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the region of the brain and his head swelled like any bladder with wind and vapour. But after he was stretched to such an height in his own fancy, that he could not look down from top to toe, but his eyes dazzled at the precipice of his stature; there fell out, or in, another natural chance, which pushed him headlong. For being of an amorous complexion, and finding himself, as I told you, the cock-dicine and the cock-wit of the family, he took the pri vilege to walk among the hens; and thought it was not impolitic to establish his new-acquired reputa→ tion upon the gentlewomen's side. And they that perceived he was a rising man, and of pleasant conversation, dividing his day among them into canonical hours, of reading now the common prayer, and now the romances, were very much taken with him. The sympathy of silk began to stir and attract the tippet to the petticoat and the petticoat toward the tippet. The innocent ladies found a strange unquietness in their minds, and could not distinguish whether it were love or devotion. Neither was he wanting on his part to carry on the work, but shifted himself every day with a clean surplice, and as oft as he had occasion to bow, he directed his reverence towards the gentlewomen's pew, till, having before had enough of the libertine, and undertaken his calling only for preferment, he was. transported now with the sanctity of his office, even to extacy; and
like the bishop over Maudlin College altar, or like Maudlin de la Croix, he was seen in his prayers to be lifted up sometimes in the air, and once particularly so high that he cracked his scull against the chapel ceiling. I do not hear for all this that he had ever practised upon the honour of the ladies, but that he preserved always the civility of a Platonic knight-errant. For all this courtship had no other operation than to make him still more in love with himself; and if he frequented their company, it was only to speculate his own baby in their eyes. But being thus without competitor or rival, the darling of both sexes in the family, and his own minion, he grew beyond all measure elated, and that crack of his scull, as in broken looking-glasses, multiplied him in self-conceit and imagination, &c. &c.
The following is a very burlesque and lively description of the conduct of the orthodox divines, on king Charles the Second's' publishing the declaration of indulgence to tender consciences. Still addressing the doctor under the name of Bayes, he proceeds:
t I suppose you cannot be ignorant, that some of your superiors of your robe did, upon the publishing that declaration, give the word and deliver orders
through their ecclesiastical camp, to beat up the pulpit drums against popery. Nay, even so much that there was care taken too for arming the poor readers, that though they came short of preachers in point of efficacy, yet they might be enabled to do something in point of common security. So that, though for so many years, those your superiors had forgot there was any such thing in the nation as a popish recusant, though polemical and controversial divinity had for so long but hung up in the halls, like the rusty obsolete armour of our ancestors for monu ments of antiquity, and for derision rather than service; all on a sudden (as if the 15th of March had been the 5th of November) happy was he that could climb up first, to get down one of the old cuis rasses, or a habergeon that had been worn in the days of queen Elizabeth. Great variety there was, and an heavy doo. Some clapped it on all rusty as it was; others fell of oiling and furbishing their armour; some pissed in their barrels, others spit in their pans, to scour them. Here you might see one put on his helmet the wrong way; there one buckle on a back in place of a breast. Some by mistake catched up a Socinian or Arminian argument, and some a Papist to fight a Papist. Here a dwarf lost in the accoutrements of a giant: there a Don Quixote, in an equipage of differing pieces, and of several parishes. Never was there such incon
gruity and non-conformity in their furniture.
ran to borrow a sword of Calvin; this man for a musket from Beza; that for a bandeleers even from Kerkerman. But when they came to seek for match, and bullet, and powder, there was none to be had. The fanaticks had bought it all up, and made them pay for it most unconscionably, and through the nose. And no less sport was it to see the leaders. Few could tell how to give the word of command, nor understood to drill a company. They were as unexpert as their soldiers aukward; and the whole was as pleasant a spectacle, as the exercising. of the trained bands in -shire.
The second part of this performance is said in the title page to have been occasioned by two letters: the first printed by a nameless author, intitled "A Reproof," &c. The second left for him at a friend's house dated Nov. 3. 1673, subscribed J. G. and concluding with these words: "If thou darest to print or publish any lie or libel against Dr. Parker, by the eternal God I will cut thy throat."
The following passage is valuable chiefly for
the handsome manner in which Marvel speaks of Milton when in disgrace, after the restoration.
You do three times at least in your Reproof, and in your "Transproser Rehearsed," well nigh half the book through, run upon an author, J. M. which does not a little offend me. For why should any other man's reputation suffer in a contest betwixt you and me? But it is because you resolved to suspect that he had an hand in my former book, wherein, whether you deceive yourself or no, you deceive others extremely. For by chance, I had not seen him of two years before; but after I undertook writing, I did more carefully avoid either visiting or sending to him, lest I should any way involve him in my consequences. And you might have understood, or I am sure your friend, the author of the "Common Places," could have told you, (he too had a flash at J. M. upon my account) that had he took you in hand, you would have had cause to repent the occasion, and not escaped so easily as you did under my transprosal. But I take it, moreover, very ill, that you should have so mean an opinion of me, as not to think me competent to write such a simple book as that, without any assistance. It is a sign (however you upbraid me often as your old acquaintance) that you did not know me well, and that