DISCOVRSE. 1. Of Preparation against the as­saults and onsets of Passions.

MANS Happinesse on earth, (next to the knowledge of Christ and his Maker) de­pends upon his owne Actions, which duely considered, and that the Soule is, as it were, the fountaine and welspring therof, [Page 2]our chiefest care (if we desire to lead an happy life) ought to be spent in quieting and making calme that better part within us, endeavoring by all meanes, that it be not troubled, nor diseased by vulgar and popular opinions, they being things much contra­ry to the excellency of the na­ture and essence thereof.

A Passion is a violent motion of the soule in the sensitive part thereof, which is either made to follow that which the soule thinketh to be good for it, or to fly that which it takes to be e­vill: And there are sundry sorts of them, which are therefore called Passions; to put a diffe­rence betwixt them and the fan­cies of the soule, which are na­turally in-bred in it. Now ther [...] are two seasons, the one of pro­sperity, the other of adversity [Page 3]wherein the soule is wont to be vexed and tossed with those of the inferiour part, as with so ma­ny violent & impetuous winds. And therefore wee must herein imitate Mariners, who before they loose off from the Port, doe furnish themselves with all things necessary and needefull for resisting of Tempests and stormes: and provide our selves aforehand of such sound and substantiall discourse, as may anchor and stay the mind against the push of our passions, when as they, like so many surging waves, doe nil we, will wee, o­verflow into our Boate; and as Xenophon did exhort his fellow Citizens to sacrifice unto God in time of prosperity, to the end they might finde him the more ready and favourable, when as they should invoke him in their [Page 4]adversity: So must we doe, and even at our first leasure, contract acquaintance with rectified rea­son, to the end, that when wee shall stand in neede of her ayde and assistance, shee may come running to us, as knowing us by our voyce, and having already an affectionate and earnest de­sire for our defence.

For Reason is the office of Ver­tue, and not of fleeting incon­stant Opinion, or tumultuous pas­sion; but is mans bonus Genius, his good spirit, in such sort, that he cannot without shame stum­ble; & the discourse of rectified Reason is both the master and daunter of all peevish and per­verse affections: for, when as we have once taken good notice of them by an earnest examinati­on and tryall, made and had tou­ching the same; and that wee [Page 5]have ripely & advisedly weigh­ed both what power they have over us, and what Empire wee hold over them: They are not thereafter so fierce & furious in our behalfe, but are more easi­ly, and with much lesse labour appeased & pacified. They ther­in not a little resembling our lit­tle dogs, which will barke un­cessantly at such as they are wont to see and know; but by and by are quieted as soone as they heare the voyces of them.

The Empiry or seate of the minde, when it is fixed in its pro­per Spheare, is Wisedome, Sci­ence and Art being the two sup­porting pillars, and these three are the mistresse parts of a rea­sonable soule, whose gover­nour and guide being the minde, the Wise have compared the commandement of it above this [Page 6]sensuall and terrestriall part of the soule, out of which our pas­sions doe spring, unto the office of a Rider, who teaching and training his Horse, and sitting within the sadle, manageth and turneth him at his will. But if he should bring a young Horse to the Turney or Tilt, which had never before borne the Bit, or galloped the round, he must needes reape great discredit thereby; as not having before broken him with convenient Discipline, fit for a management of so great importance. In like manner, before we put our backs under the burthen of any busi­nesse, or expose our selves unto the publicke view of the world, wee must endeavour to breake and bring under this wilde and unbacked part of the soule, and make it, as it were, to bite upon [Page 7]the Bit, by bringing it to learne the lawes and measures where­by it must be managed, and ma­stered in all occasions, and at all occurrences: and in the meane time, we must not forget to en­hearten and encourage it, by ac­quainting it with the pleasure and contentment, wherewith is accompanied the issue and end of all worthy and vertuous actions.

Meditation is a secret lifting up of the soule from vanity, and a fixation of the minde upon things really good and honest; and it is much helpt by Elo­quence, which being a purity and elegancy of Speech, stirres up discourse in the apprehensive parts of man: and when it is connext with Meditation, they both give an edge unto the soule, and make it steele-hard [Page 8]unpierceable, even unto the sharpest point of the strongest passions; and usually wee prove admirable at every such exer­cise, when wee have before hand accustomed our selves un­to, what difficulty soever they may seeme to carry with them. On the other side, there is no­thing (bee it never so easie) which will not seeme hard and difficult, and withall much trou­ble us, if we are found but novi­ces, and new apprentices there­in. How often thinke yee, must Canius have meditated upon death, and revolved in his mind what thing it should be, who being condemned by the Ty­rant, and sent to the place of execution, was so farre from being any whit dismayed there­at in his minde, that merrily, and as it were jestingly, he bid [Page 9]the Centurion, who came for him, remember that hee was stronger by the advantage of one Chesseman, then he against whom he played at that houre? And who taking his leave of his nearest and dearest Acquain­tance, for his last farewell, utte­red no other words but these: Now my deare friends, I shall pre­sently finde that which I have so long longed after, and so much de­sired to know; if the soule bee im­mortall, and whether men in dy­ing, doe feele the separation of the Soule & Body which they endure? We must needs thinke that this man, though a Heathen, had a long time exercised himselfe in commanding and over-ruling his passions; and that hee had a­forehand armed & fenced him­selfe with faire resolutions, see­ing that with such constancy and [Page 10]gravity he went to undergoe a death both cruell and unjust. If the onely desire to understand what should become of the soule after death, could make the tor­ment and torture not onely tol­lerable, but also acceptable un­to him: What resolution then ought the certaine and assured knowledge of the Soules im­mortality, together with the hope of eternall felicity, worke in such as doe seriously meditate upon the same in their mindes? May not these goods, thinke ye, make unto such mindes not one­ly supportable, but even com­fortable and delectable, both Death it selfe, and all other dis­astrous afflictions which they endure, seeing they are as waves which doe push us forward unto the sweet and sure port of ever­lasting rest and repose?

DIS. 2. Of the choyce of Callings and Affaires.

EPAMINONDAS Prince of Thebes, so hated idlenesse, that finding one of his Captains asleepe in the day time, he slew him; for which act being re­prooved by his Nobles, he an­swered, I left him as I found him; comparing idle men to dead men. And truely man is not borne to live idlely; but rather, as one of the fairest members of this faire frame, hee must-con­ferre, and contribute his whole travaile and paine to the condu­ction and conservation of that civill societie and condition wherein he is placed. And be­cause [Page 12]in the choyce which men make of a calling, their rest and quietnesse doth principally de­pend, and that nothing doth so much availe to the leading of a contented life, as when they finde themselves fit for the same: They ought before all o­ther things, to take a tryall and survey of their owne strength, and seriously bethinke them­selves of that charge which they are about to embrace: seeing u­sually we presume too much up­on our owne power, and at­tempt more then our ability is fit to atchieve; this errour is in­cident almost to all our actions. And hence it is, that some will dispend more then their meanes may well beare: And others in labouring and toyling, goe be­yond their abilities; some are not masters of their own anger; [Page 13]others dallying, disporting, and playing the pleasant, will not spare any person, no not the Prince, although thereby they should incurre the danger of ha­zarding their Heads. Some are unapt to manage publicke affaires, being either of a fullen and solitary humour, or of a slacke and slow disposition. O­thers it doth not beseeme to be at Court; for that they be either obstinate in opinion, or uncour­teous in behaviour. And that which maketh us to fall into these faults, is that we doe not throughly see and looke into our selves. Whence it com­meth to passe, that neglecting to take a true tryall of our owne ability, wee often undertake imployments of such gravity and weight, as that afterwards wee must either abandon them [Page 14]with ignorance and shame; or else if we goe on with them, we must needs suffer much trouble and anxiety of spirit.

Now that a man may the more warily weigh his occasions, or affaires, before he put under his backe; let him remember, that alwayes the bearer must have more pith then the burthen for if it be huge & too heavy, who seeth not that the undertaker must bee constrained either to leave, or else to lye downe un­der it; and consider, that there are divers kinds of affaires, some whereof are hard and uneasie; not so much for that they bee weighty & important of them­selves, as for that they be mat­ched and mingled with a multi­tude of toylesome and trouble­some businesses which follow them? Therefore actions of [Page 15]this kinde, are to be shunned, be­cause they doe very much dis­quiet the minde. And we should rather make choyce of such af­faires, as we may well and easi­ly execute, or at least with a reasonable industry bring to an end. For alwayes it is a good thing to desist from the profecu­ting of our begun businesses, when as we shall finde, that they take not such a course and way, as in the beginning was propo­sed and expected by the under­taker. I say not this to affray, or dismay, nor so to discourage any man, as to make him de­cline and eschew the underta­king of necessary and needfull imployments, because of the manifold encombrances and cares wherewith they may bee accompanied: so that not daring to intermeddle with [Page 16]any matter of moment, hee should abide without some bu­sinesse and charge, which were to lead a life both unprofitable and unpleasant: Nature promp­ting every man to listen to somewhat, and chiefly unto such things as be expedient and profitable for the Common-wealth. But I meane to insinu­ate, that seeing the life of man is naturally subject unto per­plexities and paines, it behoo­veth him so wisely, and warily to demeane himselfe, that if it be his fortune to be called to the undertaking of vertuous and laudable actions, he neither be so feeble-hearted, as to shunne or relinquish them for their dif­ficulty; nor yet so foole-hardy, as to undertake such affaires as goe beyond the reach of his power. And if the narrow [Page 17]roome of Poverty, or ample pal­lace of Honour hath either ad­vanced any beyond imploy­ment, or taken them from it, there is no Vocation so lawfull and just as Religion: Therefore let none despaire of businesse; for here hee shall finde both la­bour, and rest; labour in search­ing out the Knowledge of God, and himselfe: Of God, repleate with Wisedome and Mercy; and that in his Sonne, humbled, weakned, debased; Of him­selfe, dust, ashes, earth; and grasse: And rest, in the saving Love of the one, and well per­formed Duty of the other. And this Exercise is most fit for a Christian; and above all, for them, on whom God hath be­stowed no other Talent.

DISC. 3. Of providence and fore sight.

A Wise man in time of peace makes his preparation for war: a good Mariner before he goe forth of the haven, makes provision of what is necessary to resist the violence of a tem­pest; it is too late to provide a­gainst an evill, when it is already come, and O how much are we deceived, and how little judge­ment have we, when we thinke that that which hapneth to o­thers, can not likewise fall upon us. Therefore take order that ye be not surprized by any hu­mane accident that ye have not before-hand prudently fore­seene, which thing yee shall ea­sily [Page 19]performe, if in all the af­faires yee shall take in hand, ye diligently fore-think your selfe of such it conveniences and crosse encounters as may fall out, according to the nature, quality, and ordinary issue of your affaires; and such provisoes do marvailously mitigate, swee­ten, and abate the sharpnesse, and harshnesse of all sinister ac­cidents and chances: which can­not then bring any sensible, or notable alteration, by reason of their not comming unlooked for, but contrarily doe enda­mage such persons as suffer thē ­selves to be surprized, not con­sidering how that nature send­ing them into this world, hath allotted them rough, and un­easie feates. Such men doe not minde how that about their owne dore; many times they [Page 20]have with theyr eyes seene loving wives weeping and be­wailing their deceased husbāds, and husbands with dewy eyes burying their beloved wives, & deare children. They doe not ponder how that such persons as did yesterday walke, & talke with them, to day dead, lye bu­ried in their graves. So ap [...]are we to be deceived, and so little fore-sight have we in our owne fortune, that what wee see daily with our eyes happen unto o­thers, we never or seldome con­sider that the like may befall our selves.

If wee would take notice of things as wee ought, we should rather finde occasion to mar­vaile how that disasters and dangers which doe follow us at the heeles, have delaied so long to overtake us, and having o­vertaken [Page 21]us, how it could bee possible that they should have handled us so harmelesly, and gently as they have don. But we grosly deceive our selves, when as for feare that men take us to be timerous and fearefull, we thinke ill to forecast and foresee dangers, and will not a whit mistrust our owne judgement. It behooveth the Pilot who is minded to set saile, to know that hee is in possibility of a storme; so wee must know that the chance which hath happened to one, may likewise befal unto us, and that which hangeth over the heads of all, may fall upon any one, without exemption or exception whatsoever. That which some make light by long suffering, a wife man makes light and easie by long Cogita­tion. He considereth exactly [Page 22]the nature of all things that may offend him, and presenteth unto himselfe whatsoever may hap­pen unto him most grievous and insuportable, as sicknesse, po­verty, injuries and examineth in them all that which is accor­ding to nature, or contrary to it; he marketh well anothers mis­fortune as a thing which may no lesse befall unto himselfe, then it hath already done unto his fel­low, and hath this aduantage, that before any such mischance take hold of him, hee is already armed against the f [...]ry and force of the evill. He knowes that it is too late for a man to make head against a danger, when it is alrea­dy come, and bootlesse to say, I did not thinke, that such a mis­fortune should have befalne me. And that there is not any wealth in this world which hath not fol­lowing [Page 23]after it poverty, or any health that is not apt to be di­minished by a lingring disease, or any honour which is not in possibility to be turned into dis­honour & disgrace? or any high rising which is not apt to down­fall? or any estate from the pedler even to the Prince, ex­empt from alteration, so that which hath befalne to one may likewise befall another? he that standeth, let him take heed lest he fall: it is a thing far more ea­sie to be cast head-long, then to rise up to eminency, & in a mans trouble this is the most assured comfort, that in his pristine providence he hath armed him selfe agains: those present evills which now have light upon him. It were a matter both tedious, and contrary to our de­signe, to discourse of such as [Page 24]fortune (if so we may speake) from high degree brought low; and of mighty men in a mo­ment made miserable. In such a variety and vicissitude of mat­ters, if ye doe not fore-thinke how that all humane accidents may touch you, as well as o­thers, ye give adversities great power over you, which by the prudence of him that foreseeth them, are not a little abated, and made more milde. Against pub­licke evills, a man ought to consider from whom and by whom they are sent, and to marke their cause. It is God his providence, from whence commeth & dependeth an ab­solute necessity, which gover­neth and ruleth all, and where­unto all things are subiect: and if we desire in any thing to be like him, our minds out of que­stion, [Page 25]would bee in greater rest: Let every man therefore employ his actions about such things as bee of a more certaine and constant condition: So shall he sit downe with content, and enjoy the sweetnesse and com­modity of tranquillity and ease.

But seeing that in this world, all things are subject to totte­ring and turning and that there is nothing under the Cope of Heaven stable and firme: the Remedy most fit unto our infir­mity; is to fore-see this insta­bility, and not to passionate, and turmoyle ourselves about those things, the possession whereof is no lesse toylesome and trou­blesome, then was the acquisi­tion and purchase thereof. And therefore we must love them as things which may leave us, and withall, have so much foresight, [Page 26]that they never leave us first. When on a time it was told A­naxagoras that his Sonne was dead: I knew very well, quoth he, that he was a man, and that he was borne to dye once. In like manner, must wee bee prepared for all adventures. My Friend hath not assisted mee: well, I knew that hee was a man, and one that might change. My Wife was very vertuous, and yet was she but a Woman. Af­flictions of Body, and of Minde, sicknesse, casualties, losses, im­prisonments are befalne mee: They are welcome; these are as great blessings, as Dignity, Health, and Pleasure; seeing they proceed from one, and the same, the giver of all things. And hee that thus before hand bethinketh himselfe of humane accidents, shall never betaken [Page 27]at unawares, neither shall hee [...]ave neede to say, as customa­ [...]ly the unadvised are wont, [...] did not thinke of such a thing: [...]nto whom the chances of For­ [...]une doe occasion much afflicti­on and anguish, because they [...]inde themselves disarmed of [...]his wise foresight. Vlysses over­ [...]assed many dangers & difficul­ [...]ies, and yet none of them all [...]d afflict him so fore, as one [...]hing which did take him at una­wares; even the death of a dog which he loved dearely. And [...]ence the common Proverbe proveth true: That a person sur­ [...]rised, is halfe beaten.

DISC 4. Of each mans Vocation and Calling.

VErtue and Industry are the chiefest props of an ho­nest calling, and it behove tha [...] wise man to carry himselfe e­qually betweene them both, ta­king Vertue for the guide, and Fortune for the Companion, and follower: for it commeth of­tentimes to passe, that such as do not thinke diligently of that which they doe, are seene to fall into such a kinde of life as is painefull to beare, and uneasie to bee abandoned. Which is certainely a great streight, and a case that doth require much prudence, and patience, with [Page 29]pietie to implore the aid and as­sistance of God; for patience with humilitie in Gods behalfe, is the remedie which doth most lighten and ease the evill. Con­sider poore prisoners, at first what pains they endure to beare the burthen that is laid upon their legges, but after that they are once accustomed thereunto, necessity teacheth them, and use maketh all such hard usage easie unto them. There is no man­ner of life, howsoever hard and strict it be, which hath not some kinde of solace and refreshment to sweeten it. And truely there is not any one thing, wherein Nature hath so much favored us, as in this; that she maketh us to finde the remedy, and mitigati­on of our mis-fortunes in the sufferance of them.

The case then standing as it [Page 30]doth, that man is borne obnox ous and subject unto all manner of miseries; we must conse­quently suppose that we are all of us the prisoners of Fortune, who holdeth us, tyed and fet­tered hand and foote; and that there is no difference, saving that the fetters and chaines of some, are of Gold, and of other some of Yron. We are all of is in one and in the same prison, and those that hold others cap­tive are in the like condition and case themselves in regard of others. If the desire of honour turmoileth thee, the desire of riches doth trouble another. If the basenesse, and obscurity of birth doth afflict thee, to o­thers Nobility and greatnesse doth bring a thousand discon­tented thoughts: Art thou sub­ject to the commandement and [Page 31]will of another, that other is subject at least to his owne, ha­ving his braines and his breast beaten with ten thousand heart­burnings, & diseasements which thou doest not espie: in summe, if yee marke all things well, our whole life is nothing but a sla­very, wherein every one ought to take good heede how to de­meane himselfe in his calling, & how hee may content himselfe therein, winking at that which is evill in it, and applying him­selfe unto that which is good. For there is no calling, howsoe­ver Painefull and toylesome it bee, wherein the patient soule doth not finde some content­ment and gaine, though that cunning and skill be more ex­quisite in time of adversity, then of prosperitie. For when as ca­lamities and crosses doe present [Page 32]themselves, then must we ga­ther all the forces of our wits together, and set our whole vi­gour and strength against such imminent or present evills, re­posing our whole confidence in God. Ionas had leisure even in the Whales belly to make his sup­plication and prayer unto God, and was presently heard. In this manner all accidents, how grie­vous & uneasie soever they be, may be sweetned and lightned.

To this purpose also it is good that each one set certaine bounds and limits to the hopes of this life, and that hee thinke with himselfe, that howsoever humane thing bee different and various in the outward sem­blance and shew: yet neverthe­lesse inwardly they resemble one another in their inconstancy and vanity.

[Page 33]A Calling is the Tye of every man from Sloth; it gives him health, it drawes the mind from thinking on such things as preci­pitate the Soule: By it Com­mon-wealths have their true de­corum, and are therefore per­manent; because upheld by continuall employment: It is e­ver best, when Honesty steeres the course, and meane ones beare not envy against such as are in higher places then they; for oftentimes that which wee account hight, is as a steepe hill, from whence a man with very little adoe is hurled downe headlong. And truely such as have lived content, have not beene alwayes those that have made the better choice: but ra­ther those who prudently and discreetly could carry them­selves in that estate and calling [Page 34]which they once made choice of, taking patiently the evill that fell out therein, and endea­vouring to redresse such acci­dents as did crosse their desires. This advice likewise is required to keepe discretion, which sea­soneth, and giveth a taste and rellish to all things. And for this cause Plato did compare the life of man to the play at Dice, whereat whosoever doth play, ought alwayes to strive to have a faire throw, and yet content himselfe with any cast that commeth. For seeing that good or evill lucke is not in our po­wer, at least wise wee must la­bour to take cheerefully our chance, and withall to thanke God, for that the worst that could, is not fallen out. Where­as men of weake wit, having Fortune at will, are so trans­ported [Page 35]with joy, that scarcely they know what they doe, they are so insolent, that no man can keepe them company; they can abide no body, and no body can abide them. Whereas in the time of adversity they are so a­mazed and so melancholy, that they are almost overwhelmed with sorrow and heavinesse of minde, yee shall see them like unto the sicke of a languishing, and anguishing disease, which can neither abide heate nor cold.

Whatsoever thy fortune be, beare it with patience, if thou art Low, strive not to Emulate those above thee, for in so doing the bowe which thou seekest to bend, wil fly back upō thee; and if thou art high, contemne not those meaner under thee: for that is to take up a stone to fling [Page 36]at thy selfe; but so weigh both thy mind, and it, as that a golden meane may be the Center of all thy hopes.

The Philosopher Theodorus was wont to say, that he gave his Schollers instructions & lessons, with the right hand, but that they received them with the left, and so doth it fare often times not with a few, who with the left hand take hold of the lucke which fortune (I meane Gods providence) reacheth them with the right. It were much better in my judgement wisely to imitate the wise dili­gence of the Bees, the which of Thyme, which is but a dry and harsh hearb, do make the sweet and pleasant honey. So should wee out of this harsh and combersome life extract and draw whatsoever there­in [Page 37]is good and chase away what is evill therein; or case and co­ver it closely, and who knoweth not but that such as are exerci­sed in the actions of Vertue, can draw by a certaine secret and su­pernaturall kinde of Alchimy, good out of evill? Diogenes was banished, but hee made good use of his banishment, in that he did in the meane time betake himselfe unto the study of Wise­dome. And this shall not be so difficult and hard to doe, as it seemeth to bee, if by frequent exercise yee doe endeavour to acquire the habitude and setled custome of living content. Can yee not abide in the Houses of Princes and Great men? con­tent you then with your owne. Doe yee finde your selfe un­capable of government in the Common wealth? play then [Page 38]the good Citizens part, and be content to obey. Thus doing ye shall make unto your selves facile, and casie, that which most men deeme to bee strict and hard in the course of your life.

Moreover it shall much a­vaile you in your discontent­ments, to represent unto your selfe the great and fame us per­sonages of the time past: how and with what wisedome, and courage they have remedi­ed and borne the crosses and calamities which befall them in this life. Doth it displease you that you are destitute of chil­dren? Consider how many Kings, Princes, and Potentates, have dyed without issue. If poverty doth vexe you, weigh in your owne minde, how many excellent men have [Page 39]beene likewise poore; who ne­verthelesse have lived patient­ly whithout complaining. On a day it was told the philoso­pher Stilphon, that his daugh­ter had done amisse: the fault (quoth hee) is not in mee but in her fortune and mine. To live is a gift, to dye is a debt: and then is that ransome onely paid, which all thy life time was due to Nature for thy being, and this is much eased by the patience of a discreet man. If the churlish and froward condi­tions of your owne grieve you, set before your eyes so many wise, honourable and illustrious men, as have quietly comported with the importunities of theirs, Socrates had the most fro­ward wife in the world, and hee said that by enduring of her at home, hee did learne to bee [Page 40]patient abroad. Looke upon holy David, a man after Gods owne heart, who yet was trou­bled and angred by his owne Children.

The world is full of such ex­amples, and if wee did not love our selves so much as wee doe, it is certaine that in the greatest crosses and encomber­ments of this life, wee should finde comfort enough. For there is not any prison, how darke or streight soever it be, which will not give place unto a Song, to refresh somewhat the poore pri­soners perplexed minde. Fi­nally, I say, that if yee serve God, and feare him, Charity shall bee able of it selfe, to pro­cure peace and tranquillity unto your spirit: which the whole world cannot performe, al­though every one should offer [Page 41]themselves to helpe you. Let Truth guide thee, whose purity will cleanse thy heart: Aske not what it is, but embrace it: It is [...]he Rule of Reason, and Birth of Vprightnesse; by it thy life will bee full of sweetnesse and pleasantnesse; thy profession, [...]hy end shall be better then thy beginning, and that also full of [...]ope.

DIS. 5. How a man must order and rale his life.

NO man would accept of life, if hee knew what it were: for all men doe so much complaine of it, yea, even the wisest; that if that length of dayes which those in the first Age before the Flood, en­ioyed, were given them, [Page 42]it would but increase an [...] augment their sorrow; and thi [...] happens through the unconstan­cy of the world. Therefore [...] is expedient in my conceit, tha [...] a man hold, and keepe a certain [...] stayed and setled manner of li­ving, and that he varie not with every winde. Yee shall see ma­ny much subject to this vice o [...] changing their manner of li­ving from day to day; so tha [...] they cannot ground or fett [...] themselves upon any thin [...] whatsoever. Wherein they d [...] resemble such as have neve [...] beene accustomed to be at Sea [...] who assoone as they beginne t [...] saile, runne out of one vessel into another, leaving the big­ger, to put themselves into [...] lesser, and by and by leaving the lesser, to returne to the big­ger againe. And thus they con­tinue [Page 43]in changing, untill they evidently know that nothing can fit them; because that whi­ther soever they goe, their queasie stomackes doe keepe them company, and conse­quently, their vomiting disease.

Also, there are others that bring their passions with them unto their affaires, and seeke incessantly after a new manner of living, and never accom­plish what they have once be­gun. All things goe against their stomacke, all things dis­please them: whether to be im­ployed, or to be idle; to serve, or to command; to be married, or to bee single; to have chil­dren, or to have none at all: finally, nothing doth fit their fancy, nothing doth satisfie their desire, save onely that thing they have not: and such [Page 44]folke must needes live as mi­serable as prisoners fettered in perpetuall paine.

There is likewise another ma­ner of men not much unlike un­to the former, that cannot keepe themselves quiet, nor bee at any stay, in any time, or in any place. They cease not to goe and come, alwaies intermedling with affaires, without being thereunto called, and busying and bestirring themselves a­bout that which no wise con­cerneth them. These men when they goe out of doores, if yee but aske them whither they goe, they will answere you thus; I know not, I goe to doe as the rest doe. They runne a­long the streets, they haunt the publicke places, and then they returne home full of vexation and wearinesse, without any [Page 45]designe: for there is nothing that doth so much irke and wea­ry mens mindes, as to la­bour in vaine. They are like unto little Ants, which doe climbe upwards upon trees, and after they have mounted to the toppe, are forced to creepe downe againe the same way they went up, without brin­ging downe with them any good at all. Many doe live in this manner, whose life is no­thing else but a busied leasure full of tumults and toyles, yee shall see them posting on with such vehemency and speede, as if they would carry away with them all that they finde before them in their way. The Streets, the Churches, and Mar­kets, are ordinarily ful of them.

These bee they which forge, and frame newes: they will [Page 46]bee the weighers of mens worthes, and the givers of gar­lands. They will talke lavishly of other mens lives, and dis­course of other mens offices, keeping a babling coyle. It is a principall point of Wisedome truly to know how to esteem of life; he that esteemeth and lo­veth his life for the love of it selfe, hee lives not but to live: But a wise man lives no longer, then that his life may be worth more then his death; a great part of life is lost to those that doe ill; a greater to those that doe nothing; and all to those that doe that they should not doe; some beginne to live when they should dye; some ended before they beginne; and a­mongst other evills, Folly hath this, that it alwaies beginnes to live. But the actions of a well [Page 47]aduised man tend alwaies to [...]me certaine end; neither doth [...]e burthen himselfe with more [...]usinesses then he can conveni­ [...]ntly the man that undertaketh [...]uch, must needs, in my minde, [...]ive Fortune much power over [...]im.

DISC. 6. Of the diversity of Actions.

EVery one in my Opinion ought to take paines in ina­ [...]ling himselfe to comport with the time and matters according as they accidentally happen: and not to tye themselves so much to one manner of living, but that in case of necessity they may forsake it. For if we con­sider [Page 48]man according to the life wee shall finde him full of vani­ty, weaknesse, inconstancy, mi­sery and presumption; a fruite­full argument to divert him from singularity. For even a [...] a man that is whole and sound, should not subject himselfe to the keeping o [...] one certaine rule in his dyet, bu [...] ought rather to accustome him­selfe to eate sometimes more, & sometimes lesse, at one time of one meat, and at another time of another meate; to drinke now of wine, and then of water, to abide sometimes in the sunne, & som­times in the shade, sometimes to labour, and sometimes to rest [...] so must hee frame and fashion himselfe to all manner of acci­dents, for in so doing, any new chance whatsoever, that can befall (for there are infinite in [Page 49]the course of our life) shall nei­ther trouble him, nor disquiet him: yee though hee be driven to betake himselfe to some o­ther manner of living, yet shall hee doe it without much trou­ble (provide alwaies that teme­rity and rashnesse be away) by reason that hee shall bee so well inured thereunto before hand, that it will bee easie for him to give place unto the time that of­fereth it selfe. And truely the impotency and weaknesse is all one, not to be able to change in time of need, and not to be able to continue constant in a good course, for he that loveth riches, shall not bee satisfied with it; and hee that cannot comport with necessity has not the valour of a Christian.

Moreover, wee must mingle and temper our matters in such [Page 50]sort that they may be fitted pro­portionably one to another. As for example. At one time to be solitary, at another time to be in company, the one for our friends sake, the other for our selves: for we must not alwaies re­maine in our grave moode, for that will make us abhorrec [...]: nei­ther must wee shew our selves continually jocund and glad, for that will render us despi­sed. But wee must carry our selves discreetly, observing comelinesse & conveniercy of time and place, as the life of man doth require. For it is a needfull thing for a man at one time or other to recreate himselfe by gi­ving intermission to his more se­rious affaires.

Labour in some is a weaknes of the Spirits, in others a waste; in some it makes the heade [Page 51]dizzy, in others the backe, and [...]ll suffer; though not a like. Recrea [...]ion is the Physitian that [...]ures all those, and makes them [...]gree in a sweet harmony; and [...]herefore he that will not mixe [...]hese two together, is guilty of his owne distemper, and [...]n enemy to the Law of rea­son.

We read of Socrates, a most grave Ph [...]osopher, that hee made no scruple to play and re­fresh himselfe with litle boies: & of Cato, a very austere man, that sometimes hee did feast his friends, thereby to refresh him­selfe with the pleasure of their company, and to recreate his minde, wearied with the weigh­ty affaires of the Common-wealth. Also of Scipio Africanus, that he would delight himselfe with dancing.

[Page 52]And this we have said to shew that the minde of man requireth some release. Neither hath he his due liberty, who hath not the meanes sometimes to beatlea­sure. The fruitefullest grounds if they are not laid to waste, become barren in a short time. Continuall labour maketh the minde of man to become slacke and weake: even as lasinesse and and luxury doth make it heavy, feeble, and faint. Our recre­ation ought to be as our sleepe, which restoreth our strength, and giveth us breath to re­turne more gayly, and joy­fully to our worke. For if we should sleepe continually, it would bee a death and not a sleepe.

The law of reason establishes a conveniency in the ordering of all things; and knits it [Page 53]selfe to Nature: which ordaines foure seasons, wherein trees ap­ [...]eare, Leaves budde, beare fruite, and ripen, and after retire their [...]ap into the body of the earth, to teach even men, that rest is altogether as necessary as Labour, and those which of old did establish lawes, have ordained there should bee al­so certaine feastival dayes in the yeare, to the end men might in a manner bee constrained to surcease from the emploi­ments of their ordinary callings, and take some pastime after their toyle: and of old we finde that many excellent men were wont to allot some parcell of time to their recreation. Asini­us Pollio a great Orator was never so much busied in af­faires, but hee reserved for his pleasure and pastime the two [Page 54]last houres of the day; during the which space, hee would not so much as read the Letters which hee received from his friends, fearing lest they should minister unto him some new care and cogitation. Others were wont to labour untill noone, and the remnant of the day they did spend about mea­ner matters. And the Canon it selfe allowes civill Recreati­ons, and that on the Sabbath, to those whose weekely labour hath afforded no releasement. The lights which they distri­bute to servants at Court, doe likewise limit and bound the times appointed both for labour and rest. Conscience also which is placed in the minde of man, to decide the difference betwixt the Body and the Soule, even in holy exercises ordaines a re­pose, [Page 55]following that first In­stitution of rendring God his glory, and man his right.

And there was a Decree of the Senate of Rome, which did beare a prohibition, that no new thing should be propounded, or mentioned in the last two houres of the day. Further­more, when a man is weary of his worke, he doth finde him­selfe marvailously refreshed and restored, when as hee goeth out into an open and spatious place; and it seemeth that the free ayre doth repaire and renew the strength and vigour of his di­spersed and spent spirits. For conclusion, yee ought to love diversity and change according to the time, and take heed lest yee nourish, and cherish your mindes too delicately and dain­tily.

[Page 56]For that having of its owne na­ture great strength, provided that it bee wakened and rouzed up, it were not reasonable yee should suffer it through volup­tuous and delicious living to waxe feeble and faint. And no sooner do ye come to that point to be impatient and delicate, but assoone all things beginne to crosse your good liking. Divers things are offensive to divers men, which to others are not so: and that is a Cure to this man, which to another is hurt­full. To eate, it goeth against your stomacke; to be hungry, it hurteth you; to sleepe, it slay­eth you; to be awake, it vexeth you: and as a sicke or queazie person, yee goe on in a restlesse maze, alwaies searching and see­king after some new thing: such delicacy and tendernes hath bin [Page 57]the cause that divers have had much adoe to comport with the very things which are necessa­ry in this life, as to lie, to sleepe, to wake, to rise, to dine, to suppe, to talke, to walke, to cloath and uncloath themselves: so that some have thought it a death to be alwayes wearied in beginning anew a­gaine, and reiterating so often the same things. Such people come to so great extremities, that they can hardly manage, or maintaine the manly courage of their minde; neither can they frame themselves in al, to know and tast of many things, and al­waies in every of them to carry a good stomack. For in this case there is the like reason & condi­tion of the body & of the mind. Hence it is that yee shall espie some men so tenderly disposed, [Page 58]that a small noise of their neigh­bour will annoy them, and the sound of a little Bell will trou­ble their braine. For as unto a crazie and ill complexioned body, so unto a drooping and languishing minde it doth sem­blably befall, that what thing soever toucheth it, doth prick it and sting it full sore.

DISC. 7. Of the choyce of Friends.

IT is not with Vertue as with worldly Princes; her pride consists not in her plumes, nor the glory of her state, in the greatnesse of her Traine: But shee is as well contented to lodge in a poore Cottage, as [Page 59]in a Kingly Palace: Her grea­test Glory is in Friendship, where two hearts are mutually connext, and dare lay downe their lives one for another: There she exults, and esteemes nothing more heavenly; to this purpose shee hath disperst her rayes, that Amitie might be in common to all.

Therefore seeing that the life of man necessarily hath neede of Friendship and Fellowship; for it is a matter both harsh and hard for a man to have alwayes his minde bended about busi­nesse; and would bee yet more wearisome, if hee had not one with whom he might take some release; and that wee prove commonly too negligent and carelesse in making our choice: We ought in my judgement to chuse such people for our [Page 60]friends as be of a mild and meeke conversation, and who because of their calme and quiet dispo­sition deserve to be beloved, for there is not any thing that so much doth content, and deligh: the minde of man, as faithfull and trusty friendship. It being a great contentment to find a per­son so disposed, unto whom yee may safely impart your most se­cret affaires: whose counsel may advise you, whose cheerefulnes may qualifie all your cares, and whose presence may appease all your paines, and expell your pensivenesse of minde: And therefore yee must endeavour to chuse such friends as are free from covetousnesse, and all notorious vice. For vice like the fire taketh hold of that which is neerest unto it. So that wee must doe as men are [Page 61]wont in the time of plague and [...]estilence: which is to separate [...]nd sever the sicke from the whole: it being a contagion and [...]n occasion of sicknesse to let [...]hem live together. Neverthe­ [...]esse I do not like that we should be in our choice too scrupulous, but seeing we cannot finde folks together perfect, wee must hold those for good which bee lesse evill.

Amity is a sacred flame kindled in our breasts by nature, and hath expressed its first heate, betweene husband and wife, brother and sister, friend and friend, it is the soule and life of the world, more necessary then Fire and Wa­ter. Friendshippe is the com­panion of Justice, the bond of Nature, the Defence and Safe- [...]ard of a Towne or [Page 62]City the comfort of old age, and the quiet harbour of mans lif [...] By it all things consist, & discord decaies, & therefore in the ele­ction of friends, ye ought chief­ly to avoide such as be extreme­ly sullen or sad, who weepe and waile at all things, and de­spaire of all things, although otherwife they be such as d [...]e love you, and would proove faithfull enough unto you. For it is a thing that must needes trou­ble us much to have such a man for our friend as is alwaies sad, sighing and sobbing at every oc­casion. For seeing that friend­ship, and fellowship is ordained to drive away discontent, sor­row, and griefe, it were neither reasonable no [...] convenient to chuse such a one for your com­forter and friend, as in stead of delighting you, and of lightning [Page 63]your griefe, should by his fullen­nesse and sadnesse increase your sorrow, and every day occasion unto you some new vaine appre­hension and feare.

DISC. 8. Of dissembling or disguising of humors.

DIssimulation comes from Distrust, which is the Sci­ene or seed plot thereof: for if that were not, and that there were trust and fidelity in all, dissimulation which opneth the frōt, & covereth the thought, could have no place. Now it is a great paine, & a testlesse mole­statiō of mind, for men to labour to appeare different in shew from that which they are in substance. And a marvellous trouble and [Page 64]torment it is, for them to take al­waies heed unto themselves, for feare lest they should be disco­vered. Looke how often men looke on them, so often doe they think that they are espied: so that in the end it falleth our, that whether they will or no, they doe bewray the humour and inclination which beareth rule in their breast. The exces­sive care they have to hide their naturall humour, putteth them to an unexplicable paine: and a­gaine, to be discovered, it put­teth them to almost an intole­rable shame. So that in this co­vered and masked kind of carri­age there is not that pleasure and ease, which is to be felt in the o­ther plain & simple kind of con­versation that Nature doth lead each man unto. And though there be some little danger ac­companying [Page 65]this plainnesse, that a man may bee the lesse estee­med of by reason of this his in­clination when it is discried: not­withstanding in my mind, it wer better for him to be a little lesse accounted of, and to live open­ly; then with such paine to dis­guise and carry himselfe dissem­blingly. And yet in both the two there is to be kept a reaso­nable mediocrity and meane: for there is a great difference be­tweene a franke and free fashi­on of behaviour, and a negligent or carelesse kind of carriage.

To understand this point som­what better, wee have to con­sider, how that Nature hath in­dued man with two diverse qua­lities and properties, the one generall and common to us all, in making us reasonable and ca­pable of discourse, wherein [Page 66]we surpasse the bruite beasts a [...] other particular to each one of us, as to be inclined to gravity, to pollicy, to melancholy, of [...] some such humour. In this every one should follow his na­turall inclination, provided that it bee not absurd, unseeme­ly, or vitious. As if a man her subject to too much laughter, in behoveth him to endeavour to amend this imperfection. But in such qualities, as are not blame­able, it is good not to use coun­terfeiting, cloaking, or dissemb­ling. For it is a thing very uneasy for that man alwaies to Act the grave, who is not naturally enclined to gravity, as to change his countenance, to enlarge or raise swellingly his voyce, to fa­shion & frame his eyes & lookes to austerity, majesty, and great­nesse: The which gestures if a [Page 67]man chance to forget through negligence and oversight, by & by hee is discovered.

In my conceit it were much better for such a man to follow his in-bred cheerefull inclinati­on, and gay humour in conver­sing with others.

Notwithstanding, if it bee a mans fortune to be preferred to a place of dignitie and honour, such as doth require a grave, or severe countenance and cariage, then in this case it behoveth him to constraine and command a little his joviall inclination. But this must be don with much discretion and moderation, and by degrees, and in such sort that this change offend no man. And this kinde of dissembling, or disguising of humours cannot bee blamed; seeing the quality of his charge doth require it, for [Page 68]the seemly bearing whereof, he must bee content to take the paines, to put aside; or rather to smother a little of his fac [...]le and easie disposition.

But there are some light-headed and ridiculous, which notwithstanding men take for grave, stayed, and magnati­mous: Others there are, and some great ones, on whom God hath bestowed both Riches and Honour, and yet these doe give themselves over to a depraved and loose voluptuous will, when as their open Carriage pre­claimes them wise, modest and discreet: And there are others againe, who without cause la­bour to counterfeit and cover, or rather smother their good in­clination; for being borne of a milde and meeke disposition, they endeavour to dawb them­selves [Page 69]over with the untempe­red morter of inhumanitie; roughnesse, and austerity. Al­so others there are, who being very cowards, will yet make shew as if they were the most valorous in the World, and by no meanes can they be brought to know themselves.

But yet this their coloured and constrained courage they cannot carry farre off without discovery: The common say­ing alwayes proving true, That no violent or constrained thing hath long continuance.

DISC. 9. Of Vanity.

VAnity is the most essentiall and proper quality of hu­mane Nature: there is nothing so much in man, bee it malice, infelicity, inconstancy, irreso­lution, (and of all these there is abundance) as base feeble­nesse, sottishnesse, and ridicu­lous vanity: And therefore Pi [...] ­darus hath exprest it more to the life then any other, by the two vainest things in the world; calling it the Dreame of a sha­dow. So that is a very hard thing, yea, I dare say impos­sible, that a vaine and ambiti­ous man can ever attaine to taste sweete and most desirable tran­quillity [Page 71]of minde, which the [...]ise have so diligently sought [...]or, by Sea and by Land, on note, and on horse, sparing no [...]aines: For hee that hath his [...]inde and heart euen with the [...]hawing worme of Ambition, [...]annot attaine to that which he desireth, to wit, that place, cre­dit, and account which he doth [...]rave. And as of himselfe bee promiseth alwayes more then he can performe; So likewise in his habits, attire, and all his o­ther things, he doth usually goe beyond his measure: And is found to bee in the selfe same paine, wherein are lodged all those which strive against the streame, or which creepe and graspe upwards against a steepe Rocke, and because in setting forwards they make too much haste, therefore they lye the [Page 72]further behinde. Moderati [...] carries a soft pace, and submit her selfe to the rule of Temper­ance, shee vayles under a slo [...] saile, and by little and littl [...] creepes along; yet in that neg­lected pace goes further the [...] the galloping scope of prodiga­lity: the true meanes to attain unto ease is, for a man to make smaller semblance and shew then indeed his power and abi­lity doth beare, and to set asid [...] all pompous superfluity and va­nity, as well in his attire, as in his traine: and to hold alwaies for his measure and rule that which is necessary, not that which hat [...] no other ground but a vaine o­pinion, or a frivoulous concei [...] yea in our very eating and appa­relling, we must take heed there appeare nothing so singular, or odde, that men may in an extra­ordinary [Page 73]manner take notice thereof. It is likewise very ex­pedient and profitable, that wee refraine our hopes, and that wee extend not our designes further then wee may well attaine unto. As for riches, endeavour to come by them rather of your selfe, then of fortune: And every way it is a principall point for a man to bee moderate as well in his actions, as in his inten­tions. For when any tempest, or storme of fortune shall fall out, it shall have the lesser pow­er to prevaile upon him, and to give him the overthrow, if it finde him with his sailes gathe­red in, rather then hoysed up to the full winde. Finally, a man ought so to dispose and de­meane himselfe, that although fortune should frowne on him, by reason of lacke of meanes; [Page 74]yet let him beware lost hee be at once both crossed in his Con­dition, and quelled in his cou­rage by the incommodity of want.

If your Minde giveth you to loue Bookes, indeauour to make them serve you for ano­ther use and end, then for orna­ment to your Chamber wals, as some do which purchase & buy many, only for Ostentation; therein resembling Asses, and Mules, which carry good Victu­alls on their backes, and yet eate not thereof at all. The immo­derate multitude of Servants, bringeth unto the Master a mul­titude of charges and cares, with an excessiue great payne: And they on the other side, are mar­red and made worse, by reason of too much ease. For conclu­sion, in what thing soever it be, [Page 75]if yee intend to live according to the opinion of others, yee shal never be content; but if yee do live according to Reason, and that which Nature doth require, yee shall never have Want. O how securely and quietly doth the Humble and Moderate man liue, and how little paines doth he take, to provide and furnish himselfe! And truely, even unto the very brute Beasts which we do feed we have in horrour such as be untameable and wilde, and will not suffer themselves to be fed and led after our fantasie & Will. What reason have wee then to approve of wild and im­moderate men, which come so neere these unmanageable and unsatiable Beasts? In briefe, and for a good advertisement, call to minde how that the Thunder and Lightnings doe [Page 76]fall ordinarily upon the tallest Trees, the highest Hills, and the stateliest Towers.

DISC. 10. Of Prosperity.

PRosperity is the life of Peace in a tumultuous War, where all seeke to be conquerours o­ver poore men, whose weake stability can hardly support it selfe without them; his happi­nesse being not much unlike a faire house, whose foundation is rotten and decayed. And there­fore when fortune smileth on us, and (as they say) every thing fal­leth out according to our wish, it is then, yea even then, if ever at any time, that wee ought heedfully to looke unto our [Page 77]selves, to hold our affections in raines, and watchfully to order our actions by reason. For ad­versity may procure our very enemies and foes to pittie our affliction; but prosperity may move our very Friends to en­vy our fortunate condition.

If wee would rehearse in this place all those which have miserably miscarried by sud­den and violent Death, because that they could not in their prosperity moderate and ma­ster themselves. The Story would bee too tedious; it be­ing our intention to use bre­vity, wee will therefore leave that Discourse: For scarcely shall wee finde any man, who hath not some Knowledge thereof: And therefore when as we enjoy the smiling favour of time, wee ought diligently [Page 78]to avoide all presmuption, and pride, which ordinarily doth ac­company prosperity: and must endeavour to diminish, and a­base, as much as we can; this haughty humour, and strouting be haviour which alwaies doth follow the heeles of a more fa­vourable fortune.

True it is, there are some which sustaine such a ranke and dignity, that they cannot conve­niently debase themselves, ex­cept they either fall from their place, or at least, not carry them­selves in the same as they ought. King Xerxes and Cyrus got such aboundance of wealth by warre that being there with puffed up with pride to take enterprizes in hand, through perswasion of of wealth; the one after hee thought to robbe and spoile all Greece was slaine by Artabanus, [Page 79]the other thinking to subdue all Scythia, was vanquished by To­miris, the Queene thereof: see heere both these proud Princes, how by having too much wealth, nay rather for not using it wel, they lost both it and their lives too: and truely men most imploy their prudence and wise­dome in tempering their gra­vity, so that others may bee brought to impute it to their charge and calling, and not to the naturall disposition of their minde; and therefore it is good that they excuse themselves to­wards their friends, and such folkes as be of a meaner ranke, whom they have knowne fami­liarly before, that they have not the leasure to entertaine them, and to make much of them, by bearing them company, as o­therwise they would very wil­lingly [Page 80]doe: Yet so, that they use in the meane time, all the facility and affability their con­dition and calling can suffer them to use; not bewraying or shewing any stormy, or an­gry moode, by their visage or words, if a man chance to come to them at an unfit houre, or speake to them somewhat more importunatly, or undis­creetly then reason would re­quire. For it is a like vice for a man not to know how to carry himselfe in his prosperity, as not to be able to comport with ad­versity: wee ought therefore to observe an equality in our whole life, and to shew alwaies (if it be possible) in all the changes and chances therof one and the same countenance, full of curtesie, mildnesse and gentle in beha­viour. Prosperity is very dange­rous [Page 81]whatsoever there is that is vaine and light in the Soule of Man, is raised and carried with the first favourable winde; there is nothing that makes a man so much to lose & forget himselfe; as great prosperity; and therfore it is necessary that a man looke to himselfe, and take heed as if he went in a slippery place, and especially of insolence, pride and presumption. Alexander the great did far out-run his father Philip King of Macedon, by his high and excellent feats of warre: but his father did far surmount him in humanity and gentlenesse of minde. The father was alwaies vertuous and welbeloved, but the sonne was oftentimes viti­ous and hated: In such sort that their counsell is questionlesse wholesome and sound, which tell us that the higher and [Page 82]loftier men are, the humbler and lowlier ought they to be.

Antonius Primus overthrew himselfe and his whole house, by nothing else then his over­much glorying in his valiant deeds, and found this Maxime too late to be true, that a proud and insolent carriage towards men of spirit can hardly com­passe any thing, unlesse in some sort or other he that useth it be able to over awe them. Scipio Africanus was wont to say, that even as men are accustomed to put wilde and untamed horses in to the hands of Equitiers and Riders, that being daunted and tamed, they may serve them at their neede; So likewise is it needfull to tame proud and inso­lent persons, that have growne wilde through the aboundance of fortunes favour, and to bring [Page 83]them againe within the round and compasse of reason, by set­ting before their eye the wretchednesse and weaknesse of humane matters, and the mu­tability and instablity of for­tune. And for this end we ought in our greatest prosperity to use the advice and counsell of our friends, yea, then we should give them more authority and power over us then at any other time, to the end they may be more bold towards us in telling us the truth. We must also stoppe our eares to flatterers, which may very easie beguile us: For at all times men do deeme and esteem themselves to be such, as ought to bee praised and extolled, but most of all in time of prosperity: In which it is a thing very rare and difficult to finde a man who doth not incline to attribute un­to [Page 84]to himselfe the cause of his own good hap. Neither is there any other Season in which men sooner forget God, then when they enjoy health and wealth, dignity and felicity according to their wish. So that mishap whensoever it doth happen them, doth serve them for a me­dicine, because it bringeth them home againe unto the know­ledge of themselves.

This opinion of selfe-conceit, for a man to thinke too much of himselfe, and to give credit lightly unto the fawning lyes of flatterers, maketh men to stum­ble, and to fall into many grosse faults, yea, giveth occasion of mocking and bitter reviling, and out of all question, it is a great over-sight, and a folly, for a man to relie more upon anothers judgment concerning himselfe, [Page 85]then upon his owne. This Phi­lip (of whom we spake before) seeing himselfe very mighty and victorious, and conside­ring with himselfe, as a wise and moderate man ought to do, how that humane things do not alwayes abide in the same stay, appointed that one of his Pages should each Morning salute him with these words, Philip, remember that thou art a mor­tall man. But how much more may the wise and well-disposed Christian say every day to him­selfe, Remember that thou art earth, and to earth thou must re­turne.

DISC 11. Of the comparing of our fortune with that of others.

IT is an ancient question, whe­ther Industry and Fortune hath most credit: For it is out of all doubt, that both have; and it is clearely false; that one onely doth all, and the other nothing; and commonly they that settle themselves unto the one, contemne the other; but the difficulty is to joyne them together, and to attend them both.

Therefore it is much availea­ble for the attaining of this tran­quillity of minde, that a man setting aside all passions, consi­der with himselfe what meanes [Page 87]and commodities hee doth en­joy, and in the next place, that he set before his eyes such men as have not so much: not do­ing as many are wont, who have their eyes onely upon such as surpasse them, admiring and re­puting them onely happy and blessed. The prisoners hold them happy that are set at large; and againe, those esteeme such blessed as are altogether free. The free thinke the rich onely fortunate, and the rich againe those that command. They that command, account Kings of all other most blessed, and Kings those of their degree that excell them in ability and power. Hence it is, that men finding themselves unable to e­quall such as surpasse them, they doe remaine discontented, and no wise satisfied with their for­tune, [Page 88]wherein they both bewray their ingratitude towards God, and beget a torment to them­selves. A wise man will not be male content, though many surmount him in meanes, but rather representing to himselfe the great numbers of afflicted and miserable men the world doth afford, he will rejoyce and bee glad of his condition and case. If ye see then a man well mounted and furnished with faire horses, richly arayed, doe but cast downe a little your eyes, and consider how many there are that goe a foot, which leading a poore life, esteem that of yours to be happy, for it is not reasonable that the good for­tune of one, or of a few, should have greater force to make you discontent, then should the bad fortune of many have to [Page 89]move you to be content. How many poore folkes see yee daily that live of their labours; and are laden with children, & pinched with poverty, and which is worst of all, have no hope at all to e­scape out of their misery? How many is there to whom your life, which ye so much deplore, would bring much consolation and ease? Fortune may make a man poore, sick, afflicted, but not vitious, dissolute, dejected: many times a man complaineth unjust­ly, for though he be sometimes surprized with some ill acci­dent, yet hee is more often with a good, and so the one must recompence the other: and if a man consider wel thereof, he shall finde more reason to con­tent himselfe with his good for­tunes, then to complaine of his bad. We are come to a time so [Page 90]miserable, that one mans life de­pendeth more of anothers then of it selfe; and the good of our Neighbour doth occasion us greater griefe then is the glad­nesse we reape of our owne. But if it were possible for men to see unfolded the fortune of such as they esteeme happy, they would feele and find in it often­times more anxiety and paine, then they do in their own. Who is he that doth not account the condition of Kings of all other to be most happy? And yet har­ken what a great King saith of himselfe in Homer; Great Iupi­ter hath imprisoned mee with great perplexities and cares. O how happy then are those that live in their little corners out of these dangers and feares! And if it be so that ten thousand folks would bee content with the e­state [Page 91]wherein God hath establi­shed you, what reason have you to complaine, for that yee have not the estate & fortune of one whom yee envy? Yee have no cause at all to kill your selfe with sorrow and care, for to at­taine unto another mans ranke, seeing there is nothing that so much roubleth and tormenteth a man, as this affection and im­moderate desire of mounting from one degree of dignity to a­nother. For such folkes ordina­rily do follow without conside­ration any hope whatsoever that offereth it selfe; the which if it faile to succeede according to their wish, they presently beginne to accuse Fortune, and to accurse their hard hap; whereas they ought rather to blame themselves for their rashnesse & lightnesse, and their [Page 92]want of fore-sight. Neither doe they consider what a folly it is for them, to impure unto a­nother the blame of their owne weake understanding, and the fault they have fallen into, by following that which was ei­ther uncertaine, or impossible for them to attaine unto. They are like unto those, in my con­ceit, which fret and fume for that they cannot fly, or shoote an arrow with a bow as big as a plow-beame.

The cause of this evill, is the excessive affection men beare unto themselves: Whence it happens, that in all things they will needs strive and labour to bee the first. It is nothing in their eye to abound in Wealth, except they have much more then other rich men have.

[Page 93] Solon the Philosopher saith, that Wealth is the Mother of Excesse, Excesse the Mother of Lust, Lust the Mother of Vio­lence, and Violence the Mother of Tyranny. Behold how this vice reigneth, or rather rangeth in all estates. Dionysius the first was not content to bee King of Sicily, neither esteemed hee his dignity accomplished enough, because Philoxenus did surpasse him in Poësie, and Plato in Phi­losophy. Wherupon hee was so furious, that he condemned Phi­loxenus to the quarries, there to wring Verses out of the hard rocks, and banished Plato out of his country. But it were good that he & all other complainers did practise the saying of a wise man, that if al the evils that men suffer, shold be cōpar'd with the blessings they injoy, the division [Page 94]being equally made they may see by the overplus of that good they enjoy, the injustice of their complaint. And out of this im­moderate love it doth also pro­ceede, that men will speake of all things, thereby to shew that they know all things: wher­by thy make themselves often to bee mocked at, as it once hap­pened to Megabyses the Persian, a man otherwise of great repu­tation, and valour who having upon a time entred into the lodging where the famous pain­ter Apelles did plye and pra­ctise his art, began to discourse touching the same, and would needes give him to understand, that hee understood the nature and secrets thereof. To whom Apelles, as being a man wise, and well conditioned, thus an­swered: Truely, Megabyses, be­fore [Page 95]I heard you speake, I held [...]ou for a discreet man, for [...]our silence did grace your [...]rave apparell, but since yee have medled to talke of my [...]rade, trust me, there is not the [...]mallest boy heere that grin­deth the colours, but will mocke you for your labour.

Hannibal that great Captaine of Carthage, after that the Ro­manes had chased him out of I­taly and Affricke, fled to the King of Bithynia, where hee was invited to goe into the Scholes, to heare a great Philosopher discoursing of the stratagemes, tricks, and subtilties of warre, his auditors wondering at his eloquence and science of the military Art, asked of Hani­bal. what hee thought of him; who laughingly answered them: That hee had knowne many old [Page 96]fooles, but that hee had never seen, nor heard any man uttering so many fond and foolish words as that man did, whom they all so much admired. And not with­out cause did he answer them in this wise: considering how that this man did take upon him to discourse largely and lavishly of a matter which very hardly can be taught or learned in the shade of a Schoole, and that in the pre­sence and audience of the grea­test Captaine, and most experi­mented warriour that was then in the whole world. Which may teach every man to containe himselfe within the compasse of his calling, without medling or troubling himselfe with that of another mans. The which thing the Poets also have taught us, when as they faine that their gods doe content themselves [Page 97]each one with his owne calling and charge. Mars medleth with warre, Minerva with arts, Mer­cury with eloquence, Cupid with love, Neptune with the sea, Pluto with Hell, Iupiter with the heavens, and so of the rest, each one keeping himselfe within the bounds and lists of his ju­risdiction. And if that any of them had encroched upon the office and function of another, he had beene scoffed and cha­stised for his presumption.

How ill a fooles cap be­comes the head of a wise man; and yet through that disguise he is discerned to be discreet, when all the choisest garments in the world cannot cover the naked­nesse of a foole. And hence we may gather, that all things doe not be fit, nor become all men, and that each one ought to con­sider [Page 98]what calling hee findeth himselfe most apt and sufficient for, and that hee contenting him therewith, and containing him­selfe therein. They that fol­low the profession of letters and learning, have neede of leasure and ease. Hee that will follow the Court, and laboureth to have the countenance and acquaint­ance of great men, and to finde accesse unto Princes, must needs undergoe much paines. So that these conditions, and the like, are not sitting for all: and it stan­deth each one upon to know whereunto he is most apt. The Horse is fit for riding, and run­ning: the Oxe for opening and labouring the ground. The man that is sorry that he cannot beare a Lyon in his bosome, as he may a little dogge, is hee not more then mad?

[Page 99]If Fortune be a blessing to thee, why shouldest thou contemne it in another? or if not, why despairest thou that thy neigh­bour is richer: dos not the same sunne shine upon all? and is there not a God above the power of Fate? who knowes what is bet­ter for man, then himselfe: if so, thou art most happy in being the least: in that thou art not dayly in feare to bee made so. But there are some, who without leaving any part of their ease, and of their vice, would bee as wise as the Philosophers that have both day and nigh spent their time in study. The good wrestlers of old contenting themselves with their prize, suf­fered the other Champions to win likewise theirs at running. Contrariwise such as despising and disdaining their owne good, [Page 100]doe sighingly seeke after ano­ther mans do they not live in displeasure and paine?

They say, that in times past, there was a notable kinde of men in Baeotia, which did com­plaine of their gods because that their figge trees did not beare grapes, and that their vines did not bring forth figges. Wee must imagine that God hath fa­shioned & framed diversly men for divers affairs, & that each one ought to content himselfe with that ability or place which God hath imparted unto him, with­out passing beyond his owne, to pursue, and follow after that which is anothers. For these kind of people make no account at all of that which they have, but onely of that which they would have: they goe alwaies looking a farre off, and little [Page 101]thinke of the place wherin they are.

There was of old, in a certaine Temple, an image pourtraied, which did represent the manner of men, that alwaies wait on the time to come, and neglect the good oportunity of the time present. The picture was of a Rope-maker who did stil work, but suffered an Asse that stood behinde him to eat it up. And thus doe the ingrate people in Gods behalfe, who make no reckoning of the goods they enjoy, but suffer them to be buried in oblivion, and are alwaies covetous of things to come. In the harmony of the world, the differences, or distan­ces are to bee observed: so like­wise in humane things, all are not of one sort. And as in musick there are tunes and sounds, some [Page 102]grave, some sharpe, and some meane, of the mingling whereof the skilfull Musitian maketh a sweete melody: so doth the prudent man make an harmony of the good and evill that occur­reth in this life, not taking the good or the evill alone, but con­sorting and tempering the one with the other, as things which in this world can never bee ful­ly severed. That faire pro­verbe uttered by Eurypides, but used of all, proving true: That sorrow and mans life are sisters of one wombe.

DISC. 12. Of Adversity.

WIth what a Labyrinth is purblind man encompast, no sooner borne with hope of a prosperous life, but that is cross't with variety or adversity, which is of its owne nature grievous and heavy unto our hearts, in sicknesse, the losse of children, of friends, with such like other disma [...]l accidents. But yet in part we follow popular opinion in the apprehension thereof, and this wee doe principally in our owne wants necessities and in matter of affronts, circumventi­ons and scoffes, when as we ima­gine that the honour is deferred us which we deserve.

[Page 104]Against these crosses it were good for us to apply un­to our selves the saying of the Poet Menander, That which hath befallen you, is not indeed grievous, but onely seemeth so, and that it is so, it may appeare in that ye have your mind and body as much at commandement, as yee had be­fore the crosse did befall you. And against the crosses of the first kinde yee ought to consider how that yee endure nothing contrary to the Law and course of humane things, in regard that all these accidents are an­nexed unto mans being, and that from his birth they are al­lotted to him for ordinary; and the truth is nature hath not framed us so feeble, to beare out adversity, as wee make our selues. Let us alwaies think that [Page 105]it is but our inferiour part which is subject unto fortune, and that wee have the principall in our owne power: & that that which lyeth in us, as concerning vertue, cannot bee overcome by any other thing, without our con­sent: For wee know that wee have not neede of any great for­ces for the doing hereof, wee having none to fight against, but our owne selves, and the bet­ter part of the victory consisting in mastering our owne will: whereunto adde this, that God will alwaies favour the man who through the ayde of rectified reason disposeth himselfe to be the stronger. Fortune (if so it bee lawful for a Christian to speake) may well make thee poore, abase thee and afflict thee but she is not able to make thee vitious, lasie, or il-con­ditioned; [Page 106]neither can shee be­reave thee of the courage and vigour of minde, wherein doth lie greater strength to governe thy soule, then there is in the Art of Navigation to direct a ship. For the Mariner, let him be never so skilfull and wife in his Art, cannot withall his skill asswage the surging tempest of the Sea, nor yet take away fearefull apprehensions from a­nother mans fantasie. Where­as Vertue and Wisedome in a well ordered minde doth assure and settle the body, for it preser­veth it from diseases through temperance, and pulleth it backe from wicked and vitious dispositions by continence: and whereas any thing, wherein there is danger, shall present it selfe unto our minde (as if it were in a quicksand) it is good [Page 107]that wee leave it, and passe fur­ther [...] or else if the evill be una­voydable, let him comfort himselfe, and think that the ha­ven is not very far off: and that his soule goeth out of the body, as out of a crazy or broken bark, holding death for a sweete and assured harbour, chiefly consi­dering, that in regard of the na­ture of the soule, her out-going from this life, is her in-going to a better. Which considera­tion ought to adde much unto the courage of Christians, yea, and make them not to feare that which bringeth affrightment unto others. And truely, if we had skill and courage enough to looke Fortune in the face, and to meete her in the way with a stou [...] stomacke, prepared to sustaine all her assaults, nothing in the world could dismay us, or [Page 108]make us suffer. And this thing would certainely come to passe, if we could once be accustomed never to promise to our selves aney great or assured hopes, or yet any certaine and settled estate, during this miserable life, and if wee would take heede diligently, considering whether those things wee doe account as evill, bee so evill as wee deeme them to bee, or if happely they bee not so evill, but rather lesse then we imagine. Finally this thing would happen if we would behold a far off, & wisely foresee frowning fortune, for in so doing wee might assure our selves, that at her comming shee should not affright us, but the neerer she came to us, the bolder wee might bee to looke her in the face, and to e­steeme her not to be so lusty and [Page 109]strong as her picture doth im­port, and if no man bee able to boast during this life, so farre as to say, I am exempted from this bitter potion, at least may he say thus, though I must swal­low it downe, yet shall I not bee agast, weepe and waile I will not, neither despaire, as many men do. I wil not bring my selfe into so deplorable a plight as di­vers do, amidst their disasters. Though poverty pinch me more then many others, for al that wil I not beguile my neighbour, nor yet take that to my selfe which belongeth to another: I will not lie, much lesse will I forsweare my selfe. Briefly there shall nothing unto mee seeme so in­tolerable, as that for to shun it, I would chuse to become vitious. If by honest meanes I cannot a­voide indigence and neede; at [Page 110]least necessity shall make this necessity of mine easie to bee borne. Besides, the common law of humane things, doth not allow us to esteeme that thing heavy and unbea [...]eable, which so many daily doe carry, and beare on their backs: for choose what manner of afflictions yee will, yee shall finde more men burthened therewith, then ex­empted there-from.

Adversity is a Penelopes web, which undoes all that the day of Prosperity had woven: In the day of Adversity, consider, saith the Wise man; and the Anci­ents give a clearer revelation of the Knowledge of God unto it, then to Prosperity; because it is a nearer way to Heaven. There­fore we must likewise comfort our selves with this considerati­on, that where there is no sinne, [Page 111] [...]here can be no true evill at all: [...]nd that the vertuous man is more came and quiet in his dee­pest adversity; then is the viti­ous man in his highest prosperi­ty: And such were the crosses of the righteous men of old, which by the helpe of the di­vine grace, were so accompani­ed with fortitude, patience, and humility, that how sharpe and rough soever they were, yet they brought them not so much vexation and anguish as their conscience did them consolati­on and ease, and even as those that are sicke of a Fever, feele sooner, and in more painefull manner, the heate and coldnesse of their fit, then doe the whole and sound the sharpest cold of Winter, or the scorching heate of Summer: So likewise doth it sure with those that are trou­ble [Page 112]with the fever of their vi­tious affections, the which do burne and blister extremely and continually their conscience: for they are much more vexed with the corrupt and vitious qualities they do beget and beare in their bosomes, then are vertuous men with all their adversities. For the vertuous quell pride by hu­mility, covetousnesse with tem­perance, and all things with pa­tience: and these having the in­ward and better part sound and without wound, cannot be hurt by outward accidents, wherunto they oppose a lively and lusty courage together with the force of an honest and inviolable mind, which is more strong then any thing else whatsoever. Thinke not that riches, howso­ever aboundant they be, can af­ford so great contentment to the [Page 113]owner thereof, as vertue doth unto the vertuous man, which is sufficient to make him content: For vertue in whomsoever it be, is alwaies the reward and re­compence of her selfe. Wee read how that Aglaus a poore shepherd in Arcadia, was by the Oracle of Apollo preferred for his contentation before King Craesus of Lydia, who esteemed him­selfe the happiest man in the World for his riches: and even as the most precious plants & sweet-smelling trees, though they be cut in pieces and dryed, keepe alwaies their sweet and pleasant sent, when as the unsa­voury and barren doe not please the sence, even then when they are whole and full of blossomes and flowers: even so the ver­tuous man in the very midst of his adversity reapeth more [Page 114]pleasure and contentment of his vertue and honesty, then the vitious can doe of his wealth and superfluity, being beaten and scourged with a cursed con­science. In one word, in what time, place, or condition soe­ver yee finde the vertuous man, yee shall finde him alwaies con­tent. O what a blessednesse then, if considered aright, is Adversity? which though com­mon to all, yet worketh divers effects, according to the Subject whereupon it lighteth. To fooles and reprobate persons, if serves to drive into despaire, af­flict, and enrage them: to sinners and offenders crosses are so ma­ny lively instructions and com­pulsions, to put them in minde of their duty, and to bring them to the Knowledge of God: To vertuous people they are the [Page 115]lists wherein to exercise their Vertue, and to winne to them­ [...]elves greater commendations, [...]nd a nea [...]er alliance with God; [...]nd to all a guide, that leadeth [...]ut of this life into a better.

It is reported that Diogenes [...]he Philosopher, seeing on a [...]ime a certaine man dressing and [...]ecking himselfe for a Festivall [...]ay, sayd unto him thus: Why [...]oest then take such paines to [...]rimme thy selfe to day, conside­ [...]ing that every day is a festivall [...]ay to the vertuous man? And [...]uely every day of the life of [...]he vertuous man is a Solemne [...]ay, and fit for a moderate re­ [...]oycing and mirth. For if wee [...]ooke well unto the matter, the world is no other thing else but [...] faire and holy Temple, into which a man is brought so soone [...]s he is borne: and within this [Page 116]Temple there is to be seene two bright Lampes or Torches set up, the Sun and the Moone, with many other Starry lights. There may we see and behold divers kinds of Creatures, by meanes whereof, Man attaineth to the Knowledge of other Essences, that cannot be seene. What a sweet sight is it to see so many faire floods, and cleare running Rivers, which send out alwaies fresh Water, to behold so many fruitfull and flourishing Trees, Plants, Herbes, and Roots: the beautifull variety of Beasts, and of stones, together with graffie hils, and high Mountains on the one hand, and low Valleyes and pleasant playnes on the other? if man were so wise as hee should be, this same sight & shew might serve him for a passe-time, and a delight. For what thing is there [Page 117]in this Life more worthy to be seene, then the passe-times and pleasures which God doth afford and offer us in his Creatures, if wee could use the same as wee ought? Why do we take grea­ter delight in any artificiall sport of Beasts, then we do to behold them acting their severall parts of Natures play, each kinde of them their owne part, upon this faire & wide stage of the world? Or is there any Musicke sweeter then the chirping and singing of Birds? In briefe, it is a great de­lectation to see and observe the diversity of creatures which God hath framed and formed each one to his kind: we consume and spend away our life about so ma­ny purposes and practises, so ma­ny toiles & broyles, that hardly wee doe enjoy any part there­of, and yet for all that wee [Page 118]leave not to enjoy the other good creatures of God. If a man could once attair to this point of perfection, as to [...]id his mind ou [...] of these manifold entangle­ments, and to give it some space and place to entertaine, che­rish, and nourish it selfe with the knowledge of the creatures, and of the Almighty Creator, nothing should, or could cast it into any excessive sorrow, ex­cept it were sinne: for the Soule being once unite I with him that made it, by contemplation and meditation, by knowledge and love, it would gather it selfe to­gether calmely and quietly, and man lead and live continually a gladsome life, considering that at one time or other some evill hath befaln him, yet oftner hath he tasted of good. So that requi­ting, as it were, the one with the [Page 119]other, hee may well say that hee hath greater occasion to rejoyce of his good successe, then to complaine of the evill adventure of another time; as wee are ac­customed to turne our eyes away from such things as of­fend us, and to cast them upon greene, and gay colours that please us: so should wee divert the eyes of our understanding together with our thoughts, from sad and sorrowfull objects, and apply them to such as are more pleasing and agreeable thereunto, neither must wee bee like unto the malitious man, who beholdeth another mans faults with the eyes of an Eagle, but his owne with the eyes of an Owle. But our perversnes is such, that very often we do re­semble the boxin-glasses, which draw and drinke up the corrupt [Page 120]blood, and leave the pure and cleane blood behind. There was in former times a certaine rich wretch, who had in his house great store of wine; but yet was so nigardish and neere, that hee sold the best, and kept the worst for his owne use; a certaine ser­vant of his, observing this pinch­ing and preposterous nigardlines of his Master, fled away from him: and being asked afterwards why he left his Lord, answered thus: Because I could not endure to stay with a man, who having that which was good, made choise of that which was evill. The Philosopher Aristippus, made yet a farre better reply, who ha­ving lost on of his three Farmes, said thus unto his friends, That it was babishnes to bee sorry for one Farme lost, and not to be mer­ry for the other two that did rest [Page 121]in his hands, seeing that all of them had laine open to the same adventure. Wee are like unto little Children, from whom, if yee pull but one of their Rattles or Knackes, they will present­ly, without more adoe, fling a­way all the rest in despite. For if, of many good things that we enjoy, it chance that one of them, eyther be taken from us, or that it be lost, by and by we beginne to bewayle it, forget­ting all that resteth behind in our hands.

But some man bewailingly will aske me, saying: alas! what haue we? To whom askingly I would answere: But what ra­ther haue we not? One hath great reputation and credit, ano­ther hath Wealth, and another health, one hath a Wife accor­ding to his wish and wil, another [Page 122]hath sweet Children, and ano­ther faithfull and trusty friends.

Comforters in Adversity, are diverse, and most of them such as Iob had: if they see a man for­saken, by those who perhaps were his dearest friends in a bet­ter fortune; they thinke him forsaken of God also, and few there are that attribute his fall to a tryal of his patience or love: censure not thy brother, for as his afflictions are greater, so are his comforts, and the one would not be given but that it makes the other greater.

Antipater of Thrase did rec­kon it among his other good for­tunes, that he had sailed prospe­rously betweene Sicile and A­thens, but wee each one of us would have all, though we have not in the meane time the under­standing to thanke God, for [Page 123]the smallest thing. Neither make wee any account or reckoning of the greatest goods because they seeme to us to bee too common, as to live, to be in health, to see, to heare, to speak, to enjoy peace, to eat and drink, to have foode for our belly, and cloathes for our back, to see and enjoy the fruites of the labour­able ground, together with the commodities of the saileable Sea, that we can talk, or hold our tongue, sit, or stand, sleepe or wake as we will. If men would but consider in their mindes, what displeasure and griefe re­doundeth unto such as doe lacke any of these abilities, they would no doubt, live much more content then they doe. What thinke ye would the sicke give for the benefit of health? the blind for the use of his eyes? [Page 124]and such as are despised for a small measure of renowne? we wretches are so blockish and blind, that we can never prize the goods that we have, untill that wee bee deprived of them; and have them no more. For we care not if what we doe bee right or wrong, so it make for the raising of our fortune, and thus hath vice by the contempt of adversity bin entertained.

That which resteth, I wish you alwaies to bee advised that yee fall never so farre in love with the things of this life, that the feare ye have to loose them vexe you with unrest, or yet ha­ving lost them, immoderate sor­row for them hurle you head­long into despaire.

DISC. 13. Of sadnesse and sorrow.

SAdnesse, or heavinesse of heart, is a languishing feeble­nesse of the spirit, and a kinde of discouragement ingendred by the opinion that wee have of the greatnesse of those evills that afflict us. It is a dangerous enemy to our rest, which pre­sently weakneth and quelleth our Soules: it corrupteth the whole man, brings his vertues asleepe; and it is the Daughter of Adversity, which doth beget in us vexation and griefe, accor­ding to the greatnesse or smal­nesse thereof: whence likewise there hapneth some fault: For now adayes wee may see men [Page 126]ordinarily mourning and moa­ning excessively for many things, not so much for that they have cause, as because it is the custome. One lamenteth the mishaps of his neighbour, or friend, and carrieth a pale and heavy countenance, to shew that he is very pensive, although he be nothing sorry at all. This kind of customable compassion is altogether unprofitable, in regard that even in your owne adversity, yee ought not to bee sad, but onely so farre forth as reason doth require, and not as custome doth command. There are sixe kind of men that are ne­ver without sorrow: Hee that cannot forget his trouble; an envious man that dwelleth by Neighbours newly enriched; he that dwelleth in a place and cannot thrive, where another [Page 127]did thrive before: A rich man decayed, and fallen into pover­ty: He that would obtaine that hee cannot get: And hee that dwelleth with a wise man, and can get nothing of him. And besides these, how many is there who weepe when others looke on them, and doe thinke it should be a very ill favoured thing, not to shed teares when as others doe mourne? How many frivolous sorrows hath it made many to slide into, to leane too much upon the totte­ring and unstayed proppe of o­pinion? How much better were it in such cases, to devise some new fashion, and to feele hu­mane accidents after that mood which best becommeth wise and moderate men? What good doe their immoderate sighs and sobs, either to the living, or to [Page 128]the dead? Doth there any o­ther thing flow there-from, save that they waste themselves wretchedly and retchlesly a­way? For tho it be true, that of­tentimes such disasters and acci­dents fall out, that it is impos­sible for men to passe them o­ver without being touched with sorrow for the same: neverthe­lesse we must alwaies be ware to be more sorry then reason doth allow; and seeing that time ought to heale us in the end, it were a babishnesse not to pre­vent it wisely, and to do that be­times, which at one time or o­ther we must doe perforce.

How many men shortly after the death of their children, or wives, have recomforted them­selves, esteeming the time lost which they had spent in sad­nesse and in sorrow? For al­though [Page 129]though it bee true, that such persons are worthy to bee re­newed in our remembrance, yet wee ought to bring there­unto that moderation and re­medy, which at last will needs offer and apply it selfe, though ye would never so faine resist it.

DISC. 14. Of the affliction of good men.

GRiefe is the next friend un­to solitarinesse, enemy to company, and heire of despera­tion; and it is not a smal occasion of sorrow unto vigorous minds, and such as are touched with hu­manity, to see vertuous men vi­lipended or wronged: and true­ly it seemeth to be nothing lesse then a heavy heart-breake, [Page 130]and almost an unsupportable paine to behold wise and peace­able men afflicted, troubled, and vexed, yea to bee ill-used, and trampled; as it were, under feet by the vaine world, and to say the truth, it seemeth that this doth touch us very neere: for when as wee weigh with our selves that the por­tion and lot of vertuous men is no other but affliction, and la­bour of minde, we do thereupon presently imagine, that thereby our best hopes are hemmed in.

If then such a case disquiet you thinke with your selfe, that if they be honest and patient men, then are they in that case so much the more happy, because that in this life which is so short, they purchase to themselves a life eternall in the heavens, for [Page 131]ye must know that the first good which such as go to rest in Gods house doe obtaine, is to bee quit and discharged from the tentati­ons and torments of this trou­blesome life.

Afflictions on earth are as so many good companions unto the godly; which though of themselves unworthy, yet make their cause the better, who ayme at a higher end then the blinded eyes of the ignorant without dazling can behold; and so be­comes the master of their owne hopes, before others perceive them in trouble. The heavens are their onely prospect where they behold the creator of Na­ture in his height of wonder, and themselves are the Mine into which they dive, to finde reason Tryumphant by which they governe their insurrective passi­ons. [Page 132]Moreover, set before your eyes the roll and scroll of holy men of old, the blessed Martyrs of Christ, of whom some have beene beheaded, others have beene hanged; some have beene burnt, and others have beene broyled; some haue beene cut in pee­ces, and others have had their skinne pulled off. Besides that during their life they have been afflicted with hunger, nakednes, and neede: of whom certainely the world was not worthy, and therefore it had them in horrour as those in whom it had no in­terest at al. But God loved them deerely, and by his divine pro­vidence, which cannot bee de­ceived, appointed them to passe through such Tribulations, as through a needles eye, into the place of perpetuall repose. Yea [Page 133]the paines and perplexities that vertuous men doe endure, doe even pricke them forwards to have a more earnest desire to loath, and to leave this wretched world. So that in the end they dislodge out of a bad and sad prison, they escape and slip out of the darke caves and obscure corners, and having no deepe apprehension of death, they finde the faire beaten way that leadeth them to a better life.

DIS. 15. Of other mens faults and im­perfections.

NOw joy begins to budde, and the blossomes of feli­city appeare, yet after that yee have thus disposed of yourselfe, [Page 134]and have appeased your owne passions; yet shall yee have the vices of others, and the faults which are done in publicke, ma­king an on-set against you to trouble your minde. Consider­ing the great disorder that is a­mongst men; which is so great, that scarsely there cannot a­ny thing be found in the roome where it ought to be; and that there is hardly any one that doth the duty whereunto by birth and calling hee was ordai­ned. The man who should prove a wise Judge, is a simple Citi­zen: and he that ought to be but a meere citizen is made a Judge, and that man doth command who ought to obey.

It is a strange thing to consi­der, how that almost every thing is corrupt and sold, and how that, as it were; all things [Page 135]are turned upside downe. To see how that the poore man is punished for every petty tres­passe, and the puisant and weal­thy person is spared: to see, I say, how the whole plotting & plodding of men now a daies, is altogether for money; when as riches are but the gifts of Na­ture; but goodnesse of God himselfe; and canst thou thinke that hee that created man good, hath not bestowed a greater por­tion on him, then those whom fortune hath made rich: what if thou beest poore, content thy selfe, thou shalt finde greater consolation in that, and good­nesse, then the bad, and rich shall with all their store.

Againe, it cannot but bring griefe unto a good mans minde, to consider how small occasion and example of living vertuous­ly [Page 136]such persons do minister unto us, as hold the chiefe offices, and the first rankes in the Common wealth. The vertuous man is holden every where as a mon­ster; abhorred, despised, and dis­dained. And what shall a man say, when as hee weigheth with himselfe the variable & mutable disposition of the multitude, one while loving, and another while loathing, at one time praising, at another time dispraising, one and the same thing, one and the same party? How many bee the mi­serable changes that fall out a­mongst men? And what a hard case is it, when men make none account of that they should di­ligently heare: and on the other side harken to that whereunto they should rather stop the eare. The despite and dislike that ma­ny have conceived, by reason of [Page 137]such courses, hath made them bid the world fare well, and mo­ved them to withdraw them­selves into deserts and solitarie aboads, as not being able to be­hold with their eyes, that which did breed, & bring so much dis­pleasure to their mindes, whose intentions were wholy bent up­on that which was really good, laudable, and honest. And ther­fore such have chosen to live ra­ther amongst the wild beasts, a­midst the vaste wildernesse, and rocky mountains, then amongst so many wilde men, swarming with vile and wicked manners.

Neverthelesse, in these, and such other occurrents as cannot be amended, man must cōmand and master his minde, and carry himselfe in such sort, that these unamendable evills make him not to abhorre the company [Page 138]and societie of men: but ra­ther hee must take occasion thereof, to bee the more watchfull and wary, lest he be­come one of those that forget to carry themselves discreetly amongst men; he must also be­ware lest hee minister occasion to another, to blame in him­selfe that which he doth blame in his neighbour. A man must hold more on Democritus then on Heraclitus, for he did weepe alwaies at the faults he saw men fall into; but Democritus did laugh at them: To the one, all that men doe, did seeme to be but misery, to the other fond­nesse and folly. And it seemeth to be the better of the twaine, when as things amisse cannot be amended, that wee sweeten them a little, if it were but in covering them with the cloake [Page 139]of a faire shew, it being a like­ly-hood more consonant to mans nature, to laugh at the manifold miseries of our life, then mourningly to bewaile them with teares.

But yet yee shall do better, if that for the vices of other men, and such as are done in publick, yee do keepe a mediocrity and meane, neither alwayes lamen­ting, not yet alwayes laughing at them: for it is both a mise­rable kinde of disposition, for a man to afflict himselfe exces­sively, by reason of another mans miscarriage, and a pittilesse kinde of passe-time to be laugh­ing alwayes thereat.

But there be some, to whom this advice will seeme to be of no weight: for not onely they cannot comport with the imper­fections of their friends, but al­so [Page 140]those of their enemies do af­flict them. Their honours, pre­cedencies, wrongs, and incom­petencies vexe them: the im­portunities of their friends, the way wardnesse and peevishnesse of their Servants, and Acquain­tance trouble and torment them daily. But how much better were it to have patience in such accidents, chiefly seeing they winne so little by willing and wishing the amendment therof: Ye must rather imagine & think with your selfe, tha [...] these men, which thus take pleasure to an­noy you, are as dogs which be borne to barke. And impute all this evill to their perverse na­ture, wherein they are enough punished by the means of a per­petuall peoplexity, which pric­keth and peirceth their mind.

But if your weaknesse be such, [Page 141]as to stumble at al that yee see ill done, by such as are about you, yee are then, in that case meere­ [...]y forlorne. For if the vices of strangers, or of those that be your owne, come once to win ground on you, to close with you, and to overcome you, yee shal be abashed, and amazed to see how that all such impor­tunities and troubles, like water, shall run into you, as the raine doth from the gutter into the base cour [...], or from a steepe hill into a low valley. And out of all question it is to be undiscreetly tender-hearted for a man to be alwayes sorry, when those with whom we do hant, do not enter­taine us so carefully, or respe­ctively as we desire. Hee that a­voideth conversation, doth no­thing else in effect, but contra­dict the power of his Creation; [Page 142]therefore hee ought so to prin­ciple himselfe, as that his car­riage may be pleasing and ac­ceptable unto all men, to the intent that Love, Peace, and Charity may be preserved.

The immoderate affecti­on wee beare unto our selves, doth deceive us, and the deli­cacy of our owne condition ma­keth that we cannot beare with the defects and neglects of our servants, we not considering how that very often they know not how to do any better. We require at their hands perfect things, when as yet we our selves doe fall into so many faults, and are subject unto so many imperfections.

And most often wee play the passionate and fretting mans part in our servants behalfe, ei­ther being moved by the dis­tastes [Page 143]that our owne ill conditi­ons doe occasion unto us, or by the quality and kind of the busi­nesse we have in hand: and thus foolishly wee cast the fault up­on them which are innocent, and do the best they can. The angry was never a good man, and hee that perversely fol­lowes his owne passions, with­out balancing his actions, shuts himselfe out of this Kingdome of reason and Humane society: be not rash, but weigh anothers faults in thine owne scalls, so when thou commest to bee weighed in them thy selfe; thou shalt finde thy sinnes so much the lighter, by how much thou hast borne with the errors of others.

There is also another thing which doth bring unto us much disquiet, and that is to affect too [Page 144]much one and the same thing, and therupon to fall into debate with our friends. For there was never yet any perfect friendship amongst them which are led and miscaried with an obstinate e­mulation and contention who shall overcome. If ye belabor, & accustome your selfe, through exercise, to frame your selfe to times and persons, ye may easily governe and rule men at your wil, and withal purge them from such evill humours as yee finde them subject unto. And whenso­ever it shall fall out, that it shall seeme unto you a thing impos­sible to comport with them; thinke that it is your fault, and that this floweth from your owne inability: considering how that so many others could, and yet can very well comport with the same. You must not strive [Page 145]or contend to goe beyond o­thers in apprehension, Sinne, Iudgement, or Conceit, but Mo­derate your understanding, and somewhat abase the value and estimation of your worth; so shal you sayle with much more safe­ty, and by a surer compasse, then those that shall doe otherwise. For even as the sicke are wont to say, that they finde all meates bitter, and contrary to their taste, thinking that the fault is either in the meates, or in the man name into [...]ared them: but as soone [...] [...]ther men eate them, wit [...] [...]ren requ [...] [...]ny whit against their stomac [...] [...]tledness [...]o know that the imperfection [...]ieth in themselves. In like manner, as often as yee call to minde, how that many others have suffered, and yet doe suffer, with a gaye and couragious heart, the most [Page 146]troublesome, and toylesome ac­cidents of the world, yee must confesse that the fault must bee imputed to your owne feeble­nesse, and to nothing else.

Regall Government is that of a King, domestick of a Master, as the first is sometimes mercifull, somtimes severe to his subjects, so should the latter be to his Fa­mily. Oeconomy is that which every man may practice, and finde sufficient employment: there is power given to wh [...] Tyran­nize, and pow [...] out, that it [...]erne well: theref [...] you a [...] thin [...] [...]vised, and re [...] comp [...] that onely the go [...] [...]inke tha [...] wise receive the blessed reward of doing hap­pily.

If the manners and conditi­ons of your wife vexe you, ye must bend them, and bow them gently and softly, if it be possi­ble, [Page 147]and that by using all kinde of milde and amiable meanes. But if your mis-fortune be such [...]hat yee cannot prevaile with her, by way of pleasing and peaceable perswasions, then it behooveth that wisedome and discretion teach you to endure patiently her crosse conditions, and to master and dissemble the evill which yee cannot amend: otherwise yee shall turne your house into a prison, your quiet rest into restlesse coyle, and your good name into an intolerable shame.

In your children require not that sagenesse and settlednesse, which ye finde in old folkes: see­ing that they were not borne old: This age carrieth in it ma­ny things, the which if ye should endeavour on a suddaine to draw to a perfection, ye should [Page 148]undertake a taske of no small trouble, and if in yong trees, ye are content that they beare leaves and buds, why doe yee require ripe fruite in your chil­dren before the time? Who craveth the thing▪ that can­not bee had, laboureth for that hee shall not obtaine. The meane is to touch and in instruct them diligently, to bring them up vertuously, and not to chide them continually, or check them immoderately: if peradventure they faile to do a thing as they ought.

DISC. 16. Of Iniuries and Indignations.

THree things a rise of an In­jury done to us; first ha­tred in our affection, secondly [Page 149]the signe of this anger is, when it appeareth in the countenance; thirdly when we intend action by law for wrongs; we are bound to pardon the first, although our enemy sue it not of us; wee are bound to pardon the second, when our enemy sues it of us; but wee are not bonud alwaies to pardon the third; for there are some men, which could pa­tiently comport with all other kinde of affliction, onely they cannot away with an indigni­ty and wrong. The which thing, neverthelesse, befalleth them more for being perswaded that the injury offered them is un­supportable, then for that it is so of its owne nature. In which case one thing may availe you much; if yee can resolve with your selfe to keepe you aloofe from the common opinion, and [Page 150]if yee can consider without pas­sion, each one of the things that are wont thus to toile, and tur­moile mens mindes. For in so doing, yee shall see, if yee have reason to thinke upon the wrong offered you so immoderately as yee doe.

There is one kinde of displea­sure, which we call an injury, or wrong, that is, when any one overthwarteth us in our affaires against all equity and right. And there is another kinde which we call an indignity, or affront, when as in our body, or name, wee are used by word or deede otherwise then is fitting.

For both these kindes, yee ought to know, that the vertu­ous man is not subject to receive any wrong: not that I doe meane that there is none to offer and to inferre wrong, for there [Page 151]is nothing so sacred, but there will be found sacrilegious hands to touch it. But that though there bee not wanting multi­tudes of men, whose tongues and hands have no other, im­ployment, but to defile, and diminish, so much as in them lyeth, the honour of God, and of men: yet, for all that, the vertuous mans mind is not a whit the lesse assured: & though that such mischievous, and mali­cious men, levell right at him to hit, and to hurt him with their harmefull shaft, yet doe they come short of their aime; for ei­ther they hit him not, or if they do, they hurt him not all: for an inviolable thing is not simply that which cannot be hit, but ra­ther that which being hit, recei­veth thereby no hurt or at least, careth not at all for it. And thus [Page 152]doth it fare with the vertuous man, who of himselfe offereth no man any occasion of offering him any wrong. But his carri­age is so levell and even, his love so meeke and humble, that even the vicious admire him. And if it fall out, that a man, out of a proud & haughty stomack, or rather out of a malitious disposition set upon him, and assaile him, hee is then in that case like a brazen wall, which the darts of the wicked cannot pierce through.

Moreover; we know that the vertue and vigour of him, who in fighting hath vanquished his adversary, is alwayes greater then his who never did try the combate at all. And even the very same must wee thinke and say of the vertuous wight, and well disposed person: who, like [Page 153]to good mettall, the more he is fired, the more he is fined; the more he is opposed, the more is he approved. Wrongs may wel try him, touch him, or pricke him, but they cannot imprint in him any false stampe. And if (peradventure) some flout, or affront be flung upon him, yet doth hee in the meane time re­maine firme and unremoved; he maketh no reckoning, nor yet taketh any notice thereof, as assuring himselfe that it doth not reach so farre as unto him. Adde also hereunto, that there is almost no man, but hee will hold the wrong-offerer for wic­ked, and the wrong-sufferer for honest, as not deserving any such outragious usage. The force and strength of his Ver­tue appeareth so much the more in this kind of adversity, and his [Page 154]mildnes and meeknesse of mind, shineth so much the more cleer­ly, by how much the more bit­ter and grievous the wrong of­fered was. But unto such as are of a more cowardly and base courage, an indignity is more uneasie to be borne withall.

But would you see how men doe measure wrongs by opini­on? Such vanity there is in the things of this World, that some will make lesse adoe for a blou­dy blow, then for a light boxe on the eare. Yea, some will make a greater stirre for a vani­shing hard word, then they would doe for a deadly blow with a sharpe weapon. We are fallen into such blindnesse and babishnesse, that opinion annoy­eth us more then the Soare it selfe, being like unto little chil­dren, which are amazed at a [Page 155]mummers maske. If it chance that a man bee hindered, or wronged in his goods, it is a wonder to consider what a coyle hee doth keepe about them. But the discreet and wel­stayed person; who judgeth of things according to reason, not measuring them by opinion, as he holdeth all things, even as if it were by borrowing, so hee feeleth the losse of them, as if they were things in no part his. And even as he should not cease to be content, though he had never had them at all, so he ta­keth the losse of any part of them, as the necessary out-cast­ing or forgoing of one portion to save another, in the middest of a tempestuous storme. Yea the forgoing of his whole goods wil not make him to for­get his owne worth and vigour [Page 156]of minde: he knowing well that not onely his goods, but also his life, honour, and whole happi­nesse doth onely depend upon him who is the giver of every good thing. Such a one perhaps hath couzened you of so many crownes, hath deceived you of so many Ducates. Well, it is a damage he hath done you, yet is it a losse but of a part onely of your goods, & not of the whole. And the man that hath the heart to give or forgoe the whole, can he bee much sorry to let goe, or loose apart.

But if it bee the manner of your losse which doth most vexe you: then yee have to thinke, that as your vertue would have you comport with Fortune and her frownes; so ought yee like­wise to beare with insolent and audacious men, which are no [Page 157]thing else but the hookish hands of the same hard fortune. And trust me, our impatien­cy doth us much more harme, then those of whose vio­lence and injustice we do so bit­terly complaine.

What? (will some say) such a one did disdaine to put off his hat to me; such another in speaking to me did not use that respect in my behalfe as hee ought, and I thought he should have don such a one did not give me place, but sate him down be­fore me, and such another would not give mee the wall. What tearmes, I pray you, be all these, but meere plaints flowing from the soft and feeble courage of an effeminate mind?

Divers things displease us, which otherwise would not doe so, if we had the will to conster [Page 158]them aright, and to take them in the better part; whereas through our owne indiscretion, and distrust of our selves, wee make that an indignity which of its owne nature is none; in so do­ing wee judge our selves well worthy thereof, and what other thing is this but lack of courage, thogh we feele the wrong never so sensible, not to be able to tread it, and to trample it under our feet?

And if wee will but weigh and observe how, and in what man­ner the nightly visions and ima­ginations of dangers, which do present themselves in our dreames do suddenly vanish, and sometimes doe make us laugh when we remember them, wee should doe well to endeavour to doe the like in our injuries, to thinke when as any wrong is [Page 159]done us, that we doe but awake out of a dreaming sleepe: a ver­tuous and well-disposed man (assure your selfe) will bee loath to wrong you in your body, goods or good name; and as for any ill-disposed wretch, what shall it availe you to com­plaine, seeing that he is no more his owne man, then if hee were madde? If the good affect you, and applaud your laudable en­deavours, why should you feare the malice of the wicked, seeing that the first are rewarded with a crowne, but these with folly; ye will willingly endure any thing at the hands of a man that is out of his wits, neither will he make any complaint for ought he hath said or don to you, but wil rather pity his case: even so must yee beare with the mis-behaviour of a foolish undiscreet person, [Page 160]who is no better then a man distracted: yee will endure well enough what a Jester or sporter will say unto you, be it never so unpleasant, and would thinke it but a base part for you to en­forme against, or to complaine upon such a person, as if hee chance to utter any pleasing word amidst his carping dis­course, yee take it and taste it as a savory disport. Consider ther­fore how unfitting and unseeme­ly a thing it were that the same word uttered by one, should cause you to laugh, and by ano­ther to lowre: the case so stan­ding, that the man that is in choler, hath no more judgment then a simple Jester hath; if hee have so much.

The Hebrewes say, if a man have offended his neighbour, he must goe and seeke reconciliati­on [Page 161]of him; but if he will not be reconciled, hee shall take three men with him, who shall inter­cede for him, and seeke reconci­liation: but if hee yet will not pardon him, this is a great ini­quity to be so cruell, and then he leaves his neighbour inexcu­sable. But what shall we say of those that are offended with lit­tle boyes, and silly women? persons that doe offend rather of weaknesse, then of a wilfull or wicked designe? for conclu­sion yee shall never attaine to tranquillity of minde, if yee take in ill part every crosse chance that doth offer it selfe.

Some will say, this offence may bee well borne with', but that others must not bee borne with at all. But these men doe shut up vertue into a too straite roome, and confine her abilities [Page 162]within too narrow bounds, as i [...] they should say, vertue may we [...] vanquish this wrong, but no [...] that other: truely if Fortune b [...] not wholly beaten downe and defeated, shee will remaine mistresse. But what then wil [...] yee say, occasion of affront is gi­ven me? how then shall I, or can I beare it patiently, and go with an open face? If the injury hath his birth from your mis-behavi­our, yee must thinke then, that it is not so much a wrong as a correction: and this yee ought to receive discreetly, and with­all make use of it as a chastise­ment of your owne misdemea­nour. If it chance that a man flout you for some imperfecti­on of your person, because the features of your body are not to their minde, take not this to heart as a revengable wrong: [Page 163]for it is but a meere folly, for a man to care much for that which falleth not out through his owne fault. Fidus Corne­lius did weepe for very anger in the Senate, because Corduba S [...]thio said to him scoffingly that hee did resemble much a pilde Camell: Behold, if one counter feit our gesture, we are by and by offended. But what miserable blindnesse is it for a man to vexe himselfe, because another doth imitate his moode or manner of going. The reme­dy rather were this, if Na­ture, hath laid upon you any de­fect or blemish which doth de­forme your body, speake of it first your selfe, as knowing it bet­ter then any other: for by this meanes yee shall take away from others all occasion of scor­ning or flouting you for it. [Page 164]Thus Vatinius was wont to mocke himselfe, in regard of his necke, and feet which were somewhat deformed: so that his enemies and il-willers could not take any advantage thereof to breake upon him any bitter jest. Moreover it is not a smal policy to deprive the party that doth you wrong, of all the pleasure hee entendeth to reape, by hol­ding your peace, as not thinking him worthy of so much as one word of your mouth, of by lea­ving him there where ye found him, disdaining to brable or quarell with him, to take any notice of the man, or of his manners: if ye will be advised by me, make never answer to an insolent malapert person, for in holding your tongue ye leave with him lying in his mouth, yea in his minde, his vice, folly [Page 165]and rashneffe, whereas in answe­ring him, ye shall conforme your selfe to his naughty nature. There is nothing that equali­zeth so much men among them­selves, as the participation of one and the same vice: neither can there any such chastisement befall unto an ill-humored man as to make no reckoning, but to let vanish with the winde his vaine and unsavory words, for both by your silence are his spee­ches condemned of impertinen­cy, and he deprived of the plea­sure he promised to himselfe by provoking him to anger.

Jeasts are the superfluity of their discretion who make it a pastime, to revile, and a sport to condemne others; they spare non, & had rather suffer then sup­presse their thoughts: they are like a woman with child, who [Page 166]longs to be delivered, although the birth may prove abortive; and therefore it likewise beho­veth a man to bee very circum­spect and wary in his jesting at others. For we finde by expe­rience, that men doe commonly flie the company of such as make profession of scoffing and deriding. Wee finde likewise, that no man can entertaine a certaine Amity and unfaileable Friendship with such a one as is averse from pardoning such as have offended him. For a ge­nerous and Heroicke spirit will yeeld to fortune as he sees occa­sion: He will not strive to swim against the streame, nor sayle against the Winde. The great­nesse of his minde gives place to the weaknesse of his meanes: when he cannot what he would, he wills but what hee can, and [Page 167] [...]hinkes these plots and counsels [...]o be best, which though they [...]ee inglorious, and want that [...]ustre which prosperity might [...]end them, are yet convenient [...]o be followed in regard of Cir­cumstance.

The Emperour Caius Caesar, a man of an injurious inclination, and in his Army a certaine Tri­bune, Che [...]ea by name, a man of a shrill, small, and womanish voyce in speaking, and there­fore one of whom they had no great opinion. This effeminate voiced man having on a time as­ked the Emperor what shold be the watch-word, he of purpose to scorne him, gave him such a word as was dishonest. By rea­son of which indignity the Tri­bune was so deepely offended, that thereafter associating him­selfe among the murtherers [Page 168]which did wickedly seaze upo [...] the Emperour, he was the ma [...] that did beate out the one halfe of his braines. So that he who seemed unto Caesar to come somewhat short of a man, pro­ved most the man (though in­deed he had more malice then man-hood) in cutting him im­piously off, from being any more a Monarch among men. To use such bitter taunts be­wrayeth want of discretion, and not to be able to digest them, doth argue lacke of courage. Socrates hearing himselfe flou­ted to his face, did no other thing but laugh thereat, without making any shew of a displeased mind. It is reported of him and of Lelius the Romane, that they two did so happily entertaine this Tranquillity of minde, that they were never seene to [Page 169]change their countenance. How ill did Michals jeasting become her, when David with such zeale danced before the Arke? cannot religion be spared? One would have thought his greatnesse might have freed him from re­viling: but whom will impiety not offend, when it spares not the greate not the holy; yet even he sets her words at naught, and was for all that no way hindred in performing holy duties.

Furthermore yee ought di­ligently to avoide all noyse, brabbles and strife: for this brawling and quarrelling hu­mour altereth not a little the whole man, and maketh him ill-conditioned. Bee not la­vish of your language, but rather sparing of speech. Let your words bee such as carry with them their due authority [Page 170]and weight. And withall accustome your selfe to passe divers things under the great Seale of silence: It being the part of a wise man, to make a vertue of necessity, and with a settled countenance to swallow downe upon an urgent extremity, the bitter potion of indignity; if when the winds doe storme, he cannot harbour where hee would, he will anchor where he may. Suffer not your selfe to be beguiled by the unreasonable opinion of the miscrdred multi­tude, which doe hold such folkes onely to bee free as may doe what they list, be it never so evill; and such onely to be couragious and generous spirits as can put up no wrong.

It is true liberty for a man to live not according as his law­lesse lust doth lead him, but as [Page 171]reason doth rule him: and to do not what ever sensually hee would, but what reasonable hee should. And it is true courage and magnanimity, for a man to put up wrongs, to dis-esteeme, and not to be moved by them, but to command his affections, and to overcome his passions. That which he shall never be a­ble to doe, who hath not his spi­rit composed, and his minde or­dered to despise these vanities and delicacies, which doe shake the feebler sort: finally, endea­uour to have the upper hand in fetting light by all humane cros­ses, and popular conceits: for it is no signe of good, when a man is alwayes crying and complai­ning that they touch him; and so it fareth with the mind. Let that therefore bee mollified with comfortable and peacea­ble [Page 172]playsters, such as are joy, exultation, and delight; and these will bring unto you grea­ter content, then Humanity can imagine.

DISC. 17. Of Poverty.

THere is a twofold Poverty, the one extreame, which is the want of things necessary and requisite unto Nature: The o­ther is the want of things that are more then sufficient, requi­red for pleasure, pompe, and de­licacy. This is a kinde of Medi­ocrity, and that which we feare to lose, is our riches, and move­ables, when such poverty is ra­ther to be desired, then feared: And therfore the Wise man as­ked of God neither Poverty nor Riches, but things necessary. He [Page 173]that can make that reckoning of life and death that he ought, po­verty can never afflict or bereave him of his rest: For it were a thing very unfitting, that he who can despise death, should suffer his courage to be cast downe, or to be quite quelled by poverty and need which neverthelesse is that the common people doe most apprehend, and most com­plaine on, when as they cannot attaine unto a sufficiency of goods whereupon to maintaine themselves in a gay and gallant manner. They not being able to content themselves with such things as may serve for their ne­cessity; but esteeming Wealth mans soveraigne good; and Poverty and Want his chiefest evill. And yet were it not bet­ter for a man not to have at all, then to lose it when hee [Page 174]hath it? And how is it possible in this life that some should not lose, seeing that one cannot be rich, except many other bee poore, and many cannot inherit, except others do die? And yet there is in poverty this conso­lation, that as it is not subject to the receiving and incurring of great damages, so is it not ac­companied with so many mon­strous turmoiles as plenty and a­boundance is.

Wisedome if shee be poore is never respected: fooles haue the fortune, and that not without good reason; for they have the most neede of it. Desert if she be meane, may to the Cart, there is no roome for her in Court, where judgement lookes a squint, and casts her eyes but upon outward adjuncts, unlesse she be perfumed and ruffle in [Page 175]her silkes; let her avoide the gates of greatnesse. And to thinke that rich men have more courage to comport with losses then other men have, is an er­rour. For the paine of a soare is as sensible and dolorous in a bigge body, as in a small; yea wee see ordinarily, that the greatest men are the most tender and delicate.

The Philosopher Bion was wont to say, that the paine is a­like which is felt by plucking, or pulling the haires from an head that hath many, and from that which hath few.

All the difference that can be, is this; that the balde head hath lesse haire to loose, and conse­quently cannot feele so much smart as the other doth that is full of haires.

If thou wilt live according [Page 176]to nature, thou shalt never bee poore; if according to opinion, never rich: Nature desireth little, opinion much, and beyond mea­sure. Moderate and quiet pover­ty by the law of nature is great riches, and godlinesse is great gain with sufficiency, and hence it is that we see, for the most part, the poorer sort of people to bee more jocund and joyfull then commonly the richer sort are, because they have not so great care as they have, neither doe they feare so deeply the storme of adversity, as they doe. For they are eaten up with this dou­ble worm, the care of conserving and increasing the goods they have got, & the feare of losing that which they enjoy. But po­verty is a castle and fort, assured and fenced against fortune, yea the whole world. Shee feareth [Page 177]nothing, and is able withall to defend her selfe against all her enemies. Thouman who soever thou art that goest drooping and dying for riches, for worldly pelfe, and wealth, tell me I pray thee, if since thou hast got them, they have brought unto thee any more knowledge unto thy minde, or more Tranquillity and peace unto thy spirit, or more rest and happinesse unto thine heart, then thou hadst be­fore thy came into thine hands? The wise men among the hea­then have taught us, how much poverty is to be prised and prai­sed, when as they did portrait and paint their Gods naked, at­tributing unto them all things according as they conceited to be most befitting their natures: and as for my selfe, I shall never repute that man poore, who [Page 178]is placed without the reach and power of fortune. There is one thing sufficient to expresse unto us the nature of poverty, to wit, that no vertuous man speaketh thereof, but hee praiseth it; and avoucheth that the wisest have bin those who have suffered the same with most contentment, and truely it is a great weaknesse and tendernesse in us, not to bee able to endure that which so many others have passed through, and it can be no other thing but a vaine apprehension and frivolous feare to endure and suffer, which maketh us so feeble hearted; for if we were in­deede of a generous and magna­nimous disposition, we would love and like that for our selves which we approve in others: and therefore howsoever this pee­vishnesse and softnesse of ours is [Page 179]not altogether to be comported with; we ought at least to limite our affections, and dresse our selves in such sort that fortune may finde the lesse advantage to offend us: for a smal body that can cover and gather it selfe to­gether under a buckler, marcheth on towards the enemy with more surely then a bigger body doth, that lyeth at large & open unto blowes. If it were not mine intention to husband the time, and to spare paper, I could en­large my discourse by reciting of almost [...]nnumerable examples as well of Heathens as of Chri­stians, which have placed a great part of their perfection in poverty. But ye ought to con­sider one thing for all, that Iesus Christ was poore, who was Lord of the whole world: his Disci­ples were poore, which did [Page 180]possesse all things, and the Saints were poore which might have beene rich. If yee should never dye, I would advise you to set your affection upon ri­ches: but I see to that those to whom they most befall, doe finde sooner the end of their li­ving then of their longing. Why then should a man torment him­selfe for a thing that he must ne­cessarily leave? and why is he not rather content quietly with that which is needfull, chiefly considering that the fairest kind of wealth is for a man to be nei­ther too poore, nor yet too far off from poverty?

DISC. 18. Of Death.

CAesar sayd well, that the best death was that which was least premeditated; and to say truth, the preparatiō before death hath bin to many a grea­ter torment, then the execution it selfe. The Mexicans salute their Infants comming forth of their Mothers wombe, thus; In­fant, thou art come into the world to suffer; endure, suffer, and hold thy peace. Why then should a man bee sorry to dye, when nothing but life is miserable. And it seemeth, that all in­commodities and misfortunes may bee borne with, either by the meanes of a long [Page 182]custome, or by the helpe of a strong discourse, onely Death and the apprehension thereof, is the thing that putteth us in greatest feare.

Now the onely remedy and true easing of this evill, is that yee make this reckoning of the world, and all that is therein, that yee have nothing which is your owne, neither life, nor living, no not so much as your owne selfe; but that yee live al­wayes borrowing and holding your very life, not in property, but on condition to restore it unto him againe, who hath lent it you, whensoever he shall re­quire it at your hands: yet for all this yee must not neglect it as a thing not yours, but must keepe it faithfully and careful­ly, in regard that God hath trusted you with the custody [Page 183]thereof, and when it is time, to render it to him that gave it, not grudgingly, but gladly, and with a cheerefull countenance: in the meane time thanking GOD, the giver of all good things, for the time yee have had the use and aide thereof, and saying unto him in this, or the like manner; Lord, I render un­to thee againe this Soule and Life, with as good an heart as it pleased thee to give mee the same, yea, even with a better and readier will then I did re­ceive it: for when thou gavest it me, thou gavest it to a little weake Creature, which knew not the good thou then didst be­stow, but now thou dost receive it againe at the hands of a Crea­ture more accomplished, who knoweth what it is he commen­deth into thine hands, and ther­fore [Page 184]rendereth it unto thee withall franknesse and readinesse of will: and truely we may easily imagine that it is not a hard thing for a substance to returne to the place whence it first came, the body returning to the earth, and the soule (if it goe the right way) must goe to him that gave it. To bee short, that man doubtlesse never learned well to live, who knoweth not how to die: wee must therefore in this case bee so affected to­wards our selves, as wee are wont to be in the behalfe of fen­cers which must fight in a barred field: for wee commonly hate him that beareth himselfe faint-heartedly, and favour the other, who out of a brave courage had rather chose to dye then to bee overcome. Besides the feare of death is sometimes the cause, [Page 185]or occasion of it, to him that fly­eth fastest from it.

And seeing yee know well, that life was given you upon condition to render it againe; [...]e ought not to be so unjust, as [...]o desire to enjoy that thing for ever, which was given unto you for a day, by making your selfe Lord, and owner of the thing whereof yee are onely a deposi­tary or keeper.

Moreover men wil say, that it is a matter of great import, to wit, the feare, and apprehen­sion of death, and that it is the extreame of all terrible things. But ye ought to understand that Death is not to bee found fault with for this, seeing that it pro­ceedeth not from the nature of Death, but from our owne im­becillity: who are commonly o­vertaken and intangled with [Page 186]delights, with a desire of this transitory life, and with an im­moderate love of this misera­ble flesh? And if yee take good heed, it is not so much Death i [...] selfe that is dreadfull, as the o­pinion which wee hold concer­ning the same. For every man feareth it according to his judg­ment, apprehension, and consci­ence. And if it bee so, that yee have no feare thereof, but onely for this occasion, then lay the blame upon your selfe, and no [...] upon it. For it fareth with men of an evill conscience, when they must dye, as it doth with riotous spend-thrifts when they must pay their debts. They will not come to an account for the distrust which they have of their ability, to satisfie for what they have done.

And to say that ye feare death [Page 187] [...]y reason that it is the last point [...]d period of man, hath but lit­ [...]e reason in it. For the Soule [...] alwaies, it liveth ever, and [...]nnot dye.

The Greekes call mans decease [...]e end, giving us thereby to [...]nderstand, that it is the period [...]nd end of wearisome life. O­ [...]ers a death, of which there [...]re foure kinds; the first is the [...]aturall death, or separation be­ [...]weene the Body and the Soule; [...]he second is a spirituall death, [...]r a separation betweene the grace of God and us; the third [...]s a ghostly death, or a separa­tion betweene our sinnes and us; and the fourth is an everla­sting death, or a separation be­tweene Heaven and us for ever.

But the Holy Scripture calleth death a sleepe, to assure us of an assured Resurrection, and to [Page 188]the end wee weepe not as Infi­dels doe, which are withou [...] hope. Let us consider with ou [...] selves how many holy men and women have prized it, and de­sired it as the onely easemen [...] of all their anguish.

The writings of Solomon, Iob and the histories of Gods Saints are full of the praises of this Christian desire of death. What a vanity is it to love so much this miserable life, this Jaile, this prison, this vale of [...]eares, seeing that the longer we live, the lon­ger we live in sinne, the more daies wee spend, the more wee erre, and so goe on, each houre purchasing unto our selves a new paine and punishment?

The day of Death is the Ma­ster-day, and Judge of all other dayes; the tryall and Touch­stone of all the actions of our [Page 189] [...]fe: Then do we make our grea­ [...]st assay, and gather the whole [...]uite of all our studies. He that [...]dgeth of the Life of a man, [...]ust looke how hee carrieth [...]imselfe at his Death: for the [...]nd Crowneth the Workes, [...]nd a good Death honoureth a [...]ans whole life, as an evill de­ [...]meth it. Therefore feare it [...]ot (On Christian) for that day which thou fearest as thy last, is [...]e Birth-day of Eternity.

Divers dayes have beene [...]appy and unlucky to divers, [...]en; as Friday to that great Captaine Gonsalvo in the Wars of Naples; the twenty fourth day of February, to Charles the fifth; Wednesday to Pope Six­ [...]us the fifth: Sunday to Henry the seventh of England: And Saturday in the three times ta­king of Ierusalem by Pompey, [Page 190]Herod, and Titus. But no day [...] either happy or averse to a ch [...] ­stian, but his day of death: Ho [...] carefull ought ye then to bee [...] prepare himselfe against th [...] day, wherein he shall be rewa [...] ­ded according to his worke [...] which if good, with a Crow [...] of blessednesse, but if bad, wi [...] unquenchable fire.

It was a custome among th [...] Indians, when any of the m [...] ­dyed, his wives with their mo [...] glorious Habits and greate [...] pompe as if it were on the [...] nuptiall day, threw themselv [...] into the fire, she accounting h [...] selfe happiest that was the firs [...] and those that refused, were fo [...] ever after rejected and mad [...] slaves. Let not Heathens ou [...] strippe thee O Christian, let th [...] death bee more honourable CHRIST is the Spouse of th [...] [Page 191]Church, follow him therefore, [...]t not thy life onely but thy [...]eath be godly: otherwise thou [...]t no better then a slave to sin [...]nd Satan, despised not of men [...]nely, but of the Divells them­ [...]elves.

This consideration of our death [...] a great helpe, not onely to [...]rovoke us to live a good life, [...]ut besides that to dye well: In [...]hings that be hard and dificult, foresight and preparation before [...]and is a very great helpe to [...]ring them well to passe. Now so great a leape, as is the leape of death (which reacheth from this life to the everlasting life to come) cannot well be leaped, un­lesse we make a great course, and fetch a long race to runne the same. No great thing can bee well and perfectly done at the first time; seeing therefore it is [Page 192]so great a matter to dye; and so necessary to dye well, it shall be very expedient for us to dye oftentimes in our life, that wee may dye well at the very time of our death. Wee must not be unwilling to dye, and to yeel [...] our bodies as a debt due to Nature: no, for the Body at the best is but the Coffin of the Soule, as the Graue is the coffin of the Body. The souliders that bee appointed to fight, doe first practice themselves in such postures and exercises, as whereby the may learne in time of peace, what they must do in time of warre; the Horse also that must runne at the Tilt, tra­verseth all the ground before, and tryeth all the steps thereof; that at such times as hee com­meth to make his course, he bee not found new and strange in [Page 193]doing his feat. Wherefore seeing wee all must runne this course (insomuch as there is no man a­live but must dye) considering also that the way is so obscure & stony (as all men know) and the danger so great, that whosoever falleth shall be tumbled downe headlong into the bottomlesse pit of hell fire; it is very requi­site that we tread diligently be­fore hand all this way, and con­sider particularly, all the steppes and places thereof one by one, because that in every one of them there is much to bee con­sidered; and let us not thinke it enough to consider onely what passeth outwardly in our con­versation, but let us endeavour much more to understand what passeth inwardly within the heart, so shall both our life and and death be acceptable.

[Page 194]And to shut the doore un­to all fearefull apprehensions of death, we must learne to do two things which the world can ne­ver teach us; the one is to live well, for a vertuous and Christi­an life maketh even agreeable the very memory of death: the other is that wee beleeve that the thing which it hath pleased God to afford us for a remedy, and easement of our manifold labours, and toyles, is not so harsh, nor so horrible, as we do imagine.

And for a finall conclusion, let us remember how that the Saints have held life a paine, and death an ease. And that every part of Heaven shall together shine upon us; who wholly shall behold all the glory therof in his due place, which now through the streight and narrow passage [Page 195]of the sight, wee doe but see and discerne a farre off: And let us close all up with this, that though our mortall bodies are dissolved heere on earth, yet God will raise up both Soule and Body at the latter Day, to Crowne them with Everlasting Hap­pinesse.