42 NORTHERN MEMOIRS. 



Am. You almost perswade me into a kind 

 of pity. 



Theoph. Or rather, it may be into a passion. 



Am. That's a sin entail'd on posterity, as na- 

 turally as wax subjects it self to the impression 

 of a seal ; so that, should I call affection passion, 

 it but represents a moral glass, wherein every 

 man may read his own face by reflection. 



Theoph. And no sooner to retrieve or with- 

 draw, when immediately he forgets both form 

 and features. 



Am. Then let all suspicions suspend them- 

 selves ; so steer your course to some other point, 

 and call Agrippa from behind that sy com ore. 



Theoph. I'll step and call him : So ho, Agrippa. 



Agrip. What voice do I hear in those unfre- 

 quented woods and solitary streams ? Diana's 

 fountain, nor was Dodona's grove, otherwise 

 than an emblem of such mortal contents ; what 

 rivers are enrich'd with trout and salmon, and 

 trees burdened with the harmony of birds ; for 

 such a life, who would not covet banishment ? 



Am. What news, Agrippa, from the coast of 

 Albion ? 



Agrip. We have a generation of people, that 

 can make as good Papists to morrow, as them- 

 selves are Protestants to day ; that if Popery were 

 but turn'd up trump, would produce you their 

 charter in Queen Mary's days ; they'll walk to 



