kinds of people, that only the bare and naked name thereof is sweet, and most acceptable, though the writer thereon be but meanly learned, and of small sufficiency to set out, at the full, the fulness of so flourishing a virtue.

Then forward to the purpose: I say and prove, that the same is true friendship that proceeds from virtue, and hath so noble a nature by a divine motion of goodness, that neither vice can corrupt, nor any kind of vanity vanquish; for, where it taketh root, it buds so beautifully, that it bringeth forth an everlasting fruit, whose taste is more sweet and precious than can be easily imagined.

And now in a season, when fineness and flattery so abound, and strive, by cunning practices, to supply the place of friendship, and over-grow every branch that springs from loyal amity, this true friendship is sweetest of savour, and highest of reputation, and burns with a quenchless flame, like a blazing beacon, or sparkling torch, that can abide all winds, which is set upon the top of a high mountain; for fine or gross flattery is but a bare foil to set forth a bad jewel; and the crafty curious cunning of these artificial fellows, that feed all men's humours, make through, their manifold trumperies, a free passage to perfect faithfulness, and friendly good-will. There are covertly crept, and finely conveighed, into the common society of men, a hundred sundry sorts and shews of amity, which indeed are but juggling casts, or Ledger-de-maine, to purchase favour, and deceive the lookers on. If all that speak fair, bow down knee, make trim courtesy, kiss fingers and hands, yea offer service and friendship, were hearty and loving friends, the world would be so full of friendship, that there were no place left for adulation and double dealing. And surely if a man durst decipher the deepness of dissimulation, we should find our ordinary manner of friendship so faint-hearted and lame, that it neither could go out of the door with any man, nor yet dwell safely with many in the house. It seemeth, and may be well avouched, that friendship of itself is so secret a mystery, shrined in an honest heart, that few can describe it, and tell from whence comes the privy and inward affection, that suddenly breeds in the breast, and is conveighed to the heart, with such a content and gladness, that the whole powers of man leap in the bowels of the body for joy at that instant. For example, some that never give cause, with probable matter, to be embraced, and made account of as friends, are, by a natural inclination, received into favour, placed in delight, and planted perpetually, so long as life lasteth, in the warm bosom of our friendly affections, and favourable conceits.

Then, further, note, a wonder of nature! for we see a marvellous motion among men; for some, and that a great number, having neither harmed us, nor ministered, any way, occasion of dislike, yet are no sooner in our company, but we find their persons offensive, their presence unpleasant, their words sharp (spoken well, and to the best meaning) yea, their works, and whatsoever they will do, are taken amiss, and construed to the worst. But, chiefly to be noted, we little desire the acquaintance, peradventure, of a friendly companion. Thus so to hate without cause, and love earnestly without desert, is a matter disputable, and argues plainly, that friendship is,

without comparison, the only true love knot, that knits in conjunction thousands together: and yet the mystery and manner of the working is so great, that the ripest wits may wax rotten, before they yield reason, and shew how the mixture is made; that two several bodies shall meet in one mind, and be, as it were, married and joined in one manner of disposition, with so small a shew of virtue, and so little cause, that may constrain both parties to be bound and fast locked in a league of love. Then what may be thought of those that curry favour, follow for good turns, turn about like a weather-cock, fawn where fortune favours, and favour no where, but for commodity, countenance, and credit; and so compass that they seek? If friends be chosen by election and privy liking, these open palterers may go whistle; for they neither know the bounds of a good mind, nor the blessedness that belongs to friendship. What, then, should we say of men's behaviours in general? for, without reverence uttered by courtesy, suing and following for benefit, fawning and speaking fair (for entertaining of time,) creeping and crouching to keep that we have, and win that we wish, all civil order would be forgotten, rudeness would make revel, and men should suddenly miss the mark they shoot at. But, granting now these ceremonious fashions and manners, yet the users thereof are no more like friends, than a masque and mummery, with vizards on their faces, are like a company of grave senators, that govern a mighty monarchy. And more then monstrous it is, that such painted shadows are commonly preferred to be as pillars of friendship, when friendship, without props, stands against all weathers and winds, and is of a more clear complexion, than to be patched up with compounds, or matched with corrupted manners, envy to virtue, and friend to nothing but vice. For friendship is a certain felicity of the mind, a sweet essence that burns before God; a preserver of man's renown and life, a willing bondage, that brings freedom for ever; a stedfast staff, that all good people do stay on; the mother and nurse of mutual love, the conqueror of hate, the pacifier of quarrels, the glory of kings, and the surety of subjects. And friendship is so princely and noble of condition, it may not be joined with any, but such as are as honourable as itself. You shall see, among friends of equal calling, that are like of affection, such a sweet and common consent of fraternal love and liking, that every thing is wrested to the best construction; and no one matter may be ministered amiss, the minds and manners of men run so merrily together, as it were a sort of pretty chickens hopping hastily after the cheartul clucking of a brooding hen. And where such amity is, interlarded with honest pastime, there all hollowness of heart is banished, all plainness is embraced, and all good things do prosper. As a man might say, friendship is a ringleader to all happiness, and the guide, that shews men the high-way to all worldly exercises.

But now, some may ask me, how men should make choice of their friends, and know, by outward appearance, the inward disposition of people, so many look smoothly, so many flatter, and so many have clapped on such audacious countenances, that the wisest may be beguiled, where he least looks for deceit? It may be answered, that

choice ought to be made of proof, and not of fair semblance, but of constant perfection; for such, as cast colours, or cunning devices, and always to cloke collusion, creep finely in favour, with simpering and smiling, to lead ready wits after their subtle intentions, by their needless babble, fruitless fawning, often change of visage, unmannerly boldness, and daily attendance, where no desert commands them, the feigned friends of this world may be found; and in a state of necessity all true friendship is tried. And, methinks, they take no great pains, that accompany men in their prosperity, and merit no great thanks, that desire to taste, at all times, of other men's good fortunes. So that, by thrusting and pressing after those we hope to pluck somewhat from, debates of itself it is no certain sign of friendship, that springs from a simple and plain affection.

Now many will hold question, and say, that fortune may be followed, sought for, waited on, flattered, because she is a deceiver; and finely entertained, for that, with rude and rustical behaviour, both fortune and friends will fling us far behind, that would march before our fellows. But, I pray you, Is not the long proof of crafty practices, the extraordinay dissimulation of fine people, a testimony, that they are no true dealers, that work with worldly wickedness and policy to be accepted as friends? Then who should presently be called a faithful follower? Thus some men may demand. Such, I say, as, in men's meanest calling and credit, have begun to favour them, and, in their better estate, do honestly, in all causes of reason, equity, and justness of judgment, discharge their duties; and leave flattery, that openeth the door of doubleness, and fall flatly to the true order of plain dealing: such, I say, that neither for fear, favour, or fortune, but dare speak as they think, due reverence observed; and do rather cut off the festered flesh, than feeds and nourishes a corrupted canker: such, whose love and fidelity look narrowly on all the bounds and limits of friendship, and are so jealous over the friends they honour, that they cannot suffer any thing to sound out of frame, that may impeach, hinder, or appale the good name and credit of them they follow : such, whose study, diligence, and waking regard stand as a watch, to give warning and advertise their friends of all inconveniences, dangers, slanders, and eminent perils and hazards: such are the members most meet to be about a friend, most worthy welcome, most to be liked, loved, and trusted and such are the blessed birds of the bosom, that neither sing, nor say, nor make sign of other things than they present. And the rest, that loiter about crooked measures, sounding and searching by deceits, like fishers, that closely hide their hooks, to see whom they may catch, take hold of, and feel for their advantage: they are the sly swellers out of fortunate flowers, that grow in happy men's gardens; the prowlers after profit and preferment purchased by audacious practices; the busy-bodies, that never stand still, but turn like a top to betray the trusty; the tossed white froth of the sea, that makes a fair shew without substance, which vanisheth away at the touch of every man's finger; and * bubbles of the troubled *****

******, neither sign from wh*

with each little blast over ** what good

end and purpose they were. So, sir, seeing the swarms of feigned friends, the heaps of hollow hearts, the abuse of infected minds; the muzzled faces, covered with counterfeit good manners, and the effect of good friendship utterly mistaken, in many points and places of this world; I trouble you no farther with the reading of these lines, hoping in your favour and friendship, as your affection shall move, and my merits, without presumption, shall crave and require; making a further present unto you of a few verses (handled as well as I could) that were devised for the setting forth of a paper-mill, which a great wellwiller of yours, as good cause he hath so to be, hath built by Dartford, and brought to perfect frame and form, I trust, to the great contentment of the Queen's Majesty, and benefit of her whole country, as knoweth God; who augment, maintain, and blessedly uphold her Highness long among us, and increase your good credit with all virtuous disposition.

N. B. The verses above mentioned, relating to the description and commendation of a Paper-mill, then newly erected at Dartford, were not added as proposed,

A

PACKE OF SPANISH LYES,

SENT

ABROAD IN THE WORLD;

FIRST PRINTED IN SPAINE, IN THE SPANISH TONGUE,

AND TRANSLATED OUT OF THE ORIGINALL.

Now ripped vp, vnfolded, and, by iust examination, condemned, as conteyning false, corrupt, and detestable wares, worthy to be damned and burned. Thou shalt destroy them that speak lyes, the Lord wil abhorre the bloody and deceitfull man. Psal. v. ver. 6.

Imprinted at London, by the deputies of Christopher Barker, Printer to the Queenes most excellent Maiestie. 1588. Quarto, in black letter, containing thirteen pages.

This curious Pamphlet, which, our correspondent informs us, has been sold by auction at half a guinea, is an ancient specimen of those indirect means, which an ambitious court takes to support its drooping credit with the publick. How far such practices are now in vogue, every reader knows; and these are now published to oblige that judicious Gentleman Mr. R. Z, who apprehends, by so doing, we shall also gratify all our subscribers.

This is the eleventh in the catalogue, published with this collection; and contains the artifices made use of by the Spanish court, to keep up the spirits of the people, at the time that the King of Spain attempted, in 1588, to invade England with his invincible Armada, and dethrone Queen Elisabeth; because, the fleet being beaten, dispersed, and gone north about, and almost intirely destroyed by tempest, &c. they began to doubt of its success. See p. 47, &c. of this Vol, where you have a true and full account of this expedition in 1588

A Packe of Spanish Lyes.
From Spaine.

1. THE true relation of the succes of the catholike armie*, against their enemies, by letters of the post-master of Logrono of the fourth of September, and by letters from Roan of the one-andthirtieth of August, and by letters from Paris of the Kings embassadour there; wherein he declareth the imprisonment of Francis Drake, and other great nobles of England, and how the Queene is in the fielde with an armie, and of a certain mutinie, which was amongst the Queencs armie, with the successe of the said Catholike armie since they entred in the Groyne, till they came on the coast of England, with two ballets, compounded by

The Invincible Armada in 1588.

A Condemnation of the Spanish
Lyes.
From England.

1. IT is wel knowen to all the worlde, how false all this relation is, and either falsly coloured by the letters remembred, or els both the post-master of Logrono, and the writers from Roan, ought to be waged as intelligencers for the deuill, the father of lyes, whom they haue herein trulye serued; and if they so

continue, in mayntenance thereof against the knowen trueth, their damnation is certaine, aud hell is open for them,

+ The letters from the Kings embassadour, whose name is Mendoza, agrerable to their masters Dame, being the reporter of Mendacia Mendacissima; and considering that he hath written, that Francis Drake is imprisoned, and many nobles of England; if Mendoza will stand to his letters, so as he would gage, and, by his hande-writinge, assure but his worst iennet and his belles, he shall be answered for the said Sir Francis Drakes person, or any nobleman, gentleman, or page, so taken in the fight betweene the two armies, for the ransom of euery of the said prisoners fortie thousande crownes in the Royal Eschauge of London. But the trueth is, Sir Francis Drake was so farre off to be a prisoner, that he was the taker; for he tooke Pedro de Valdez, and four-hundred more Spauish prisoners, at one time. And, to proue this to be true, Mendoza shall haue, if he will require it, Pedro Valdez owne hande, to shewe that he is prisoner to Sir Francis Drake, and four-hundred more taken with him, and not one Englishman taken in that seruice.

It is so false, that there was any mutinie in the Queenes armie, that she her selfe was there, with the greatest honour, loue, and applause, receiued, that coulde be imagined for a lady and a queene. She rode rounde about her armie, and passed through euery part thereof, to their inestimable comfort; she lodged and did eat in the campe, as quietly as euer she did in her owne chamber. In the armie was neuer any fray or discord; exercise of armes was daily used and shewed before her, to her great honour; yea, and with an vniuersall extolling of Gods name euery day, morning and euening, in loude prayers and psalines; and the like song, in her owne hearing, against all tyrannie by inuasion of Gods enemies; and this euery man may iudge to be farre from any colour of mutinie.