Nympha libethris, or, The Cotswold muse presenting some extempore verses to the imitation of yong [sic] scholars : in four parts.

Nympha Libethris, OR The Cotswold Muse.

I. To the Reader.

THe Cotswold Muse so call'd, to do her right, For rustic plainesse, not for any hight; Humbly c••aves pardon, if she chāce to meet Some delicate Reader, on her tender feet. She ••une•• her innocent Notes for pupils yong, Whose fansy can't digest a verse too strong: High Poems will de••••r them; these may teach And animate, because so near their reach.

II Ad Mag••strum Jonesium Coll. Aen. Socium.

C••••••or meorum Carminum, si vis, peto; ••i quid merentur, calculum adjicias tuum. ••••d non merentur; talis est candor tameu, 〈…〉〈…〉, ••c erga ••e amicum Amor tuus; 〈…〉〈…〉 ••aec apta, quae pueri legant, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 d••••••is posse non sperni viris.

Doctori Greenwood Pro∣canc. Ox.

OXoniensem qui Inventutem regis, Refrixit erga me vetus Amor tuus? Si non refrixit, nostris Tu Musis save, (Nam leniunt miserias hae cantu meas) Istum lapillo m••liore & signa Librum: Quem vestra pubes, & pueri nostri legant. Sic prosperè Regiminis Annus exeat Tibi, Et Sylva semper viridis florescat Tua.

III. To Dr. Warren, why he makes verses.

WHen I am weary of prose, and Grotius H••s Gravity is to my stomach nauseous: Then call I up my Cotswold Muse, to string Her Instrument, and (though but hoarse) to sing. She sits with me, since we familiar grew, Wh••n•• ere I want such co••pany as you. Often she brings my ••riends in, on her feet, And renders their sweet Mem'ry yet more sweet. I smile at her, if she do chance to hit On a good expression, or some point of wit: And if shee barbarise, like boyes at school, I smile too, and then chide, Away you fool.

IV. On the Death of Mr. Charls Parry Physician of Hereford.

YOu that have c••edited your heav'nly Art By your long life, and health of every part: You that have thousand patients yet alive, New life unto your Memory to give: You that cou'd a liv'd still, but that you'ld die Seeing the Church and Colledge va••ant lie: You t••at did ••lesse your Physic with much pray'r, By which I think, we so soon cured were: You that, when living, would not take from me, One small piece; now you'r dead, accept this Fee: This my remembrance of your worth you have, A mean, yet gratefull verse, to adorn your Grave.

V. To Mris. Elizabeth Williams, Jan. 1. with Fragmenta Regalia.

SOmetime, in Littl's Much: I think this Book is such. G••eat Elizabeth is he••e, And many a Noble Peer. Here in a Model true, Y••u may their pictures view: Pictures, that represent The Face, and Minds intent. I'st not a great Gift then, The Queen and all her Men! 'Tis not enough; to you Much more, from me, is due. The rest in pray'r I give, That you and yours may live.

VI. Upon an obscure hard Book.

WHat meanst? The Volums open, and I look With strict intent on; yet to me the Book Is closed st••ll, and ty▪d. I am as blind I'th' sense as if, when scat••er'd by the wind, Sybilla's leavs I w••••e to reco••pose; These leaves are ••s unknown to me as those. Let others purge their ••r ••ins, w••th some rare drug, To pier•••• t••y meanin••. The Italian shrug, Or nod, or any sign ••nstead of speech I'l rathe•• hea••••en to. Thou dost not teach, But puzle me: And I have cause to doubt The Aut••or, to am••se us, put ••t out. Well, Go•• thy ways. Ce••tain, thou a••t less good, B••cause thou wr••••'st not to be understood.

VII. To Mrs. Abigail Stratford standing silent.

YOur Silence speaks your Virg'n Modesty: Y••ur sil••nce speaks 'gainst our loquacity: Your silence te••s us, ••hat you med••tate, And treasure what y••ur M••t••er doth relate. Silence, the g••acefull ••rn••ment of a Maid, Is the wifes ••est def••nce. When all is said, The Husbands wrath ••akes place; for her own sake, And for his too, let silence answer make.

Now, since so many gifts in silence are, What language with sweet silence can compare?

VIII. Preface to a paraphrase of Grotius de veritate, &c.

WHat learned Grotius, in Dutch Verse, To Holland Merchants did rehearse, My Muse would to the English send, For this, wh••ch was the Authors end: That, among all things bought and sold, And pu••c••as•• of the Indian gold, To make amends for what they ••e thence, They may transport one pea••l from hence; And pla••t Rel••gion in those lands, Where Reason hath any commands. Goe on my Muse: see yonder Ray From Heaven, to light thee on thy way!

IX. Upon the English Liturgy put into Verse.

EXcuse me for my pains: I thought it meet, T'erect our cast book on P••etic feet. Happly, in Verse it will be read by th••se, That would not use it in the revere••d prose. And i•• the Book must needs to G••ave be sent, The Verse may serve ••t for a Monument.

X. To Mr. David Williams with the Instru∣ctions for travell. Kal. Jan.

OBlations take their worth from th' Altar, where They'r layd. Although profane before, yet there

They become sacred. Sir, if that be true, This now is somewhat worth, being given to You.

The Authors name some Reputation Adds to the w••rk, describing every Nation: Not that you should a Traveller become, Your Travell is to do much good at home.

XI. To my La. C. with some Papers.

MAdam, These leaves, in stead of Fruit, intreat Admission, to confess, not pay my Debt. Great Debt! The more I pa••, the more is due: 'Cause my Abil••ty I owe to You. Pray, let these Notes attend on Your commands, Until my Grotius come to kiss your Hands.

XII. Another.

MAdam, I know y'abound with your own store Of Observations. But as the Poor, At N•••• y••••r, bring their Apples and their Nuts T•• L••rd•• of Woods and O••••hards; and none shuts The door against t••em: So may your Servant fare, And these Notes enter where rich Volums are.

XIII. Upon the Picture of H. Grotius, in the front of one of his Books, put into English.

THe Grace (and Shame) of Holland, Friend of France, Sweds Orator, ••he Conqueror of Chance; Poet, Historian, Lawyer, and Divine, (See and admire Him) all in One combine. The learned Latin wo••ld long since, now you Of Britanny may entertain him too.

XIV. Upon H. Grotius, and his principal works, particularly De Imperio, &c.

HE, who the Greek wise Sayings did translate, VVith equall Pen, to Latium; Vindicate From Jew, ••urk, Pagan, our Religions Truth, As learned, as the Aged, in his Youth: He, who th'Hollandian States Pietie Presented unto ev'ry impartial eie: VVho in the Laws of War and Peace all Nations Hath well instructed: And, in's Annotations On the whole Book of God, hath made that Light Shine to unprejudiced mindes more bright: He that was studious how to reconcile, This and that Church, in milde Cassanders stile: Hath shown, what Doctrine was Pelagius; VVho's older Calvin or Arminius; Is ever like Himself. Here, which is much, He's Moderator 'twixt the State and Chu••ch; And clearly tells you, when you may prefer, To th'Ancient Rish••p, the y••ung Pre••byter; And when that new Invention may please, By Elders Lay, to give the Pastor case.

XV. Against lascivious Poets.

INdeed they are not Poets: Creatures of wine, And w••nches; and not of the siste••s nine, The Virg••ns of the Water. I abuse That sacred Title. ••enuine Poets use, Like Fathe•• Homer, to make, not to m••r M••ns manners, better than Chrysippus far. He that can't tempe•• Modesty with wit, Let him away, with Ovid, to the Gete.

XVI. Ad Jacobum Commetinum med. cum operibus Cratonis.

Qui (toties non est miserum aegrotare?) quotannis Sanâsti officio Meque M••osque tuo; E•• ti••i Cratonem Magnum! i•• feliciter Ille, Et tu rem medicam (sic voveo) facias. Sic facis; & salvum te semper p••aestet Apollo: Vt possis medicam porrige••e usque manum.

XVII. Ad Thomam Carew, apud J. C. cum Davenantii Poëmatiis.

TEque meum, cùm triste fuit mihi tempus, amorem, Offi••iis dico demeruisse tuis: Meque tuum, si sortè occasio detur, amorem, Officiis dices demcruisse meis. Si placet, interea, hoc graudis non grande Po••tae, Ingenii dignum munus habeto tui.

XVIII. To Mr. T. S. at his Generals Funeral, Collonel Myn.

SIr, could I tune my song as sweetly o'r Your Generals hea••se, as doth the Swan before He dyes, you might expect, at th' Funerall, Something from Me, worthy your Generall. Let others, in He••oic Poems, sing His praise, and worthily. I'l only bring S••me sighs and tears, not from dissembling Art, But such as rise from a dejected Hea••t. When you shall mention, how he did excell In valour and fidelity; how well The souldier and the city lov'd him; there From my sad melting eye shall drop a Tear. When, at your Periods, some, amongst the Crowd▪ T' approve you•• gr••tefull Se••mon, hem a lowd; Though I extremely love your piety, My Commendation shall be a sigh.

Thus, in rude sighs and Tears, I celebrate The Dead. True Grief is not elaborate.

XIX. To Mr. Laurence Womock, after th•• taking of Hereford, 1645.

IF Preachers may be crown'd, as Poets may, You as your Name, shall surely wear the Bay: But Laurence, when so many now make sute, And preach long Sermons, who befo••e were mute; Why are not you employ'd? You preach as long: But this weakens your Cause, You preach too strong.

And you'r put back, now I more nearly see, Because you have a spice of Prelacy. No matter▪ Fr••end; contentedly forbear: Your eloquence shall find a Ladie sear.

XX. To Mr. Turner, when the Governour had giv'n him one of his Livings.

SEe how it goes! I that do preach and teach; Though your perfection I cannot reach, In chair or Pulpit; here amuselesse now, And, for our facul••••es sake, I think, on you Am c••st. The Question 'twixt us shall soon end: I'l be your Curate, and so keep my Friend.

XXI. Ad D. Ro. Bosworthium, cum invitatus non veniret.

TEque, tuosque velim, mitis Bosworthe, sodales, Innocuis mixtas salibus esse dapes: Ceciliusque, Philippusque, & quo•• ••atsius ille, Powellu••que tuus, Vinaliusque ferunt. Illis pr•• largo, cum caetera reddis, amore, Quid mihi das? Ʋeniam, dulcis Amice, dabis.

XXII. On the translations by Sir Ro. Stapylton.

WIse Juv'nal, neat Musaeus, Ovid sweet, The Belgic bellic History, in meet

And equall phrase to th' Greek and Latine, all English••! You by what Title shall we call? A polite Courtier, Grave Philosopher, Poet, Historian, and Souldier. The Authors, you translate, have the Great Seal, To make them free of th' Engiish Common weal.

XXII. On Mr. Howels Vocal Forest.

YOu've made the Oke, Vine, Olive, and the rest, Discourse rare passages, as became them best: The Laurels, you have h••ghly honor'd too; And 'tis their Gratitude to honour you. A sprig or Branch is not enough. If we May have a Vote, you shall have a whole Tree.

XXIII. Upon a Visit of my La. C.

IT cals to mind the times Heroic, when Angels descended to converse with men: It cals to mind the Day, when Angels sung Gods glory, earths peace, Good w••ll men among. The Prince of Glory, to save man from sin, Made h••s first Visit to the poorest In; And to the wildernesse he took his way, To reduce home the sheep, was gone astray. This lowlinesse and Meeknesse did fore-••un, And c••use his glo••••ous exaltation. Even so, Great Perso••s a••e not of lesse Rate, This divine Goodnesse when they imitate. By these their high Humi••ities, they are, And Condiscensions the Greater far.

Our Visit was not silent: She did say Words, that are Musick to me every day: They dwell in m'••ar and mem'ry: to express Them on this paper, were to take them less.

XXIV. Upon the D••cease of my Infant-Lady.

EVen so, the nipping wind in May doth come, And b••ast the choicest fruit, in the first bloom:

Yet shall this Blos••om of Nobilitie, Preserv'd by Ang••ls care, ••mmortal be:

Such delicate Bodies sleep, and are la••d by, In their R••positories. I hey do not dy.

XXV. Upon the S••hol••rs succeeding S••uld••ers at Sudeley Castle. To my Lo. C.

MY Lord, If we kept Garrison in your House, ••e should perhaps, after th•• Souldiers use, Welcome your H••nour with Artillery, As now we doe w••••h o••r Poetry. But, we believe, your L••r••ships better pleas'd, The Castle's of th•• Ga••rison now eas'd; And will prefer the Gentle M••ses Lyre, Before the thundring Ma••s his smoak and fire. You'r our Good Angel; to your Gracious eies, We offer up this Paper-sac••••fice. Nor make we any excuse, for, in our s••nse, The Pardon's sure, where Duty's the offence.

XXVI. Sudeley to Rowill.

ROwill, the Hills, on which thou sitst, do not So much exalt thee, as my Lord, thou'st got Into thy bosom, when I desert ly, Vouchsaft perhaps a glance of's passing eye. I must confess, at present thy low roof (The Hils too're fitter for his Horses hoof) Excels my Turr••ts, and whilst He is there, Sudeley is scarce said to continue here. The time will come, if our Hopes be not vain, When Sudeley shall be Sudeley once aga••n: And Thou, my envy'd Rowill (no more harm I wish thee) shalt return into a Farm.

XXVII. Rowill to Sudeley.

WHat if my Lord well knowing the unrest Of Palaces and Courts, doth think it best, Sometimes to choose a sol••tary place, And it with his beloved presence grace? Envy not, stately Sudeley, it's not thy Crime, That is the cause, but Troubles of the Time. Peace, banisht from Great Houses, is retir'd To Me, and such like Corners. I desir'd My Lord should breath himself a w••••le with Me; When War is ended, let him dwell with Thee.

XXVIII. Amico nobili D. Gul. Higford, cum elogiis Thuan.

QƲid me non dignum tanto digna••is honore, O decus, ô ••atriae gloria magna tuae! Scilicet, ingenii cum praeste•• ipse vigore: Obscuro lucem conciliare placet?

Sim vanus, nisi me laudes meruisse negáro, Quas tua facundè Musa benigna dedit.

Nec tamen immeritas aspernor: non mihi ••ale Ingenium, nec ita est cornea fibra mihi. En, ••••bi Docto••um Elogia (at ne s••erne) virorum Do: Tibi par nullum scribiter Elogium.

XXIX. Mens regnum bona pos∣sidet, &c. Sen.

RIches exalt not men on high, No•• costly clothes of Tyrian dy: Nor Court, no•• Crown, nor other thing, Is the mark proper of a King. He, that from all base fears hath rest; That banishes vice from his breast; Whom no Ambition doth move, Nor the unconstant peoples l••ve; Whose Mind's his best Dominion, Free from unruly passion; He's truly King. Thus if you live, A Kingdom to your self you give.

XXX. Answer to one, that asked why he lov'd a Gentlewoman, not extreme handsome.

THe Reason, Sir, is, if you would needs know, That which the Poet hath expressed so: There's no such thing as that we beauty call, It is meer cousenage all: For, though some long ago Lik'd certain colours mingled so and so,

That doth not ty me now from choosing new? If I a fansie take To black and blew, That fansie doth it Beauty make.

XXXI. His Love.

HOw can I chuse but place my high-born Love, Where I these Graces find come from above? Humble in Heart, in minde discerning, chast And temperate in Body, without vast Unlimited Desires; whose passions all, At their Queen Reasons voice, both rise and fall: Cou••teous in speech and gesture: of a Face, Which Modesty and Mildness sweetly grace: Ears und••fil'd: Rest••ained Eyes: a Tongue Well govern'd, ••eady to defend, not wrong: To God dev••ut: a Friend unfeigned: prone To give and forgive▪ Good to all; Best to One. These beauties ••nvy can't see; can't approve: I see, and seeing cannot chuse but love.

XXXII. At the Funeral of his School-fellow C. M.

COme Scholars, I invite you all, Unto your Fellows Funeral; Not to afflict your selves and gr••eve, But take a lesson how to live: Of the Dead learn Humility, Obedience, love, modesty: Learn, what to Scholars learning gains, Assiduous Industry and pains:

Learn, above all, to think upon, How soon a mortal life is gone: And seeing this life is perplext, Esteem him blest, whose turn is next: Whilst we with toil do con our parts, He's rais'd above all humane Arts: Hee needs no more Tuition; For lecture, he hath Vision.

XXXIII. Another.

ANd shall we never meet again? no way? Neither a•• Sc••oo••, nor Field; at Books, nor play Is death so envious to our harmless Age, To cal•• •••• thus untimely off the stage? Or is't not envie, but more pity; 'cause Such T••agedies are acted here: the Laws, And Learning silenc'd by the Drum▪ 'Tis so; I see what's best; come all away, let's go. Let's leave this evill world, while we are Young, Untain••ed by this Generation.

XXXIV. Vp••n the Death of his Brother C. M. to his Vncle R M.

I Have heard that Man himself is only spirit, And doth no dy, but only goes to inherit A better ••ife; that he ••s then set free, And rescu••d from the Bodies Custodie. If this be all the hurt that Death can do us, Why should we fear our De••th, when it comes to us, Or, grieve our Friend-departure? Tis no cros••, Unless we think our Friends gain is our loss,

••et am not I so wife to moderate The sorrow for my Brothers ea••ly fate, On such Considerations. If I st••y The Cu••rent of my Tea••••, I must needs say, 'Tis through a childish in adve••tency, And wa••t of w••t, sadly to weigh, what I Have lost in such a Brother: how I am Half dead, at least, in him. Brother's a name More near than Friend: and Friends are stil'd the same. This would pierce de••p, did I not find in you, Brother and Uncle, yea and Father too.

XXXV. Epitaphium Magistri T. Reading.

Qui potuit fel••ce Scholam formare Minerva; Cujus ab o••e ••ios pulpita docta sono••; ••ui mores, simul Jugenium praeclara dedere No••ina, Quem vivum to•• coluere ••oni▪ 〈◊〉〈◊〉 E••••••viae hic compostae pace quie••••unt: Ipse sed est coelo redditus ante sue.

XXXVI. An Epitaph upon Mr. Jo. Thomas.

VAin Mortall, bid conceits Ad••eu: Happinesse lost was never true. Art thou ••orn in noble place? •••• thy' Education like thy Race? Hast thou of Land, and Wealth such store, That thou wouldst desire no more? Hast thou a wise vertuous and fair, Ready to blesse thee with an hei••? Hast thou Honor? Hast th••u Friends? Hast thou all that Fortune lends?

Pride not thy self. Loe, here lyes One, Who had all these: and He is gone.

XXXVII. Upon the same.

RUde Death was't fit, that thy pale hand should light Upon that Face, and in eternall night Close up those eyes? H••dst thou but a while stood, And v••ew'd him first, his youth, his beauty, his good Graces and vertues: Th••se might mitigate, If ought could move inexorable Fa••e. But thou, greedy of a rich prize, in hast Our Friend in thy cold killing arms embrac't. Keep what thou canst of him: but know, thou must Be accountab••e for that precious Dust.

XXXVIII. Vpon the Death of Mris. Dorothy Thomas.

A Divine Gift, is exprest in her Na••e. And in he•• l••fe and death she was the same. A divine Gift, she was first in her Birth, Blessing her parents, and adorning e••rth: A divine Gift ••nto her Husband dear, When Marriage made them a most happy pair: A divine Gift in Death, where in She is Returned unto everlasting Bliss. Her Name she doth in life and death maintaine, Fi••st Giv'n by God, then Giv'n to God againe.

XXXIX. Upon her Dying few dayes after her Husband, Great with Child.

WAs not the noble Husband sacrifice Suffi••ient to please the angry eyes Of cruel Destiny, but the wif•• too, So vertuous, so yong, so fair, so true. Must with him to the Grave▪ Were not they twain, Enough for Death, but they must dye again In their yong child, and that i'th' ve••y womb, Taking the Mothers body for h••s Tomb. A•• Death! thrice cruel Death! Can we That could not beare one b••ow, bear three?

XL. Upon my La. C. and her sisters comming into the Country, in a very rainy 'Day.

WHy doe the Heav'ns thus melt in streams to day, At the approach of Vertuous Ladies, say: 'Tis not for so••row at so fair a sight; They'r tears of ••oy ••hat thus eccl••pse the light. And see, the Fit being past the Heav'ns look cleer, Opening their flaming eye to see them here. Here may they passe time with content, and stay, Lest Heav'n weep sadly when They goe away.

XLI. Pro Schola reparata: Ad Maecenates.

EIoquar? at tenerae vix est audacia linguae. Eloquar: & liceat cuilibet esse p••o. Me pietas gratum esse jubet: nam me quoque tangit Ornatae vestro munere cura Scholae.

Quas possum Grates habeo, persolvere dignas Non opis est: Tenuis Gratia grata Bonis. Pergitevos gratas Musas decorare, patroni: Et pergent Musae vos decorare piae.

XLII. In Crastinum Beatae Luciae.

Quis clamor turbat tranquilla silentia noctis? Cur, Pueri, multâ curritis, ecce, face? Agnosco; fulsit Puerts sanctissima, dulcis Lucit; Grata Scholae Lucia luce magis.

XLIII. In D. Doctorem Kerry, & Uxorem ejus piae Memoriae.

UNus Amor vinxit concordia pectora: & una Alimenta p••aebui•• pauperibus Charitas. Ambos una dies g••andae vos Justu••it: U••a Recondit (ô Beatos!) u••na, Cineres.

XLIV. In Sholam torridam.

HE••••! Q••antus no••aestus habet! Pater, audis, Apollo, Ig••••••••n 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••••b••es mi••••us e••adi••s. Musarum, nosti, D••••••us est haec culta tuarum; Ft per 〈…〉〈…〉 sonare melos. Insuper, ••ic planta florescunt, ecce, ten••llae: C••udelis fruct•••• ••••ere, Phaebe, potes?

XLV. Aliter.

PErvida sole calet nimio Schola, Maxime Phaebe, M••••••us in terras rad antia lumina sparge!

Nec Te adeo fallit; no sti namque omnia Phaebus; Haec sibi caelestes assumunt limina Musae: Sunt & adhuc tenerae plantae (audi mente paternâ?) Nec sufferre valent servorem solis iniqui.

P. S.

XLVI. Vpon the School extreme hot in the Summer.

IS it not wondrous hot! O dear Father Apollo, shoot thy Rays More gently: knowst thou not that here Thy loved Muses make their lays? Besides, O hear! Our plants are yong, And cannot bear The scorching Sun.

XLVII. De Euryalo & Niso: Aen. 9.

Quis Deus, O Juvenes; quae vos tam dira cupido Excitat ad Martis praelia non parilis? Nise, cur Furyalum Tu in tanta pericula ducis? Eu▪ yale, ah! Nisum cur velis ipse sequi? Est ea vis animis. Tendunt in praelia. Somno Co••pora pressa gravi multa dedere neci. Ambobus fuit unus Amor, Victoria & una; Sorsque una, h••u! nimium ••••ortis acerba suit.

XLVIII. Aliud.

NIsus ut hostili morientem cuspide vidit Euryalum, in medios percitus, ecce, ruit.

His fuit idem animus diverso corpore clausus: Pa••te h••c sublat••, ••am fugit illa simul.

P. S.

XLIX. Vpon the losse of some Copies.

ALa•• poor Verses?—why doe I complain? No matter ••f they ne'r be found again. Lament the losse, the irreparable losse Of ••i••••ie's De••ads, Tullies Hortensius, Or his Republica! Terent's Comed••e, Or his M••nanders; Ovid's Fas•••• be, And such like Poems worth the naming: These Ex tempo••e Vers••s may be repair'd with ease. Unlesse the Reader take all to the Best, You may complain, you did not lose the Rest.

L. To ••is S••holars.

AS tender parents, with their Children, may Go•• to Hide and Seek, and other childish play: So I, that should have clos'd this youthly vein Long since, for your sakes open it again.

Non erit grave, si adjecero hanc Praeceptoris Responsionem ad Valedictoriam Petri Smithi, ad pueros itidem excitandos.

GRa••••lo•• ••i••i, mi Fili, te talem genuisse. Eum te indicat O••atio tua, de quo liceat paulum gloriari. Nec aequum est probum dimittere Discipulum, nisi merito Elogio honestatum. In moribus tuis pietatem agnosco,

& modestiam, assiduam in studiis d••ligentiam. Literis Grae∣cis pariter ac Latinis ita excultus e••, ut nemo antecedentium, meo quidem tempore, fuerit magis. Grammaticus, Poeta, Rhetor, Historicus, logices etiam elementa & Mathemati∣ces primis, quod a••unt, labris d••gustati. Et nunc pleniori haustu sitim tuam explebit Oxontum. Plura di••e••••m in lau∣dem tuam, nisi te laudanda facere, quam laudes audire mallem. Itaque, quod reliquum est, te hortor erudite ac dilecte Adolescen••, ut laudibus te semper dignum praebeas: ut Scholae nostrae idem evadas & ornamentum & exemplum. Habebis in Tutorem, ••uvenem doctum, probum, pium, olim ex hâc Schola••••ta, cum Tutorem huic Scholae debeas, co∣gitate & Philosophi••m debiturun. In Aulam B. Mariae cooptandus, ex me scias, Romanensibus in more positum, ut Opera sua Mariae dedicent: Tu vero teipsum & tua omnia Soli Deo Opt. Max. Consecrare debes. Cujus Gratiae in∣nixus 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Quod ut fiat, precor, non Sancta Ma∣riatibi ad sit propitia, sed Christus.

FINIS.