witness is not true." He who writes himself martyr by his own inscription, is like an ill painter, who, by writing on a shapeless picture which he hath drawn, is fain to tell passengers what shape it is: which else no man could imagine; no more than how a martyrdom can belong to him, who therefore dies for his religion because it is established. Certainly if Agrippa had turned Christian, as he was once turning, and had put to death scribes and pharisees for observing the law of Moses, and refusing Christianity, they had died a truer martyrdom. For those laws were established by God and Moses, these by no warrantable authors of religion, whose laws in all other best reformed churches are rejected. And if to die for an establishment of religion be martyrdom, then Romish priests executed for that, which had so many hundred years been established in this land, are no worse martyrs than he. Lastly, if to die for the testimony of his own conscience be enough to make him a martyr, what heretic dying for direct blasphemy, as some have done constantly, may not boast a martyrdom?

As for the constitution or repeal of civil laws, that power lying only in the parliament, which he by the very law of his coronation was to grant them, not to debar them, not to preserve a lesser law with the contempt and violation of a greater; it will conclude him not so much as in a civil and metaphorical sense to have died a martyr of our laws, but a plain transgressor of them. And should the parliament, endued with legislative power, make our laws, and be after to dispute them piecemeal with the reason, conscience, humour, passion, fancy, folly, obstinacy, or other ends of one man, whose sole word and will shall baffle and unmake what all the wisdom of a parliament hath been deliberately framing; what a ridiculous and contemptible thing a parliament would soon be, and what a base unworthy nation we, who boast our freedom, and send them with the manifest peril of their lives to preserve it, they who are not marked by destiny for slaves may apprehend! In this servile condition to have kept us still under hatches, he both resolves here to the last, and so instructs his son.

As to those offered condescensions of a "charitable connivance, or toleration," if we consider what went before, and what follows, they moulder into nothing. For, what with

not suffering ever so little to seem a despicable schism, without effectual suppression, as he warned him before, and what with no opposition of law, government, or established religion to be permitted, which is his following proviso, and wholly within his own construction, what a miserable and suspected toleration, under spies and haunting promooters, we should enjoy, is apparent. Besides that it is so far beneath the honour of a parliament and free nation, to beg and supplicate the godship of one frail man, for the bare and simple toleration of what they all consent to be both just, pious, and best pleasing to God, while that which is erroneous, unjust, and mischievous in the church or state shall by him alone against them all be kept up and established, and they censured the while for a covetous, ambitious, and sacrilegious faction.

Another bait to allure the people is the charge he lays upon his son to be tender of them. Which if we should believe in part, because they are his herd, his cattle, the stock upon his ground, as he accounts them, whom to waste and destroy would undo himself, yet the inducement, which he brings to move him, renders the motion itself something suspicious. For if princes need no palliations, as he tells his son, wherefore is it that he himself hath so often used them? Princes, of all other men, have not more change of raiment in their wardrobes, than variety of shifts and palliations in their solemn actings and pretences to the people.

To try next if he can ensnare the prime men of those who have opposed him, whom, more truly than his meaning was, he calls the " patrons and vindicators of the people," he gives out indemnity, and offers acts of oblivion. But they who with a good conscience and upright heart did their civil duties in the sight of God, and in their several places, to resist tyranny and the violence of superstition banded both against them, he may be sure will never seek to be forgiven that, which may be justly attributed to their immortal praise; nor will assent ever to the guilty blotting out of those actions before men, by which their faith assures them they chiefly stand approved, and are had in remembrance before the throne of God.

He exhorts his son "not to study revenge." But how far he, or at least they about him, intend to follow that exhortation, was seen lately at the Hague,* and now lateliest at

* Of Dr. Dorislaus' murder at the Hague, Clarendon gives the following

Madrid; where to execute in the basest manner, thougn but the smallest part of that savage and barbarous revenge, which they do nothing else but study and contemplate, they cared not to let the world know them for professed traitors and assassinators of all law, both divine and human, even of that last and most extensive law kept inviolable to public persons among all fair enemies in the midst of uttermost defiance and hostility. How implacable therefore they would be, after any terms of closure or admittance for the future, or any like opportunity given them hereafter, it will be wisdom and our safety to believe rather, and prevent, than to make trial. And it will concern the multitude, though courted here, to take heed how they seek to hide or colour their own fickleness and instability with a bad repentance of their well-doing, and their fidelity to the better cause; to which at first so cheerfully and conscientiously they joined themselves.

He returns again to extol the church of England, and again requires his son, by the joint authority of "a father and a king, not to let his heart receive the least check or disaffection against it." And not without cause; for by that means, "having sole influence upon the clergy, and they upon the people, after long search and many disputes," he could not possibly find a more compendious and politic way to uphold account :-"Whilst he was at supper, the same evening that he came to the town, in company of many others who used to eat there, half-a-dozen gentlemen entered the room with their swords drawn, and required those at the table not to stir; for that there was no harm intended to any but the agent who came from the rebels in England, who had newly murdered their king.' And one of them, who knew Dorislaus, pulled him from the table, and killed him at his feet and thereupon they all put up their swords, and walked leisurely out of the house, leaving those who were in the room in much amazement and consternation. Though all who were engaged in the enterprise went quietly away, and so out of the town, insomuch as no one of them was ever apprehended, or called in question: yet they kept not their own counsel so well, (believing they had done a very heroic act,) but that it was generally known they were all Scottish men, and most of them servants or dependents upon the Marquis of Montrose." (History, &c. vi. 297, 298.) In the same volume of his work the historian has to relate the trial and execution of this same Marquis of Montrose, who was condemned by the parliament of Scotland "to be hanged upon a gallows thirty feet high for the space of three hours." (p. 419.) Numbers of his adherents underwent the same fate; among them probably the murderers of Dorislaus, of whom one, it seems, was saved, under I know not what pretence. (p. 421.) The murder of Ascham by the royalists, at Madrid, took place under circumstances similar to those which attended that of Dorislaus.-ED.

and settle tyranny, than by subduing first the consciences of vulgar men, with the insensible poison of their slavish doctrine for then the body and besotted mind without much reluctancy was likeliest to admit the yoke.

He commends also "parliaments held with freedom and with honour." But I would ask how that can be, while he only must be the sole free person in that number; and would have the power with his unaccountable denial, to dishonour them by rejecting all their counsels, to confine their lawgiving power, which is the foundation of our freedom, and to change at his pleasure the very name of a parliament into the name of a faction.

The conclusion therefore must needs be quite contrary to what he concludes; that nothing can be more unhappy, more dishonourable, more unsafe for all, than when a wise, grave, and honourable parliament shall have laboured, debated, argued, consulted, and, as he himself speaks, "contributed" for the public good all their counsels in common, to be then frustrated, disappointed, denied, and repulsed by the single whiff of a negative, from the mouth of one wilful man; nay, to be blasted, to be struck as inute and motionless as a parliament of tapestry in the hangings; or else, after all their pains and travel, to be dissolved, and cast away like so many noughts in arithmetic, unless it be to turn the O of their insignificance into a lamentation with the people, who had so vainly sent them. For this is not to "enact all things by public consent," as he would have us be persuaded; this is to enact nothing but by the private consent and leave of one not negative tyrant; this is mischief without remedy, a stifling and obstructing evil that hath no vent, no outlet, no passage through. Grant him this, and the parliament hath no more freedom than if it sate in his noose, which when he pleases to draw together with one twitch of his negative, shall throttle a whole nation, to the wish of Caligula, in one neck.

This with the of the militia in his own hands over our power bodies and estates, and the prelates to enthral our consciences either by fraud of force, is the sum of that, happiness and liberty we were to look for, whether in his own restitution, or in these precepts given to his son. Which unavoidably would have set us in the same state of misery wherein we were before; and have either compelled us to submit like bondslaves,

VOL. I.

21

or put us back to a second wandering over that horrid wilderness of distraction and civil slaughter, which, not without the strong and miraculous hand of God assisting us, we have measured out, and survived. And who knows, if we make so slight of this incomparable deliverance, which God hath bestowed upon us, but that we shall, like those foolish Israelites, who deposed God and Samuel to set up a king, 'cry out" one day, "because of our king," which we have been mad upon; and then God, as he foretold them, will no more deliver us.

66

There now remains but little more of his discourse, whereof to take a short view will not be amiss. His words make semblance as if he were magnanimously exercising himself, and so teaching his son, to want as well as to wear a crown;" and would seem to account it "not worth taking up or enjoying, upon sordid, dishonourable, and irreligious terms;" and yet to his very last did nothing more industriously, than strive to take up and enjoy again his sequestered crown, upon the most sordid, disloyal, dishonourable, and irreligious terms, not of making peace only, but of joining and incorporating with the murderous Irish, formerly by himself declared against, for "wicked and detestable rebels, odious to God and all good men." And who but those rebels now are the chief strength and confidence of his son? While the presbyter Scot that woos and solicits him is neglected and put off, as if no terms were to him sordid, irreligious, and dishonourable, but the Scottish and presbyterian, never to be complied with, till the fear of instant perishing starve him out at length to some unsound and hypocritical agreement.

He bids his son "keep to the true principles of piety, virtue, and honour, and he shall never want a kingdom.' And I say, people of England! keep ye to those principles, and ye shall never want a king. Nay, after such a fair deliverance as this, with so much fortitude and valour shewn against a tyrant, that people that should seek a king claiming what this man claims, would show themselves to be by nature slaves and arrant beasts; not fit for that liberty which they cried out and bellowed for, but fitter to be led back again into their old servitude, like a sort of clamouring and fighting brutes, broke loose from their copyholds, that know not how to use or possess the liberty which they fought for but with the fair words.