That preach't on worky dayes. His poetrie
In selfe was oftentimes divinity,

Those anthemes (almost second Psalmes) he writ
To make us know the Cross, and value it
(Although we owe that reverence to that name,
Wee should not need warmth from an under flame),
Creates a fire in us so neare extreme,

That we would die for and upon this theme.
Next, his so pious Litany, which none can
But count divine, except a Puritan.

And that, but for the name, nor this, nor those,
Want any thing of sermons but the prose.
Experience makes us see that many a one
Owes to his country his religion,

And in another would as strongly grow,
Had but his nurse and mother taught him so,
Not he the ballast on his judgement hung;
Nor did his preconceit doe either wrong;
He labour'd to exclude whatever sinne

By time or carelessnesse had entered in;
Winnow'd the chaffe from wheat, but yet was loath
A too hot zeal should force him burn them both;
Nor would allow of that so ignorant gall,

Which to save blotting often would blot all;
Nor did those barbarous opinions owne,

To thinke the organs sinne, and faction none;
Nor was there expectation to gain grace
From forth his sermons only, but his face;
So primitive a looke, such gravitie
With humblenesse, and both with pietie;
So mild was Moses countenance when he prai'd
For them whose Satanisme his power gainsaid;
And such his gravitie when all God's band
Receiv'd his word (through him) at second hand,

Which joyn'd did flames of more devotion move
Than ever Argive Helens could of love.
Now to conclude, I must my reason bring,
Wherefore I call'd him in his title king.
That kingdome the philosophers believed
To excel Alexander's, nor were griev'd
By feare of losse (that being such a prey
No stronger then ones self can force away),
The kingdom of ones self, this he enjoy'd,
And his authoritie so well employ'd,
That never any could before become
So great a monarch in so small a roome ;
He conquer'd rebell passions, rul'd them so,
Asunder spheares by the first mover goe,
Banish'd so far their working that we can
But know he had some, for we knew him man.

Then let his last excuse his first extremes,

His age saw visions, though his youth dream'd dreams.

(T.)

The following letter from Mr. Patrick Carey, appealing to Sir Edward Hyde for assistance, throws some light upon the history of his conversion and subsequent life:—

The Honourable Mr. Patrick Carey to Sir Edward Hyde.

MY LORD,

Had my sisters been the only reporters of your Lordship's propension towards our family, I should not have so far relied upon it, but thought that they, loving it themselves desired that persons of your quality should do so too, and easily believed their desires. But besides them, my Lord, all else (who had the happiness of knowing you) assured me that

you were so noble as not only to conserve fresh the memory of my brother Falkland, but also to extend your affection and favour to those who had any relation unto him; a thing becoming much your generosity, and answering to the rareness of your other qualities. This relation given me by many, contradicted by none, made me blush less in my becoming a trouble unto your Lordship, and assured me that I should either be quickly favoured or suddenly denied: two things, my Lord, that equally would oblige me, I being now in a state to prefer almost a despatching no before a lingering grant. I have been brought up in a tedious Court, and inured to patience; it is no therefore out of want of it that I am so hasty; but (were I never so willing) I cannot attend my fortune more than some three, or, when most, four months. All temporal good luck after that time will come too late to be enjoyed by me. My sister's letter will, I believe, in some part, let you see my pretensions; but that you may look them through, I will tell you my story, and beg your pardon for my tediousness. I do thus to make myself less a stranger to you, to entertain you with a kind of romance, and that out of it you may gather what kind of employment I am fittest for (if for any), and what kind of favour to ask there for me. Being made, in secret, of my mother's religion (for I knew no other distinction then between the Catholick and Protestant one, but that my mother was of that, my father of this), that I might continue in it, and be taught what it was, I was stolen into France, and, after a stay there of three years, transported into Italy, where I lived twelve. My brother took my flight in such ill part, that never after did I hear from him, though Mr. Cressy says that before his death he had some intentions of using me better. My very nothing of portion he detained in his hands, and left me to a strange likelihood of starving. Whilst the Queen had wherewithal, I had a small but sufficient pension underhand from her Majesty; afterwards I was better provided by the last

Pope, who, upon her Majesty's recommendation, conferred upon me an abbey and a priory in commendam ; and besides, some pensions on other benefices, wherewith I subsisted well, and from the pity became the wish of many English travellers, as one that was disengaged from those tumults, and had a being besides better hopes. Cardinal Barberini had assured me of his efficacious favour, and I began to feel that he was in earnest, when the wars with Parma broke out, which so took up his thoughts, that in time of vacancies I was forgot, and military officers' kindred remembered only. The peace killed the Pope; and his successor, seeking to be contrary to him in all things, began to show an aversion from strangers. In his reign, first, I lost a pension of above forty pounds a-year, paid me by Cardinal Barberini (who was then in persecution, and I thought it unworthy to exact ought from him who had given me all); then an inundation in Sicily spoiled my priory so, that, as fruitless, I made it away. Then a canon died in Cambray, who paid me a pension of 257. yearly; and since that time (the space of upon five years) I have received nothing; and now am at law with his successor, in great likelihood of losing my suit. Lastly, the wars broke out in Naples, and such havock was made of my abbey, that in great despair I renounced it; where 300 banditti had made their nest, not only in the troubles, but almost ever since. From this Pope all the while I had extraordinary fair words; but seeing he meant only to talk, I writ to Court, to crave leave to come away; for having been placed there by her Majesty, I held it my duty not to quit the place without her licence. Sir John Winter, in her name, answered to two instances that I made that I should stay still, assuring me that, if ever the times were better, with the first I should prove her Majesty gracious; and that this Pope was not immortal; yet, that I might depart when I could subsist there no more. This too she was pleased to make known unto me by Sir Kenelm Digby. In compliance to this order, I ran out

VOL. I.

R

of

both in purse and credit; then, seeing no hopes of good by my stay, I thought it best to return. I had many designs. In my father's time the office of Secretary to the Crown in Ireland had been given me. The Queen had promised to recommend me earnestly to my Lord of Ormond; and Catholicks were now by the articles of peace made capable of bearing offices in that kingdom I hoped to get my right by favour, but at Paris heard of the Marquis's and my hopes' defeat. I had a great desire then to have kissed their Majesties and your hands; but the failing of a merchant forced me to pass over into England immediately. There I received the remnant of my little due; and, fearful of the least charge I might bring on my friends, one hour after they had despatched me I left London and came hither. Here I desired to take some employment whereby to make a subsistence of my stock, though in a way life extremely new to me, who had been bred up in the schools, and in a long robe. But first I thought to have got the arrearages of my pension, and it extinguished; which in all would have come to 3507. more than I had already. But that business is not yet ended; and my monies brought to a sufficiency only for the months I named. Into the Archduke's family I had thoughts of putting myself, but servants there receive no pay. Employment from the King is to be had, not at his but one's own expenses; and I want means. A friend in Rome labours hard to get me a canonry, now vacant, of 2007. a-year, whereby I might live, and yet not be obliged to take orders (a thing I am less willing to do since my poor nephew Falkland's death) or to bind myself. But if he obtain it not, I cannot expect for a second trial unless I gain my process, a thing most unlikely. Now, my Lord, casting about where I might find a helper, I began to hope that by reason of your Lordship's present employment I might have some succour from that Court, at least by an express effectual order from thence to be provided for by the Ministers of State here; or an