The first part of the consideration of humane condition vvherin is contained the morall consideration of a mans selfe: as what, who, and what manner of man he is. Written by I.P. Esquier.

THE CONSIDERATION of humane Condition.

CHAP. 1. How neceſsary, and what Conſideration is.

PLants haue but a Vegetatiue faculty, and beaſts haue but a Senſitiue power to produce thoſe effects which nature (or rather the guider of natures workes) hath ordained them to execute in their ſeverall kindes: but man alone (aboue all the reſt) hath the moſt excellent helpe of Reaſon to order his affections, and governe his thoughts, and his deedes. Why ſhould not man then (ſo farre. exceeding all other creatures in this moſt admirable and powerfull gift of Reaſon) expell thereby all the perverſe paſſions, the beaſtiall luſtes, and the fonde deſires of the minde: which many times make him inferiour to the moſt vile and moſt contemptible creatures of the world? If vve would know the reaſon of this ſo great an evill, it is becauſe he doth ſeldome accompany his actions with Conſideration, which is the chiefe ruler and governeſſe vnder Reaſon: for where Conſideration doth not firſt open the dore, and make the firſt enterance into any action of accompt, there commonly the ſucceſſe is ſuch as breedeth but ſorrow, ſhame, and confuſion: and where due Conſideration commeth before, and with our deedes, it is ſeldome ſeene there, but that the event falleth out according to our expectation. This being ſo, it were not amiſſe to looke ſomwhat into this glaſſe of Conſideration, therein to behold (as neere as we may) the mappe and character of humane Condition.

And becauſe conſideration is founde to bee a matter of ſo great moment in directing the courſe of every mans life, as that it may iuſtly be called the loadſtone of mans life: it were convenient firſt to know what this conſideration is, before wee endeuoure to iudge of the effects thereof.

Conſideration (as Thomas Aquinas doth define it) is the operation of the vnderſtāding,Conſideration. or the proceſſe of Reaſon pertaining to the contemplation of the trueth. Conſideration therefore is more generall,Cogitatiō. Meditatiō. & more profitable then is Cogitation, or Meditation. For Cogitation is but a particular power of collecting individuall intentions: and Meditation, but an inwarde beholding, buſied in the inquiſition of thinges: but this our Conſideration, is the operation of all the vnderſtanding: as hath beene already defined.Contemplation. Deliberation. Likewiſe ſome alleadge that Contemplation belongeth onely to divine thinges. And Deliberation properly appertaineth to humane and political matters: but this our Conſideration doeth comprehend both, or at the leaſt is converſant in both.

CHAP. 2. Why ſome men are more given to Conſideration then others.

THe cauſes that ſome men are more deliberate, and more conſideratiue in their actions then others, are diverſe: either proceeding from the well or evill ſituation of the interiour ſenſes; or ariſing from the good, or badde conſtitution of their complexions; or comming of the company that they moſt commonly keepe, and the exerciſe that they do chiefely vſe.

As touching the firſt,The firſt cauſe. which is the ſituation and due proportion of the interiour ſenſes: how much that doth availe to the attaining of Conſideration, by this we may conceiue; that as the ſenſes haue their ſeveral ſeates in the braines, ſo do they receiue their temperature, according to the temperature of that parte, wherein they are placed, and there-after are men made apte or vnapt to enter into due Conſideration.

As for example, the firſt of the interiour ſences (which both Philoſophers and Phiſitions doe call the common ſenſe, 1. Common ſenſe. becauſe it is common to all the exteriour ſenſes to convaigh their ſhapes and formes vnto it) is placed in the forepart of the braine, having a ſeverall cell or roome, in which the fiue nerues (comming from the fiue exteriour ſenſes) doe meete, if this bee not conveniently moiſt, and of a convenient quantity, it cannot receiue the right ſhape of theſe, and conſequently the other ſenſes cannot concurre to conſider aright thereof.

The ſecond ſenſe is called the Imaginatiue ſenſe, 2. Imaginatiue ſenſe. Although Ariſtotle maketh no mention of this Imaginatiue ſenſe, yet I thought good herein to follow other Philoſophers, who doe make this diſtinct frō the other three. which alſo is placed in the fore-part of the braine next vnto the Common ſenſe: and the office thereof is to containe & retaine the formes of thoſe things, which the exteriour ſenſes doe preſent vnto the Common ſenſe: for that the Cōmon ſenſe of it ſelfe conſiſteth meerely of moiſture, which is apt to receiue, but not to retaine: and this Imaginatiue ſenſe is compoſed of drineſſe, which conſerveth the figures of thinges more firmely: therefore if this ſenſe hath not alſo his right quality and condition, the true obiectes of thinges ſenſible cannot be well conſerved to be conſidered of.

The next is called the Phantaſie (or as ſome ſay) the Eſtimatiue ſenſe, which is placed in the middle part of the braine, betwixt the Common ſenſe and the Memory: this ſenſe ſerueth to compoſe, to devide, and to diſtinguiſh of the ſhapes, which are preſented vnto the Common ſenſe, and preſerued by the Imaginatiue ſenſe;3 Phātaſie. and this ſenſe is ſeated in the middle parte of the heade, as a cel to receiue thoſe figures from the Common ſenſe and Imaginatiue, as to take them againe out of the Memory being the ſtore-houſe of the head: it is compoſed of heat, by which it is in much motion, and into it doe reſort all the moving ſpirites, but if it doe exceede an ordinary temperature of heate, it maketh too much motion in the braine, and leaueth no liberty to a ſetled Conſideration.

The laſt of the interiour ſenſes, is the Memory, 4 Memory. which is placed in the hinder parte of the head: the cell and ſituation of this ſenſe is more dry, and ſomewhat harder then the reſt of the braine, becauſe (as it vvas ſaide before) that drynes is the cauſe of Retention, ſo this ſenſe beeing made to retaine the ſhape of things, vvhich are delivered from the Common ſenſe vnto the Imaginatiue, but alſo the Memory muſt retaine the ſhapes of intentions, vvhich the Imaginatiue doeth preſent vnto it: ſo as it is truely tearmed the Treaſury of the minde: and therefore if the Memory haue not his iuſt proportion of drynes neither exceeding nor vvanting much thereof, then it cannot retaine well; and ſo the Conſideration (which is not only a Meſſenger, but as it were a Counſellour betwixt the Memory & the reſt of the Senſes) cānot receiue his right courſe.

The ſecond cauſe,The ſecond cauſe, vvhich we ſaide firſt did much helpe, or hinder our Conſideration, is the Conſtitution of the fovvre Complexions according to the operation of the fowre Elements in mans body: for the Phyloſophers affirme that the temperature of the minde, followeth the temperature of the body: and the temperature of the body conſiſteth in the Compoſition of the foure Complexions, vvhich receiue and participate the qualities of the foure Elements; as for example; the ſanguine Complexion doth participate with the Element of the aire, which is by nature hotte and moiſt: theſe two qualities in the ſanguine Complexion do worke this operation, that it cauſeth a ready conceipt, but it doth divert the mind from any deepe Conſideratiō.

Alſo the Phlegmaticke Complexion, cōſiſting of colde and moiſture, hath this property, that by reaſon of over much coldnes, it doth dull the ſpirites, whereby they cannot aptly conceiue; and becauſe of much moiſture, it cannot retaine what is received: therefore it is vnapt for Conſideration.

The cholericke which doth cōſiſt of heate and drynes is ſomewhat more apte to conceiue then the Phlegmatīcke, and yet in that the heate is not mixed with either colde or moiſture to qualifie the ſame, it doth not plant any firme leaſure to conſider what is to be done.

The melancholicke Complexion, that is made of colde and drynes, (vvhich in their natures doe make a better mixture of moderation) doth plante a firme leaſure to conſider what is to be done, and therefore is fitteſt for Conſideration.

Beſides this abſolute predomination of each of theſe firſt foure Qualities in mens bodies, vvhereby they are made either apte or vnable for Conſideration ſometimes; there is a mixture of the Complexion in one body in ſuch ſorte that it can hardly be ſaide which of two hath the greateſt power or predominancy, and then there is many times the beſt temperature in the body, and conſequently the minde is more apte for Conſideration and the life of man is longer preſerued. As for example; vvhen the cholericke and phlegmaticke Complexions are ſo mixed, that the cholericke hath ſome what the ſuperiour power, and the phlegmaticke is proportioned vnto it, then the drynes of the one doth ſomevvhat qualifie the over-much moiſtnes of the other, vvhereby this temperature maketh a man more apte for Conſideration. So ſanguine and melancholy, being mixed in ſuch ſort as the ſanguine in ſome ſmall degree doth ſurmount the melancholy, it maketh a more even proportion of the foure firſt Qualities in one body: by which compoſition (and as they call it a Communicating of the contrary qualities in the foure Elementes) there is made a reconciliation of their contrary effectes, and a coniunction of their forces, whereby the minde of man is more fitte for Conſideration.The thirde cauſe.

The third cauſe which helpeth or hindereth Conſideration is (as hath beene before alleadged) the Company, which we keepe, and the Studies which we vſe: for though theſe fore-recited cauſes may be greate helpes or hinderances to our Conſideration, as the ſituation of the ſenſes, and the conſtitution of the complexions, as being inſtrumental cauſes of Conſideratiō, yet theſe may bee aptely diſpoſed, and yet Conſideration in ſome ſorte may be wanting. For as we ſee inſtrumentes, which are excellentlie compoſed, and haue in themſelues a verie ſweete ſounde, if they bee vvell tuned and vvell played on; yet if he that ſhoulde play thereon doth not perfourme his parte; either by reaſon of the company, with whome he is, and doth more attend their actions, then his owne play; or elſe, by meanes of ſome other actions he hath in hand, doth not exquiſitely vſe and exerciſe his skill; then the inſtrument, on which he playeth, looſeth the ſweetneſſe of his ſounde, and the true vſe thereof: ſo is it in the vſe of Conſideration; for although the interiour ſenſes bee well ſeated, and the complexions wel compoſed, which are as inſtrumentes of the minde, yet if the minde it ſelfe be not by good company and good exerciſe well ſettled to Conſideration, theſe inſtrumentes looſe the ſweeteneſſe of their ſounde, and the effectes of Conſideration by them cannot haue a right courſe. For proofe hereof; firſt, to beginne with company & converſation of good or evil men, how much the one helpeth & the other hindereth Conſideration, we may ſee by the example of ſundry younge men, who of their owne diſpoſitions haue beene civill, diſcreete, and well inclined to Conſideration, vntill that they comming into euill company haue by imitating their light behaviour beene brought to be altogither careleſſe and vnconſiderate:Eccleſ. 13. It is true, that hee which toucheth pitch, ſhall bee defiled therewith, and that he, which keepeth ill company, ſhal be in the ende carried from all good conſideration.Pſalm. 18. For with the good (as it is ſaid) then ſhalt learne goodneſſe, and with the perverſe thou ſhalt be perverted. Againe we ſee on the other ſide, that the company and converſation of graue, learned & conſiderate men doth much mooue vs vnto the conſideration of their behaviour, and by their example wee learne the like to become conſiderate as they are: and by the counſaile of ſuch graue men many times the raſh and vnſtaied humors of youth are tempered and tuned to the right meane & meaſure of Conſideration: as Catoes graue converſation was not onely a lanterne, but alſo a leſſon (for all thoſe that knew him) to learne conſideration.

Now laſtly for exerciſe,The fourth cauſe. how that doeth helpe or hinder the courſe of our Conſideration, wee may conceiue it by knowing that exerciſe is of two ſortes; either of the body, or of the mind: the exerciſe of the body we cal Labour, the exerciſe of the mind we call Study. For the firſt, which is the exerciſe of the body, we finde that this being moderately vſed maketh the body ſtrong and healthy, whereby the minde is alſo made more free to fullfill his functions, eſpecially in the courſe of Conſideration: but if the body bee over-laboured, it breedeth a wearineſſe and a weakeneſſe in the partes thereof, whereby alſo the minde is moleſted, & leſſe at liberty to enter into Cōſideration what ought to be done. Likewiſe for Study, it hath the like or greater operation, then Labor hath, in making the minde fit or vnfit for Cō ſideration: becauſe we haue it in dayly experience, that moderate Study doth inlighten the mind, & kindle the pure bright-ſhining fire of Conſideration. Yea many times it hath the power to divert mens mindes from evil cogitations, and to convert them vnto the due conſideration of themſelues and of thoſe thinges, that belonge vnto them.Xenoph de dict. & fact. Socrat. As Socrates ſaid vnto a skilful Phyſiognomer, who tolde him that hee was a man of a wicked diſpoſition, (whereat others laughed knowing the contrary) it is true ſaid Socrates which thou telleſt me that by nature I was wicked and of a lewd condition, but by my ſtudy, learning, and conſideration, I haue corrected thoſe evill conditions. So we ſee that moderate Exerciſe, and moderate Study doe much availe to the attaining of Conſideration, & of thoſe good conditions which do follow Cōſideration. But on the contrary, immoderate Study doth much ſpende the ſpirits and weaken the braine, whereby the courſe of due Conſideration is very much hindered.

CHAP. 3. Ʋnto what we ſhoulde apply the ſcope of our Conſideration.

NOW having ſaide ſomewhat how neceſſary, and what conſideration is, as alſo what thinges doe moſt helpe or hinder this Conſideration; it commeth next in order to ſhew vnto what wee ought chiefly to bende the courſe of our Conſideration. Wherein we may beholde by the example of other mens behaviours, that moſt men are very carefull and doe vſe very great Conſideration in the compaſſing of thoſe things which they do deſire moſt. As for example, the covetous man doth labour all the power of his Conſideration to attaine vnto riches. The ambitious man doth enter into Conſideration of no onething ſo much, as how to come to preferment, and to obtaine dignities and honour. The laſcivious man doth ſtraine the ſtringes of his Conſideration only to compaſle his pleaſures. So that theſe men (and others of all conditions) ſeeme to vſe no Conſideration in any thing, but only on that, which they deſire moſt, and about which they apply all their care and induſtry, leaving all other thinges, as matters (in their opinions) of no moment: when as perchance that, vvhich they ſo much ſeeke after, and doe ſo carefully imploy all their Conſiderations about, in other mens conſtructions may be of no ſuch conſequence, and worthy of no great Conſideration: As the covetous man doth admire why the ambitious do bend their whole Conſideration about the ſeeking of honours, great authority, great names and preheminence: which the covetous accompteth but as blaſtes of winde, blowne away with the breath of mens mouthes: on the other ſide, the ambitious man reckoneth of the covetous man, but as of one, that is baſe minded, becauſe hee beſtoweth all his Conſideration to procure him wealth without vſing the ſame to any other purpoſe then to pinch himſelfe and his poore neighboures, not knowing vvho ſhall enioy them after his deceaſe, or whither hee ſhall haue them himſelfe as long as he liveth. Likewiſe the laſcivious man laugheth at both the covetous man and the ambitious: & they both as much at him, whom they deeme altogither vnconſiderat, in that he hath no other Conſideration of any matter, which doeth concerne him moſt, but only his vaine pleaſure, which they can ſay he doth moſt commonly purchaſe with repentance of his time miſpent, his health decaied and his hability conſumed: ſo that we ſee moſt men doe miſlike the courſe of other mens Conſiderations, and few doe take the right courſe themſelues of due Conſideration, becauſe al do aime at an end, which they thinke ſhoulde bee good vnto themſelues: but there is a goodnes, which is in appearaunce onely, but not indeede: and there is a goodnes on truth, & on ſubſtance, without vaine ſhewe. Now to the attaining of this goodnes (which is true goodnes indeede) ought our Conſideration to be directed: and for effecting thereof, Bernard de Conſid ad Eugen. We ought to conſider foure thinges. we muſt follow the courſe & counſell of Bernard in his foure bookes of Conſideration written to Eugenius, vvhome hee vvilleth to conſider chiefely theſe foure thinges: firſt, thy ſelfe: nexte, thoſe thinges that are vnder thee: then, thoſe thinges that are aboute thee: and laſtly, thoſe thinges that are aboue thee. In conſidering thy ſelfe (ſaith he) thou muſt learne to knovve, What thou art: VVhoe thou art: and, VVhat manner of man thou art.

In conſidering What thou art, thou ſhalt find in Nature that thou art a man, that is Reaſonable and Mortall: being Mortall, thou maieſt be ſorie: but beeing Reaſonable, thou haſte cauſe to mittigate thy ſorowe.

In the conſideration of thy ſelfe VVho thou arte, thou muſt finde out the perfect foote-ſteppes of thy parentage, thy calling, and thy hability.

In conſidering VVhat manner of man thou art, thou ſhalt ſeeke out thy naturall inclination, thy conditions, qualities, and the courſe of thy life. In this ſorte doth Bernard beginne a briefe, apte, and an excellent entraunce into the moſt profitable pointes of Conſideration. Firſt, hee beginneth vvith that pointe of Conſideration vvhich concerneth the Knowledge of thy ſelfe, being the beginning of all true knowledge, and without this no knowledge or conſideration can profit thee, be it of matters never ſo exquiſite, or of myſteries never ſo high. For as it doth concerne every man to learne what is done at home, before hee goe abroad: ſo doth it behoue him to knovve himſelfe, before hee looke into others. It is true that many men ſeeme to knovve many thinges, and yet, not knowing themſelues, they knovve nothing at all: or at leaſt, they knovve nothinge in that, which doth moſt availe them.

Concerning theſe circumſtances of Conſideration, Chryſoſtome goeth ſomewhat farther in wordes, though not much farther in effect, then Bernard doth. He ſaith, that it doth behooue euerte vviſe man to conſider vvhat himſelfe is, vvhat is vvithin him, vvhat is belovve him, vvhat is aboue him, vvhat is againſt him, what is before him, and what is after him: all which Conſiderations (ſaith Chryſoſtome) bring forth a fowre-folde fruite: as; Profite to thy ſelfe, Charity tovvardes thy neighbours, Contempt of the worlde, and the loue of God. This diviſion though it differ ſome what in wordes from the former, yet it is the ſame in ſubſtance and effect.

CHAP. 4. The Conſideration of thy ſelfe what thou are in thy Creation.

IT is neceſſary to proſecute the firſt diviſion of the pointes of Conſideration, laid downe by Bernard, ſome what more particularly then he did, becauſe he applyed all his exhortations therein vnto the perſon and profeſſion of Eugenius, then Pope of Rome, as particular inſtructions for his place & calling. Therfore it were not amiſſe in this our Conſideration of humane cō dition, to amplifie ſomewhat on the condition of humane eſtate in generall, and of every kinde of eſtate in particular (as neere as we may) without offence of any, and yet for the inſtruction of all: obſerving ſtill and ſtrictly thoſe members of diviſion, which this learned Father hath laide down, to direct vs vnto the perfecteſt pointes of Conſideration. To this purpoſe it behoveth to begin with the Creation of man, wherein we may conſider what he is: vvhereof, if any doe aske the Philoſophers, they wil deliver divers contrary opinions: And to beginne with Anaximander hee alleadged, that man was firſt made of the earth and of vvater, vvhich tvvo Elements (as hee affirmed) were tempered and ſhaped vvith the heate of the ſunne. Then Empedocles conceived that all the members of man vvere made of the earth, and that all the other Elements (as hee coniectured) did concurre to frame and faſhion the ſame: as the fire to giue heate, the vvater to yeelde moiſture, and the aire to ſende ſpirit vnto the reſt. But omitting all vaine coniectures, & ſuch like fabulous inventions of Prometheus fire, Deucalions ſtones, vvhich the Poets fained to bee the cauſes, or the cauſers of mans Creation: let vs levell firſt (in the conſideration of mans Creation) vvith the more certaine groundes of Philoſophy in this point, and then conclude with the vndoubted verity of the ſacred hiſtory.

Some Philoſophers doe define Creation to be a proceſſe or a progreſſion from that which was not, to that which is: or elſe, from nothing, to ſomething; when as yet there were no matter to bee preſuppoſed out of which it might be made. This opinion, as it is contrary to that of other Philoſophers, which ſaid that, 1. Phyſ. c. 4. Ex nihilo nihil fit; that is, of nothing, nothing is made: ſo it draweth neareſt to the truth, and agreeth beſt vvith the infallible authority of the holy Scripture, vvhich ſaith that the world was made of nothing, Gen. 1.1. Eccl. 10.9.12. Wiſd. 11.14 by the word of the ever-living worde, vvithout any other foreknowne matter ſaue only Gods word, his vvill, and his vviſedome: and of this nothing (made ſomething) was man at the firſt created, as holy writte doth teſtifie: for hee was made of no other moulde then of the duſt of the earth, a weake and ſlender beginning for a high and hauty minde, but moſt fit, to ſet forth the great might, of the almighty Creator.

CHAP. 5. The Conſideration of thy ſelfe what thou art in thy Conception, and naturall Conſtitution.

THe next Conſideration after thy Creation, is, the Conſideration of thy Conception, and of thy naturall Procreation, and Conſtitution of body: wherein, if thou wilt know vvhat thou art: firſt conſider that by the fall of thy firſt Parents (who were purely Created without any Corruption) their diſobeying of their Creators commaundement, cauſed the curſe to fall on them, & on their poſterity: whereby not only they but, for their ſake, the earth & all other creatures were ſubiect to the curſe, ſo that of a pure Creation (by mans tranſgreſſion) became an vnpure Generation. And that thou maieſt farther conſider what thou art in this kind of generation (or as we cal it Conception) learne that generation is a beginning to be that, which it was not, but by vvay of mutation of one forme into another.

Now to come more neere vnto the Conſideratiō of thy ſelfe what thou art in this thy Generatiō or Procreatiō; if one ſhould aske thee, how thou waſt conceived? and how thou cameſt into the world? thou wilt (it may be) anſwere, even as other men did, & do: I was begotten of my father, & borne of my mother. Yea but how is that? not to rip vp the ſecrets of nature (for that wold rather ſavour of immodeſty, then farther thee in the due Conſideration of thy ſelfe what thou art:) thou maiſt know that thou hadſt but a meane beginning of Conception (be thy birth never ſo great) and know thou, that thou haddeſt no other meanes of Procreation, then the meaneſt man living, for thou waſt (whatſoeuer thou art) conceived without honour, delivered with vvo, & that with the great danger of her, that brought thee into the world: ſo that, though we omit the manner of thy firſt fourming in thy mothers womb (where of thou oughteſt to take no pride) yet Plinie the moſt excellent naturall Philoſopher,Plin. natur. hiſt. lib. 7. and moſt exquiſite Secretary of natures workes, will tell thee; that beaſts are not bound in chaines, when they are borne, but thou man art moſt vnhappily borne with thy hands and thy feete bound, beginning the world with puniſhment: O madneſſe of man (ſaith he) thinking that of theſe beginnings he is borne to be prowde, when as the firſt hope of ſtrength, and the firſt, gift of time maketh him like to a fowre feoted beaſt: for hee is forced on his armes and legges, being not otherwiſe able to ſtande or goe: This ſaith Plinie of thy birth. But if thou wilt enter farther into Conſideration of thy naturall Conſtitutiō of body after thou art borne, thou ſhalt finde that as thou arte borne naked, ſo thou doſt ſtil of thy ſelfe remaine naked, having by nature no other covering or any defenſe ſaue only thy bare body, but that thou doſt borrow helps of other creatures, which thou accoumpteſt but as baſe and vile: for thou cloatheſt & keepeſt thy ſelfe warme with garmentes made of wooll, being but the covering of ſilly ſheepe: with skinnes, the naturall garments of bruit beaſts: thou deckeſt thy ſelfe with ſilke, being but the excrements of poore wormes; with flowres, being but the overgrovving of vvilde fields: vvith ſtones, being but the of-ſcowring of the earth, of the ſea, and of rockes: all which the needy naked man doth borrow of beaſts, and of other creatures, to cover, to maintaine, & to adorne his weake and al wanting body. But thou, not being content to vſe the helpe of thoſe naturall creatures for the ſupply of thy natural defects, doſt yet therwith take occaſion to grovv provvde; like the begger, vvho having borrowed a new coate, ſhould therewith preſently fal into liking of himſelfe & ſcorne al the reſt of his fellowe beggers. So doth the naked vnconſiderat man borrow of birds, feathers; of beaſts, skins, wooll, vvith other coverings; of both birds and beaſts, the fleſh to feed him; he borroweth ſavours & ornaments of flowres; of fruits, ſuſtenāce; of thoſe things which come out of the earth, beauty &c. And having al theſe helpes not of himſelfe, but of other creatures, he vſeth them as inſtrumēts to increaſe his pride, rather then to ſuſtaine his neceſſities. This might ſerue in the Conſideratiō of thy ſelfe, vvhat thou art according to thy naturall Conſtitution of birth and of body, to teach thee hovv vveake, and hovv vnprovided, how meane, and how needy thou art by nature: vvhereby thou maieſt profitably learne humiliation, and to abate that provvde conceite, vvhich good ſucceſſe and proſperity might plant in thee.

CHAP. 6. The Conſideration of thy ſelfe what thou art in the fruition of this ſhort and vncertaine life.

AFter thy birth & conſtitution of body, the Conſideration of this lifes fruitiō craveth place: wherin if thou wilt know, what thou art, conſider firſt how ſhort this life is. Touching this it is true, which one ſaith, that nothing doth deceiue men ſo much, as that they are ignorant how ſhorte a space they haue to liue, and therefore doe alwaies promiſe vnto themſelues a longer time to liue. And as an vnſeaſonable yeare doth either parch the leaues of trees by reaſon of exceſſiue heate and drought, ſo that they wither and fall away, or by extreame colde are conſumed, or by bluſtering ſtormes are blowen of: ſo doth any extraordinary diſtemperature either of heate or colde, drynes or moiſture deſtroy, or at the leaſt indaunger the life of man. And if thou doubt heereof, the Phyſitions will tell their opinions plainely, that there are foure faculties by which the life of man is maintained, and that if any of theſe foure faculties doe miſſe his force and operation, then mans life preſently periſheth. The firſt, is the Attractiue facultie, by which the nouriſhment is drawen into the partes nouriſhed: that conſiſteth of heate and drines: and if any of theſe two doe abounde or be deficient, then preſentely the Attractiue looſeth his office, and the life of man is mightely indaungered.

The ſecond faculty is the Retentiue,whereby the nouriſhment attracted is retained vntill it be digeſted: this conſiſteth of cold and drines; and if either of theſe qualities be not alwaies rightly proportioned, the Retentiue faculty faileth of his force, and then the life of man is likewiſe in perill.

The third is the Digeſtiue faculty,by which the attractiue and the retained nouriſhment is digeſted: this conſiſteth of heate and moiſture, the which two qualities, if they be not well conditioned, then alſo the life of man cannot long continue.

The fourth is the Expulſiue faculty,by which all ſuperfluities are eiected: this conſiſteth of colde and moiſture, which if they be not moderately mixed, then the expulſiue faculty cannot performe his force, and ſo the excreaments which ſhould be expelled, doe turne into inward corruption, whereby the life of man is ſoone cut of.

Laſtly if any of theſe foure faculties haue not his due effect, then the ſtomacke (in which is the Nutritiue appetite) doth decay: or the liueor, in which the ſubtile matter is ſeperated from the groſſe, is defectiue: or the members to be nouriſhed, are not nouriſhed by way of the vaines, through the which humor and moiſture are conveyed: or the arteries, by which the vitall ſpirites are led. In all this it doth appeare how ſhorte the life of man is, and how ſoone it is cut of by ſickneſſe, beſides many other (almoſt innumerable) meanes, which are inſtrumentes to ſhorten his life. If then there be ſo many meanes to indāmage and indaunger mans life, and ſo fewe to preſerue it, howe can there be any reckoning made of the length of it? but that with the Princely Prophet and Propheticall Prince King David it may be deemed to be but as a ſpanne lōg; or,Pſal. 59.6. Pſal. 90.9. like to a tale which is told, and ſuddainly ended; to a bubble vpon the water ſoone broken; to a miſte, which quickly vaniſheth; to a ſhippe, which ſaileth ſo ſpeedely, thaa it cannot be ſeene which way it wente; and to an arrow, or a birde flying in the aire. Many ſuch ſharpe ſimilitudes haue beene ſet downe by them, that haue duly conſidered the ſhortnes of mans life. And ſurely though ſome liue a little longer then other, and moſt men doe hope or at leaſt desire to liue long: yet every man doth ſee that hee which liueth longeſt, doth but borrow (as it were) a ſmall time of his fellowes, and in that little time, that he liueth longer then others, he ſtill haſteneth vnto his end: for as a man, which is in a ſhippe ſailing on the ſeas, whither he ſitte, ſtande, or walke, the ſhippe ſtill goeth on her way, and he that is in her, goeth with her: ſo man howſoever he be buſied in this worlde, whether idle or occupied, whether aſleepe or awaking, time paſſeth away, and his life in, and with time, yea even in a moment of time is cutte of. For if the longeſt liuer in the world be asked how long he eſteemeth the time, or how ſoone it is paſt ſince he was borne, hee will aunſwere it ſeemeth vnto him but as yeſterday: except it be one, whoſe life hath bene full of miſeries, to him (perchaunce) every day will ſeeme a moonth, and every moonth a yeare,Pſal. 90.10. and the time to longe that he hath liued, David the Prophet telleth vs that the age of man is three ſcore yeares and ten, and if hee liue anie longer, it is rather to bee reckoned a vexation, then a life: this is a ſhort time, for a man to liue no longer, and yet if every one might attaine to theſe yeares, the life of man might be ſaid to be of ſome length. But if it were poſſible to record the yeares of every man that dieth, we ſhould finde in that large Regiſter of mens liues, that where one man ariueth to the age of threeſcore yeares end ten, there are a hundreth which doe not ſee halfe ſo many: there dye many moe in their infancy, then in their ripe yeares; & moe in youth, then in olde age: all which ſheweth how ſhorte this life is, and what thou art in the Fruition thereof. Adde vnto this the Vncertainty thereof, wherein thou maieſt quickly conceiue how many and ſundry ſortes of caſualties thy life is ſubiect vnto, which makes that more vncertaine then the winde, that is, ever mutable and full of alteration. To confirme this, if wee ſhould goe about to reckon how many inſtruments death hath to bring every mans life to an vnexpected end, the beſt memory would rather faile to reckon vp the ſeveral engines that death vſeth to deſtroy mans life withall, then that death would want meanes to worke a ſodaine and an vncertaine end of mans life.

This may be prooved by diverſe examples of men of all degrees, ſortes, and conditions, whoe in their beſt ſtrength and chiefeſt time of their health and proſperity haue bene ſuddainly ſet vpon by the vncertaine executioners of death, when they leaſt ſuſpected them or thought thereof.Aul Ge Lib. 15. Cap. 20. As for example; The famous greeke Poet Euripides (being in good health) ſupped with Archelaus; after the which, as he returned home, when he thought himſelfe leaſt in daunger of death, he was ſodainly, and that on a trice, torne to pieces with dogges and ſo founde by triall, how vncertaine this life is.

Caeſar (who had paſt infinite perilles in the warres) was (by Brutus and Caſſius) ſlaine ſuddainly in the Senate houſe,Plutarch. in vita C. Caeſaris. where he thought his life to be moſt ſafe, and leaſt ſuſpected the daunger of death: ſo approuing (by his vntimely end) the vncertainty of every mans life. Q. Curtius writting the hiſtory of Alexander the great, reporteth that whē he had conquered the world and death to, as it ſeemed to himſelfe, he was, comming to Babylon, caught ſuddainly by death, and made to know and confeſſe that vncertaine is the life of man: though he were ſo great a monarch. T. Hoſtilius, the third King of Rome, Plutarch in vita Numae. vvhen he ſuppoſed himſelfe ſafeſt and freeſt from deathes darte, vvas ſtrictken on the ſoddaine with a thunder bolte, and his houſe burn to aſhes with the lightening. Tarquinius Prtſcus alſo the 5. King of Rome was, ſitting at dinner, (when he leaſt dreamed of death) choaked with the boane of a fiſh, and died thereof that night: all which may well witneſſe how ſhorte, and howe vncerteine the life of mā is. The Poets haue preatily fained that there are three ſiſters, whome Seneca called the Deſtinies, Cic. Lib. de natura deor. and Cicero ſuppoſed to be the daughters of Herebus and Nox, whome they affirme to be very much buſied about the life of man: their names are Clotho, Clotho colū geſtat, Lacheſis irahit, Atropos occai. Lacheſis, and Atropos: the firſt doth weaue the threede of life, the ſecond doth lengthen it a little, and the laſt doth cleane cut it of: but the laſt of the three hath the quickeſt hande in her woorkes; for vvhat the other two doe frame for a time, that ſhe doth vndoe in the moment of time: and the threede of life, though it ſhould bee ſomewhat longe in ſpinning, yet it is cut of in the twinckling of an eie, and vvhen vve thinke it is ſtron. geſt, then commeth Atropos vnawares to perfourme and playe her parte. Death hath alſo three principall ſervauntes, vvhich he imployeth much, and often about this buſines, and they as diligently put in execution and perfourme what he commaundeth for the ſhortening and ſoone cutting of, of the life of man, vvhoſe names (as caſualty, infirmity, and olde age) gaue ſufficient proofe and teſtimony that ſhorte oftentimes, and moſt vncertaine is the life of man, & what accoumpt we ſhould make of it, and what man is in the fruition thereof.

CHAP. 7. The Conſideration vvhat thou art in the fruition of ſo painfull a life.

THis Conſideratiō concerning mans life, is of the grievous paines & miſerable torments, which very often and moſt commonly do accompany thy ſelfe: as, Sicknes in thy body, Sorovves and paſſions of the minds, the Vakndneſſe of friendes, the Envie of enemies, the Deceipte of flatterers, and other vvorldely Miſhappes, vvhich breede ſuch multitudes of miſeries, as are almoſt vnpoſſible to bee named, and very harde and painfull with patience to be endured.

And firſt for the grievous paines that Sickneſſe breedeth and bringeth vnto the body, we ſee, and daily experience telleth vs, that many men are ſo tormented therewith, that their whole life from the cradle to the graue is but the drawing of an everfainting breath, and (as it were) a lingring death, or rather a painfull life, more grievous then death it ſelfe. As the fiſh Clupea (which when the moone increaſeth, is white, and when it doth decreaſe, becommeth blacke, grovving to any greatneſſe, killeth himſelfe for the paines of thoſe prickles, that come out of his owne ſides; ſo men poſſeſſed and payed with ſicknes doe chaunge both colour and complexion as Clupea doth, or as the moone waxeth and waneth: and vvhen they grovv to any yeares, the prickles of their paines is the cauſe of their death. If vve ſhoulde ſeeke for examples to ſhewe how that many men haue beene mightily tormented with ſickneſſe, vve might eaſily find & ſee an endles ſea of inſtaunces to confirme this concluſion, wherein we vvill not wade much to wearie the Reader, but rather referre him to conſider of the cruell experiment that poore miſerable men doe make thereof, who pining with continuall ſickneſſe languiſh all their liues long from their mothers breaſtes till they bee borne of foure, and brought to their laſt and longe home: onely, and for a taſte herein, I will ſet before him a fevve (of many) ſuch examples as the holy ſcriptures offer vnto vs. Mephiboſheth the ſonne of Ionathan, 2. Sam 4.4. Math. 9. the ſonne of Saule, was lame of both his legges, and ledde a lingring languiſhing life all his daies. Iïrus daughter vvaſted vvith ſickneſſe, and the vvoman of Canaans daughter vexed with a Devill, had ended their daies vvith dolour and griefe, if CHRIST, at the humble ſuite and petition of their parentes,Mar. 5. had not ſhewed mercy vnto both. Marke maketh mention of a miſerable vvoman, vvhoſe body with ſickeneſſe vvas vvonderfully vveakened, and vvhoſe wealth vvith Phiſitians vvas vvaſted, her iſſue of blood continually increaſing, ſo that in twealue yeares ſhe never had eaſe one day. What what ſhall I ſpeake of that woman, whome her infirmities had bowed togeather? and of whome Chriſt ſaide,Luc. 13. that Satan had bounde her for eighteene yeares.Ioh. 5.1. The poore man that laye at the poole of Betheſda keapt his bedde eight and thirty yeares not able to helpe himſelfe till Chriſt healped him. The ſame vvas the ſtate of Agbarus King of Edeſſa, Euſeb. Lih. 1. Cap. 14. of vvhome Euſebius maketh mention: it vvere to longe, and an infinite laboure for me to lay dovvne all that might be remembred to this purpoſe: let him that would knowe more, aske the Phiſitian how many ſundry ſortes of diſeaſes he ſeemeth to knovve, though he ſeldome cureth moſt of them, all which are ordained for the puniſhment of ſinners,Iob. 1. and are inflicted vpon miſerable men in all ages. Onely I will ende with poore and patient Iob whoſe life during his triall was much more grievous then death, whoſe children were deſtroyed ſuddainly, whoſe, goods were taken from him violently, whoſe body was diſeaſed ſtraungly, whoſe wife vpbraided him wickedly, whoſe friends rebuked him ſharply; what greater Croſſe could be laid on man? bereaſt of childrē,chap. 2. ſpoiled of goods, abuſed by his wife, condemned by his friends, ſore in body, ſicke in mind, what miſery may be compared here with? was it any marvaile that he deſired his death,Cap. 10.18. or rather that he had never beene borne?

Now, how painfull the life of man is, which is ſubiect vnto ſo much ſorow, we may perceiue it by the viſage, and ſee it in the eſtate of their bodies who are overwhealmed therewith. For moſt commonly their bones are dried vp, and their bodies ther by made like vnto an anatomy: whereof grewe that olde Adage, vvhich adviſeth a man not to eate vp his hearte, ſignifying that ſuch as are troubled vvith much sorovve, conſume avvay, even as if they had eaten vp their owne heartes, and end their liues with ſupping vp that ſowre potion. Hovv painfull mans life is, that is poſſeſſed vvith ſorovve, may well bee perceiued, and that everie man hath his parte thereof, is pregnant to be proued, for that is true which the Poet teſtifieth thereof, ſpeaking to man thus: Quocun que aspiceres, gemitus, luctuſ que ſonabant: Forma que non taciti funeris intus erat. that is, Which way ſo-e're thou looke about, There ſighes and ſobbes doe ſound: It is no ſilent burials ſhape, That in thy ſelfe was found. Theſe verſes doe well declare hovv that mans life is full fraught with cares & ſorrowes. Care men haue to preuent perils as they are comming towardes them, and they ſorrow when they ſee that they cannot overcome thoſe, which are already befallen them: ſo that ſorrow ſitteth (as it were) on euery ſide, and at every hand, before and behinde man; whereby his life is environed with perpetuall paines.

And as for the paines, or deadly tormentes rather, that by meanes of externall evils (as, the vnkindneſſe of friendes, the envie of enemies, and, the deceipte of flatterers) doe inſeparably accompany mans life, they are to too well knowne to euery man both in their owne particular experience, and alſo in the examples of others. For the firſt, it is moſt true, and not doubted of by any, that the greateſt calamity that can happen to a man, and may moſt grieue & moleſt a faithful friend, is to be vnfaithfully dealt withall by him, whom he accompted and eſteemed for his beſt friend: this made the poore Poet thus pittifully to complaine of his friendes vnfaithfulneſſe, Omnia iam fient, fieri quae poſſe negabam, Et nil eſt de que non ſit habenda fides: Hac ego vaticinor, quia ſum deceptus ab illo Laturum miſero quem mihirebar opem. that is, All things ſhal be, which once I deem'd could ne're be done: And nought there is, to which my faith ſhal not be wonne. This I foretell, becauſe I was deceiu'd by him, Who vnto me I thought would ſuccour bring.

By this it ſhoulde ſeeme that the poore miſerable baniſhed Poet felte nothing more grievous amiddeſt all his miſeries in his exile, then the deceipte of his reputed friende: vvhereby alſo this is made manifeſte, that greate is the griefe, and much is the paine that falſhoode in friendſhippe procureth a man.

The painefull tormente that an envious enemy worketh a man is little inferiour, nay rather it equalleth the former. For this adverſary, ſet on rage, and inflamed vvith ire,T. Liuius. is reſolued (as an vnextinguiſhable fire) to conſume the life, the honour and the whole eſtate of him that is envied: and vvho is hee that is truely vertuous vvhich is not ſubiect to envies iavves?Val. Max. Lib 4. Tit. de amicit. Xen. in Paed. Cyri. l. i. And as Xenophon ſaith, hee is in verie evill caſe whome no man envieth: neither coulde hee in his daies remember any vertuous man that was not cruelly ſtunge vvith this poyſoned and moſt venemous ſerpent: vvhereby wee may vvell note hovve that mans life is much tormented with envie.

Laſtly, of the deceite of flatterers, hew farre forth it tormenteth mans minde, this at the firſt is not ſeene of moſt men, but lyeth hidde as a padde in the ſtravve. For the flatterer covereth his knavery vvith the cloake of good counſell; and ſhaddovveth his ſubtile deviſe by ſoothing and ſmoothing of him, vvhome hee is aboute to deceiue, euermore prayſing and commending his actions, howe euill ſoeuer; and diſpraiſing the vvorkes and deedes of others, hovve good ſoeuer; as hee findeth his humor, and may beſt feede the fantaſie of him that he followeth, vntill hee haue vvonne him to vvorke his owne woe, and in the end brought him to the deepe dungeon of vtter deſtruction: then (but commonly to late) men repent them that euer they knewe ſuch companions: and are vveary of them, when they perceiue howe that they haue broughte them ſorrowe, ſhame, and confuſion, to vexe, grieue and torment their mindes continually and as long as they haue daies to liue: neither is this the leaſt adverſary, though laſt ſet downe heere, that troubleth and diſquieteth the life of man.

By theſe and ſuch other meanes, more then can vvell be manifeſted, to mans life (fraught with anguiſh and paine) is made ſo loathſome vnto himſelfe,1. Kin. 19.4. that vvho is he vvhich with Elyas doth not wiſh to die, & confeſſe that he is not better then his fathers: whoſe bodies be at reſt, as he vvould be? and ſaith not vvith Paule: Cupio diſſolui, Phil. 1.23. & eſſe cum Chriſto, I deſire to be diſſolved and to be vvith Chriſt? For that vvere to a Chriſtian heart advantage in deed. By the rules of Chriſtianity vvee ſhould learne truely to be contented vvith all croſſes and calamities vvhich happen vnto vs in the courſe of this life; yet our natural corruption is ſuch, as it vvill not ſuffer vs to indure troubles vvith patience. This, that hath beene ſaid, may in ſome ſort ſuffice to ſhevv (though not fully and perfectly) hovv paineful, hovv tormenting, and hovv ful of cares the courſe of this life is: & ſerveth fitly to ſtirre and mooue thee to conſider and vveigh vvell vvith thy ſelfe vvhat thou art in enioying of ſo ſhort, ſo vncertaine, & ſo painefull a life, as this is.

CHAP. 8. The Conſideration what thou arte in thy death, and manner of dying.

THe laſt Conſideration of this firſt part, is; concerning thy death: vve meane not here to diſcourſe, but curſorilie, of the difference betvveene corporall and spirituall, temporall and eternall death, beſt beſeeming the pens and paines of great and graue Divines, but only to ſpeake of the death of the body moſt familiar and beſt knowne to all men. It is an old ſaying & very true: that as ſure as man is borne, ſo ſure he is to die. Some ſaid that death is three folde, but rather might haue ſaid, and that more ſoundly, and more truely, that it hath three degrees: the firſt Naturall, the ſecond Criminall, the thirde Iudiciall. For the firſt, vvhich is Naturall or the diſſolution of nature, this (as is ſaid before) as it is common to all men, and no man is exempted from it, ſo it hath in it many things ſeeming very fearefull, and procuring much amazement, vvhich yet ought not to bee feared at all: as vvhen death dravveth neere (ſending before him his habinger Sicknes) he preſenteth vnto the ſicke man a gaſtfull countenance, and leane bones vvithout fleſh: yea hee doth offer to his remembraunce the loſſe of all his goods and honors, his departure from his friendes, the ſequeſtring of his ſoule from his body, and the ſeperating of himſelfe from the vvorld & from all things in the vvorld, hovv deare and delightfull ſoeuer vnto him: vvhereby the ſenſes are all over-loaden and burthened vvith ſorrovv; according to the ſaying of the Poet: Mille modis lethi miſeros mors vnafatigat. that is, A thouſand kindes of deathes and moe, Death hath at hand, to vvorke mansvvoe. All vvhich, behelde of the meere naturall man in the grimme viſage of death (as it vvere in a looking glaſſe) ſeeme very dread full; but of theſe chiefely, the loue of this life maketh him moſt of all to feare death, and yet to him that is truly vviſe the ſadde ſight of death yeeldeth no ſuch hideous aſpect or diſcontentment, but rather mooueth him to remember and make good vſe of that excellent ſaying of Seneca: Sen. epiſt. 62. Before olde age I had care to liue vvell, that I might in olde age die well, that is vvillingly. For to die vvillingly, is to die vvell: vvhich if a man vvould conſider and put in practiſe, then needed he not to feare this naturall death of the body. Full vvell ſaid the Heathen Philoſopher,Cice. in ſom Scip. that vnleſſe God ſhould free man from the keepers (or from that priſon) of the body, there could be no paſſage into heauē. Though death doe diſſolue this temporall and momentary life frō the body; yet if a good death follow a good life, it addeth a longer life vnto this temporall and tranſitory life, and it taketh away all cares and calamities from the body and life of man, in ſo much that ſuch a death may aptly be called the end of labours, the conſervation of victory, the gates of life, and the entraunce into euerlaſting felicity. Thus may the vertuous, diſcreete, and conſiderate man learne to know what he is concerning the firſt degree of death, vvhich we cal naturall, or the diſſolution of nature. As touching the ſecond degree of death, vvhich vvee call Criminall, or the death of offence, this vnto many men ſeemeth nothing fearfull, although it ought more to bee feared then the firſt. The firſt degree of Naturall death every man muſt yeelde vnto, and paye vndoubtedly as a due debte to Nature, or rather to the Creator of Natures vvorkes: but the ſeconde degree of death, vvhich is the death of offence, as it begonne and brought in that firſt death vvhich vvee tearme Naturall; ſo is it, or it ought to be much more feared then the ſame. For one of the Fathers ſaith,Aug. ſup. Gen. that Adam and Eue beganne to dye in the ſame day that they did receiue the lavve of death; that is vvhen they offended firſt, and that by one mans offence, death came vnto all men. This death of offence vvhich is cauſe firſt of the Naturall, then of the Iudiciall death, ought therefore moſt of all to be feared; yet wee ſee, and that to to commonly, hovve men make ſmall reckoning of this death and doe leaſt dreade it, elſe vvoulde they not be ſo proane and ready to runne on head-long, and to committe thoſe offences, that doe procure death, and perpetuall deſtruction. This death of offence, or the offence it ſelfe, vvhich cauſeth death, ought to be very much feared. For though men, while they liue, doe lightly and little regard it; yet it bringeth with it to torment them (vvhen they are a dying) ſhame horrour and confuſion.

The laſt degree of death,or the laſt effect of it, is the death of Iudgment: this hath three ſtepps or ſtaires by which it mounteth either to eternal happines, or elſe deſcendeth vnto endleſſe paines and torments. For Iudgment is ſaide to be of three ſortes: the firſt is of our ſelues; the ſeconde is of men; and the third is of, or, by the Creator of man. For the firſt Iudgment of our ſelues concerning our deathes and of our deſertes of death, this is invvarde and contained in the Conſcience of everie man, vvhich Conſcience vvhen it giueth iudgment againſt a man, it makes him feele the paines of death in life, and it figureth vnto him the perpetuall paines vvhich he ſhall endure after death. An heathen Philoſopher could ſay that a guilty conſcience is like to an vlcer in the body. Plut de animi tranquillitate. For it leaueth ſorrowe and griefe wounding him and feaſtering in his heart and minde continually. When reaſon can relieue the minde moued otherwiſe to ſadneſſe, nothing can eaſe the galling and torture of a guilty Conſcience;Ovid lib 1. de Ponto Eleg. 1. which cauſed the comfortleſſe Poet to confeſſe and ſay: Paenitet, o ſi quid miſerorum creditur vlli, Paenitet, et facto torqueor ipſe meo. that is, I doe repent, if any wretched wight, Might credit haue, or be beleud in this: It grieveth me, and galleth day and night My woefull hearte, that I haue done amiſſe. This is the fruite, and onely eaſe I finde, A guilty deede, yealde to a galled minde. Therefore this Iudgment of our ſelues in our owne conſciences, that we haue not onely deſerued this temporall but an eternall death, is (without it be eaſed by perfect Penitence) a double death vnto vs.

The ſecond ſteppe of ludgment, is the Iudgement of men: whereon death alſo doth depend. As the iudgmēt of our ſelues is internall, and in our owne conſciences: ſo the iudgment of men is externall, depending vpon exteriour proofes & probabilities, whereby they giue their iudgment of life and death. And although that the iudgment of men, be not alvvaies true in their difinitiue ſentence, and decree of men, howe they haue deſerved either to liue or dye; becauſe that they which are the ludges, whither with authority or without, may miſtake the lawes by the which they iudge: or elſe thoſe, that produce proofes vnto them, may either wilfully or ignorantly miſinforme and miſguide them: yet it behoueth every wiſe man diſcreetly to ſubmitte himſelfe vnto that ſentence of the Law, which limitteth vnto him either life or death.Demosth. Con And For as the excellent Orator affirmed, it is not lawfull to maligne magiſtrates though they be wicked & evill: the reaſon thereof is, becauſe that they, vvhen they do giue iudgment of life and death, are the ſubſtitutes of him, vvho is the author of life and death. And, if thou vvilt dye vvell, avoide and eſchevve all evill deedes, vvhich are the occaſions of this iudgement of men, vvhich deeme and iudge thee worthy of death. For this iudgment of death doth commonly follow the evill actions of a badde life.

The laſt ſteppe, in the laſt degree of death, vvhich is called the finall Iudgment, followeth death, at the latter daic, vvhen the vniverſall iudgment of mankinde ſhall bee, and either eternall life or eternall death inſueth. Of this I purpoſe to ſpeake but as an occurrent by the vvay. Then ſhall bee the beginning of glory to the good, and to the vvicked of ſhame and confuſion: then ſhall bee the ſeperation of the ſheepe from the goates, of the corne from the cockle; and of the bleſſed from the accurſed. After this, then they, that receiue the ſentence of life, ſhall never dye or feare death any more: and thoſe, vvhich are appointed to dye, can never hope for life againe: whatſoever ſome men haue dreamed of this matter, whereof we purpoſe not heere to intreate. This laſt degree of death, or difference betweene life and death, hath in it either much feare or much ioy: feare to the wicked in reſpect of former offences, but ioy vnto the faithfull in their hope of enioying future happineſſe, which followeth after a vertuous life and a godly end.Lactan. in divinis inſt. Lib. 6. cap. 4 And as Lactantius alleadgeth: if it be asked of vs, vvhyther death bee good or evill, vvee muſt aunſvvere, that this or that mans death is good or bad, as his life was either good or bad vvhich hee had lead before. For if thy life be good, then vvill thy death alſo be good vnto thee: but if thy life be evill, then likewiſe is death evill vnto thee.

The Concluſion of this firſt parte of the firſt pointe of Conſideration concerning thy ſelfe, Ʋ Ʋhat then arte.

BY this litle touch or light handling of Conſideration, herein (gentle Reader) tendered vnto thee, (if thou haſt read over the ſame with good regarde) thou maieſt thereby make ſome triall concerning the knovvledge of thy ſelfe, what thou arte in thy Creation, in thy Procreation and byr the, in thy Life, and in thy Death. All which, if thou doe well and adviſedly conſider, thou ſhalt finde that to be true,Bernardus. in ſenten which Bernard affirmeth, that man is ſicke of a threefolde malady; in the beginning, in the middle, and in the ending; that is, in his birth, in his life, and in his death. For his birth is vnpure, his life is perverſe, & his death daungerous. His birth it is vnpure, by reaſon of our firſt parents fall, and the daily offences of our naturall parents,Pſal. 51.5. which mooued the Pſalmiſt (well weighing it) to ſay that in ſinne hee vvas conceiued. His life is perverſe, becauſe that by nature he is proane to all evill actions. His death is daungerous, becauſe his life is vitious. There is in our birthe, a beginning of ſorrowe: there is in our liues, a continuance of the ſame: & there is in our deathes, either a diſſolution, or elſe a perpetuall poſſeſſion thereof.

The end of the firſt Section of the firſt parte of Conſideration.

The Conſideration THE SECOND SECTION OF the firſt part of the Conſideration of humane Condition.

CHAP. 1. The Conſideration of thy ſelfe, who thou art.

NOw having ſaid ſomewhat concerning the firſt part of the firſt point of the Cō ſideration of thy ſelfe, which is, What thou art: it is neceſſary that we proceed. farther to the ſeconde part of this firſt point of Conſideration; which is, Who thou art. The Conſideration whereof doth containe in it the remembrance & reknowledgement of thy parentage, linage, and deſcent: the knowledge of thy ſtate of body, of thy vvealth, calling, dignity and wiſedome. To the goodneſſe and greatneſſe of which giftes the Philoſophers in former times haue attribured a great part of mās felicity; calling Riches, Nobility, & Honors, the goods of fortune; Health, Strēgth & Beauty, they tearmed the goods of the body; Wiſedome, Learning and Vertue they eſteemed to be the goods of the Minde.

By the true Conſideration of thy ſelfe, vvho thou art in the poſſeſſion of theſe bleſſings, thou maieſt learne to know, that if thou haue any, or all of them, thou art yet no otherwiſe happy in them, then according as thou doeſt vſe them: for if it be true, that there is a difference betweene vſing and enjoying of thinges; in that wee are ſaide properly to vſe onely thoſe thinges that are temporall;Pet. Lumb. Lib. 1. and to emote thoſe thinges that are eternall: thou maieſt conſider that thy parentage, thy health, thy dignities, & thy wiſdome being things tēporal & tranſitory, are then only to be vſed of thee here for a time, & that but for very ſhort time; for thou maiſt by no means enioy thē alwaies. This, wel pō dered & thought vpon, will ſoone bring thee to the knowledge of thy ſelfe, Who thou art. For there is nothing that letteth and hindereth a man more from the knowledge of himſelfe, then the opinion and fonde conceipte he hath of the goodnes, greatnes, and durableneſſe of thoſe worldly bleſſings, which he doth poſſeſſe, and ſo entirely affect. Therefore to vveede out the over-weening opinion thereof, vvee vvill firſt beginne with thy linage and parentage, and ſo bring thee by little and little into the conſideration of thy ſelfe, vvho thou art. Art thou deſcended of a noble family, or of a baſe linage? if thou be noble borne, then commonly pride and preſumption catch holde and lay ſuch violent handes on thy vvill, thy affection, and thy vnderſtanding, that they can hardlie bee remooued from thee, till they haue remooued thee from the knowledge of thy ſelfe, who thou art. For thy preſumptuous pride and ſelfeliking affection will make thee beleeue that thou art much better, then indeed thou art. This makes men many times to meaſure their owne greatnes of birth as they doe their ſhadowes, vvhich alwaies ſeeme bigger then their bodies, and by degree it draweth them to beleeue that their birth and parentages are farre better then the birthes and parentages of any others are, or may be.

Q. Curt.As, Alexander the great, after he had obtained many & notable victories, could not then be cōtented to be called any longer the ſonne of Philip King of Macedon, but vvould needs bee accompted the ſonne of Iupiter Hammon, and ſo be deemed to haue beene deſcended from the Gods. Sabor King of Perſia called himſelfe King of Kings, partaker of the planets, Herodotus Lib. 2. H and, brother to the Sunne and Moone. Hanno the Carthaginian cauſed birdes to bee taken, and taught to ſay, Hanno is a God: which birdes were afterwarde caſt abroade in diverſe places, that they might publiſh this his feined Deitie vnto the people.

Even ſo commonly wee ſee that many of noble birthe and greate parentage perſvvade themſelues that they exceede all others in eſtimation of bloode and linage: vvhereas they mighte conſider vvith themſelues that howe noblye ſoeuer they are borne, their Nobility hath a beginning, not by their own, but by their Aunceſtors deſerts & vertues; wherfore if that there be not in them good partes and properties aunſwereable to the behaviour and good qualities of their Elders, and their owne birthes, then are they but a blemiſh to their Elders, and a ſtaine to their names, and honors. VVe ſee the faireſt and richeſt ſilkes, when once they receiue any blemiſh or ſtaine, they are more disfigured and in greater diſgrace then cloath, or other matter of leſſe moment and reckoning: even ſo is it in the eſtimation of Nobility. For a fault in a man of great birth and parentage is more noted, and breedeth vnto him greater diſgrace and diſhonour, then the ſame ſhould do vnto a man of leſſe and lower dignity. It is not inough to be borne of high bloude, without vertue aunſwerable to that birth: neither with reaſon may a noble man, becauſe he is honourably deſcended, challendge loue, eſtimation, and honour of the actions accompliſhed by his Aunceſtors, vnleſſe his owne carriage be correſpondent & aunſwerable to theirs,Sen. in Here. fur. and to his owne calling: for Seneca ſayeth, & that very truely, that, bee vvhich braggeth of his kindred, commendeth that which concerneth others. Ovid. lib. 13. Meta. And the Poet ſpeaking to the ſame purpoſe ſaide very well.

Nam genus, et proaves, et quae non fecimus ipſi, Ʋix ea noſtra voco. that is. What kindred did, or Elders ours, And what we haue not donne, I call not ours:it ſcarcely hath Vs any credit wonne.

This cauſed a Gentle man of great worth and worthines,S. Philip Sidney. as any that hath liued in our age, to adde this mote vnderneath his coate of armes: Ʋix ea noſtra voco. VVho although hee might moſt deſeruedly haue claimed vnto himſelfe as much honor as ever any of his Aunceſtors haue had, yet he would not appropriate their vertues (which could not be called his) vnto himſelfe: for he had rather gaine glory by his owne noble and worthy actes, then be accoumpted renowmed for the greatnes of his Aunceſtors, how neere and how deere ſoever vnto him. As his noble minde is worthy of memory in all ages, and his heroicall actes never to be committed to oblivion: ſo are they (which degenerate from their Elders, or doe diſgrace and diſhonor the honourable actions of their Aunceſtors) to be accoumpted worthy (if not of all ſhame) yet of a place in Lethes lake to lye in perpetually. Q. Pompeius Pretor of Rome did moſt ſtoutely and wiſely carry himſelfe, when he did interdict and diſhinherite the ſonne of Q. Fabius Max. from the vſe and benefit of all his fathers goods, becauſe he did degenerate from the vertues of his noble father, and ſpent that moſt luxuriouſly, which his father had moſt honorably gotten. There was a law amongſt the Rhodians, that what ſonne ſoever followed not the foot-ſteps of their fathers vertues ſhould be diſhinherited: which lawe if it were kept, & did continue in force amongſt vs this day, it would make many a ſonne goe without goods, and leaue his fathers liuing for others to inherite. For out daies make experience of that, which the Poet ſpake, and applied to former ages.

Aequat rara patrem ſoboles,Honter. ſed plurimi ab illis Degenerant, pauci ſuperant probitate parentem. Odyſſ. 1 that is, Fewe ſonnes are found of fathers mindes, Or equall them in vertues actes: The greateſt ſorte growe out of kinde; Who doth regard his fathers factes? Children ſeldome ſeeke indeede, Their ſires (in goodneſſe) to exceede.

Now againe on the other ſide, if thy birth and parentage bee meane, then moſt commonly art thou drawen to deſpaire of having any great advauncemēt, although thou doe deſerue it wel: for Envy alwaies followeth Vertue, and that moſt of all, when it is placed in one of meane Parentage. For vſually thoſe, that hold themſelues better in birth, will contemne and envy their inferiours in bloud, although they bee farre theyr ſuperiours in vertue and deſearte. But this ſhoulde not diſmaye him that deſerveth well, to expect the rewarde of his deſertes, how meane ſoever ever his birth be. For we finde it in experience true, and the examples are infinite, how men, whoſe parentes vvere meane and poore, haue (for good partes in them) bene preferred to very high and great dignity. As David, a ſhepheard, yet afterwardes annoynted King of Iſrael.Pſal. 78. Tamberlane the ſon of a poore ſhephearde in Scythia, and, as ſome ſay, a ſhephearde himſelfe, by his valoure and proweſſe became King of Perſia, and was a very mighty Monarch. The father of Sforce Duke of Millaine was a poore man, who liued by husbandrie in Catiniola, a ſmall towne or village ſituate neere vnto Ravenna: and yet his ſonne for his worth and worthynes ſo highly advaunced to ſo great a dignity. Many examples might be brought to the ſame purpoſe, of ſuch as in former times, yea and in this latter & more vngratefull age of the world haue gotten by their vertues great preferments & high advauncements, though their births haue bene but very baſe: of whome we omitte further to ſpeake, becauſe we purpoſe not to diſgrace or offend any, but rather to commend vertue, and to wiſh the advauncement thereof in al. Yet by the way of advice we could wiſh ſuch as be of meane parentage, & ſo preferred to high places, to beware of al ſwelling conceipte of pride, which to to often hath infected many.

And ſo if the noble borne haue care of his cariage, & avoide preſumption in the eſtimation of his honourable deſcent: & the meane man ſhun diſpaire or doubt of obteining advauncement by reaſon of his birth, and to lofty a conceipt in his proſperous eſtate, then ſhall either of them conſider well and wiſely who, and what he is in his deſcent, and by his parentage.

CHAP. 2. The Conſideration of thy ſelfe, vvho thou arte in the ſtate of thy body.

THE next Conſideration is of thy ſelfe vvho thou arte in the ſtate of thy bodie: wherein conſiſteth the eſtimation of thy health, of thy ſtrength and of thy beauty: in conſidering whereof thou ſhalt finde who thou arte in poſſeſſing health or ſickneſſe, ſtrength or weaknes, beauty or deformity, wherein if Nature hath beſtovved on thee her giftes liberally and friendlie, ſhee giveth thee no better gifte then the Poets faine that Paris gaue to Ʋenus, or the revvarde that hee received of her againe. For vvhen ſhee ſtroue with Iuno and Pallas for the golden ball, vvhich was to be given to her whom Paris deemed faireſt of the three; Paris beſtowed the ball on Ʋenus, and vvith al continuall contention with the other twaine: and ſhe rewarded him againe with Helen which was his vtter confuſion. This fable was not deviſed without very good ſignification and a certaine morall or meaning, vvhat moleſtations many times follovve the friendly courſe of Nature in them, that are healthy, ſtrong, and beautifull in body. For if thou haſt thy health, then thou art commonly careleſſe of thy diet, and ſo falleſt oft to ſurfette, or elſe to vſe ſome ſuch exerciſe. as may indaunger thy health. For hee that doubteth not of his health, dare eate of manie diſhes, and (as Seneca ſaith) eating of many meates bringes many diſeaſes: Sen. ad Luc. Ep. 99 Jd • m, Rhet. 10. and in an an other place, vvhatſoever (ſaith he) birdes doe flie, or fiſhes ſvvimme, or beaſtes doe runne, they are buried in our bellies. If thou aske (ſaith he) vvhy vvee dye ſo ſuddainely? it is becauſe vvee liue by the death of ſo many creatures: and they that haue moſt ſtrength, are moſt boldeſt to devoure moſt creatures, whereby moſt commonly they abate their health, and conſume that vvhich they woulde faineſt pamper and feede, even their bodies. The exerciſes alſo, vvhich ſtrong bodyed men are moſt giuen vnto, doe withdraw many times to to many of ſuch, from the better exerciſes of the minde. For ſeldome is it ſeene, that men of much might are much giuen to the ſtudy of liberal ſciēces, or the meditation of divine things: which moued Xenocrates to exhort men that they ſhould not exerciſe the body much without the minde, nor the minde altogether without the body; for the firſt beſt beſeemeth wraſtlers and ſuch rude people; the ſecond belongeth vnto Idle perſons; the firſt breedeth ſtrōg & ſturdy ignoraūce; the ſecōd begetteth ſtudious dulneſſe: but they that are apt and fit for beſt things, are indifferently exerciſed in both body and minde. For thoſe men, that haue ſtronge bodies, for the moſt part haue weake mindes, becauſe they ſo much exerciſe the ſtrength of their bodyes, that they ſeldome or never regarde the ſtudy of the minde:Sen. ep. 81. hovve vveake, ſayeth Seneca, are they in minde, vvhoſe ſtrength of body vvee doe much marvaile at? ſo that naturall ſtrength draweth on vnnaturall effectes, and defectes of thinges moſt to bee deſired to bee in men. If thou haue alſo beauty and comelineſſe of body, this bleſſing eftſoones maketh thee in the enioying thereof many times miſerable and infortunate. For it maketh provvde ſuch as enioy it, and provoketh others to vnlawfull luſtes and vvicked deſires, coveting the accompliſhment of their fleſhly appetites, and ſenſuall pleaſures, through the abuſe of others beauty, which is the nouriſher and procurer of pride, as the Poet telleth thee, when he ſaith:

Faſtus ineſt pulchris, Ovid faſt. 1. ſequitur que ſuperbia formam. which is, Diſdaine doth dwell in beauties bowre, And pride with beauty hath great powre.

It is to often tryed, that they, vvhich are by nature beautiful, make their external beauty of the body to be the betraier of the inwarde beauty of the minde: vvhereby vve ſee what inconveniences doe follovve the health, ſtrength, and beauty of the body.

Novv contraryvviſe, if thou art either naturally ſubiect to ſickneſſe, or accidentally weake; if thou art by nature, or by caſualty deformed, vvhat anguiſh, griefe, and tormentes of minde theſe defectes and blemiſhes doe bring vvith them, every one either feeleth and findeth in himſelfe, or at the leaſt may ſee and perceiue it in others. Therefore to temper thoſe intemperate affections, which vſually abounde in ſuch as abuſe the bleſſings of the body: and alſo to avoide the inconveniences, which doe purſue the vvants of thoſe naturall bleſſings of the body, thou oughteſt to conſſider, that if the Creator of natures vvroks hath beſtowed the bleſſinges of health, ſtrength, and beauty vppon thee, that hee beſtowed not them to that ende vpon thee, that thou ſhouldeſt grovv provvde of them, or abuſe thy body, or deviſe hovve to make others enamored vvith thy beauty, and the rather for it vnlavvfully to deſire thee. For thou haſte receiued theſe ſvveete bleſſings to another ende: euen that to the ableneſſe of thy body thou ſhouldeſt ioine the vvillingnes of thy minde, to doe thoſe comely and commendable deedes, vvhich doe beautifie both the body and the minde, and vvhich laſt longer then the ſoone-fading bloſſomes of beauty, the vveake and ever-ſlyding ſtaffe of ſtrength, and then thy health, vvhich is more vncertaine then all the reſt; for it is ſoone impaired and very quickly brought to vtter decaye. If then thy beauty fade, thy ſtrength faile, and thy health conſume and weare away; diſmay not thy ſelfe, but rather bee armed vvith patience. For as long as the minde is indued vvith reaſon, and good reſolution, no ſickneſſe or afflictions can bring the body ſo vveake, or ſo out of ſhape, but that a minde prepared vvith patience and directed by vertue may very vvell indure. Infirmities may bee a meane to ſubdue, or at leaſt to mooue vs to ſuſtaine ſtoutly all diſlikes and diſcontentmentes of ſuch defects and effects in nature. VVhich Conſideration (vvith the circumſtaunces of the ſame) concerning thy health and ſickneſſe, thy ſtrength and vveakeneſſe, thy beauty and deformity if thou beare alvvaies in thy minde, and make good vſe thereof, thou ſhalt conſider of thy ſelfe aright, and ſoone knovve what, and who thou arte in the ſtate of thy body.

CHAP. 3. The Conſideration of thy ſelfe vvhat, and vvho thou art in the ſtate of thy vvealth and riches.

THe Conſideration of thy vvealth & riches doth containe two circumſtaunces to be conceived of thee, and to be caried continually in thy remembrance. The firſt is of thy wealth and poſſeſſions, hovve thou haſte gotten them: the ſeconde is, hovv thou doeſt vſe them. For by theſe two courſes of getting & vſing thy wealth & goods, they are made either good or evill vnto thee. Sometimes men doe get their goods vvell, by honeſt and lavvfull meanes, yet may they vſe them evill: but they doe ſeldome, or almoſt neuer, that get their goods by evill meanes, turne their goods ſo gotten vnto good vſes.

Now firſt, for the obtaining and getting of riches vvhither it be by lawful, or by vnlawfull meanes: it is to be conſidered that if thou haſte riches, landes, or any kinde of liuelyhood, thou haſt either gotten it by inheritance, by gift, or by thine owne induſtry. If thy goods and poſſeſſions come vnto thee by inheritaunce, and that thou haſte ſufficient by thine aunceſtors to mainetaine thy eſtate, then, the more thou haſt the leſſe ſhoulde bee thy care and toyle in travailing to augment thine aboundaunce, ſeeing that by inheritaunce thou haſte ſufficient to ſuſtaine neceſsity, and to mainetaine thy calling: and yet this competency ſhoulde not breede a careleſneſſe in thee to preſerue that vnto thy poſterity, vvhich thy predeceſſours carefully procured for thee. But ſuch commonly is the condition of mans nature, that hee alvvaies doeth deſire an alteration of his eſtate, vvhich maketh him, that hath greate poſſeſsions left him by his parentes (not knowing or conſidering vvhat paines they vſed in the obtaining of it) to bee careleſſe hovve hee conſumeth it: hee having no experience hovve hardly it vvas had at the firſt, foreſeeth not hovve vneaſily it is recovered vvhen it is gone, or vvhat the lacke and loſſe of it is, vvhen it is miſpent. VVe ſee many times that a prodigall ſonne ſucceedeth a miſerable father: vvho, vvhen hee commeth to plenty (not by his ovvne, but by his parentes induſtrie) neuer ceaſeth to ſeeke meane, to ſpende that vvhich others haue gotten for him, being drawne by delighte to laviſh in expences, vvith a vaine opinion of getting fame, and procuring friendes, or other prefermentes by his liberalitie, as hee thinketh; but more truelie by his prodigalitie, as others doe thinke, and as himſelfe ſhall finde vvhen all is gone, and vvhen it is to late to grovve thriftie. The reaſon of this is, that thinges vvhich are hardly had, are ſought vvith greateſt deſire, and kepte vvith greateſt care: and on the contrary ſide, vve commonly ſee that when vvealth or almoſt any other vvorldly benefite is beſtowed on men freely, or that they obtaine it vvithout any great labour or difficultie, they then leaſt eſteeme it, and are ſooneſt vvonne to departe from it. Therefore to ſhunne both theſe extremities of prodigality, and miſery, in adminiſtring and beſtowing of thy goods and poſſeſsions, vvhich come to thee by inheritance, vſe this mediocrity, that plenty make thee not prodigall, nor poverty cauſe thee to be miſerable: the meane in this, as in other thinges (though it be harde to attaine vnto) is the ſafeſt and the profitableſt courſe, when it may be compaſſed and well kept: as the Poet ſaith.

Horat lib. 1. ſerm. ſa • . 1. Eſt modus in rebus, ſunt eerti deni que fines, Quos vltra citra que nequit conſiſtere rectum.

which is,

There is a golden meane in things, And certaine boundes are pight. Beyonde, beſide, or ſhort of which Cannot conſiſt the Right.

Then if a man grovv to wealth, or great living by other mens gifts, ſuch as were not his parents, or from whom he coulde not expect the ſame as an hereditary right; which happeneth diverſe times vnlooked for to many: wealth ſo obtained, worketh like effect as that doth, which is had by inheritaunce; that is, it maketh him that commeth ſo ſodainely and vvith ſo ſmall travaile to his aboundaunce, to take the leſſe care in keeping of it, or in ſpending it vvell; for ſuch a one commonly wil verifie the old proverbe, which ſaith, light come, light go: So did Caius Caligula, who conſumed great treaſures gathered togither by Tiberius the Emperour. For it is reported of him, that he ſpent ſeavē-ſcore thouſand Seſtertia in one yeare. So did Cleopatra the laſt Queene of Aegypt, who at a ſupper, which ſhe made to M. Antonius, putting an excellent pearle into tarte vineger, wherein being reſolued, dranke it, being eſteemed at Centies Seſteria which is of our money 50000.li.

Many ſuch we haue in theſe our daies bearing the like prodigall mindes, though they haue not the like meanes and abilitie: who are as ready to ſpend all their wealth, whither by gifte or by inheritance, yea and that as vainely as Heliogabalus, by wearing of precious ſtones in their ſhoes: or as Caeſar the ſonne of Pope Alexander the ſixt, who ſpent every day two hundred crownes in banquetting, maintained a multitude of paraſites, whome he fed and apparelled on his owne proper coſt, and keapt in pay eight thouſand ſouldiers continually: all which prodigally and vamely he ſpent and conſumed during his fathers daies. Haue not diverſe heires, and ſuch as haue large legacies in our daies, ſpente as laviſhly what they had, as their parents gotte the ſame wickedly? to whome may well be applied what the Poet writte of Canna, ſaying vnto him thus: Mart. epig. lib. 9. Nam tu (dum metuis, ne quid poſt fatarelinquas) Hauſiſti patrias luxurioſus opes. which is Thou haſt conſum'de thy fathers wealth, To feede thy luſtfull minde: For feare leaſt thou ſhouldſt after death, Leaue ought of it behinde.

Now touching the getting and ſpending of thoſe poſſeſſions, which doe accrue vnto thee by thine owne paines and induſtry: the goods ſo gotten, as they are obtained by thine owne indevours, ſo Deſire was the mother, Paines the father, and Care the nurſe of the new-borne babe, Wealth: which many times maketh ſuch as brought forth and nouriſhed ſo vnnaturall a childe, like vnto the viper, which with the birth of her owne younge ones, is alwaies bereaved of her owne life. Therfore in the getting and vſing of thy riches and wealth remember theſe rules, that the goods, which are evill gotten, doe not bring ſo much preſent profitte, pleaſure, and proſperity, as they doe cauſe future daungers,Ambr. ſup. Luc. Lib. 8. and yet the fault is not in the wealth, but in them, that haue wrongfully gotten it, or in them, that cannot vſe their wealth well. For that is true, which one ſaith,Oſorius. that by how much the more any thing is in his owne nature excellent, by ſo much the more is the abuſe therof pernicious and daungerous. So it is not the lawful vſe, but the vnlawfull abuſe of riches & wealth, that is alwaies condemned. Neither are the opinions of Crates, Antiſthenes, and other Philoſophers of their iudgment, good and to be followed therein, who would not haue any wealth (but gaue away their goods) thinking that they would be hinderances to their deſired happines: wherein they were deceiued, ſeeing that riches in themſelues are neither good nor evill, but become ſuch, as they are vſed: good to the good, and badde to the evill and wicked:Ambr, vt Sup. to the good they are good helpes to vertue and to vertuous actions: to the badde they are goades to pricke forwarde, and ſupporters to mainetaine all evill and vvicked actions: they make not a man the better that hath them, except they be well vſed, more then a golden bitte makes a horſe the better that beareth it: and to vſe them well is to enioy them: as to vſe them evil, is to abuſe them. The good or evill vſe of them alſo conſiſteth in the eſtimation that we make of the ſame. For if we growe once into to great a liking and loue of our goods, then they ſteale away the heart of him, that hath them, and make him a ſlaue to his owne ſubſtaunce, according to that which the Poet ſaith: Ovid. fact. 1 Creverunt et opes, et opum furioſa cupido, Et cum poſſideant plurima, plura petunt. That is, As riches doth increaſe with men, So furiouſely they rage: Still crauing more, the more they haue: What may their luſt aſſagwe?

So that they doe, as the Tragedian teſtifieth, drinke poiſon in golde: Sen. in Thy. or as Midas, whome the Poets fained to haue deſired of the Gods one petition, the which being graunted him, hee vviſhed that whatſoever he might touch ſhould bee turned into golde; which he obtaining purchaſed nothing thereby but his owne deſtruction. For when he ſhould feede, his 〈◊〉 (by reaſon of his former requeſt) becōming ſo hard a me ••••• , might well choake his, but never nouriſh him. This was ſet downe to ſignifie how much harme they procure vnto themſelues which purpoſe nothing but the heaping of wealth without regard, how it is gotten or how it ſhall be ſpent. For it is true that Iuvenall ſaith, Tantis parta malis, curâmaiore, metu que Servantur: miſera eſt magus cuſtodia cenſus. that is, Ill gotten goods, are kept with greater care and feare:

Great charge of wealth the miſers hart doth break & teare. Beſides the wrongfull getting of them, and the great care that he hath in keeping of them, there is as great daunger in the evill vſing of thē: either in not vſing thē at al, but hording thē vp to the hurt of many: or elſe in imploying of thē otherwiſe, thē they ought to be imployed. They that haue great ſtore of goods, and vſe them not at al, keepe them cloaſe, either becauſe they know not what to doe with them, or elſe becauſe they cannot find in their hartes to deparr with them. For the firſt ſort they are like vnto them that haue good horſes in their ſtables (as Iſocrates ſaith) and know not how to ride thē, whereby for want of vſe they become altogither vnprofirable. And as for the ſecōd ſort, that haue no deſire to vſe their goods, though they know how to do it; they are not very vnlike vnto the ſhe-Ape which makes ſo much of her young-ons, that, with continual claſping of thē, ſhe many times cruſheth them to death: ſo theſe covetous creatures (that know how to vſe their good, and wil not) do ſo claſpe it, and hide it in their coaffers, that with the cloaſe keeping therof they doe (as it were) cruſh it to death, for that they burie it in the ſepulcher of forgetfulneſſe, and vnprofitableneſſe. So then it is the eſtimation that we make of riches, which maketh a man either happy or vnhappy in the getting, in the hauing, and in the vſing of his goods. For vnleſſe his minde be his moderator therein, there is no law, but the law of Reaſon, that can limitte his deſires.Plutarch. in Vit. Lycurgi. Lycurgus made a lawe amonge the Lacedemonians to take away their coyne of golde and ſilver, allowing them only coyne made of iron; thinking that he thereby ſhould haue brought them to deſpiſe and contemne coyne by the baſenes of that mettall; yet all this could not baniſh covetouſnes out of the cittie. For, their mindes being baſely bent, they were aſwell in loue and liking with the baſer, as vvith the better mettalls. Take away from a man all his vvealth, yet you cannot take from him his covetouſneſſe. For that remaineth ſtill in his minde. If he hath little, hee deſireth much, if hee haue much, hee deſireth more: ſo that deſire is the fuell, that ſetteth his minde ſtill on fire. If ſome men doubt vvhy GOD giueth plenty of goodes vnto the badde, who knoweth not hovve to vſe them; and taketh it from the good, that can vſe them vvell; Auguſtine vvill aunſvvere them that if GOD ſhoulde giue his temporall bleſſinges onely vnto the good, Auguſt. de verb. Dom. Serm. 12. the evill vvoulde thinke that hee ought to be glorified onely for this and nothinge elſe. Againe, if hee ſhoulde giue them vnto the evill and vvicked onelie, the vveake vvoulde bee affraide to bee converted, leaſt that they thereby ſhoulde vvante. If it ſhoulde bee taken from the evill, then they vvoulde thinke that this onely ſhoulde bee their puniſhment. From the good hee often taketh it, that they ſhoulde deſire better thinges; vvhich they haue not common with the vvicked. Now that thou maieſt make a right vſe of this Conſideration, in waighing hovve thou haſt gotten, and how thou doeſt ſpende thy wealth, obſerue alwaies this, that in thy reaſonable care to obtaine ſufficiencie, thou keepe vnto thy ſelfe a ſafe conſcience not to wronge them, vvith vvhome thou doeſt deale: and that thou grovve not into to much loue with thy wealth; in the diſpenſation thereof thou oughteſt alſo to vſe Iuſtice vnto thy ſelfe in obſerving theſe fowre circumſtaunces, to VVhome, VVhou, VVherefore, and Hovve thou beſtovveſt thy vvealth; vvhich if thou perfourme, then haſt thou wel conſidered, who thou art in the ſtate of thy wealth.

CHAP. 4. The Conſideration of thy ſelfe, who thou art in the ſtate of thy calling and Authoritie.

FOr the Conſideration of thy ſelfe who thou art in thy calling and dignitie; either thy eſtate is honourable & worſhipful, or meane.Two enemies vnto an honorable eſtate. The firſt enemie. If it be honourable, then haſt thou two great adverſaries to aſſaile thee; the one without thee; the other within thee: that without thee is Envy: that within thee, is pride. Thy externall enemy, Envie, is ever feeding and gnawing on thy felicity, ſo that it is impoſſible for thee to eſcape Envies iawes; and that eſpecially, if by thy vertues thou bee advanced and brought to an higher calling. For then thou ſhalt be ſure to be ſet vpon on al ſides by this externall enemy.Ariſt. lib. 2. Top. & 2 li. Eth. ca 7. For Envie is (as it is defined) a grieving and a grudging at other mens proſperity and happineſſe. There are certaine degrees, by which Envy doth worke againſt thē, that are envied by reaſon of their high callings come vnto by their good deſerts. The firſt is a ſecret murmuring, when they repine at his wel-doing, whom they hate and would faine diminiſh his praiſe and glory. The ſecond is, when by detraction they ſeeke to depriue him of his good name.Ad Heren. Of ſuch Cicero ſaith, that they by other mens diſpraiſe doe hunt after their owne commendations. The third, is when they do reioice in the adverſe fortune and fal of him, that hath beene advanced for his vvorth and worthineſſe. The laſt is an evill affection and inward hatred,T. de Orat. vvhich they beare, grieving at the excellency of another man, and therefore ſeeke his confuſion. Cicero ſaith, that men doe many times envy their equals, and their inferiours. For when they finde themſelues left behinde, they are grieved that they are out-gone by them: and very often doe they envy their ſuperiours, and that the more vehemently, by how much more highly they eſteeme or reckon of themſelues, and in their iudgment doe paſſe the equalitie of common right by reaſon of the height of their dignitie and fortunes. So we ſee that too high a calling is accompanied with Envie, but chiefly, when arrogancie and hauty behaviour is ioined with it. And although that Envie, this externall enemy, is very daungerous, yet is it neuer ſo hurtfull vnto a high eſtate or calling, as is the internall adverſarie pride. For the forraine foe, Envie,The ſecōd enemie. may be eaſily preuented, becauſe he commeth commonly to bidde the battaile with his banners diſplaied, ſo that he may thereby be diſcerned to be an enemy, and being knowne, may the more eaſily bee vvithſtood. But the domeſtical and inwarde enemie, Pride, doeth more ſecretlie aſſaile thee, and ſtirre vp civill warres within thine owne citty and vvithin thine owne ſelfe: he commeth vnawares to thee when thou knoweſt not of his comming: or if thou haſte knowledge thereof (which is but ſeldome) yet hee commeth not in the appearaunce and likeneſſe of an enemy, but as a friend. For hee maketh thee beleeue that hee commeth to mainetaine thine honor, reputation, & credit: & therefore, not fearing or ſuſpecting him, thou canſt the more hardly reſiſt him. And pride, this inwarde enemy, is ſo much the more perilous (as one ſaith) then other enemies, becauſe other vices haue power in our evill doinges; Aug. lib. de nat. & gratia. but this doeth proceede and taketh ſtrength and full growth of our good actions and beſt deedes.

Beſides theſe two forenamed adverſaries,A third enemie. an high eſtat or calling hath yet another enemy no leſſe dangerous then the tvvo former, which is, the flattery and diſsimulation of Paraſites: and ſurelie there is no man advaunced to any great calling, but ſhall be attended with ſuch hypocrites, which are rather followers of his fortunes, then of himſelfe; and are alwaies ready to applaude even his vvorſt actions, as honourable and vertuous: whereby they blindefolde him, and in the ende drowne him in the deepe and daungerous pit of miſbeliefe: neither will ſuch ſoothing fellowes giue him any incouragement to vndertake any vertuous action or laudable exerciſe. For they holde that no pollicy, ſith they finde it beſt to followe him in his owne humors, vvhich they take to bee the onely way to come by his loue and favour: ſo that by theſe meanes great ſtates, and men of high place and calling are ſooneſt corrupted in their conditions: and as, when they doe amiſſe, few men dare tell them their faultes; ſo their flatterers will be ready to make their faultes ſeeme no faults vnto them: whereby ſuch followers make them worſe then of themſelues they would be.

Novv to vvithſtand theſe ſtrong aſſaultes, & to ſaue thy ſelfe from ſuch dangerous invaſions of three ſo mighty impediments to the knowledge of thy ſelfe in the ſtate of thy calling, as are Envie, Pride, and Flattery; vſe theſe weapons to defend thee: againſt Envie, vſe Vertue; againſt Pride and Ambition, vſe humility; and againſt Diſſimulation, vſe Diſcretion, to make difference betweene faithfull and flattering followers, and this may bee a marke for any generous minde, among ſuch as follow him. The faithfull and ſuch as deſire his honour and credit, will not ſpare to tell him his faultes; but the flatterer will footh him in all his doings. This if thou carry in thy remembrance, and put in practiſe, then haſt thou well conſidered who thou art in, thy eſtate and calling.

THE THIRD SECTION OF the firſt part of the Conſideration of humane Condition.

CHAP. 1. The Conſideration of thy ſelfe what manner of man thou art, firſt as touching thy learning.

THe thirde and laſt point of Conſideration concerning the knowledge of thy ſelfe is, what manner of man thou art. For as the ſecond pointe of Conſideration (which is, who thou art) doth appertaine to the knowledge of of the body, with the ornamentes that doe belong to the outward eſtate therof: ſo this laſt point of Conſideration (which is, what manner of man thou art) doth chiefly containe the true vnderſtanding of thoſe things, which do adorne the inwarde eſtate of the minde. To attaine to the true knowledge whereof, it behoueth to haue the helpes of the intellectuall, morall, and theologicall vertues. Lib. 6. Eth. ca 3. The intellectuall vertues are ſaide of Ariſtotle to be fiue viz. Art, Prudence, Science, Sapience, & Intelligence. Intelligence is defined to bee the habite of principles; Science is ſaid to be the habite of concluſions, lib 6 Ethic. Eth. ca. 6. & cap. 3. by which we learne to diſtinguiſh truth from falſhood. By theſe, to gither with Arte, Prudence, and Sapience (which are alſo partes of the intellectuall habite, of ſome called the intellectuall vertue) wee learne thoſe grounds that doe leade vs to the more perfect rules of pacifying our inordinate paſſions. For it is ſaide that knowledge and learning doe mollifie mens manners. Ovid. lib. 2. de Pont. But thou oughteſt chiefly to knowe what kinde of Arte, and what knowledge it is, that can amend the minde of man, & then to follow the ſame. For there are ſome Artes, that when they be learned with great labour, yet are more hurtful thē profitable: & there are ſome Artes (as they are oftentimes vſed) vnneceſſary, and ſome altogeather vnlawfull. Thoſe that are vnneceſſary be ſuch, as yeeld no commodity or profit to the publike weale, nor yet much to the private vſe of him that doth exerciſe thē: as the vaine vſe of Logick and Rhetoricke, when he that hath ſome inſight in them; hath not yet Reaſon how to vſe them: ſo that he maketh himſelfe like to the prattling & prating Pye, Ovid. de Ph. whereof the Poet ſpeaketh thus: Picaloquax varias modulatur gutture voces Scurrils ſtrepitu quic quid et audit, ait. which is, The pratling Pye faines every kind of voice,

And what ſhe heares, ſhe ſpeakes with chattering noiſe. Theſe Artes are not in themſelues vnneceſſary, although for want of the right vſe of them, they may be made vnneceſſary & vnprofitable. Other Artes there are, that haue more pleaſure then profitable vſe in them, and in their owne natures are nothing or very little neceſſary, as Muſicke and the like: yet I know that the louers and practiſers thereof, will frame reaſons to prooue the profitte and neceſſity of them. There are alſo other Artes, which are not onely vnneceſſary, but are alſo altogeather vnprofitable and vnlawfull: as the vſe of that part of Aſtrologie which ſome call Medicinary, wherein they would ſeeme to ſet downe the certaine times of death, and life; of barenneſſe, and plenty; of warre, and peace; of mariages, of peſtilence, and the like future accidents. This Arte in it ſelfe, is both vnneceſſary, vnprofitable, vnlawfull, and vncertaine. For, as Cornelius Agrippa (one that was much giuen to that ſtudy in his youth,Corn. de van ſcien. and very excellently well ſeene therein) ſaith: Aſtrologie hath nothing in it elſe but meere trifles, Poets fables, much and monſtrous forgery and faining, vvherewith they haue imagined that the heaven is repleniſhed. Hier de nat. Of whome another learned man ſaith, that theſe be they, which lifte themſelues vp againſt the knowledge of all that is done, promiſing vnto themſelues a fained knowledge, and referring the event of all thinges vnto the riſing, falling, and courſe of the ſtarres, following therein their Mathematicall errours. But we wil leaue theſe, as vnlawfull and altogither vncertaine; and not worthy to bee reckoned or eſteemed of as an Arte.Lib. 6. Cap 4. Ariſtotle doth define an Arte to be a habite of doing with true reaſon. That therefore which hath no truth, nor true principles or certaine grounds, can be no Arte. But, to come vnto thoſe Artes which are both profitable and neceſſary, we may doe well to conſider firſt, that Artes are either liberall, or illiberall and Manuary. The liberall are ſaide to be the Seaven ſciences; and they may be called liberall, becauſe they require a liberal minde to be beſtowed on them, that is free from other cares, free from paſſions, free from ſordiditie. The other Artes, which are Manuary, although they do not ſo much adorne the minde of man, yet are they neceſſary for the vſe of man, and they ſuſtaine his neceſſities, keeping him from idlenes, which is the cancker of the minde: yet omitting thoſe Manuarie Artes, as matters that doe not of themſelues much beautifie the minde, wee vvill ſay ſomewhat concerning the knowledge of the other Artes, which are called the liberall Sciences, whereby it ſhall be ſeene what manner of men they are, that attaine to the knowledge of them, and to be perfect Artiſtes. And firſt, as touching the obtaining of thoſe Sciences; it hath beene a queſtion betweene Philoſophers of former ages, whither knowledge, vertue, Whither vertue and knowledge be in vs by Nature.? and ſcience were in vs by nature, or that it came vnto vs by ſtudie and exerciſe: wherein Platoes opinion was diſallowed and reiected of Ariſtotle and others. For Plato his poſition was this, that the ſoule and minde of man was at his firſt creation adorned and inveſted with all ſcience, vertue, and knowledge, but that by reaſon of the infirmities of the body, it is (as hee ſaid) dulled & darkned with forgetfulneſſe and ignoraūce: ſo that whatſoever man learneth afterwards it is but (as it were) a calling to remembrance, Scientia (ait Plato) eſt reminiſcentia: ſcire eſt reminiſci. and a renewing or reſtoring of that, which firſt he knew. But Ariſtotle, that famous Philoſopher, is an adverſarie to this opinion. For he doth not acknowledge any ſuch abſolute excellency in nature: but cōfeſſeth that there are in mā by nature certaine ſeeds and ſparkles of knowledge. And vve are ſaide to know,Ariſt lib. 2. Ethic. cap. 1. and to haue ſcience by Definition, and Demonſtration. The Definition, and Demonſtration we doe gather from Particulars. Omnis doctrina et om. For out of Individualls we gather the Definition of the Speciall: and out of the Specialls, wee gather the definition of the Generall. But theſe Definitions and principles of demonſtration are not foūd or ſettled in the firſt frame and foundation of Naturc. For by helpe of the Phantaſy, which doth ſtirre vp and offer vnto the minde the Idëas or imagination of things, the Minde doth gather the eſſence and qualities of thinges, which was not at the firſt perceiued or planted therein. It may be conceiued that Plato imagined that there ſhould be abſolute knowledge in man by nature, by reaſon that he reade (as ſome haue ſuppoſed) the firſt booke of Moſes, vz. Geneſis, whereof his workes doe ſavour ſomewhat: and finding therein that man at the firſt vvas created abſolutely good,Geneſ. Cap. 1 according to the likenes of him that created him, he was moued to imagine and thinke (as you haue heard) that he knew althings at the firſt, never remembring, or little regarding to examine further of his fall: and how Man, deſiring to know good and evill (whereof he was ignorant, and therefore knew not all things) did thereby looſe that light of knowledge, which was originally ingraffed in him; whereby alſo all his poſterity were and are plunged in the ſea of ignorance, as a puniſhment paide on them, and on vs all for our firſt Parents diſobedience. And although that Ariſtotle ſeemeth to refute Platoes reaſon of mans perfect knowledge by Nature, yet he himſelfe affirmeth that all Doctrine and all diſcipline proceedeth out of a praeexeſtent knowledge. Ariſt. Lib. 1. Poſter. Cap. 1 Whereby he might ſeeme in ſome ſorte to conſent with Platoes concluſion. Yet this is to be vnderſtood that, that knowledge, which we haue is praeeiſtent, yet not in vs, but in them, from whome vvee doe receiue it. Which is made plaine by an other plaice in the ſame Author, where he ſaith: that, that doctrine & ſcience proceedeth from man vnto man according to the compariſon which the teacher hath vnto him that is taught: Idem. lib. 1. Poetriae. this is a proofe that it commeth not by Nature, but by inſtruction.

But now to to conclude this point of Conſideration of knowledge and learning, vve ought to knowe that the beginning & ending of true knowledge and learning is to know our ſelues. Therfore by how much more thy knowledge and learning doth abound, by ſo much more ought thy humility to exceede: leaſt, forgetting thy ſelfe, thy knowledge and thy learning doe little benefite thee. Which rules if thou alwaies remember, then haſt thou conſidered thy ſelfe aright what manner of man thou art touching thy knowledge and learning.

The conſideration of thy ſelfe what manner of man thou art in thy vviſedome. CHAP. 2.

HAVING conſidered thy ſelfe. Ʋ Ʋhat manner of man thou art concerning thy knowledge in learning, as in Artes & ſciences: it commeth next in courſe that thou ſhouldeſt conſider what manner of man thou art in thy vviſedome (for Wiſedome is ſaide alſo to be one of the intellectuall Habites) & this by ſome is divided into two partes, that is; into prudence and ſapience. Prudence (as they affirme) is the knowledge of humane affaires onely;Aug lib. de Trin. Cicer. lib. 4. Tuſc. but Sapience pertaineth to the knowledg of things both divine and humane: which is the cauſe that wee imitate divine things, and all humane inferiour matters are lead by the force thereof. Therefore if ſome men eſteeme Prudence (vvhich is commonly called Pollicy) to bee the chiefeſt parte of Wiſedome: yet hovve ſhorte this Prudence or humane pollicie is of that true vviſedome, vvhich conteineth the knowledg of things divine and humane, vve may meaſure it in this, that by how much the heavens are higher then the earth; by ſo much the knowledg of heavenly things is more worthy, and more excellent then the knowledg of humane affaires & earthly things.Plut. lib. de morals vertute. Prudence alſo is vnperfect and vncertaine being (as a wiſe Philoſopher affirmeth) many times drowned in things full of errours and of turbulency, and it is conſtrained to bee coupled with thinges caſuall, to vſe Conſultation in matters doubtefull, which being done, it muſt vſe the helpe of thinges vnreaſonable for aſſiſtaunce. As touching the partes of Prudence, which are reakoned to bee Reaſon, Ʋnderſtanding, Circumspection and the like, as they are good helpes to furniſh and ſet foorth the praiſe of Prudence; ſo are they but ſeldome ſeene to ſome & concurre altogither in one: or if any one doeth attaine to that excellency of Prudence, ſo as he doe poſſeſſe al the parts thereof, yet doth it ſerue but to ſet before him heapes of cares, and Labyrinthes of difficulties: ſo that the workes of Prudence and humane Pollicy may very well be compared to the Spyder, vvho taketh great paines, and vſeth great arte (in her kinde) to vveaue her webbe, which when it is finiſhed, doth ſerue to no other vſe, but to catch ſome few little fearefull flies: as for the great flies they either goe by the weake webbe, or through it without any danger at all: and many times after all the paines taken therein, either the violence of windes, or of ſome other fowle weather on the ſoddaine doth deface and deſtroy that well-wrought web. So falleth it out ful often with the workmāſhip of humane Pollicie. For when a man by Prudence and humane Pollicie hath faſhioned ſome cunning, fine, or artificial web (faire to the outwarde appearance of the worlde) and that withall the deviſes, that a curious and a painefull conceipt can frame; yet (in a mā ner) it is but as if it vvere a vvorke to catch flies in the aire, or (in deede) fooles with vaine allurementes vppon the land: as for the greater flies, which are as ſtrong and cunning as the Spider her ſelfe, they will catch the Spider as ſone, or rather, then the Spider ſhall intercept or intangle them. Admitte thou (oh worldly Politique man, whoſoeuer thou art) that thou haſt wouen thy webbe with the threede of Prudence very ſtrongly, procuring thy ſelfe great patrimonies, honorable alliaunce, preferments many, and high advancements: yet perchance on the ſuddaine, and when thou thinkeſt leaſt of it, ſome ſuddaine ſtormes of ill fortunes will fal vpon thee, and ſo tumble thee in thy well-wrought webbe of Prudence and Pollicy, that it wil be all to rent and torne in pieces: or what thou dreameſt leaſt of, the laſt Conquerour Death, he commeth, and (as an vnplacable enemy) breaketh in pieces thy whole web ſo prudētly wrought and ſo politiquely finiſhed to thine owne content, to the greate ioy of thy friends, & to the wonder & admiration of moſt men. But leaſt we ſhould be thought to ſette aſide all eſtimation, and to make no accoumpt of Prudēce, or humane Pollicy, which in worldly matters carrieth ſo great a ſtroke amongſt men, it were not amiſſe to examine the partes of Prudence and to eſtimate thereby the value thereof: and they are reakoned by ſome to be, Reaſon, Circumſpection, Counſaile, and the like.Macrob. in Com. ſomn. Scip. Nowe Reaſon as it is a part of Prudence (for Reaſon ſometimes is taken for the principal facultie of the ſoule & ſo it is the ſubiect of Prudence and other Intellectual Vertues) is the diſcourſe of the vnderſtanding by which the vniverſall principles of thinges that may be done, are applied vnto particular things which are to be done, though diverſe & vncertaine. And ſo Reaſon & Vnderſtanding are not diſtinguiſhed as two diverſe povvers, but as two diverſe actes of the ſame power. For, to reaſon, is to proceede from one vnderſtanding vnto another, yet every kinde of Reaſoning is not that part of Prudence, which we ſpeake of in this place, becauſe, if wee take Reaſoning largely in that ſenſe, as it is a proceeding from principles vnto concluſions, as in Syllogiſmes, and in the Arte of arguing either Rhetorically, or Logically; this is rather to bee reackoned as an Arte of Reaſoning, then Reaſon it ſelf. For if Reaſon did conſiſt in ſpeaking eloquently, or in diſputing ſubtilly, then the idle Rhetoriciā, and the ſubtile Sophyſt ſhould be moſt poſſeſt, and beſt indued with Reaſon; and conſequently, ſhoulde enioy chiefly that part of Prudence. Iſidorus ſaith, that Diſcretion is the provident fore-ſeer in iudging the cauſes of things,Iſidor. in Sin & the reaſon of moderating mens mindes: according to which application Reaſon is applied or defined by him to be, the order of doing things proceeding from their cauſe, as, what, in what place, and, how thou ſhouldeſt doe, speake, and vnderſtand.

Next vnto Reaſon,Tho Agu. Sec. 2. Circumſpection claimeth a place in the effectes and operation of Prudence: which is defined to bee the attention of circumſtances in morall matters: and if it be an attention of circumſtances, then it muſt conſider what doth belong vnto place, perſon, and time: and not ſo much to followe the time in all things. For that were irreligious, although ſome Politicians preſcribe that as a good rule, & very requiſite to be obſerued of prudent men: but to yeelde vnto neceſſity is a rule, which both Reaſon and Circumſpection doth teach vs, becauſe we are not thereby conſtrained to forſake the boundes and law of honeſty. In this, Coniecture comes in as an harbinger, to lodge the Circū ſtances of our Circumſpection, and to prepare the way to Election, as what, when, and how, things ought to be done: neither may there be too much Circumſpection vſed (for that it often-times turneth to iealouſie, or ſuſpition without cauſe) & as the Comoedian concludeth:Plaus. in Cap. he, that is moſt circumspect, leaſt he be deceived, is ſcarce circumspect mough, when he is moſt circumspect, and this provident man, when he is moſt carefull, is moſt commōly caught. After Circumſpection commeth Counſaile, bringing with it the Concluſion of Prudence. For after Counſaile there is nothing to be performed but the execution thereof, which is the end & event of thinges.Cic. lib. 1. Rhet. Jdem lib. 2. This Counſaile is called the inquiſitiue appetite of doing things thought vpon with Reaſon: and the ſame author ſaith, that it is the ſubtile foreſeeing of the minde in cauſes to be examined or governed: to the attaining wherof Seneca giveth ſingular precepts,Senecatract. de virtute. ſaying; if thou deſire to be prudent, intende and extend thy foreſight to future things, and ponder what may come to paſſe: let thoſe things that muſt needes be done of thee, be (as it were) before thee alwaies and in thy ſight, For he that is wiſe, ſaith not, I thought this could not be; he doubteth not what ſhall happen, but expecteth and looketh for it; he doth not ſuſpect it, but he doth looke and provide to prevent it: ſeeke therfore (ſaith he) if thou wilt proue wiſe in deed, the cauſe of every thing, & having foūd the beginning, conſider and bethinke with thy ſelfe what may be the end thereof. Theſe preceptes that concerne Counſaile (though they are excellent) yet notwithſtanding are eaſier to be given, then to be followed or put in practiſe and accompliſhed: this is the ſubſtance of all difficult matters and ſuch as haue neede of Conſultation; vvherein we finde by common experience that every man can more readily, and with words more liberally adviſe another man what he ſhould doe, then if the caſe did concerne himſelfe. For anxiety and doubt of doing that, which a man may dammage himſelfe by, doth diverſe times ſo diſtract his ſenſes betweene feare and forethinking, that his iudgment thereby is much and mightely darkened. In Counſaile therefore, whether it be for a man his owne ſelfe, or for his friend a due Deliberation of any thing in doubt is alwaies requiſite. For, as Seneca ſaith, there are two things,Sen. in Proverb. which are contrary and adverſe to good Counſaile, that is feſtination, or overmuch haſte; and Anger, or choller. And the ſame author adviſeth every man to deliberate long of that thing, which he muſt do & performe, though it were but once.

If thou wilt vnderſtande, what manner of man thou art in owing and poſſeſſing of Prudence or worldly Pollicie, or whither thou be happie or vnhappy in having thereof, let this be vnto thee as a certaine rule, that it is, as all other worldly bleſſings are vnto thee. Gold is good, if it be turned to good vſes: yea it is alſo euil, & maketh thee evil to, if thou doe not vſe it vvel. Such is the effect of Prudence or humane Pollicy: it vvorketh alſo according as thou doeſt vſe it. For as Seneca ſaith, if a prudent man exceede his bounds,Sen. lib. de benef. he ſhevveth himſelfe to be a ſubtile ſearcher of thinges hidden; a finder and a follovver of al faultes, euil, full of pride, crafty, an enemy to innocency, a commender of crimes, and in concluſion, accompted of by al men as of a lewd perſon, vngodly, and very vvicked. And this is true, that men, vvhich are by nature politique and vvel practiſed, or of great experience in vvorldly matters, if they follovv not a right courſe, apply their heartes and vvittes to that vvhich is good, keeping themſelues vvithin the compaſſe of honeſtie and a good Conſcience, they are of all people moſt pernitious and moſt dangerous to converſe, or to be dealt vvithall.

CHAP. 3. The Conſideration of thy ſelfe, what manner of man thou art touching the perturbations of the minde.

THe Minde of man may bee compared vnto a compaſſe or a carde, by which the ſea-men do direct their courſe. Which if it be truely drawne, & the points therof perfectly obſerved; then the paſſengers moſt cōmonly do come ſafe & quietly vnto the hauen & harbor, where they would be, but if the Pilote do not place his compaſſe aright, & perfectly obſerue the points thereof, then vſually the ſhip, wherein he ſaileth, is driuen out of the right courſe, and happily runneth againſt the rockes. Such is mans eſtate in this miſerable world, which is the ſea, wherein hee ſaileth: his minde is his cōpaſſe, & if that be not vprightly placed & directed by the points of Reaſon, then the cōpaſſe ſerueth to no vſe, but he is caried a wrong way with the violent ſtormes of paſſions & perturbations of the minde againſt the rocks of miſeries & many miſfortunes in this world. Seeing thē that a quiet, a ſetled, & a contented minde is the only meane & compaſſe to carry vs frō the croſſes & calamities of this worlde, & to convay vs vnto the harbor & haven of happines: ſeeing alſo that the Perturbations of the Minde do much hinder the true courſe of tranquillity & of felicity in this life: It were not amiſle to examine the entrāces & paſſages by which theſe Perturbations do overwhelme the minde of man, which being found out, it wil be the more eaſie to avoide the inconveniences and dangerous effects thereof.

Divers and very doubtfull haue bin the opinions of auncient Philoſophers cōcerning the Perturbations of the minde, as what they ſhould be, & frō whence they ſhould proceede? whether they were only actiue or paſſiue qualities, or elſe mixed of both? what the number of them ſhould be? Whether al kindes of perturbations were to be reiected? with diuers other ſuch doubtes, wherein they did much diſter. And becauſe it doth very much concerne the knowledge of mans ſelfe what manner of man he is, to be informed touching the perturbations of the minde, we will ſay ſomewhat therein.

Zeno, being the principall of of the Stoicke Philoſophers doth define.Cicero lib. 4. Tuſcu. queſt Perturbation (as Cicero alleadgeth) to be an averſe commotion of the minde contrary to Reaſon. This definition ſome others haue ſeemed to diſlike. For they ſay that every kind of Perturbation is not altogeather averſe and contrary vnto Reaſon, although moſt kinds of Perturbations be voide of Reaſon. Which Ariſtotle affirmeth, when he ſaith that A vertue is converſant about pleaſure and griefe. Ariſt. lib. 2. Ethic cap. 3. Alſo Epicurus alleadgeth that the chiefe felicity of man conſiſteth in pleaſure, wherein he is miſconceiued of many; for he placeth this pleaſure wholy in vertue and vertuous actions, and not in the pleaſures of the body, as divers do vntruely vnderſtand him. Neither doe the ſtrict rulers of Theologie abſolutely take away all kindes of Perturbations from the minde of man, for as Saint Auguſtine ſaith,Auguſt. de Civita. Dei. the cittizens of the holy and heavenly citty do feare, deſire, grieue, and reioyce, and yet becauſe their loue is right, they haue alſo their affections vpright.

Likevviſe the heroicall vertues as fortitude and magnanimitie haue ſome of the Perturbatiōs of the minde, as their inſtrumēts for the obiects of them: as honor, glory, & victory are never obtained or attempted but thorow the proſecutiō of ſome of thoſe Perturbations. But leaſt our meaning might be miſtaken, and that ſome ſhould ſuppoſe that we goe about to allow al the Perturbations. of the minde as either neceſſary or tollerable, we will diſtinguiſh of Perturbations, and conſider of their courſe either in reſpect of the ſubiect, in which they are, or the obiectes, about which they are cōverſant, & the end, to which they tende. The ſubiects, in which they are, are of two ſorts: Firſt Creatures wanting Reaſon, as beaſts, which by naturall inſtinct doe feare that which may be hurtful vnto their kind, & they deſire that, which is for the preſervation of their kinde. And in them theſe Perturbatiōs are not againſt Reaſon, although the ſubiects, in which theſe Perturbations are, be voide of Reaſon. But the Stoickes affirme that there are no Perturbations in beaſtes, yet the Peripatetickes and the Academickes alleage the contrary, that beaſtes haue by Nature a proanes to pleaſure and griefe, to loue and hatred, following and forſaking: all which are properly called Perturbations. The next ſubiect, in which theſe Perturbations are, may be Man himſelfe, and the Perturbations, wherewith he is poſſeſſed, may be either tollerable; or intollerable, according to the obiects, about which, and the end, to which they are directed. And there is ſome kinde of Perturbations in man not onely voide of Reaſon, but contrary to Reaſon. As when a man naturally indued with Reaſon, doth vſually yelde vnto vnreaſonable actions, following his Concupiſcible Appetite in luſt, or the like vaine Pleaſures; or elſe the Iraſcible Appetite in anger, vengeance and the like, being proane through the inſtigation of theſe Perturbations to do that, which tendeth vnto the deſtruction of his owne kinde: and theſe Perturbations are not onely contrary to Reaſon, but even altogither raiſed and blotted out of Reaſons bookes. There is an other kinde of Perturbation in man (as it may in ſome ſort ſo bee called) which yet worketh with, and by Reaſon, as that Delight, and Ioy, which we take in vertue, and vertuous actions; and that Diſpleaſure & Offence, which we conceiue at thē that do vitiouſly behaue thēſelues. In this here is Delight, & Diſpleaſure, which are reackoned as Perturbations, and yet the groundes of them proceede from Reaſon, and worke with Reaſon, or at the leaſt, not contrary to Reaſon.

Now next for the number of the Perturbations, they haue bin alwaies left vncertaine,Plato. de Repub. li. 9. and not agreed vpon. For Plato vvould haue them to be innumerable, when as he doth call the Concupiſcible Appetite, a beaſt of many heads. For it cōtaineth deſire, delight, loue,Cicero. lib. 4. Tuſcul. pleaſure, and others almoſt infinite. Cicero according to the opinion of the Stoickes affirmeth that there are foure firſt heades of the Perturbations, vnder which the reſt are placed, as griefe, feare, ioy, and luſts, He ſaith in that place that there are cōtained vnder griefe, Envie, Emulation, Oblectatiō, Bewailing, Carefulnes, Affliction, Deſperation and ſuch like. Vnder feare he putteth Slouth, Shame, Terror, Aſtoniſhment, and the like. Vnder pleaſure he placeth Delectation, Deſire, and many other, ſo that he ſetteth downe no certaine number of the Perturbations, although he alloweth, as it were certaine roots, out of which the reſt ſhould ſpring But yet moſt do cōſent, that there are two foundations or fountaines, from whence the reſt of the Perturbations doe proceede; that is, the Concupiſcible and the Iraſcible Appetites: the Perturbations following the Concupiſcible Appetite, are loue, hatred, deſire, delectation, and ſorow: ſo likewiſe the Perturbatiōs which appertaine to the Iraſcible Appetite, are hope, deſperation, feare, boldnes, diſdaine, preſumption, and the like.

Then as concerning the courſe of theſe two principall rootes of Perturbation with their particular baranches, if thou wouldſt know how they doe come or make entrance into the Minde of man, and thereby way with thy ſelfe, What manner of man thou art therein, know that there is no man liuing abſolutely free and cleare from all theſe Perturbations of the Minde, and although ſome men are more ſubiect vnto them then others are, yet there is not any, that is not moleſted with ſome of them. Notwithſtanding, it is more vſuall to men of ſome age and eſtate to bee incombred with ſome particular Perturbations, then to others. Alſo they are more incident to one ſexe then to an other. Likewiſe they come to ſome by Nature, and to other ſome by Accident. As for exampleahe Concupiſcible Appetire with his ſeverall branches is more common, and yet not ſo continuall as is the Iraſcible. For to loue, to hate, to deſire, to delight, to diſlike, are things common to al men, though not at all times. And they come more by Accident thē by Nature: And yet ſomtimes by both. But the Iraſcible Appetite with his particular partes doth much poſſeſſe many men by Nature; as ſome are from their cradell fearefull: ſome are by Nature angrie and waſhpiſh; ſome are alwaies impacient: ſome are never but preſumptuous & the like. As touching the Perturbations proceeding from the Iraſcible Appetite, ſome haue affirmed that they come of hote blood, ſtirred vp about the hearte, which doth kindle and inflame the ſpirites with an immagination of anger & offence. And (as one ſaith) there are fiue degrees, by the which men are ſtirred vp to wrath & anger; the firſt is, Man againſt himſelfe: the ſecond is man againſt mā: the third is againſt his ſuperiour power, as God: the fourth is againſt his inferiours, as beaſtes and other creatures without reaſon: the fifte is againſt thinges without life. As for the firſt, which is the anger, that man conceiueth againſt him. ſelfe: it may in ſome ſorte be lawfull and commendable, as when he is angrie with himſelfe for his offence committed in doing any diſhoneſt thing: this anger is laweful, but vvhen he is angrie with himſelfe, becauſe he cannot doe that, which he woulde, or cannot haue that, which he deſireth, being thinges either impoſſible or vnprofitable to bee performed, or elſe vnlawfull or vnmeete to be deſired; this kinde of anger is againſt Reaſon. The next, which is the wrath that one man conceiueth againſt an other, this may bee either tollerable or intollerable, as the cauſe thereof is, or as he, which is offended, doth'carrie and behaue himſelfe in the courſe of his wrath: the cauſe of anger may be ſuch, that to conceale it, were not commendable. For when a mans good name is takē away vniuſtly by a ſlanderer or backbitter, to conceale this is not commendable: becauſe he that is ſlaundred, being ſilent, ſeemeth to condemne himſelfe; yet the anger that is conceiued in this caſe, ought not to extend preſently vnto extremity of revenge. For if the partie mooued may be ſatisfied with the confeſſion of his accuſer that he hath wronged him, or that he can otherwiſe prooue himſelfe wronged, whereby the worlde is ſatisfied, that he was ſlaundred, his anger ought to be appeaſed. Third kinde of anger, which is of man againſt his maker, is both irreligious and vnreaſonable, and may rather be called madnes, then anger. For it is like his condition, that throweth ſtones into the aire vpright, and ſtandeth ſtil, vntil they fal vpon his owne head. The fourth, which is the anger of man againſt beaſtes, is but little more then beſtiall, when the vnreaſonable creature ſhalbe angry with the vnreaſonable. The fift of man againſt things without life ſheweth that he wanteth that reaſon, which ſhould be the light of his owne life.

Somewhat ſhould be ſaide as concerning the cauſe & courſe of the Concupiſcible Appetite, but becauſe we deſire to avoide tediouſnes, and that the ſhortnes of time alloweth no large diſcourſe, I will conclude with ſome ſhorte precept for the avoiding of theſe two perillous Appetites of the mind; which are the Iraſcible and the Concupiſcible Appetite. Therefore if thou wilt ſhunne thoſe two ſo cruel adverſaries vnto a cōtēted mind, as are the Concupiſcible and Iraſcible Appetite, thou muſt firſt learne what maner of man thou art in ſuffering or in ſuppreſſing of theſe Appetites of the minde; thou muſt call vnto thy remembraunce & knowledg the vſe of Intellectual, Moral & Theological Vertues.

Next in place (but before in operation & effect) are the Morall vertues, which do incline and invite men to do things honeſt and lavvful: theſe do helpe much to quiet the Perturbations of the minde & to make a man knovv vvhat manner of man he is. But eſpecially the ſowre Morall vertues, which are called Cardinall vertues, do much further the conquering of thoſe Paſſions: as Temperance, Prudence, Fortitude and Iuſtice. They are called Cardinall vertues, a Cardine, ſignifying the hindge of a doore: becauſe as on the hindge the gate is turned, ſhut and opened; ſo the heart of man, which is the hindge of the doore in doing all good actions, is opened to things honeſt, & ſhut againſt things vnhoneſt by force of theſe vertues. And although thoſe fowre, called the Cardinal vertues, be of greateſt force, yet al the reſt do ſerue in ſome ſort to governe the Perturbations of the Minde, and to make a man know what manner of man he is: As Magnificence, Magnanimity, Liberality, Modeſty, Manſuetude, Vrbanitie, Affabilitie. Whereof ſome do reſpect the body with the Minde, ſome do direct the Minde moſt.

Thoſe, vvhich require the bodies aſſiſtaunce (although they haue wholy the mindes direction) are Fortitude and Magnanimitie: ſome belong vnto the government of the ſenſes as Tēperāce vnto the tvvo ſenſes of Touching and Taſting. But Continencie appertaineth to the moderating of all the ſenſes. Some others doe ſerue for direction of manners, as Affabilitie in vvords or ſpeech; Vrbanitie or civility in deedes. So by the helpe of thoſe Morall vertues thou maieſt learne to maſter the Perturbations of the Minde appertaining either to the Cōcupiſcible or ſraſcible Appetite. For by Fortitude thou maieſt overcome Feare: by Manſuetude thou maieſt conquere Impatience, anger, & ſuch like; by Temperance and Continency thou maieſt ſubdue Immoderate deſires, as luſt and ſuch other like paſſions and Perturbations of the minde, vvhere vvith men are much overwhelmed. Yet becauſe Ʋertue is ſaide to bee a mediocrity betwixt two vices having the exceſſe on the one ſide, Ariſt. lib. 2. Lib. and the defect on the other; hovv hard then it is alwaies to keepe the Meane and not to fall on either ſide, every man may eaſily ſee and know. For as we ſee travellers, who haue a long iorney to make, ſometimes doe meete with many waies in one place, ſome turning on the right hand, ſome on the left, and others going out-right: yet of al theſe waies there is but one, which is the right vvay, and that often ſeemes to be the vnlikelieſt way, when that, which leadeth to his iournies end, is not ſo beaten a way, nor ſo much bending (as the paſſenger perſwaded himfelſe) vnto his right courſe: ſo fareth it with them that travell in the tedious iourney of this life: the world is our high vvay, vvhich hath in it many by-pathes, & the poore paſſingers, that travel therein, are diuers times diſtracted, & in much doubt for the choice of their way. For the faireſt way in appearaunce is not alwaies (nay it is ſeldome) the right way:Xenoph. lib. 1. Paed. Cyr. & the wrong waies are much more beaten and much more eaſie to finde then the true way. For if a man wil follow the foote ſteps of others example, he ſhal finde a broad-beaten path, which is commonly the vvorſt, and the vvrong vvay. It is not the mediocrity, but it is the vvay that leadeth vnto the exceſſe, or to the defect. Therefore ſince it is ſo hard a matter to finde the right way in conquering the Perturbations of the minde, it behoueth euery man (if hee will be maſter ouer his owne Affections) to cal vnto his aide (beſides the Intellectuall & Morall vertues before named) the Theologicall vertues, which are Faith, Charitie, Pietie, Patience, and the like: by the power whereof (and the permiſſion and aſſiſtance of him that graunteth them) he may wel manage his owne minde, and all the Perturbations thereof. But becauſe the conſideratiō hereof appertaineth to the knowledge of thoſe things, that are aboue, it muſt be leſt vnto that laſt point of Conſideration.

In the meane time thou maieſt (by that little which hath bin here laid downe) learne ſomewhat concerning the knowledge of thy ſelfe (which is the firſt of the fowre principall pointes of Conſideration) and in this thou haſt ſeene ſomewhat, what, who, and what manner of man thou art.

FINIS.