IT is a straunge matter wherat I can­not sufficientlye mer­ [...]le, to beholde howe the labourer to the end to cease from his la­bours' dooth euen in manner hasten the course of the Sun. The Mariner for the attaining vnto the desired Hauē, saileth forwarde amaine, and from as farre as he can espye the coste, to shoute out for [...]. And the Pilgrime or trauayler, to take no rest before his iorney be ended. And yet that man in the meane time béeing bound to perpetuall laboure, to­ssed with continuall tempestes, and ty­ered with many rough and miery pa­ [...]es: is neuerthelesse vnwilling to looke vppon or come néere to the ende of [...]is iorney: sorowfull to sée the Hauen of his assured rest: and with horror and [Page] feare to draw towarde his lodging and peaceable dwelling place.

Our life resembleth a right Pene­lopes web, which still must be wouen and wouen again: a Sea habandoned to all windes, which sometime inward ly sometime outwardly tormenteth it: and a troublesome path, through frost and extreme heate: ouer steepie m [...]un­taines and hollow valleyes, among de­serts and théeuish places.

This is the communication that we doo vse, béeing at our woork, pulling at our Ore, and passing through this mi­serable path and rough way. And yet when death commeth to finish our la­bours, when she stretcheth foorth her arme to helpe vs into the Hauen, and when after so many passages and trou­blesome hostryes, she séeketh to bring vs into our true habitation: into a place of comforte and ioy, where wee should take harte at the viewe of our lande, and drawing towarde our happy dwel­ling place, should sing and reioyce: we would if we might ha [...]e our owne wil­les, begin our woork again: returne our Sailes into the winde, and voluntari­ly retire back into our iorney. [Page] Then doo we no longer remember our paines, our shipwracks and p [...]ils are forgotten, we doo reiect all feare, either of trauaile or théeues, and doo account death as an extreme pain, feare it as a Rouers ship bofe, and shun it as a thée­uish place. We play as young children, who hauing all day complayned of sick­nesse, doo become whole at the sight of the mediciné: we resemble men vexed with the tooth ache, who all the wéeke doo run aboute for helpe, and yet séeing the Barbor comming to pull out their teeth, doo féel no more pain: and are not vnlike vnto those daintie and delicate persons, who at y ^e pricking of the Pleu­risie cry out, and cānot patiently abide the comming of the Surgeon, and [...] whē they sée him whetting of his laūce to cut the throte of the disease, doo pull their arme back and créepe into their bedꝭ again, as if he minded to slay their owne persons. We stand in more fear of the Medicine, then of the disease: of the Barbor, then of the pain: and of the pricking, then of the Impostume.

We stand in more awe of the bitter nesse of the medicine which is soon ouer passed, then of a long and languishing [Page] pain: and doo more tremble at the end of our miseryes, then at the infinit num ber of those whiche in this life we doo sustain. But wherof (I pray you) pro­céedeth this folly and simplicitie, sauing onely that we knowe not what it is, ei­ther of life or death. For we doo feare the thing that we should hope for, and doo desire the thing whereof we should be afeard. We tearme that thing life that is a cōtinuall death, and that death which is the issue out of a lyuing death, and an entrie into euerlasting life.

What goodnesse is there I pray you in this life, why we should so earnest­ly séeke the same? or what euil is there in death that we should so diligently es­chue the apprehention therof? nay what euil is there not in this life, or what goodnes dooth not death comprehend?

Let vs therefore examine all the pointes of this life. Our entrye is in teares, our procée [...]ing in sweate and la­bour, and our ending in bitter sorowe. High and lowe, rich and poore, none in the vniuersall worlde can saye him s [...]lf exempt from this condition. Man is wurse then [...] in these points. At his birth he is not able to m [...]ue him [Page] selfe: in his first yéeres he hath no plea­sure, and bringeth nothing with him but sorowe and trauaile, and before the yeeres of discretion incurreth infinite dangers, and yet then in one respect is more happy then afterwarde, which is that he [...] neither [...]are nor consider the same: neither is there any so [...]aint­harted, but that if he might still conti­nue a Childe, he would neuer mistike of such a life: so that it is manifest that it is not a commoditie simply to liue, but to liue blessedly & happyly. Let vs pro­céed. Groweth he? his labors doo growe with him: scarce is he escaped y ^e hands of his Nurces, or knoweth what play is: but by and by he is committed to the hands of some scholemaster (I speake of those that be best and moste curiously brought vp) then if he play, he is stil in feare: if he study, it is against his will. All this age, because he is in y ^e custodye of an other, is to him a prison: he min­deth or aspyreth to nothing, but how to be set frée from y ^e subiectiō of other men, and so become maister & guider of him self [...]yea to his power he beueth forward his age euē with his shoulders, wherby y ^e sooner to attain to his wished libertie. [Page] To be bréef, he seeketh only th'end of his noneage and entry into his youth. But I pray you what other is this entry in­to youth, sauing the death of his infācy: and afterwarde his comming to mans age, the death of his youth: and the be­ginning of to morrowe, then the death of this day? so that in this wise he desi­reth death, accounting life miserable, and therfore cannot be estéemed happy or contented. Wel, hauing his liber­tie he hath gotten his desire, he hath at­tained to the age wherein Hercules by Godꝭ permissiō had his choice of y ^e pa [...] to vertue or vice, by the cōduct either of reason or of passion: he must enter into one of these contrary waies. His passiō presenteth to him a thousand pleasures, it layeth for him a thousand [...], & set­teth before him a thousād delightꝭ wher by to intrap him, yea he is almost decei ued. But I pray you what kinde of plea sures dooth he receiue therof? forsooth vi­cious pleasures, which kéep him in con­tinuall pain & vnquietnes, pleasures sub [...] to repētance, which like vnto gnaw­ingꝭ doo boil a great while after: pleasures boughtwith pain & danger, practised an [...] passed in a moment, and followed with a long and tedious remorse of consciēce. [Page] Such (if a man wil examin them (is in few woords, the nature of woorldly plea­sures. There is none so swéet, but that the bitternes of the same dooth surmoūt it: none of so pleasant taste, but that it leaueth a more sower smack and gree­uous disdain behinde it. Yea and which wurse is, none [...] so moderate, but that it hath his corosiue and punishment in it self.

I néed not héer rehearse such displea­sures as no man can denye, as strife, debate, wounds, murder, flight, disea­ses, and other hasards, which sometime his owne incontinencie, and somtimes the insolencie of this vnruly age bring­eth him into. So that the pleasures ther of béeing but displeasures, or his sorowe drunck as a mixtion with wormewood water, it plainly appéereth what gréef & bitternes he féeleth or tasteth of. This to be bréef, is the life of a young man, who béeing gotten out of the lawfull wardeshippe of either his Parents or maisters, yéeldeth and abandoneth him self vnto all licence, or rather indéede bondage of his passion, whiche neither more nor lesse, but as an vncleane spirit that possesseth him dooth still vex & [...] [Page] him, somtime into the fire, other whiles into the water, an other time lifteth him vnto the top of a Rock, and after­warde throweth him into the bottome of a valley.

Againe if he accepteth reason for his guide, then falleth he into manifolde dangers. Then must he be redy to fight at the end of euery féelde and at euerye tract or steppe stand redy at defence, as one hauing his enemye round [...] him and still vexing of him.

But what enemie? Euen his owne de sires, and what so euer he lyketh of far or néere. To be bréef, the greatest ene­mye in the worlde, the very worlde it self, yea, whiche is worse, a thousand false and dangerouse intelligēces with in his owne person, besides other despe rate passions procéeding of his owne flesh, which in that age is in ful force and power, watching the time, hower and opportunitie to intrap him, and to cast him hedlong into all kinde of vice.

God only and no other enforceth him to take this way, who guideth his steps euen to the end, graunting him victo­rie in all his combates, and yet we [...] how [...]ew doo enter into that path, and [Page] of those, how many afterward doo retire again?

Well, let him followe either the one way or the other, he must fully resolue him self, either to yeelde to a tyrannous passion, or els to vndertake a perpetuall and greeuous warfare: yea, either to cast him selfe downe he [...]long, or els to binde and in manner commit his per­son to the stocks and torments: either delicately to swim downe the streame, or els forcibly with labour and trauail to striue against the same.

Thus in few woords on the one side, you sée how the youngman who in his youth hath quaffed of by full cuppes the false and vain pleasures of this world, (resembling drunckards the next day after their feasts & royotous banquets) is either quite astonished, either so far out of taste and temper that he will no more, or els is finally so quayled that he can no more, and then dooth neuer afterwarde thin [...]k or speake of the same with out his great gréef and sorrowe.

On the otherside, you may also per­ceiue how faint, wery, and as it were euen broken with this continuall [...]il he is, which valiantly hath embra­ced [Page] reason, and ouercome his passions, in so muche that he is either ready to yéeld, or els cōtent by death to acquite him self from farther peril. This is the commoditie and contentation of this flourishing age whiche Children doo so ernestly aspire vnto, and olde men re­pine at.

Next followeth the age of perfecte man, wherein eche one hopeth of wis­dome, and taking his owne ease. Per­fect in déed it may be called, but in this only respect, that all the imperfections of humain nature, which before, either vnder y ^e simplicitie of Childehood, or els vnder the lightnes of youth lay hidden, are therein reuealed and doo come to perfection. Wherfore we wil ouerpasse all such as worldly iudgement accoun­teth wise, happy or blessed, and come to the rest.

Hetherto as you sée, we haue alwayes played in feare, and inioyed short plea­sures, accompanied with long repen­tance.

But now cōmeth to sight Couetousnes and Ambition, which doo promise vnto [Page] vs a full contentation of goods, and a worlde of honors in case we will wor­ship them: whervppon, few (except the assured chosen Children of the almigh­tie) can escape, but either for looue of the one, or els for hope of the other (as béeing snared in their beautifull illusi­ons) doo throwe them selues hedlong from the pinacle. What therfore is the end of all this contentation?

The couetouse man maketh a thou­sand voiages by sea and by land, incur reth infinit dangers of pirats & théeues, escapeth wunderful perils and Ship­wracks, and liueth in continuall feare and danger, yea and often loseth all his time and laboure, reaping nought els but diseases, goutes, with suche other like discommodities for the time to come. For the obtaining of his preme­ditated ease, he now hath forgone his quietnes, and in séeking for money: hath loste his life. But admit be hath obtained great welth, that he hath rob­bed the East countries of their pearles, and dryed vp all the westerne mines, shall [...]e thē be at quiet, or wil be think him felf satisfied? Admit also all his fraughts and voyages be ended, and [Page] that through his passed trauailes with labour and toil both of body and minde, he hath sufficiently heaped and horded vp for time to come, is he not fallen out of one inconuenience into an other? This then is no end but a chaunge of his miserie.

Aforetime he sought the obtaining of goodes, now he seareth the losse of the same: he got them through painful heat and trauail, he now possesseth them in quaking colde and trembling: he hath incurred daunger of rouers and théeues in séeking for them: now théeues and murderres doo on alsides assail him. He took paines to dig and hale them out of the Earth: he now laboureth to hide them vp again. To be bréef, after all his voiages and iorneyes he is entred into a prison, and as a conclusion of all his bodily labours he hath begunne an infinit trouble of minde. What ther­fore finally hath this poor wretch obtai­ned, as a recompence of so many mise­ryes? Through the manifolde illusions and enchantments of this de uilish spi­rit of couetousnes, be persw adeth him self to haue gotten some exquisite and rare Jewel, but is indéed handeled as [Page] one of those poore wretches whome the Deuil seduceth vnder coulour of aiding their necessities, and yet hauing obtai­ned bis purpose, leaueth their hands yea and Coffers ful of leaues and Ash­es, in steade of Erownes and such like. He possesseth or ra [...]er is possessed of a thing without force or vertne, able to cure no disease: more vile and vnpro­fitable then the least hearb of the féeld. With all his labour and pain, he hath heaped vppe this vile mire and dirte, wher with all he is become so beastly as with that thing to Crowne his head, which naturally he should trede vuder his f [...]t. Wel be it as be may, is he ther withall content? Nay contrarywise hath he not lesse contentation then be­fore? Man cominonly cōmendeth those meatꝭ and drinkꝭ which do best nurish, sustain, and kéen nature in temper, but the qualitie of these is such, as the more we eate or drink thereof: the sorer in­creaseth our hunger and thirst. It is an assured dropsie and a false hun­ger (as we tearme it) a man shall sooner burst then be satisfied. Yea whiche is more, suche sway beareth this thirst in many that forcing thē to dig the wels and with great pain to draw vp the w [...] [Page] [...]er: & dooth not afterward perinit them to drink of y ^t same. In the ful r [...]er they suffer thirst, and among the heapes of corne doo perish through famin. They [...]aue goods but dare not vse them, and doo (in my opiniō) inioy things wherin they cannot reiuyce. They haue them, but neither for them selues neither for any other, yea of all that they haue, they haue nothing, and yet doo want what so euer they haue not. Wherfore we are to return to this point, that the obtay­ning of all these false goods is no other, then trauaile of the body, the possession wherof, is moste commonly trouble of minde, and that so much the greater, as the spirite is more sensible, suttle, and delicate then the body. The first feeling therfore of the couetous mans miserie beginneth whē he looseth his goodꝭ, whē shipwrack, spoile, enemies, & such like calamities (wherunto al trāsitory goodꝭ are subiect) dooth rauish & carry them a­way: then he wéepeth, cryeth out & tor­mēteth him self like a litle childe y ^• hath lost his bable & al to no purpose. It is vn possible to perswade him, y ^• all worldly goods are transitory: he thīketh him sel [...] [...]ot only spoiled but euē slain outright, [Page] and hauing fixed his whole trust in these vanities, the same béeing loste he falleth into dispair, from the whiche be may hardly be reuoked: yea and so much as he wanteth of his gain, wher­of he made a full account, he thincketh him selfe to haue lost: and all that yéel­deth him not greate and extraordinary cōmoditie, séemeth in his eye to turn to his hinderance, whereby we somtime sée him fall into suche dispaire, that to his power hee hasteneth the course of his owne life.

To be bréefe, the recompence that Couetousnes yéeldeth to his continuall scholers, resembleth the rewardꝭ of the Deuil his progenitor, namely that ha­uing awhile gratified them with their prophane desires, he finally either deli­uereth them ouer to the hangman, or els him selfe breaketh their necks. I minde not heer to rehearce, such offen­ces and mischeefs as the couetous men doo abandon them selues vnto for the obtaining of their goods whereof their consciences doo féel such a perpetuall re­morse as that they can neuer be quiet, for it is sufficient that we vnderstand that in this so violent an exercise wher­in [Page] moste mortall men doo stay & abuse them selues, the body is slain, the minde vexed, and the soule cōdemned without any pleasure or contentation at all.

Now then let vs come to ambition which with desire of honor dooth fondly bewitch the mightyest in the worlde: shall we ther in finde any more ease thē in the other, or not rather lesse? The o­ther deceiueth vs in yéelding in liew or all rewards, onely the vile dirt of the earth, this féedeth vs with nothing but smoke and winde. The presents of this are vain, and the gifts of the other course. In either of them we slide into a bottomlesse pit: how beit this of the twain is the most dangerouse, notwith standing the water séemeth more plea­sant & cléer. Among those that haue im­braced ambition, some doo obtain great estematiō among Kings & Princes, o­ther becōe gouernors ouer armyes, and so others in their degrée: their inferiors doo salute, reuerēce, and worship them: they are apparelled in purple, scarlet, and cloth of golde: in beholding of them it séemeth there is no contentation in the world but theirs. But fewe men knowe the weight of an ounce of thi [...] [Page] their glory and honor, how much these reuerences doo cost them, or what is the price of all this rich aray in their Pur­ses: for vnderstanding the trueth they would be loth to buy any so déere.

Some through long and tedious seruice haue attained to this degrée, some by hazaroing their liues at all a­ssaies, yea [...] at the cost of an arme or a leg, and that at the appetite of a Prince, who perhaps accounteth more of a hundred Rods of land within his neighbours dominions, then of the life of an hundred thousande suche as they are, beeing héerin vnhappy in that they serue him who careth not for them and fooles in that they thinck thē selues in reputation with him, whiche estée­meth so little of the losse of them for a tri [...]e & thing of nothing. Others haue gotten fauoure by flatterye, hauing of long time inured their tungs to vndis­crese spéeches and their handꝭ to vnlaw ful dealings, saying and dooing what so e [...]er their prince willeth them, wher­vnto a good hart could hardly be wun.

They haue paraduenture patiently borne infinite iniuries, spytings and reuilingꝭ; yea how familier so euer they séem with their prime, they doo not with standing resemble him who [...] [Page] the taming of a wilde Lion, & through long patience. w ^t infinite baits and many scratchings & bitings haue brought him to some order, dare ueuer­theles scarce deliuer him any food with their hand, stil fering lest he shuld catch hold of y ^e same, & yet be he neuer so ware is once a yéer intrapped & sufficiētly re­warded for a lōg time. For such for the moste parte is the end of all the princes darlings, who whē he hath by long bre things exalted any so hie as y ^• he should account him self at his [...]orneys end, thē sudainly dooth he delight to cast y ^e same partie down hedlōg again as low as he was at the first: yea & him whō he hath mightelye inriched, he doth afterward wrīg as a spūge. They also do loue nōe but thē selues, supposing eche one to be created only for their seruice & plesure, These blinde cortiers doo perswade thē selues to haue many fréendꝭ, & tobe had in great estimation among many, not cōsidering y ^e euery man honoreth them w ^e like harts, as they honor others. The mightie men doo disdain thē, saluting them only in scorne, the inferior sorte doo reuerence them for y ^e they stand in [...]éed of thē, & therin doo worship their [...]catiō, seat & apparel, not their persōs. [Page] And as for those which bée equall amōg whōe amitie ought to take some place, they boil with enuye, one slaundereth an other, eche one trippeth another, and doo continually pine away either with their owne discōmodities, or at others aduauncement: for enuy béeing in [...]a ner an ache of the minde, is the greatest gréef that can be: and thus doo you sée those menne quite deuoide of amitie, which among all wise men is euer ac­counted a moste excellent and souerain commoditie. Yea you shall more plain­ly yet vnderstand, that when Fortune turneth her back to them, all men doo flée their companyes, and when shee snarreth at them, euery man looketh a­wry vpon thē: so that béeing once spoi­led of their triumphant robes, no man will knowe them. Also contrary­wise, some Kuffian or infamous person shall be clothed in their apparell, who without difference in vertue or title shall inherite their calling, possesse all their former honors, and puffe them sel ues vp in pride, like vnto the Asse whi­che bare the Image of y ^e Goddesse Isis, who was proude of so many curtesies as were doone to the same, and finally [Page] that Fortune rideth them like Asses.

But thou wilt say, (at the least so long as she continueth) they shall take their ease, and inioy their owne conten tation: and who that hath his pleasure for thrée or foure yeeres more or lesse, is not accursed all his life time. Yes assu­redly, vnlesse it be ease to liue in conti­nuall feare of béeing throwne from the step whervnto he hath attained: or to desire with great trauail to clyme still hyer and hyer. Those (my fréend) whōe thou accountest at their ease because thou séest but the outsides of them, are farre other wise within: their inwarde partes are strong prysons, ful of dunge­ons, holes, darchnesse, serpents and tor­ments. Thou thinkest their lodgings large, which in their opinions are very strait. Thou supposest them very high, but they account them selues to be ve­ry lowe. Yea and often, he which but thinketh him selfsick: is wurse at ease then he which is sick in déed. And there be some, euen Kings: who think them selues but slaues, & indéed are nothing els, for we are nothing but in opinion.

Thou see [...]t them accompanyed with many souldiors, and the same whome [Page] they haue chosē for their garde, doo they mistrust. Alone or in company they are alwaies in feare: béeing alone they look behinde them, and in company round about them. They drinck in vessels of golde or siluer, and that is the same ra­then earth or glasse wherin men fil and drink poyson. They haue their beds ve­ry soft and delicately trimmed vp, nei­ther may they heare a mouse ron tho­rowe their chamber, or suffer a flye to come néere their faces: when as a poore contry mā sléepeth by y ^e noise of a spring or in a market place, hauing no bed but earth, nor couering but heauen: and yet these men amōg all their quietnes and daintie lodging, doo nothing but turne and tosse vp and downe in their beds, still imagininge that they heare some stirring, yea euen their rest takes no rest at all.

To be bréefe, wilte thou knowe the difference betwéene them and the hardest intreated prisoners? Either of them are chained vp, eche of them bea­reth a waightie burthen vppon them, but in that the one is of Iron and the other of Golde: so is the one chained but in body, and the other in minde.

[Page]The Prisoner draweth his Irons after him, the Courtier is chained vp in him self. The Prisoner many tlmes is inwardly comforted through his bo­dely paines, and singeth in the chéefe of his miserye. The Courtier béeing tormented in his minde dooth conti­nually laboure his body and cannot therunto giue any respite.

And as for the contentation whiche thou imaginest them to haue, thou art far wide. Thou iudgest and thinkest them mightie because they be highly exalted, but therin thou art as wise as he which accounteth a dwarf sitting on the top of a stéeple or vpon an high hil to be a tall man. Thou art so good a Geo­metrician, that thou mesurest y ^e Image by his piller, which to knowe the true proportion, should be mesured alone, net ther ne [...] thou the hight of y ^e thing, but of the place wheron it is fixed. Cast down therfore thy view and thou shalt perceiue all to be as nothing. Thou iudgest them mightie (if mightinesse may be on Earth) whiche in respect of Heauen, is but as nothing. But if thou couldest enter into their mindes, thou wouldest be of an other opinion. [Page] For true greatnesse consisteth in despi­sing all these vaine points of greatnes wherunto they be slaues, which also in their opinion they haue not attained vnto, for stil they desire to clyme hyer, and séem to them selues neuer to be hye inough.

You shall sée one cast thus in his minde. If I might attain to such a de­grée, then were I well content, there would I stay: Hauing attained therun­to, he dooth scarce take breth, but would fain yet clime higher. That whiche when he was belowe séemed to him the highest, is now in his opinion scarce one step. He thinketh him self lowe, be cause there be some hyer then he, but he considereth not him self to be on hye, for that there be many thousands lo­wer then he. Yea, in the end be cly­meth so hye, that either his winde fai­leth in the way, or els he slippeth [...]ed­long downe againe: or in case with ex­treme paine he attaineth to his desire, then is he as it were on the top of the Alpes, but not aboue the cloudes, or past windes or tempest: but rather in the midest of the thunder and lightning, or of what horrible and daungerous [Page] matter so euer the Aire engendreth or conceiueth: which for the moste parte delighteth in thundering, and bringing to dust their presnmptuous highnes.

It may be you will (through the ex­amples whereof, bothe Histories and mans memory are replenished) graūt me this pointe, and will say. Those men whom nature hath brought foorth with the Crown on their heds, and sep­ter in their hands: those whome euen from their birth she hath placed in so eminent thrones, and so haue not labou red to clime thither, doo séeme without contradiction, to be exēpt from all these iniuryes, and so consequently may say them selues happy.

It may be indéed, that they doo least [...]éel those discommodities, by reason of their birth, nurishment, and bringing vp, euen as they who beeing borne néer to the riuer Nilus, doo become deafe at the noise therof, or in a prison, doo not complaine of the restraint of libertie: or among the Cimmerians where is con­tinuall night, doo not desire the day: or on the Alpes doo not finde them selues so much gréeued with mists, tempests of Snowe, and such other like wether.

[Page]But certainly they be not cléerly ex­empt, when a suddaine thunderbolte cracketh one flower of their Crowne, or in their hands breaketh their Scep­ter. When a waue of Snowe wrap­peth them vp, or when a mist of sorowe and care dooth perpetually blinde their mindes and vnderstanding. They be crowned, but with a Crown, which in­déed is o [...] thornes. They haue a scepter in their handꝭ but of a réed, which more then any other earthly thing bendeth and obeyeth to euery winde: yea and euery such Crown is so far wide from healing these diseases of the minde, and euery such Scepter from driuing away and scaring the thoughts and cares which flicker about men, [...]hat con trariwise it is the Crown and Scepter whiche bringeth all the same aboute them. O Crowne saith the Persian Emperor, who so knew how heuy thou art on the hed, would not vouchs [...], finding thée euen in the high way to take the vp. This Prince séemed to him selfe to giue estates vnto all the world, to distribute hap and mishap at his pleasure vnto men, and was able in outward shew to set euery man at ease [Page] and yet him selfe dooth fréely confesse that in all the world (whiche he held in his hand) was nothing but gréefe and miserye.

What also wil all other men say in case they be disposed to vtter theire mindes? We will not rehearse those who haue through a shameful death fi­nished their miserable liues, neither such as haue séene their kingdomes bu­ried before their faces, and in great ca­lamities hau [...] long ouerlyued theire mightinesse, yea euen Denis of Sicil, who was better content with a hand­ful of rods wherwith to scurge the chil­dren of Corinth in a schoole: then with the scepter with the which he had bea­ten all Sicil. And Silla who hauing rob­bed the whole common welth of Rome (which had spoyled the whole worlde) could neuer take any rest vntill he had of his owne accorde deposed him self, to the incredible hasard of all his authori­tie & power. But let vs require the opi­nion of king Salomon, béeing indued with the singuler graces of God, riche and mightie in all things, who sought the tr [...]asures euen in the Ilands them selues: he by his manifest Booke will [Page] teach vs, that hauing tried all the felici­ties of the earth, he hath found nothing but vanitie, labor & trouble of minde.

Let vs aske y ^• Emperor Augustus, the peacable possessor of all the world. He will be waile his life passed in infinite tra [...]ails, and will wish the quietnes of the meanest man in y ^e world, accoūting that day most blessed wherin he might dispatch him selfe of this insupportable greatnes, to the end to liue quietly a­mong the meaner sorte of people. Of Tiberius his successor he wil confesse, that he holdeth the Empire as a wulfe by the eares, and that if he could with­out danger of béeing bitten he would willingly let go the same. He will complain of Fortune, which hath gui­ded him so high, and then taken away the Ladder, that he cannot afterwarde come downe againe. Dioclesian a worldly, wise and vertuous Prince, will preferre his voluntarie bannish­ment to Solon, before the whole Ro­maine Empire. To be bréefe, the Emperor Charles the fifth (whome our age dooth account the happyest that ly­ned in many yéeres) will cursse vnto [Page] vs his conquests, his victories, and his tryumphes, and will not be ashamed to say, that he hath found more ease in comparison in one day in his vowed solitarinesse: then in all the rest of his triumphant life.

Shall we then account those blessed in this their imagined greatnes, who doo account them selues accursed, see­king their felicitie in the diminish­ing of their estate, who also in the v­niuersall worlde cannot finde any one conuenient place of rest for their great­nesse, neither any bed wherupon they may take their quiet sléepe?

Happie is he onely who liueth con­tented in his minde, and farre more accurssed then any, is he that canne be content with nothing. Miserable then was Pirrus King of Albanye, who sought for to conquere the whole worlde, wherby (sayeth he) to obtaine quietnesse, and yet séeketh so farre for that thing whiche is so néere his hand. But far more miserable was Alexan­der, in y ^e he béeing borne king of a migh tie Realme & almoste conqueror of the whole world, sought for other worldes wher with to satisfie his foolish ambtion

[Page]But certainly they be not cléerly ex­empt, when a suddaine [...] cracketh one [...]ower of their Crowne, or in their hands breaket [...] [...] S [...]p­ter. [...] a waue of [...] wrap­peth them vp, or when a [...] of sorowe and care [...] [...]nde their mindes and [...]. They be crow [...]ed, but with a Cro [...]n, which in­déed is of [...]. They haue a scep [...]er in their [...] but of a r [...]d, which more then any [...] bendeth and obeyeth to euery win [...]: yea and euery such Crown is so far wide from healing those diseases of the minde, and [...]uery such Scepter from dri [...]ing away and scaring the [...] and cares w [...]ch [...], hat con [...] it is [...] Scepter [...] all th [...] [...] aboute t [...]m. [...] Persian Empero [...], [...] [...]o knew how [...]uy thou a [...] o [...] [...], [...], [...] him [...] all [...] [...] [Page] and yet him selfe dooth fréely confesse that in all the world (whiche he held in his hand) was nothing but gréefe and miserye.

What also wil all other men say in case they be disposed to vtter theire mindes? We will not rehearse those who haue through a shameful death fi­nished their miserable liues, neither such as haue séene their kingdomes [...]u­ried before their faces, and in great ca­lamities hau [...] long ouerlyued theire mightinesse, yea euen Denis of Sicil, who was better content with a hand­ful of rods wherwith to scurge the chil­dren of Corinth in a schoole: then with the scepter with the which he had bea­ten all Sicil. And Silla who hauing rob­bed the whole common welth of Rome (which had spoyled the whole worlde) could neuer take any rest vntill he had of his owne accorde deposed him self, to the incredible hasard of all his authori­tie & power. But let vs require the opi­nion of king Salomon, béeing indued with the singuler graces of God, riche and mightie in all things, who sought the treasures euen in the Ilands them s [...]lues: he by his manifest Booke will [Page] [...]each vs, that hauing tried all the [...]elici­ties of the earth, he hath found nothing but vanitie, labor & trouble of minde.

Let vs aske y ^e Emperor Augustus, the peacable possessor of all the world. He will bewaile his life passed in infinite trauails, and will wish the quietnes of the meanest man in y ^e world, accoūting that day most blessed wherin he might dispatch him selfe of this insupportable greatnes, to the end to liue quietly a­mong the meaner sorte of people. Of Tiberius his successor he wil confesse, that he holdeth the Empire as a wulfe by the eares, and that if he could with­out danger of béeing bitten he would willingly let go the same. He will complain of Fortune, which hath gui­ded him so high, and then taken away the Ladder, that he cannot afterwarde come downe againe. Dioclesian a worldly, wise and vertuous Prince, will preferre his voluntarie bannish­ment to Solon, before the whole Ro­maine Empire. To be bréefe, the Emperor Charles the fifth (whome our age dooth account the happyest that ly­ [...]ed in many yéeres) will cursse vnto [Page] vs his conquests, his victories, and his tryumphes, and will not be ashamed to say, that he hath found more ease in comparison in one day in his vowed solitarinesse: then in all the rest of his triumphant life.

Shall we then account those blessed in this their imagined greatnes, who doo account them selues accursed, sée­king their felicitie in the diminish­ing of their estate, who also in the v­niuersall worlde cannot finde any one conuenient place of rest for their great­nesse, neither any bed wherupon they may take their quiet sléepe?

Happie is he onely who liueth con­tented in his minde, and farre more accurssed then any, is he that canne be content with nothing. Miserable then was Pirrus King of Albanye, who sought for to conquere the whole worlde, wherby (sayeth he) to obtaine quietnesse, and yet séeketh so farre for that thing whiche is so néere his hand. But far more miserable was Alexan­der, in y ^e he béeing borne king of a migh tie Realme & almoste conqueror of the whole world, sought for other worldes wherwith to satisfie his foolish ambtion [Page] and yet within thrée dayes after was contented with six or seuen foot of earth.

To be bréefe, if they be borne on the top of the Alpes, they séek to clime into Heauen. If they haue conquered the Kings of the Earth, then haue they sōe quarels to ple ade with God, and séek to diminish his dominions: they neuer haue any end or final terme before that God laughing to scorne in their vain driftꝭ (when they think them selues on the hyest staffe of the Ladder) doo thun­der downe all this their presumption, breaketh in péeces the Scepter in their hands, and many times ouerthroweth them with their owne Crownes.

Finally, in few woords to rehearse all the blisse that may be comprehended in whatsoeuer ambition promiseth to them. They indure much euil to the end to obtain euil. They suppose by cli­ming higher toget from this euil, when as the hight wherunto so painfully they doo aspire, is the very root of the same.

I speake not héere of the miserie of those who all their liues hauing helde out their hatꝭ to catch y ^e liberalyties of courtlike Fortune, and yet can get no­thing, who sōtimes also euē with wun­derfull [Page] hartburning, shall sée some one who hauing taken lesse paine shall re­ceiue the rewardes out of their hands: who through thrusting them selues for ward haue lost the same, yea and per­aduenture throwen into a third mans hand, who neuer stirred for the same: out of the hands of those who with ouer strainīg of it haue let it escape through their fingers, and so lost it. Those men are of all men accounted accursed and are so in déed, in as much as them sel­ues doo so think. Let it therfore suffise you, that all the liberalities whiche the Deuil throweth among vs out of his windowes are but bayts, that all his re wards are but snares, and that he see­keth to inioye vs onely, who doo thrust our selues forwarde for such things, as moste accursed is he that hath moste hap in méeting with the same.

Wel wil some say, the couetous man hath no commoditie of all his goods, the ambitious man hath nothing but euils: either of them to say trueth dooth indéed frame to them selues an assured hell in this world. But may there not be some one who tending to the law or remai­ning about the Prince, may peacibly [Page] inioy these goodes without following these outragious motions, and obtaine some honor with quietnes and cōtenta­tion of his minde? Surely in the first a­ges when as their remained among men yet some sinceritie, there might be such: but now that they be framed as in these daies we sée thē, I cā perceiue no meanes how it should be. In these day­es dele you in any worldly affaires, ei­ther you must doo wel or euil. If euil, God is your enemie & you haue your conscience a tormentor continually vex ing of you. If wel, then are men your aduersaryes, yea and that the mighty­est among them, whose enuie and euill wil dooth watch you, and whose cruelty and tiranny dooth perpetually threten you. Please the people and you please a beast, in pleasing of whome you shall displease your self. Please your self and you shall displease God. Please god, and you shall incur a thousand worldly dan­gers & sustain a thousand disple asures: which is the cause, that hearing the spée ches of the honester sort & of those which be best contented in their degrées, be it that their spéeches be premeditated, or that through force of the trueth they doo escape them, you shall vnderstand this. [Page] One wisheth he had chaūged his gown with his farmer, another affirmeth it to be a goodly matter to haue no such voca tion, another complaineth y ^t his hed is troubled with pallaice or courtlike mat ters frō which he hopeth w ^t all spéed to withdraw him self. To be bréefe, you shall finde them all w ery of their voca tion, nothing inuying the calling of o­thers, notwithstanding y ^t if you would séem to take thē at their woords y ^e most parte could be contēt to recant. All men are wery of those affaires wherunto his age is subiect, & yet wisheth to be higher wherby he might exempt him self, not­withstanding that otherwise he would somuch as in him lay auoid all age & to his power flée frō y ^e same. What were we best therfore to doo in this great con trariety & confusiō of mindes, should we the better to obtain perfect quietnes es­chue the company of men, and hide our selues in y ^e woods among wilde beastꝭ? to auoide these hainous passions, should we depart from the flocks of reasonable creatures? or to escape these worldly euils should we sequester our selues out of the worlde? indéed if in so dooing we could li [...]e quietly, it were something.

[Page]But alas, eche one that would can­not so doo, yea and such as doo so, doo not therin finde the rest which they séek for. Some would gladly doo it, but shame of the world restraineth thē. Fooles they are to be ashamed of him whome in hart they doo condemne, and more fooles to take counsaile of the greatest enemie whiche they can or may haue. To o­thers it is alleadged, that they must serue the common welth, and yet they sée not that those which giue them such Counsail, doo serue none but them sel­ues, and that the moste parte séeke not greatly the cōmon welth, vnlesse they finde some priuate commoditie, wher­vpon to take holde. Unto some it is said that by their good example they may a­mend the rest, and yet doo they not con­sider that a hundred helthful men, shall rather take the plague in an infected Citie, yea euen the Phisicians them selues, rather then any one shall obtain helth, that the entrie into such a Citie is properly to tempt God, that against an infected aire there can be no better preseruatiue thē to flée from the same. To be bréef that so like as y ^e swéet wa­ters falling into the sea doo abridge the [Page] bitternesse of y ^e same, euen so little may one or two Lots doo touching the refor­mation of a whole Sodomiticall court. And as for the wiser sorte, who no lesse carefull for the soule then the body, doo séeke for the same a sound and helthful aire, far frō the infectiō of euil waners, and who being led by the hād of some of Gods Angels, doo in good time after the example of Lot, withdraw them selues into sōe little village of Segor far from all worldly corruption, into some cham­pion contrie, not néer to any pestiferous town, there at their leasure to entend to some science and earnest contempla­tions. To them béeing in no dāgerous place doo I wel agrée: but in that them selues doo carry infection with them, they cannot wel be exempt. They flee the courte, the court stil followeth them euery way. They seèke to escape the the world, and the world pursueth them euen to death: hardly throughout the whole world, shall they finde any cor­ner wherin y ^e worlde wil not finde thē, so earnestly dooth it seek their destructi­on. Again if through the singuler grace of God, they séeme for a while exempt out of these dangers, then are they con­tinually [Page] vexed with pouertie, then is there some domisticall contention, whi­che disquieth them, or some kinde of fa­miliar spirite which tempteth them.

To be short, the worlde by some meanes causeth them to feele him. But the wurst is that when we be past all these outwarde warres and trauailes, thē doo we féel in our selues, so much the more vehemently an inward war and debate of the flesh against the spirite, passion against reason, Earth against Heauen, and the worlde fighting in vs for the worlde, whiche findeth it self continually lodged in the bottome of our owne harts, on what side soeuer we séeke to flée from it.

I wil say also thus much more, that there be some, who making profession of eschuing worldly vanities, doo in the same séeke the commendation of the worlde. Some doo [...]eeme to flée from it, and yet according to the Prouerbe, doo go backwarde to méete it. Yea there are some whiche doo refuse honors, be­cause they would be desired to take the same: and others that doo hide them sel­ues, onely to cause men to séek to them. Thus dooth the worlde many times i [...] [Page] disguised attire dwell in those whiche seeme to flée from the world.

This then is an abuse, for if we folow the company of men, among thē is his court. If we séek y ^e wildernes, there hath he his caues & dennes, for in y ^e desert it self did he tempt our lord Iesus Christ. If we retire into our selues, ther doo we finde him as filthy as any where els. We cannot in our selues slay y ^e world, without our owne deaths. We are in the world & the world in vs, to seperate vs therfore from y ^e world, we must seperate our selues & this seperatiō is called death. We are I wéen come forth of the pestiferoꝰ citie, but we cōsider not y ^t we haue gathered the aire into our wicked cōplexions, y ^t we cary away the plague with vs, y ^t our selues are parcell of the same, whervpon through rocks, desertꝭ, and mountains, it wil stil followe and accompany vs: hauing fled the infection of others, we haue y ^e infection in our selues. We haue gone from among men, but we haue not put man from among vs: this tēpestious sea tormēted vs, we were sick at our harts, & were desirous to vomit, and therfore to discharge our stomacks, we haue gone from Ship to Ship, from a greate one to a little one. [Page] We promise our selues quietnes, but in vain, for stil y ^e same winde bloweth, y ^e same waues rise, & the same humors doo mooue. Unto all mē is there no other hauen or porte of rest saue only death. We lay sick in a Chamber on the stréet side, or opening into y ^e market place, we remoued into a backer chamber, where was no such noise: but notwithstāding the noise was lesse, yet was the Ague no whit diminished, neither therby lost any parte of his wunted heat. Let [...]s chaunge bed, chamber, house, yea and Contrie so often as we list, yet shall we stil finde the same vnquietnes because our selues are there, and that we séeke not so much to become other men, as to remooue into other places. We seeke so­litarines, to th'end to anoy solitarines. we doo say we flée and withdraw our selues from among the wicked: but we take with vs our couetousnes, our am­bition, our royelous liuing, & all other our wicked affection, which procure to vs innumerable remorses of consciēce, and a thousand times a day doo put vs in minde of the rootes and onions of E­gipt. They doo still go ouer the ferry with vs and therfore on eche side of the [Page] water, are we at a perpetuall com­bate. But if we could discharge this train, whiche eateth vs and gnaweth our spirits, vndoutedly we should haue rest, not in solitarines only, but euen in the middest of y ^e preace of men. Bréef­ly the life of man vpon Earth is a per­petuall warfare.

Béeing deliuered from outward en­terprices, we are to take héed of inward conspiracyes. The Grecians are gone aside, we haue a Sinon in vs whiche wil yéeld the place to them. We must continually wake and haue alwaies an eye to the watch, holding our weapons in our hands, vnlesse we be minded at all times to be supprised and yéelded at the pleasure of our enemyes. And I pray you whiche way may we in the end escape their dāger? not through the woods, the riuers, or the mountaines, not by preasing among company, nei­ther by running into an hole. There is but one onely way, and that is death, which finally deuiding our spirit from our flesh, the clene and pure part of o [...]r soule from the vnclene, which in vs is still bent against vs for the behoofe of the worlde, appeaseth through this sepe [Page] ration, that which béeing conioyned in one self person, cannot without the vt­ter choking vp of y ^e spirit, remain with out a perpetuall quarrel and debate.

As for the contentation which might be in the solitarie exercises of the wise, as the reading of holy scriptures & pro­phane books of all sciences & discipline. I doo wel graunt that this is a far other matter thē these wilde huntings which maketh wilde moste parte of men vex­ed w ^t these or such like diseases of their mides, & yet must all néedꝭ passe vnder the arrest of the wisest of all, wise Salo­mon, who allegeth y ^t all this comforted with the nature of man, is no other thē vanitie and trauail of minde. Some doo all their liues learn to speak of amend­ment, and yet doo neuer think of amen­ding their liues. Others doo Logically dispute of reason & of art, and yet many times doo lose their natural reson them selues. Othersdo learn by Arithmetick to deuide euen the least fractions, & yet cannot part one shilling with their née­dy brother. Others by Geometrie can measure y ^e féeldꝭ, y ^• townes, & the contry: and yet vnskilful in mesuring them sel­ues. The Pusition can agrée the voice, [Page] soundꝭ and tunes togither: and yet hath nothing in his hart whiche disagréeth not, or any passion in his minde that is in his right tune. The Astronomer can look vp: and yet fall in the pit at hand, he can foretel the things to come: & yet loose that which is present, he can often haue his eye in Heauen: when his hart is buried ver y lowe in earth. The Philosopher can dispute of y ^e nature of all things: & yet knoweth not hi [...] self. The Phisitian can heale others: & yet be blinde in his owne disease, and can féel the least alteratiō of his pulses: but not consider the hot burning Agues of his soule. The Historiographer know eth the warres of Thebes or Troy: and yet is ignoraunt of things doon within him self. The Lawyer who maketh lawes to all the world: cānot prescrib [...] any law to him self. To be bréef, y ^e D [...] ­uine can very wel dispute of faith: but wil hear no talke of Charitie, he can speake of GOD: but make no ac­count of helping of men. These sc [...] ­ces doo continually forment the mind [...], but not content the same. The more that man knoweth, the more he d [...] ­reth to knowe. [Page] All this knowledge appeaseth not the disagréement that man féeleth in him self, they heale not the diseases of the minde, they make a man learned, but not good, and cunning, but not wise, and this I say more, that the more a man knoweth, the more he graunteth him self to be ignorant of, the fuller that his mīde is, y ^e emptier dooth he finde y ^e same because that how muche so euer of any science a man can know in this world, it is neuerthelesse the lest parte of that which he is ignoraunt of: and therfore his whole skill consisteth i [...] knowing his ignoraunce, and all his perfection in marking his imperfections and he that moste knoweth and marketh, is in trueth accounted moste skilful and per­fect among men.

To be short, we must with Salo­mon return to this point that the be­ginning and ending of wisdome is the fear of God, which wisdome is neuer­thelesse in the world cryed downe as méer folly, and pursued as a capital ene­mie, and as he which feareth God, néed not to feare any euil, because all his e­uils are conuerted into goodnes, euen so he must not look for any goodnes in this [Page] world hauing the deuil his formall ene mie, whome the scripture termeth the Prince of this world.

Well, in what exercise so euer we passe away our time, sée, age hath ouer­taken vs before we were aware, who, whether we hide vs among the prease of mē, or that we doo flée in any solitary place, wil neuerthelesse be sure to finde vs out. All men doo make account ther­withall to rest from all their labours, to take no farther thought saue onely to kéep them selues quiet and in helth, and yet beholde contrary wise, this age is no other but a taste of all euils afore­said, and for the moste parte the cheefest flourishing time of all vice, wherwith they haue been occupyed and detained all the course of their life: you haue ther­in the vnprofitablenes and weakenes of childehood, yea and that is worst, the same often ioyned with a superior au­thoritie. You are rewarded for the ex­cesse and ryots of your youth, with the gout, palsie, stone, & such other like kīde of diseases, which take away your mem bers, one after another with extreme paine. You are recompenced for the watching, thoughts and inwarde tra­uails [Page] ration, that whi [...]h béeing conioyned in one [...] person, cannot without the vt­ter c [...]king vp of y ^• spirit, remain with out a perpetuall quarrel and debate.

As for the consentation which might be in the [...] [...]rcises of the wise, as the readi [...] of holy scriptu [...]s & pre­phane books [...] all [...] & discipline, I doo wel gr [...]nt that this is a far other matter th [...] these wilde huntings which maketh wilde moste parte of men vex­ [...] w ^t these or such like diseases of their mides, & yet must all needꝭ passe vnder the arrest of the wisest of all, wise Salo­mon, who allegeth y ^• all this comforted with the nature of man, is no other thē vanitie and trauail of minde. Some doo all their liues learn to speak of amend­ment, and yet doo neuer think of amen­ding their liues. Others doo Logically dispute of reason & of art, and yet many times doo lose their natural reson them seiues. Others do learn by Arithmetick to deu [...]e euen the least fractions, & yet cannot part one shilling with their née­dy brother. Others by Eeometrie can measure y ^• féeldꝭ, y ^• townes, & the contry: and yet vnskilful in mesuring them sel­ues. The Pusition can agrée the voice, [Page] [...] and [...] yet hath nothing in his hart [...] dissagreeth not, or any [...] in his [...] is in his right tune. The [...] can look vp: and yet fall i [...] the [...] at [...] he can [...] the [...] loose that which is [...], [...] haue his eye in [...]: [...] hart is [...]. The Philosoph [...] can [...] of y ^• [...] all things: & yet [...]. The [...] others: & yet be b [...]inde in [...]is [...], [...] can feel the least a [...]teratiō of his [...]: [...] not consider [...] A [...]ues of his soule. The [...] know [...]th the warres of Thebes or Troy: [...] yet is ignoraunt of things doon [...] him self. The Lawyer who [...] lawes to all the world: cānot prescri [...] any law to him self. To be breef, y ^• [...] uine can very wel dispute of [...] wil hear no talke of Chari [...]e, [...] speake of GOD: but make no [...] count of helping of men. [...] ces doo confinually forment [...], but not content the same. The [...] that man knoweth, the more [...] to knowe. [Page] All this knowledge appeaseth not the disagréement that man féeleth in him self, they heale not the diseases of the minde, they make a man learned, but not good, and cunning, but not wise, and this I say more, that the more a man knoweth, the more he graunteth him self to be ignorant of, the fuller that his mide is, y ^e emptier dooth he finde y ^e same because that how muche so euer of any science a man can know in this world, it is neuerthelesse the lest parte of that which he is ignoraunt of: and therfore his whole skill con [...]eth in knowing his ignoraunce, and all his perfection in marking his imperfections, and he that moste knoweth and marketh, is in trueth accounted moste skilful and per­f [...]ct among men.

To be short, we must with Salo­mon return to this point that the be­ginning and ending of wisdome is the fear of God, which wisdome is neuer­thelesse in the world [...]ryed downe as méer folly, and pursued as a capital ene­mie, and as he which fear [...]th God, néed not to feare any euil, beca [...] all his e­uils are conuerted into goodnes, [...]uen so he must not look for any goodnes in this [Page] world hauing the deuil his formall ene mie, whome the scripture termeth the Prince of this world.

Well, in what exercise so euer we passe away our time, sée, age hath ouer­taken vs before we were aware, who, whether we hide vs among the prease of mē, or that we doo flée in any solitary place, wil neuerthelesse be sure to finde vs out. All men doo make account ther­withall to rest from all their labours, to take no farther thought saue onely to kéep them selues quiet and in helth, and yet beholde contrarywise, this age is no other but a taste of all euils afore­said, and for the moste parte the cheefest flourishing time of all vice, wherwith they haue béen occupyed and detained all the course of their life: you haue ther­in the vnprofitablenes and weakenes of childehood, yea and that is worst, the same often ioyned with a superior au­thoritie. You are rewarded for the ex­cesse and ryots of your youth, with the g [...]t, palsie, stone, & such other like kide of diseases, which take away your mem bers, one after another with extreme paine. You are recompented for the watching, thoughts and inwarde tra­uails [Page] of your mans age, with the losse of the sight, the hearing, and of all the o­ther senses one after another, excepte only of the féeling of your pain.

There is no parte of man whiche death taketh not as apledge, therby to assure him selfof vs as of an euil payer; which infinitly feareth his tearme.

There will bee by and by nothing remaining in manner a liue, and yet doo our vices line in vs, and doo not onely liue, but also euen in spite of nature doo dayly, florish a fresh againe, The Couetouse man hauing in man­ner one foot in the ground, is neuer the­ [...]sse [...]il hoording vp of treasure as if one day he were assured to finde the same againe. The Ambitious man by his last wil ordaineth vnpro [...]able pomps for his funerals, & so procureth his vice so liue & triumph euē after his death. The Ryotous man béeing vna­ble to da [...]ce with his féet, daūceth with his shoulders. All vices haue lest him, but he canot leue thē. The childe wish eth his youthful age, & the man is grée ued at the same. In his youthful age he lyued in hope of the age to come, & the man [...]éeleth the present euil: soroweth at his false passed pleasures, and now [Page] [...]deth nothing in time to come to wish for. More foolish is he then the Childe, for that he bewaileth the time whiche cannot come againe, & more miserable thē the youthful man, in y ^t that after his miserable life which cānot be accompli­shed w ^tout as miserable a death: he seeth nothing but méer dispair on all sides.

And as for him who euē in his youth took vpon him the battaile against the flesh and the worlde, who so painfully hath indenored to dye to y ^e world, & hath for saken the same before his time: who also besides all these ordinary euils [...]i­deth him self weried w ^t this great and incurable disease of age, and yet often­times not with standing his weakenes findeth his flesh stronger thē his spirit: what goodnes, I pray you, cā he heerin cōceiue, except only in that he séeth his death at hand, that he perceiueth his combats ended, & that he knoweth him self redy through death to depart out of this trouble some prison wherin he hath béene racked & tormented all the dayes of his life? I wil not béere speake of in [...]nite euils which doo v [...]e men in all ages, as losse of Fr [...]nds and Pa­rents, banishments, exile, discurtesyes, [Page] with other such like, common and ordi­nary in the world.

One man lamenteth the losse of his Children, an other is sory that euer [...]e had any. One mourneth for his wife, who is deade: an other wisheth his would not liue so long. One complai­neth that he is to déep in y ^e Court, an o­ther that he is not deepe inough. The world [...]th so many euils heaped vp in it, that to write of them all would re­quire an other worlde as big as it is. Yea in case the happyest man that we can finde, would but way his blesses with his mishaps, he would accoūt him self moste accursed: and some there be who think him happy, and yet if they had but thrée daies set in his place, they would resigne the same to the first com­mer: yea and which is more, if y ^e same man should but consider, first of all the goods and commodities that euer he re­ceiued: and then. of the euil whiche he hath indured for the obtaining of the same, and hauing them, of the pain that he hath taken to saue and kéep them (I speake only of such cōmodities as may be kept, & not of those y ^e wither away in a moment) he would surely with him [Page] self giue this verdit of him selfe, that e­uen the kéeping of the chéefest felicities in this world, is but labour, trauail and infelicitie. Let vs therefore conclude that infancie is but a foolish simplicitie: youth a vain heate: mans age a pain­ful carefulnes: and age a troublesome languishing, that our eyes are nothing but teares: our pleasures, vexations of minde: our goods, racks and torments: our honors, waightie vanities: and our rest, a disquietnes. Also that to passe frō age to age, is but to departe from one euil to an other: from a small one to a greate, and that it is alwaies one bil­lowe or waue driuing of an other, vntil we come to the Hauen of death. Let vs I say conclude, that this life is no o­ther then a desire of the life to come, a sorowing for the life past, a disdaine of that which we haue tasted, and a desire of that that hetherto we haue not felt, a vain remembrance of the estate passed and an vncertain waiting for y ^e which is to come. To be bréef, that in all the life is nothing certain neither assured, but only the certaintie and assuraunce of death.

Wel, beholde now death commeth to [Page] vs: sée, that which so long we haue fea­red dooth now draw néere vnto vs. We must now therfore cōsider whether she be such a thing as men make vs to be­léeue, and whether we ought so to flée from her as ordinarily we doo.

We are afeard as little Children of a Mastif, or of the Idols of Hecate. We doo abhorre her, but that is only because we take her to be other then indéed she is, namely sorowful, withered & oug­ley, euen suche a one as it pleaseth the Painters to present vnto vs vpon the walles. We [...]ee before her, and that is because we béeing occupied with such vain imaginations, haue no [...]isure to looke vpon her. Let vs therefore stay and become constant. Let vs euen look vpon her face, and we shall finde her farre other then she is pain [...]ed out vn­to vs, and in a far other [...] then our mi [...]erable life. Death endeth this life. This life is but miserie and a perpetuall tempest. Death therfore is the issue of our miseryes, and the in­closer of the Hauen wherin we shall be safe from all windes. Shall we ther­fore feare lest taking vs out of miserie she should hale vs into the hauen?

[Page]You wil say that in death is paine, be it so, so is there also in the healing of wounds, for such is the nature of hu­maine things, that one euil cannot be healed but by an other. To cure a bru­sing there must be incision.

You wil tel me that in this passage there is some difficultie, so is there no Porte or Hauen but that the entrie is narrowe and troblesome. No goods are bought in this worlde with other mo­ney then pain and trauatle. The en­trie is indéede troublesome, if our sel­ues doo so make it, if we draw [...]owarde it with a formented minde, with a troubled vnderstáding, or with a swer­ [...]ing and vnconstant thought. But let vs bring tranquilitie of minde, con­stancye, and firme determination, and we shall finde no danger, neither any kinde of difficultie. Again what gréet dooth death cause vs to suffer? What can she doo with whatsoeuer we doo indure? We accuse her of all y ^• euil y ^• we feel in the ending of our liues, and doo not con­sider how many greater & more dange­ [...]ous wounds a [...]d diseases we haue in­dured without death. How many more [...]ehement gréetes wee haue suffered [Page] in this life, during y ^• extremities wher­of we haue called her to our aide and help. Of all sorowes which our life doo procure vnto vs towarde our last ends, we doo exclaime and finde faulte with death, not considering that life béeing begun and continued in all kinde of so­rowe, cannot also without sorowe be en ded. We doo not (I say) way with our selues, y ^e it is the rest of our life, and not death that formenteth vs, the end of our Nauigatiō that paineth vs, and not the [...]auen where into we should enter, whiche also is no other then a Bulwark against all windes and tem­pests.

We doo complain of death when in­déed we should be wa [...]l our liues, as one who hauing béen long sick, and now re turning towarde helth, would accuse his helth for his last gréefs, and not the reliques of his sicknes. I pray you what other is death, then to be no longer ly­ning in this world? Felt we any greef before we came into it? Not to be in the world at all, is it pnrely and simply any pain? Doo we at any time more re­semble death, then in our s [...]eepe, and be we at any time in more quietnes then [Page] also at the time of the same? [...]f then she be no greef, wherfore should we accuse her of all those gréefs whiche our life at the departure thereof dooth minister vnto vs, vnlesse we wil also blame the time wherein we were not in those so­rowes which at our birth we began to indure? If the comming into the world were in teares, why should we mer­uail that the issue out of the same be so also? The beginning of our béeing, bée­ing the beginning of our sorowes, is it to bee meruailed that the end is a­like? If our not béeing in the former worldes hath béene exempt of sorowe, and now cōtrariwise our béeing in this world be ful of sorowe, whome shal we in reasō accuse of these our last sorowes whether our not béeing before time, or the rest of our present béeing?

We thinck not that we dye before we yéelde the last gaspe, and yet if we looke wel we doo dayly in euery houre and moment dye. We feare death as a thing vnaccustomed, and yet haue no­thing more common in vs, for our life is but a continuall death: euen so long as we liue, so long doo we die: as we doo growe, so dooth our life diminish. We [Page] let not one step so soon into life, but as soon we set an other into death. Who so hath liued a third parte of his yéeres, hath also passed a third part of his death, and who the tone halfe, is alredy halfe dead. So much of our life as is passed, is dead: that whiche is present dooth liue and dye togither, and that whiche is to come shall likewise dye. That that is past is no more: that that is to come is not yet, and that that is present bothe is and is not. To be bréefe, all this life is but death. It is as a candle lighted in our bodies. In some y ^• winde wasteth it, in other some it putteth it out before it be half spent, and in other some it suffe­reth it to continue to the end: but be it as it wil, according as it lighteth, so dooth it burn, his light is a burning, his flame a vanishing smoke, and his last fire is the vttermoste end of his cotton and the last drop of his moisture. Euen so is the life of man.

The life and death of man is all but one thing. If we call y ^e last breth death, the like name must we giue to all the rest afore pasied, for they all doo procéed out of one place and are all of a like fa­shion. One only difference is there be­twéen [Page] this li [...]e, and that whiche we call death, which is that during the one, we haue alwaies to die, & after th'other there re­maineth nothing b [...]t euerlasting life.

To be breef, what soeuer he be whiche thinketh death to be simply y ^e end of mā, yet onght he not to fear y ^e same: for who so is desirous of lōg life, dooth also aske a continuing death, & who so feareth pre­sent death, feareth (to speak vprightly) to haue no longer respite to die. But vn to vs y ^• are brought vp in an other ma­ner of schoole, death also seemeth an o­ther thing. We néed not as the heathē, haue any comforte against death, but death should vnto vs b [...] a co [...]ort against all kinde of affliction. We must not on [...] ly with thē striue, not to fear it, but ra­ther inure our selues to hope after it. It is not to vs an issue vnto sorowe and e­uil, but a path to all goodnes. To vs it is no end of life, but an end of death and a beginning of euerlasting life. Better saith Salomō is y ^e day of death, thē the [...]oure of birth, & why? because it is not to vs a last day, but y ^• birth of an euerla sting day. We shall during this bright nes no longer bewail y ^e time past, but shall stil liue in hope for y ^e time to come. [Page] For all shall to vs be time present, and this time present shall neuer abandon vs: We shall no longer consume in vain and sorowful pleasures, but shall be replenished with a true and firme ioy. We shall no longer labour to beap vp the exhalations of the earth, for hea uen shalbe ours. This masse of Earth which accustomably drew vs towarde the earth, shalbe in the earth. We shall no longer striue to mount from step to step, and from honor to honor: for we shalbe exalted into Heauen abooue all worldly honors & from abooue shall we laugh them to scorne that doo wunder at vs, whiche doo striue for the válue of a point, and like Children fight togither for lesse value then an Aple. More com­bates shall we not sustaine within our selues, for our flesh shalbe dead, but our spirite in ful life: our passion buried, and our reasō set at libertie. Our soule beeing deliuered out of this filthy and stinking prison, wherin it hath so long lurked and crouched, shal take aire, and acknowledging his ancient dwelling place, shall call again to minde his for­mer brightnes and dignitie. This flesh my fréend which thou féelest, and this [Page] body, whiche thou touchest is not the soule: for the soule is borne in heauen, and Heauen is his Countrie and aire. In that he is inclosed in y ^e body, it is as it were by exile and banishment. The soule properly is y ^e life and spirite. The soule is rather a heauenly and celesti­all qualitie, exempt from all grose and materiall substance, and this body such as it is, is no other then a bark or shel ouer the spirit, and therfore must of ne­cessitie flée a sunder when we come to our departure, if we wil perfectly liue or cléerly behold [...] the day. We haue as we thinck some life, and some féeling: but we are altogither impotent, we can not stretch out our winges, neither can we take our flight into Heauen, vntil this earthly masse of flesh be takē from of vs. We doo sée, but through deceitful spectacles. We haue eyes, but couered with a filme. We think to looke, but it is in a dreame, wherby we sée nothing but lyes. What soeu [...]r wee haue or knowe, is but abuse and vanitie: death onely can restore to vs bothe life and sight, and yet are we so beastly as to think that she taketh them from vs.

We are (say we) Christians: we doo [Page] beléeue after this life, life euerlasting. We acknowledge that death is but a separation of the bodye and the soule, that the soule shall returne to his ble­ssed rest, for to reioyce in God, who on­ly is all goodnesse, and that in the last day shee shall againe put on her body, which then shall be no more subiect to corruption. We doo fil all our Bookes with this goodly discourse, and yet com­ming to the point, the onely name of death, as the moste horrible thing in the worlde, maketh vs to quake and tremble. If we beléeue that, y ^• we haue said, what doo we then feare? to be hap­pie? to be at quiet? to liue in greater contentatiō in one moment then euer we could doo in all our mortall life how long so euer it hath beene? Either we must confesse, wil we, nil we, that we beléeue but to halues, that we haue no­thing in vs but woords, and that all our discourses (euen as of these valiant ta­ble Knights) are but vaunts and vani­ties: and therfore see what we say.

We knowe, that departing out of this life we shall passe to a better, and therof we doute not at all: but we fear the great passage that is betwéen them both, which we must ouercome. O [...]aint [Page] hárted mē. They wil slay them selues for the getting of their miserable life. They wil suffer a thousand gréefs and wounds at the request of other men: they wil passe a thousād dāgers of death without stumbling, for the getting of transitorie goods whithe peraduenture wil cause them to perish with thē, and yet hauing but one step or passage to go ouer for y ^• obtaining of their ease, not for a day but for euer, not any kinde of ease, but suche an ease as man is not a­ble to cōprehend: doo yet quake therat, their hart faileth them at their néeds, they be afraid and yet is the chéef cause of this their fear, no other then the fear it self, Let them not alledge that they doo learne to indure the sorowe, for that were but bace and a simple couer for their sclēder fa [...]th. They had rather lan guish perpetually in y ^• pain of y ^• [...]oute, the Sciatica, y ^• stone or such like, thē at once to die of a swéet death, which com­prehendeth the least sorow in y ^e world: they had rather to die [...]ēber after mē ­ber, & so as ye would say, to ouer lius their sences, moouings & actiōs, thē alto gither to die to y ^e end to liue eternally. Let thē not aledge neither y ^t they wold in this worlde learne to liue, for euery [Page] man of him self is sufficiently taught that alredy: no man is ignorant in that occupation. But we must learne in this world to dye, and for the obtaining of one good death, we must in our selues dye dayly, preparing vs as if the end of euery day, were also the end of our life: wheras contrariwise nothing dooth more offend our eares then to heare of death.

Oh sencelesse men, we doo habandon our liues to th'ordinary hazards of war for twentie shillings matter. In hope of some smal botie, we be the first at the assaulte, running into places frō whēce there is no hope of return, and that ma ny times with the danger bothe of our bodyes and soules. And yet for the ex­empting of vs out of all dangers, for the conquest of incōparable treasures, and for the entrie into euerlasting life, we doo refrain from setting forward of one step wherin is no dificultie or danger at all, but only fear to witholde vs. Yea we doo so stick there, that were it not that whether we will or no, we must passe the said step, & God euen against our willes wil doo vs good, hardely throughout all the whole worlde, we [Page] should finde any one, how miserable or wretched soeuer he were that willing­ly would passe that way. Others wil say, had I liued fiue or six score yéeres, I could euen be cōtent, I care for no lon­ger life: but me thinks to die so young, it were against reason. I would knowe the world before I go out of it. Ah poor ignorant man y ^• thou art, in this world there is nōe either young or olde. Olde age compared with that is past, & with that that is to come, is but one only pe­riod: Hauing liued to the age that now thou disiredst, all thy time passed will be as nothing, thou wil [...] stil gape after time to come. Of the time past thou shalt haue only a gréef, thou shalt wait for time to come, & of time present thou shalt reap no contentation. Thou wilt be as ready to demaunde respite as be fore. Thou fliest from thy creditor mo­neth after moneth, tearm after tearm, as ready to pay him at y ^e last as at the first, and yet seeing you must néeds pay him, as good at the first as at the last. Thou hast tasted all y ^e pleasures which the world accounteth of, none of them are dainty to thée, drink thou neuer so often, thou art neuer the fuller, for this [Page] body which thou cariest is as the bot­tomlesse pail of y ^e Danaides which can neuer be filled. It wil be sooner worne out, thē thou wery of vsing (or to speak more truly of abusing) the same.

Thou requirest long life, but only to lose it, to waste it out in tri [...]ing plea­sures, and to spend it in vain matters. Thou art Couetous in desiring, and prodigall in spending. Tel not me that thou complainest of the Court, or of the Pallaice, either that thou wouldest yet doo some more seruice to thy common welth or Contrie, or euen to God him self. For he that hath set thée on woork, knoweth the time and houre that thou shalt continue: he can guide thy woork manship: if he should leaue thée there a­ny lōger, it may be thou wouldest mar all.

If he be content liberally to paye thée for thy woork, and to giue thée as much wages for thy half dayes woork as if thou haddest wrought al day long: for labouring til noone, as if thou had­dest borne the heate of the whole day, hast not thou so muche the more cause to thank and praise him?

But entring into thine owne cons­cience [Page] Thou be wailest not the cause of the Widowe or of the Orphane, whome y ^• hast left at the point of iudge­ment, neither the end of y ^e sonne, the fa­ther, or the fréend whiche thou protest­est to restore: The imbassage of the com mon welth whiche thou wert ready to take vppon thée, either els the seruice that thou desirest to doo to GOD, who knoweth much better what seruice to reap of thée, then thou doost thy self.

Thou be waylest thy houses and thy Gardens. Thou monest thy purposes and vnperfect deuises. Thou lamen­test thy life, in thine eye vnperfect, which neither dayes, yéeres, ne worlds were able [...]o finish, and yet thy self in the least moment mayst ende, if thou wilt but once earnestly thinck that it skilleth not how they be ended, so they be wel ended. And well to finish this life is no other thing then willinglye to end it, following of our owne ac­cor [...]es, the will and Conduct of God, and not to permit our selues tobe haled after the necessitie of our destinie. For to end it willingly, is to hope for and not to feare death. [Page] To hope for it, is assuredly to waite for a better life after this, and to wait for a better life is to feare God, whom who­so [...]areth, néed not certainly to feare a­ny thing in this world, but to hope fo [...] all things in the other. Death can not be other then gentle and acceptable to all that in those points are throughly re­solued, because they k [...]owe assuredly, that therby they shall enter in to an ha­bitation of all goodnes. The sorowe that might be therin, shall bée mixed with gentlenes. The patient abiding shall be drunck with hope. The sting of death it self shall be killed, for all this sting is nothing but feare: & thus much [...] wil say more, that not only all the e­uil which we take to be in death, shall be as nothing vnto them, but also they shall laugh at the mishappes that o­thers doo fear in this life, and shall euen mock all their doubtes. For I pray you what can he [...]eare which hopeth to die? Doo his enemies thinck to driue him out of his cuntry? he knoweth y ^• he hath a countrie in another place, from the which they cannot driue him, and that all these Countryes are but so manye ny Innes, from whence they must de­par [...] [Page] part whensoeuer it pleaseth their hosf, shall he bée cast into prison [...] a straiter prison or more filthy, darke, sul of racks and forments, can they not commit him into, thē his owne body. Wil they put him to death and so take him out of this world? That is it that so long he hath hoped for, and wherunto with all his hart he hath aspired, be it with fire, swoord, famin, sicknes or otherwise: w ^t in thrée yéeres, thrée dates, or thrée hou­res, it is all one to him whē or by which gate hée departeth out of this misera­ble life, for his woork is all doon, all his prouision is redy, and by the same gate that he goeth out at, shall he enter into a far more blessed and immortall life.

They cannot threaten him of woorse then death, and that is it that he assu­reth him self of. The woorst they can doo to him is to take away his life, and that is the best thing that he can hope for. The thretnings of tirants are pro mises to him, and his cheefest enemies weapons are drawen to his behoof, for he knoweth that who so thretneth him with death, promiseth him life, and the moste mortall wounds that they can giue him, [...] make him immortall. [Page] who that fereth God feareth not death, and he y ^t feareth not death careth not for the greatest iniuryes of this life.

Why, wil you say, thē by this accoūt death is to be wished for, & therfore for the auoyding ofso many mischéefs, and the obtaining of such infinit cōmodities we should me thinketh abridge our ly­ues. Surely I dout not y ^t notwithstan­ding allt his profit, any one wil hasten any step forward, yea although y ^t spirit should aspire the runto, yet the body that it hath to draw, wil su [...]ciētly restrain it. Now be it I mene not so to cōclude, We ought indéed to indeuor to slay our flesh in our selues, but to exempt our selues out of the worlde, that is not per­mitted vnto vs. A Christian ought wil­lingly to departe this life: b [...]t he may not cowardly run away. God hath or­dained a Christian to fight, and ther­fore he cannot without blame and re­proche leaue his ranck. But if it please this great Capitaine to call him home, then must he willingly retire and frée­ly obey. For the Christian is not for him self but for God, of whome he hol­deth his life to inioy the same so long as it shall please him, and to who me he [Page] must yéelde the frutes of the same. His life is at the disposition of the owner, who at his pleasure may take it from him, but he may not when he wil giue ouer the same.

Dyest thou young? thank God who as a good Sailer with a freshe winde hath soone conducted thée to the Hauen. Dyest y ^• olde? praise him likewise, for that hauing a small winde thou haste peraduenture béene lesse molested with waues, neither think to hastē or slack thy pace at thine owne wil, for y ^t [...] is not at thy b [...]ck, and so in striuing against the streme, thou shalt peraduen ture incur shipwrack. God calleth one from woork in the morning, another at noone, and another at night. God exer­ciseth one vntill he sweate, another parcheth he in the Sun, & another dooth he euen bake and wither vp altogither, and yet leaueth he none of all his a­brode, but giueth them all rest, paying them their wages in time conueni­ent. Who that leaueth his woork before he be called loseth the same, & he y ^t is im portunate before the time forgoeth his wages. We must all depend vpon his pleasure, who in the middest of all our labours graunteth vs rest.

[Page]To be bréefe, the trauayles of this life must not cause vs to hate the same, for that were but cowardise and want of hart. Neither must the pleasures of the same procure vs to looue it, for that were but folly & vanitie: but we must vse it to the seruice of God, who after the same shall giue vs assured rest, and shall leade vs into euerlasting plea­sures whiche perish not. We must not also flée from death, for it were very childish to fear it and in fléeing away to méet with the same. Again we must not séeke it, for that were but rashnes, neither dooth euery man die that wil. There is as much desperatenes in the one as cowardlines in the other, and in neither of bothe is there any kinde of magnanimitie. Let it therfore suffice vs to stay for it, and that stedfastly and cōtinually to y ^e end it neuer finde vs vn prouided. For as there is nothing more certain then death, so also is there no­thing more vncertain then y ^e sorowe of the same, which is knowen to none but to one God, the onely Author of life, in whome we should all laboure to liue and dye.

¶ Die to liue and liue to dye.