The Times Anatomized
The source for this document is https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/eebo/A84694.0001.001
Project Note
This is licensed under Creative Commons CC BY-NC-ND. This license allows reusers to copy and distribute the material in any medium or format in unadapted form only, for noncommercial purposes only, and only so long as attribution is given to the creator.
The source of this document is the Early English Books Online (EEBO-TCP) website. Those books were transcribed in a character for character manner and can be very cumbersome to read since there was no standard spelling during that time. Many spelling variations such as "unlesse", "vnlesse", and "vnles" regularly appear.
This project was conceived to clean up those books as much as possible and make them more accessible to the interested reader, leading to the creation of a massive list of variant spellings and their corrections. This was used to clean up the text, but is of course only as complete as the list itself. Because of the nature of the original transcription, some words have missing characters or places where the original language (e.g., Greek) was not transcribed. This effort does not change that. Be aware that the original transcription can also be faulty and in some cases entire sentences may be missing.
Although this is no substitute for a properly compared, proofed, and scholarly edition, I believe that the result is a document which is far more accessible, particularly for searching for terms using standard spelling. The document has been cleaned and presented in what I hope is a pleasing and useful format for the vast majority of Christian brothers and sisters who just want access to read these spiritually nourishing works.
However, a word of warning: The Puritans were a very diverse group of people and their age was characterized with godliness, but also much upheaval, disputation and strife. They disagreed on many doctrines and some of these works contain less orthodox or Scriptural views than others. The reader is strongly advised to read with discernment, particularly if it is unknown whether author is trustworthy.
This project took a huge amount of time and skill to bring to fruition. I would particularly like to thank David Jonescue for the initial list of Puritans he found on EEBO and the concept behind this project as well as the continuous, unceasing efforts toward seeing this complete. Without his labor, this would not be available. Alex Sarrouf was invaluable in providing the initial list of over 7,000 spelling variations he had identified and corrected, as well as continuing to review more than 16,000 additions to that list for any typos.
Logan West
(with David Jonescue and Alex Sarrouf)
www.puritansearch.org
THE TIMES Anatomiz'd, In several CHARACTERS.
By T. F.
Difficile est Satyram non scribere.
Juv. Sat. 1.
LONDON, Printed for W. L. Anno, MDCXLVII.
THE CONTENTS of the several CHARACTERS.
- 1 A Good KING.
- 2 Rebellion.
- 3 An honest Subject.
- 4 An hypocritical Convert of the times.
- 5 A Soldier of fortune.
- 6 A discontented person.
- 7 An ambitious man.
- 8 The Vulgar.
- 9 Error.
- 10 Truth.
- 11 A self-seeker.
- 12 Pamphlets.
- 13 An envious man.
- 14 True Valour.
- 15 Time.
- 16 A Newter.
- 17 A Turn-coat.
- 18 A moderate man.
- 19 A corrupt Committee-man.
- 20 A Sectary.
- 21 War.
- 22 Peace.
- 23 A Drunkard.
- 24 A novice-preacher.
- 25 A scandalous Preacher.
- 26 A grave Divine.
- 27 A self-conceited man.
- 28 An inconstant man.
- 29 Religion.
- 30 Death.
Courteous Reader,
A Ntonio Diel (a Spaniard ) brings in some laughing at an old man, that by reason of his age was a little fond; but as he admonisheth there, Ne mireris, mî hospes de hoc seen, nam tota haec civitas dilirium est. Certainly to play the Fool in this age, when the whole World's distracted, is not only tolerable, but necessary. David once in wisdom played the Fool, to deliver himself: and why may not I once play the fool, to deliver my conscience, in a free reproof? which if ever was, is now necessary, when vice was never more perpotrated nor less punished, and so disguised and fenc'd is some, that we may say of them as Alexander of the Scythians, Difficilius est invenire, quam vincere: More difficult it is to find them out then to confute them. It hath been my endeavor to un-mask some, whereby to render them odious, and however you shall find a heap of chaff for an handful of wheat, yet fear I not to profess with that witty Epigramatist,
Although vice be almost grown a general rule; yet are there some exceptions from it: Some who fear not to patronize Truth and Virtue, though vagabonds. Yet am I not ignorant that hereby I have exposed myself to the censures of every detracting Momus, and carping Zoilus, so true is that Italian Proverb.It is our misery that we are miserable, but greater that we are not sensible. Gravissime aegrotat qui se non sen tit aegrotare: Is therefore we would return into the right way, we must first know our selves to be in the wrong: Primus sapientiae gradus est falsa intelligere, saith Lactantius: The first step to health is to know our selves to be sick. The whole Kingdom hath labored these five years full, with an uncivil civil War, one member destroying another, whilst the whole body is endangered. Me thinks, I hear, our dear mother England calling to her contending children, like that affectionate mother in the Tragoedy, weeping over the malice of her two sons, in these words, or sighs rather, Ille te, tu illum times, ego utrum{que} sed pro utroque: Thy brother fears thee, and thou him, I both, but but for the danger of you both. If when Scipio had set Carthage on fire and saw that the flames thereof soared up to the clouds, although he were an enemy yet tears trickled down his cheeks to behold their ruin, as is testified by an eye-witness, and can any one who is a member of the Kingdom not be sensible of, and sorrowful for the distractions thereof? To see Religion of late become a Monster with many faces, to see that Dove bespeckled with Sects and Schisms! Si fundamentum tollitur, quid nisi ruina expectatur? If Religion that is the foundation of a Kingdom be taken away, what can be expected, but ruin of the whole building? To see all government contemned, and a lawless liberty justling out all Law, laboring to be introduced. But I would say to them as Lycurgus did, who being about to reform and alter the State of Sparta, in that consultation, one advised that it should be reduced to an absolute popular equality, Lycurgus said unto him, Sir, begin it in your own house first. Considering these things, and other miseries wayring upon a civil war. Quis temperet à lacrimis! The Ambassadors of Asia Minor coming to Antonius, after he had imposed upon them a double tax, told him plainly, that if he would have two Tributes in one year, he must give them two seed-times, and two harvests: But alas! never was taxes greater, and takings less then now, many tributes to be paid, but in many places, neither seed-time nor harvest, and yet as Domitian the Emperor (a few days before he was killed) rubbing a wart upon his face, blood chanced to gush out: he said, Utinam ad huc, I w • sh this may be all: So say I, God grant we have not the dregs of that cup yet to drink off, of which we have hitherto but tasted: for it is observed, three things undid the Roman Empire; Young heads, Private grudges, and Private gains. First, Young heads, I say of them, being State Physicians, but as the Proverb is, A young Physician, and a new Church-yard, and for private grudges, where is the man that will do as it is reported of G. Naz. who when the Church at Constantinople began to be divided, as he supposed, by occasion that he possessed the See, he openly said, Si propter me ista tempestas: If I be the Jonas that cause this storm in the State, why, sacrifice me to the fury of the angered Diety? Where is now the man that would lay down his private grudges, rather then engage the Kingdom in a public Quarrell? And for private ends how many be there that long for fighting, because they live by it? Julius Caesar was wont to say of men brought excessive low by riot, or had committed divers crimes, that there was no other remedy for them but civil War. But I will conclude with this story.
Some few months before Domitian was murdered, there was a Crow in the Capitol spake these words plainly, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 . All shall be well. And one interpreted this prodigy thus,
That this Fable (if it be so) may be turned into Truth, and the Prophesy into History, in our Kingdom, is, and shall be the continual Prayer of
Thine, T. F.
THE TIMES Anatomiz'd.
I. A good KING.
I S the Primum mobile of a Kingdom, the largeness of whose Orbe moves all the rest in their several places: The Sun, that not only enlightens the several Planets and lesser Stars in a State, but also the whole Kingdom depends upon the influence of his good or bad Aspect. All the inferior Magistrates and Ministers of Justice, receive their virtue and power from him, as the Moon and Stars their light from the Sun. A Kingdom without a King, is but like a body without a head, like a heaven without a Sun, and no wonder if all mischiefs be perpetrated, when the light of Israel is put out. Needs must the Kingdom float in a Sea of miseries, that hath lost its Pilot, and a miracle is it if it split not on the Rock of ruin: He is the vigilant Argus, that sees all parts of the Kingdom: to oversee the under-seers. The hundred-handed Briarius to revenge, and right-wronged innocence. He is a mortal god, on whom the Almighty hath stamped his image in a more especial manner, with power and terror. The very presence of a King strikes awe into men. How have some Traitors been dazzled with the splendent rays of Majesty, that it hath melted and mollified their iron, stony and obdurate hearts into an humble and meek reluctancy? The happy Reign of a good King makes the whole Kingdom to prosper and flourish, withwealth, peace and plenty. For like the Sun, though he move but in one place at once actually, yet is he virtually present in all and every part of his Dominions; dispensing his sacred influence, as well upon the lowest as the highest. Justice hath committed her Sword and Ballance into his hands. Wisdom and Power support his Throne, and Piety is his continual Hand-maid.
II. Rebellion.
IS a poisonous weed growing up in a Cōmon-wealth, by the fatness of the soil. It may flourish for a while, but the sword of justice doth in the end cut it down, being whetted by time and divine revenge. It is a true Viper, for as the she-viper biteth off the head of the he, and thereby conceives with young, & those young prove her own destruction, making their birth her death; and thus doth Rebellion when it hath bitten off the head of government, it proves its own destruction, and will be the end of the beginners thereof; And not seldom, it is m • de its own scourge. For though Majesty may be eclipsed for a season, yet will it at length break out again into its force like the Sun in his greatest brightness, and dispel those misty fogs and vapors that before had clouded it. Whilest the two petty Combatants (in the Fable) strove which should overcome the other, they were both made a prey unto the royal Eagle: ambition and discontent are the two main wheels this Engine moves on, and because it is so ugly in it self, that all men would detest it, it seldom appears but with a borrowed face for the good of the Common-wealth, and if it get hold on Religion, it flies (too truly) like wild-fire.
III. An honest Subject.
IS one that fears God, honors his King, and meddles not with those that are given to change; and without question he that is a good Christian will be a good Subject. He hath learned so much loyalty from dumb creatures (taught by natures instinct) to shelter their wronged head with their whole body, as knowing that their life lies in their head. He hath heard that Subjects often are Adjectives that cannot stand without, and therefore should not stand against their Sovereign: He loves peace: knowing that the sowers of discord will reap destruction, however, in the midst of War he labors to keep peace in his own conscience, being content with his own estate, and seeking not to increase it by unlawful diminishing of others, for he cannot think him an honest man that in public losses goes away a gainer. He is so far from exceeding, that he can be content to be less then himself, accounting it more noble to be like the fruitful bough, which stoops under a precious burden; then to aim at the eminency of the fruitless height of the pine tree. If his merits have brought him into the way of honor and preferment, they do not there leave him; but he herein holds that maxim good, to keep them by the same means he obtained them: and if he see undeserving men preferred before him, he rather pities then envies them, as counting it more noble to have deserved preferment then to have it. When the the thread of his natural life is run to the appointed end, he leaves this world to enjoy a better, yet leaving behind him the precious balm of a good name, which shall preserve his memory more surely to future posterity, then the time-decaying monuments of Brasse and Marble, which in process of time do molder away, and their glory obscured in fewer years then some of those sumptuons Statues have been erecting.
IV. An Hypocriticall Convert of the Times.
IS a rotten Sepulcher, newly painted over with a color of sanctity. And now none so zealous as he, then whom before there was none so profane, but having drawn a fair glove of profession over his foul hand. He now wears the livery of the Times; and all his policy is, if he can carry it undiscovered: he is an essence needing a double definition, for he is not what he appears, but like some of the Spheres, that besides their general motion with the others, have a particular one to themselves. Like a water-man that looks one way but rows another. But for all his out, he cannot change his inside, so that he differs nothing from an Hypocrite, Without he is a severe Cato, but within a cruel Nero, like those Dragons in Armenia that spit fire, yet have cold bodies: he is a Sheep-skin lined with Fox-fur; formal preciseness keeps the door, whilst profit and profaneness lodge within, he hangs out Religion for a sign, but I take it for a sign he hath no Religion, like the Planet Mercury convertibly, good or bad according to his company: With the Religigious, he is no less then a Saint, and with the profane none more loose, but no foe to a false friend: the Devil is never so true a Devil, as when he is transformed into an Angel of light.
V. A Soldier of fortune.
HEe is a Salamander that lives in the fire of Warr. And is commonly a younger brother, for though the elder bear the coat, the younger bears the Arms. Peace is his greatest enemy, for then he lies (like a fish out of water) out of his element. Honor and pay are the two main Engines that set him on going, hunger and cold march in the same file with him, and plunder brings up the rear. He should be a Scholar, for he is always is controversies, bullets are his arguments, and his sword a necessary conclusion. He questions not who hath the best cause, but the best treasury. His only fishing is in troubled waters. His life is action, his food blood and booty, his honor valor, and his end conquest. He is Peaces envy, and Wars darling: a horse-fly engendered of the corruption of a Kingdom, when too much plenty hath set men on quarrelling, and then he's a necessary evil to help let out the superfluous humors, which he effects by letting them blood, till the loss of their blood prove the loss of their lives. But the Citizens of Athens banished a coffin maker out of the City, because the cause of his mirth, was others sadness, and much resembleth a Lawyer, whose wealth is increased by others poverty.
VI. A discontented Person.
IS a dis-jointed member of the Kingdom, one that is fallen out with the World, and will not be reconciled again with it, hardly with himself. He is always weary of the present times, not because it is bad; but because it is present. He extols & commends times past, and despairs of ever seeing the like, but is always desiring of changes, like sick folks; thinking unquietness would procure rest. He continually carries a cloud of discontent in his countenance, whereby you may judge of the storms in his breast. He makes all crosses seem the heavier by his conceiting them greater then they are; being once thus out of tune himself, all his study is to create discords. He is an apt subject for Rebellion to work on, as hoping thereby to ease his own by increasing others miseries. All his speech is invectives against Fortune: and like a froward child, because he cannot be happy according to to his own will, he will be miserable in spite.
VII. An ambitious Man.
IS a Merchant of honor, sailing in the Venture, and aiming at the Cape of preferment, his sails are filled with the wind of hope: but he sometimes meets with a tempest, that casts him away. Like a traivailer climbing up the Alps of honor, on a sudden comes a puff of cross-wind, that tumbles him into an abyss of misery: but his ambition is to get unto the top, not minding the bottom: desire to rise, hath taken away all fear of falling. He cares not though he creep low, so he may thereby rise any whit the higher, and still the more he gets, the more he desires to get: for the greater draught of honor, causeth the greater drought. He is a mere bladder puffed up with the wind of hope. Many times he rises high, and then like a Rocket in the air, breaks, and falls down to the woēderment of all the beholders. Envy and pride are his two wings, he still flutters with, to get above others. And when he is got up, he usually throws down those whom before he made (as stairs) the means of his rising. He is of a restless nature, and counts every stay a losing of time. He can sail with any wind, nay, with a cross wind, rather then stand still. He is a great incendiary, and stirrer of Wars, whilst one like Pompey, can endure no equal; another like Caesar admit of no superior. He wishes all things turned topsie-turvy, knowing that then, the first will be last, and the last first.
VIII. The Vulgar.
IS an untamed monster with many heads; but like roaring Cyclops with one eye: attempting things with great clamour, but little judgment: not able to judge of things as they are indeed, but only by outward appearances. And therefore as the Sea is moved with every puff of wind, so are they with every breath of their Orators. They regard not what is said, but who says it. For let the matter be never so good, if they like not the Author, 'tis worth nothing; on the contrary, let one of theirs vent nonsense, 'tis presently cried up for Gospel, but their love or hatred is (like a childes) won and lost in an hour. For whom they now extol to the Skies, by and by they'll cry down, as fast as before they cried him up: And if they take head against a man, they run violently like a torrent to overwhelm him, without law, reason, or judgment: making greater clamour, then the Frogs in Homer, that would not suffer the Goddess Pallas to sleep, for their continual croaking. They are (as we say of fire and water) good servants, but, very bad Masters.
IX. Error.
IS the Ape of Truth. A Labyrinth wherein men's judgments wander like men led by an Ignis fatuus, to their own ruin. It is an enticing Syren, that with its deceitful lays draws men into an Ocean of destruction. The cunning Mercury, which luls the senses asleep, that so it may captivate the reason and judgment. A dark cloud over-casting with its fogs and mysts, the bright Sun of Truth, and herein it gains infinite advantages over Truth, in that Truth is but one, but error infinite, and every one going masked in the mantle of Truth, for did men see Error in its proper colors, they would never entertain it: but everyone that maintains any Error; does it not because it is an error, but because he conceives it to be the only Truth. Again, Error is more pleasing unto men then Truth, and therefore Error finds entertainment where Truth is shut out of doors. It was the Delemma of the Philosopher, If I speak to please the people, I shall not tell the Truth, and if I tell the Truth, I shall not please them, but procure enmity: and therefore it is just, that those that will not have Truth for their King, should have Error for their Tyrant, to whom their judgments should be captivated and enslaved.
X. Truth.
IS the food of the soul. The daughter of time, yet was the daughter before the mother. Simple without any mixture; not needing any artificial painting, or decking with flowers of Rhethorick, but appearing most beautiful when naked and in its proper colors. It is the touch-stone and square whereby to try all opinions and doctrines, the only Anchor whereon all things depend, and the Chart whereby we sail unto Eternity. It is a strong Castle, which if we defend, will defend us; for though it may be besieged, it can never be conquered; but like a precious Minerall, it lies not on the face of the earth, but inveloped in a multiplicity of errors. It is fitly resembled by the Sun; for first, as there is but one Sun, so but one Truth, & as the Sun enlightens the eyes of the body, so Truth the eyes of the soul, and though it may be eclipsed, it cannot be extinguished; and so glorious is this heavenly light, that our weak sight is daz'led with the splendor thereof: so that though man be strong enough to desire, but too weak to receive Truth, or at least, not to hold it when received. A witty Friar told the people, That Truth was like Holy Water, which all men call for, yet when it came to be cast on them, they would turn aside their faces: they that cry fastest for Truth, when it comes to them, runs fastest from it.
XI. A Self-Seeker.
IS a cunning Archer, that looking to the public service as the mark he only aims at, yet squints aside at his own ends, which is the true Butt, all the arrows of his endeavors are shot at. No man pretends more for the public good then he, and yet no man can intend it less, and well may he in show advance that which indeed advanceth him. This is a dangerous crime in men of public trust, for such leaks make the vessels of the Common-wealth to sink. Like that notorious Pick-pocket, that whilst (according to the custom) everyone held up their hands at rehersing the Creed, he by a divice had a false hand which he held up like the rest, whilst his true hand was false in other men's pockets: Or as a cunning Physician, that instead of lightning the disease, lightens the purse of his patient, protracting the cure, to prolong his gains. A deceitful Soldier, who under color of the public, fights only for his private cause.
XII. Pamphlets.
ARE the Weekly Almanacs, showing what weather is in the State, which like the Doves of Aleppo, carry news to every part of the Kingdom. They are the silent Traitors that affront Majesty, and abuse all Authority, under the color of an Imprimatur. Ubiquitary flies that have of late so blistred the ears of all men, that they cannot endure any solid truth. The Ecchoes whereby, what is done in part of the Kingdom, is heard all over. They are like Mushromes sprung up in a night, and dead in a day, and such is the greediness of men's natures (in these Athenian days) of news, that they will rather feign then want it.
XIII. An envious Man.
IS one that can endure no man to be happy, with, or besides himself; Nay, he had rather see himself in misery, then his neighbor in prosperity. He had rather go to hell alone, then to heaven with company, yet is he the greatest foe to himself, for whilst he wishes harm to others, it rebounds to himself and good men like Cammomile, grow the better, for envies treading, it is but as a black ground to set off the luster of their merits: & not seldom whilst envy seeks to wound, it cures, bringing an Antidote instead of a poison. Like the Mirrour of glass that reverberated the poison of the serpent upon her self killing her with her own weapon. Goodness appears with greater luster through the black cloud of envy. The envious man feasts like flies on others soars, another's Comedy in his Tragoedy. He is never merry but at others sadness, and their cries makes the only harmony in his ears.
XIV. True Valour.
IS a virtue in the spirit, which keeps the flesh in subjection, for whilst it overthrows its enemies it conquers it self, which is the best victory. It resolves without fear, and acts without fainting, not daunted with multitudes of oppositions, knowing that the greater the conflict is, the greater will be the honor of the conqueror. It is a sweet temper of the soul, not cast down in captivity, nor elated in victory, wisdom is her guide, and resolution her companion. A good cause makes her truly noble, and pity it is it should have any enemy but error.
XV. Time.
TIme is the universal Standard, whereby we measure Houres, Days, Weeks, Moneths, Years and Ages. A Rivulet of Time, which proceeded from, and shall end in the Ocean of Eternity, compared by that great Statesman and Philosopher of our Kingdom, to the nature of a River, which carrieth down to us that which is light and blown up, and sinketh and drowneth that which is solid and weighty. It is the devourer of all things, the great Monarch that casteth down some, and raiseth others, with a kind of omnipotency and unresistable power, for there is not anything in the power of man can scotch the ever-circling wheel of Time. 'It is neither force nor flattery can stop his full career. It is he that opens the windows of heaven to let in day and draws the curtains of the night, to secure the sleep of wearied labor. And so swift is his flight that we cannot discover it, till past. He is always the same, and yet not the same since I said so. The only subject of honest and lawful avarice. But whilst I speak of Time I lose it, considering that though he is known to be, yet is his being unknown, for his name is better known then his nature. (∵)
XVI. A Newter.
IS a very blank, wherein you may write anything that will make for his profit. He is a mere Bat all the time of War, resolving to lie hid till time and fortune have decided the quarrel; and then he'l be sure to have a Bird for the Conqueror. Fortune is his god, Machiavel his Priest, Time-serving his Religion, and his only Counselors are Corrantoes: for by those he guesses which way the wind of Fortune blows, and accordingly (with the Hedghog) he turns his Den. He is only a spectator of this bloody Tragoedy, and will be sure to reserve his Plaudite till the last Act. What he shall be he knows not, nor what he is, yet I hold him an Independent; for whilst he sides with all, he'l be sure to none. Like a pair of Compasses, the one end of his own ends stands fast; while with the other of his speeches he walks the round of every prevailing faction. He is a mere Polypus, always of the same color of the side he meets with, for he varies his shapes as often as his company; like an Adjective, that varies case and gender with his Substantive. He uses Moderation as a fair masque over his foul-face of Newtrality: but when he comes to be unmasqued, he becomes then as ridiculous to all, as before he was odious. His discourse is the very Almanac of the Times, for his judgment is as variable as Victory. He is of a very unfit temper to make a Zealot of, being neither hot, nor cold, but Lukewarme, which is detestable to both. We may well term him a Waveringman, for (like the waves) he is moved with the wind of success. He would make a very good Musician, for he studies nothing so much as to keep Time: keeping close to the wheel of Fortune, which is sometimes broken on by short turnings. Striving so long, to bend to all, till he break himself. And so playing the Ambo-dexter, that he becomes at length Ambo-sinister. But I cease to know further what he is, who knows not what he is in himself.
XVII. A Turn-coat.
IS one that will be sure to be of the strongest side, and all his policy is, when the contrary party prevails to tack abont, and with a side-wind, to sails with them. For he is always of the Religion of the Conqueror; if the more zealous party get up, then none more zealous then he; if the less severe, then none less religious. Setting his carriage to the tune of the times, though never so Base. The truth is, he absolute soft wax, in which the last impression always puts out the former. He is one that sails with any wind; That will run with the Hare, and hold with the Hound. A mere Weather-cock, for by him you may easily know which way the wind of success bloweth: for the Times and him are Tearms convertible. He will be sure to stand to his friend, no longer then he is able to stand, for like Vermin, his flight is a certain token of a falling house He never declares his judgment but in dubious Tearms, leaving himself a liberty to expound them as Times shall serve.
XVIII. A Moderate Man.
IS the temperate Zone of the times, quallifying the cold of detestible Neutrality, and the fiery heat of over-zealous rashness. Moderation is the ballast of his soul, which keeps him upright. He had rather for a time hide Truth in the cave of his heart, then by his weakness, or the times wickedness betray both it and himself to the contempt of their adversaries; as knowing that though Truth may be over-laid and buried, yet it will have a Resurrection. If he live in such a time (as ours) wherein two opposite parties pretend the truth, when but one can have it, he resolves with himself, not so far to resolve with either, that his credit, but especially t • uths, might receive auy detriment thereby. If Truth be manifestly engaged against Error, he then though moderately, yet stoutly holds himself bound to defend it. He is neither of an hot fiery, nor of a key-cold temper, but of a moderate, between those two extremes, which is the healthfullest, & will be the longest lived. But as Neutrality gains much by having Moderation for its vizard; so Moderation suffers more by having neutrality for its neighbor, yet may they be easily discerned, for Neutrality hath only its own ends for its aim, but Moderation looks only at the Truth. Again, the Neuter is a wandering Planet, never settled, but the Moderate man is a fixed Star.
XIX. A corrupt Committee-man.
HE is one of the Wens of the body politique, that draws the wealth of the Common-wealth from its proper use; to the nourishment of his own base humors. Like the horse-leech or the grave, he is never satisfied, but continually trying, give, give; He is one that under the authority of the State, impoverisheth it. A licens'd Cheater, authorized by Authority, which gives him a freedom to examine and measure everyone but himself. Like Lyca • n, he devours men, and turns his Office into an Office of Escheat, making himself heir to every man's estate, under color of the States service. He deals with all that come before him, as the Giant did with his guests, he fits them all to his size, for those that are overgrown in wealth he cuts shorter, and those that plead poverty he stretches longer. For the liberty of the Subject he brings all men into slavery. This upstart Ivy will in time eat out the heart of the Oak that supports him. He is a very good Chemist, for he turns all things into gold, the main engine of the War, and the pipe that conveys and commands all the treasure of the Kingdom, but there's a crack of self ends that hinders it from going to the right end of the Kingdoms good. His very name is as terrible to the poor Country man, as the Inquisition, speaking nothing less then commitment, for the Prison is his rack, and an Oath the tormentor; whereby he makes men prove Traitors to themselves worse then ever, by the Oath Ex Officio. His will must be the Standard whereto every one must be reduced. The under Committees he uses as a spunge, or as the Turks do the Jews, which when they have gathered sufficiently, he squeezes, and so the greater Thieves rob the less, and both the Commonwealth. For his Religion, if he have any, it is altogether for Liberty of Conscience, but whilst he keeps loose his own, he binds all other men's. Nothing terrifies him so much, as to think of an accompt, 'tis therefore his policy to be an evil angel to stir & mud the waters, like the fish Sepia, that he may go away un-discerned, like a Thief in a crowd. Peace is as often in his mouth, as seldom in his heart, for like a corrupt Surgeon, he lives upon keeping the soar raw: as certain the poor Kingdom must needs be a Patient that suffers under such Surgeons. But how this foundation will stand, that is raised on other men's ruins, and built on others breakings, when the wind of Majesty, and the reign of justice shall again descend, who knows? till then I leave him, if in the mean time his guilty conscience do not condemn him, and he himself save the hangman a labor, by preventing him.
XX. A Sectary.
HEe is one that having left the road of the Churches practice, wanders in the Labyrinth of Sects and Schisms, and being of a Quick-silver brain, can never be fixed in any till he become an absolute Atheist, for they that once are of all Religions, will quickly be of none at all. He cannot endure any government as tying him in an inclosure: for he will not be fed by the wholesome food of his proper Minister, but will carve for himself, not discerning weeds from herbs, poison from wholesome meat. For learning he utterly detests it, and no wonder if they that seek dark corners, hate the light of the Sun that would discover them, yet the Sun is never the worse nor less useful, because blear eyes cannot endure its light. He is so strict to observe the very words of the Scripture (though he can read never a word of it) that because the Apostles were some of them fisher-men, and Paul preached in an upper room, He thinks him no Preacher that is not a mechanic, nor that no Church which is not in a chamber. He rails continually against pluralities, and affects nothing so much as to be singular. If he be the ring-leader of a Sect, his only care is to work upon the weaker sex, to deceive simple women, whom, if they follow him, he supposes their husbands will come after them. And thus the Serpent, the father of Heretics first tempted Eve, and then leaving her to tempt her husband. And these all wear Christ's colors, but fight under the Devils banner, which daily multiply by our divisions, these abstractions from the Church increase by the distractions in the Church, and it will be as easy to knit a rope of sand, as to unite them again thus dissipated.
XXI. Of War.
WAr is a Tragoedy, that most commonly destroys the Scene whereon 'tis acted. An unwelcome guest that devours his Host. The cursed offspring of two blessed parents, Peace and Plenty, both which it destroys and devours, as Pharoes lean kine did the fat ones. Peace chains up all furies & mischiefs, which the sword of War lets loose. War is a Wolf whose pestilent breath stops the mouth of the Laws, whose voice cannot be heard for the cries of oppressed people, the effect, and the roaring of Cannons, and clashing of Arms, the sadder causes. Wars griping hand squeezeth and scattereth what good husbandry had raked together in time of peace. Time of War is the true Iron Age, for it converts all into iron, which iron will be master of all men's gold. War never comes but attended with a train of devouring followers: Destruction and that usually go hand in hand. this General War hath so universal a command, that no particular man can have any command of his now. But of all Wars, none so uncivil as civil War, other wars kill foes, but this friends, in this, one member rises up against another. If a Kingdom divided from others cannot stand, a Kingdom divided against itself must needs fall. But the ugliness of War will appear better, or rather worse, by viewing the beauty of Peace.
XXII. Of Peace.
PEace is the ligament or seament, that knits and unites the several members of one Kingdom into one body. She is the mother of plenty and prosperity. The nurse and cherisher of Arts and Sciences, and what's worth all, the best means for propagating the Gospel, for the spiritual fishers never caught the more for fishing in troubled waters, for such fish (as mariners say of the literal fish) if they see blood on the net, they will not be caught by any bayes. No this Gospel is the Gospel of Peace, and of the God of Peace, and his children the lovers of Peace. Peace makes those calm days wherein the Halcyon of honor seats her nest. It is the only cordial to revive a fainting Kingdom, languishing of the deadly wounds of the keen sword of enraged war. This one word Peace (as one well observes) is but a monosylable, yet is it big with a world of happiness. Yet many Athenians there be who never went to conclude a peace but in mourning garments. But I fear to speak farther of it, lest I meet with the Florentine Law, which made it death for any one to name Peace. I suppose the miseries of this cruel War may be as so many mouths to cry and call for Peace, and therefore I will hold my peace.
XXIII. A Drunkard.
IS a mere beast in the shape of a man. A living pipe or conduite, through which the liquor passeth. A great assertor of Copernicus his opinion, for he holds that all things go ronnd. He might make a resolute Soldier, but that he staggers so often. Drukennesse is used in High Germany for the Index, or Touch-stone of a man's nature, for the parents will see men drunk before they marry their daughters unto them, because they will know what kind of drunkenness they are subject to; and according to the good or ill (if a Drunkard can have good) qualities they judge him convenient or not for their marriages: And indeed there is no passion that a Drunkard is subject to, but Wine will make him turn traitor to himself and discover. It is not for nothing that the word in the Original signifies Naked, drunkenness breaks the veil of secrecy, and renders a man naked to his very enemies, when he is like Gryllus (in Plutarch ) who was so transformed by one of Circes charms, that he could not by all Ulisses cloquence be induced to depose his hoggish nature, and resume the person of a man. He is not then his own Master or his own man, whose senses are fettered with Drunkenness, and yet how he boasts in making himself a hogshead, striving to take off his liquor till he be taken of it, and become its captive, and instead of quenching his thirst drowns his soul. And being thus bereaved of his senses, he jumps not an inch from a mad-man. For as there are several sorts of mad-men, so are there also of Drunkards, and everyone in his several humor: some are mad, some merry, some raging Drunkards. How many brute beasts will rise up in judgment against the Drunkards, who make the sufficing of Nature their Standard in eating and drinking, which they will not exceed no more then the Drunkard exceeds them in his drink? For there are but two things whereby a man is differenc'd from a beast, Ratio & Oratio, Reason and Speech, and the Drunkard wants them both. He wants reason like him that stuffed a porrage pot with straw to make it the easier pillow. He wants speech also, for as the Ephraimites were distinguished from the rest of the Israelites, by lisping, they could not pronounce the letter • . Thus Drunkards (saith one wittily) are distinguished from the Kings sober subjects by clipping the coin of the tongue. But lamentable it is when he dares to quote Scripture examples for proof of his actions, looking only at the evil of sin, but not at the evil of punishmeut that follows those sins; let him show me the example of a Saint that sin'd, and had not also his affliction for it. As the Comoedian, who when one objected to him his bringing a deboist fellow upon the stage, thereby giving an evil example to youth: He answered, 'tis true, I brought such an one upon the Stage, but I hanged him before he went off, and so I gave them a good example. ∵
XXIV. A novice Preacher.
IS a young Lapwing, running from his nest of the University, before maturity of time and knowledge have cast the shel of ignorance, which therefore he still carries on his pate. How-ever this kallow Bird weary of his Mothers tuition, (when indeed she might better be weary of him) having hopt out of his nest, must be chirping on every hedge, and will be straggling abroad, never minding the danger of such attempts; but Who so bold as blind Bayard, saith the Proverb? We may say of him as of the Nitingale, Vox & praeterea Nil, His greatest commendation is the strength of his lungs, having been but a while like a cypher, in the place of a figure, me thinks, I hear the people saying, to those Novices, as the wise to the foolish Virgins, ye have not enough for us and yourselves too, go ye rather and buy for your selves: for we bear ye witness, that hitherto out of your own necessities ye have administered unto us. And no wonder, that instead of shining Lights, they prove foolish fires to lead their flocks into a Maze of Errors, in which they wander, not having the clue of learning or judgment to guide them out. They are rather smoke to put out the eyes of the seeing, then like to lend eyes unto the blind. They are mere wels without water, and clouds without rain. His Sermons are but the echoes of other men, in which his greatest commendation is, that he reads them Clerk-like. For his prayers they consist most an end of naught else, save a zealous taking the Lord's name in vain, in tedious tautologies▪ which he is as devout in, as a Papist would be in dropping his beads. His Library consists of a Directory, and an Ordinance for Tithes, and if his estate will reach to it, a Concordance.
XXV. A Scandalous Preacher.
HE is one who by his Doctrine showeth the way to heaven, but by his life, the road to hell. Like that ridiculous Actor iu Smyrna, who pronouncing ô coelum! pointed down to the ground, of whom Polemio in a chafe said, This fellow hath spoken false Latin with his hand: so does he that preacheth well, and lives ill; he speaks false Divinity with his conversation. His tongue speaks the language of Canaan, but his life the language of Ashdod. We may say of him as it was of Erasmus, his Encheridion, that there was more devotion in the book then the man; so that there is more Learning and Religion in the Sermon then in the Preacher, and what an incongruous thing is it, to see an holy Preacher and a wicked man in one and the same person? whose life is a Traitor to that Doctrine his tongue both professeth and persuades alleagance to, as if he thought to go to heaven some other way then what he teaches the people, soyling the glorious robe of Religion, by putting it upon a beastly conversation. He is a mere Comoedian in Religion, acting goodness in voice and gesture only. His life and Doctrine is like the cloud that led the Israelites in the wilderness, light on one side, but dark on the other, for no man teaches better then he, and no man lives worse, teaching others what he does not himself, like way-posts, directing travelers in their way, but themselves not stirring.
XXVI. A grave Divine.
IS a faithful watchman, going before his flock, holding forth the shining lamp of his Doctrine in the lantern of a good conversation. He is a good steward, that hath studied before hand to lay in sufficient provision for that great charge he hath undertaken. He leapt not from the Grammar School to the Pulpit, but was long in the Tyring-house of the University, before he appeared on the public Theater, where he courted not the mistrisse Divinity first, but made his way to her the easier, by first winning the Arts, her hand-maids. Neither was he hasty to launch forth of that Port, till he was sufficiently ballasted with learning. Being lawfully called to the Ministry, he first thoroughly learned the weight thereof, that he may the better fit his shoulders to bear it, and surely he that is most careful to know, will be most careful to perform his duty. His endeavor is to fit his matter to the capacity of his hearers, as desiring rather their profit then his applause. In any controversy he more delights to show the strength of truth, then his adversaries weakness: using soft words, (as one well) but hard Arguments. He is very circumspect in ordering his own conversation, as knowing that ignorant people learn as much (if not more) by their eyes then their ears; so that his whole life is but one continued Lecture, wherein his parishioners may legibly read their duty. And indeed the actions of the Minister, are the Pole-stars the people steer their course by: therefore it is our Ministers care that they may read (as it were) all his precepts and exhortations to them in the line of his own life.
XXVII. A self-conceited Man.
IS one that looking through the spectacles of self-love on his own worth, which makes every small thing seem great in his own conceit. Like the Ape, he hugs the brats of his own brain, and with the Crow, thinks his own bird whitest. He looks only upon the flowers of his good actions, but not on the weeds of his imperfections, which, though never so bad, are the best part of his actions. He looks so on his own beauty, till Narcissus -like he is enamored with himself, being drunken with self-conceit he sees all things double. Whatsoever he says, he counts like Pithagoras his ipse dixit, to his scholars, that must stand for an infalible rule. His opinions are always singular, and had rather err by himself then hold a common truth. You can tell him nothing that is good in him, but he knew it too well before. Whatsoever opinion he is pleased to grace with approbation, must be the only truth, not because it is (if it be) truth, but because he holds it.
XXVIII. An inconstant Man.
HE is a wandering Star, never fixed in any resolution. Whatsoever he meant or said, is presently altered, for he meant it not long enough to take impression, his strongest resolutions being rather tack'd then fastened. He is always building and pulling down, striving to out-vey time it self in mutability: in the best things continuance is quarrel sufficient, and novelty the highest style of commendation in the meanest. His understanding writes upon his wit, as men write on water, no sooner written, but forgotten. He is a stranger to himself, and all his actions so different from another, that one would think it impossible they should all come out of one the sameshop. A piece of clay, tempered with running water, which keeps his wit in a perpetual motion. He often resolves seldom Acts, being ruled by passion, not reason. He is the best enemy that can be, but the worst friend, for 'tis a wonder if his love or hatred, last so long as a wonder. All his purposes are built upon the floating Islands of his several humors: but I will here cast anchor, and leave him to the wind of his own will.
XXIX. Religion.
REligion in itself is naturally written in the hearts of all men: which will rather be of a false then of no Religion. It is the bond between God and us, and therefore in our old English called Eanfastnes, as the only assurance, and fast anchor-hold of our souls health: and therefore irreligious men cut or dissolve this band, and then no wonder if cutting this cable, they make shipwreck of their souls. Though there be many false religions, as many false gods in the World, yet is there but one true Religion, as one true and only God, who is the sole object of Religion: and all those several ones, though so far distant frō one another, yet they all meet in this, that they all worship a Diety. Religion (like Sampson's hair) is the strength of a Kingdom: where that is lost, the Kingdom is a true Icabod, the glory is departed: and no such way to lose the true Religion, as in a crowd of false ones. He that opens his hand (or his heart rather) to contain all will, retain none: true Religion is of too pure a nature to admit of any mixture, but alas! we may too truly say of religion in our times, as Erasmus did of the Friers Cowle in his, that it there was like Charity, for it covered a multitude of sins, as if there was no such way for men to fight for their own ends, as under the banner of Religion. * 〈☐〉 *
XXX. Death.
DEath is that universal wind to which all mortals, become wind-falls from the tree of life. Sicknesses & sleep, are as pauses and parentheses, in the line of life, but Death the full point; the period; and Ne plus ultra, of the longest. The grisly Atropos that cuts in sunder the strongest cord of life, it is that unavoidable debt levied upon all mankind, by force of that Statute enacted by God in Paradise: and recorded by Saint Paul, That all must die. As when one told Anaxagoras, the Athenians have condemned thee to die, He answered, and Nature then. It is that black night, which over-takes, and over-spreads the brightest day of life. The grim Serjeant sent from the Almighty with an Habeas Corpus, to arrest every one for that unavoidable debt, due to Nature, ever since our first Parent broke and turned Bankerupt. The grave is his Prison wherein he keeps them, till the Resurrection, the time of their Gaol-delivery from it. But to the godly, it is a friendly-fo, which by robbing them of a mortal life, makes them capable of immortality; and by splitting the vessel of their bodies, upon the rock of death, engulphs their souls into Eternity: setting her free from the prison of the body, and endenizing her into Heaven. It is their Exodus out of the Egypt of the World, preparing them to enter into their promised Land of the heavenly Canaan: or new Jerusalem. At this Port must weall arrive: whatsoever our Voyage be. This is the total sum of all mankind. It is the bitter cup our father Adam begun, and we must all pledge it: the Inheritance which he purchased, as his wages of sin, and is entayl'd to all his posterity. A Deluge which broke in by Adams breach of God's Commandment that sooner or later will over-flow all mankind. By his rebelling against God, all are become subject to deaths command. what the Epigram saith wittily on the Gramarian is true of every man, that being able to decline all other Nownes in every Case, could decline Death in no Case. All must fall down at deaths feet, as well the Prince as the Pesant. He cannot be resisted, nor will he be flatterd. No Orator so eloquent, that could persuade Death to spare him nor Monarch so mighty tha • could resist him. Hezekiah, indeed was repriev'd, by God himself, for fiften years, but he came to it at last. When this wind blows, and when this rain descends, it irresistibly blows down, and washeth away the clay tenements of our bodies. He is an Archer that shooteth, sometimes beyond us hitting our supriours, sometimes short of us, striking our inferiors, sometimes at our right hand, depriving us of our friends, sometimes at our left hand, taking away our foes: and then at last hits the mark it self, and we must tread the same path, that all have, who are gone before us, and all must that shall come after. (∵)