The gentile sinner, or, Englands brave gentleman characterized in a letter to a friend both as he is and as he should be.

SECT. II. (Book 2)

§. 1. The Second sort of Gentlemen not to be reckon'd amongst those which are truely such.

I Would not have you think (Sir) that I have done with the Spurious Gentleman, when I have done with the Gallant. I should do some violence to the true Gentle∣man's vertues, should I say all that are not included in the foregoing Character are just such as he, and deale somewhat too severely with him of whom I am now to speake, if I should Conclude all that are none of the Best, to be the very worst. I find my selfe there∣fore necessitated to say a little of another, who, though he may be thought by many degrees above the former, yet have I no rea∣son to call him a Saint. If we eie the Com∣mon Course of his life, and his Ordinary Con∣versation; we may perhaps discover in him something more of Modesty and the man,

then in the former, yet shall we not find much more then what is to be read in those two names, of Religion or the Christian: At best, he has in him onely so much of Christianity as may save him Credit in this world not his soule in the other. And of this sort is (alas, I may too truely say) the farr greatest part of our English Gentry; I must include very many of our Nominall Nobilityi and not a few of the Reall too, I mean as farre as blood alone will make them so, under this Head.

This indeed is that Gentleman, whether of Citty of Country, whom his neighbours, as well as himselfe, do too often, for want of a better, flatter into Some-body. One, who though he has more discretion then to be stark mad; and more sobriety than to dwell in a Taverne, or to transforme his own house (as too many chuse to do) into a perfect Bedlam; I am sure there wants very little of it in many, but the Correction and Discipline; Though he be not fully arrived at the very height of Vanity, nor can yet take a Pride, by the idle expence both of estate and Honour, to purchase an irremediable Poverty to his heires, and to himselfe the Empty title of Spark and Gallant: Yet he can hardly perswade me

to believe, the Principles whereby he is kept within these bounds of Modesty and So∣briety, such as may merit him the Name of Gentleman or Christian. Indeed the greatest Difference betwixt him and the Gallant seems to be this, that whereas the Gallant is the very Spume and Froth of Nobility, which ever workes upwards, impatient of a Con∣finement within any limitts whatsoever, but alwaies flies out by reason of it's extraordina∣ry Levity into Emptyness and Ayre; this other Gentleman like the Lees or Dregs, by reason of too great a mixture and participation of more Grosse and Terrene parts, settles wholy downwards till he come to the very bottom of all Baseness: Such Lees though at present of some more use then the other, yet will they at length prove good for nothing but to be thrown away.

§ 2. Severall sorts of such Gentlemen.

Such a Gentleman as he who hath a good e∣state and a full Chest; and these, excepting a Coate of Armes, and a few old Pictures hung up in his Parlor or Gallery to let stran∣gers see who were his Father and Mother,

are all he has to show for his Nobility: and yet his too great Care in preserving these, is for the most part, that wherby he forfeits his Honour: For as the Former freely spent his estate to make him a Gallant, so this la∣ter as freely parts with all Gallantry to save his estate. If Nature have bless'd him with some Good parts and Faculties, and if the care of his Parents have added many more excel∣lent Ornaments and accomplishments of a Gen∣tleman; yet there alwayes appeares some a∣batement or other in his Bearing, which Dis∣graces all: And there is that base alloy of (I know not what) drosse, in his best Gold, which renders it uncurrent, and altogether useless both to himselfe and all the world be∣sides. In some this is Covetousness, and a love of the world; in others 'tis Cowardice and a Poor-spirit; In a third sort Lazyness and a Love of Ease; and in many others Pride and a vain-glorious Humour. Though in fa∣vour to the Gentleman, or rather to the world, lest it might seem to be quite voyd of all such things as true Gentry and Nobility; men are willing very often to bestow upon them too Good-Names; Calling the first Pro∣vidence and a Naturall Care; The second Pru∣dence

and a Commendable Policy; The third a Good-Nature and a Peaceable mind; and the last a Noble and brave Spirit, and a piece of Necessary state. I Confesse I am as ready as any man to cast into him all the allowances, he can in any reason demand, or I with safe∣ty grant him, and all will be little enough to make him full weight for a Gentleman. But he must pardon me, if I love not to hear Good-names thus grosly abused; nor to see the most beloved and plausible vices passe so Currently and unquestion'd for Vertues. Call them what we will, and make them as Good as we can, as they are enough to sink the Gentleman as farr below his name as Hell is be∣low Heaven; so have they been too effectu∣all and prevalent of late, to the choaking up all breathings of true Religion and Piety, and to the bringing a Glorious Church and flou∣rishing Kingdome, to say no worse, into a very low and ruinous Condition. And this I dare be bold to affirme, though I take not my selfe for a Politician, that let us all pre∣tend and Endeavour too what we can, till we can make these Gilded vices to be known and owned by their owne names, we shall have small reason to hope for a setled Church, or

peaceable state. I wish I had a salve which applyed to the Gentleman's blind Eye might take off the Pearle and make him see this truth.

§ 3. The Provident Gentleman.

The Provident Gentleman (as he loves to heare himselfe miscall'd) is one who is ever putting the question with him in Iob. What profit is there in the Service of the Almighty? If you could once perswade him to beleeve that every Good gift comes from above, and that Whosoever askes shall indeed rec••ive, you would soon see him grow Religious, and heare him saying his prayers in good Earnest: But alas, so long as he can make a shift to fill up his Coffers by delving in the Dirt, you must give him leave to Continue Infidell in these particulars. He is Content to heare of Glo∣rifying God, till you come to tell him he must do it with his Substance, but then it becomes an hard saying, and hee'l heare you of that at a more Convenient time; perhaps he means it upon his death-bed. So little is he in love with, or sensible of what you call Honour, that allow him the gaine and profit, let God

or any one else (it's all one to him) take the other. This Gentleman has just as much God and Religion as a full Chest will hold, his God and his Gold like Hippocrates his Twinnes, live and thrive, and are sick and dye together: and yet it were much to be wish'd he were but halfe so industrious to preserve the one, as he is to keep the other. Insteed of laying up his treasure in Heaven, he lays up his Hea∣ven in his Treasury; and, if God will be content with it soe, he shall be sure to have his heart there too. Covetousness, I dare say, in such as hee, is the greatest Idolatry; I am confident he would fall downe and worship the Image of a Nero, nay of a Devil, rather then want the single penny that beares it. You will have much adoe to convince him of the truth of the Apostle's Proposition, That God∣linesse is great gaine, except you will grant him that this is a Logical Conversion, and not to be question'd that Great gain is God∣lyness. If with the Silver-smith he can by his craft get his wealth, then shall Religion become his trade, and the Church his forge: But till then you must give him leave to be a worshipper of his great Goddesse Diana. So farre is he from putting in practice that good

and wholesome advice, to be Carefull in no∣thing, but in every thing to give thanks; that he dares never read the text but backwards, Give thanks for nothing but in every thing be carefull, He cannot esteem it a true piece of providence to make the daie Content with it's own labour, but on the Contrary he gives every day the trouble of careing for many yeares; and therefore is ready to Phancy him∣selfe farr from the Rich Fool's Condition in the Gospell, because he never yet could al∣low his Soul her Requiem, or think that he had enough for many yeares.

He takes much more paines to leave his Children Rich then Good, and had rather give them a Portion then a blessing. The main ad∣vice he gives them is to be thrifty and Good-husbands, let them make themselves God∣ly and Good-Christians. All the learning he intends to bestow upon them, is so much Latine as will fit them for understanding a Bond and so much Arithmetick as may secure them from the Dishonesty of an unjust Ste∣ward; If he suppose the Book may be made a thrifty diversion to keep them from the grea∣ter expense of the Taverne or their Game, he may perhaps allow something towards a study.

And (be sure) he will be carefull enough, to give them so much Law as may be suffi∣cient to maintaine their owne rights, and rack their Tenants.

If he go Constantly to Church, tis more to serve himselfe then his God. Often because he hopes by being his frequent Auditor, he may oblige the Parson to let him his tithes at a low rate, or to believe him a man of Consci∣ence, that so he may defraud him of his dues without suspicion. For the most part this Gentleman is the Patron or has the Impro∣priation, and yet, whilest he and his family grow fat by feasting upon the bread of the Altar, he grudges him who dispenses freely of the bread of life the very Crums that fall from his table. The Church of God thus often starves for want of food, whilest such Dogs Eat up the Children's bread: Such men's whole Lives are but so many Continued Sacriledges, and all they can alledge for themselves comes but to this, that they hold their sin as their land by right of Inheritance, from their An∣cestors: Their Coffers grow full by robbing the Sanctuary, and at every meal with their sacrilegious teeth, like so many ravenous wolves or vultures, they teare in pieces the

Body of Christ's languishing Spouse: But let her dye, the Provident Gentleman had rather see her Carkasse then his Chests grow Empty; and if by her death he may peaceably enjoy her revenues, he will hardly mourn, but as such enriched heires use to doe, at her fune∣ralls.

It is long since this Good man turn'd Cha∣rity out of dores, as an unthrifty Hous-wife, and one that made it her busyness to throw all away. The Poor come and goe about his gates, as hungry birds about a painted Vine, at best they meet with an hard Crust and harder language. He loves not thus to lend his money, though it be to the Lord, except he would give him bond to returne him Eight in the Hundred here in this world. When our Saviour tells him of an Hundred for one here below, and eternall life hereafter in Heaven, he hath as little faith to believe, as patience to waite for such a reward: Yet he could al∣most wish upon Condition the former part of the promise might be made good to him, without Persecution; that the later might be reserved for such who can Phancy a God in Heaven better then a thousand pound in hand.

If this Gentleman can but so farre deny himselfe as to do no open violence or Injury to any man; if he can arrive at that degree of Christianity; which will enable him to reach the Negative part of Iustice and chari∣ty, he is apt to think he has made a faire pro∣gresse in the way to Heaven. And yet (God knows) he ordinarily mistakes this part too. For to win another's estate by some quillet in the Law, or by bribing a Judge; to o∣ver-reach his poor neighbour in an hard Bar∣gain; to take advantage of a needy person's present necessity, and accordingly raise the price of his Commodity; to exact first more then he is able to pay, and then make him pay use for his disability; to send a poore na∣ked soul to bridewell insteed of an Hospitall, to the stocks insteed of a Bed, to call him knave and Vagabond, that he may have a pretence not to relieve him: to suffer a languishing Creature to dye in the street, whilst he had enough to spare wherewith to feed and cloath him; Or to permit a breach in the walls of Ierusalem, when a small summe out of his purse would repare it; These he can by no means reckon amongst the species of Inju∣stice, or as defects in Charity; but therefore

counts all good duties as things unnecessary and no way obliging, indeed because charg∣able and seemingly Burthensome; and such as contradict that thrifty forecast, and neces∣sary providence he holds himselfe tyed to maintain. He thinks it a greater degree of wisedom to trust God's providence now for some miraculouse reliefe of the present poore, then to rely upon it for the after-enrichment of his posterity.

Certainly this is the thing that passes so Currently for Providence, even amongst those who are counted the wiser and more religious sort of our English Gentlemen: But if this can belong to Christianity, then must Cove∣tousnesse and a Worldly minde, be reckoned amongst our Christian vertues. It is (alas) too evident what good friends such vertues and such Gentlemen have been of late to our Ierusalem; whilest our richest Gallantry have all along, in these calamitous times, chosen rather, by a kind of Constrained bounty to reward the Demolishers; then voluntarily to part with a farthing to pay the builders of our ruinated Sion. Besides this, it is not a little to be fear'd that those many Contra∣ry Oathes and Engagements, Vowes and pro∣testations,

which with the help of this sauce of providence have been so readily swallowed (I fear I may say) by the greatest part of our Gentry, will at last expose their soules within no lesse to Corruption, then the Con∣trary Qualities do their Bodies without. O how happy might this poore Nation have been even to this day, had not the Rich Gen∣tleman under a pretence of a Naturall affe∣ction and a Necessary Providence, set an high∣er aestimate upon his own Chest, then the Arke of God; upon his owne Barne, then the Lord's Temple; Had he not loved his Interest more then his Religion, the safety of his Body more then the Salvation of his Soul, his Naturall children more then his Heavenly Father, and his money above them all.

§. 4. The Prudent Gentleman.

By this short view I have given you of the Provident Gentleman, I suppose you will grant him to be none of those we may call the best, or such as it might be wished, wee had many of in our Nation; And truly the Prudent Gentleman, I mean him who is now adayes knowne by that name, is not of a much Nobler dye: very often you shall find

him to be the very same, alwayes very neer of kind to the former. Cowardice is as much afraid to be known, and therefore as loath to walk without her maske as Covetousness; and would as gladly arrogate to her selfe the never more abused names then now of a wise caution, and a Christian Prudence; as that other of a vertuous thrift and necessary Pro∣vidence.

Insteed of being (as wisedome commanded his Disciples) wise as serpents, Gentlemen are become meer Serpents in wisedom; and have render'd themselves very capable of that Commendable Character, which was long agoe given to the Serpent, They are more subtile then all the beasts of the field; and the Prudence they boast of, and under which they vaile a Carnall mind, and a Carking Cowardly soul, is nothing else but a worldly Policy, or rather a Devillish Subtilty. They have made one halfe of the text quarrel with, and justle the other quite out of their Bibles, advancing the wisedome of the serpent to so high and Intense a degree, that it cannot admit the least proportion of the Holy Doves more necessary Innocence. Such a foraminous piece of Net-worke has Christian Prudence

been made of late, that these Glib serpentine Politicians can soe wind themselves in and out at pleasure, as if they meant neither God nor Man should ever know certainly where to have them.

It is a very famous piece of the Gentleman's prudence to Endeavour to Out-wit an All-wise God, and to go about to put Fallacies upon him out of his owne word, often make∣ing even God's most righteous precepts the Topicks of his disobedience. How frequently endeavours he to cloak the violation of one law, by a pretended obedience to another, and by setting God's Commands at variance one with another, thinks to steal away his beloved sin, and not be taken notice of? He dares not take up his Crosse and follow Christ, lest he should become Felo de se, accessary to his owne death; Nor knows he how to forsake Father and Mother for Christ's sake, without a breach of the Fifth Commandment, which binding him to Honour both, he cannot see how he may in any sence forsake either. He dares not part with houses and lands, for fear he might seem to Dispise God's good Blessings; nor hazard his estate in the vindica∣tion of his Religion and his Loyalty, lest he

should be said to have thereby thrown away the opportunities of expressing his bounty and his Charity; He knows how much he is ob∣liged not to deny Christ before men, and to give an account of his faith to such as demand it of him; but then he produces a text which tells him of daies wherein the Prudent shall keep silence, and these daies he supposes still present, whensoever his person or estate may be endanger'd by an open heart or an Ingenuous tongue. He will be ready to suffer Persecution for the Gospell of Christ, and, with St Paul, to be bound and to dye; but this must onely bee when his Prudence is at a losse and he can find out no way just or unjust to avoyd all this. As long as there are shifts enow left him, such as dissembling language, Covert Engagements, Cunning flatteries, treache∣rous Compositions, petty Contributions, Vn∣derhand Compliances, in things both Civill and Religious, he thinks he wants no honest Evasions, to secure both Life and livelyhood, Thus he is Content to set him down in qui∣etnesse, whilest the Enemies of God's Church advance in troops and Armies against her; and thinks it enough, when he can say he wishes all well, and praies for the Peace of Ierusalem.

It were no Prudence openly to declare his opi∣nion, or to act on any side; alas, he is but one single man, and one's as good as none a∣gainst the stream of the multitude, not Con∣sidering that where one does not joyne with one, there can be no multitude. There are other Champions enow in the world to vin∣dicate her quarrell, such as have no estates to look after, No families to provide for, when if all were of his mind there would not be so much as one; and besides who has grea∣ter reason to labour then he that has already received so great a share of his wages. What though he freely gives away a large portion of his goods to the Enemies of God? It is but the way to secure the rest for better pur∣poses. What though he be constrain'd with faire speeches to flatter up the transgressors in their Iniquities? His heart for all this shall be for God, his prayers for the Church, and he is as Good a Christian and as Loyall a Subject within as the best. Alas, 'tis no great mat∣ter to Comply a little in outward things, to lay an hand upon a Bible, to invoke the sa∣cred Name of God, and seemingly to Re∣nounce Religion and Loyalty; God knows, he intends no such matter, but onely takes

this Course to keep his Family from ruine, and to preserve himselfe safe and whole to doe God and his Church more service heare∣after.

It is all one with him to goe to Church or C••nventicle, so he may by frequenting ei∣ther be thought to favour the Religion in Fashion, and so not be suspected an Enemy to the God that rules, the man in power with a sword in his hand. He can take a great deal of pains, rise early, and go farre, to en∣courage a seditious Lecture, and when Ser∣mon's done with an Hypocriticall face smile upon the preacher, and inviteing him home with him witness his thankes and approbation in a Good dinner; But he holds it imprudence to frequent that true worship and service of God, which the excellency thereof and the Command of his superiours commends to his Conscience, lest he should be thereby thought ill-affected to that Religion, which he would have Good men believe his soul ab∣horres. He dares Countenance Rebellion and Sacriledge both with his tongue and Purse; but aesteems it dangerous, and therefore (with∣out all doubt) Imprudence, to Contribute so much as a Good look to the Encouragement

of the truly Religious and vertuous, lest he should be suspected by the prosperous sinner, an Enemy to Treason, and Wickednesse.

Till we can find a way how to cast out this Prudent Devill, which (as the Prophet tells us) is wise to doe evill but to doe Good has no un∣derstanding; we shall ever heare this possess'd Gentleman crying out with the Daemoniack in the Gospell, what have we to doe with thee Iesus thou son of God? Why art thou Come to torment us before our time? Such a perfect Gout is this prudent Cowardise, that the lame Gentleman ever cries out at the very sight of any thing looks like Religion, as if it would come too neer him, and touch him upon the sore place. So sad a thing is it to stand in feare of health, lest it should make us sick▪ to tremble at the sight of what would bring us to Heaven, lest we should lose our Earth; and to take so much anxious care to praeserve the Body whole, for fear a Courteous wound should set open the dore, and give the soul leave to fly out into Heaven and be at rest.

If such men be truely prudent, then are all true Christians undoutedly fools: Or if this over-warynesse be no more but a prudent and Religious Caution, then are most of our Eng∣lish

Gentlemen (which I have not yet Chari∣ty enough to beleeve) Prudent Christians. But (alas) Neutrality hangs too much be∣twixt two, ever to come so high as Heaven; and a Cold Indifferency comes so farre short of that necessary zeal which is the unfailing Consequent of true Piety; that it is impossi∣ble it should ever be Crown'd with aeternall Happinesse. He that is not deeply in love with his God, cannot place his absolute fe∣licity in the fruition of God; and he that is afraid to do any thing, or think's it prudence to suffer nothing for him, is not in Love with him. God has long agoe told the Gentle∣man, and all others, how much of another temper he must be who will live for ever, in∣structing him what an immediate Contrariety there is betwixt being for God and against him, soe that there can be no mean left for such a prudent Indifferency: betwixt fight∣ing Vnder Christ's Banner, and being the Devill's Souldiers. Moderation, 'tis true, in things of Indifferency is a Commendation; but the Gentleman needs feare as little that he can be over zealous in a Good matter here upon Earth, as that he may be over happy in Heaven. As there be no Angels but such as

are either very good, or very bad, so every Gentleman is either a Saint indeed, or else stark naught. He that sitts still shall come as soone to Hell as he that sweats in pursuite of it. But whosoever hopes to Come to Heaven, he must ever run and with his face that way if he will be sure to obtaine. I would wish that Gentleman who has not the heart to Confesse Christ before men, to Consider, how he can have the Courage to hear Christ denying him before his Father which is in Heaven, or to Endure those torments in H••ll which he shall be sure to undergo for not Confessing him here upon Earth. Such a Lukewarme soul is so Nauseous unto God, that he must at last Spue him out into the Bottomelesse pit.

If this be Christian Prudence, to secure an Estate or preserve a Family, or save a life, by being frigid, and so Spiritlesse in our Pro∣fession, as may make us nauseated by God, and set us at such a distance from Heaven; a true Christian shall have as little reason to Envy the G••ntleman his Prudence, as the poore Church of England has cause to be proud of his Courage.

§. 5 The Peaceable Gentleman.

The Peaceable and Honest-natur'd Gentle∣man (as many call him) is one to whom the poore▪ Church of England is not much more indebted for his kindnesse then to ei∣ther of the former: this is he that is so farre from being Cordially sensible of the Affli∣ctions of Ioseph, or the dessolations of Ierusa∣lem, that he seems to have hardly so much of an humane spirit in him as to understand the meaning of those two words, Happiness and Misery. Three parts of his time at least, he spends in sleep, as if he were resolved to die all his life long; or by this course to keep himselfe Ignorant of the Concerning affaires of the world, being loath to come acquainted with the truth of those evills which he is resolved not to take any pains to remove. The other quarter of his time he carefully divides be∣twixt his meales & his sports, and this ••e calls, liveing a Good, honest, quiet, and harmlesse life, such as hurts no body.

Sometimes he seems even to Envy the ve∣ry stones that Constant rest which Nature has indulged them, whereby they are made

incapable of any motion but what is occasi∣on'd, and that but rarely, by some vio∣lence from without them. If he had so much of that Philosophy, which tells us the caelesti∣all bodyes are in a perpetuall motion, as to be∣lieve it for a truth, he would for that very cause be unwilling to go to Heaven. When he hears of an aeternall Saboth of rest for all those that goe thither, he is almost perswad∣ed to become a Christian, yet is he in a great straight betwixt two, for though he love his rest too well, yet he hates the very name of Saboth much more, especially when he hears St▪ Iohn telling him, that, the Angells and Glorified Saints never cease Day nor Night from praising God

Sometimes again he seems to grudg the poore bruit Animals their Irrationalitie, and to share with them, endeavours by a Sordid sensuality to degrade himselfe into a Beast▪ or at least, to become as like one as humanity will permit him. That he may be better acquainted with their Natures and dispositions, his Dog and his Horse, or his Hawke, henceforward become his Princi∣pall Companions; with these he plaies, and with these he discourses, and towards these

(if you seriously consider all his termes of Art, you will be ready to say) he has his set formes of Complement: and indeed his whole study is to learne readily to speak that lan∣guage wherein he may be understood by the silly animals. When the weather or his health or the like will not befriend him in these exercises abroad; then he sits at home, num∣bring his minutes by the turnes of his die, or the playing of his Cards; or perhaps gets so much liberty abroad, as to measure out his houres by the motions of his bowle. Such a mercilesse Tyrant is he to that (which he feares he shall never loose or destroy fast enough) his precious time; that he allwaies studies to invent variety of Executions for it. Now he delights to drown it in his Cups, anon he burnes it in his Pipe, by and by he tramples it under his horse's h••ofes; again he knocks it in the head with his Bowl, teares and devours it with his Hawks and his Hounds; there is nothing he will leave un∣experimented, 'till he have certainly found out a way to prevent it's naturall, Honest and Commendable departure.

These Courses he willingly allowes him∣selfe in, and desires to have all thought noe

more or worse then his Contempt of the world, and his study of retirednesse from those Distracting Cumbrances thereof, which are unworthy of a Christian, or a Gentleman.

Sometimes he delights to consume a great part of his time in unnecessary visits, but studies withall to make them so unprofitable, as if he were desirous to have it thought men were made onely now and then to look upon one another: his discourse (what there is of it) being so idle and impertinent, that it serves to no other end, then to exer∣cise his tongue and keep it by much motion voluble; lest for want of use he should in a short time (as he does by most good things) forget to speak. Sometimes you shall have a Complement from him, but puff'd up with so many hyperbolicall expressions of your worth, and of the incredible respects he has for your person, that you cannot chuse but suspect he only labours how to be disbelieved; or has learn'd of his Dogges how to fawn and flatter. And thus when he has made a shift to lose an houre or two, and to trouble his friends with much Impertinent talke, he returnes home again to eat and play, and sleep, and spend the remainder of his time as Idly as he can.

In a word this sort of Gentlemen borders so closely upon him we first described, the Gallant, that I shall not need to say more of him, then only this, that he has some degrees lesse of Madnesse then the other; he seems as yet but to hang about the dores, and has not gain'd an admission into the Society of Raunters: Nor is this because he wants a Genius or Inclination to evill in the Generall, but rather he is beholding to one vice to keep him from another, and being wedded so much to this, is forced to abstain from it's Contrary. Either he is tyed to his Chest with a Golden chaine, which will not allow him the liberty of ranging into so many cost∣ly riots; or else a l••aden dulnesse so much oppresses his soule, that she cannot Soare so high in the vast Region of Debauchery: So that if you find him free from any one vice, he is to thank the Contrary vice and not the vertue for it; or at best, he owes it to an In∣firmitie of Nature that he is free from both.

Indeed for the most part this Gentleman is (as the Philosophers use to say of their first matter) though not perfectly formed into all those Noble qualifications (as they are u∣sually

miscall'd) of the Compleat Gallant, yet is he, at lest, in a remote Disposition to all or any of them: As the Polypus is said to be alwaies of the same colour with the neigh∣bouring object; or as the Looking-glasse re∣flects as many different faces as are obvia∣ted to its own superficies: So is this Gentle∣man not properly one, but any Body; of the Religion, and the Humour, and the fashion of his Companions, as neer as his own weaknesse will permit him to Imitate them. And this is it which Commonly purchases him the repute of a Civill, a Courteous, an Affable, a Good-natured and sweet-disposition'd person: Only because he know••s as little how to be angry with a vice, as how to be guilty of a vertue. Such a Ductile, soft and Compliant soul he has, that as the Wax to the Seal, he would fain smile upon every man in his own face, and speak with every one in his own language; He Complements, and Praises, and Flatters, and performes all the offices of a Gentleman, as his shadow in the Glasse, only by reflection. For a fair word he will part with his own soul, and with a fair word he does often occasion the ruine of many more: whilest he loves as much to flatter others up

in their wickednesse, as to be flattered up by others in his own. Say and doe what you will (so you injure not his person or estate, nor rob him of his beloved ease) you are sure to have his approbation, and if for this he may have yours, he thinks it a reward and en∣couragement great enough. But I leave him.

§. 6. The Stately Gentleman.

There is yet another that challenges a roome in this paper, and truely deserves his place as much as any: If he will not be an∣gry, and in a rage swear to burne the paper, when he finds himselfe set in the last and lowest place, all's well enough. And this is that Stately and Majestick he, whom I dare hardly name lest he should take it as an affront, for though he hunts after a name and reputation amongst all men, yet he looks upon it as a kind of Disparagement of his vertues, and an undervaluing of his Honour, to heare his name from any mouth but his own. But most of all he esteems it pr••phaned, when mention'd by persons so inconside∣rable, as all those of our Colour, unto such as

himselfe have ever appear'd.

This is he who thinks himselfe as much too good to be a Christian, as he thinks all Chri∣stians too mean to be accounted Gentlemen. His onely God is his Honour, and to give it something of a Deity, he Phancies it to be singular, and that there is none other besides it; when (alas) this Idoll too is just nothing. But such is the strange Omnipotence of Pride and Ambition, this Gentleman can first create to himselfe a God out of nothing, and then fall down and Worship the Idolized Vanity which his own Ridiculous Phancy has thus set up. That he does indeed more esteem this Sha∣dow then the true God, he too loudly af∣firmes in all his Oaths; for when he intends what he saith shall unquestionably passe for serious and creditable, he swears by his Ho∣nour and Reputation: Other Oaths he hath enow, by the Glorious Majesty of Heaven and Earth, which are but too litterally the Burthen of his discourse; these (as we said of the Gallant) he uses not for Confirmation of the truth, but as the sportive recreations of his tongue, and the graces and Ornaments of Good Language.

He it is, that (wheresoever he be) will see

that all men doe their duties, but himselfe. And he doth something well herein, except, when by a proud mistake he calls an unmeri∣ted respect to his own Supposititious vertues, their indispensible Duty. He looks that all men should observe as great a distance from his person, as he is resolved to doe from their vertues; or as if allready he were (where I wish by the much despised grace of Humi∣lity he may at last be found) in heaven. He expects no lesse observance and reverence from his Tenants, then as if he were not only Lord but Creator of the Mannor: as though he would be thought as much Master of the Vniverse, as he is the slave of his own Am∣bition. He walks up and down so wantonly and affectedly, as if he intended thereby prin∣cipally to Demonstrate to the world his great perfections and Excellency, that he must take much pains to do amisse. This Lordly Sir, so long as he can but get a Cap and a knee from his Inferiours, and the chair at every meeting with his betters; he thinks that all the bles∣sings of Heaven (though a Crown of Glory be one of them) can adde nothing to his Ho∣nour: Were it but for this one reason, he would never make it his businesse to come

thither, because he may justly despaire of e∣ver being the best man there. If it may be conferred upon him as an Honorary reward, and upon the meritorious claime of his ver∣tues, he will perhaps be Content to weare the Crown; but as a Gift he scornes it, lest he should draw upon himselfe an obligation to the Donor by accepting it: And as his wage he scornes no lesse to acknowledg it, for as he has not by any labour Earn'd it, so is he afraid to be look'd upon to his God in the relation of a servant.

In short this Gentleman Phancies himselfe endow'd with such a transfigurative excel∣lency, that (as the Philosophers stone, once found, should turne all things it touch'd into Gold) he supposes it able to turne all things into Gentile and excell••nt which he is in love with: All his vices, whatever deformity the dull eye of the world apprehends to be in them, his over-weaning humour looks upon as no lesse then the most absolute of all ver∣tues: and he conceits himselfe so Immove∣ably fixed and setled upon the highest Pi∣nacle of Honour, that Basenesse it selfe shall never have any power to degrade him. Thus ever conceiting himselfe placed at so great

a height, it is no great wonder if he become so giddy at length in all his actions; and be∣holding others at so great a distance, I mar∣vell not, that he begins to see men like Moles upon the earth, and to think them all so blind, that they cannot discerne his vani∣ty. This indeed it is that makes him think neither Church nor State worth his reguar∣ding, he can with Dry eyes behold both ves∣sels split at once, and in the mean time flatter himselfe up with the Divellish hopes of En∣riching his Ambition by the miserable wrack.

This is he, that can think it no Injustice to rob the whole world, and rifle the store-house of Nature, to adorne his Body and humour his Palate; to weare the portions and live∣lihoods of (I know not how many) Orphans and Widdowes in a Bandstring; and carry the lives and Fortunes of many languishing Souls upon his Little-finger. I wish that whilest he casts ••o scornefull an eye upon these poore naked Beggars, he would but seriously consider how many of their Contemptible rags he hath pick'd up together, to patch up all that bravery upon his own back; whilst either his oppression occasion'd, or his un∣charitablenesse

prolong'd their lamentable condition. He makes indeed almost the whole creation Club to maintane his Am∣bition, and returnes a derision in requitall.

This Gentleman's chiefe pastime and sport whereby he makes himselfe merry, is to laugh at two sorts of men, The Godly and the Po••r, the one as a Praecisian, and he that has unmann'd himselfe by too much Religion; the other as the out-cast of Fortune, or a man intended by Nature for nothing else, but by his labour to make him rich, and by his Ignorance to make him merry. The Black-coate or Parson (for by these names he thinks he does sufficiently pay the Divine and Schol∣lar) he ever looks upon with as much Su∣perciliousnesse and disdain, as if the very Co∣lour of his Coat were odious and an Eye-sore to him, or as if because shame and feare keep him from Immediate and Direct Blas∣phemy, He were resolved to expresse his splene against God himselfe, by despighting his servants. He is seldome or never his Auditor but when he has a mind to sleep, or is disposed to be merry, and then he comes to Church and there worships God just as he honours his Ministers out of it: Nay he is

unwilling to allow his God that ordinary Civillity, which and much more he expects from his own Chaplain, that of a Cap and a knee: Or if his Breeding have taught him more manners, then his Piety has Reverence; then shall all his Religion be pent up into this one poor Ceremony, and so he makes his Worship all one with his Complement.

This is he, whose intollerable Pride makes every thing, that is not the very basest kind of Flattery, passe for an Affront, and an high piece of Disrespect unto his Person. For this immediatly he studies a revenge, which he has learn'd to call a necessary vin∣dication of his Honour. What an excellent Chimistry is there in such deluded Nobility, which can extract a Spirit of Honour out of the very Dunghill of Vnworthynesse; and find so admirable a sweetnesse, in that which can∣not be thought better then the very Ordure and Excrement of Ambition, Malice and Envy, I mean, Re••enge! Let but the least Cir∣cumstance of that Respect, he supposes due, be omitted, and presently there flies out a Chal∣lenge, and for the most part so vauntingly worded as if he meant his breath or his Ink should doe more execution then his sword

By this meanes he makes his first thrust at his adversaries very heart, that so he may wound his courage before they meet, and cause his heart to faile him before the Encounter; for this indeed is often the onely way his late re∣pented temerity uses to leave him, for the se∣curing of his Reputation. But is so be his courage stand upon the same levell with his Ambition, 'tis nothing but the death or dis∣grace of his Antagonist, will asswage his Fury•• in the Field therefore he often sends his Bo∣dy to the Grave, and his owne Soule to Hell at a Blow. This is his Gallantry, and this the necessary vindication of that Honour, which is so tender, that every thing except it have in it the unworthy softnesse of the most ser∣vile compliance with his owne unconstant Humour, rends, sp••ts, or grieves it: and which nothing can wash clean, or make whole again: but the Heart-blood of him who durst give the Affront.

I hope he will not take it as such, if I make bold here to take my leave of him; I have nei∣ther leisure nor patience to trace him through the wild Labyrinth of his Pride, wherein he has long agoe with no small complacen∣cy lost himselfe, and all things which looke

like vertue. I wish all men, whom he studies to provoke into an madnesseequall with his owne, may ever have that high charity for this Gentleman, which I have now; then should they answer all his challenges with this prayer, That God would give him more courage, then to suffer himselfe to be thus basely Affronted and domineer'd over by so dangerously insulting a Passion, without the least Essay: towards the just vindication of that Name and Honour which alone are Va∣luable.

§. 7. The conclusion of this part.

I should as much tyre you (Sir) as my selfe, should I run (though with never so much haste) over all the particulars of the Gentleman's vanity and madnesse; which are so inseparably, for the most part, interwov••n one within another, that I feare I may al∣ready seeme too absurd, by dividing them into so many Sects or Species. The plaine truth is, Vice seemes to be that very blood which Gentility so much boasts of; that which conveyes it selfe through all the Gentlemans veines, and is dispersed into all the severall

members of the body, in a measure suitable to the capacity of each. Or rather you may call it the common-soule which informes and actuates the whole body of Gallantry; and which is Communicated to the particular members thereof, not by an extention, or Di∣stribution of parts and degrees, but (to bor∣row once more the Philosoph••r's Phrase) it is wholly in the whole, and wholy in every part of the whole. If the great variety and diver∣sity of operations will yet needs plead for a further Distinction, we must say, what we use to say of the various actings of the same soule, This Diversity ariseth not from a Multiplicity of Soul••s or Principals, but from the many powers and faculties of that one soule, and the various dispositions and qualities of the Materiall Organs.

Really, Sir, the Gentleman we have hither∣to spoken of, is but the more curious and costly instrument of Sin, and would appeare such a breathlesse thing without it, that a man might well question whether or no he would be found an animated beeing. For ought that I can yet discover, he has no more motion then what vice gives him, excepting that which he expresses when he is asleepe, which

(setting aside his excess therein) is almost the onely thing wherein hee lookes like a man.

To give you therefore the Conclusion of this whole character; call him any thing but what hee would be call'd, and you can hardly miscall him; for indeed he is almost any thing but what he would be thought to bee. A Gentile thing, made to weare fine cloathes, and throw away much money: to eat the best, and drinke the best, and doe the worst: one that seemes to have been sent into the world, to help away with the su∣perfluities of Nature; and by his Intempe∣rance to devour all those temptations which might allure others to the like Sinne. He knowes no shame but that which arises from singularity, nor any singularity, but in doing and living well.

§. 8. A more particular application of this Character to our present English Gentleman.

It has, alas, been but too true in all Ages, that to be Great, and to be Good, are two: and never was there a more unde∣nyable

Demonstration of this truth, then in the praesent Gentleman of England; to the no lesse dishonour of the whole Nation, then Disparagement of his own name in particular. Whilest there is nothing more his talke and his boasting, then his blood and his Breeding, and yet nothing lesse his Care then to Dig∣nifie the one, or make a right use of the other, How few of those Gentlemen have we now to show, who dare make it their buesinesse, and their Glory to be serviceable to their God, their Country, or the Church; or that have breasts full of that Heroick Courage and magnanimity, that may embolden them to re∣nounce a sin that is profitable or in Fashion? How rarely are the men to be met with, who indeed have a reall sense of any thing, but their Meat, their Drink, their Appa∣rell, and their Game! Except you will In∣stance in some of their most notorious vi∣ces, wherein indeed they do too truly aemu∣late, and labour to outvie each other.

Heretofore when this shatter'd Nation was a well cemented Kingdome, and enjoy'd those (then slighted, but now much desired) blessings of peace and plenty▪ how by a stu∣dy'd abuse of those great mercies did the

Gentleman even Dare Allmighty God to pu∣nish him or his Nation! And now that a sad and long experience of their Contraries, has made him feel, though he will not yet be truly sensible of, the lamentable Conse∣quents and effects of his former Bold Wick∣ednesses; how does he insteed of Confes∣sions, petitions and vowes, draw up, as it were, his Remonstrances against his God, and wages an open warre with Heaven, endeavouring to force the Almighty unto a Composition and that upon the most unacceptable termes in the world? It is too manifest (alas) to a∣ny eye, how little Holinesse has been the Product of those Iudgments which have doubtlesse, among other sins, been the especi∣all punishments of the Gentleman's Luxury and prophanenesse. Wee here him indeed very frequently crying out upon these sad times, but too seldome reflecting upon those much worse men who occasion'd them. Like a Churlish Dog, Snarling at him that beats him, but never considering whose the fault was that caused the beating. I know not I confesse what should make the Gentleman so Atheisticall in all his Actions, as either formerly he has been, or now is; Except

God's mercy on the one hand perswaded him he could never be provoked unto Iudg∣ment; or his Iudgments on the other that he can never be reconciled in mercy; except he dares think the Benefits he formerly enjoy∣ed greater then a just God could possibly conferre upon so unworthy a sinner; or the present Iudgments he now smarts under, ra∣ther the Crossenesse of an unkind fortune, then the tokens of the Incensed wrath of an Angry God. Whence else should he be ei∣ther so stupid or unnaturall, as neither to live thankfully under the former, nor penitently under the latter?

§. 9. The Winner and the Looser in these times.

I find two sorts of such Gentlemen, one is the Winner the other is the Loser in this late game (for indeed we have all along sported our selves in our own Miseries) which has been plaid in England.

The former of these thinks himselfe much too happy already, to become now Holy. The Fortunate successe which he hath had in his sins, makes him onely repent that he practi∣sed

them no sooner; and the taking way of Religious pretences, makes him sorry for no∣thing but that he was no Earlier an Hypo∣crite: It is a very sad thing to Consider what foul tricks this Politick Jugler every day plaies behind the glorious hangings of these Religious pretences: what deadly poysons he has sent abroad into the world in this perfumed breath. This Gentleman's onely Religion is his Art of Dissimulation; the faire gilt which makes his Copper Coyn to passe so Currently. O what a Chargable commodity has this Legerdemain been to our little world! Whilest they who have it, purchased it at no lower rate, then that of all sincerity and honesty; and they that will live safe by them, must become as very knaves as themselves. That Garment of Religion which is now worne and in Fashion with these men, is of a very slight stuffe, and indeed by long wearing and often piecing is so very full of diversly colour'd patches, that it is hard to say which is that, which be∣long'd at first to the whole: And whence is all this, but from the Gentleman's scorning the good and strong lineing of Morality (so much now adaies decried by the most)

which would have held all much Lon∣ger together: he is the onely Saint in the world (if you'll believe himselfe) and the Morall-man is no companion for him. O how many faire Estates and Glorious Churches has this man's furious zeale redu∣ced to ashes? and yet, alas, the long promi∣sed Phoenix of Reformation appeares not yet. How many Palaces and Temples has his Pie∣ty defaced? How many rich treasuries has his self-denyall plunder'd? And whence all this, but because Robbery and Sacriledge are much more profitable appendages of his Re∣ligion, then the more castly formalities, and expensive superstitions of the other? To how many Sons of Rebellion has that one plausible pretence of Christian liberty, by this Gentle∣man, beene made the Mother! And yet for all this is our Freedome but still an Idaea, and our happinesse a Phancy.

How dearly has the Church paid for the New-coyning of this Language, and refining his prophanenesse and Ribaldry into Dissimu∣lation and Canting? O what an enriching Commodity is Hypocricy, which has set up so many Broken tradesmen in the world Com∣pleat Gentlemen? And extracted our most

refined Nobility' out of the very drosse of the People▪ Indeed if to be rich, be to be a Gentle∣man; if to be Crafty be to be Prudent; if to dissemble be the highway to be Sainted; and to be Fortunate the sole Foelicity, which ter∣minates the hopes, and must crowne the en∣deavours of a Christian: If the feares and cowardice of fools and sinners, and the scorne and pitty of the wise and good, will make a man truly Honourable, who hath no foundati∣on of his owne wherupon to build a Reputa∣tion; then is this prosperous and thriving Gentleman, and none but such as he, the true Gentleman of our Nation.

But the Gentleman on the losing side will, I know, think it too much (and well he may) that another should grow so honourable at his cost and charges, and give him so few thanks for his honour when he has it. He is no lesse troubled to thinke how hee shall yield him so much Honour now, then he was to part with his estate to him a while agoe. But then, alas, what does this Gentleman, who (with no small passion) calls himselfe a loser, towards the regaining of what hee has lost? truly just the same, which at first occa∣sion'd the losse it selfe: as if not being Evill,

but Evill to a lesse degree had beene the onely cause of all his sufferings; and the way to re∣move his afflictions were to be ten times more a sinner then before: He so behaves him∣selfe under the correcting hand of God, as if he thought, the mercifull God did onely chastise his children to make them cry and complaine of his unkindnesse, not at all to make them sensible of their errours, or for∣sake their wickednesse. Certainly such a re∣sentment of God's dealings with us is a stub∣bornnesse, not a poenitence; and such a prae∣posterous improvement of God's deserved judgements, is the way to provoke him unto more and greater, not to perswade him to withdraw the lesse and lighter. O that the suffering Gentleman would but seriously think of this! who growes daily (as 'tis vi∣sible in all his actions) worse by Correction; and only swears at, and Curses his Oppressors, insteed of fasting and praying for the pardon of his Offences. He takes it to be an unde∣niable priviledg of Loosers to talk what they list, though never so prophanely: and looks upon this time of his sorrowes as the chiefe opportunity of serving himselfe, and easing his heart by all kinds of merriment: and there∣fore

he makes hast to drink and play away his Cares and the scant reliques of his estate together. Neither yet can I believe he would be halfe so bad as he is, were it not more in opposition to his Enemy, then out of love to his own vices. He often abhorres and abstains from the vices of other men, not (as good Christians doe) for the sin's sake but for the sinner's; from whom he endea∣vours to set himselfe at such a distance, that he never rests 'till he be gotten into the Contrary extreme, and often into the more Scandalous though not alwaies the more dangerous of the two. As if vice could have no opposite but of it's own name, nor any means were left him to become one way better then his adversaries, but by being a∣nother way worse. Was the former an Hy∣pocrite? He, left he should be thought so too, will be Openly prophane. If the one will not sweare or kisse the booke when call'd to it by a lawfull Authority; the other to be Crosse will sweare a thousand Idle Oaths against God's expresse Command. Thus betwixt them doe they labour to show the world what a Latitude there is in A∣theisme.

I might to these very seasonably here adde a third person, one that has plaid his Cards so well, that he is neither Loser nor Winner in this Sad Game. One, who (I am sure) has done as little Good, as he thinks he has done hurt to any body: who still makes a shift to lie lurking in some hole or other 'till the sport (as he calls it whilest it touches not him) may be over, so he can but sleep in an whole skin, and with a full purse, he takes no thought how the world goes: What my thoughts are of this Quiet Soul, I shall have told you sufficiently by saying thus much, he loves his ease and safety better then his God. If you desire to read him more at large, I must intreat you to cast your eye a little back, and with the Provi∣dent, Prudent or Peaceable Gentleman you will be sure to find him.

§. 9. How Good English men such Gentlemen are.

And now (Sir) how much reason the poore Church or Kingdome of England has to brag of her Gentry, I think I have abun∣dantly told you. Her richest Sons doe not

alwaies prove the most affectionate and Na∣turall to their Disconsolate Mother. But indeed daily aggravate her griefe and Sor∣row, by their prodigall courses and most Bar∣barous behaviour. What do they lesse then with the ungratefull Mule, hourly kick at the paps which gave them Suck? And with the bloody Tyrant whose Character it was, to be a lump of dirt kneeded up toge∣ther in blood, they have torne out the very Bowels of a most Compassionate and Indul∣gent Mother. Our Church may very well complain of some who would be thought her own Sons, as God of his ungratefull people of old, She has brought up Children and they have rebelled against her, and among all the sons she has nursed up, there is none to pitty her or lead her by the hand. When they were full and waxen fat, then they forgat God; and now that some of them are leane enough, nay as the fat kine in Pharaohs vision, even eaten up of the very leanest Cattell in the Nation; yet being so many waies smit∣ten they do but revolt more and more. It will be a mercy rather then a Iudgment, if God vouchsafe to smite them once again.

Thus, whilest one is Ignorant and can doe

nothing, another Lazy and will do nothing, a third Cowardly and dare do nothing: whi∣lest one is so Prudent he thinks it not wise∣dome, another so Covetous he holds it not providence, a third so Lordly he accounts it below him to doe any thing but what may foment his own sinfull inclinations: Whilest one is too voluptuous, another too worldly, a third too ambitious; whilest one has a Wife, another a Farme, a third a Dog, and the fourth a Pot; It will ever either misbe∣seem their Dignity, or Crosse their Interest, or hinder their Calling, or Injure their Fa∣milies, or thwart their Humours (and indeed there's the main let of all the rest) to follow Christ or take care of his Spouse. God give them grace betimes to love her better in whose armes alone they can hope to be safe from the roaring Lion; and to abandon those Dal••laes which so long as they Court, they can neither love Her, nor secure them∣selves! In a word, I shall put up for them a short prayer but a full one, if they would but understand it—God make them all such as Gentlemen should be! And what that is, I shall now endeavour, to the best of my skill, to tell you: though both for want of

Age and breeding, I must necessarily come as farre short of him I would describe, as I have been all this while above that other, whom our Nation had been more happy ne∣ver to have known. The Gentleman's vertues are as much above my reach, as the Gallants braveries below his Imitation.