their joints from the top of the head, to the sole of the foot. May there not be any soundness in him or them.

May the Son of the living God, with all the glory of his majesty, curse him or them; and may heaven, with all the powers which move therein, rise against him or them, to damn him or them, unless it shall repent him or them, or that he or they shall make satisfaction. · Amen. Amen. So be it.

A LETTER FROM PARIS

FROM SIR GEORGE WAKEMAN TO HIS FRIEND SIR W. S.

IN LONDON.

Printed for T. B. in the year 1681, folio, containing two pages.

DEAR SIR,

Cannot but wonder at your confidence, in staying in England among the national Bedlam of resolute hereticks; for I think the people are all mad, and resolve to question the integrity of the saints, since they have impeached the justice. I hear with great trouble that you have got your quietus est, and have left the woolpack, and thrown from your shoulders that great grievance of the nation, justice. You are no longer mounted like Rhadamanthus on the bench, weighing the very essence of all causes to a mite, in the golden balance of judgement. I should have taken you for justice herself, but they say she is blind'; and I am sure you can see (as the old homely proverb has it) which side your bread is buttered on. Let every one speak as they find, I am sure you dealt justly by me, for I protest I am as innocent as the child that is unborn, and have been acquitted by the law, and therefore, if I pleased, might return to England; but I have several reasons, best known to myself, for my staying on this side the water. But, Morblew, it is not to plot; I leave that to the Jesuits, who are a sort of people Í have nothing to do with. I cannot but remember your former kindness, and, having no other means, as the French proverb has it, 'Je vous paye en Monnoye de Cordelier,' I will pay you with thanks and prayers; and I hope to see you again triumphant with the purse in your hand: but, in the mean time, I invite you to Paris; I think it would be a great deal of prudence to shun the storm that is like to blow from Oxford, about the twenty-first of March next, as I find predicted by several judicious astrologers. Here you will be out of harm's way, and who knows but you may become at Paris as famous for law and justice, as I am grown for physick? I am in great practice, and live like myself: I have lately purchased the receipts of Madam of her heirs, at the

value of three hundred pistoles, in which I have found out the quintessence of poisons, a secret I much studied all my life. I have also here met with a Jew, and a disguised Banian, who came lately out of the Great

Mogul's territories, both which have furnished me with most choice drugs, not to be had in Spain or Italy. I will shortly send you a pair of perfumed gloves, to present your enemies with; never fear the opera tion, the effluvia shall blast like the pestilence, and at several leagues distance. Every man according to his calling, for medicina est scientia insalubrium, as well as salubrium, and is adjectio and subtractio; to kill secundum artem requires as much skill, as to cure, and we are most useful either way among mortals. By Esculapius the bearded son of Apollo, I cannot refrain excursions in my own element; but I hope you will pardon me, and for that I must enquire after the state of your body. It is my opinion, that this air will be much more agreeable to your constitution, than that of London. The spring is now coming on, and the latter end of March, or the beginning of April, will be a most seasonable time to move your body; but I beseech you, not to take any parliamentary pills; they have too much Colecinthida in them, and will work too violently; you have but a tender body, none knows so well your constitution as myself; I wish I could inspect your water; if it be bloody, it is an ill sign. I think the Spaw or the waters of Bourbon, would be proper for you. I desire you would be pleased to remember me to my old friend, with whom sometimes we used to dust it; but especially to old father J. S. you know he is a close man, and first brought us together, I wonder where he hides these dangerous times: bid him beware of the three hundred, and then let the eight thousand go whistle; you are acquainted with my cyphers: pray let me have a letter from you as soon as you can, either by the ordinary post, or by Monsieur Pritchant, whom I shortly expect, and who has orders to wait on you before he comes away. I am, Sir,

Your highly obliged Friend,

Paris, Feb. 25, New Stile.

and most humble Servant, G. W.

POSTSCRIPT.

Just as I had concluded, in comes Monsieur Pompone, my good friend, who tells me, that, though you sit not on the bench, you still stand in the cabinet; and, though you plead not at the bar, you give chamber-council. I am glad of it with all my heart; but that wise man bid me tell you, that you should lash the wheels of your chariot, they are too much oiled, and run like Jehu's, and that you use the whip of zeal, till you have jaded your horses reason and judgment, who have drawn up hill so hard, that they are become blind. He bids me also put you in mind of an Italian saying, Piu tosto tardi, che in fretta:' take breath, be rather late, than do your business in haste; I advise you, therefore, to get an hold fast, that you lose not ground, such as wains have when they draw up a steep hill, that keeps them from running backward, when they are at a stand, and the horses take breath. The King of France's bitt-maker has promised me an exact pattern of a parliamentary snaffle and cavason, which I will send over to you, for I understand that the French gag, which the Earl of D. had got, is broke. This is an excellent device, I assure you, for the French king has more

than one parliament in his kingdom, and, by this means, he has made them as gentle as asses, and, without either wincing or braying, carry his edicts through all his large territories. He makes no requests; sic volo sic jubeo, is all the language he uses; I am much in love with his government, and may shortly send you some of his policies. Be careful of your health this spring, and have a care of changing the air, unless in France; farewell.

G. W.

A VOICE FROM THE DEAD:

OR,

THE SPEECH OF AN old noble PEER:

BEING THE EXCELLENT

ORATION OF THE LEARNED AND FAMOUS BOETIUS, TO THE EMPEROR THEODORICUS.

London, printed and sold by Richard Janeway, 1681. Quarto, containing eight

pages.

I

SIR,

AM not ignorant, that we are in a time, wherein it is, as it were, much easier to fly, than to speak of the state of this empire without offence to any; and that all discourse, which at this present may be framed, will ever be suspected by those, who have made even our thoughts criminal to your majesty.

Yet, must I needs say, it is a matter very hard to be silent in so great revolutions of affairs, since Nature hath not created us like crocodiles, who are said to have eyes to weep, and not a tongue to complain. I perceive we lose, as it were, all that which we have of Roman in us, and that, in this universal disaster, where all the world should strengthen their arms against violence, men are contented to do, as in thunder, every one prays the thunder-bolt may not fall upon his own house, and very little regards the danger of his neighbour: so likewise we see many senators, whose dignity ought to put into their mouths good and forcible words for the defence of justice, satisfying themselves to avoid the blow, and expecting safety in common ruins.

silence

As for myself, I freely protest, that being born of blood which never learned to flatter any man, and seeing myself in a rank where my may prove injurious to the publick, since I cannot uphold liberty, already too much leaning to its ruin, I will, at least, support the image of it, and in so general a servitude, speak something, wherein I will either discharge my conscience for the present, or comfort my ashes for the time to come.

Alas! sir, when I behold you sitting upon the throne of glory, whereunto the hand of God seemeth to have raised you by a miracle, forti

fied you by discretion, and blessed you with so many prosperities; I cannot chuse but remember, with the most tender resentments of my heart, the calms of the first years, when you took into your hand the stern of this large empire. Who ever saw divers metals so happily commixed, as we then beheld different nations united into one intire body under your authority? What consent in affections? What correspond. ence in all orders? What vigour in laws? What obedience in subjects? What agreement in the senate? What applause amongst the people? What policy in cities? What good fortune in arms? What blessing in all the success of your affairs?

Seemed it not, that God had affixed to your standards and edicts some secret virtue, which made the one triumph in war, and the other become prosperous in peace, with so much terror and reputation, that even things opposite of their own nature, knit themselves firmly together for your benefit?

O, sir! what is become of that golden face of your government? who hath metamorphosed it into this leaden visage? perhaps, you thought it was a part of the greatness of your majesty, to hold a senate under, to whom all the good emperors have so much ascribed, that they esteemed them as necessary for their greatness, as leaves about the rose to set out its beauty.

I could tell you, sir, how much these counsels are pernicious, were it not that the experience of the years of your reign hath taught you more than all the malignity of men can deface. If you will be pleased to call as yet to counsel your wit, and understanding, which God hath reple. nished with so many fair and noble lights; believe me, you shall find this people is as the herb Basil, which rendereth a good savour, as it is said, when gently handled, and createth scorpions when rudely chased. Hold us in the estimation and condition, wherein you have hitherto retained us, and you shall see nothing more tractable than the Roman people; but, if you proceed with these violences, by which some daily pervert your good nature, it is to be feared, lest this severity produce not rather poison, even for those who hope out of it to derive sweet

ness.

Our enemies cease not to exasperate you, upon want of respect due to your majesty; and yet, God knows, we have so regarded royal authority, that seeing it in most unjust hands, where it lost its lustre, we suffered it not to lose the fruit of our obedience.

Allow, sir, the liberty, which ever hath been the most precious inhe ritance of this empire. You have placed men over our heads, who, to be come great, and unwilling to seem any thing less than what they are, seek to smother in our miseries the baseness of their own birth, and believe the means to justify their own carriage, is to take away eyes from those who have them, and to render tongues mute, lest they may learn a truth. Now-a-days, to be born rich is to become a prey, and to arrive at government with some super-eminencies of wit, is to raise enemics; all great actions are suspected; and it seemeth, that to find safety, we must seek it either in ignorance or idleness.

We have so learned to obey, that we would not, hitherto, so much as enter into consideration of the distribution you made of your favours,

leaving them more free, than are the sun's rays, and contenting us to honour the character of your majesty, as well on rocks, as marbles and silver. But now, when we see the precious interests of the kingdom, in hands less pure than we wish, what else can we do in so publick a calamity, but here most humbly remonstrate that which the subtle dissemble, the miserable suffer, the good deplore, and even the very stones relate?

Where is the time, Sir, when we heard those noble words to proceed from your mouth, that the flock may be sheared, not flayed; that a body overcharged sunk to the ground; that there was no tribute comparable to the precious commodities derived from the love of subjects. Now, all the cities and countries bewail the rigorous concussions they feel, to satisfy, with their sweat and blood, the avarice of some par ticulars, who are, notwithstanding, as greedy as fire, and more insatiable than the abyss.

I exasperate not here our miseries, by an amplification of words. I have, Sir, made you to see, when you pleased to hear me in your cabinet, the tears of provinces, which softened your heart to compassion, and opened your hands to liberality; so that if your good affec tions be not altered by some, you are capable enough to discharge heaven of all promises, which it hath made unto us, by the happiness of your empire.

Unseal those eyes, which you so often have opened for the comfort of your poor subjects, and in what part soever you turn them, you shall behold nothing but miseries. Is it not a strange thing, that slaves being sometimes sold to courteous masters, sweeten the sharpness of their condition by some gentle usage, and that there should be none, but the people of Rome, who yearly buy out their bondage ?None but the people of Rome, who were made accountable for the goods pulled from them, and tributary for the shipwreck of their poverty?

From thence the way is taken to the oppression of magistrates, and some are persuaded, that, thoroughly to mow the meadow, you must humble the heads of plants most eminent. Paulinus is dispoiled, Albinus is guilty of treason: They are culpable enough, since they are rich and powerful. It is said, there can be no safety found but in their disgrace: and who seeth not, that these proceedings tend to the ruin of that most noble body, which almost thirty years maintained your royal crown?

But, alas! Sir, if we exclaim against witches, who poison fountains, how can we be silent, seeing endeavour is used to invenom the soul of the prince, who is the source of all counsels, to the end we may hereafter find poison, where we hope for remedies?

Sir, only behold and imitate yourself, reassume that spirit, which made you reign in our hearts, as well as in your provinces: Distinguish flatterers from true friends; hearken to those, whose loyalty you have known in the success of so many prosperities.

Remember yourself, that you were made to reign over men, not as a man, but as the law; to bear your subjects in your bosom, and not