Series 1 > Chronicles of the Frasers

308
POLICHRONICON SEU
every one; countenance vice in none. These will be day of
liberty corrupted and corrupting times; God preserve from
being tainted with them. I was wont to say that he dissallowed
the too forward fury of our reformation and the present re¬
volution. Ne quid nimis, my motto. Both these have not
onely destroyed our noble monuments, but manuscripts; and,
among the fatal overthrowes of many more, this of Beuly yow
see is altogether rased and ruined, at the dispose of some then
in commission, whose overheasty actions in those behalfes hath
left us a want of many truthes, which otherwayes we might
have had. My sone Alexander, thow wilt be great and have
many advantages, and a happy, peaceable, flourishing time;
but its my feare thow ’le want mannagement and improvement:
easiness and credulity is the bane of many. Give a deafe eare
to sicophants; let not those gloworms hang on yow; what
was your brothers ruin I am affraied may be thine; prepare
to dye young, for yow will never reach my dayes. My sone
Tome, thow wilt wrestle with the world, but thowle be the
man yet, live long and see many dayes. Since Lord Thomas
his time thow wilt live longest; thow shalt have the name
and honor, but litle or no profit; but from thy loines shall they
come who will do great things. I see yow will die a violent
death; but thy temperance and moderation shall lengthen thy
dayes, for thow wilt not incline to excess. My sone James,
thow art my youngest, thow wilt have projects, and currage
to prosecut; thow wilt take a flight; thowl appeare uppon
the stage, and evanish, Jilius noctis, or unius diet oriens et
moriem-, thow’l be seperat from thy bretheren. But Tomm
shall survive yow all, and be the last of my famely. The
very line wil be almost [extinct?], yet at length their [line?],
which had long lain hurried in their own ashes, will yet begin
to revive and flourish, being wearied of the insulting tyrany
of O. C.,1 begin to take fresh spirit, and to seeke one of their
own native race to rule over them. I must go, but leave
yow my sones, a ball to be tossed about in fortunes tennis
court, but, which of yow shall unravell the web which your
brother Hugh hath woven? Yow will see happy, serene,
Oliver Cromwell.