Table of Contents
SIRS,
YOU are both Adventurers, the one of Estate, the other of Life: I could tell you I am an Adventurer too, if I durst presume to come into your Company. I have ventured to come abroad in Print, and if I should be laughed at for my good meaning, it would so break the credit of my understanding, that I should never dare to shew my face upon the Exchange of (conceited) Wits again.
This dish of Discourse was intended for you at first, but it was manners to let my Lord have the first cut, the Pye being his own. I beseech you accept of the matter as ’tis drest, only to stay your stomachs, and I’le promise you the next shall be better done, ’Tis all as I can serve you in at present, and it may be questionable whether I have served you in this or no. Here I present you with A Character of Mary-Land, it may be you will say ’tis weakly done, if you do I cannot help it, ’tis as well as I could do it, considering several Obstacles that like blocks were thrown in my way to hinder my proceeding: The major part thereof was written in the intermitting time of my sickness, therefore I hope the afflicting weakness of {24} my Microcosm may plead a just excuse for some imperfections of my pen. I protest what I have writ is from an experimental knowledge of the Country, and not from any imaginary supposition. If I am blamed for what I have done too much, it is the first, and I will irrevocably promise it shall be the last. There’s a Maxim upon Tryals at Assizes, That if a thief be taken upon the first fault, if it be not to hainous, they only burn him in the hand and let him go (see note No. 5): So I desire you to do by me, if you find any thing that bears a criminal absurdity in it, only burn me for my first fact and let me go. But I am afraid I have kept you too long in the Entry, I shall desire you therefore to come in and sit down.
G. ALSOP.
THE
PREFACE
TO THE
READER.
THE Reason why I appear in this place is, lest the general Reader should conclude I have nothing to say for my self; and truly he’s in the right on’t, for I have but little to say (for my self) at this time: For I have had so large a Journey, and so heavy a Burden to bring Mary-Land into England, that I am almost out of breath: I’le promise you after I am come to my self, you shall hear more of me. Good Reader, because you see me make a brief Apologetical excuse for my self, don’t judge me; for I am so self-conceited of my own merits, that I almost think I want none. De Lege non judicandum ex solâ linea, saith the Civilian; We must not pass judgement upon a Law by one line: And because we see but a small Bush at a Tavern door, conclude there is no Canary (see note No. 6) For as in our vulgar Resolves ’tis said, A good face needs no Band, and an ill one deserves none: So the French Proverb sayes, Bon Vien il n’a faut point de Ensigne, Good Wine needs no Bush. I suppose by this time some of my speculative observers {26} have judged me vainglorious; but if they did but rightly consider me, they would not be so censorious. For I dwell so far from Neighbors, that if I do not praise my self, no body else will: And since I am left alone, I am resolved to summon the Magna Charta of Fowles to the Bar for my excuse, and by their irrevocable Statutes plead my discharge. For its an ill Bird will befoule her own Nest: Besides, I have a thousand Billings-gate (see note No. 7) Collegians that will give in their testimony, That they never knew a Fish-woman cry stinking Fish. Thus leaving the Nostrils of the Citizens Wives to demonstrate what they please as to that, and thee (Good Reader) to say what thou wilt, I bid thee Farewel.
GEO. ALSOP.
THE
AUTHOR
TO HIS
BOOK.
When first Apollo got my brain with Childe,
He made large promise never to beguile,
But like an honest Father, he would keep
Whatever Issue from my Brain did creep:
With that I gave consent, and up he threw
Me on a Bench, and strangely he did do;
Then every week he daily came to see
How his new Physick still did work with me.
And when he did perceive he’d don the feat,
Like an unworthy man he made retreat,
Left me in desolation, and where none
Compassionated when they heard me groan.
What could he judge the Parish then would think,
To see me fair, his Brat as black as Ink?
If they had eyes, they’d swear I were no Nun,
But got with Child by some black Africk Son,
And so condemn me for my Fornication,
To beat them Hemp to stifle half the Nation.
Well, since ’tis so, I’le alter this base Fate,
And lay his Bastard at some Noble’s Gate;
Withdraw my self from Beadles, and from such,
Who would give twelve pence I were in their clutch: {28}
Then, who can tell? this Child which I do hide,
(see note No 8). May be in time a Small-beer Col’nel Pride
But while I talk, my business it is dumb,
I must lay double-clothes unto thy Bum,
Then lap thee warm, and to the world commit
The Bastard Off-spring of a New-born wit.
Farewel, poor Brat, thou in a monstrous World,
In swadling bands, thus up and down art hurl’d;
There to receive what Destiny doth contrive,
Either to perish, or be sav’d alive.
Good Fate protect thee from a Criticks power,
For If he comes, thou’rt gone in half an hour,
Stiff’d and
