JUDICIUM

I am for truth assured Ever night their Nuptials will be finished: This Morning from Verona come the Ladies, Whose presence only is attended here. And now the love, Invention, which you bear To Topicus, may best conceive my joy, For Demonstrations equal happiness. You may be bold, on me, who cannot blame What ever quick Invention hath composed. What is't and Epigram? Nay Sir, by your favour, I will presume upon your courtesy to read it. You know Judicium ought to be conformed To Laws, and not to speak his mind of them. I think that it were fit It had a gloss to show your meaning, what You understand by Titles, and by Crowns; Those words are doubtful: but Sir shall I see The other? How? our deer Lord come by; or where's he gone? What means Lord Fallacy? did not great Discourse Send for him by your Brother? 'Twere needless now for us to ask the cause, Let's think upon some means to find him out. I am amazed. Come, let's go, You vex him with your fruitless Questions. And can he no where here about be found. And I by Fallacies advice him sought Towards Verona, but alas in vain; The troubles of that City as I was Upon the way, by faithful grief informed, Equal the stirs here in Parthesia: Truth and her daughters being thence expelled, And all the rule usurp't by Fallaoy, Those blessed civil laws are disanul'd, Which to so many glorious Emperors, So many ages, in so many lands, Have ever been so justly well approved; There hath he planted rude and practic friends Which grate the Commons, spoil Nobility. Betwixt deer brother's and the nearest friends, Endeavoured to sow vile dissensions. There the most sacred ordinance of Heaven, The divine Oracles they falsify, And force upon the plain simplicity Of easily deceived honest men, Frail humane breath and bold traditions, With singular fantastic vain conceits. As brainsick Dreams, forged revelations: That I rest well assured he is not there: Although to seek him else I know not where. What else is befallen you since Discourse Became distract? Is Contradiction hurt? found vanity Under these ever sudden moving Spheres To look for rest or seek felicity In earth, the well head of salt tears. We think him mad, that thinketh in the air, To erect a castle or fair monument; And through the Seas as passengers we fare, Yet dare not dwell upon that element. But on th'uncertaine, and short prosperous winds of favour blooming Fortune we oft raise High and huge Hope's, to our now calm minds Promise eternal Haltionian days. But the just heavens all well guiding care, Least we forget them in our jollity When we in greatest pomp triumphing are, Humble our minds with some new misery; For what else could our hearts content desire But firm assurance of continuing? When while with joy we others bliss admire, Our self straight vexed with Fortune's torturing With sense do feeele how her fierce wrath extends From our own selves unto our dearest friends. But say, is his wound dangerous? —But see Judicium, here Lord Intellect is come. All happiness attend your welcome presence. Where hath your Lordship been? and whence is it Di stinctions honest care hath set you free. Say good Distinction, how fell this out? And were you in his closet? What was it poison? Easily. Quid bibit ind furit, I have both read and seen it, and I fear Discourse's madness might have such a cause. But do you hear Lord Proposition, If he through artificial means lies mad, As by these signs 'tis more then probable, I know he may be helped again by Art; Let him but purge and bleed in his head vein I dare to warrant his recovery. What cunning Chirurgeon hath Parthesia? Now I do verily believe Analysis, That villain's cause of all, it will appear He forced his father's madness. I'll see what may be done for both. Analysis lets Discourse blood. Now see Judicium, here's no blood but humours, This black stuff is the excrement of Melancholy: This sometime makes him amongst the groves and rivers, Pen Sonnets to the Nymphs and Goddesses; In good assemblies to withdraw his thoughts, And dictate to his Desk and Closet walls, Dangers with which a wise man scarce would trust His very bosom—this next Is Choler, hast thou met with voices, Breathing seditious discontent and malice, This humour rules them, from this siery vapour, It's not the Chair of State or Justice seat, Can shield the Prince or public Magistrate, Yea unto Heaven it self it oft aspires, Against Religion and the sacred Arts, Casting prophaner and impure darts: This watery Phlegm, is that which putrifying. His springs of breath, infects the neighbouring air With blasts of slothful envy, whence destruction Casts mists upon the best endeavours. Now me thinks The blood appears, 'twere best Analysis You stop the Orifice. What, must he be martyred? Now I wish The Hypocausticall and brothel-writers were thus eased, Which vent forth volumes faster then the Press Can get in rags for Paper. Sir, our respect to you, our love to yours, Makes all that can be found within our power Seem but as tribute and deserved duty. Nay, good Invention, since we meeting here Have found all things so quietly composed, Suiting with our first expectation, I must remember you of what you promised The verses which you proffered to my view, Cannot but fit this opportunity. Let him straight Take care of him. With all my heart, young Lord pray led the way. I think 'twere best we conveyed him in again Analysis, And let him rest a while upon his pallet.