NEwes, newes, newes.

Bold, and brave new!

Newes as the night they are borne in;

Or the Phant'sie that begot'hem.

Excellent newes!

Will you heare any newes?

Yes, and thanke you too sir; what's the price of'hem?

Price, Cocks-combe! what price, but the price o' your ears?

As if any man used to pay for any thing here.

Come forward, you should be some dull tradesman by your

pigheaded Sconce now, that thinke there's nothing good any where;

but what's to be sold.

Indeed I am all for sale Gentlemen, you say true, I am a Prin-

ter, and a Printer of Newes; and I doe hearken after'hem, where ever

they be at any rates; I'le give any thing for a good Copie now, be't true

or false, so't be newes.

A fine youth!

And I am for matter of State Gentlemen, by consequence,

story, my Chronicle, to fill up my great booke, which must bee three

Reame of paper at least; I have agreed with my Stationer aforehand to

make it so big, and I want for ten quire yet. I ha' beene here ever since

seven a clocke i'the morning to get matter for one page, and I thinke I

have it compleate; for I have both noted the number, and the capacity

of the degrees here; and told twice over how many candles there are

i'th roome lighted, which I will set you downe to a snuffe precisely, be-

cause I love to give light to posteritie in the truth of things.

This is a finer youth!

Gentlemen, I am neither Printer, nor Chronologer, but one

that otherwise take pleasure i'my Pen: A Factor of newes for all the

Shieres of England; I doe write my thousand Letters a weeke ordinary,

sometim twelve hundred, and maintaine the businesse at some charge,

both to hold up my reputation with mine owne ministers in Towne, and

my friends of correspondence in the Countrey; I have friends of all

rancks, and of all Religions, for which I keepe an answering Catalogue

of dispatch; wherein I have my Puritan newes, my Protestant newes,

and my Pontificiall newes.

A Superlative this!

And I have hope to erect a Staple for newes ere long, whether

all shall be brought, and thence againe vented under the name of Staple-

newes; and not trusted to your printed Conundrums of the serpent in

Sussex, or the witches bidding the Devill to dinner at Derbie. Newes,

that when a man sends them downe to the Shieres where they are said to

be done, were never there to be found.

Sir that's all one, they were made for the common people;

and why should not they ha' their pleasure in beleeving of lies are made

for them, as you have in Paules that make'hem for your selves.

There he speakes reason to you sir.

I confesse it, but it is the Printing I am offended at, I would have

no newes printed; for when they are printed they leave to bee newes;

while they are written, though they be false, they remaine newes still.

See mens divers opinions! It is the Printing of'hem makes

'hem news to a great many, who will indeed beleeve nothing but what's

in Print. For those I doe keepe my Presses, and so many Pens going to

bring forth wholsome relations, which once in halfe a score yeares (as

the age growes forgetfull) I Print over againe with a new date, and they

are of excellent use.

Excellent abuse rather.

Mr. Chronicler doe not you talke, I shall----

Nay Gentlemen, bee at peace one with another; wee have

enough for you all three, if you dare take upon trust.

I dare, I assure you.

And I, as much as comes.

I dare too, but nothing so much as I ha'done; I have beene so

cheated with false relations i'my time, as I ha' found it a far harder thing

to correct my booke, then collect it.

Like enough; but to your newes Gentlemen, whence come they?

From the Moone, ours sir.

From the Moone! which way? by sea? or by Land?

By Moone-shine, a neerer way I take it.

Oh by a Trunck! I know it, a thing no bigger than a Flute-case;

A neighbour of mine, a spectacle-maker, has drawn the Moone through

it at the boare of a whistle, and made it as great as a Drum-head twentie

times, and brought it within the length of this Roome to me, I know not

how often.

Tut, that's no newes; your perplexive Glasses are common.

No, it will fall out to be Pythagoras way I warrant you, by writing, and

reading i'th Moone.

Right, and as well read of you, I'faith: for Cornelius Agrippa has

it, In disco Lunæ, there tis found.

Sir, you are lost I assure you; for ours came to you neither

by the way of Cornelius Agrippa, nor Cornelius Drible.

Nor any glasse of---

No Philosophers phantasie.

Methematicians Perspicill.

Or brother of the Rosie crosses intilligence, no forc'd way,

but by the neat and cleane power of Poetrie,

The Mistris of all discovery.

Who after a world of these curious uncertainties, hath em-

ployed thither a servant of hers in search of truth: who has been there---

In the Moone.

In person.

And is this night return'd.

Where? which is he? I must see his Dog at his girdle, and the

bush of thornes at his backe, ere I beleeve it.

Doe not trouble your faith then, for if that bush of thornes

should prove a goodly Grove of Okes; in what case were you, and your

expectation.

Those are stale Ensignes o'the Stages, man i'th Moone, de-

liverd downe to you by musty Antiquitie, and are of as doubtfull cre-

dit as the makers.

Sir, nothing againe Antiquitie I pray you, I must not heare ill

of Antiquitie.

Oh! you have an old Wife belike, or your venerable Jerkin

there, make much of'hem: Our relation I tell you still is newes.

Certaine, and sure newes.

Of a new World,

And new creatures in that World.

In the Orbe of the Moone.

Which is now found to be an Earth inhabited!

With navigable Seas, and Rivers.

Varietie of Nations, Polities, Lawes.

With Havens in't, Castles, and Port-Townes!

In-land Cities, Boroughes, Hamlets, Faires, and Markets!

Hundreds, and Weapontakes! Forrests, Parks, Coney-

ground, Meadow-pasture, what not?

But differing from ours.

And has your Poet brought all this?

Troth, here was enough; tis a pretty piece of Poetrie as'tis.

Would you could heare on, though.

Gi' your mindes to't a little.

What Innes, or Alehouses are there there? does he tell you?

Truly I have not askt him that.

Nor were you best, I beleeve.

Why, in travaile a man knowes these things without offence;

I am sure if he be a good Poet, hee has discover'd a good Taverne in his

time.

That he has, I should thinke the worse of his Verse else.

And his Prose too i'faith.

Is he a Mans Poet, or a Womans Poet I pray you?

Is there any such difference?

Many, as betwixt your mans Taylor, and your womans Taylor.

How? may we beseech you?

Ile shew you; your Mans Poet may break out strong and deep

i'th mouth, as he said of Pindar, Monte decurrens velut amnis. But your

Womans Poet must flow, and stroak the eare, and (as one of them sayd of

himselfe sweetly)

Ha' you any more on't?

No, I could never arrive but to this Remnant.

Pittie! would you had had the whole piece for a patterne to

all Poetrie.

How might we doe to see your Poet? did he undertake this jour-

ney (I pray you) to the Moone o'foot?

Why doe you aske?

Because one of our greatest Poets (I know not how good a one)

went to Endenburgh o' foot, and came backe; marry he has beene restive

they say ever since, for we have had nothing from him; he has set out

nothing I am sure.

Like enough, perhaps he has not all in, when he has all in, he

he will set out (I warrant you) at least those from whom he had it, it is

the very same party that has beene i'th Moone now.

Indeed! has he beene there since? belike he rid thither then.

Yes Post, upon the Poets horse for a wager.

No I assure you, he rather flew upon the wings of his Muse.

There are in all but three wayes of going thither; one is Endymions way,

by rapture in sleepe, or a dreame. The other Minipus his way, by wing,

which the Poet tooke. The the third, old Empedocles way; who when

he leapt into Ætna, having a drie seare bodie, and light, the smoake took

him and whift him up into the Moone, where he lives yet waving up and

downe like a feather, all soot and embers comming out of that cole-pit;

our Poet met him, and talkt with him.

In what language good sir?

Onely by signes and gestures, for they have no articulate voy-

ces there, but certaine motions to musicke: all the discourse there is

harmonie.

A fine Lunatique language i'faith; how doe their Lawyers

then?

They are Pythagorians, all dumbe as fishes, for they have no

controversies to exercise themselves in.

How doe they live then?

O'th deaw o'th Moone like Grashoppers, and conferre with

the Doppers.

Ha' you Doppers?

A world of Doppers! but they are there as lunatick persons,

walkers onely; that have leave onely to hum, and ha, not daring to pro-

phecie or start up upon stooles to raise doctrine.

The brethren of the Rosie-Crosse have their Colledge within

a mile o'the Moone; a Castle i'th ayre that runs upon wheeles with a

wing'd lanthorne-----

I ha' seen't in print.

All the phantasticall creatures you can thinke of, are

there.

'Tis to be hop'd there are women there then?

And zealous women, that will out-grone, the groning wives

of Edinburgh.

And Lovers as phantasticke as ours?

But none that will hang themselves for Love, or eate candles

ends, or drinke to their Mistresse-eyes, till their owne bid'hem good

night, as the Sublunary Lovers doe.

No sir?

No, some few you shall have, that sigh or whistle them-

selves away; and those are presently hung up by the heeles like Meteors,

with Squibs i'their tayles, to give the wiser sort warning.

Excellent!

Are there no selfe-Lovers there?

There were, but they are all dead of late for want of

Taylors.

S'light what lucke is that? we could have spar'd them a Colo-

nie from hence.

I thinke some two or three of them live yet, but they are turn'd

Moone-Calves by this.

O, I, Moone-Calves! what Monster is that I pray you?

Monster? none at all; a very familiar thing, like our foole

here on earth.

The Ladyes there, play with them instead of little

Dogges.

Then there are Ladies?

And Knights, and Squires.

And servants, and Coaches?

Yes, but the Coaches are much o'the nature of the Ladies,

for they goe onely with wind.

Prittie, like China-waggons.

Ha' they any places of meeting with their Coaches, and take-

king the fresh open aire, and then covert when they please, as in our Hide-

parkeor so?

Above all the Hide-parkes in Christendome, farre more hi-

ding and private, they doe all in clouds there; they walke i'the clouds,

they sit i'the clouds, they lie i'the clouds, they ride and tumble i'the

clouds, their very Coaches are clouds.

But ha' they no Carmen to meet and breake their Coaches?

Alas! Carmen, they will over a Carman there, as hee will

doe a Child here; you shall have a Coachman with cheekes like a trum-

peter, and a wind in his mouth blow him afore him as farre as he can see

him; or skirre over him with his batts wings a mile and a halfe, ere hee

can steere his wry necke to looke where he is.

And they ha' their new Wells too, and phisicall waters I hope

to visit all time of yeare?

Your Tunbridge, or the Spaw it selfe are meere puddle to'em:

When the pleasant moneths o'the yeare come, they all flocke to certaine

broken Islands which are called there, the Isles of delight:

By clouds still?

What else? Their Boates are clouds too.

Or in a mist; the mists are ordinary i'the Moone, a man that

owes money there, needs no other protection; onely buy a mist and walk

in't, hee's never discern'd, a matter of a Baubee doe's it.

Onely one Island they have, is call'd the Isle of the Epecænes,

because there under one Article both kindes are signified, for they are fa-

shioned alike, male and female the same, not heads and broad hats, short

doublets, and long points; neither do they ever untrusse for distinction,

but laugh and lie downe in Moone-shine, and stab with their ponyards;

you doe not know the delight of the Epicænes in Moon-shine.

And when they ha' tasted the springs of pleasure enough, and

bild, and kist,, and are readie to come away; the shee's only lay certain

egges (for they are never with Child there,) and of those egges are dis-

closed a race of Creatures like men, but are indeed a sort of Fowle, in

part covered with feathers (they call'hem Volatees), that hop from Island

to Island, you shall see a covey of'hen if you please presently.

Yes faith, tis time to exercise their eies, for their eares begin

to be wearie.

VVE have all this while (though the Muses Heralds)

adventured to tell your Majestie no newes; for

hitherto we have mov'd rather to your delight, than your beleife. But

now be pleased to expect a more noble discovery worthie of your eare,

as the object will be your eye; A race of your owne, form'd, animated,

lightned, and heightned by you, who rapt above the Moone far in spe-

culation of your vertues, have remain'd their intranc'd certaine houres,

with wonder of the pietie, wisedome, Majesty reflected by you, on them,

from the Divine light, to which onely you are lesse. These by how much

higher they have beene carried from earth to contemplate your great-

nesse, have now conceiv'd the more haste and hope in this their returne

home to approach your goodnesse; and led by that excellent likenesse

of your selfe, the truth, imitating Procritus endeavour, that all their mo-

tions be form'd to the musicke of your peace, and have their ends in your

favour, which alone is able to resolve and thaw the cold they have pre-

sently contracted in comming through the colder Region.