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LAUGHING, to teach the truth,

What hinders? As some teachers give to boys Junkets and knacks, that they may learn apace.


JOKING decides great things. Stronger and better oft than earnest can.



you that say it, not I. You do the deeds, And your ungodly deeds find me the words.


THERE can be slain

No sacrifice to God more acceptable,
Than an unjust and wicked king.


IN silence now and with attention wait,
That ye may know what th' Eunuch has to prate.


GLAUCUS, in Lycia we're ador'd as gods,
What makes 'twixt us and others so great odds?


WHO taught Salmasius, that French chattering
To aim at English, and HUNDREDA cry? [pye
The starving rascal, flush'd with just a hundred
English Jacobusses, HUNDREDA blunder'd:
An outlaw'd king's last stock. A hundred more
Would make him pimp for th' antichristian whore;
And in Rome's praise employ his poison'd breath,
Who threaten'd once to stink the pope to death.


BECAUSE you have thrown off your Prelate Lord,
And with stiff vows renounced his Liturgy,
To seize the widow'd whore Plurality
From them whose sin ye envied, not abhorr'd,
Dare ye for this adjure the civil sword

To force our consciences that Christ set free,
And ride us with a classic hierarchy


*The note of Warton on this sonnet appears to me to be extremely unjust and severe. Milton denoted his indignation against the Presbyterians because they had deserted their own principles, continued many of the supposed abuses, and usurped much of the power of the church which they had overthrown: in fact, the new Presbyter was more tyrannical than the old priest.

Taught ye by mere A. S. and Rotherford? Men whose life, learning, faith, and pure intent Would have been held in high esteem with Paul, Must now be nam'd and printed Heretics By shallow Edwards and Scotch what d'ye call: But we do hope to find out all your tricks, Your plots and packing worse than those of Trent, That so the Parliament


May with their wholesome and preventive shears Clip your phylacteries, though bauk your ears, And succour our just fears,

When they shall read this clearly in your charge, New Presbyter is but old Priest writ large.


8 A. S.] A polemical writer of the times, named 'Adam Steuart.' See the notes of Warton and Todd. Rotherford was one of the Chief Commissioners of the Church of Scotland; also sat with the Assembly at Westminster. He was Professor of Divinity in the University of St. Andrew's; wrote many Calvinistic tracts; and was an avowed enemy of the Independents. T. Edwards had attacked Milton's Plan of Independency in his Antapologia, 1644. On Rotherford. See Heber's Life of I. Taylor, ii. 203.

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17 Clip] In the MS. the lines stand thus:

Crop ye as close as marginal P―'s ears;—that is, Prynne's. Warton.

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O NIGHTINGALE, that on yon bloomy spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still, Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill, While the jolly hours lead on propitious May. Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day,

First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill, Portend success in love; O if Jove's will Have link'd that amorous power to thy soft lay, Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate

Foretell my hopeless doom in some grove nigh; As thou from year to year hast sung too late For my relief, yet hadst no reason why:

Whether the Muse, or Love call thee his mate, Both them I serve, and of their train am I.


DONNA leggiadra il cui bel nome honora
L'herbosa val di Rheno, e il nobil varco,
Bene è colui d'ogni valore scarco

Qual tuo spirto gentil non innamora,
Che dolcemente mostra si di fuora

5 close] Crashawe's Poems, the Weeper, st. xxiii. day close his eyes?' Todd.

• Does



De' sui atti soavi giamai parco,

E i don', che son d'amor saette ed arco,
La onde l'alta tua virtu s'infiora.

Quando tu vaga parli, o lieta canti

Che mover possa duro alpestre legno
Guardi ciascun a gli occhi, ed a gli orecchi
L'entrata, chi di te si truova indegno;
Gratia sola di su gli vaglia, innanti
Che'l disio amoroso al cuor s'invecchi.


QUAL in colle aspro, al imbrunir di sera,
L'avezza giovinetta pastorella

Va bagnando l'herbetta strana e bella
Che mal si spande a disusata spera
Fuor di sua natia alma primavera,
Cosi Amor meco insù la lingua snella
Desta il fior novo di strania favella,
Mentre io di te, vezzosamente altera,
Canto, dal mio buon popol non inteso
E'l bel Tamigi cangio col bel Arno.
Amor lo volse, ed io
l'altrui peso


Seppi ch'Amor cosa mai volse indarno.

Deh! foss' il mio cuor lento e'l duro seno
A chi pianta dal ciel si buon terreno.



1 imbrunir] Petrarch Canz. xxxvii. 'Imbrunir veggio la sera.' Bowle.

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