Playes written by the thrice noble, illustrious and excellent princess, the Lady Marchioness of Newcastle.

PROLOGUE.

THE Poetress sayes, that if the Play be bad, She's very sorry, and could wish she had A better plot, more wit and skill to make A Play that might each several humour take; But she sayes, if your humours are not fixt, Or that they are extravagantly mixt; Impossible a Play for to present With such variety, and temperiment; But some will think it tedious, or find fault, Say the Design or Language is stark naught; Besides, the loose unsetled brains, she fears Seeth with squint eyes, and hears with Asses ears; But she is confident all in this round, Their understandings clear, and judgements sound; And if her Play deserves not praise, she knows They'l neither scoff in words, nor preposterous shows: Without disturbance, you will let it dye, And in the Grave of silence let it lye.

Youths Glory, and Deaths Banquet.

THE FIRST PART.

• 1. THe Lord de L'amour.
• 2. Sir Thomas Father Love.
• 3. Master Comfort, Sir Thomas Father Loves Friend.
• 4. Master Charity, the Lord de L'amours Friend.
• 5. Adviser, the Lord de L'amours man.
• 6. A Iustice of Peace.

• 1. The Queen Attention.
• 2. The Lady Incontinent, Mistriss to the Lord de L'amour.
• 3. The Lady Mother Love, wife to Sir Thomas Father Love.
• 4. The Lady Sanparelle, daughter to Sir Thomas Father, and Lady Mo∣ther Love.
• 5. The Lady Innocence, the assianced Mistriss or Wife to the Lord de L'amour.
• 6. Passive, the Lady Innocences maid:
• 7. Falshood, an informer to maids of the Lady Incontinent.
• ...Physitians.
• ...Natural Philosophers, Moral Phi∣losophers, young Students.
• ...Souldiers, Lovers, Mourners, Vir∣gins, Servants and others.

ACT I.

Scene 1.

Enter Sir Thomas Father Love, and his wife, the Mother Lady Love.

MOther Love,

Husband, you have a strange nature, that ha∣ving but one child, and never like to have more, and this your childe a daughter; that you should breed her so strictly, as to give her no time for recreation, nor no li∣berty for company, nor freedom for conversation, but keeps her as a Prisoner, and makes her a slave to her book, and your tedious moral discourses, when other children have Play-fellows, and toyes to sport and passe their time withall.

Father Love.

Good wife be content, doth not she play when she reads books of Poetry, and can there be nobler, amiabler, finer, usefuller, and wi∣ser companions than the Sciences, or pleasanter Play-fellows than the Muses; can she have freer conversation, than with wit, or more various recreations than Scenes, Sonets and Poems; Tragical, Comical, and Musical, and the like; Or have prettier toyes to sport withall, than fancie, and hath not the liberty so many hours in the day, as children have to play in.

Mother Love.

Do you call this playing? which sets her brain a wor∣king to find out the conceits, when perchance there is none to find out, but are cheats, and cozens the Readers with empty words, at best, it sills her head but with strange phantasmes, disturbs her sleep with frightfull dreams of transformed bodyes of Monsters, and ugly shaped vices of Hells and Furies, and terrifying Gods of Wars and Battles, of long travels, and dangerous escapes, and the pleasantest is but dark groves, gloomy fields, and the hap∣piest condition; but to walk idly about the Elizium fields; and thus you breed your daughter, as if your Posterity were to be raised from a Poets phantastical brain.

Father Love.

I wish my Posterity may last but as long as Homers lines.

Mother Love.

Truly, it will be a fine airey brood! No no, I will have her bred, as to make a good houswife, as to know how to order her Family, breed her Children, govern her Servants, entertain her Neighbours, and to fashion herself to all companies, times and places, and not to be mewed and moped up, as she is from all the World, insomuch, as she never saw twen∣ty persons in one company in all her life, unless it be in pictures, which you set her to stare on above an hour everyday: Besides, what Father doth edu∣cate their Daughters, that office belongs to me; but because you have ne∣ver a Son to tutor, therefore you will turn Cotqucan, and teach your daugh∣ter, which is my work.

Father Love.

Let me tell you, Wife, that is the reason all women are fools; for women breeding up women, one fool breeding up another, and as long as that custom lasts there is no hopes of amendment, and ancient cu∣stoms

being a second nature, makes folly hereditary in that Sex, by reason their education is effeminate, and their times spent in pins, points and laces, their study only vain fashions, which breeds prodigality, pride and en∣vie.

Mother Love.

What? would you have women bred up to swear, swag∣ger, gaming, drinking, Whoring, as most men are?

Father Love.

No, Wife, I would have them bred in learned Schools, to noble Arts and Sciences, as wise men are.

Mother Love.

What Arts? to ride Horses, and fight Dewels.

Father Love.

Yes, if it be to defend their Honour, Countrey and Reli∣gion; For noble Arts makes not base Vices, nor is the cause of lewd actions, nor is unseemly for any Sex; but baseness, vice and lewdnesse, invents un∣handsome and undecent Arts, which dishonours by the practice either Sex.

Mother Love.

Come, come, Husband, I will have her bred, as usually our Sex is, and not after a new fashioned way, created out of a self-opiniated, that you can alter nature by education: No, no, let me tell you, a woman will be a woman, do what you can, and you may assoon create a new World, as change a womans nature and disposition.

Enter the Lady Sanspareille, as to her Father, as not thinking her Mother was there.

Sanspareille.

O, Father! I have been in search of you, to ask you a que∣stion concerning the Sun.

When she sees her Mother, she starts back.

Mother.

What have you to do with the Sun, and lives in the shade of the Worlds obscuritie.

Sansp.

VVhy, Madam? where would you have me live? can I live in a more serene aire, than in my Fathers house, or in a purer, or clearer light, than in my Parents eyes, or more splendrous, than in my Parents com∣pany.

Mother.

I would have you live at Court there, to have honour, favour and grace; and not to lose your time ignorantly, knowing nothing of the VVorld, nor the VVorld of you.

Sansp.

Can I live with more honour, than with my Father, and You, or have more favour than your loves; or is there a greater grace, than to be Daughter of vertuous Parents; can I use, or imploy my time better, than to obey my Parents commands? need I know more than honesty, modesty, ci∣vility and duty: As for the VVorld, mankind is so partial to each self, as they have no faith on the worth of their Neighbour, neither doth they take no∣tice of a Stranger, but to be taken notice of.

Mother Love.

Yes, yes, your beauty will attract eyes and ears, which are the doors to let in good opinion, and admiration.

Sansp.

Had I a tongue like a Cerces-wand to charm all ears that heard me, it would staight transform men from civil Obligers, to spitefull Detractors, or false Slanderers; my beauty may only serve but as a bribe to tempt men, to intrap my youth, and to betray my innocency.

Mother.

To betray a fools-head of your own! Lord! Lord! how the

dispositions of Youth is changed since I was young! for before I came to your Age, I thought my Parents unnaturall, because they did not provide me a Husband.

Sanspareille.

If all youth were of my humour, their dispositions are chang∣ed indeed; for Heaven knows, it is the only curse I fear, a Husband.

Mother Love.

Why? then you think me curst in Marrying your Fa∣ther.

Sansp.

No Madam, you are blest, not only in being a Wife, (a condition you desired) but being marryed to such a man that wishes could not hope for.

Mother Love.

Why then, my good Fortune may encourage you, and raise a hope to get the like.

Sansp.

O no! It rather drives me to dispair, beleiving there is no se∣cond.

Mother Love.

Come, come, you are an unnatural Child to flatter your Father so much, and not me, when I endured great pains to breed, bear, and nurse you up.

Sansp.

I do not flatter, Madam, for I speak nothing but my thoughts, and that which Love and duty doth allow, and truth approve of.

Father Love.

Come, come Wife, the Jeerals wit will out-argue both ours.

Ex.

Scene 2.

Enter the Lord de l' Amour, and the Lady incontinent.

LAdy Incontinent.

Have I left my Husband, who was rich, and used me well? and all for love of you! and with you live as a VVanton! by which I have lost my esteem, and my honest reputation, and now to be for∣saken, and cast aside, despised and scorned! O, most base! for what can be more unworthy, than for a man to profess friendship to a Lady, and then forsake her?

Lord de l' Amour.

Madam, you do me wrong, for my heart is as firmly yours, as ever it was, and burns with as clear a flame, as ever it did.

Lady Incontinent.

It is not like it will continue so, since you now are resol∣ved to marry.

Lord de l' Amour.

The reasons are so powerfull, that perswades me, by rea∣son there is none lest of my Family besides my self; and my Fathers com∣mands so terrifying, and my vows so binding, as I know not how to avoid it.

Lady Incontinent.

But since your Father is dead, what need you fear his commands, and for your vows, those may be dispenced with, for a summe of money to the Church for the poor.

Lord de l' Amour.

But would you have me cut off the line of my Poste∣rity by never marrying?

Lady Incontinent.

Perchance, if you marry, you may have no children, or your wife may prove barren, or if you have children, they may prove fools; for she you are affianced to, is none of the wisest.

Lord de l' Amour.

That is none of my fault.

Lady Incontinent.

But why will you marry so soon?

Lord de l' Amour.

I will not marry yet, for my affianced is young, and well may stay two or three years.

Lady Incontinent.

But if you will not marry her this two or three years, why must she come to live with you in your house.

Lord de l' Amour.

By reason her Father is newly dead, and hath left her to my protection, as having right to her, and by her, to her estate.

Lady Incontinent.

And when she comes, I must deliver up the rule and government of your house and Family to her; for I suppose you will make her the Mistriss to command, dispose and order as she pleaseth.

Lord de l' Amour.

By no means, for you that are the Mistriss of my heart, shall also be Mistriss of my Estate.

Lady Incontinent.

Then pray give her to my charge and education; for I hear she is of a high spirit, and a proud heart, being spoyled with self-will, given her by the fondnesse of her Father.

Lord de l' Amour.

Pray order her as you think good, she shall be your hand-maid.

Exeunt

Scene 3.

Enter the Lady Sanspareille, repeating some verses of her own making.

SAnspareille.

Here flows a Sea, and there a sire doth flame, Yet water and fire still is but the same: Here the sixt earth, and there the aire streams out, All of one matter moving round about; And thus the earth, and water, sire and aire, Out of each others shapes transformed are.

Enters her Mother, and hears her last verse.

Mother.

I am sure you are transformed from what you should be, from a sober, young maid, to a Stage-player, as to act Parts, speak Speeches, rehearse Verses, sing Sonets, and the like,

Sansp.

Why, Madam; Stages and publick Theaters, were first ordained and built, for the education of noble youth, where they might meet to pra∣ctise how to behave themselves civily, modestly, gently, comely, gracefully, manly, and majestically; to speak properly, timely, fitly, eloquently, ele∣gantly, tunably, tonably, readily, sagely, wittily. Besides, Theators were not only Schools to learn or practise in, but publick patterns to take example from; Thus Theaters were profitable, both to the Actors and Spectators; for as these Theaters were publick Schools, where noble principles were taught, so it was the dressing rooms of vertue, where the Actors, as her Ser∣vants did help to set her forth. Also these Theaters were as Scaffolds, where∣on vices were publickly executed; and, Madam, if you please but to consi∣der,

you will perceive, that Thrones are but glorious Theaters, where Kings and Princes, and their Courtiers acts their parts; likewise places of Judica∣ture, are but places where Judges and Lawyers acts their parts; Nay, even Churches are but holy Theaters, where the Priest and People acts their de∣vout parts. But, Madam, you mistake, making no difference betwixt the noble and base, the generous and mercenary; for, shall all noble persons that fights dewels of honour, be call'd Fencers; or shall a King, when he runs at the Ring, or Tilt, shall he be called a Jockey, or Post, when he rides hor∣ses of Manage, shall he be a Quirry, or a Rider; or shall Kings, Princes or noble Persons, that dances, sings, or playes on Musick, or presents themselves in Masks, be thought, or called Dancers, or Fidlers, Morris-dancers, Stage-players, or the like, as in their masking attire: No those are Riders, Fencers, Dancers, Fidlers, Stage-players, and the like, that are mercenary, setting Ver∣tuosus to sale, making a mercenary profit, and living thereof; but if such opi∣nions should be held, then no Vertuosus should be learn'd of noble Persons, because there are mercenary Tutours and Teachers, nor no arts understood, because of Mechanicks, nor no Sciences understood, because of Pedants, nor no manners, nor gracefull behaviours practised because of Players, nor none must write, because of Clerks, nor none must pray because of beneficed Priests, nor there must none understand the Laws, or plead their own causes, because of feed Lawyers; if these opinions or rules were followed, all the nobler and better sort, would be boars, clowns and fools, nor no civility, good manners, nor vertues would be known amongst them.

Mother.

Well, well, I will have you shew your self, and be known, and I known by you; for why should not I be as ambitious to be praised in your beauty, as your Father in your wit; but by that time you have gotten a suffi∣cient stock of wit to divulge to the World, your beauty will be dead and buried, and so my ruines will have no restoration, or resurrection.

Sansp.

Madam, I do humbly and dutifully acknowledge, that what beau∣ty or wit I have, it was derived from my Parents.

Mother.

Wherefore you ought to do, as your Parents will have you, and I say, I will have you be a Courtier.

Sansp.

Would you have me go to live at the Court, Madam?

Mother.

Yes marry would I.

Sansp.

And to do as Courtiers do?

Mother.

Yes marry would I.

Sansp.

Alas, Madam, I am unpractised in their arts, and shall be lost in their subtle and strange waies.

Mother.

Therefore I would have you go to learn them, that you may be as expert as the best of them, for I would have you shoot such sharp darts thorough your eyes, as may wound the hardest and obduratest hearts.

Sansp.

Amorous affections, Madam, and wanton glances are strangers to my eyes and heart; neither can I perswade nor command them to be other∣wise than they are.

Mother.

Why, I would not have you either wanton, or amorous, but to be kind and civil, to invite a rich, noble Husband.

Sansp.

Why, say I had the power to pick and choose amongst the noblest and the richest men, a Husband out, you cannot promise me a happy life, fortune may set a Crown of Diamonds on my head, yet prick my heart with thorns, bind up my spirits with strong chained fears, my thoughts imprisoned in dark melancholly, and thus my mind may prove

a Hell unto my life, and my Husbands actions devils to torment it.

Mother.

No disputing, but let my will be obeyed.

Sansp.

It is fit it should be by me, although it brings my ruine.

Lady Mother goes out.

Sanspareille alone.

Sanspareille.

Ioy gave me wings, and made my spirits fly, Hope gave me strength to set ambition high; Fear makes me old, as paulsie shakes each limb, My body weak, and both my eyes are dimb: Like to a Ball, which rackets beats about, So is my heart strucken twixt hope and doubt.

Ex.

Scene 4.

Enter the Lady Incontinent, and one of her women.

LAdy Incontinent.

I observe, the Lord de L'amour useth the Lady Inno∣cence with more respect than he was used to do; and I observe his eyes meets her when she comes in place where he is, and follows her whereso∣ever she goeth, and when she stands still, they are sixt upon her.

Woman.

Truly she hath power, if she will put it in force to command a heart, at least to perswade a heart to love her; for certainly, she is very beau∣tifull, if it were not obscured under a sad countenance, as the Sun behind a dark cloud; but sometimes, do what she can in despite of her sadnesse, it will keep out, and the other day when you were gone abroad, I saw her dance, sing and play on a Gittur••, all at one time.

Lady Incontinent.

And how did it become her?

Woman.

Truly, she sung so sweetly, played so harmoniously, danced so gracefully, and looked so beautifully, that if I had been a man, I should have been in love with her.

Lady Incontinent.

I charge you break her Gittar, tell her she sings not well, and that her dancing doth ill-become her.

Woman.

Perchance she will not believe me.

Lady Incontinent.

Oh yes, for youth are credulous, even against them∣selves.

Exeunt.

ACT II.

Scene 5.

Enter the Lady Sanspareille, and walks a turn or two, as contem∣plating.

SAnspareille.

Ambitious thoughts flyes high, yet never tires, Wing'd with the swiftest thoughts of desires; Then thoughts of hopes runs busily about, Yet oft are stop'd with thoughts of fear and doubt, And thoughts of mirth and melancholly strives, All thoughts are restless till the body dyes.

Enter Sir Father Love.

Father Love.

My childe, it is a sign you are melancholly, that you are in a poetical vain.

She weeps.

Father.

Why do you weep?

Sansp.

Melancholly thoughts makes tears to flow thorough my eyes.

Father.

Melancholly! why, thou art not come to the years of melan∣cholly; 'tis aged brows on which sad Saturn sets, and tired thoughts on which he reigns, and on grieved heart his heavy taxes layes; but those that are young, he leaves to other powers, neither hath fortune set her turning foot upon thy head, for thou art in the same worldly condition that thou wert born to; wherefore thy mind may be quiet, and thy thoughts merry and free.

Sansp.

Surely, sir, it is not alwaies age, nor yet cross fortunes that clouds the mind, for some are old and mean, poor and despised, yet merry, and hu∣mours gay, and some are young and fairer, and rich, and well esteemed, ho∣noured and loved, and yet their thoughts dejectedly doth move, and humour dull as lead; 'tis nature makes melancholly, neither age nor evil fortune brings it.

Father.

But what makes thee sad, my child?

Sansp.

Ambition, Sir.

Father.

What doth your ambition aim at? If it be honour, I have an E∣state will buy thee an honourable Husband; if it be riches, I will be saving, and live thriftily, if it be gallantry, or bravery, I will maintain thee at the hight of my fortune, wear Frieze my self, and adorn thee in Diamonds, Silver and Gold.

Sanspareille.

Heaven forbid! that my vanity should prodigally spend your Estate, or my covetousnesse pinch and starve your Life, or that my pride should be match'd with noble honour, which should be as humble as great.

Father.

It cannot be for wit and beauty, for, surely nature hath made her self poor, by giving you so much.

Sansp.

My dear Father, know it is fame I covet, for which were the am∣bitions of Alexander and Caesar joyned into one mind, mine doth exceed them, as far as theirs exceeded humble spirits, my mind being restless to get the highest place in Fames high Tower; and I had rather fall in the adventure, than never try to climb; wherefore, it is not titled Honour, nor Wealth, nor Bravery, nor Beauty, nor Wit that I covet, but as they do contribute to adorn merit, which merit is the only foundation whereon is built a glorious fame, where noble actions is the architectour thereof, which makes me de∣spairingly melancholly, having not a sufficient stock of merit, or if I had, yet no waies to advance it; but I must dye like beasts, forgotten of mankind, and be buried in Oblivions grave.

Father.

If it be fame my child covets, it is a noble ambition; and Heaven pardon me, if I speak vain-gloriously of what is my own, yet I speak but my opinion, when I say, I do believe there is none so fit to raise a fame, as thou art.

Sansp.

Sir, your love speaks, as willing to incourage me; but know Sir; it is not a vulgar fame I covet, for those that goeth with equal space, and even hights, are soon lost, as in a crowd or multitude; but when fame is inthron'd, all Ages gazes at it; and being thus supremly plac'd up high; Like as an Idol, gets Idolatry: Thus singularity as well as merit, advances fame.

Father.

Child, thou speakest alwaies reason, and were my life the only singular way to raise thy fame, thou shouldst have it.

Sansp.

Heaven forbid! For that would raise my infamie, if I should build upon my Fathers noble life. But, Sir, do you love me?

Father.

Yes, above my life! for thou art the life of my life!

Sansp.

Do you love me as well as you think you could your Grand-chil∣dren?

Father.

No comparison can be made, for thou art come immediately from my loynes, those but from the Ioines of my Issue, which is estranged from me, and for their affections, Grand-childrens is but weak, only they keep alive my name, not love, for that dyes in the second descent, and many times the first.

Sansp.

But, Sir; would not you think me strangely unnatural, and unwor∣thy of your love, to wish or desire you to break the line of your Posterity, and bury succession in my grave?

Father.

Unnatural! no, for your vertue can ask nothing of me, that my love will think unreasonable to give, and for my Posterity, I had rather it should end with merit, than run on in follies; or who knows but their evil or base actions may blemish all their Predecessours; besides, it is with succes∣sion, as with a married pair; for if the wife be chast, the World will give the honour only to the woman, but if she be false, the World will lay the disgrace on the Husband, and think she sees some defect, which makes her prefer another before him. So in succession, if their succession proves fools, cowards, avaricious, treacherous, vitious, or the like, the World straight judges these imperfections and vices were in hereditarie, and that they were attaint, or stained from the root or stock, but if they prove wise, valiant, generous, just, or the like, they think they were particular gifts of nature, or education, thus the faults of succession many descents after, may darken like black clouds, the bright light of their Predecessours worth and merit; Besides, there is no certainty of a continued line, nor doth many children give an assurance to their Father at the day of his death; for when he dyes, doubts closes his

eyes, and fears blowes out lifes fire, therefore I had rather live in thy fame, than live or dye in an infamous and foolish succession.

Sansp.

Heaven make me thankfull that my desires and my fathers ap∣provement agrees. Sir, you have not only bred me with a tender love, but with a prudent Industry. And I have followed your instruction with a Reli∣gious Ceremony. Keept to your principles with a pious Conscience, and since nature and education hath joyned together in my tender years, to make my life propitious; If fortune favour me, and opportunity promote me; but we are to consider which way I shall steer the course of my life, and if you will please I will tell you how I have designed my voyage.

Father.

Heaven prosper the through it, and send the a safe passage, where∣soever thou adventurest.

Sansp.

Then first, it is to be considered, I am but a small and weak vessell, and cannot swim upon the rough and boysterous Seas, which are pitcht fields, and fighting Armyes, wherein I shall be shattered in the croud, and drowned in the confusion of disorder, wherefore I must swim in the calm rivers of peace where their is no such storms, nor high billows, only some cross winds may chance to rise, which may hinder me but not drown me; this calm river is a Theater, and the rough Sea as I said a pitcht field; my self the ship, you the steeradg, and fame the port, then thus I will relate how I have designed the voyage of my life; first never to marry, if I may have your consent to live a single life, for that time which will be lost in a married condition, I will study and work with my own thoughts, and what new In∣ventions they can find out, or what probabilityes they conceive, or phancies they create, I will publish to the world in print before I make them common by discourse, but if I marry, although I should have time for my thoughts and contemplations, yet perchance my Husband will not approve of my works, were they never so worthy, and by no perswasion, or reason allow of there publishing; as if it were unlawfull, or against nature, for Women to have wit. And strives allwayes if their wives have wit, to obscure it. And I am of that opinion, that some men are so inconsiderately wise, gravely fool∣ish and lowly base, as they had rather be thought Cuckolds, than their wives should be thought wits, for fear the world should think their wise, the wi∣ser of the two; and that she rules, and governs all the affairs at home; for most men, rather than they will not shew their power, and Authority, will appear a Quat-queen, that is an effeminate scold. Secondly, I will not receive, nor give private vissits, or entertainments; but from those, and to those, that duty, and gratitude and loyalty enjoyns me; for in private visits, or enter∣tainments, is onely so much time stuft with senceless, vain, idle, light discour∣ses, or flattering compliments, wherein time and life is unprofitably lost. Thirdly, I would never speak but in publick, for if nature, and education, have given me wit, I would not willingly bury it in private discourses; be∣sides, privat hearers are secret Thieves, and boldly steals, having no witnesses, to betray, or reveale the truth, or divuldge their thefts; and so they will adorn their discourses with my wit, which they steal from me. Fourthly, I will ne∣ver speak of any considerable matter, or subject, or of any new conception; but I will have them ready writ to print them, so soon as my discourse of them is past, or else print them before I discourse of them; and afterwards explain them by my tongue, as well as by my pen, least they should mistake the sence of my workes, through Ignorance; for those subject; that are only discourst off, in speach, flyes away in words; which vanisheth as smoak, or

shadows, and the memory or remembrance of the Author, or Oratour, melts away as oyle, leaving no sign in present life, or else moulders as dust, leaving no Monument to after-posterity, to be known or remembred by; when write∣ing, or printing, fixes it to everlasting time, to the publick view of the World; besides, a passing discourse makes the tongue, but as an Almner, to give wit to poor Sharkes to feed them; which Sharkes eats, without giving praise or thankes, never acknowledging at whose cost they live at: Nay, so unthank∣full they are, that they will bely the Authors and themselves; saying, it was their own; and it is a certain rule, that those Authors they steal most from, they will dispraise, and rale most at: And some are so foolish, and of such short memoryes, that they will repeat the Authors wit, to the Authors self; and as confident, as it had been created, or invented, out of their own brains. Fifthly, I will select times, for several discourses and subjects, to discourse in publick, to several Audiences; to which, you may, if you please, invite the grave and wise, to hear me, and being a woman Oratour, the singularity will advance my fame the more; besides, many accidents may we chance to meet, which may prove as steps to ascend, or Mount up. Thus Sir, if you please to approve of my design, I shall follow the means, or wayes unto it; if not, I shall submit to what you shall think will be better for me.

Father.

I do approve of your design so well, as I cannot but admire it. And I believe the best designer that ever was, never cast such a mould, or laid such a plot, or drew such a draught, to raise a fame on; or to work a fame out.

Sansp.

But Sir, you must arm yourselfe against all oppositions, and Bara∣codo your ears against all cross perswaders; and muster your forces of hopes, drawing them into a body of confidence, and march with a resolution, either to dye in the adventure, or to triumph with victory, and to live ever∣lastingly, in a glorious fame; for Sir, we shall meet wranglers, and jesters, scorners, and scoffers, disputers, and opposers, contradictors and lyers; which envy and malice will bring against us, but consider Sir, that when the foot of fame hath trod upon the tongue of envy, it will be silent.

Father.

Never fear me child, if thou faintest not.

Sansp.

I fear not my self, for I have an undoubted faith, that the Child of such a father can neither be a Coward, nor a fool; for from you I receive a value or prize, although of my self I should be worth nothing; and Parents and Children may speak freely their thoughts, let them move which way they will, for Children ought not to conceal them; but if deceit must be used: let it be with strangers not friends.

Father.

O Child! thou hast spoke but what I thought on, and the very same I wisht; finding thy tongue volable, thy voyce tuneable, thy speech eloquent, thy wit quick, thy expressions easy, thy conceits and conceptions new, thy fancies curious and sine, thy Inventions subtle, thy dispositions sweet and gentle, thy behaviour gracefull, thy countenance modest, thy per∣son beautifull, thy yeares young; all this I thought to my self might raise the a Trophy, when a Husband would bury the in his armes; and so thou to become thy own fames Tomb.

Sansp.

Oh! But how shall we pacify my mother, who is resolved not to be quiet, until I go to live at the Court; as likewise to marry.

Father.

I have thought of that, and you know that your mother is well bred, a tender mother and a chast wife; yet she is violent, and is not to be altered from her opinions, humours, and will, till time wearyes her out of

them, wherefore we must not oppose her; but rather sooth her in her hu∣mour, and for marrying, we will allwayes find some fault in the man, or his E∣state, person or breeding, or his humour; or his wit, prudence, temperance, courage, or conduct, or the like, which we may truly do without dissem∣bling; for I believe there is no man, but that some exceptions may be justly found to speak against him; but you and I will sit in Councel about it.

Ex.

Scene 6.

Enter the Lord de l' Amour, and meets the Lady Innocence.

LOrd de l' Amour.

Well met, for if accident had not befriended me, you would not have been so kind as to have met me; for I percieve you stri∣ved to shun me.

Lady Innocence.

The reason is, I was affraid my presence would not be acceptable.

Lord de l' Amour.

You never stay to try whether it would or not, but surely if your conversation be answerable to your beauty, your Company cannot but be pleasing.

Lady Innocence.

I doubt I am to young to be hansome, for time hath not shapt me yet into a perfect form, for nature hath but laid the draught, & mixt the collours, for time to work with, which he as yet hath neither placed, nor drawn them right, so that beauty in me is not as yet fully finished; and as my beauty, so I doubt my wit, is imperfect, and the ignorance of youth makes a discord in discourse, being not so experiencedly learned, nor artificially pra∣ctised, as to speak harmoniously, where the want makes my conversation dull with circumspection and fear; which makes my wordes flow through my lips, like lead, heavy and slow.

Lord de l' Amour.

Thy wit sounds as thy beauty appears, the one charms the eares, the other attracts the eyes.

Lady Innocence.

You have been more bountifull to me in your praises, than Nature in her gifts.

Lord de l' Amour.

Since I perceive you to be so pleasing, we will be better acquainted.

Ex.

Scene 7.

Enter 2. or 3. Philosophers.

This Scene of the Phylosophers the Lord Marquess writ.

1. PHilosopher.

Come my learned brothers, are we come now to hear a girle to read lectures of natu∣rall Philosophy to teach us? Are all our studyes come to this?

2. Philosopher.

Her doting father is to blame, he should be punished for this great affront, to us that's learned men.

3. Philosopher.

Philosophers should be men of yeares, with grave and Au∣ster lookes, whose countenances should like rigid lawes affright men from vanityes; with long wise beards, sprinkled with gray, that every hair might teach, the bare young Chins for to obey. And every sentence to be delive∣red like the Law, in flames and lightning, and flashes with great thunder, a foolish girle to offer for to read: O times! O manners!

1. Philosopher.

Beauty and favour and tender years, a female which na∣ture hath denyed hair on her Chin, so smooth her brow, as not to admit one Philosophycall wrinckle, and she to teach, a Monster tis in Nature; since Na∣ture hath denyed that sex that fortitude of brain.

2. Philosopher.

Counsel her father that her mother may instruct her in high huswifry, as milking Kyne, as making Cheese, Churning Butter, and raising past, and to preserve consectionary, and to teach her the use of her needle, and to get her a Husband; and then to practise naturall Philosophy without a Lecture.

3. Philosopher.

'Tis a prodigious thing, a girle to read Philosophy; O di∣vine Plato! how thy Soul will now be troubled, Diogenes repents his Tub, and Seneca will burn his bookes in anger. And old Aristotle wish he had never been the master of all Schooles, now to be taught, and by a girle.

1. Philosopher.

Have patience and but hear her, and then we shall have matter store to speak and write against her, and to pull down her fame; in∣deed her very lecture will disgrace her more than we can write, and be re∣venged thus by her tongue.

2. Philosopher.

Content, let us then go and hear her, for our sport, not be∣ing worth our anger.

Ex.

Here ends the Lord Marquess of Newcastle.

ACT III.

Scene 8.

Enter the Lady Innocence and her Maid.

MAid.

By my truth Mistriss the Lord de l' Amour is a fine person.

Lady Innocence.

The truth is, that he seems as if Nature had given to time the finest and richest stuff in her Shop, to make his person off, and time as the Tayler hath wrought and shapt his person into the most becom∣ing fashion; but yet, if his Soul be not answerable to his person, he is sine no otherwayes; but as a fashionable and gay sute of Cloath on a deformed body, the Cloathes may be fine and hansome, but the body ill favoured; so the body may be hansome, but the Soul a foul deformed creature.

Maid.

But a fine and hansome body may hide a deformed Soul, although a fine sute of Clothes will not hide a deformed body; for a deformed body will be perceived in dispight of the fine Clothes.

Lady Innocence

So will a deformed Soul in the dispight of a hansome body, for the Soul will appear in the Actions, as the body in the shape; being as crooked in vice as the body in Limbs.

Maid.

What is the actions of the Soul?

Lady Innocence.

The passions and will.

Maid.

But man obscures the passions and restrains the will.

Lady Innocence.

So man may obscure his body, and bombast his Cloathes; but it is as impossible to restrain an evil will, as to make a crooked body straight.

Ex.

Scene 9.

Enter Sir Thomas Father Love, bringing in the Auditours into a large roome, nobly furnished, where at one end or side is a place raised and railed with guilt rayles; for the Lady Sanspareille to stand on.

FAther Love.

Gentlemen, pray do not think me rude by drawing you from your serious studies, by an intruding invitation; to hear a young student discourse.

1. Philosopher.

'Tis true Sir, we should have been glad to have heard you discourse, for you might instruct us, where as a young student is rather to be instructed; for it is time that brings knowledg or gets wit, or speakes elo∣quently.

Father Love.

'Tis true, but yet in some naturall ingenuity it is as strong as time, and produceth that which time of it selfe could not do.

2. Philosopher.

Sir, if your young students wit, be as fine as her standing place, it will be delightfull.

3. Philosopher.

Sir, you have adorned her Theater to inthrone her wit.

Father.

Gentlemen. I wish her wit may furnish, and so adorn your under∣standing, but if you please to sit, such as it is, shall be presented to you.

Being all placed, the Lady Sanspereille enters upon the mounted place, drest all in black; fit for the gravity of the Company.

The Company upon her entrance seems to be struck with amaze of her beauty, they speak to her Father.

1. Philosopher.

Sir, we perceive now, you have invited us to feast our eyes, not our eares.

Father.

Gentlemen, if you please to give her so much patience to hear her, then judge, or censure, as you please.

Then they all cry Whist, Whist.

After the Lady by her Civill bows had given respect to all the Company, with a modest and amiable Countenance, with a gentle and well pleased eye, and a gracefull and winning behaviour, thus speaks.

Lady Sanspareile.

The Majesty of Age, and sage gravity, are objects able to put unexperienced and unpracticed youth out of Countenance; and bash∣fullness is the greatest enemy to discourse, for it discomposes the Counte∣nance, disturbes the thoughts, disorders the words, and confounds the sence therein; but youth hath many times this advantage, that it apprehends not the disgrace, that experienced years and deeper judgment doth; For the truth is, bashfullness proceeds from too great an apprehension; but I not appre∣hending far enough, may comit errours through a confident ignorance, but if you think my confidence too much, for my youth; yet pray judge not my modesty to litle for my Sex, for speaking belongs as much to the Female Sex as to the Masculine; so as it be on sober Subjects, and to grave Fathers, and wise men, or intruth to any degree of Age, or Sex, or Birth; so as it be timely, suitably, rationably, and modestly delivered; And why may not women speak in publick and to publick assemblies, as well as in privat visits, and particular entertainments, and to particular persons and acquaintance? And in reason it should be more commendable, that womens discourse and actions are such, as they fear no witness. Nay, they ought never to speak or shew themselves to those persons that are not domestick, without sufficient witness, for privat discourses, which are like whisperings, and secret meetings, and particular en∣tertainments, are subject to loos customs, rude behaviours, and lascivious dis∣courses, mischievous designes, and dangerous plots, all which takes leave without warrant, and assaults without warning; yet it is probable this Audi∣tory will think my Father is too indulgent to his Child, to let her to make publick Orations, or that he is too vain glorious, as to believe or hope his Child may get applause, or esteem in the world, by her discourses. But First, I must remember them, that it is naturall for Parents to be fond of their Children; Secondly, it is no crime nor indiscretion, for a Father to believe or think his Child may have as much wit as any other mans Child, if he have given as good education: Thirdly, it is not against nature and reason, but

that women may discourse of several subjects as well as men, and that they may have as probable opinions, and as profitable inventions, as fresh fancies, as quick wits, and as easy expressions, as men; if their education be answe∣rable to their naturall capacityes and ingenuityes; As for my selfe, I must tell this assembly, I have been bred industriously, for I have been instructed with as much knowledg as my yeares was capable to understand; but the truth is, that my educatours strove to ripen my understanding, before the naturall time, like those that hastens fruit to be ripe, forcing it by artificiall means, not staying for the naturall heat of the Sun, so was my understanding, like as the tree, and my wit as the fruit, by which it wants the Aromaticall, and delicious relish, that naturall time gives; which makes me fear, my wit will relish to the eares of the hearers, as such forced fruits to the tast of the eaters: I have only this request, that, though you may dislike it for want of the naturall sweetness; yet pray esteem of it for the rarity, as being not usuall for one of my years and Sex, to speak, argue, and make Orations in a publick assembly; but it is likely, this assembly may think this is a vain glorious Prologue, to my following discourse; But I must tell this worthy, grave, and learned, assem∣bly, that I am not bound to follow a vain custome, nay, I may say, a dishonest one, as when Oratours do dissemble, as on my Conscience most do, selfe love being naturall to all; besides, many times they disgrace their birth, by a dis∣sembling humbleness, and bely their thoughts, knowledge and education, when as they say, they are unworthy to speak to such an assembly; and that they are unlearned, their knowledg is little, their understanding dull, their judgment weak; their capacity narrow, and that they are unexperienced and unfurnished of expressions, to deliver the subject, or matter of their discourse; if this or the like which they say be true, they abuse the Auditory, and them∣selves, to invite them or draw them, to hear that, they think is not worth the listening to, and if they be not so (as they say) they bely the nature, and edu∣cation, which heaven forbid I should be so ungratefull to nature, so base to my birth, so undutifull to my Educatour, and so unthankfull to the Gods. No, no, I will not be so, for I will publickly acknowledg natures favours, who hath given me more wit, than time hath given me yeares; she hath furnish∣ed me with ingenuity, beyond an ordinary proportion, and hath drawn the plat form of my mind Mathematically, and pensiled me with her best coul∣lourd dyes, for which I am bound morally to serve her; As for my birth, as I am of the same kind of Mankind; I am equall with the rest, let my conditi∣on be never so poor, I have no reason to be ashamed of the Kind; but my birth is Honourable by length of time, as for my education, it hath been sin∣gular, having not been bred as other Children accustomarilie are, who hath liberty to fling away their youthfull time in idle sports, or useless learnings, and those that they are taught by, are young and unexperienced Tutours; but I must tell this worthy and experienced assembly, that I was not bred with powdered Curles, but silver hairs, Age, I bowed to, and obeyed with duty, Age, I viewed with respects, and listened to with attention; Age, directed my senses, manured my brain; pulled up, or out, the rootes of ignorance, and weedes of errours, sowed knowledg, and planted understanding; for, my educatour, which was my dear Father, hath been industrious, carefull, prudent, bountifull, and studious, for my improvement; for which my treble duty doth attend his life, and my prayers supplicates for to prolong it, which hea∣ven knows, I desire beyond my own; As for the Gods which gives all good, let those that dare be unthankfull, I dare not, such as Atheists that believes in

none; but pardon me for intruding one your patiences, with a tedious and self discourse, although I could not well avoid it, but now, with your leave, most Noble Auditours, I shall first treat of Nature, although Nature is an end∣less Theam to treat of; for though that the principles of Nature, or Natures principles may be easily numbred, yet the varietyes which change doth make on those principles are infinite; for well may Nature, if man by Art can make infinite varietyes, by change of few principles, as for example in musick, from 8. Notes, by change, infinite Tunes, are, or can be made; from the figure of 1. to 9. what Multiplication? From 24. letters, how far can the mind dictate it self in, numerous words, and different languages? Thus Nature the tutress to man, and onely man, have taught him to imitate her; for, though she is the Mother to all other Creatures, yet man is her beloved Child; for she, like as a fond parent, leads and directs man to discoveryes, and as it were, points and markes out their wayes, and as a diligent Tutress, explains and expounds her selfe by her works, and her several works, like as several books hath several prints, and are bound in several vollums, and are keep•• safe in several Libraryes, of several Ages, by aged time; but some∣times Nature behaves her selfe like a Huntress, and makes Mankind as her Hounds, to hunt out the hidden effects of unknown causes, leading Mankind by three several strings, as by the string of observation, the string of concepti∣on, and the string of experience, and as hounds snuffs and snuffels on the Paths they tread, so mans thoughts, like as hounds noses, are busily imployed. And as hounds springs out upon a following sent, and with open mouth makes a loud cry; so men, when they make any new discoveryes, divulges it with their voyces, or noyses of the tongue and pen; yet man at this hath no reason to take exceptions, because he gaineth knowledg thereby, and Nature may use her own as she pleases; but sometimes Nature is as a Paintress, and the mind of man is as the Copy of Nature, drawn by her selfe; for the mind of man is as infinite as Natures selfe, having no dimension, nor extension, and the thoughts are the infinite Creatures therein, and the brain is the ground to paint on, and the motions of life are the pensills to work, or draw with. And in these Copyes Nature views her selfe, yet all animal Creatures, espe∣cially Mankind, seems of a middle mixture, as, not so gross as the Earth, nor so pure as the Heavens, which is the cause man is difficult to some things, and easy to others; as it is easyer for the eyes to look down on the earth, than to stare up to the Heavens, and for the feet to step down on steps, than to step up on stayres, or for the whole body to slyde down a hill, than to clamber up a hill, so it is easier for life to slyde down to vice, than to mount up to virtue, for what is purest is still placed highest, that is the reason that the Coelestiall bodyes are placed ove••••••, as the Terrestriall body under us; and we being mixt, are placed in the midst: Upon this Text give me leave to treat of the two Globes, the Coelestiall, and the Terrestriall, in the Coelestiall, there are Se∣ven Worlds, where the Sun is the Center World, which being a flame, streams forth in lynes of light, upon the other Six Worlds; and as those Six Worlds, or the Seventh World, moves, so have they light or darkness; but the Sun which is the flaming World, or the World of flame, is fed as a Lamp with an oyly substance, from the other Six Worlds, which oyly sub∣stance the Sun sucks to him, from thence, by attracting Motions, these Six Worlds I will similize to Six Udders, paps, or breasts, from which the Sun, like as a young greedy appetite sucks, and draws out, each in their turns, and as I said by attraction, this oyly moisture, which oyly moisture is as the

milk; the Worldly Udders, or Uddery Worlds, doth as all Udders doth, which as soon as they are drawn dry fills again, and if they be not sufficiently drawn, their moisture grows thick and gross; like as crudled milk, which corrupts and becomes Ulcerous, from whence runs venemous matter, which falling down breeds amongst animals, many diseases as the rot murring, and the like amongst beasts; And amongst men the Smale pox, measels, and all sorts of feavers, even to the plague, & according as the corruptions are, or runs, the diseases are more dangerous, or less violenter, or weaker, lasts longer, or ends sooner; and if these Udders be drawn faster than they can be naturally filed, they become chopt and dry, empty and shrunk, which causeth dearth and famine; And though we cannot see a dearth in the face of the Moon, and the rest of the Planets, as on the face of the Earth, nor see famine in the face of the Moon, as in the face of a Man; yet for all we know, there may be dearths, plagues, and warres in those Planets, as in particular Kingdoms; although the Planets have no such Intelligences from each other, as particular Kingdoms hath; yet questionless they have Traffick and Commerce, though mankind cannot visibly perceive, which way, or by what means. Also the Planet••, by their circular motions, may draw up vapours from the Sea, and earth, like as the Wheels of water Mils. As for the Terrestriall globe, it turns upon a Pole, as a Pig upon a Spit, and the Sun is the fire that rosts it; but when the Sun is scorching hot, the earth like overroasted meat, it burnt and black, and when that over cold moist vapors, quenches out the heat of these firy beams, then is the earth as raw; but when as equall heat, at equall di∣stance, by equall Motions, agrees Simpathetically, then is the Terrestriall globe well drest, and full of gravy, which causes nurishing health; but to draw to a conclusion of my Philosophicall lecture, I will similize the Coelestiall, and Terrestriall globes, which globes, are as Man and Wife; the Coelestiall as the Husband, the Terrestriall as the Wife, which breeds and bears, what the Coe∣lestiall begets, For the Coelestiall and the Terrestriall globes are Natures work∣ing houses, where, Animals, Vegetables, and Minerals, are wrought into se∣veral figures, shapt, and formed into divers fashions, like as Smiths makes diverse fashioned things out of mettals, so Nature is as the Smith, the Earth as the mettal, the Sun as the fire, the Sea as the quenching water, the aire as the Bellows, youth is the Furnace; time is the Forge, and motion is the Ham∣mer, both to shape, and break assunder; but for fear I should break your patience, I shall desist from speaking any more at this time.

After a modest and humble respective bow to the assembly.

She goeth out.

The whilst the Audience holds up their hands in admiration.

1. Philosopher.

Now you have heard her, what do you say?

2. Philosopher.

I say let us go home and make a fune∣rall pile of our bookes,* 1.1 that are Philosophy, burn them to Ashes, that none may file as Phenix like out of that dust.

3. Philosopher.

No, throw them at those foolish men that walk in black, who would be thought learned by the outside; although they are unlettered.

4. Philosopher.

Take heed of that, for so they may have hopes of a resur∣rection, and so rise again in ragged covers, and tattered torn sheets, in old Duck-lane, and quack their to be bought.

1. Philosopher.

No, no, we will all now send for Barbers, and in our great Philosophies despair, shave of our reverend beards, as excrements, which once did make us all esteemed as wife, and stuff boyes foot-balls with them.

2. Philosopher.

Nature, thou dost us wrong, and art too prodigall to the effeminate Sex; but I forgive thee, for thou art a she, dame Nature thou art; but never shewed thy malice untill now, what shall we do?

3. Philosopher.

Faith all turn gallants, spend our time in vanity and sin, get Hawks and Hounds, and running Horses, study the Card and Dye, Rich Cloathes and Feathers, wast our time away with what this man said, or what that man answered, backbite and raile at all those that are absent, and then renownce it with new Oathes Alamode.

4. Philosopher.

No, no, honour this Virgin whose wit is supreme, whose judgment is Serene as is the Sky, whose life is a Law unto her selfe and us, virtue her handmaid, and her words so sweet, like to harmonious musick in the Aire, that charms our Senses and delights the Soul, and turns all passions in our hearts to love, teaches the aged, and instructs the youth, no Sophister, but Mistriss still of truth.

Ex.

Here ends my Lord Marquisses.

Scene 10.

Enter the Lord de l'Amour, and the Lady Innocence.

LOrd de l'Amour.

I begin to be so fond of your Company, as I cannot be long absent therefrom.

Lady Innocence.

'Tis your favours to me, which favours are above my merits, indeed I have no merits, but what your favour creates.

Lord de l'Amour

You seem so virtuous, and sweetly dispositioned, and are so beautifull and witty, as I cannot but admire, and love you.

Lady Innocence.

I dare not be so rude, not yet so ungratefull, to speak against my selfe, now you have praised me, for your words are like to Kings, which makes all currant coyn they set their stamp on; although the substance should be mean and of no value.

Lord de l'Amour.

Thy words are Musicall.

Lady Innocence.

I wish I could speak as eloquently upon every subject, as several birds sings sweety in several Tunes, to please you.

Lord de l'Amour.

Do you love me so well, as to wish it onely for my sake.

Lady Innocence.

Yes, and how should I do otherwise, for my affections to you was ingrafted into the root of my infancy, by my Fathers instructions and perswasious; which hath grown up with my Age.

The Lady Incontinent peeps in, and sees them together, (speaks to her selfe) in the mean time they seem to whisper.

Lady Incontinent.

Are you both so serious in discourse, I will break your friendship, or I will fall to the grave of death in the attempt.

Lady Incontinent goes out.

Lord de l'Amour.

Heaven make you as virtuous as loving, and I shall be happy in a Wife.

Lord de l'Amour goes out.

Lady Innocence alone.

Lady Innocence.

Heaven make him as constant, as I virtuous, and I shall be sure of a gallant man to my Husband.

Ex.

ACT IV.

Scene 11.

Enter the Lady Sanspareille, and takes her place, her Father, and her Audience about her, being all Morall Philosophers.

When she had done her respects speaks.

SAnsp.

By my fathers relation to me, I understand, that all this worthy As∣sembly, are students in morality; wherefore I shall treat this time of pas∣sions, wherein I make no question, being all sage, that you have not only learnt to distinguish them, but have practiced, how to temper, and govern them; but perchance you will say to your selves, what need she speak of that, which have been so often treated of, only to make repetitions of former Authors; but you all know without my telling you, that new applications may be made, on often preached Texts, and new arguments may be drawn from old principles, and new experiences may be learnt from former follies; but howsoever, my discourse shall not be very long, least redious impertinen∣cies should make it unpleasant to your eares, & cause too great a loss of time, to your better imployments; but my discourse is, as I said on the passions, which I will first divide, as the Ancient Philosophers, into two, love, and hate. First, I will treat of pure love, which is self-love, for love to all other things is but the effects thereof. And is derived therefrom, self-love is the sole passi∣on of the Soul, it is a passion pure in it self, being unmixt, although all other passions do attend it, this passion, called self-love, is the legitimated Child of Nature, being bred in infinite, and born in eternity; yet this passion of self-love, being the Mother of all other love is oftentimes mistaken for a fond, or a facile disposition, bred from a weak constitution of the body, or a strong, or rather exstravagant appetite of the Senses; or from a gross constitution, or evill habit, or custome of life, or an ill example of breeding; but these Childish humours, facile, and easy dispositions, foolish and earnest desires, gross, and greedy appetites, Inconstant, and evill Natures, these are not pure love, as the effects of self-love, for it doth it self hurt; but they are the effects of the body, and nor of the Soul, for some of them proceeds from a gross strength of body, hot, and active spirits, others from a tenderness, and weak∣ness of body, and faint spirits; but the true passions of love, which is self-love, but mistake me not, for when I say self-love, 〈…〉〈…〉, as is apper∣taining

thereto, as love of honour, love of virtue, humane love, naturall love, pious love, Sympatheticall love, which are the true begotten Children of self-love: This love, hath no other object, but perfection, it hath an absolute command over life, it conquers death, and triumphs over torments, but every soul hath not this pure love, for there is a seeming self-love, and a reall self-love; but as I said, every soul hath it not, for it is with souls, and the passi∣ons therein, as with bodyes, and the sensuall life, some bodyes are more healthfull, and strong, others infirm and weak, some are fair, and well favou∣red, others foul and ill favoured, some are straight & well shapt, others crook∣ed and deformed, some high, some low, some are of long life, others of short life, some lifes have more actions than others, some more sensitive relishes, than others, some good Natures, some bad, and all of that sort of Animals, we call mankind, and as the body and sensitive Spirits, so for the Soul and rationall Spirits, for some hath (as I may say) more Soul than others, as some hath larger Souls than others, some purer than others, as being more Serene; & some hath more ingenuity, and understanding than others. So passions, although one and the same sorts of passions, yet in some Souls, they are more Serene, and ele∣vated than others; but many times the pure passions of the Soul is so allyed, with the gross humours of the body, as they become base, and of no good use; but in the passion of pure love, for the most part, dwels naturally Melan∣cholly: I mean, not that dry, cold, sharp humour, bred in the body, which makes it Insipid, inclosing the Soul, (as it were,) within Walls of stone, which causeth a dull, heavy, and stupid disposition, as it oppresseth, and lyes, like a heavy burthen on the Soul, hindering the active effects thereof; but this naturall Melancholly, dwells not in every Soul, but onely in the noblest; for it is the noblest effect, of the noblest passion, in the noblest Soul. As for the passion of hate, it is not that lothing, or aversion, which is caused by a full, or sick Stomack, or surfetted Senses, or glutted Appetites, or cross hu∣mours, or an Antipathy of dispositions, or evill fortunes, or the like; but the true passion of hate, is, in the Soul, not bred in the body; yet hate is a bastard passion of self-love, begot by opposition, bred from corruption, and born with disturbance, this hate as it is derived, from the bowels, and loynes of self-love, so it pursues self-loves enemyes, which is suspect falshood, and neg∣lect: With this passion of hate, anger is a great Companion; these two pas∣sions being seldome assunder; but anger is oftentimes mistaken, as all the rest of the passions are, but this passion of anger, is one of the uselest passions of the Soul, and is so far from assisting forritude, as many think it doth; as it is an opposite enemy to it, for it cannot suffer patiently, and oftimes knows not what it Acts, or on what it Acts, or when it Acts; this passion is one of the furyes of the Soul, which oftimes deposes reason; but a Chollerick dispo∣sition, is sooner to be pardoned, and less to be feard, being bred in the body, and as the humour ebbes, and flowes, this disposition is less, or more. But to return to the two Principle passions, which is love, and hate; I will at this time similize them, to two several Kingdoms, or Regions, love being the lar∣gest, for it reaches to the shades of death, and strongest, for it can indure, and hold out the assaults of any torment, being intrenched with fidelity, fortifi∣ed with constancy, imbatled with courage, victualled with patience, and ar∣med, or manned with resolution; and were it not for the many labyrinths of feats, running in and out, with continuall doubts, wherein, the con∣tent of the mind, is oftentimes lost, otherwayes it would be as pleasant a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 as it is a strong one, having large prospects of honour, and Land-Skips

of perfection; green Meddows of hopes, wherein grows sweet Prim∣roses of Joy, and clear springs of desires, runs in swift streams of industry, by the banks of difficulty, besides this Kingdome is allwayes serene, for the Sun of Fervency of allwayes shines there: In this large Kingdome of love, reigns naturall Melancolly, who is the Heroick Royallest, soberest, and wisest Prince born, in the mind, he directs his Actions with pru∣dence, defends his Kindome with courage, indures misfortunes with patience, moderates his desires with temperance, guides his Senses with judgment, orders his Speech with Sence, and governs his thoughts with reason, he is the commander of the Appetites; living in the Court of ima∣ginations, in the City of silences, in the Kingdome of love, in the little world called Man; and the greatest favorite to this Prince, is wit, and the Muses, are his Mistrisses, to whom he applies his Courtship, recreating himself in their delightful! Company, entertaining himself with Balls, Maskes, Pasto∣rills, Comedyes, Tragedyes, and the like, presenting them in the Bowers of fancy, built in the Gardens of Oratory, wherein growes flowers of Rhetorick; but the greatest enemies to this Prince, is unseasonable mirth, which oftimes disturbes his peace, by bringing in an Army of empty words, sounding their loud Trumpets of laughter, shooting of bald jests, beating the drums of idle∣ness, with the sticks of ridiculous Actions. But hate, although it be a King∣dome that is very strong, by reason it hath high mountainous designes, hard Rocks of cruelties, deep pits of obscurity, many Quagmires of subtilty, by which advantages, this Kingdome is inpregnable; yet the Kingdome of its self is barren, and Insipid, bearing nothing but thorny Bushes, of mischief and moss, of ill Nature, no noble thoughts, or worthy Actions, the climate is various, for the Aire of the mind is gross, having thick mists of envy, which causeth several sicknesses of discontent, other whiles it is very cold and sharp with spight, other times it is sulphury hot, with malice, which flashes light∣ning of revenge, which in a thundery fury breaks out: In this Kingdome of hate, reigns anger, who is a Tyrant, and strikes at every smale offence, and many times on Innocence, and so unjust, as he seldome takes witnesses, pride, and jealousy, are his favourites, which governs all with scorn, and executes with fury; he imposes taxes of slander, and gathers levies of detracti∣on; exception is his secretary, to note both wordes and Actions, he accu∣seth the Senses with mistakes, and beheads the Appetites, on the Scaffolds of dislike, he strangles truth, with the Cords of Erronious opinions, and tor∣tures the thoughts one Wheels of foul suspition, whipping imagination with disgrace, he confounds the Speech with disordered hast, that neither Sence, nor wordes, can take their right places; but anger dyes as most Tyrants doth, being kild by repentance, and is buryed in salt teares; betwixt these two Kingdoms of love, and hate, runs a salt Sea, of sorrow, which sometimes breaks into the Kingdome of love, and sometimes into the Kingdome of hate, from this Sea arises thick vapours of grief, which gathers into dark Clouds of sadness, which Clouds dissolves into showring tears, or windy sighs; but if this Sea be rough with the storms of misfortunes, or fomented with the tempest of impatience, it makes a dolourous noise of complaints, and laments, roleing with restless bellowes of discontent, this is the King∣dome of love, but when this Sea breaks into the Kingdome of hate, it makes a hidious noise, a roaring, with exclamations, and cursings. Also from this Sea flowes four rivers, quite through these two Kingdoms; two through the Kingdome of hate, and two through the Kingdome of love, those two

through the Kingdome of love, are pitty, and compassion; which when they meet makes a full tide, of Charity, and overflowes with bounty; but those that runs through the Kingdome of hate, are the two rivers, of fury, and despair, when these two rivers meet, they make a full tide of madness, and overflowes with mischief; but fearing I should drown your patience with my overflowing discourse, I shall desist for this time.

After a Civill respects

She goeth out.

And one of the Company after she was gone speaks thus.

My Lord Marquess writ this following speech.

Were all dead Moralls Writers, risen again, and their each several souls crusht into one, that Soul would languish, till it sted the earth, in deep des∣pair, to see their gloryes last, and all their vaster writings, so dispised.

Thus by the Musick of a Ladyes tongue, Whose Cords, with wit, and judgment, is thus strung.

Ex.

Here ends my Lord Marquess.

Scene 12.

Enter the Lady Innocence and Adviser, an old Man, of the Lord de l'Amours, as following the Lady Innocence.

ADviser.

Pray young Lady stay, and take good Counsel along with you.

Lady Innocence.

Good Counsel is a guest I would willingly entertain, and be glad of his acquaintance, and endeavour, to make a perfect friendship with, and a constant Companion.

Adviser.

Then pray Madam have a care of the Lady Incontinent, for she is full of designs against you, as I perceive by what I hear her say to my Lord.

Lady Innocence.

Your Lord is a person of so much worth, and merit, as he will not yield to plots of destruction, to destroy the Innocent, he hath more Charity to heal a wound, than cruelty to make one; his tender Nature, and compassionat disposition, will strive to dry wet eyes, not force dry eyes to weep.

Adviser.

My Lord, Madam, is a generous, and noble Lord, but she is a dissembling crafty Lady, and knowes how to attract my Lord, and to winn him, to be of her beliefe, and I give you warning as a faithfull Servant, both to my Lord and you.

Lady Innocence.

I thank you friend, for your advertising me of this Lady; but I shall trust my self to heavens protection, fortunes favour, and your ••••••ds noble, and just Nature.

Ex.

Scene 13.

Enter two Men.

1. GEntleman.

The Lady Sanspareilles wit, is as if it would over-power her brain.

2. Gentleman.

O no, for her brain seems so well tempered, as if there were no conceptions, which springs therein, or propositions, or knowledge, pre∣sented thereunto; but it doth digest them with great ease, into a distin∣guishing understanding, otherwise she could not deliver her mind, and ex∣press her conceits, or opinions, with such method, and facility, as she doth.

1. Gentleman.

She hath a Monstrous wit.

2. Gentleman.

No, her wit is not a Monstrosity, but a generosity of Na∣ture, it is Natures bounty to her.

1. Gentleman.

Certainly, Nature was never so bountifull, to any of that Sex, as she hath been to her.

2. Gentleman.

The truth is, she favours the Female Sex, for the most part, more than she doth the Masculine Sex; because she is of the Female kind herself.

1. Gentleman.

Faith, I could wish that I never wisht before.

2. Gentleman.

What wish is that?

1. Gentleman.

Why, I wish, I were a Woman, but such a Woman as the Lady Sanspareille.

2. Gentleman.

Ovid speaks of a Woman, that wisht her self a Man, and the Gods granted her with, and she became a Man; but I never heard of a Man that was changed into a Woman.

1. Gentleman.

That was, by reason they never wisht that change.

2. Gentleman.

That is a sign they thought the change would be far the worse.

1. Gentleman.

Indeed, generally it would be so.

2. Gentleman.

Well, for thy sake, I wish thou hadst thy wish.

Ex.

Scene 14.

Enter the Lady Innocence, as musing by her self alone.

Then Enter her Maid Passive.

PAssive.

My dear Mistriss, what makes you so studious, as you are become pale with musing?

Lady Innocence.

The reason is, that my Soul is flown out of my body, with the wings of desire, to seek for love; and my thoughts laboriously wanders after it, leaving my Senses, to a soiltary life, and my life to a Melancholly musing.

Passive.

Faith, I had rather be buryed under the ruins of hate, than have a Melancholly life.

Lady Innocence.

And I am Melancholly, for fear I should be so buryed.

Passive.

If you would have love, you must give love.

Lady Innocence.

Indeed love is like a Coy-Duck, it goeth out to invite, or draw in others.

Passive.

Nay faith, a Coy-Woman cannot do so, for the Coyer she is, the fewer Lovers she will have, for Coynes starves Lovers, wherefore, if you would not starve your beloved, you must be free, and twine about him, as the Ivy doth the Oke.

Lady Innocence.

Modesty forbids, it but were it lawfull, and that it did not infring the Lawes of modesty, I could hang about his neck, as the earth to the Center, but I had rather starve my delights, than do an Act immodest, or sursite his affection.

Ex.

ACT V.

Scene 15.

Enter the Lady Sanspareille, and her father, with the Audience, she takes her place, and, after a Civill respects to the Company, speaks:

SAnspareille.

Noble Gentlemen, you are welcome, and, though I cannot promise to feast your Eares, with an eloquent Banquet; yet I hope it will prove so, as I hope it will not cause a dislike; for the several dishes of my discourse shall neither be bitter with rayling, nor sharp with spite, nor salt brined with Satyr, nor lushious with flattery, and, though it may prove tastless to the gusto of your humour, yet it will not be disagreeing to the stomack of your reason, nor dangerous to the life of your understanding; but, by reason this worthy Assembly is mixt, as Oratours, Poets, young Students, and Souldi∣ers, it will be hard for me to divide my discourse so, as to give each Compa∣ny a Civil entertainment, but howsoever my indeavour shall not be wanting; for that wit I have, I shall waite upon you, I shall first speak to the young Students, because youth, and learning, is the beginning of life, and knowledge, and young brains are like plain paper books, where time as a hand, experi∣ence as a pen, and practice as Ink, writes therein; and these books conteins several and divers Chapters. The First, is of knowledge. The Second, and Third Chapters, are of memory and understanding; these Chapters are but short. The Fourth, and Fift Chapters, are conceptions and imaginati∣ons; this Chapter conteins more than half the book. The Last Chapter, is remembrance, which is also a very long Chapter, and the variety of thoughts are the several letters, in which these Chapters are writ; but they, are not all writ after one kind of writing, neither are they writ with one, and the same language; For knowledge is writ in great and plain letters, memory and un∣derstanding, in siner, and smaller letters; Conceptions, and Imaginations, after the manner of way, as like Hierogyphiks, Remembrance is writ, as after the like way of Characters; Knowledge is writ, in the Originall Language

as we may liken to Hebrew; Memory and Understanding, are writ, in a language derived therefrom: Conception, and Imagination, are written in heathen Greek; Remembrance is writ in a mixt, or compounded language, like as English, but yet it is most like, that we call old English: But the most profitablest School is consideration; And the best Tutour is reason, and when the mind is distempered, or obstructed with Ignorance, education is the best Physick which purges it, cleanses and freeth it, from all gross, and foul, and filthy Errours; but the Educatours, which are the Physitian••, should be well chosen; for the plain truth is, that youth should be taught by those that are grave, and sage, that they may learn experience by the Second hand, otherwayes Age only knows, but hath no time to practise in; but if that youth be taught good principles, their life growes high by Noble deeds, and broadly spreads with Honours, but when that youth have liberty to sport, and play, casting their learning time away, they grow like poi∣sonous plants, or weeds, which makes their life swell big, with veno∣mous passions, and dispositions, and burst with evil deed, but youth, their understanding is like their years, and bodyes, little and weak, for the Soul is improved by the Senses, but Educatours, their Physicians presents to their Senses, the most wholesom, and nurishing meat; for, as the body is nurished and grows strong, by good disgestion, so doth the Soul gain know∣ledge by information, but, if the food be unwholesom, or more than the Stomach be able to digest, or that the body is not fed sufficiently, the body becomes lean, weak, saint, and sick, so the Soul, or mind; If the senses be imperfect, or the objects more than can be well disenst, or too many for the temper of the brain, or that the brain be too cold, or to hot, then the Soul or mind, like the body, decayes, for, like as the bodily senses, so the senses of the Soul decayes; for the understanding as the Spirits, grows saint, the judgment as the liver, wan, and weak, the memory as the eyes, grows dim and blind, the thoughts as the several limbs, grows feeble and lazy; but some remedy is for those diseases; for the speculative notes helpes the dull memory, cordiall learning, the faint understanding, purging, and opening, experience, the wan and obstructed judgment, and necessity exercises the lazy thoughts; but if the brain be defective, or the Soul imperfect from the birth, there is no re∣medy, for then the reason proves a dwarf, and the understanding a fool; but if the Soul be perfect, and the brain well tempered, then the Soul is like the serene and azure Sky, wherein reason as the Sun, gives light to all the Ani∣mal World, where the thoughts, as several Creatures, lives therein; some being bred in the deep, and restless Ocean, of Imagination, others, as from the fixt Earth of knowledge, springs; and, as the Gods governs the World, and the Creatures therein, so the Soul should govern the body, and the Appe∣tites thereof; which governing, is to govern still to the best: As for the con∣tinuance of the World, so for the prolonging of the life of the body, which government I wish to the Soul of every young Student here. In the next place, I shall speak to Oratours, whose study, and practice is language, and language, although it is not born with man, yet it is bred with man, or in man, either by their education, or their own Invention; for, if language had a beginning, it was invented by the Creature, if no beginning, it was taught them by the Gods; for, though that Nature made such Organs, as was pro∣per to express language with, yet it seems as if she did not Creat language, as a principal work, but if she did, then Oratours tongues are Natures Mu∣sicall instruments; but the best Musicall Instruments were better to lye un∣plaid

with, than to sound out of Tune, or to strike jarring discord, which displeaseth more than the harmony can delight, so likewise it were better not to speak, than to speak to no purpose, or to an evill design, but Oratory, or Rhetorick, is as all other Musick is, which lives more in sound than in sub∣stance, it charms the eare, but it cannot inchant the reason, it may enslave the passions, but not conquer the understanding, it may obstruct truth, and abuse virtue, but it can neither destroy the one, nor corrupt the other, it can flatter up hopes, and raise up doubts, but it cannot delude experience, it can make factions, and raise tumults; but seldome rectify disorders; for it is to be ob∣served, that in those States, or Nations, where Oratory, and Rhetorick flou∣risheth most, the Common-wealth is for the most part distempered, and Ju∣stice looses her seat, and many times the State looses its former Government, Customs and Lawes, witness the Romans, Athens, and Lacedemonians, and others, that were ruined by their flourishing Rhetorick, and factious Ora∣tory; but it is thought that the flowers of Rhetorick is much vaded since the time of the Athens, through the whole World, and that the lively Cullours are quite lost, if it be so, then surely the deffect is much in the first education, of Children; for in Infancy is a time, these should take a good print, but their Nurses is their Grammar, and her tongue is their first Tutour, which most commonly learns them the worst part of Speech, which parts are Eight; as impertinent questions, cross answers, broken relations, false re∣ports, rude speeches, mistaking words, misplaccing words, new words of their own making without a signification: Wherefore, parents that would bring up their Children elegantly, and eloquently, they must have a learned Grammar, and a wise Tutour at the first, to teach them, for the mouth as the Press, Prints the breath as the paper, with words, as the Ink, and reason, and sense, bindes them up into a book, or vollume of dis∣courses; but certainly the Oratours of this Age for eloquence, and elegancy, comes not short of the eloquent Oratours of Athens, or any other State, they only use it to better designs, than to make Warrs on their Neighbours, to banish their Citizens, or those that ought to be rewarded, to alter their Government, and ruine their state; no worthy Oratours, you use your eloquence for peace, love, and unity, and not for fac∣tion War and ruine; for which, may the Gods of eloquence assist you. But there is two sorts of Oratours, the one bred up in Schools of Art, to rules, forms and tenses, the other is bred up in the School of Nature, which only observes her rules, and studies her works; for though all Oratours are not Poets, yet all Poets are naturall Oratours, and hath a naturall, eloquent, and elegant, and easy expression; for, if a man should have a Poeticall brain, if he had not a full expression to deliver his conceits, they would be as if they were not, for, as their may be several fancies, and conceits, raised from one object or subject, so there requires several significant words, to express them; for, as time is the markes of eternity, so words are the markes of things, but in∣deed Poets hath a harder task than Oratours, for Oratours builds their dis∣course upon solid grounds, when Poets builds their discourse upon airy foundations, but the two principles of Poetry, is similizing, and distinguishing, which are fancy, and judgment, and some Poets braines are so happy, that as soon as they have bre, or created any fancy, the tongue is ready to deliver them; but some brains are a long time in breeding, and some fancies puts the brain into great pains, and hot, and painfull throwes; and some tongues as ill Midwifes, strangles strong fancies in the birth, but a

volable tongue, is like an expert, and understanding Midwife, which makes easy, safe, and quick dispatch, for wit and judgment, are both the Children of the brain, begot by Nature; being both Twin Sisters, and so Ingenious, and Inventive they are, that they build their arguments so curiously, and compile the sence into so small a compass, that there is no waste room, nor superfluous wordes, nor painted phraises, nor useless parentheses, nor ob∣structed Sentences, for they build with phancy, and compile with similizing cut, and carved, with Allegoryes, polisht with numbers, and oftimes adorned with Rhime, the persons to which wit, and judgment; the Children of Na∣ture are placed, as Sojourners, or Boorders, are Poets, who are Natures favou∣rites, and for the education of her Children, she rewards them, by inriching their mindes, though not their purses; for she leaves that to Fortune, but Fortune through Envy to Nature, is seldome their friend: Also Nature, gives her Favourite Poets delights; for Poets takes more delight, and plea∣sure in their own thoughts and conceptions, than an absolute Monarch in his power and Supremacy; for like as Birds, that hops from Bough to Bough, whereon they sit and sing; so Poets thoughts moves, from Theam, to Theam, making sweet Melody; and as Hens broods Chickens, which Chickens, are not hacht, untill they have strength to pick a passage through their shels, with their Bils, and when they are sledg'd, flies from their Nest on a high perching branch, so the brain layes Imaginations, and brood, fancies, and the tongue as a Bil, picks a passage through the lips, and being feathered with words, winged with verse, flyes up even with numbers, to fames high Tow∣er; but the Muses the Handmaids to Nature, doth as all other Maidens, loves the Courtship of the Masculine Sex, which is the cause, or reason they seldome visit their own Sex, but passes their time in the Company, and Con∣versation of men; by some men, they are only admired, and loved, by o∣thers, they are saed to, and enjoyed, which happy Suters, are Poets; but the Muses, as all other Female takes a delight to enjoy their Lovers alone, that makes them seperate themselves from other Company; and Poets as all Lo∣vers, doth love solitude: wherefore, Poets the lovers of the Muses, and the Muses lovers of the Poets, oftimes chooseth a soletary life, as being a Para∣dise, for Innocent delight, wherein the Senses lyes on soft banks of repose, the whilst the mind with a sober, and serious peace, wal••es in the silent shades of contemplation, shunning the hot and burning Sun of high ambition, and there the active thoughts; the Children of the mind, in harmless sports, doth with the Muses play, and on their heads Garlands of Phancy wear, made all of Rhetoricks choisest flowers, whose Cullours fresh and gay, thus are the thoughts adorned and deckt, as the fair Month of May; about this paradise, which paradise is a soletary life, the calm smooth River of safety flowes, which Winds, or Circles in the life, from suffering, or acting injury, or wrong: And from this River of safety, runs many streams of pleasures, wherein the mind refreshing Bathes, secure and free, no false witness to accuse their Innocency; no tempestuous storms, nor dreadfull Thunders hard, nor flash∣ing lightning there appears, all is their Serene and clear, unless sometimes thin Clouds of Melancholly falls in fresh showring tears, or from the heart ariseth some gentle sighs, which breathing out Fans, like to Zephyrus Winds; and in this solitary life 3. Trees doth grow, Peace, Rest, and Silence, are they named, the fruits they bare, is plenty, ease, and quite.

On which the mind deliciously cloth seed, Whose lushious Iuice, tranquility as fat doth breed; Reason the Nerves, and Grissels of the mind, Grows strong, and cures the understanding blind; Ther's none but Fools, this happy life would shun, Such as would seek in ruggid wayes to run: O Fools! O Fools! to love their torments so, That they will rather choose to hell, than Heavens go.

But there is no man can enjoy this worldly Paradise, without a defence; for none can live in peace, that is not prepared as ready for War, for both the Theological, Civil, Common, and Accustomary Laws, are protected by the Marshall Law, and the Marshall Power, is the Supream Authority, placing, and displacing, and is the Monarchical Power, that doth not only protect all other Laws, but commands them with threats, and is obeyed with Terrour and fear, honoured for the fame, and hated for the Tiranny; but Souldiery is a painfull, carefull, and dangerous, although noble profession, but as I said, tis one of the safest, and securest protections; for it is protecti∣on to the weak, and infirm, to the decreped, and aged, to the shiftless youth, and to the saint, fearfull, and tender esfeminate Sex, it is a guard unto the Ash∣es of the dead, to the Monuments of the Meritorious, and to the Temples of the Gods. And were it not for Marshall-Discipline, there could be no peace kept, truth and right would be torn from the Owners, Justice would be pul∣led out of her Seat, Monarchy thrown out of his Throne, and though a Soul∣dier may loose his life sooner than Nature did ordain; yet in recompence, honour buryes him, and fame builds him a glorious Monument over his sleep∣ing Ashes; but by reason that fame is a Souldiers chief reward, I ought not to pass it by, whithout mentioning it; As for fame, it is a second life, and as I may say, the Soul of merit; but there is a difference, betwixt the Records of time, Fame, and Infamy; for there are many things, that are writ in the Re∣cords of time, that is, neither in Fames Tower, nor Infamies Dungeon, that which is writ in the Records of time, is strange accidents, unlucky chances; unusuall Objects, unexpected preferments, or advancements, by Fortunes fa∣vour, or partiall affections, also great ruines, losses, and crosses, also Plagues, Deaths, Famines, Warres, Earthquakes, Meteors, Comets, unusuall Sea∣sons, extraordinary Storms, Tempests, Floods, Fires, likewise great strength, very old Age, Beauty, deformities, unnaturall Births, Monsters, and such like, which time Records: But Fame is the Godess, of eminent, and Merito∣rious Actions, and her Palace is the Heaven, where the renowns which are the Souls of such Actions, lives; I say Eminent, and Meritorious Acti∣ons; for all Meritorious Actions, are not Eminent, but those that transcends an usuall degree, as extraordinary valour, Patience, Prudence, Ju∣stice, Temperance, Constancie, Gratitude, Generosity, Magnaminity, Indu∣stry, Fidelity, Loyalty, Piety, also extraordinary Wisdome, Wit, Ingenui∣ties, Speculations, Conceptions, Learning, Oratory, and the like; but it is not sufficient to be barely indued with those vertues, and qualities, but these vertues, and qualities, must be elevated, beyond an ordinary degree, inso∣much, as to produce some extraordinary Actions, so as to be Eminent; for Fame dwells high, and nothing reaches her, but what is Transcendent, either in worth, or power; for it is to be observed, that none but Ioves Mansion is

purely free, from deceit, and corruptions, for Nature is artified, and fame is often forced by fortune, and conquering power, and sometimes bribed by flattery, and partiality, and in Times Records there is more false reports than true, and in Infamous Dungeon, which is deep, although not dark, being in∣lightened by the eye of knowledge, and the lamp of Memory, or Remem∣brance, which divulges, and shewes to several, and after Ages, the evill deeds which lyes therein, as Thefts, Murther, Adultery, Sacriledg, Injustice, evill Government, foolish Counsells, Tyrany, Usurpation, Rapine, Extortion, Treason, broken promises, Treachery, Ingratitude, Cosening, Cheating, Sherk∣ing, Lying, Deluding, Defrauding, factions, Disobedience, Follies, Errours Vices, Fools, Whores, Knaves, Sicophants, Sloth, Idleness, Injury, Wrong, and many Hundreds the like; yet many Innocent vertues, and well deser∣ving deeds, at least good Intentions, lyes in the Dungeon of Infamy, cast therein by false constructions, evil Events, Malice, Envy, Spight, and the like; Sometimes some gets out by the help of right interpretation, friendly assi∣stance, or eloquent pleading: but yet these are very seldome, by reason the Dungeon is so deep, that it allmost requires a supernaturall strength, to pull out any dead therein, for therein, they are oftner buried in Oblivion, than translated by pleading; but as I said, many Innocents are unjustly cast into Infamies Dungeon, and lyes for ever therein, and many a false report is writ in times Records, and never blotted thereout: And many vain, and unwor∣thy Actions, feigned vertues, and vitious qualities, hath got not only into Fames Palace, but are placed high in Fames Tower; and good successes, although from evill designs, and wicked deeds, doth many times usurp, the most cheif∣est, and highest places, as to be set upon the Pinacle, for fortune conquering, power and partiality, forceth, carries, and throwes more into fames Palace, than honest Industry, leads, or merit advances therein, or unto which is un∣just, yet not to be avoided; for Fortune, and victory, are powerfull, and so powerfull, as many times they tred down the Meritorious, and upon those pure footstoole, they raise up the unworthy and base; thus fames base Born, thrust out the Legitimat heirs, and usurp the Right, and Lawfull Inheri∣tance, of the Right owners of fames Palace: Wherefore worthy Heroicks, you cannot enjoy fame, when you will, nor make her sound out so loud, as you would, nor so long as you would, nor where you would have her, unless you force her, which is only to be done by the assistance of time, the providence of forecast, the diligence of prudence, the Ingenuity of Industry, the direction of opportunity, the strength of Power, the agility of Action, the probability of opinion, the verity of truth, the favour of Fortune, the esteem of Affection, the guilts of Nature, and the breeding of education; besides that, fame is of several humours, or Natures, and her Palace stands on several soyles, and her Trumpet sounds out several Notes, Aires, Strains, or Dities; for some Aires, or Strains, are pleasant, and chearfull, others sad and Melancholly; and sometimes she sounds Marches of War, some to Charge, some to Re∣treat; also sometimes her Palace stands on Rocks of adversity, other times on the flat soyles of prosperity, sometimes in the Sun shine of plenty, other times in the shade of poverty, sometimes in the flowery Gardens of peace, other times in the bloody fields of War; but this is to be observed, that fame at all times sounds out a Souldiers Renown louder than any others; for the sound of Heroick Actions spreads furthest, yet the renown of Poets sounds sweetest; for fame takes a delight to sound strains of wit, and Aires of Fan∣cies, and time takes pleasure to record them; but worthy Heroicks, give

me leave to tell you, that if time and occasion doth not fit, or meet your No∣ble ambitions; you must fashion your Noble ambitions to the times, and take those opportunities that are offered you; for if you should slip the sea∣son of opportunity, wherein you should soe the seeds of Industry, you will loose the harvest of Honourable deeds, so may starve, wanting the bread of report, which should feed the life of applause; but noble Heroicks, when you adventure, or set forth, for the purchase of Honour, you must be armed with fortitude, and march along with prudence, in an united body of patience, than pitch in the field of fidelity, and fight with the Sword of Justice, to maintain the cause of right, and to keep the priviledges of truth, for which, you will be intailed the Heirs, and Sons of fame; and my wishes and Prayers shall be, that you may be all Crowned with Lawrell.

After she had made her respects.

She goeth out.

My Lord Marquess, writ these following Speeches.

A Souldier.

Silence all thundring Drums, and Trumpets loud, with gliste∣ring Arms, bright Swords, and waving Plumes.

And the feared Cannon powdered, shall no more, Force the thin Aire with horrour for to roare; Nor the proud sleeds, with hollow hoofes to beat The humble Earth, till Ecchoes it repeat.

This Lady makes Greek Tactiks to look pale, And Caesars Comentaries blush for shame. The Amazonian Dames, shakes at her Name.

Poets.

The Lady Muses are deposed, unthroned from their high Pal∣lace of Parnassus-Hill.

Where she in glory, with Poetick slames, there sits, In Triumph, Emperess of wits; Where her bright beams, our Poets doth inspire, As humble Mortalls, from her gentle fire: She is the only Muses, gives Phancy slore, Else, all our Poets, they could write no more.

Oratour.

Were the oyled tongue of Tully now alive, and all the rest of glibed tongued Oratours, with their best arguments, to force a truth, or else with subtilty of slight to avoid it; those tongues with trembling Palsies, would be all struck dumb, with wonder and amazement, to hear truth Cloathed so gently, as to move all Oratours, their passions into love, admi∣red Virgin.

Then all the Auditory goeth out.

Here ends my Lord Marquesses.

FINIS.

Notes

• * 1.1

  This written by my Lord Marquess.