This is he that put out one of the kingdom's eyes by clouding our mother
university; and (if this Scotch mist farther prevail) he will extinguish
the other. He hath the like quarrel to both, because both are strung
with the same optic nerve, knowing loyalty.
Barbarous rebel! who will be revenged upon all learning, because his
treason is beyond the mercy of the book.
The diurnal as yet hath not talked much of his victories, but there is
the more behind, for the knight must always beat the giant,
that's resolved.
If anything fall out amiss which cannot be smothered, the diurnal hath a
help at maw. It is but putting to sea and taking a Danish fleet, or
brewing it with some success out of Ireland, and then it goes
down merrily.
There are more puppets that move by the wire of a diurnal, as Brereton
and Cell, two of Mars his petty-toes, such snivelling cowards that it is
a favour to call them so. Was Brereton to fight with his teeth (as in
all other things he resembles the beast) he would have odds of any man
at the weapon. Oh, he's a terrible slaughterman at a Thanksgiving
dinner. Had he been cannibal to have eaten those that he vanquished, his
gut would have made him valiant.
The greatest wonder is at Fairfax, how he comes to be a babe of grace,
certainly it is not in his personal, but (as the State-sophies
distinguish) in his politic capacity; degenerate _ab extra_ by the zeal
of the house he sat in, as chickens are hatched at Grand Cairo by the
adoption of an oven.
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