Perhaps tho' in time one may make them to yield, But 'tis pretti'st Cob-castle e'er I beheld.

The Sun now was going t' unharness his steeds, When the ferry-boat brasking her sides 'gainst the weeds,

Came in as good time, as good time could be,
To give us a cast o'er an arm of the sea;
And bestowing our horses before and abaft,
O'er god Neptune's wide cod-piece gave us a waft;
Where scurvily landing at foot of the fort,
Within very few paces we enter'd the port,
Where another King's Head invited me down,
For indeed I have ever been true to the crown.

WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT.

BORN 1611.-DIED 1643.

He

WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT was the son of an innkeeper at Cirencester, who had been reduced to that situation by spending a good estate. was a King's scholar at Westminster, and took orders at Oxford, where he became, says Wood, "a most florid and seraphic preacher." Bishop Duppa, his intimate friend, appointed him succentor of the church of Salisbury in 1644. In the same year he was one of the council of war, or delegacy, appointed by the University of Oxford, for providing troops sent by the King to protect, or, as the opposite party alleged, to overawe the universities. His zeal in this service occasioned his being imprisoned by the parliamentary forces on their arrival; but he was speedily released on bail. Early in the year 1643 he was appointed junior proctor of his university, and also reader in metaphysics. The latter office we may well suppose him to have filled with ability, as, according to Lloyd's account, he studied at the rate of sixteen hours a day but he survived his appointment to it for a very short time, being carried off by a malignant fever, called the campdisease, which was then epidemical fat Oxford. Cartwright died in his thirty-second year; but he lived long enough to earn the distinguishing praise of Ben Jonson, who used to say of him, My Son Cartwright writes all like a man."