Heaven; he takes an Almanack of foul weather for one of Merlin's Prophesies. Upon hearing of a Victory, or loss of a Sconce, he is enraged, and blames the State that he was not a Generall; he extolls the Low-Countreys Government above any Monarchy, because the fat Citizens rule the roast; he holds it impossible for the State ever to be ruined, because it swims in Butter. His face is a piece of Stenography, where all Richeliews designs are writ in short-hand. He keeps a common place-book of hard State-words, which though nor he nor his English Dictionary understand, he after an Aldermans Plumb-broth Feast spews out among the learned Fraternity; and is therefore slander'd with the name of a Politician, and he turns Heretick and believes it; for they had rather ignorantly admire his speeches, then go to the price of understanding them. All the passages he hears are Stratagems; if he hear but a Ballad, he smells Treason in it; he cannot endure Plays, because there are Plots in them; ask him a question, you undermine him; answer him with silence, he takes you for a State Informer; he tells you news by tale, not by weight. There is no way to strike him dumb but drawing out your Table-Book; every man is a fool that is not of his opinion: but he takes him for an undoubted wise man that applauds his conjectures; he seldome approves any thing that he understands, and yet he approves most things; he meditates on an old Manuscript more then the Pentateuch; he wonders why the Apocalyps is put in the end of the Bible, and thinks it a disgrace; he takes Brightman for a better Interpreter then Daniel; he cuts the Apocrypha out of

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his Bible, for fear of infection; yet cannot tell why he hates it, but because 'tis Apocrypha; and thinks Solomon but a fool in suffering his wisdom to be put there. Monarchy he cannot abide, but says 'tis against Christian Liberty; but thinks Anarchy is as old as the Chaos. He takes Malchus's Servant to be a Saint, because he had his ear cut; yet thinks him not right of his opinion, because he had one left. He takes Peter for a Popish Bishop, because he cut off that eare. Where'ere the Scripture says strive, he takes it for fighting; that makes him so in love with Civill War. Among his Superiours he is dumb; to his inferiours deaf; the one he offends by silence, the other by prating; to both he is ridiculous. In a word, he is the State Incendiary, the Cities bane, and Kings evil.

RICHARD FLECKNOE (d. 1678)

Enigmaticall Characters, All Taken to the Life, from severall Persons, Humours, & Dispositions. By Rich. Fleckno. Anno Dom. 1658. 8vo. Rich. Flecknoe's Ænigmatical Characters. . . . London, .. 1665.

Characters Made at Several Times. London, . . . 1673. The first and last pieces are taken from the 1658 edition, the seventh from that of 1673, and the rest from the edition of 1665.

In 8 character-books Flecknoe wrote 135 characters.

So far as Flecknoe is remembered it is as the titular anti-hero of Dryden's satire, though it is not plain that he earned this position by being eminently bad even in his verse. Dryden is certainly too sweeping in linking the prose with the verse, for a fair number of Flecknoe's characters are agreeable to read. In various small ways he is continually revealing his personality, so that his readers are tantalised by the vain wish that some of his greater contemporaries had been similarly moved. In a friendly manner, with no self-consciousness, he talks of his aims and methods in one dedication (Enigmatical Characters, 1665) he describes his characters as the 'perfectest of all my Works' in the Postscript' to his 1673 volume, he tells us I pass then my Thoughts through finer and finer Sieves of first Writing, then Printing, and lastly Reprinting them before I have done with them.' This is true. He likes re-writing his characters in each edition. Their brevity is one of their positive merits. And it is well to remember that the titles are often more tempting than the piece itself proves to be.

Said to be a Roman Catholic priest, Flecknoe was abroad during the years of the Civil War, and his characters reflect his travels in France and the East. His 'Portrait'

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of himself, an account of 'body and mind,' depicts, more seriously than is his wont, a shy spirit, whose youthful desires have been quenched, and now he only paints his hopes in water colours.' Not all his attitudes are changed, He loves all things chearful, splendious, and noble, and hates Sectaries most of all, because they are otherwise.' This must have applied with special point to his 'troublous times,' but it suggests a haven still remote and still attractive.

Of an irresolute Person

He hovers in his choice, like an empty Ballance with no waight of Judgement to incline him to either scale; he dodges with those he meets, nor he can ever resolve which way to let them passe: every thing he thinks on, is matter of deliberation, and he does nothing readily, but what he thinks not on: discourse that helps others out of laborinths, is a laborinth to him; and he of all creatures would be far wiser, if he had none at all he begins nothing without deliberation; and when he begins to deliberate, never makes an end. Has some dull demon cryes, do not, do not still, when hee's on point of doing any thing, which he obeys as a divine Revelation; He plays at shall 1, shall I? so long, till oppertunity be past, and then as he did the fault, repents at leasure. He is enemy to Resolution, or rather as Resolution were enemy to him, his heart fails him; and like a coward he turns back presently, at sight of it: He still misliking the present choice of things as Scoggan did his Tree to hang on: He could never Bet at Cocking nor Horse-race yet, because the battaile or race was alwayes done ere he could deliberate which side to take, & he is only happy

in this, that his irresolution hinders him from marrying and entring into Bonds: Nor ist (perhaps) the least part of his happinesse to be as long in choosing his Religion now, amongst so many new Sects, that sprout up every day; though tis thought he is a Quaker; and if he be superstitious withall, he is in for his wits, and next news you hear from him will be from Bedlam.

Of a Chymerical Poet | Made in Africk WITH his monstrous Simile's and Hyperbole's he is like a Painter, who makes onely Chimera's and Grotesque work, whilst others Figures are natural, and to the life; by seeking out new wayes, he mistakes the way to Helicon, and loses himself by going out of the common Road. He is like Statius on his great Horse, now on the top, now on the bottom of Parnassus, and ha's not art enough to keep him to a constant pace. His Conceits come across from him, and stick by the way; and his many Parenthesis's are but like the boggling of resty Jades, when they can't or won't advance. His Muse is none of the Nine, but a Mungril or By-Blow of Parnassus; and her Beauty, is rather Sophistical then natural. He offers at Learning and Philosophy, as Pullen and StubbleGeese offer to flye, and presently come fluttering down agen. His high-sounding Words and Verses are but like empty Tunns or Hogs-heads, which make the greater sound the emptier they are. A long while some admir'd him, because they understood him not; and for the same reason he admir'd himself: But now they have found out the Cheat, 'tis thought Icarus fate will be his, who for