[Page] THE ACADEMY OF PLEASURE. Furnished with all kinds of Complementall Letters, Discourses, and Dialogues; with variety of new Songs, Sonets, and witty Inventions. Teaching all sorts of Men, Maids, Widows, &c. to Speak and Write wittily, and to bear themselves gracefully for the attaining of their desired ends: how to discourse and demean themselves at Feasts and merry-Meetings at home and abroad, in the company of friends or strangers. How to Retort, Quibble, Jest or Joke, and to return an ingenious Answer upon any occasion whatsoever. Also, A Dictionary of all the hard English words expounded. With a Poeticall Dictionary. With other Conceits very pleasant and delightfull, never before extant.
LONDON, Printed for John Stafford at Fleet-bridge, and VVill. Gilbertson in Giltspur-street. 1656.
THose that believe Cupid to be blinde, are (undoubtedly) blinde of all their senses; he could never ayme his Darts so right, nor his so sure if he were not clear-sighted as an Eagle. The last time I saw you he took his stand in your faire eyes, and thence directed an Arrow to my heare, which is now because but one flaming lamp of Love: a Love (bright Virgin) as unstained as thy vertues, and as immaculate as the soule of expiring Martyrs; what plea, then, could you finde should you be summoned to Venu; Barre; if your cruelty bereave him of life, who has no longer to live than your goodnesse shall grant him a Beeing; since, then, your smiles are my heaven, and your frowns my hell, and that you are my Fats, and [...] or destroy [...] and can damn or save me, let me know my Doom, that I may [Page 2] prepare my self either Blisse or Torture; better to fall once, than be ever falling; send me my Sentence (dear Mistresse) as sperdily as may be, since the worst that can happen will be the highest happinesse,
SWeet Lady, I was never happy till this minute, nor ever had cause to thinke my selfe one of Fortunes Favourites till now; when I have the felicity to behold a beauty so matchlesse as yours. If the word [Stranger] doe not fortifie your brest with flint, I shall have hope that the humble prostration of a loyall loving heart will not hang clouds on that heavenly face.
I Perceive (Sir) you are well skill'd in Courtship, and know how to rank and file your complements; but I wonder what you should see in me that might incourage you to so hold a confidence to talke of Love and Loyalty; You have not known me (Sir.)
No Lady; I have lived bitherto in a darke corner of the world, my Hemisphere has enjoyed no Sun; some duskish false and foolish fires I have seen, but now I behold the true Venus in her full brightnesse: you may (perhaps) censure of Vanity, and rank me with these that take a pride to manifest what Masters of Wit they are, while they [Page] glut the ears of their Auditors with oylie Phrases, and varnished Discourses; but could you behold my heart, you would there finde a reality equal to any of the Ages past, when Love was not linked to sinister ends.
SIR, you might be pleased to preserve your Courtship for Her, you either are, or may be mo [...]e intimate with, than you are ever like to be with me; You much mistake my temper (Sir.) I must have ample experience of that man; virtue, whom I afford so much as a look: there are those (no doubt) that will be proud to receive your Rhetorical Addresses; but my selfe am of a clean contrary inclination, who if I cannot beg your silence, as to discourses of this nature, shall be compelled to quit your company.
THose cleathes fit you as well as if they were made for you; sure you can conjure, and have the Devil for your Tayler: you could never have such a peculiar elegancy of habit else, a method that no man in Town is master of, your spruce finified self excepted, you doe not use to starch your beard (Sir) doe you?
THese poor ornaments found creation, as the world did, when it lay like a lump; I spake but the word and all was fitted to my hand; but to tell you the Fashioners name. I confesse I cannot, onely by circumstances, (I mean, comparing his person with yours) I guesse him to be that very thing that got you, you are his very picture Ile assure you Sir, and may passe for the same slacksinew'd Tayler were your hayre more gray, and cloathes more gawdie.
I Know I have made my selfe but the Ladder that your wit must mount upon by this Addresse, [Page 7] but I shall beseech you (for credit of your own clemency) to whip me onely with Rods and not with Scorpions: I have had experience of the tartnesse of your temper, and doe perfectly know that six more such as your self are able to jeer a horse to death but I shall hope my businesse will not deserve your anger while I onely beg your company tomorrow at two after Noon at Mr. G [...]imes his house, where Tom Shallow and my self are resolved to sacrifice as much Sack as would turn a Mill, to Mirth and Beauty; you must be our Venus, the Oblation will not off else: your incomparable beauty must irradiate the Templ where we mean to Tipple, our Devotion will be as cold as Scythian Ice else. Thus humbly and earnestly begging that you would not faile, I kisse your lilly hands, and remain,
YOu are excellently well skill'd in Metaphors I perceive, a shrewd Similist believe me, to compare your selfe to a Ladder; doe you thinke I shall ever take the Hangmans Trade out of his hands, and throw men off the Ladder for thirteenpence-halfpenys? but had your wit a visible body, I am confident it were more easie to strangle a Cat at Tyburne, than to rob that lythe light thing of [Page 8] life with a Rope; doe you think that I use to string my whips with Scorpions upon such triviall occasions? a be [...]some of birch will be sufficient to sweep away Legions of such Lapwings as those, who travail'd with their Tenements upon their heads. Six such as my self you say are able to jeer a Horse to death; but I must tell you, you are but an Asse for saying so: for my conversation never extended to a Dialogue with a Dromedary. What a beastly Quibble was this? to come to the matter, you will sacrifice as much Sack as would turn a Mill. Oh rare! You mean that Windemill in your brain, which would be of no use if it were a Watermill: for there is not so much moisture in that pitifull pan of thine as would b [...]d [...]w a clout: You beg that I will afford you my company to morrow, two after Noon, and you prattle of Temples, Oblations, and Irradiations; will you never leave your Eloquence till the Carre-men curse you; but I shall be with you, if it be but for Mr. Shallows sake,
FAire Lady, methinks you are not Mistresse of so much beauty as might make you proud; a Gentlewoman of ginger-bread (for ought I know) may make a better Bedfellow; what are good cloaths when the face is wanting, but like small beer in a silver goblet; a meer Mercers Lucifer, but not a Rag of Natures Wardrobe about you.
YOu are a strange Gentleman, and something desperate to talke thus to one you know not; my name was never yet served up at Ordinaries, nor belcht abroad in Taverns by any such Royster as you seem to be; I should think my self the most unhappy of all my sex, if there were any thing in me that might merit the respect of such a Satyr as your self.
SWeet Sarah, I know your kindnesse can excuse my boldnesse, especially when you have put on, [Page 13] this Toy upon your finger; nay, by Venus, you shall not refuse it: I know you hold your Mistress in your power, you are her Counsellour, and she puts not a Flea to death without your privity: will you indeer me to her esteem, and procure me such addresses as may be fit and opportune? you know my meaning.
TRuly (though you may not know it) I have already mentioned your praises, and with some vehemency; may, and which is more, she lends a listening ear to all that she hears concerning you; I could tell you something. Sir, that would rejoice you: let it suffice, she never hears your name but her colour comes and goes; to my knowledge, she has a good opinion of your person and your parts.
But is it possible (my dear Sarah) that we may converse by Starre or Moon-light?
I dare promise you, Sir, but meaning no harm Sir.
Doe but accomplish what thou hast spoken, and command me, though to the losse of fame, of treasures, and of life; nay, chain me as thy slave. So farewell sweet Sarah.
Your faithfull Servant, Sir.
THough I am not so wise to know how you will palliate my proposall, yet probability bids me believe you will not be angry with him that has projected a way for your profit: I saw you in a place the other day, and could not but pity you; and withall, curse these squint ey'd Times; that expose so much beauty as you are mistresse of to so extreme penury: I know you doe not goe so poor on purpose to manifeft your modefty, so that by you I perceive that glorious births (such as I am confident yours is) are made infamous by rags, and base births are made glorious by gorgeous apparell: if you shall please to hearken to my advice. I shall prescribe you a way how to become the Miftress of a better fortune than at present you are, I have a Master Squire D. by name, that will make you his Danae, and court you, like another Jupiter in a golden shower, provided you will but [...]old up your lap to receive it: doe not five hundred in this Towne thinke you (though with worse faces than yours) doe worse than this? no woman that bears a brave minde will refuse any thing that is good. Virtue (i [...] this Age of ours) will not feed you; or [...]loathe you. Thus desiring your serious and sudden Answer by this Bearer, I commit you to your pro [...]table thoughts, and remain
BUt that I would not bring my own name in question, I would proclaim to the world what a five perswasive Pimp you are; but Sir, you ought to know that I had rather lodge under a poor thatcht Roose with honesty, than under carved Seelings as a Prostitute: I know the price of Ills too well, and what th [...] confusions are in whom they inhabit; how soon Women are won to their ruine, and for a minutes pleasure eternally undoe themselves; though I am poor my honour is pretious, and it is a Devils consequent, that because we are wanting, therefore we must be wicked. I cannot be carried away with a cast of manchets, a bottle of wine, and a custard: no, nor with a sattin gown. musick, coaches, and midnight revels: you have a leaprous soule whoever you are, and deserve the gallows more than a murtherer, but I shall remember your name and trade and tell the world accordingly. So wishing you a more honest heart, together with a more manly imployment, I commit you to your crimes,
Sir,
Let me prefer this Gentleman unto your knowledge, he will deserve your notice.
I Thank you dear Sir, no friend of your choice can deserve lesse.
Sir,
I shall thank you for any friendship shown to him, [...] if it were done to my selfe.
You may command me any thing. Sir, your humble servant: give me your hand. It is not my manner to use much Courtship▪ but I will proise to be friend you in all things that are in my power, and perform it too, Sir.
Sir,
I Shall be happy to call my selfe, Your humblest Creature: your kinde proffer claims a just power over my belief.
CAnnot your friend purchase a little fire to thaw his appetite by but must you that have been daily sing'd in the flame, be as greedy to beguile him of it: how can this appear other than a piece of malice? if I indure this, you may eare—bore me for your slave, but you shal find my temper not so tam [...] as (perhaps) you imagine; for, since you neither savour of good breeding, nor bringing up, I am resolved to slice your hamstrings but I will make you show mannerly; my fire is not so hot that I need a screen before it, 'tis but newly kindled; yet if it were risen to a flame, I should not suffer my best friend to stand before me: You are an intelligent man, and I need say no more, but that I am,
I Am sorry that you will needs ingrosse Hell to your self; Heaven forbid that you should not suffer a stranger to come in, the Devil himselfe is not so unmannerly: You thinke now, that I will beg an office there before you, and keep you out. Now God forgive you for your huge mistake. I am none of those guilded flies that will light upon such strange flesh; I may use Courtship, or so, but dare not thrust my hand into another mans fire: I have no minde to surfeit away my name and state in swinish riots, sleep away my youth, and awake a grey-bearded Beggar. Take your Toy to your self (Sir) never doubt that I shall attempt to supplant you, not but that if I had a will I durst stand your fury were you armed with thunder, and could manage an Oake like a Bull-rush. Thus Sir, I hope I have given you a plenary satisfaction as to your Scolopendra, you shall finde me upon all scores at your own appointment either for sincere friendship, or utter enmity,
TRuly Sir, you think your self much a Master of my modesty, you would never give me such continuall cause to blush else; I could finde courage (I am confident) to chide you for it, but that I would not administer any cause that might justifie your departure from me. Where I have hope my prayers and innocence shall detain you till the full consummation of our loves.
I Confesse I have more of Mars than Minerva in me, I never suckt the ayre of France, and therefore you must not expect fine language from me; yet I can tell you (with truth for warrant) that he that hopes for better felicity in the other world, than what I injoy in your blest society, must fast, pray, and live very severely to attain it.
Sir,
I perceive that you willingly mistake, you make me proud with your similitude, but whilst that I gain by it, your inference is at a losse; but this is because you know you have as great a priviledge to injure me as to abuse your self.
Shall I be heard then when I speak, and be listned unto chearfully, that so I may recover my sick hopes by degrees?
I know you cannot lose your virtue (Sir) and then you may assure your selfe my courtesies will never fail; if I should promise you more, your selfe would deem me too p [...]digall of that which in noblenesse you cannot rec [...]ive.
I Have a taske worthy the pregnancy of your spirit, an exercise for your pointed wits (wondrous in a Citizen) to worke upon; give me a man that even out of his recreations can cull advantages, that dives into seasons, and never walkes but thinks of something tending to his profit: know then I but lately made a journey into Sussex, where I perused a fair Lordship belonging to one Mr. G. his Father, but newly dead, and himselfe now in Town, and come on purpose hither to learn the fashions of London; he is already become acquainted with some Hectors of note, resorts to Gaming aswell as Bawdy-Houses: this young N [...] vice lately bought some cloath of me, and my Wife being in the shop he tooke an occasion to court her, and finding (as I had strictly injoyned her) that he was not scorned, but rather courted both by her self and me, he every day visits my house, and I thinke will one day drown us all with good Sherry, in reward whereof, I am resolved to murther his Estate, and sti [...] his Right; there are means and wayes enough to hook in such Gentry: you shall come acquainted with him, and while he is busie about my Wife, I will be as busie about his Lands.
I will ingratiate you into his company, take sure notice of him, he is fresh and free, shift your selfe speedily int [...] [...]he shape of a Gallant, Ile swell your purse with Angels, keep foot by foot with him, outdare his expences, flatter Dice and Brothell to him, give him a sweet tast of sensuality, train him to every wastfull sinne that he may quickly need health, but especially money. Ravish him with a Dame or two, be his Bawd for once. I will be your [...] forever. Come to me anon in the Evening when we will conferre together about this weighty businesse, till when and ever
Dear Mistresse,
WHy will you loss so much time? those Lillies and Roses that Nature has planted in your blooming Cheek will one day fade and wither, your odour and your pretious Colour must yeild to time.
THe losse will not be much mourn'd for Sir, since it will very hardly be discerned.
Sweetest, you remove your understanding a great distance from my words, and make that of no use which tends to perswade you to a present injoyment of this pleasant treasure, while it lasts; why are you still inclosed like an Anchoresse, and why doth your nicety barre your chamber door, when if the Priest were but payd for a few ceremonious words, I might be licensed to your bed and your bosome too.
Our marriage Sir, may promise all you can imagine, but till then you must give me leave not to admit of such opportunities, as may give breath to ill reports.
Nay, be not angry (my Dearest) nor censure any thing I have spoken with an unkinde belief; heare but my vowes.
Not now Sir, you have a greater power to raise my sorrow than my choller.
Yet please to remember, that I have your heart, by a sacred plight, our wedding day is not now farre off.
I shall never finde the way to break my faith, but till that hour you talke of is come, I shall desire that our converse may be more remote; you know how liable Lovers are to the lash of lewd tongues.
I am bold to salute you Sir, you know not Mr. S.
Yes indeed Sir, most entirely well; he is a Gentleman I am much obliged to for many favours: He is second to my bosome.
I shall keep Christmasse with him, where your Health shall undoubtedly be remembred: I would sue for your name Sir.
Your suit shall and in one Term Sir, my name is B.
Kinde Mr. B. your deare acquaintance, I must needs present you with a glasse of sack.
Sir, Your servant; I shall retalliate your love.
Save you sweet Widow, I suffer for your heavinesse.
O Sir, I have lost the dearest Husband that ever woman did injoy.
Yet let me tell you Widow, if all tongues [Page 32] speak truth he did not use you so well as a man ought.
Nay, that's true indeed, he never used me so well as a woman might have been used, that's certain. Introth it has been our greatest falling out, and though it be the part of a Widow to shew her selfe a woman for her Husbands death, yet when I remember all his unkindnesse. I cannot weep a stroak, and therefore wisely did a great Widow in this Land comfort up another: Go too (quoth she) leave blubbering, thou thinkest upon thy Husbands good parts when thou sheedest teares, doe but remember how often he has layn from thee, and how many haughty sl [...]ppery turns he has done thee, and thou wilt never weep for him I warrant th [...]e. You would not thinke how this counsell [...]as wrought upon me, so that I cannot spend one tear now if you would give me never so much.
Why I count you the wiser Widow, it shewes you have discretion, when you can check your passion; Farewell sweet Widow, may your threshold gr [...]an with the weight of approaching Lovers like Hops or Harlots.
How doe you mean? why doe you couple them?
O very aptly, for as the Hop well boyled will make a man not stand upon his legs, so the Harlot in time will leave a man no legs to stand upon.
You are a merry Gentleman; will you please to walke in and take what a Widows solitary Mansion shall exhibit.
Not now Widow: I must into London with all speed: another time I will come and dwell with you for two houres, so farewell blyth [...] Widow.
Adiew sweet Sir.
IF your favour doe not pay my Ransome, I vow I must continue a Captive till death, though one comfort will be (in case you deny your ayde) my life will be of no lasting d [...]te, your lookes have wounded me, and will kill me if Quarter be not given; but you are no Amazonian Lady to put [...]n steely armes and manage the sword and shield, though your head be hi [...]den in a cambrick helmet, and therefore I shall hope that the softnesse of your [Page 34] [...]oule will not suffer you to become my Murtheresse: you are my Venus, make me your Anchy [...]es, my souls life and light. I protest by all things sacred that my love to you is of such ardency, that men that are newly listed in some black conspiracy that are in despair, or (which is worst of all) in want, doe injoy more quiet sleeps than I doe. Your Idea is alwaies before me; to multiply your praises I know would rather win your anger than your applause, though I would say (with immaculate truth for warrant) that you are fairer then Hebe, wiser than Pallas, and more continent than Penelope, it is my unhappinesse to know that a creature o [...] such exquisite perfection live, and yet not to know whether my loyall service may finde acceptation; you are the true Venus, (Lady) make me your Priest, the office will become me. However (deare Cherubine) let me not faile of an Answer by this Bearer since I can live no longer then you shall allow me to call my self,
THe little experience I have hither to had of you commands me to esteem you no lesse than a friend to vertue, but you doe ill to talke so passionately, and thinke so coolely, you men can play the Proteu [...] at pleasure, and (with the Chameli [...]n) thange your selves according to the colour you look on, be (seeming) Reallists here, and palpable Dissemblers in another place; this day deveut Amori [...], to morrow sullen Stoicks; yet will I thank you for that love you make me believe you beare towards me, and what ever your heart is I shall not blush to tell you that I dare meet your love halfe way, provided it be honourable, and not glew'd to sinisler cogitations: this Sir, you may believe and accordingly determine of me, who am
LEt me containe thee in my armes yet a little longer.
I Would stay, dearest G but you know what a severe hand my Father holds over me, if he should know we were together, it were as much as my liberty is worth.
How sad and dismall does the farewell of true Lovers sound, why should my Destinies deny me thy injoyment, when shall we meet again?
To morrow night at Mistress C. her house, Ile steale forth in the Evening, my absence will be but short, consider that, which will make our next meeting the more sweet and musicall.
Thou pretious Darling of my heart; doe not we two part like Birds, who when they see that the Sun forsakes the world, lay their little pensive heads beneath their wings, as if they would ease that weight which is added to their grief by his departure?
But when they see that bright perpetuall Travailer to return, they start up and sing their gratitude——Faile not to morrow night.
Bid me to shun poyson, or not to refuse heaven were a Messenger sent from thence on purpose to proffer it me, one kisse and then farewell.
I swear James I will wake my Father and Mother if you offer these ru [...]e tricks; I wonder how the candle went out.
Sweet Mistresse Jane, be not angry, I scorn to offer you any incivility but I hope you will not be angry if I say I love you.
Love me little and love me long, you are short of your time James; four years yet to serve, think on that James.
I could serve four hundred years methinks had I but hope to win your love at last, the [Page 39] [...] [...] of you dispells all sad thoughts [...], and I am as free as the Ayre I breath in, while I can frequently gaze on that celestiall face of yours.
You have an English Expositor in your box James, and therefore I doe not wonder that you talke so fluently: besides, you write Verses now and then, I liked those wondrous well that you made of our boar-Cat that fell into the House-ofoffice.
I made one Copie to day at the request of a new married man, you know him I am sure Mistresse Jane, T. S. the Millener by the Stocks.
Let me hear them good James, he that puts a snaffle of Verses into my mouth may lead me [...] where he list, I mean still in the way of honesty James.
I know that Mistresse Jane, the Verses are these:
How doe you like them Mistresse Jane?
Now by my Maydenhead exceeding well; God bodykins we are undone: my Father knocks I swear.
One kisse deare Mistresse Jane.
Take halfe a dozen but make no delay, you know my Father is a hasty man.
THe cordiall love which upon all occasions you have manifested, obliges me to think, that I shall not finde you backward in a businesse that so much concerns me: my occasions at this time are unspeakably pressing, so that if I doe not procure an hundred pounds by to morrow this time, my credit will receive a mortall wound, and my reputation be stabbed to the heart, you are a man whose estimation (and that worthily) is high in the hearts of all men, and whose very word were sufficient (though I should not suffer it did you preffer it) without bond or obligation to furnish me with such a summe, I shall onely desire your name with mine, and may Hell take me if I faile in the Premisses, thus begging your positive Answer by this Bearer, I rest and remain,
YOu were pleased to mention a matter in your last Epistle, which I protest by all things sacred I would not meddle withall were it for the Redemption of my Heir out of the Turks Galleys, enter into bond; I would as soon (with Empedocles) leap into Aetna, marke but this Note and you will not much blame my aversenesse; he that enters into Bond ought to imagine he Christens a Childe, and takes the Charge of it too: for as the one the bigger it growes the more cost it requires, so the other the longer it lies the more charge it puts you to, onely here is the difference, a Childe must be broke and a Bond must not; the more you break Children the more you keep them under, but the more you break Bonds the more they leap in your face, and therefore to conclude, I would never undertake to be Gossip to that Bond which I would not see well brought up.
Therefore sweet friend excuse me; any thing but this; a small summe (either to lend or give you) is at your service, but this I neither can nor dare, so wishing you all felicity. I assure you that I am
HAd I not a hope that your immaculate candour can whiten the swarthiest crime, I should chuse rather to sacrifice my life to incessant sorrow, and consequently to inevitable death, than adde to my guilt by apollogizing for a sin that can not be remitted: by Loves Bow and Quiver by Venus Shrine, nay by your faire selfe from whose bright eyes the blinde God fetches his Paphian fire, and whose sacred bosome is the true Temple of divine Love, I could not (though I indeavoured it with the hazard of my life) meet you according to promise, some lucklesse Planet (without doubt) had governance over that ominous day, I confesse it were but justice to cast me off as a thing me worthy your future notice, who have contemned (though not wilfully) such a happinesse as Kings could have been proud to purchase with the price of their Diadems; you may doom me to death, I have deserved it, and am so clogg'd with guilt [Page 46] that I have scarce confidence enough to beg your pardon, if any penance might expiate this black oversight, I should think you more than courteous in appointing me to Row upon the Thames for twelve Moneths, or to personate Iack Pudding upon the Ropes the whole term of time that makes up a Bartholomew- Fair: so that were I so much a Brute (as History makes Brutus to be) I should (undoubtedly) signe my owne Passe for the other World. Determine of me (dear Lady) out of hand, it is some happinesse (though a killing one) that the Malefactor is sensible of the worst that can happen. Thus begging your speedy Reply, I humbly take my leave, and remain
YOu doe very aptly imitate those Children, who having tyed strings about the legges of their Birds, sometimes suffer them to gain liberty to a great distance, but when they please twitch them home againe; there is no dallying with Loves Tools, his Arrows are sharply pointed, and apt to wound a wanton hand, can you think me so shallow to conceit that all the businesse in the world should [Page 47] have blockt up your way to one you affected with a cordiall regard, and what fine Powers you call to witnesse with you that this Traditiae could not be vaded, a blinde Boyes Bow, a blunt Dart, and a leaden Shrine. Well Sir, you know what command you have [...]ver me, and that a slender excuse will serve where the injury is pardoned ere committed; all the penance I shall impose is this, that you afford me a visit at my Mansion to morrow in the morning about the houre of ten, where you shall finde
Are you busie Sir?
Never Sir to you, nor any of your Goat: [...] confesse I was but a dull slave before I conversed with Schollers, not worthy to tread upon the earth before I fell in love with learning, and what fresh hopes it has put into me, I doe intend shortly to biggar all the bawdy Writers, especially him that wrote the Mock Poems of Hero and Leander; nay, I will build at my own charge an Hospitall, to which shall retire all diseased [Page 48] Opinions, and all halting Poets, as the venerable Humphrey Crowch, Laurence Price, and Sam. Smithson.
Sir, ye are a man made up of ingenuity, very charitable, more piously inclined than Sir Paul Piodar, you are a true pattern for the City Sir.
Sir, I have been informed by Revelation (without the belp of Arise Evans) that their shop-Books cannot save them.
O Sir, much may be done by Manuscript, there is a kinde of Spell in bad paper, watrish inke, and worse sense.
The Muses favour me, as my intents are vertues, will ye be my Tutour Sir, I have read Greens Groats worth of Wit, the Spanish Rogue, the Authentick History of Amadis de Gaule, and Tullies Love written by the Master of Art.
You are excellently well read, Sir, you are my friend, and a friend to all that professe good Letters.
Sir, you are very honest, and yet you have a kinde of modest fear to shew it, doe not darken your own worth with too much bashfulnesse, men of parts should proclaim themselves, the world will still [Page 49] remaine ignorant of their worth else.
Sir, you almost make me blush as red as those stockings you weare, I thinke they are of Naples.
I thought you Schollers had known all things, you are beside your Text there, I must tell you; they are compounded I confesse of the finest wooll, and created in Iersey.
Pardon my judgment Sir, we Schollers seldome use any other objests but our Books.
I doe confesse it Sir, provided alwaits they are Licensed ones, and have some worthy hands set to them for probation.
Sir, I must intreat your company to the Canary shop.
With all my heart Sir, I am of late become a great lover of sacke, and can make shift now and then to cut out a Copie of Verses, I can tell ye as simple as I stand here, not a bit of Prose sometimes will down with me, but le [...]s away; Boy, have a vigilant care of my shop, the Times are dangerous, and if there come ever a Scholler in black let him speaks with me, for my own part I doe begin to doat upon Books, and am very strangely [Page 50] taken with strange Verses, and howsoever we are all accounted dull-brain'd Asses by Gentlemen, yet there are those that merit renown for their parts and performances even amongst us Shop-keepers, witnesse Murford, Mercer, and Scot. I doe love a Scholler with my heart, for undoubtedly very marvailous things may be atchieved by Art, I have read something though I say it that should not: Why Sir, there are those Schollers in Town will tell you what is become of Horses and silver spoons, and will make Wenches dance naked to their beds, I had a Sister was served so; I am yet unmarried, and because some of our neighbours are said to be Cuckolds, I will never be married without the consent of some of these Schollers that know what will come of it. Please Sir, to lead the way.
Nay, I shall wait on you Sir.
Phoebus forbid it Sir, that were a fine jest Ifaith, let Learning lye behinde me, I have been better brought up than so Sir. Nay I know my postures I warrant you Sir, and have been drunke at Court more than twice in the dayes of old King Charles Ile assure you Sir.
You will manifest what command you have over me Sir, I shall be obedient for once my capacious Citizen.
IF I thought it could be possible to finde out that race of men that Pliny talks of, whose heads stand in their brest, who scarce can tell a smooth lie, because their hearts are joyned so near to their lips, I would instantly depart this Nation and travail to those well-meaning men, there I should [Page 52] forget the calumnies of deceitfull tongues, and no more remember that I once prized the amity of so false a man as thy self, happy are those soules chat sit in the Elysian shades, who being freed from fleshly clogs, have so clear an understanding of each other, that there is no need of eares or tongues; words were first made to reveale our meaning, but by a strange inversion they now serve to conceale our intents. I have spelt your hollow heart Sir already by joyning three or four actions, but if those lent me no light, the reading of the whole Sentence gives me perfect assurance, you can no longer delude my sense Sir, your wellspoke wrongs are like hurtfull words writ in a gracefull hand, or a bloody sword sheathed up in velvet: so wishing your conversion, or—I will not say confusion. I close all with this truth,
Are you that beauty (Lady) whose lustre gives light to this methodicall mansion?
Sir, you have given my face a more speciall regard by your good language than these [...]black brows can merit.
You are pleased to set a triviall rate upon your selfe; you are wondrous faire—you have a very moving lip.
Prove it again Sir; all the poor means I have left to be thought gratefull is but a kisse or two, and ye may reap them Sir.
Tis still the same, you weare Divinity about you, another kiss will make me immortall—How farre may ye hold the time to be spent Lady?
Tis now Sir about the time when Mortalls whet their knives, some on thresholds, others on bricks, and some on the soles of their shoes.
You are very Metaphoricall, Madam; you mean it is almost Dinnertime, if it might be without the trouble of your house, I would stay till your Husband comes, I have some earnest businesse with him.
I shall be proud of your society Sir, I beseech you stay Dinner, a piece of Beef Sir, and a cold Capon.
I have greater businesse then eating; but am truly happy in having your commission to wait your Husbands approach.
Syrrah, you shall know that you are my servant, my Apprentice bound and inrolled, though I have often intrusted thee with all I am master of at home and abroad, yet I doe not remember that I ever gave my consent that thou shouldst court my Daughter, and just in the nick of time too, when she is on the very Prick of Preferment as they say, when I had found out a wealthy Husband for her, but I shall break the neck of your designe, and marre your matter of Matrimony.
Sir, I acknowledge my self your creature, a thing that is wholly at your disposal. yet give me leave to say, that I have not been carelesse of that which concerns your profit, nor have I lavished and wasted your stock by my unthriftinesse, I never wore your gains upon my back, or exhausted your treasure by my riots, but for your Daughter if her love have the least relation to me I shall not endeavour to stop it, though I were sure to [Page 66] be broken upon the Wheele in case I neglected it, nor indeed am I able to frown upon her fair wishes, whose love I durst own to the teeth of torture, nor will you (I hope) have a thought of matching her to that lame piece of Letchery—
Tis very well, I shall receive instructions from you to whom I shall wed my Daughter, but I shall discharge your wisdome from any such imployment; I doe here discharge you my house, take your own liberty, and when I know not where to finde a Son in Law I will send for you; Begone Sir, I doe freely free you my service, you are your own master now, but shall never be my Daughters Hasband.
Sweet, &c. Welcome, not Dido was more joyfull when Aeneas landed on the Carthaginian shore than I am to meet thee thus happily.
Thrice blessed be that kinde Fate, which conducted me to this place, where I have the sight of her who is the sole comfort that I have on earth.
You may see how much Fortune is our friend.
They say that Fortune is onely courteous to Coxcombs.
By that rule (my Dear) you should not be overwise.
Nay, sometimes the slie Goddesse affords a glance, or so even to those that are meriting, but that it is very seldome, and at best but to show her mutability, not that she a friend to worth—What sayes my Dear unto that faithfull love which I have ever fervently profest.
I shall not dissemble, though I blush to acknowledge it; that very blind Boy who has wounded you, has also lodged an Arrow in my brest, I love you dearly; and may those Powers who govern all things terrestiall, grant not onely the fruition, but the felicity that all loyall Lovers merit.
You make me happy above humane thought, my brest is too narrow to comprehend those numerous joyes that throng about my heart.
My Father you know will doe his utmost to hinder what God and Nature I hope has decreed, I mean, he will use all the stratagems that can be imagined to dissolve this sacred Union; he swears I shall marry a man of wealth, and of his chusing, or he will not own me for his Childe, but I scorn Mammon and his [Page 70] mines, the goods of the minde are the things that I prize, yet I would have you use your utmost skill (if it be possible) to obtain my Fathers consent.
I shall be guided by thee, my Faire one, were the venture more perilous than that of Jason for the Golden Fleece, thou art my chaste Medea, and being armed with thy oraculous councell, I shall not feare to force my way though opposed by millions of dangers.
Thanks my gentle Love; but lest that my Father (whose jealous head is haunted with more doubts than Argus was furnished with eyes) should suspect our conference, I will presently leave you, Farewell dearest friend untill our next meeting.
Adieu my love, let the fairest Fortune attend thee, I will resort to your Father to morrow to implore his consent, I have a hope to prevail upon him.
Strephon, Dapne, together.
IAm sorry that you should be exposed to so much penury, as to want so small a summe as—shillings, and good faith my condition was never so tattered as it is now, but I have sent you the money; I would beg of you to take some setled course, you have a good wit, and must stirre in the world if you wish for a prosperous condition: but howsoever you are crossed by Fortune, you have a retiring place: come home to me, and be as welcome as my own soule, but be a good Husband as I am, which is to say, wear ordinary cloathes, eat the best meat, and drink the best drinke; I know this doctrine is not disgustfull to you. Let me see you as soon as may be, for assure your selfe, there is no man more entirely affects you than
Come Jone, we are toward marriage, let us talke of that [...]ill doe us good, What will thy Granam give us towards Housekeeping?
Marry two platters, a pot and a pan, two dishes and as many spoons, a sheet and two slannell blankets.
This pretty well indeed la, let me see: We must be as [...] in the Market place next Tuesday, and weel be married presently.
I-faith my honey sweet Combe, Have thee, weel have a whole noise of Fidlers, though I pawn my patticeate for't; come Will, let us his us [...], weel make a bag-pudding to supper.
Come away Chuck.
Mistresse E. God speed you.
That's more than I need at this time, for I am doing nothing Sir.
I were as good say a good word as a bad: but if you will have it more complementicetically as they say, than thus, How does your faire and beauteous worship?
Sir; tis more wisdome to say nothing at all than to speak to no purpose.
My purpose is to Wive you.
Very good; but I have a purpose too Sir, and that is never to wed you.
Belike you are in love with somebody else.
No, but I am lustily promised.
Make em your Worships man, I can deo many things I can tell you, else there are lies abroad. I have heard very well of you Mistresse E, and so has my Father, who has sent me a wooing to you: nay, and I have a Copie of Verses (cost me six pence, and a double jag of Mother Red-Caps Ale) made by our Vicar, I have been conning them this four long houres by the clock, you shall heare me read them.
I for Phoebus sake Sir, I love good Verses as I love good meat or witty company.
How does your beauteous Worship like our Vicars Verses?
O rarely well! By the soul of Martin Parker your Vicar has an ingenieus Soull; I am mightily taken I confesse with your Poetry: but say I should set my affections upon you, how will you maintain me?
Marry with my land and living my Father hath promised me.
I have heard much of your wealth, but I never knew your manners before now.
I have no Manours, but a pretty Homestalland we have good store of Oxen and [Page 80] Horses, and Carts, and Plowes, and houshold-stuffe bomination, and great flocks of Sheep, and flocks of Geese, and Capons, and Hens, and Ducks: Oh we have a fine yard of Pullen, and thanke God here is fine weather for my Fathers Lambs.
I cannot live content in the midst of discontent, for as it is impossible for that musick to delight the care where all the parts of discord come to composition, so the marriage life will still consist of jars where there is no sympathy in the condition of the wedded Parties. Pray Sir, rest your selfe contented with this Answer, I cannot love you.
I, I, tis no matter what you say, my Father told me thus much before I came that you would be something nice at first, but he bad me like you never the worse for that, I were the liker to speed.
You were best then leave off your suit till some other time, and when my leisure shall serve me to love you Ile send for you.
I shall be sure to pay the Messenger, and so I take my leave of your beautifull Worship.
Save you sweet▪ Mistresse, How comes it to passe that you are alone?
Because Sir, I desire no other company but my own.
Would I were your own then, that I might keep you company.
O Sir, you and he that is my own are farre asunder.
But if you please you may be nearer.
That cannot be mine own is nearer than my self, and yet alas I cannot call my self my own; thoughts, fears, and despairs are onely mine, and those doe keep me company.
I must confesse your Father is too cruell to keep you thus in a manner sequestred from the world, to spend your prime of youth in obscurity, seeking to wed you to a very Foole that knowes not how to use himself, but could my deserts be answerable to my desires, I swear by all things powerfull that my heart could wish no higher happinesse than to be graced with your love, I cannot play the dissembler as some doe, nor hang my love at my tongues [...]nd.
Sir, I shall consider of your suit.
Doe, and make me eternally happy:
Faith I h [...] been in a fair taking for you, a bots on you, for tother day after I had seen you, my [...]elly began to rumble; what's the matter thought I? with that I bethought my self, and the swe [...]t comportnance of that same sw [...]et round face of thine: out went I, and I'le besworn was never so taken, for I was faine to cut all my points; and dost heare Maudlin, if thou dost not grant me thy good will, in the way of marriage, first and formost I'le run out of my cloathes, and then out of my wits for thee.
Nay Ralph, I would be lo [...]th you should doe so for me.
Will you look merrily on me and love then?
Faith I care not greatly if I doe.
C [...]re not greatly if I doe! what an Answers that? If th [...] wilt say, I Maudlin take thee Ralph to my sp [...]ce Husband.
Why so I will, but we must be cryde at the Market-C [...]o [...]se, and have more company for Witnesses first.
Nay, we will not want for company.
Why then here's my hand.
And here's a b [...]sse, I long to be in bed with thee my sweet [...]orsell of Mayds fl [...]sh.
SInce the heavens have so much favoured me that your consent walks hand in hand with the serious proposals of my lawfull love, I cannot but expresse those joyes that crowd about my heart, and tell you that as I was never happy till now, so I shall never finde any felicity but in your blessed company, who are more to me than the Mines of M [...]xico or Pe [...]u, your face affording the fulnesse of beauty, your body the summum of all bl [...]sse, and your bosome the basis of all perfection, and rest confident that the Sun shall sooner shine without affording either [...]at or light, the Sea cease ebbing and flewing, and the Earth be void of Inhabitants [...]r [...] my firm fixed affection fall from that bright Zenyth where my cordiall zeale has placed it; I am providing as fast as may be for the Sol [...]nization of our Hymeneall Rites, my true love gives wings unto my haste, for I long to fold thee in my armes, and to lose my lusty youth in thy imbraces who art my light and life, and to whom I shall ever prove my self
I Kindly thanke you for your last Letter, and thinke my selfe the happiest she in the world who have the sincere and unbyassed affection of a man so accomplished as your selfe: nor shall I faile to retribute your cordiality with the return of a true and unfeigned zeale, my heart is wholly yours, you sit as sole soveraigne there, and command each thought ere I can call it mine; my subjugation to you is (in my opinion) the most immense tranquility that can possibly wait on Mortality; command me (deare Friend) as soon as you please, for the griping Miser is not more desirous of Mammon, or the hungry man of meat, than I am to prost ate all I call mine to your commands, to whom I shall ever manifest my selfe.
HE that first folded his armes, lookt pale, walks disconsolately, and sighed his sorrows in a pensive tone, was he that first taught Women how to be cruell and relentlesse: most inexorable Woman! have I so long courted thee with all the reality of serious love? have I l [...]ckt thy spittle from the earth, and prostrated my selfe at thy feet as thy foot-stool, offering up more prayers at thy Shrine than in the Temple, and will nothing mollifie thy obdura [...]e heart? what excuse canst thou make for such contemptuous scorn? am I another Hyponax, or mis-shapen Thyrsites? or has Time yet stampt the Characters of Age upon my brow? or is my estate so mean that I cannot maintain thee in more pomp than thy pride can dictate? if none of these can be charg'd upon me, let the world judge of thy wisdome; for me, I have found my errour, and will appoint my self the strictest penance: in the mean time I gaze upon my quondam absurdities (in reference to thee) as prodigies that predicted ruine but by heavenly appointment are turned to good. So farewell fond and cruell Mistresse, and may both P [...]les meet before thy love and my affection, which is the firm resolve of
I Cannot but tax you of too much harshnesse and diss [...]nanty, who flie her who so entirely affects you: must Daphne follow Phoebus? fi [...] Sir! can you be so uneasie, can you freez in so hot a Summers day, certainly it is your mistake that occasions this scorn: I have youth and some beauty, else my glasse is treacherous, and all that censure me are meer Calumniators; I doe confesse I am too pliant, 100 much Woman yet I can frown & [...]ip the passions of others even in the bud. I can tell [Page 94] others that they court our Sex onely to please their present heats, and then it is their pleasure to leave us; I can hold off, and by the Chymicall power of my countenance draw whole Rhe [...]es of Sonets and Madrigals from the brain [...] of a w [...]ping Lover; yet to you (dear Sir) who are my bet [...]er self, I put off all those necessary nice [...]ies, and contrary to custome doe that office which no way befits a Woman, and intreat a Man to love, if you are humane, and have blood and spirit you cannot chuse but relent; though you are as hard as marble, yet I believe you are no Image; is it not deplarable that a thing of so exact a form shap't out with so true a symetry, that has all the organs of speech belonging to a man should render all those but livelesse [...]otions that walke upon wi [...]: then (dear Sir) leave off what you have been, and be what God and Nature intended you for, a Man, and imbrace that reall love which is unfeignedly prostrated by
I am a Souldier and a Batchelour, Lady, I could love such a Wife as you infinitely, they that use many words are commonly [Page 95] deceitfull; but the truth is, I long to be a Husband, a good Husband: I finde my self given to my ease a little, I am young you see, and for my abilities you need not question them, if you are diffident, trie me before you take me.
You appear to me Sir, so honest and so civill, that I dare bid you welcome without a blush.
You have made me a bountifull amends for your strict carriage when you saw [...]e first, you will not be angry Lady if I ask you one question.
Any thing Sir.
Are you a Mayd?
You make me blush to answer you: I was ever accounted so, and durst confirm it Sir, with an oath.
Then would I counsell you to marry presently, for every year you lose, you lose a Boy, together with a Beauty.
I am not so strict Sir, nor so much tyde unto a Virgin solitarinesse, but if an honest and noble Souldier, (such as I esteem your self) should professe a sincere affection, I think I should accept it, but first I must have good assurance of his love; I know well how to be commanded, and how to be obeyed if occasion require [Page 96] it, nor is my Riall of lesse worth when tis spent, if spent by my direction for my Husbands advantage, and I doe hold it as indifferent in my duty to be his Mayd in the Kitchin, or his Cooke if necessity command it, as to know my self the Mistresse of the house in the Hall or the Parlour.
Faith Lady, let's not linger, but be married on the sudden.
And as suddenly you will repent your bargain.
The sooner I shall blesse my Fate.
You are a Flatterer; but to speak truth, the first time that I saw you I found something in that noble face, that commanded my notice.
I am all yours Lady.
You have the art to cozen me, but I shall venture for once, Hymen has sometimes shewn himself.
COuld not your own discretion tell you that when I was married I was none of yours: is it not time Sir, to become vertuous? I hope you will forget our past follies, and neither talk of our intimacie, or cherish a thought of our future familiarity; your eyes are now commanded to look off me, I stand now on the marriage circle safe and secure; nor can all your Spells, Charms, or Incartations be of force to remove me; it is the highest sacriledge to violate Wedlock you rob two Temples at once, and so make your self doubly guilty, while your ui [...]e hers, and bespatter her Husbands honour, but I have hopes of your conformity & that for the time to come you will love me vertuously, chastly, and modestly, so expecting, nay imploring your compliance, I take my leave, and am
Did your wisdome conceit, that I was in love? I wonder where I first began to suck in that unnaturall heat, I am sure not from those two leaden eyes of yours, that sight is no way piercing; I confesse they would be very lovely ones if the balls stood right, and there is a leg of yours (to your praise be it spoken) made out of a dainty Staffe, and yet God be thanked there is Calfe enough.
Be pleased to pardon him Lady, who though once refractory, is now become soft and soluble, you see what miracles your beauty can work.
Alas! has it been wounded of late? prickt at the heart Ile warrant, with a forked-Arrow.
Let my true unfeigned penitence procure a pardon for my former follies, I doe acknowledge that dread powerfull Deitie little; great Cupid, and his all-quickning heat burns in my brest, I confesse I am he that once wronged your honour, that termed you unchast and impudent, [Page 100] and yet I am he that now doe beg your love, my Contrition is as true as my Allegation was false; I am now all love, and all your creature, nor can I live unlesse you will deigne to love me.
Well Sir, I shall consider of your suit, your Confession, and Contrition has something wrought upon me.
I am at your disposall.
I Have so much care of your health, that I cannot but intreat you (as the Welch Philosopher sayes) to take very many heeds, that your brains bring not your body to ruine. I hear you have undertaken all City-Feasts, Poesies for Chimneys and Ghambers, and Entertainments whensoever, and wheresoever, at the perill of your own invention; tis a very noble resolve I confesse, but you must consider that the misery of Man may fitly be compared to a Divedapper, who when she is under water past our sight, and indeed can seem no more [Page 104] to us rises again, and does but shake her self, and is the very same she was: even so (beloved Sir) is it still with transitory Man. You have learnt the names of the severall Liberall Sciences, and have written Epistles congratulatory to the Nine Musess, and are indeed one of the Water-Bayliffs of Hel con. But what then? Poverty is the Patrimony of the Muses; those that have seen the sad Exit of many a famous Poet, have made that old Law into a new Maxime: you are not to be taught that no man can be learned of a sudden, but let not your project for Poetrie discourage you, what (probably) you may lose in that you may get again in Alchymie; but what ever happens, you must remember that the chief note of a Scholar is to govern his passions; keep your hat on, the block salute few bare-headed, especially in Winter there is much danger in it. The Poet Aeschilus while he was complementing with his hat in his hand had his brains beaten out by a shell-Fish darted from an Eagles claw, who took his balld-pate for a white Rock: I know you bruise your brains and confine your self to much vixation, I know also that eight and twenty severall Almanacks have been compiled, and all for severall years since first that fabrick of yours was indued with breath, and eight and twenty times has Phoebus Carre run out his yearly course since your creation. I need not play the Aedipus, or say you are eight and twenty years [Page 105] of age; so wishing you long life, I rest and remaine—
AJax sirnamed Telemon, who (vanquished by Ulysses invincible Oratory, who in despight of him obtained Achilles's Celestiall Armes) slew himselfe, out of whose blood sprang a Flower with these letters on the leaves, A. J. which are the first letters of his name, signifying griefe, and dolour: Ajax in Greek signifying Ahlasse.
The Son of Peleus and Th [...]tis, the greatest and most excellent Warriour among the Greciau [...]; the Poets will have him to be Invulnerable, only his heel might be pierced; which (say they) was proved by Paris, who wounded him with an envenomed Dart (in the Temple of Apollo) in that very place, whereof he died.
As some will have it, the Son of Neptune, as others of Glaucus King of Epire, an all-accomplisht young Prince; he residing in the Court of Petreus King of Argos, the Kings Wife (A [...]thia) became passionately in love with him, insomuch that (forgetting of what Sex she was) she offered him her body, but being rejected by this frigid Hypolitus, and diffident of his secresie, with her heire dishelved, and on her knees she besought the King her Husband, to wipe off her stain with spunges made of his heart who had ravisht her: Petreus, though highly incensed, would not immediatly destroy him, nor permit his stinghter in his Palace, but contrived his ruine thus, He wrote Letters to his Father-in-law, Jobaras King of Lycra; making Bellerophon the Messenger, intimating that upon receipt of those he should immediately [Page 111] kill him (Bellerophon) as his deepest enemy, the Prince thus dispatched with the message of his own murther, repaired to Lycia, and was magnificently treated by the King for the space of twelve dayes: which expired, Jobaras inquired the welfare of his Son and Daughter, with the present estate of Epire, demanding if he had no Letters that might hint his desired solution. Bellerophon presently pull'd forth his Packet, which the King receiving and reading, became much astonished; but dissembling his displeasure, he began to cogitate how he might deliver over Bellerophon to death by some wilie stratagem, and therefore using him with all honour for some few dayes, he began at length to expresse more intimacy, often discoursing with him of Prodigies, Monsters and Serpents, amongst the rest he mentioned the Chymera, a most hydeous monster-, informing him, that whosoever should destroy that beast should have Temples erected to his honour. Bellerophon, whose magnanimity was sufficient to animate him to any adventure, (though never so dreadfull) readily undertook the incounter, vanquishing this more than monster thanks to his plumed palfray; for which deliverance, Jobaras not onely altered his sanguine resolve, but gave him one of his Daughters, called Cassandra in marriage, with part of his Territories.
A Prophetesse, Diughter to Priam King of Troy: Antiquity relates that Apollo was much enamoured on this Sybill, who for a long time remained deafe to his demands, to the great grief of that God, as is sweetly hinted by the famous French Poet Ronsard in one of his most excellent Sonets (translated, and almost fitted for the Presse) to his Mistresse, whom he shadows under the name of Cassandra, Son. 22.
Yet at last this love-sick Deity got a grant of his wishes, on this condition that Phoebus should furnish her with such Prescience, that she should [Page 113] be able to foretell the Fates of Men, Nations, and Cities for Ages to come. Phoebus granted her desire, but claiming her promise, she gave a scornfull negation: At which Apollo being incensed (since it was impossible to seize what he had already conferred for the Gods (say the Poets) cannot revoke their promise) added this, That though she prophefied never so truly no man should believe her, the reason that though she foretold the calamities that must inevitably follow if Helen were not restor'd, yet none hearkned to her advice.
The Brother of Zetes, both Sonnes to Boreas; the two brothers being imbarqued with Jason, and the other Argonauts, for the conquest of the Golden Fleece, hapned to cast Anchor in a Haven of Bythinia, then under the Scepter of Phineas King of Bythinia and Paphlagonca, (a man most skliful in predicting future accidents) who, for divulging the secrets of the Gods, having been honoured with their councels, was not onely struck binde by Jupiter, but most strangely tormented by Harpies, i. e. monstrous Birds, having faces like Virgins, their hands mis-shapen and woudrous large, furnished with great bellies and insatiate appetites, these so soon as Phineas was set down to meat [Page 114] were constant Intruders, either devouring all, or in case any dish escaped their rapacity, they defiled it with loathsome excrements. Phineas having foreseen the approach of those noble Adventurers who were now landed in his Dominions, furnishing himself with a Guide, resorted to their Harbour; relating his misfortune, and imploring their assistance, adding, That he was neer allyed to them in blood, having married one of their Sisters calld Cleopatra, also that he had a long time expected their approach, as appointed by heaven for his deliverance. The Sons of Boreas (whose shoulders were adorned with wings like Birds) and their fellow-Adventurers being moved with compassion, associated him to his Court, where at the houre of Dinner they were sumptuously feasted, but scarce had they tasted the Vyands, when behold the Harpies (with hideous noyse) invaded the meat, filling the room with a noysome stench: then the Sons of Boreas presently taking wing, fell upon the Harpies with such courage that they forced them to flie, when a voice was heard from heaven, forbidding their further pursuit, and assuring that the Harpies should no more infest Phineas, Appollonius, Valerius Flaccus.
The Brother of Pollux, the two Sons of Laeda, the first by Tyndarus, the second by Jupiter; they were born in Aebalia, called also Laconia; Castor being slaine by Meleager his Brother, Pollux, (who challenged the right of Immortality, as the Son of Jove) so infinitely loved him that he prevailed with his Father Jupiter that his Immortality might equally be shared betwixt them; which being granted, they live and are in heaven by turns.
Where Apollo's Temple once stood, on the Hill of Parnassus, a Rock every where hanging over it, where stood a City not defended by Walls but by Precipices; the middle of the Rock did open it self into the form of a Theater, by reason whereof the clamour of men and the clangor of Trumpets when they were sonnded, was heard more multiplied by the Reverberation; which strook the men of that Age (being ignorant of the naturall cause) with great terrour, adding a reverend amazement to their admiration: here this Devil of Delphos a long time gave Oracles, much about this hollow of the Rock, on the middle of the height of the [Page 116] Hill, there was a little Plane, and in it a deep Hole, out of which the Oracle proceeded, which being a cold breath driven up (as it were) by a winde, did possesse the mindes of the Priests with a madnesse, who being filled with the God (or rather the Devil) he did inforce them to give Answers to those that demanded them.
The renowned Scicilian Philosopher, he constituted two principles of all things, viz: Vacancy and Repletion, and was of opinion that of those Attoms congregated in one bulk; all this great ALL took beeing, that he might be thought a God, he leapt into Aetna, as was confirmed by the ejection of his brazen shooes.
One of the Wood Gods, sometimes taken for Rebin Good-Fellow; one of that name King of the Latines, who first erected Temples, was worshipped with Divine Honours, of whom all Temples were called Fanes.
Phorcus the Son of Neptune had six Daughters, three whereof were called the Aged, because they were born with white hayres covering their bodies like a garment; the other three were named Gorgons for their horrible shapes. Gorgon in Greek signifying terrible: they feign thee these three had but one Eye to see with, and one Tooth to eat with, which they mutually injoyed by turns. Medusa being mortall, but the other immortall: they had their heads periwigg'd with scales of Dragons, their teeth long as those of a wilde Boare, having wings wherewith they flew; moreover qualified with this excellent property, that whoever looked upon them were immediately converted to stone, for so the Poets and Grammarians (as well Greeks as Latines will have it) but to speak truth, and with Authentick Authority for warrant they were indued with such excellent beauty that all that gazed upon them were surprized with amazement: thence came the Fiction, that they were converted into stone, Nat. Comes Mithol, lib. 6.
The God of Marriage, he was born in Athens. It hapned that the chief Virgins of the City sporting themselves in an Evening by the Seashore were surprized by Pyrates, and with the rest, Hymen (who to enjoy the company of his Beloved had put himself into the habit of a Woman) was brought on boord, but at midnight this masculine Mayd cut the throats of all the Pyrates while they were soundly sleeping; and running to the City, demanded of the Citizens what they would give to him that should restore their Daughters? They being surprized with joy, promised him all they were masters of. He onely requested the immediate possession of his Mistresse; which being confirmed unto him by oath, he immediately gave every man his Gyrle, and receiving his dearest Dear to his imbraces, that marriage proved so fortunate, that after his decease it was the constant custome of the Greeks to Invoke Hymen at every Nuptial Feast; and from them the Latines received that Ceremony, long time in use amongst them.
The Daughter of Inachus, transformed into a Cow, and Bull'd by Jupiter; at which, Juno being angry, created a Flie called the Aestrum, which so stung poor Iô that she became mad, and afterwards brought forth a Son to Jupiter, called Epaphus Aesehylus.
Father to Priam, he intending to build the City of Troy, Neptune and Apollo (degraded of their Rule) indented with him for an Annual Salary to afford their utmost ayde: This proffer was cheerfully imbraced by Laomedon, but his work finished, he not onely denyed to make good his agreement, but threatned in case they departed not his Territories to cut off their eares and banish them into some barren Island: this brace of Deities thus injuriously dealt with were extremely incensed, and resolving to castigate this perfidious Prince, Apollo shot his Arrows (headed with pestilence) into the Town, while Neptune thundred his rage in impetuous Torrents that passed over the walls, threatning an utter devastation by water, Laomedon being thus plagued with fire within, and water without, [Page 120] resorted to the Oracle, inquiring the cause and cure of these evils: Answer was given, That the inraged Powers could not be appeased but with the yearly Tribute of an immaculate Virgin made choice [...]n by Lot, and bound to a Rock adjoyning to the Sea-shore there to be devoured by the Monsters of the Sea. Laomedon returning to Troy, summoned the Grands of the City, to whom he related the harsh Doom of the Oracle: they (of two evils, willing to chuse the least) give their consent, but with this caution, that the Sortil [...]ge should impartially passe: the Lots were immediately cast, and (by the appointment of Fate) fell upon Hesione the Kings Daughter, who was immediately taken, and her silken limbs fastned to a Rock with ironchains; as this naked Princesse was bemoaning her captivity, every minute in expectation to be buried in the bowells of a monstrous Orke. The great Hercules passing that way, being moved with compassion to hear her laments, gave her deliverance, by slaying the monster. Laomedon falling at the feet of Hercules, manifested his joy, proffering him thirty Horses lately given him by Iupiter. Hercules gave him thanks, but refused the gratuity (being now on his journey for the atchievement of the Golden Fleece) till his return, which was in a few dayes after: but demanding his Horses, Laomedon denyed that [Page 121] he ever made such a Proposal [...]: at which monstrous ingratitude H [...]rcules being justly inraged, sacked the City of Troy. Valerius Flaccus Appo [...]o [...]ius, lib. 3.
The Wife of Jason, for whose sake she betrayed her Countrey, [...]ew her Brother, and lastly, her her own Children.
Nymphs of the Ocean, waiting upon Thetis: they are said to be fifty in number.
The Son of Apollo and Cali [...]p [...]: or, as others say, of Oxger a Mountaine in Thrace and Polymnia. He is said by the sweetnesse of his melody to attract the affections of Tr [...]s and Stones to calm the Windes, and stop the courses of Rivers; his Wife Euridice dying, he took his journey to Hell, where he obtained such favour of Pluto, (for it seems the very Devils delight in musick) that his Wife had leave to return with him to the Earth; but in case he looke back till his arrivall there, the favour should be frustrate. He (who doated upon his Wives countenance) forgetting the Injunction [Page 122] of the Acherontick God, must needs look over his shoulder, and so in a moment lost his dear & long attempted purchase; therefore returning to the earth he spent his dayes in the severest solitude, and yet his mourning occasioned mirth, for,
—being finally (after a tedious languishment, become a Woman-eater) he was slain by Thracian Women as the very enemy of their sex.
Or the Nightingale, the Daughter of Pandion King of Thrace, who to be revenged on her Husband Tereus (who had deflowred her Sister, and cut out her tongue to prevent discovery) slew her own Son Iris, and feasted his Father with his limbs, and was transformed into a Bird called a Nightingale. Strada has an excellent copy of Verses, containing a contention between this mellifluous Chori [...]ter and a skilfull L [...]in [...]t, which for the Readers delight (as they were lately translated) shall be here inserted.
Called also Cybells, the Mother of the Gods, Wife of Saturn, the Father of Jupiter.
A Nymph in love with a Sullen Youth, whom she one day found bathing in a christaline River, and stripping her self, accosted him naked; but he still refusing her love, she clasped him about the middle, and invoking the heavenly powers that they might never part, they were incorporated.
The Sonne of Hercules King of Mysia, being wounded by Achilles with an Axe (when landing with his forces on his Continent, they were opposed by the Mysians, being now on their journey for Troy) could not be cured in eight years after: resorting to the Oracle to inquire what were best to be done. He received answer, That he who gave the wound, alone could cure it. He therefore coming to Achilles was by him stricken again with that very Axe in the same [Page 127] place as before, and was immediately cured, a cure both swift and strange.
Or the Sea-born Goddesse, her story is thus: Saturn, the Son of Heaven and Earth, by the perswasion of his Mother, cut off his Fathers Testicles, throwing them into the Sea, from the sapour whereof Venus had beeing, whence she is called by Lycophron,
The first place where she landed was Cythera, from thence she set sayle for Cyprus, whence she is called Cytherea and Cyprides. The Antients printed her (as newly arising from the Ocean) naked, sayling in a shell. Alexander the Great commanding Apelles to give her Effigie, afforded him his own Paramour (all naked) as his pattern; but the Painter having finished his piece, was as much surprized with this living, as Alexander with that dead Venus, and by Alexanders license, received her as the reward of his Industry. On this subject the Poet Baif has an Ode, which (because it was never yet Englished) I will here insert: