CHAP. VII. A Cure against Casuall Losses; and first of losse of Sight.

THE casuall losses which happen to man, and doe disturbe, distract, and afright the mind, are of two kindes, the one Externall, the o­ther Internall; of Exter­nall casualties none are more pernicious and hurtfull, then those [Page 65] which happen to the Senses: As to lose Smel­ling, Tasting, or Feeling, are accidents most dis­pleasant: To lose the hearing most dangerous; but to lose the Sight most grieuous. As for the losse of Member, custome (commonly) takes away the care, and Art findes a supply by which (many times) the defect is hidden. Since then the bent of this dis­course leuelleth onely how to correct the mind of this vnreasonable sor­row, I will heere vnder this one head, of The [Page 66] Losse of Sight, compre­hend all other externall casualties whatsoeuer.

It is true that thou hast lost thy sight, and thou grieuest past mea­sure, past mitigation; for which thou hast bidden the whole world good night, and shalt no more behold the faire glory of the skie, the brightnesse of the Sunne, the belo­ued complexions of thy friends, nor the desired beauties of thy dearest wife and children. Thy Feete haue lost their guide; thy Hands their Tutor, and thy mind its [Page 67] Election. Thou art now no more thy selfe, but Infant-like runnest back into thy Cradle, and art (in all thy outward ac­tions) to bee ruled and gouerned by the Foster nurses commandement.

O let not thy griefe thus deceiue thee, but call vp into thy minde thoughts of a better composition: Remem­ber Philosophy teach­eth vs, that, Bodily blindnesse is a part of In­nocence, and that night and obscuritie haue their pleasures as well as the day and sun-shine: [Page 68] Thou hast not lost thy sight, but return'd it backe from thine eyes to thy soule; drawne it from a weake Garrison, which euerye vanitie could surprise, to an in­uincible Fort, which no worldly illusion can or ought to conquer. Thou hast by this losse, brought to thy soule this benefit. A much abler iudgement, a more stayed Memorie, and a most absolute Diuine Meditation. Thou hast in this losse, lost milli­ons of Desires, euerie one more dangerous [Page 69] and more killing to thy Soule, then a generall plague to an infected Armie, for the Eye is the vniuersall and hide­ous Baud which allures and inticeth vs to all manner of sinnes that are mortall. The Eye shewed Comodus his lust, Caligula his incest, and taught Tarquine the way to rauishment. It was the Eye (seeing the honour done vnto the gods) which stir'd the pride in Clearchus the Tyrant, that hee call'd himselfe Iupiter, and tooke vpon him the [Page 70] practise or artificiall Lightening and Thun­der. It was the Eye that made Alexander enuy the conquests of his Fa­ther Philip: the Eye made Heliogabalus so nice, slothfull, and effe­minate, that he forsooke all manly attributes, and wisht no other death, but to be smoothered in Roses. The Eye made Caesar couetous of a Mo­narchy: the Eye made Nero digge into the En­trailes of his owne Mo­ther, and to please the Eye, Anthony had the wealth of a rich Ci­tie [Page 71] lauishly spent at one Feast, for his most vnfor­tunate entertainement.

Of what sinne is not the Eye guiltie, what mischiefe doth it not pursue, and what vani­tie doth it not hold ey­ther in act or imitation? There is no fashion so hatefull, vild and defor­med, but if the Eye see it, the Body presently en­tertaines it; no beautie so chaste, pure, or innocent, but if the Eye behold it, the heart instantly is in­flamed; nor is there any vanity (of what conditi­on soeuer) but still there [Page 72] is some Eye that will both loue and admire it. O how happy art thou then, that by thy depri­uation art depriued of these mischiefes; Nay, wouldst thou but silently sit & call into thy memo­ry a Catalogue of those obiects which thou hast lost, and which rather thē thou wouldst behold thou wouldst teare thine eyes from their Coffins; euen that recordation would giue thee such cō­tentment, that al thy for­mer griefes (like withe­red leaues) would fall from their branches.

To conclude, the Eye is the weapon and sting of vices, and the guide or vsher, which goes before, and leades vs the way to all sinne and wickednesse: if then to haue this wea­pon put into Vertues hand, and this Guide set in so faire & euen a path, that he cannot stray from a pious meditation: if this be a blessing, thou art blest in thy losses; and howsoe­uer thine eyes want out­ward light, yet shall thy soule be inriched with the multiplications of a world of other glories.

CHAP. 8. A Cure against the losse of Children.

MEe thinkes, I heare thee complaine vn­to mee, that it is not any externall losse, (of which I haue spoken) that afflicts thee, but thou hast an in­ternall and greater disaster within thee: thou hast lost thy children; and that losse hath reason to teare vp and wound thine intrailes within thee: thy blood is distempered, nature vext, and the whole frame both of thy body and mind put quite out of order: to this [Page 75] sorrow there is no mitiga­tion, neither canst thou be comforted, because they are not.

Bee not deceiued with this Sophistry of nature, and thine owne opinion; let not thy particular affe­ction draw thee into a ge­nerall absurditie: for there is not a greater folly moo­uing, then too much, or too vnseasonably to be­wayle the death of those which are mortall: why, they brought no certainty into the world but this, that they must die; neither can they carry any greater glory hence, or more re­nowne [Page 76] then this, that they are dead with faire and honest reputation.

But thy children are lost; alas, this is no new thing, no strange thing, no euill thing: no new thing; for e­uery Family, Commerce, and society are subiect and lyable to the same acci­dent: wheresoeuer man doth soiourne, there hath death euer his habitation; and from the beginning of the world, all that haue ta­ken breath, haue likewise died: it is no strange thing; for the first father liued to suruiue his best sonne; nay, liued to see him slaine; nay, [Page 77] slaine most vnnaturally; slaine by his owne brother: and it is no euill thing; for it is but a payment of that debt, for which wee had contracted with nature, e­uer since the first man was shut out of Paradise: it is our manumission or free­dome from the flesh, the world, and her deceitfull allurements; and it is the Port or Gate, thorow which onely, and no o­ther, we haue our passage to eternall felicitie, and shall come to behold the most glorious face of our Maker.

But thou wouldst haue [Page 78] had thy children to haue suruiued thee, that the comfort of their successi­on might haue giuen to thy name a kind of eterni­tie; which lost and preuen­ted, thou accountest thy self vndone and wretched: why consider? doth any man call a tree miserable, because she sheds her fruit on the ground, whilst her branches flourish and mount vpward? doth any man account the Storke vnnaturall, because shee casts downe one of her young ones, to pay the rent for her protection? In like case, thy childrē are thy [Page 79] fruit, and whether they fall late or early, it is without thy disparagement; they are thy rent, and whensoe­uer thou payest them, it is not before they are due; for to thy omnipotent Landlord thou art euer a debtor.

Againe, no man is ex­empt from these strokes: Death is a free visitor, and whensoeuer he thrusts his Sheare into the corne, the haruest is alwaies ripe and ready: vntimely burials come as well out of the Cottage, as the Capitoll: no man hath priuiledge; for when the poorest Ae­gyptian [Page 80] mourned for the losse of his first-born, euen Pharaoh himselfe (in the same hower) was toucht with the like lamentation. Destiny and Old-age differ much in their progresse; for they neuer keepe one and the same order, but as the one hath an assurance and certainty not to bee a­uoyded, and so walkes slowly: so the other, being euermore at the comman­dement and disposition of Prouidence, is euer swift, watchfull, sudden, and fu­rious.

No man goes out of the world at the same Port [Page 81] which he entred, but as they wander seueral waies, so they find seuerall paths to conduct them to that Rest, which is, and must euer be howerly expected, Why doest thou then tor­ment and afflict thy selfe for the losse of thy chil­dren? or what in that acti­on hath happened vnto thee contrary to thy hope? questionlesse nothing: for those which were borne to die, are dead, not any in whom there was a hope (in this world) to be eternall: nay, those which ought to die, are dead; and will any wisedome murmure at the [Page 82] discharge of so honest and so expected a duty.

But it is contrary to thy wish; for thou wouldst still haue enioyed them, still haue fed vpon the sweet­nesse of their loued Socie­tie: but did any promise vnto thee such a feast? is it possible to find such a bar­gaine? or can earth chal­lenge so much as the ima­gination of such a con­tract? O no, fie no, the dayes of life are numbred, and it is impossible for any sorrow or perplexitie in man to adde or diminish the smallest part of the smallest minute or mo­tion [Page 83] of Time.

But yet thy children are lost, and this impostume cannot so soone be either broken or healed; they were thy flesh, and in their death thou hast receiued a wound both aking and smarting: if it be so, call to thy consideration who hath them; and then argu­ing his and thine owne ti­tle, at the Barre of Indiffe­rencie, and before the face of an vnpartiall Iudgment, thou shalt finde, that hee which holds them, was the certaine, true, and euerla­sting Owner, and thy selfe but a poore borrower, that [Page 84] in thy returne, hast hardly sent backe the halfe part of the Moitie. They were lent thee onely to bring vp, onely to informe in all Christian duties: this if thou hast fulfilled, thou hast discharged the part of a good parent, and they returne backe to their true and perfect owner with more glorie, and a much better acceptation: here is cause of reioycing, not of mourning.

Yet for all this they are dead, and in their death thou hast lost all thy fruit­full hopes, all thy sweet ex­pectations; thou shalt not [Page 85] now see one of them rais'd to the highest scale of Ho­nour; a second sit in Scar­let, and a third armed in Steele, bring forraine Tri­umphs home into his own Citie. O doe not deceiue thy goodnes with these in­certainties! this losse or change hath brought thee a much better assurance, thou needest not now hope, but maist with confi­dence say to thine owne soule, that thou hast seene the vttermost worst which the malice of Enuy or For­tune can possibly worke a­gainst them. Thou shalt not henceforth neede to [Page 86] feare this childs ambition, that's Couetousnesse, nor the others Ryot; thou shalt not see one keep a market for Honor; another a Sham­bles for Bloud; nor the third a Seralia, for varietie of all manner of Concupi­scence. Thou shalt not see them mount to dignity by Bribes; afterwards pawne it to Couetousnes, and in the end forfeit all to the Gallowes: neither shalt thou see them depart out of the world, one with Infamie; another with Curses; and a third with diseases. Of these feares thou art releast, and thou [Page 87] maist with a sweet comfort informe thy selfe, that when next thou shalt meet them in the higher Regi­ons, thou shalt then see thē cloathed in white gar­ments, and crowned a­mongst the Angels. If this aske teares, ioy hath no dwelling; neither is there left vpon the earth (for a pyous delight) either har­bour or habitation.

CHAP. 9. A Cure against the losse of a Friend.

BVt all these losses (be­foresaid) are remoued, and thou hast now a grea­ter and much heauier weight within thee, Thou hast lost thy Friend, thy faithfull friend, thy true friend, the companion of thy comforts, the closset of thy counsels, and the Phy­sicion to all thy cares and afflictions; thou hast lost him that liued in thee, and thou in him; one that by an equall sympathy of sor­row [Page 89] and delight, partake with thee in all things, of what nature and condition so euer.

This then & thy sorrow approues that thou hadst a Friend, & neither was the roughnesse of thy, nature, nor the inciuilitie of thy conuersation so barbarous or stupid, that thou couldst neither affect, nor yet bee affected; thou had'st in thee some sweetnesse; some goodnes: sweetnesse to al­lure, and goodnes to re­ward and pay this obliga­tion of friendship.

But thou hast lost thy Friend. No, the delight of [Page 90] his memory will euer be a liuing companion within thee; neither must thou imagine him lost, but reti­red: That he is iourneyed vpon so important, so ne­cessarie, and so laudable an occasion, as his honour and renowne stood enga­ged, in the dispatch of so noble and predestinate an errand. And to repine in thy teares at this worke of necessitie, were to discouer in thee an affection, but no true or faithfull friend­ship. Should the King im­ploy him vpon an honou­rable Negotiation to the furthest Indies, notwith­standing [Page 91] the rage of the Seas, the danger of Tem­pests, the infection of the Lyne, and the barbarous cruelty of sauage Nations; yet wouldst thou not only animate, but second his voyage both with thy vowes and wishes. And now the King of Heauen hath call'd him vp to bee a Ledgier for euer in the e­ternall Ierusalem: Wilt thou mourne and wring thy hands, as if he went to the Scaffold or Gibbet? this were to doe him a dis­gracefull courtesie: and as Fabius Verrucosus cals it, to feede thy best friend with [Page 92] a white Loafe of grauelly Bread.

But thy friend is lost, I lost for euer, thou shalt no more enioy the flowers of his friendship, the delight of his discourse, nor the comfort of his Societie. Was he then so excellent? so perfect? so absolute? had hee that Triumuerat of qualities within him, which makes vp an exqui­site and complete man? Was he Religious? was he honest? was he valiant? Then make him thy Co­pie: make him thy Presi­dent, & by his Character, and no other, modell out [Page 93] and frame for thy selfe a second election. But if this proue difficult, and that thy curiositie wants either Patience to indure the choyce, or that thy heart (being closed vp) will not suffer thy iudgement to entertain a second change: Then take Seneca's aduice, and search into the Libe­rall Sciences; into the ho­nest & vndeceiuing trades of the vpright Artificers; or into the laudable exer­cises of militarie and ciuill professions, and there seek thee out a companion which can neuer remoue, till first thy selfe be remo­ued. [Page 94] This benefit is not found out in crowdes, it comes not at the Court, it cares not for the Mar­ket, neither takes it delight either in Feasts or Tri­umphs. This friend thou shalt finde frugall for thine estate: honest, for thy con­uersation; and wholesome to aduise thee in all the perplexities of Fortune.

But hast thou lost thy friend, thy one and onely friend: Hadst thou then but one? O blush for shame, that hauing liued til thou beest able to iudge of a friend, thou canst yet boast the losse but of one [Page 95] man onely. How many Catoes? how many of the Lelij? how many Scipio's? how many Cicero's yearely depart this world, and yet in all their losse thou find­est no interest? Question­lesse thou hast either been too curious and nice in thine election, or else much by much too im­prouident, that sayling a­mongst the stormes and gusts of this world, thou wouldst trust thy poore Barke to hold but by one Anchor (and no more) in so great a tempest.

Thou hast lost thy friend: No, he is but chan­ged [Page 96] to a much better con­dition: he was before but thy friend made of earth; he is now thy friend com­posed of a Diuine and e­ternall substance: Hee was before an example for thy body (how thou mightest liue well;) he is now a pre­sident for thy soule (how thou mayst dye to liue for euer well:) He was before thy comfort, let him now be thine admiration. If this be a cause of teares, then where is our reioysing? Re­member, Destinie sends no man out of this world, nor lets any man liue in this world, without some [Page 97] stroke: And poore is that wisedome, whose expecta­tion is not armed with Pa­tience, euer to encounter with that assault and com­bate.

These afflictions truely considered, are Tributes, not Torments, & nothing alters either the nature or complexion, but an vn­thankefull acceptation.

CHAP. 10. A Cure against the losse of a Wife.

DOubtlesse this Philo­sophy (like a gentle [Page 98] Lenitiue) might supple and mollifie the agonies before shewed. But now a much greater torrent o­uerflowes thee, Thou hast lost thy Wife, selfe of thy self, flesh of thy flesh, thine owne and onely dearest companion: Shee that is the Cabenet in which thou hast lockt vp thy Vowes; the roote out of which thou dost deriue all thy goodly Branches; the honour of thy bed, and the crowne by which thou shalt be held in reuerence to all after posteritie. Nay, thou hast lost a good wife; if this deserue not teares, [Page 99] then for euer hereafter let affliction no more bee named.

I pray thee let me (with the Philosopher) aske thee thus question: Didst thou finde her good? or make her good? wert thou be­holden to Chance or Art; If to the first (beleeue it) that shop of Nature is ne­uer empty: and though a­mongst many parcels there bee much frayd, sul­lyed and stained ware; yet is there still enough that is excellent and rich, and as able as the first to adorne thee. If to the latter thou be a debtor; what folly is in [Page 100] thee either to mourne or despaire? for though the patterne bee lost, yet thy selfe and thine Art surui­ueth, and from the like quantity thou maist euer­more fashion the like pro­portions; 'tis but one and the same labour: and vn­lesse industry tyre, hardly can the worke runne out of Compasse.

But thou hast lost a good Wife. Tell me? into how many links was that chaine of Goodnesse diuided? Thou wilt answer me▪ She was Chaste; so was Drusilla till Caius (her owne bro­ther) turned her to a [Page 101] Strumpet; so was Poppea, till extreme couetousnesse bewitcht her; and so was Paulina, till the vowes and oathes of a Cardinall sent all vertue beyond her. O do but reade the Romane Stories, and you shall see how many chaste Matrons Clodius seduced; and how many that had liued long with their Husbands in rare Reputation, fell at last by the lust of Scaurus Ma­mercus, and sold their Fames ouer to disgrace and Folly: to which iniu­ry, early-death is euer a preuention.

But thine was modest: [Page 102] So no doubt was Xantippe, till pride and Socrates suf­ferance taught her to vse and imploy an audacious conquest; and so no doubt was the mother of Paupe­rius, till anger and her Iea­lousie made her speake too lowd to the Senate.

But thine was loyall: so haue a world of others been. But Feare hath tript vp the heeles of some; Slander hath ouerthrowne others; and Malice hath brought a world to a de­stroy'd Reputation.

It is true (most men are of opinion) that whatso­euer is cold and ignorant, [Page 103] must necessarily be subiect to inconstancie: and then women especially, because they are said to bee the Mistresses of all liuing things which are vnskilful. Whence there is drawne a Conclusion, That no woman, how excellent so euer, can draw vnto her Husband a settled and cer­taine assurance of noble & constant perseuerance.

But this is a philoso­phicke Disputation: nei­ther needeth the losse to draw any argument of dis­grace vpon the generall sexe. There are presidents enow both of their Ver­tues [Page 104] and Vices; their Con­stancies, and Inconstan­cies; of the happy and lau­dable continuance of no­ble contracts, and the vn­fortunate breaches and di­uorces of ancient & long coupled Matrimonies; there are Records suffici­ent, which speake of their vnyons and agreements: And there bee Tales in a­boundance, to tell of their Brawles and Dissentions. We need not goe farre for examples: for euery Le­gend is full of Yong mens dislikes, and Old mens iea­lousies; of Great mens al­terations, and meane mens [Page 105] imitations. A world of married Beddes, carrie a world of vnmarried Thoughts; and howso­euer they walke coupled together in the streetes; yet is there (many times) as large a distance as was twixt Lazarus and Diues, betweene their affections: and howsoeuer the Sunne shine vpon the wedding day, yet there may bee many Gusts and Stormes ere the Vow come to the halfe way of performance. And therefore why shoul­dest thou drowne thy selfe in teares, for that which is subiect to so short and [Page 106] so sudden an alteration?

But thine was Good, was Chaste, was Modest, was Loyall, and would so haue continued euer if she had liued: shee was one that stood vpon her Ver­tue, not her Bloud: shee was not in loue with her selfe, but thee: shee was well brought vp, and ne­uer so much as once tain­ted with any obiect of ill example: she had no com­mandements but thine to rule her; neither could she indure either Iewell or ap­parell which had the least variation from her owne certaine estate and Cal­ling: [Page 107] shee loued euer to keepe that house ouer her head, whose foundation was deep in the earth, and not bee hurried thorow the streetes in a Leather-Cart with foure wheeles, and taking a view of all men with as great libertie, as if shee gaz'd vpon her Husband: she respected a fit traine to guard her, not a throng or crowd to ad­mire her. No, shee was innocent and free from all these dissolutions, and so free would haue liued con­tinually, and dyed hap­pily.

For this Hope or Assu­rance [Page 108] (howsoeuer thou please to baptize it) thou art onely beholden to Death, and to no other In­formation; he onely giues thee boldnes to maintaine it: for by his power (alone) is taken away all power that can either work in her Change, or in thee a Sus­pition. Shee must now be as good as thou canst con­ceiue her: for (by the fauour of Death) shee hath ouer­flowne all Detraction, all Temptation; and wilt thou repine & murmure at this beholdingnesse? take heed lest it bring thee within the Lyst of Ingratitude.

To conclude, whether shee bee good, vertuous, chaste, modest or loyall, yet so mitigate and calme thy lamentation, that men may not (through the a­bundance of vnnecessary sorrow) question, whether thou weepest for thy wife, or some other diasaster: So remember thy selfe to be a Husband, that in no wise thou maist forget thou art a man: discretion in these affaires shewes princely and magnificent. A good mother, or a good sister, (lost by Death) are things vnrecouerable: and woul­dest thou imagine, that [Page 110] good wiues haue a greater priuiledge? O no, they are women; and so but acces­sary goods, and reckene [...] like the Vnicorne or the Phoenix, which though a man hunt after neuer so se­riously, yet shall he hardly▪ find aboue one in all his life time. Therefore ha­uing found her, keepe her with thy best care, & when thou shalt bee compelled by the necessitie of Destiny to forsake her, crowne her memorie with thy loue, and her tombe with a mo­derate and modest lamen­tation. Neither despaire of a second Choyce; for ma­ny [Page 111] haue bewailed the first, yet found the next of as large (if not a greater) ex­tent in vertue. They are gifts from aboue; vse thy best wisedome in election, and thy best care in pre­uenting ill example: and then, as noble Sir Philip Sidney writes,

CHAP. 11. A Cure against Contempt, and the Occasions: And first, of Contempt in generall.

OF all the cruelties which Fortune can excercise vpon man, there is none appeareth with a more rough or deformed a countenance, nor breeds more affright to the soule, or torment to the mind, then that of Contempt: for when a man hath num­bred all the miseries which can fall vpon him (in this [Page 113] life,) hee shall find none more Bitter or Gnawing, then that of Contempt: and thence it is said, that The greatest Affliction, is to suruiue Reputation; and the most infinit Folly, to put it in any Hazard of Losing.

It was noted for an ad­mirable modestie and wis­dome in Ariosto, that ha­uing been the onely Com­panion, Schoole-fellow, play-mate, and Bed-fellow to Leo the tenth, yet after he came to the Popedom, neuer once attempted his fauour, or vrged him in any sute; but keeping still the countenance and grace [Page 114] of his eyes, contented him­selfe with his owne for­tunes, and his owne Reue­newes, lest by ascending any higher station, (and knowing the great num­bers of better deseruers, which expected aduance­ment) hee might (by a sleight repulse) lose that e­stimation, which (howsoe­uer vnprofitable) the world yet held in reuerence.

In Games and Maste­ries (as in the old Olim­picks, and other Trials of Honor) there is not one Prize or Crowne alone, but many; and he that can­not winne the first, may [Page 115] hope the second, or the third: but in this Game or Goale of Vertue and faire life, hee that gets not the first, (which is Reputati­on) loses, or little profits by all the rest: for instant­ly Contempt takes him, and the golden chaine (which knit him and his good hopes together) is broke in pie [...]es, and the whole course of his life after, is but falling and declining: but thou fearest to be con­temned; and euen that Feare doth shake thee.

It is true, that Feare is a malignant and hurtful pas­sion, ingendred by A­mazement [Page 116] and Doubt; which by a troublesome offence in the Soule, dri­ueth the blood from the heart, & makes the whole Body faint and coward. It is a passion base and effe­minate, yet furious and sudden: for when it strikes vpona yeelding Subiect, it strikes home, and the Life or Sences are euer in hazard. It is said, that one of the Dukes of Burgondy took his death (with feare) at the sight of the nine Worthies, (shewed him by a Magician.) And di­uers (in our owne memo­ries) we haue knowne, that [Page 117] haue runne mad with the like apprehension: and though No man ought to feare, what must necessarily happen; yet daily wee see it is the fault of vncorrected Natures.

Feare (saith Seneca) is without Loue, and there­fore of all high spirits to be forsaken: and yet for all this, and though Feare were much worse then any description can make it, there are alwaies two Feares allowable within vs; the one against Detra­ctors, the other against Gods iudgements; the first thou maist preuent [Page 118] by doing nothing which might make thee con­temptible amongst men; and the latter thou mayest lessen, by carrying before God a cleare and vnbur­dened conscience.

But thou fearest Con­tempt; let the manner of thy life be honest, let not the corrupt conditions of Times breed inward Im­postumes in thee; let not the estate of thy worldly affaires, draw thee from thy busines with God; let not Honors change thy ver­tuous Manner, nor great power conuert to greater couetousnes; and then be­leeue [Page 119] it, all good men will do thee reuerence; and for the contempt of the wic­ked, it is an honorable ex­altation.

CHAP. 12. A Cure against want of Strength, being an Occa­sion of Contempt.

BVt now thou dost not feare Contempt, but art contemned; I pray thee de­clare, from what ground springs that assurance? thou answerest me, From Want of Strength; thou art not powerfull or able of Body, but weake and fee­ble: Nature hath beene [Page 120] niggardly vnto thee, and not giuen thee force like other men.

Doth this displease thee? art thou for this perplext and grieued? rather re­ioyce and bee glad; for weaknesse is not lamenes; nor want of strength, im­potence: euery man is not borne like Samson, to carry a Cities gates on his back: Some are borne for the Warres, some for the Court, and some for Stu­die. Looke thou into the composition and Strength of thy mind; and if that promise thee a fruitful har­uest, thou hast strength a­ble [Page 121] enough to contend against many Armies. Ad­uice is a Rampire of earth, Force but a wall of Stone; the first gathers strength by others fury; the latter fals assoone as it is shaken. Tully got as much honour with his wit, in preseruing Rome against the Conspi­racie of Catiline, as Caesar had done in two and fiftie Battels, Marcellus in fortie, and Scipio in taking an hun­dred and two and fiftie Townes.

But thou art subiect to Iniurie, euery one may tread vpon thee; thou must indure this mans scorne, [Page 122] that mans slander, and the others buffets: thou must either feare all, or flatter all: thou must either bee a Moale & liue alone with­out comfort, or else an Asse, to carry euery vn­worthy Burthen. But thou art deceiued, and in stead of sighing that thou art subiect to Iniury, thou shouldest reioyce, that (by reason of thy weaknesse) thou canst not doe In­iurie. Doe we not see olde men walke in the Streetes without Guards, children passe by the mighty, and receiue Reuerence; and do wee not see (commonly) [Page 123] the most weake and fee­ble, keepe (as it were) in Chaines and Gyues, the most strong and valiant? The Lawes of all ciuil Na­tions are thy sinewes; the Sword of the Magistrate, thy bones; and thine owne wisedome, hands to put one or both at any time in to executiō. Therfore sup­ply the weaknesse of thy Body, with the strength of thy mind; learne wisdome, and pursue it, for it shalbe vnto thee a Tower against all aduersitie.

A wise man (saith the best Morall master) can­not receiue wrong, he hath [Page 124] so many Atmors of proof [...] against it, neither is he [...] subiect to the motions o [...] Anger, nor can by anothers malice bee mooued hee neuer intangles him­selfe with miseries, no [...] stands in need of strength or passion, either to preserue his Body, or perform his duty: hee is not ambi­tious; for hee hath euer al [...] Contentments in his Bo­some, and he knowes both when, how, and to whom to doe those noble offices of friendship, which shal [...] still preserue him both from hate and disgraces▪ Take vnto thee then this [Page 125] companion, and thou nee­dest not feare to encoun­ter with a twofold Goliah.

CHAP. 13. A Cure against want of Greatnesse, being an Occa­sion of Contempt.

NOw besides this weak­nesse of Body, thou wantest the Greatnesse and Dignity of place; thou hol­dest an vnder-fortune, and bearest a low Sayle, where­as those which are great, and liue in admiration of the people: they sit high as on the tops of Turrets, and seeme to be compani­ons with the Sunne, the [Page 126] Moone, and all the rest of the celestiall Bodies.

O foole! doe not tor­ment thy selfe with these visions; for what (alas!) is all worldly Greatnesse? or whither doth it tend? exa­mine all the great ones of the world, especially those who haue runne out the whole course of their liues in hunting after this Vapor or Shadow; they, whose thoughts anchoring whol­ly vpon the earth, can haue no hopes, but such as are earthy: and these will tell thee, that Greatnesse is no­thing but an huge Moun­taine of Vanitie; the assent [Page 127] whereto is sharpe and slip­perie, the top shaking, and the downfall dreadfull: he that goes vp, finds difficul­tie in the passage, (for Feare is both his Guard and Guide) and he which descends, fals into an A­bysse, where onely Shame cleaues to his memorie. It is a thing so vain and fraile, that when it seemes to gli­ster and sparkle like Dia­monds, euen then it vani­shes out of our sight, and either breakes like Glasse, or melts like yee, against the beames of Misfortune.

Excellently is it sayd by that diuine Trumpet, [Page 128] Whatsoeuer is vnder heauen, is nothing but vanity, and that the world passeth away with his couetousnes. Which granted, O where is then the benefit of thy Great­nesse? Bee wise then, and draw into thy considerati­on, that the earth is not thy dwelling house, but thine Inne; a place where onely thou lodgest for a night in thy iourney to E­ternity: think that all Plea­sures, Delights, and Con­tentations which cluster about Greatnesse in this world, or adorne their Roomes, are but Motiues and Obligations to binde [Page 129] them to looke and prouide for much richer Orna­ments in the world to come. For it is a thing ab­surd in Reason, and irke­some to Nature, to goe foorth of a faire and good­ly House, and to enter for euer into a foule and loth­some Cottage: This Me­diocritie is the best Great­nesse; loue onely it, and be happie.

CHAP. 14. A Cure against want of pre­ferment, beeing an occasi­on of Contempt.

IT may be, thou agreest with mee in this, that thou respectest not so much this vnreasonable Greatnesse, as thou doest a competent and fit pre­ferment. But thou hast no aduancement in the State; thou hast no Sphere or range aboue the earth whereon thou treadest. Nay, thou seest many thine inferiours, men both of vnder deserts, and vnder [Page 131] qualities, who are aduan­ced, and preferred many Stations beyond thee: thou seest them swimme in wealth, ruffle in authori­tie, draw all eyes to gaze vpon them, and haue little petty Armies of their own dependants, to guard both before and behind them. This is offensiue to thee: this drawes griefe to thy Heart, and bitternesse to thy Soule, when thou comparest other mens glories and wealths with thine owne misfortunes; yet all this is but an enui­ous Folly: for to iudge a man by his wealth, or his [Page 132] meanes, were to iudge an Horse by his Trappings, or an Asse by his burthen; and many times to attri­bute that to the Beast, which indeed belongeth onely to the Goddesse Isis.

Was there euer any man so absurd as to enuy the Kings Exchequer, because it doth couer his Coyne, or can a man beare malice to a Rich mans Coffer, be­cause it hides his Bags? Be­leeue it, such and no other are men of preferment in this age: for that man whom thou supposest to be the master of all this fe­licitie and wealth, is but [Page 133] the poore Cap-case which carries it for a much better mans imploiment.

I, but his preferments haue made him so infinite­ly rich, that howsoeuer o­ther men fleece him, yet hee will still keepe a Staple sufficient both to cloath and make warme his bo­dy. If it bee so, then looke into his disposition, and tell me; Is he Couetous or Prodigall? If he be Coue­tous, thou canst not say he hath any thing; for that couetousnesse hath depri­ued him of command, and made him a slaue to his Riches. Nay, it takes all [Page 134] thankefulnesse from him, and makes him guiltie of ingratitude. If he be Pro­digall, thou maist assure thy selfe he shall haue no­thing; for that channell will quickly conuay all to the common Ocean.

I but hee shall haue his delights; he shall haue his contentment. No, nothing so: Preferments are euer inuironed with cares, with Feares, with Doubts, with Enuies. He which sits vp­on that tottering Stoole, sighes often, grieues deep­ly, suspects alwayes, and is certaine neuer.

I but yet for all this hee [Page 135] hath admiration in the world. The gazing multi­tude crowd about him: the better sort attend him: and the best in their prote­stations seeme to loue him. This doubtlesse is true: and to knit vp or binde all these three together, thou maist (with as great a truth) affirme, that all in one doe but flatter him. Doe not Flyes follow Ho­ney; Wolues, Carrion; and Ants, Wheate? euen so doe these the man which sits in preferment. It is their owne prey they hunt, not his profit; their owne aduancement, not the ex­altation [Page 136] of his vertue; and if hee ascend, they can bee content to clamber after. But if hee descend, they seeke how to fixe fast their owne feete, and (many times with scorne) looke how and in what manner he falleth.

To conclude: if thou wilt not haue thy vertue at any time to strike against this dangerous Rocke of Contempt, apply thy thoughts to noble and ho­nest actions, according to the ranke and degree, wherein no counterfet, but true vertue hath plac't thee. Let the issue of one [Page 137] good designe, be the entry into another, make order both thy Prince and Mi­stresse. Be Good, be Wise, bee Valiant, bee Merci­full, and then no doubt but thou shalt liue belo­ued, preferred, and dye happy.

CHAP. 15. Being a Cure against inward Paine, and the occasions: and first of paine in ge­nerall.

HOwsoeuer I labour to recouer and cure [Page 138] the minde of these old rotting and increasing Vl­cers; yet still thine infe­ction groweth new and more amply augmenteth, and now thou hast found a disease past helpe, past suf­ferance: thou art vexed with paine, inward Paine; paine of the Minde and Spirits; paine fixt vpon a part so tender and quicke of Sence, that the very anguish thereof spreads thorow the whole body, and thou art now Rackt, Tormented, and Broken vpon the wheele with all manner both of inward and outward vexations.

It is true; I will allow thee in this case some little amazement, which for a poore minute may looke like Distraction: but I can­not affoord thee so much Griefe, as to witnesse thy Paine to bee greater then thy wisedome: thou mayst take to thy selfe a liberty to change thy countenance, but not to alter thy Discre­tion: and thou maist (from some weakenesses) suffer Paine to extort from thee cryes and acclamations: But thou canst not from any soundnesse in Iudge­ment, allow it any Tolera­tion to disclose Secrets: [Page 140] thou maist so feele it, as to know a difference betwixt it, and perfect health: but not so entertaine it, as by an interposition it may draw any cloud or dark­nesse, betweene thee and thy vertue.

The Stoicks held Paine onely to bee an opinion, and rather to abuse the minde by an imagination, then any reall or true fee­ling: And questionlesse, to a noble and truely high Spirit, these flames or great lights of paine, are but like those of the Glowe-Wormes, which howsoeuer a weake Iudgement may [Page 141] shunne or feare to handle; yet a knowing experience boldly takes it vp, and pla­ces it either in his hand, or any other part, without sence of astonishment. Se­uola, when hee thrust his hand into the fire: Cleopa­tra, when she laid the Aspis to her Brest; the holy Martyrs, which sung and reioyst in the very height of all bodily afflictions, could neuer haue written Dulce quia Sponte, if their mindes had not carried them farre beyond the fee­ling of all mortall vexati­ons. Aspasia, that smild vp­on Alexander whilst her [Page 142] childrens throats were in cutting: Hannibal that laught outright, when both Carthage and his own honor lay bleeding: and Croesus, that when hee had lost both the beautie of wealth, and the glory of a Kingdome, was able to teach Cyrus the happines of a contented retirement. All these are instances vn­to vs, to shew, how free e­uery noble and worthy spi­rit should bee from these flegmaticke and weake ap­prehensions of inward tri­bulations.

But thou answerest me, None will, none can resist [Page 143] the furie of Paine and Tor­ment: and I reply, To say thou wilt not, is woman­nish; to say thou canst not, is childish: for looke by how much man would (falsly) seeme to bee too weake to indure Paine, by double so much is Paine truly too weake to with­stand Reason; call that po­wer vp to assist thee, take thy direction from it, and not from vulgar and mul­titude Opinion, and it will declare vnto thee, that all Paine whatsoeuer, is but like a Mole or spot vpon the cheek, which by a true application, may as well [Page 144] be taken for a Beauty, (as that on the cheeke of Ve­nus) as a deformitie, (as that on the face of Thersi­tes.) It will tell thee, it is thy familiar and companion, not a Bugbeare or Stran­ger; a thing which thou broughtest with thee to the world; a thing thou canst not forsake in the world, and the onely thing that must infranchise and set thee free from all the miseries and perplexities of the world. It will tell thee, that Paine is nothing else, but an indulgent pa­rent, to nourish thee vp in pious thoughts; a skilfull [Page 145] Master, to teach thee the happy art of Sufferance, a discreet Tutor to correct thy vices, and the onely Guide that can bee found to leade thee thorow the great Maze and Labyrinth of the vanities of this world, to the eternal ioyes of all true Felicitie.

But O! this Paine is a tedious thing; it hath no meane or moderation in the working; it is an enemy to Meditation and good thoughts, and is indeed so farre from all peace and quietnesse, that it rather fils the head and heart with Frenzie and Despaire, then [Page 146] either with a fruitful Hope, or a feeding Charitie. but thou art deceiued, Paine is not tedious, but thou art effeminate; there is in it no manner of Terror, there is onely in thee a Resolution of Nicenesse: there is in it nothing to affright, there is only in thee a weake na­ture to be afraid. Hunger is satisfied with bread and milke: Adam complained of no cold, when his body was cloath'd but with Fig­leaues: Thirst hath need to search no further then the first fountaine; nor in­deed is there any other Paine, which finds not out [Page 147] a quick and a sudden Re­medy: Custome, Curio­sitie, and our owne opini­ons are euer the false Mes­sengers, which make our afflictions more huge and monstrous then Nature created them: so that but correct the tendernesse of thine owne will, and pre­sently thou shalt finde Paine to vanish in a mo­ment.

I, but thou findest few which are able to follow these prescriptions; few or none can indure paine: then make thy selfe one of that little number. Lyons, Ea­gles, euery noble Beast and [Page 148] Bird feed and flie alone: they are Sheepe, Geese, & Dawes, that flocke and herd together. Be rather of Wisedoms little Band, then of Follies great Ar­mie. But thou wilt answer me, That the weaknesse of thy nature, makes thy Wil a slaue to thy Torment: come, neither abuse nor defame Nature; for shee hath created al men strong and valiant: it is Custome and Education which make Cowards; liue ac­cording to thy creation: suffer nor the seueritie of Rule, and other mens Opi­nions, to infect thee, and [Page 149] then beleeue it, these fee­lings, these affrights, these tremblings at Paine will neuer come neere thee: thou shalt then need nei­ther to labour thy wits for auoyding it, nor tire thy limbes in flying away from it: thou shalt then know, that to runne away from Paine, is to meet Paine; and that the more thou striuest to shake it off, the more it cleaues vnto thee, and more strong are the im­bracements. It is an insul­ting enemy, where it finds a fearefull opponent; and therefore face it, and out­face it; be as carelesse of its [Page 150] power, as others are care­full to make it powerfull, and like a fearefull Hare, it will flie from thy presence: for as nothing, like vnto Nicenesse feeds it, so no­thing, like Contempt, is able to abate or destroy it.

CHAP. 16. A Cure against Sorrow, Cares, &c. being an occa­sion of Paine.

AFter all the warre and contentiō which thou hast held against the mise­rie of these Misfortunes, thou yet feelest another, which is more bitter and [Page 151] vnpleasant, then any that haue gone before it, and that is Sorrow, Griefe, or heauinesse of heart, which according to the most ge­nerall receiued opinion, is nothing else, but A Passion of the Soule, which ariseth from a discontent shee recei­ueth from obiects contrary to her inclination, which pre­sent themselues vnto the Senses, and afflict them: and with this Sorrow, or hea­uinesse of heart, thou art now tormented. But let it not deceiue thy iudgment; examin the cause well, and try, if it be worthy of thine anguish: for there are two [Page 152] sorts of Sorrowes, a grea­ter and a lesse: one that li­ueth in the Body, another that liueth in the Minde.

That sorrow which liueth in the Body, and is both moued, and moueth the same, is not so powerfull and terrible, as the other: and therefore are Intituled by the name of Slight Sor­rowes, or Slight Cares; which if they get any Do­minion or Rule ouer thee, chide thy weake nature which entertain'd them: and with a braue suffe­rance make the world know that the burthen is light and easie: call Pati­ence [Page 153] vnto thee, shee is euer a ready and an easie ghest to a wiseman: shee craues not much diligence to at­tend her: nor is at any time so troublesome, but that shee may with much pleasantnesse bee suppor­ted: take her counsell, she will teach thee how to suffer, how to doe: she will tell thee how to beare all things, both Pro, A and Propter, both for thy selfe and others, of thy selfe and others, and because of thy selfe and others: she hath euer cold water enough to quench the hottest flames that Sorrow can kindle, [Page 154] and shee will tell thee that it is a wretched victory which ouercomes the Soule, and makes it a slaue to inward vexation.

Sorrow is neither profi­table to thy selfe, nor to them for whom thou dost sorrow: it is absurd to sor­row for things which are past help, and meere chil­dishnesse to spend our griefe vpon a neglecting Subiect, that we must sor­row for, (as death) neuer sorrows for vs againe; and then what greater foolish­nesse then thus to spend la­mentation? Againe, looke by how much thou art [Page 155] greater either in Place, Authoritie, Renowne, or Vertue: by so much the less thou shouldest expresse grief for any worldly mis­aduenture: for vnreasona­ble Sorrow is a true Cha­racter of Cowardize: and where that weaknes grows, the fruit it brings forth, is onely Scorne, and dis-re­putation.

But thy Sorrow is no slight Sorrow; it hath a deepe Roote, and a strong Foundation; it is fixed to thy Heart, and hath taken vp thy Minde for a perpe­tuall habitation: if it be so, it is thy greater glory to [Page 156] subdue it; it is pleasant to hunt Deere; but Princely to conquer Lyons. Take vnto thy selfe the exercise of Noble and worthy things, and beleeue it, thou shalt finde that sorrow will quickly vanish. Nailes are driuen out by Nailes, and the fury of Sorrow is easily expell'd with the strength of Wisedome. Do but take into thy con­sideration the miserable effects which spring from sorrow: as first, the quench­ing of the Spirit (making it vncapable either to search or finde out truth) the solitarinesse of the life [Page 157] (accounting all societie irkesome) the hating of the light (as if the Sunne did manifest euery priuate imagination,) the mis­application of all manner of comforts and the disea­ses; nay, the deaths which succeed these inward af­flictions, and no doubt but thou wilt quickly bee wea­ry of so insolent and trou­blesome a neighbour: Therefore to merit quick­ly, truely, soundly, be sure to lessen and abate the strength of the opinion which thou holdest in it: for indeed Sorrow is no­thing else but meerely opi­nion: [Page 158] which when at any time thou shalt either blunt with Reason, or bend with Discourse & inward Disputation; suddenly thou shalt see all his an­guish depart, and Wise­dome filling vp the room, will make all things ap­peare pleasant and whole­some. And to conclude, howsoeuer Time may bee allowed for a Physicion in this case; yet it is Reason only, which must make the cure perfect.