praise Few Body-politicks her Ethicks raise The good have ever kept the longest Lent Or mock'd if they bid Luxury repent To Preach down sin is more a use or Trade Too oft with Pulpits Vice has Traffick made O that we could not say our Paths to Heaven Were by our Sacred guides trod more uneven Or that it was not made a pious Curse To yield such superstition to the Purse But men are men and ever will be so Both Coats and Cassocks can one inside show In spite of forms man by himself is lin'd And in all Churches have their motly kind If Spiritual goodness somewhat over-weigh Our Temp'ral Crimes who need for more to pray Much of strict honesty were taxe on Heaven Rome seem'd content two Cato's her were given Others her Members like the worlds prov'd just Unto their Int'rest if not to their trust Why should we then complain that many now Byass themselves unto the publick so Patriots enough are to be cheaply bought Or blush not if they ask before they are sought Men must do something to be more of note Crimes are oft paid when Honesty 's forgot All ages can't alike themselves refine Some most for Vertue some for Riches shine What 's ours I 'le not assert that were to bid My Muse in such course Lines as these be chid 'T is rude in Satyrs if to Courts they stray With such soft leisure they must fear to play Men of their Brain more wise effects may show Than to send Censure where they ought to bow Shall I believe that giddily men feel Their weights told so by Tongues mistake or reel Who seeks a place or who for trust is fit Is too much the Impertinence of Wit Or whether craft or merit makes some great Suits not our search if an Intrigue of State To be well govern'd or to think we are so Does best become us and our Prayers too In Subjects wise and modest sense is shown When they submit their cares unto the Throne For their sakes Princes are with Rule oppress'd T' Obey's the easiest part if not the best Which thought well ponder'd admiration brings That the World has not Crowns to spare for Kings May we believe all those who boldly tell They would amend what others do not well Or is' t because their Vertue is in pain Untill well humour'd or employ'd with gain Such Mountebanks enough Receipts proclaim And most men halt because they 'd have them lame But O the busie Politicks of these dayes State-Counsel's no less censur'd than our Plays Whence is' t such modern Prudence does arise Can Antichristian-Coffee make more wise Than their Fore-fathers soberly could think On States or Turkish Kings without their drink Good Beer and Beef with them could well agree Or for Twelve pence had better Sack than we Judicious men ought for such times to pray No less than Poets who have least to pay Of Change and Death THis Theam without my Muse my thoughts can reach My Soul and Nature do enough me teach To know my end 't is but Death's certain night To which Life's Taper must resign its light Man's breadth and height his Bodies shade can show Death's Metaphor attends on all we do Our rest and sleep nay Love 's espous'd charms Yield to the pale embrace of his cold arms His Sickle of the young a Harvest makes Or old before their strength Life's ague shakes 'T is Nature's kindness if our wrinckl'd brow Shews first the furrows of Death's secret Plough Teaching our Souls and Bodies to prepare For other being when disjoyned here VVhere man's long Love of Luxury and ease Has Nature's cure as 't is her worst Disease How ready men Supinely bad will hope Though undeserv'd of Heaven Life's longest scope As if that Death so busie is withall Would Vice forget or still reprieve its fall The greatest Monarchs spreading thoughts and might Pursu'd by Death and Time confess their flight Could now great Julius his past Conquests see And no place his to seat his Majesty Or Rome's Augustus to the world appear And walk a stately Lord of nothing here How would they mourn their Empires early fall Rais'd to aspire till Nature's Funeral How 〈◊〉 their greatness blush were to them read Theâ—â—â—â—nest thoughts and deeds their Empire dead Th◠〈◊〉 with Caesar now might weep Nâ— for more worlds but this no power can keep Tâ—â—ir meanest Slave as well himself might bring To Rome or Babylon and be their King Man's glories here are like a Stages Scene Beheld but till the next does Intervene If such great acts of men their periods have How soon for others does fame finde a grave So much she Articles against men here They ought not long to hope her future care Man covets future fame himself to cheat Death kills to him what merit Life can get Man's end has most complyance from his will VVhen Conscience keeps no black Records of ill 'T is not the dark like Children that men fear But lest their Impious deeds pursue them there This certain honour does by Death accrew If when it comes 't is bravely welcom'd too Death's must is only man's fit time to end 'T is vain to wish it when it can't attend Not our desire or fear should it procure VVho is on purpose Sick deserves no Cure Heaven grant my end may so my soul comply That least it fear it self when I must dye I could not forbear to annex unto this Contemplation the soft and Pathetick Verse of Ovid which since relating to Age that walks almost hand in hand with Death I finde no less proper for my self than others who have any long acquaintance with Life Jam mihi deterior canis aspergitur aetas Jamque meos vultus ruga senilis arat Jam vigor quasso languent in corpore vires Nec Juveni lusus que placuere Juvant Nec me si subito videas cognoscere posses Aetatis facta est tanta ruina meae Confiteor facere hoc annos c. I think I could add another complaint of his Age which could not but more tenderly concern the Soul of so excellent a Poet. Impetus ille sacer qui vatum pectora nutrit Qui prius in nobis esse solebat abest In Spheram Archimedes Translated out of Claudian WHen Jove this Chrystal Sphear did first behold He smil'd and to Olympus Court thus told Can Mortal powers arrive unto this height That we should take in Humane art Delight The Sacred mov'ment which our Heaven does show This Syracusian wonder tells below Each various order of our Starry Sphear His shining Globe Epitomizeth there The Sun 's bright eye there sees his dayes and years And what a various brow his Phebe wears How was this Artist pleas'd this Globe to make Spangl'd with Stars like ours their Progress take Salmoneas may his feigned Thunder boast Archimedes Skill Heaven's power resembleth most Of Time A Pindaricque Ode FIrst great of Nature thou must surely be Yet never from her Womb
would enslave their awe But pass we hence to Scaevola's greater fame Where Tullie's richest words exalt his Name And Lelius did with him of Friendship treat With Caius Fannus soon after di'd the great And warlike Scipio from Affrick not more fam'd Than in this Treatise we have Lelius nam'd Which from me Atticus thy Love requir'd Nor is there subject more my Soul defir'd Than Friendship gives the Gold of Worth and Love Which does mankinde to noblest acts improve Of Cato's prudent age before I writ And thought its Patronage might thee befit He wisely liv'd but flourish'd most in years Which reason Mankind's fâ—mest staff most fears So much his Wisdom did my Soul delight That more his words than mine I strove to write The same for Lelius here my Pen would do Whose sage desert's convey'd with Cato's too Think now he speaks or dictates to my Theam As it admir'd th' immortal Cato's Name Lelius to Scipio-Affrican a Friend What praise or greatness farther can extend And thus to Fannus Lelius had exprest Fan. Who then reply'd Let our discourse not fist With too short mention of his mighty fame That rais'd the honour of our Roman Name Of his and Cato's worth who would not hear To which our Senate such respect did bear Thy graces too for ever Fame must own Not lâ—ss to us than to wise Cato known Gifts of thy minde too great for to compare But with his People Senate held so dear Thou wise from Nature Manners study too What more than these could Cato's merit show Thy Prudence does felicity so place As 't is the Gole for thy swift Vertues race And accidents of man dost so despise That thou instructest Fortune to be wise Of me and Scaevola thy great Friends have sought How Scipio's death did wound thy noble thought Because that in these Nones thou did'st not come To Brutus Gardens the delight of Rome Where no day pass'd but we from thee might hear Thy prudent Comments so divinely rare Appli'd to things most high import mankinde Bestowing thus the Treasures of thy minde Scaev. True I must witness what our Fannus spake When thy Friends griev'd lâ—st Lelius Soul might take Too strict a sorrow for great Scipio's death Or bid adieu to life on wings of breath To which I answer'd though I had observ'd Thou in thy value of him had'st not swerv'd From moderation best declares the wise Yet might thy Soul be pierc'd with humane eyes No grief could there be wanting does become The Friend of Scipio and concern of Rome But for what cause thou hast withdrawn of late To sorrow or thy sickness does relate Lel. Of me kinde Scaevola has justly spoke Nor has my Soul such vain impression took That I can mourn one hapless hour away Which duty to my Countrey bids me pay This Constancy expects and Rome of me Which for no sorrow must neglected be Great Scipio's Friendship I admired more Than my best thoughts can e're his loss deplore His vertue best instructeth me to know How Publick-duty private does allow This in our Zamas Battel was beheld When Romans did their lives to glory yield He wept not in that day one Roman's fall But joy'd their Valours forc'd their Funeral And should I mourn his death who di'd so great ' Twou'd look as if Fate could his Fame defeat But ere I more of his high vertue speak Thy Love does Fannus me too equal make To matchless Cato who chief of Mortals knew What humane Wisdom most became to do Nor think that mighty Sage Apollo chose Before his Prudence could himself propose His deeds and sayings might have added sense To what Greeks feign their Oracles dispense But to my Scipio I will now return And tell you how my Soul his death does mourn Should I depriv'd of him my loss deny 'T were worse than Stoïcal stupidity Touch'd I am deeply and may truly say My Soul's best joy deceas'd in his last day Nor can I hope that man shall ever be Grac'd as I was with such an Amity He dy'd so great that 't were my Friendship 's crime To wish he liv'd to dye a second time Which does present such comfort to my Soul That I the world 's fond way of grief controul No hurt to Scipio could by death accrew His famous loss to me most harm did do Though too much my misfortune to lament Were a concern too great in my content His vertue did arrive to such a height That more Immortal 't is than Stars or light What did he not accomplish man can praise Or who a wish above his deeds would raise How much did Rome his Noble youth admire Majestick great yet full of Martial fire His Unckle Father both great Consuls Slain In one dayes Field fierce Annibal did gain Whose Fate and Carthage were reserv'd to be The fame and glory of his victory Romes Consulship he never did demand His vertue not himself did for it stand Though twice that honour'd office he has grac'd Once before due as soon when due so plac'd Wars present future Triumphs he obtain'd Whil'st Carthage conquer'd what power next remain'd For Empire of the world with Rome durst cope So much his deeds oblig'd her warlike hope His manners to his actions honour were Subduing passions Nature's roughest War He Armies taught the worth of Civil Laws Which more Victorious made Rome's Martial cause 'T were endless all his graces to declare What pious Son his Mother held so dear Liberal to such alli'd to his high blood Just unto all to Friends most kindly good These deeds I doubt not are well known to you And how our City him lamented too That Crown'd his end and who 'd be valu'd more Than him great Rome held worthy to deplore Each year he liv'd more joy his past still brought Who aged di'd yet unimpair'd in thought His Life so great that Death it self took care For his Soul's flight his Bodies pain to spare The day before his last auspicious come When him our Conscript-Fathers waited home To us foreshew'd that Romes rewarding Gods Would soon demand him to their bless'd abodes Who can consider his desert and say Souls dye and live our Bodies Mortal way This made me judge how wise and pious thought Religious rites unto mans practice brought Concluding that Immortal Souls must be Disrob'd of Sense their mean felicity A Theorem our Ancients held Divine And as 't was worthy Scipio's so 't is mine He it confirm'd almost with his last breath To shew he better things did hope by death Wherefore his end my friendship can't lament Since Heaven in him receives a full content Nay could I think that Souls with Bodies dye And felt no more of humane misery 'T is palpable that as death brings no good So it our hurt cannot be understood In Scipio dead I am bless'd as I rejoyce My Soul 's high honour in his Loves great choice From him I learn'd what friendship did import And saw its meanness in the vulgar
did'st spring Thou wert full grown soon as the world and she Waiting to spread thy Immaterial wing And side by side with her to move Before she would her self improve Of thee she Mathematick Counsel took E're she set forward to pursue The mighty measures in her Book Or did one act of wonder do Nor had men known without thy night and day Whether Nature did for ever work or play 2. To all things else she Life and Bodies gave But thou her Incorporeal Childe Mysteriously must neither have Whil'st Death her every individual's Grave Of nothing but thy self 's beguil'd That with her thou might'st live to see Thy life continue her Eternity 3. Through all Horizons of the Universe Thou dost at once thy wondrous self disperse Each Star his Circle by thy Rule does guide Nay who can chuse but think Should'st thou stand still or step aside But that the Sun would leave his Zodiack too And bid his bounteous Eye for sorrow wink If for the worlds sake he no more might know The blessing of his Dayes and Hours And see his Heaven on Earth in Spring and Summer-flowers 4. So far above our Reasons search thou art That all the Idea of thy self men frame Does like some mighty nothing seem Thou motion guid'st and yet no motion art Thy being yet thou never did'st impart So much as in aspiring Poets dream Their busie Pencils can't thy figure take Thou steal'st away both as we sleep and wake Yet thy flight never was too swift or slow In Heaven or Earth one Minute's space Thy unerring Dyals under ground can go Thy silent feet 'twixt Life and Death still trace Keeping account how both Live and Decease Which contraries so far agree That Life and Death alike conversions be Of thine and Nature's living equally 5. VVhen learned Antiquaries search thy Rolls They Ages finde but can't thy Age compute From thy Epocha early thou set'st out E're man could read his being in thy Scrolls VVhil'st he laments thy too profound neglect Since he might have from thee more surely known VVhat did thy being and his own effect VVhether God's fiat man produc'd of clay Or that he started out of Earth some unknown way VVhich Nature by design or chance does ovvn 6. From what stupendious center first was took The point from whence began thy mighty round No Line or Character in Nature's Book Does shew us where thy self is found No more than how this world alas To our sense first produced was Or whence light did proceed to be Guided by the Sun and thee When thy Clocks told the world 't was day Before he durst the morning wake Or wisely could direct his way Who then of men his height did take Or saw his steeds their flaming steps first make 7. We use thee most of things yet know thee not Thou seem'st to us to have thy self forgot Yet best of faculties in the Worlds great Soul Whose Memory does far surmount All but thine own Account The sum of that vast Circles square Which cannot be computed here Unless our measures scale that endless Rule That 's more eternal than the world is old To most Prophetick Reason never yet was told On former Poets THough Death's pale Scepter men obey Their written Wit does last decay Surviving that resistless fate Does Soul and Body separate And of all mortal acts we see Comes nearest Immortality Thus Johnson's Wit we still admire With Beaumont Fletcher's lasting sire And mighty Shakespear's nimble vein Whose haste we only now complain His Muse first post was fain to go That first from him we Plays might know Though in each Muse of theirs we finde VVhat 's now above all humane kinde Our greatest Wit is to allow We cannot write as they could do Which time succeeding proves so good That 't is not yet well understood As if it were our fate to be In Wits perpetual Infancy Strong plots like theirs we can't disgest But like to Children think that best Which trifles with our appetite And judge as ill as now we write Though long our Story boasts great Kings Not every Raign good Poet sings Nature is pleas'd not to permit A propagation of their Wit Confessing that her mighty store Is not so rich as 't was before Poets are Prodigies of men And such she gives but now and then To Gyant-Wit 't is only given T' aspire unto the Muses Heaven If so inspir'd had been the bold We read Olympus storm'd of old Jove would have lay'd his Thunder by And welcom'd their Society To his Muse ENough my Muse thou hast play'd 't is time to rest Now I grow old thou art past or at thy best Thy Wit like Beauty most should Youth inspire With me thou may'st take cold by thy own fire Too much thy Gamesome thoughts I have obey'd Too tart for some thy Salt my Verse has made What Beauty will be Charm'd with what I say Or write of Love if it 's no Part I play Naso's soft Arts his fair Corinna knew And what he Sung 't is thought did practise too Thalia blusheth most in woods to sing When Poets from her Verse receive no spring Tersicore Heroickly does hate The loftiest Muse that Love Invites too late Here pausing thus to me my Muse begun Would'st thou be peevish with my cheerful Song On which the youthful will bestow a smile And to this froward Age commend thy toyle Thy Salt may please th' Ingenious Criticks taste And sleight th' unseason'd jeers which others waste Is' t not enough I do rejoyce thy Song And call thy Love and Verse for ever young My Bays to future time appear most green When nought of Poets but their Souls are seen My pleasing charms the serious entertain And in the Aged youthful Wit maintain From my Records men best their manners read The Comick good which now the Stage does need Waste not thy self or make more tedious Night With high and labour'd Songs I can delight The smooth-writ Elegy or short way The witty Martial with the world did play Rome's Empire's greatness and its crimes are known From that full sense his nimble Line 's have shown The Muses value all proportions fit And what 's call'd little may have much of VVit She ended thus and next presents my Pen VVhich if I finde inspir'd I 'll write agen Miscellanies or Essayes I Thank Heaven that I have taken so far leave of my Muse as to come from Verse to Prose which I take to be somewhat a better way of Writing plain English though I find I can cramp Words as well as another or leave a Line with a foot or two of sense more than it needs and besides that I have as many to 's and do's prove's and love's with such other necessary Implements as the best Toner of them all There 's nothing that I find our Language so plentifully affords or that falls on my pate with so little invocation of my sense as Rhime does I find it fattens the most
the concern of men to conceive their present defects and vices worse than such preceded them And yet I am satisfied enough that there have been times as exquisitely bad as ours can be pretended to be The Art of deceit and lying I finde somewhat ancienter than the Trojan Horse and the Poets Sinon notwithstanding the pretended ingenuity and sanctimony of his Character but the mischief is that what they render'd most odious we frequently practise to be more customary and curious in it If I were asked whether I would have trusted a Porter or Groom belonging to our Ancestors before some magnifyed honour and Heroes of this Age I should take leave without asking many of their pardons to grant the affirmative I cannot admire a modish trick or deceit though delivered by the most splendid Tongue or Name Where the Heart has cause to be ashamed there is great reason to blush for our words However we are somewhat beholding to the practises of our time in that a Mediocrity or small degree of vertue is able to pass so well amongst us whereas a stricter Age would be more incompatible in teaching us to be good I could say as much of Wit and other pretended accomplishments but they have been touched elsewhere or not further necessary to be mentioned in this place Of Living and Dying I Will joyn these together because they are considered more than they ought asunder they are too familiarly acquainted to be set at distance and are but the common and evident revolutions of Nature which gets as much by Death as she can do by Life if one thing dye another lives out on 't is too much a common place of Philosophy to be insisted on I will therefore deal here with their effects or similitude though we cannot live after death the same I finde we dye much after the same rate we liv'd the use of life is but to instruct death and as we manage the first so we for the most part conclude with the other If our first acts are good there is some hope of a better at last if not the contrary and thus very generally we leave the world The cure of the Soul when we are to dye is not less difficult than the reparation of the Body To quit a Disease that has been long upon us is not easily done in a few moments A long Journey is troublesome to provide for in too short a warning the very haste does enforce us to leave something necessary behinde us Wherefore might I have my wish I would dye timely and by degrees and I am no less beholding to Nature if my end be so sitted that I be not precipitately thrust out of the world by death either as it respects Youth or Age I cannot but pity it wheresoever I observe it I would be some time a consuming and by parts before I do it altogether I hold it the most familiar way of Nature so to dispose of us and I would not have her purposely go out of her way for me wherefore I am much more desirous to go off with a Consumption than a Feaver the first as a convenient warning of my dissolution which it prepares in part beforehand whereas the other has too much of heat and Distemper Inever affected Drunkenness and I should be loath to have any thing like its humour in my Brain dying I much approve a handsome correspondency of Life and Death I would not be altogether the same dying and living yet not so as to attempt a Metamorphosis of my constitution at the time I am to be transformed by Nature If I have lived a Gentleman I should be loath to turn a Cynick or Capuchine near the minute of my departure if I cannot more mannerly take leave of my self in leaving of the world I shall not endeavour at that time to court Heaven morosely and in a form would not have becom'd me before Besides it shews too much forgetfulness apprehension or despair to put on a disguise or absolutely to personate another Character so near our End A good man has a hard part to Act Living and Dying but I would not expect such a strict Decorum in the last that like a Player's it must needs have an Exit in the greatest word or thing our Wit and Memory are generally too frail especially at that time for extraordinary heights if a mans last day be not much the worst he ought not to be so extraordinary ambitious as by its means to aspire to his best I cannot but observe too many Austerities Surges and windings in the Avenues of Christian practice one while posting over the Alps to Rome another time whip'd and spur'd to Geneva as if Faith must gad out of our own Countrey of necessity besides we are not seldom too remiss and again as rigorous in our devotions Wherefore I could wish our manners and piety were more smooth and facile which were both Ethical and Natural and not as if we had not so much to do for our selves as others for us If this excellency be admired in most of the Ancient Philosophers it does no less highly merit an esteem whose precepts were equally familiar and complaisant to good manners and belief and by consequence could guide themselves accordingly If there were here and there a Diogenes amongst them a Morose or Cynical Christian may look as odly amongst us I would neither choose the confinement of a Tub or a Temple such extraordinary and irregular examples of Living and Dying take me not austerity and sullenness may be as much in its kinde a form or mode as capping of the Hat or cringing the Knee it is one thing to retire wisely as I have instanc'd already and another to be so dogged as to bite our selves I cannot blame any thing so much in the Heroick vertue and constancy of the Romans as their voluntary Deaths and Suicides as if they were obliged to live no longer than they thought fit themselves or when their vertue was not successful or practicable with others or that of necessity they must dye when other men would not be good with them I had as live fee a Childe cry for what he has lost as hear of an Heroick that kills himself for losing that he cannot keep the first I am sure is more natural and this was the case of Cato Brutus and the like What a Tragedy is it to think of Cato's dying and tearing his Bowels in such a displeasure with the world or what was more odious to his severity the sight of Caesar and his good fortune or Vultum Tyrannidis as Cicero calls it We may imagine the same of Brutus when defeated by Augustus and even with disdain and contempt of vertue he had so Stoically serv'd O misera virtus ergo nil nisi verba eras Sed ego te tanquam rem exercebam sed tu Serviebas fortunae Which I judge to be some oversight in so great a man in expecting a certain