indebted  to  the  famous  Sir 
Humphry  Polesworth,  for  his  ingenious  and 
impartial  Account  of  John  Bull's  Lawsuit;  yet 
there  is  just  cause  of  complaint  against  him,  in 
that  he  retails  it  only  by  parcels,  and  won't  give  us  the  whole 
Work.  This  forces  me,  who  am  only  the  Publisher,  to  be- 
speak the  assistance  of  his  friends  and  acquaintance,  to 
engage  him  to  lay  aside  that  stingy  humour,  and  to  gratify 
the  curiosity  of  the  public  at  once.  He  pleads  in  excuse,  that 
"  they  are  only  Private  Memoirs,  written  for  his  own  use,  in 
a  loose  style,  to  serve  as  a  help  to  his  ordinary  conversation." 
I  represented  to  him  the  good  reception  of  the  two  first 
Parts  had  met  [with],  that  though  they  had  been  calculated 
by  him  only  for  the  meridian  of  Grub  street,  yet  they  were 
taken  notice  of  by  the  better  sort ;  that  the  World  was  now 
sufficiently  acquainted  with  John  Bull,  and  interested  in 
his  little  concerns.  He  answered  with  a  smile,  that  "  he 
had,  indeed,  some  trifling  things  to  impart  that  concerned 
John  Bull's  Relations  and  domestic  affairs:  if  these  would 
satisfy  me,  he  gave  me  free  leave  to  make  use  of  them  ! 
because  they  would  serve  to  make  the  History  of  the  Lawsuit 
more  intelligible." 

When  I  had  looked  over  the  manuscript,  I  found  likewise 
some  further  account  of  the  Composition  ;  which  perhaps  may 
not  be  unacceptable  to  such  as  have  read  the  two  former 
Parts. 


'^^^ 


CHAPTER    I  . 

The  Character  of  John  Bull's  mother. 


Ohn  had  a  mother  [the  Church  of  Euf^land] 
whom  he  loved  and  honoured  extremely ; 
a  discreet,  grave,  sober,  good-conditioned, 
cleanly  old  Gentlewoman  as  ever  lived. 
She  was  none  of  your  cross-grained,  terma- 
gant scolding  Jades  that  one  had  as  good 
be  hanged,  as  live  in  the  house  with  !  such 
as  are  always  censuring  the  conduct,  and 
telling  scandalous  stories,  of  their  neighbours  ;  extolling  their 
own  good  qualities,  and  undervaluing  those  of  others.  On 
the  contrary,  she  was  of  a  meek  spirit :  and  as  she  was 
strictly  virtuous  herself,  so  she  always  put  the  best  construc- 
tion upon  the  words  and  actions  of  her  neighbours ;  except 
where  they  were  irreconcilable  to  the  rules  of  honesty  and 
decency.  She  was  neither  one  of  your  precise  prudes,  nor 
one  of  your  phantastical  old  belles  that  dress  themselves  like 
girls  of  fifteen  :  as  she  neither  wore  a  ruff,  forehead  cloth, 
nor  high-crowned  hat,  so  she  had  laid  aside  feathers,  flowers, 
and  crimpt  ribbons  in  her  head-dress,  furbelow  [flounce], 
scarfs,  and  hooped  petticoats.  She  scorned  to  patch  [wear 
black  spots  on  the  face]  and  paint ;  yet  she  loved  to  keep  her 
Lands  and  her  face  clean.  Though  she  wore  no  flaunting  laced 
ruffles,  she  would  not  keep  herself  in  a  constant  sweat  with 
greasy  flannel.  Though  her  hair  was  not  stuck  with  jewels, 
she  was  not  ashamed  of  a  diamond  cross.  She  was  not,  like 
some   ladies,    hung    about    with   toys   and   trinkets,    twiser 


582  Middle  position  of  Church  of  England.  [ilJlin.",'""^: 

[tweezer]  cases,  pocket-glasses,  and  essence-bottles  !  she  used 
only  a  gold  watch,  and  an  Ahnanack  to  mark  the  hours  and 
the  Holy  Days. 

Her  furniture  was  neat  and  genteel,  well  fancied  with  a  bun 
gout.  As  she  affected  not  the  grandeur  of  a  State  with  a 
canopy,  she  thought  there  was  no  offence  in  an  elbow-chair. 
She  had  laid  aside  your  carving,  gilding,  and  Japan  [japaiiiicd] 
work,  as  being  too  apt  to  gather  dirt :  but  she  never  could 
be  prevailed  upon  to  part  with  plain  wainscot  and  clean 
hangings.  There  are  some  ladies  who  affect  to  smell  a  stink 
in  everything;  they  are  always  highly  perfumed,  and  con- 
tinually burning  frankincense  in  their  rooms  iRoman  Catholic 
ivovsliip]  :  she  was  above  such  affectation  ;  yet  she  never 
would  lay  aside  the  use  of  brooms  and  scrubbing  brushes, 
and  scrupled  not  to  lay  her  linen  in  fresh  lavender. 

She  was  no  less  genteel  in  her  behaviour,  well  bred  with- 
out affectation  ;  in  the  due  mean  between  one  of  your  affected 
curtseying  pieces  of  formality  [N onconfovmity],  and  your  romps 
that  have  no  regard  to  the  common  rules  of  civility.  There 
are  some  ladies  that  affect  a  mighty  regard  for  their  relations. 
"Wemu:^t  not  eat  to-day,  for  my  uncle  Tom  or  my  cousin 
Betty  died  this  time  ten  years!  [Saints  Days]."  "Let  us 
have  a  ball  to-night,  it  is  my  neighbour  Such-a-one's  birth- 
day !  "  She  looked  upon  all  this  as  a  grimace  [inask],  yet 
she  constantly  observed  her  Husband's  birthday  [Christmas 
Day],  her  wedding  day  [?  Wliitsnnday],  and  some  few  more. 

Though  she  was  a  trul}^  good  woman,  and  had  a  sincere 
motherly  love  for  her  son  John  ;  yet  there  wanted  not  those 
who  endeavoured  to  create  a  misunderstanding  between 
them  :  and  they  had  so  far  prevailed  with  him  once  [in  the 
time  of  the  Commonwealth]  that  he  had  turned  her  out  of  doors 
[exclusion  of  the  Episcopacy  from  the  House  of  Lords  in  1644] ;  to 
his  great  sorrow,  as  he  found  afterwards,  for  his  affairs  went 
all  at  sixes  and  sevens. 

She  was  no  less  judicious  in  the  turn  of  her  conversation, 
and  choice  of  her  studies,  in  which  she  far  exceeded  all  her 
sex  [all  other  Clturches].  Your  rakes  that  hate  the  company  of 
all  sober  grave  Gentlewomen,  would  bear  hers:  and  she  would, 
by  her  handsome  manner  of  proceeding,  sooner  reclaim,  than 
some  that  were  more  sour  and  reserved  [Nonconformists].  She 
was  a  zealous  preacher  up  of  Chastity  and  Conjugal  Fidelity 


p{Vuil"'i7r2:]  A  PORTRAIT  [!]  OF  THE  KiRK  OF  SCOTLAND.  583 

in  wives  [obedience  and  submission  to  the  Kiitf^]  ;  and  by  no 
means  a  friend  to  the  new-fangled  doctrine  of  tlie  "  Indis- 
pensable Duty  of  Cuckoldom "  [Resistance  to  Arbitrary 
PoK'er'^.  Though  she  advanced  her  opinions  with  a  becoming 
assurance ;  }'et  she  never  ushered  them  in,  as  some  positive 
creatures  do,  with  dogmatic  assertions,  '*  This  is  infallible  !  " 
"  I  cannot  be  mistaken  !  "  "  None  but  a  rogue  can  deny  it !  " 
It  has  been  observed,  that  such  people  are  oftener  in  the 
wrong  than  anybody. 

Though  she  had  a  thousand  good  qualities,  she  was  not 
without  her  faults  :  amongst  which,  one  might  perhaps  reckon 
too  great  lenity  to  her  servants ;  to  whom  she  always  gave 
good  counsel,  but  often  too  gentle  correction. 

I  thought  I  could  not  say  less  of  John  Bull's  mother, 
because  she  bears  a  part  in  the  following  transactions. 


CHAPTER     II. 

The  Character  of  JOHN  Bull's  sister  Peg,  witht  he  quarrels 
that  happened  between  Master  and  Miss  in  their  childhood. 

Ohn  has  a  sister  [the  Kirk  of  Scotland],  a  poor  girl 
that  had  been  starved  at  nurse.  Anybody  would 
have  guessed  Miss  to  have  been  bred  up  under  the 
influence  of  a  cruel  step-dame,  and  John  to  be  the 
fondling  of  a  tender  mother.  John  looked  ruddy  and  plump, 
with  a  pair  of  cheeks  like  a  trumpeter;  Miss  looked  pale  and 
wan,  as  if  she  had  the  green  sickness  :  and,  no  wonder,  for 
John  was  the  darling!  He  had  all  the  good  bits,  was  cram- 
med with  good  pullet,  chicken,  pig,  goose,  and  capon:  while 
Miss  had  only  a  little  oatmeal  and  water,  or  a  dry  crust 
without  butter.  John  had  his  golden  pippins,  peaches,  and 
nectarines;  poor  Miss  a  crab  apple,  sloe,  or  a  blackberry. 
Master  lay  in  the  best  apartment,  with  his  bedchamber 
[England]  towards  the  south  sun  :  Miss  lodged  in  a  garret 
[Scotland],  exposed  to  the  north  wind,  which  shrivelled  her 
countenance.  However  this  usage,  though  it  stunted  the 
girl  in  her  growth,  gave  her  a  hardy  constitution. 

She  had  life  and  spirit  in  abundance,  and  knew  when  she 


584  Dissenting  chaRxMs  for  a  State  Kirk.  [pa^tuL 


Arhutlinot. 
1712, 


was  ill  used.  Now  and  then,  she  would  sei^e  upon  John's 
commons,  snatch  a  leg  of  a  pullet  or  a  bit  of  good  beef:  for 
which  they  were  sure  to  go  to  fisticuffs.  Master  was  indeed 
too  strong  for  her,  but  Miss  would  not  yield  in  the  least 
point ;  but  even  when  Master  had  got  her  down,  she  would 
scratch  and  bite  like  a  tiger.  When  he  gave  her  a  cuff  on 
the  ear,  she  would  prick  him  with  her  knitting  needle.  John 
brought  a  great  chain,  one  day,  to  tie  her  to  the  bed-post  : 
for  which  affront,  Miss  aimed  a  penknife  at  his  heart.  In 
short,  these  quarrels  grew  up  to  rooted  aversions.  They  gave 
one  another  nicknames.  She  called  him  "  Gundy-guts  !  " 
and  he  called  her  "  Lousy  Peg  !  " 

Though  the  girl  was  a  tight  clever  M^ench,  as  any  was  : 
and,  through  her  pale  looks,  you  might  discern  spirit  and 
vivacity,  which  made  her,  not  indeed  a  perfect  beauty,  but 
something  that  was  agreeable. 

It  was  barbarous  in  parents,  not  to  take  notice  of  these 
early  quarrels,  and  make  them  live  better  together  :  such 
domestic  feuds  proving  afterwards  the  occasions  of  misfor- 
tunes to  them  both. 

Peg  had  indeed  some  odd  humours  and  comical  antipathy; 
for  which  John  would  jeer  her.  "  What  do  you  think  of  my 
sister  Peg,"  says  he,  "  that  faints  at  the  sound  of  an  organ  I 
and  yet  will  dance  and  frisk  at  the  noise  of  a  bagpipe  ?  " 

"What  is  that  to  you.  Gundy-guts!"  quoth  Peg, 
**  everybody  is  to  choose  their  own  music  !  " 

Then  Peg  had  taken  a  fancy,  not  to  say  her  Paternoster ; 
which  made  people  imagine  strange  things  of  her. 

Of  the  three  brothers  that  have  made  such  a  clutter  in  the 
world.  Lord  Peter,  Martin,  and  Jack  [the  names  by  uhich 
Swift  in  his  Tale  of  a  Tub  distinguisJied  the  Roman  Catholics, 
the  Church  of  England,  and  the  Fanatics  (Dissenters)J,  Jack  had, 
of  late,  been  her  inclination.  Lord  Peter  she  detested,  nor 
did  Martin  stand  much  better  in  her  good  graces;  but  Jack 
had  found  the  way  to  her  heart.  I  have  often  admired 
[wondered]  what  charms  she  discovered  in  that  awkward 
booby  !  till  I  talked  with  a  person  that  was  acquainted  with 
the  intriirue,  who  gave  me  the  following:  account  of  it. 


J  Arbuthnot  M.D.-j  y^  p^j^Q^y  QP  PresI] YTERIAN  MANNERS.  585 

Part  III.  10  April  1712.J 


CHAPTER    III. 

Jack's  Charms,  or  the  mcihod  by  which  he  gained  Peg's  heart. 

N  THE  first  place,  Jack  [the  Fanatics  (Dissenters)]  was 
a  very  young  fellow,  by  much  the  youngest  of  the 
three    brothers  ;  and  people  indeed  wondered  how 
such  a   young  upstart  jackanapes    [puppy]    should 
grow  so  pert  and  saucy,  and  take  so  much  upon  him. 

2.  Jack  braqged  of  greater  abilities  than  other  men.  He 
was  well  gifted  !  as  he  pretended.  I  need  not  tell  you,  what 
secret  influence  that  has  upon  the  ladies. 

3.  Jack  had  a  most  scandalous  tongue,  and  persuaded  Peg 
that  all  mankind  besides  himself  was  diseased  by  that  scar- 
let-faced whore,  Signiora  Bubonia  [the  Pope].  "As  for  his 
brother,  Lord  Peter  ;  the  tokens  were  evident  in  him, 
blotches,  scabs,  and  the  corona  [the  tonsxire]  !  His  brother 
Martin,  though  he  was  not  quite  so  bad,  had  some  nocturnal 
pains  ;  which  his  friends  pretended  were  only  scorbutical, 
but  he  was  sure  proceeded  from  a  worse  cause." 

By  such  maliciousinsinuations,  he  had  possessed  [persuaded] 
the  lady,  that  he  was  the  only  man  in  the  world  of  a  sound 
pure  and  untainted  Constitution ;  though  there  were  some 
that  stuck  not  to  say,  that  Signiora  Bubonia  and  Jack  railed 
at  one  another,  only  the  better  to  hide  an  intrigue  ;  and  that 
Jack  had  been  found  with  Signiora  under  his  cloak,  carrying 
her  home  in  a  dark  stormy  night. 

4.  Jack  was  a  prodigious  ogler.  He  would  ogle  you  the 
outside  of  his  eye  inward,  and  the  white  upward ! 

K  Tack  gave  himself  out  for  a  man  of  great  estate  m  the 
Fortunate  Islands  [Heaven],  of  which  the  sole  property  was 
vested  in  his  person.  By  this  trick,  he  cheated  abundance 
of  poor  people  of  small  sums,  pretending  to  make  over  plan- 
tations in  the  said  Islands  :  but  when  the  poor  wretches 
came  there  with  Jack's  Grant,  they  were  beaten,  mocked, 
and  turned  out  of  doors. 

6  I  told  you  that  Peg  was  whimsical,  and  loved  anything 
that  was  particular  [pecidiar].  In  that  way.  Jack  was  her 
man  !  for  he  neither  thought,  spoke,  dressed,  nor  acted  like 
other  mortals.     He  was  for  your  "  bold  strokes  "  !     He  railed 


586  A    ClIURCIIMAX    MOCKING   AT    THE  KiRK.  [pai'tm."'.';"^: 

at  fops,  though  himself  the  most  affected  in  the  World ;  in- 
stead of  the  common  fashion,  he  would  visit  his  mistress  in  a 
mourning  cloak,  band,  short  cuffs,  and  a  peaked  beard.  He  in- 
vented a  wa}'  of  coming  into  a  room  backwards,  which  he  said 
"  shewed  more  humility  and  less  affectation."  Where  other 
people  stood,  he  sat  [in  sin<^'ing]  ;  where  they  sat,  he  stood  [in 
prayer].  When  he  went  to  Court,  he  used  to  kick  away  the 
State,  and  sit  down  by  his  Prince,  cheek  by  jowl.  "  Confound 
these  States,"  says  he,  "they  are  a  modern  invention  !  " 

When  he  spoke  to  his  Prince,  he  always  turned  his  back 
upon  him.  If  he  were  advised  to  fast  for  his  health,  he 
would  eat  roast  beef.  If  he  was  allowed  a  more  plentiful 
diet ;  then  he  would  be  sure,  that  day !  to  live  upon  water- 
gruel.  He  would  cry  at  a  w'edding,  and  laugh  and  make 
jests  at  a  funeral. 

He  was  no  less  singular  in  his  opinions.  You  would  have 
burst  your  sides,  to  hear  him  talk  politics.  "  All  Government," 
says  he,  "  is  founded  upon  the  right  distribution  of  punish- 
ments ;  decent  executions  keep  the  world  in  awe  :  for  that 
reason,  the  majority  of  mankind  ought  to  be  hanged  every 
year  !  For  example,  I  suppose  the  Magistrate  ought  to  pass 
an  irreversible  sentence  upon  all  blue-eyed  children  from  the 
cradle  [Predestination]  :  but  that  there  may  be  some  shew  of 
justice  in  this  proceeding,  these  children  ought  to  be  trained 
up  by  masters  appointed  for  that  purpose,  to  all  sorts  of  vil- 
lainy, that  they  may  deserve  their  fate;  and  the  execution  of 
them  may  serve  as  an  object  of  terror  to  the  rest  of  mankind." 

As  to  giving  pardons,  he  has  this  singular  method  : 

That  when  the  wretches  had  the  ropes  about  their  necks, 
it  should  be  inquired  [of  them]  Who  believed  they  should  be 
hanged  ?  and  Who  not  ?  The  first  were  to  be  pardoned,  the 
latter  hanged  outright.  Such  as  were  once  pardoned,  were 
never  to  be  hanged  afterwards,  for  any  crime  whatever. 

He  had  such  skill  in  physiognomy,  that  he  would  pro- 
nounce, peremptorily,  upon  a  man's  face.  "  That  fellow," 
says  he,  "  do  what  he  will,  cannot  avoid  hanging  !  He  has 
a  hanging  look  !  "  By  the  same  Art,  he  would  prognosticate 
a  Principality  to  a  scoundrel. 

He  was  no  less  particular  in  the  choice  of  his  studies. 
They  were  generally  bent  toward  exploded  Chimeras,  the 
pcrpetuiun  nwbilc,  the  circular  shot,  philosopher'tj  stone,  and 


Par/fil'^'oXnu?^  Union  OF  England  AND  Scotland.  587 

silent  gunpowder ;  making  chains  for  fleas,  nets  for  flies,  and 
instruments  to  unravel  cobwebs  and  split  hairs. 

Thus  I  think  I  have  given  you  a  distinct  account  of  the 
methods  he  practised  upon  Peg. 

Her  brother  would,  now  and  then,  ask  her,  "What  a  Devil  ! 
dost  thou  see  in  that  pragmatical  [busybody  of  a]  coxcomb,  to 
make  thee  so  in  love  with  him  ?  He  is  a  fit  match  for  a 
tailor's  or  a  shoemaker's  daughter  :  but  not  for  you,  that  are 
a  Gentlewoman  !  " 

"  Fancy  is  free  !  "  quoth  Peg,  "  I  will  take  my  awn  way, 
do  you  take  yours  !  I  do  not  care  for  your  flaunting  beaus 
that  gang  with  their  breast  open,  and  their  sarks  l?  shirts] 
over  their  waistcoats  !  that  accost  me  with  set  speeches  out 
of  Sidney's  Arcadia,  or  The  Academy  of  Coinpliments  !  Jack 
is  a  sober,  grave  young  man :  though  he  has  none  of  your 
studied  harangues,  his  meaning  is  sincere.  He  has  a  great 
regard  to  his  father's  Will  ;  and  he  that  shews  himself  a  good 
son,  will  make  a  good  husband  !  Besides,  I  know  he  has  the 
original  Deed  of  Conveyance  to  the  Fortunate  Islands :  the 
others  are  counterfeits  !  " 

There  is  nothing  so  obstinate  as  young  ladies  in  their 
amours ;  the  more  you  cross  them,  the  worse  they  ai'e  ! 


CHAPTER    IV. 

How  the  Relations  reconciled  John  and  his  sister  Peg  ;  and 
what  return  Peg  made  to  John's  message. 


(89 

1 

Ohn  Bull,  otherwise  a  good-natured  man,  was  very 
hard  hearted  to  his  sister  Peg;  chiefly  from  an 
aversion  he  had  conceived  in  his  infancy.  While 
he  flourished,  kept  a  warm  house,  and  drove  a 
plentiful  trade  ;  poor  Peg  was  forced  to  go  hawking  and 
peddling  about  the  streets,  selling  knives,  scissors,  and  shoe- 
buckles;  now  and  then  carried  a  basket  of  fish  to  the  market; 
sewed,  span,  and  knitted  for  a  poor  livelihood  till  her  fingers' 
ends  were  sore.  And  when  she  could  not  get  bread  for  her 
family,  she  was  forced  to  hire  them  out  at  journeywork  to 
their  neighbours  [the  emigration  of  the  Scotch  to  other  countries]. 
Yet  in  these,  her  poor  circumstances,  she  still  preserved  the 


588  The  necessity  for  Peg's  consent.  [plvfm.%"°': 

air  and  mien  of  a  Gentlewoman,  a  certain  decent  pride  that 
extorted  respect  from  the  haughtiest  of  her  neighbours. 
When  she  came  into  any  full  assembly,  she  would  not  yield 
the  pas  to  the  best  of  them  !  If  one  asked  her,  "  Are  not  you 
related  to  John  Bull  ?  "  *'  Yes,"  says  she,  "  he  has  the 
honour  to  be  my  brother  !  " 

So  Peg's  affairs  went  on,  till  all  the  Relations  cried  out 
"  Shame  !  "  on  John,  for  his  barbarous  usage  of  his  own  flesh 
and  blood  :  that  it  was  an  easy  matter  for  him  to  put  her  in 
a  creditable  way  of  living,  not  only  without  hurt,  but  with 
advantage  to  himself;  she  being  an  industrious  person,  and 
might  be  serviceable  to  him  in  his  way  of  business. 

"  Hang  her  !  Jade  !  "  quoth  John,  "  I  cannot  endure  her, 
as  long  as  she  keeps  that  rascal  Jack's  company  !  " 

They  told  him  the  way  to  reclaim  her  was  to  take  him 
into  his  house  [the  Act  of  Toleration  in  i68g],  that  by  conver- 
sation, the  childish  humours  of  their  younger  days  might  be 
worn  out. 

These  arguments  were  enforced  by  a  certain  incident.  It 
happened  that  John  was,  at  that  time,  making  his  Will 
[  ?  tlie  Act  of  Settlement  in  1700],  the  very  same  in  which  Nic. 
Fkog  is  named  Executor.  Now  his  sister  Peg's  name  being 
in  the  entail  [the  ri^j^ht  of  the  Succession  to  the  Scottish  Croivn,  if 
Queen  Anne  should  die  childless],  he  could  not  make  a  thorough 
Settlement  without  her  consent. 

There  was  indeed  a  malicious  story  went  about,  as  if  John's 
last  Wife  [the  GODOLPHIN  Administration]  had  fallen  in  love 
with  Jack,  as  he  was  eating  custards  on  horseback  ;*  that  she 
persuaded  John  to  take  his  sister  Peg  into  the  house,  the 
better  to  drive  on  her  intrigue  with  Jack,  concluding  he 
would  follow  his  Mistress,  Peg.  All  I  can  infer  from  this 
story  is,  that  when  one  has  got  a  bad  character  in  the  World, 

=■■  [Dean  Swift  in  the  Fifth  edition  of  the  Ta/c  of  a  Tub,  p.  133,  17 10, 
has  in  the  Text] 

How  Jack's  tatters  came  into  fashion  in  Court  and  City. 
How  he  got  upon  a  great  horse,  and  eat  custard. 

[And  in  the  notes  to  the  same] 

Sir  Humphry  Euwyn,  a  Presbyterian,  was  some  years  a£^o[i697]  Lord 
Mayor  of  London  ;  and  had  the  insolence  to  go  in  his  formahties  to  a 
conventicle,  with  the  ensigns  of  his  office. 

Custard  ib  a  famous  dish  at  a  Lord  Mayor's  feast. 


P  Jnr^X'i''7P..]   T  II  E  T  E  R  M  S  O  F  T  II  E  U  N  I  O  X  .   5S9 

people  will  report  and  believe  anything  of  them,  true  or  false. 
But  to  return  to  my  story. 

When  Peg  received  John's  message,  she  huffed  and 
stormed  like  the  Devil ! 

"  My  brother  John,"  quoth  she,  "  is  grown  wondrous  kind- 
hearted,  all  of  a  sudden  !  but  I  meikle  doubt  whether  it  be 
not  mair  for  his  awn  conveniency  than  my  good  !  He  draws 
up  his  weits  and  his  deeds,  forsooth ;  and  I  mun  set  my  hand 
to  them  unsight  unseen  !  I  like  the  young  man  [the  House  of 
Hanover]  he  has  settled  upon  well  enough  ;  but  I  think  I 
ought  to  have  a  valuable  consideration  for  my  consent.  He 
wants  my  poor  little  farm  [Scotland],  because  it  makes  a  nook 
in  his  park  wall  [Great  Britain],  Ye  may  e'en  tell  him,  he 
has  mair  than  he  makes  good  use  of!  He  gangs  up  and 
down  drinking,  roaring,  and  quarrelling  through  all  the 
country  markets  !  making  foolish  bargains  in  his  cups,  which 
he  repents  when  he  is  sober !  like  a  thriftless  wretch,  spend- 
ing the  goods  and  gear  that  his  forefathers  wan  with  the 
sweat  of  their  brows !  *  light  come,  light  go,'  he  cares  not  a 
farthing !  But  why  should  I  stand  surety  for  his  silly  con- 
tracts ?  The  little  I  have  is  free,  and  I  can  call  it  my  own  ! 
*  Hame's  hame,  be  it  never  so  hamely ! '  I  ken  him  well 
enough  I  he  could  never  abide  me  :  and  when  he  has  his  ends, 
he'll  e'en  use  me  as  he  did  before  !  I  am  sure  I  shall  be 
treated  like  a  poor  drudge  !  I  shall  be  set  to  tend  the  bairns, 
darn  the  hose,  and  mend  the  linen  1 

"Then  there's  no  living  with  that  old  carline  [?  thistle]  his 
mother !  She  rails  at  Jack,  and  Jack  is  an  honester  man 
than  any  of  her  kin  !  I  shall  be  plagued  with  her  spells  and 
Paternosters,  and  silly  auld  warld  Ceremonies  !  I  mun  never 
pair  my  nails  on  a  Friday,  nor  begin  a  journey  on  Childermass 
[Christmas]  Day !  and  I  mun  stand  becking  and  hinging 
[hoiving  and  scraping]  as  I  gang  out  and  into  the  hall  [Church]. 

"  Tell  him  he  may  e'en  gan  his  gait !  I'll  have  nothing  to 
do  with  him  !  I'll  stay,  like  the  poor  country  mouse,  in  my 
own  habitation !  " 

So  Peg  talked.  But  for  all  that,  by  the  interposition  of  good 
friends ;  and  by  many  a  bonny  thing  that  was  sent,  and  many 
more  that  was  promised  Peg,  the  matter  was  concluded  :  and 
Peg  was  taken  into  the  House,  upon  certain  Articles  [Act  of 
Union  between  England  and  Scotland,  1707]  one  of  which 


590  The  Dissenters  striving  for  power.  [kn1u.' Apni^/;-- 

That  she  might  have  the  freedom  of  Jack's  conversation,  and 
might  take  Jiinifor  better  and  for  xvorse,  if  she  pleased ;  provided 
always,  he  did  not  come  into  the  house  at  unseasonable  hours  ;  and 
disturb  the  rest  of  the  old  woman,  John's  mother. 


CHAPTER    V. 

Of  some  quarrels  that  happened  after  Peg  was  taken  into  the 
Family. 

T  IS  an  old  observation,  that  the  quarrels  of  relations 
are  harder  to  reconcile  than  any  other  ;  injuries 
from  friends  fret  and  gall  more,  and  the  memory  of 
them  is  not  so  easily  obliterated.  This  is  cunningly 
represented  by  one  of  your  old  sages,  called  Esop,  in  the  stcry 
of  the  bird  that  was  grieved  extremely  for  being  wounded 
with  an  arrow  feathered  with  his  own  wing ;  as  also  of  the 
oak  that  let  many  a  heavy  groan,  when  he  was  cleft  with  a 
wedge  of  his  own  timber. 

There  was  no  man  in  the  world  less  subject  to  rancour 
than  John  Bull,  considering  how  often  his  good  nature  had 
been  abused  :  yet  I  don't  know  but  he  was  too  apt  to  hearken 
to  tattling  people  that  carried  tales  between  him  and  his 
sister  Peg,  on  purpose  to  sow  jealousies  and  set  them  together 
by  the  ears. 

They  say,  that  there  were  some  hardships  put  upon  Peg, 
that  had  been  better  let  alone;  but  it  was  the  business  of 
good  people  to  restrain  the  injuries  on  one  side,  and  moderate 
the  resentments  on  the  other.  A  good  friend  acts  both  parts ; 
the  one  without  the  other  will  not  do ! 

The  purchase  money  of  Peg's  farm  was  ill  paid.  Then 
Peg  loved  a  little  good  liquor,  and  the  servants  shut  up  the 
wine  cellar :  but  for  that  Peg  found  a  trick ;  for  she  made  a 
false  key  [Occasional  Conformity].  Peg's  servants  complained 
that  they  were  debarred  from  all  manner  of  business,  and 
never  suffered  to  touch  the  least  thing  within  the  house.  If 
they  offered  t©  come  into  the  warehouse,  then  straight  went 
the  yard  [measuring  rod\  slap  over  their  noddle  !  If  they 
ventured  into  the  counting-house,  a  fellow  would  throw  an 
ink-bottle  at  their  head  !     If  they  came  into  the  best  apart- 


Pa«ni."''^7°'-]  Reactionary  y:/cr^  AGAINST  Dissenters.  591 

ment,  to  set  anything  there  in  order;  they  were  saluted  with 
a  broom  !  If  they  meddled  with  anything  in  the  kitchen,  it 
was  odds  but  the  cook  laid  them  over  the  pate  with  a  ladle  ! 
One  that  would  have  gone  into  the  stables,  was  met  by  two 
rascals,  who  fell  to  work  with  him,  with  a  brush  and  a  curry 
comb  !  Some  climbing  up  into  the  coach  box,  were  told  that 
"  one  of  their  companions  [?]  had  been  there  before,  that 
could  not  drive !  "  then  slap  went  the  long  whip  about  their 
ears  1 

On  the  other  hand,  it  was  complained  that  Peg's  servants 
were  always  asking  for  drink  money  !  that  they  had  more 
than  their  share  of  the  Christmas  Box.  To  say  the  truth, 
Peg's  lads  bustled  pretty  hard  for  that  :  for  when  they  were 
endeavouring  to  lock  it  up,  they  got  in  their  great  fists,  and 
pulled  out  handfuls  of  half-crowns,  some  shillings  and  six- 
pences ;  others  in  the  scramble  picked  up  guineas  and  broad 
pieces. 

But  there  happened  a  worse  thing  than  this.  It  was  com- 
plained that  Peg's  servants  had  great  stomachs  [Fanatics 
(Dissenters)  getting  into  places  of  trust],  and  brought  too 
many  of  their  friends  and  acquaintance  to  the  table,  that 
John's  family  was  like[ly]  to  be  eaten  out  of  house  and 
home. 

Instead  of  regulating  this  matter  as  it  ought  to  be,  Peg's 
young  men  were  thrust  from  the  table  [Fanatics  excluded  by 
the  passing  of  the  Occasional  Conformity  Act,  in  1711].  Then 
there  was  the  Devil  and  all  to  do  !  spoons,  plates  and  dishes 
flew  about  the  room  like  mad;  and  Sir  Roger  [Robert 
Harley],  who  was  now  Major  Domo,  had  enough  to  do  to 
quiet  them. 

Peg  said  this  was  contrary  to  agreement,  whereby  she 
was,  in  all  things,  to  be  treated  like  a  child  of  the  family. 
Then  she  called  upon  those  that  had  made  her  such  fair 
promises,  and  undertook  for  her  brother  John's  good  be- 
haviour ;  but,  alas,  to  her  cost,  she  found  that  they  were  the 
first  and  readiest  to  do  her  the  injury. 

John,  at  last,  agreed  to  this  regulation,  that  Peg's  footmen 
might  sit  with  his  book-keeper,  journeymen,  and  apprentices; 
and  Peg's  better  sort  of  servants  might  sit  with  his  footmen, 
if  they  pleased. 

Then,  they  began  to  order  plum-porridge  and  minced  pies 


592  John  Bull's  story  of  the  War.  [pannt'^ioApni^z;"; 

for  Peg's  dinner  [the  Act  0/1712,  restoring  the  ancient  rights 
of  Patrons  in  the  bestowal  of  Scotch  ecclesiastical  presentations  ; 
which  had  been,  of  late,  in  the  power  of  the  Kirk] .  Peg  told  them , 
"  She  had  an  aversion  to  that  sort  of  food  ;  that  upon  the 
forcing  down  of  a  mess  of  it  some  years  ago,  it  threw  her 
into  a  fit  until  she  brought  it  up  again."  Some  alleged  it 
was  nothing  but  humour,  that  the  same  mess  should  be 
served  up  again  for  supper,  and  breakfast  next  morning  : 
others  would  have  made  use  of  a  horn.  But  the  wiser  sort 
bid  let  her  alone,  and  she  might  take  to  it  of  her  own 
accord. 

CHAPTER    VI. 

The  Conversation  between  John  Bull  and  his  wife,  [Queen 

Anne]. 


Mrs.  Bull. 


jHouGH  our  affairs,  Honey!  are  in  a 
bad  condition  ;  I  have  a  better  opinion 
of  them,  since  you  seem  to  be  con- 
vinced of  the  ill  course  you  have  been 
in,  and  are  resolved  to  submit  to  proper  remedies.  But 
when  I  consider  your  immense  debts,  your  foolish  bargains, 
and  the  general  disorder  of  your  business  ;  I  have  a  curiosity 
to  know,  what  Fate  or  Chance  has  brought  you  into  this 
condition  ? 

John  Bull.  I  wish  you  would  talk  of  some  other  subject. 
The  thoughts  of  it  make  me  mad !  Our  Family  must  have 
their  run  ! 

Mrs.  Bull.  But  such  a  strange  thing  as  this,  never  hap- 
pened to  any  of  your  Family  before  !  They  have  had  Law- 
suits [wars]  ;  but  though  they  spent  the  income,  they  never 
mortgaged  the  Stock  [Capital]  !  Sure,  you  must  have  come 
of  the  Norman  or  Norfolk  blood  in  you  :  prithee,  give  me 
some  account  of  these  matters! 

John  Bull.  Who  could  help  it  ?  There  lives  not  such  a 
fellow  by  bread,  as  that  old  Lewis  Baboon  !  It  is  the 
cheatingest,  [most]  contentious  rogue  upon  the  face  of  the 
earth  ! 

You  must  know,  one  day,  as  Nic.  Frog  and  1  were  over 
a  bottle,  making   up  an  old  quarrel,  the    old  knave   would 


Pa«^iiL^"X"i^^7-]  '^"E  Treaties  of  Partition.  593 

needs  have  us  drink  a  bottle  of  his  Champagne  :  and  so,  one 
after  another,  till  my  friend  Nic.  and  I,  not  being  used  to 
such  heady  stuff,  got  drunk.  Lewis,  all  the  while,  either  by 
the  strength  of  his  brain  or  flinching  his  glass,  kept  himself 
sober  as  a  judge. 

"  My  worthy  friends,"  quoth  Lewis,  "  henceforth,  let  us 
live  neighbourly!  I  am  as  peaceable  and  quiet  as  a  lamb,  of 
my  own  temper;  but  it  has  been  my  misfortune  to  live  among 
quarrelsome  neighbours.  There  is  but  one  thing  that  can 
make  us  fall  out,  and  that  is  the  Inheritance  of  Lord 
Strutt's  estate.  I  am  content,  for  peace  sake,  to  waive  my 
right,  and  submit  to  any  expedient  to  prevent  a  Lawsuit.  I 
think  an  equal  division  will  be  the  fairest  way  1 " 

"  Well  moved,  old  Lewis  !  "  quoth  Frog,  "  and  I  hope  my 
friend  John  here,  will  not  be  refractory  !  "  At  the  same 
time,  he  clapped  me  on  the  back,  and  slabbered  me  all  over, 
from  cheek  to  cheek,  with  his  great  tongue. 

"  Do  as  you  please,  Gentlemen! "  quoth  I ;  "  it  is  all  one  to 
John  Bull! " 

We  agreed,  to  part  that  night,  and  next  morning  to  meet 
at  the  corner  of  Lord  Strutt's  park  wall,  with  our  surveying 
instruments:  which  accordingly  we  did  [the  negotiations  for 
the  first  Treaty  of  Partition  in  1698]. 

Old  Lewis  carried  a  chain  and  a  semicircle;  Nic,  paper, 
rulers,  and  a  lead  pencil ;  and  I  followed  at  some  distance 
with  a  long  pole. 

We  began  first  surveying  the  meadow  grounds  ;  afterwards, 
we  measured  the  cornfields,  close  [ficld\  by  close ;  then  we 
proceeded  to  the  woodlands,  the  copper  and  tin  mines  [the 
West  Indies].  All  this  while,  Nic.  laid  down  everything 
exactly,  upon  paper,  and  calculated  the  acres  and  roods  to  a 
great  nicety.  When  we  finished  the  land,  we  were  going  to 
break  into  the  house  and  gardens,  to  take  an  inventory  of  his 
plate,  pictures,  and  other  furniture. 

Mrs.  Bull.   What  said  Lord  Strutt  to  all  this  ? 

John  Bull.  As  we  had  almost  finished  our  concern,  we 
were  accosted  by  some  one  of  Lord  Strutt's  servants. 
"  Hey  day  !  what's  here  ?  What  a  Devil  !  is  the  meaning  of 
all  these  trangrams  and  gimcracks.  Gentlemen  ?  What,  in 
the  name  of  wonder  1  are  you  going  about,  jumping  over  my 
Master's  hedges,  and  running  your  lines  across  his  grounds  ? 

£A-G.  Gar.  VI.  ^8 


594   Cull  then,  a  little  thin  man.   [pa„-\iL'ToXHi^i^7-: 

If  you  are  at  any  field  pastime,  you  might  have  asked  leave ! 
my  Master  is  a  civil  well  bred  person  as  any  is  !  " 

Mrs.  Bull.  What  could  you  answer  to  this  ? 

John  Bull.  Why,  truly,  my  neighbour  Frog  and  I  were 
still  hot-headed.  We  told  him,  "  His  Master  was  an  old 
doating  puppy  that  minded  nothing  of  his  own  business  ! 
that  we  were  surveying  his  estate,  and  settling  it  for  him ; 
since  he  would  not  do  it  himself  !  " 

Upon  this,  there  happened  a  quarrel ;  but  we  being  stronger 
than  they,  sent  them  away  with  a  fiea  in  their  ear. 

They  went  home,  and  told  their  Master.  "  My  Lord  !  " 
say  they,  "  there  are  three  odd  sort  of  fellows  going  about 
your  grounds,  with  the  strangest  machines  that  ever  we 
beheld  in  our  life.  We  suppose  they  are  going  to  rob  your 
orchard,  fell  your  trees,  or  drive  away  your  cattle.  They 
told  us  strange  things,  about  '  settling  your  estates.'  One 
[Lewis  Baboon]  is  a  lusty  old  fellow  in  a  black  wig  with  a 
iDlack  beard,  and  without  teeth.  There's  another  [Nicholas 
Frog]  thick  squat  fellow  in  trunk  hose  [knce-brccchcs].  The 
third  is  a  little  long-nosed  thin  man  (I  was  then  lean,  being 
just  come  out  of  a  fit  of  sickness  [?  the  war  i68g — 1697]). 
We  suppose  it  is  fit  to  send  after  them,  lest  they  carry  some- 
thing away  !  " 

Mrs.  Bull.  I  fancy  this  put  the  old  fellow  in  a  rare  tweag 
[passion]  ! 

John  Bull.  Weak  as  he  was,  he  called  for  his  long  Toledo 
[swordj,  swore,  and  bounced  about  the  room,  "  'Sdeath  ! 
what  am  I  come  to,  to  be  affronted  so  by  my  tradesmen  ?  I 
know  the  rascals !  M}'  barber,  linendraper,  and  clothier 
dispose  of  my  estate  !  Bring  hither  my  blunderbuss !  I'll 
warrant  ye,  you  shall  see  daylight  through  them  !  Scoun- 
drels !  dogs  !  the  scum  of  the  earth  !  Fkog  !  that  was  my 
father's  kitchen-boy  ;  he  pretend  to  meddle  with  my  estate  ! 
with  my  Will !  Ah,  poor  Strutt  !  what  art  thou  come  to 
at  last  !  Thou  hast  lived  too  long  in  the  world  to  see  thy 
age  and  infirmity  so  despised !  How  will  the  ghosts  of  my 
noble  ancestors  receive  these  tidings  ?  they  cannot,  they  must 
not  sleep  quietly  in  their  graves !  "  In  short,  the  old  gentle- 
man was  carried  off  in  a  fainting  fit  ;  and,  after  bleeding  in 
both  arms,  hardly  recovered. 

Mrs.  Bull.  Really,  this  was  a  very  extraordinary  way  of 
proceeding  :  I  long  to  hear  the  rest  of  it ! 


pl'raK"xI:]LEAYIS  ACTS  OX  THE  WiLL,  NOT  THE  TREATY.595 

John  Bull.  After  we  had  come  back  to  the  tavern,  and 
taken  the  other  bottle  of  Champagne,  we  quarrelled  a  little 
about  the  division  of  the  estate.  Lewis  hauled  and  pulled 
the  map  on  one  side,  and  Frog  and  I  on  the  other ;  till  we 
had  like  to  have  torn  the  parchment  to  pieces. 

At  last,  Lewis  pulled  out  a  pair  of  tailor's  great  shears, 
and  clipped  off  a  corner  for  himseU  [Gtiipuscoa  and  Sicily  went 
to  Finance,  by  the  First  Partition  Treaty  of  i6g8j,  which  he  said 
was  a  Manor  that  lay  convenient  for  him  :  and  left  Frog  and 
me  the  rest  to  dispose  of  as  we  pleased. 

We  were  overjoyed  to  think  that  Lewis  was  contented 
with  so  little,  not  smelling  what  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  plot. 

There  happened,  indeed,  an  incident  that  gave  us  some 
disturbance.  A  cunning  fellow,  one  of  my  servants,  two 
days  after,  peeping  through  the  keyhole,  observed  that  old 
Lewis  had  stole  away  our  part  of  the  map,  and  saw  him 
fiddling  and  turning  the  map  from  one  corner  to  the  other, 
trying  to  join  the  two  pieces  again.  He  was  muttering 
something  to  himself,  which  he  did  not  well  hear,  only  these 
words,  *'  'Tis  a  great  pity  !  'tis  a  great  pity  !  "  My  servant 
added,  that  he  believed  this  had  some  ill  meaning. 

I  told  him,  "  He  was  a  coxcomb,  always  pretending  to  be 
wiser  than  his  companions  !  Lev/is  and  I  are  good  friends. 
He  is  an  honest  fellow ;  and,  I  dare  say !  will  stand  to  his 
bargain. 

The  sequel  of  the  story  proved  this  fellow's  suspicion  to 
be  too  well  grounded.  For  Lewis  revealed  our  whole  secret 
to  the  deceased  Lord  Strutt,  who  (in  reward  to  his 
treachery,  and  revenge  to  Frog  and  me),  settled  his  whole 
estate  upon  the  present  Philip  Baboon  [Philip,  Duke  of 
ANjfOU,  afterwards  Philip  V.].  Then  we  understood  what  he 
meant  by  piecing  the  map  together. 

Mrs.  Bull.  And  were  you  surprised  at  this  ?  Had  not 
Lord  Strutt  reason  to  be  angry  ?  Would  you  have  been 
contented  to  have  been  so  used  yourself? 

John  Bull.  Why,  truly,  Wife  !  it  was  not  easily  recon- 
ciled to  the  common  methods  !  but  then  it  was  the  fashion 
to  do  such  things. 

I  have  read  of  your  Golden  Age,  your  Silver  Age,  &c.:  one 
might  justly  call  this,  the  Age  of  the  Lawyers  [Claimants], 
There  is  hardly  a  man  of  substance  in  all  the  country,  but 


596   It  is  an  age  of  Pretenders.  [vJm!''TXr\i'''yl-. 

had  a  Counterfeit  that  pretended  to  his  estate.  As  the 
philosophers  say,  that  there  is  a  dupHcate  of  every  terrestial 
animal,  at  sea;  so  it  was  in  this  Age  of  Lawyers,  there  were, 
at  least,  two  of  everything.  Nay,  on  my  conscience  !  I  think 
there  were  three  Esquire  Hackums  [       ?       ]  at  one  time. 

Lewis  Baboon  entertained  a  fellow  [the  Chevalier  St. 
George,  afterwards  called  the  Old  Pretender]  that  called  him- 
self John  Bull's  Heir.  I  knew  him  no  more  than  the  child 
unborn ;  yet  he  brought  me  into  some  trouble  and  expense. 
1  here  was  another  that  pretended  to  be  Esquire  South 
[Luiperor  of  Austria]:  and  two  Lord  Strutts,  you  know! 

In  short,  it  was  usual  for  a  parcel  of  fellows  to  meet  and 
dispose  of  the  whole  estates  in  the  country. 

"  This  lies  convenient  for  me,  Tom  !  "  "  Thou  would  do 
more  good  with  that,  Dick  !  than  the  old  fellow  that  has  it  !  " 
So  to  law  they  went  with  the  true  owners.  The  lawyers  got 
well  by  it :  everybody  else  was  undone. 

It  was  a  common  thing  for  an  honest  man,  when  he 
came  home  at  night,  to  find  another  fellow  domineering  in 
his  family,  hectoring  his  servants,  and  calling  for  his  supper. 
In  every  house,  you  might  observe  two  SosiAS  quarrelling  who 
was  Master!  For  my  own  part,  I  am  still  afraid  of  the  same 
treatment  !  that  I  should  find  somebody  behind  my  counter 
selling  my  broadcloth. 

Mrs.  Bull.  There  are  a  sort  of  fellows  that  they  call 
Banterers  and  Bamboozlers.  that  play  such  tricks ;  but  it 
seems  these  fellows  were  in  earnest! 

John  Bull.  I  begin  to  think  that  Justice  is  a  better  rule 
than  Conveniency,  for  all  some  people  make  so  slight  on  it ! 

CHAPTER    VII. 

Of  the  hard  shifts  Mrs.  Bull  was  put  to,  to  preserve  the 
Manor  of  Bullock's  Hatch  ;  with  Sir  Roger's  method  to  keep  off 
importunate  duns. 


S  John  Bull  and  his  wife  were  talking  together, 
they  were  surprised  with  a  sudden  knocking  at  the 
door. 

"Those    wicked    Scriveners    and    Lawyers,    no 
doubt  !  "  quoth  John.     And  so  it  was;  some  asking  for  the 


Part Iil'^Io  April''i^7"i^G    E  N  G  L  A  N  d's  F I N  A  N  C I A  L  S  T  R  A I T  S .    5  9  / 

money  that  he  owed,  and  others  warning  to  prepare  for  the 
approaching  Term. 

"  What  a  cursed  life  do  I  lead  !  "  quoth  John.  "  Deht  is 
like  deadly  sin.  For  GOD's  sake  !  Sir  Roger  !  get  me  rid 
of  these  fellows  !  " 

"  I'll  warrant  you  !  "  quoth  Sir  Roger,  "  leave  them  to 
me!" 

And  indeed  it  was  pleasant  enough  to  observe  Sir  Roger's 
method  with  those  importunate  duns.  His  sincere  friendship 
for  John  Bull,  made  him  submit  to  many  things,  for  his 
service,  which  he  would  have  scorned  to  have  done  for  him- 
self. 

Sometimes  he  would  stand  at  the  door  with  his  long  pole, 
to  keep  off  the  duns,  till  John  got  out  at  the  back  door. 
When  the  lawyers  and  Tradesmen  [the  Allies]  brought  ex- 
travagant bills.  Sir  Roger  used  to  bargain  beforehand  for 
leave  to  cut  off  a  quarter  of  a  yard  in  any  part  of  the  bill  he 
pleased  :  he  wore  a  pair  of  scissors  in  his  pocket  for  this 
purpose,  and  would  snip  it  off  so  nicely,  as  you  cannot 
imagine  !  Like  a  true  goldsmith,  he  kept  all  your  holidays 
[i.e.,  to  gain  more  time]  :  there  was  not  one  wanting  in  his 
Calendar!  When  ready  money  was  scarce,  he  would  set 
them  a  telling  [counting]  a  Thousand  Pounds  in  sixpences, 
groats,  and  threepenny  pieces.  It  would  have  done  your 
heart  good  to  have  seen  him  charge  through  an  army  of 
Lawyers,  Attorneys,  Clerks,  and  Tradesmen  !  sometimes  with 
sword  in  hand,  at  other  nuzzling  like  an  eel  in  the  mud. 
When  a  fellow  stuck  like  a  burr  that  there  was  no  shaking 
him  off,  he  used  to  be  mighty  inquisitive  about  the  health  of 
his  uncles  and  aunts  in  the  country  !  he  would  call  them  all 
by  their  names :  for  he  knew  everybody,  and  could  talk  to 
them  in  their  own  way.  The  extremely  impertinent,  he 
would  send  them  away  to  see  some  strange  sight,  as  the 
dragon  at  Hockley  the  Hole,  or  bid  him  call  the  30th  of  next 
February. 

Now  and  then,  you  would  see  him  in  the  kitchen,  weighing 
the  beef  and  butter,  paying  ready  money  that  the  maids 
might  not  run  a  [on]  tick  at  the  market,  and  the  butchers  (by 
bribing  of  them)  sell  damaged  and  light  meat.  Another 
time,  he  would  slip  into  the  cellar,  and  gauge  the  casks. 

In   his   leisure  minutes,  he  was  posting  his  books,  and 


59S  John  Bull  contl\ues  his  stokv.  [pari]iL'''loAp,'ii^i7"." 

gathering  in  his  debts :  such  frugal  methods  were  necessary 
where  money  was  so  scarce,  and  duns  so  numerous. 

All  this  while,  John  kept  his  credit,  could  show  his  head 
both  at  the  Change  and  Westminster  Hall ;  no  man  pro- 
tested his  bill,  nor  refused  his  bond  :  only  the  Sharpers  and 
Scriveners,  the  Lawyers  and  other  Clerks  pelted  Sir  Roger 
as  he  went  along.  The  Squirters  were  at  it,  with  their 
kennel  water  ;  for  they  were  mad  for  the  loss  of  their  bubble 
[victim],  and  that  they  could  not  get  him  to  mortgage  the 
Manor  of  Bullock's  Hatch  [to  repeal  the  Sacramental  Test  Act 
0/1673!. 

Sir  Roger  shook  his  ears,  and  nuzzled  along;  well  satisfied 
within  himself  that  he  was  doing  a  charitable  work,  in  rescu- 
ing an  honest  man  from  the  claws  of  harpies  and  blood-suckers. 

Mrs.  Bull  did  all  that  an  affectionate  wife  and  a  good 
housewife  could  do.  Yet  the  boundaries  of  virtues  are  indi- 
visible lines.  It  is  impossible  to  march  up  close  to  the 
frontiers  of  frugality,  without  entering  the  territories  of 
parsimony.  Your  good  housewives  are  apt  to  look  into  the 
minutest  things.  Therefore  some  blamed  Mrs.  Bull  for  new 
heelpiecing  of  her  shoes,  grudging  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of 
soap  and  sand  to  scour  the  rooms :  but  especially  that  she 
would  not  allow  her  maids  and  apprentices  the  benefit  oiJoHN 
BuNYAN,  the  London  Apprentice,  or  the  Seven  Champions  in  the 
black  letter  [the  Act  for  restraining  the  Press,  against  seditious 
pamphlets] . 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

A  continuation  of  the  Conversation  betwixt  JOHN  Bull  and 
his  wife. 


Mrs.  Bull.  '^  ffl!'^  IS  a  most  sad  life  we  lead,  my  Dear! 
to  be  so  teazed,  paying  interest  for  old 
debts,  and  still  contracting  new  ones. 
However,  I  do  not  blame  you  for  vindi- 
cating your  honour,  and  chastizing  old  Lewis.  To  curb 
the  insolent,  protect  the  oppressed,  recover  onejs  own,  and 
defend  what  one  has,  are  good  effects  of  the  Law.  The  only 
thing  I  want  to  know  is,  how  you  come  to  make  an  end  of 
your  money,  before  you  have  finished  your  Suit  ? 


Pr.rrnt:'':oAp'iiV;":]  How  TUK  National  Debt  grew.    599 

John  Bull.  I  was  told  by  the  Learned  in  the  Law,  that  my 
Suit  stood  upon  three  iirm  pillars:  More  Money  for  more  Law, 
more  Law  for  more  Money,  and  no  Composition .  "  More 
Money  for  more  Law,"  was  plain  to  a  demonstration  ;  for 
who  can  go  to  Law  without  money  ?  and  it  was  as  plain,  that 
any  man  that  has  Money,  may  have  Law  for  it !  The  third 
was  as  evident  as  the  other  two :  for  what  Composition 
[Peace]  could  be  made  with  a  rogue  that  never  kept  a  word 
he  said  ? 

Mrs.  Bull.  I  think  you  are  most  likely  to  get  out  of  this 
labyrinth  by  the  second  door,  by  want  of  ready  money  to 
purchase  this  precious  commodity !  But  you  seem  not  only 
to  have  bought  too  much  of  it,  but  to  have  paid  too  dear  for 
what  you  have  bought  !  else  how  was  it  possible  to  run  so 
much  in  debt,  when,  at  this  very  time,  the  yearly  income 
that  is  mortgaged  to  those  usurers,  would  discharge  Hocus's 
bills,  and  give  you  your  bellyful  of  Law  for  all  your  life, 
without  running  one  sixpence  in  debt !  You  have  been  bred 
up  to  business !  I  suppose  you  can  cypher  !  I  wonder  you 
never  used  your  pen  and  ink  ! 

John  Bull.  Now,  you  urge  me  too  far  !  Prithee,  dear 
wife  !  hold  thy  tongue  !  Suppose  a  young  heir,  heedless,  raw, 
and  inexperienced ;  full  of  spirit  and  vigour,  with  a  favourite 
passion,  in  the  hands  of  Money  Scriveners  [TMoney  Lenders]  ! 
Such  fellows  are  like  your  wire-drawing  mills !  if  they  get 
hold  of  a  man's  finger  they  will  pull  in  his  whole  body  at 
last,  till  they  squeeze  the  heart,  blood,  and  bowels  out  of 
him.  When  I  wanted  money,  half  a  dozen  of  these  fellows 
were  always  waiting  in  my  antechamber,  with  their  securities 
ready  drawn.  I  was  tempted  with  the  "  ready"  !  Some  farm 
or  other  went  to  pot  1  I  received  with  one  hand,  and  paid 
it  away  with  the  other,  to  Lawyers  that,  like  so  many  hell- 
hounds, were  ready  to  devour  me.  Then  the  rogues  would 
plead  poverty  and  scarcity  of  money.  That  always  ended  in 
[my]  receiving  Ninety  for  the  Hundred  !  After  they  had  gotten 
possession  of  my  best  rents,  they  were  able  to  supply  me 
with  my  own  money  !  But  what  was  worse,  when  I  looked 
into  my  securities  [Perpetual  Consols],  there  was  no  clause  of 
redemption. 

Mrs.  Bull.  "  No  Clause  of  Redemption,"  say  you  !  that's 
hard ! 


6oo  The  first  years  of  the  War  i  702-1 707.  y^nilT.yTz 

John  Bull.  No  great  matter,  for  I  cannot  pay  them  ! 
They  had  got  a  worse  trick  than  that !  The  same  man 
bought  and  sold  to  himself,  paid  the  money,  and  gave  the 
acquittance.  The  same  man  was  Butcher  and  Grazier, 
Brewer  and  Butler,  Cook  and  Poulterer.  There  is  something 
still  worse  than  all  this.  There  came  twenty  bills  on  me,  at 
once ;  which  I  had  given  money  to  discharge.  I  was  like[ly] 
to  be  pulled  to  pieces  by  Brewer,  Butcher,  and  Baker;  even 
my  Herb-Woman  dunned  me  as  I  went  along  the  streets 
(thanks  to  my  friend  Sir  Roger!  else  I  must  have  gone  to 
gaol).  When  I  asked  the  meaning  of  this,  I  was  told, 
"The  money  went  to  the  Lawyers;  Counsel  won't  tick  [give 
credit],  Sir!"  Hocus  was  urging,  my  Bookkeeper  [Lord 
Treasurer  GoDOLPHiN]  sat  sotting  all  day,  playing  at  Putt 
and  All  Fours.  In  short,  by  griping  Usurers,  devouring 
Lawyers,  and  negligent  Servants,  I  am  brought  to  this  pass ! 

Mrs.  Bull.  This  was  hard  usage;  but,  methinks,  the  least 
reflection  mif;:ht  have  retrieved  you  ! 

John  Bull.  'Tis  true  !  yet  consider  my  circumstances ! 
My  honour  was  engaged,  and  I  did  not  know  how  to  get 
out !  Besides,  I  was,  for  five  years,  often  drunk ;  always 
muddled  !  They  carried  me  from  tavern  to  tavern,  to  ale- 
houses and  brandy-shops;  and  brought  me  acquainted  with 
such  strange  dogs !  "  There  goes  the  prettiest  fellow  in  the 
world,"  says  one,  "  for  managing  a  jury  ;  make  him  yours  !  " 
"  There  is  another  can  pick  you  up  witnesses  !"  "  Serjeant 
Such-a-One  has  a  silver  tongue  at  the  bar!"  I  believe  in 
time  I  should  have  retained  every  single  person  within  the 
Inns  of  Court ! 

The  night  after  a  trial,  I  treated  the  Lawyers,  their  wives, 
and  daughters,  with  fiddles,  hautboys,  drums,  and  trumpets. 
I  was  always  hot-headed  !  Then  they  placed  me  in  the 
middle  ;  the  Attorneys  and  their  Clerks  dancing  about  me, 
whooping  and  holloaing,  "  Long  live  John  Bull  !  the  glory 
and  support  of  the  Law  !  " 

Mrs.  Bull.  Really,  Husband  !  you  went  through  a  very 
notable  course  ! 

John  Bull.  One  of  the  things  that  first  alarmed  me,  was 
that  the}'  shewed  a  spite  against  my  poor  old  Mother. 

'*  Lord  !"  quoth  I,  "what  makes  you  so  jealous  of  a  poor 
old  innocent  Gentlewoman  that  minds  only  her  Prayers  and 


Part 


J  Arbutlinot,  M.D.-|  g  ^^jp,^    ON  THE   HlGII  FlYING  FURY.    6oi 
rtlll.  ioApnli7i2.J  "^ 


her  Practice  of  Piety  ?     She  never  meddles  in  any  of  your 
concerns !" 

"Foh!"  say  they,  "to  see  a  handsome,  brisk,  genteel, 
young  fellow  so  much  governed  by  a  doating  old  woman !  Why 
don't  you  go  and  suck  the  bubby  [breasts.  Bu  bu  is  the  cry  of 
the  child  needing  its  mother's  milk]  ?  Do  you  consider  she  keeps 
you  out  of  a  good  jointure  !  She  has  the  best  of  your  estate 
settled  upon  her  for  a  rent-charge  [tithcs]\  Hang  her,  old 
thief  1  turn  her  out  of  doors  !  seize  her  lands!  and  let  her  go 
to  Law  if  she  dares  ! " 

"  Soft  and  fair,  Gentlemen  ! "  quoth  I ;  "  my  mother  is  my 
mother  !  Our  Family  is  not  of  an  unnatural  temper  !  Though 
I  don't  take  all  her  advice,  I  won't  seize  her  jointure  !  Long 
may  she  enjoy  it,  good  woman  !  I  don't  grudge  it  her!  She 
allows  me,  now  and  then,  a  brace  of  Hundreds  [taxation  of  the 
Clergy]  for  my  Lawsuit ;  that  is  pretty  fair  !" 

About  this  time,  the  old  Gentlewoman  fell  ill  of  an  odd 
sort  of  a  distemper  [deterioration  and  worldliness  of  the  Estab- 
lished Clergy].  It  began  with  a  coldness  and  numbness  in 
her  limbs ;  which,  by  degrees,  affected  the  nerves  (I  think 
the  Physicians  call  them),  seized  the  brain,  and  at  last 
ended  in  a  lethargy.  It  betrayed  itself,  at  first,  in  a  sort  of 
indifference  and  carelessness  in  all  her  actions,  coldness  to 
her  best  friends,  and  an  aversion  to  stir  or  go  about  the 
common  offices  of  life.  She  that  would  sometimes  rattle  off 
her  servants  pretty  sharply ;  now  if  she  saw  them  drink,  or 
heard  them  talk  profanely,  never  took  any  notice  of  it. 
Instead  of  her  usual  charities  to  deserving  persons,  she  threw 
away  her  money  upon  roaring  swearing  bullies  and  randy 
beggars  that  went  about  the  streets. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  the  old  Gentlewoman  ?  "  said 
everybody ;  "  she  never  used  to  do  in  this  manner!" 

At  last,  the  distemper  grew  more  violent,  and  threw  her 
downright  into  raving  fits  [Complaints  against  Moderation]  ; 
in  which,  she  shrieked  out  so  loud,  that  she  disturbed  the 
whole  neighbourhood.  In  her  fits,  she  call  out  upon  Sir 
William  [William  III.]:  "O,  Sir  William!  thou  hast 
betrayed  me  !  killed  me  !  stabbed  me  !  sold  me  !  See,  see, 
Clum  with  his  bloody  knife!  seize  him!  seize  him!  stop 
him  I  Behold  the  Fury  with  her  hissing  snakes !  Where 
is  my  son  John  ?     Is  he  well  ?   is  he  well  ?     Poor  man,  I 


602  ArBUTHNOt's  two  great  colleagues,  p-  'VariHi!'  ^/j!^: 

pity  him  ! "  And  abundance  more  of  such  strange  stuff  that 
nobody  could  make  anything  of. 

I  knew  Httle  of  the  matter  ;  for  when  I  inquired  about  her 
health,  the  answer  was,  "  She  was  in  a  good  moderate 
way!" 

Physicians  were  sent  for  in  haste  :  Sir  Roger  with  great 
difficulty  brought  R[adcli]ff  [the  Tory  party].  G[ar]th 
[tJie  Whig  party]  came  upon  the  first  message.  There  were 
several  others  called  in  :  but,  as  usual  upon  such  occasions, 
they  differed  strangely  at  the  Consultation. 

At  last  they  divided  into  two  parties;  one  sided  with 
G[ar]th,  and  the  other  with  RrADCLi]FF. 

Dr.  G[ar]th.  This  case  seems  to  me,  to  be  plainly 
hysterical.  The  old  woman  is  whimsical  ;  it  is  a  common 
thing  for  your  old  women  to  be  so  !  I'll  pawn  my  life  1 
Blisters  with  the  Steel  diet  will  recover  her  ! 

Others  suggested  strong  purging  and  letting  of  blood, 
because  she  was  plethoric.  Some  went  so  far  as  to  say  the 
old  woman  was  mad  ;  and  that  nothing  would  do  better  than 
a  little  corporal  correction. 

R[adclijFF.  Gentlemen,  you  are  mistaken  in  this  case. 
It  is  plainly  an  acute  distemper !  and  she  cannot  hold  out 
three  days,  without  she  is  supported  with  strong  cordials  ! 

I  came  into  her  room  with  a  good  deal  of  concern,  and 
asked  them,  "  What  they  thought  of  my  mother  ?  " 

"  In  no  manner  of  danger,  I  vow  to  God  ! "  quoth 
GrARjTH,  "the  old  woman  is  hysterical,  fanciful.  Sir,  I  vow 
to  God!" 

*'  I  tell  you,  Sir !  "  says  R[adclI;FF,  "  she  can't  live  three 
days  to  an  end,  unless  there  is  some  very  effectual  course 
taken  with  her  !     She  has  a  malignant  fever  !  " 

Then  "  Fool  !  "  "  Puppy  !  "  and  "  Blockhead  !  "  were  the 
best  words  they  gave.  I  could  hardly  restrain  them  from 
throwing  the  ink-bottles  at  one  another's  heads. 

I  forgot  to  tell  you,  that  one  party  of  the  physicians  desired 
I  should  take  my  sister  Peg  into  the  house  to  nurse  her;  but 
the  old  Gentlewoman  would  not  hear  of  that. 

At  last,  one  physician  asked,  "  If  the  Lady  had  ever  been 
used  to  take  laudanum  ?  " 

Her  maid  answered,  "  Not  that  she  knew  !  "  that  "  indeed 
there   was  a    High    German   liveryman    of  hers,    one    Yan 


Par/iiL''''iSii^^7i^:]  INFLUENCE  OF  House  of  Hanover.  603 

Ptschirnsooker  [Invitwg  over  the  Palatines]  that  gave  her  a 
sort  of  a  Quack  powder." 

The  physician  desired  to  see  it;  "Nay,"  says  he,  "there 
is  opium  in  this,  I  am  sure  !  " 

Mrs.  Bull.  I  hope  you  examined  a  Httle  into  this  matter! 

John  Bull.  I  did  indeed  !  and  discovered  a  great  mystery 
of  iniquity. 

The  witnesses  made  oath,  that  they  had  heard  some  of 
the  liverymen  frequently  railing  at  their  Mistress.  They 
said  "  She  was  a  troublesome  fiddle  faddle  old  woman,  and  so 
ceremonious  that  there  was  no  bearing  of  her  !  They  were 
so  plagued  with  bowing  and  cringing,  as  they  went  in  and 
out  of  the  room,  that  their  backs  ached  1  She  used  to  scold 
at  one,  for  his  dirty  shoes  :  at  another,  for  his  greasy  hair, 
and  not  combing  his  head  1  Then  she  was  so  passionate 
and  fiery  in  her  temper,  that  there  was  no  living  with  her  ! 
She  wanted  something  to  sweeten  her  blood  !  They  never 
had  a  quiet  night's  rest,  for  getting  up  in  the  morning  to 
early  sacraments  !  They  wished  they  could  find  some  way 
or  another  to  keep  the  old  woman  quiet  in  her  bed  !  " 

Such  discourses  were  so  often  overheard  among  the  livery- 
men, that  the  said  Yan  Ptschirnsooker  had  undertaken  this 
matter. 

A  maid  made  affidavit,  that  she  "  had  seen  the  said  Yan 
Ptschirnsooker,  one  of  the  liverymen,  frequently  making 
up  of  medicines,  and  administering  them  to  all  the  neigh- 
bours"; that  she  "  saw  him,  one  morning,  make  up  the 
powder  which  her  mistress  took,"  that  she  "had  the  curi- 
osity to  ask  him,  whence  he  had  the  ingredients  ?  " 

"  They  come,"  says  he,  "from  several  parts  of  de  world. 
Dis  I  have  from  Geneva  !  dat  from  Rome  !  this  white  powder 
from  Amsterdam !  and  the  red  from  Edinburgh  :  but  the 
chief  ingredient  of  all  comes  from  Turkey  !  " 

It  was  likewise  proved,  that  the  said  Yan  Ptschirnsooker 
had  been  frequently  seen  at  the  Rose  with  Jack,  who  was 
known  to  bear  an  inveterate  spite  to  his  Mistress ;  that  he 
brought  a  certain  powder  to  his  Mistress,  which  the 
Examinant  believes  to  be  the  same,  and  spoke  the  following 
words :  Madam,  here  is  grand  secret  van  de  warld !  viy 
siveetning  powder  !  It  does  temperate  de  humour,  despel  de  windt, 
and  cure  dc  vapour !     It  lullctJi  and  quictcth  dc  animal  spirits, 


604    A  SPECIMEN   OF   DUTCH   CLAIMS.   [parUit'^'ioXnl^'y^^ 

procuring  rest  and  pleasant  dreams  !  It  is  de  infallible  receipt  for 
de  scnrvy,  all  heats  in  de  bluodt,  and  breaking  out  iipon  de  skin  I 
It  is  de  true  bloodt  stauncher,  stopping  all  Jinxes  of  de  bloodt ! 
If  you  do  take  this,  yon  will  never  ail  anything !  it  will  cure  yoit 
of  all  diseases !  and  abundance  more  to  this  purpose,  which 
the  Examinant  does  not  remember. 

John  Bull  was  interrupted  in  his  story  by  a  porter,  that 
brought  him  a  letter  from  Nicholas  Frog;  which  is  as 
follows : 


CHAPTER    IX. 

A  copy  of  Nicholas  Frog's  letter  to  John  Bull, 
Ohn  Bull  reads 


Friend  John  ! 

What  schellum  is  it,  that  makes  thee  jealous  of  thy 
old  friend  Nicholas  ?  Hast  thou  forgot  how,  some  years  ago, 
he  took  thee  out  of  the  Sponging-house  [The  Revolution  of 
1688]. 

'Tis  true,  my  friend  Nic.  did  so,  and  I  thank  him  !  but  he 
made  me  pay  a  swinging  reckoning. 

Thou  bcginst  now  to  repent  the  bargain  that  thou  wast  so  fond 
of  I  and,  if  thou  durst,  would  foreswear  thy  own  hand  and  seal. 
Thou  sayst  that  "  thou  hast  purchased  me  too  great  an  estate 
already ! "  when,  at  the  same  time,  thou  knowcst  I  have  only  a 
mortgage  [the  Spanish  Netherlands].  'Tis  true,  I  have 
possession,  and  the  tenants  own  me  for  Master;  but  has  not 
Esquire  SoUTH  the  equity  of  redemption  ? 

No  doubt,  and  will  redeem  it  very  speedily  !  Poor  Nic. 
has  only  possession ;  eleven  points  of  the  Law  ! 

As  for  the  turnpikes  [the  prohibition  of  trade  to  all  but  the 
English]  /  have  set  up ;  they  are  for  other  people,  not  for  my 
friend  JoHN  !     I  have  ordered  my  servant  constantly  to  attend, 


ParUH.''''i?Apnl'^7r2:]  FROg's  LETTER,  &  JoIIN's  comments.  605 

to  let  thy  carriages  through,  without  paying  anything  ;  only  I 
hope  thou  wilt  not  come  too  heavy  ladened,  to  spoil  my  ways  I 

Certainly,  I  have  just  cause  of  offence  against  thee,  my  friend  ! 
for  supposing  it  possible  that  thou  and  I  shoidd  ever  quarrel. 
What  honndsfoot  is  it,  that  puts  these  whims  in  thy  head  ?  Ten 
thousand  lasts  [a  Last  was  estimated  to  contain  10,000 
herrings]  of  devils  haul  me,  if  I  do  not  love  thee  as  I  love  my 
life! 

No  question  !  as  the  Devil  loves  holy  water ! 

Does  not  thy  own  hand  and  seal  oblige  thee  to  purchase  for  me,  till 
I  say  "  It  is  enough  !  "  Are  not  these  words  plain  ?  I  say,  it  is 
not  enough  !  Dost  thou  think  thy  friend  Nicholas  Frog 
made  a  child's  bargain  !  Marks  the  words  of  thy  contract,  tota 
pecunia,  with  all  thy  money  ! 

Very  well  !  I  have  purchased  with  my  own  money,  my 
children's,  and  my  grandchildren's  money:  is  that  not 
enough  ?  Well,  tota  pecunia,  let  it  be  !  for,  at  present,  I 
have  none  at  all  !  He  would  not  have  me  purchase  with 
other  people's  money,  sure !  Since  tota  pecunia  is  the 
bargain,  I  think  it  is  plain  "  no  more  money,  no  more  pur- 
chase ! " 

And,  whatever  the  World  may  say  !  Nicholas  Frog  is  but  a 
poor  man  in  comparison  of  the  rich,  the  opulent  John  Bull, 
great  Clothier  of  the  World  I 

I  have  had  many  losses  !  Six  of  my  best  sheep  were  drowned  ; 
and  the  water  has  come  into  my  cellar,  and  spoiled  a  pipe  of  my 
best  brandy.  It  would  be  a  more  friendly  act  in  thee,  to  carry  a 
Brief  about  the  coimtry,  to  repair  the  losses  of  thy  poor  friend ! 
Is  it  not  evident  to  all  the  World,  that  I  am  still  hemmed  in  by 
Lewis  Baboon  ?    Is  he  not  just  upon  my  borders  ? 

And  so  he  will  be,  if  I  purchase  a  thousand  acres  more  ; 
unless  he  gets  somebody  betwixt  them  ! 

/  tell  thee,  friend  John  I  thou  hast  flatterers  that  persuade  thee 


6o6  "TlIOU  ART  AS  FICKLE  AS  THE  WIND  !  "  [p.^.J^f/^^f^Ja'/^P;. 

thou  art  a  man  of  business.  Do  not  believe  them !  If  thou 
wouldst  still  leave  thy  affairs  in  my  hands,  thou  shoiddst  see  how 
handsomely  I  woidd  deal  by  thee  !  That  ever  thou  shouldst  be 
dazzled  with  the  Enchanted  Islands  [the  South  Seas,  i.e.,  the 
Spanish  Colonies  in  the  Pacific]  and  mountains  of  gold,  that 
old  Lewis  promises  thee!  'Dswounds/  why  dost  thou  not  lay 
out  thy  money  to  purchase  a  place  at  Court,  of  honest  Israel  ?  I 
tell  thee,  thou  must  not  so  much  as  think  of  a  Composition  [Peace]. 

Not  think  of  a  Composition,  that  is  hard  indeed !  I  can- 
not help  thinking  of  it,  if  I  would  ! 

Thou  complainest  of  want  of  money,  let  thy  wife  and  daughters 
hum  the  gold  lace  upon  their  petticoats !  sell  thy  fat  cattle ! 
retrench  but  a  sirloin  of  beef  and  a  peck-loaf  in  a  week,  from  thy 
gormandizing  stomach  ! 

Retrench  my  beef,  a  dog  !  retrench  my  beef!  Then  it  is 
plain  the  rascal  has  an  ill  design  upon  me !  He  would 
starve  me ! 

Mortgage  thy  Manor  of  Bidlock's  Hatch,  or  pawn  thy  crop  for 
ten  years  ! 

A  rogue  !  Part  with  my  country  seat,  my  patrimony,  all 
that  I  have  left  in  the  world  !     FU  see  thee  hanged  first ! 

Why  hast  thou  changed  thy  A  ttorney  !  Can  any  man  manage 
thy  Cause  better  for  thee  ? 

Very  pleasant !  Because  a  man  has  a  good  Attorney,  he 
must  never  make  an  end  of  his  Lawsuit  ! 

Ah,  John!  John!  I  wish  thou  knewst  tJiy  own  mind! 
Thou  art  as  fickle  as  the  wind !  I  tell  thee,  thou  Iiadst  better  let 
this  Composition  alone,  or  leave  it  to  thy 

Loving  friend, 

N  I  c .    Frog. 


Part  UL^'xSplil^:^?--]  O  ^  E    HAS    A    D  U  M  B    D  E  V  I  l!    607 


CHAPTER    X. 

Of  some  extraordinary  tilings  that  passed  at  the  Salutation 
tavern,  in  the  Conference  between BuLL,  Frog,  Esquire  South, 
and  Lewis  Baboon. 

RoG  had  given  his  word  that  he  would  meet  the 
above-mentioned  company  at  the  Salutation  [the 
Congress  at  Utrecht],  to  talk  of  this  Agreement. 
Though  he  durst  not  directly  break  his  appointment, 
he  made  many  a  shuffling  excuse.  One  time,  he  pretended 
to  be  seized  with  the  gout  in  his  right  knee  ;  then  he  got  a 
great  cold  that  had  struck  him  deaf  of  one  ear  :  afterwards 
two  of  his  coach  horses  fell  sick,  and  he  durst  not  go  by 
water  for  fear  of  catching  an  ague. 

John  would  take  no  excuse ;  but  hurried  him  away. 
*'  Come  Nic.  !  "  says  he,  "  let  us  go  and  hear  at  least,  what 
this  Old  Fellow  has  to  propose  !  I  hope  there  is  no  hurt  in 
that !  " 

"  Be  it  so,"  says  Nic,  "  but  if  I  catch  any  harm,  woe  be 
to  you  !  My  wife  and  children  will  curse  you  as  long  as  they 
live !  " 

When  they  were  come  to  the  Salutation,  John  concluded 
all  was  sure,  then  !  and  that  he  should  be  troubled  no  more 
with  law  affairs.  He  thought  everybody  as  plain  and  sincere 
as  he  was. 

"  Well,  neighbours  !  "  quoth  he,  "  let  us  now  make  an  end 
of  all  matters,  and  live  peaceably  together  for  the  time  to 
come!  If  everybody  is  as  well  inclined  as  I,  we  shall 
quickly  come  to  the  upshot  of  our  affair  !  "  And  so,  pointing 
to  Frog  to  say  something :  to  the  great  surprise  of  all 
the  company,  Frog  was  seized  with  a  dead  palsy  in  the 
tongue. 

John  began  to  ask  him  some  plain  questions,  and  whooped 
and  holloaed  in  his  ear. 

John  Bull.  Let  us  come  to  the  point,  Nic!  Who  wouldst 
thou  have  to  be  Lord  Strutt  ?  Wouldst  thou  have  Philip 
Baboon  ? 

Nic.  shook  his  head,  and  said  nothing. 


6o8  The  other  has  a  spirit  of  infirmity!  [p^;^;'; 


Arbuthnot. 
1712. 


John  Bull.  Wilt  thou  then  have  Esquire  South  to  be 
Lord  Strutt? 

Nic.  shook  his  head  a  second  time. 

John  Bull.  Then  who,  the  Devil  !  wilt  thou  have  ?  Say 
something  or  another! 

Nic.  opened  his  mouth,  and  pointed  to  his  tongue  ;  and 
cried,  "  A  !  a !  a  !  a !  "  ;  which  was  as  much  as  to  say  he  could 
not  speak. 

John  Bull.  Shall  I  serve  Philip  Baboon  with  broad- 
cloth ;  and  accept  of  the  Composition  that  he  offers,  with  the 
liberty  of  his  parks  and  fishponds  ? 

Then  Nic.  roared  like  a  bull,  "  O  !  o  !  o !  o  !  " 

John  Bull.  If  thou  wilt  not  let  me  have  them,  wilt  thou 
take  them  thyself  ? 

Then  Nic.  grinned,  cackled,  and  laughed,  till  he  was  like 
to  kill  himself;  and  seemed  to  be  so  pleased  that  he  fell  a 
frisking  and  dancing  about  the  room. 

John  Bull.  Shall  I  leave  all  this  matter  to  thy  manage- 
ment, Nic. !  and  go  about  my  business  ? 

Then  Nic.  got  up  a  glass  and  drank  to  John;  shaking  him 
by  the  hand  till  he  had  like  to  have  shaken  his  shoulder  out 
of  joint. 

John  Bull.  I  understand  thee,  Nic.  1  but  I  shall  make 
thee  speak  before  I  go  ! 

Then  Nic.  put  his  finger  to  his  cheek,  and  made  it  cry 
"  Buck  !  ":  which  is  as  much  as  to  say,  "  I  care  not  a  farthing 
for  thee !  " 

John  Bull.  I  have  done,  Nic. !  If  thou  wilt  not  speak,  I 
will  make  my  own  terms  with  old  Lewis  here ! 

Then  Nic.  lolled  out  his  tongue,  and  turned  his  back  to 
him. 


John  perceiving  that  Frog  would  not  speak,  turned  to  old 
Lewis,  "  Since  we  cannot  make  this  obstinate  fellow  speak, 
Lewis!  pray  condescend  a  little  to  his  humour,  and  set  down 
thy  meaning  upon  paper,  that  he  may  answer  it  on  another 
scrap !  " 

"  I  am  infinitely  sorry,"  quoth  Lewis,  "that  it  happens  so 
unfortunately !  for,  playing  a  little  at  cudgels  the  other  day, 
a  fellow  has  given  me  such  a  rap  over  the  right  arm  that  I 


Par/ili''''"o''Aprlu;'^:]    TlIE    THIRD    HAS   A    MAD    DEVIL !     609 

am  quite  lame  [disabled].  I  have  lost  the  use  of  my  forefinger 
and  my  thumb,  so  that  I  cannot  hold  my  pen." 

John  Bull.  That  is  all  one,  let  me  write  for  you  ! 

Lewis.  But  I  have  a  misfortune  that  I  cannot  read  any- 
body's hand  but  my  own. 

John  Bull.  Try  what  you  can  do  with  your  left  hand  ! 

Lewis.  That  is  impossible  !  It  will  make  such  a  scrawl 
that  it  will  not  be  legible ! 


As  they  were  talking  of  this  matter,  in  came  Esquire 
South,  all  dressed  up  in  feathers  and  ribbons,  stark  staring 
mad,  brandishing  his  sword  as  if  he  would  have  cut  off  their 
heads  ;  crying,  "  Room,  room,  boys  !  for  the  grand  Esquire 
of  the  world  !  the  flower  of  Esquires  !  What  !  covered  in  my 
Presence  !     I  will  crush  your  souls,  and  crack  you  like  lice! " 

With  that,  he  had  like  to  have  struck  John  Bull's  hat 
into  the  fire ;  but  John,  who  was  pretty  strong  fisted,  gave 
him  such  a  squeeze,  as  made  his  eyes  water. 

He  still  went  on  with  his  pranks,  **  When  I  am  Lord  of 
the  Universe,  the  sun  shall  prostrate  and  adore  me  !  Thou, 
Frog!  shalt  be  my  bailiff!  Lewis!  my  tailor!  and  thou 
John  Bull  !  shalt  be  my  fool !  " 

All  this  while.  Frog  laughed  in  his  sleeve,  gave  the  Esquire 
the  other  noggin  of  brandy,  and  clapped  him  on  the  back ; 
which  made  him  ten  times  madder. 

Poor  John  stood  in  amaze,  talking  thus  to  himself,  "  Well, 
John  !  thou  art  got  into  rare  company  1  One  has  a  dumb 
devil  !  the  other  a  mad  devil  !  and  the  third,  a  spirit  of  In- 
firmity I  An  honest  man  has  a  fine  time  of  it  amongst  such 
rogues  !  What  art  thou  asking  of  them,  after  all  ?  some 
mighty  boon,  one  would  think  !  Only  to  sit  quietly  at  thy 
own  fireside.  'Sdeath  !  what  have  I  to  do  with  such  fellows  ? 
John  Bull,  after  all  his  losses  and  crosses,  can  live  better 
without  them;  than  they  can,  without  him  I  Would  to  God  ! 
I  lived  a  thousand  leagues  off  them  I  but  the  Devil  is  in 
it." 

As  he  was  talking  to  himself,  he  observed  Frog  and  old 
Lewis  edging  towards  one  another  to  whisper;  so  that 
John  was  forced  to  sit  with  his  arms  akimbo  to  keep  them 
asunder. 


£ac.  Car.  VL 


39 


6ioWhAT  have   I   TO  DO  WITH  SUCH  FELLOWS !  [i^n  llT^T^l'. 

Some  people  advised  John  to  bleed  Frog  under  the  tongue  : 
or  take  away  his  bread  and  butter,  which  would  certainly 
make  him  speak ;  to  give  Esquire  South,  hellebore  :  as  for 
Lewis,  some  were  for  emollient  pultas's  [poultices]  ;  others 
for  opening  his  arm  with  an  incision  knife. 


I  could  not  obtain  from  Sir  Humphry,  at  this  time,  a 
copy  of  John's  letter,  which  he  sent  to  his  nephew  by  the 
young  Necromancer;  wherein  he  advises  him  not  to  eat 
butter  and  ham,  and  drink  old  hock  in  the  morning  with  the 
Esquire  and  Frog,  for  fear  of  giving  him  a  sour  breath. 

FINIS. 


AN 

APPENDIX 

TO 

JOHN  BULL 

Still 

In  his  SENSES; 

O  R 

Law  is  a  BottomlessP  it. 


Printed  from  a  Manuscript  found  in  the  Cabinet  of 
the  famous  Sir  Humphry   Poles  worth: 
and  published  (as  well  as  the  Three  former 
Parts)  by  the  Author  oj  the  New  Atlantis. 


L  O  ND  O  A', 

Printed  for  John  Morphew,  near  Stationers' 
Hall,  17 12.  Price  3d. 


6l2 


[In  an  advertisement  in  the  Examiner,  Vol.  II.,  No.  23,  ist  May,  1712  ; 
it  is  stated  that  this  ylppcmUx  would  be  published  "to-morrow:"  there- 
fore its  date  is  2nd  May,  1712.] 


6i3 


AN     APPENDIX 

T  O 

JOHN     BULL 

Still  in  his  Senses^  ^c. 


CHAPTER     I. 

The  apprehending,  examination,  and  imprisonment  of  Jack,  for 
suspicion  of  poisoning. 

He  attentive  Reader  cannot  have  forgotten 
that,  in  my  last  Part,  the  Story  of   Yan 
Ptschirnsooker's  Powder,  was   interrup- 
ted by  a  message  from  Frog.     1  have  a 
natural    compassion    for   curiosity,    bemg 
much  troubled  with  the  distemper  myself; 
I   therefore,   to   gratify  that    uneasy  itchmg 
^  sensation  in  my  Reader,  I  have  procured 
the  following  account  of  that  matter. 

Yan  Ptschirnsooker  came  off,  as  rogues  usua  ly  do  upon 
such  occasions,  by  peaching  [Utrning  evidence  on]  his  part- 
ner •  and  being  extremely  forward  to  bnng  him  to  the  gallo^^s, 
jAck  was  accused  as  the  contriver  of  all  the  roguery. 

And,  indeed,  it  happened,  unfortunately  for  the  poor  fe  low 
that  he  was  known  to  bear  a  most  inveterate  spite  against  the 
old  Gentlewoman ;  and,  consequently,  that  never  any  ill  accident 
happened  to  her,  but  he  was  suspected  to  be  at  the  bo  t  ",  o 
it.     If  she  pricked  her  finger;  Jack,  to  be^f  ^pH  ,  er  res 
in  the  way!     If  some  noise  in  the  street  disturbed  hei  rest , 
who  could  it  be  but  Jack?  in  some  of  his  nocturnal  rambler 
If  a  servant  ran  away.  Jack  had  debauched  ^^^'^'"i^^^^J  1;  .^J 
Every  tittle  tattle  that  went  about,  Jack  was  always  suspected 

for  the  author  of  it  !  ,  .      ,     ^      rr  • .    ^f    tl^P 

However    all    was    nothing    to    this   last    affau    ol    the 


6  14  WORLDLIMINDEDNESS  OF  DiSSENTERS.  [pIv^'il  App'.'^y^; 

Temperating  Moderating  Powder.  The  Hue  and  Cry  went 
after  Jack,  to  apprehend  him,  dead  or  alive,  wherever  he  could 
be  found.  The  Constables  looked  out  for  him,  in  all  his  usual 
haunts  ;  but  to  no  purpose  !  Where,  do  you  think,  did  they 
find  him  at  last  ?  Even  smoking  his  pipe  very  quietly,  at  his 
brother  Martin's  !  from  whence,  he  was  carried,  with  a  vast 
mob  at  his  heels,  before  the  Worshipful  Mr.  Justice  Overdo. 

Several  of  his  neighbours  made  oath,  that,  of  late,  the 
prisoner  had  been  observed  to  lead  a  very  dissolute  life,  re- 
nouncing even  his  usual  hypocrisy  and  pretences  to  sobriety  ; 
that  he  frequented  taverns  and  eating-houses,  and  had  been 
often  guilty  of  drunkenness  and  gluttony  at  my  Lord  Mayor's 
table  [the  Dissenters  holding  Civic  appointments]  ;  that  he  had 
been  seen  in  the  company  of  lewd  women ;  that  he  had  trans- 
ferred his  usual  religious  care  of  the  engrossed  copy  of  his 
father's  Will  [the  printed  Bible],  to  Bank  Bills,  Orders  for 
Tallies,  and  Debentures  [Dissenters  becoming  worldly  minded] ; 

*  Tale  of  these  he  now  affirmed,  with  more  literal  truth,  to  be 

the  Tilt.  ^ji(,(ii^  drink,  and  cloth ;  the  Philosopher's  Stone,  and  the 
Universal  Medicine*;  that  he  was  so  far  from  shewing  his  cus- 
tomary reverence  to  the  Will,  that  he  kept  company  with 
those  [?  sceptics]  that  called  his  Father  a  "  cheating  rogue  !  " 
and  his  Will  "  a  forgery  !  "  ;  that  he  not  only  sat  quietly  and 
heard  his  Father  railed  at,  but  often  chimed  in  with  the 
discourse,  and  hugged  the  authors  as  his  bosom  friends ;  that 
I  Tn/e  of   instead  of  asking  for  blows  at  the  corners  of  the  strcets,f 

the  Tub.  j^g  bestowed  them  as  plentifully  as  he  begged  them 
before.  In  short,  that  he  was  grown  a  mere  rake,  and  had 
nothing  left  in  him  of  old  Jack,  except  his  spite  to  John 
Bull's  mother. 

Another  witness  made  oath,  that  Jack  had  been  overheard 
bragging  of  a  trick  he  had  found  out  to  manage  the  "  old 

formal  Jade,"  as  he  used  to  call  her.     "  D this  numbed 

skull  of  mine,"  quoth  he,  "that  I  could  not  light  on  it  sooner  ! 
As  long  as  I  go  in  this  ragged  tattered  coat,  I  am  so  well 
known  that  I  am  hunted  away  from  the  old  woman's  door  by 
every  barking  cur  about  the  house  ;  they  bid  me  defiance ! 
There  is  no  doing  mischief  as  an  open  enemy !  I  must  find 
some  way  or  another  of  getting  withindoors!  and  then  I  shall 
have  better  opportunities  of  playing  my  pranks,  besides  the 
benefit  of  good  keeping  !     \Jhc  suggestion  here  is,  that  the  Dis- 


Paniii. -^Apt'tMay:';.'^:]  ^iRs  OF  Low  Church  party.  615 

scntcrs  turned  Low  Church,  for  the  sake  of  the  good  things  in  the 
Establishment.] 

Two  witnesses  swore,  that  several  years  ago,  there  came  to 
their  mistress's  door,  a  young  fellow  in  a  tattered  coat,  that 
went  by  thename  of  Timothy  Trim  ;  whom  they  did,  in  their 
conscience,  believe  to  be  the  very  prisoner,  resembling  him 
in  shape,  stature,  and  the  features  of  his  countenance  ;  that 
the  said  Timothy  Trim  being  taken  into  the  family,  clapped 
their  mistress's  livery  over  his  own  tattered  coat  [Church  forms 
over  Dissenting  principles]  ;  that  the  said  Timothy  was  ex- 
tremely officious  about  their  mistress's  person,  endeavouring 
by  flattery  and  tale-bearing,  to  set  her  against  the  rest  of  their 
servants.  Nobody  was  so  ready  to  fetch  anything  that  was 
wanted,  or  reach  what  was  dropped  !  that  he  used  to  shove 
and  elbow  his  fellow  servants,  to  get  near  his  mistress  :  es- 
pecially when  money  was  a  paying  or  receiving,  then  he  was 
never  out  of  the  way  !  That  he  was  extremely  diligent  about 
everybody's  business  but  his  own. 

That  the  said  Timothy,  while  he  was  in  the  Family,  used 
to  be  playing  roguish  tricks.  When  his  mistress's  back  was 
turned,  he  would  loll  out  his  tongue,  make  mouths,  and  laugh 
at  her,  walking  behind  her  like  a  harlequin,  ridiculing  her 
motions  and  gestures  :  if  his  mistress  look  about,  he  put  on  a 
grave,  demure  countenance,  as  [ifj  he  had  been  in  a  fit  of 
devotion.  That  he  used  often  to  trip  upstairs  so  smoothly 
that  you  could  not  hear  him  tread,  and  put  all  things  out  of 
order ;  that  he  would  pinch  the  children  and  servants,  when 
he  met  them  in  the  dark,  so  hard  that  he  left  the  print  of  his 
forefingers  and  thumb  in  black  and  blue  ;  and  then  slink  into 
a  corner,  as  if  nobody  had  done  it.  Out  of  the  same  malicious 
design,  he  used  to  lay  chairs  and  joint-stools  in  their  way, 
that  they  might  break  their  noses  by  falling  over  them.  The 
more  young  and  unexperienced,  he  used  to  teach  to  talk 
saucily  and  call  names. 

During  his  stay  in  the  Family,  there  was  much  plate 
missing  ;  that  being  catched  with  a  couple  of  silver  spoons  in 
his  pocket,  with  their  handles  wrenched  off,  he  said,  "  He  was 
only  going  to  carry  them  to  the  goldsmith's  to  be  mended  !  " 

That  the  said  Timothy  was  hated  by  all  the  honest  ser- 
vants, for  his  ill-conditioned,  splenetic  tricks :  but  especially 
for  his  slanderous  tongue ;  traducing  them  to  his  mistress,  as 
drunkards  and  thieves. 


6i6  Struggles  OF  High  &  Low  Cn\jRCH.[^-i:^rnu''^,E: 

That  the  said  Timothy,  by  lying  stories,  used  to  set  all 
the  Family  together  by  the  ears  ;  taking  delight  to  make  them 
fight  and  quarrel.  Particularly,  one  day  sitting  at  table,  he 
spoke  words  to  this  effect : 

"  I  am  of  opinion,"  quoth  he,  "  that  little  short  fellows, 
such  as  we  are,  have  better  hearts,  and  could  beat  the  tall 
fellows.  I  wish  it  came  to  a  fair  trial  !  I  believe  these  long 
fellows,  as  sightly  as  they  are,  should  find  their  jackets  well 
thwacked  ! "  A  parcel  of  tall  fellows,  who  thought  themselves 
affronted  by  this  discourse,  took  up  the  question  :  and  to  it 
they  went!  the  Tall  Men  [High  Church]  and  the  Low  Men 
[Low  Church.  These  ecclesiastical  badges  first  sprang  up  in  Queen 
Anne's  reign]  ;  which  continues  still  a  faction  in  the  Family, 
to  the  great  disorder  of  our  mistress's  affairs. 

That  the  said  Timothy  carried  this  frolic  so  far,  that  he 
proposed  to  his  mistress,  that  she  should  entertain  no  servant 
that  was  above  four  feet  seven  inches  high ;  and  for  that  purpose 
he  prepared  a  gauge,  by  which  they  were  to  be  measured. 

That  the  good  old  Gentlewoman  was  not  so  simple  as  to  go 
into  his  projects.  She  began  to  smell  a  rat.  "  This  Trim," 
quoth  she,  *'  is  an  odd  sort  of  a  fellow  !  Methinks,  he  makes 
a  strange  figure  with  that  ragged  tattered  coat  appearing 
under  his  livery  !  Can't  he  go  spruce  and  clean,  like  the  rest 
of  the  servants  ?  The  fellow  has  a  roguish  leer  with  him, 
which  I  don't  like  by  any  means.  Besides  he  has  such  a 
twang  in  his  discourse,  and  such  an  ungraceful  way  of  speak- 
ing through  the  nose,  that  one  can  hardly  understand  him  ! 
I  wish  [hope]  the  fellow  be  not  tainted  with  some  bad 
disease  !  " 

The  witnesses  further  made  oath,  that  the  said  Timothy 
lay  out  a  nights,  and  went  abroad  often  at  unseasonable 
hours;  that  it  was  credibly  reported,  he  did  business  in  another 
family ;  that  he  pretended  to  have  a  squeamish  stomach,  and 
could  not  eat  at  table  with  the  rest  of  the  servants  [?  the 
strict  Communion  of  some  Dissenters],  though  this  was  but  a 
pretence  to  provide  some  nice  bit  for  himself;  that  he  refused 
to  dine  upon  salt  fish,  only  to  have  an  opportunity  to  eat  a 
calf's  head,  his  favourite  dish,  in  private  [alluding  to  the  Calfs 
Head  Club]  ;  that  for  all  his  tender  stomach,  when  he  was  got 
by  himself,  he  would  devour  capons,  turkeys,  and  sirloins  of 
beef,  like  a  cormorant. 


Pan  n L  "  App!'  ^!jF2:]    J  A  C  K  C  O  M  M I T  T  E  D  T  O  1 1 1 S  T  R I A  L.       6  I  7 

Two  other  witnesses  gave  the  following  evidence.  That  in 
his  officious  attendance  upon  his  mistress,  he  had  tried  to  slip  in 
a  powder  into  her  drink ;  and  that  once  he  was  catched  en- 
deavouring to  stifle  her  with  a  pillow  as  she  was  asleep  :  that 
he  and  Ptschirnsooker  were  often  in  close  conference,  and 
that  they  used  to  drink  together  at  the  Rose,  where  it  seems 
he  was  well  enough  known  by  the  true  name  of  Jack. 

The  prisoner  had  little  to  say  in  his  defence.  He  endeavoured 
to  prove  him  alibi ;  so  that  the  trial  turned  upon  this  single 
question,  Whether  the  said  Timothy  Trim  and  Jack  were  the 
same  person  ?  which  was  proved  by  such  plain  tokens,  and 
particularly  by  a  mole  under  the  left  pap,  that  there  was  no 
withstanding  the  evidence.  Therefore  the  worshipful  Mr. 
Justice  committed  him,  in  order  to  his  trial. 


CHAPTER     II. 

How  Jack's  friends  came  to  visit  him  in  prison,  and  what 
advice  they  gave  him. 

|AcK  hitherto  had  passed  in  the  World,  for  a  poor, 
simple,  well-meaning,  half-witted,  crack-brained 
fellow.  People  were  strangely  surprised  to  find  him 
in  such  a  roguery  ;  that  he  should  disguise  himself 
under  a  false  name,  hire  himself  out  for  a  servant  to  an  old 
Gentlewoman,  only  for  an  opportunity  to  poison  her  1  They 
said  that  it  was  more  generous  to  profess  an  open  emnity, 
than,  under  a  profound  dissimulation,  to  be  guilty  of  such  a 
scandalous  breach  of  trust,  and  of  the  sacred  rights  of 
hospitality. 

In  short,  the  action  was  universally  condemned  by  his  best 
friends.  They  told  him,  in  plain  terms,  that  "this  was  come 
as  a  judgement  upon  him,  for  his  loose  life,  his  gluttony, 
drunkenness,  and  avarice,  laying  aside  his  Father's  Will  in  an 
old  mouldy  trunk,  and  turning  stock-jobber,  newsmonger, 
and  busybody,  meddling  with  other  people's  affairs,  shaking 
off  his  old  serious  friends,  and  keeping  company  with  buffoons 
and  pickpockets,  his  Father's  sworn  enemies  !  "  that  "  he 
had  best  throw  himself  upon  the  mercy  of  the  Court,  repent, 
and  change  his  manners!" 


6i8  Jack  must  hang  himself!  [p,,,„i.  J^':^-^^^;": 

To  say  truth,  Jack  heard  these  discourses  with  some  com- 
punction ;  however  he  resolved  to  try  what  his  new  acquain- 
tance would  do  for  him. 

They   sent    Habbakuk  Slyboots  [  ?  ]  who   de- 

livered him  the  following  message,  as  the  peremptory  com- 
mands of  his  trusty  companions. 

Habbakuk.  Dear  Jack  !  I  am  sorry  for  thy  misfortune  ! 
Matters  have  not  been  carried  on  with  due  secrecy;  however, 
we  must  make  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain  !  Thou  art  in  the 
utmost  jeopardy,  that  is  certain  !  hang  !  draw !  and  quarter  ! 
are  the  gentlest  things  they  talk  of.  However,  thy  faithful 
friends,  ever  watchful  for  thy  security,  bid  me  tell  thee,  that 
they  have  one  infallible  expedient  left  to  save  thy  life.  Thou 
must  know,  we  have  got  into  some  understanding  with  the 
enemy,  by  means  of  Don  Diego  Dismallo.  He  assures  us, 
there  is  no  mercy  for  thee,  and  that  there  is  only  one  way 
left  to  escape.  It  is  indeed  somewhat  out  of  the  common 
road :  however,  be  assured  it  is  the  result  of  most  mature 
deliberation  ! 

Jack.  Prithee,  tell  me  quickly !  for  my  heart  is  sunk  down 
into  the  very  bottom  of  my  belly. 

Habbakuk.  It  is  the  unanimous  opinion  of  your  friends, 
that  you  make  as  if  you  hanged  yourself !  they  will  give  it 
out  that  you  are  quite  dead,  and  convey  your  body  out  of 
prison  in  a  bier ;  and  that  John  Bull,  being  busied  with  his 
Lnwsuit,  will  not  inquire  further  into  the  matter. 

Jack.  How  do  you  mean,  "  make  as  if  I  had  hanged 
myself"  ? 

Habbakuk.  Nay,  but  you  must  really  hang  yourself  up  in  a 
true  genuine  rope,  that  there  may  appear  no  trick  in  it;  and 
leave  the  rest  to  your  friends. 

Jack.  Truly  this  is  a  matter  of  some  concern,  and  my 
friends,  I  hope,  won't  take  it  ill,  if  I  inquire  into  the  means 
by  which  they  intend  to  deliver  me.  A  rope  and  a  noose  are 
no  jesting  matters ! 

Habbakuk.  Why  so  mistrustful !  Hast  thou  ever  found  us 
false  to  thee  ?    I  tell  thee,  there  is  one  ready  to  cut  thee  down  ! 

Jack.  May  I  presume  to  ask,  who  it  is,  that  is  entrusted 
with  that  important  office  ? 

Habbakuk.  Is  there  no  end  of  thy  "  Hows  ?  "  and  thy 
"  Whys  ?  "     That  is  a  secret ! 


Pa-Jt  m  "''^7°2]  How  THE  Dissenters  were  sacrificed.  619 

Jack.  A  secret,  perhaps,  that  I  may  be  safely  trusted 
with  !  for  I  am  not  likely]  to  tell  it  af^ain  !  I  tell  you  plainly, 
it  is  no  strange  thing  for  a  man,  before  he  hangs  himself  up, 
to  inquire  who  is  to  cut  him  down  ! 

Habbakuk.  Thou  suspicious  creature  !  If  thou  must  needs 
know  it,  I  tell  thee,  it  is  Sir  Roger  !  He  has  been  in  tears  ever 
since  thy  misfortune.  Don  Diego  and  we  have  laid  it  so, 
that  he  is  to  be  in  the  next  room  ;  and  before  the  rope  is  well 
about  thy  neck,  rest  satisfied  he  will  break  in,  and  cut  thee 
down  !     Fear  not,  old  boy  !  we'll  do  it,  I  warrant  thee  ! 

Jack.  So  I  must  hang  myself  up,  upon  hopes  that  Sir 
Roger  will  cut  me  down ;  and  all  this,  upon  the  credit  of 
Don  Diego  !  A  fine  stratagem  indeed  to  save  my  life,  that 
depends  upon  hanging,  Don  Diego,  and  Sir  Roger  ! 

Habbakuk.  I  tell  thee  there  is  a  mystery  in  all  this,  my 
friend  !  a  piece  of  profound  policy  !  If  thou  knew  what  good 
this  will  do  to  the  common  Cause,  thy  heart  would  leap  for 
joy  !  I  am  sure  thou  wouldst  not  delay  the  experiment  one 
moment  1 

Jack.  This  is  to  the  tune  of  All  for  the  better!  What  is 
your  Cause  to  me,  when  I  am  to  be  hanged  ? 

Habbakuk.  Refractory  mortal!  If  thou  Vv^ilt  not  trust 
thy  friends,  take  what  follows!  Know  assuredly,  before 
next  full  moon,  that  thou  wilt  be  hung  up  in  chains,  or  thy 
quarters  perching  upon  the  most  conspicuous  places  of  the 
kingdom  !  Nay,  I  don't  believe  they  will  be  contented  with 
han^ging  !  they  talk  of  impaling !  or  breaking  on  the  wheel !  and 
thou  choosest  that,  before  a  gentle  suspending  of  thyself  for 
one  minute  1  Hanging  is  not  so  painful  a  thing  as  thou 
imaginest.  I  have  spoken  with  several  that  have  undergone 
it.  They  all  agree  it  is  no  manner  of  uneasiness  !  Be  sure 
thou  take  good  notice  of  the  symptoms ;  the  relation  will  be 
curious  !  It  is  but  a  kick  or  two  with  thy  heels,  and  a  wry 
mouth  or  so  1  Sir  Roger  will  be  with  thee,  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye !  .      .,, 

Jack.  But  what  if  Sir  Roger  should  not  come  ?  will  my 
friends  be  there  to  succour  me  ?  , 

Habbakuk.  Doubt  it  not!  I  will  provide  everything 
against  to-morrow  morning  !  Do  thou  keep  thy  own  secret ! 
say  nothing  !  I  tell  thee,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  lor  the 
common  good,  that  thou  shouldst  go  through  this  operation. 


620    Jack  GIVING  AN  Implicit  Faith,     [pannrtpp^'i^;": 
CHAPTER    III. 

How  Jack  hanged  himself  up,  by  the  persuasion  of  his  friends  ; 
who  broke  their  word,  and  left  his  neck  in  the  noose. 

jjAcK  was  a  professed  enemy  to  Implicit  Faith ; 
and  yet  I  dare  say,  it  was  never  more  strongly 
exerted,  nor  more  basely  abused,  than  upon  this 
occasion.  He  was  now  with  his  friends,  in  the 
state  of  a  poor  disbanded  Officer  after  a  Peace,  or  rather  a 
wounded  soldier  after  a  battle  ;  like  an  old  favourite  of  a 
cunning  Minister  after  the  job  is  over,  or  a  decayed  beauty 
to  a  cloyed  lover  in  quest  of  new  game  :  or  like  a  hundred 
such  things  that  one  sees  every  day.  There  were  new 
intrigues,  new  views,  new  projects  on  foot.  Jack's  life  was 
the  purchase  of  Diego's  friendship ;  much  good  may  it  do 
them  1  The  Interest  of  Hocus  and  Sir  William  Crawley 
[  ?  ],  which  was  now  more  at  heart,  made  this 

operation  upon  poor  Jack  absolutely  necessary. 

You  may  easily  guess  that  his  rest,  that  night,  was  but 
small,  and  much  disturbed  :  however  the  remaining  part  of 
his  time,  he  did  not  employ,  as  his  custom  was  formerly,  in 
prayer,  meditation,  or  singing  a  double  verse  of  a  Psalm ;  but 
amused  himself  with  disposing  of  his  Bank  Stock. 

Many  a  doubt,  many  a  qualm  overspread  his  clouded 
imagination.  "  Must  I  then,"  quoth  he,  "  hang  up  my  own 
personal,  natural,  individual  Self,  with  these  two  hands ! 
Durus  Sermo  1  What  if  I  should  be  cut  down,  as  my  friends 
tell  me ;  there  is  something  infamous  in  the  very  attempt ! 
The  world  will  conclude  I  had  a  guilty  conscience.  Is  it 
possible  that  good  man,  Sir  Roger,  can  have  so  much  pity 
upon  an  unfortunate  scoundrel  that  has  persecuted  him  so 
many  years  ?  No,  it  cannot  be  !  I  don't  love  favours  that 
pass  through  Don  Diego's  hands  1  On  the  other  side,  my 
blood  chills  about  my  heart,  at  the  thought  of  these  rogues 
with  their  hands  pulling  out  my  very  entrails  !  Hang  it!  for 
once,  I'll  trust  my  friends  !  " 

So  Jack  resolved  ;  but  he  had  done  more  wisely  to  have 
put  himself  upon  the  trial  of  his  country,  and  made  his  defence 
in  form.  Many  things  happen  between  the  cup  and  the  lip. 
Witnesses  might  have  been  bribed,  juries  managed,  or 
prosecution  stopped. 


J.  Arbuthnot,  M-D."!  T^^cx's  SCRUPLES  AT  IIANGTNr,  HIMSELF.  62  I 

Part  III.    App.     I7I2.J  J 

But  so  it  was.  Jack,  for  this  time,  had  a  sufficient  stock  of 
Implicit  Faith,  which  led  him  to  his  ruin,  as  the  sequel  of  the 

story  shews.  ,       ,  .  ,    ,  ^     . 

And  now  the  fatal  day  was  come,  m  which  he  was  to  try 
this  hanging  experiment.  His  friends  did  not  fail  him  at  the 
appointed  hour,  to  see  it  put  in  practice. 

Habbakuk  brought  him  a  smooth  strong  tough  rope  made 
of  many  a  ply  of  wholesome  Scandinavian  hemp,  compactly 
twisted  together,  with  a  noose  that  slipped  as  glib  as  a  bird- 
catcher's  °^in 

Tack  shmnk  and  grew  pale  at  first  sight  of  it.  He  handled 
it,  measured  it,  stretched  it,  fixed  it  against  the  iron  bar  of 
the  window  to  try  its  strength  ;  but  no  familiarity  could 
reconcile  him  to  it !  He  found  fault  with  the  length,  the  thick- 
ness, and  the  twist :  nay,  the  very  colour  did  not  please  him! 
"Will  nothing  less  than  hanging  serve?"  quoth  Jack. 
"  Won't  my  enemies  take  bail  for  my  good  behaviour  ?  Will 
they  accept  of  a  fine,  or  be  satisfied  with  the  pillory  and  im- 
prisonment, a  good  sound  whipping,  or  burning  in  the  cheek? 

Habbakuk.  Nothing  but  your  blood  will  appease  their 
rage'  Make  haste,  else  we  shall  be  discovered  !  There  is 
nothing  like  surprising  the  rogues  1  How  they  will  be  dis- 
appointed, when  they  hear  that  thou  hast  prevented  their 

revenge,  and  hanged  thine  own  self !       

Jack  That  is  true  !  but  what  if  I  should  do  it  in  effigies  ? 
Is  there"  never  an  old  Pope  or  Pretender  to  hang  up  in  my 
stead  ?     We  are  not  so  unlike  but  it  may  pass  ! 

Habbakuk.  That  can  never  be  put  upon  Sir  Roger  ! 
Jack.  Are  you  sure  he  is  in  the  next  room  ?     Have  you 
provided  a  very  sharp  knife  in  case  of  the  worst  ? 

Habbakuk.  Dost  thou  take  me  for  a  common  liar !  13e 
satisfied  no  damage  can  happen  to  your  person  !   Your  friends 

will  take  care  of  that !  ,        „  ^       „  1  . 

Jack.  Mayn't  I  quilt  the  rope!  It  galls  me  strangely. 
Besides,  I  don't  like  this  running  knot ;  it  holds  too  tight !  1 
may  be  stifled  all  of  a  sudden  !  „ 

Habbakuk.  Thou  hast  so  many   "  Ifs      and      Ands! 
Prithee,  despatch!    it   might   have  been  over  before    this 

^'Tack.  But  now  I  think  on  it,  I  would  fain  settle  some 
affairs  for  fear  of  the  worst :  have  a  little  patience  ! 


62  2  Sir  Roger  will  not  cut  Jack  down.  [pJ'ul^app!'  ^;i^: 

Habbakuk.  There  is  no  having  patience  :  thou  art  such 
a  fainting  silly  creature  ! 

Jack.  O  thou  most  detestable  abominable  Passive 
Obedience  1  did  I  ever  imagine  I  should  become  thy  votary 
in  so  pregnant  an  instance  !  How  will  my  brother  Martin 
laugh  at  this  story,  to  see  himself  outdone  in  his  own  call- 
ing !     He  has  taken  the  doctrine,  and  left  me  the  practice  ! 

No  sooner  had  he  uttered  these  words,  but  like  a  man  of 
true  courage,  he  tied  the  fatal  cord  to  the  beam,  fitted  the 
noose,  and  mounted  upon  the  bottom  of  a  Tub,  the  inside  of 
which  he  had  often  graced  in  his  prosperous  days.  This 
footstool,  Habbakuk  kicked  away;  and  left  poor  Jack  swing- 
ing like  the  pendulum  of  Paul's  clock.  The  fatal  noose  per- 
formed its  office,  and,  with  most  strict  ligature,  squeezed  the 
blood  into  his  face,  till  it  assumed  a  purple  dye. 

While  the  poor  man  heaved  from  the  very  bottom  of  his 
belly  for  breath,  Habbakuk  walked  with  great  deliberation 
into  both  the  upper  and  lower  room,  to  acquaint  his  friends  ; 
who  received  the  news  with  great  temper  [equaniiniiy],  and 
with  jeers  and  scoffs  instead  of  pity. 

"Jack  has  hanged  himself!  "  quoth  they,  "let  us  go  and 
see  how  the  poor  rogue  swings  !  " 

Then  they  called  Sir  Roger. 

"  Sir  Roger  !  "  quoth  Habbakuk,  "  Jack  has  hanged  him- 
self;  make  haste  and  cut  him  down !  " 

Sir  Roger  turned,  first  one  ear,  and  then  the  other,  not 
understanding  what  he  said. 

Habbakuk.  I  tell  you.  Jack  has  hanged  himself  up  ! 

Sir  Roger.  Who  is  hanged  ? 

Habbakuk.  Jack  ! 

Sir  Roger.  I  thought  this  had  not  been  hanging  day ! 

Habbakuk.   But  the  poor  fellow  has  hanged  himself! 

Sir  Roger.  Then  let  him  hang  !  I  don't  wonder  at  it : 
the  fellow  has  been  mad  these  twenty  years  I 

With  this,  he  slank  away. 

Then  Jack's  friends  began  to  hunch  and  push  one  another. 
**  Why  don't  you  go  and  cut  the  poor  fellow  down  ?  " 
"  Why  don't  you  ?  " 
And  "  Why  don't  you  ?  " 


Pan  III.    Ap1,'.'''fMay^7:^:]    NOR  WILL  ANY  OF  HIS  FRIENDS.    623 

"Not  I!"  quoth  one. 

"  Not  I  !  "  quoth  another. 

"  Not  I !  "  quoth  a  third,  "  he  may  hang  till  Doomsday 
before  I  relieve  him  ! '' 

Nay  it  is  credibly  reported  that  they  were  so  far  from 
succouring  their  poor  friend  in  this  his  dismal  circumstance, 
that  Ptschirnsooker  and  several  of  his  companions  went  in 
and  pulled  him  by  the  legs,  and  thumped  him  on  the  breast. 

Then  they  began  to  rail  at  him  for  the  very  thing  which 
they  had  both  advised  and  justified  before;  viz.,  his  getting 
into  the  old  Gentlewoman's  family,  and  putting  on  her  livery. 

The  Keeper  who  performed  the  last  office,  coming  up,  found 
Jack  swinging  with  no  life  in  him.  He  took  down  the  body 
gently,  and  laid  it  on  a  bulk,  and  brought  out  the  rope  to  the 
company. 

"  This,  Gentlemen  !  is  the  rope  that  hanged  Jack  !  What 
must  be  done  with  it  ?  " 

Upon  which,  they  ordered  it  to  be  laid  among  the  curiosi- 
ties of  Gresham  College;  and  it  is  called  "Jack's  rope"  to 
this  very  day. 

However,  Jack,  after  all,  had  some  small  tokens  of  life  in 
him :  but  lies,  at  this  time,  past  hopes  of  a  total  recovery  ;  with 
his  head  hanging  on  one  shoulder,  without  speech  or  motion. 

The  Coroner's  Inquest  supposing  him  dead,  brought  him 
in  Non  Compos. 

CHAPTER    IV. 

The  Conference  between  Don  Diego  Dismallo  and  John 
Bull. 

Uring  the  time  of  the  foregoing  transaction,  Don 
Diego  was  entertaining  John  Bull. 

Don  Diego.   I  hope,  Sir,  this  day's  proceedings 
will  convince  you  of  the  sincerity  of  your  old  friend 


Diego,  and  the  treachery  of  Sir  Roger. 

John  Bull.  What's  the  matter  now  ? 

Don  Diego.  You  have  been  endeavouring  for  several  years, 
to  have  justice  done  upon  that  rogue  Jack  ;  but,  what  through 
the  remissness  of  Constables,  Justices,  and  packed  juries,  he 
has  always  found  the  means  to  escape. 


624  Nottingham  tries  to  curry  favour.  [pL  m!'X°p:  ^!y?;. 

John  Bull.  What  then  ? 

Don  Diego.  Consider,  then,  who  is  your  best  friend,  he 
that  would  have  brought  him  to  condign  punishment,  or  he 
that  has  saved  him  ?  By  my  persuasion.  Jack  had  hanged 
himself,  if  Sir  Roger  had  not  cut  him  down  ! 

John  Bull.  Who  told  you  that  Sir  Roger  has  done  so  ? 

Don  Diego.  You  seem  to  receive  me  coldly !  Methinks, 
my  services  deserve  a  better  return ! 

John  Bull.  Since  you  value  yourself  upon  hanging  this 
poor  scoundrel ;  I  tell  you,  when  I  have  any  more  hanging 
work,  I  will  send  for  thee  !  I  have  some  better  employment 
for  Sir  Roger.  In  the  meantime,  I  desire  the  poor  fellow 
may  be  looked  after. 

When  he  hrst  came  out  of  the  North  country  into  my 
Family,  under  the  pretended  name  of  Timothy  Trim,  the 
fellow  seemed  to  mind  his  loom  and  his  spinning-wheel  till 
somebody  turned  his  head.  Then  he  grew  so  pragmatical, 
that  he  took  upon  him  the  government  of  my  whole  Family 
[the  Commonwealth] .  I  could  never  order  anything  within  or 
without  doors ;  but  he  must  be  always  giving  his  counsel, 
forsooth  !  Nevertheless,  tell  him  I  will  forgive  what  is  past! 
and  if  he  would  mind  his  business  for  the  future,  and  not 
meddle  out  of  his  own  sphere  ;  he  will  find  that  John  Bull  is 
not  of  a  cruel  disposition  ! 

Don  Diego.  Yet  all  your  skilful  physicians  say  that 
nothing  can  recover  your  mother,  but  a  piece  of  Jack's  liver 
boiled  in  her  soup  ! 

John  Bull.  Those  are  Quacks  !  My  mother  abhors  such 
cannibal's  food  !  She  is  in  perfect  health  at  present.  I  would 
have  given  many  a  good  pound  to  have  had  her  so  well,  some 
time  ago. 

There  are  indeed  twoor  three  troublesome  old  nurses,  that, 
because  they  believe  I  am  tender-hearted,  will  never  let  me 
have  a  quiet  night's  rest,  with  knocking  me  up,  "  Oh,  Sir ! 
your  mother  is  taken  extremely  ill !  She  is  fallen  into  a 
fainting  fit  1  She  has  a  great  emptiness,  and  wants  sus- 
tenance !  "  [The  Tory  cry  of  "  The  Church  is  in  danger  !  "]  This 
is  only  to  recommend  themselves,  for  their  great  care.  John 
Bull,  as  simple  as  he  is,  understands  a  little  of  a  pulse. 

FINIS. 


LEWIS  BABOON 
Turned  Honest, 

AND 

JOHN  BULL 

POLITICIAN. 

Being 

The  Fourth  Part 

OF 

Law  is  a  Bottomless  Pit. 


Printed  from  a  Manuscript  found  in  the  Cabinet 

of  the  famous  Sir  Humphry  Pole  s  worth. ■ 

and  published  fas  well  as  the    'Three   forf?ier 

Parts  and  Appendixy/  by  the  Author  of  the 

New  Atlantis. 


LONDON:  Printed  for  John  MoR PHEW, 
near  Stationers'  Hall,  i  7  i  2  .     Price  6d. 


Eng.  Gar.  VI.  aq 


626 


[The  appearance  of  this  Last  Part  is  fixed  to  be  24th  July,  17 12,  by  an 
advertisement  in  the  Examiner,  Vol.  II.,  No.  35,  of  that  date.] 


627 


THE     CONTENTS. 


Chap.     I.  The  Sequel  of  the  History  of  the  Meeting  at 

^/fg  Salutation       />•  633 

11.  How  John  Bull  and  Nicholas  Frog 

settled  their  acconnts       />.  637 

III.  How  John  Bull  found  all  his  Family  in  an 

uproar  at  home       p-  641 

IV.  How  Lewis  Baboon  same  to  visit  John 

Bull,  and  what  passed  between  them p.  644 

V.  Nicholas  Frog's  letter  to  John  Bull  ; 
wherein  he  endeavours  to  vindicate  all  his  con- 
duct with  relation  to  John  Bull  and  the 
Lawsuit />•  647 

VI.  The  discourse  that  passed  between  Nicholas 
Frog  and  Esquire  South,  which  John 
Bull  overheard P-  649 


628 


The    Contents 


r         J.  Arbuthnot,  M.D 
L  Part  n 


V.     28  July  1712' 

Chap.  VII.  The    rest   of   Nicholas's  fetches    to    keep 

John  out  of  Ecclcsdown  Castle  [Dunkirk]    p.  652 

VIII.  Of  the  great  joy  that  John  expressed  when  he 

got  possession  of  Ecclesdown       ^-655 


629 


THE     PREFACE. 

Hen  I  was  first  called  to  the  Office  of  Historiop-apJicr 

to  John  Bull,  he  expressed  himself  to  this  purpose, 

"  Sir  Humphry  !  I  know  you  are  a  plain  dealer  I 

It  is  for  that  reason  that  I  have  chosen  you  for  this 

important  trust !  Speak  the  truth,  and  spare  not !" 

That  I  might  fulfil  those  his  honourable  intentions,  I  obtained 
leave  to  repair  to,  and  attend  him  in  his  most  secret  retirements  : 
and  I  put  the  Journals  of  all  transactions  into  a  strong  box,  to  be 
opened  at  a  fitting  occasion  ;  after  the  manner  of  the  Historio- 
graphers of  some  Eastern  monarchs.  This  I  thought  was  the  safest 
way  ;  though  I  declare  I  was  never  afraid  to  be  chopped  [off]  by 
my  Master,  for  telling  the  truth. 

It  is  from  those  Journals,  that  my  Memoirs  are  compiled.  There- 
fore let  not  Posterity,  a  thousand  years  hence,  look  for  truth  in  the 
voluminous  Annals  of  pedants,  who  are  entirely  ignorant  of  the 
secret  springs  of  great  actions  !  If  they  do,  let  me  tell  them,  they 
will  be  nebused  / 

With  incredible  pains  have  I  endeavoured  to  copy  the  several  beau- 
tics  of  the  ancient  and  modern  historians,  the  impartial  temper  of 
Herodotus,  the  gravity,  austerity,  and  strict  morals  of  Thucy- 
DIDES,  the  extensive  knowledge  of  Xenophon,  the  sublimity  and 
grandeur  of  TiTUS  Livius;  and  to  avoid  the  careless  style  of 


630       Glorying  in  the  Stamp  Act.     [pJvvl'^s'jui'y'';?;. 

PoLYBius  f  I  have  borrowed  considerable  ornaments  from 
DiONYSius  Harlicarnassens  and  DiODORUS  SicULUS  !  The 
specious  gilding  of  TACITUS,  I  have  endeavoured  to  shun ! 
Mariana,  D'Avila,  and  Fra  Paulo  are  those  among  the 
Moderns,  whom  I  thought  most  worthy  of  imitation  ;  but  I  cannot 
be  so  disingenuous,  as  not  to  own  the  infinite  obligations  I  have 
to  the  Pilgrim's  Progress  of  John  Bunyan,  and  the  Tenter 
Belly  of  the  Rev.  Joseph  Hall. 

From  such  encouragement  and  helps,  it  is  easy  to  guess,  to  what 
a  degree  of  perfection  I  might  have  brought  this  great  Work,  had 
it  not  been  nipped  in  the  bud,  by  some  illiterate  people  in  both 
Houses  of  Parliament:  ivho,  envying  the  great  figure  I  was  to  make 
in  future  Ages,  under  pretence  of  raising  money  for  the  war,  have 
padlocked  [by  the  Stamp  Act]  all  those  very  pens  that  were  to 
celebrate  the  actions  of  their  heroes,  by  silencing  at  once  the  whole 
University  of  Grub  street.  I  am  persuaded  that  nothing  but  the 
prospect  of  an  approaching  Peace  could  have  encouraged  them  to 
make  so  bold  a  step.  But  suffer  me,  in  tJie  name  of  the  rest  of  the 
Matriculates  of  that  famous  University,  to  ask  them  some  plain 
questions.  Do  they  think  that  Peace  will  bring  along  with  it  a  Gol- 
den Age  ?  Will  there  be  never  a  dying  speech  of  a  Traitor  ?  Are 
Cethegus  and  Cat  aline  turned  so  tame  that  there  will  be  no 
opportunity  to  cry  about  the  streets,  "  A  dangerous  Plot !  "?  Will 
Peace  bring  such  Plenty  that  no  gentleman  will  have  occasion  to 
go  upon  the  highway,  or  break  into  a  house  ? 

I  am  sorry  that  the  World  should  be  so  much  imposed  upon,  by 
the  dreams  of  a  false  prophet,  as  to  imagine  the  Millenium  is  at 
hand.  0  Grub  street  I  tJwu  fruitful  nursery  of  towering  geniuses  ! 
how  do  I  lament  tJiy  downfall !  Thy  ruin  could  never  be  meditated 
by  any  who  meant  well  to  English  Liberty!  No  modern  Lycceum 
will  ever  equal  thy  glory,  whether  in  soft  Pastorals  thou  sangst 
the  flames  of  pampered  apprentices  and  coy  cookmaids,  or  mournful 


paruv.'^^uui;^''!^:]  Scoffing  at  Grui]  street  Writers  1631 

Ditties  of  departing  lovers  !  or  if  to  Mceonian  strains,  thou  raiscdst 
thy  voice,  to  record  the  stratagems,  the  arduous  exploits,  and  the 
nocturnal  scalade   of  needy   heroes,  the  terror   of  your  peaceful 
citizen  !  describing  the  powerful  Betty,  or  the  artful  Picklock, 
or  the  secret  caverns  and  grottoes  ofVULCAN  sweating  at  his  forge 
and  stamping  the  Queen's  image  on  viler  metals,  which  he  retails 
for  beef  and  pots  of  ale !  or  if  thou  wert  content  in  simple  Narra- 
tive to  relate  the  cruel  acts  of  implacable  revenge;  or  the  complaints 
of  ravished  virgins   blushing  to  tell  their  adventure    before   the 
listening  crowd  of  City  damsels  :  whilst,  in  thy  faithful  History, 
thou  intcrminglest  the  gravest  counsels  and  the  purest  morals !  nor 
less  acute  and  piercing  wert  thou  in   thy  search   and  pompous 
description  of  the  Works  of  Nature;  whether,  in  proper  and  empha- 
tic terms,  thou   didst  paint   the   blazing   comet's  fiery   tail,   the 
stupendous  force  of  dreadful  thunder  and  earthquakes,  and   the 
unrelenting  inundations  !  Sometimes,  with  Machiavellian  sagacity, 
thou  unravelledst  the  intrigues  of  State,  and  the  traitorous  con- 
spiracies of  rebels ;  giving  wise  counsel  to  Monarchs  !    How  didst 
thou  move  our  terror  and  our  pity  with   thy  passionate  scenes 
between  Jack  Catch  and  the  heroes  of  the  Old  Bailey!  how 
didst  thou  describe  their  intrepid  march  up  Holborn  Hill !  Nor 
didst  thou  shine  less  in  thy  Theological  capacity,  when  thou  gavest 
ghostly  counsel  to  dying  felons,  and  recorded  the  guilty  pangs  of 
Sabbath-breakers !    How  will  the  noble  Arts  of  John  Overton's 
painting   and   sculpture   now   languish!    where   rich   invention, 
proper  expression,  correct  design,  divine  altitudes,  and  artful  con- 
trast, heightened  with  the  beauties  of  Clar  Obscur  [Chiar  obscuro] 
imbellish  thy  celebrated  pieces,  to  the  delight  and  astonishment  of 
the  judicious  multitude  ! 

Adieu,  persuasive  Eloquenee !  The  quaint  Metaphor,  the 
poignant  Irony,  the  proper  Epithet,  and  the  lively  Simile  are  fled 
to  Burlei^ih  on  the  Hill ! 


632  Mock  Condolence  WITH  Grub  street.  [p|;,fl'v';'''|j;;Vy'^/^]^; 

Instead  of  these,  we  shall  have   I  know   not  what !      "  The 
» Vide  [William     illiterate  Will  tell  the  rest  with  pleasure."* 

Fleetwouu] 

s't  A^fl'H^"^  /  hope  the  Reader  will  excuse  this  digression,  due, 

F'our'slrlwns].  ^  ^'^JK  ^f  condoUnce,  to  my  worthy  brethren  of 
Grub  street,  for  the  approaching  barbarity  that  is  likely  to 
overspread  all  its  regions,  by  this  oppressive  and  exorbitant  tax 
[the  Stamp  duty].  It  has  been  my  good  fortune  to  receive 
my  education  there ;  and  so  long  as  I  preserved  some  figure 
and  rank  among  the  Learned  of  that  Society,  I  scorned  to  take 
my  degree  either  at  Utrecht  or  Leyden,  though  I  were  offered  it 
gratis  by  the  Professors  there. 


LEWIS     BABOON 

Turned  Honest, 


AND 


U  LL 


POLITICIAN. 


CHAPTER    I . 

The  Sequel  of  the  History  of  the  Meeting  at  the  Salutation  : 

Here,  I  think  I  left  John  Bull  sitting 
between  Nic.  Frog  and  Lewis  Baboon, 
with  his  arms  akimbo,  in  great  concern  to 
keep  Lewis  and  Nic.  asunder. 

As  watchful  as  he  was,  Nic.  found  means, 

now  and  then,  to  steal  a  whisper ;  and,  by  a 

cleanly  conveyance  under  the  tab  e,  to  slip  a 

1.=^==—--  short noteintoLEWis'shand:  which  Lew^^^^ 

as  slyly,  put  into  John's  pocket,  with  a  pmch  or  a  jog  to 
TH^^^hattt'^un^sitrto  retire  into  a  corner,  to  peruse 


634  Story  OF  English  help  to  Dutch.  [par/i^'-'",Jj"°5y'/;x'^. 

these  billd-doiLX  of  Nic.'s;  wherein  he  found  that  Nic.  had 
used  great  freedoms,  both  with  his  Interest  and  reputation. 
One  contained  these  words  : 

Dear  Lewis, 

Thou  seest  clearly  that  this  blockhead  can  never  brinf!;  his 
inattcrs  to  bear !  Let  thee  and  me  talk  to-night  by  ourselves  at 
the  Rose,  and  I  will  give  thee  satisfaction  ! 

Another  was  thus  expressed  : 

Friend  LEWIS, 

Has  thy  sense  quite  forsaken  thee,  to  make  BULL  such  offers  ? 
Hold  fast !  part  with  nothing  !  and  I  will  give  thee  a  better 
bargain,  I'll  warrant  thee  ! 

In  some  of  his  billets,  he  told  Lewis  that  John  Bull 
was  under  his  guardianship  !  that  the  best  part  of  his  servants 
were  at  his  command !  that  he  could  have  JOHN  gagged  and 
bound,  iz'henever  he  pleased,  by  the  people  of  his  own  Family  ! 

In  all  these  epistles,  blockhead !  dunce  !  ass  !  coxcomb  !  were 
the  best  epithets  he  gave  poor  John. 

In  others,  he  threatened  that,  he,  Esquire  South,  and  the 
rest  of  the  Tradesmen  [the  Allies]  woidd  lay  LEWIS  down  upon 
his  back,  and  beat  out  his  teeth,  if  he  did  not  retire  immediately, 
and  break  iLp  the  meeting ! 

I  fancy  I  need  not  tell  my  reader  that  John  often  changed 
colour  as  he  read,  and  that  his  fingers  itched  to  give  Nic.  a 
good  slap  on  the  chops  :  but  he  wisely  moderated  his  choleric 
temper. 

"  I  saved  this  fellow,"  quoth  he,  **  from  the  gallows,  when 
he  ran  awav  from  his  last  master  [the  rise  of  the  Dutch 
Republic  with  English  help]  ;  because  I  thought  he  was 
harshly  treated  :  but  the  rogue  was  no  sooner  safe  under  my 
protection,  than  he  began  to  lie,  pilfer,  and  steal,  like  the  Devil ! 

"  When  I  first  set  him  up  in  a  warm  house  ;  he  had  hardly 
put  up  his  Sign,  when  he  began  to  debauch  [entice]  my  best 
customers  from  me.  Then  it  was  his  constant  practice  to 
rob  my  fish-ponds  [Dutch  fishing  for  herrings  off  the  English 
coast;  see  Vols.  IL  p.  6i ;  IILp.  621 ;  IV.  p.  323]  ;  not  only 
to  feed  his  family,  but  to  trade  with  the  fishmongers.  I 
connived  at  the  fellow,  till  he  began  to  tell  me  that  '  they 
were  his,  as  much  as  mine  !  ' 

"  In   my  Manor   of  Eastcheap    [East  Indies] ,  because  it 


paruv!'^"'4^juiyV7S   Ingratitude  OF  THE  Dutch.    635 

lay  at  some  distance  from  my  constant  inspection,  he  broke 
down  my  fences,  robbed  my  orchards,  and  beat  my  servants. 
When  I  used  to  reprimand  him  for  his  tricks  ;  he  would 
talk  saucilv,  lie,  and  brazen  it  out  as  if  he  had  done  nothing 
amiss.  '  Will  nothing  cure  thee  of  these  pranks,  Nic.  ?  ' 
quoth  I.  *  I  shall  be  forced,  some  time  or  another,  to  chastise 
thee  ! '  The  rogue  got  up  his  cane  and  threatened  me ; 
and  was  well  thwacked  for  his  pains  [tlic  wars  "with  the  Dutch 
in  1652,  1665,  and  1671J. 

"  But  I  think  his  behaviour  at  this  time,  worst  of  all  ! 
After  I  have  almost  drowned  myself,  to  keep  his  head  above 
water ;  he  would  leave  me  sticking  in  the  mud,  trusting  to 
his  goodness  to  help  me  out !  After  I  have  beggared  myself 
with  this  troublesome  Lawsuit,  he  takes  it  in  mighty  dudgeon, 
because  I  have  brought  him  here,  to  end  matters  amicably ! 
and  because  I  won't  let  him  make  me  over,  by  deed  and 
indenture,  as  his  lawful  cully  [dupe]  1  which  to  my  certain 
knowledge,  he  has  attempted  several  times. 

*'  But,  after  all,  canst  thou  gather  grapes  from  thorns  ?  Nic. 
does  not  pretend  to  be  a  Gentleman !  He  is  a  tradesman, 
a  self-seeking  wretch  1  But  how  comest  thou  to  bear  all 
this,  John  ?  The  reason  is  plain ;  thou  conferrest  the 
benefits,  and  he  receives  them :  the  first  produces  love,  and 
the  last  ingratitude. 

"Ah,  Nic!  thou  art  a  dog,  that  is  certain!  Thou 
knowest  too  well,  that  I  will  take  care  of  thee,  else  thou 
wouldst  not  use  me  thus.  I  won't  give  thee  up,  it  is  true  : 
but,  as  true  it  is,  that  thou  shalt  not  sell  me,  according  to 
thy  laudable  custom  !  " 

While  John  was  deep  in  this  soliloquy,  Nic.  broke  out 
into  the  following  protestation  : 

"  Gentlemen, 

I  believe  everybody  here  present,  will  allow  me  to  be  a 
very  just  and  disinterested  person.  My  friend  John  Bull 
here,  is  very  angry  with  me;  forsooth,  because  I  won'tagree 
to  his  foolish  bargains.  Now  I  declare  to  all  mankind,  I 
should  be  ready  to  sacrifice  my  own  concerns  to  his  quiet  ; 
but  the  care  of  his  Interest  and  that  of  the  honest  Trades- 
men [the  Allies]  that  are  embarked  with  us,  keeps  me  from 
entering  into  this  Composition.  What  shall  become  of  those 
poor    creatures  ?     The    thought    of    their    impending    ruin 


636 Unwillingness  for  Peace  at  Utreciit.Q;^^^^'!';'/'^"!;,^'^-,^^^ 

disturbs  my  night's  rest  !  Therefore  I  desire  they  may 
speak  for  themselves.  If  they  are  willing  to  give  up  this 
affair,  I  shan't  make  two  words  of  it !  " 

John  Bull  begged  him  to  lay  aside  that  immoderate 
concern  for  him  :  and  withal,  put  him  in  mind  that  the 
Interest  of  those  Tradesmen  had  not  sat  quite  so  heavy  upon 
him,  some  years  ago,  on  a  like  occasion. 

Nic.  answered  little  to  that,  but  immediately  pulled  out 
a  boatswain's  whistle.  Upon  the  first  whiff,  the  Tradesmen 
came  jumping  in  the  room,  and  began  to  surround  Lewis 
like  so  many  yelping  curs  about  a  great  boar  :  or,  to  use  a 
modester  simile,  like  duns  at  a  great  Lord's  levee,  the  morn- 
ing he  goes  into  the  country.  One  pulled  him  by  the  sleeve  ! 
another  by  the  skirt !  a  third  holloaed  in  his  ear !  They 
began  to  ask  him  for  all  that  had  been  taken  from  their  fore- 
fathers, by  stealth,  fraud,  force,  or  lawful  purchase  !  Some 
asked  for  Manors  !  Others,  for  acres  that  lay  convenient  for 
them  !  that  he  would  pull  down  his  fences  !  level  his  ditches  ! 
All  agreed  in  one  common  demand,  that  he  should  be  purged, 
sweated,  vomited,  and  starved,  till  he  came  to  a  sizeable 
bulk  like  that  of  his  neighbours. 

One  modestly  asked  him  leave  to  call  him  "  Brother  !  " 
Nic.  Frog  demanded  two  things,  to  be  his  Porter  and  his 
Fishmonger;  to  keep  the  keys  of  his  gates,  and  furnish  his 
kitchen.  John's  sister.  Peg,  only  desired  that  he  would  let 
his  servants  [French  Protestants]  sing  Psalms  a  Sundays. 
Some  descended  even  to  the  asking  of  old  clothes,  shoes  and 
boots,  broken  bottles,  tobacco  pipes,  and  ends  of  candles. 

"  Monsieur  Bull,"  quoth  Lewis,  "you  seem  to  be  a  man 
of  some  breeding!  For  God's  sake!  use  your  Interest 
with  these  Messieurs,  that  they  would  speak  but  one  at  once  ! 
for  if  one  had  a  hundred  pair  of  hands  and  as  many  tongues, 
he  cannot  satisfy  them  all,  at  this  rate  1  " 

John  begged  they  might  proceed  with  some  method. 

Then  they  stopped  all  of  a  sudden,  and  would  not  say  a 
word. 

"  If  this  be  your  play,"  quoth  John,  "  that  we  may  not  be 
like  a  Quaker's  dumb  meeting ;  let  us  begin  some  diversion  ! 
What  do  ye  think  of  Rouly  Pouly,  or  a  Country  Dance  ? 
What  if  we  should  have  a  match  at  football  ?  I  am  sure 
wc  shall  never  end  matters  at  this  rate  I  " 


Pan fv\"2l''juV/7^-]  Nic,  Frog's  financial  legerdemain.  6^j 

CHAPTER    II. 

How  John  Bull  and  Nicholas  Frog  settled  their  accounts. 

John  Bull.  ||'^^|Uring  this  general  cessation  of  talk, 
what  if  you  and  I,  Nic.  !  should 
inquire  how  money  matters  stand 
between  us  ? 

ITic.  Frog.  With  all  my  heart  !  I  love  exact  dealing; 
and  let  Hocus  audit !  he  knows  how  the  money  was  dis- 
bursed. 

John  Bull.  I  am  not  for  that,  at  present  !  We  will  settle 
it  between  ourselves  !  Fair  and  square,  Nic.  !  keeps  friends 
together.  There  have  been  laid  out  in  this  Lawsuit,  at  one 
time,  36,000  pounds  and  40,000  crowns.  In  some  cases,  I, 
in  others  }'ou,  bear  the  greater  proportion. 

Nic.  Right  !  I  pay  Three-fifths  of  the  greater  number; 
and  you  pay  Tw^o-thirds  of  the  lesser  number.  I  think  this 
is  "  fair  and  square  "  as  you  call  it. 

John.  Well,  go  on  ! 

Nic.  Two-thirds  of  36,000  pounds  is  24,000  pounds  for 
your  share;  and  there  remains  12,000  pounds.  Again,  of 
the  40,000  crowns,  I  pay  24,000  ;  which  is  Three-fifths  ; 
and  you  pay  only  16,000,  which  is  Two-fifths.  24,000 
crowns  make  6,000  pounds,  and  16,000  crowns  make  4,000 
pounds:  12,000  and  6,000  make  18,000;  24,000  and  4,000 
make  28,000.  So  there  are  18,000  pounds  to  my  share  of 
the  expenses,  and  28,000  pounds  to  yours." 

After  Nic.  had  bamboozled  John  a  while  about  the  18,000 
and  the  28,000;  John  called  for  counters.  But  what  with 
sleight  of  hand,  and  taking  from  his  own  score  and  adding 
to  John's,  Nic.  wrought  the  balance  always  on  his  own 
side. 

John  Bull.  Nay,  good  friend  Nic,  though  I  am  not  quite 
so  nimble  in  the  figures,  I  understand  ciphering  as  well  as 
you  !  I  will  produce  my  accounts  one  by  one,  fairly  written 
out  of  my  own  books. 

And  here  I  begin  with  the  first.  You  must  excuse  me, 
if  I  don't  pronounce  the  Law  terms  right. 


638  John  Bull's  Account  of  the  WAR.[p,.7iv^'■'':','^]C;y':7,'^: 

John  reads. 

£    s.  d. 

Fees  to  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  and  other  Judges, 

by  way  of  dividend 200  10     6 

Fees  to /)Z^/s7/c  Judges    50     o     o 

To  Esquire  South,  ior  post  Tcnninmns      100   10     6 

To  ditto  ior  N on  est  fadums       200     o     o 

To           ditto            for  Discontinuance,  Noli  pro- 
sequi, and  Retraxit      80  10     6 

To           ditto            for  a  Non  Omittas,  and  fil- 
ing a />os^  Diem 50     o     o 

To  Hocus,  ior  a.  DediniHS  protcstatcm  ...     300     o     o 

To     ditto  for  Casas  and  Fifas  after  a 

Devastavit     500     o     o 

To     ditto  for     a     Capias     ad     couipu- 

tandum 100  10     6 

To  Frog's     New   tenants    [the   Barrier  towns], 
per    Account     to      Hocus, 

ior  Audita  querelas       200     o     o 

On    the   said   Account,   for 
Writs    of    Ejectment     and 

Destringas    300     o     o 

To  Esquire  South's  quota   for  a   Return   of    a 
Non  est   inventus   and   nulla 

habet  bona     150  10     o 

To      for  a  Pardon  in  forma  pau- 
peris            200     o     o 

To  Jack  for    a    Melius    inquirendum 

upon  a  Felo  de  se        100     o     o 

To  Don  Diego  ior  a.  Deficit 50     o     o 

To  Coach  hire  500     o     o 

For  treats  to  Juries  and  Witnesses     300     o     o 

Sum  ^^3,382  12     o 

Due  by  Nic.  Frog  3^1,691     6     o 
Of  which,  paid  by  Nic.  Frog     1,036  11     o 

Remains  due  by  Nic.  Frog     £6^^  15     o 


knlT^":^lyV;r;.]  Frog's  CONTRA  Account  OF  the  samt-.  639 

Then  Nic.  Frog  pulled  out  his  bill  out  of  his  pocket,  and 
began  to  read 

Nicholas  Frog's  Account. 

Remains  to  be  deducted  out  of  the  former  Account  :  £     s.    d. 

To  Hocus  for  Entries  of  a  i^^«-c  nzconsz^/io        ...     200     o     o 

To  John  Bull's  Nephew  {the  Old  Pretender]  for 

a  Venire   Facias :    the   money  not 

yet  all  laid  out        300     o     o 

The  coach  hire  for  my  wife  and  family,  and  the 
carriage  of  my  goods  during  the  time  of  this 

Lawsuit 

For  the  extraordinary  expenses  of  feeding  my 

family,  during  this  Lawsuit 

To  Major  Ab 

To  Major  Will 

Sum  £"1,700  10    6 
From  which  deduct     1,691     6     o 

There  remains  due  to  Nic.  Frog      ^^g    4     6 


200 

10 

b 

500 

0 

0 

300 

0 

0 

200 

0 

0 

Besides ;  recollecting,  I  believe  I  paid  for  Diego's  Deficit. 

John  Bull.  As  for  your  Venire  facias,  I  have  paid  you  for 
one  already !  In  the  other,  I  believe  you  will  be  nonsuited. 
I'll  take  care  of  my  nephew  myself.  Your  coach  hire  and 
family  charges  are  most  unreasonable  deductions !  At  that 
rate,  I  can  bring  in  any  man  in  the  world,  my  debtor !  But 
who,  the  Devil  !  are  those  two  Majors  that  consume  all  my 
money  ?  I  find  they  always  run  away  with  the  balance  in 
all  accounts. 

Nic.  Frog.  Two  very  honest  Gentlemen,  I  assure  you!  that 
have  done  me  some  service. 

To  tell  you  plainly.  Major  Ab.  denotes  thy  "greater  Abi- 
lity," and  Major  Will.,  thy  "greater  Willingness,"  to  carry 
on  this  Lawsuit.  It  was  but  reasonable,  thou  shouldst  pay 
both  for  thy  Power  and  thy  Positiveness  ! 

John  Bull.  I  believe  I  shall  have  those  two  honest  Majors' 
'discount  on  my  side,  in  a  little  time. 

Nic.  Frog.  Why  all  this  higgling  with  thy  friend,  about 


640  England  should  not  waitfor  Allies ![/;^f/l^^-;'';;°{;.^/^\^: 

such  a  paltry  sum  ?  Does  this  become  the  generosity  of  the 
noble  and  rich  John  Bull  ?  I  wonder  thou  art  not  ashamed! 
0  Hocus  !  Hocus  !  where  art  thou  ?  It  used  to  go  another- 
guess  manner  in  thy  time  !  When  a  poor  man  has  almost 
undone  himself  for  thy  sake  ;  thou  art  for  fleecing  him,  and 
fleecing  him  !     Is  that  thy  conscience,  John  ? 

John  Bull.  Very  pleasant  indeed  1  It  is  well  known  thou 
retainest  thy  Lawyers  by  the  year ;  so  that  a  fresh  Lawsuit 
adds  but  little  to  thy  expense.  They  are  thy  customers  :  I 
hardly  ever  sell  them  a  farthing's  worth  of  anything  1  Nay, 
thou  hast  set  up  an  eating-house,  where  the  whole  tribe  of 
them  spend  all  they  can  rap  or  run  [i.e.,  all  the  ready  money  they 
can  chink,  and  all  the  credit  they  can  run].  If  it  were  well 
reckoned,  I  believe  thou  gettest  more  of  my  money  than  thou 
spendest  of  thy  own.  However,  if  thou  wilt  needs  plead 
poverty,  own  at  least  that  thy  Accounts  are  false. 

Nic.  Frog.  No,  marry  !  won't  I  1  I  refer  myself  to  these 
honest  Gentlemen  [the  Tradesmen,  i.e.,  the  Allies] !  Let  them 
judge  between  us!  Let  Esquire  South  speak  his  mind, 
Whether  my  accounts  are  not  right  ?  and  Whether  we  ought 
not  to  go  on  with  the  Lawsuit  ? 

John  Bull.  Consult  the  butchers  about  keeping  of  Lent !  I 
tell  you,  once  for  all,  John  Bull  knows  where  his  shoe 
pinches.  None  of  your  Esquires  shall  give  him  the  law,  as 
long  as  he  wears  this  trusty  weapon  by  his  side,  or  has  an 
inch  of  broad-cloth  in  his  shop  ! 

Nic.  Frog.  Why,  there  it  is!  You  will  be  Judge  and 
Party  !  I  am  sorry  thou  discoverest  so  much  of  thy  headstrong 
humour  before  these  strange  Gentlemen  !  I  have  often  told 
you,  that  it  would  prove  thy  ruin  some  time  or  another  ! 

John  saw  clearly  he  should  have  nothing  but  wrangling  ; 
and  that  he  should  have  as  little  success  in  settling  his  ac- 
counts as  in  ending  the  Composition. 

"  Since  they  will  needs  overload  my  shoulders,"  quoth 
John,  "I  shall  throw  down  the  burden  with  a  squash  amongst 
them  ;  take  it  up  who  dares  !  A  man  has  a  fine  time  of  it, 
among  a  combination  of  sharpers  that  vouch  for  one  another's 
honesty  !  John,  look  to  thyself  !  Old  Lewls  makes  reasonable 
offers  !  When  thou  hast  spent  the  small  pittance  that  is  left, 
thou  wilt  make  a  glorious  figure,  when  thou  art  brought  to 


Part 


J  Arbuthnot,M.D.-i  AciTATioN  AS  TO  THE  Succession,  641 

t  IV.     24  July  1712.J 


live  upon  Nic.  Frog's  and  Esquire  South's  generosity  and 
gratitude.  If  they  use  thee  thus,  when  they  want  thee  ;  what 
will  they  do,  when  thou  wantest  them  ?  I  say  again,  John 
look  to  thyself!" 

John  wisely  stifled  his  resentments;  and  told  the  company 
that,  "  in  a  little  time,  he  should  give  them  law,  or  some- 
thing better!" 

All.  Law  !  Law  I  Sir,  by  all  means  !  What  are  twenty- 
two  poor  years  towards  the  finishing  a  Lawsuit  ?  For  the 
love  of  God  !  more  Law,  Sir ! 

John  BulL  Prepare  your  demands,  how  many  years 
more  of  Law  you  want  I  that  I  may  order  my  affairs  accord- 
ingly.    In  the  meanwhile,  farewell  1 

CHAPTER    III. 

How  John  Bull  found  all  his  Family  in  an  uproar  at  home. 

pc.  Frog  (who  thought  of  nothing  but  of  carrying 
John  to  the  market,  and  there  disposing  of  him  as 
his  own  proper  goods)  was  mad  to  find  that  John 
thought  himself  now  of  age  to  look  after  his  own 
affairs.  He  resolved  to  traverse  this  new  project,  and  to 
make  him  uneasy  in  his  own  Family.  He  had  corrupted  or 
deluded  most  of  his  servants  into  the  most  extravagant  con- 
ceits in  the  world,  that  their  Master  was  run  mad  !  and  wore 
a  dagger  in  one  pocket,  and  poison  in  the  other !  he  had  sold 
his  wife  and  children  to  Lewis  !  disinherited  his  hen;!  and 
was  going  to  settle  his  estate  upon  a  parish  boy  !  that  if  they 
did  not  look  after  their  Master,  he  would  do  some  very 
mischievous  thing ! 

When  John  came  home,  he  found  a  more  surprising  scene 
than  any  he  had  yet  met  with  [the  national  excitement  as  to  the 
Hanoverian  Succession] ;  and  that,  you  will  say,  was  somewhat 

extraordinary.  1   u •    j-  „^^ 

He  called  his  cook-maid  Betty  to  bespeak  his  dinner. 
Betty  told  him  that  "she  begged  his  pardon,  she  could 

not  dress  dinner  till  she  knew  what  he  intended  to  do  with 

his  Will    [the  Act    of   Settlement,  enstmng    the  Hanoverian 

Succession]  !  " 

Eng.  Gar.  VI.  4^ 


642  John  Bull's  servants  gone  mad  !  [pj\v!^l'^'}°\y\\^^: 

"  Why,  Betty,  forsooth,  thou  art  not  run  mad  !  art  thou  ? 
My  will  at  present,  is  to  have  dinner." 

"  That  may  be,"  quoth  Betty,  "  but  my  conscience  won't 
allow  me  to  dress  it,  till  I  know  whether  you  intend  to  do 
righteous  things  by  your  heir  [the  Princess  Sophia]  ?  " 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that,  Betty  !  "  quoth  John,  "  I  must  find 
somebody  else  then  !  " 

Then  he  called  John  the  barber. 

"  Before  I  begin,"  quoth  John,  "  I  hope  your  Honour 
won't  be  offended,  if  I  ask  you.  Whether  you  intend  to  alter 
your  Will  ?  If  you  won't  give  me  a  positive  answer,  your 
beard  may  grow  down  to  your  middle,  for  me  !  " 

"  I  gad,  and  so  it  shall  !  "  quoth  Bull,  "  for  I  will  never 
trust  my  throat  in  such  a  mad  fellow's  hands !  " 

"  Where  is  Dick  the  butler  ?  " 

"  Look  ye !  "  quoth  Dick,  "  I  am  very  willing  to  serve  you 
in  my  calling,  do  ye  see  !  but  there  are  strange  reports,  and 
plain  dealing  is  best,  do  you  see  !  I  must  be  satisfied  if  5-ou 
intend  to  leave  all  to  your  nephew,  and  if  Nic.  Frog  is  still 
your  executor,  do  you  see  !  If  you  will  not  satisfy  me  as  to 
these  points,  do  you  see  !  you  may  drink  with  the  ducks  !  " 

"  And  so  I  will !  "  quoth  John,  "  rather  than  keep  a  butler 
that  loves  my  heir  better  than  myself." 

Hob  the  shoemaker  and  Pricket  the  tailor  told  him  that 
they  "  would  most  willingly  serve  him  in  their  several 
stations,  if  he  would  promise  them,  never  to  talk  with  Lewis 
Baboon,  and  let  Nicholas  Frog,  linendraper,  manage  his 
concerns!"  that  they  "could  neither  make  shoes  nor  clothes  to 
any  that  were  not  in  good  correspondence  with  their  worthy 
friend  Nicholas." 

John  Bull.  Call  Andrew  my  journeyman  !  How  go 
affairs,  Andrew  ?  I  hope  the  Devil  has  not  taken  possession 
of  thy  body  too  ! 

Andrew.  No,  Sir!  I  only  desire  to  know,  what  you 
would  do  if  you  were  dead  ? 

John  Bull.  Just  as  other  dead  folks  do,  Andrew  ! 

[Aside.  This  is  amazing  1 

Andrew.  I  mean  if  your  nephew  shall  inherit  your 
estate  ? 

John  Bull.  That  depends  upon  himself!  I  shall  do 
nothing  to  hinder  him  ! 


PaniO:''"uufy^i7i^.']  Nottingham's  speech  of  Sorites.   643 

Andrew.   But  will  j-ou  make  it  sure  ? 

John  Bull.  Thou  meanest  that  I  should  put  him  in 
possession  ;  for  I  can  make  no  surer  without  that !  He  has 
all  the  Law  can  give  him  ! 

Andrew.  Indeed,  Possession,  as  you  say,  would  make  it 
much  surer.     They  say  "  it  is  eleven  points  of  the  Law  !  " 

John  began  now  to  think  they  were  all  enchanted.  He 
inquired  about  the  age  of  the  moon  ?  if  Nic.  had  not  given 
them  some  intoxicating  potion  ?  or  if  old  mother  Jenisa 
was  not  still  alive  ? 

"  No,  on  my  faith  ! "  quoth  Harry,  "  I  believe  there  is  no 
potion  in  the  case  but  a  little  aiirum  potabilc.  You  will 
have  more  of  this,  by  and  by  !  " 

He  had  scarce  spoken  the  word,  when,  of  a  sudden,  Don 
Diego,  followed  by  a  great  multitude  of  his  tenants  and 
workpeople,  came  rushing  into  the  room. 

Don  Diego.  Since  those  worthy  persons,  who  are  as  much 
concerned  for  your  safety  as  I  am,  have  employed  me  as  their 
Orator ;  I  desire  to  know  whether  you  will  have  it,  by  way 
of  Syllogism,  Enthymeme  [a  syllogism  drawn  from  probable 
premisses,  and  which  therefore  does  not  pretend  to  be  demonstrative]. 
Dilemma  [an  argtiment  in  which  the  adversary  is  caught  between 
two  diffcidties],  or  Sorites  [a  heap  of  syllogisms,  the  conclusion 
of  the  one  forming  the  premiss  of  the  next]. 

John  now  began  to  be  diverted  with  their  extravagance. 

John  Bull.  Let  us  have  a  Sorites,  by  all  means !  though 
they  are  all  new  to  me ! 

Don  Diego.  It  is  evident  to  all  that  are  versed  in  history, 
that  there  were  two  sisters  that  played  the  whore  two  thou- 
sand years  ago:  therefore  it  follows,  that  it  is  not  lawful  for 
John  Bull  to  have  any  manner  of  intercourse  with  Lewis 
Baboon.  If  it  is  not  lawful  for  John  Bull  to  have  any  manner 
of  intercourse  (correspondence  if  you  will !  that  is  much  the 
same  thing  !) ;  then,  a  fortiori,  it  is  much  more  unlawful  for 
the  said  John  to  make  over  his  wife  and  children  to  the  said 
Lewis.  If  his  wife  and  children  are  not  to  be  made  over,  he 
is  not  to  wear  a  dagger  and  ratsbane  in  his  pockets.  Jf  he 
wears  a  dagger  and  a  ratsbane,  it  must  be  to  do  mischief  to 
himself  or  somebody  else.     If  he  intends  to  do  mischief,  he 


644  J«"^'    ^3^^LL  BECOMES   A    POLITICIAN.  [pJ l^^^'^fX'^^.R: 

ought  to  be  under  Guardians :  and  there  are  none  so  fit  as 
myself  and  some  other  worthy  persons,  who  have  a  commis- 
sion for  that  purpose  from  Nic.  Frog,  the  Executor  of  his 
Will  and  Testament. 

John  Bull.  And  this  is  your  Sorites,  you  say  ! 

With  that,  he  snatched  a  good  oaken  cudgel,  and  began  to 
brandish  it.  Then  happy  was  the  man  that  was  first  at  the 
door  !  Crowding  to  get  out,  they  tumbled  down  stairs  :  and 
it  is  credibly  reported,  some  of  them  dropped  very  valuable 
things  in  the  hurry,  which  were  picked  up  by  others  of  the 
Family. 

''  That  any  of  these  rogues,"  quoth  John,  "should  imagine, 
I  am  not  as  much  concerned  as  they,  about  having  my  affairs 
in  a  settled  condition  ;  or  that  I  would  wrong  my  heir,  for  I 
know  not  what  !  Well,  Nic.  1  I  really  cannot  but  ap- 
plaud thy  diligence  !  I  must  own  this  is  really  a  prettv  sort 
of  a  trick ;  but  it  shan't  do  thy  business,  for  all  that  !  " 


CHAPTERIV. 

How  Lewis  Baboon  came  to  visit  John  Bull,  and  what 
passed  between  them. 

Think  it  is  but  ingenuous  to  acquaint  the  reader, 
that  this  chapter  was  not  written  by  Sir  Humphry 
himself,  but  by  another  very  able  Pen  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Grub  street. 

John  had,  by  some  good  instructions  that  were  given  him, 
got  the  better  of  his  choleric  temper ;  and  wrought  himself 
up  to  a  great  steadiness  of  mind  to  pursue  his  own  Interest 
through  all  impediments  that  were  thrown  in  the  way.  He 
began  to  leave  off  some  of  his  old  acquaintance,  his  roaring 
and  bullying  about  the  streets.  He  put  on  a  serious  air, 
knitted  his  brows  :  and,  for  a  time,  had  made  a  very  con- 
siderable progress  in  politics  ;  considering  that  he  had  been 
kept  a  stranger  to  his  own  affairs.  However,  he  could  not 
help  discovering  some  remains  of  his  nature,  when  he 
happened  to  meet  with  a  foot-ball,  or  a  match  at  cricket  :  for 
which  Sir  Roger  was  sure  to  take  him  to  task. 


pa«''iv.''july ^^7-;] Proposals  from  French  Government.  645 

John  was  walking  about  his  room,  with  folded  arms  and  a 
most  thoughtful  countenance,  when  his  servant  brought  hirn 
word,  that  one  Lewis  Baboon,  below,  wanted  to  speak  with  him. 

John  had  got  an  impression  that  Lewis  was  so  deadly  a 
cunning  a  man,  that  he  was  afraid  to  venture  himself  alone 
with  him.  At  last,  he  took  heart  of  grace.  "  Let  him  come 
up,"  quoth  he,  "  it  is  but  sticking  to  my  point,  and  he  can 
never  overreach  me  !  " 

Lewis  Baboon.  Monsieur  Bull  !  I  will  frankly  acknow- 
ledge that  my  behaviour  to  my  neighbours  has  been  some- 
what uncivil ;  and  I  believe  you  will  readily  grant  me  !  that 
I  have  met  with  usage  accordingly.  I  was  fond  of  backsword 
and  cudgel-play  from  my  youth  ;  and  I  now  bear  in  my  body, 
many  a  black  and  blue  gash  and  scar,  God  knows  !  I  had 
as  good  a  warehouse  and  as  fair  possessions  as  any  of  my 
neighbours,  though  I  say  it  !  but  a  contentious  temper, 
flattering  servants,  and  unfortunate  stars,  have  brought  me 
into  circumstances  that  are  not  unknown  to  you. 

These  my  misfortunes  are  heightened  by  domestic  calami- 
ties that  I  need  not  relate.  I  am  a  poor  old  battered  fellow; 
and  I  would  willingly  end  my  days  in  peace  !  But,  alas,  I 
see  but  small  hopes  of  that  !  for  every  new  circumstance 
affords  an  argument  to  my  enemies  to  pursue  their  revenge  ! 
Formerly,  I  was  to  be  banged,  because  I  was  too  strong  ; 
and  now,  because  I  am  too  weak  to  resist !  I  am  to  be 
brought  down,  when  too  rich;  and  oppressed,  when  too  poor! 
Nic.  Frog  has  used  me  like  a  scoundrel  !  You  are  a  Gentle- 
man, and  I  freely  put  myself  in  your  hands,  to  dispose  of  me 
as  ^•ou  think  fit. 

John  Bull.  Look  you,  Master  Baboon  !  as  to  your  usage 
of  your  neighbours,  you  had  best  not  dwell  too  much  upon 
that  chapter  !  let  it  suffice,  at  present,  that  you  have  been 
met  with.  You  have  been  rolling  a  great  stone  uphill  all 
your  life ;  and,  at  last,  it  has  come  tumbling  down  till  it  is 
likefly]  to  crush  you  to  pieces. 

Plain  dealing  is  best.  If  you  have  any  particular  mark, 
Monsieur  Baboon  !  whereby  one  may  know  when  you  fib, 
and  when  you  speak  truth  ;  you  had  best  tell  it  me  !  that  one 
may  proceed  accordingly.  But  since,  at  present,  I  know  of 
none  such,  it  is  better  that  you  should  trust  me,  than  that  I 
should  trust  you  ! 


646  Dunkirk,  a  security  for  the  Peace,  [pivflv"''';?,!;.^;!^: 

Lewis  Baboon.  I  know  of  no  particular  mark  of  veracity 
amongst  us  Tradesmen,  but  Interest :  and  it  is  manifestly 
mine,  not  to  deceive  you  at  this  time.  You  may  safely  trust 
me,  I  can  assure  you  ! 

John  Bull.  The  trust  I  give  is,  in  short,  this.  I  must 
have  something  in  hand,  before  I  make  the  bargain  ;  and  the 
rest,  before  it  is  concluded. 

Lewis  Baboon.  To  shew  you  I  deal  fairly,  name  your 
something  ! 

John  Bull.  I  need  not  tell  thee,  old  boy !  thou  canst 
guess  ! 

Lewis  Baboon.  Ecclesdown  Castle,  I'll  warrant  you  ! 
because  it  has  been  formerly  in  your  family!  [Dunkirk,  sold 
by  Charles  II.  to  France,  in  1662,  for  £"500,000].  Say  no 
more,  you  shall  have  it ! 

John  Bull.   I  shall  have  it  to  mine  own  self ! 

Lewis  Baboon.  To  thine  own  self ! 

John  Bull.  Every  wall,  gate,  room,  and  inch  of  Eccles- 
down Castle,  you  say  ! 

Lewis  Baboon.  Just  so  ! 

John  Bull.  Every  single  stone  of  Ecclesdown  Castle  to 
mine  own  self,  speedily  ! 

Lewis  Baboon.  When  you  please  !  What  need  more 
words  ! 

John  Bull.  But  tell  me,  old  boy !  hast  thou  laid  aside  all 
thy  Equivocals  and  Mentals  [reservations]  in  this  case? 

Lewis  Baboon.  There  is  nothing  like  matter  of  fact. 
Seeing  is  believing. 

John  Bull.  Now  thou  talkest  to  the  purpose!  let  us  shake 
hands,  old  boy  !  Let  me  ask  thee  one  question  more  !  What 
hast  thou  to  do  with  the  affairs  of  my  Family,  to  dispose  of 
my  estate,  old  boy  ? 

Lewis  Baboon.  Just  as  much  as  you  have  to  do  with  the 
affairs  of  Lord  Strutt  ! 

John  Bull.  Ay,  but  my  trade,  my  very  being  was  concerned 
in  that  ! 

Lewis  Baboon.  And  my  Interest  was  concerned  in  the 
otlier.  But  let  us  drop  both  our  pretences  !  for  I  believe  it  is 
a  moot  point  whether  I  am  more  likely  to  make  a  Master 
Bull  ;  or  you,  a  Lord  Strutt. 

John  Bull.  Agreed,    old    boy !    but    then    I    must    have 


PartIv!''"4''julyV7l^:]  DuTCII  EFFORTS  AGAINST  THE  PeACE.  647 

security  that   I  shall  carry  my  broadcloth  to  market,  old 
boy! 

Lewis  Baboon.  That  you  shall  !  Ecclesdown  Castle  ! 
Ecclesdown,  remember  that !  Why  wouldst  thou  not  take 
it,  when  it  was  offered  thee,  some  years  ago  ? 

John  Bull.  I  would  not  take  it,  because  they  told  me  thou 
wouldst  not  give  to  me ! 

Lewis  Baboon.  How  could  Monsieur  Bull  be  so  gross 
abused  by  downright  nonsense  !  They  that  advised  you  to 
refuse,  must  have  believed  I  intended  to  give  !  else  why 
would  they  not  make  the  experiment  ?  But  I  can  tell  you 
more  of  that  matter,  than  perhaps  you  know  at  present. 

John  Bull.  But  what  sayst  thou  as  to  the  Esqun-e,  Nic. 
Frog,  and  the  rest  of  the  Tradesmen  [the  Allies]!  I  must 
take  care  of  them. 

Lewis  Baboon.  Thou  hast  but  small  obligations  to  rsic, 
to  my  certain  knowledge.  He  has  not  used  me  like  a 
Gentleman! 

John  Bull.  Nic,  indeed,  is  not  very  nice  in  your  punctihos 
of  ceremony  :  he  is  clownish,  as  a  man  may  say._  Belching 
and  calling  of  names  have  been  allowed  him,  time  out  of 
mind,  by  prescription.  But  however,  we  are  engaged  in 
one  common  cause,  and  I  must  look  after  him. 

Lewis  Baboon.  All  matters  that  relate  to  him  and  the 
rest  of  the  Plaintiffs  in  this  Lawsuit,  I  will  refer  to  your 
justice ! 

CHAPTER    V. 

Nicholas  Frog's  letter  to  John  Bull  ;  wherein  he  en- 
deavours to  vindicate  all  his  conduct  with  relation  to  John  Bull 
and  the  Lawsuit. 

Uc.  perceived  now  that  his  cully  [dupe]  had  eloped, 
that  John  intended  henceforth  to  deal  without  a 
broker;  but    he   was    resolved    to    leave    no    stone 

unturned  to  recover  his  bubble. 

Among  other  artifices,  he  wrote  a  most  obliging  letter, 
which  he  sent  him  printed  in  a  fair  character  [type]. 

Dear  friend,  ,      -n   r 

When  I  consider  the  late  ill  usage  I  have  met  with  from  you, 


648    Frog's  fair  seeming  letter.  [pJ\\^:''tTn\y''!7^^: 

I  am  reflecting,  What  it  was  that  could  provoke  you  to  it  ?  bid 
upon  a  narrow  inspection  into  my  conduct,  I  can  find  nothing  to 
reproach  myself  with,  but  too  partial  a  concern  for  your  Interest. 
You  no  sooner  set  this  Composition  afoot,  but  I  was  ready  to 
comply,  and  prevented  [anticipated]  your  every  wishes  :  and  the 
Affair  might  have  been  ended  before  now,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
greater  concerns  of  Esquire  SoUTH  and  the  other  poor  creatures 
embarked  in  the  same  common  Cause,  whose  safety  touches  me  to 
the  quick. 

You  seemed  a  little  jealous  that  I  had  dealt  tmf airly  with  you 
in  money  matters,  till  it  appeared,  by  your  own  accounts,  that 
there  was  something  due  to  me  upon  the  balance. 

Having  nothing  to  answer  to  so  plain  a  demonstration,  you 
began  to  complain  as  if  I  had  been  familiar  with  your  reputation  : 
when  it  is  well  known,  not  only  I,  but  the  meanest  servant  in  my 
family,  talk  of  yoti  with  the  utmost  respect.  I  have  always,  as  far 
as  in  me  lies,  exhorted  your  servants  and  tenants  to  be  dutifid :  not 
that  I  any  ways  meddle  in  your  domestic  affairs,  which  were  very 
unbecoming  for  me  to  do.  If  some  of  your  servants  express  their 
great  concern  for  yon  in  a  manner  that  is  not  so  polite,  you  ought 
to  impute  it  to  their  extraordinary  zeal,  which  deserves  a  reward 
rather  than  a  reproof. 

You  cannot  reproach  me  for  want  of  success  at  the  Salutation  ; 
since  I  am  not  master  of  the  passions  and  Interests  of  other  folks. 
I  have  beggared  myself  with  this  Lawsuit,  undertaken  merely  in 
complaisance  to  you  I  and,  if  you  would  have  had  but  a  little 
patience,  I  had  greater  things  in  reserve  that  I  intended  to  have 
done  for  you. 

I  hope  what  I  have  said  will  prevail  with  you  to  lay  aside 
your  unreasonable  jealousies ;  and  that  we  may  have  no  more 
meetings  at  the  Salutation,  spending  our  time  and  money  to  no 
purpose.  My  concern  for  your  welfare  and  prosperity  almost 
makes  me  mad  !  You  may  be  assured,  I  will  continue  to  be. 
Your  affectionate  friend  and  servant, 

Nicholas  Frog. 

John  received  this  with  a  good  deal  of  sang  froid. 
"  Transeat,'"  quoth  John,  "  cum  cceteris  erroribus  !  " 
He  was  now  at  his  ease.     Pie  saw  he  could  now  make  a 

very  good  bargain  for  himself,  and  a  very  safe  one  for  other 

folks. 


J.  Arbuthnot,  M.D.I    Fj^oG  ROGUiNG  EsQUiRE  South.    649 

Pan  IV.     24Julyi7i3-J 

»  Mv  shirt,"  quoth  he,  "  is  near  me,  but  my  skin  in  nearer! 
Whilst  I  tak;  care  of  the  welfare  of  other  folks,  nobody  can 
blame  me  for  applying  a  little  balsam  to  my_  own  sores  !  It 
is  a  pretty  thing;  afte?  all,  for  a  man  to  do  his  own  business  : 
.man  has  such  a  tender  concern  for  himself,  there  is  nothing 
hk^tf  This  is  somewhat  better,  I  trow!  that  for  John 
RULL  to  be  standing  in  the  market  like  a  great  dray  horse, 
wUh  FROG'S  paws  upon  his  head,  '  What  will  ye  give  me  for 


^^''^'Se^rteur  NIC.  Frog!  though  John  Bull  has  not  read 
ApItottes   Platos,  and  Machiavellis,  he  can  see  as 
r  ntoTmTstoAe  a'^^^^  !  "    With  that,.  John  began  to 

chuckle  and  laugh,  till  he  was  like  to  burst  his  sides. 

CHAPTER    VI. 

The   discourse  that  passed  between   Nicholas  Frog    and 
Esquire  SOUTH,  which  JOHN  BULL  overheard. 

Ohn  thought  every  minute  a  year  till  he  got  into 
1   Ecclesdown    Castle.       He  repaired   to  jhe^Sa/.- 


Frrlesdown  v^asxie.  aa'-  i^p""—  -- 
__,  rJ^rwith  a  design  to  break  matter  the  gent  y 
^fAa  to  his  partners.  Before  he  entered,  he  oveiheara 
^^  N  ic  and  the  Esquire  in  a  very  pleasant  conference. 
T«n„irP  South  O  the  ingratitude  and  injustice  of  man- 
t-ind'^  That  Iohn' BULL,  whom  I  have  honoured  w.th  my 
^?endsh^':ni°protection  so  long.^houM     nch  at  ,as  ;  and 

K^it^f  t  Sou^LtT/h^sSinTte^^per,  shou.d  he 
keptout  of  their  own!  j  ^^  ;„  ^„^,e 

.inrrusf:::fdrerof"arlUo  the  prosperity  and 

grandeur  of  my  family !  _       _  ,  ^^    ^q^\^ 

"Mip    Frog-    Nay,  he  is  mistaken  tiiere  xou.  1 

'"Si.  s«.lh.  A. ,™  »,.  .h«  -y  .i»U".  •■•»  "  '• 


650  The  Allies  will  not  have  a  Peace. [pJ,-i^';^^^4'^j"„";^^/;P,^^ 

get  so  much  by  the  purchase,  should  refuse  to  put  me  in 
possession  !  Did  you  ever  know  any  man's  tradesmen  serve 
him  so  before  ? 

Nic.  Frog.  No,  indeed,  an  it  please  your  Worship  !  it  is 
a  very  unusual  proceeding  !  and  I  would  not  have  been  guilty 
of  it  for  the  world  !  If  your  Honour  had  not  a  g^'eat  stock 
of  moderation  and  patience,  you  would  not  bear  it  so  well  as 
you  do ! 

Esquire  South,  It  is  most  intolerable,  that  is  certain, 
Nic.  !  and  I  will  be  revenged  ! 

Nic.  Frog.  Methinks,  it  is  strange  that  Philip  Baboon's 
tenants  [the  Spaniards]  do  not  all  take  your  Honour's  part, 
considering  how  good  and  gentle  a  master  you  are ! 

Esquire  South.  True,  Nic.  !  but  few  are  sensible  of  merit 
in  this  world.  It  is  a  great  comfort  to  have  so  faithful  a 
friend  as  thyself  in  so  critical  a  juncture. 

Nic.  Frog.  If  all  the  world  should  forsake  you,  be  assured 
Nic.  Frog  never  will  !  Let  us  stick  to  our  point,  and  we 
will  manage  Bull,  I'll  warrant  ye  ! 

Esquire  South.  Let  me  kiss  thee,  dear  Nic!  I  have 
found  one  honest  man  among  a  thousand  at  last ! 

Nic.  Frog.  If  it  were  possible,  your  Honour  has  it  in  your 
power  to  wed  me  still  closer  to  your  interest  ! 

Esquire  South.  Tell  me  quickly,  dear  Nic. ! 

Nic.  Frog.  You  know  I  am  your  tenant.  The  difference 
between  my  lease  and  an  inheritance  is  such  a  trifie,  as  I  am 
sure  you  will  not  grudge  your  poor  friend  !  That  will  be  an 
encouragement  to  go  on  !  Besides,  it  will  make  Bull  as 
mad  as  the  Devil.  You  and  I  shall  be  able  to  manage  him 
then,  to  some  purpose  ! 

Esquire  South.  Say  no  more  !  It  shall  be  done,  Nic. ! 
to  thy  heart's  content  ! 

John,  all  this  while,  was  listening  to  this  comical  dialogue  ; 
and  laughed  heartily  in  his  sleeve,  at  the  pride  and  simplicity 
of  the  Esquire,  and  the  sly  roguery  of  his  friend  Nic. 

Then,  of  a  sudden,  bolting  into  the  room,  he  began  to  tell 
them  that  he  believed  he  had  brought  Lewis  to  reasonable 
terms,  if  they  would  be  pleased  to  hear  them. 

Then  they  all  bawled  out  aloud,  "No  Composition!  Long 
live  Esquire  South  and  the  Law  !  " 

As  John  was  going  to  proceed,  some  roared,  some  stamped 


J.  Arhuthnot,  M.D.I      ■Rr^TT     o.-trr^    <<   T  T  ,  "     .  ^    T7  y 

Paitiv.    Jui;i7i2.j    l^ULL  SAYS  "  Us,     AS  Frog  HAD  DONE.   651 

with   their  feet,  and   others   stopped   their   ears   with  tlieir 
fingers. 

"  Nay,  Gentlemen,"  quoth  John,  "  if  you  will  but  stop 
your  proceeding  for  a  while,  you  shall  judge  yourselves 
whether  Lewis's  proposals  are  reasonable. 

All.  Very  fine  indeed !  Stop  proceeding,  and  so  loose  a 
Term  {a  campaig)i\. 

John  Bull.  Not  so,  neither!  We  have  something  by 
way  of  advance.  He  will  put  us  in  possession  of  his  Manor 
and  Castle  of  Ecclesdown. 

Nic.  Frog.  What  dost  thou  talk  of  Us.  thou  meanest 
thyself! 

John  Bull.  When  Frog  took  possession  of  anything,  it 
was  always  said  to  be  for  Us ;  and  why  may  not  John  Bull 
be  Us,  as  well  as  Nic.  Frog  was  Us  ?  I  hope  John  Bull  is 
no  more  confined  to  Singularity  than  Nic.  Frog  !  or  take  it 
so,  the  constant  doctrine  that  Thou  hast  preached  up,  for 
many  years,  was  that  thou  and  I  are  One  ;  and  why  must 
we  be  supposed  Two  in  this  case,  that  were  always  One 
before?  It  is  impossible  thou  and  I  can  fall  out,  Nic. !  we 
must  trust  one  another  !  I  have  trusted  thee  with  ?i  great 
many  things ;  prithee,  trust  me  with  this  one  trifle  ! 

Nic.  Frog".  That  principle  is  true  in  the  main ;  but  there 
is  some  speciality  in  this  case  that  makes  it  highly  incon- 
venient for  us  both. 

John  Bull.  Those  are  your  jealousies,  that  common 
enemies  sow  between  us.  How  often  hast  thou  warned  me 
of  those  rogues,  Nic.  !  that  would  make  us  mistrustful  of  one 
another  ? 

Nic.  Frog.  This  Ecclesdown  Castle  is  only  a  bone  of 
contention  ! 

John  Bull.  It  depends  upon  you  to  make  it  so  !  For  my 
part,  I  am  as  peaceable  as  a  lamb. 

Nic.  Frog.  But  do  you  consider  the  unwholesomeness  of 
the  air  and  soil,  the  expenses  of  reparations  and  servants  !  I 
would  scorn  to  accept  of  such  a  quagmire  ! 

John  Bull.  You  are  a  great  man,  Nic.  !  but  in  my 
circumstances,  I  must  be  even  content  to  take  it  as  it  is. 

Nic  Frog.  And  are  you  really  so  silly  as  to  believe  the  old 
cheating  rogue  will  give  it  you ! 

John  Bull.  I  believe  nothing  but  matter  of  fact.  I  stand 
and  fall  by  that !     I  am  resolved  to  put  him  to  it. 


652  Frog's  devices  to  move  John  Bull.  Wjt^'r'iJju.yYz.'^: 

Nic.  Frog.  And  so  relinquish  the  hopefullest  Cause  in 
the  world  !  a  claim  that  will  certainly,  in  the  end,  make  thy 
fortune  for  ever  ! 

John  Bull.  Wilt  thou  purchase  it,  Nic.  ?  Thou  shalt  have 
a  bumping  pennyworth  !  Nay,  rather  than  we  should  differ, 
I'll  give  thee  something  to  take  it  off  my  hands  ! 

Nic.  Frog.  If  thou  wouldst  but  moderate  that  hasty  im- 
patient temper  of  thine,  thou  shouldst  quickly  see  a  better 
thing  than  all  that  !  What  shouldst  thou  think  to  find  old 
Lewis  turned  out  of  his  paternal  estates  and  mansion  house 
of  Clay  Pool  [Paris]  ?  Would  not  that  do  thy  heart  good, 
to  see  thy  old  friend  Nic.  Frog,  Lord  of  Clay  Pool  ?  Then 
thou  and  thy  wife  and  children  shalf  walk  in  my  gardens,  buy 
toys,  drink  lemonade ;  and  now  and  then  we  should  have  a 
country  dance. 

John  Bull.  I  love  to  be  plain.  I'd  as  lief  see  myself  in 
Ecclesdown  Castle,  as  thee  in  Clay  Pool !  I  tell  you  again, 
Lewis  gives  this  as  a  pledge  of  his  sincerity :  if  you  won't 
stop  proceeding,  to  hear  him,  I  will ! 


i      CHAPTER    VII. 

The  rest  of  Nicholas's  fetches  to  keep  John  out  of  Eccles- 
down Castle. 

Hen  Nic.  could  not  dissuade  John  by  argument,  he 
tried  to  move  his  pity.  He  pretended  to  be  sick  and 
likely  to  die ;  that  he  should  leave  his  wife  and 
children  in  a  starving  condition,  if  John  did  abandon 
him ;  that  he  was  hardly  able  to  crawl  after  such  a  trouble- 
some business  as  this  Lawsuit :  and  therefore  begged  that  his 
good  friend  would  not  leave  him  1 

When  he  saw  that  John  was  still  inexorable,  he  pulled  out 
a  case-knife,  with  which  he  used  to  sncakcr-sncc;  and  threatened 
to  cut  his  own  throat.  Thrice  he  aimed  the  knife  to  his 
windpipe  with  a  most  determined  threatening  air.  "  What 
signifies  life  !  "  quoth  he,  "  in  this  languishing  condition  ?  It 
will  be  some  pleasure  that  my  friends  will  revenge  my  death 
upon  this  barbarous  man,  that  has  been  the  cause  of  it !  " 
All  this  while,  John  looked  sedate  and  calm,  neither  offering 


plvflvl^july''-.'^;]  Bull  struggles  to  protect  Baroox.  6 


03 


in  the  least  to  snatch  the  knife,  nor  stop   his  blow ;  trusting 
to  the  tenderness  Nic.  had  for  his  own  person. 

When  he  perceived  that  John  was  immoveable  in  his  pur- 
pose, he  applied  himself  to  Lewis. 

"■  Art  thou,"  quoth  he,  "  turned  bubble  [a  deludcr]  in  thy 
old  age,  from  being  a  sharper  in  thy  youth  ?  What  occasion 
hast  thou  to  give  up  Ecclesdown  Castle  to  John  Bull  ?  his 
friendship  is  not  worth  a  rush  !  Give  it  me,  and  I'll  make  it 
worth  thy  while  !  If  thou  dislikest  that  proposition,  keep  it 
thyself!  I  had  rather  thou  shouldst  have  it,  than  he!  If 
thou  hearkenest  not  to  my  advice,  take  what  follows.  Esquire 
South  and  I  will  go  on  with  the  Lawsuit  in  spite  of  John 
Bull's  teeth  !  " 

Lewis  Baboon.  Monsieur  Bull  has  used  me  like  a  Gentle- 
man !  and  I  am  resolved  to  make  good  my  promise,  and  trust 
him  for  the  consequences. 

Nic.  Frog.  Then  I  tell  thee  thou  art  an  old  doating  fool ! 

With  that,  Nic.  bounced  up  with  a  spring  equal  to  that  of 
one  of  your  nimblest  tumblers  or  rope  dancers,  falls  foul  upon 
John  Bull  to  snatch  the  cudgel  he  had  in  his  hand,  that  he 
might  thwack  Lewis  with  it.  John  held  it  fast,  so  that  there 
was  no  wrenching  it  from  him.  At  last  Esquire  South 
buckled  to,  to  assist  his  friend  Nic. 

John  hauled  on  one  side,  and  they  two  on  the  other. 
Sometimes  they  were  like  to  pull  John  over :  then  it  went, 
all  of  a  sudden,  again  on  John's  side.  So  they  went  see- 
sawing up  and  down,  from  one  end  of  the  room  to  the  other. 
Down  tumbled  the  tables,  bottles,  glasses,  and  tobacco  pipes. 
The  wine  and  the  tobacco  were  all  spilt  about  the  room;  and 
the  little  fellows  were  almost  trod  under  foot  :  till  more  of  the 
Tradesmen  [Allies]  joining  with  Nic.  and  the  Esquire,  John 
was  hardly  able  to  pull  against  them  all.  Yet  he  never  quitted 
hold  of  his  trusty  cudgel ;  which  by  the  contranitent  force  of 
two  so  great  Powers  broke  short  in  his  hands. 

Nic  seized  the  longer  end,  and  with  it  began  to  bastinado 
old  Lewis:  who  had  slank  into  a  corner,  waiting  the  event 
of  this  squabble.  Nic.  came  up  to  him  with  an  insolent, 
menacing  air ;  so  that  the  old  fellow  was  forced  to  scuttle  out 
of  the  room,  and  retire  behind  a  dung-cart.  He  called  to 
Nic.  "  Thou  insolent  jackanapes  !  Time  was  when  thou 
durst  not  have  used  me  so!     Thou  now  takest  me  unprovided, 


654  England  should  make  a  separate  Peace  !  [plvuv.''';;"^; 

but  old  and  infirm  as  I  am,  I  shall  find  a  weapon,  by  and  by, 
to  chastise  thy  impudence  !  " 

When  John  Bull  had  recovered  his  breath,  he  be^an  to 
parley  with  Nic.  "  Friend  Nic. !  I  am  glad  to  find  thee  so 
strong  after  thy  great  complaints  !  Really  thy  motions,  Nic. ! 
are  pretty  vigorous  for  a  consumptive  man  !  As  for  thy 
worldly  affairs,  Nic!  if  it  can  do  thee  any  service,  I  freely 
make  over  to  thee  this  profitable  Lawsuit;  and  I  desire  all  these 
Gentlemen  to  bear  witness  to  this  my  act  and  deed,  yours  be 
all  the  gain  !  as  mine  have  been  the  charges.  I  have  brought 
it  to  bear  finely  !  However,  all  I  have  laid  out  upon  it  goes 
for  nothing  ;  thou  shalt  have  it  with  all  its  appurtenances  !  I 
ask  nothing  but  leave  to  go  home  ! 

Nic.  Frog.  The  Counsel  are  fee-ed,  and  all  things  prepared 
for  a  trial :  thou  shalt  be  forced  to  stand  the  issue  !  It  shall 
be  pleaded  in  thy  name  as  well  as  mine  !  Go  home,  if  thou 
canst !  The  gates  are  shut,  the  turnpikes  locked,  and  the 
roads  barricadoed  [Dutch  refusal  to  admit  English  goods  in  the 
district  of  the  Barrier  towns] . 

John  Bull.  Even  these  very  ways,  Nic. !  that  thou  toldest 
me,  "  were  as  open  to  me  as  thyself !  "  If  I  can't  pass  with 
my  own  equipage,  what  can  I  expect  for  my  goods  and 
waggons  ?  I  am  denied  passage  through  those  very  grounds, 
that  I  have  purchased  with  my  own  money  !  However,  I 
am  glad  I  have  made  the  experiment,  it  may  serve  me  in  some 
stead. 

John  Bull  was  so  overjoyed  that  he  was  going  to  take 
possession  of  Ecclesdown,  that  nothing  could  vex  him, 
"  Nic. !  "  quoth  he,  "  I  am  just  going  to  leave  thee  !  cast  a 
kind  look  upon  me  at  parting  !  " 

Nic.  looked  sour  and  glum,  and  would  not  open  his  mouth. 

John  Bull.  I  wish  thee  all  the  success  that  thy  heart  can 
desire  !  and  that  these  Gentlemen  of  the  long  robe  may  have 
their  bellyful  of  Law  ! 

Nic.  could  stand  it  no  longer;  but  flang  out  of  the  room 
with  disdain,  and  beckoned  the  lawyers  to  follow  him. 

John  Bull.  Bye  !  bye,  Nic, !  Not  one  poor  smile  at  part- 
ing !  Won't  you  like  to  shake  you  day-day,  Nic.  ?  Bye, 
Nic.  ! 

With  that,  John  marched  out  of  the  common  road,  across 
the  country,  to  take  possession  of  Ecclesdown. 


Pan  i v.''' 24  July ^171^:]    TlIE  DELIGHT  OF  HAVING  DUXKIRK.     655 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

Of  the  great  joy  that  John  expressed  when  he  got  possession  of 

Ecclesdown. 

Hen  John  had  got  into  his  Castle,  he  seemed  hke 
Ulysses  upon  his  plank,  after  he  had  been  well 
soused  in  cold  water  ;  who,  as  Homer  says,  was  as 
glad  as  a  Judge  going  to  sit  down  to  dinner,  after 
hearing  a  long  cause  upon  the  Bench.  I  dare  say  John 
Bull's  joy  was  equal  to  that  of  either  of  the  two.  He 
skipped  from  room  to  room,  ran  upstairs  and  downstairs, 
from  the  kitchen  to  the  garrets,  and  from  the  garrets  to  the 
kitchen.  He  peeped  into  every  cranny.  Sometimes  he  ad- 
mired the  beauty  of  the  architecture,  and  the  vast  solidit}-  of 
the  mason's  work :  at  other  times,  he  commended  the  sym- 
metry and  proportion  of  the  rooms.  He  walked  about  the 
gardens.  He  bathed  himself  in  the  Canal ;  swimming,  diving, 
and  beating  the  liquid  element,  like  a  milk-white  swan.  The 
hall  resounded  with  the  sprightly  violin  and  the  martial 
hautboy.  The  Family  tripped  it  about,  and  capered  like  hail- 
stones bounding  from  a  marble  floor.  Wine,  Ale,  and 
October  [beer]  flew  about  as  plentifully  as  kennel-water. 


Then  a  frolic  took  John  in  the  head,  to  call  up  some  of  Nic. 
Frog's  pensioners  [the  Whigs],  that  had  been  so  mutinous  in 
his  Family. 

John  Bull.  Are  you  glad  to  see  your  master  in  Eccles- 
down Castle  ? 

All.   Yes,  indeed.  Sir  ! 

John  Bull.  Extremely  glad  ? 

All.   Extremely  glad  ! 

John  Bull.  Swear  to  me  that  ye  are  so ! 

Then  they  began  to  sink  their  souls  to  the  lowest  pit  of 
hell,  if  any  person  in  the  world  rejoiced  more  than  they  did  ! 

John  Bull.  Now,  hang  me  !  if  I  don't  believe  you  are  a 
parcel  of  perjured  rascals !  However,  take  this  bumper  of 
October,  to  your  master's  health  ! 


656H0LLAND  ALONE,  MAY  BE  HURT  BY  FrANCe!  [i/;/[v"'';"°'; 

Then  John  got  upon  the  battlements  ;  and  looking  over,  he 
called  to  Nic.  Frog  : 

''  How  do  you  do,  Nic.  !  Do  you  see  where  I  am,  Nic.  ? 
I  hope  the  Cause  goes  on  swimmingly,  Nic.  !  When  dost 
thou  intend  to  go  to  Clay  Pool,  Nic.  ?  Wilt  thou  buy  there 
some  high-heads  of  the  newest  cut,  for  my  daughters  ?  How 
comest  thou  to  go  with  thy  arm  tied  up  ?  Has  old  Lewis 
given  thee  a  rap  over  the  finger  ends  ?  Thy  weapon  was  a  good 
one  when  I  wielded  it ;  but  the  butt  end  remains  for  my 
hands.  I  am  so  busy  in  packing  up  my  goods,  that  I  have 
■no  time  to  talk  with  thee  any  longer  !  It  would  do  thy  heart 
good,  to  see  what  waggon  loads  I  am  preparing  for  market ! 
If  thou  wantest  any  good  office  of  mine  ;  for  all  that  has 
happened,  I  will  use  thee  well,  Nic.  !     Bye,  Nic.  !  " 

*^*  John  Bull's  thanks  to  Sir  Roger,  and  Nic.  Frog's 

malediction  upon  all  shrews,  the  original  cause  of  his  misfortunes, 
arc  reserved  for  the  next  volume. 

FINIS, 


THE    END    OF    THE 

^ijctf)  Ooliime 

OF  AN  English   Garner, 


UNWIN   BROTHERS,   THE   (JKESIIA.M    IHliSS,    CHILWORTH    AND    LONDON. 


)^^V/^ 


r^'.-  r 


^i  '•,.^-^' 


;il^MWft,;'ii^^l^a^' 


:^:  \ 


^-^^ 


PR 
1121 

v,6 


Arber,   Edward   (ed.) 
An  English  gamer 


PLEASE  DO  NOT  REMOVE 
CARDS  OR  SLIPS  FROM  THIS  POCKET 

UNIVERSITY  OF  TORONTO  LIBRARY 


..  .-      \  ■  \.       ^  ^ 


^Ml^-fe.^ 


, -v  ^^im^^ 


;t>X 


•  ^>