The end of a dissolute life is a desperate death. There was never president to the contrary, but in the theefe in the Gospell: In one, lest any shuld despaire: in one alone, lest any should presume.

Evil thoughts are the divels harbingers, for he lodgeth not but where they provide his entertainment.

Indifferent equality is safest superiority.

Where passions increase, complaints multiply. If thou givest a benefit, keepe it close; but if thou receivest one, publish it, for that invites another.

Let thy will be thy friend, thy minde thy companion, thy tongue thy servant.

Age may gaze at beauties blossomes; but youth climbes the tree and enjoyes the fruit.

Time is the herald of Trueth, and Trueth the daughter of Time.

The young man may die quickly; but the old man cannot live long.

There be foure good mothers have foure bad daughters: trueth hath hatred, prosperity hath pride, security hath perill, and familiarity hath contempt.

Wisdome is that olive that springeth from the heart, bloometh on the tongue, and beareth fruit in the actions.

Happy is that mishap whereby we passe to better perfection.

The

The soule is the greatest thing in the least

continent.

Let the limits of thy power be the bounds of thy will.

No greater comfort than to know much: no lesse labour than to say little.

Give a lazie clerke a lean fee."

JOHN PHYLLIPS.

AMONG rare tracts, perhaps there is none. more rare, or in itself more curious, than this which I am about to describe.

Ritson makes mention of a John Philip, who wrote "A rare and strange historical account of Cleomenes and Sophonisbe, surnamed Juliet, very pleasant to reade." I presume John Phyllips is a different person, and a new name to be added to our Catalogue of our English Poets. The following is the title of his book.

"A Commemoration of the Right Noble and Vertuous Ladye Margrit Duglasis Good Grace, Countes of Lennox, Daughter to the renowned and most excellent Princesse, Margarit, Queene

of

of Scotland, espoused to King James the Fourth of that Name: in the Dayes of her most puissaunt and magnificent Father, Henry the Seaventh of England, Fraunce and Ireland, King.

Wherein is rehearsed hir godly Life, her Constancy and perfit Patience in Time of Infortune, her godly and last Farewel taken of all noble Estates at the Howre of her Death, the Ninth Day of March, 1577, at her House of Hackney, in the Countie of Midlesex: and now lyeth enterred the Thyrd of April, in the Chappel of King Henry the Seaventh, her worthy Grandfather, 1578, and Anno 20 of our Soveraigne, Lady Queene Elizabeth, by God's Permission, of England, Fraunce and Irelande, Queene." The Poem is thus inscribed:

"To all Right Noble, Honorable, Godlye and Worshipfull Ladyes, John Phillip wisheth the feare of God, prosperitie and peace in Jesus Christ."

I subjoin the following specimen:

All flesh is grasse, and doth wither away,

Even as the flower that doth partch with the sunne,

No physick can serve our lyves for to staye
When the clockes past, and the hower full runne.
By death to all sortes Gods will must be donne,
But how or when, no mortall man doth knowe,
Ne yet in what sorte death will bring him lowe.

Some

Some by long sicknesse thyr lyves do-resigne,
Some with the sworde are constrained to dye,
And some by famine to earth do incline,

And some in the floudes deepe drentched do lye,
Some by the lawes from death cannot flye,

Subject to miseries we are on the earth,
And certain to dye, even from our fyrst byrth.

No charter of life is graunted to man,

Our time is but short, our dayes are not long,
Our substaunce is death, and do what we can,

To earth we shall tourne be we never so stronge,
Let us not thinke then that death doth us wrong,
When, or in what 'sort, he shall us arest,
No, let us be ready to welcome this guest.

Consider that time runnes on without stay,

If he once passe by he will not turne back;
And as the time fades mans dayes, weare away,

For the web of this lyfe runnes still unto wrack
In time keepe watch then, least death the house sack,
For such as live carelesse, glorying in sinne,
Seeke to themselves destruction to winner de

At the end is.

"Yours at commaunde in the Lord, John Phyllips.

Imprinted at London, by John Charlewood, dwelling in Barbycan, at the signe of the Halfe Eagle and Key."

LAMENTATIO ESPERANTIE.

Wa worth the time that ever I him saw,
Wa worth ye hour yat first I did him knaw,
Wa worth the tide that ever we twa met,
Wa worth the day that ever it did daw,
To se my friend into sic thrist and thraw,
And far my saik in sorrow all over set;
Allace, allace, is na remeid to get,

Wa worth the toung that ever persewit sic law,
To see his handis into ane cord thus plet.

I was to hait sa sone for to complaine,
I was unwise that his falt could not lane,
I was unkinde threw heit of sawage blude,
I was to sone ovir strekin with disdane,
I was to pert to put my freind to pane;
Allace, allace, now much my mane and mude,
I was but hap, I was of grace denude,
I was but with my will could not refrane,
But time my feir his life and all his gude.

Now will ilkane hold me abhominabill,
Now will thay call me of his death culpabill,
Now will ilkane fra my cumpanie fle,
Now will thay hald my deides detestabill,
Now may I bruik with greit barret and baill
Like one fond fuill fulfillit with fantasie;
Allace, allace, hard is my destenie,

Now call they me ane Tratour tressonabill,
Of my brother caus I had na pietie.

ELIZABETH