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Hee is one that is wiser in his owne conceit than the Privie Councell, can reforme a Common-wealth better than a Parliament: you may read all the penall Statutes, if his tongue chance to peepe out of his mouth: onely he makes a quaere, and demurres upon primo Hen. 8. where his predecessors Empson and Dudley were honoured with a Hempen Garland, and conclude, that Session to bee Apocrypha, yet makes his bragges in the vulgar, how they suffered for the Common-wealth, and deserve to bee stiled Martyrs.

Hee is made all of Cringes and Complements, as if he dropt out of the Docke of a Courtier, and can change himselfe into as many shapes as Painters doe colours, either a decayed Merchant, a broken Citizen, a silent Minister, an old maym'd Captaine, a forejudged Atturney, a busie Soliciter, a crop-ear'd Informer, a pick-thanke Pettyfogger, or a nimble pac'd Northerne Tike, that hath more wit than honestie.

These are the men that make the bravest Projectors, who in short time may bee dignified with the title of Knight of the Post, or Canker Generall of the Common-wealth.

He will pinguifie all manner of Pullen, with Carrots and Turnips, fatten all foure footed beasts without Hay, or Grasse, or any manner of Graine, make bread of Pumpions, and Cucumbers, and will finde the Guard Beefe and Brues for God a mercy, till their bellies crack; and victuall the King an Army without meat, and take all the Scots in a pursuit, if they Rebell.

Hee is an excellent Architecture, hee will pull downe White-hall, and build the King a new

Palace, to which the banqueting house shall bee but halfe the Porters lodge, and at his owne cost, if the King will not give him leave, hee would turne an hospitall into a Court, and annexe the Savoy to Sommerset house, if the Dutchy were not betweene them, and then all the poore people may be admitted in Forma Pauperis to seek their lodgings without certificate of the Parish. Hee is the onely imitator of Guido Vaux his darke Lanthorne, and by it, hath made a device to convey people above ground that shall see every body, and no man see them, with the helpe of two-footed beasts, and hath jugled into credit with a strange name and call it a Sedan.

He will turne all Waggons, Carts, and Coaches into the nature of Wind-mills, to saile to the Stages for the benefit of the Kingdome in sparing horse-flesh in the warres, and to that intent hath got a Patent to make wooden horses, fit for Brewers, Butchers, Maulters, and Carriers that shall doe as good service, as if they were alive, carry burthens, and fast much longer.

Hee is one that scrapes up a living in this world, though hee be put out of possession in the next; and hath crept neatly into the favour of the Clergie, by advancing the returne of the whole Kingdome a third part, whereby their tythes are increased more than ever.

Hee can saile thorow London Bridge against wind and Tide, cleare the Thames from Sands and Shelves; weigh up all Wracks, though in the bottome of the Sea, and fifty fathome under water, blow up the enemy with fire: if you seeme to doubt any of these Projects, hee hugges himselfe

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with conceit of your ignorance, and his owne wit: if you question him, his answer is; This age is a cherisher of Arts, and new Inventions, the former dull and heavie, that these times are active, as may appear by the draining of the Fens, building of Townes, and Churches, repairing of Pauls, his Majesties expedition to Yorke, and concludes, Nihil est quod non Solertia vincat.

To say truth, he is a man of knowledge, very great in knavery; hee is well read in deceit of all Trades; hee knowes how to dye silke to make it weigh heavy hee knowes, that divers sorts of wooll mixt together, will never cotten well, to make good Demicasters: he knowes those Malsters are knaves that make a Bushell of Barly pute above nine in Mault; and I protest in good earnest, he doth deserve wel, if he can cast out the beams of his owne eye, that he may see the clearer to make themselves honest men..

He is one that thinks he can cozen the Devill, for hee will Wire-draw the Covetous, and worme the Usurer of their estates for hope of gaine; they will drop all three into a hangmans budget, if my Art doe not cousen me: Hee is a rare extracter of the quintessences of Beere, Ale, Wine, Tobacco, Mault, Bricke-tiles, Sope, Starch, Allome, Cards, Dice, and Tapsters, cum multis aliis; the pure Spirit gat by imposing a fine, and an annuall rent upon those that take Patents to sell them, and suffer others to sell them for nothing.

you shall heare his Epitaph.

Reader, here intomb'd doth lye
One, who thought he could not dye,

Yet Death to shew no flesh can be
Compos'd of Immortalitie,
Trembling did let flie a Dart,

Which kild him midst of all his Art:
For had he longer drawne his breath,
'Tis thought 'twould have infected death:
So many hot contagions flew

From his braine, each threatned new
Infections: blasting where they came,
The tree and fruit, nay even the name
Of honesty: But now hee's gone,
Like a Comet by his owne

Fire consum'd: The wormes doe feare,
Now hee's in earth that he should there
Practise on them: for in his grave,

Hee dead still lives toth' world a Knave.

ANONYMOUS

Two Essays of Love And Marriage. . . . Together with some Characters and other Passages of Wit. Written by Private Gentlemen for recreation. . . . London, 1657. 12mo.

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There is some good writing and plenty of wit, though both are second-rate, in this collection. Of a‘Humourist' for instance, whose 'principall_humour... is, inconstancy.... He is no stranger to Poetry, which is Musick in words; nor to Musick, which is Poetry in sound; yet rather makes them his Sauce then Meat.' Of the self-conceited Fellow,' 'he writes like the Egyptian darkness, wherein he shews cunning; for when men laugh at his Verses, he may say they laugh at they know not what ; and can boast of more then any Modern Poet, that he writes above humane apprehension.'

A politick Citizen

Is a lump of combustible ignorance, whom the least spark of newes fires into a blaze of unlikely conjectures; he measures all the designs of Foraign News by the line of Stow's Chronicle; which he never hears read, but out flies a piece of nonsense, which he miscalls State-policy, able to confound Machiavel. He much haunts the Pothouse to note into what forms men concoct their faces at the reading of Letters; he frequents the Exchange in the Postmeridian hours, because then men empty themselves of intelligence; his only factorage is news; viewing a Bill of Exchange, he swears 'tis a Libell. Tell him of a Curranto and he's in

M.A.

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