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Britain's Remembrancer

Containing A Narration of the Plagve lately past; A Declaration of the Mischiefs present; And a Prediction of Ivdgments to come; (If Repentance prevent not.) It is Dedicated (for the glory of God) to Posteritie; and, to These Times (if they please) by Geo: Wither

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TO THE KINGS MOST EXCELLENT Maiestie.
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TO THE KINGS MOST EXCELLENT Maiestie.

Most Royall SIR:

Because I doubted who might first peruse,
These honest Raptures of my sleighted Muse;
Observing it the quality of most,
To passe rash judgements (taken up) on trust;
And, that according to the wits of those
Who censure first, the common Censure goes:
Perceiving, too, with what oblique aspect,
Some glaring Comets, on my Lines reflect;
Awhile J pawsed, whether trust I might
My plaine-pace'd Measures to their partiall sight,
Who may upon them (e're you reade them) seize,
And comment on my Text, as they shall please,
Or sleight, or scoffe; such men were knowne to me;
And being loth, they first of all should be
My Iudges; here, I offer to your eye
The prime perusall of this Poesie.
For, minding well what hopes I have of You;
What course, my Fortunes urge me to pursue;
What blurres, good Studies by those Fooles have got.
Who sleight desert, because they know it not;
What freedome Nature gives to ev'y soule,
To speake just things, to Kings, without controule;
How farre from noble, and from wise they be,
Who disallow the Muses should be free;


How eas'd we are, when we our minds disclose;
What profit from our honest boldnesse flowes;
What Resolutions I have made mine owne,
And what good cause there is to make them knowne:
All this well weighing, with some Reasons moe
(Which usefull are for none but me to know)
J did not feare these Poems forth to bring,
To bide, at first, the censure of a King.
And loe, on milke white paper wings they flye,
Reade they that list, when you have laid them by.
But, SIR, I humbly pray you; let not fall
Your Doome, till you have read, and read it all:
For, he that shall by fragments this peruse,
Will wrong himselfe, the Matter, and the Muse.
Although a tedious Worke it may appeare,
You shall not wholly lose your labour here.
For, though some heedlesse Courtiers censure may
That on this Booke your time were cast away,
I know it may your spirits recreate,
Without disturbing your affaires of State;
And with more usefull things acquaint your eares,
Then twenty hundred thousand tales of theirs.
You also know, that well it fits a King,
To heare such Messages, as now I bring.
And, that in doing so, to take some pleasure,
Great Monarchs thought it just to be at leasure:
Long since, I have elected you to be
Mœcenas, to my Muses, and to me:
And if my hopes in you shall be bereft me,
I have no other hopes in this kind left me;
Nor any purpose, whatsoever come,
To seeke another Patron, in your roome.
Nor seeke I now, that I from you may gaine,
What, other times I covet for my paine.

3

Nor for because my heart hath any doubt,
That I shall need a Friend to beare me out
Against the fury or the fraud of those,
That openly, or secretly, oppose
Such Works; For, He that me to this doth call,
Shall save me harmlesse, or I meane to fall.
Not that I sleight your favour, speake I this;
(For deare and precious to my soule it is)
But rather, that the world may know and see,
How him I trust that hath inspired me.
(Though some suppose I may) I doe not feare,
As many would, if in my case they were.
I doe not feare the World deprive me can
Of such a mind, as may become a Man;
(What ever outward miseries betide)
For, God will Meanes, or Fortitude provide.
I doe not feare (unlesse I merit blame)
That any one hath pow'r to marke my shame:
Since they who causlesly my Name shall spot,
Reproach themselves; but, me disparage not.
And, sure I am, though many seeke to spight me,
That ev'ry Dog which barketh cannot bite me.
I oft have lookt on Death, without dismay,
When many thousands he hath swept away
On ev'ry side; and from him have not stirr'd
One foot, when he most terrible appear'd.
I know of Want the utmost discontents;
The cruelty of Close-imprisonments;
The bitternesse of Slanders and Disgrace,
In private corners, and in publike place:
J have sustain'd already, whatsoever
Despight can adde, to wrong a good endeavor;
And, am become so hopelesse of procuring
True Peace, (but by a peaceable enduring)

[3]

That, what remaines to suffer shall be borne:
And, to repine at Fortune, I will scorne.
I doe not feare the frownes of mighty men,
Nor in Close-prison to be lodg'd agen:
For, Goods, Life, Freedome, Fame, and such as those,
Are things which I may often gaine or lose,
At others pleasures: and, o're much to prise
What Man may take, or give, I much despise.
I am not fearfull, as (I heare) are some,
What of the Times, now present, will become:
For, God to prosper them emploring still,
I fearlesly attend upon his will;
And am assur'd, by many Presidents,
That like proceedings will have like events.
I doe not feare those Criticks of your Court,
That may my good intentions misreport;
Or say, it misbeseemeth me to dare
With such bold language to salute your eare:
For, as I know your Greatnesse, I have knowne
What freedomes on the Muses are bestowne;
And, that their Servants should not whine like those
Who are your daily Orators in prose.
I feare not any men that would abuse,
Or in her lawfull slights affront my Muse,
Because, perhaps, exceptions may be tooke
Against some passage in the following Booke.
For, she to none hath purposed abuse,
And, therefore, needs nor shelter, nor excuse.
And when she pleaseth, she hath meanes to fray
Those Buzzards, that would interrupt her way.
She dares not onely, Hobby-like, make wing
At Dorrs and Butterflyes, but also spring
Those Fowles that have beene flowne at yet by none,
Ev'n those, whom our best Hawks turne taile upon.

3

Not only at Crowes, Ravens, Dawes, and Kites,
Rookes, Owles, or Cuckowes, dare she make her flights,
At wily Magpies, or the lay that vaunts
In others Plumes; or, greedy Cormorants;
Or those, who being of the Kastrell-kinde,
Vnworthily aspire, and fan the winde
For aerie Titles; or, the Birds men rate
Above their value, for their idle prate.
At Wag-tailes, busie Titmise, or such like;
But, with her pounces, them dares also strike
That furnish Courtly Tables. As, our Gull.
A bird much found among the Worshipfull.
Our Dottrells, which are caught by imitation.
Our Woodcocks, shadowing out that foolish Nation,
Who hide their heads, and thinke secure they be,
When they themselves their dangers doe not see.
Our strutting Peacockes, whose harsh voice deih show,
That some sharpe stormy windes will shortly blow.
Our Herneshawes, slicing backward filth on those,
Whose worths they dare not openly oppose.
Our traiterous Mallards, which are fed and taught,
To bring in other wilde-fooles, to be caught.
Those Fowles, that in their over-daring pride,
Forget their breed, and will be Eglifide.
Our Brittish Barnacles, that are a dish
That can be termed neither flesh nor fish.
Ev'n these, or any Fowle. she durst surprise,
If they dare crosse her, when to check she flyes.
Or, if that any one shall doe us wrong,
Who for our mounting Falcons is too strong;
I can unkennell such an eager packe
Of deep-mouth'd Hounds, that they afraid shall make
Our sternest Beasts of prey, and cunning'st Vermine,
Ev'n from the Fox-fur, to the spotted Ermine.

[3]

In plainer termes; if any shall oppose
My Muse, when in a lawfull path she goes,
She will not much be startled; but, goe neare
To tell them what they would be loth to heare.
She's none of those that spew out railing Rimes,
Against some publike persons of the Times,
Through spleene or envy; then, for feare, or shame,
Divulge them to the world without a Name;
Or hide their heads. Nor can those threats (that fright
Such Libellers) compell her not to write,
Unlesse she please: for, she doth know her Warrants,
And sends her Messengers on lawfull arrants.
She utters Truth; ev'n that, which well she knowes
Becomes her, at this present, to disclose.
That call'd she was, to make this Declaration,
She stands assured; and of that vocation
Such testimonies hath, that I despise
His judgement who the pow'r thereof denyes:
For, yours I doubt not, and if pleas'd you are,
For what mans censure living need I care?
No such like pannick feare affrighteth her,
As that which doth her enemies deterre.
But, if she list, in spight of all the rage,
(And all the bitter malice of this age)
She dares reprove, and vexe the proudst of them,
Who her, and her endeavors doe contemne;
And set (who e're they be) her markes on those
Who Vertue, in her honest course oppose.
Yea, them shee'll make, whom selfe-conceit besots,
Distrust, that we discry their secret'st plots,
And may at pleasure, lay to open view,
Both what they purpose, and what shall ensue
On their vaine Projects; though when they begun them,
They placed many veiles, and maskes, upon them.

5

SIR, no such Toyes as those doe make me fearfull,
Nor of their hate or favour am I carefull.
For shelter therefore, this I brought not hither,
Nor am I hopefull, or desirous either,
To compasse any private profit by it,
Or, to my person any praise, or quiet.
For, I can hope for nothing, till I seee,
The World, and my deservings better be.
And, howsoever I am, now and then,
As foolish in my hopes as other men;
Yet, at this present, (and at ev'ry season,
In which my oft weake eyes of Faith and Reason
Vnclosed are) me thinks, those things, in which
The world appeares most glorious, and most rich;
Are no more worthy of my serious hopes,
Then Ratles, Pot-guns, or the Schoole-boyes Tops.
If God will give me bread but for to day,
(And, but my soule vouchsafe me for a prey)
Twixt him and me, there shall be no conditions
For worldly honors, or for large possessions:
For, (as long since an Hebrew Prophet said,
When such like times, as these, had much dismaid
His fearfull Scribe) Is this a time for me
To seeke preferment, or made rich to be?
No, no; for, if these dayes continue such
As now they be, each Groome will have as much
As hath his Lord; and diffrence will be small
Betwixt the richest, and the poor'st of all.
There are enough already, who desire
To riches, and high places to aspire,
There be great numbers, who will projects bring you,
And Bookes, and Tales; and Songs, it may be, sing you,
For, their owne profit: but, there want of those,
That would their honors, or their livings lose,

[5]

Or hazard their preferments, to declare
Those Truths, that worthy of disclosing are.
Yet, that is all (Dread Soveraigne) I have sought,
In tendring you these Lines that I have brought.
And, that by my example, others may
Take heart to speake, what they are bound to say.
I know, the ods is more then ten to three,
That for this boldnesse most will censure me
As mad or foolish: and, my best reward
Will be this comfort, that I boldly dar'd
To speake the needfull Truth, at such a time,
In which the bravest vertue seemes a crime.
I doe expect this wise-appearing age
Should at the freedome of my Poeme rage,
And, that some witty Scorners should abuse
With taunting Epithites, my honest Muse;
As if she were produce'd by Chymistry,
Of Salt and Sulphur, without Mercury.
But, I am proofe against their flashy stuffe;
And for their scornings I have scorne enough.
I looke our Politicians should defame
My Straines, by censuring them to be to blame,
Or over busie. But, my seeming folly
May make some Readers strive to be more holy,
Then heretofore: yea, some who thinke they know
Enough already; shall more prudent grow
By This. And I am willing to be thought
A foole, that they more wisedome may be taught.
Yet, I confesse, that lately when I saw
This course, did hate, and wants upon me draw,
And that, without a Second, I was faine
The waight of all my troubles to sustaine;
I halfe resolved, that I would speake no more
So plaine, against Abuse, as heretofore;

5

And (thinking I had ventur'd well for one)
Did meane to leave the World her course to run:
Nay, from good words (although it was a paine)
I fully was resolved to refraine.
But, when I silence kept, my heart became
As hot within me, as a fiery flame.
Yea, like new wine, in vessels wanting vent,
My thoughts did swell my brest to be unpent;
And, at the last, I empti'd with my quill
A veine, which did the following Volume fill:
Supposing by the publike Presse to send it,
To them for whose Remembrance I intend it.
But, they who keepe the passage, back did thrust it
Before perusall; and, (be like) distrust it,
Because my name it cary'd, to be such
As might upon their friends too neerely touch.
For, some of them have said; that were my writing
As true as that of holy Iohns inditing,
They would not licence it: so fearfull are
These guilty Times the voice of Truth to heare.
When therefore, I had this my Offring brought,
And laid it at their doore; a while I thought
My selfe discharged: but, my Conscience said,
My worke was lost, and still my vow unpaid,
Till I had practis'd ev'ry likely way,
To tell the Message which I had to say.
And, since the common way it might not passe,
To bring it by your Gate, resolv'd I was.
My first determining of such a thing,
Did many severall doubts upon me bring.
One while J doubted, that those fooles who mock
At piety, would make a laughing-stock
Of this and me: and say (with some disdaine)
That I would make my selfe a Prophet faine:

[5]

And puft with selfe conceit, had penn'd a Story
For private ends, and for mine owne vaine glory.
Or, that with pride and arrogance deluded,
I had upon undecent things intruded.
Another while J doubted some would prate,
That these my Lines dishonored the State,
And on the Government aspersions laid;
As of their warnings oft the Iewes have said.
Sometime I feared, all my words would make
But few or none the better heed to take.
Because I reade, that many a Prophet spoke,
What, small effect within his life time tooke,
Except, in aggravating of abuses,
And leaving them the more without excuses.
Sometime againe, I feared lest if You
Referring this my Poem to their view
Who misconceive it may, (and trusting them
In censuring, who causlesly condemne
Men innocent) might, by that evill chance
Be wrong'd; and suffer for their ignorance.
Thus Kings are often injur'd: and, some perish
In their dislike, whom they are bound to cherish.
I saw, moreover, that my Foes, of late,
Had so much wronged me in my estate,
By needlesse charge, and causlesse hindring me,
From those due profits, which my Portion be;
That to recover them, (and to pursue
My lawfull right) I have no meanes but you,
And your just fauour. Which, if I should misse,
(By giving to your eare distast in this)
My adversaries would prevaile, J thought,
And, my disgrace, and ruine would be wrought.
These carnall doubts, and many other such,
Against my Reason did prevaile so much,

7

That I was halfe afraid to venture on
In that, which ought with courage to be done.
But, whilst I stagger'd, and began to stay,
Me thought, within me, somewhat thus did say.
Base Coward; hath God's love so many dayes,
To thee appeared; and so many wayes?
Hast thou so often felt, what thou dost know,
From nothing, but the pow'r of God can flow?
Hath he so plainly told thee, with what wiles,
The foolish world, her selfe, and those beguiles
That harken to her? Hath he made thee see
How little harme, her spight can doe to thee?
Nay, hath he pleased bin to bring unto thee,
Great profits, by those injuries men doe thee.
And, shall these are but of a paltry scoffe,
From that which he appointeth, beat thee off?
Hath he so often kept thee from disgrace,
And fed and cloth'd thee, meerely of his grace,
That thou shouldst now distrust he will deceive thee,
And, when he sends thee on his Message, leave thee,
Without those necessaries, which pertaine
To those who in his Service doe remaine?
Hath he no meanes to bring thee fit supplies,
But such as thine owne wisdome can devise?
Hath God destroy'd so many of thy hopes,
And dost thou build them still on carnall props?
Didst thou so many times, in secret vow
Affiance in his promises? and, now
Hast thou no surer helps to trust unto,
Then Kings and Princes? And, as others doe
(Who have not thy experience) dost thou shrink
As soone as any outward Stay doth sinke?
Wouldst thou thy God displease to keepe a friend,
Perhaps in vaine, for some poore temporall end?

[7]

Is't now a Season (when the Lands transgressions
Have shaken all) to settle thy Possessions?
When all the Towne about thee is on fire,
Wouldst thou go build thy straw-clad Cottage hyer?
Well; take thy course. Yet, know, if thou forbeare
What now thy Conscience bids thee to declare,
Thy foolish Hope shall faile thee, ne're the lesse;
Thy wrongfull suffring shall have no redresse;
Thou shalt have greater wants then pinch thee yet;
New sorrowes, and disgraces, thou shalt get
In stead of helpe; and, which is worst of all,
A guilty Conscience, too, torment thee shall.
Then, be advised, and proceed to do
That lawfull Act, thy heart enclines unto;
And, be thou sure, that God will make thee strong
Against the violence of ev'ry wrong.
Be stout; and though all persons through the Land,
Ev'n Prince and People both, should thee withstand,
Their opposition nothing harme thee shall;
But, thou shalt bide them like a brazen wall;
And if thou suffer persecutions flame,
Thou shalt be but refined in the same.
Such thoughts were whisper'd in me. And though some
May think them vaine suggestions, flowing from
Distemper'd Fancy; I dare boldly say,
They lye: And, I their motives doe obey.
All doubts, and feares, and stops, are broken through,
And loe (Dread Sov'raigne) I have brought to you
(In all humilitie) my selfe and these
My honest and my just REMEMBRANCES:
To passe, for those, to whom they appertaine;
Or, here for my discharging to remaine.
God is already angry (I'me afraid)
Because this duty I so long delaid.

7

And, stand, or fall, now I have reacht thereto,
I would not, for the world, it were to do.
Good SIR, reject it not, although it bring
Appearances of some fantasticke thing,
At first unfolding: for, those Mysteries
Which we most honor, and most highly prise,
Doe seeme to be but foolishnesse to some.
And, when our sin to any height is come,
Jt brings a height of folly, which oft makes
That course to seeme uncomely, that God takes
For our reproofe, (and chiefly) if it cary
The shew of any way not ordinary.
Which (out of doubt) is requisite, when sin
That's extraordinary breaketh in.
Beleeve not those, who reasons will invent,
To make this Volume seeme impertinent:
For, what is more of moment, then a story
Which mentioneth to God Almighties glorie,
His Iudgements, and his Mercies? and doth show
Those things that may prevent our overthrow?
Sure, nothing is more worthy of regard:
And though a foolish tale be sooner heard,
Yet, in respect thereof, the glorioust things,
That stand upon record of earthly Kings,
Appeare to me as vaine, as large discourses
Of childish May-games, and of Hobby-horses.
Give eare to none, I pray you, who shall seeke
To move, within your Highnesse, a dislike
To my unusuall boldnesse, or my phrase:
For, who doth listen to an honest cause
In these regardlesse times, unlesse it be
So dred, as if it seem'd to say; Come see
What's here to doe. Mens wits are falne asleepe;
And, if I doe not some strange rumbling keepe,

[7]

(That is not lookt for) they no heed will take,
Of what I say, how true soe're I speake.
J know there be Occasions, Times, and Causes,
Which doe require soft words, and lowly Phrases:
And, then, like other men, I teach my Muse
To speake such language as my neighbours use.
But, there are also Times which will require,
That we should with our Numbers mingle fire:
And, then I vent bold words; that You, and They
Who come to heare them, take occasion may
To aske or to examine, what's the matter,
My Verse speakes tartly, when most Writers flatter.
For, by that meanes, you may experience'd grow
In many things which else you should not know.
My Lines are loyall, though they bold appeare:
And though at first, they make some Readers feare
I want good manners; yet, when they are weigh'd,
It will be found that I have nothing said,
In manner, or in matter worthy blame,
If they alone shall judge me for the same,
Who know true Vertues language; and how free
From glazing termes, her Servants use to be.
Though bold I seeme to some that Cowards are,
Yet, you I hope, shall finde, I neither dare
Things that or needlesse be, or desperate;
Or, that Foole to be wondred at
Among those fooles, who love to heare it said,
That they to breake their necks were not afraid.
For, as a Seaman, when the Mast he climbes,
Is safe enough, though he in danger seemes
To some beholders: So, although that Path,
In which I tread, a shew of perill hath
To those who see not what fast hold I take,
My landing will be firme, when theirs doth shake.

9

And, if I fall, I fall not by this Act,
But, by their malice, who dislike the Fact.
Heed none I pray, that hath so little shame,
To say these times are not so much to blame
As I have made them seeme: for, worse they are
Then I have yet expressed them, by far.
And, much I feare, that they who most defend them,
Will make them to be worse, before they mend them.
Nor doubt you, Royall SIR, that from the story
Of your just raigne, or from your future glory,
It ought shall derogate, to heare it told,
Such evills, whilst you raigned, were contrould.
For, we doe reade, that Kings who pioust were,
Had wicked Subjects. And, beside, you are
So late enthroned, that your government
Could little in so small a time augment
Their being good or ill: But, you shall gaine
The greater glory, if you can restraine
(And keepe from growing worse) a time, become
So grossely wicked, and so troublesome.
If any other way my Verse be wronged,
By Readers ill-advis'd, or evill-tongued,
Vouchsafe to spare your censure, till you heare
What just replies to their Objections are.
Or, if that any to disparage this,
To you, shall of my life report amisse;
Reject their scandals (for your owne deare sake)
And let them no impression on you make.
For, evill tongues sometimes will set their stings
Vnjustly, on the sacred name of Kings;
Much more on mine. But, for my owne repute,
So carefull am J not to make this sute,
But for my Muses honor. For, in all
My outward actions, I dare boldly call

[9]

Your strictest Lawes to censure me. And what
I am to God, it may be guessed at,
But rightly knowne, to none but him, and me.
And, though from outward scapes I stand not free,
Yet, let this Message her due merit win:
For, Gods most holy Prophets had their sin.
As in a Glasse, here may you, by reflection,
Behold (without the hazard of infection)
The horrid Pestilence in her true forme,
Which in your Kingdome did so lately storme;
And is so soone forgotten, that I erre,
Vnlesse there needeth a REMEMBRANCER.
Hereby, succeeding Times, in such like terrors,
May learne to see and to prevent some errors.
Here, understand you may (without false gloze)
What heretofore your people did suppose
Of You: Their hopes before your Coronation,
And what hath beene since then their expectation.
Here, you may partly see, what you of them
May hope: what you should cherish or condemne.
Here, view you may (before too far they steale)
The sicknesses of Church and Commonweale:
What brings upon your Person, and the State,
Such care, and so much trouble as of late:
What marres your Counsels, and what undermines
Your most approved, and most wise designes:
What makes your Armes, your Vertues, & your Friends
So little helpfull to your pious ends:
What makes your Fleets returne without successe;
What breedeth doubtings and unsetlednesse
In weighty matters; and whence discord springs
Among the People, and twixt them and Kings.
And, if it well observed be, perchance,
What seemes to most a trifling circumstance,

9

Shall of it selfe informe, or else prepare
To signifie those things that weightiest are:
For, they who can my Muses reach discerne
Shall find, that what most think doth but concerne
My person onely; may to that conduce,
Which serves to publike, and to private use.
Moreover, this Remembrancer doth show,
To what the folly of these times will grow;
And, what in future daies will surely fall
If we our courses long continue shall.
He, lastly doth declare the certaine way,
By which, ensuing harmes prevent we may;
Take off the skars, our passed sins have given,
And, make our present peace with earth and heaven.
Deare SIR; as you your honor do respect
For times to come: as you do now affect
Your present comforts, and those hopes that are
The pledges of that Crowne, you looke to weare,
(When you must leave that golden Crowne of thornes,
Which paines your head, as much as it adornes)
Give heed to these Remembrances: Command them
To passe, in spight of such as would withstand them.
Doe you reforme, according to your pow'rs.
In ev'ry quarter of this Ile of yours,
Give way to Reformation. In the Crimes,
And many crying sins, of these lewd times,
Be you no partner, by conniving at
Their Actors; or, discountenancing that
Which may disable them to tyrannize;
Who will to hide old sinnes, new faults devise.
And, doe not for some few reserve that eare,
Which should the suit of ev'ry Subject heare.
But, as you have beene, yet (and as I trust
You shall continue) be in all things just;

[9]

And as upright, as him it may befit,
Who doth in place of God Almighty sit;
That you and yours, may still in safety stand,
What plague soever fall upon the Land.
And, let not my Petition be condemn'd,
As over bold; or my advice contemn'd,
Because a man despised gives the same;
For, seldome hitherto, a Message came
From God, on such occasions, but some one
In outward show, scarceworthy thinking on,
Was made the Messenger. All heav'nly graces
Are not intail'd on men of highest places:
Nor is all that which ev'ry Prelate sayes,
To be beleev'd as Gospell; now adayes.
God still (as heretofore) calls vulgar men
To speake his will to Princes, now and then:
Yea, to delude the World, or to deride
Her arrogant vaine glory, and her price,
God checks her oft, by those of whom we see
She most of all disdaines reprov'd to be:
That, so, her loftinesse he may debase,
And to the lowly minded shew his grace.
It peradventure may be thought I come
With nothing else but gleanings, gathered from
The common Rumors, (which I faine would strow
Abroad againe, to publish what I know)
But, let men judge their pleasures: I am free
From those poore ends; and, so still hope to be.
In this, I mov'd not, of mine owne intent,
Nor am I, SIR, by any Mortall sent:
More strong is my Commission. And, what e're
It seemes to those who unacquainted are
With Gods Characters, and his Privie seale,
The Times to come shall openly reveale

11

What these perceive not; and, it shall be seene,
That I have warrantably called beene.
Meane time my Conscience knowes I have not run
With rashnesse into that which J have done;
But, rather that I maugre mine owne will,
Was rouzed up, and spurred onward still,
In this performance, when my Cowardice,
My Sloth, my Pleasures, or my Avarice,
Or worldly Policies, their baits did lay,
To tempt and draw my heart another way.
Yea, so untoward was I to conforme
My Will, this uncouth Action to performe,
That, many times I quite gave off to doe
What I had vowed, and set hand unto.
For, had not God by terrors, wants, distractions,
And crossing all those temporall hopes and actions
Which I attempted, since I first began
This taske: or, if he had not now and than
Among those lashes, mixed comfortings,
And apprehensions of diviner things
Then flesh and blood informeth (as, no doubt,
This Booke will prove to some who reade it out)
I neither should have knowne what I have told,
Nor dared in these times to be so bold.
For, when the World can tempt me for a day,
To cast such Meditations quite away,
(And plod, as others doe, in her affaires,)
My Courage, and my Comforts, it impaires.
And, if I happen then, to over-looke
Some passages in this ensuing Booke,
J wander at their boldnesse, just as much
As he, whose heart had never such a touch:
And, till by reading them, new fire I take,
My owne Expressions, me doe fearfull make.

[11]

Yet, here are poore and slender things, to that
Which of these Times, time comming will relate:
For though my Fortune hath obscured me,
Yet in all matters might it fitting be
For me to speake my knowledge of those things
Which to my eare and eye, Occasion brings,
So many sad Relations I could make,
That every honest Readers heart would ake;
And think this Nation foolish, (if not mad)
Or, that all Reason quite forsooke us had.
Yea, had I meanes to prove to ev'ry man,
What to my owne experience prove I can;
Or were it meet, in publike to declare
All things which knowne, and unconsidered are;
My Muse would make, perhaps ev'n those to grieve,
(And tremble too) who doe nor yet beleeve,
Nor care to know how desp'rately diseas'd
This Land is growne. However they are pleas'd
Who have distemper'd it; to you I trust
Jt shall not be distastfull, that I must
Dilate my minde a little, in such wise,
That you may see how sicke you Kingdome lies.
For, that alone which fits me to disclose,
And what's already knowne to friends and foes
My Verse discouers. Yea what to conceale
More harmes, then profiteth your Commonweale,
Is here in part commemoriz'd, to show
That we consider not the things we know.
And, if I shall miscarie for declaring
These needfull Truths, (and, for this honest daring)
A rush I care not. For, I'de rather die
Alone, before those dayes of misery
That seeeme to be approaching (and for saying
What (being heeded) might procure the staying

11

Of universall Plagues) then live and perish
With fooles, who doe themselves for slaughter nourish.
I am no Statesman, neither (by pretence
Of having gotten large intelligence)
Would I insinuate for more esteeme
Then I deserve; or, to deserve may seeme.
But, being set on such a middling height,
Where I (by God's permission) have the sight
Of many things (which they shall never see
Who far above, or far below me be)
What I observe, J ponder, and compare;
And, what I thinke may profit, I declare.
I therefore hope, what e're the person seeme,
The matter shall procure it selfe esteeme:
And make this age to know, there's majesty
In simplest Truth; and such authority
As will command regard, though want it shall
Those glorious garbs which falshood jets withall.
J hope to see all Vertue shine in You;
And that your good example will renue
Decaying Piety. I likewise hope
That these Remembrances shall find no stop
By your appointment, nor by any pow'r
Which taketh her authority from yaur.
For, when it shall be seene, that you give way
To publish This: your people justly may,
(And will) affirme, that you are still the same
They hoped of you: that you also blame
As much as any, what disordered is;
And, that you seeke to mend what's found amisse:
Yea, they that else will storme and vexe to see
My Lines, thus bold, will calme and quiet be.
However; I have said, and, I have done;
Let what God pleaseth follow thereupon.

[11]

My heart is fixed; and I up have taken
Those Resolutions, that will stand unshaken,
(I trust) though Earth should sinke, and all the Spheare:
Come thundring downe in flames about my eares.
Which Hopes of mine, some will, perchance deride,
And foole themselves, to see my patience tride
By what they can inflict, (unlesse you stay
That rage, to which my Verse provoke them may)
But, see your Honour be not wronged by it,
And, let them doe their worst; for I defie it:
Because I know, what e're the spight of man,
Against this Poeme, speake or practise can,
Jt shall continue, when all those be rotten,
Or live with infamy, or dye forgotten,
Who shall oppose it. J moreover know,
That, dead, or living, I esteem'd shall grow,
For what they blame. That Genius tells me this,
Which never yet perswaded me amisse,
And, I beleeve him: Else let me become
Of all as scorn'd, as I am now of some.
Yea, if they ever drive me to repent,
That honest minde with which I under-went
This Labour; Let the wishes of my Foes
Befall me, and let ev'ry one of those
Who either heare me nam'd in future ages,
Or shall perceive, I fail'd in my Presages,
Be bold to say, my heart was never right,
But, that I liv'd and di'de an HYPOCRITE
Your Majesties most loyall Subject, and most humble Servant, Geo: Wither.